#which have opened doors of many art galleries

[artharakka]

Beautiful, But Broken

[onyourhyuck]

MILANO LOVE. | J.JH

— Prologue: “I always like the taste of you better than Milano.”

— Summary: Where your husband Jaehyun took you to Italy for your ten year anniversary.

— Genre: Husband!jaehyun. Smut smut smut minors dni. Breeding Kink Jaehyun. Unprotected Sex (use protection pls.) Food play(?) Y/n makes Jaehyun eat whipcream and cherries off her tits and stomach…Mention of your children together. Throat grabbing / choking (gentle). They literally fuck on a luxurious bed in a hotel…. Literally married couple goals fr.

— Notes: I love Husband Jaehyun in Milano concept.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Jaehyun have been married for a while now. You lost count but it’s something around the 5th year mark being together.

Jaehyun and You have two children together. One child is three and the other one is two. They were always occupied with your attentions that Jaehyun often feels like you and him haven’t had a time for yourselves. So when your fifth anniversary came up he booked a spontaneous trip to Italy.

You found it incredibly exciting because it’s been a long time since you and Jaehyun could be alone like this romantically involved that is. Children really have a way with stealing all your energy and wanting you to themselves. But now it’s all about you and Jaehyun; which actually leaves your stomach fluttering. Your husband always has the ability to make you feel like you’re back in your high school adolescent years where you are a young school girl who made eye contact with their crush who never spoke to them before.

It felt like that with Jaehyun.

You want to make this special. You want to show him that you’re missing him not only presence wise but also body wise. Your body very much lost contact with him over the five years raising two boys together and you can’t help but wonder: ‘How long has it been since Jaehyun and I had sex?’ And you’d have to reply with a lot longer than you wanted it to be. It’s not like he leaves you disappointed. In fact Jaehyun never left you disappointed. He always leaves you wanting more.

You’re determined to make your husband feel pampered as well as slightly more on his knees because you can’t help but want to get laid. You might as well considering your children aren’t here and it’s a romantic trip to Italy. It’s a romance country. It’s the perfect setting.

You were alone in your bedroom and Jaehyun wasn’t in the hotel room currently as he had a few questions to ask down at the reception. You took the moment of opportunity given to you to stop your clothes and get inside the hand-white robe the lavish hotel room gives the guests. You have to admit the hotel was very expensive looking. Jaehyun managed to book a super star hotel for the both of you and you couldn’t help but feel like your husband really went all in with this trip. He really wants to make this special for you too. You could tell from his actions.

Before In the early morning the few butlers came to hand you a tray of your breakfast which you and Jaehyun haven’t quite eaten. You saw the strawberries, cherries, grapes and many more fruits in the bowl on the bed as you lay down. There was little desert options such as cakes and everything. Pancakes were on there. Italy loves their bread which was also on the pale provided. Many dishes were there for you and Jaehyun to eat when he returns.

The hotel door opens revealing Jaehyun to walk in. He had a little leaf left for the things you guys can do while on this trip. There was sight seeings with a boat tour around Italy. There was many museums you guys can see and definitely large enough selection to visit the most famous art gallery. He will not be missing out on the museum and art gallery sections that’s for sure.

“Honey i found things we can do today—“ Jaehyun’s voice stops when he starts walking the hotel room trying to search for you. The sight of your body on the bed slanted with the white bathrobe slightly off. He could see your cleavage, your thighs and legs he loves the sight of. But over the years he nearly forgot how perfect they look.

He feels a slight warm flush on his cheeks happen. He can’t help but blush. You were never this assertive with him before and he was not expecting you to be half naked in front of him. You were pretending to be eating like the sly minx you are; the whip cream fell between your cleavage and chest. Jaehyun can’t help but gulp. Why was he so nervous? He told himself to not seem so freaked out. This should be a normal situation for him — well technically it can’t be. It’s been so long since Jaehyun had a taste of you.

But you’re urging him on purpose. You’re doing this with an intent and he knows you are because you’re watching him so playfully like this was nothing out of the ordinary for you.

“Oh you’re back? What did you find?” You try to say as you bite the strawberry watching him from where you’re laying on the bed. You love seeing Jaehyun become shy.

Jaehyun’s ears became so red. You knew he was shy when his ears were bright red. It’s the first thing about him that’s gets completely flustered and it always gets him caught.

He clears his voice coming forward. He tried to remain composed. “What’s this you’re doing here?”

You were so sheepish. You were like the wolf in sheep’s clothing and he wasn’t sure how to handle this sight of you without completing losing his mind and going into this feral state. You roll the rest of the bathrobe off revealing now your back and a glimpse of your beautiful round shaped ass. He can’t help but flinch at the sight of you becoming naked. He really doesn’t know how he was able to stay calm at the same time not really you could tell he was having a war on the inside a little.

The only thing Jaehyun knows is that now he’s rock hard because of you and you’re about to fix that for him. He can’t go boat seeing with that happening in his pants.

“Oh nothing.” You shrug responding finally as you eat the Cherry out from the seed. Jaehyun’s dark gaze eyes following you silhouette on the bed and he moves on his own following you.

“It doesn’t look like a nothing. I think you’re seducing me here Y/n.”

He leans down to you closer with his face deeply speaking and you can tell he was finally catching onto you. You really want him to catch you. To fuck you. You can’t help but miss him incredibly much even though he was right in front of you and you’re watching him. It was hard to explain. Your body misses him for so many different ways.

“Okay maybe I am, what are you going to do about it?” You remark back to your husband who only gave you a single look before he lung forward to kiss you without sparing few words to you. He can’t help but in the kids feel ten times more lighter than before but the thing down below only throbs more with the way you kiss him back with so much desperation. Maybe the years you couldn’t do something like this made this situation even more thrilling and wonderful between you guys.

All the pent up frustration is about to be unleashed.

Your bodies aren’t strangers but the way they lapped round each other like a candle burning on flame creates the tension to rise and your bodies grew lighter and lighter almost like a cloud ascending on the sky. Even though your bodies are anything but strangers you feel like this was something you’re doing for the first time with him. It was a weird experience but something you love very much. Because it was Jaehyun doing this to you. Touching you with his graceful hands behind your back rubbing down the spine with the edge of the simple light fingertip touch enough to have you drawing moans across Jaehyun’s mouth.

As he kissed his wife with so much passionate he felt like he could make her ignite and burn happily with him. Their feelings were a catalyst to such a deep powerful makeout sharing between the lips. He feels like he could grow old with you, and he will. It was one of his deepest of wishes to grow old with you.

He is kissing you like he has no other purpose to live for other than you. Like you’re the only thing he needs to live for and with the craziness between your grinding bodies your husband pulls away ever so slightly going down your breasts that were covered with whipcream. He licks them clean, sucking on your skin loving the taste of how sweet your skin mixing in with the soft white whipcream contrasting your skin very well. He moans when your body suddenly moves reaching to grab the Cherry bowl and smirk putting on a cherry on one of your breasts.

He looks up at you sheepishly smirking as he knew you were only teasing him some more. It was a dangerous game to see Jung Jaehyun. “You taste so sweet.” He quotes lightly as he reaches down to bite the Cherry on your breast and you watch him eat it. Your smirk was the satisfaction of watching your husband do this. “Oh? Me or the Cherry.” You let out a soft laugh.

The man down below swallowing the cherry but leaving the seed out pushing it into the bowl on the side he soon meets your eyes and leans closer staring at your lips. “You.” He didn’t hesitate to say something before kissing your lips losing himself a little more into the kiss everytime he does this. You heard him speak between the kiss. “I always like the taste of you better than Milano.”

The time you and Jaehyun have a good time to be together spend the rest of the day whatever you guys want to do together. It’s something you both needed to unwind and relax. You don’t have to worry about your two boys you have together. They are the biggest pranksters. Those boys surely take after their father and you can’t help but think now you have three Jaehyun’s to take care of instead of one but you can’t complain because you love them. All three of them you love. You wouldn’t mind Jaehyun indulge a little more because you must be aware of how much he was enjoying the way he’s kissing you like this it’s been so long. He couldn’t even imagine how he survived not being able to kiss you in front of your sons together. He must’ve neglected you a little but now he will make it up to you.

Your hands were so eager that Jaehyun’s clothes disappeared in less than a minute. He couldn’t help but feel like he was not the only one so eager and desperate. You were beyond desperation now. He has you laid down as he was hovering above you. Your gazes never leave each other’s faces and you found yourself falling so much deeper for Jaehyun’s dark amber and brown eyes reflecting Milano’s light outside. The hotel was very expensive. The bed was huge and it can hold another four people in there. Your bodies have plenty of space but that wasn’t on your mind the both of you were so deeply influenced by your own pleasure and thoughts.

The moment came that you were both so eager. Jaehyun’s hard length was already thick but maybe you thought he got thicker. You don’t remember him being this thick and your eyes flush out when he sling himself inside you very slowly and carefully. You weren’t sure why this feeling was so intense for you. Maybe because It’s been such a long time, you weren’t used to Jaehyun’s size anymore, and somehow you found yourself slipping out many moans already for him. Jaehyun instantly goes down on you to kiss your cheek to comfort you. You were struggling to take him in for a minute or two but soon you calm down and you found yourself liking the way this was handled. He was always making sure you were comfortable. You found yourself getting pampered by Jaehyun’s soft and small kisses that were shortly placed around your face and cheeks.

“Shhh… it’s okay baby it will be okay in a few seconds.” Jaehyun rubs your cheeks with his thumb on the sides.

Your husband’s lips we’re probably more soft than clouds itself. They were very soft and you found them to be the perfect way to pamper and calm you down because you didn’t know anything more soft than Jaehyun’s amazing lips that leave you feeling so much more happier than before.

He would never leave you in pain, Jaehyun wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hurt you in any shape or form.

In a way his entire presence was a drug that makes you happy. You don’t know the reason or the explanation as to why he makes you so happy but he just does. The things that make you happy in unexpected ways don’t need an explanation anyways; as long as they make you happy then you should enjoy it without needing answers.

You were always the type of suspicious person who wants answers to everything you have questioned in your head. But Jaehyun made you live in the moment and not to ask too many questions that need an answer because sometimes you don’t need it. When you started dating Jaehyun for the first time he taught you many things.

He taught you patience and he taught you how to enjoy life a little more. You did many things together that you can remember from the clip of your fingers if you had to. He really shaped your life and made it his own life too. And now you guys cannot live without one another.

Jaehyun took a glimpse of some whip cream on your beautiful flat stomach and he couldn’t help but smirk. He softly moved now and the length inside him feels rough round the edges but it certainly made you feel a sort of pleasuring way because you now feel an electric pulse running through your body as you gasp at the whole new sensation.

He leans down as he was rocking against you slowly and leisurely while he licks your stomach with his tongue round your navel. You gasp clenching your pillow that’s supporting underneath your bed. “Oh god… Jae…!”

You weren’t even sure what’s gotten into your husband but he started to make his own way with his long tongue down your breasts sucking on your nipples that are full of the soft sweeten cream. You never knew your husband could gently nibble on your skin too, especially your sensitive nipples, it leaves you arching your back.

Your moans were a reflection to your teasing. Maybe you shouldn’t of teased your husband so much because now he’s having his way with you and you can’t help but think Jaehyun’s paying you back for your silly actions. The cream was everywhere on your naked delicious body. He ends up addicted to it. To you. To the cream on your body. He loves licking you in places that leave you ticklish as well as an overwhelming stimulation your body going into an overload.

Jaehyun wraps an arm round your waist and switches the position around. He was now slanting on the long headboard with his back pressing against it and you having to straddling his lap as your hips push backwards and forward on his long length inside you making a home between your soft and equitable walls.

You let out a soft groan when Jaehyun grabs your waist squeezing it a little when he saw your dazed expression.

The hips clench round the muscular hands on your left and right hips as he held them down each thrust coming down like a meteor. The pleasure was so sweet and lingering it felt like a bright red fiery fire burning through your body down your chest and to the rest of your limbs. Your stomach was rubbing against the large length standing up inside your walls that close and close to the edge. You can’t believe it but you’re riding your husband as he was looking at you with a dark eye. You love how intense Jaehyun’s stare was and the way his breathing was heavy when he comes closer to softly kiss on your skin on your shoulder.

Sometimes he rubs the pressing lips on your dainty collarbones which drives you insane wherever his lips travel to.

Your head flew backwards a little when your thrusts only gotten more rough and harder to contain when moving even more frequently. Your bodies were getting to reconnect after so long you feel like it’s been decades. It was an exaggeration at the same time it made perfect sense to say that. When your head flung Jaehyun could only see your perfectly soft and beautiful neck of yours. Your veins were gently pinning on the edge and he loves seeing your neck clench because of the pleasure.

Jaehyun puts his palm on your throat and gently pulls you closer to look at him so he could capture your mouth into a heavenly passionate kiss. You moan into it as Jaehyun’s hands gently squeeze your neck as he suddenly starts fucking into you while he held you so tightly. He was squeezing you into the embrace as your skin and skin touching make so many noises brushing against to each other.

Your voice was hushed as he was squeezing your throat and so was your moans because your hotel room was now filled with your own bodies slapping on each other as well as the squelching walls of your wetness drowning Jaehyun’s cock deep inside you. You could tell he was trying so hard to make you orgasm and the wish came true.

You orgasm so much you lost count. Jaehyun certainly wasn’t going to stop there, it was Jaehyun after all. He never leaves you alone until you have three orgasms and until he can fill you up again and again until you are nothing but stuffed for the rest of the day.

He growls as his face was close to your ears he was very close and you could tell he was holding back because of his needless urge to have this contact with you become more longer. He didn’t want this to end. Jaehyun cannot get enough of you, your moans and the way your walls feel around his throbbing cock threatening to spill any minute now.

You choke out your sobbing moans. The pleasure was so great that it starts to form tears in your eyes. “O-oh god Jae…! It feels so good… don’t stop…” and Jaehyun never felt more to oblige to your demands. He whispers to your skin as if he was chanting a spell on you. “Mmm Y/n you’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this… god I can’t get enough of you. You’d let me indulge a little more right?” He was asking you but at the same time you knew he would do that anyways.

Your mouth only slips out soft quiet noises and words such as ‘yes, yes you may’ or another ‘pleas’ to your husband. He knew you were completely out of it. You weren’t listening to yourself. You were only playing attention to the bodies speaking truth to each other as he was pleasuring you so much you feel your stomach become warm and churning at each sensation he crafts on you. As if you were like his pretty doll.

You could only nod mindlessly letting your husband take control and do whatever he wants to do. Whatever his heart desires, you desire it too.

“I’m going to fill you up. My pretty wife deserves to be full of my cum don’t you think? You want that? You want me to fill you up nice and full before we go on the sight seeing boat tour?”

You couldn’t help but widen your eyes at the idea. You being full of his load when you’re in public doing a boat tour with other tourists on holidays? You can’t help but think it was such a perfect idea your husband had planted in your mind. You really want him to plant his seed now inside you.

All those possibilities that will cost you both. You know the chances are if he does do this and you couldn’t care any more about it. You love him so much that you grew pretty addicted to having your pussy full of him.

“Please… oh god… you do realise what the chances are if you do this right?” You whine at the idea and Jaehyun smirks looking at your face when he leans closer.

“Of course I do, why do you think I really want to do it?” Jaehyun chuckles deeply as he kisses your lips. Your eyes only fallen more and more in love with him. Jaehyun’s doing this because he wants another child and you can’t help but think, another child? You already have two sons.

But having another child inside you. Jaehyun’s child more specifically. It warms your heart and makes butterflies in your stomach become reborn.

“I really want to fuck another baby inside your perfect body…” Jaehyun seethes between his teeth harshly pulling from the kiss. “God… and you’d let me because you love me treating you like you’re nothing but my own cum bucket.”

He’s so right. You will let him have his way even if he doesn’t you let him eventually. You’re weak against him.

You whine when Jaehyun’s hands suddenly fall on your stomach touching it at the centre. He looks down at it observing how perfectly small and flat it was compared to the time he remembered you being pregnant with the boys. It feels like yesterday you were pregnant giving birth to your second son with him. It’s been only two years now and he can’t get enough of the idea having you pregnant walking around the house.

“Such a pretty stomach you have. You’d look so fucking amazing when you’re pregnant Y/n… oh god… something must be wrong with me. I really like seeing you pregnant.”

He loves seeing your stomach growing. He loves the excitement the pregnancy brings. You’re genuinely the happiest when you’re pregnant too. You never feel any less when you are. You’re glowing too. The pregnancy glow really makes you shine. The initial reaction to the gender reveals too. He can’t help it but share this part of like with you and you always wanted a big family. So did he.

But Jaehyun wouldn’t of expected himself to want to breed you so much and not get tired of it. He didn’t know he would have such a thing to start breeding you until he met you.

“Oh my god Jae…” You widen at his words. You weren’t expecting him to fully lose his mind at the idea. You knew he liked having children but you weren’t expecting him to get turned on seeing you look pregnant too.

Somehow you feel a sense of proudness when he tells you this. Not many people feel like they look the best when they are pregnant but Jaehyun never lets you have a day of rest until he compliments you enough.

“You really want to impregnate me.” You let out softly with a groan as his length was digging inside your walls deeply with each clenching reaction you have his tip pushing deep down in your stomach. You could feel him nearing your guts even. It was amazing how deep Jaehyun can really go in to your body and explore every edge.

“Mhm… so much… more than anything I ever wanted…” Your husband says.

Jaehyun groans. “I want to put a baby in you Y/n. Tell me you want me to? Tell me you want a baby just as much as me. Come on.” He said wanting you to tell him how much you want the idea.

He’s begging you to speak your mind loosely and freely and now he speeds up his thrusts. He starts to pound until his cock will loose all of its energy in the movement. You can’t help but rock against him and your body leaning on his chest as he was rutting in you like there wasn’t any singular purpose on his mind but to fill you up full of his load until you’re oozing out of him. Until he can see your pussy leaking.

You can’t help but do exactly as he tells you to. You obey him even though he was ruthlessly trying to breed you with his pelvis rutting on your hips and his hands pushing you down so you don’t slip out neither of his movement were planning to give you a break and a pause: you were getting bred and you loved every minute of it. Every movement he creates makes a longevity difference of your highs coming to an end.

You’re both chasing it. The same idea. The same dream.

Your voice comes out broken but it didn’t matter because Jaehyun can make out most of it. It was getting harder to speak out when he was ramming inside your walls harder. The fine tip of his thick girth-y cock pushes at the entrance of your womb ready to spillage. “Please! Please I really want it… I want a baby… please Jaehyun give it to me… give me a baby… i only want your babies… all of them.”

And you did. You really want all of them no matter how many he wants you’ll be a kind wife and let him have so many even if it was too much. Jaehyun really didn’t deserve you however. He feels like you’re such a good wife you let him get away with everything. But he pampers you in return for making his dream come true.

The dream of having a big family was all thanks to you. Jaehyun can rest in peace knowing he can have that all because of your kindness.

Jaehyun makes a pausing groan for a second as he feels his cock twitch releasing his liquid inside your warm walls. He can feel your walls become soft and loose because of how warm his liquid overtakes your body. You can feel the stuffiness of his cock sliding out once he orgasmed and you feel the same fullness of him inside you even though he was no longer inside your walls. You whine at the feeling it was so addicting your remember this feeling so well.

You let out a tired soft smile as you watch him slowly push you on the side of the bed laying you down to rest as he sat up slightly breathing heavily.

You chuckle. “So the boat tour, You think we have time to make it?” Jaehyun smirks looking at the time. You both have relatively ten minutes to make it to the front lobby.

“We can if we hurry. Can you walk love or do you want me to carry you?” Jaehyun playfully retorts as he leans closer capturing a soft kiss on your head.

You show him a joking glare at him and a small pout. “I can walk just fine.” He saw you getting up wobbling — in fact you cannot walk just fine.

“Mhm… I can see that.” Jaehyun chuckled a little as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind. You were picking out your clothes quickly and he takes a whiff of your hair it smells so sweet. “Y/n… thank you for making this Milano trip special.”

You chuckle finding his sudden words of gratitude to be very wholesome but shocking because it was so sudden and out of nowhere. “Baby it’s nothing to thank me for. I wanted us to have fun too. Let’s have more fun at the sight seeing alright?” You kiss his cheek and Jaehyun swore he could melt right there.

You’re so understanding. He wasn’t sure how he found someone as perfect for him as you are.

He’s so glad you’re the one he’s spending Milano Love with.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank you! Reblog this fic and follow my blog for more fics on my pinned it helps a girl out. <3

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Wanna Make Purple?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: After one woman takes a look into your studio, she suggests hosting a class so others may enjoy the art of finger painting. Youn thought she wanted to know about the class so she could join. No, it’s her son who walks through the door and turns your world upside down.

Square Filled: diana reid for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Your small studio in the bustling city of Quantico is insignificant but you love it. You’re an aspiring artist who wishes to be featured in museums and have galleries open all over the country. If you work hard enough, you’ll get there one day. If you’re not in your apartment, you’re spending time in your studio that’s completely filled with art supplies, half-finished paintings, sculptures that you never finished, and furniture that’s paint-covered. You’re not a sculptor but you’re taking some classes to get better at it and broaden your artistic scope.

The curtains are open allowing natural sunlight to shine through the windows, and it gives your studio a homely feel to it. Even your apartment has bigger windows than it should because you love letting in natural light. The sun is setting which means it’s time for you to pack up and head back home for the night. You’re cleaning up the supplies you used when you notice someone standing outside the floor-length windows at the front.

The woman immediately leaves when she notices you looking but you don’t think much of it. Many people walk by when you’re in here to admire what you do so you’re not fazed by the woman. However, someone knocks on your door seconds after she leaves. You wipe your hands on your apron and open the door to see the same woman now standing right in front of you.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Sorry for bothering you but I couldn’t help but notice what beautiful art you have.”

You look back at your art and smile at the compliment. You like to do a lot of things to stay relevant but you feel happiest when you fingerpaint. You love getting down and dirty with the art and using what you have instead of what you can buy to create timeless pieces. Finger painting is more than just putting paint on your finger and making lines. It’s precision and knowing when you use your pinkie instead of your thumb or when you use a knuckle or your palm. You’re in control of every little thing so in the end, you can truly say you gave it all.

“Thank you. I have a lot of fun finger painting. I think more people should do it.”

“Do you offer classes?”

“I never thought about it.”

“Well, I’m here in Virginia for a little while so if you reconsider, I know someone who would be eager to take a class.”

“Thank you. I will think about it.”

The woman leaves shortly after but her suggestion stays in your head long after she is gone. Teaching a class? Do you even have time for that? With school and your own business, you’re not sure if you have the energy to teach a dozen students. If you can, how old should they be? Children or adults? No, don’t be silly. Yeah, adults are going to be a lot easier to work with. Hosting a class whether that be once a week or a few times a week is a huge commitment, but you always said more people should be finger painting.

A few weeks go by until you’ve convinced yourself that teaching a small class would be beneficial for you. If you can put that on your resume, it shows commitment and willingness to work with a team. Thousands of people are following you on social media, so that’s how you reach out to everyone that you will be teaching a small class on a trial basis. If it works, great. If not, then you won’t lose any sleep over it.

Dozens of people around the country wish they could be in Virginia to attend your class. If all goes well, you might be able to visit other places and teach more people. One thing at a time, Y/N. The ones that are local have expressed interest but none of the people online look like the woman who met you that evening in your studio. You’re not sure how to get ahold of her or if she has social media and thankfully, you don’t need to deal with it.

The woman walks past your studio while looking at her phone, and you leave to catch up to her before she is gone forever.

“Ma’am?” She turns and stares at you as if she’s trying to remember who you are. “Hi, you stopped by my studio a few weeks ago. You asked me if I was teaching any classes.”

“I did?” Something crosses her eyes and she smiles immediately. “Of course, I did! Have you reconsidered?”

“Yeah. I’m actually putting together a class this weekend.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!”

“It’s at my studio at two in the afternoon on Saturday.”

“Perfect. Thank you for telling me.”

“Sure. I hope to see you there.”

You two part ways shortly after that, and you go back to prepping your studio to fit at least half a dozen people. You want them to have their own space so you spread out the canvases evenly throughout with a side table for them to keep their paints. Saturday comes quicker than you think and before you know it, your studio is filled with everyone who signed up for it. The woman you met isn’t here and you’ve been trying to find something to do to stall time, however, you’re already running ten minutes past two.

It sucks but you’ll have to start without her.

“Alright, thank you all for coming. I appreciate your eagerness to finger paint. No, I promise you that this isn’t like most finger painting is.” The door opens and a very tall and lean man walks in wearing jeans, a white shirt, a sweater vest over that, and a tie tucked between them. “Hi.”

“Sorry to interrupt but my mother signed me up for this class. Are you Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Spencer Reid.”

“Well, Spencer, take a seat. There’s one in the back.”

“Thanks. Sorry for being late.”

Spencer scurries to the back of the class and takes a seat, and you continue what you are saying.

“As I was saying, finger painting is so much more than putting paint on your fingers. I’ll have another class next week to go more into it but I want you guys to get used to the feel of paint on your fingers. I want you to create lines, and connect them if you want, but for the first ten minutes or so, I want you to really get used to the idea of not using paintbrushes. Use any color you like and begin.”

Everyone chooses the color they want and squirts the paint onto the palette on the small desk next to the easels. Two girls in the front giggle like schoolgirls at getting down and dirty with the paint while two men are apprehensive about getting their fingers dirty.

“Don’t worry about getting paint everywhere. It’s washable.”

Everyone seems to be in good spirits and you give encouraging words where you can. You approach Spencer who is having a hard time keeping paint long enough on his fingers to create a straight line.

“Having trouble?”

“A little, I guess. I just…”

“Just what?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay if you don’t like finger painting. It’s not for everyone.”

“No, it’s not that. I don’t get the point of finger painting. It’s messy and unpredictable and it’s hard to control what the paint is going to do.”

“Really? You think finger painting is childish?”

“Yeah.”

“Clean your hand. Let me show you something.”

Spencer does as he’s told while you squirt green, blue, and pink paint onto the palette. You grab Spencer’s hand and barely dip two of his fingers into the blue and two into the pink. You press his fingers to the canvas lightly, creating little dots that will represent the petals on a lavender flower. Once done, you have him clean his hand so you can create the stems of the flower.

“See? Finger painting is more than just putting paint on the canvas. It’s about manipulating the art as a whole and controlling every aspect of it. Brushes are different. They might have benefits that this way doesn’t but I’ve always found it harder to control a brush than it is my own fingers.”

“Impressive,” he says, looking deep into your eyes.

Spencer is in awe of your work. He doesn’t know what to say to this. He doesn’t mind being proven wrong. In fact, he finds it very attractive when someone can outsmart him. Someone calls your name and you leave Spencer’s side to help her out, but Spencer can’t take his eyes off you.

Throughout the entire class, Spencer has a hard time focusing on painting because he can’t help but notice you. He keeps asking for help knowing he can do it but he really wants to feel you right next to him holding his hand. You don’t mind. Spencer is the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

It doesn’t hurt to play a bit.

After the hour is over, everyone clears out of your studio, eager for the next one. If all classes are like this, you might consider doing this more often. Spencer is the last one out but instead of leaving like he should, he closes the door so that it’s only you and Spencer alone.

“Good job today. With a few more classes, you’ll be an expert.”

“You’re the expert, not me.”

He gathers everyone’s paint tubes and places them in the box at the front of the class while you grab the palettes that you’ll clean later. You and Spencer meet at the last easel but neither of you pick anything up.

“You got a little something…” He gestures to his own lips. “You got red paint on your lips.”

“Like I said, it’s washable. It’ll come off with a shower. Plus, it’s non-toxic so it can get in your mouth and it won’t hurt you.”

“Good to know.”

He takes two steps closer to you and you’re suddenly aware of how tall and handsome he is. Your eyes shift down to his lips and you smirk slightly.

“You got blue on your lips.”

“Wanna make purple?”

You don’t have to answer him. Pulling him in and pressing your lips to his is a good enough answer in and of itself. Spencer pulls you closer by your hips and you wrap your arms around his neck. Damn, he���s even a good kisser. Whoever his mom is, you gotta thank her for bringing her son to your class.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 4 - Le Rideau Tombe Avant La Fin

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is reader and Eloise's farewell to Paris. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Paris, September 1939

The next three days are a blur, fleeting but at once memorable, lived on borrowed time. 

Knowing the inevitable is happening - that you will need to leave Paris soon - you give notice at work; so sad to have only been there for a matter of weeks rather than the planned months. On a brighter note, however, you are able to spend the days with Benedict, showing him all you have learned about art in the city in the short time you have had. Many a happy hour is spent in galleries. Both of you tripping over your words to share what you know about the art and the artists in a breathless, excited fashion. Kindred spirits in your appreciation of the works. Sometimes lost in a reverie as you stand in front of a canvas as large as your entire living room, the scale and complexity literally dumbfounding. 

And, of course, a little of your heart is stolen with each moment together - the first person you have ever met who truly seems as enthused as you about the subject matter. That it's all wrapped up in that handsome face adds more complexity and confusion. You can't deny the skip in your pulse when he looks at you, weighted, a touch of reverence, so focused as you speak passionately on the subject you love. And you are certain your face is a picture of devotion as he waxes lyrical, too. You know you are getting swept up into the almost cliched romance of it all - the city of love, a handsome stranger, the no doubt impending invasion giving a sense of urgency and finality to every hour- it's a powder keg that feels dangerous as it is intoxicating. 

—

Early evening of the second day, as you wander back from the Louvre, you pass by the offices of the cruise company you came from America with. 

“Oh! I should speak to them about swapping my return ticket,” you comment, seeing the men standing outside in the smart red livery of the company, speaking in English to crowds of people inquiring about escaping France.

“See if you can move it to the day after tomorrow,” Benedict counsels. “That is the day we are due to set sail. We can all go to the coast together on the train.”

“That would be nice,” you admit, realising it will be lovely to have someone to wave farewell to, even if there is a little stab in your chest at the idea you may never see Benedict again. Or, of course, darling Eloise.

So, a couple of hours later, after an early dinner, you are back on this same street, your ticket in hand, waiting patiently to speak to one of the young men in uniform. 

“Mademoiselle?” he beckons you forward.

“Good evening. I have a ticket to New York for eleven months, hence, 12th August 1940. I am hoping I can swap to a sailing in a few days? Ideally, the day after tomorrow?”

The men exchange glances, and there seems to be a swirl of excitement as they crowd around you.

“A real ticket?” one of them pipes up, an excitement in their tone which strikes you as rather odd.

With a nod, you hand it over, and they all seem to confer, then grab a pad of tickets and transfer some details. 

“Not a problem at all, Mademoiselle. Here, this is for a sailing two days hence. Thank you for travelling with us!”

They seem inordinately pleased as you walk away clutching your new ticket, a mix of emotions swirling. The finality of your time in Paris suddenly so real, the date on the newly issued ticket, ink still drying, sinking in.

—

When you push open the door to your apartment, still with a tinge of melancholy, you are taken aback by the whirlwind you encounter.

“How did I amass this many mugs?” Eloise decries, standing amidst a complete bomb of possessions scattered all over the surfaces of your apartment.

“Well, you can't take them all home,’ Benedict points out wearily, “you have your case, and that trunk there, Eloise, and that is all.”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “Well aware of that brother…” holding a blue and red mug in each hand, assessing which she likes more.

“I suppose I'm lucky I've only been here a matter of weeks,” you pipe up as they both turn to look at you, Benedict shooting you a lopsided grin as Eloise barges forward and loops your arm in hers, dragging you across the room.

“Just the person I need!” she declares. “Help me! What mug screams, ‘I had a life in Paris once, and it was amazing’?” She gestures to the array of drinking vessels she has pulled out to the cupboard.

You ponder the question with a thoughtful pout. “Why not just leave them all for the next tenant? I'm sure Solene would appreciate the ability to rent out the apartment with kitchen supplies?” you try to be diplomatic.

“Yes, I know that,” Eloise sighs, “there were mugs when I got here. That, of course, got mysteriously broken after a few days, which is a blessing as they were all hideous…”

“You broke some perfectly good mugs?” Benedict frowns disapprovingly.

“Do you live here?” she shoots back pointedly, raising an eyebrow, “I am only seeking the counsel of those who live here… not a squatter,” she sniffs.

You share a look with Benedict -  yours contrite, his bemused - as if this is just another day with Eloise. Which, to be fair, it sort of is.

“If I had to choose one…” you point to the cherry red earthenware mug that looks French in a way you can’t quantify; it just does.

“You’re right as always,” Eloise grins, seizing it. “Much better help than that one,” she adds, sticking her tongue out at Benedict as she wraps the chosen item in yesterday's newspaper.

“Packing going well?” you breeze, your eye again meeting Benedict’s as he pulls a face that makes you giggle hard.

“You try cramming nine months of freedom into a teeny trunk,” Eloise grumbles, heading towards her bedroom.

“I am just taking my clothes…” you admit. You only have a few additional items you purchased since you arrived in Paris that should all fit if you pack smart enough.

“That’s yours, by the way…” Eloise gestures to Benedict’s painting on the wall before she disappears out of sight. “I have no room for it, and it seems strange to carry a picture of a house I'm headed to…” she calls out down the corridor.

“I would love it…” you inhale, looking at the artist imploringly as if somehow you need his permission.

“Y-you want it?” Hesitant, disbelieving almost. 

“If you will permit me,” you confess, clasping a hand over your heart.

“It is yours,” he replies, his face a mixture of pleasant surprise and humble acceptance.

You rush forward and take the painting off the wall, reverentially cradling it between your hands. 

“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, a little fizz in your stomach at the idea he wants you to have it. Like you will always have a piece of him with you once you are apart.

“I can paint you others...” he offers quickly, in a rush of exhaled breath. “Whatever you want…”

Something in the tumbling sincerity of his words has your heart beating fast.

“I can think of nothing more appealing than a wall full of your works…” you confess while trying not to think that room would be thousands of miles away.

He blushes adorably, casting his eyes down until suddenly, his head jerks up again. “Wait I…I have something I want to give you, actually,” He scurries across the room and gathers a sketchbook. “I'm sorry it's not framed, but here…”

He carefully tears out the page from his pad. And your heart stops.

It's you from two days ago. Sitting on a bench overlooking the Seine, the Eiffel Tower over your shoulder as you read a book. You wondered what he was doing sitting a few feet away that day as you took a lunch break. Now you know. It's a perfect pencil rendering of the scene, each sketched line a wondrous recreation of that sun-soaked afternoon.

“Benedict….” all other words fail. 

“I want you to have it,” he murmurs, “your time in Paris may have been unexpectedly brief, but you deserve a memento of the happiness you found here, however fleeting it had to be.”

Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes; you want to rush to him, to throw your arms around him, thank him profusely, but you are scared to. Scared that in the moment you would get carried away, press your lips to his…

“Thank you...” is all you can struggle out, inadequate and awkward.  

“De rein…” Again, that perfect accent has you practically swaying

But the spell is broken when Eloise reappears, complaining loudly about the size of her trunk, and part of you is grateful for it. Guilt floods your being as you think how bad of a person you must be to covet your best friend’s brother when you have a fiance back home. One you will, in fact, likely see in a matter of days now… tamping down that disquiet, you excuse yourself to your room, placing your ticket on the mantel and refusing to look at it as you pick up a book to read.

—

Solene’s hug is so tight you feel like she is crushing your ribs. Or perhaps it's that you feel a little too fragile today.

“I shall miss you, ma cherie,” she mumbles into your hair before pulling back and seizing your jaw. “You will come back when this is all over, oui?”

“Oui,” you agree, knowing it’s more of a wish than a promise.

Once again, she pulls you in for a tight hug before turning to Eloise and clinging to her just the same, lingering longer.

“Souviens-toi, ma sœur,” she reminds Eloise, having told you the previous night that her sister lives just outside the port city of Le Havre should you need a place to stay for any reason.

It's two days later, the day of your departure, and your eyes ping around the now-tidy apartment, only furniture left where once there was a jumble of life. It looks much less like home, making handing over your key a little less painful. One final wistful glance at the Eiffel Tower out of the window is all you can manage before picking up your case and walking out, scared to look back.

Benedict is loitering in the corridor outside and shoots you a sympathetic glance as you exit, eyes glassy.

“You will return,” he offers solemnly, even as you both know it's just a platitude, before turning his attention to the apartment door. “Hurry up, Eloise, we need to get to the train…” he calls.

You start to move towards the sweeping staircase, preferring a long amble down its winding loop than the lift, your case feeling much heavier than when you arrived mere weeks ago…

—

You watch the puffs of steam float past the window as the train picks up pace, pulling out of Gare Saint-Lazare. Perhaps aptly, it begins raining soon after, streaks of water lashing the glass as you rest your head back into the seat.

“I can't bear to look at it,” Eloise sighs, closing her eyes so as not to see Paris slipping away.

You reach over the table between you and grasp her hand, and her eyes open to give you a nod of thanks before closing again. 

“Why do you have to be American?” she whines. “I would do anything to have you come to England. We could get a little place together in London…” She winds her feet around yours like a vine, needing the connection in your last few hours together.

“If only…” you agree, a weight akin to a heavy boulder settling in your stomach at the idea you will soon be back on Long Island, a world that seems so…. staid to you now.

Benedict shoots you a sympathetic look across from his seat next to Eloise on the aisle but says nothing, going back to reading his book as it's your turn to sigh, the city now a blur outside the window as you speed towards the end of your time in France.

–

Half an hour later, Eloise is sleeping, her head lolling lightly on the glass with the gentle rocking motion of the train, now following the meander of the Seine just outside Poissy.

“She didn't sleep well last night,” Benedict observes, looking up from his book and following your line of sight. “I don't think she wanted her last night in Paris to ever end.”.

His words take you back to just hours ago, a rousing evening in your favourite local bistro filled with wine, camaraderie and song. Benedict didn't accompany you and Eloise, preferring to stay home and read, he said, but part of you wishes he was there to help commiserate and toast your final night chez Paris.

“You should have come out,” you opine with a slight pout, which makes him chuckle.

“It's not me who had to have the fitting farewell,” he points out with a sympathetic smile.

“Still, it would have been nice if you were there…” The idle thought is out of your lips before you can think about how that might sound, and you know you are blushing when his mouth opens a fraction in surprise, a dot of colour on his cheeks, too.

“I'm sure you still had a wonderful time,” he placates demurely.

You smile and nod, feeling a little twinge in your ankle from all the dancing you have done.

“Are you excited?” he asks, changing the subject.

You frown. “Why would I be excited to leave Paris?”

To be reunited with your fiance?” he answers slowly, a look of puzzlement on his face that it had not occurred to you.

“Oh…” you pause, your mind recalling Stanley’s smile, although somehow it seems faded now, like an out-of-focus photograph, as if you cannot wholly remember it now.  “I… I suppose…”

His face is a picture of concern again. “You do not sound certain…” he hedges.

“I am not, to be honest,” you sigh for what seems like the hundredth time today. “These few weeks have… shown me so much of the world,” you explain, “I have had so many novel experiences, met so many wonderful new people…” you can't help but let your gaze meet his as you say it. “It makes my life before seem… small? Parochial?” you are clutching for the right words as his hazy eyes track your every facial move.

“Like an old shoe that used to be comfortable but now suddenly feels too tight?” he offers a metaphor that is so apt you can't help but nod.

“Exactly!’ you agree, enthusiastically waving your hand. 

There is a quiet moment where your eyes meet again, a tingle over your skin, a pulse of energy so enlivening.

“Do you feel there is perhaps something out there better for you?” his ask feels loaded, a quiet murmur that carries so much hidden meaning but is nearly lost in the rhythmic sound of the train clattering over the tracks. So much so you could likely pretend you didn't hear, but you don't. 

“I just might…” you answer softly, even as you are unable to look away. Something about this man makes you daring, unwilling to do anything but be bold.

Long, elegant fingers reach out over the table and are about to brush the back of your hand when Eloise suddenly startles awake between you. His hand disappears rapidly, pulling back as if burned. All you can concentrate on is the ashy taste of regret at your best friend’s timing.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Rift - Chapter Four

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Chapter is T, overall fic is E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: ridiculous dialogue, pining between so many characters, unrealistic heroics technology used as plot contrivances

Summary: After the Heroics manage to close the Rift, trapping Marcus Acacius on the wrong side of time and space, the group enlists Marcus Moreno for help. The leader of the Heroics is still dealing with the fallout of the Rift, but he's fascinated by the unlikely visitor to their time... almost as much as he is interested in the FBI Agent who called him.

A/N: LOOK AT OUR LITTLE GUYS GO!!!! They're settling in nicely to their routine of talking late into the night ;)

Masterlist | Chapter Three | Next chapter>>

(Moreno)

Closing the Rift hadn’t solved all of Marcus’s problems, but then again, he should never have expected it to. Sure, the White House was much happier now that a giant crack in space was no longer glowing ominously just a few steps from the White House lawn, but the general public seemed to take any excuse to take to the streets. When the Rift had appeared, groups protested Heroics’ control of the area, despite Marcus’s repeated comments about being concerned with public safety and the general wellbeing of space and time in general. Now, predictably, people are angry that the Rift had been closed with little-to-no exploration of the phenomenon. And he gets it, really, he does. But his first priority had to be the safety of the city, not to mention the department’s accountability to the US Government. The powers that be had said “Shut the portal,” and Marcus wasn’t in any place to disobey direct orders.

He pinches the bridge of his nose again, pushing up the thick frames of his glasses as he does so, and glances at the muted plasma screen in the corner of his office. The news has been showing footage of the protests for hours now, and Marcus watches glumly as the camera zooms in on a hastily-written posterboard that reads “I WANTED TO SEE WHAT WAS IN THE LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA.”

His intercom buzzes, and Marcus angrily presses the ‘off’ button on the TV remote before answering, “Yes?” The metal stapler on his desk wobbles back and forth slightly, and the Heroic has to shake his head rapidly back and forth to force his powers back down to a low simmer.

“Someone from the FBI here to see you?”

Marcus’s stapler suddenly implodes on itself. Shit.

“Listen, will you National Security guys give it a rest?” he snaps irritably as the door opens. “We’ve got the situation under control. If I have any updates, I’ll contact you, but at the moment, consider no news is good news.”

The Agent looks surprised at the outburst. “I’m not from NSB,” he says slowly. 

“Which department is coming to yell at me, now?” Marcus deadpans.

“My name is Special Agent Pike, I’m with Art Crimes.”

“...Art Crimes?”

“And actually, I really need your help.”

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh, shit.” The Heroic paces back and forth in front of his desk taking in everything Agent Pike had just told him. This is what happens when you’re pulled in a million different directions. His own research department had been begging for access, the CIA was screaming at him every day about Homeland Security, and the fucking President called him personally to ask what he was doing to make the Rift go away.

This is how mistakes happen. Things get missed, people get hurt. He sinks, with defeat, into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“This man, you said he’s at your apartment right now?”

“Not mine, no. My, uh… my friend’s. Actually, more of a consultant. Yeah, a consultant. She’s a curator at the National Gallery of Art,” Pike says, as if this explains everything. 

“Why involve this other person? This… museum employee?”

“I mean, she’s an expert,” the Agent says vehemently. “She’s a classical Archaeologist, was helping us with some smuggled artifacts relating to the Rift… Anyway, she’s brilliant, and I knew she’d be able to help, and sure enough, she’s speaking Latin like it’s a normal, everyday thing to do and teaching this guy English.”

“How long did you say this man has been in your custody?” Marcus asks.

“About eight hours.”

Marcus studies the Agent. He feels like being a public servant has beaten him down over the years, turning the once-optimistic superhero who wanted to save the world into the jaded, tired old man he is now. Agent Pike’s demeanor seems to indicate that he’d somehow escaped the gradual decline into pessimism. No, this was a man who loved his job wholeheartedly, and it showed. The fire in his eyes was galvanizing… and beautiful.

The Heroic stands abruptly. “I want to see him.”

(Pike)

Marcus hesitantly taps on your door, having no idea what to expect on the other side. 

Even still, when the tall, broad man who was formerly dressed in full Roman regalia and is now wearing a faded Bryn Mawr hoodie and pajama pants and holding a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch answers the door, Marcus is struck dumb. 

“Hello!” the man announces seriously.

“Hey! Sorry. We’ve been practicing.” your face pops up near his elbow, giving Marcus a little wave.

“How are you today! I am fine, how are you!” the man at the door bellows loudly.

“What the…” Marcus Moreno mutters under his breath. 

“My. Name. Is. Marcus. Acacius,” Marcus Acacius says haltingly. 

“That’s his last name!” you pipe up with a giddy smile. “He is a general in the Emperor’s army.”

“See-ree-all,” Marcus Acacius says, holding up the box before grabbing another handful of his snack. 

“That’s a tough word,” you shrug. 

“You’re feeding a Roman general processed sugar from a box,” Marcus Pike says flatly.

“I’m sorry, I’m single-handedly teaching a Roman man how to speak modern English and you are criticizing my choice of food?”

“His name is Marcus?” the Hero asks skeptically. 

“Yep,” you chirp brightly. “Marcus, meet Marcus. And you’ve already met Marcus. Hi Marcus, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” You hold out your hand for the newcomer to shake. 

“This is chaos,” Marcus says as he takes your hand. 

The General also offers his hand. “Hello, how are you today! I am fine, how are you!”

“I’ve barely been gone two hours,” Marcus says with a disbelieving laugh. “And he’s speaking full sentences.”

“Tee-vee is magic,” the General tells him. “I also come here by magic.”

“Pretty much,” the Agent agrees with a chuckle. “You okay?” he asks, looking at you. 

“You showed up in the middle of the night with a man who happens to come from exactly the time of my expertise and area of study,” you say, leveling a finger at him. “I’m doing… amazing! Honestly, this is the most exciting day of my life.” Sobering, you glance between your new pupil and the leader of the Heroics. “What about him? Will he be able to return home?”

“Home,” Marcus Acacius nods enthusiastically. “To Roma.”

Marcus Pike looks at the hero with discerning eyes. He can see the lines on his face, the worry etched on his forehead. A man who’s in over his head, struggling to stay afloat as the pressure threatens to pull him under. He knows that feeling well. 

The man shakes his head sadly, looking pained.

“No?” the Roman asks. “No Roma?”

“I… I don’t know,” the hero admits. 

“Nescio,” you translate, and the man looks troubled. 

The Hero glances over at Marcus, and something in his return gaze seems to spur him into action. “No, hang on,” Moreno adds. “The Heroics caused this mess. The Heroics will fix it. I’ll see to it.” 

“How will I get in touch with you?” Marcus asks as he turns for the door. Moreno pauses, and looks back. “Let me give you my direct line, okay?” 

Wordlessly, Marcus hands him his phone and watches as the man taps in his number and hands it back. He presses the ‘Call’ button, and the Hero’s own phone dings in his pocket before Marcus cancels the call. 

“Now you’ve got mine, too.”

The Heroic flushes slightly, and nods. “I’ll be in touch. Marcus. And uh, Marcus.” He nods perfunctorily at the Roman general, and leaves. 

“That was weird,” you laugh, breaking the silence that had fallen over the apartment.

“What was?”

“It was like he had a crush on you or something,” you tell Marcus. 

He snorts. “I find that hard to believe.” 

“Why? You’ve a good-looking man.”

Marcus tries to ignore the way his heart aches at your words. “Sure,” he jokes.

“What? I’m serious.”

“He’s the leader of the Heroics. He could do better.” It’s meant to be another joke, but it comes out slightly more maudlin than intended. 

“That’s your protest? That he could do better? Hang on–Marcus, are you gay?”

“No!” The protest is far too loud. “I mean, I’ve dabbled. It’s not… y’know.”

“You should go for it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders in a way that’s meant to be nonchalant, but Marcus can see the strain behind your eyes with the effort of playing it cool. 

“That’s not who I’m interested in,” he says quietly. He forces himself to look directly into your eyes as he says this, despite the pounding in his heart. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your voice shaking slightly as you flash him a cautious, shy smile. 

“Quid est?”

The question cuts through the moment, and Marcus turns to see the General holding a souvenir snow globe of the Parthenon and looking very confused. 

“Your turn,” you tell Marcus with a laugh.

(Moreno)

It takes one week for the leader of the Heroics to call.

A few metal pens clink together in the sleek black canister on Marcus’s desk as he taps on the words ‘Agent Pike’ and puts the phone to his ear. 

“This is Pike,��� comes the response at the other end of the call.

“Hi–” Marcus clears his throat. “Hi. It’s Marcus. Moreno.”

“I know.” He can hear the chuckle in the man’s voice. “I hope you’ve got good news.”

“Yes, and no,” Marcus admits. 

“Can I get the ‘yes’ first?” Agent Pike jokes. 

“My team thinks they can recreate the energy blast that created the Rift without causing a massive explosion or a uh… black hole that swallows the entire planet.”

“That sounds like a positive,” the Agent says optimistically.

“The bad news is that they don’t know how long it’s going to take to invent that kind of technology from scratch. But I’ve explained the situation and the urgency behind it and I’ve got people working ‘round the clock to recreate the Rift and get Marcus Acacius back home.”

“That’s great,” the other man says cheerfully. In the background, he hears your voice cheering as well. “Sorry, I put it on speaker,” Marcus laughs. 

“How is the General, by the way?” he asks. 

“Oh, he’s fine. Learning more about modern life, has quite a few more words under his belt. We took him shopping for some new clothes the other day, that was… fun.” 

Marcus snorts, trying to imagine a person from two thousand years in the past attempting to navigate a modern mall. 

“And the two of you… you’re handling it? Keeping it quiet?”

“Oh, yeah. Haven’t told anyone else, obviously. We’ve been taking turns going to work, taking a few vacation days here and there, not raising any suspicions about our sudden odd behavior.”

“I appreciate it,” Marcus tells him sincerely. “Oh hey–I almost forgot. I have something for you. Bit of Heroics tech that might help you guys out.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Can I stop by your colleague’s apartment later today to deliver it?” 

“Yeah, of course,” the Agent answers. “We’ll see you then.”

(You)

This might be the best week of your life. 

Hiding a fugitive Roman General in your apartment probably should be stressing you out, but instead you’re having the time of your life. 

The situation, by default, has forced you into close proximity with Special Agent Pike, a man you’ve longed to know as more than just an occasional colleague from the moment you met him. At a minimum, he’s at your place every evening as soon as he can get away from work without people asking questions, but there have been several days that the both of you had called off and spent the day together with your temporary houseguest.

And then there’s Marcus Acacius. 

A brilliant man, he’s done his best to adjust to his new surroundings. He certainly cut an intimidating figure dressed in full regalia on your doorstep at three in the morning, but even in his new wardrobe, he still manages to look just as commanding. He almost looks ‘normal’ standing in your kitchen, wearing khakis and a button-up and filling a glass of water from the tap, but there’s always a hint of otherworldliness about him that no amount of modern clothing can camouflage. 

His eyes are sharp and astute, and his gaze always seems to make the heat rise to your cheeks. His presence seems to fluster Marcus as well; you notice him trip over his words on occasion, and you swear you saw the man blush when he had to help button the General’s new shirt after your little shopping trip. 

If anything, having the two of them in your home feels… cozy. 

You almost wish it didn’t have to come to an end. 

A knock at the door startles you out of your reverie. 

“Take bets, is that the pizzas or the Heroic?” Marcus chuckles from his spot on the couch. 

“It’s the pizza,” you call out when you open the door to the intoxicating smell of cheese, bread, and garlic. As you’re paying the deliverer, however, the stairwell door opens and Marcus Moreno walks hesitantly toward you. 

“Is this a bad time?” he asks. “You guys look like you’re about to have dinner.”

“Of course not! We thought maybe you’d like to stay and have some, so we got extra.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” he begins.

Hearing the exchange, Pike joins you at the door and beckons the man in with a little jerk of his head. “Don’t be silly. Come have dinner with us.”

Marcus Moreno hesitates for just a moment longer, and then shrugs. “Okay.”

After spending most of the week together, you, Marcus, and Marcus have settled into a dinner routine. You line up and open the pizza boxes as the Roman grabs a stack of plates from the cabinet and Marcus fills four glasses with ice and water and carries them to the table.

“Hello, how are you?” Marcus Acacius asks the Heroic politely.

“Hey,” Moreno grins. “You look like you’re settling in.”

“I am very well,” the man answers. “Pizza is a very good food.”

The Hero laughs. “You’re right about that.” 

The four of you eat dinner in companionable silence. As usual, the General eats far more than anyone else, finishing off almost an entire pizza by himself. You can’t help but wonder about his life in Rome–what he does, what he eats, where he lives. You’ve tried to ask, but the language barrier forces your conversations to be short and simple. You wish you could talk to him, really talk. He must have some incredibly interesting things to say…

After dinner, you pour four glasses of wine. The Roman grins widely at you, flashing his teeth. “Vino, excellent,” and you smile back, ducking your head a little and subconsciously glancing over at Pike. You aren’t sure what you’re worried about–jealousy, maybe?–but the Agent nods fondly and raises his glass in a silent toast. 

“Let me show you what I brought,” the Heroic announces as the four of you sit in the living room. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a couple of devices that are slightly larger and thicker than cell phones, but not by much. 

“We actually developed these to speak to aliens back when we were dealing with that situation with the Throqans several years ago. They were indispensable in helping us communicate and deescalate what could have turned into some kind of intergalactic war,” Marcus Moreno explains, switching one of the devices on. “It wasn’t until after that we realized we could program it to translate human languages. I had someone add a new function just for you. Here, say something.” He holds the device up to Marcus Pike. 

“Uh… this is me, saying something.” 

Immediately, the device emits a string of perfect Latin. The General perks up, cocking his head to the side and examining the device intently. 

“These will translate anything you say in English into Latin, or vice versa,” Moreno says, and the words are again repeated back in Latin. “You want to try?” he asks, holding the device out to Marcus Acacius, who takes it carefully in one large hand and says something into it.

“So many times every day I say to myself, ‘This thing must be magic,’ and I find I must say it once again.”

You let out a little shriek of delight. Marcus Pike laughs joyfully and claps the Heroic on the shoulder. 

“This is incredible! Marcus, thank you,” he says, his hand still on the man’s shoulder. You don’t miss how the very tips of the Hero’s ears turn pink. 

“It’s the least I could do. They all come with earpieces, too, so you can each automatically hear translations of everything that’s said.” 

The Roman speaks into the translator again. “Do you also bring news of when I might return home?”

Marcus Moreno bites his lip. “I wish I could say I did, but I don’t. The technology is still only theoretical. We’ve been running tests, but so far, nothing has been successful.”

Acacius listens to the translation, nodding slowly and looking somewhat disappointed. Suddenly, though, he brightens, and speaks again. 

“Ah well, if there are more pizza dinners in my future, then so be it.”

[levanterhaze]

✧ LOVE ME AGAIN WITH CARMY BERZATTO

→ carmy berzatto x reader

→ you and carmy have always had a volatile relationship, and when you decide to break up for good, things seem to take a turn for the worst. carmy misses you and you miss him. everything could change when the bear opens.

→ warning: anxiety, angst, some signs of depression, light smut nothing to worry about

→ 4kish

Your relationship with Carmy was always going to be stormy.

While your friends spent their Valentine's Day in fancy restaurants and luxurious hotels, your Valentine's Day was depressing and lonely with a meaningless box of take-out and too much cheap wine. And then the next day was even worse. The regret and bitterness. The anguish and the fear of losing you, it all came at once, and you could feel Carmy slipping through your fingers like sand, fast and at great cost.

And it wasn't as if he didn't care. You lived in Carmy Berzatto's mind twenty-four hours a day. You'd still be there if the days had more hours. He had too much feeling and not enough showing. And that killed him a bit every day. For it was you. You who comforted him after Mikey's death, you who bandaged all his cut fingers after a grueling day at The Beef. It was you, who watched him take over a new restaurant and start all over again.

You were there and Carmy hated himself for not being able to do the same.

There were times when he was lost in his own head. Fear ate him from within and breathing seemed almost impossible. There were countless times when you received messages from Sydney or even Natalie, when he accepted that he was in need of something, someone. From you. And it was never easy, because he made everything so difficult for himself. He did not want to involve you in the vortex of anxious thoughts that were occupying his mind. He didn't want to drag you into the personal hell that his mind had concocted.

But pushing you away was tantamount to losing you. And for Carmy, it was only a matter of time. Just as the sky is blue and water is liquid and so on, losing you was inescapable. One day it would happen. He didn't know when, but predicting the worst had been a common part of his life.

Then you hoped he would be there on one of the most important nights of your life. You had worked long and hard, and all your family and friends were coming to see the hard work you put into your art. You were happy in spite of everything. It had always been your dream to be recognized for your art, and to see the people you love the most recognizing it, honoring you for it, was priceless.

You kept glancing at the gallery door, waiting for Carmy to appear before you like a perfect dream come true. And with each passing second, it was clear to you that this was not the case. Almost twenty calls and thirty texts and no answer. At this point, you had no interest in the question of where he might be.

And somehow you could understand Carmy's busy and chaotic life. He had too many responsibilities, his mind was like an endless to-do list, and things just kept popping up, even more so after The Bear situation. But the selfish and unselfish part of your twisted mind wanted him to be there, to make time in his evening to be with you. After all, what was important to him was important to you as well. But often it didn't seem that way. And that was hard to deal with.

You heard the door of the small apartment you shared open just after two in the morning. It was dark. Only the lamp was on, which made for a calm atmosphere despite the usual tension in the house. And as soon as he entered the room and saw a suitcase packed at the foot of the bed, you could see the mixture of awe and panic on Carmy's face.

For a few seconds, he just stood there like that. Just standin' there. Blue eyes fading in something you no longer recognized. The distance between the two of you was almost palpable. Your heart crushed in your chest, shattering into a thousand little pieces.

Carmy lowered his head with a sense of defeat. The day he had been dreading had come, and he felt nothing but stupid and incompetent for allowing it to happen, even though he knew it was going to happen. The trembling in his hands was real, and he had to hide them behind the rest of his body so that they wouldn't be noticed.

"I'm sorry." It was the sound of his voice, almost in tatters, that did your heart in.

Carmy looked at you, shaking hands through his disheveled hair. This isn’t something he wanted to say goodbye to. What he had with you was the most beautiful part of his life. To lose you is to lose everything. And he didn't want to lose it all.

One tear ran down your cheek. You wiped it away before a single tear could turn into a few. You wouldn't know how to stop if you dared to cry now.

You said, "There are some leftovers from the dinner in the oven. I've sorted out your last few bills so you can get organized without having to worry, and..."

"I'm so sorry."

"...and the key is where it should be. If there is anything you need, Carmen, you can give me a call and..."

"No. No. I'm sorry."

The realization hit Carmy as hard as rock. He was on his knees in front of you. Feeling his hands around your wrists, you closed your eyes. There was something familiar and cruel about the calluses and the way his thumb brushed the inside of your arm.

You were so much in love with him that it hurt. Loving him like that, it hurt physically.

"I'm sorry. I'm going to be better. I'll get better, I'll focus on the things that matter and... I swear. I promise you, just... Please." His voice was like knives. They cut deeply and hurt.

You gulped, trying to escape the ocean of blue before them. There was so much pain in Carmy's eyes that all you wanted to do was hug him, take care of him and tell him that everything would be okay. But this cycle had to end, and you'd done it countless times. 

You tried to get up from your shared bed, but Carmy stopped you. "Carm." You whispered in an attempt to get him to stop.

"Please." He whispered back.

"It's not working. You know I... I can't."

"I fucking love you. You're... I..." Carmy sighed and moved away, sitting down on the carpet a few steps away.

There were so many things that he wanted to say, but he couldn't. Carmy had the feeling that the floor was opening up and his body was being dragged into this black hole. His heart was beating so fast. He thought it would explode out of his chest. If he was the reason you were leaving, how could he beg you to stay?

And he knew it. He had been reading the signs. All the times he'd been late, even when you'd agreed to go out to eat together. All the dates he didn't show up for. The anniversary that hadn't worked out. That trip to Europe. All the things that piled up. He knew it, and he was there, and he was letting it happen.

But at the same time, he knew that you deserved better than that. You deserve someone who would give you time and love. Who would be there every day. Who would learn to love you the way you deserved. The love he felt for you was far greater than he was able to express, but that would have been egotistical of him.

Sometimes love is not enough. You have been the living proof of that.

"Carm. Look at me."

You knelt before him. He touched your hands once more, which were now touching his damp face. The last thing he would remember, besides your watery eyes, would be the scent of pear and vanilla that permeated your sweater.  

"You'll be fine. I hope you're fucking happy and that all your hard work pays off. I'm your biggest fan. You know that, right?" You tried to put on a smile but failed miserably. "Carmen Berzatto, I will always support you.”

Everything I've achieved is meaningless without you, Carmy wanted to say, but couldn't.

Only your ragged breath broke the cruel, melancholy silence.

You wiped your face and got to your feet, ready to leave. Ready to leave behind all of the memories that you had with the man that you loved the most.

Before you left, Carmy looked at you and said, "All those things, they were true. They were real."

You understood his meaning and agreed with a nod of your head.

And so it was only at 2:47 a.m. when you finally left the apartment, that you allowed yourself a good cry.

It had been two months since you and Carmy had broken up. You hadn't heard from him since.

The only close contact you had with Carmy was Sydney, but you had been clear when you mentioned that she could only talk about him if it was something urgent. And nothing urgent had come up in two months.

You missed him, you couldn't deny it. Life was hell with him gone. Despite all that was bad and rotten, Carmy was kind, gentle, chivalrous, and cared about your feelings. You missed all the mundane things, even the times you ate packs of cheese balls while watching a movie, just waiting for the part where his hand would accidentally slip up your thigh and the movie session would turn into a making out session.

You tried to move on, except for the significant absence of him in your life. Grocery shopping was no longer the same. No cashew juice or fancy, barely pronounceable fruit and spice names. Just the usual bland basics. Maybe that was what it was like to live without Berzatto.

It was a rainy Tuesday, one of those Tuesdays when you just wanted to stay in and not have to deal with any obligations. You were one of the unfortunate ones who had to deal with adult life and buy parmesan cheese because your sister was the only one who could make macaroni and cheese worth eating. There was a place you only knew about thanks to Carmy that sold quality products.

The rain had made your hair wet, and the guard at the small market smiled sympathetically when he saw the miserable situation you found yourself in. You nearly laughed at yourself. Basket in hand, you wandered the aisles singing a pop song from the radio. Your eyes scanned the perimeter of the dairy aisle, and with your finger, you tried to select the best product.

Parmesan, in hand, you froze to the floor. The voice in the back of your head was so familiar, so ghostly, that it made you turn around in a hurry.

And there he stood. In the white shirt and the tattered jeans. His sandy hair so tousled that you felt your hand involuntarily clench in the desire to touch him, to feel his softness. You thought about calling him up, to say hi. The question in your mind was whether it would be too weird. Or perhaps not.

A woman with dark hair and sky blue eyes walked up to him, leaned her chin on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. Both of them laughed. You felt your heart sink.

Carmy turned around, a small smile on his face, and when you least expected it... they were kissing.

You felt as if time stopped running. That millisecond was etched in time. You could hear the gasping breath tearing at your chest, the tears gathering at the waterline, and your heart crashing again, for the same person.

"What are you doing? It's like you went to make that damned Parmesan, and I had to check to see if anything was wrong..." As your vision blurred, your sister's voice echoed in the back of your mind.

"Let's get out of here."

"What happened?" She tried to get you to look at her, but you just kept pushing her toward the marketplace.

"Let's take it somewhere else."

"But you said..."

"I'm aware of my words. Now let's just go."

As you dragged your sister down the aisle, Carmy could have sworn he heard something that sounded like you. But he couldn't really be a judge of his own conscience. Unable to tell what was real and what was not, he had been hallucinating for days. He would hear your voice and swear that he saw you somewhere, only to not be able to see you there.

"Are you okay?" Claire asked with a light squeeze of his hand.

"Yes, of course. Let's get going?" Carmy said, forcing a smile. Claire agreed and gave him a kiss again.

Carmen didn't want to relive ghosts from the past, no matter what had happened.

A week later, Sydney and Sugar had a text message that The Bear was finally open for business. The first night they were only opening for friends and family. They insisted that you should come. That it was important not only to themselves but also to Carmy.

You weren't sure about that. You had no idea what to do when you got there, because your presence could mean so many things. And despite everything, there was the news that still lingered in your mind: Carmy had met somebody.

Selfishness wasn't for you. You didn't want his eternal devotion. After all, you had put an end to the relationship. But when it came to him, that little feeling of envy and jealousy still existed. Because in spite of it all, you never stopped loving him.

"Well, you know what? Fuck it."

You yell at the top of your lungs before you start rummaging through your closet until you find the perfect dress to wear.

You once told Carmy that you would always be his biggest supporter and that you would always be true to your word.

You were greeted by Sugar. She looked gorgeous with her pregnant belly and a radiant smile when she saw you.

She said, "I can't believe you came!" She hugged you in a consoling way that only the Berzatto's could do. "You look so beautiful, honey."

"Nah. This is beautiful." You point to the room. "Look at you, Sug!"

"Come on. I'll show you your table." Sugar made her way among the tables. They were already crowded with familiar faces.

You looked amazed. "I'm seated?"

"Of course, dummy. You're one of us. I hope being away hasn't made you forget that."

You hugged her once more. Then you sat down at a small table with your name on it.

"Make yourself at home. We'll serve you soon."

"Thank you, Sug."

Fak almost kicked in the door, breathless. Sydney gave him an annoyed look as she tried to shake off so many orders in front of her, then whispered, "What the hell, Fak."

"She's here."

"Who's here?" Carmy asked, not even bothering to look at Fakerson.

"Your girl." Fak said smiling. "I mean, your ex-girl...?"

"Claire's here?" Sydney said, confused.

"Claire is here?" Carmy looked at him, completely taken aback.

"Why would Claire be here? I thought you guys broke up." Richie shot back before leaving the kitchen.

"Thanks, cousin." Carmy said, noticeably irritated.

"I thought it was obvious they broke up." Sydney grimaced.

"Guys?" Losing a little patience, Carmy put his hands on his waist.

"Wait. You and Claire broke up? Uh, Jeff..." Tina came over to Carmy's station with a pair of frying pans.

"Chefs! Appreciate the interest in my love life. Now, focus, please!" Carmy shouted. Everyone scattered to their stations. "Fak, who the fuck is out there?"

Fak started to speak, but before he could finish what he wanted to say, Richie appeared, wide-eyed.

"She's here."

And Carmy felt his whole body fall numb before he could even understand. It wasn't Claire. The last time they saw each other, she had made it clear that she didn't want any kind of involvement if he still had someone else on his mind.

And from Richie's smile, that could only mean one thing.

Carmy Berzatto was fucked.

Ten minutes had passed and Carmy had already cut his finger twice and almost burned the salmon. His mind was on the small pane of glass that was the partition between the salon and the kitchen.

You, sitting alone at a table, so beautiful and angelical that he felt his chest ache. And he couldn't tell if it was the black turtleneck dress, or your hair, or the red lipstick that outlined every curve of your mouth.

Carmy was at a loss. To bring him back to reality, Sydney had to yell at him five times. There was a kitchen to run and many dishes to do.

Richie appeared at your table from time to time. First it was with your favorite wine. Then with your main course, because you hated appetizers and you were sure it was a Carmy thing. Pork burger with gravy and tomato salad with red onion and Diet Coke. Carmy's first meal when you started dating, right in The Beef's old kitchen. He fed you. Then you had the most intense sex in his office.

Carmy knew what he was doing when he used food to bring back memories. So do you.

Sugar appeared again after dessert: pineapple ice cream with blackberries and wine. The restaurant was already very empty, only three tables were occupied, one of them being Sydney's relatives and Natalie's husband.

"Hey. So I had a talk with Carmy and he asked me if you could stay a bit longer..."

"I'm not sure."

"He wants to talk to you."

You had no idea what would come out of this conversation. What you had seen weeks ago still hurt. Talking might hurt you both more.

"Sug, I don't know..."

"Look, I get it. I really do. I'm not just saying this because I care about him. I know he has a lot of feelings for you. I saw how bad he was after you broke up, honey. I don't know what came of it, but... If you still care about Carm, please. I beg you. Talk to him, will you?"

It took a couple of seconds and Natalie was starting to think that you were going to get up and walk away.

"All right, then. I'm waiting."

"Good night, Chef!" Sydney was the last one out the backdoor.

Carmy leaned against the counter and ran his hand over his face. What was he thinking when he asked you to stay?

Now he could see the empty lounge. You sitting there, sipping your last glass of wine. Natalie, afraid of something worse, looked at your table and the kitchen every five seconds.

It was after one in the morning. You were impatient. Fear was eating you alive.

You stood up from the table and patiently walked over to Natalie. "May I go now?"

"He's in there. I'm leaving. Pete's waiting for me outside. Honey... Thank you for your patience. If you need anything, call me. Nice seeing you."

You said goodbye in a hug. "So do I, Nat. Thank you so much for everything."

It was only when you turned to the kitchen door and saw his silhouette inside, waiting for you, that you realized you were alone with Carmy. As you walked slowly, you gathered your thoughts.

Just as you opened the door, Carmen turned around. And by God... you couldn't look more beautiful. Your wine red cheeks contrasted with your red lips and it was driving him insane.

"Hey, Carm." Your voice struggled to come out. Carmy almost broke into a smile when he heard it.

"Hey." He whispered. "Thanks for coming."

"You know I wouldn't miss it. I'm happy for you guys. This place... It's beautiful, Carmy. What you've done to this place... It's just incredible."

"I wish I could have shown it to you sooner, but... Yeah." An awkward smile and a scratch at the back of his head. "Thank you."

You bit your lip, worried. "Did you want to... talk?"

"Yes. I, um, do. I don't really know what... I just... I wanted to see you." He agreed, a little awkwardly. "Sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything. I guess."

"Berzatto, history is history."

"No, it isn't." In denial, he took a step closer to you. "If history is history, then why don't I stop thinking about you?"

He had you by surprise. "Carmy."

"I mean it. None of it matters. Why... You're the only person who knows my heart by heart. You're my only true opener. And I know, I know I've failed you a thousand times and you probably deserve a luckier jerk than me."

Carmy felt overwhelmed. Exhausted.

"I love you. I love you so much that it scares me because I've never felt shit like this for anyone, you know? This feeling that suffocates and eats you alive, this shit scares me. And I know I'm a fucking psycho, but that's who I am, and I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I just... Fuck!"

He sniffled. He was trying to get rid of his watery eyes and all the humiliation that came with them.

You were in sheer shock. Carmy had never been so vulnerable as now and the whole situation was startling and unfamiliar to you.

"That's pathetic. I'm sorry." Disguising his shame with self-deprecation, he tried to laugh it off.

"Carmy." You took a step back, getting close enough to see how flushed he was. "Why didn't you ever tell me any of this stuff before?"

"Because I was scared. When something good happens to me..."

"You have an automatic assumption of the worst."

He agrees and looks down. You sigh and look at the countertop where his hands are. Exposed tattoos, each screaming for your silent touch.

"If all of this is real. Then why were you kissing her?"

"Claire?" He seemed surprised you knew her. "It didn't last. I don't know... I don't know what the hell I was thinking. In fact, I have a pretty good idea where my thoughts were. It just wasn't about her."

"Carm." You whispered, fingering his hand. "I don't care about the vanity. I just want to know if it's for real. If everything you've said is true."

Carmy felt his heart explode in her chest. Like a rough sea, his eyes watered. He took your hand and held it as he took one last step. The last step for the two of you to merge into one. Like a trap, his lips captured yours. Carmy was beastly, wild, desperate. There was an eagerness in his touch, and in the way that his lips moved around yours.

One of his hands went straight to your neck, gripping it tightly, while the other squeezed the skin around your waist. As he pressed you against the bench, deepening the kiss and moving your head as he pleased, a gasp escaped your lips. You were breathless. You felt narcotized by the longing for him again.

And it wasn't just a physical need. It was a lust for the meeting of souls.

"Is this real enough for you?" Carmy said after the kiss, sucking your lip and making sure you looked deep into his eyes.

You kissed him again with no time to lose. This time you made your way through the kitchen, knocking over utensils and pans along the way until you found your way to the office. Carmy rushed to close it, barely breathing.

Once again, he pinned you against the wall and held your wrists so that you wouldn't be able to escape even for a second. His lips explored your skin, every inch of it, so that you would never forget the taste. He wanted to carve his name into your skin, to worship you, to be devoted to your body and your love forever.

He had never felt anything so intense, and as frightening as it was, it was wonderful.

"Carmy." You whimpered as you felt his hands on your skin, on sensitive spots that made your eyes roll back.

"For old times' sake?"

"For old times' sake."

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 20.

Summary: The evening of the Arts Collective dinner somehow gets even worse for you as Farleigh gives you some unfortunate news about Oliver and Venetia and their moonlight exploits. The worst part is having to figure out a way to break the news to Felix.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood/ongoing parental neglect.

A/N: 3729 words. I finally cracked it!! Figured out the ending!! Sorry for the delay I was busy writing 20k about Jacob Elordi being hot and mean which I will never publish (Euphoria, a show I STILL have not watched beyond like 20 minutes of clips on YouTube lol). Anyways I've missed you and these characters and hopefully 21 won't be too far away xx (also I started my new job so that's been exciting but also Ooft ouch my bones hurt)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

For a day that was already pretty damn shit, Oliver's cruelty was like salt in the wound. Hand still on the doorknob after you close it, you listen to him retreating over the ringing in your ears. If you let go, you'll see your hands shake, so you're frozen, heart in your throat, the house growing quiet around you. It's familiar, but unwelcome in this moment.

Tears well in your eyes as you sit back at the desk, computer humming pleasantly, bathing you in a cool glow. Part of you was desperate to run after him, to oblige him, to reveal every inch of your past and soul to him, hoping he was true to his word. That he could actually care about you in a way that very few have ever bothered to. That he could love you the way Felix did.

I don't know you.

An even stronger part of you wanted to run right across the hall, to bury yourself beneath the covers of your bed, safe and waiting for Felix. Surely he'd be back soon, if Oliver's return indicated anything. You hadn't heard him return, but it wouldn't be long. But how were you meant to look at him, lie next to him, even touch him, after all of that. It had been easy to bite your tongue on your disappointment so far, knowing that like so many others, Oliver's love for you thus far had been merely as a proxy for Felix himself. You knew Felix was vaguely aware that that was how others sometimes viewed you, but you'd always been eager to assure him that as long as he genuinely cared about you, and the others were good to you, you'd be more than happy.

And that used to be true. But none of the others were Oliver. Felix knew you loved the boy just as genuinely as he was coming to, you could never tell him that your affections were not as genuinely returned.

Your pride held you hostage in this room on both accounts.

When you finally raise your head from your hands, scrubbing unspilled tears from your eyes, you try and focus yourself once more on rereading the email that had already put you in a foul mood before Oliver had made it worse. It had taken all afternoon to detach yourself from it's contents, especially knowing your mother was waltzing about the grounds, spoiling your sanctuary.

The details of an official nondisclosure agreement, sent from your parents' team of lawyers. The paperwork was to arrive in the next few days, but you were being warned ahead of time. Before Oliver had interrupted, you were finally getting to the point of finding it all funny, that they were that insistent on cutting social ties with you that they'd go to almost any lengths that remained discrete, and out of the general public's reach. Now it just... ached.

Felix's heavy footsteps echo through the long gallery outside your study door, but he heads straight into bed. You wonder if it's even worth it to head to bed that night, you can't see yourself getting much sleep.

Now mostly, tragically, sober after you'd spent the afternoon trying to get out of your mind to cope with the day, you wonder if a drink would help put you to sleep, put an end to this abysmal day you'd endured. Which is how Farleigh finds you in the Blue Room, frowning at the bottle of liquor you'd left in the broken piano.

"You're up late," you mused flatly, still trying to decide if it was worth it to drink until you pass out in your study, "how was the -"

"We need to talk," Farleigh's tone is even more irate than you'd expected. Neither he nor the Catton siblings were ever in a particularly bright mood after being forced into any kind of proximity with your mother, and you were always touched by their loyalty, but this was something else.

You lower the piano lid, leaving the liquor for the time being. Turning to look at Farleigh, it's almost shocking to see how dark the look in his eyes was.

"What... happened?" You asked slowly. Farleigh's gaze flicks to the door behind you, to the long gallery and to the entrance to both yours and Oliver's bedrooms. Prying eyes, listening ears, though you were almost certain you'd heard Oliver leave not too long ago. A muscle in Farleigh's jaw twitches, and you instead offer your study for some privacy.

"You're not going to like it," is the first thing Farleigh tells you once the study door is closed. He sounds furious. Turning off your computer monitor, you choose to sit yourself on the sofa by the window, looking at him expectantly.

"This day's been a fucking nightmare already, I'm sure I can handle it," you rolled your eyes. Farleigh, however, chooses to sit at your desk, sideways on the chair, rather than joining you.

"You told Oliver not to fuck around with Venetia, didn't you?" It's unsettling to see Farleigh so serious. Still, his words have something twisting in your gut, even as you tried to play it off.

"Of course I did."

"Then tell me why I saw them practically eating each other on the front fucking lawn."

It's like you can feel the moment your blood turns to ice in your veins.

"This isn't funny," your lip curls, but Farleigh's severity remains, "this is a sick fucking joke, Farleigh, and a shitty thing to try and pull today of all goddamn days," your voice is rising, but he lets your fury build, uninterrupted.

"It would be an awful joke," he agreed, "if I was joking." All of the hopelessness that had plagued you since Oliver had left began to crystalise, calcifying into rage as his words settled in, "I don't care about Oliver," Farleigh's gaze shifted for a moment, still tense and furious, but there was something very nearly apologetic in his next words, "but unfortunately for me and for you right now, I care about you and Felix."

"Felix." Oh God. This couldn't be happening again. You'd told Oliver; you'd warned him. The fucking nerve!

"Yeah," Farleigh mutters quietly, "and you're going to be the one to tell him." When you try and protest, you're met with a sharp glare, and a stern reminder of how this exact situation had been reversed only twelve months ago over Eddie, "I'm not doing that again," Farleigh warned, "you owe me."

"Fine," you spit, "fuck, I'll tell him," hands shaking, you light up a cigarette. Farleigh stands, but hovers by your desk for a moment.

"He really knows how to pick them," He muses flatly.

"Shocking taste in men," scowling our of the window, your agreement is nonetheless irate, "fucking unbelievable," you hissed under your breath, "and he thinks there's something wrong with me?"

"There is," Farleigh's words surprise you, stinging a little, all things considered, "you fell for that stupid, little boy too," he reminds with a particularly vicious look.

"So it's my fault I have to break Felix's heart?"

"I'm saying that you've given me a lot of attitude for not liking him, but Oliver wouldn't even be here without both of you."

"Get the fuck out of my study, Farleigh," you order, pointing at the door, cigarette in hand and fury in your eyes.

The anger bubbling in your gut is beginning to burn. A thousand things are racing through your mind; top of the list is wondering just how quickly you make sure he's never welcomed back at Oxford. All you'd need was your computer and an hour to ruin Oliver Quick's entire life; you'd done it before. But if you turned that monitor on, if you had to once again look at that fucking email from your family - not even your family, their lawyers! - you think you might throw up. Tomorrow, with a clear head, you'd make your move.

And you'd tell Felix. No need to wake him now, give him a few hours to still live in the fantasy where the boy he was falling in love with wasn't once again going after his sister. Fuck- Venetia.

The more you thought about it all the more frenzied your outrage became. She wasn't innocent in this either, she never was. Venetia Catton was more than adept at finding both yours and her brother's exact pressure points and pressing with vehemence. So desperate to be loved yet so unable to come across as anything but insatiable, she'd always taken what she could get. You were good, but clearly you weren't enough to distract her from new, shiny Oliver.

The taste of smoke sticks to your teeth, as does your sour contemplation on how little the people you tried to love respected you. Or Felix. Christ, how were you meant to tell Felix?

Except you can't even really begin to contemplate how you'll break the news when you hear footsteps across the gallery.

Felix doesn't even knock - not that he ever has - before he lets himself in. You thought you'd have more time; the anger still burns white-hot inside of you, but despair and guilt flickers at the edges. He looks about as rough as you feel, concern and ebbing irritation in his expression. Of course, he'd spent the evening in the presence of your mother; none of the others ever felt nearly as much ire in her presence as he did.

Without a word, he strides across the room, all but pouting, and throws himself onto the sofa beside you. Drawing his legs up onto the sofa, he makes himself as small as possible - quite a task considering his size compared to the small, squashy sofa - and leans against you, head on your shoulder.

"Hate that woman," he hisses under his breath. You know he means your mother, but your mind is on his deceitful sister. All you can think about is Venetia and Oliver, but you can't very well tell Felix now. You don't have the words to not make everything so much worse if you tried. Already you'd decided to tell him in the morning, but right now you had to keep him from figuring out what was bothering you. Or that you were bothered at all.

So you decide to take a leaf out of Felix's own book, keep him happy and distracted in the way you knew best.

"Bad night?" Your voice is low as you move your arm back, fingers carding through his hair. The way Felix hums is still dark, but he shifts closer to you. After another moment of quiet, he huffs an irate breath out through his nose and begins to pluck at the hem of your shorts.

"Can I maim your mum the next time I see her?"

"She's not worth going to jail over," you tell him, leg shifting into his touch. Felix's hand stops fussing with your shorts to grip your thigh.

"You are," he huffs resolutely, and even despite your own anger you smile.

"My knight in shining armour," you laugh softly, lips against his forehead, "but do you really want to be so far away?" Leaning back against him, your hand moves from his hair to graze your nails down his bare arm, hoping he takes the hint. Thankfully, he does. The warm grip on your thigh tightens, and when he turns to look at you, there's something hungry in his eyes, "she's not worth your time, Fi," it comes out almost as a snarl, a truth you believe even in the depths of your own, otherwise mostly unrelated anger, but you turn your tone teasing, smirking at him, "I just choose to think about how I was apparently on your mind all night."

"I'm always thinking about you," he almost sounds a little breathless as he says it, managing to sit up more properly without moving away. You let your gaze flick to his lips before going back to look him in the eyes. Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you tilt your head very slightly, beginning to smile.

"And what are you think about me now?"

You'd always quietly loved whenever Felix was feeling possessive, and now moreso than ever. It made distracting him easy and fun, and Felix himself, his hands as he pulled you over to straddle his lap, to hold you close, to cradle your face as he kissed you so furiously, it was almost enough to distract you too. In all honesty, it was the only good thing to have happened all day, though even this was coloured by guilt, knowing what you still had to tell him when you found the right words.

However suddenly, Felix pulls back wearing a frown. For a few moments you find yourself catching your breath, confused, arms still around his neck.

"Something's wrong," it's not a question.

"Nothing's wrong," you lie, and hope it's more convincing them his usually are, "nothing at all," you hum, and move back in to press kisses to his jaw, hoping it's enough of a distraction to trail those kisses down his neck.

"You're angry about something," damn it. Of course Felix knows you too well.

"Am I?" You want to keep the ruse up for as long as you can manage, "and what would that be?" You murmured before you're sucking a beautiful, bruising hickey against his neck.

"I don't -" but his breath catches, grip on you tightening. It almost works; he swears faintly under his breath, losing himself in the moment and leaning into you, but then he actually seems to shake himself out of it, "come off it," he sighs, and you sit up, trying your best to appear both confused, and still in the mood, "if I'm not allowed to do this, neither are you." He says pointedly. Even though you're fighting a losing battle, you still lean in, still try and distract him with your mouth on his.

"Do what?" You murmur, nose to nose as you peck him quickly, desperately trying to keep your tone light and teasing. But you can see it in his eyes before he even says it; he knows exactly what you're doing.

"Distracting me because you know how fucking hot I think you are."

"And if I was," you murmured, pressing yourself against him, "why would that be such a bad thing?"

"Because you're being evasive," Felix pushed you back, held you at arm's length as your expression began to drop, fury beginning to creep back in as you remembered what exactly it is you didn't want to tell him, "you're not evasive with me;" he insists, "everyone else, sure, but this - whatever this is - is.. it's- it feels weird. This isn't you!"

"What am I then, Felix?"

"Mine!" He answered far too quickly, frustration sling out of him, but appears to catch himself, correcting to, "my best mate, alright? You don't not tell me things."

"So if there is something I'm not telling you, can you not trust that I might have a reason?" Finally your anger bursts from you, furious in the evening light. Felix has gone quiet, shocked; it's been a long time since you'd yelled at him like this. He looks wounded, apologetic, something you're not used to. Climbing off of him, you stand, you have to give yourself some distance from him, "there's a lot I don't tell you, Fi," you sighed, expression pinching as you tried to force yourself to calm down.

"You can tell me anything," Felix's voice has softened, leaning forward on the sofa. It aches to look at him, to see him so beautiful and vulnerable in these moments, "you know that."

"I know," you agreed, "it's not that I can't tell you, it's that I don't want to," you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, groaning; you can't look him in the eyes, can't even look at him right now, "and I will, that's the thing; I'm going to tell you, you're right, I always do, I just -" in a moment of weakness, your voice comes out almost sounding pitiful, defeated and frustrated, "I thought I had more time."

"What's wrong?" Felix asks softly. When you laugh, there's no humour in it. The more the reality of your situation sinks in, the more the fight leaves you.

"It's going to make you angry, or upset, or probably both," you sound rather helpless when you say it, but it seems like you no longer have a choice in when you get to tell him.

"Is it your mum?"

"I wish it was my mum," you shook your head, finally moving your hands to shake them out as you stepped back, leaning back against your desk with defeat. With every moment that passes you can feel Felix's gaze upon you, burning into you. When you are upset, he will never relent until he finds the source; usually it would be a gift, make you feel wanted and special and like you actually mattered for once. But this knowledge feels like a curse.

"We could run away," it's a last resort, barely more than a mutter as you look at your hands.

"What?"

"Just us," you continue, fidgeting, unable to look at Felix and the concern you knew you'd see in his eyes, "I could get us a little apartment in some artsy, London suburb," it's not going to work, not going to distract him, to keep him from prying the information from you that you know will hurt him, but it's all you have left, "you know nan would help us out, she'd kill for me. We could do whatever we wanted, never have to work a day in our lives. We could be whoever we wanted, wouldn't have to live in a house where they'd rather we die of heat stroke than ruin the wood panelling with an air conditioner," all you can think about is how you fell for a boy who didn't love you the way you hoped he would, and turned out couldn't even really respect you, "never have to go back to Oxford."

"What happened?" Standing, Felix crosses the short distance to your desk. There's so much sweetness in his voice as he sits in the desk chair beside you, looking up at you with his damn perfect brown eyes.

"I can't let this happen again, Fi," you hadn't even realised you were close to tears until it becomes harder to speak, "I tried, I fucking tried, I told him -"

"Who?"

"Ollie," you sniffled, face growing hot as you couldn't stop your tears from beginning to fall, "I warned him not to go near Venetia- I just- I can't believe she'd do this again, that Ollie couldn't respect when I ask him this one thing -"

"Ollie and Venetia?" There's an unsettling, blank quality to Felix's voice. The look in his eyes is far away and ice cold.

"Apparently hooking up on the front lawn," you clarified, voice weak, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes, derision edging it's way back into your voice as some of the anger returns, "for God, and Farleigh to bare witness," you took in a deep, shaking breath, attempting to pull yourself together, "I tried, Fi -"

"Fucking unbelievable," Felix snarls furiously, getting to his feet, "both of them- fuck, was Farleigh sure? He wasn't making some sick joke?"

"Even Farleigh wouldn't fuck with us like that," you muttered darkly, before adding, quiet, sounding actually pained with frustration, "I've been nothing but good to them, Fi, I thought -"

"You are never touching my sister again," Felix cuts you off firmly, voice forcibly calm. Surprised both by his tone and his words, you look up; he's so much closer than you'd realised The look in your best friend's eyes almost overwhelms you; protective, possessive, "I'm not watching her treat you like that anymore," he braces himself against the desk either side of you, crowding you against it.

"Fi," your barely manage a whisper, heartbeat racing in your chest, "I..." for just a moment he looks almost pained, and he hangs his head, faint, humourless laugh escaping him.

"I have to watch you fuck around with people who would barely give you the time of day; you're so fucking good it kills me sometimes," he bites out; you can't tell him that you know they're just using you, that so many people simply entertain the idea of you as a way to stay in Felix's life. Even if he'd never admit it, Felix knows. There's very little in his life that he's ever felt the need to reflect on, and even less that he feels any particular guilt about. You used to think he was fine with this arrangement, that he knew you could find the fun in these one-sided dynamics, "they're fucking using you," he grits out, but you're surprised by the way his fury almost sounds like despair, "I watch them and they're fucking using you like you're not even a person, Y/N."

Felix looks up; the looks in his eyes is more serious than you think you've ever seen from him. Deliberately, firmly, he takes your face in his hands.

"You're not my shadow, you know that, right?"

For a very long moment, you think you feel your heartbeat stop in your chest. On the surface it's a completely ridiculous question, except...

Feeling your face grow hot, you know he can see you tearing up; Felix has always known you better than anyone, always known exactly what you seem to need to hear. Nodding weakly, caught, pinned by his intense gaze, his focus on you, your lip trembles. Already fraught with emotions from the day, and the evening that had just passed, you have no fucking idea what to say. Felix has never spoken this out loud, never let himself properly wrestle with the subtext that coloured so much of your dynamic; it flickers across his face, the surprise and guilt and realisation as it hits him what he'd just said.

You are so much more to him than anyone else will ever give you credit for.

You are not his shadow, but you are unequivocally his.

So you kiss him.

[scotianostra]

On December 18th 1780 the Society of Antiquaries was founded.

The purpose of the Society is set out in the Royal Charter: “…to investigate both antiquities and natural and civil history in general, with the intention that the talents of mankind should be cultivated and that the study of natural and useful sciences should be promoted.

The original members began to donate material to the Society from its inception, and in 1781 it bought a property so that the donations it received could be properly deposited. The Antiquarian Society Hall appears on the Alexander Kincaid A Plan of the City and Suburbs of Edinburgh in 1784, located off the Cowgate and behind Parliament Close off the Royal Mile (then Lawnmarket). After several moves, the Society rented accommodation in the Institution for the Encouragement of the Fine Arts (later the Royal Institution) at the foot of The Mound in 1826 (now the Royal Scottish Academy). A detailed account of the history of the Museum was written by RBK Stevenson, former Keeper of the National Museum of Antiquities of Scotland and President of the Society, in The Scottish Antiquarian Tradition, edited by A S Bell and published to mark the bicentenary of the Society and its Museum in 1981

In 1841 there were over 4,000 visitors, including the Queen and Prince Albert, to the Society Museum to view the thousands of objects collected over the previous 60 years. By 1850 free admission to this collection was attracting 17,000 visitors per year, which led in turn to the accelerated expansion of the collection as donations flowed in, and to the publication of a 150 page catalogue.

In November 1851 the signing of a Deed of Conveyance with the Board of Manufactures on behalf of Parliament made the Society collections National Property in return for fit and proper accommodation at all times, for the preservation and exhibition of the collection, and also for the Society’s meetings, free of all expense to them. By this time the collections were housed in 24 George Street, they then moved back to the mound before sharing The National Portrait Gallery for a time.

In 1861 construction of the Industrial Museum of Scotland began, with Prince Albert laying the foundation stone. In 1866, renamed the Edinburgh Museum of Science and Art, the eastern end and the Grand Gallery were opened by Prince Alfred. In 1888 the building was finished and in 1904 the institution was renamed the Royal Scottish Museum.

There have been many extensions to the building over the years to accommodate the growing collections, the latest was finished in 2011, giving us the splendid new building adjoined to the old one, they also opened up the basement as a shop and cafeteria, the Society still functions today. the museum is one of the most popular tourist attractions in Scotland and in 2019 approximately 2.2 million visitors passed through it’s doors, the way things are going it will be a while before we see anything like these numbers again.

[marblemoonstones]

🩵 catharsis ~ chapter nine

main masterlist

series masterlist 

pairing: bts ot7 x reader

genre: collegestudentreader!au 

warnings: ❗️any characters in the story have nothing to do with their real life counterparts❗️f reader, reader with glasses, curse words, too many italicized words *lmk if i missed any*

word count: ~4.4k

a/n: i really love this chapter sm so i hope you do too :) also sorry for the time skip, i am planning out the rest of the series and need to reach a certain point!  ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

A couple weeks pass since that night, and I find myself happier than normal. I gave up on moving to the dorms because the boys immediately shot that idea down when I brought it up to them. 

Sure, the rumors are still happening, but I am doing my best to ignore them and they’ve died down a bit for now. Although, whenever the boys see Haneul they are icier than normal.

It’s the delicious time of the year where autumn is in full swing. Hot chocolate is coming into season and so is cider. I bust out the sweaters and jeans as well as my thick fluffy socks. 

The second week in October is also arts week at uni. The university brings in alumni and also has all students who are involved in art in some way participate. While all the boys (minus Jungkook) don’t attend uni anymore, they’re all alumni and annually participate (minus Namjoon). He tells me that he still enjoys arts week thoroughly though.

I also take part during this beautifully hectic week. I’m in choir and also am doing a dance showcase. Jimin reveals his contemporary dance idea for us two (I omit that I already knew about it) so we’re practicing hard for that. 

The boys made me a schedule. Well, “the boys” really means that Yoongi added all our events to one big shared calendar that is really all of our schedules. I color coded my events so I can keep them all straight.

Monday: art gallery with joon 

Tuesday: visit tae gallery 

Wednesday: watch jk film starring jin @6pm

Thursday: visit yoongi showcase/gallery

Friday: concert @7, arrive @6pm!!

Saturday: final rehearsal @10am. dance showcase @6pm, arrive @4!!

It’s currently Sunday evening and the boys and I are watching a movie (Mulan) before the chaos of the week starts. This past week has been hell as well, but we made a promise to each other to be available Sunday evening for a rest. 

I look around and see that Hobi and Taehyung have already conked out. Jimin is carding his fingers through Tae’s hair and sends me a soft smile when I glance at him. 

The mood is so cozy and I find myself dozing on Jin’s shoulder. Once in a while he’ll ghost a soft kiss on the top of my head. I’m too tired to wonder why. The last thing I remember is an avalanche before I’m out.

~

I am a queencard, you wanna be the queencard? Imma a queencard, imma queencard…

The voices of G-idle wake me up and I groan, regretting my alarm choices. I thought I was so smart to use a powerful pop song to wake up to, hoping that it would motivate me for the killer week ahead. Instead, I want to chuck my phone into outer space.

“Alright alright. I get it. I’m a queencard,” I mumble under my breath. Stretching, I turn off the alarm and relish in the silence. 

…

“Y/n! Y/N! Y/N!” 

My door bursts open. Well. That lasted about two seconds. It’s Taehyung and Jungkook. What a surprise.

“What?” I ask, annoyed that they’re barging in at the early time of 8:23am (which, hypothetically isn’t that early but I need an excuse to complain about). 

“You ready for this week? It’s gonna be killer Y/n!” Jungkook cheers, bouncing on my bed like a child would on Christmas morning.

I shove him off as Tae cackles.

“Fuck off. It’s too early for this. Why are you in here?” I ask, trying to herd them out, but failing because they have the core strength of gods. 

“Because breakfast is gonna be ready soon! And Jin-hyung wanted to give you time to get ready and stuff beforehand!” Tae almost shouts. 

I cringe, my eardrums practically exploding. 

“Okay, thanks. Now get out.” I point to the door and can sense their hesitation so I use their moment of weakness to shove them again.

“Get. Out!” 

They leave and I sigh as I lean against the door. How much caffeine have they had? I wonder as I go to shower.

~

I wrap my towel around me and shove on my glasses. The steam in the bathroom just fogs them up so I open the door. 

“AAH!” I scream, shutting it instantly. 

Yoongi’s standing in the middle of my room, looking bored amongst the pink and green hues.

“What do you want?!” I shout, placing one hand on my beating heart in the bathroom.

“Sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he starts, “It’s just that I was sent to give you this dress from Namjoon.” 

What? A dress? Couldn’t he have given me that without giving me a heart attack?

“Okay,” I grind out, already annoyed at the energetic wake up call from the maknaes, “Why can’t he give it to me himself?” 

“Because he was too afraid that he’d rip or stain it or something,” is the response.

That makes sense, but I’m still kind of pissed off at Yoongi just coming in my room.

“Great. Thanks for the dress, Yoongi, now can you get out? I need to get dressed in this apparently special outfit and you’re kinda barring me from that.” I say, sarcasm dripping from my tone. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. And sorry about the maknaes coming in to wake you up too. I’ll go,” says the ever respectful Yoongi. 

“Thank you,” I say gratefully through the bathroom door.

I hear my bedroom door shut and crack the bathroom door open. Peering out, there’s no one in my room and I open the door all the way. There’s a package on the bed which I can only assume is the dress Yoongi was talking about.

I put on my undergarments and carefully open the dress. I pull it out and it’s one of the most gorgeous things I’ve ever seen. 

The smooth fabric is a stunning shade of brown and has shimmers of gold sewn into it. The long sleeves add elegance and the tiered skirt makes it seem as if it’s a ball gown and not a normal day dress. I try it on and it magically fits perfectly. It reaches my ankles, but with shoes on I won’t step on it. I feel truly pretty, and wonder how the boys always know what looks best on me. 

I forego hair and makeup for after breakfast and make my way downstairs feeling way too overdressed, especially for a Monday.

I descend the stairs, holding up the dress like I’m Snow White or something. 

Just  my luck: they’re all gathered at the kitchen table.

Namjoon is the first to see me, eyes becoming bigger than saucers and I swear his mouth drops a little. 

The other boys soon follow suit. Jin chokes on his food and Hobi almost drops his mug. Yoongi is frozen like a statue and the maknaes full on “Woah.” 

“Um, good morning?” I say, stifling my laugh at their shell shocked expressions.

“You look so fucking good,” Jungkook blurts out.

Jin, having taken a sip of water, promptly spits it out.

I crack at that. This shatters the silence and soon everyone is laughing with me.

“H-hyung-” Jimin is in stitches and almost falls out of his chair. “-you spit water right on Yoongi-hyung!” 

I look, and sure enough, Yoongi’s sitting there like a wet cat. There’s not too much water, but it makes the situation much funnier. We all die, and Jimin actually does fall out of his chair.

“Oh boy, what a way to start the morning,” Hobi says, wiping his tears.

“Yeah. I guess the dress is pretty good,” I say, then thank Jungkook for his compliment. “Thanks Kook, by the way. I appreciate it.”

He just grins his bunny smile. 

“Jungkook is absolutely right, Y/n. You look stunning, sweetpea,” Namjoon says, casually throwing in that damn nickname again. 

I smooth out the skirt, avoiding his eyes. “Thanks, Joon. It means a lot.”

“Namjoon has such good taste!” Exclaims Hobi, then he pouts. “I wish I was taking you to a fancy schmany art gallery.” 

“It’s okay, Hobi,” I almost laugh at his exaggerated pouty face. “We have plenty of time to do things together after arts week!” 

“Why don’t you sit down Y/n, have some breakfast before you leave,” Jin says, gesturing to the table. 

“Wait, we don’t want you to spill anything on your dress,” says Taehyung. He quickly gets an apron and ties it around my waist. 

“Isn’t this Jin’s apron?” I ask, looking at the familiar lilac hue with the stain in the corner. 

“Yes, but of course you can wear it honey,” says Jin. I’m going to have to start counting how many times they use nicknames.

“Okay, thanks.” I dig into the delicious spread. We chat about our plans for today. Hobi and Jimin have their individual dance rehearsals, Jungkook has to go to the first day of the film festival, Yoongi has to attend his music gallery, and Taehyung is putting the finishing touches on his designs. Jin doesn’t have much to do today, but I know he’ll accompany someone to their respective event today.

After finishing a semi-peaceful breakfast, it’s time for all of us to face the realities of the day. 

Everyone scatters and I turn to Namjoon, asking him what time we need to be at the exhibit.

“It starts at eleven, so we have about an hour until we need to leave,” he replies. 

I nod and then decide to go help wash the dishes since there’s nothing better for me to do. 

“Nuh uh. You’re not washing the dishes in that dress. Go sit,” Jin commands. 

“But Jin,” I whine, “I’m booored. We don’t leave for another hour! And I can’t help anyone else. What am I supposed to do until then?” 

He chuckles at my misery.

“I know, honey, but maybe just read or something. Enjoy this bored feeling while it lasts.” He shoos me out of the kitchen so I decide to go upstairs because I realize that I forgot to do my hair and makeup.

I’m walking up the stairs as Jungkook comes rushing down. We collide with a small “Oof!” I feel…damp, so I look down and see that my dress is wet. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Y/n,” Jungkook says, panic written on his face, “Your dress! I’m such an idiot. Oh my god. I can’t believe I did that.” 

He seems to have spilled his coffee on my dress.

“It’s okay!” I try to reassure Jungkook, but Jin is already at the scene. 

“Kook! Watch where you’re going!” He scolds, but doesn’t berate the poor boy much longer because Jungkook looks about close to tears. 

All over a dress, I think. 

“I’m so sorry Y/n! I’ll pay for dry cleaning, whatever it needs!” 

Jin grabs some napkins to dab at the growing stain but it’s no use. I know that I won’t be wearing this today.

“It’s fine, Kook.” I try to give him a reassuring smile, but he doesn’t seem to buy it. 

“No, it’s not Y/n! Why aren’t you upset?” He asks me desperately.

I’m confused. 

“Is that…how you want me to react?” I ask him, befuddled at his reaction.

“No, it’s just that the average person would be mad at Kook,” Jin explains, finishing dabbing at the excess of coffee, “But it looks like you’re not an average person.” 

I grab Jungkook’s hands and look him in the eye. “Jungkook, I promise, I don’t care. I will find something else to wear. Now go.” I give him a look and he grudgingly goes to leave. 

“Thank you, Y/n,” Jin murmers quietly to me, “He’s been so stressed over the film festival that even a small thing upsets him more than it should.” 

“It’s all good,” I reply, “I understand.” 

We part ways and I go upstairs to tell Namjoon that I can’t wear his dress that he chose. 

“It’s okay, Y/n, I heard what happened,” he says, and I try not to ogle him in his button up and tie. 

“Okay, great. Let me go change and touch myself up,” I say, turning away so I can’t see his muscles underneath his shirt. 

“Y/n!” I run into Taehyung on the short distance from Namjoon’s room to my own.

“Yeah?” I ask, mentally running through my closet to find another dress to wear.

“I have a dress you can wear!” This snaps me out of my thoughts.

“You do?” I ask, although I shouldn’t be surprised because Taehyung is a goddamn fashion designer.

“Yes! Come to my room and I can give it to you!” Before I can say anything more he gently pulls me to his room.

I internally gag at the amount of stuff in his room, much like Jungkook’s but with more artsy elements thrown in like crystals on the desk or colored pencils strewn everywhere. 

“Tae-“

“Aha! Here it is. I knew buying it was a good choice!” Taehyung pulls out a bag on a hanger and thrusts it into my arms. 

“Go! Now! This dress will make you and Namjoonie-hyung’s date perfect!” 

I gape like a fish before sputtering “It’s not a date!” 

“Sure it isn’t. Now hurry up! I want to see the full look before you leave!” Taehyung winks then shuts the door on me. 

I’m left standing outside his door like a mom who got kicked out by their teenage son.

“You heard the boy! Go!” Shouts an enthusiastic Hobi from across the hall.

I chuckle and make my way two doors down.

I shut the door (and lock it for good measure) then gingerly unzip the bag. A gasp leaves me. There’s the dress that I found when I went shopping with Taehyung and Jungkook a while ago. The crimson color and gold flowers are still gorgeous, and I can’t wait to slip it on.

I do my hair and makeup first then put on the dress. The sweetheart neckline fits perfectly and I grab my low shimmery heels. I double check that my purse is ready and open my door.

I head downstairs and hear Yoongi whistle and Hobi shout “Looking good Y/n!” 

I scoff but feel myself smile. 

“There we go! Looking fabulous, if I do say so myself,” Taehyung says, taking a photo of me on his phone.

“Tae! Stop!” I say, covering my face. 

“But I have to remember this day!” He pouts, but lowers his phone. 

“He’s right you know,” Jin chimes in from his spot at the table. 

“Ugh Jin not you too!” I groan, lowering myself to put on my shoes.

“Let me.” Taehyung puts them on and it feels like a damn Cinderella moment. 

“Thanks, Tae.” He salutes then goes upstairs to get Namjoon.

“You really do look gorgeous, honey,” Jin says, walking over and fixing my hair before giving me quick kiss on the head.

I flush. 

“Thanks, Jin.” 

“C’mon hyung! Y/n is patiently waiting for you, so the least you can do is hurry up.” Taehyung’s voice is heard from upstairs and is followed by an annoyed Namjoon’s voice.

“I’m coming, Taehyung. You’re the one who made me change my tie!”

Boisterous laughter filters downstairs and Jin and I look at each other, bemused.

They finally come downstairs with Taehyung leading a blindfolded Namjoon.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Namjoon asks after stumbling on a step.

“Yes. We have to do a big reveal!” Taehyung insists.

After reaching the bottom of the stairs (safely) Taehyung gestures for me to come stand in front of Namjoon.

“Three, two, one!” He pulls off the blindfold with a flourish and Namjoon blinks to adjust to the light. 

I stand there awkwardly as Namjoon takes in my outfit. His eyes rove over me and I do the same to him. He always is handsome, but today he looks…hot. Taehyung must have helped him. His button up is now rolled up to his elbows, showing off his arms and his tie matches my dress. His tighter pants accentuate his godly thighs and I can see his arm muscles strain when he moves.

Fuck fuck fuck.

(a/n: namjoon is the reason i got into bts, btw)

“Wow. You look amazing, Y/n,” Namjoon breathes out. 

“So do you. How did you have a tie to match me?” I ask him, noting how the red shade is the exact color of my dress.

“Tae just so happened to have one for me to borrow,” Namjoon says, side eyeing said man. 

“Hey, leave me out of this. You two should get going on your date,” Taehyung says, arms up in fake surrender and backs out of the room, dragging Jin with him.

“It’s not a date!” I hiss at him as he leaves me with yet another wink. 

“I guess that’s our clue to leave?” Namjoon asks, pulling on his shoes, “Seriously, though, Y/n, you look stunning.”

“Aw, thanks Joon,” I say sincerely as we hop into his car. 

(a/n: in this au he can drive, please don’t kill me!!)

We arrive at the venue - a nice building on campus that’s already bustling with people. 

Stepping out, I feel overdressed as most people have on nicer casual clothing like a sundress. 

Namjoon must notice my distress because he says, “You look stunning, Y/n. These poorly dressed people won’t know what hit them.”

I laugh at that and we make our way in. 

They have a small finger food and drinks table to the side so we head over to get some things to munch on. 

“These mini sandwiches are heaven.” I almost moan, sad that there aren’t any left since we took the last ones.

“Here, have mine.” Namjoon offers me his plate and I shake my head. I can’t take his food. 

“No, really. I don’t think I’ll like them and I’d rather have cookies.” He insists so I take them but give him my cookies on my plate. 

“It’s a fair trade,” I say. 

We grab some punch and meander our way through the exhibit. There’s a great variety of paintings ranging from watercolor flowers to abstract Pollock-style art. The artists are all standing by their respective paintings and many are chatting with people. 

Some students also chose to want to sell their art. I can tell who they are because of the star sticker on their description. Their prices are expensive, so I stick to admiring it from afar. 

Namjoon and I are mostly quiet, looking at the different paintings and reading the descriptions. Occasionally we’ll chat with the artist before making our way to the next painting.

“Oh my gosh! I feel like Jin would really like this one,” I say, looking at the painting. It’s a gorgeous garden, and the smooth strokes still manage to have a slight texture to them. 

“Yeah you’re right…I think I’ll buy it for him,” Namjoon says, and I feel a sense of pride at being able to help.

Namjoon talks to the seller and organizes a price. After writing a check, he comes back to admire it with you. 

“Did I ever tell you how we came to all date each other?” Namjoon randomly says.

I turn to him.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me,” I say, wondering where this came from.

“It’s alright. I want to.” 

I look at him as he begins.

“I first met Jimin when I was a sophomore and he was a freshman here. Did you know Jimin’s first major was education?” Namjoon shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. “Yeah. He loved kids, but realized that he loved dance more. We grew close during that year though, and began dating that summer.” 

I’ve always suspected that Namjoon and Jimin have a special bond, and I can totally see Jimin being an amazing teacher. 

(a/n: sorry for another note but teacher!jimin is inspired by sgmb!jimin. i don’t make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️)

“The next year Jimin began his dance major program and met Hobi-hyung. They bonded over their love of dance and somewhere along the way we became a trio. Jimin was the one who expressed interest in Hobi-hyung first, but I soon followed. We decided to give it a try, and it ended up working out.” 

I take a sip of punch as Namjoon continues.

“Hobi-hyung became interested in Jin-hyung next, and with Jin-hyung came Yoongi-hyung. I don’t remember the exact day, but we all were drunk one night and confused each others’ feelings. You know the saying: drunk words come to mean sober thoughts. We all realized that we liked each other as more than just friends.” 

We continue to stroll slowly down the exhibit.

“There were five of us now in our relationship. It was hard to manage at the beginning, but we fell into a comfortable groove.” 

Namjoon pauses, glancing at me and taking a drink. 

“So only Tae and Jungkook were left, right?” I ask, making sure I got the facts straight.

“Yep. They’re our babies, but it was actually Jimin who found them as well. I guess we should be thanking him for bringing a lot of us together.” Namjoon laughs at that.

“Anyways, Jimin was friends with Taehyung because of a class together and then they got paired up in a project. Jimin fell for Tae and then also Jungkook. The five of us were skeptical about adding more people to our already big relationship, but Jimin was adamant. We trusted him enough to give it a shot, and the rest is history.”

Namjoon finishes and looks at me, smiling as he thinks about his boyfriends.

“That’s such a cute story!” I say, thinking about how they all found each other.

“Thank you, Y/n. You know, at this point, I even think the boys wouldn’t mind if we brought another person into our relationship,” says Namjoon.

I furrow my brows. 

“Really? That would be a lot of people.” I wonder how one could manage that big of a relationship.

“Yeah but if they all like each other then it works, right?” Asks Namjoon.

“I guess so. I don’t really know but I don’t have much experience with a big relationship,” I say, darting my eyes to another painting, “Look at that one! It’s gorgeous, let’s go take a look.” 

I steer Namjoon over and also steer the conversation away from relationships. Why do I feel hot all over?

~

Near the end of the exhibit I see a familiar face.

“Seungmin!” I walk quickly over, Namjoon following me.

“Oh, hey Y/n!” He says, grinning as I come over to where he and a couple others are standing. 

Namjoon quietly clears his throat.

“Oh! Seungmin, this is Namjoon. Namjoon, this is Seungmin. He’s in my Foundations of Education class,” I explain. 

They nod at each other and I swear I see Namjoon’s jaw tick. But it’s just my imagination, right?

Seungmin smiles.

“So, Y/n, if you’re interested in art come take a look at my boyfriend Hyunjin-hyung’s!” 

I look at the painting in front of me and am in awe. It’s gorgeous, the strokes precise yet delicate and it’s walking a nice line between abstract and realistic. 

“Wow. He’s really talented,” I say, Namjoon humming in agreement. 

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” says a voice behind me. 

I turn and there’s who I assume to be Hyunjin. 

“Of course! I love this style,” I compliment. 

“Hyunjin-hyung is going to be famous someday,” Seungmin boasts, giving the latter a quick peck on the cheek.

“Oh, stop, Seungminnie,” Hyunjin says, but still accepts the kiss.

“No, no, it’s true,” another familiar voice chimes in. Sure enough, there’s Bangchan. 

“Hey Channie-hyung. This is Y/n and Namjoon, her boyfriend!” Seungmin pipes up.

I widen my eyes and go to tell them the truth but Namjoon just sticks his hand out and says, “Pleased to meet you.” 

Well. I guess we’re a couple now.

The five of us talk for a couple minutes and then Namjoon surprises me.

“Hey, Hyunjin, I’m interested in buying this piece of art. What’s your price?” He asks. 

They negotiate and eventually settle on one. Namjoon writes another check and I bid goodbye to Seungmin and his boyfriends.

“Bye Seungmin! See you in class later.” I wave as we walk away. He waves back then turns to his boyfriends.

“He’s seems nice,” Namjoon says, although there’s an underlying tone of something I can’t quite place. Boredom? Anger? Jealousy? 

No. That can’t be right.

“He is. I’m glad he has his boyfriends,” I say, snatching a cheese cube and promptly shoving it in my mouth. Ugh. So good.

“Me too. C’mon, Y/n, I know you’re craving food.” 

Namjoon laughs at my face and I glare at him, but he’s right. Those mini sandwiches can only fill a person up to a certain point.

“Alright fine.” 

I give in and we go to Sonic. Call me crazy but I really wanted a grilled cheese from there.

“What do you want Y/n?” Namjoon asks after he ordered himself.

“A grilled cheese with a large fries and a medium-“

“-cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper,” Namjoon finishes, popping his dimple out at me, “You got it!”

I wonder how he knows my order but guess it’s because I go here so often.

“Hey, let me pay!” I protest, trying to hand Namjoon my credit card.

“No, it’s okay! I took you out to the art exhibit so I need to pay for the whole thing.” He’s already sliding in his card so I sigh. 

“Fine, fine. One of these day you guys have to let me do something to pay you back,” I grumble. 

“Just you is a payment enough.” Namjoon smiles and I roll my eyes. Sure, they always say that but I still want to find someway to pay back their kindness. 

Our food arrives soon after and we munch in the car.

“Ohhhh I love Sonic so much,” I say, stuffed after Namjoon let me have some of his chili cheese fries. 

He laughs while he pulls out. I smack his arm (damn his bicep is huge).

“Okay, okay! Sorry.” 

We laugh together and I close my eyes on the drive back. 

Contentment fills my body and I fall asleep listening to Namjoon softly humming.

a/n: namtiddies for life, am i right? i wanted namjoon to have more time with the mc so i basically dedicated this entire chapter to him haha. hope you enjoyed reading 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[bigfrozenfan]

10-year-old mystery finally solved

One of the biggest riddles of Disney Frozen is how the choir gets up to the gallery. Nowhere in the movie is an entrance to the gallery or an access of any kind to be seen. All we see during Elsa's coronation scene is a completely open construction of the chapel, but there are twelve singers above the altar. How do they get there? Many fans have wondered how this is possible for ten years of Frozen's existence and everyone has puzzled over it. Even in books and comics, not a single clue is given and, stupidly, nowhere can you see the back of the chapel, i.e. from the west. Not even in Mindcraft designs is this side more clearly visible, which proves that the fans have no idea. However, there is Disney concept art and two, almost identical books about Arendelle Castle. The latter is clearly intended for children, but even there you can see the beginnings of a solution to the problem.

I myself was at a loss until yesterday, when I suddenly realised something while downloading screenshots and concept art. And tada!, suddenly everything was completely simple and logical. I could hardly believe it. You're probably asking yourselves now, "So how does that work? I don't believe anything without proof!" No problem. Let's go!

But first I'd like to show you my initial approach - until it turned out to be rubbish and couldn't work at all because of the open construction, no matter how you twist and turn it. Maybe you've already got there yourself.

Then I looked at the concept art of the chapel from the outside and the floor plan. Suddenly everything was clear to me and it made perfect sense. The only thing that didn't quite fit is the illustration in the book "All Around Arendelle" and the almost identical book "A Frozen World". There, the lower windows of the chapel are not shown, which can be seen in the concept art and round off the picture - also to the original model, St Olaf Church! But hey, it's a children's book and, in my opinion, the only incorrect depiction of the actual situation.

Here is the final proof:

Some side thoughts:

it makes no sense whatsoever to see a ladder or stairs in the church. It also makes no sense for something like this to be brought in from outside before every service.

a permanently installed staircase, but invisible to churchgoers, makes much more sense. But it must be easily accessible for the choir singers who a) want to rehearse independently of church services and b) do not enter the chapel at the same time as churchgoers. They arrive in their everyday clothes perhaps half an hour early and only need to put on their robes, which are c) always ready for them in a locked room behind the altar.

The entrance is well hidden behind the altar screen, and it is very likely that this door is even wallpapered in the style of the immediate surroundings, so it can withstand a casual glance from a curious person. In the room behind it, there is either a ladder to the gallery or - more likely - a permanently installed, narrow staircase leading to a hatch in the gallery. The singers' robes are always hanging ready for changing and the hatch at the top is there so that none of the singers accidentally tumble down the steps when closed. The stained glass windows around the small room also let in enough light for the singers to get changed in daylight without being seen, to talk face to face before the service and to get into the right mood with the coloured light from this type of window. There is another good reason for having a room separate from the church. The pastor or bishop can prepare there in peace, store things for the sermon and talk to the choristers undisturbed. I'm sure there are other reasons for such a room that I just can't think of right now, but you can certainly think of them yourselves.

This is how it would look like if the tapestry wall wouldn't be there:

PS: the only thing I haven't been able to solve yet is how to get up into the bell tower. There is a staircase that leads nowhere and no rope to ring the bell. Very strange… But on the real model, St Olaf's Church in Norway, you can see a ladder leading up to the bell tower.

Credits to: Art of Animation for the concept art images, and to GETTY images, David Nikel (for Forbes), Visitnorway.com for the images of St. Olaf Church in Balestrand, Norway.

Here are a few more pictures of St Olaf's Church in Balestrand, Norway, for those of you who are interested:

UPDATE 04/2024:

I stumbled upon a screencap from Frozen Fever where you can clearly see the rear left side of the chapel. And there are windows to be seen! I would say: because it's not only a part of the concept art but is seen in the Frozen Fever short too, my theory is confirmed now.

[tacoma-narrows]

Have a Day! (2024 Version)

You know it's a big day in the Tacoma Nation when Tac draws his WoF-sona lmao.

Today, May 23rd, 2024, marks 7 years since I first got my drawing tablet, so I decided to draw my first ever digital art piece (which is below the cut if you wanna see it)! Of course, as I was way deep into the WoF fandom at the time, it's of Vostok! It's nothing spectacular, but I think it does a good job at showing how my style has evolved over the years.

I think you can definitely see traces of my current style in the original piece [below]. Mainly I think you can see it in the head shape and the way I do the scales. This is also the first time I've drawn Vostok in about a year and a half, the first time I've drawn a dragon from a profile view since June of 2021, and the first time I've drawn Vos outside of a group piece since October of 2020! This is also Vostok's 199th Toyhouse gallery image, so after over 7 years, this mans might soon join Shep in the 200+ TH images club :3

Also to be fair, if you were to see him from this angle, usually the top sides of his wings would be a solid dark blue, but for the sake of this piece, I wanted to make it so you could see his wing membranes :]

Getting this drawing tablet was probably the biggest thing that ever happened in my art life, since it opened up SO many new doors for me, and to think I still use the same little Wacom Intuos after all these years. It's been with me through a lot, that's for sure lmao.

The title here, which I also used for the original piece, came from a line that a friend of mine in high school said all the time, saying that even if your day is good or bad, just try to live in the moment. It's not really connected to the piece itself, but I like the sentiment of it :]

Here's the original, from May 23, 2017! When I made this, plainly I had not yet figured out some key things like lineart stabilization and how I wanted his colors and scales to work lmao. Eventually I figured out how I like to draw him and he stabilized into his current design haha. This was actually traced over another drawing that I had done traditionally prior to getting my drawing tablet. I figured for my first time using it, tracing over one of my pre-existing drawings would be a better way of starting than just a blank slate lol.

[peachlicks79]

Before the Storm

Before The Storm

"This should be it. Thanks for coming with me, Lena." Kara held the door open for her friend as Lena slipped past, the crisp step of her high heels getting lost in the bar's happy hour noise, patrons yelling over the pumping base and lively karaoke. Kyrptonian eyes were bright as she peered at the bottles lining the walls like an alcoholic library. They were both here on prelude to business for tomorrow: Kara for an interview with the art gallery that was setting to open tomorrow curating works from all human and alien walks of life, and Lena taking a financial investment in an up and coming woman-owned business in the arts. Their meeting inspired a casual stakeout of the places around, and they had stuck to the bar beside the art gallery where Kara had done some research and found out the owners were friends and visited to support often.

"Of course, Kara. It's nice to have a night out sometimes." Red lipstick parted in a fond smile as the CEO took in her blonde friend sweeping by her and leading the way. It was always interesting seeing Kara in different situations in her reporter role. While Lena normally didn't frequent these types of establishments other than the monthly get-together with the Superfriends, it was an even rarer sight to see the Kryptonian around other aliens outside of her Supergirl role.

Victoria Chase had made a name for herself after the storm of Arcadia Bay, photographing the horrific event and raising money for the town's rebuild outside of her family name years ago. The incident had piqued Lena's interest, the adopted Luthor feeling the tell-tale call of bloodline and needing to make a name for herself outside of it garnering many a look at the art portfolio Victoria had taken to posting online. After five years and times of travel capturing more and more natural horrors, Victoria had stated in a press announcement she was looking to open up her own art gallery, away from her parents' Chase Space, with her partner, Max Caulfield in National City. Their motivation to do so was for inclusion of all, aliens and humans alike, to come together and share in expressions of art concerning global warming and other natural events that had taken away homes and towns and cities. A portion of their proceeds would go to charities, and further the awareness of supporting more green ecological steps and inclusive diversity.

Alien Amnesty had been put into place for the better part of three years, but Lena knew better than anyone a law passing would take time to cement itself socially. Noticing the ease of which Kara carried herself between the tables and people, Lena was grateful this establishment had succeeded in making aliens and humans alike comfortable. When Kara beckoned her over to a snagged table and three sets of double shot glasses in front of her, Lena made her way over and raised an amused eyebrow.

"Normally you're an eat first, drink later type." Her statement was met with a wide smile and sparkling blue eyes gently pushing the drink in front of her.

"You don't have to if you don't want, Lena," Kara started, then nodded up as she raised a toast to the ceiling. Lena's eye followed as Kara continued, holding her glass out for her friend to cheers against. "But there was a poster saying we would get a free appetizer if we ordered two drinks, and a free photo after five!!"

Polaroids draped down the pillars and sides of walls, and the ceiling was covered in stories. It looked like a community effort for interaction, and at that the dark-haired woman acquiesed to a quick clink against Kara's glass as she tipped her head back and took the offered drink. Warmth bloomed through her as she swallowed, her chest tightening as she watched Kara down hers, the blonde a mix between business and casual as she slapped her palms down on the table, letting out little taps against the hardwood.

"Whooo, that's new!!" Tilting her head, Lena couldn't help but laugh, Kara's outburst louder than the crackbreak of the pool balls behind their shared space.

"What is?" Kara fanned herself slightly, crossing her legs and bumping Lena's a bit as she repositioned herself. She had taken to wearing more pants as of late, explaining that she enjoyed her costume's suit better with coverage, and it reflected nicely of the fall weather. The blonde may be indestructible, but sensation was sensation and Lena knew better than most the effect of clothing and how it could be worn as an armored aesthetic.

"They serve alien drinks here. Wierdly enough, it tastes better than where we normally go."

"Are you sure you don't want to stick to human alcohol where it won't affect you so you can get more free potstickers?" Lena teased, leaning back and enjoying the relative ease the drink brought her. Kara gasped, mock glaring.

"How did you know my plan? And what if I wanted something else?" Lena threw up a hand in a motion that excused her friend's sentence and laughed. "Darling, I know you better than that."

Blue eyes blinked slowly at her, and Kara's smile deepened as she leaned forwards. Not for the first time Lena's eyes dipped to those pink lips, then blinked to take in all of Kara downing another drink. It had been a fairly hectic week with Alex and J'onn running Supergirl into multiple mob jobs, National City thugs scurrying under the last covers of summer parties and illegal rings where out of towners had taken to coming to. It wasn't anything outside of the ordinary, but Kara had confessed to Lena she preferred the direct fights of alien tussles where she didn't have to hold back as much to hurt anyone. There hadn't been a lot of down time as of late for a one on one get-together, and Kara seemed determined to catch up now since the season was changing and the last they had been out had been near the start of the summer. Lena didn't miss the assassination attempts as more and more time passed and the city understood she had a good communication with Supergirl, but the CEO refused to admit she looked forwards to the blonde superhero always arriving in the nick of time. Damn her and her masochistic streak.

Around them the place burst into a roar of excitement, and Lena blinked. Both her and Kara looked back at the open door where a pair of women had come in, and one was currently in a headlock by a tattooed punk who popped up from out behind the bar. The shorter brunette was laughing, freckles highlighted by the heat of the sun, and in a smooth motion stepped away and a shutter clicked from a polaroid camera. The print captured just in time as the pixie-cut blonde stepped forwards and hooked a leg behind the knee of the lean woman, effectively sweeping the blue-haired punk off her feet and nonchalantly tipping her back onto the floor in a move that would do Alex Danvers proud. Before a real scuffle could begin, a flash of red flannel had settled between the two women and Kara and Lena looked on with interest when another woman with a feathered earring playfully flicked both of them on the nose.

"Cut it out, Chlo, and really, Victoria? Couldn't you and Max have visited any earlier?"

A snort came from the taller blonde, elegantly righting her hair as she took the shorter brunette woman's hand in hers and walked deeper into the bar, where patrons nodded happily to the newcomers and raised hands for high fives.

"Tell that to this one over here. . . she really Maxed out her excuses with the jetlag from France."

"Tori!! You said we wouldn't kiss and tell."

"Oh, so it's YOU I should be grilling, Mad Max!! Not surprised, only disgusted. C'mon, I found a song that suits you both to a T."

Kara and Lena turned back to each other and laughed, a little surprised and both delighted. Victoria Chase and Max Caulfield had touched down in the area, and they were privy to a slightly hectic reunion with their friends. Kara recognized Chloe Price as the punk tattooed owner from the research she had done, and it was a bit of a shock to Lena as she recognized Rachel Amber, if only from her guilty pleasure of watching old campy horror movies in her rare spare time. The Oregonian actress was soon to shoot a movie, little else was known about it. While they watched the four set up by the karaoke where Chloe nodded to the host, Kara and Lena received their three free orders of potstickers and both asked for a different dish on the menu, plus Lena another drink. She'd asked a bit earlier, and Kara had told her she really only ordered 3 alien shots and normal alcohol. Their bar food was turning out to be quite delicious, and Lena noticed Kara was turning a bit red as she looked at her, finishing off the third of the doubles she had gotten.

Behind them, Chloe Price had picked up the mic and was mimicking playing an electric guitar while whipping the cord around in circle as she jammed. Kara and Lena could see the mischievous glint to her as she herded her two friends and partner into a round table and the bar started thumping as aliens and humans alike cheered -- how did Lena just now figure out this was a gay bar?

"To a happy belated birthday to Queen Bee of Blackwell, long may it suck ass so we can forget the fucking horrors there -- to Sticky!! Icky!! Vicki!!"

The crowd went wild. Kara and Lena laughed along with them as the blonde prepared to lunge towards the cocky punk, and they both watched as Max yelled too as Rachel cheered and easily tipped Victoria back into her seat. Charisma flowed out of Chloe as the beat hit, and suddenly Chloe was singing as she mobbed the mic and took over the karaoke floor.

"I don't want a girl who gets a car for her Sweet 16 Or spends a stack of dollar bills on a limousine--"

Kara spit-takes into the air and gapes while Lena freezes.

"I want a girl who takes a bus and who wears baggy jeans--"

Their eyes meet and Lena's eyes hammer. Those words slam into her and she remembers the early first times of meeting Kara, where she had told her she'd flown there, on a bus, after not needing her parking ticket validated. God, her attraction to the blonde had been so very obvious in hindsight. Kara had stood for someone who understood in the first moments of meeting her, and Lena remembered how much it had hurt when the truth had come to fruition. They had slowly pieced it back together, but damn, had it been hard, and she had ached, ached to see how much of Kara she had missed after that reveal.

"Rockin' Nike Airs, what the hell are Louboutins?!"

The kryptonian watched with wide eyes as Victoria Chase kicked off her a sneaker and it hit the upside of Chloe's head. The punk just laughed and continued to skip around, showmanship kicked into high gear as she hit energetic beat after energetic beat.

"Don't want no fake tan, short skirt, Daddy's money don't work!! Shop until you drop on the toooown~!!"

Lena flushed hard as she watched Kara's gaze snap to hers, then down, almost helplessly sliding down her legs before the blonde looked up, guiltily wide-eyed. In the background Max was keeping Victoria from strangling Chloe, laughing a bit herself, and Rachel was getting up, slinking to join her loud girlfriend.

"I want a girl stronger than her father Someone who will laugh at tryna fit in the crowd~"

Kara's eyes are seeming to be an apraisal, and her fingers are grabbing for a potsticker. At this point the song is pointed and from what Lena knows of Victoria Chase, the photographer had been fairly successful in being everything that this song wasn't. Clearly Chloe was making fun, and as Victoria stopped promising violence, Lena watched as she saw Max gently kiss her, grabbing her polaroid camera and snapping a selfie of the four as Chloe pulled Rachel firmly to her side, where they started to sway, looking into her the actress's eyes.

"And all we used to dream about~ Is getting rich and getting out~"

They both watched as Rachel and Chloe touched their foreheads together, singing a beautiful symphony, and then Rachel pulled away to do a twirl, Chloe expertly pulling her close again and dipping her, then pulling her back up to grin at each other. Lena felt her heart clench, partly of her own history, but also because of Kara, who she could see watching her, seeing how she was taking the song. Somewhere deep inside, Lena felt a tie to this song, or at least to the chorus. What she wouldn't give for more time with Kara, especially after it had taken them so long to come back together. Her penthouse had only known happiness when Kara had been there, and it was slowly becoming something more than a place to cry as she pulled herself back together and out from her family's legacy.

"Move to the nicer part of town Where we'd have numbers on our house It took awhile to figure out~"

The Oregonians were all smiling at each other, clearly having remembered the horrors of Arcadia Bay and knowing all of their relationships and friendships were stronger after it. Lena looked to Kara and found her steadfastly looking back, and suddenly Lena is reaching out, Kara's hands in hers, and they cheer to Chloe as she gallantly spins Rachel away from her back to her seat and resumes her birthday callout to Victoria.

"What type of girl that I'm about Who brings the real man out of me -- Rachel knows!!"

The crowd laughs at that, and Lena hears the tempo pick up again, Kara's hand firmly in her own even though the kyptonian is trembling.

"I don't really want no trust fund baby I like my women independent. And I say to people, that's my lady And we don't need nothing e~e~else"

The room was stifling hot, the crowd around them joining the singing. Kara was looking at Lena like she had so many times before, and Lena wondered how many times they had been down this road of calling it friendship while giving to each other everything past friendship and any sort of label. Lena recognized this was ridiculous, but as a businesswoman and a Luthor, she had been raised to stamp down anything that was short of exposing imperfection. Two double shots in wasn't anything near what she could take, but Lena blinked and was reminded, she was in a gay bar with her best friend and it had been upwards of three years since she had Kara in her life. Kara, who had seen her so broken at her worst, and had promised to always protect her. Kara, who even when they were at their fallout and Lena had desperately tried to hate, had not given up. The Luthor may be in her blood, but Lena wondered now what that meant when Kara and her were just women at a bar. Not a reporter and CEO, not a Super and a Luthor, but two best friends, and this song-- Chloe was outdoing herself.

"Don't want a girl who takes selfies, Want her makeup free!!"

This time it's Max that launches herself at Chloe, and the punk laughs as they both hit the floor, wheezing and continuing the song, pushing the photographer away by a palm at her forehead.

"Don't want no mean girl lady, let's call her Sticky Vicki!!"

Victoria has launched herself on top of the pile and Rachel shrugs and joins in. Lena wonders for a moment if there's a chance tomorrow will be cancelled, and that's what it takes to shake the moment. As Rachel yanks the mic from Chloe and yells,

"HER DADDY TOLD HER HOW TO FIX CARS, MAYBE SHE COULD FIX ME!!"

Lena and Kara pull away from each other as as a couple more of Chloe and Rachel's employees head to the front, good-naturedly pulling them off of each other, and Lena thinks this is enough. It's enough that she's here in this moment with Kara, watching women who have built a life from scratch with efforts and the bonds of friendship and love, and she tilts her chin, wobbling a bit as she leaves money on the table and in an instant Kara is at her side, sliding the money back into her purse as she supports Lena's elbow. Kara leaves her own money on the table and they make their way out, giggling as they hear,

"Wanna girl with common sense Who's dripping in confidence DON'T WANNA DIE TO GET RICH BUT SHE LOVE FIFTY CENT!!--"

The shrieking laughing of karaoke dies out the moment they hit outside, and Kara pulls Lena to her front as she slips into a back alleyway beside the bar, Lena tucking into her front as she registers the DING~ of the bicycle's bell as it zooms by. It's not that late by any means, but there is a chill in the air as the breeze picks up around them. The slit in the length of her dress gives Lena some reprieve for how hot it was inside, and she heats up again when Kara unconsciously nuzzles a kiss to her forehead. The alleyways are the only shadowy part of the city's street, illuminated up by the full moon, and before Lena knows it, Kara is asking her a question.

"Do you trust me?"

She's nodding instinctively. It's Kara. The blonde had grabbed her jacket and she used that to tug around Lena, enveloping her in a blanket of warmth and the scent of her best friend. Lena's heart rate ratcheted up, not used to the easy way Kara seemed to hold her close. It had been a while since Kara had told her she was Supergirl, and while they'd hugged, Lena hadn't been in Supergirl's arms since before she had known. That changed now as Kara smiled at her, then gently pulled her into a bridal carry. Lena yelped, burying her face in Kara's neck in embarrassment.

"Shhh, I've got you."

"Kara, I can WALK!!"

"Mmmn, I like my women independent."

Lena pulled back to smack Kara playfully on her arm, then shrieked and held herself back close again. They were in the air, above the tree and cityline, and the moon was full and beautiful and so very big. It illuminated Kara's face as she continued to smile at her, and Lena couldn't understand how anyone could be so beautiful and kind and out of this world -- because Kara was.

"I didn't expect tonight to go how it did." Kara's voice was soft, and she was still looking at Lena, direct and open and with a look that Lena had seen before. Had seen so many times before, and she knew she had mirrored, whether they were alone or not. She mirrored it now, leaning into Kara's shoulder and taking solace in the solidness she knew Kara Danvers was. To her surprise, she could hear the kryptonian's heartbeat, and it was a speeding stutter.

"How did you expect tonight to go?"

In the silence that followed, Lena watched as Kara slowly pulled both of them steadily higher, away from the ground and the city, felt Kara's heartbeat start to speed even faster as Lena used the privacy of the moment to place her palm over Kara's pounding chest. The moon was so different to look at like this, a quiet observer of the earth as it reached out endlessly to touch everything with its light. Lena looked at Kara then, really looked at her as she had before Kara was a friend, before she had to hide her interest with respectable friendship. Kara's pupils were wide, and Lena felt supported in more ways than just the physical as she was shown the world as Kara saw it.

"I expected karaoke to shake you up even more than it did."

Lena let out a laugh, and Kara tilted her head to the side.

"Darling, I've heard Roxanne."

Kara snorted.

Then, a beat.

"I have a song for you, I'd like to share. If it's okay."

Lena could feel Kara's breath on her, a little shaky, and she smiled. Shifting a bit, Lena paused.

"Only if you let me step on you."

Kara's whole body flushed.

"Wh-What?"

The CEO couldn't help the fond smile she had for the reporter. Repositioning herself, Lena righted herself and stepped on Kara's feet, so now they were face to face. Even with the slight breeze around them, she felt safe and warm, Kara's body heat actively ramped up around her. The blonde's cheeks were red, and she shakily grinned as she pulled out her phone, Lena's hands seeking to hold onto Kara's shoulders.

"First met her on the west side of Cali Only took one look and girl you had me"

Lena could feel the harsh tremble of steel as Kara wrapped an arm around her waist, eyes bright and open as she gazes at Lena. They're so high up above everything that they're the only one that exists, and the brunette forgets that once upon a time she's ever been afraid of heights. She had been afraid of a lot of things before Kara, and even due to Kara, but never of Kara. She doesn't recognize the song, but she leans into the warmth of the blonde, bravely listening to what Kara wants her to hear.

"Driving down the Hollywood Hills through the Valley Coastline and even cruising Malibu"

A rumble happens, and suddenly Lena is listening to the silky croon of Kara Danvers singing to her so high up in the air, in front of the full moon and glowing from a soft determination as she holds her.

"There's nothing like that shotgun view Arm out the window, surfing old school"

On a whim Lena lets go of Kara's shoulders and spreads her arms out. She's painfully thinking about the Titanic, but Kara smiles as she sings and the superhero does a slow twirl in the air with Lena, slowly reaching out with her own wingspan and supporting Lena's hands, gently pressing their palms together as their fingers intertwine. Lena is watching as Kara's pupils grow, her body radiating an intense heat, and she presses closer, smiling as she listens to the blonde serenade her.

"Sunflowers black and yellow all over you One hand on the wheel the other holding you"

She's on fire. Her own heart is beating hard in relation to Kara and it's Kara who's in front of her who has always been there, who has been her anchor and her wings and her happiness. Slowly the blonde trails her hands back over Lena's forearms, her elbows, her back, holding her close and slowly twirling them, and it's Lena who reaches up and gently slides her hands into Kara's hair, tangling through and gently taking the back of Kara's neck and holding her. It's so intimate, she's wanted this for so long, and Lena knows, she's always known.

"Took a shot and knew I couldn't miss When you lean if for that first~ slow~ kiss~"

The song continues as Lena's heart pounds, and she can feel Kara steadfastly holding her, will always hold her, and she leans in, letting herself stop as she slowly closes her eyes and trusts in the moment and in Kara Zor-El.

Kara leans in.

"This is the moment that I reminisce. No matter where we are I can't help but remember~"

The song continues on perfectly, and Lena sighs against Kara, tasting her smile and feeling the fullness of her heart finally share the peace of perfection. She's surrounded by Kara, and for once, Lena is enough, has always been enough.

"I know you were the one for me~"

It's sweet. The present moment is so sweet and Lena holds Kara close, batting her eyes open and looking into vibrant blue. Kara's face is split into the largest smile she's ever seen her wear, and she's so beautiful, and Lena tells her, tells her how grateful and thankful and how much Kara means to her, and Lena can feel the purity of this moment as Kara holds her close and they spend countless other more moments just like this.

- - -

The next day during the Chasefield Art Gallery meeting, Victoria Chase and Lena Luthor bond over the success they've fought for being trust fund babies.

- - -

A/N - Dear Lord, what have I done? XD I hadn't cackled like this in a long time for creation -- Melissa Benoist, absolute happy birthday, thank you for your service in acting, may you have a long and happy life ahead of you <3 PS Dear Lord I remember seeing her in person at a Rose City Comic Con so long ago and I almost punched the arm off of my friend I got way too excited hyperventilating XD Violence is never the answer XD

Songs are -

Trust Fund Baby - Why Don't We Sundress - Austin Mahone

[heavyhitterheaux]

Lemonade

Noelle's Tale as told by @sinsandsuccubus

Heaux Tales of Jack Harlow

He was different than any boy I had met.

Scratch that, any man I had met.

He was charming, funny, handsome, and overall just a good person, despite what his namesake made him out to be.

He was Jack Harlow.

The meeting between the two of us hadn’t been that complicated, though the last place anyone would expect him to be.

I was a consultant at a Biotech Company, a company Jack had taken interest in and decided to pick up shares. Of course, like the smart man he is, he requested a tour of the main facility, where I just so happened to work at.

“…And Mr. Harlow, here we have our offices. They aren’t like cubicles, we don’t believe in such a small confined space. Creativity needs freedom, and that freedom is restricted by looking at two gray colored walls, and your neighbor who’s talking about what they want for lunch- Ah! Noelle! What a perfect time for you to be around.” I heard my boss chattering with some people, and my attention drawing up from the papers on my desk to the small crowd that stood at the door.

“May we come in?”

“Oh course Mr. Freeman.” I stood up from the desk, the pantsuit that I decided to wear hugging my figure perfectly. My hair looked amazing, and the natural make up look that I went with made me look like I hadn’t worn any at all.

Jack was mesmerized and I could tell.

I was too, but I obviously had other objectives. Like my job.

“How could I be of help?”

“This is Mr. Harlow-“

“Jack. You can call me Jack.” He spoke, holding out his hand for a shake, to which I accepted. Except it wasn’t a hand shake, but rather a kiss to my knuckles. I felt warmth flutter amongst my cheeks as I looked at the floor, a small smile etching across my face.

“Uh, Yes. Jack. Well, Mr. Jack here wants to invest in our company, and I thought you’d be the perfect person to explain our mission statement and goals.” my boss spoke, giving me a small wink.

Gosh, sometimes I couldn’t stand that man.

“That would be wonderful Mr. Freeman, however, I’m getting ready for lunch. By any chance, could we-“

“I’ll take you out to lunch. My treat. I-If you give me a good tour.” The curly headed man spoke, a smirk dabbling on his lips. I looked towards my boss, who shook his head in approval, and I suddenly becoming aware of the audience I had.

“And what about your friend?” I spoke, looking at the man behind him. 

“Ah, my apologies young man. I forgot your introduction. Y/N, this is Urban. Mr. H-, I mean Jack’s best friend.”

“And cameraman.” Urban spoke, making a fake camera with his hands and pretending to snap a photo. I nodded my head with a smile, turning my attention back towards Jack.

“He can handle his own, right Urb?”

“Yeah. Mr. Bossman here said you guys had an art gallery nearby, I wanna check it out.” Urban patted Jack on his shoulder, dapping him up before exiting the room.

“Well. I’ll leave you two to it. When you’re done Noelle, feel free to take the rest of the day off.” Then my boss spoke again, winking at me once more.

“Well, are you ready for the tour?” I spoke, eyeing the tall, curly headed man up and down.

“Of course.”

-

He had swept me off my feet. Took me on romantic dates, showed me the world, bought me whatever I wanted, despite telling him that I didn’t need all that he was getting me.

“Jackman Thomas, how many times do I have to tell you, I don’t need all this stuff!” I spoke over the phone, picking up the packages that remained outside my condo, placing the phone between my ear and shoulder as I slid the boxes inside and took the flowers from the delivery man.

“Come on ma, let me spoil you.”

“Jack, I can spoil myself.”

“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to either.”

I sighed dramatically over the phone, propping it up on the vase that I had set on the counter, FaceTiming Jack. He immediately picked up, smiling as he looked at me over the phone.

“You look gorgeous ma.”

“Thank you.” I spoke softly, heat flooding my cheeks.

“Open the boxes. I want to see your reaction.” Jack spoke, sitting up in the bed he was lying in. He was doing a couple of shows in other states that interfered with my work days, as much as I wanted to go with him. He always made a promise to take me whenever he could, just to let him know when I was free.

I took my pocket knife from the back pocket of my denim jeans, a playboy bunny popping up out the top.

“Nice knife. You keep it on you all the time?”

“Yeah, gotta be careful out here in these streets.” I laughed, cutting open one of the boxes.

Inside nestled a brand new Telfar Bag, a card laying right on top.

“Read the cards later, I want you to open them all first.”

“Okay pushy.” I spoke, moving on to the next box, which was significantly smaller than the Telfar box.

Pulling away the tissue paper, I pulled out a beautiful James Avery Bracelet, custom made with charms that represented me and Jack’s relationship.

A DNA charm to symbolize where the two of us met. A coffee cup to resemble our first date in context - I didn’t know Jack was into caramel macchiatos, but I learned that day. The rest of the charms were places he took me on vacation - Paris, Peru, Italy, Germany, and so many more. 

My eyes welled with tears as I looked at them all, Jack’s smile appearing on the camera as I lifted my head up.

“Aww, mamas, don’t cry.” 

“How can you tell me not to cry when you got me all these things?” 

“That’s not the best gift baby, look in the last box.” 

And I did, pulling out the red velvet box with anticipation. My heart began to pound, different possibilities and scenarios swimming in my head. Me and Jack had been together for a little over a year, a year and three months to be exact, but I was sure he wasn’t ready to propose. 

Was he?

It definitely wouldn’t be exactly “romantic” over the phone, yet with Jack I never knew, he was a busy man. 

“Its not what you think.”

Well that took a lot off your chest. 

Letting go of the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I opened the box, which held a beautiful ring, stones glistening in the light of my kitchen.

“Jack-”

“It’s a promise ring beautiful. My promise to you. That I am yours, and will be for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I don’t know, that sounds a lot like a proposal speech to me.”

“Well its not. Besides, I would have gotten you a bigger ring. But I know you’re a simple girl, so I hope that one will do until I get you the real thing.” 

“Thank you Jack.” I smiled through the tears, tilting my head back to catch them.

“Anything for you mamas. I promise you.” 

-

Well that was a fucking lie. 

Within the next coming weeks, Jack had been busy out the ass. Interview after interview, appearance after appearance. Which I had no problem with, considering my job. I had been traveling too, attending different conferences with my company, taking in the many views of the world. 

Me and Jack had made a promise to send each other gifts from the places we had both traveled. So it wasn’t anything out of the normal to receive packages when I got back.

This time though, the package was different. 

It was a woman standing on my front porch, shades covering her eyes, a binder tucked between her arms. 

“Ms. Noelle?” 

“Who’s asking?” I raised an eyebrow, keeping in mind the tips and tricks my mom taught me at a young age, alongside the crime shows I watched. 

“No need to be alarmed,” She took off her shades, opening the binder to display what I thought I’d never see. Jack and other women. And from the looks of it, and the countless tabs on the side of the binder, there were more than one. 

“My name is Brie. And I’m here to exploit Jack Harlow and his whore tendencies.” 

-

“This whole time I thought I was special.” I spoke, shaking myhead, rage encasing my fists. Tears ran down my face; bless Rihanna for Fenty, because the make up was not flawed. 

“It’s okay babes, I know this is a lot. But we don’t need to be shedding any tears over his bitch ass.” 

“Oh, I’m not crying him. I’m crying over the rage I’m feeling. And the fact that he’s out of reach, so I can’t fuck up him over this shit. There’s so many women! And he has a wife, and kids! Children! They’re going to eventually know that their daddy is a fucking whore. And their poor mother, that’s going to break her!”

“I know, I know.” 

“This is so fucked. I wanna fuck him up so bad.”

“And we will. I already submitted the photos to TMZ.” 

“Have you heard anything back?” I spoke, leaning back on the couch, looking over at the woman, who I could now consider a friend. 

“Nothing. And I submitted them a little over three weeks ago. I don’t know understand what’s taking so long, this is Jack Harlow we’re talking about.” 

“Sometimes it ends up in the wrong place. It may have ended up on an intern’s desk who trashed it for the sake of being a “fan”. You never know. But I say we go big or go home.”

“And how do we do that?” Brie asked, confusion on her face. 

“Well, there’s more out there, there has to be. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll keep up with Jack and send you every piece of information I can find, that way we can come all together and expose this man for who he is.”

“That’s brilliant!” Brie spoke, placing her hands on my shoulders, smiling at me. 

“Then it’s a plan. It’s time to expose this man for the womanizer he is.”

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@knack4harlow

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@bout-mine

@tattered-tales

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

@gillybear17

@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow​

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

@a-moment-captured

@jackmans-poison

@valentinqee

@lightsoutstyles

@j-worlds-blog

@middlechild404

@0elliotswhore

@iknowdatsrightbih

@w1ldthoughts

@love2loveonme

@hufflewhore128

@shawtypoison

@fantasywritersstuff

[deadpanwalking]

“Seen from the street, the Onion Cellar looked like many of the newer night clubs which are distinguished from the older bars and cabarets by, among other things, their higher prices. The higher prices were justified by the outlandish decoration of these night spots, many of which termed themselves “Artists’ clubs” and also by their names. There was “The Ravioli Room” (discreet and refined), “The Taboo” (mysterious and existentialist), “The Paprika” (spicy and high-spirited). And of course there was “The Onion Cellar”.

The words “Onion Cellar” and a poignantly naive likeness of an onion had been painted with deliberate awkwardness on an enamel sign which hung in the old German manner from elaborate wrought-iron gallows in front of the house. The one and only window was glassed with bottle-green bull’s-eye panes. The iron door, painted with red lead, had no doubt seen service outside an air-raid shelter in the war years. Outside it stood the doorman in a rustic sheepskin. Not everyone was allowed in the Onion Cellar. Especially on Fridays, when wages turn to beer, it was the doorman’s business to turn away certain Old City characters, for whom the Onion Cellar was too expensive in the first place. Behind the red-lead door, those who were allowed in found five concrete steps. You went down, found yourself on a landing some three feet square, to which a poster for a Picasso show lent an original, artistic turn. Four more steps took you to the checkroom. “Please pay later,” said a little cardboard sign, and indeed, the young man at the counter, usually an art student with a beard, refused to take money in advance, because the Onion Cellar was not only expensive but also and nevertheless high class.

The owner in person welcomed every single guest with elaborate gestures and mobile, expressive eyebrows, as though initiating him into a secret rite. As we know, the owner’s name was Ferdinand Schmuh; he was a man who shot sparrows now and then, and had a keen eye for the society which had sprung up in Düsseldorf (and elsewhere, though not quite so quickly) since the currency reform.

The Onion Cellar—and here we see the note of authenticity essential to a successful night club—was a real cellar; in fact, it was quite damp and chilly under foot. Tubular in shape, it measured roughly thirteen by sixty, and was heated by two authentic cast-iron stoves. Yet in one respect the Cellar wasn’t a cellar after all. The ceiling had been taken off, so that the club actually included the former ground-floor apartment. The one and only window was not a real cellar window, but the former window of the ground-floor apartment. However, since one might have looked out of the window if not for its opaque bull’s-eye panes; since there was a gallery that one reached by a highly original and highly precipitous staircase, the Onion Cellar can reasonably be termed “authentic”, even if it was not a real cellar—and besides, why should it have been?

Oskar has forgotten to tell you that the staircase leading to the gallery was not a real staircase but more like a companionway, because on either side of its dangerously steep steps there were two extremely original clotheslines to hold on to; the staircase swayed a bit, making you think of an ocean voyage and adding to the price.

The Onion Cellar was lighted by acetylene lamps such as miners carry, which broadcast a smell of carbide—again adding to the price—and transported the customer unto the gallery of a mine, a potash mine for instance, three thousand feet below the surface of the earth: cutters bare to the waist hack away at the rock, opening up a vein; the scraper hauls out the salt, the windlass roars as it fills the cars; far behind, where the gallery turns off to Friedrichshall Two, a swaying light; that’s the head foreman and here he comes with a cheery hello, swinging a carbide lamp that looks exactly like the carbide lamps that hung from the unadorned, slapdashly whitewashed walls of the Onion Cellar, casting their light and smell, adding to the prices, and creating an original atmosphere.

The customers were uncomfortably seated on common crates covered with onion sacks, yet the plank tables, scrubbed and spotless, recalled the guests from the mine to a peaceful peasant inn such as we sometimes see in the movies.

That was all! But what about the bar? No bar. Waiter, the menu please! Neither waiter nor menu. In fact, there was no one else but ourselves, the Rhine River Three. Klepp, Scholle, and Oskar sat beneath the staircase that was really a companionway. We arrived at nine, unpacked our instruments, and began to play at about ten. But for the present it is only a quarter past nine and I won’t be able to speak about us until later. Right now let us keep an eye on Schmuh, who occasionally shot sparrows with a small-caliber rifle. As soon as the Onion Cellar had filled up—half-full was regarded as full—Schmuh, the host, donned his shawl. This shawl had been specially made for him. It was cobalt-blue silk, printed with a golden-yellow pattern. I mention all this because the donning of the shawl was significant. The pattern printed on the shawl was made up of golden-yellow onions. The Onion Cellar was not really “open” until Schmuh had put on his shawl.

The customers—businessmen, doctors, lawyers, artists, journalists, theater and movie people, well-known figures from the sporting world, officials in the provincial and municipal government, in short, a cross section of the world which nowadays calls itself intellectual—came with wives, mistresses, secretaries, interior decorators, and occasional male mistresses, to sit on crates covered with burlap. Until Schmuh put on his golden-yellow onions, the conversation was subdued, forced, dispirited. These people wanted to talk, to unburden themselves, but they couldn’t seem to get started; despite all their efforts, they left the essential unsaid, talked around it. Yet how eager they were to spill their guts, to talk from their hearts, their bowels, their entrails, to forget about their brains just this once, to lay bare the raw, unvarnished truth, the man within. Here and there a stifled remark about a botched career, a broken marriage. One gathers that the gentleman over there with the massive head, the intelligent face and soft, almost delicate hands, is having trouble with his son, who is displeased about his father’s past. Those two ladies in mink, who still look quite attractive in the light of the carbide lamp, claim to have lost their faith, but they don’t say in what. So far we know nothing about the past of the gentleman with the massive head, nor have we the slightest idea what sort of trouble his son is making for him on account of this unknown past; if you’ll forgive Oskar a crude metaphor, it was like laying eggs; you push and push…

The pushing in the Onion Cellar brought meager results until Schmuh appeared in his special shawl. Having been welcomed with a joyful “Ah!” for which he thanked his kind guests, he vanished for a few minutes behind a curtain at the end of the Onion Cellar, where the toilets and storeroom were situated.

But why did a still more joyous “Ah”, an “Ah” of relief and release, welcome the host on his reappearance? The proprietor of a successful nightclub disappears behind a curtain, takes something from the storeroom, flings a choice selection of insults in an undertone at the washroom attendant who is sitting there reading an illustrated weekly, reappears in front of the curtain, and is welcomed like the Saviour, like the legendary uncle from Australia!

Schmuh came back with a little basket on his arm and moved among the guests. The basket was covered with a blue-and-yellow checkered napkin. On the cloth lay a considerable number of little wooden boards, shaped like pigs or fish. These he handed out to his guests with little bows and compliments which showed, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he had grown up in Budapest and Vienna; Schmuh’s smile was like the smile on a copy of a copy of the supposedly authentic Mona Lisa.

The guests, however, looked very serious as they took their little boards. Some exchanged boards with their neighbors, for some preferred the silhouette of a pig, while others preferred the more mysterious fish. They sniffed at the pieces of wood and moved them about. Schmuh, after serving the customers in the gallery, waited until all the little boards had come to rest.

Then—and every heart was waiting—he removed the napkin, very much in the manner of a magician: beneath it lay still another napkin, upon which, almost unrecognizable at first glance, lay the paring knives.

These too he proceeded to hand out. But this time he made his rounds more quickly, whipping up the tension that permitted him to raise his prices; he paid no more compliments, and left no time for any exchanges of knives; a calculated haste entered into his movements. “On your mark, get set,” he shouted. At “ Go” he tore the napkin off the basket, reached into the basket, and handed out, dispensed, distributed among the multitude onions—onions such as were represented, golden-yellow and slightly stylized, on his shawl, plain ordinary onions, not tulip bulbs, but onions such as women buy in the market, such as the vegetable woman sells, such as the peasant, the peasant’s wife, or the hired girl plants and harvests, onions such as may be seen, more or less faithfully portrayed in the still lifes of the lesser Dutch masters. Such onions, then, Schmuh dispensed among his guests until each had an onion and no sound could be heard but the purring of the stoves and the whistling of the carbide lamps. For the grand distribution of onions was followed by silence. Into which Ferdinand Schmuh cried: “Ladies and gentlemen, help yourselves.” And he tossed one end of his shawl over his left shoulder like a skier just before the start. This was the signal.

The guests peeled the onions. Onions are said to have seven skins. The ladies and gentlemen peeled the onions with the paring knives. They removed the first, third, blond, golden-yellow, rust-brown, or better still, onion-colored skin, they peeled until the onion became glassy, green, whitish, damp, and water-sticky, until it smelled, smelled like an onion. Then they cut it as one cuts onions, deftly or clumsily, on the little chopping boards shaped like pigs or fish; they cut in one direction and another until the juice spurted or turned to vapor—the older gentlemen were not very handy with paring knives and had to be careful not to cut their fingers; some cut themselves even so, but didn’t notice it—the ladies were more skillful, not all of them, but those at least who were housewives at home, who knew how one cuts up onions for hash-brown potatoes, or for liver with apples and onion rings; but in Schmuh’s onion cellar there was neither, there was nothing whatever to eat, and anyone who wanted to eat had to go elsewhere, to the “Fischl”, for instance, for at the Onion Cellar onions were only cut. Why all these onions? For one thing, because of the name. The Onion Cellar had its specialty: onions. And moreover, the onion, the cut onion, when you look at it closely… but enough of that, Schmuh’s guests had stopped looking, they could see nothing more, because their eyes were running over and not because their hearts were so full; for it is not true that when the heart is full the eyes necessarily overflow, some people can never manage it, especially in our century, which in spite of all the suffering and sorrow will surely be known to posterity as the tearless century. It was this drought, this tearlessness that brought those who could afford it to Schmuh’s Onion Cellar, where the host handed them a little chopping board—pig or fish—a paring knife for eighty pfennigs, and for twelve marks an ordinary field-, garden-, and kitchen-variety onion, and induced them to cut their onions smaller and smaller until the juice—what did the onion juice do? It did what the world and the sorrows of the world could not do: it brought forth a round, human tear. It made them cry. At last they were able to cry again. To cry properly, without restraint, to cry like mad. The tears flowed and washed everything away. The rain came. The dew. Oskar has a vision of floodgates opening. Of dams bursting in the spring floods. What is the name of that river that overflows every spring and the government does nothing to stop it? After this cataclysm at twelve marks eighty, human beings who have had a good cry open their mouths to speak. Still hesitant, startled by the nakedness of their own words, the weepers poured out their hearts to their neighbors on the uncomfortable, burlap-covered crates, submitted to questioning, let themselves be turned inside-out like overcoats. But Oskar, who with Klepp and Scholle sat tearless behind the staircase or companionway, will be discreet; from among all the disclosures, self-accusations, confessions that fell on his ears, he will relate only the story of Miss Pioch, who lost her Mr. Vollmer many times over, so acquiring a strong heart and a tearless eye, which necessitated frequent visits to Schmuh’s Onion Cellar.”

Günter Grass, The Tin Drum, (tr. Ralph Manheim)

[chloe-spade]

Frozen Heart Act One: Dangerous to Dream

Silver snored softly as he slept on his bed. He was so deep in sleep that he didn't hear Lilia knocking on his door, trying to get him ready.

"Silver?" He called out. "Silver? Are you still sleeping? You know today's a speacial day."

A louder knock jolted Silver awake, and he rushed towards the door and opened it.

"Ah, awake at least," Lilia laughed. "You looked like you stayed awake for too long."

Silver huffed, "I was talking with Malleus."

"Have you forgotton about today?"

"Uh, no? Did I?" Silver yawned.

"It's Malleus's Coronation."

Silver jumped. "Oh! You're right!! I forgot."

"No, no, don't worry, the maids will be here for a moment, but I will have to see that things go well."

"Go on," Silver spoke, "I'll be with you."

Lilia smiled as he walked away, and maids rushed in to help Silver with his outfit. Silver couldn't help but feel excited for such a big day.

🌷

The window is open!

So's that door!

I didn't know they did that anymore

And there's two nice ladies helping me get dressed

🌷

"Thank you! Thanks!" Silver cried out as he rushed out, looking down at the halls.

🌷

For years I've roamed these empty halls

Why have a ballroom with no balls?

Coronation day is just the best!

There'll be actual, real-life people

It'll be totally strange

But wow am I so ready for this change!

🌷

Silver found a way to climb towards the castle roof, watching as the sun reflected in the fjord waters and the beautiful smell of summer filled the air. He liked the change of being outside again, though it had been a while ever since Lilia's return.

🌷

For the first time in forever

There'll be music, there'll be light

For the first time in forever

I'll be dancing through the night

🌷

Silver slid down towards the gardens, and the duck and her ducklings greeted them. They looked up at Silver with confusion and awe. Silver kneeled and opened his hands, letting the ducklings climb on his palms.

🌷

Don't know if I'm elated or gassy

But I'm somewhere in that zone

'Cause for the first time in forever

I won't be alone

🌷

Silver giggles as he felt the newly born ducklings on his palms, feeling the soft feathers with him

"I can't wait to meet everyone!" Silver beamed, but a gasp left his mouth. "Oh, what if I meet the one?"

Silver left the gardens and found himself in the newly decorated ballroom. He laughed as he thought of him full of people, dancing in the middle of the night like he always wanted.

🌷

Tonight, imagine me, gown and all

Fetchingly draped against the wall

The picture of sophisticated grace

I suddenly see him standing there

A beautiful stranger, tall and fair

I wanna stuff some chocolate in my face

But then we laugh and talk all evening

Which is totally bizarre

Nothing like the life I've led so far

🌷

Silver couldn't help but sneak some chocolate without even the chefs noticing, laughing. He remembered how he and Malleus always sneaked into the kitchen to get some chocolates and knew those memories hurt, but he found himself back at the art gallery and looked around to see the paintings he used to speak to whenever he was bored.

🌷

For the first time in forever

There'll be magic, there'll be fun

For the first time in forever

I could be noticed by someone

🌷

Silver gasped as he felt a breeze behind him as he jumped again, but it wasn't bad. It was oddly welcoming.

🌷

And I know it is totally crazy

To dream I'd find romance

But for the first time in forever

At least I've got a chance!

🌷

Silver watched a snowflake pass him. Confused, he followed, but Silver stopped as he reached a railing, but he watched as the snowflake flew away.

Back in his room, Malleus shook nervously, looking out the window. It was his coronation day, but he didn't want to celebrate it. So many bad things could happen, and he didn't know he could live up to his late mother's legacy.

❄️

Don't let them in

Don't let them see

Be the good boy

You always have to be

❄️

Malleus gulped and felt the makeshift items in his hands froze, frost appearing underneath. Scared, he put them down.

❄️

Conceal, don't feel

Put on a show

Make one wrong move

And everyone will know

❄️

Malleus shook his head softly before putting his gloves back on.

❄️

But it's only for today

It's only for today!

It's agony to wait

It's agony to wait!

Tell the guards to open up the gate!

The gate!

The gate

The gate

The gates!

❄️

Silver lit up once he saw the gates open and finally saw the townspeople celebrating the day. Silver looked back at the balcony where Malleus was seen and waved at him.

Malleus smiles and waves back, watching Silver depart with a fake smile that shamefully hides his nervousness.

🌷

For the first time in Forever (Don't let them in)

I'm getting (Don't let them see)

What I'm dreaming

Of (Be the good boy, You always have to be)

A chance to leave my lonely

World (Conceal)

A chance to find true love

(Conceal, don't feel)

For the first time! (Don't let them know!)

❄️

Silver stopped to see the flower maidens dance and sing together, and the townspeople joined in with a joyous cheer.

🌷

For the first time in forever

We're no longer shut outside

For the first time in forever

The gates are open wide!

🌷

Silver was pulled into a den and laughed as he was given a flower crown. His first day outside the walls made him incredibly happy, but he knew that today was only today, and they wouldn't even do this tomorrow—or even years, so this had to be the day.

🌷

I know it all ends tomorrow

So it has to be today!

'Cause for the first time

In forever! (The first time)

For the first time

In forever (The first time in forever)

Nothing's in my way!

Today!

🌷

Everyone gasped as Silver bumped into someone else, and the stranger held him.

"Hello," the man laughed. "I didn't expect such a young beautiful man to get this close."

Silver blushed and got up. "I'm sorry for bumping into you. I, I was excited."

"Oh, no, please don't apologize," the man laughed. "I heard it all—the Kingdom with the closed gates, as rumors foretold. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Louis of the Southern Isles, and you?"

"Prince Silver of Arendelle."

"Oh, I didn't know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Silver pondered, a little offended.

"Well, I was only told that the Queen had only one son," chuckled Loius. "I mean, you don't exactly look like the queen and the prince, so I didn't know she had another child."

"You certainly didn't do any research," Silver huffed. "If you did, you would know that the Kingdom has been in rule under King Lilia after the Queen's unfornate passing and I was taken in by him."

"Oh, that was so rude of me." Loius sighed. "I deeply apologize."

"I'm leaving," Silver turned around to leave but felt Louis stop him.

"Wait, don't go," Louis begged. "Allow me to explain my awful behavior."

🐴

'Cause I'm someone even more embarrassing to be

I'm only the thirteenth son of a king

Of a very small kingdom

Of very small islands to the South

And nobody sings about this humble face

Or my lack of grace

Or quotes what comes out of my mouth

Thank goodness

I've journeyed a long way to see your sister crowned

To honor and to back you

Yet here I go and smack you to the ground

Please accept the humblest of the apologies

From a clumsy prince who's only come to serve and please

With a line of mean, big brothers

That goes on for miles

A man you won't see in a statue of bronze

Just Louis of the Southern Isles

🐴

"Hi, Louis of the Southern Isles," Silver nodded.

"And hello to you, Silver of Arendelle." Louis bowed down.

Silver gasped as he heard the bells and backed up. "The Bells, the coronation! Alright, you are forgiven, but I have to go. I can see you soon."

Silver waved and rushed back to the Coronation Hall, watching the people stare a little but managed to stand by Lilia.

"Ah, just in time," Lilia chimed. "What happened to you, my son?"

"Just a prince," Silver answered honestly, looking down.

"Oh? May I know about this prince?" Lilia teased.

"No, that prince was an obnoxious jerk," muttered Silver. "He didn't even know who I was."

"Ah, sounds like someone from the Southern Isles," Lilia nodded. "Always the last kingdom to know anything about worldly news."

But the talking stopped as the women stood up, and music filled the air.

🪻

Na na na heia na

Na hi ja na

King anointed

King anointed

King anointed

King anointed

Our chosen son

With blessed crown of gold

Northern glory, our golden brother

The heir to kings of old

Let our voice this sacred hour

Sing, praise, and bring to light your power

(Bring to light your power)

Noble King of our Northern lands

We are in your hands

🪻

The song slowly ends as the doors open, revealing Malleus. Hesitating, he slowly walks forward, looking at the people around him. He knows how much he is now depended on as their future king, but he fears letting them down. His steady breathing helps him control his power.

❄️

I can't be what you expect of me

But I'm trying every day with all I do

And do not say

Here on the edge of the abyss

Knowing everything in my whole life has led to this

And so I pull inside myself

Close the walls, put up my guard

I practice every single day for this

So why is it so hard?

'Cause I can't show you

I'm not as cold as I seem

There are things you cannot know

And it's dangerous to dream

❄️

Malleus was only halfway there, but seeing Silver happy for him calmed his heart. He knew why he was doing this and why he was even walking down this aisle.

❄️

I know I'll never see that sunny day

When this trial is finally through

And it could just be me and you

I can't dwell on what we've lost

And how secrecy and silence come at such a cost

I wish I could tell the truth

Show you who's behind the door

I wish you knew what all this pantomime

And pageantry was for

I have to be so cautious

And you're so extreme

We're different, you and I

And it's dangerous to dream

❄️

But Malleus's head started to fill with those horrid thoughts as he went closer and closer. Everything went dark; the only memory was that day when he almost killed Silver. If he could hurt his brother, nothing could stop him from harming everyone else.

❄️

It's dangerous to wish

I could make choices of my own

Dangerous to even have that thought

I'm dangerous just standing here

For everyone to see

If I let go of rules

Who knows how dangerous I'd be?

❄️

"Your Majesty," called the Bishop, "You have to take off the gloves."

❄️

Why right now would I make this mistake?

How could I let my concentration break?

❄️

"Conceal... Don't feel..." Malleus started to chant, closing his eyes. "Conceal... Don't feel...Conceal... Don't feel..."

"Sem hon heldr inum helgum eignum Ok krýnd í þessum helga stað. Ek té fram fyrir yðr...," The Bishop chanted before pausing. "King Malleus of Arendelle!"

❄️

King anointed

Our chosen son

Our blessed king, behold!

❄️

As Malleus put his gloves back on, everything became a blur. He was rushed towards the ballroom, where he stood tall before the people who danced and congratulated him.

For Malleus, he felt relief.

❄️

I can't believe that I'm standing here

Did I really make it through?

❄️

"Mother, I did it!" Malleus whispered, looking up at the new stars that appeared.

❄️

Now, what do I do?

I can't stop smiling, how strange

Does this mean that things are different?

Could they really change?

And could I open up that door

And finally see you, face to face?

I guess a king can change the rules

But not the reasons they're in place

❄️

"Now annoncing, Prince Silver of Arendelle."

Silver walked in, waving at everyone, wondering how close he should be to Malleus. But the brothers stood side by side, and the guests' claps made them happy.

Malleus looks back at Silver with a smile.

❄️

I can't be what you expect of me

And I'm not what I seem

But I would love to know you

Is it dangerous to dream?

❄️

Malleus took one more sigh before walking towards Silver. "Hi there."

"Oh, hi yourself," Silver smiled and looked down. "So, you're the king now, hmm? Anything plans?"

"Ah, I am not quite sure," Malleus chuckled. "I can't believe this day has come, yet I'm shaking."

"I get it, but I'm so happy for you." Silver confessed. "You were so nervous yesterday and now you stand with pride."

"I hope not too much pride," Malleus joked. "As King, I might order the whole supply of ice cream for myself with everything else. But I suppose that would leave the children upset."

Silver and Malleus shared a massive laugh.

"Excuse me," coughed a young man.

"Oh, yes?" Malleus spoke up.

"Your highness," spoken the announcer, "This is Duke Adam of Weasolton."

"Wessolton!" Adam corrected and straightened his bow. "Pardon me, but I am quite an old friend of your father and I was hoping to give the King his first dance."

Adam bowed, and his blond back hair flopped over, causing both Silver and Malleus to almost fall to the floor, laughing.

"I'm sorry," Malleus took a breath. "But to tell you the truth, I am not a good dancer."

"Yes, you are," Silver murmured. "Don't be dishonest."

"But my brother is," Malleus looked over at Silver with a glint in his eyes. "I can tell you that he is much more better than I am."

"Hold on-!!"

Silver was dragged over to the ballroom, but he stood tall and watched Adam dance around him—just as goofy as Silver had predicted.

"So. Lilia has told me about your connection with the animals, and I have to wonder," Adam said. "You must be impressed with my animal dances so far."

"Not really," Silver muttered, looking down.

"Oh, well, do you prefer the ole slow dance? " Adam said, bringing Silver close and trying to dance with him. "You look the type."

Silver didn't say anything else as he dipped down. He could see Malleus's face full of glee and delight, which made Silver roll his eyes.

Malleus continued to watch. Suddenly, a sweet smell came up to his nose, and his eyes looked over at a man with a glass filled with rose-colored liquid.

"What an odd but delightful smell," Malleus muttered.

"Oh, would you like a taste, your highness?" asked the man. "Perhaps you are parched?"

"No thank you," Malleus declined. "But I do thank you, um..?"

"Louis, Louis of the Southern Isles," Louis bowed.

"Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you, but I still decline the offer. Thank you regardless. Please have a great time." Malleus smiles.

Malleus watched the prince walk away as the music ended, and Silver rushed back to Malleus's side, looking a little nauseous.

"Had a good time?"

"....You suck," Silver muttered. "I can't believe you did that."

"Well, they are consequences." Malleus laughed. "I couldn't help myself."

"Well, can't say I didn't enjoy it," Silver smiles. "I mean, I really am happy. Being with you again and us, just talking to each other like old friends, and not just awkward from the distance. No maids, butlers, teachers trying to sperate us and you and I, just here. Together again."

"...Hmm," Malleus nodded and looked down.

He knew why he couldn't be so close to Silver and why it was impossible now. His powers were redacted, but even an ounce of calm couldn't keep that storm inside for long, and if the day that storm came out, Malleus didn't want Silver to be the target of such a storm.

"But, I can't be with you long," Malleys sighed.

"Why not?" Silver protested. "You are the king now, and you have a choice, yet you still choose to keep a distance from me? What did I ever do to deserve this?"

"...I just can't," Malleus just answered.

Silver sighs and walks away, ignoring Mallues's sorrowful look. He looked over but was so distracted when a man bumped into him, leaving him again in Loius's arms.

"Hey, you look distracted," Louis spoke up softly. "Maybe a drink could help?"

Silver stood up and followed Louis to the food table. He was given a glass and took a sip, just managing to collect his emotions.

"How about a dance? Just you and me?" Louis offered. "Might take your minds off things."

"You know what? Yes, I would love a dance."

Silver nodded, and they started dancing, which made everyone else dance with them. But as the night continued, Silver and Louis began to talk in the gardens, which made Silver feel better.

"Hey," Louis spoke up. "I wasn't going to ask this but I am curious. What's with the blue?"

Silver put his hand over his blue hair strands before answering, "I was told I was born with it, but I don't know why I don't believe them. I had a strange dream of a cold kiss on my forehead, and that's when I noticed it for the first time."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Hm, at least you have such honest parents," Louis spoke. "Mine wouldn't even care if I disappear from the earth entirely."

"Don't say that," Silver comforted. "I bet your family cares about you."

"Half of my brothers acted like I was invisible for so long that I was convinced that I was. They like to shut me out of their planning since they are older," Louis explained. "I was only five years younger than my 12th brother, but I was treated like an outcast, an inconvenience. It hurts to have siblings sometimes."

"I suppose I can relate," Silver sighed. "My older brother and I were close despite our massive age gap, but one day, he just shut me out. Sure, we have our moments, but it ends with us being separated again. I wished I knew why, but I couldn't shake off this horrible feeling whenever we had to be separated. Does he even love me like a brother, or was it in my head?"

"Well, perhaps you should learn that for youself."

"Okay, can I just - say something crazy?"

"I love crazy!"

🌷

All my life has been a series of doors in my face

And then suddenly I bump into you

🌷

"I was thinking the same thing! 'Cause, like..."

🐴

I've been searching my whole life

To find my own place

And maybe it's the party talking

Or the chocolate fondue

But with you

But with you

I found my place

I see your face

And it's nothing like I've ever known before

🌷

Silver grabbed Loius and was surprised to see that Loius had jumped to the next balcony and danced with him. They were not seen by anyone else as they sneaked away outside of the ballroom.

🌷

Love is an open door!

Love is an open door!

Love is an open door

With you!

With you!

With you!

With you!

Love is an open door

🌷

Silver and Loius laughed as they sat at the royal stables, looking at the stars above them.

"Wow, the view is beautiful," Silver smiles, looking at the stars.

"Absoulouty beautiful," Loius agreed while looking at Silver. "I mean it's crazy!"

"What?"

"We finish each others'—"

Silver didn't pay much attention as he smelled the nearby scent of sandwiches, which made him hungry.

🌷

Sandwiches!

That's what I was gonna say!

I've never met someone

🐴

Silver hummed as Loius grabbed his hand and climbed onto a nearby watch tower, a much more secluded place for them. Silver didn't know why, but he couldn't question Loius. He found himself enamored.

🐴

Who thinks so much like me

Jinx. Jinx again!

Our mental synchronization

Can have but one explanation

You

And I

Were

Just

Meant to be

🌷

It was the most romantic dance that Silver had ever done, dancing by the docks as the stars beamed down onto him and Loius as they danced close by. Silver felt his old worries and pain disapeered whenever he was with Louis, which made him very happy.

🐴

Say goodbye

Say goodbye

To the pain of the past

We don't have to feel it anymore!

Love is an open door!

Love is an open door!

Life can be so much more

With you!

With you!

With you!

With you!

Love is an open —

🌷

Back at the ballroom, Lilia couldn't find Silver and was worried about his youngest son. It was odd that Silver even sneaked out in the first place. He stopped when he was younger after he and Malleus had to be separated. Lilia chuckled at the moment when those boys were caught sneaking out and were by the gardens repeatedly; they never seemed to got old of that garden.

"Malleus?" Lilia spoke. "Have you seen Silver? I haven't seen him at all."

"No. I regrettably haven't," Malleus answered.

"He never sneaks out, not so sneakily," Lilia sighed. "Maybe he is with someone else."

"Oh, I have seen him talk to the man of the Southern Isles," Malleus mentioned. "Perhaps they have entered a courtship?"

"For the love of the fates, I hope not," Lilia mumbled.

Meanwhile, Silver and Louis hid beneath a waterfall, laughing together again. Silver didn't want to leave; he was so happy with Louis that it hurt to even think of leaving him.

"Can I say something crazy?" Louis laughed, looked over at Silver, and took his hand. "Will you marry me?"

Silver gasped and couldn't help but feel his heart flutter as the words left his mouth.

"Can I say something crazier? Yes!" Silver cheered.

Love is an open door!

🌷

Love is an open door!

Life can be so much more

With you!

With you!

With you!

With you!

Love is an open

Love is an open

Door!

🐴

Silver and Louis gasped as the door behind them opened, and both fell onto the ground. They were so excited to announce their new engagement that they forgot that the door would open automatically.

"Silver! Thank the fates you came back!" Lilia gasped and rushed over to his son. Where have you two been all night? I was worried."

"Father, I had the greatest time tonight," Silver beamed. "Louis and I...well, Louis, do you want to tell them?"

"Tell us what?" Malleus questioned, stepping forward.

"Are you sure you want me to tell them?" Louis asked Silver, holding his hand. "I mean, they are your family."

"Well, yes, but,"

"Oh, just spill it already! This old man can't take it," Lilia groaned.

"I want you to give me your blessing to marry your son!" Louis announced.

"Pardon?" Malleus questioned.

"I know, you don't have to give it now," Silver reassured. "We can wait obviously, and of couse, when you guys do, we have a lot of-"

"Silver," Malleus coughed. "May we, uh, talk alone? Just you and me?"

"Why? I mean, if you have something to say, wether good or bad, you can just tell me."

Mallues took a breath and looked over at Silver. "Alright. Silver, as your older brother, I highly suggest you wait for at least a year. You can't marry you first met."

"...I suppose..."

"Why not?" Louis asked. "Not to be prude, your highness, but Silver and I truly love each other and love is hardly something to wait on."

"Yes, I have to agree," Silver spoke. "We love each other very much."

"Silver, no offense, but you have no idea what love is," Malleus said bluntly. "It's not that I don't believe you know, but you barely have any interest in it, and I want to know what changed.

"Malleus, Silver," Lilia whispered. "Let's not argue here, let's just talk about this tomorrow."

"As if you know about love," scoffed Silver. "Your version of love is pushing people who obviously care about you away and leave them alone for years. Regardless of anything valurable."

"...It wasn't by choice," Malleus whispered. "I did what I had to do to protect you."

"Protect me from what? Your hearlessness?"

Malleus gasped and looked down.

"Malleus," Lilia sighed. "Are you alright?"

"The Party is over," Malleus announced. "Guards, make sure that guests are taken to their living locations safely and that the gates are closed and guarded."

"Don't you dare leave," Silver spoke, grabbing Malleus's hand, but grabbed his glove instead.

"Silver, I will only ask you once. Give me back my glove," Malleus ordered. "You don't want to see what happens if my gloves are off, I promise you it's not good."

"Malleus, then please listen to me," Silver said sorrowfully. I can't keep living like I'm invisible and being ignored by everyone else because I am not from the land. I..." Silver paused before looking back angrily. "What did I ever do to you!?"

"Silver, don't," Malleus gulped, trying to stand firm.

"Silver, please calm down," Lilia gulped.

"No, I can't ignore this," Silver agreed. "Why did you shut me out?! Why shut the world out?? WHAT ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF!?"

"Stop!" Malleus screamed, his hand now sprouting ice as spikes surrounded him.

Everyone froze and gasped, looking down at the magically formed ice. It took a mere moment before the ballroom started to fill with panic and gasped.

"...Malleus?" Silver gasped softly.

Malleus, eyes still looking at Silver, opened the door and rushed out, ice trails underneath his feet. He ignored the people calling out to him as he rushed out to the entrance to the Kingdom, but he was stopped as the villagers greeted him with happiness and praise. But this made him panic even more as Silver, Lilia, Louis, and Adam rushed into the door with guards behind them.

"Malleus! Please stay calm down," Lilia begged.

"I'm trying!" Malleus sobbed. "Make sure they stay away!"

As he raised his hands in defense, another burst of ice and another form of spikes emerged, one almost striking Silver's heart.

"I'm sorry," Malleus sobbed again, backed up, and his hand hit a fountain. Everyone watched as the water formed into icey sculptures. People gasped around him as fear appeared in their eyes, making Malleus feel even worse, and he started hyperventilating.

"Conceal, don't feel," Malleus repeated as he rushed away.

But a fjord stopped him, and he looked over to see his family rushing over to him. He was shaking, but he had no other choice but to step forward. Ice appeared underneath his foot, making him walk on the water.

".. Father! Please! Keep Silver safe! I can't keep this up..." Malleus sobbed, "...I hope Silver will be a great king...much more better than I am. I'm so sorry, Silver...I didn't mean to hurt you that day."

Malleus took a breath and started to run away, ice forming a path. He ignored everything as he disappeared into the forest, ignoring Silver's cries for him, even when he slipped onto the ice to come closer to his brother.

"Are you ok?"Louis spoke, helping Silver up. "Did you know about this?"

"..no," Silver whispered.

"I cannot believe this! I knew that women's offspring will bring us nothing but trouble!" Adam screamed at Lilia. "But no! You wanted to raise that beastly child as your own flesh and blood!"

"As if this would happen?!" Lilia groaned. "Malleus had no control, but he actually managed to. It is not my fault that his emotions took over just this one time in his life."

"I cannot believe you," Adam sighs. "I suppose your other son has magic to?"

"None," Lilia answered. "Silver, as far as I am concerned, is ordinary."

"I am," Silver spoke up and sighed. "I'm so sorry, Father. I caused all of this."

"I understand your feelings about these past few years," Lilia sighed. "It's a long story, but I also take part of this. I should never have gone by those trolls and tried harder as a parent, but unfortunately, that's all in the past. Right now, we need to get Malleus. Who knows what'll happen if he's alone for too long?"

"Your Majesty! The Fjord!" gasped a guard.

Lilia watched Malleus's ice trial travel throughout the fjord, which had become frozen over. Clouds above surrounded the kingdom, and snow slowly fell onto the ground, shocking everyone.

"Snow? In winter?"

"The King has cursed us all!" gasped a villager.

"No, he didn't!" Silver spoke back. "...Oh, what have I done. Father, please let me go after him."

"No way, I alreayd lost one son, I can't lose you too." Lilia argued.

"Please, Father," Silver begged. "I caused all of this, and now i want to fix it."

"..Ugh, I can't change your mind now, can I?" Lilia sighs. "I truly taught you the heart of a knight, huh?"

"You did," Silver smiles. "And I need to make this right. If this continues on, who knows how bad this newly formed winter will be."

"He has a point," spoke Louis, walking forward. "Please, let me help you as much as I can."

"Of course," Silver nodded. "Please stay and assist my Father. I can go up the mountain by myself, but my Father is now a little frail and may need some help with some more difficult tasks."

"I may be old, but I am not weak," huffed Lilia. "Nevermind that, please be safe."

Silver nods as a guard gives him his horse and a cloak for warmth.

"I will, and i will return with Mallues."

Loius sighed and grabbed Silver's hand. "But what if he hurts you? I can't bear the thought."

"He's my brother," Silver reassured. "He won't hurt me."

"I hope so," Loius prayed and kissed his hand. "Safe travels, dear Prince."

Silver smiled and rode away, heading for the mountains, where now a huge cloud loomed over.

[666writingcafe]

Art Final (NSFW)

Partially inspired by this piece: 子猫 on Tumblr (For Your Eyes Only)

Introduction

Art class was never MC's strong suit. They passed the human world version of the class just fine, but they were never good enough to feature in any school art galleries. So, when they were allowed the opportunity to choose electives at RAD, they dismissed the idea of taking an art class immediately.

Imagine MC's surprise when the most experienced art teacher--the one that is a professional Devildom artist in his own right--reaches out to them to help him conduct his final exam. The request was simple: model for the student as they recreate their form on the canvas.

It wasn't until the first day of the two-week long exam period that MC realized that they would be posing nude and that all of the adults they've grown close to during their stay at the Devildom were in this particular class. At least it was a one-on-one session, and MC's all for trying new things.

"Each of you will have one day to create your masterpiece," the professor tells the class. "Your model is in the next room." He gestures at the closed door to the right of him. "Your time starts as soon as you enter the room, so I suggest you come up with your composition idea while you wait for your turn. With that in mind, first up is..."

____________________

Levi

It takes him about 20 minutes to come to terms with the fact that he has to paint a nude MC. He doesn't even enter the room at first; instead, he opens the door, peeks in, and slams it shut again. Eventually, however, he's able to compose himself long enough to be in the same room as MC.

The idea of the composition comes from MC. You see, there's several boxes of props in the room, along with lots of furniture. One of the many items is a very ornate version of a pirate captain's hat. So, MC suggests to Levi that they can pose on one of the couches while wearing the hat and pretending to eat grapes.

Levi gets a B for his efforts.

____________________

Barbatos

The only reason why the butler is even in this art class is so that he can keep an eye on Diavolo. Throughout the term, the professor has praised his technical skills, but notes that his pieces lack emotion.

Barbatos' final piece, however, has the opposite problem. One glimpse of his work reveals raw, unfiltered emotions, but the piece itself is quite messy and nearly incoherent. Some of that is because he just starts working the moment he gets settled in the room instead of directing MC to pose for him. In fact, he doesn't say a word to them at all, which is quite uncharacteristic of the butler.

The professor gives him an A.

____________________

Diavolo

The Demon Prince has a clear idea of what he wants to do with MC as soon as he sees them: imagine them as royalty. It takes some time to come up with everything he needs, but eventually he finds a throne chair, a crown, a staff, and an animal pelt.

Unfortunately for Diavolo, he keeps getting distracted by sexual daydreams, and he barely finishes the painting on time. If it weren't for the fact that MC had to hold their pose, they would have slapped Diavolo across the face to get him to focus on his project instead of their body.

Final grade: a C.

____________________

Belphie

The youngest demon brother thinks outside of the box. Instead of using a blank canvas to depict MC, he decides to use MC as the actual canvas itself. Thankfully, there's plenty of body paint in the art room, so Belphie is able to execute his idea.

Staying above the waistline, Belphie depicts the night sky on MC's body. He enjoys the process, since he's combining two of his favorite things into one product. There's a lot of blues and purples in the piece. As for his behavior, he's quite professional, asking MC if they are alright throughout the day.

Final grade: an A.

____________________

Mammon

The Avatar of Greed is one of the students that fails to turn in anything, so he automatically fails the final. His reaction is similar to Levi's, except that he never goes back in the room and instead walks out of the classroom. Even when the professor tells him that he'll fail the class if he doesn't complete this final, Mammon refuses to do it. Why? The world may never know.

____________________

Lucifer

Lucifer's work can get quite dark, and this particular piece is perhaps his most twisted. Of course, being the gentleman that he is, he discusses the idea to MC to make sure that they're comfortable with his vision, and MC is on board.

Essentially, in Lucifer's final piece for this class, MC is a bloodthirsty demon. Bodies are all around them, and MC laughs with glee, their body covered with blood. Don't worry, though: no one was harmed in the production of the painting. Once Lucifer is satisfied with MC's pose, he's able to create the rest of his piece entirely from his imagination.

Lucifer gets a B, but the professor tells him that he wants to display the piece at his next art showing.

____________________

Satan

To put it simply, Satan turns MC into a cat. Think Cats.

Does more need to be said? I don't think so.

Satan gets a C-.

____________________

Solomon

Surprisingly, Solomon's piece is the most straightforward out of everyone's. He doesn't try to turn MC into something else; he simply paints them as they are.

Everyone's a bit disappointed, for Solomon's work is usually pretty out there, and the professor was lowkey expecting something abstract from him.

Because of this, but also because there's technically nothing wrong with the piece, Solomon receives a B.

____________________

Beel

The Avatar of Gluttony is another student that fails to turn anything in. Believe him, he wants to complete the project. He's not trying to be insubordinate. He simply cannot think of anything. He could have gotten away with it if he had simply told the professor that he felt like MC was too beautiful to replicate on a canvas, because at least that would have gotten him a D, but the problem with Beel is that he's way too honest.

____________________

Simeon

Simeon depicts MC as an angel, which sounds sweet at first. However, Simeon doesn't go for the innocent version that everyone's used to. Instead, he goes the biblical route, and the final result is a bit disturbing (as biblically accurate angels tend to be).

He gets an A because this piece goes the opposite direction of all of his other work.

____________________

Asmo

The Avatar of Lust is the third student to not produce anything for the final. You see, Asmo has the opposite problem that Beel had: he has too many ideas, and he cannot decide which one to execute. MC tries to help him, but their words only seem to make Asmo more indecisive.