#the fancy look is falling apart fr fr

[cos-latte]

Wild night

[rosie-b]

Centuries Overdue

Chapter 4

Excerpt from the ninth journal of Adrien Agreste, written at the Agreste mansion in Paris, France, on the twenty-fourth of June, 1810.

I think this House is full of Ghosts. Around every corner I hear Laughter; through the Walls there comes a Sob; beneath my Bed the Darkness hides, ready to pull me out and slaughter me for its Revenge…

Did I write before that we never found the Mage responsible for the Darkness, even after we defeated it? There was no Body, no Spellbook, not one single Sign of who it was who betrayed us.

At the end of the Battle there was a great Cry, a loud Wailing which still haunts my dreams. Then the Darkness gathered into itself and exploded in a great display of power and Cowardice which left us no doubt that the Mage behind it was Dead.

I have told myself that I ought to be relieved, as the other Mages are, that at last the Darkness is vanquished. For a time, I fooled myself into thinking that I was!

But as all lies ever must do, this one I told Myself crumbled, leaving more Pain in its wake than it had initially hidden.

I cannot help but feel that I have failed. There was no moment when I saw the Face of my parents’ murderer, no time when I felt Closure for bringing safety to the rest of our Community.

The Mages are safe. The Talents are not; they have died, they have died in great numbers and no-one will answer for their deaths. Death chosen by one who finally sees that their loss is imminent brings no peace to the ones they have hurt. The Mage of Darkness was a Coward who faced no punishment despite committing very many crimes. Am I wrong to feel like that Mage won, and not the group who vanquished the Darkness?

I find myself flinching at every Shadow, and there are many in my parents’ house. It has been empty of their Presence for decades, but it searches for them, it waits on them to return. And it finds Me in their place, instead. I can only imagine it to be Angry.

I never lived in this House, but I came here and claimed it as mine with an old Deed given to me by M. Bourgeois, who kept the House from falling apart while my Parents and I were gone. I look like my Mother, and a little like my Father, and yet I am nothing like them. They will never live here again, but I, a reminder of their Existence, do presently. Were I this abandoned House, I would be angered, too, by the situation. A new Darkness lives in this place. I can feel it, and I cannot blame it for existing.

But I still find myself sensing Darkness elsewhere. Along my journey to my foreign home country, I felt It ever at my back, always reaching out for my shoulder as if to tap it, yet It vanished the moment I turned around. It is in the streets of Paris, on the rooftops, in the warm restaurants, in my Home.

There is something afoot in Paris, something sinister stirring yet again. I begin to believe that the Defeat we handed the Darkness in Blå Jungfrun was not as decisive as we had hoped, that the Darkness I feel now is the same as the One we had thought destroyed.

And yet…

I know that we defeated the Darkness. I saw it with my own eyes. This Feeling of mine is nothing more than Mischief and a passing fancy.

I will not write any more on the matter.

__*__*__*__*__

“Repeat after me,” Alya said, and Marinette immediately nodded.

It had been one week since she somewhat-accidentally infiltrated the Mage meeting, and now she was at another one, this time as an invited guest. And possibly, a new Mage, if this test proved that she had magic powers, that was.

“It’s just one spell. One tiny illusion, and we’re not going to throw you out if it doesn’t work.”

Marinette nodded again, blinking rapidly as her anxiety whispered a dozen ways this could go wrong in her ear.

“You don’t need to worry at all.”

Another nod, this one barely visible.

“What I’m trying to say is, relax , Marinette! The worst thing that could happen is you accidentally making a fake flower a few sizes too big! Illusions never hurt anyone, remember?”

From her perch on top of the new sofa the cafè had gotten, Alix leaned forward and grinned. 

“Well, technically. They can be pretty deadly in battle. But only indirectly!” she backpedaled at Alya’s glare.

Marinette leaned her head back and groaned, “Ohh, Alya, do you really think I should do this?”

Alya folded the spellbook under her arm and reached out with the other to pat Marinette’s shoulder. “Of course, girl! There are literally no bad outcomes, and can you imagine how cool it would be if you turned out to be a Mage of Trixx, too? I’ve been hoping for this ever since I met you, even though I thought it was unrealistic at the time! Come on, Marinette. I’m not letting you leave this cafè until you at least try!”

Marinette smiled at Alya’s firm brand of encouragement. “Okay, okay! I’ll do my best,” she said, stretching out her fingers and wiggling them like she was warming up to draw a design for class. “I’m ready.”

Smiling approvingly, Alya opened the spellbook to the dog-eared page. “All right. First say, ‘mirage,’ and then picture a flower.”

“That’s it?” Marinette asked, astounded. None of Adrien’s spells looked this simple! And none of them were in French! “Let me see that.”

Standing on her tippy-toes, Marinette strained to look at the spellbook and scoured the page for the gibberish language from Adrien’s journals. There it was! But Alya wanted her to speak the spell in French anyway! How did that make sense?

“Trust me, Marinette,” Alya said, amused. “Just because a spell is recorded in a way that keeps it safe from enemy eyes doesn’t mean it has to be spoken in the same way. This code is protected by magic, but it represents all the same letters the normal French alphabet does. Spells can be spoken in any language, as long as they’re properly translated. Look, this one is in French; this symbol is ‘m,’ this one is ‘i,’ and if you put them all together, they make the word ‘mirage.’ Do you get it?”

Sinking back onto her feet, Marinette nodded, feeling a bit stupid. “Oh. So, it’s like there’s an eternal illusion spell cast on the letters?”

“Close! It was cast on the concept of the code itself, so that anything written in it can only be decoded by someone who was willingly taught the code by a Mage or, in the past, a Talent. I’m going to teach you how to decode it, too, and then you can read as many spells as you want.”

“Even the ones in Adrien’s journals?”

Alya nodded. “Even those ones. Although from what you’ve told me, deciphering his French will be your main problem!”

Marinette laughed. “It isn’t that bad once you get used to it!” she insisted, playfully defending Adrien’s abnormal writing habits.

“Whatever you say, girl. Okay, for real this time, say mirage!”

“Mirage!”

“Great! Now close your eyes and picture the flower. Doesn’t matter what type, just add as much detail as you can. When you’re done, say, ‘I call on Trixx’s power to create this flower’ and then you’re done.”

Marinette giggled as she followed Alya’s instructions, and her friend immediately protested.

“Wha— hey, don’t laugh! My spells don’t usually rhyme!”

Marinette nodded, keeping her eyes closed, and let out a deep breath as she prepared to try the spell.

“I call on Trixx’s power to create this flower,” Marinette said after a moment’s pause, and her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

Then she cracked open her eyes and looked for the flower.

“Nothing’s there,” she said, looking up at Alya dejectedly.

“You’re right,” Alya said, looking at the space between them where the flower should have been. “You could try again or just give up if you think you did it right. Being a Mage is pretty rare these days. And there are other spells to try, to test whether you’re a Mage of a different kwami than mine!”

“I tried as hard as I could,” Marinette said, rubbing her arm. “I don’t think I messed up, except for when I almost laughed. I just don’t think I’m a Mage, Alya.”

“Not Trixx’s, anyway,” Alix said as she hopped off the couch and landed on the floor with a thud, which scared Marinette. “But,” she said as she appeared behind Alya’s shoulder, reached around her, and flipped to a different page in the book, “You might still be Fluff’s. Repeat after me.”

Alya handed the spellbook to Alix and  moved out of the way as she gave Marinette an encouraging smile.

“I promise to keep this short. Come on, just one more spell and we’re done! We only have Trixx’s and Fluff’s spells, so we can only test to see if you’re one of theirs. If not, who cares.” Alix raised one shoulder and dropped it back down.

Marinette sighed. “Okay, fine. What’s the spell?”

“Say burrow, then say the place and time you’d like to go to. So like, this same spot, five seconds from now.”

“Burrow, right here, five seconds from now?”

“Aaand you’re not one of Fluff’s Mages. Congrats!”

“That’s not— how do you know I didn’t mess up? I didn’t even say the same words as you did!”

“It doesn’t matter for that spell. Makes it pretty dangerous if you say something like outer space for your location, or if you go back before the Earth formed, but it’s the most basic spell we have.”

Marinette was briefly seized with an image of her accidentally falling into a black hole or falling into a star because she said the wrong thing by accident.

“Alya! Did you know that spell was so risky?”

“Well, no and yes. I’m not overly familiar with Alix’s spells, but all of Fluff’s magic is more immediately dangerous than Trixx’s. That’s why Fluff’s Mages get so much credit for helping defeat the Darkness with that Adrien of yours. Without their help, the battle could easily have gone in a very different direction.”

“It’s also theorized that one of us killed the Mage behind the Darkness,” Alix supplied. “And that whoever they were, the evil Mage is spiraling across the universe like a dead fish thanks to us. Maybe one day we’ll find their body,” she said, grinning evilly.

Marinette swallowed. “That’ll be fun.”

“Oh yeah, I’m so looking forward to it.”

“Uh-huh. Well, thanks for your help, Alix!” Alya took the book back from her and snapped it shut. “How are you feeling, girl? Worn out from the tests?”

Cocking her head, Marinette responded, “Not really. I’m kind of disappointed, but mostly relieved. Being anyone’s Mage doesn’t sound like the right fate for me. I’m just a normal girl with a normal life!”

Alya hummed. “Maybe you are. But you could still turn out to be a Mage, or even the first Talent in over a century! I’ll give up on tests,” she said at Marinette’s weary look, “But maybe you’d like to learn the Mages’ code, instead? Then you could really read all of Adrien’s journals.”

“My one true desire,” Marinette joked. “That does sound nice, actually! He records so many different spells, and it’s driving me nuts that I can’t read them. Like, there’s a spell for making ingredients hop into a pan and cook themselves! I need to know what it says, even if I can’t actually make the magic work.”

“Sounds like a universal spell to me,” Alya said thoughtfully. “No one’s tried one of those in forever! If it still works, any one of us Mages should be able to use it, even you, if you’re at all Gifted!”

“That would be pretty nice,” Marinette said as Alya led her over to a table and pulled out a chair.

“On to the lesson! Or, I guess it isn’t much of a lesson, exactly. I’m going to write down each of the code’s symbols next to their translation on a piece of paper for you. Once you have it, you can decode any spell you want with minimal work. And soon, you might even have the code memorized and not need the key anymore!”

“Thanks! That’s really cool, Alya,” Marinette said, watching as she quickly muttered a spell under her breath and pulled a paper from thin air. 

Once the paper appeared, Alya grabbed it, making it glow golden orange, said another spell, and then set it down on the table once it stopped glowing.

“There. Once you have the key memorized, the paper will cease to exist. And if anyone but you sees it, it will look like a menu for the cafè. Sound good?” 

Marinette nodded and Alya smiled.

“Great. Now, can I borrow a pen?”

“What, you can’t just summon one?” Marinette teased.

“I could, but that would be another complicated spell, and I just did three of those. You can’t normally touch illusions like this, or they fall apart. That’s part of why I wasn’t worried about the flower spell, because it just casts a basic illusion, nothing more. Anyway, the more complex a spell, the more tiring it is for the Mage casting it.”

“You mean, if you cast too many spells at once, you die?”

This was not good! Being a Mage sounded more dangerous with each new fact Marinette learned about them!

“No, there’s a safety built into the concept of spells. If you try too many at once, you might faint or go into a coma, but if it's a combination that would kill you, then you just can’t finish the spell. It becomes physically impossible.”

“Oh, that’s smart! Which Mage figured it out?”

“No one knows. In any event, while you don’t have to worry about me dying, I don’t feel like sleeping for twenty hours just to make up for summoning a pen.”

“That makes sense. Here,” Marinette fished around in her purse and pulled out a pink gel pen. “Will this work?”

“Perfectly. Thanks!”

Alya wrote out the code on the left side of the paper and then the translation on the right side.

“A last note: the symbols for numbers overlap with a few of the letter symbols. To show the difference, use the guide at the bottom. And that’s all there is to it!”

“Thank you so much!” 

As she took the paper from Alya, Marinette hesitated. 

“Hey, did I ever ask you what happened to Adrien? I mean, he’s dead, obviously, but when did he die? Did he ever write any other journals, aside from the lost ones? Was he happy?”

“Oh,” Alya said. “That’s… hard to answer, actually. We know more about how Adrien’s parents died than we know about how he died. It was in the catacombs, here in Paris. He told one of the Bourgeoises that he was going to visit them, illegally, I might add, and that was the last we ever heard about him. According to the Bourgeois family back when they still acknowledged our existence — although I’ve been promised a response to my email soon, at least — Adrien went a little crazy before his death.”

Marinette took a sharp breath. Adrien, crazy? Sure, she’d considered it, herself, back when she hadn’t known that magic was real, but now that she knew she could trust the stories he wrote in his journals, she didn’t think he was crazy. She thought he was very smart, in control of his thoughts and able to tell when his emotions were threatening to take over. His writing had become something of a constant in her life. What did the magic community think happened to him, that Adrien could be thought ‘crazy’?

Alya continued the story. “He thought the Darkness was coming back; that someone was killing off all the Talents; and towards the very end, he told his closest friends that the Mage of Darkness was hunting him down to get revenge. Revenge, of course, for that time when we ganged up and defeated that same Mage. We killed them, so like, what Adrien thought was happening was just impossible. It’s sad; he cared so much about keeping the Gifted community safe, and he contributed so much to our survival; but in the end, what he’d gone through for our lives cost him his own. He was a hero. But sometimes, being a hero means you don’t get a happy ending. 

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Alya said, covering her trembling hand with a warm, firm one. “I know you got attached because of those books. But it’s in the past. Adrien Agreste got lost in the catacombs at age twenty and died before he could find the way out. That’s all we know.”

Marinette was suddenly finding it really hard to see. At some point during Alya’s tale, she’d begun to silently cry for the Mage she’d begun to feel like she knew. He’d done so much for her, and she’d never get to thank him!

She licked her lips, tasting the salt there, and took a deep, rasping breath. 

“Did you ever find his body? Is there a grave I could go visit?”

Alya shook her head and held Marinette’s hand tightly, offering the only comfort she could. “Nobody’s ever found his body. Plenty of Mages have tried, but they’ve had to turn back. The catacombs are dangerous if you go off the known trail, and it wouldn’t do us any good to find one body just to leave another one there with it. So because of that, we really can’t teleport straight to the spot, we can’t go back in time to stop it, nothing. According to Fluff, ‘everything is the way it should be’. The way it has to be. But it’s always hard to lose one of our own. I wish things were different, ‘Nette, I really do.”

Marinette’s hand shook in Alya’s as she fought off her tears. How could she be crying for a centuries-dead man? She’d known he was dead before she even asked what had happened to him! Crying about it didn’t make any sense!

“It hurts more than it should,” she whispered. “He gave up everything to protect his people, led them to victory, finally won and got to go home. And he went through all of that, just to die as soon as he got back to Paris? That’s completely unfair!”

“I know it is,” Alya said softly. “We all do. He will always have a place of honor in our histories, and a statue at Plagg’s cave. He is and always will be remembered. That’s more than most can say.”

Marinette wiped her eyes and nodded. “I guess it is,” she forced herself to say. Far more people's names are forgotten than remembered, in the grand scheme of things. Even detailed journals, like the ones Adrien had written, were lost or destroyed more often than they lived on even one century after their writer, let alone two. 

How fortunate, then, that she’d gotten to read his journals at all. Even the best Mages couldn’t say they had done that, but finding them had been a blessing for them all, and soon, the Agreste journals would be back where they belonged. Their stories would live on.

Written for @mlbigbang

[roseamongroses]

headcanons for riri i feel strongly about in nearly every universe is her being lowkey buff because of the manual labor she's used to BUT it all goes down the drain cause she canonically can't fight fr and her diet+ maintence is shit.

but i think about riri in battle.

her suit falling apart around her-- not the new fancy suit, but her suit. that rust bucket looking, falling apart at the seams, osha violation that she put together with some tax evasion and a dream.

i think about the test runs she must've done. the scars, the burns she must've gotten. how she might've hid her injuries while getting used to the suit cause god knows her mom and sister are already concerned about her mental health.

i think about how easily it falls apart. not because it wasn't built well, but because for some reason, no matter how hard riri fights, it isnt enough to save the people she loves. how it falls apart because she rarely retreats/ goes back on her plan. she sees it thru till the end. she let her oxygen get to 0 and kept going.

cause what's the point in having all these gadgets if they have no use. what's the point in her being a hero if she has no use. i think about riri carrying her loved one to safety, suit burning her skin, ears ringing, because even if she can't fight she has to save someone

anyways

[hime-bee]

*rubs hands together menacingly* fuckbuddy hoederer?? ohhhh i'm gonna have fun with this one,,

it works in your favor, seeing as intimacy isn't exactly on the plate for someone of your standing. being the doctor of rhodes island isn't exactly a position that allows you the leeway of what could be considered a normal romance (what, with all the eccentric characters that are your operators). but it does allow you some room to at least weasel in some sessions of getting dicked down. and hoederer is the one who suits your fancy, even if he responds rather awkwardly to your little teasings. you're well aware that he doesn't hold you in the same regard that any of your other operators do, but that's not the end of the world.

hoederer adapts surprisingly well to being your fuckbuddy, even if he's a bit stiff the first few times around. he's certainly not used to you being so forward and bold with your advances, though you work around what makes him comfortable. and you did assure him that your little meetups wouldn't affect his standing within rhodes island, but you did ask that he keep it a secret, especially from w of all people. she'd never let it go if she found out you were getting fucked by what was essentially her father figure, and she'd certainly never let you hear the end of it.

the way hoederer fucks you certainly affirms your choice of picking him for your fuckbuddy. it does take a lil' bit to really get him going, but you've figured out that he needs a good handful of affirmation and gentle touches before he's rearing to go and you can get on all four limbs for him. he fucks you so hard that he keeps slamming against your cervix and making your head go blank from the sensations alone. sometimes when you want to feel just how strong he is, you'll place your hands against the wall and playfully wiggle your hips until he fills you up with that huge dick of his. it's not fair, really, how easily you fall apart to the point where he has to lift your hips up himself and keep fucking into your cunt while you squeal and moan like a needy slut.

he's the type of fuckbuddy who pushes your head down into the mattress while he's pounding into you from behind, your sobs and moans muffled as he hits so deep that you can feel him in your stomach. whether it be intentional or not, just feeling his raw strength is enough to have you creaming around his dick over and over. even if he does offer an apology for getting too rough, it's pretty clear from your pleasure-slack expression that you enjoyed every second of his manhandling.

but the one time you coaxed him into fucking you raw? oh, that really did it in for you. it just felt so damn good with how much of his release he filled you with, and you couldn't stop moaning for him to hurry and knock you up and how badly you wanted his babies. and—oh? looks like he's getting pretty into it too, despite that conflicted look in his eyes. seems like even your war-exhausted fuckbuddy wasn't immune to becoming weak at the thought of knocking you up~

(you gave me an inch and i took a mile >:3c hope this lil' thirst can help with any potential hoederer smut ideas once you're all healed up and feeling much better! <33)

I'M??? LATI????? You really got me over here blushing, no lie 😭 I rarely get flustered by smut anymore, SHEESH- I've reread this so many times, I stopped counting LOL

Ma'am, you're feeding me graciously and I can't thank you enough for these full course meals fr. You've given me such a good idea for a fic, I can't WAIT till my hands heal up, I'm gonna be all over that old man like white on rice, just watch me 😩😩 If you end up writing for him as well, I can guarantee I'll eat that up too 😌💦💦

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: something new | ljn

summary | in a freak chance, your boss’ top makeup artist falls ill right before new york fashion week, and you’re the only intern who could even begin to take over for her. so, you spend a couple of days as lee jeno’s personal makeup artist.

genre | lee jeno x fem! reader, idolverse/real world, nyfw! jeno x makeup artist! reader, (emotional) fling-ish…i realized i didn't tag this w an actual genre its like angst-ish with a bit of fluff lol

warnings | there’s like one suggestive line, y/n had an embarrassing kpop phase in high school

wc | 4.4k

a/n: i literally need to be sedated. his heels … his heels … HIS HEELS … i need a lobotomy rn fr. shout out to my bff for life rin for getting me through the past two days

ft. people i made up

YOU FELT LIKE PASSING OUT.

Thank god you were relatively close with Stella, because, if you weren’t, you’d probably have been trampled a long time ago. It had taken nearly an hour to even get into the hotel due to the scale of fame most of its residents had, and, even after you’d made it in, making it to the room where you’d be working was even harder. Being an intern makeup artist for a fashion brand was fun, up until you’d actually had to go to an important event.

Quickly, you took out your bottle of water, taking a few sips before you really did throw up. When you’d originally been told about this, about your emergency subbing in, you’d felt over the moon—now, you wanted nothing more than to go to your dingy little apartment in Newark and watch a random reality TV show.

“I want to go home.”

“I want to go home.”

“Oh, come on,” Stella groaned, looking at you. You envied her nonchalance, but her lowballing of your anxiety upset you quite a bit—she’d been doing this for ten years, and you were an intern who’d been doing it for four months. “Bossman said he was going to give you someone easy, yeah? Probably a guy. Someone who only needs light foundation and enhancement. Be glad you aren’t Yuri.”

Yuri, one of your other superiors, was taking over for the best makeup artist in your lineup. Two days ago, she’d produced a shiny, new, positive COVID test, leaving your entire team in shambles—and, given the short amount of time, they had to fall back on the interns. They had to fall back on you.

Finally, you made it to your destination—the front of a line to get into the hotel room. The security guard motioned to see your IDs, which both you and Stella produced with ease. The moment he verified, he stepped out of the way, allowing you to enter a world of absolute, utter chaos. People ran around with safety pins and eyeshadow pallets, and you could’ve sworn you heard yelling.

Luckily, your boss had been waiting for you both, it seemed. “Girls!” he exclaimed, coming up and placing a hand on both of your shoulders. “So glad you’ve arrived. Welcome to your first fashion week, [First]! Play your cards right and you can get a permanent hire, I’ll bet.”

“Yeah,” you said, laughing nervously. Your boss patted your shoulder twice, giving you an almost nostalgic smile.

“Stella, you’re over with the women, as always. Have fun! [First], you speak Korean, right?”

You furrowed your brows, wondering why this was relevant. “Uh, yeah?”

Your boss removed his hand from your shoulder, clapping excitedly. “Lovely! I’m giving you a very, very special job that not even Miss-COVID-Positive could pull off.”

He sidestepped past you, and you paused, blinking a couple times before you spun around and rushed to catch up with him. He walked right out the door you’d just waited nearly twenty minutes to enter, strutting down the hall in red-bottomed heels and the most expensive suit you’d ever seen. You struggled to keep up, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the less-than-fancy clothes you were wearing (black sweats that looked like dress pants and a loose t-shirt); then again, Stella had looked worse for wear than you had.

“Where are we going?”

“Peter Do has a very special guest this year, and we need a Korean speaker to follow him around and make sure he looks perfect during the whole event. There’s worry he might not have the easiest time making it around as most of the models do.”

You wondered what that meant. Jokingly, you asked, “Is an idol coming, or something?”

Your boss didn’t respond, he just kept walking, stopping once you reached the elevator. He swiftly pressed the “up” button, waiting for the elevator to finally appear. You stopped next to him, more nerves rising in your stomach. “Sir, please don’t tell me I’m going to have to follow a k-pop idol around.”

“Why? Is that bad?”

You cringed, remembering your high school days—you’d been obsessed, listening to every group under the sun and spending your free time tweeting about those same groups. As such, you knew more than a little bit about how idol lives were, and what they had to endure.

“People are taking pictures of them for every single second they’re out and about,” you said, beginning to overthink as you stepped into the elevator. Your boss pressed the 15th-floor button, but you barely cared, at that point. “One mistake, one slightly-off line, and it’ll be documented forever. Forever, boss. What do I do then? Sit and cry? I’ll never survive that. And if people see me with them? What if there are, like…weird rumors?”

“You’re overreacting,” your boss said. The elevator doors slid open faster than you could comprehend that you were going up, and, suddenly, your boss was emerging into the hall. You, once again, nearly got left behind, stumbling out of the elevator to try and stay with him. This floor was incredibly quiet, with not a single sound echoing through the halls. It was eerie. You would’ve thought it would make you feel better, but it hadn’t—at all.

He stopped in front of room 1567 and knocked. You stood behind him, almost hiding as the door swung open to reveal a woman in her early 30s if you had to guess. “Come, come!” she exclaimed, stepping out of the way to let you in. You followed your boss, a sense of dread overtaking you.

And then you made eye contact with Lee Jeno.

He was standing in the middle of the room in front of a huge mirror, with three people fussing over his outfit. You stood there in shock, flashbacks of being a 16-year-old girl and fussing over “Chewing Gum” filling your mind, and your very short time as an NCT fan. He was just as gorgeous as you’d remembered him being, with jet black hair and a physique any man would die for. You looked over his outfit, impressed with what Peter Do had done, and—

He was shirtless.

You looked away almost instantly, feeling your cheeks burn at the realization. You decided to tune into your boss’ conversation with who you’d assumed to be Jeno’s manager as they talked vigorously. “[First] is our best intern, and is essentially already part of our team, so I wouldn’t worry. She’s also fluent in Korean, something Stella was not, and will be able to heed anything the client wants or doesn’t want. I wouldn’t worry at all.”

“Lovely,” his manager said, turning to you. “We have a little area for you to get set up if our preliminary setup wasn’t to your liking. We have a few instructions for what the designer is looking for as well. After his appearance tonight, we’d like you to demo tomorrow’s look so that we can accept or deny anything. He’s nearly done with outfitting, so it shouldn’t be long.”

It was standard protocol, stuff you’d heard every time you shadowed Stella or Yuri at similar events, yet you felt like you didn’t understand a thing. Nevertheless, you smiled and nodded, bidding goodbye to your boss and following her to your station.

They’d set it up perfectly, allowing everything to be easily grabbed among a sea of products and tools. There was a sleek, black chair in front of you, and you were easily able to lower it to a better height for you. His manager left, and you sat in the bathroom, alone.

The first thing you did was take out your phone and enter a mostly unused group chat that hailed from your high school days. The last time someone had talked was last year, and it was discussing how an old classmate was already married with two kids—they were not gonna believe this one.

“My client for New York Fashion Week is Lee Jeno from NCT.”

Instantly, texts began flooding in, ones of disbelief and shock.

“No fucking way, you liar!!!”

“Make him fall in love with you!!!”

“Kiss him for me omg.”

You smiled, giggling at your phone. Then, the sound of heels clacking on the ground like mini-earthquakes caused you to practically throw your phone on the counter. You dropped your purse next to it, standing up straight and hoping you didn’t look too much like a deer in headlights. He walked in, wearing the most intense heels you’d ever seen and, once again, not wearing a shirt.

“Hello,” he greeted, and your mind immediately switched over to Korean-mode. You hoped you wouldn’t fail at speaking it, given you hadn’t spoken it much since you’d started working this job.

“Hi!” you exclaimed, hoping you didn’t sound too idiotic. “Um, go ahead and sit down, and we can start.”

He nodded, following your orders to the T. His manager stepped in, leaning against the door while she scrolled on his phone. You picked up a piece of paper, reading over what today’s directions were.

Natural with a slight enhancement of features, exactly like Stella had said. You could do that easy-peasy.

“Is there anything in particular you want me to focus on?” you asked, picking up the sheerest foundation they had. It was certainly a shade too light—you nearly frowned at this, but kept your composure—but you hoped the transparency of it would obscure that.

Jeno thought for a moment before shaking his head, smiling at you. “Do whatever you think is best.”

“All right,” you nodded. “Oh! By the way, I’m [First], and I’m your main makeup artist for this week.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, relaxing in the chair. “I’m glad I’ll have one familiar face around.”

“Me too.” You began to paint the foundation onto his face, basking in the moment of shock you went through. You were doing Lee Jeno’s makeup—Lee Jeno, who you’d fawned over and loved all throughout your high school years.

“You’re new to this?” he asked, looking at you while not moving his face at all. You swear your heart palpitated at his question, even if it was a meaningless formality more than it was actual curiosity.

“Um, I guess? I’ve been interning for about eight months now. Hoping for an official position once the year-long residency is up,” you said, laughing nervously for the ninetieth time today. “You’ve been doing this for six years now, right?”

Jeno’s eyes widened for a split second, and you wondered if that had been the wrong thing to say. You doubted he wanted to hear that you were an NCT fan way back when, given how awful the sasaeng presence was for his group.

“Wow, you know?” and a smile blossomed on his face, causing your heart to beat even faster. “I didn’t think I’d run into anyone who knew NCT while I was here.”

“Oh, give me a break,” you said, putting your foundation brush down and picking up an eyeshadow palette. “NCT are huge. Up there in terms of international fame. I’ll bet most—if not all—people here know who NCT are or have heard the name. Plus, a bunch of people will come to see you. Promise.”

God, you probably sounded immature and awful as you said that. You finished lightly outlining his natural features with a very light brown, uncomfortably setting down the palette. Suddenly, an idea came to you, and you hoped it didn’t look too stupid.

“I guess you’re right,” Jeno finally said, his smile dropping in the slightest. He must’ve been nervous; you would have been too. In a new country, alone, with none of the seven people you’d spent your whole adolescence with…you’d be horrified too.

You scoured the cart for any sort of brown eyeliner, feeling a bit calmer knowing Jeno didn't think you were an embarrassing idiot. Taking the brown eyeliner, you paused, biting your lip.

“Um, would you mind if I kind of…held your face for a second? It would just be a second, not too long or anything.”

“No, no.” Jeno shook his head. “Go right ahead.”

Softly, you pressed your fingers against his face, trying to keep your hand as steady as possible. You gently pulled his skin, widening the range in which the eyeliner could reach. His skin was impossibly soft, and you could only begin to wonder how long his morning routines must have been. He was perfect.

As cleanly as possible, you pressed the tip of the eyeliner to the beauty mark right under his eye, filling it in as dark as possible. That was his most noticeable and memorable feature, in your opinion, and having it stand out seemed ideal to you.

You pulled away, staring at his face for a second. He almost looked better before you’d started, but you shook off the feeling and smiled. “I’m just gonna put on some tinted lip balm and you’ll be on your way.”

You picked up the small tube, twisting it up so that the slightest bit would protrude from it. You placed your fingers on his face to steady your hands once again, gently brushing on the light pink gel.

If you were insane enough, you would have kissed him.

“You’re all good!” you announced, smiling. “Go out there and wow the world in your 90cm heels.”

He chuckled at your joke, standing and instantly towering over you. You practically had to look straight up to see him comfortably. “I’ll see you soon, [First].”

He and his manager left the room, leaving you alone. You assumed you should just wait until he returned, so you sat down in the makeup chair, basking in the warmth he’d left behind.

—

To no one’s surprise, you’d fallen in love—or, had a really intense crush on—with Lee Jeno over the two days you’d worked for him.

Every time you were left alone with him, taking his makeup off or retouching it before he went back out into the world, he fired questions at you and you fired them back. You felt like you’d known Jeno for years, even if it had only been two days.

When he left, you knew he’d stop thinking about you, too—in a world surrounded by the country’s most beautiful people, you didn’t stand a chance at occupying even a sliver of his mind. Or, maybe you did; maybe your absolute unremarkableness in a sea of greats stood out to him.

You saw him walk in through his reflection in the mirror, alone, manager not in tow. He wasn’t supposed to be here, so you didn’t move from the makeup chair, simply looking up from your phone and staring at him through his reflection. “Did something happen?” you asked, finally looking towards him. A simple sweep of his face showed no flaws in his makeup, so he had no reason to be here. “I don’t see anything wrong.”

“Will you meet with me tonight?” he finally asked, looking at you with a sort of desperation in his eyes. “I want to see you before I leave. I won’t be back in tonight. My manager’s about to come tell you that you’re free to go home, but…please don’t go home.”

You sighed, thinking about how idiotic it would be to ride the train home, alone, to Newark at night. If you were thinking reasonably, you should’ve said no. If you were thinking reasonably, you would’ve considered the chance that all eyes were on Jeno right now, and being caught sneaking into his hotel room past 7pm would have resulted in your face all over the internet.

“What time?”

“If you’re okay waiting, I’m staying at this hotel, so…I could let you into my room after my manager tells you. Room 1911 on the nineteenth floor. Okay?”

You should’ve said no. You really should’ve said no.

Instead, you nodded, mumbling a quiet “okay.” The smile that appeared on his face after that was brighter than you’d ever seen him smile over the past two days, and, with that, he disappeared from the room. You picked your phone up off your lap, wondering what your friend would say to you after hearing all of that.

“Girl, bring a pen,” she joked, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Nothing’s gonna happen. I won’t be signing any NDAs. I’m not going to initiate anything, and I won’t let him initiate anything. We live thousands of miles away from each other, and I don’t want to kill myself with emotion.”

“You say that…” your friend trailed off, giggling. “Well, I guess I should hang up then. Seems like the manager is coming to let you down gently—d’ya think she knows?”

“I hope to god she doesn’t.”

The line went dead, and you slowly lowered your phone from your ear, staring at the wall. If you could sit down in a room with your sixteen-year-old self and tell her, “In six years, you’ll be having an emotional fling with Lee Jeno from NCT,” she’d laugh and call you too lame for that.

Just like it was forewarned, Jeno’s manager came in with a smile on her face and a small, pink gift bag in her hands. “[First],” she began, watching as you stood up from the chair to face her. She handed you the small bag, which had an interesting sort of heft to it—you wondered what it was. “I’m happy to let you know that we’re done for today, and you’re officially relieved of your duties. I’ve let your boss know that you did a wonderful job for us and for Jeno, and to certainly consider upping your position from intern to an official employee.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, half-bowing. “I’m thrilled to have the opportunity, and I had a wonderful time working for you.”

“Well then,” she said, wiping her hands together. “You’re off! Have a safe trip home, and treat yourself well!”

“Thank you!”

And you slipped out the door, practically running towards the elevator. You bobbed and weaved through people in the halls and realized it would be a better idea to take the stairs up, so that’s exactly what you did. The sheer adrenaline of sneaking up to a top idol’s room fueled you to keep going up and up, even if it felt like the air had been suffocated from your lungs.

Each new step made you feel more insane. This bond you’d formed with a boy you barely knew—it felt ridiculous. It felt dangerous. Nevertheless, you kept going—up, and up, and up. Up, towards an impending doom you could’ve avoided.

Reaching the door with the big nineteen on it must’ve been what people felt like when they reached an oasis in the desert. You pushed the door open with ragged breaths and a weak physique, trudging down the hall with heavy legs. You counted the numbers on the doors, finding yourself at the one in the middle of a dead-end hall.

1911. You knocked twice, and the door was thrown up—Jeno grabbed your arm and tugged you inside, slamming the door shut behind you. “Not to hold you captive or anything,” he said sheepishly, looking through the peephole of the door. “But you need to stay here until, um, 7ish? You can watch TV or something. The room’s already been swept for bugs, so feel comfortable…okay? I’ll be back.”

Someone knocked on the door, and you wondered whether or not you would’ve been dead meat if you hadn’t been fueled by pure adrenaline as you walked up the stairs.

“Jeno! We need you now!”

Jeno ushered you out of sight from the door, grabbing his keycard off the decorative table that sat near the door. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, half-nodding at you. You both stared at each other for a second, with you still trying to catch your breath from your 7-flight hike up here.

Then, without any warning, Jeno walked up to you, grabbed your shoulders, and pressed a feathery kiss to your lips. It was fast, chaste, too quick for you to understand what was happening before someone was banging on the door again and he was rushing out to meet them.

The door slammed shut behind him, and you stood there, wondering what in the world you’d done to deserve this.

–

It was 7:30 now, and Jeno hadn’t shown up. You were beginning to get antsy, making sure the curtains obscured the whole room every twenty minutes and attempting to focus on the TV show you decided on. Of course, it never worked, and you were constantly picking up your phone and trying to find anything to keep yourself occupied.

So, when the door opened and a boy with 5-and-a-half-inch heels stepped inside, you felt a sudden wave of relief rush through you in waves. You stood up from the bed, letting your phone fall onto the duvet as you watched him walk deeper into the room. Jeno practically ripped the shoes off, sighing in relief now that he was finally free from the heels.

“Sorry,” he said, a bit out of breath. You would be too if you had to walk in those heels.

“For what?”

“Earlier.” You mentally took yourself through those chain of events, remembering the first 30-minutes of alone time in which you had attempted to process it, and then the succeeding 3-and-a-half hours in which you had tried to forget it. “I didn’t ask.”

“Um, it’s okay,” you said, trying not to shrink into yourself. “I didn’t mind that much.”

If you were more honest, you would’ve said, “It haunted me a bit, but then I learned to live with the shock.” Were you angry? Not at all. Was being kissed by a celebrity, an idol with a manicured personality, that you were in love with in high school shocking and hard to process? Yes.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, turning away as Jeno pulled his fancy polo shirt over his head and opted to change into an SM Town concert t-shirt. When the rustling of clothes was over, you looked to see him in complete lounge wear rather than just a new shirt, and now you were thinking about how Lee Jeno changed in the same room as you.

He took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed, and it was silent again. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him, or maybe it was your mind making it up simply because you were so close to him. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you felt like shoving your face into a pillow and screaming like a teenage girl.

“Look,” he started, suddenly turning towards you. You half-mimicked his action, knowing that, if you looked him in the eye, you’d practically melt. “I don’t know why, but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life. I feel like I was always meant to cross paths with you, like—like it was destined, or something. I know it’s only been two days, and I know I’m flying across the world tomorrow, but can we please keep in touch?”

You cleared your throat and, inexplicably, you felt like crying. This felt impossible—no amount of bad sleep schedules and bad planning would keep you two in the know with each other. And, every time he came back to New York, you’d repeat this cycle over and over again. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

“I guess, but…” you felt bad feeling him relax and then immediately tense up again beside you. Mustering up all of your courage, you turned towards him completely, locking eyes. “You have to promise me you won’t forget about me and leave me cold turkey, okay? My life isn’t like yours. It’s slower. It’s easier to build connections. So, if you…if you just promise—”

“I promise,” he cut you off, faster than you could even comprehend it. Once again, he cupped your face in his hands, looking at you with such gorgeous eyes that you could’ve passed out right then and there. He was the son of Aphrodite, the living manifestation of pure and unbridled beauty, the type you can't contest even if you wanted to. He was everything you were not, and, yet, he still seemed so infatuated with you.

“Okay.”

Jeno pressed his forehead against yours, and for a moment, you just stood there. You draped your arms around his neck, and, for a moment, you just sat there. Basking in the presence of each other, something you wouldn’t get for a long time after tonight. If there even was an “after tonight,” that is—there was always the chance that you’d never hear from Lee Jeno again after this, and you’d fade away into nothing but a memory in his mind.

Or, maybe it was the opposite. Maybe you’d talk every day, sending pictures and calling when viable. Maybe you’d look at makeup artist listings at SM Entertainment without telling, applying and destroying the whole world you’d worked so hard to build here in New York. Maybe you’d send him a picture of you on a plane and a time, and you’d fly, and you’d land, and you’d be met with him in his full glory.

Maybe you’d have one of those romance-movie moments, the type of moment you’d see on a Hallmark Christmas movie, where you ran and hugged each other, where he lifted you off the ground and spun you around. Where you kissed amongst a huge crowd of people, trying to get to their final destination and glaring at you stopping in the middle of the walkway.

Or, maybe you were delusional. You didn’t care, because, as Jeno connected his lips with yours for the second time tonight, much slower and more thought out, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this was something new.

thank you for reading!

[shorkbrian]

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately. 

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment. 

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way. 

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.” 

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie. 

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone. 

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed. 

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island.  It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words. 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest. 

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face. 

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly. 

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it. 

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

[bunnyrhe]

Mafia GDragon x Reader

Summary:your father the Kim Sajangnim passed, he left you and JiYong in charge of his crime syndicate. You and JiYong have always had an easy affection, but he wants permanence and power.

Warning: just rich people stuff, real hot girl shit

A/N : @vampiratesgrl Holy smokes. This was a Namjoon imagine before this up to yesterday but with the big bang comeback and me watching all the interviews and countdowns all over again and some fr the first time, I'm faling in love with GD all over again. I really hope you like it, I'd hate for this to flop. I just return it to th Namjoon fic and upload it with changes. I was really inspired by @deermi Wonderwall pt4, A whale for the Killing by Faucault and @yuujispinkhair Kiss the ring I carry the crown, the big speech with Sukuna saying he's the most powerful guy MC would ever get. That speech inspired all of my WIPS rn.

A torrent of sooty clouds scuttled out of the mountains, white frosty early morning winds swirled up to marry the cloud wrack. The sky was still slate grey, caught at the crossroads between late night and early morning. Fog swallowed up the buildings below like sea foam, only their roofs could be seen like bright buoys. The briliant red and blue lights on satellite towers blinking in the distance like a lighthouse.

This building is far above the rest. A headland among islands in clusters, seeded among the thick fog like dragon's teeth. They looked like things of terror on black nights or now when corpse blankets of fog smother streets and skyscrapers alike. 

Far off, several miles away out of the cloudbanks and miserable fog, I could see a black break, a slick surging body. I ran to the other wall facing the harbour. Boats slicing smoothly and disappearing from view. They left behind a plume of fine mist blown away quickly by the winds. 

This city was a foreign entity to me.

My breath was fogging up the glass of the floor to ceiling windows, it was ice cold to the touch and I could feel the cold tentacles slithering up my arms from my fingertips. An unpleasant cold all over nipping my thighs. I was wearing white silky pajama set, the breast pocket below an embroidered name KJY. 

The bedroom was treated similarly to the living room, large, opulent floor to ceiling windows with massive blackout curtains. The living room was dark, I think the lights were on a timer because I couldn't find a switch or a remote. The large white L -Shaped sofa and loveseats formed a sort of circle. A single brick wall that the TV was on and a fireplace below it .The living room was as big as my apartment and the windows made the room feel infinitely larger till the point where my domain flopped and rolled like I was going to fall. This place had to be an architect's contemporary paradise. White and black marble tiles and a plush colourful Persian rug overlaid it. Bonsai plants on a coffee table and fancy abstract art on the wall.

Everything looked so expensive and luxurious. High ceilings and yellow lightbulb chandelier looked like something out of a chemistry class-like how electrons were arranged around the nucleus, disjointed, haphazard and glorious.

Warm yellow light turned on in the kitchen. I could see the light on the walls and floors, distant beeping of the coffeemaker turning on. 

"Good Morning, little one. I'm surprised to see you out of bed so early."JiYong entered the living room in sweatpants, bare chested with a towel around his neck for his wet dark hair. He was holding a mug, steam rising out of it curling sinuously around his chin. There was a shiny gold watch on his wrist and a ring on his pinky. "It's too cold for you to be out of bed, baby, come here." The most impressive part of his look was the dragon on his chest curled against a daisy missing a single petal. That was the mark of the Kwon clan.

"JiYong..what am I doing here?"

"Today's going to be chilly,Jagi, I'll remember to lay out something warm.Didn't you want me to take care of you?" He pulled me into him by my hips. "Didn't you want me to make it better and take you away from all that? When Kim Sajangnim passed he gave me instructions to take care of you." 

I felt a pang of sadness in me like a final sombre piano key. Like melancholic pantones surrounded me. When my father died of course he gave one of his trusted business partners the reigns over me. He always favoured JiYong like the son he never had, men in his world never saw the use for daughters. Even when he died, he loaded over me. "JiYong, where am I?" 

He sipped casually,"Galleria Floret.Do you like it?"

"The view? It's lovely."

"Do you want to see it everyday? I can buy you an apartment like this one or…you can stay in this one with me. Just say the word and I'll get you anything you want. I want you to be comfortable." His eyes needled me. I could feel the subtle manipulation. 

Of course I wanted to stay with him. JiYong was a pervasive demagogue and had the silver tongue. Of course I wanted to be taken care of and not have to worry. And here was this rich, beautiful man giving me everything that I wanted. I had amassed enough wealth from my own endeavours independent of the Kim syndicate to buy my half  of the world, but I couldn't buy JiYong. I wanted him too. In my moments of abject loneliness I wanted him, I always had. 

"How do you afford all of this? I thought you…did Father already leave you an inheritance?" I pouted looking at my reflection in the glass and JiYong. His broad shoulders and tiny waist. He was built and defined, smelling incredible like a forest and limes and warm linens. 

He smiled over the rim of his mug. "I cashed in the shares he left me and now I own a major trading company and I dabble in architecture… that one right there with the red top, you can't see it very well now with the fog, that's the main firm I installed."

"So old money?" 

He stepped impossibly closer to me, arms around my shoulders now, pointing to a building sunken below the all encompassing fog,"And that one with the green lights, I bought it with old money… and the bright yellow twin pair way over there I bought them with new money…and that grey one and the apartment complex way over there too. I'm gonna buy all the others and anything else I want to look at. I want to look outside my window and see that I own the whole skyline. Your father's company and all his shady dealings,I'm making them legitimate. It's time we become businessmen, and walk the fine line between our world and the business world, keep the drugs, guns and casinos but what about arts and technology. And I'll need your clean face to help me."

He came off with a hint of aggression and cockiness at the end, reeling it in to chuckle watching me struggle. It was palpable, I could feel it like a force radiating off of him, like an invisible force field.

He turned to sit on the couch, fluffy bedroom slippers with a flat G stamp on the soles. His ming tea cup on the coffee table,"won't you come sit with oppa?"

I sank next to him, having him pull me into his lap. I let him, dizzy from how casually exuded power and peace.I sniffled curling into his side, wrapping around his middle. He pulled the blanket over me, letting me relax and rest so happily satisfied. "Oppa can more than provide for his baby girl."

"Where did you go? I woke up alone." 

"I was right with you the whole time. I went to the gym downstairs." 

"Why don't you just stay with me instead?"

"I'm sorry my princess, oppa will adjust his schedule so baby girl can wake up with him, yeah?"

I wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not but he was making me sink so quickly into my small space. I just wanted him to be true. "Do you mean it?"

He smiled warmly at me,stroking my face with his heavy warm hand," Yes baby. Oppa promises. I'll have my assistant get right on it." 

"Is she pretty?"

"Jimin is very kind and hardworking." 

I nodded with a a tiny huff, thoroughly satisfied with the answer. Bubba kissed my forehead softly, praising me I only have eyes for my little princess,okay? I held his hand in mine looking at all the tiny faces that it reflected in the pear cut gem. 

"Peridot, it's my birthstone. I mined it from a vein I own in Russia. Are you ever going to answer my question…if you want to stay here? Or are you quizzing me right now?" 

"Quizzing."

I giggled burying my nose to his neck testing how comfy it was here. So far so good.

He cringed towards me complaining about how cold my nose was like a puppy. I just nuzzled into him deeper.

"Level with me, you know Bubba can take care of you all day everyday no problem, because I love you. But if I do this for you now, if I put you back to sleep in my bed, under my sheets, in the pajamas I bought you…all under my roof you can never leave me. Now Oppa can keep his babygirl safe, clean, fed and spoiled all day everyday no problem or you can go back to your designing job and leave all of this behind. I won't keep you prisoner and I won't taint your business with cartel problems, but when I love you so fiercely the way only I can do, you'll never want to leave. Now make your decision. "

"What if I want none of that?"

"If you want to leave right now then go. Leave. Date any pathetic little boy you want to but you'll be back because you'll want a powerful man. You'll want somebody to spoil you with love and affection, their time and companionship. With their money. You love the power I have, and the inch your Father gave you you'd have all that you deserve with me. You'd want someone to die for you or kill for you. Either way, such bliss. So if you leave me, it'll hurt when I'm right. When my love burns you up and when you're without it your ashen. Let me know when I'm in the ball park."

Homerun. 

"So what do you want?"

"You know he was my father and as much as he hates the fact that I'm a girl, he put clauses in for me to limit your growth. Technically, I have more reigns than you do." 

"I know. But I want you to have all. Be with me, let's rule these peasants together. "

"I was going to say yes before your big speech." He grinned swooping me up instantly with one hand,perching you on his hip while you vibrated in laughter. He kept kissing my cheeks,setting the mug down on the table and carrying me bridal style now. 

"My smartest girl, my smartest most beautiful, most amazing girl. Come on let's get my princess something shiny."

[p-antomime]

Kiki i requested for izana and now i would like to request for kakucho! But if ur inbox is pilling up feel free to ignore this request bb ^-^

Like kaku with a rival gang. Said rival gang has a woman in it, said woman falls in love with kakucho because due to the fact hes very silent she assumes hes submisive (nah, i believe in soft dom kaku) rival gang places bets on bonten, and winner gets to do anything. Bonten losses and kaku has to pay the price. Womans request was to fuck kaku in front of his wife in a fancy hotel. Imagine how upset kaku will be breaking the news to you, you being the submissive wife you are said yes nearly in tears but bussiness is bussiness. Night falls and u go to the hotel wif kakucho and said woman falls in love with you in first sight you were already in tears so you kinda turned her on more than necessary Then she jus out of the blue just said "i change my mind, im going to fuck your wife while you watch instead." Poor kaku littraly cant do anything, beside watch his wife cry over someone elses fingers. The ride back home is tense, the usually calm and collected kaku is replaced with a man so cold as ice, he looks like hes littraly about to tear ur pussy apart. feral kaku feral kaku

Daam i love it when y/n is like an angel? But is so dirtyminded, but littraly no one can tell. Probably me when my boyfriend says im an angel but he dont know the stuff i read on tumblr.

I DIDN'T KNOW I NEEDED HUSBAND!KAKU UNTIL YOU BROUGHT HUSBAND!KAKU TO THE TABLE UGHHH (also::: fuck ur mind on that thing with izana was SO *chef kiss*, like wtf I think about that almost every day fr

here we go with this thing with husband!kakucho and i hope you like it from the bottom of my heart babe !

[mctherofdragons]

In The Afterglow | 4 | F.W

This is a reposting of Chapter 4 because I accidentally deleted the original post. Please note as of the day I posted this, we are on much later chapters! xx

Summary: The reader is married to George Weasley, and for all intents and purposes, he is the perfect husband. But, despite her best efforts to resist, Fred presents temptation she never knew she’d fall for.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader; George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Alternate Universe: No Voldemort AU

Rating: Mature, Features EXPLICIT CONTENT!! Mature audiences only.

Trigger Warnings: ANGST,  mentions of extramarital affairs, miscarriage, mention of a d&c procedure, cheating, oral sex (female receiving)

Flashbacks are in italics!

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

December 28th. 

You slid the hotel room key into the door, taking a deep breath as you opened it. It was an agreement that you would meet at a local hotel. Your story to George was that you had a work emergency, and Fred had just told the rest of the mates at the pub that he was tired. You’d never considered yourself a liar or a cheat, but it occurred to you all at once that as of tonight, you were both. But any thought about your marriage covenant was going, going, gone as you walked into the room, your heart hammering in your chest at the prospect of being completely alone and vulnerable with your husband’s twin. The twin who you were falling madly and irrevocably in love with, despite the protests of your morals screaming into your subconscious.

Once the door shut behind you, you turned to see Fred sitting cross-legged on the bed. He stood up quickly, practically falling over his long legs to get to you.  “Hi,” he whispered, cupping your face and planting a soft and longed-for kiss on your lips. You pulled off your scarf and jacket, laying them on the bed.

You moved to pull yourself closer to Fred again. A wave of calm washed from your fingertips to your toes as you buried your face into his maroon button-up shirt. Fred had this way about him: he was both strong and gentle; funny yet serious; forbidden yet sweet. He smiled, using the hand that wasn’t keeping you cling to his chest to stroke your hair.

“I missed you, Fred,” you admitted softly, not looking up. You noticed he was holding you tight. His embrace was almost protective, as if he let relaxed even a bit you would fall apart right there.

You stepped back for a moment, sighing as you sat down on the edge of the mattress. You were exhausted. A bit of a stress-induced headache was beginning to form behind your eyes. While you would normally want to be tucked in your bed with a cup of tea and a few aspirin, tonight the only painkiller you wanted was Fred. He sat next to you, allowing you to turn to look at him.

“This isn’t right.”

Of course, you were stating the obvious. Fred nodded in agreement.

“I know.”

Fred intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing your hand up to plant a few soft kisses on your fingers.

“George told me...about what happened a few months ago...I’m sorry, y/n. I wish I’d have known.”

“No one knows. Even if they did what could they do? I haven’t told anyone. Not even your mum, although, maybe it would keep her from constantly asking about another grandchild.”

Fred looked at you and all at once felt his heart shatter again. There was something about you that left him mystified and unhinged. It was as if you two had been cut from the same pieces of marble - two statues fated to be next to one another but never touching. He wasn’t sure if he believed in God, but if he had, certainly He had made you two from the same substance.

Fred placed a hand on your cheek. His gaze pierced yours. He spoke honestly, and you recognized that for the first time in a long time, you felt whole again.

“I wish I could give you the world, y/n. I would have given you anything, everything if you were mine.”

You wanted to pull away. Surely, George telling Fred about your miscarriage must have meant he was still bothered. Yet, not in the way that would make him hold you at night or ask you how you’ve been. It was more so in a way that caused you both to sit in silence at the dinner table, forks scraping against plates as neither of you spoke. Knowing that life with Fred would be different felt like a thousand tiny daggers ripping into your flesh, each of them dripping with guilt and shame.

To silence Fred, you brought your lips to his. All at once, the space between you was nonexistent. It was as if gravity had brought you two together like magnets. Fred gently laid you back onto the bed, moving to kiss your neck tenderly and purposefully. His breath tickled the wetness on your skin as he spoke.

“I want you to know that you are the most perfect creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he whispered, before continuing to kiss down toward your collarbone.

His hands found their way to the hem of your tee shirt and you didn’t move to stop him. He pulled your shirt off over your head, tossing it onto the floor. Fred took a deep breath and began to plant his lips lovingly, down between your collarbones and onto your tummy.

When Fred finally hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties, he looked up at you. He waited for you to give him the go-ahead. His patience was like a warm breeze washing over you. It had been so long since you felt waited for, not pushed.

“Promise not to tell,” you said softly, giving him permission to go further.

“Our little secret.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ

6 years earlier. 

You took a deep breath, shaking your hands out in an effort to stop some of your nerves. “You look stunning,” your friend assured you. It was the night of the Yule Ball, and it so happened, your first real date with George Weasley.

“Do you think he’ll like my dress?” you smoothed your hands over the maroon lace of your gown. The dress you had chosen was floor length with a full skirt and lace bodice. The sweetheart neckline perfectly hugged you in all the right places. It was still puzzling to you, as you slipped into your heels, that George had finally asked you out.

“He would be a bloody idiot to think you looked anything other than drop-dead gorgeous.”

Always a loyal Hufflepuff, you were thankful for your friend’s ability to cheer you up. You grabbed your clutch, following your friend out of her dormitory.

“Now, come on, we don’t want to miss the opening waltz.”

——-

When you arrived at the top of the stairs, you were excited to see George waiting for you at the bottom. You took in the sight of your date, a bright smile spreading quickly across your face. His long hair was resting perfectly just above his shoulders. To add, he was wearing surprisingly nice dress robes, considering his little brother’s ensemble was dreadful.  From what Fred had told you, the two of them had scraped up money together all year to make sure they had something fit to wear to the ball.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, George extended a hand to you. You took it and he leaned down to give you a gentlemanly kiss on the hand. You blushed a darker shade than your dress, feeling a million butterflies burst to life in your stomach.

“You look like a Princess,” he purred. You could have melted into a puddle right there. It was as if everyone else in the room no longer existed as George led you into the Great Hall. It occurred to you that you hadn’t seen Fred, but it didn’t much matter where your best friend was, because every last ounce of your attention was on George.

Meanwhile, Fred sat on his bed, flipping through a comic book. He closed it, feeling like nothing could possibly distract him from the sadness in his chest. He huffed, falling backward onto his pillows and staring hopelessly up at the top of the canopy of his bed. He crossed his arms over his chest as he chewing on his bottom lip.

Fred had secretly hoped George wouldn’t end up asking you to the Yule Ball. In fact, he had tried his damndest to ensure it didn’t happen. George had asked him directly if he had fancied you. But Fred’s ego got the best of him and scoffed, stating he could never view you as anything more than a friend. She’s like my sister, he had said to his brother, hiding the redness growing on his pale cheeks. So George had gone ahead and asked you. Fred, on the other hand, decided it would be better for him to hide away in his dorm all night than to have to see you and George together. If only he had known the Yule Ball was barely a glimmer into what the next several years of his life would be like.

George had completely stolen your heart that night. You had danced until the Great Hall was all but empty. Your laughter echoed above the music. George was quiet possibly one of the most charming boys at Hogwarts. You felt chosen, worthy, and on top of the world.

Best of all, he had walked you back to your dormitory and given you your first real kiss. You had been kissed before, sure, but games of 7 Minutes in Heaven in the y/hn common room didn’t count in your book. He had asked for permission quietly, looking down at his feet. When you said yes, all at once, your lips met. It was quick but sweet. You noted how George’s lips felt like silk. Up close, George smelled woodsy, yet sweet. You felt like you were on the moon, and you went back into your room, falling back onto your mattress with a giggle. Like most girls your age, you were certain it was true love. But, in your rare case, your prediction was correct.

You turned to your roommate and squealed. “I think I’m going to marry George Weasley someday.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ

December 28th.

You tossed your head back hard against the pillow, gripping onto the hotel sheets as tight as you could. The only thing clear behind your eyes was a flash of white. Try as you might to hold it back, a loud moan echoed off the hotel room walls. It took a second for you to come back down, feeling two calloused hands on either of your thighs. You heard a soft chuckle and glanced down. Fred was moving from between your legs, fixing his red hair which had now become messy from wrapping your hands in it. You shivered as you felt his warm breath hit the inside of your thigh. You were hypersensitive as you floated back down to Planet Earth.

Fred had kissed his way down your body, whispering quietly about how beautiful every inch of you was. When he had finally reached his destination, you’d realized quickly why so many girls were constantly showing up at the shop to see him. Fred had insisted that you needn’t return the favor. He always made it clear you didn’t have to go any further that night, stating that he just wanted all of the attention to be on you.

“Fred, I--”

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly. The redhead climbed up next to you, smiling contently. He moved a piece of sweaty hair from your forehead, giving you a tiny peck on the cheek.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s been a while since that’s happened,” you noted, trying to make light of the fact that it really had been ages since George had shown you a reasonable amount of intimate attention. He smiled, reaching over to hand you his shirt while had been balled up on the floor. You fastened the buttons as he got a bit more comfortable in bed.

“You deserve to be shown how magnificent you are,” Fred ran his hand down your side and you shivered. He pulled the blankets closer around you. “I wish we could stay like this forever, y/n. You know?”

You both laid in silence for a while. No words need to have been spoken as you pressed your foreheads together, taking deep breaths. Fred allowed himself to kiss you a few times, soft as a feather. His eyelashes brushed against your cheeks.

Now that your high was coming down, clarity of the situation was settling in. There was no turning back now. This was no longer a stolen kiss or a wandering hand. Your brother-in-law had just taken you to the edge of ecstasy while your husband no doubt slept alone at home. You flung the covers off of you, feeling like your were suffocating. As quickly as you could you stood up, eyes darting around the room for your clothing. Fred’s brows suddenly furrowed and he looked at you, concern radiating from his face.

“Y/n, did I—-did I do something wrong?”

“No, no. I did. I have to go.”

As if it were a race against the clock, you quickly stripped out of Fred’s shirt and found your jeans on the floor. You pulled them on, moving next to find your grey sweater. Tears were rolling down your cheeks quickly, and you felt your breath becoming harder to take. It may have been your mind, but you could have sworn the walls of the hotel room were collapsing in around you. You felt dirty and shameful - like every shred of decency you had for your husband was nonexistent.

“Baby.”

You said nothing, shoving your phone and wallet into your purse.

“Baby-“

“Don’t call me that, Fred. I’m not your baby.”

Your words hit him like a sucker punch. He recoiled, but still looked worried.

You laid a few bills out on the table for the housekeeper and quickly rushed out of the room. You heard Fred calling after you as he had moved to open the door in an attempt to catch you.

“Y/n!”

As you hurried down the long hotel corridor, it became harder and harder for you to bring air into your lungs. You just about knocked a businessman over as you rushed into the elevator, hitting the button for the first floor as quickly as you could.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ

September 24th. 

“George,” you shook your husband’s shoulder quickly. Your throat felt tight as you hoped and prayed he would wake up soon. Your hand was pressed to your stomach, eyes clenched tight as another cramp ripped through you.

One of his brown eyes opened and he sat up a bit. “Honey?”

“Something...something’s wrong.”

You had been startled from your sleep in the middle of the night to intense cramping, and now the blood wouldn’t stop. Sharp pains were shooting across your lower back. You knew you had to wake George to get you to the hospital.

Just a few weeks earlier, you had made it through the first trimester. You and George had already made plans to tell the family, bursting at the seams with excitement. During the first three months, you hid your condition well, politely declining fire whisky at get-togethers and wearing looser dresses. You had assumed that you had made it through the riskiest part of your pregnancy. For that reason, a few gifts were sitting in the corner of your bedroom. A grandma tee-shirt for Molly and a gift for Fred, too. You and George had agreed there would obviously be no other option for the baby’s godfather.

At the hospital, you were told the news you were dreading. George held onto you as you wept, barely listening as the doctor told you what would happen next. You begged to be allowed to go home and pass the pregnancy naturally. It wouldn’t be possible according to the professionals. George tried to calm you down as the nurse gently prepped you for the procedure.

It was over fairly quickly. George had waited for you in the waiting room, sipping on cheap coffee, and wondering if he should call Molly. He decided against it, knowing she would just be beside herself for weeks. Eventually, a charge nurse came to tell him everything was done.

“We’ll give her some pain medication and she’ll be as good as new in a few days. You’ll want to keep on eye on her though, dear, you know, emotionally.”

George nodded, tossing his empty styrofoam cup into a nearby trashcan and bounded toward the elevator. Upon walking into Room 493, he noticed how pale you looked. He walked over slowly and you looked at him. The anesthesia was just wearing off. You felt woozy, but had a sense of peace as George leaned over to kiss your forehead. He stayed down close to you, moving your hair from your face a bit.

“You did great, sweetheart. You are so brave. I love you. Come on, we’ll get you home, okay?”

The drive home was dead silent as you stared at the window. Rain splattered against the windshield. You wanted to dissolve into thin air, thinking to yourself that ceasing to exist would be better than the ache you felt. It was dawn and you felt yourself staring mindlessly at the cars passing you. Off these people went to work or school, while you had just lost a baby. It was impossible to recall an emotional pain like the one harboring itself in your heart. A deep, hollow sensation sunk its way into you as tears began trickling down your face. Hermione, Fleur, and Ginny all knew the joy of being a mother. But what about you? Why not you?

You pressed your cheek against the glass, letting out the tiniest whimper.

George glanced over at you and reached to grab your hand. The broken noise you had made had distracted him from the road. You clutched his hand to yours, letting your sobs echo against the dashboard. George felt his own tears begin to slide down his cheeks. The realization hit him all at once that you would never be the same - a part of you permanently and profoundly changed.

You laid in bed for days, only leaving to shower. Occasionally, you allowed George to sit you up and give you something to eat. It wasn’t that you were physically in pain. No, the doctors had given you a good amount of painkillers to ease the physical soreness. Rather, a dark storm cloud had enveloped your heart and mind, forcing you to do nothing but lay and stare at the wall. You would weep, sometimes for hours. As if on cue, George would slide under the covers next to you and pull you close to him.

With your face buried deep into his chest, you would allow your whole body to shake, almost screaming. “M-my baby,” you would weep, gripping your hands into George’s shirt. It wasn’t just once that this happened - but for days on end. George would fight his own tears from coming, willing himself to be the strong and protective husband you deserved. The woman he loved had entered that hospital and he wasn’t sure she had come back out. But he would do anything, he promised himself, to be what you needed.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ

December 29th. 

The Saturday morning sunshine poured through your window. You stretched contently, noting that George was already gone. Saturdays served to be the busiest days at Weasley Wizard Wheezes. People had more time to shop on the weekends, of course. Therefore, Saturday also happened to be the day you would whip up some food for the twins and head down to help out. You busied yourself mostly with the register and bookkeeping, giving Fred and George more time to be present with customers and take care of other duties.

This Saturday felt different. The feeling Fred had given you the night before was still fresh in your mind as you stared in the bathroom mirror. You looked back at yourself, letting out a deep sigh. Dark circles were present beneath your eyes, no doubt from the restless sleep you had. You laid awake, looking at George, thinking to yourself that whatever category was the worst, you were in it.

__________

The bells of the shop jingled as you walked in. Fred looked up from where he was arranging a fixture of love potions. Your eyes locked in a longing gaze momentarily before George came out of the backroom. Fred immediately diverted his stare. He attempted to look busy as he listened to your conversation.

“The caffeine has arrived!” George greeted, coming over to take one of the three coffee cups you were carrying.

“And you know, your wife comes along with caffeine, George. Cream and two sugars,” you smiled, allowing him to give you a kiss on the lips. While you were mostly joking, you did feel somewhat hurt.

Fred walked over to you next, taking his coffee from you. Up close, you could tell Fred looked exhausted.

“Black with four sugars?” He asked, taking a sip.

“‘Course, Freddie,” you said curtly, heading toward the register as fast as possible. “So what time do we open?”

“Nine,” George said, taking another gulp of his drink.

George glanced at his brother and then back at you, feeling a weird sense that you two were angry at each other.

“Everything alright?” George asked, watching as you busied yourself with wiping the counter down.

“Yes, dear,” you sighed.

“Hey, don’t forget. Ron and Hermione’s New Year’s Eve party is tomorrow, and the three of us are expected to make an appearance.”

George was next to you now, close behind your shoulder. You had made the amateur mistake of wearing a v-neck top. He noticed a small lovebite just above your breast. Or was it a bruise? Surely, it must have been, because you hadn’t been intimate with him in weeks. You did have a tendency to be clumsy. In fact, it was a running joke.

“I know,” you and Fred said in unison. You looked over to see George staring at your chest. You pulled your top-up a bit, hoping he was just enamored with you.

[let-it-raines]

Shamelessly sending in a prompt 🤷‍♀️ Was listening to the new song “One Night Standards” and could totally see it as Emma talking to Killian (obviously the universe doesn’t want him to only be one night because she keeps running into the man EVERYWHERE) thanks so much for taking these prompts and being such an amazing inspiration for cs ff writers. hope all is well with you and yours! I’d imagine quarantine makes for some amazing baby cuddles ❤️🥰

@capthamm you are such a sweetheart! Thank you for this very, very sweet message. I don’t think I’m an inspiration to any CS writers, but it does mean a lot that you would say that! Thank you! And baby snuggles are pretty much the main thing getting me through each day, so I’m very grateful for them on top of so many other things 💕

I hope all is well with you as well. I hadn’t heard the song until you sent this in, and I think I may have ended up going in a slightly different direction than it. lol. I hope you enjoy!

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

No.

Just no.

No, no, no, no.

Nope.

Nada.

A big fat no.

Absolutely not.

No way.

“Why do you look like you just ate a lemon?”

Emma turns on her stool to look at Mary Margaret next to her. Her hair is still perfectly coiffed, her makeup not having melted away, and it looks like she just got ready. Emma, however, can feel the sweat dripping down the back of her neck from all of the bodies in here and the summer air of New York seeping in, and she is probably as hot of a mess physically as she is emotionally. They’ve been here for an hour, maybe a little less, and in that time, Mary Margaret has been slowly sipping on one glass of wine while Emma downed two whiskey sours. Then again, Emma has always been more of a drinker than her, and her tolerance is higher.

None of that really matters, but if Emma ignores Mary Margaret for long enough, maybe the question will go away.

“Emma?”

Or not.

“I have no idea what my face looks like, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t look like I just ate a lemon.”

“Your lips are pursed and your nose is all scrunched up. That’s what you look like when you eat a lemon.”

“You spend too much time with me if you know what I look like then.”

Mary Margaret laughs next to her and takes another sip of the never-ending wine. “You have lived with me for six years. I pick up on things.”

Emma hums and taps her fingers against the bar top. Does she want another drink? Does she want to go dance? Does she want to go home?

Does she want to walk over to the guy who has been staring at her for the past ten minutes?

No, she reminds herself, no she does not.

That was a one-time thing, and she meant it when she said it as she was walking out his apartment door.

But then he walked into this bar fifteen minutes ago in the same pair of tight black jeans and a gray t-shirt, his hair very obviously carefully styled, and she got a small glance of his smile in the darkness of the bar.

Damn.

But no. She doesn’t do more than one-night. Not anymore, and he can look all she wants, she’s not going over there.

She’s not here for that anyways. It’s a Friday, she had a stressful week at work, and she just wanted to get a drink or two with her friends.

Ruby, however, has gone off, and they probably won’t be seeing her again until she sends them the information of the person she’s going home with.

“I will try not to look like I ate a lemon,” Emma promises with a smile. “Do you know where Ruby is?”

“She’s actually with Whale.”

“No,” Emma gasps, spinning around to scan the crowd. “Whale is here? And she’s with him? We’re letting her be with him? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I figured we’d let her have her fun for one night.”

Emma turns back around to gape at Mary Margaret. “Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Did David break up with you so you’ve lost your mind? What’s happening?”

She giggles and shrugs her shoulders. “I think David is going to propose. He – ”

“Another whiskey sour for you,” the bartender says, sliding a drink in front of her.“Oh, I didn’t order this.”

The guy nods his head toward the other end of the bar. “Jones sent it to you. I can tell him to fuck off if you want. There was something about it being a one-time thing, too, but I forgot.”

Jones.

Jones knows the bartender at her favorite bar. Great. That’s just great.

“Thanks,” Emma finally mumbles. “You don’t have to tell him to fuck off.”

“Damn. I was really hoping I got to do that.”

Emma laughs. Oh, she likes this new bartender. “Tell you what, you can tell him to fuck off. I’m not sending him a drink, though.”

He whistles. “You’re making my dreams come true tonight, lass.”

And then he’s walking away, and she’s left with an absolutely beaming Mary Margaret. “So,” Emma quickly says, “what makes you think he’s going to propose?”

She’s waved away. “Who sent you the drink?”

“No one.”

“It was obviously someone. Who was it?”

“You’ll be mad at me if I tell you.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret sighs, “a one-night stand?”

“Ruby is going to go home with Victor and you’re judging me for having a one-night stand?”

“I’m not judging. I would never judge. I’m simply trying to say that there’s nothing wrong with finding a genuine connection. It’s a great thing.”

Emma takes a sip of her new drink. “So, David? Proposing? Let’s talk about that.”

-/-

She sleeps with the guy again.

She doesn’t know how it happened, not really. One minute she’s talking to Mary Margaret about the possibility of David proposing, and then the next, Jones is somehow sitting next to her talking to them both. He knows David, apparently, and Emma thinks that just her luck.

She doesn’t need to know anything about him.

The only things she needs to know is that she’s attracted to him and that he’s not a serial killer.

Both are true.

At least, she hopes.

Because she went home with him again, but really, it’s going to be the last time.

One night. That’s the limit.

Even if it was two in this case.

-/-

David proposes to Mary Margaret two weeks later.

Emma gets to witness it all from her spot behind a tree where she’s holding a camera and document everything. She completely and totally feels like she’s going to get arrested for being a creep, but she doesn’t.

Instead she gets to watch two of her best friends get engaged. It’s not something she’s interested in, but the two of them deserve something like that.

She’s happy. For them at least.

Good people should have good things.

-/-

There’s a party at their apartment immediately afterward.

And because the world is out to get her, Killian Jones is there.

She lives in a city with millions of people, and yet this guy keeps showing up.

How is that possible?

Emma knows too much about him now, too. She knows his full name and that he’s a cop. She knows his preferred drink and that he’s friends with the new bartender, Will, because they live together.

It’s too much already.

“Swan,” he greets, sliding into her space so she gets a whiff of familiar cologne.

Great. She knows the cologne he wears now, too.

“Jones.”

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well, it is my apartment.”

Killian clicks his tongue. “I know.”

Heat rushes to her face, but she wills it away. This is not a man who she will let herself be bothered by even if he is constantly doing his best to bother her.

“How is it that I’d never heard of you before, love? You and David are obviously close, and he’s always telling stories. Why is the great Emma Swan a mystery?”

Emma turns to look at him and those stupid blue eyes she was so mesmerized by the first night. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

And, really, the decisions she makes that night shouldn’t surprise her, not with the decisions she’s been making lately. Work has been stressful. She’s been looking for this guy for close to three months now, and she can’t find him. it would cover rent and bills and this new pair of boots she’s been looking at with money left over. Plus, she saw Neal last week. He was sitting in Granny’s with whoever he’s dating now, and she really did not need that when all she wanted was some onion rings.

So maybe it’s easier for her to keep falling back into bed with this guy she doesn’t know but knows well enough to know that he knows exactly how to push her to the edge with deft movements and careful words that send shivers down her spine.

And maybe, just maybe, if she doesn’t think about it too much, it won’t be a problem.

-/-

It’s a problem.

Emma’s been casually sleeping with Killian Jones for a month now.

It’s great. It really is. It’s fun and takes her mind off things, and God, it’s so damn good that sometimes she doesn’t believe it’s real. But it’s also too much because when she’s out celebrating finally finding her bounty, he’s there at the bar. He buys her drinks and dances with her, and she finds herself flirting with him more than someone who doesn’t care should.

He’s funny. There’s something about the way that he times his jokes and how they range between ridiculous and incredibly sexy, and Emma lets herself get lost in them so that she barely notices him mentioning that he has a brother or that he spent the formative of his life in England, which explains the accent that slips in and out. Mostly in, though, and she stupidly asks him questions about those years and about England and if everyone really does eat fish and chips all the time.

Killian asks her questions, too, ones about her job and her friends, and those she can answer. When it veers into talking about her family, she evades that by pressing up on her toes and sliding her lips over his, feeling the softness of his mouth mix with the rough scratch of his beard. This is easier, better, and really, they all have their pasts and their secrets. Neither of them needs to know when they don’t care if the other one is still in the apartment when they wake up the next morning.

-/-

Killian is making breakfast.

Emma can’t say anything about it, not when they’re in his apartment and not when she was the one who fell asleep before she could go home. And she especially cannot complain when, well, he’s making French toast, eggs, and bacon, and it’s been forever since she’s had a breakfast that was more than a protein shake or a smoothie as she was walking out her front door.

He makes some damn good French toast.

And it’s raining outside, some kind of awful September storm, and really, Emma could go home. She could borrow an umbrella or a rain jacket and rush out into the rain to pay a ridiculous amount for an Uber since the subway seems incredibly unappealing right now, but as the food settles in her stomach, the coffee warmly makes its way down her throat, and Killian puts Netflix on the TV, suddenly getting soaked to get home doesn’t seem appealing.

Plus, the blanket on the couch is made of the softest material she’s ever felt, Killian’s fingers are playing with the hair at the nape of her neck, which is pretty much her weakness, and she’s far too invested in this show to leave.

She has to find out what happens, obviously.

And one rainy day where Will is at Belle’s place so they’re alone and where she gets Chinese takeout for lunch at 6 PM can’t be that bad.

It’s just one day.

An anomaly in their relationship.

(Or lack of relationship, really.)

A one-time thing.

She won’t spend the night again, and she certainly won’t spend the day.

-/-

Killian has an entire stack of t-shirts in a drawer in her apartment, and Emma has absolutely no idea how that happened.

Well, no, okay.

She does.

She wore one home one time, some old thing that he got at a concert, and then a few weeks ago her shirt ripped in what Killian swears was an accidental result of him being a little too enthusiastic so she wore home a t-shirt from the Police Academy. But the others, he left here. She has never worn them. She would remember.

These are definitely shirts that he left here.

Because he’s stayed here.

Multiple times.

On accident, of course. Because it was too late to go home or the weather was bad again or because her apartment is closer to the police station than his is.

And sometimes he’ll get caught up talking to Mary Margaret when he’s trying to leave, but more often than not, David is here and they end up talking or drinking together as they joke about coworkers and their Captain and plan out David’s bachelor party which is apparently going to be a joint thing with Mary Margaret’s bachelorette party.

That was information to her.

While Killian isn’t David’s best man or anything, he ends up planning most of it with Emma since David’s brother is currently in California. And Killian helping to plan means that he is working with Emma on it, and that means that they get lunch and go to different bars for research purposes and spend far too much time looking for AIRBNB’s in different cities even though they know that will never happen because no one’s schedule ever matches up quite right.

They both decide there will be absolutely no gummies in the form of genitals, but that’s only after spending an entire night laughing after researching it and seeing all of the ridiculous things that people do.

But this is just for the wedding and for their friends. It won’t always be this way. It’ll be over, and then, well, they probably will be too.

-/-

Emma doesn’t bring a date to the wedding.

Killian doesn’t either.

Somewhere deep down in a place she’s not eager to explore, her heart and her stomach calm when she discovers that he’s here alone and that the only person he dances with all night is her.

“You know, I’m not really one for slow dancing,” she sighs as he takes her hand in his. “I don’t know how to do anything other than sway.”

His fingers tighten around hers while his other hand settles on her hip, warm and familiar and just right. “It’s easy, Swan. All you have to do is pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

“And that’s you?”

“Aye, love,” he smiles, lines forming around his eyes, “that’s me.”

They go home together that night.

Emma’s apartment is empty with David and Mary Margaret staying in a hotel before flying to Italy the next day, and Emma doesn’t even question when she and Killian share a cab back to her place. She doesn’t question when she kicks off her heels and he takes of his bowtie, leaving his shirt unbuttoned enough to show off dark patches of chest hair, so that they can stand in the kitchen eating cake they brought home while sharing a bottle of wine. Neither of them really got a chance to get more than a glass of champagne at the wedding, so while she’s pleasantly buzzed, she could easily sober up in an hour or two.

But in an hour or two, she’s sitting on her couch, her feet in Killian’s lap, and they’re talking about their exes. She doesn’t know how they got here. She doesn’t know what started the conversation, how it led to her hearing about how his first love died in an accident or her telling him an abridged version of all of the nasty, horrible ways Neal broke her.

She never needed to know about his exes.

She never needed to know about his past and all his scars.

He never needed to know about any of hers.

But now he does.

And now, somehow, she wants to know all of these things about him.

Now, somehow, she realizes that she already does know so much about him.

Emma knows the big things like what his family is like and stories from his childhood. She knows his romantic history and what he does for a living and why he decided to do that. She knows his goal to become a detective, and she knows that he’s constantly terrified of never being good enough.

She gets that. She feels the same way all the time.

Almost every day, really.

Though, if she really thinks about it, she’s never felt like she was never enough for Killian. Something about him makes it all feel comfortable in a way that she’s never felt before.

Emma has never been a woman who knows what true comfort with another person feels like, but maybe, just maybe, this is somehow it.

And maybe that’s because she knows the little things, too.

She knows how he likes his coffee in the same way that he knows how she likes hers. She knows how he eats his steak and how he doesn’t like onion rings, which she thinks is ridiculous. She knows that Killian always has on matching socks because he purposely only buys one type, and she knows that he gets his hair cut every four weeks without fail.

He always wears the socks when walking around at home, and she knows how his footsteps sound in different parts of her apartment as well as his.

Killian’s an early riser, almost always, and he’s ridiculously addicted to keeping up with his workout routine, which she absolutely hates. She takes care of herself, but she’s also someone who knows how to be lazy when the opportunity presents itself.

Killian Jones is very rarely lazy.

Except for sometimes at night when he watches videos on his phone or grabs one of the many books on his nightstand to read. He’s into mysteries and biographies of historical figures, and while Emma doesn’t think she’d ever be interested in any of his books, she listens when he talks and grumbles and complains about how something is going while she does research for work or quietly watches TV to not disturb him.

Disturbing him is a hard thing to do, but Emma does manage to do it. He says that she thrashes in bed and that her electric toothbrush is the loudest thing he’s ever heard, but that doesn’t keep him from getting her an extra one to keep at his place along with her preferred shampoo and conditioner.

She had to use his one time, and as much as she likes how Killian smells, she doesn’t want to smell like him. She had texted complaining about that, and the next time she was at his place, all of her things were there.

Emma didn’t even have to tell him what brands she uses,

The sound of his laugh is so familiar to her that she knows the different ones. There’s the one that’s small and frail, like he’s only laughing to be polite, and then another one where it’s fueled by disbelief and anger.

(She’s been on the receiving end of that a few times when they’ve argued.)

There’s the big laugh, that one that stems from his belly and makes his whole body shake with joy. It’s loud and kind of obnoxious, but Emma kind of loves it.

The one she loves most of all, however, is this gentle one that he shares with her when they’re in bed and the lights are turned off, all of the curtains closed, and blankets pulled up around them. He always looks so young then, like he’s twenty instead of thirty-two, and his smile is soft and kind and filled with a genuine joy that she keeps seeing more and more.

That laugh, this one that she only hears when her nose is brushing against his and his hand is drawing patterns on her bare back, is her favorite.

It’s the one she knows most of all.

It’s just for her, she tells herself, and well, she doesn’t intend on sharing.

Because she loves him.

The realization knocks her off her feet and sucker punches the air out of her lungs. She’s angry and pissed off at herself for letting it happen and so damn terrified of the feeling that she doesn’t know what to do with herself or her limbs or anything else. She doesn’t know what to do. She wants to grab her things and run, to cut off whatever this thing between them is, but the thought of that happening is a pain far worse than the realization that she loves someone again.

So Emma stays. She stays, and she keeps her life just the same. The thing is, it has changed so remarkably in the past eight months that she barely recognizes it. That’s not a bad thing, she realizes. It’s actually really, really good.

That realization doesn’t happen without several bottles of alcohol and Mary Margaret and Ruby having to calm her down and talk her up several different times when she starts to freak out. She needs all of that, needs that reassurance, and there are so many moments where she wonders when this is all going to end.

But then there’s that laugh, that one that’s just for her, and everything around her calms so that it’s just Emma and Killian and nothing and no one else.

Just her.

Just him.

Just them.

And somewhere down the line, years after that first night and the promises of it only being a one-time thing, Emma knows that she has never told a bigger lie in her life.

Because a one-time thing turned into absolutely everything.

[queenofgotham800]

Anniversary

(Roman Sionis x Reader)

Requested by: @stardancerluv

Warnings: Gramatical Errors, Swearing, OOC Roman, OOC Victor

Summary: Roman and (Y/n) have their 5th anniversary and (Y/n) would want to spend it only with Roman in their apartment. Roman is used to give her tons of gifts and take her into expensive restaurants. But this time he calls Victor for help.

(A/n): Sorry it took me so long to write it, but here it is. Hope you will enjoy it 💜

Getting up from bed early morning wasn't your favourite thing. Today was a big day. It was yours and Romans 5th anniversary. Getting up from bed, you nearly tripped over a big gift packed in blue paper with little hearts all over it. Roman loved to give you expensive gifts, not just on anniversary but every day. And if you two had anniversary, or if it was valentine, birthday, christmas or any other festive day, Roman always nearly drowned you in gifts. Not just one... Many of them. On last anniversary he bought you car, dresses which matched with his suits, vacation in Paris and many more. You were always happy, but you weren't materialistic type so you always told Roman that he doesn't have to buy you such expensive things. He always explained that making you happy, makes him happy too. 

You already packed few gifts for him, but you were sure that he has much much more gifts for you. Not like it was an competition, you wanted to enjoy this day with Roman and only Roman.

As you opened the gift with big bow, you found inside beautifull dresses your favourite collor and high heels shoes matching with them, which were packed in box next to those dresses.

You smiled, becouse Roman also left a note on them.

My dearest (Y/n),

I bought you these dresses on our special day, hope you like them. Please meet me in club, at the place we first met. I'll be waiting.

R.B.S.

You put your pajamas down, putting on fancy dress and shoes. After you dressed you went to have some breakfast in kitchen. Roman wasn't there but that was no surprise, he never ate breakfast, only if you made them for him.

He would never reject your delicious food.

On the counter was another gift, new mug with hearts in which was written in initals R+(Y/n). It was so cute that your heart nearly melted. The food was also prepared on it. That was probably Victor's job.

You took the dishes with mug and went to dining room.

"Hey, (Y/n)," Victor greeted you and sat next to you.

"Hey Vic, how are you?" you asked him, slowly sipping tea from new mug.

"I'm good, happy anniversary by the way," he smiled and pointed on the mug, "It's from Roman."

"Yeah thanks, this is so cute," you smiled at both, mug and Victor, "I just wish he... I don't know," you gasped.

"What's wrong (Y/n)," Victor watched your worried expresion.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, but sometimes I wish he was romantic the other way," you said.

"How?" Victor asked, he was lost in these romantical things.

"Like...Something sweet, not big that would involve just the two of us," you said thinking, "I'm not saying that these gifts are not sweet. They are very sweet, but... You know what I have in mind."

"Yea-No..." Victor mumbled.

"Remember how he bought me tickets to concert?

"Yeah, it was nice," Victor smiled. He met somebody there, but didn't wanted to speak about it.

"But you know... Just for once. Tonight we will probably go to the best restaurant in Gotham," you smiled slowly collecting your dishes from table.

"And if I understand it, you don't want to go," Victor said.

"Well, it's not like I was ungrateful, but you are maybe right. I would like to spend the time with him here, watching movies together, cooking together, I don't know," you said.

"Yeah, I think I understood," Victor said, collecting his dishes.

"Okay, I have to go," you waved to Victor and left to club.

Roman was sitting on the couch you two first met years ago. He was wearing his best suit, smiling at you, like the first time he saw you. Little blush spread across your cheeks when you sat next to him.

"Hi babygirl, how you like these dresses," Roman smiled, pulling you closer to him.

"Roman, I love them, thank you! And thank you for the mug, it so cute," you hugged him and gave him a kiss.

"I have much, much more for you, don't worry," Roman laughed teasing you becouse he knew your oppinion on expensive gifts and you rolled eyes.

"Boss, I... Henry is here," Victor strolled across the club and tapped Roman at shoulder.

"Victor, I... We are celebrating something," Roman frowned on Victor.

"..." Victor was waiting on Roman, speechless.

"Honey, if it's so important I don't mind," you said and gave him kiss. You knew who was Henry, it was one of Romans bussines friends.

"Are you sure babe?" Roman asked and you nodded. Roman smiled and walked with Victor away to the main entry hall of club.

You stayed in club, looking at your phone in thoughts. This is probably going to take hours and hours.

Meanwhile in the entry hall, Victor and Roman exited the club, going to the stage doors back to apartment.

"Thanks for reminding Victor. I nearly forgot," Roman said opening the fridge and taking out of it food.

"She wasn't picking up the food in fr-"

"The fridge? No, I prepared it on the kitchen counter next to your mug," Victor said.

"Great, bring me the bag with projector and technical stuff," Roman said and closed the fridge, "And maybe some picnic basket for the food."

"On my way boss," Victor yelled and ran for these things.

Roman hoped that this idea, which Victor gave him few years back will go well. You were telling that he didn't had to be so generous towards you, that you are not materialistic person. But always when he gave you some gifts, he saw that your eyes sparkled and you were geniuenly happy. He loved seeing you happy.

You were waiting in club, used to these things. Roman had to have some important things to do, that was his work. It came in unexpected times and you completely respected that. He was so bussy that sometimes he just came home at midnight and laid next to you on bed exhausted. He always woke you up, it was not becouse he wanted but his steps were echoing through the whole apartment. When he came exhausted like that, you used to pull him closer to you and play with his hair untill he didn't fall asleep in your arms. He looked so innocent when he slept in your arms.

Your thoughts were interupted with familiar man walking around in club. Where was Roman if Henry was here?

You put your phone back to bag and headed to Henry.

"Henry, welcome in club," you smiled, like nothing was happening.

"Mrs. Sionis," Henry smiled.

"Oh, I already told you to call me (Y/n). Romans friends are also my friends," you were still smiling, "Speaking of Roman, didn't he had some meeting with you today?"

"No, no we met yesterday. Why are you asking?"

You took a deep breath, "Nevermind. Enjoy your time here Henry," smiling, you took a drink from passerby waitress and turned to leave. When you turned away from Henry, your smile fastly dropped and on your face appeared wicked smirk.

It was time for preparations.

"Victor we have to prepare it fast. I don't like the thought of my dearest (Y/n) waiting on me in the club while we should spend that time together," Roman mumbled, walking up to the roof of Black Mask club. Victor was right behind him, taking the basket with food, huge case with projector, candles, radio and blankets. Roman took four pillows and that was all.

"Yeah, yeah boss," Victor nodded, carefully putting the stuff down on roof.

After he put it down, from somewhere sounded the song Everybody loves me-One Republic. Victor lifted eyebrows, while Roman serached for his phone.

Victor smirked, turning his head away from Roman's sight, so he wouldn't see Victors quiet laugh.

After Roman finaly found his phone, he picked it up.

It was you, calling him.

"Hey honey, I have to do also some work, I hope you don't mind. I'll be back as soon as I can. When you finish your job, you know, that appointment with Henry, call me or something," you said.

"Yeah, It's okay babe, I'll wait. Love you," Roman told.

"Love you too honey," you said and cancelled the call.

You didn't knew that somewhere above you are Victor and Roman. They also had no idea that you are under the building, next to the car ready to go for Roman's gift.

You had few gifts for him. Tailor texted you that you can go to pick up the gift for Roman.

Driving through the Gotham City you saw many couples which held hands, hugged and kissed. Your mind was on Roman, what was he doing if he didn't talked with Henry? Maybe something in warehouse... He just didn't wanted to tell you that becouse of the anniversary. Yeah, probably.

"No, Victor you have to put it like this!" Roman yelled on Victor, who was putting the pillows around the blanket on roof.

"Well, you can do it boss. Just land me over that projector," Victor said. Roman was preparing the projector and screen, but he struggled with it more than Victor with decorating.

"Yeah, sure," Roman nodded and placed few candles around the blanket, "You know what Victor... I'm gonna go for another blanket."

"Sure boss," Victor mumbled and whistled as he slowly build pieces of screen together.

Parking in front of tailor shop, you made sure you had sunglasses and cap. You were sorta famous in city, mostly becouse of Roman. Paparazzi were all over the city and you didn't wanted drawing attention now. Roman made sure these people with cameras wouldn't be following you all the time, but there was still more and more of them.

You entered the shop and came to counter.

"Mrs. Sionis," older man greeted you and waved at you.

"Oh- I hoped this would sorta..." you pointed on cap and sunglasses. Surprised that he recognized you.

"I expected you," said the man confused.

"Oh, right," you laughed, "So, I am here becouse of that suit, is it finished?"

"Yes, I wrote it in the text."

Well, this was an uncomfrontable comunication. You cringed at your previous words, but decided to continue confidently.

"Yes, can I see it?"

"Sure, sure," he slowly went to the back of the shop.

You were anxiously tapping with feet, looking at the expensive watches that you got from Roman last year.

"It's here," he told, putting the suit on the counter. It was truly magnificent.

"I hope you got the size right," you mumbled, sliding your fingers across the velvet suit. It was Roman's favourite collor, he didn't had suit like this and he still talked about how much he wanted it.

Your second gift for him was waiting in the trunk of your car.

"Victor, I found five blankets and I couldn't pick just one so I brought them all," Roman came to rooftop, putting those blankets and ground, looking on Victor. Roman was surprised, Victor actually builded the projector and the screen in such short period of time.

"How did you managed to build it so fast?"

"I had a good teacher," Victor smirked.

"Are you talking about the mysterious person from the concert?"

"Maybe," Victor mumbled and looked around, "You know that you need to have computer to play those movies."

"Sure," Roman said and pointed at doors, "Go and get it mister technician."

Running to the car, you put the velvet suit in already prepared big gift box in the trunk, next to the second gift. After closing the trunk you looked on the phone and texted Roman.

Hey honey, I'm going home. Everything is alright in fact great. I can't wait to see you soon <3

-(Y/n). S.

How you sent this message, you drove back to club, parking your car on the usual spot.

Roman looked on his phone and opened your message. He loved to see your initials under it. He also wanted to buy you gloves with your initials. Roman still wants, but not now, he may save that for later. Maybe christmas...

He texted you back.

My dear (Y/n) I can't wait to see you. I'm dealing with something now, but I'll be done any minute. Can't wait to see you too <3

-R.B.S.

"Boss, I found only this one," Victor came and brought Roman's old laptop.

"Yeah, my old laptop," Roman looked on it, slowly blowing the dust away from it's surface, "I hope it will work."

"I'll try it," Victor took the laptop from Roman, trying the it on the projector. It worked!

You were already in club on the way to apartment, taking those gifts upstairs to the kitchen. Kitchen, since Roman refused to go anywhere near it when you weren't by his side.

"Fuck, these things are not working," Roman broke the last match on the match-box.

"Those never work, that's normal," Victor mumbled, "Wanna lit up candles? You have to use the flamethrower for that."

"What?" Roman turned to Victor with terrified look.

Victor laughed it off and Roman bursted it laugh too.

"On a second I really thought you did it," Roman said.

"Yeah, few times. Nearly lit up the fucking place," Victor laughed and Roman stopped.

"Do we have some matches?" he asked.

"Yeah, they should be in kitchen," Victor told.

"Okay, this time I have to go for them I guess... Freaking pyroman" Roman mumbled, walking to the stairs, watching how Victor couldn't stop laugh at his remark.

You hid the gift boxes under the kitchen counter and heard how is someone walking through the hallway.

Those were Roman's steps, you knew them very well.

Hopefully he's not comming into kitchen, you thought.

Roman was walking to kitchen, anxiously fixing his sleeves. What if (Y/n) was already here, Roman thought. He entered the kitchen to found out that he was right.

"Roman, hey honey, so... How was the job?" you asked, blocking the kitchen counter.

"(Y/n)... Hey babe, it's- well," he laughed and nodded.

"Yeah? I met Henry in club," you said carefully, "You know that whatever happened you can talk with me."

You were both so anxious, it was obvious.

"Yes, yes... Ehm... Have you seen here some matches?" Roman asked you.

"No," you said.

"Or a flamethrower?" Roman smirked.

"What? No, that's not in kitchen. Actually I heard that Victor has few at his apartment," you said. Victor lived right next to your and Roman's apartment for safety reasons, becouse he was Roman's right hand and also becouse he was a great friend.

"So it wasn't a joke... Heh..." Roman lifted eyebrows and left. You turned back to the kitchen counter to check the gifts, but you stopped when Roman's hands touched your hips. His chest was on your back and his head on your neck.

"I love you, (Y/n). After the bussines I want to spend the time with you," Roman whispered in your ear and you smiled, giving him kiss.

After Roman came back to the rooftop, candles were lit and Victor was playing with his knife.

"What? Victor? How?" Roman pointed at candles.

"Oh, I forgot that I had a lighter in pocket," Victor smirked and Roman rolled his eyes.

"She is here Victor what should I do?" Roman asked Victor.

"Well, invite her upstairs. I'll go to take care of the club," Victor said and patted Roman on shoulder.

"Thanks," Roman said. Victor smiled and walked away.

You were still standing in kitchen, thinking if the place under the kitchen counter was good hiding spot for gifts. After you heard Roman's familiar steps echoing through the apartment again, you decided to get to him first. Walking on hallway, you locked the kitchen and put the key in your bag.

"(Y/n), I would love if you would follow me," Roman said, cupping your cheeks.

"Alright" you smiled and followed him to the rooftop.

He opened doors and you smiled in surprise.

"Oh my... Roman, this is so sweet," you turned to him to kiss him.

The scenery was truly romantic. Few blankets on ground, candles around the place, pillows, picnic basket, projector ready to play some movies.

"I cancelled the dinner in restaurant. I hope you don't mind," Roman said. You hugged him, "No. I love this," you smiled and looked at the rooftop.

"You do?" Roman lifted eyebrows.

"Yes I do," you looked up to him and he smiled. You had those sparkles in eyes.

"Let's party then," Roman smiled and poured you wine into glass.

"Alright," you laughed as Roman spilled the wine at himself.

"That is not funny (Y/n)," Roman said, but laughed too. He couldn't resist your sweet laugh. You then got a genius idea.

"Wait here," you smiled and ran to the kitchen, taking your bag with key.

After you came back to roof with box, you found Roman trying to wipe the wine stain away from his suit with napkin.

"Honeey," you smiled, gently shaking with box. He looked up to you, throwing the napkin aside.

You sat next to him and Roman unpatiently unpacked the gift.

"Thank you my dear," Roman looked on his new velvet suit of his favourite collor, "I'm going to get changed, I'm back in second," Roman said, but then his eyes drifted to second gift.

"And what is this?" he asked with smile, taking the second gift out.

"I hope you will like it."

Roman opened the second gift and pulled out of it small model of Rolls royce.

"I love it," Roman leaned closer and gave you small kiss, "I'm gonna go to dress this beautifull suit."

After few hours of spending time with Roman, he asked you, "What do you want to watch?"

You said the name of your favorite movie which Roman also liked.

"Okay babe," Roman gave you kiss.

The movie was running and you leaned on his shoulder. You smiled when you felt his hand gently rubbing your back.

"I love you my dear. Happy anniversary," Roman whispered in your ear and you felt how he put something around your neck. It was beautifull golden necklace with rose.

"When I first saw this, it reminded me of you," Roman smiled. The necklace was truly beautifull.

"Thank you Roman," you smiled and kissed him, "I love you too. Happy anniversary."

[raleigh-ocean]

if i go, i'm goin' (your love will take me there) | nora montgomery x dara ann lynch x billie dean howard

summary: not even in a hundred years, a love like Dara’s was ever seen, but those lucky enough to be the receiving end of it knew how much pureness and sincerity it held. Some of those wished, however, to have been the only end to receive that love but still they found their true home right in between her arms. And maybe in another time, another life, Dara’s love would have been all Nora’s. However, as Nora felt fuller yet lighter in the living room of her home for the past one hundred years…she found herself wishing for Billie to keep taking care of their greatest love.

words: 14,759

n/a: this is going to hurt so fucking bad, I’m already crying. The story is divided in two almost individual parts connected in the middle. It will tell the extents of Dara and Billie’s love in the beginning…and then switch to the love that was meant to be.This doesn’t mean I won’t keep writing for Nora and Dara or including Nora in other stories, but those would probably be pre-2020/2021 most of the time! I hope y'all enjoy this one, because I did a lot of research and…well, NoraDara owns my heart fully for the rest of my life.

n/a 2.0: Also, analyzing how Billie and Dara’s relationships are, we (Vivi and I) found that there were similarities between BillieAudrey and NoraDara as separate units, and since I did explore the former first a few times already, it’s time for the latter to come alive (pun intended).

n/a 3.0: I’ll be taking a break from writing for a while, so this is the last long thing I’ll be posting. I hope y’all enjoy it.

[23:35] How-t Stuff: I miss you :(

[23:38] How-t Stuff: Annie, I see you in your phone from the living :(( 

Dara only chuckled silently at that, amused because she could actually see Billie in the couch typing in her phone. It was one of the perks of living in a tiny apartment, even if they were separated, they could see each other from the other room just by open a door. Damien was already asleep, hugging her from behind, so she couldn’t do much sound in case she woke up.

It was easy to type a ‘hang in there honey’ and close her eyes, feeling how her headache was getting better after being able to down some food and having some painkillers along with muscle relaxant for her leg. The only thing she didn’t like, however, was feeling herself uneasy because medicines usually messed up with her body and her perception.

[23:46] How-t Stuff: This couch is so uncomfortable...why do we still have it??? 

[23:48] How-t Stuff: Also I found your fancy lighter in between the cushions :)

[23:50] How-t Stuff: also found your purple thong oops

She really wanted to go to sleep, but having Billie trying to be...cute? was really something else. But Dara was already falling asleep, and with only one eye open she texted her back a ‘you’ve been saying the same fr 6y, r u planning on sleepin there much’ and ‘sTOP hIDINg my underwear in places you forGet’ before switching her phone to night mode and hiding it under Billie’s pillow. Of course she was sleeping in Billie’s side and maybe she was wearing one of her pyjamas, she also missed her, but she kinda deserved it.

The memory came back to her, making Dara feel dizzy and she closed harder her eyes, trying to get it out. She wasn’t in the mood of thinking about Audrey or Danielle for that matter, even when both had kinda been the reason Billie was sleeping in the couch and she had her teen niece pressed against her back, sleeping soundly like a baby koala. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t hate any of them, in fact Dara was pretty sure she didn’t hate anyone ever in her life...not even the poor devil that assaulted her and scarred her as a teen...

[01:50] How-t Stuff: Uhm...love, beige or sky blue?

[02:10] How-t Stuff: nvm, black is prettier

[02:30] How-t Stuff has sent an image.

[02:32] How-t Stuff: we have new couch wohoo!

[03:32] How-t Stuff: i love you my dalfoddil

When Dara opened her eyes, she felt her head all clogged but at least her body didn’t hurt that bad or at all. Damien was now cuddling herself in her side of the bed, heavily asleep, so with care she tried to stand up to go get a glass of water. Her phone forgotten under the pillow, her hands went to retrieve her cane from where it was resting immediately. Oh, she wasn’t so confident today about walking, so even when she had support with one hand she still made her way slowly. 

Rubbing off the sleep from her eyes, Dara looked first to where her wife had slept just to find an empty spot. But soon the toaster going off made her notice Billie, facing the kitchen counter, trying to do something in the stove. She truly looked disheveled, more than usual upon waking up, and a soft pang of guilt rang through Dara's body. 

"Are you making tea?" when Billie turned around, Dara was leaning on her cane and looking shyly at her, which made her change her whole wrecked expression to one much softer.

"And toasts, I remembered your mother gave us blackberry jam not long ago and I thought, hell, why not?" she laughed a bit nervously before leaning in the counter to wait for the water to start to boil in the little old pot that's been around since day one. "Is the kid up?"

Dara shook her head slightly and then went to Billie in automatic, pressing her lips together in a chaste kiss meant to be longer than that, but the older medium complied with a soft grin. She already knew this little start of the day meant the world to her wife so Billie wasn't that worried about the 'couch arrest'. However they couldn't say much more because a sleepy Damien made her way to where her aunts were, getting breakfast done, and they were moved to another rhythm of life.

It was easy for Dara to shift in between being her private persona and the one she usually presented to her family, and Billie noticed that right away. When they were at home, the two of them alone, her shoulders relaxed more and the everlasting smile dropped for a slight smirk that accompanied her tired eyes. It was a homie view, yet it made Billie’s heart roar with an overprotectiveness that was familiar at this point of her life. Mostly because yesterday was the first time in a while that she realized how tired her wife was, mostly because if there was something she hated with her dear life was to watch Dara like that and notice too late to fix it.

Breakfast moved in another light for sure, Billie still getting used to the presence of Dara’s nieces and nephews. Damien, as much as she had her doubts about her and resented her for the time being, was very polite and it showed how Danielle’s antics had rubbed off in her daughter. Billie still didn’t know the whole story with Dara’s twin cousins, but maybe it was time to start digging in what was unknown waters for so long.

But then, Dara did something that surprised Billie a lot to be honest.

“Not even when Eva pulled almost the same crap to Deirdre’s new husband I let it slip, so missy,” Dara started to say, holding the cup of tea to her lips to take a sip without caring it was still pretty much hot. “Why did you do that? Were you out of your damn mind?”

“I only...I don’t know auntie,” Damien’s voice was really tiny again and Billie put down her toast, her appetite dropping. “At first it was...fun, I guess? But then I just got too into it and after dad...well, I guess I didn’t want her to suffer...but I was stupid and hurt mamon and Audrey because of it, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you truly were and are,” Dara pulled back her hair with a hand, letting out a tired sigh. Billie still was pretty much blind to who the father of this kid was or why he wasn’t around. “Audrey is totally not like your father, I can assure you that being a hundred percent sure, and I get that you want to protect your mother but you should give her some credit dear,” her voice was calm but the way she was tapping with her free hand the counter, after too many years, it told she was in need of a cigarette. “She knows how to protect herself very well, she knows how to protect you very well. Do you think she would have let Audrey come into your lives if she wasn’t sure of it, mhm?”

And at that, not even Billie had the guts to say something, seeing how Dara was still very serious even when her voice was in her always calm tone. She had that ability, to remain calm despite of everything, and after being together for a decade already she could easily pick up that she inherited that capacity from her mother. Dara’s mom was able to handle all of them with a mere look or a few words, even Billie, and that was quite scary. Damien looked down to her cup of tea and she shook her head briefly, making Dara to click her tongue.

“Exactly,” she finished her tea and stood up, taking a moment too long to actually move that made Billie worry, to go get something from one of the cupboards. “Now I hope you learn something from this. Don’t make it harder for your mother, you hear me? If something’s wrong, tell her, and if you don’t want to then call me...or did you replaced me as your favourite aunt? I knew Danna was right around the corner to take my crown.”

It was then when Billie worried more, not because Damien quickly went to deny that and made Dara fake she was affected so she would hug her, but because she caught this strange shadow hovering over her wife. Usually it wasn’t like that, her white light giving some kind of protection even from herself, but as Billie tried to finish her breakfast in silence she took her time to try and discern what Dara was feeling at the moment. 

As they kept moving through the morning, taking in count it was early and Danielle and Audrey didn’t call yet, Billie thought it was always hard to actually feel what her wife was feeling. She was good at reading people, something she was proud of indeed, but Dara presented her as a challenge. 

However, after two hours Billie just gave up for the time being. She would have to wait until they were alone again in the quietness of their home to directly ask, maybe over some take out from that place her wife loved so much. But when Danielle and Audrey finally showed up in their door, both way more relaxed and apparently happier, something came back to Billie’s mind. As they were exchanging some words with the other couple, Billie remembered how Dara had defended Audrey in such effortless way that surprised her and, by the time their home was only them again (plans for lunch already arranged four hours later), she felt it was the right time to ask.

Overnight, alone cuddling one of Dara’s cushions in their old couch, she kept replying the events of the day in a very vivid way. Billie knew she had no right to yell at Dara, even when she was really angry with the situation, but the way she was handling things felt off putting to her for some reason. And that’s why she was surprised when Dara kinda defended Audrey, because at the time in her furious mind she truly thought her wife hated her best friend. Well, hate was a strong word, but more like...like she was putting up with Audrey at this point just because of her.

“Baby?” Billie felt a strange strangled sensation when she called out for Dara, who was making her way back to their bedroom to pick up her phone. “Can I ask you something?” Dara stopped and looked back at her, curiosity peeking out from her eyes, tilting her head in that innocent way she always had to let her know she had her full attention. “Do you...do you like Audrey?”

It was then that the silence hit Billie like a wall made of ice.

She saw how Dara squinted her eyes a bit, trying to discern what her wife was talking about, her mouth a bit agape while the silence settled in between them. But what made Billie take a step back, was how Dara moved her jaw to the left a bit before closing her mouth and biting her lower lip while considering her next words. Billie didn’t want to push, but now she was feeling how the coldness of the room was getting more intense as her wife’s feelings finally reached her. Having her cane tightly gripped in her dominant hand, Dara sighed really deep this time as the shadow floating over her grew.

“Are you serious, Billie?” Billie doubted for a second if she ever heard Dara’s voice sounding like that. “Really, I want to know if you’re pulling my leg or not.”

“Yes, I’m being serious,” oh Billie regretted that as soon as it left her mouth, but a tiny bit of the annoyance of yesterday was starting to show up for some reason. “Sometimes it feels you put up with her just because of me, Ann-”

“Don’t you dare ‘Annie’ at me right now,” Billie saw the shadow closing around Dara and then her eyes locked with hers, shining with the anger she was feeling and making her not notice the panic laced in her voice. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

When those words left her mouth, Dara felt her whole world was crumbling faster than she thought it would. As if the massive earthquake she was holding up finally managed to open the crack that it took Dara five years to close, making all the pent up things start to flood the last bits of calmness she had. She felt breathless right away, and so fucking tired that she had to close her eyes and rub her temple with her free hand.

“I love you for over a million, billion, things Billie, but before you open your mouth to say something so...genuinely stupid, stop for a second and think about it once or twice,” Dara opened her eyes, looking at how taken aback was her wife, but in that moment she didn’t care. “Think about how we’ve been together for the last ten years and think about how I am around people I don’t like,” she felt her heart hammering in her chest and her whole body aching for the outburst. “Do you think I would’ve ever let her come into our lives if I didn’t like her, ah?” the question resonated through the silent living room in a weird uneasy way. “Do you ever think I would’ve let her go down on you or me if I didn’t?” a nervous laugh broke free from her chest at that, the hand that wasn’t in her cane going to put a lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you ever think that, if I didn’t like her, I would had gone yesterday night with you to help her? If I didn’t like her a single damned bit, do you think we would be here in this exact fucking moment having this fucking conversation?”

The room was feeling too hot for Dara at that moment, feeling her heart beating loudly in the back of her head and in her throat, making her feel she was about to burst into tears if she kept talking. Billie was pale, standing there in such weird silence, but any drop of self control she had was damned by now and Dara could see it because the hand that Billie wasn’t using to support herself in the counter was trembling a bit.

“I do get that what she went through was horrible and traumatic, I get that she’s your best friend and you love her a lot...” she truly felt like she was pushing the words out of her tired mind, all the tears she was holding back. “...but I was there for her too, many, many times. Most of them when you were away and she came home looking for you. If I didn’t like her, I would have shushed her the fuck away but I didn’t. So don’t ask me again if I like her, because it’s one of the most unfair things you ever did to me,” and through all the red that Dara was seeing in the moment, she managed to see how Billie was approaching her which only made her tears to push harder. “Do I like her? Of course I do, for God’s sake. I still have a heart inside, luckily, as much as y’all seem to forget,” and when she chuckled darkly, her tears finally started to run down her cheeks, as if they were burning their way down. “So there you have your fucking answer, are you happy?”

Dara felt like something finally broke inside her, gripping with both hands her cane to not fall to the ground when she felt her knees grow weak. And it hurt so bad? it burnt and it made her feel like there’s not enough air in the house for her to breath. She was truly tired at this point of her life, tired of the rest not being able to see she was breaking too under the weight of all the things happening. She didn’t considered herself as someone jealous, she really wasn’t, but many times Dara had felt that Billie chose Audrey over her.

After all what she had done for the actress, all the sleepless nights, all the comfort words, all the tiny little pieces of her that she left for Audrey to take in order to heal; that Billie decided to ask her that as if she wasn’t right by her side doing it...well, it started to hurt more than she could handle. Dara was always so sure of Billie’s love for her, waited for her to finally say that she loved her back, waited for her to finally be comfortable around her...but sometimes, behind all that confidence Dara had, a tiny bit of doubt had started to grow in its own corner. 

A corner that got bigger when Billie stopped dead in her tracks again, not getting to reach her.

Billie didn't stop, however, because she didn't want to reach Dara. In fact, her whole body wanted to be wrapped around the trembling figure of her wife, sobbing in such heartbreaking way, to provide her of all the endless love she had for her...but she couldn't deny that hearing the truth being spitted out of her beautiful lips had left her speechless.

She was used to let her thoughts flow freely, most of the time taking advantage of being able to sense other emotions, to be blunt and also stating them flatly without much trouble. But sometimes, the times where people weren't taken aback due to her usual brassiness, Billie found herself saying things people wasn't expecting to ever deal with or were remotely prepared to do so. In this case, Dara wasn't ready at all to receive that question, and Billie visibly could tell but...well, she decide to push her in that direction anyway and now not only she was speechless but she felt devastated.

Devastated because the person she cared the most in this world was breaking in front of her, showing how small and fragile was in reality. Devastated because she created the situation; devastated because the only thing she did was to finally close the gap separating them to take Dara's hands in her own, making the cane fall to the ground with a muffled sound upon hitting the slim carpet of the living room. Her chest tightened when her wife still didn't move, crying her eyes out in between quiet sobs that resonated through her whole body, and she felt even worse because she wasn't brave enough to look at her directly, focusing in their hands instead.

"I'm sorry," the air in her lungs hurt like Hell itself when Billie managed to say something, Dara squeezing her hands in response. "I'm sorry I asked that, I...I didn't...please love..." please, let me fix this, tell me, help me.

"No, I'm the one being sorry for taking this all out on you," and Billie's heart hurt even more when she caught the defeat showing in Dara's eyes when she looked briefly at her, darkly chuckling again when she raised her arm to dry her tears with her sleeve without breaking the contact, her face scrunching ever so softly to try stop her tears. "I really shouldn't have…"

"No, hey, don't do that," panic overflown all over Billie, her hands now cuping Dara's face to have her closer, thumbs wiping hot tears and palms feeling the heat in her cheeks. She was able to finally look into her eyes, at least when her wife wasn't pressing her eyelids together harder to stop crying. "You have nothing to be sorry about, you were in your right to call my bullshit out."

"It's just...why did you ask me that Billie? I don't understand," Dara sniffed, trying to steady her voice but making her next sob to come out as a strangled whine. "Four years being with Audrey before we married and now you ask me if I like her? Really?"

It's then when Billie pulled her wife close, hiding her head in the hollow of her neck even when her wife was a few inches taller than her and pressing her lips to the crown of her head to hide the giant knot she had herself in her throat. Billie wasn't ready to admit the next answer, but because she wasn't ready it was what she needed to say in order to make things even. Billie's chest felt tight and it hurt so bad right now that she was holding Dara so close? Feeling her trembling and sobbing and grasping to her sweater - Dara's, because Billie stole it six years ago from her old closet at Dara's parents' and to this day it's her go-to comfort clothes when she’s at home - as if she was the only thing she needed to be there in that moment.

"I know… I only asked because…" she couldn't help but gulp in order to continue and her hand went to brush Dara's hair out of her face. "...because if you didn't like her, I'd have try to see her less.'

Billie was scared of what it came out of her mouth, and also because she could only hear her heart hammering against her ribcage along Dara's sobs in her neck. She felt the wetness of her tears in her skin, starting to get a bit sticky because they were drying slowly, but she didn't mind at all, too worried in securing her wife between her arms and starting to caress her arm and cheek with care. Her thumb was trying to both caress her warm skin and wipe the non-stop flow of tears, and Billie thought that’s what was actually helping Dara to start to calm down.

"Even if I did, I couldn't do that to you Bills," the whispered statement, Dara's lips so close to her pulse point that she felt how they moved and brushed ever so soft there, made Billie feel like all the fear she was holding in her chest disappeared. "I know how much you love her, how important is for you...and you know that I'm not a heartless bitch."

Even when is a joke that she usually resorts to, Billie still didn't like when Dara called herself those kind of things.

"But if you wanted me to, I would have done it," Billie felt her chest less tight for sure but she needed to get this out of her already because Dara deserved to hear it. "I would do anything for you because you are the most important person in my life, Annie, and that's a rock fact."

The tiny joke at the end made Dara chuckle cutely - and God that it felt good hearing her do that even with the runny nose and the cough that followed -, only because it was a recurring pun she used and Billie did it out of habit at times too, before she finally used her arms to wrap Billie in them by her waist and press it against her body, getting comfortable in the hug they pulled each other into. At that, Billie finally noticed how the shadow let go of her wife and it was like everything was getting back to usual little by little. 

It felt even better when Dara finally stopped hiding in her neck, without pulling away from the hug, and shook her head while closing her redden eyes from crying. But for some reason she didn't look that tired anymore, her features growing softer each second that it passed. Billie grew softer too and brought up her sleeve, after pulling it a bit with her fingers, so she could clean better Dara's face with care. When she opened her eyes, Billie knew her girl was getting back to her slowly but surely, and she shook her head even more slow.

"I love you Bills, and I love her, like her too...I won't ever make you leave behind your best friend," there's only love in her eyes, mixed with that warmth that always cling in Billie's bones in such comforting way that the only thing she could do is to fold her hands in the small of Dara's back and start rubbing tiny circles with her thumbs there. "So no more of that, okay…?"

The right thing for Billie to do in that moment was nodding in agreement, before leaning in to capture her wife's lips with hers in one of those slow kisses they both were suckers for. It felt like Heaven brought to Earth only for Billie to enjoy and drown in it. A bit salty maybe because of the spilled tears, but it soon felt sweet. Being so close made Billie to start pepper many more kisses all over Dara's face, always a bit slower as the woman she loved started to relax and melt in her arms.

"I love you Annie," she whispered after placing a kiss in that soft spot Dara had under her ear before moving to kiss her lips once again. "I love you," now it felt so natural to say it, mumbled against a new kiss and taking as a reward another cute giggle from her wife. "Can I take you to bed or I'm still on couch arrest…?"

Oh to hear Dara's little laugh after another kiss was an absolute bliss. Billie could only wrap her arms better and lower, lifting her slightly and gaining a low hiss because of that. For a second her haze broke, worried about it, and her eyes looked out for the discomfort Dara seemed to have, but she was kissed again before manage to do so.

"You totally still are...but let's make an exception," and the soft static Billie felt in her skin when she was with Dara appeared again, making her sweetly go back to loving her wife and start to walk in between kisses and laughs back to their bedroom.

Two hours cuddling, kissing and whispering sweet nothings to each other was what they both needed. Not only because yesterday was a total mess, but because they've been apart three days and a few more this month. There in their quietness, they managed to talk a bit more too about daily stuff they've missed when they were apart.

Billie apologized yet again because she didn’t notice Dara’s old injury was acting up, per example, and offered to help applying some muscle soothing cream. Dara, once she was feeling a bit better and after they decided to take a well deserved shower, took in her hands the task of redoing Billie’s nails and they spent a good chunk playfully fighting over the best color - and in the end, they agreed for some nude color for Billie and Dara fixed hers in black. How Billie took to herself kissing Dara in different ways she knew the woman loved; how Dara started to rant about the last messes at work and both cussed heavily, because they were like that; how the blonde ran her fingers in soft caresses over every tattoo her wife had…

They didn’t leave the bed until it was time to actually meet up for lunch with Audrey and Danielle, purely just enjoying each other and both feeling so much better by the time Billie sat up in bed to watch her wife go through their wardrobe. Sometimes it was nice to let Dara pick their clothes for the day, mostly because it meant a good change for their usual choices. 

Billie ended up getting a flowery high waisted skirt that fell loose to her knees, and her favourite peach blouse that she didn’t know how it survived ten years at this point but she wasn’t going to complain. For Dara was that one amber blouse Billie loved the most in her, the one that brought up her tanned skin, along her favourite dark pants that she knew drove Billie utterly insane and making her chuckle a ‘such a tease, aren’t you’ while Dara was getting her rings and usual jewelry on.

Those times were intimate and Billie cherished them a lot, because she never thought she would get them one day.

Hand in hand, both made their way out of the apartment not long after, and it took Billie the whole ride to get her body used again to Dara’s driving. It wasn’t that she forgot how her wife was, but heck that having others drive her here and there or even drive herself was always a whole different experience.

But there was a tiny satisfaction in watching Dara come out of the car with this glow around her that made her so different from any other person Billie met, when they pulled over at where they were having lunch that she always liked to indulge in. It made her feel important, it made her focus to be all over her wife, yet it made her feel down on Earth when they started to walk towards the terrace.

Billie thought that what she loved the most about Dara was how she was capable, with her whole demeanour and way of caring about her, of making her feel she was living in this reality. They both knew very well that there were times in which fame and her powers got too into Billie’s head, making her feel like she was just a passing soul through life instead of an actual human being. Having Dara as a constant in her life, one that she didn’t want to ever part ways with, helped her the most. And, of course, she wanted to be better than she was to her and show Dara that she had her all for herself, because God, them and both Audrey and Nora knew that Billie many times did things that didn’t demonstrate how important her wife was for her.

But Dara was still there, despite everything.

“Sweet baby Jesus, I can’t believe we are here earlier than them,” Dara’s voice brought Billie down to Earth from her thoughts. “How can two of the most punctual people in the universe not even be five minutes early to a date?”

“Cut them some slack, Dalfoddil,” Billie laughed at the fake afflicted tone in Dara’s voice, sitting by her side to be closer to her. “I bet you thirty it was only traffic, or that they forgot something at home.”

“I bet you thirty and that new game I want that they are late because of sex, Howt Stuff,” Dara mumbled before pressing her lips against Billie’s, which she eagerly took advantage of and snuck an arm behind Dara’s lower back to be even closer. “Are we bringing the bad boys before dessert now?”

“I can’t help it, baby, don’t mind me today...but we have a deal,” Billie looked at her feeling how her chest was about to burst of all the love she had for her. When Dara let herself be cuddled there in the seat, resting her head in Billie’s shoulder, she pressed a new kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Billie Dean.”

And upon hearing that coming from Dara’s pretty lips, after the millionth or billionth time, Billie knew today was going to be a good day.

When Audrey finally arrived ten minutes later, Danielle on her phone talking with a client and relieved Damien because her mother didn’t drive walking behind her, Billie had Dara still cuddled in her side as they were exchanging sweet nothings and drinking wine and soda respectively - Dara not being in the mood of drinking today. And when they settled, Audrey couldn’t help but make a little gesture with her eyebrows, silently asking Billie ‘everything okay?’ while the cousins were busy with the waiter. Her only response was a quick wink and seeing how Billie’s left hand was caressing Dara’s back up and down with care, earning her a new peck after Dara’s attention went back to her.

More than okay.

For Audrey, that was enough response. They had known each other for almost five years already, sharing more than just a friendship along the way, so she knew right away that the other couple was having one of those ‘reconciliation’ days. Not that they ever broke up, as far as Audrey knew, but sometimes they behaved like they did and were back together and stronger than ever. Well, stronger than they already were, because she never met a couple like them. They seemed to gravitate around each other in a way she wished to understand and for Audrey, she always saw that being with Dara made Billie the happiest.

Looking at Danielle for a second, when the other two were distracted talking with Damien - or more Dara talking with their niece while Billie simply listened, arm over her shoulders and glass of wine in the other hand -, Audrey discerned that her girlfriend was a bit confused yet her light brown eyes were full of tenderness. Their hands met under the table and, after a light squeeze, she earnt a peck of her own that made her contently smile.

Content smile that disappeared when Dara asked right away why they were late, once Damien had to go to the restroom, and was replaced by Audrey’s face lightening up like a Christmas light because bingo they had a shower quickie that took them a bit longer than intended.

“Oh, come on, you placed a bet and all,” Dara couldn’t help but laugh out loud when Audrey said that, rightfully offended, upon seeing Billie taking out a few bills from her purse to give them to her. “Why do you two always have bets for everything?”

“Because it’s fun and I always win,” Danielle, still with her face red as a tomato, chuckled at how happy and relaxed Dara was. “You also played bets with us, darling, don’t you play innocent now.”

“Yeah but after losing a hundred dollars to you in one go, I decided to quit altogether,” at that Billie laughed, the memory of about what they bet that time coming to her mind, because Audrey was just exasperated. “How do you even do it?”

It was time for Dara to laugh. She never did much, to begin with, it was just her intuition and one of many leaps of faith she was used to take. That was her secret, not expecting the result and just go for it. 

After that and a very scandalized Danielle because ‘why would you even do that’ when Dara answered a happy ‘I’m a lucky bitch, what else can I do?’, having promised to her that one day they would tell her, a day in which everyone was wasted and with no children around; Dara managed to think that everything was finally settling again.

It was a nice feeling, because those times where Billie and her got into a discussion took a too heavy toll on her. She never liked getting into arguments to begin with, but having them with Billie was the worst thing ever because it meant for her that communication had failed. Even in the past, they only had a couple serious arguments in between all the playful bickering and the eventual ‘couch arrest’ because one of them took it a bit too far, nothing really serious taking in count the other went to retrieve the part in arrest after a few hours or the next morning. She loved how afterwards Billie got softer, more loving and willing to show her feelings, and she basically couldn’t say no to her in those times.

She also loved to be able to show it to the rest, not because she wanted to brag about, but because she had been waiting for too long to do it completely freely. 

When Audrey took her hand with care over the table and smiled widely, full knowing how much she was enjoying having Billie like that, Dara’s heart grew three sizes and for a second she forgot about how a question regarding the actress was what was behind of it all. Dara didn’t want to dwell on that anymore, because now everything was in the open to Billie understand her position and for her to understand from where Billie’s doubts were coming from. 

So the next thing she did after the tiny exchange of smiles with Audrey was to actually check her phone after twelve hours without doing it.

“Billie, did you buy a new couch?” Dara had to bite her tongue to not curse like a sailor, because really what the fuck, and Billie looked at her from behind her third glass of wine like ‘oh snap, she finally saw it’.

“You said I’ve been six years complaining about it,” Billie whined back, trying to not look at her wife because Dara was digging holes in her skull just by how she was looking at her. “So yesterday night I just ordered a new one, easy as pie.”

“And didn’t you think about measuring our living room before to see if it actually fits?” Dara tapped at the screenshot to see it better. “God, this is massive, what in th-”

But before she could keep at it, feeling how Billie’s hand was now placed in her thigh and rubbing soft circles there to avoid getting murdered in her sleep, her screen changed to display someone was calling. It took her a second to read the caller id and then all the happiness and all the warmth, dropped to her feet.

“I’ll kick your ass later,” Dara mumbled, taking advantage of Billie not looking at what she was doing with her phone, before standing up to go pick up the call. “Don’t you think I’m gonna forget about it.”

When she was at enough distance to not be heard, Dara pressed the phone to her ear, her heart beating loudly in her throat.

If Constance was calling her directly, and not Billie, it wasn’t a good signal.

“Hi Constance, how are you?” she started before the woman in the other side of the line talked, trying to not sound nervous. It didn’t help either that Dara had some sick respect for her. “Older than last time, kid, that for sure,” she replied darkly but with a tone that gave away she was distracted. “Yeah, right, do you want to talk with Billi-” it was the easiest way to make Constance Langdon talk, bringing up her wife because both had a different and stronger bond. “If I wanted to talk with Billie Dean, I would have called her, don’t you think?” and Dara’s silence invited her to keep talking. “Anyway, I was calling because miss Montgomery’s been acting weird,” Constance didn’t like Nora for the mere fact that she was the actual owner of the house and if she ever had to refer to her, it always came from a polite sarcasm. “She’s been in the front yard, sitting there all alone. Vivien and Violet tried to make her come in, they are still there with her in fact. I’m only calling because I have a bad feeling about this,”  and Dara’s heart dropped even lower than all the good feelings already dropped. “Did she said something at all? Did you actually talked to her?” She had to ask because Nora wasn’t one to go out of the house on her own volition, only coming out on Halloween or the couple times they managed to take her to the backyard. “She asked for you, actually. And it scared the shit outta me that she let me see her in fact.” Oh yeah, Nora wasn’t a big fan of Constance neither, and that was what made everything more worrisome. Dara rubbed her neck, trying to stay calm, before giving an answer. “...I’ll be there in twenty.”

She hanged up without saying anything else, and turned around to go back to the table. Desserts were already there and the adults were laughing while Damien seemed embarrassed for some reason that escaped her knowledge. 

However, Dara’s mind was racing in another line, thinking about how she needed to get to Nora as soon as possible. 

This was when her secret card was played and also why she didn’t ever found herself asking Billie almost the same question she did. Dara never got in her enough courage to ask Billie if she cared, not loved or liked, but truly cared about the ghost anymore. Mostly because she knew the answer: Nora wasn’t actually there, she couldn’t provide of the warmth, she couldn’t change, she couldn’t grow, she couldn’t even leave the place she was confined to. It pained her, it pained her for the last four years, to know that everything had come to an end.

As much as Billie played it dumb, she had noticed how Nora’s wounds had closed already and that made her feel wary. She loved how Nora wasn’t a crying wreck anymore, how her true persona came out more often than not instead of the one generated by the trauma, but those times it made Dara feel how she was lighter in her arms and even one time she felt her fingers pass through her arm as if Nora was a mere smoke curtain.

“Everything okay Annie?” Billie’s voice was as worried as the glint in her eyes, taking in count Dara was spacing out just in front of them looking at her phone.

“It was Constance, there’ve been some problem at the house and wanted me to check into it,” Dara pushed herself to act more relaxed, as if it wasn’t something really important, and Billie frowned to that. “You know her, always getting worried the house is gonna burn down or something.”

“Let’s go then baby,” was Billie immediate response, moving to stand up, but Dara put a hand on her shoulder and leant enough to kiss her cheek briefly.

“Don’t worry sugar, I got it, okay? Just enjoy the rest of the afternoon,” Chuckling, Dara retrieved her bag and called for the waitress, signaling to her dessert. “Can you put me this for take out? Thank you,” her eyes went then to Billie again, smiling softly, and then to Audrey, Danielle and Damien. “You three take care of her while I’m gone, I’ll be chopping heads off if one hair is out of place,” she laughed with her joke and Danielle only rolled her eyes a bit.

“Actually Audrey has to be the one doing that, I have to go get some last minute work done this afternoon,” Dara looked with curiosity to her cousin and she shrugged a bit. “I’m taking Dada with me, so I think these two will be alone.”

It was then when Billie looked at Dara with some kind of uncertainty in her eyes, taking her hand in hers, as if asking if she really got it under control. Dara felt moved for some reason, taking in count almost nine years ago she was the one trying to stop Billie from going into that house all alone. But she only leant over her again, this time kissing her wife fully on the lips while her free hand grabbed her cane, ending the soft affectionate move with a mere brush of noses.

“Take care, okay? I love you,” Billie mumbled, placing her hand in Dara’s thigh for a second. “Call me if it gets too bad, promise it.”

And to that Dara, already swooning too much, kissed her again to seal that promise. 

Audrey got a big goodbye kiss on the cheek, as usual, while Danielle was hugged from behind and Damien got a kiss on top of her hair and, like that, Dara was making her way to her car with a brownie for take out and all the worries about Nora bottled inside.

While driving, Dara tried to come up with a line of act. Would be Nora altered? Would she need to do an intervention? Would she have to get help from the other ghosts in the house? The only ones she manage to...befriend were the Harmon women and, stil, she wasn’t sure if Moira actually liked her taking in count the first time they saw each other...well, Dara didn’t see her in her true form right away. Hayden at times, and it was always weird. And in a very good day, specially good even, Nora’s husband exchanged some words with her.

That was maybe the weirdest part of it all, that Charles had seen her close enough to actually talk to her, because when Billie had tried to contact him - the couple few times for her research - he didn’t make a single sound.

When Dara pulled over, her head was full of all the things that could go wrong with Nora or any of the other ghosts in the house. If she had any energy back during the morning, it all went away in the fifteen minute ride to the house, making her feel as she was feeling all those days Billie was away.

Tiresome, too tiresome.

But when she crossed the fence, she fell in the spell the house always had around. Dara’s eyes went first around the front yard, taking in count every little thing she had done to keep the abandonment at bay. The lawn was a bit wet, the rose bushes as well and then Vivien was squat down in front of Nora, with Violet sitting by her side and taking her hand.

Dara walked slowly towards them, her cane tapping in the stones of the tiny path, feeling heavy with each step but getting confident as she went further and further. Vivien saw her first, then Violet, and both stood up giving Dara a pitiful and desperate look. Once they were gone, it was time for Dara to get near Nora finally, and she could only get her eyes on her back and her whole aura.

For Dara, Nora glowed that day in a different light.

“What’s the prettiest gal around doing here all alone?” she raised her voice, with enough sweetness and tenderness to sweeten up Nora’s mood.

“Waiting for the sun to come to me, sweetie pie,” for Nora, she was always something along ‘sweet’, because she couldn’t see her as anything else. “Did you see the rosebuds? They’re so lovely right now...”

Nora felt how Dara, her sweet Dally, kneeled with a bit of trouble behind her, soon getting the mint scent of her shampoo filling her whole. She could smell a hint of cigarette, Billie Dean’s perfume and the earthy scent that she came to associate with the woman that was hugging her from behind. Leaning back in the embrace, Nora lifted her hand to meet Dara’s left cheek still without looking at her, indulging in how she was resting her chin in her shoulder and pressing a light kiss in her jaw before looking at the bush with her.

“Not as lovely as you,” Nora chuckled at the flattery, knowing Dara didn’t lie when she said that. “Were you feeling better that you decided to come out?”

“Not really, but I felt like getting some watering done, can you believe it? Me, wanting to do such thing,” that drew a low laugh from both, making Dara tighten her hug. Nora went to put her hand over Dara’s, tracing her rings as usual to calm herself...even when she felt calm enough that day. “My mother would had been laughing at me for years if she ever came to know.”

“Then we are lucky she would never do,” Nora closed her eyes, feeling the warmth spreading in her chest. “Why don’t we move inside, darling? I brought with me some chocolate cake and we can make some tea, maybe tell me how was your day? I’m yours all noon.”

All mine. It rolled even more sweet in her tongue for the few seconds Nora took to react. God, she wished that was the whole and only truth in the world. She complied to that, however, whispering barely an ‘of course’ before helping Dara to stand up again. Nora waited then for Dara to retrieve the box with the cake at the porch stairs, feeling all the warmth in her body to gather where her heart was supposed to be, and once she was again by her side she quickly linked their arms to walk side by side inside.

Nora could feel the rest in the house withdraw to their usual accommodations, they always did that when she was wandering around, and she thanked them all inside because that’s everything she wanted right now. 

Chattering idly about banal things, they made their way to the kitchen that looked much better without all the things Vivien had equipped it with when they moved back in two thousand eleven. Both Billie and Dara had spent their good money in remodeling the place, little by little, so it was more like it was used to be than what years and years of different owners made it to be. It made Nora feel better for sure, less confused and out of place, because as much as she made Charles’ life a living Hell when they were alive...she was still very much thankful to him for building the place, and sorry at times for being like that.

That much she could say, at least, because she didn’t ever love him. 

Because ‘love’ was what she felt for the first time when, one night, she decided to come out of the basement, encountering a curious woman in their backyard. Same woman that was now with her back facing her, humming along a song while setting up the kettle over the stove. How curious it was that these days she could recall things like that, but she gladly took it in because it made her feel content. 

She picked at the cake with the plastic spoon, knowing she didn’t need to actually eat, but indulging because Dara had brought it. In her days, things like that weren’t usual at all, so it was kind of a delight to be able to share this even when she couldn’t feel much of it aside of the taste before it went away. 

However, her focus changed when Dara finally set their cups of tea in the counter and sat close to her, letting the kettle close in case they wanted more. Fishing her phone - and this time Nora didn’t make a face! - from her pocket, Dara put it there too before turning all her attention to her. It was easy to notice that for Nora, because her sweetheart always spread her legs a bit, letting enough space in case she wanted to come even closer, and had her left hand resting in the back of Nora’s tall chair.

“Dally, are you okay?” was the first thing she asked, watching how the lovely features of her darling were filled with dread even when her smile was on. She could see the light dark circles under her eyes behind the make-up and how she bit her lip every few minutes. 

“Yeah darling, why wouldn’t I?” she laughed in response, moving her hand to accommodate Nora’s shawl better. 

“You look tired, spent even,” Nora wasn’t the best at being subtle, so she preferred to be direct. “Do I have to call Billie Dean and put her arse into place? I swear if she’s treating yo-”

“Everything is fine Nora, don’t worry,” Dara laced her fingers with Nora’s then, making her feel that calmness that she loved about the woman in front of her. “My leg has been acting up for a few days already and work has been...awful, so I couldn’t rest much. Also how can it be Billie’s fault when she barely got home yesterday? Give her some rest.”

No, I can’t give her some rest. Nora thought squeezing Dara’s hand a bit in hers. Not when she’s in charge of giving you all our love. But she nodded, agreeing to not put in place the other socialité, because if Dara asked her to do something she would do it right away. It visibly calmed her having Nora to agree, though, and it was a view to sore eyes having her smiling in that way her dimples showed up.

"Then tell me, who do I have to terrorize the next time the house let me go out," Nora asked, not wanting to break the contact, while tracing Dara's knuckles with her thumb. "You know I can get quite scary."

"I think at this rate I'll be quitting before Halloween," Dara laughed at that, the stress lacing in her words. "But I don't want to talk about work, I'd prefer to talk about what are we doing this year in your day off, do you want to go to the movies? Or maybe this year you want to go to the beach? We can even go home and relax there, you name it, you have it."

Home. The word tasted sweet in her tongue again, and Nora really wished that apartment to be their home...or well, even the house they were in right now. It didn't matter for her to be honest, because anywhere Dara was, for Nora was already home.

And while they started to talk about it, all the possibilities they had to fulfill in twenty four hours, Nora's mind started to wander in all those things she usually thought when she was alone. 

At times, Nora pictured Dara in the time she was alive. Oh, she would totally be a charmer, one of those flappers that Nora’s mother hated so much and made sure she wasn’t even close to by making her attend parties full of ‘proper’ ladies and gentlemen alike. But she knew that Dara would manage to sneak in, her manners blending perfectly and ‘innocently’ hanging around her, sharing with Nora stories about dancing freely along the music that was played in ballrooms and about a house in the coast where they could do whatever they wanted.

Not only that would made Nora fall in love with the concept of freedom, but also with the concept that maybe her future wasn’t tied to a man nor to a child of her own...nor even tied to the status and the money. At first lying about the nature of their hangs out would be almost the rule, but then eventually moving together because ‘they liked to be around each other too much’, and then the rumors would start of course. But Nora found herself not caring at all, because as long as she was by Dara’s side that's all that mattered to her.

Cake and tea gone, Nora listened to something Dara was telling her with passion, barely asking for permission to lit up the cigarette she had been rolling while talking, before keep with the topic. Of course Dara would smoke back in the twenties too, but Nora imagined her smoking cigarrillos more than the regular or even smoking pipe, the room note hanging wonderfully in her clothes and Nora imagined herself wrapped in one of Dara’s shirts, getting comfort from that solely when she was out of the house.

“I think I’ve never seen you in this dress,” Dara’s fingers brought her back to the present when they fixed the white shawl, giving her a soft caress in her chin. “It suits you, brings your eyes and lips out.”

“You’re terrible,” In that moment, and back in her time, she blushed as fiercely as she allowed herself, her hand going quickly to shush Dara. “I had it since forever, it’s one of my favourites! I wore it before.”

“Okay, okay,” Dara chuckled again, taking a drag and letting the smoke come out of her nose and mouth in a swift move. “Sorry, these days my mind isn’t that sharp...still, you truly look beautiful Nora.”

You had nothing to be sorry for. Nora thought while finally giving in and getting her chair closer to Dara, which only looked at her warmly before leaning to kiss her temple and place her right arm over Nora’s lap, resting her hand in her hip. She missed the days they could kiss openly, mostly because she found herself comfortable being held by her and pampered in love just like that, but she understood that now things had changed. 

Damned you, Billie Dean, seven times damned. Nora couldn’t blame her, indeed, she felt...at peace knowing that her favourite people finally made themselves official. But that couldn’t stop her from being jealous of the medium, jealous because many times she wished to be the one that had gifted her that gold ring with tiny rubies that rested in Dara’s left ring finger, jealous because...well, Billie was alive and could give everything to their pretty flower.

“You aren’t that bad yourself, sweetheart,” she mumbled in response, leaning a bit better and resting her head in Dara’s shoulder, her hand tracing her necklace and fixing her shirt. 

“Miss Montgomery, you’re terrible! Scandalous even, wow,” Dara imitated her and Nora closed her eyes, feeling how her laugh vibrated through her skin like a soft hum that made her chuckle in response. And then a sweet silence settled between them, until Dara broke it again. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, mhm?”

Oh, Nora didn’t know how to start to reply to that. 

In fact she didn’t even know why Dara was there to begin with, but she found herself not caring because it was like her own feelings had summoned her that day to the house.

Nora had opened her eyes in the morning as if she had the longest nap ever, those days being like that, like a never ending nap that gave her enough energies to go through one and only day; and she felt somewhat free. The basement was in silence, as it always was after her Thaddeus had passed a few years ago, but something was calling her to go upstairs. She had done that and the first person she crossed ways with had been Hayden, that looked at her half worried half shocked, and then Violet had almost knocked her down while asking if she was feeling alright.

‘More than alright, I think I’m gonna take a walk around the house today.’ she had tell her and it didn’t come from the white lies she always told. Nora had been feeling great the moment she was out of her usual place in the house. It had been like something had set off from her chest and she could breathe again. 

So she had done that with Violet by her side, listening to all the stories Nora had of the house. Stories of the past but also of the present, and it came a moment in which she could only talk about memories she made with the woman that was holding her so tightly in her arms.

“Not much,” Nora decided to reply, closing her eyes again to indulge in the warmth. “Just that I’m glad you are here...I kinda felt like dancing today.”

When the little walk around the house had came to an end, Nora had felt like a spark starting in her belly, the one she always got when she was ready to do something fun and new. That same spark was what had brought her outside, feeling the sun in her like as if it was something she never experienced before. Then her eyes had fixed in the rose bushes - white roses starting to bloom, white roses that were planted because they were Nora’s favourites - and she found herself wondering once again if she ever felt that content with something so simple. 

“Dancing? Well, I can fix that then,” Dara finally moved and Nora almost yelled at her to not go, a sudden panic rising in her chest and her throat, but then she placed her lips to her forehead lightly to not stain her skin with lipstick. “But first I need to go to the bathroom, you wait me here okay? I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Sure, I’ll clean this...mess to entertain myself,” Nora said, letting out an exasperated breathe that made Dara laugh in response, retrieving her cane from where it was resting. “Making a girl wait, her manners’ been rubbing off on you miss Lynch.”

Nora had managed to get some already bloomed and do a simple arrangement to put as decoration somewhere in the house. But the second she had looked at her work, her energies fell to the ground and her legs hadn’t been able to hold her anymore. Alone, but without the need to call out for help, she waited there just feeling her body lighter, in hopes the sun helped her to regain some energies to keep moving. Oh, what her mother would had said if she passed out in the lawn? Her eyes could only keep themselves busy in those roses about to bloom, soft rosebuds she wasn’t sure if she was going to see them at all.

“Nora?” Violet’s voice made her hum just to let the girl know she was being listened, but her fingers were moving along the form of Dara’s cellphone. “Where’s-”

“Bathroom, in the other house,” Nora didn’t look at her, with a mere move of her head in the correct direction. “Could you give me a hand, dear? I need...well, I don’t know how this works aside that you can call, so...I want to speak with Billie Dean.”

“Why don’t you wa-”

“Privately, Violet,” she felt the tears tingling in her eyes, threatening to spill, but Nora held them. “Please.”

It wasn’t until Dara had arrived, all of a sudden, that she actually felt that both Vivien and Violet had been trying to make her go inside. The time in between when she felt her energies fall until Dara was hugging her from behind was blank in her mind, but she found herself yet again not minding at all because her sun was there already to take her home. It was the only thing she needed at this point to keep going...and now that Dara was there, she felt complete...

However, there was still a little something in her, waiting to be untied and set free once for all. Something that had to do with the woman she, along Violet, was trying to reach. The teenager was quick to find Billie’s contact and when the phone started to ring, she wasn’t nervous at all. Her hand went to where she knew the bullet hole was, out of habit, just to find the spot clean of any wound, and she smiled softly when she found her mouth didn’t taste like iron and salt.

“Annie?” oh, how jealous Nora was because she took the softer name to make it hers. “It’s me Billie Dean.” Nora said, moderating her voice because Dara had taught her at least that she didn’t need to yell at all. “Nora...is Annie with you? Is she okay?” Billie was nervous, panicked even, but she was trying to sound composed to not give it away. “Yes, she just went to Constance’s for a second. I wanted to speak with you before she comes back, Violet helped me with...the demonic device.” and at that, Nora shushed Violet with her hand so she could be alone in the kitchen. “One day you’ll call it by its name, ‘s way easier darling,” Nora chuckled at that because God, how different it felt be called sweet names from different people, even if it was the same one. “Of course.” she rubbed her hands together for a second, not knowing how to say those words. “Then...what did you want to talk about?” Billie encouraged her and Nora caught a laugh from behind her voice, not Billie’s at all. “I...thank you, Billie Dean. Thank you, for everything you have done for me.” and with that, the little something was gone and she felt even more light, her head feeling more clear. “Simple as that, just thank you.” and the silence arrived in the other side of the line at the same time the front door unlocked.

Nora’s hand pushed the red button quickly, as Violet had told her to if she wanted to end the call, and then left the phone where it was before she decided to move towards the living room and wait for Dara there.

It wasn’t as simple as that, because that would probably the first time Nora ever thanked Billie. A thank you for not letting anyone else to come into this cursed house by buying it, a thank you for restoring it for her, a thank you for letting her come in their lives…

...a thank you for letting her love Dara in a way she died without knowing it was possible.

“Did the ballroom started without me?” Dara said in a happy-go-lucky tone, hobbling slowly in the living room with her phone in hand. “Which song are we playi-”

“Can you sing today, dear?” it wasn’t an usual request, but Nora wanted to hear Dara’s voice as much as possible. “I love your voice.”

“Of course, anything for you,” when Nora looked at Dara, she looked younger, almost like she looked ten years ago when they met. Her features full of that softness she usually got when she was looking at Billie…but now, her girl got it all for her. “Then I’ll start with my favourite one.”

Once Dara was holding her close to her body, Nora knew that was where she belonged. An arm over Dara’s shoulders, the other one sandwiched in between their bodies, all of that while holding her handkerchief with one of her dearest one’s hands resting over and pushing it to her chest, where her beating heart sounded for them two. Nora found her right place in the hollow of Dara’s neck, where she could feel how the woman was starting to sing only for her.

Oh, it felt beautifully to experience that. 

She chuckled when Dara changed the lyrics to fit a bit better, all of that as they swinged ever so softly, and she could feel more eyes watching them. The energy of the rest occupants was starting to beat too fast for her, in a pace she felt herself not belonging, and she decide to press her lips to Dara’s cleavage - in the start, almost in the middle of her chest - to make herself feel anchored to something. It left a lipstick mark, but who cared in that moment? All Nora could hear at this point was how Dara’s heartbeat felt more easy to follow than anything else.

And because she finally found her own beat, her own pace...that’s why Nora felt brave enough to say those next words.

“I love you Dally,” Dara didn’t stop from moving but she did stop from singing, just so she could meet Nora’s eyes. She felt so full, so light at the same time, so very much at peace. “I love you, and I will always do.”

Easy as it was, Nora stood on her tiptoes to initiate for the first time a kiss. A kiss that was returned as if it was meant to be...as if it wasn’t going to be the last.

When Dara opened her eyes, Nora wasn’t there, but her handkerchief was still pressed in her palm. She looked around for a second, her fingers pressed then to her lips with the lingering warmth Nora left, and the silence started to press all over her body in a way she never felt before.

“Nora, where are you?” she asked out loud, moving to retrieve her cane once again, looking around not only the living room but in the kitchen. “Nora! C’mon darling, you know I don’t like playing hide and seek,” her voice wavered and for a second she tried to reach for Nora’s energy in some way, like Billie once taught her to, but not working at all. “Nora!”

Every second that it passed, Dara calling the name of the ghost, it was a torture. Not only because she didn’t get any response back but also because it started to wake other ghosts in the house. Vivien and Violet appeared when she rounded the stairs, ready to go to the basement alone - a voice really similar to Billie’s screaming at her to not do that -, and made her go upstairs along a confused Tate that was drawn by all the ruckus. Hayden’s voice was heard outside the house, calling for Nora too, but any of them got a response. 

She was starting to panic, panic like she never did before. 

The tension in her whole body was enough to make her grit her teeth, piling up in her chest and starting to burn with the buzz of all the souls trapped in the Montgomery's house. That’s why she didn’t like that part of her powers, that’s why she was so overwhelmed that there was too much activity in one place. It made her feel she was going to explode.

And when she got to the open kitchen again, Tate behind her almost pulling all his hair out, Dara finally saw Charles.

Vivien, Violet, Moira and Hayden were looking at him too, as if they had never seen him before. He looked...clean, out of her scrubs and with a proper suit. Dara knew that suit, it was the same he was wearing in that family picture Billie and her found of the Montgomery’s. Somehow, he also looked more...free, as to speak, his energy felt almost refreshing when his was always one of those that reeked in a different intensity.

Dara felt her heart beating so loud in her ears, however, making her see red again today and feeling a sudden burst of heat in her chest. In a swift movement of her hand, she held her cane more like a bat than a cane, ready to smash his head if that meant to know where Nora was, but before she could take the first step Charles spoke up.

"She's not here," his eyes went then to the rest in the kitchen before landing again in Dara. "It's useless that you keep on calling out for her.."

"What are you saying? Where did she go," it came out of Dara's mouth more like a growl than a question, one that hanged between all of them as if it was an unspoken truth and made Dara to feel multiple chills running down her spine. "I'm not joking Charles! Where the fuck is Nora!?"

"I think you know where she is, dear," this time it was Moira the one that talked, her voice filled with sadness, relief and maybe a bit of jealousy. "We all know."

No, no, no. 

"For a really long time we avoided each other, even before we...ended like this," Charles kept going, walking now to the middle of the empty living room. "Money, the house, our son... everything was something ideal to argue about. It pained me, those times I was lucid, to see us like that," he chuckled lightly and Dara's heart beated harder, painfully even. "To see that I couldn't make her happy in any possible way. It's macabre to say we got what we deserved, mostly because it was my fault what transpired in the last moments of our lives, and as the years passed by...well, let's say a hundred years gives you enough time to think and see as much as I was lost in myself."

Dara didn't want to listen to him, she really didn't. She closed her eyes and tried harder to reach Nora's energy, feeling even more strained by doing so, and then she fell to her knees without strength. A set of hands reached for her, burning like molten metal that she couldn't roll away from. But her eyes, now open again, went to the man that had stopped in his advance.

Tears blinded her, making Charles blurry in short distance along the tiny child that was crawling towards him.

Charles looked around then before leaning to take his son in his arms, smiling tenderly upon seeing his perfect face instead of what he became because of him. Giving him a cuddle in his cheek, perfect round cheek so similar to his wife, he finally looked at the woman that was breaking down in front of him. How she was being held by that young lady, the daughter of the last owners of the house; how she was crying her eyes out, the loss hitting her like icy water; how it made him see that his most wanted wish was finally fulfilled.

Didn’t Charles wanted to make Nora happy since the moment they met? Didn’t he wanted her to know he loved her?

He wasn’t able to do it, but through the last decade he had seen how someone else did. How someone had pulled all the broken pieces that he contributed to smash and put them together again; how someone else heard his Nora, made her feel important, made her grow out of many of the things that remained in her from her youth, loved her as she was instead of wanting to change her, and overall made her happy in the palace he built for her to enjoy to her heart’s content.

And that helped him heal along the way in the shadows, where anyone was noticing him, until the same woman that swiped his wife of her feet reached for him too.

“Above all the wrong I did, above all the chaos that we were,” Charles felt himself smiling truthfully after too many years, feeling how Thaddeus started to fall asleep in his shoulder. “I do have to thank you, miss Lynch, because you made us see what we truly needed.” And it felt so peaceful saying that, the heavy weight remaining in his presence lifting and flying away. “I would suggest, however, to take some vacation from my dearest house...I’m afraid there are still too many evil forces and our darling Nora isn’t here to protect you anymore.”

When Charles walked away, his silhouette and energy gone of the house, the whole place seemed to hiss and creak under Dara’s body.

A new rush of energy filled her, the adrenaline pumping in her veins with such strength that when Violet and Vivien pulled her up she didn’t feel any pain. That wasn’t the only thing she was feeling, because the energy of the house was trying to pick at her all at once. She overheard steps all over the place, not only upstairs, but also downstairs and her sense to flight ringed louder than ever when she saw Tate launching himself against another ghost that was entering the living room in that moment. The house was trying to eat her alive, not only her energy - or what was left of it at this point - but her whole body too.

"You have to go," Vivien said before Violet took Dara's hand to make her run. "Don't worry about us, you have to make it home."

The only thing Dara did was to tighten the grip on Violet's hand as they started to run as much as they could through the back door in the kitchen.

Billie had a bad feeling installed in her stomach the second Nora hanged up the phone. Not only because it was the second time in her life that someone hanged up on her, but because she had this heavy pressure in the back of her head. Pressure that was only making her more and more restless as the minutes passed by.

Audrey was being a sweetheart, like always, being the one carrying the conversation most of the time or suggesting that they should do a marathon on that show they promised to watch together. She had let Billie put her legs on her lap, she had turned a blind eye on how Billie checked her phone every few minutes - when usually she didn’t like to have it near at all, now she had it pressed to her chest as if having the device in her skin would calm her-, she had offered to make tea and sandwiches and...and Billie couldn’t be more thankful to at least have Audrey here.

When Billie spied on Audrey making the afternoon snack, she had wondered where she had learnt to be like that. Even when she was feeling uneasy, Billie’s mind dug up everything she had learnt in those years about her best friend, and she was sure the way she was trying to act more homie wasn’t something she had in her before. Half hidden between the cushions, Billie’s mind also started to wonder and wonder, and in between wondering she asked herself for a second if maybe once was remotely possible to have that view everyday.

But soon she found that the view didn’t happen in her old kitchen, didn’t belong to this time nor even to this her. 

This her wasn’t what Audrey needed, that for sure, what she neede-

Audrey thought she was going to have a heart attack the second the door opened wide all of a sudden. It banged against the wall with such strength that it startled her enough to drop what she had in her hands. Turning around, the only two things Audrey saw was Billie standing up of the couch at light speed and Dara in between the couch and the kitchen counter, panting harshly as if she was barely catching her breath in that moment.

All that before falling to the ground as if her whole body had given up.

It sent Audrey to panic, making her let out a loud gasp, and she rounded the counter to find Dara sobbing loudly on the floor, clawing at her shirt as if she was trying to get out of it unsuccessfully and she was clearly hurting herself in the process. 

“Annie, Annie, stop!” Billie’s panicked scream made Audrey react enough to hold herself in the counter. She silently watched in horror how her best friend reached her wife, the first thing she did was to hold her wrists to stop her. “God, you’re...bleeding, what...Annie, please, don’t-” 

In all the time Audrey had known the couple, she hadn’t seen the youngest part of it to act differently as calm. Dara’s sobs were heartbreaking, choking on her tears and own breathing, making her cough violently because she was trying to speak at the same time. It was a mess, a scary one in fact, and Billie was handling it all by herself as best as she knew. 

“Baby, please, I need to see...” Dara had managed to break free from Billie’s hold and was now protecting her neck for her dear life while Billie was trying to pull her up against her chest, so Dara’s back was resting there. “You’re boiling in fever...Annie, c-can you stand up? Love, listen to me, you need to calm down…”

But the best that Billie knew, wasn’t enough right now. 

How could she handle Audrey so well, yet when her wife was the one she was about to panic? She didn’t ever see Billie panic, getting mad for sure, but panic? Ever. And as scared, anxious and confused as Audrey was, something inside her tried to clear her head to help two of the three people in her life that always came to rescue her when the bad days were too much to handle.

“Bills, we need to get her in the shower,” Audrey’s strained voice surprised Billie, but watching her move was what made her react again. Dara was pretty much still a mess, but now she was trying to hide in Billie’s chest with any energy she had left. “You hold her body, I get her legs.”

Watching Dara whine and cry harder just because she seemed to think Billie was leaving her was one of the hardest things she saw. Billie kissed her head and whispered things Audrey couldn’t understand for a solid minute before they managed to lift her joining forces. Dara hissed in pain as soon as Audrey pulled her legs up and Billie looked even more in panic, eyes even more full of unshed tears. But they made it to the ensuite bathroom as fast as they could, which made the suffering end quickly.

“I’ll start the shower, get her out of her clothes and...try to see if she’s more hurt,” Audrey was trying to keep her cool, let Billie handle her wife, by being useful and ease things for them.

“Yeah, I-I’ll...yeah,” her hands were unbuttoning Dara’s shirt when Audrey turned around to give them some privacy, which she always tried to give them even when they were together. “My love, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere…” ‘My love’ sounded right in Billie’s lips when she directed i to Dara. “There you a-your knees are scraped too...Annie, what happened…”

Dara only sobbed harder with that and when Audrey turned around again, she felt her heart squeeze very tightly inside her ribcage upon seeing Dara like that. Stripped down except for her underwear, she realized then that she wasn’t as full as she used to be, her skin was glistening with sweat and Billie had used her own t-shirt to clean the blood coming out of her nose and out of the scratches in her chest. Did she always had that scar in her left collarbone? Even the scar from the accident in her right hip was even more scary. And all of that as whole made Dara look so...small and vulnerable, that she could understand why Billie was crying finally.

“Billie,” Audrey called out for her and Billie seemed so lost once she managed to look back, so sad, that she had to put her bravest face on to not let away her own fear. “If she has fever, we have to lower it.”

Billie looked then at Audrey with new eyes, her arms tightening around Dara to protect her from anything. 

The uneasiness she was feeling suddenly made sense, the voice talking to her from another side telling her something completely different to what she was hearing in reality. And it was a shock that she totally wasn’t prepared for. How bad she wanted to kiss, to hide, to do anything in her power to take the suffering away from her wife.

“Sweetie,” she felt her body restarting, letting go a ragged breath for a second, her hand cradling Dara’s head against her chest better. “She’s burning up and if we don’t do something, it will go worse.”

“Yeah, we have to,” Billie felt herself nod, only making worse the raging headache she felt building up behind her eyes, and she wasn’t sure how but with Audrey’s help they both lifted Dara again to make her stand in her feet, even when it was clear she couldn’t keep herself standing. “Let’s do it, I got you...we got you.”

Upon saying that, Billie suddenly felt the scent of million roses filling her. Oh, you were always so extra. She felt herself tearing up again and Dara got a new whole wave of sobs, because obviously she was feeling it too. Audrey couldn’t, God blessed her, and she felt more eager to get Dara under the shower just because of that. 

Billie didn’t care her clothes got wet, she just stood there holding her close to her chest and letting her cry. When was the last time she was like that? Not even the breakdown in the morning compared to this one, it wasn’t even similar. And she let her do that, to cry, to be held, to let go of all that; because she deserved it. Trembling as she was, Dara kept mumbling and sobbing what it seemed apologies, and Billie shushed her with all the care in the world.

They would overcome this too, she was sure of it, as they did all those times before...but this time, Billie was going to be the one guiding her love through it.

Once Dara managed to stop trembling and to be separated from her wife, Audrey got her wrapped in a towel, firm arms holding her while Billie took off her clothes and went to retrieve dry ones for both. Asking her in a mere whisper if she could walk, Audrey also managed to make Dara move little by little towards the bed, where she sat her and started to check the superficial scratches she had. Billie left a pair of her own pajamas by Dara’s side before going to retrieve something to patch her wife up, and, along with her best friend, they worked through the tiny injuries before helping Dara to get in new clothes.

“I’ll go get some tea,” Audrey said finally in tiny voice, once Dara was settled under the covers like a crying ball that she still was, and Billie was trying to kiss her tears away. “Do you want something else dear?”

“C-can you stay tonight?” Billie asked right away, looking up at her friend in a way Audrey never saw her before. “I know you have a lot on your plate, even more after these days, and I’m sor-”

But Billie got silent went Audrey walked towards her to kiss her forehead first and then put her hand in Dara’s cheek tenderly. How could she say no when they both had done bigger things for her? How could deny her best friend that, seeing how much she needed a hand with this new situation, when she never asked something in return?

“I’ll do, don’t even apologize,” she said in a whisper before leaving the room. “I’ll also get some hot towels just in case, okay?”

When they were alone, Billie didn’t lose time to get in bed with Dara, who reached for her as soon as she was close to bury her face in her chest once more. She wasn’t sobbing anymore, thankfully, but it was scary how she seemed unable to stop from crying. Billie brushed her wet locks of hair out of her face and kissed her brow with love, kissed anywhere she could to not let her think she was alone.

“I’m sorry I let her go,” Dara cried, her body shaking with a sob that never reached her lips. “I’m sorry Billie, I’m sorry...I had to do something, anything...and now she’s...she’s gone Billie, Nora is gone…”

“Your love took her there,” Billie whispered with the warmth she felt in the back of her neck intensifying because she knew they were being listened. “You healed her, my love, you helped her to finally move on...and that’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Billie knew too many things Dara was completely oblivious of, oh that she knew, too many years holding all the secrets the ghost confided in her. And her last words for her wife were full of those secrets and the truth. 

Maybe one day she would be able to tell everything to Dara, because she was sure Nora wanted her to know eventually; maybe the next morning she would ask for the whole version of what truly happened; maybe Billie would find a way to let Dara go back to the place she loved.

But for the rest of night, once Audrey came back with everything and with her help they kinda sandwiched her wife between them, she was pretty much okay with finally resting of the whole madness that this was.

Rest from all the countdowns that came to an end in two days. Rest from all the doubts and wonderings, rest from ten years of being a total coward.

Rest knowing that, finally, she was free to love Dara as much as she deserved.

[rose-of-pollux]

Yet another MFU blurb

Written for today’s short affair prompt at Section VII

Summary: In which failing to convict a war criminal causes Napoleon to question why he had to be the only witness that night in Korea.

Featuring a guest appearance from Fr Mulcahy because he just fit right in.

Continuation of this piece and this piece.

Eventually will be crossposted to AO3.

       Well I remember, I remember, don't worry, how could I ever forget,                          It's the first time, the last time we ever met.                                  — Phil Collins, “In the Air Tonight”

In spite of the best efforts from Napoleon and the rest of the prosecution to try to convict Smith for the murder of an unarmed Korean civilian, the lack of evidence, unfortunately, made the case fall apart.  In spite of Napoleon’s reputation, the passage of time since the incident caused the jury to question what he had seen, and they went with Smith’s version of the story—that he found the necklace after stumbling upon a body in the storm.

Napoleon was furious—and even moreso when Smith had the gall to turn up at U.N.C.L.E. a few days later. Illya had steadfastly refused to leave, even after Smith had stated that his business was with Napoleon, and Napoleon alone.  Illya stayed, as did their office cat, Baba Yaga, who immediately arched her back at Smith, hissing angrily at the sight of him.

“What do you want?” Napoleon asked, his voice tinged with ice.

“Well, Solo, first of all, before you got sidetracked with trying to drag my name through the mud, I had wanted to hire U.N.C.L.E. as bodyguards for one of my fancy gatherings,” the man said, smirking, as he reached for an orange from the fruit basket on the desk.

“U.N.C.L.E. doesn’t protect war criminals,” Napoleon shot back, quickly yanking back the purloined piece of fruit.  “We don’t provide them with any comforts, either.”

“But I’ve been acquitted!” Smith grinned.  “Your memory just didn’t serve you well then—I just picked the medallion up off of the ground.”

“You and I both know that’s not true,” Napoleon countered.

“But the jury doesn’t—and that’s all that matters,” Smith smirked.  “So, how about it—the protection?”

“We have the right to refuse our services to others when we find it prudent,” Illya said.

“And I don’t really care,” Smith said.  “Fine; I can hire plenty of other people to protect me at my party.”

“Then go do it—the less I have to see of you, the better,” Napoleon said.

“Well, there’s one other thing I want from you,” Smith said.  “My medallion—the one I found in Korea.  It’s mine.  I want it back.”

“It isn’t yours,” Napoleon snapped, his anger visibly increasing.  “You admitted on the stand that you found it—therefore, it was never yours!”

“Nevertheless, I’m sure I can find some loophole to make sure you return it to me,” Smith said. “See, I want that back—a souvenir of war, and now, it’s my trophy of how I defeated the great Napoleon Solo.”

“Get out of this office and this building, or I will have you removed from the premises,” Napoleon insisted.

“Touchy, aren’t you? Fine, I’ll leave for now,” Smith conceded.  “But you haven’t seen the last of me.”

He turned and left with the cat hissing at his retreating back, and Illya closed the door to their office before turning to his partner.

“Napoleon?”

“What was the point!?” Napoleon suddenly fumed.  “What was the point of having me be there, at that time and place, to witness this, if it did absolutely nothing!?”

“…You are asking that question to someone who cannot even begin to find an answer,” Illya said, with genuine sympathy in his voice.

Napoleon’s expression softened.

“Illya—”

“You needn’t apologize to me—or anyone,” Illya reminded him.  “He was playing on your emotions the entire time he was here—I, for one, am pleased that you held it together in front of him.  He didn’t need the satisfaction of seeing your anger unleashed…”

He trailed off as the intercom buzzed.

“Mr. Solo?” Waverly’s voice crackled over the radio.  “Can you report to my office, please?  Feel free to bring Mr. Kuryakin with you, if you so desire.”

“Right away, Sir,” Napoleon said, and he shut off the intercom with a sigh.  “Well, he’s got his ear to the ground.”

“He cannot possibly find fault in anything you have done,” Illya assured.  “That’s what I was most insistent about, and you have stuck to that, much to my relief.”

“Mmh,” Napoleon sighed, as they made their way to Waverly’s office.

They were surprised to see Waverly in conversation with another man, a bit younger than him—the man had light blond hair, a hearing aid in each ear, and a collar that quickly identified him as a man of the cloth.

“Ah, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin,” Waverly said.  “I want you to meet Father Francis Mulcahy.  …Well, as I understand it, you, Mr. Solo, have already met him.”

Napoleon blinked, trying to place the man for a moment before his eyes suddenly widened in recognition.

“…You were the chaplain in the medical unit in Korea where I had my appendix taken out,” Napoleon realized.

“That is correct,” Mulcahy said, with a warm smile.  “And I am very pleased to see that you were able to end up exactly where you wanted to be—where you can do the most good.”

“…Not enough good, I’m afraid,” Napoleon said, averting his gaze.  “You see, I just had a—”

“Yes, I know all about it,” Mulcahy sighed.  “You see, in addition to serving as the unit chaplain, I was also very involved in the care and well-being of the orphanage in Uijeongbu.  When your request for information on the records of… that night came in, they asked me to try to help them with the records, as well.  I was still searching when Mr. Kuryakin called to follow up and say that the trial had already begun.”

Napoleon looked to Illya in surprise, but then smiled fondly at his partner before turning back to Mulcahy in slight confusion.

“I appreciate your efforts, Father, but I’m not sure why you’re here now.”

“Because I did eventually find the information you were searching for!  The child’s father found her after the war—he’d checked the orphanage as a last-ditch attempt—”

Napoleon gave a wan smile.

“Again, Father, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, but we can’t bring Smith to trial a second time,” he said.  “I’m afraid it was all for nothing.”

“If you’ll permit me, Mr. Solo,” Mulcahy said, with a gentle smile.  “I have two people outside who certainly don’t see it that way.”

Napoleon blinked in surprise as Waverly instructed his secretary to show them in; he and Illya both turned to see a Korean man enter the office with a thirteen-year-old girl. The man looked overwhelmed, and the girl looked nervous.

“Mr. Solo,” Mulcahy said. “I want you to meet Mr. Ahn, and his daughter, Chun-hei.  Mr. Ahn, this is Mr. Solo—the man who saved your daughter’s life thirteen years ago.”

And even Illya couldn’t help but smile as Mr. Ahn gratefully shook Napoleon’s hand, and as Chun-hei shyly thanked him.

Perhaps, he conceded, as he watched his partner give the gold medallion to Chun-hei, Napoleon had just received the answer to his question after all.

[kennedysfm]

。·    .    ˙        ⌈    hailee    steinfeld    +    cis    female    +    she    /    her    +    the    polymath    ⌋        yo    ,    have    you    meet    that    KOOK    ,    𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲    𝐯𝐚𝐧    𝐝𝐞𝐫    𝐲𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐫 ,        yet    ?    —    no    ?    well    ,    to    give    you    a    little    heads    up    before    you    do    ,    they’re    a    TWENTY    ONE    year    old ,    INTERN    AT    A    TECH    FIRM    AND    ASPIRING    COMEDIENNE ,    and    have    been    coming    to    coston    each    summer    for    TEN    YEARS    .    since    i’ve    known    them    ,    they’ve    reminded    me    of    𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠    𝐚𝐧    𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦    𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧    ,    𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠    𝐨𝐟𝐟    𝐭𝐡𝐞    𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫    𝐨𝐟    𝐡𝐞𝐫    𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝    𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬    ,    𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲    𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬    𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥    𝐨𝐟    ‘    𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫    ‘    𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬    ,    𝐚    𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜    𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲    ,    𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲    𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝    𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬    ,    𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬    𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠    .    usually    they’re    quite    𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡    &    𝑗𝑜𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟    but    just    make    sure    you    keep    an    eye    out    for    them    around    town    because    i    heard    can    be    quite  𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟-𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑦𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙    &    𝑛𝑒𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐    as    well    so    here’s    hoping    they    aren’t    the    ones    to    undo    this    whole    peace    pact    they    have    going    on    this    summer    .    but    just    between    you    &    me    ,    i    kinda    hope    it    all    falls    apart    .    the    rivalry    keeps    this    whole    boring    town    interesting    .

* tw death 

okay    so    this    is    kennedy    !   forgive me she is a new muse imma just ramble JEKHERJWHKERW

grew    up    in    san    francisco    ,    california    ,    to    a    dad    who    owned    a    major    high    -    end    sports    equipment    brand    equivalent    to    like    .    nike    p    much    .    mom    was    a    cognitive    therapist    who    took    in    some    major    clients    so    life    was    p    good    for    baby    ken    !    she’s    an    only    child    and    it    shows    kjekwekwje    .    her    parents    were    incredibly    loving    ,    particularly    her    mother    ,    who    balanced    out    her    dad’s    stern    expectations    with    a    delicate    touch    .    ken    was    p    happy    as    a    kid    ,    living    in    a    swanky    ass    penthouse    and    enjoying    her    parent’s    hard    work    !

her    maternal    grandparents    retired    out    to    coston    which    is    where    kennedy    spent    her    summers    .    the    season    was    major    time    for    brand    deals    to    pick    up    so    her    dad    was    international    on    business    and    her    mom    had    an    influx    of    clients    ,    so    it    worked    out    well    for    ken    to    have    a    summer    away    to    enjoy    a    change    of    pace

she    was    always    pretty    bright    but    her    teachers    described    how    curious    it    was    to    see    kennedy’s    two    sides    .    when    it    came    to    classwork    ,    she    was    focused    and    kept    her    head    down    ,    tending    to    keep    to    herself    to    ensure    a    job    well    done    .    they    explained    what    a    notable    storyteller    she    was    on    the    flip    side    ,    thriving    off    the    attention    she    got    when    she    described    something    that    had    happened    on    the    playground    in    such    detail    and    with    such    phrasing    it    would    hook    the    attention    of    many    ,    if    not    most    ,    of    her    peers    .    her    parents    had    always    known    this    ,    kennedy    and    her    penchant    for    putting    on    elaborate    skits    at    home    whenever    the    two    of    them    could    spare    5    minutes    to    dedicate    to    her    antics

she    took    to    the    engineering    side    of    things    rather    efficiently    in    science    classes    ,    leading    to    an    enrollment    in    a    STEM    magnet    high    school    that    truly    fostered    her    talent    for    robotics    .    bright    ,    vibrant    ,    and    enthusiastic    about    her    craft    ,    with    a    personality    and    a    work    ethic    that    readily    charmed    a    handful    of    her    professors    ,    she    landed    herself    a    spot    at    the    prestigious    california    institute    of    technology    .    college    was    where    kennedy    truly    blossomed    ,    able    to    explore    herself    and    her    passions    outside    of    the    rather    structured    lifestyle    she    had    been    brought    up    in    .    she    experimented    more    with    her    style    ,    reached    out    to    mingle    with    new    people    ,    and    did    things    nobody    would    have    ever    expected    from    the    rather    studious    girl

kennedy    became    known    throughout    her    circles    for    being    the    storytelling    friend    ,    recounting    adventures    with    her    group    in    such    a    way    that    she    commanded    the    presence    of    the    room    ,    making    people    double    over    with    laughter    and    feeling    herself    glow    under    the    knowing    that    she    was    bringing    so    much    entertainment    to    so    many    people    .    though    she    never    considered    herself    to    be    a    performer    ,    more    and    more    she    found    herself    enamored    with    the    experience    of    making    people    laugh    ,    distracting    them    from    whatever    their    life    may    look    like    ,    and    hoping    to    push    to    give    people    at    least    a    moment    of    happiness

she’s    blasting    through    college    with    ease    until    a    phone    call    at    the    end    of    her    sophomore    year    upends    her    life    as    she    knows    it    .    her    dad    is    incoherent    explaining    her    mom’s    sudden    collapse    in    the    middle    of    a    session    at    work    ,    an    unexplained    occurrence    even    beyond    the    understanding    of    the    medical    examiner    .    with    her    mom    being    perhaps    the    closest    thing    to    a    best    friend    ,    she    didn’t    take    the    passing    lightly    .    kennedy    buries    her    mourning    in    her    work    ,    a    forced    distraction    from    the    devastation    she    experiences    at    losing    the    one    person    she    really    ever    felt    herself    with    .    she    takes    up    more    internship    hours    ,    more    lab    hours    ,    shuttering    herself    out    of    a    social    life    to    the    point    that    all    she    does    is    pad    her    resume    and    pass    out    on    her    bed    from    exhaustion    and    crying    herself    to    sleep

it’s    a    heartbreak    for    there    to    only    be    one    van    der    yaeger    parent    present    for    her    graduation    ,    a    moment    that    kennedy    takes    upon    herself    as    somewhat    of    a    decision    to    try    and    stick    to    a    career    that    would    make    her    family    legacy    proud    .    of    course    ,    she    adores    the    concept    of    entertaining    others    ,    but    the    sheer    unlikelihood    of    ever    getting    anyone’s    approval    pursuing    a    lifestyle    like    that    is    enough    to    push    the    thought    into    the    recesses    of    her    mind

she    graduates    top    of    her    class    and    the    silver    lining    to    it    all    is    a    formidable    offer    to    do    an    internship    at    a    major    tech    company    in    silicon    valley    .    she    takes    it    up    without    hesitation    and    is    preparing    to    start    in    the    fall

the    rivalry    has    never    been    major    in    kennedy’s    mind    until    last    year’s    incident    with    the    pogues    ,    since    then    she’s    been    on    edge    with    the    prospect    of    issues    escalating    beyond    someone’s    control    .    she’s    not    the    type    to    discriminate    on    the    basis    of    a    stupid    label    ,    but    out    of    hopes    to    keep    everyone    in    one    piece    ,    she’s    rather    hesitant    when    drama    starts    to    stir    .

personality    wise    ,    kennedy’s    best    known    for    wearing    her    heart    on    her    sleeve    .    she    SUCKS    at    keeping    secrets    and    you    can    usually    read    her    emotions    right    on    her    face    .    she’s    a    chronic    over    thinker    which    is    rather    ironic    for    someone    who    seems    to    have    no    filter    ,    endlessly    spouting    off    whatever    mindless    thoughts    she    deems    valuable    for    the    sake    of    sharing    .    she    has    a    plethora    of    expressions    that    deliver    what    her    words    can’t    and    is    often    the    one    in    the    friend    group    making    commentary    when    LEAST    asked    for    .    she’s    got    a    big    heart    and    likes    to    see    her    loved    ones    thriving    and    happy    .    she    hesitates    to    say    something    mean    or    lie    to    someone    and    will    often    phrase    things    in    the    most    convoluted    way    due    to    her    hesitation    with    confrontation    .    she    ain’t    want    no    SMOKE    fr    .    on    the    plus    side    ,    that    makes    her    super    earnest    and    straightforward    with    her    sentiments    —    she’s    not    the    type    to    pretend    to    be    anything    she    isn’t    and    tries    to    live    her    most    authentic    life    (    when    it    suits    her    bc    shes    .    a    bit    of    a    hypocrite    jwhejhwe    )

though    she’s    got    a    definite    neurotic    streak    in    her    ,    she    has    a    sense    of    confidence    that    allows    her    to    just    push    forward    and    go    on    with    her    life    ,    though    she’d    rather    streak    naked    in    the    middle    of    her    family’s    jewish    synagogue    than    to    fail    at    something    .    her    grades    and    her    work    ethic    are    motivated    by    a    joke    her    mom    used    to    repeat    to    her    after    having    seen    it    on    facebook    :    ‘    you    better    get    good    grades    ,    you’re    asian    not    bsian    .    ’

on    the    note    of    middle    aged    memes    ,    kennedy’s    most    notable    strength    is    her    sense    of    humor    ,    something    she’s    been    lauded    for    her    whole    life    .    the    bitch    is    the    DEFINITION    of    comic    relief    and    is    just    so    stupid    funny    !    she    doesn’t    handle    tension    well    so    her    go    -    to    response    is    simply    an    attempt    to    lighten    the    mood    ,    often    with    a    well    -    timed    quip    that    will    do    the    trick    .    she’ll    occasionally    miss    the    mark    and    just    make    things    more    awkward    ,    which    in    that    case    ,    watching    her    squirm    is    funny    enough    lmao    .

in    terms    of    weaknesses    ,    her    tendency    to    over    -    think    make    her    often    act    on    impulse    before    having    thought    a    situation    all    the    way    through    —    she’s    so    prone    to    want    to    over    -    do    things    ,    she    under    -    thinks    as    an    attempt    to    be    ~spontaneous~    and    will    often    misread    or    fuck    up    a    situation    that    could    have    been    easily    avoided    kwjehrwr    .    being    so    in    -    tune    with    her    emotions    means    she    has    a    tendency    to    overreact    to    things    on    occasion    or    be    completely    devoid    of    a    reaction    ,    whichever    the    roulette    lands    on    tbh    .    she    can    cry    for    2    hours    uncontrollably    just    because    someone    else    is    crying    ,    or    repress    emotions    until    they’re    so    pushed    back    they’re    untouchable

not    a    spitfire    by    any    means    she    just    wants    2    be    friends    and    make    everyone    laugh

coston    is    a    break    from    her    fancy    fast  pace    life    and    a    place    for    her    to    come    back    into    herself    .    she    represses    so    much    of    her    personality    in    order    to    be    taken    seriously    that    sometimes    she    starts    to    feel    inauthentic    in    her    own    skin    ,    so    the    ability    to    be    around    a    place    that’s    less    judgy    (    although    admittedly    ,    kooks    are    pretty    judgy    )    is    still    something    she    treasures    greatly

[moonnfairie]

Proximity

Real Life!AU - Chapter 6

Author: softmochijm

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook (Main), Reader x Yoongi

Word Count: 2,179

A/N: Hello lovelies! So I removed “Enemies to Lovers!AU” because in the course of this story, I didn’t really see it fit. Regardless, this series continues!! I do apologize that it’s been a while, but I’ve been gone traveling and just recently had inspiration to continue. I hope you enjoy~

Your life seemed to have flashed before your eyes at the sound of the angry man’s call...

but your shoulders fell in relief as you turned around to see a waddling drunk Taehyung approaching, Jimin trying, but failing, to keep up from behind him.

“So you’re just going to leave me hanging on my own birthday, huh?” he asks while slurring his words, and you just look to Jungkook and laugh.

“Aw Tae, I’m sorry we just... got carried away, I guess” you say as you approach Taehyung for a hug, and he falls into your arms, mostly to keep himself from falling over completely.

“N-nah it’s f-fine... I’m wasted anyways... please take me home Y/N.”

You all laugh together as you link arms to head to the streets to call an uber.

You discovered that Yoongi and Jin ended up leaving too, thanks to Yoongi’s text:

Fr: Yoongi♡  Sorry havent rlyl spent tonight tohgeth r wrent hom e with jin ill see you so on

You just laugh and close your phone as you approach the front of Tae’s house, Jimin grabbing the keys from Tae’s pocket to let you all in.

As you all seat yourselves around the lounge, you realize that this is the first time in months that the four of you have been here all together. Of course, Jimin seems to intoxicated to notice while Taehyung is completely passed out, but you can feel Jungkook’s eyes bearing weights onto your soul, every now and then flashing him a small smile then looking back to scroll on your phone.

There is an awkward silence among you all, until Jimin decides to finally address the elephant in the room.

“So you guys made up, right?”

With wide eyes, you and Jungkook look at each other briefly, then look back at Jimin without saying a word.

“Jesus, why are you looking at me like that? I may be drunk but I’m still completely aware of what’s going on here... I think.”

You take a deep breath and sigh, and as you’re about to open your mouth, Jungkook interrupts “I kissed Y/N.”

“What?!” both you and Jimin yelp, causing Tae to stir in his sleep, and Jimin starts to chuckle.

“You couldn’t hold yourself back, huh Kookie” he says all too casually, like he knew it was going to happen. You snap at them in response.

“Did you guys plan this or??”

Jungkook immediately shakes his head in protest. “NO no, I just... they know how I feel. About you, about everything, so...”

His voice trails off, but that’s enough of an explanation for you to dart up and head for the door.

“W-Where are you going Y/N??” Jungkook worriedly asks. as he darts over to you to grab your wrist, and you turn to face him slowly. Just earlier you were this close to his face, gazing into each other’s eyes before he kissed you. You shiver at the thought.

“Jungkook I...” you wiggle your wrist out of his grasp. “Thank you? I guess, for being honest. I just really, really, need some time to process this all, okay?”

He simply nods, and you walk towards the door, greeting the boys goodnight before shutting it behind you.

The next morning you find yourself hissing at the sunlight that shines through the windows straight onto your face at the counter. You completely forgot you had switched with your coworker for an opening shift, your head pounding as you slowly but surely tried to set everything up. Thankfully it was a busy day, allowing you to just work and not really think about the events that happened last night.

You develop a groove, asking for a customer’s order, thanking them with a smile, creating drink by drink and even dancing along to the music while you worked, and handing it back to them at their table when you were done. For the most part, you seemed to be getting over your hangover and finding yourself relatively happy.

Until she walks in.

“Good morning, Y/N! Busy day to be working huh? You look pretty tired too.”

Damnit. You really thought you saw the last of her.

“Morning, Andrea. The usual?”

“Please and thank you.”

Huh, she has manners today.

Before you turn around to make her drink, she calls out to you, and you slowly turn around and tilt your head to the side to listen.

“Y/N, uh... Can we talk when you’re off?” You turn to the clock to see that you have just over an hour left, and roll your eyes. You had plans to see Yoongi, but not for a couple of hours. So you give in.

“Uh, sure. I’m off in an hour. You’re welcome to wait here, or whatever.”

When the clock chimes, you notice Andrea stand from her table while you walk to the back to gather your things.

You both end up walking to the open park in front of your plaza, sitting on a bench a little bit apart to keep your distance. Andrea, clearly ignoring your efforts, scoots over to you in attempts to get closer, literally and figuratively. Failing, at both.

“Has Kookie said anything about me lately, Y/N?”

You almost gag. “You still call him Kookie...?”

“I can’t help it” she says with a pout. “I miss calling him that...”

You turn to look at her, pain in her expression, and you wonder if she genuinely has a heart to feel these emotions.

“Uh, no, he hasn’t really mentioned you. I don’t know if he wants to, especially after...” You trail off, wondering if you’ve exposed yourself for knowing what she did. But she doesn’t seem the least bit affected, as she continues to talk.

“Ugh, okay, so he, like, did tell you. I don’t know, Y/N. It just got, boring? After a while. He didn’t seem to be so interested in me. I figured he didn’t really care to fix it either so I kind of, like, did my own thing...”

“Andrea, did you just want to explain yourself to me, or...”

She’s quiet for a while, just looking forward to a couple of kids playing soccer back and forth. Then she looks back at you, with a soft sad expression.

“I think I was a distraction. Not to be, like, the victim here. I know I’m not, but...”

“Please Andrea just spit it out!” you raise your voice and she widens her eyes.

“Okay okay, geez, I’m pretty sure he liked you the whole entire time. I know for a fact it became even more obvious when you started hanging out with Yoongi, which, damn girl he’s cute, you got so lucky!”

You don’t answer to her last remark, still eyeing her down sternly.

“But anyways, yeah... I asked to talk to you so I could tell you that this boy really, really, has a thing for you. And knowing how you guys were before, well I... wanted to say that you should really go for it, or something. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on something... good.”

You’re rather shocked, really, that Andrea would ever think to say something like this to you. Throughout your whole relationship with her, she’d want things to go her way and never really came around to doing anything for you. And as weird and chopped up as her words were today, you appreciated the thought and effort. So you nod and smile, thanking her kindly before standing up to head home.

Yoongi had texted you to wear something nice tonight, and you were puzzled. Every time you hung out, there wasn’t really any reason to considering you just went somewhere nice to enjoy the view and talk, or just have really casual dates. Regardless, you shrug your shoulders and pull out the first nice dress you see that matches your favorite heels and you proceed to get ready.

Jin interrupts you, though, as you hear his loud knocks pound on your door. Before you could even grant him permission to come in, he barges through and sits on your bed.

“I literally could have been naked you know.”

“Ew, thank god you weren’t.”

You grab your brush to throw it at him but he dodges it completely, and you turn back to your mirror to finish applying your makeup.

“What are you guys doing tonight?” He asked with an intense curiosity, sparking your own, considering you don’t even know yourself.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Ask him or something.”

He pauses, looking over to you again and smiling.

“You must really be melting his heart, Y/N.”

You furrow your brows, almost messing up filling them altogether, and turn to face him.

“W-what do you mean?”

He laughs a little, then exits the room without a word, and you call out to him “Could you at least close the damn door?!”

Before you could overthink it, you rush to get ready, seeing as it’s almost time for him to pick you up. You’ve seemed to have gotten used to the routine by now, pampering yourself before rushing down the stairs to see him leaning on his car to greet you. Tonight, however, as you walked outside, you see him dressed to the nines: a crisp, white button down, fitted slacks, what seems to be fancy dress shoes, and his dark hair tousled ever so slightly but falling perfectly. He looked absolutely amazing, causing you to breathe just a little harder as you approached him.

He grabs you by your waist to pull you close, lips barely touching as he looks down to you. “You look stunning tonight, Y/N.” You blush under his gaze, and before you could plant a kiss on his lips, he lets go and opens the door for you.

“You are a tease, Min Yoongi.”

“Only for you, beautiful.”

You want to ask him what the hell is going on, but you’re already getting on the natural high that Yoongi gives you, so you just sit and enjoy the ride.

After almost half an hour of driving down the familiar road, you pull into the lot of the lake area. Intrigued by a distant glow, you hop out of the door as you see Yoongi head to the back of his car to grab a picnic basket, your heart melting at the sight. He flashes your favorite gummy smile to you and you manage to finally place a peck on his cheek, slightly blushing in response.

As you walk towards the glow, you see a table set with a checkered table cloth and candles lining the edges of the table, the soft glow of string lights shining above you as well, the moon still low on the water. You feel as if your heart is going to burst with happiness.

Yoongi guides you over and places the basket down, pulling champagne and homemade pasta and bread and setting up everything in front of you. Every time he set a mat or utensils in front of you, he’d place a kiss on your cheek, leaving you to giggle after each one. When he was done, he sat across you and popped the bottle, the both of you cheering to a wonderful night and talking the night away.

Soon, the moon found it’s way high in the sky above you two, and he guides you to the same spot you both sat at when you last talked. You were a little wobbly with thanks to the champagne, but you were too happy to care. With more conversation, he told you that it’d had been officially a month since you were both last here. At this, you smiled, slightly tinged with the memory that you were still relatively confused between the two boys you favored, but decided to shrug it off as he continued to talk about that night.

“And, well, here we are tonight. Y/N. Looking beautiful as ever.”

“Yoongi, you’re just too kind, really. Thank you, for everything.” You smile at him through slightly glossy eyes, being someone who accepts gestures like these wholeheartedly.

He just looks at you with the warmest smile, and you feel like nothing could ruin this moment.

Sure, well, you still have to worry about Jungkook’s confession. And sure, well, you have to think about how it’s been a whole month and it seems as though you’re still in the same exact position as you were last time with Yoongi. But, hey, that’s just life, right? You make choices, you follow through, you make mistakes, and it’s all about trial and error... right?

You clear your throat as you remember that you planned on telling him about the kiss you shared with Jungkook, but how it meant nothing. Or... you think it means nothing. And it shouldn’t harm anyone anyway. So you open your mouth to speak, but Yoongi beats you to the punch.

“So, Y/N... I know this seems, sudden, maybe? But I feel as if it’s time...”

Oh no.

“I was wondering if”

Oh god no.

“You’d let me be your boyfriend?”

[simkaswriting]

The Code-(Obi-Wan Kenobi)

Characters: Mace Windu, Yoda, Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi and (Y/N)

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Obviously breaking the Code, the Code later gets eradicated(for the sake of this story, I know it’s unrealistic but it’s fanfic let me be)

Word Count: 3065

Summary: What happens when Obi-Wan gets the courage to invite (Y/N) to a fancy event held by the Congress? And what happens when the one rule that’s keeping them apart is abolished?

Across the Glaxies, it was a well-known fact that Anakin and (Y/N) Skywalker, the hellish pair of twins, were a force to be reckoned with. Whilst Anakin had the strength, the undeniably terrifying strength, (Y/N) had the brains. She was regarded as the smartest padawan around, her intelligence and wisdom  bordering the one of Master Yoda himself. Though that’s not to say that Anakin isn’t cunning, and (Y/N) isn’t a killed fighter. But the twins balance each other out well. And that’s something Obi-Wan Kenobi first noticed when he saved them from slavery on the planet Tatooine. He watched the two flourist over the years, as he himself trained Anakin and Master Windu trained (Y/N). And over the years, he watched himself slowly break the code, slowly fall in love.

“You know, you’re way too smart for your own good.” Anakin grins over at his twin as he once again finds her in the library, reading something from the datapad, not an uncommon sight. You could ask the girl the most obscure question and she’d still give you a straight answer within seconds. And Anakin always admired that about his sister. 

“It would benefit you if you hit the books once in a while too.” She teases him with a smirk, knowing fine well her brother would much rather be out fighting than reading. 

“Is there a particular reason you’re here?” (Y/N) asks, brows raised. Anakin’s supposed to be training with his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi right now. Just the thought of that man makes (Y/N) want to smile.

Being a padawan, a future Jedi, feelings are forbidden and should be repressed. Like the feeling she gets whenever he says her name, it rolls off his tongue with such ease  that it often leaves her breathless. Or the feelings she gets when her of Master isn’t able to train her so she trains with her brother and Obi-wan. But (Y/N) has never been one to obey the rules.

“That tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble one day. But yes, there is going to be a grand meeting tonight, something like a ball, and Obi-Wan asked me if you would be interested in attending. He’d pick us both up.” Anakin grins at his sister, younger by four minutes, knowing fine well that just by mentioning Obi-Wan’s name would be enough for her to make up her mind. 

(Y/N)s eyes widen a little. Did Anakin’s Master actually request her specifically to join them at the dinner? ‘Goodness, that leaves a few hours to get ready, I better go’ she thinks to herself as she quickly passes a few datapads to her brother, muttering a quick ‘I have to run’ before disappearing down the long hallways to the room of one person she knows can herlp her in this crisis, Padmé Amidala.

The frantic knocking on the door pulls Padmé out of her thoughts, which are mainly preoccupied with Anakin these days, and the senator rushes to open it. She’s surprised to find (Y/N) Skywalker, looking frantic and desperate. 

“How can I help you? Is everything alright?” Padmé asks the girl as she pushes past her and walks into her room. 

(Y/N) flashes a quick, guilty smile. “I’m so sorry to bother you and be such a burden, but I was hoping maybe you could help me.” 

The Senator looks at the girl with raised eyebrows. The two weren’t the best of friends, yes they got along well but they never had much in common, apart from their mutual love for Anakin, which (Y/N) was well aware of. 

“I need to dress to impress, and I was hoping I could borrow a dress?” (Y/N) asks as she plays with the hem of her sweater. Yes, she is aware of her brothers relationship with the former Queen, but it still feels weird asking for a favour. She’s still royalty to her.

Padmé smiles a little, catching on to why her friend is fretting so much. Anakin did mention a connection he felt between his sister and his Master. She just didn’t think it would be so strong.

“Of course, follow me. I have just the right dress in mind.” She smiles at (Y/N) before intertwining their arms and dragging her to her closet for the epic makeover to begin.

“Right, I’m sure this dress would be illegal on some planets.” (Y/N) gawks at her reflection, now almost unrecognisable, if it weren’t for the lightsaber she has strapped to her hip.

(Y/N)s hair is curled, it cascades down her shoulders and frames her face, which is sporting eyeliner and bright red lips. The dress she’s wearing is long, with a slit up to her thigh and the front is low-cut, only complimented by a necklace with a mini skull pendant. And the heels are to die for. 

Padmé admires her work with a huge grin. “Now, the dinner starts in a few minutes, so you better be off. I’m sure a certain someone will be expecting you.” The former queen claps her hands together as she ushers (Y/N) out of her room, the girl barely having enough time to argue that there isn’t a certain someone, never mind thanking the girl for giving her a makeover. But of course, she’d just be lying to herself if she said that this ensemble wasn’t intended to impress a certain Jedi. 

(Y/N) makes it in time to her sleeping quarters to see Anakin and Obi-Wan just about to leave, thankfully they notice her just in time. 

Obi-Wan has gotten used to his feelings towards (Y/N), he’s learned to repress them so he can focus on missions. But seeing the girl, no, woman, in front of him makes him feel all sorts of ways. The dress hugs all of her curves perfectly and even shows off parts of her he’s sure only she’s seen. But the Jedi Master wasn’t about to complain.

“What makes you think you’re going out dressed like that?” Anakin snaps Obi-Wan out of his thoughts and causes him to grin at the sibling exchange.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chests, unintentionally defining her assets more than they already were, as she raises an eyebrow at her brother. 

“What makes you think you can command me?” She retorts. Next to Anakin, Obi-Wan tries his best to not look at the woman in front of him, because he knows the things she’s doing to him are wrong. But perhaps, if he lets himself feel, just for tonight...

“I’m older than you, so go change.” Anakin glares right back at his sister. 

A small smirk tugs at her lips. She wasn’t too confident wearing this outfit, but knowing it pisses her brother off is yet another reason to wear it. 

“And I’m more mature, so kindly keep you opinions to yourself and shove them up your-” Before (Y/N) can finish off, she’s interrupted by her twins Master. 

“Please, this arguing isn’t improving anything. We’re late as it is.” Obi-Wan coughs and extends his arm out for (Y/N) to hold, as does Anakin. With a fluttering heart, she grabs a hold of the Jedi’s arm and rolls her eyes at her brother, but holds his arm nevertheless.

The three make their way to the grand room often left empty, and only used on special occasions. Though neither of the twins know what the special occasion is, they both look forward to attending this dinner. Each have been once before, and can confirm with ease that these events are extraordinary.The food is delicious, the drinks are refreshing, and the Jedi’s let loose. Well, as loose as they can whilst still following the Code.

“You look wonderful today, (Y/N).” Obi-Wan smiles at the padawan next to him, the warmth from his eyes spreading to his heart. He’s tried to follow the Jedi Code, so hard in fact that there was a time where he shut (Y/N) out completely, but not even the most skilled and wise one would succeed. She’s his weakness, and though it took him a long time to admit it, it feels good now. Like weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi. You don’t look too shabby yourself.” (Y/N) grins back at the Jedi Master and discreetly squeezes his arm, causing his heart to jump-start. But he hides the feeling, before either of the twins can pick up on it. They are the most promising of padawans, after all.

Anakin walks ahead and opens the door to the room, where many are mingling and laughter can be heard. Obi-Wan leads (Y/N) into the room with a small, but proud, smile as Anakin splits off to go talk to Padmé by the grand piano. 

“Well, shall I leave you to mingle?” Obi-Wan asks the woman next to him with a small, polite smile. It’s the last thing he wants to do.

At those words, her heart sinks a little. She wanted to spend tonight by his side, talking to him and getting to know him better than she already does. Hell, he’s the reason she got all dressed up. But instead of letting go of his arm and striking up conversation with another Jedi or Senator she has no desire to talk to, she grips him a little tighter. Perhaps it’s the dress that’s given her the extra courage.

“I’d rather be with you, Master Kenobi. No offence to the Senate, but they can get rather boring.” (Y/N) chuckles and looks up at the man next to her. Obi-Wan isn’t the tallest of people, but even with her heels, she’s still smaller than him. 

Obi-Wan reciprocates the smile and leads the two of them to the dance floor, where a few are already dancing to some classical music, including Padmé and Anakin. There is a trait that the older twin possesses that (Y/N) herself doesn’t. And that’s the ability to dance. 

She looks up at her crush of many years in panic and the thought of just running away from the dance floor seems like a good idea.

“Master Kenobi, I-I don’t know how to dance.” She stutters as the two of them stop right in the middle. People dance around them gracefully, and she has to hold back a giggle when she sees her own mMaster dancing with a Senator. 

“Darling (Y/N), how many times do I have to tell you to call me Obi-Wan? And don’t fret, I happen to be quite good.” The Jedi Master rolls his eyes before grinning cheekily and pulling the padawan closer. He wraps his hand around her waist, bringing her even closer, and with the other hand intertwines their fingers. 

(Y/N)s mind races at light speed as Obi-Wan presses his body against hers and slowly starts to move rhythmically, though she thinks to herself, this music has no rhythm. She feels heat creep up her neck and onto her cheeks at the nickname the Jedi had given her. 

The two sway from side to side, occasionally taking a few steps to this side and that. (Y/N) keeps her eyes on the ground, afraid that if she were to look directly at Obi-Wan, he’d be able to tell how deeply in love she is. How deeply wrong that is. 

“May I ask you a question, (Y/N)?” Obi-Wan asks and briefly disconnects their hands so he can lift her face by her chin so she looks at him. As his eyes marvel upon her beauty, he gets a feeling of overwhelming adoration and longing. Her makeup, no doubt done by Padmé, makes her features stand out, and make her look even more mature than she already is. It truly is a gift for Obi-Wan to be in the presence of a woman so beautiful yet dangerous.

“You just did.” She grins and the Jedi rolls his eyes at her awful joke.

“Well then, another one?” He asks, his fingers drawing absentminded circles on the small of her back, causing shivers to tingle up her spine, unbeknown to him.

Once again, the padawan laughs. “You just did, again.”

Across the room, Padmé rests her hand discreetly on Anakins. As she gazes at (Y/N) and Obi-Wan, a small smile tugs at her lips. 

“You can feel it too, can’t you?” She asks her secret lover of many months. Being together comes with a price, one that doesn’t let them be together in public, but if it means they can be together in the long run they’re more than willing to pay it.

Anakin bites the skin around his thumb in deep thought. “She loves him, that much is obvious. As wrong as it is, I’m not one to judge. But he loves her too, maybe more than he should. And it scares me. What if she gets hurt?” He ponders aloud, his girlfriend listening intently. 

She takes a hold of the hand thats biting his thumb and slowly walks to the dance floor with him. The two mimic Obi-Wan and (Y/N) and begin to dance slowly.

“My love, she will get hurt. He will get hurt. It’s inevitable. But we should be happy for them. It’s rare when two people have a love that pure. It’s even rarer when the two people are in the position they are.” Padmé whispers to Anakin. He looks down at her, every part of him wanting to kiss her. She’s perfect. Instead of worrying about his twin, Anakin loses himself in Padmé’s eyes.

Obi-Wan once again rolls his eyes at the woman in his arms, so carefree and happy it makes him fill with joy. “If you could break the Code, even for a little while, what would you do?”

(Y/N)s heart skips a beat and she almost takes a step back in surprise at the question. But her eyes merely widen. Should he be asking these sorts of questions? Should she answer? If she were to be honest, he might distance himself. He may push her away and never even spare her a glance. But at the same time, she feels like the weight would be lifted off of her shoulders. Could she tell him? Should she?

(Y/N) steps closer to the Jedi and wraps her hands around his neck, a small smile playing on her lips. Just as the Jedi absentmindedly traces patterns on her back, she plays with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Now, why would I tell a Jedi Master that?” She questions, a cheeky smile on her lips. 

Obi-Wan grins down at the woman in his arms. She’s always been a mischievous one, a quality which almost deemed her unfit for a future Jedi, until Yoda convinced Windu to take her on. Though now Obi-Wan is beginning to wish that Yoda had assigned her to him for training.

The two sway in the rhythm, (Y/N) now comfortable with dancing since she has an amazing partner to lead her.

“If I tell you, will you return the favour”? The Jedi asks, a small smile of his own forming on his lips. Before either of them have a chance to say anything, they are interrupted by the loud, booming voice of Master Yoda, who’s had to adjust the microphone stand significantly so he can speak into the microphone.

“Very thankful I am for your presence, very important news I have to share.” The Masters wise voice intrigues the guests, which seem to have grown in size a great deal since they had arrived. As (Y/N) looks around, she sees that all Jedi are present, every padawan, every Senator. This makes her grow uneasy. What could possibly be important enough for all of these crucial people to be present?

Sensing her grow anxious, Obi-Wan discreetly takes a hold of her hand. Almost immediately, he can sense her getting calm. And it makes him think that he already knows the answer to his previous question. 

“The Code, so very dear until now, partially eradicated will be. ‘There is no passion, there is serenity’ true no longer will be.” Yoda speaks into the microphone, and the words hit (Y/N) deeply.

 This one rule of the Code she had followed almost religiously, despite hating it with all of her might. This one rule prevented her from acting on her love and adoration towards a certain bearded man. This rule almost broke her, and now it was being broken.

Obi-Wan almost faints, right then and there, as he hears the Master speak. This surely has to be a mistake. Out of all of the rules in the Jedi Code, that was the most treasured one. Why would they abandon it on a whim? That’s not to say that he wasn’t happy. The mere thought of being with (Y/N) excited him, almost to the point where it was ridiculous.

Master Windu replaces Yoda on the little stage and bends down to adjust the microphone stand to his height before he speaks, a rare smile on his face. 

“It has been decided that this rule will no longer apply, effective immediately. We judge that the performance of Jedi’s and padawans alike will greatly improve by the abolition of this one rule.” The Master finishes, before music once again fills the air. And after a few brief seconds of silence, the entire room erupts into chatter. 

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) sees her twin brother kissing his girlfriend so passionately and fiercely it leaves her heart aching. What she wouldn’t do to be kissed like that by a certain bearded Jedi. But she’s tired of waiting. All she’s done in the last few years is wait.

She turns to Obi-Wan with a small smile, and sees he has one of his own. Her hands wind them self around his neck once again, but instead of keeping her distance, she leans in and presses a gentle, tentative kiss on the older mans lips. 

An undeniable warmth fill both of them, one that they knew they were craving but was forbidden until mere seconds ago. And now that it’s allowed, neither want to stop. Neither want to let the other one go.

As they pull away, Obi-Wan gently caresses (Y/N)s face, admiration and determination filling his eyes.

“Does this answer your question?” She laughs lightly, before pulling the Jedi in for another kiss, this one more urgent and demanding than the one before. 

From the other side of the room, Padmé smiles up at Anakin, who’s got his arm slung around her shoulder casually. “I told you, love. What they have is rare and beautiful. Now stop brooding and kiss me some more.”