#you know he hosts a sickening dinner party

[jewfrogs]

brennan getting up to hug everybody coming in is sooo sweetie

[write-kin]

Day 20 - Homemade Meal

Words: 396

Prompt by @augusnippets

CWs: N/A

Thanks to Silly for letting me borrow Altair again :) Itty bitty little narrative poking through the snippets I guess!!

--

Cooking was hard when you were a vampire. Any and all human food was unappealing at best, and sickening at worst. Fruit was tolerable, but medicinal. Anything else simply refused to register as edible. 

Back at the convent, meals had been basic. Bread, protein, vegetables, water. The bare minimum. 

Cal had only had one good meal in his life, the night he’d met Bryn. Meat. Stew. Bread. Potatoes. Fruit. Mostly unfamiliar to him. Rich and hearty and delicious. 

That was why he was in the kitchens, now. 

Montresor enjoyed dinner parties. More than one would expect him to. The pantries were always stocked, and sometimes mortals came in to cook for other visitors. 

He’d picked up… a little cooking knowledge. Promised lessons by a chef whose spine had been broken in front of him the day Montresor had kidnapped him. 

But he knew… some things. 

Nothing with meat. That was too scary to handle. That was asking for food poisoning. 

Tarocco was known for its fruit. Sliced persimmon, then. And the blood oranges the country shared a name with. 

Soft butter. Bread, to go with it. The cheeses he could find. 

Cal tried to remember what his friends ate. 

The resulting platter was a little eclectic. Nuts, vegetables he’d roasted, some sweets that didn’t seem stale or anything. 

He carried the plate up the flights of stairs. The dumbwaiter in the kitchen only went to Shriya’s room, and she was too agoraphobic to leave, so she couldn’t deliver it. 

So Cal had to make the long, careful walk to Altair’s room himself. 

Altair didn’t leave his room. Cal had seen Elze’ith at the dinner parties Montresor hosted, right by Denholm’s side. But Altair never came. 

This was, frankly, the least he could do. So when Altair opened the door to his room, there wasn’t really much need for Cal to speak. Just hold out the plate, and scamper away in cat form the moment it was safely out of his hands. 

Sure, the guilt was eating him whole. He was exhausted. The guests that Montresor insisted stayed here so they could all know each other- they were wonderful, yes, but the entire situation left him exhausted. The things done to him. The things he was made to do. It couldn’t be any easier on Elze’ith or Altair. 

But he could, at least, offer some small respite. 

[totowlff]

chapter two — fireworks

➝ elisabeth wasn’t fond of parties, and a new year’s eve party in vienna was no exception. niki would never refuse such a generous invitation from his new business partner, and he wouldn’t let elisabeth get out of it, either.

➝ word count: 1,6k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author’s note: another day, another chapter. hope you enjoy!

DECEMBER, 2012

The air inside the apartment was hot, almost suffocating.

Conversations in the room were backed by the sickening notes of a violin.

“I shouldn’t have come”, Elisabeth thought, watching her father in an animated conversation. He was gesturing effusively as he explained something to her eldest brother, Lukas, as well to two other men, all of them hanging on to his every word. 

Elsewhere in the room, her mother, in an elegant white dress with her gray hair tied back in her trademark bun, was chuckling at some comment made by a woman Elisabeth had been introduced to earlier, but whose name she didn't care to remember.

She took a sip of the red wine from the glass in her hand, looking at her feet.

Even if she had invented some excuse to not come, her dear father would have dragged her to that penthouse in downtown Vienna one way or another. She could almost hear his voice in her head, scolding her for even thinking about turning down such a generous invitation from their new partner in “the great Mercedes adventure”, as Niki liked to call the acquisition of 10% of the company's shares.

She sighed, scanning the crowd, searching for the party’s host.

Toto Wolff wasn’t difficult to spot, considering he was, almost everywhere he went, the tallest person in the room. Elisabeth spotted him in one of the many crowds of people, deep in conversation. He was wearing dark dress pants and a white dress shirt, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows. He was very obviously the center of conversation, everyone else around him looking at him as he spoke.

Not without reason — Toto had a magnetic aura. He was able to command attention in any environment just by stepping into it. She’d realized that at that first dinner at Edvard when she was completely absorbed by his presence, listening to him talk about cars, tyres, and lap times despite not understanding a thing about motorsport. Mesmerized by his hand gestures and the smooth baritone of his voice, Elisabeth couldn’t help but be drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

It had only gotten worse since then.

The trip they had taken to Singapore had been, to a certain extent, a success. Niki had managed to convince Lewis Hamilton, in a middle of the night meeting in his hotel room, to sign with Mercedes for the next season. It was what Elisabeth considered the greatest win of the weekend.

However, the trip allowed Elisabeth — in addition to having more coffee than would normally be acceptable due to jet lag — the chance to get closer to the man who had thoroughly captured her attention during that dinner at Edvard. 

She had the opportunity to get to know him one-on-one on the Friday of the race weekend, at lunch between free practice sessions. Niki passed on going with them, claiming he had more important things to do in the garage. Toto insisted on accompanying Elisabeth to the hotel's restaurant so that she wouldn’t be alone. Between glasses of wine and forkfuls of fish, he shared a little bit of his life with her.

Toto wasn’t actually named “Toto”. Rather, it was a nickname for “Torger”. He was born and raised in Vienna, and studied at the Lycée Français. When he was 17, he attended his first race — a German Formula 3 race his friend was competing in — and fell in love with motor racing. He spent a few years trying to become competitive, but his height and his main sponsor pulling out of racing forced him to focus solely on business. He had enrolled in a course at the Vienna University of Economics and Business, but decided he would learn more in the real world, so he got an internship at a bank in Warsaw.

He had previously been married, and had two children, a boy and a girl, and went through a messy divorce that had him plunging into work to distract himself. As a result, he decided to resume his dream of getting involved with motorsport. He started racing again, as a hobby, mostly doing endurance races and rallying. 

Listening to him talk during their lunch together made Elisabeth feel something completely new to her. She could feel heart beat faster every time he looked at her, and a warmth spread through her chest as she listened to him talk about his passions. She was completely enchanted by him.

However, it was wrong.

“Wrong”, she repeated the word in her head, looking back at her father.

Niki had always said he didn't have any friends. Elisabeth thought that was silly, after all, it was impossible for a popular man like him not to have friends. However, what worried her was that her father referred to Toto as a good colleague after they’d returned to Vienna. She knew it was his way of saying he was a friend of his. And her dad's friends were definitely off limits to her, even if they made her feel butterflies in her stomach for the first time in her life.

Gripping her wine glass a bit tighter, Elisabeth decided it would be better to leave the crowded living room and seek a quieter spot. She made her way through the crowd of people and down a hallway. There were a few doors down the corridor. She entered the first one on her right, and closed it quietly behind her back.

When Elisabeth turned around, she found herself facing Vienna’s night skyline, stretched out through a large window. It was almost the size of the entire wall. In the dim light filtering in from the streetlights below, she saw an outline of a desk, chair, and some bookshelves. An office.

“Perfect”, she thought as approached the desk and set down her half-full wine glass. Her eyes wandered over the things spread out on the desktop — a neat row of pens next to square-framed glasses, an iPad, and an orderly stack of papers.

In the corner, Elisabeth spotted a framed photo of Toto next to two light-haired children. “Benedict and Rosa”, she recalled. A smile passed over her lips as she noticed how similar they looked to their father.

With a sigh, she turned toward the window to take in the view. From here, it was possible to see the colorful tiles of the roof of St. Stephen’s Cathedral, as well as the terraces and balconies of other buildings, crowded with people, all waiting to welcome the new year. Elisabeth picked up her glass again and took another sip of wine. Clearly, their night was going better than hers.

— Elisabeth? — she heard a voice behind her. It was the one voice she didn’t want to hear.  She turned around to see Toto standing in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his dark pants — Are you okay?

— Yes — she replied, her voice thin.

— Your father said you didn’t look well, I just came to check on you.

— I just needed some quiet.

He approached her, walking around the desk. Then, he stood next to her, leaning against the surface.

— You look worried. Is something bothering you?

She pursed her lips, feeling tense.

— It’s not a big deal — she said.

— If it weren’t a big deal, you wouldn’t be hiding in a dark office on New Year’s Eve — Toto replied, the corner of his mouth turning upward into a smile. Elisabeth could feel her heart start to race.

“Shit”, she thought.

— Just thinking about next year — she lied — And dad.

— Do you think he can’t handle it?

— You know how it is, always wanting to be the tough guy. But he’s not getting any younger.

— But he’s strong. He has already proven it so many times.

Elisabeth sighed, letting silence hang between them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though — it felt natural to her to stand beside him, listening to the din of muffled conversations from the living room and the sound of each other’s breathing.

— Besides, he has you — Toto said, after a few moments.

— Me?

— Yeah. You’re smart, focused, and serious. It’s everything Niki needs in a business partner.

She felt a wave of heat rise to her cheeks.

— Funny, he says that about you — she said, hoping Toto wouldn’t notice her blush.

— Oh, really? I’m flattered — he replied, laughing.

A muffled voice from the living room called out that it was less than a minute to midnight. However, neither of them made a point to leave their places. From the window, Elisabeth could see people moving on the balconies as they gathered to see the upcoming fireworks display.

Funf.

— My father likes you very much — she said, quietly, looking at him.

Vier.

— I like him a lot too, Elisabeth.

Drei.

“Should I or shouldn’t I?”, Elisabeth asked herself, her pulse roaring in her ears.

Zwei.

— He’s a real inspiration, not just to me, but to a lot of people — Toto continued. His eyes were fixed on hers.

Elisabeth wasn’t fond of parties, and a New Year’s Eve party in Vienna was no exception. Niki would never refuse such a generous invitation from his new business partner, and he wouldn’t let Elisabeth get out of it, either.

Fireworks soared through the sky with a series of loud whistles, lighting up the Vienna skyline with a series of bangs and pops. She looked outside, admiring the lights coloring the city’s skyline. She could hear people cheering from the living room, making toasts and wishes for a 2013 filled with victories.

— Toto — Elisabeth said, a little hesitantly.

He looked at her with a smile. Something inside of her felt warm.

“What if we — ?”, she thought.

— Yes?

“No, we can’t”, she chided herself.

— Happy New Year — she said.

— Happy New Year, Elisabeth — Toto replied, placing his hand over hers. His thumb was caressing her skin tenderly.

At that moment, she could feel fireworks going off in her heart, too.

[pomegranate]

I was tagged by @amrv-5 to share some of my WIP and I’m actually going to do it for once! I’m determined to make progress on my Beejhawk postwar fic and maybe sharing some of it will help motivate me to do that.

Tagging @harpernovakaine @marley-manson @etriva @autistichare @sequencefairy @crabsandlobsters @ostensiblynone @egg2k16 @variousqueerthings @lettadalokislayter @quolant @fieryphrazes and anyone else who wants to do it!

-

If it had only happened that one time, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

But about three weeks after BJ first shuts himself in the office and scrawls secrets onto sheets of paper that end up as kindling, he and Peg are hosting a dinner party for some of their old friends.

The party is just three other couples - Doug and Betty, Paul and Martha, and Gene and Francine. Peg is friends with Betty and Francine and Paul is a friend of BJ’s from college, before he went off to Stanford for medicine. Erin is upstairs, the babysitter keeping her occupied with puppets and bedtime stories.

Initially, BJ is genuinely glad to see Paul and Martha, and he knows Peg has missed having him with her for these kinds of social events.

She squeezes his hand when they’re all standing around in the front hall, exchanging hugs and greetings. He squeezes back.

The first moment it seems to be going downhill is when BJ says he’s going to check on dinner in the kitchen, and Doug cracks a joke about Peg being ‘the real man of the house’.

Betty swats her husband’s arm while Gene and Paul laugh, and BJ feels his face grow hot and his vision blur.

He bares his teeth in a sarcastic smile and says, “At least there is a man in my house, Doug. Not sure we can say the same for yours.” And he turns around and moves swiftly into the kitchen, heading for the stove.

He hears Gene and Paul laugh even louder at that, and hears Peg make some kind of excuse for him, but redirects his focus on checking on the roast in the oven and violently mashing the potatoes.

The mood draws even darker over dinner, and even an innocuous question from Paul about whether he’s thought about going back to work prompts BJ to shut down that avenue of conversation immediately.

It’s … not a pleasant night, all in all. BJ knows Peg is seething and he’s going to hear about it as soon as everyone is gone, but he doesn’t care. He stabs his slice of roast with his fork and thinks about what Hawkeye would be saying to all of these people if he were here.

BJ knows Hawkeye wouldn’t be putting up with their snide comments and idle gossip. He'd be drawing BJ into a sharp takedown of every single one of them and the two of them would exchange grins while Doug and all the others were shocked into silence. He’d put them in their places like he’d put every arrogant colonel and every blustery general in their places during their two years together. And when everyone left, Hawkeye and BJ would sit on the front porch with their drinks, cackling at their verbal dressing down of his guests and musing on how silly it all seemed - dinner parties, barbeques, cookie cutter houses, flashy automobiles, sickening smiles, hateful blathering - all of it totally meaningless.

He excuses himself from the conversation to wash and dry the dishes on his own, waving away Betty and Martha’s insistence that he let them take care of it.

It’s not long before Peg has seen everyone off, thanking them for coming in what BJ knows is a falsely cheery voice. He’s putting away the last few glasses when she stalks into the kitchen.

“And just what was all that about, BJ Hunnicutt?” she snaps, keeping her voice low so the babysitter won’t overhear anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about, mister. Why were you so horrible with them? They’re our friends - my friends and yours, if you’ll recall.”

BJ snorts. “Some friends.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

He whirls around to face her and snaps back, “You didn’t hear that ‘man of the house’ crack? Or did you and you thought, ‘Hmm, actually, maybe he has a point’.”

“Keep your voice down,” Peg warns, stepping toward him. “Erin is - “

“Erin is what, asleep? You think she’s been able to sleep with Doug barking like a goddamn circus seal down here all night? Give me a fucking break, Peg.”

“BJ!”

He slams the cupboard door shut and brushes past her, headed for the office. He slams that door too.

The bottle is out and BJ’s pen is scribbling on a sheet of paper in no time. He distantly hears Peg thank the babysitter and send her out before climbing the stairs and heading to check on Erin before bed.

And so once again, BJ writes. And drinks. And indulges in fantasies that will never see the light of day, wringing them out of himself while choking back tears.

And once again, he finds himself lighting a fire in the fireplace, staring down at the flames curling paper into ash.

[hecatemoon87]

James K. Delaney - Modern Day Delaney

Chapter Two - First encounter with James Delaney

Jendayi had been in London for six weeks. She had chosen a simple flat. It was more than an hour tube ride from her father’s office. But it was the cheapest she could find. It wasn’t in a terrible area, but she always kept a switchblade on her while heading home.

The building her father held his offices was over twenty stories tall. All of the big executives worked on the twenty-fifth floor. She had set up her office on the fourteenth floor, where her team was.

At first, her team, a majority of men, weren’t very excited about the Boss’s daughter being put in charge of IT. But after a week working closely with them, they realized that she actually knew what she was doing.

One day in her office, her father called her.

“Little one! How are you, in your tiny little office?”

Jendayi rolled her eyes. Her father had a tint of Russian accent in his voice. Although Jendayi spoke Russian, he preferred to use English while he was in the office.

“It’s fine Papa. What do you need?”

“Always direct, to the point,” Viktor laughed. “I need you to come to a party. Your step-mother is hosting it, but...um...I want you to come and meet the Delaney’s. They are looking for a partner, and I am in the middle of some negotiations with them. I’d like you to be there. Horace, the father, has two sons and…”

“What? You want me to dress pretty and try to impress one of his sons?”

“No, no. You...well yes and no. Look, my lovely child, you were blessed with great beauty, even though you hide it with your attitude.” Viktor chuckled.

“I don’t have a dress or a place to get my hair done.”

“Today is Tuesday, dinner is Friday. You can ask your sister, Kaia.”

“She isn’t my sister.” Jendayi said a little heatedly.

Viktor paused on the line, then said, “Ask Kaarina. Your cousin always has such good style.”

“Fine. Let me know where to go and time.”

“Yes, of course, have a good week little one, see you Friday.”

Friday had come soon enough and Jendayi was in the hands of her cousin Kaarina.

“Ugh, when is last time you brush hair?” Kaarina asked.

Kaarina had a very thick Russian accent, she was Viktor’s niece and Jendayi first cousin. They had always been friends, even when they were both great distances apart.

“I brush my hair...I just don’t style it.” Jendayi said.

“Well, let me first take care of this madness. And then you try dress on, da?”

“Whatever...ow! Don’t pull so hard!”

Kaarina muttered something in Russian that sounded like, “Don’t be such a baby.”

After a half hour, Kaarina smoothed out Jendayi’s raven black hair. Kaarina kept Jendayi's hair down and placed some slight curls to cascade down her back. Next was the make up.

“You don’t need much, just a dabble on face. I hate you, your beauty sickens me.” Kaarina joked.

Kaarina herself was a gorgeous blonde beauty with light blue eyes.

“Dad wants me to meet Delaney’s sons…” Jendayi began to say.

“Ah, well, they are handsome, very handsome. Like two Greek gods.” Kaarina said.

Jendayi laughed, “What? Greek gods, isn't that a bit much?”

Kaarina stepped out in front of Jendayi and folded her arms.

“You’ll see, then you will shut your mouth. Now, I have very pretty red dress you can wear to party.”

“No red. I hate that color on me, don’t you have something more subtle?”

“You mean like burlap sack?”

“You know what I mean, black would be fine.”

Kaarina shrugged and pulled out from her closet a simple cut black dress. Jendayi slipped it on. The hem hung about an inch above her knee. The dress had short sleeves that cut off barely at her shoulder. The thing Jendayi didn’t overly like is that it pushed her breasts up and together to show her cleavage. The waist contoured her nicely and revealed her voluptuous figure.

She looked at herself in the mirror and was a little embarrassed. She was used to wearing cargo pants and tank tops in Africa, and even at work she chose to wear modest clothing such as black pants and a simple polo shirt.

“Well, if the Delaney men don’t like you, maybe they are gay.” Kaarina suggested.

Kaarina and Jendayi took a cab to Viktor Kozlov home. Jendayi suddenly began to feel nervous and popped a piece of gum in her mouth to try to ease her social anxiety. Fancy occasions weren’t her style and she didn’t know what a proper lady should act like. These people made millions of dollars and lived at the height of luxury, she hated that lifestyle.

They approach the looming mansion. The heels Jendayi had on were Kaarina’s and they were the shortest heels she had. Jendayi was mentally focused on not falling over in these things.

The door opened to show a small Polish woman, with a warm smile.

“Good Evening Albina,” Kaarina said.

“Ms. Kaarina, good to see you. And your friend?”

Kaarina gave Albina her coat and motioned to Jendayi to do the same. As they walked into the opulent mansion, Jendayi began to chew her gum harder.

“Little one! I’m so glad you came.” Viktor said, taking Jendayi into his arms. “And you look so lovely!”

“Are you chewing gum, young lady?” A sharp British accent from a middle aged woman cut through the air. It was her step-mother, Martha.

“Um, yes.” Jendayi said grumpily.

“Well spit it out. My goodness.”

Viktor smiled and shrugged, he wasn’t going to fight against his wife on this one. As the rest of the party headed in toward the dining room, Jendayi removed her gum and stuck it under her step-mother's beautiful, ebony side table in the hallway. She had thought she had gotten away with it, but someone had seen her.

In the dining room an older man, with white wisping hair, but with strong shoulders stood. Next to him, were the Greek gods Kaarina had mentioned. Both sons had broad shoulders like their father. The first son had light blonde hair and light blue eyes. He was bearded, enough to cover his month and a bit of his cheeks. He was muscular and well built.

The second son looked similar to his brother, but he seemed to have darker features. He had dark blue eyes and dark brown hair. His lips were fuller and a scar was etched across his left eye. His muscular frame was a little more bulkier than that of his brother. His face was set in a stern glare.

“Horace, I’d like you to meet my daughter and niece. Jendayi, my first born, and Kaarina, Boris’ daughter. Ladies, this is Duncan.” Viktor motioned to the light blonde son. “And this is James.” Viktor nodded to the darker, grumpier looking one.

Jendayi simply observed her cousin, to match her actions, whatever they might be. Kaarina dainty brought her hand up and shook Duncan’s, who took her hand and lightly kissed it.

“Always a pleasure, Kaarina.” He said.

Duncan turned to Jendayi, but she didn’t offer her hand. She stood there awkwardly, but Duncan smiled and nodded in greeting, “A pleasure to meet you as well, Jendayi.”

James just nodded curtly at each of them and said nothing.

They sat down and began their dinner. Horace and Viktor talking of business and the son’s, mostly Duncan interjecting a comment here and there. All the while the women had small talk. Kaia was there, of course, and she kept staring at the sons. Her mother would gently elbow her in the side and tell her to mind her meal.

Jendayi barely ate. The whole ritzy lifestyle made her sick. Each course was brought in and the staff were completely ignored. Jendayi felt like she should get up and help with the meal or something. Then her father’s voice brought her out of her stage one panic attack.

“The Congo, wasn’t it?”

“What?” Jendayi said, confused.

“When you were with the United Nations, you were helping mostly in the Congo.” Viktor said again.

“The DRC, yes, I was stationed mainly there.”

“James, I believe you were there when you were with the Royal Marines?”

Jendayi looked up, James sat directly across from her, she caught his dark blue eyes and expected him to look away but he stared back. A tingle went up her spine, his look was intimidating, but he was so handsome that the feeling was mixed with fear and lust.

The dinner had ended and Kaarina, Kaia and Jendayi stepped out on the second floor balcony. Kaarina and Kaia pulled out a fag and lit them up. Jendayi shook her head when they offered one to her.

“Oh my god, they are so hot.” Kaia whined as she puffed on her fag.

Kaarina rolled her eyes, “Duncan is thirty-five, James is thirty three. They are too old for you Kaia.”

“I’ll be twenty-one next month!” Kaia complained.

Jendayi leaned on the balcony and stared off into the night.

“What? They are not good enough for the proud princess Jendayi?” Kaia quipped.

Jendayi lazily lolled her head around to make eye contact with her half sister.

“Just because they are handsome doesn’t make them good men.” Jendayi said.

“That is what a woman would say who hasn’t had a man between her legs in three years.” Kaarina said, tilting her head back and blowing smoke up into the cold air.

Jendayi flinched at that.

“Oh my god Jendayi, three years? What is wrong with you?"

“Would you shut up? I’ve just been busy.” Jendayi scoffed.

“So, which one?” Kaarina asked.

“Which one what?” Jendayi said, trying to pretend she didn’t understand her cousin.

“Which one would you fuck?”

“James.” she said without hesitation.

“He is very handsome, but scary. Why not Duncan?” Kaia asked.

“Because Jendayi likes to be told what to do in bedroom.” Kaarina said laughing.

“Well, he is a Royal Marine, maybe being ordered by him to be a good girl and do what I’m told would be appealing…” Jendayi said with a grin.

The woman laughed and left the balcony, not realizing that James Delaney was on the first floor balcony smoking and listening to their conversation.

Jendayi wandered into the hallway to get away from the social activities of the evening. She walked down the hallways looking at the paintings and the overly priced vases and statues.

“You might want to remove the gum you put under that table. You’ll just get Albina in trouble for it.”

Jendayi jumped and turned. James’ voice was low and gravely, it carried the weight of authority.

“I don’t have anything to put it in…” she managed to say.

He walked up to her and pulled out his handkerchief. She hesitantly reached for it and walked over to the table to retrieve the gum.

“There, do you want it back?” she said, dangling it in front of him.

He shook his head, “You can keep it.”

He continued to look at her, as if studying her. She suddenly felt like an animal in a zoo.

“What?” she pushed him, her voice tinged with some annoyance.

“Your accent, why do you sound American.” He said, not as a question, but as a statement.

“I...learned American English in school, and spent four years in Massachusetts.” For some reason she felt like a little girl again, in trouble with the school master.

A deep growl rumbled in his throat. As if to say that met his standard of an answer.

“If you are to be part of this society, you should also know where to hold a conversation.” He said cryptically.

Jendayi was over her feeling of insecurity with this man, “What are you talking about? Don’t you know how to just speak directly?”

A half smirk crossed his face. “If you are talking about fucking someone, don’t say it within earshot of that person, hmmm?”

Blood drained from her face and she was struck speechless, before stumbling out the words, “I...you...it isn’t nice to eavesdrop!”

Before the conversation could continue, the rest of the party came out into the hallway.

“Well it was good of you to come Horace” Viktor said, patting the older man on the shoulder.

“Yes, thank you Viktor, it was a pleasure as always.” Horace said in return.

“Well, please drive safely. Uh...Jendayi, you are going back with your cousin, yes?”

“No, I’ll just take the tube back to my flat.”

“It is midnight, I don’t want you going back there now...just stay here.”

“Father, I am perfectly capable of going home by myself.”

“I can take her.” James said.

“What…” Jendayi began to say, but her father interrupted her.

“Are you certain? I would be very grateful, James!”

“Of course, not an issue.” James said.

Before Jendayi really had a chance to register the whole situation, she was given her coat by Albina, pushed out the door by Kaarina, and inside the passenger side of James black, expensive BMW. She didn’t know cars, but it seemed to be the top of its line. The hem of her dress slid up a little and she pulled it down to cover her legs, but her long, toned legs still peaked out and made her feel uncomfortable. James kept his eyes on the road.

“The address?”

She said the address out loud and the car smart activation began the GPS tracking.

Once they entered the car park of her flat, James looked around in distaste.

“You live here?”

“Thank you, for the ride.” She said in annoyance and got out of her passenger side. As she stood and walked forward she fell to the side in surprise. Her heel had lodged itself in a drain and broke.

She was now sitting on the cold asphalt with a slightly twisted ankle.

As she attempted to pick herself up, James was already by her side.

“You know, if you were a proper woman, you would know how to walk in your heels.” He said, picking her up to stand.

She couldn’t believe he had just said that. Who the hell did this man think he was?

“I don’t need your help.” she said firmly and pushed away from him, but she had put pressure down on her right ankle and it smarted. How was she to make it back to her flat?

He looked at her and noticed how she was wincing when she stood on her right foot.

“Come here.” he said and picked her up into his arms.

“What do you think you are doing?” she said in alarm.

“Stop your whining and tell me your flat number.”

He walked into the building and took her up to level 7 and then to her flat. He was strong, his muscles firm, his chest hard against her body. She had wrapped her left arm around his shoulders. He smelled of faint cigar smoke, mixed in with a cologne of sandalwood, or was it teak? She didn’t mean to, all instinct screamed at her not to, but she impulsively sniffed, the air pulling in from around his neck.

He turned and his dark blue eyes met with hers. She felt her face flush with embarrassment, he simply moved on to her flat. He gently placed her on the floor, and she pulled her keys out to unlock the door.

She opened it and meant to step inside and tell him good night, but he followed her in.

“Do you have a first aid kit? You need to wrap that and elevate it.”

“Uh, I do…” Jendayi said and closed and locked the door. She directed him where to find the kit and he came back out with it.

She sat on her sofa and he crouched in front of her, opening up the kit and pulling out a compression wrap. As soon as his hands touched the base of her calf as he gently lifted it to him for handling, her heart bolted into the throat. His hands were slightly callus, firm, and warm. He worked quickly wrapping the compression around then tapering it off.

“There, keep your foot elevated over the weekend, yeah?” He said.

“You certainly like telling a girl what to do.” She muttered at him.

“I thought that is what you wanted? Me to tell you that you're a good girl and do what you’re told?”

Again, her face enveloping with heat.

He reached forward and grabbed her mobile, handing it to her he said. “Add my name. In case you need something.”

She grabbed her phone and began a new contact, she entered the name as Grumpy Bear, and then his mobile number as he told it to her.

She didn’t notice he caught sight of the name she had given him.

“Alright then, text me.”

And she did so.

“I suppose Princess would do for you then, contact save. Good night.” He said and left her flat.

[eerythingisshaka]

Birthday

[Chris Evans x Reader]

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N:  a start to the spooky season inspired fics!

Your guests pile into your home for the party of your life.  Another year spun around the sun with many more to come, you saved no expense to ensure your time was spent partying it up as if tomorrow would never come.

The DJ you hired keeps spinning your favorite tracks back to back so you barely have time to make it to the door and greet new guests before your new song would pull your body back to work on that beat with a deep arch in your back.

“Yo, could the host please make they way to the DJ booth please?”

You steady your drink as you snake through the vibrating bodies that catch the contagious rhythms bumping from the speakers.

You shout in his ear, “Hey, Colgate!  What’s up?”

He makes a quick song transition with air horns before answering.  “I heard somebody was finna call the cops cuz of the noise.  Are we about to wrap this thing up or what?”

You look through the crowd suspiciously but the DJ calls your attention.

“It ain’t no one here, it’s a neighbor.”

You nod, “I know.  I figure.  But no, we won’t be stopping a damn thing tonight.  Let them come!  It’s my fucking birthday, so play that shit loud and fuckin turn up!”

The DJ shrugs, turning the beat up even louder and letting the bass boom through structure holding your house together.  This night would not be interrupted for no one if you had anything to do with it,   

As you gulp the last of your drink, you feel like something is off, holding your head as your mind starts to get hazy.  

“Hey girl, there’s someone at the door for you.  You want me to get rid of him?” a friend of your offers.

You shake your head, taking a deep breath.  “No, no.  I can handle it.  I kind of expected it in a way.”

They nod.  “Ok.  Don’t bite off more than you can chew.  You know what to do if you need anything.”

You thank them, heading for the front door.  When you step outside, the cool air wafts around you as you look around and see him standing in the driveway, hands in his pockets and head hung low looking over at you.

You cross your arms up defensively, refusing to take his puppy dog eyes as a means to soften our heart.

“I thought we broke up,” you start.

“”Is that what I said?”  he asks, feigning confusion as he grips his chin in thought.  “I don’t recall those exact words.”

You stand your ground. “SO what are you doing here Chris?  You came to make a fool of me some more on my night?”

He takes a turn at crossing his arms.  “Now I made a fool of you?  Sweetheart, no one felt more like a fool in our relationship than me.”

You scoff, standing in front of him from a distance now.  “Well that’s what every girl wants to hear.  I made my man look foolish to be with me, ladies and gentlemen!”

“You know what I mean!  Stop twisting my words!”  Chris exclaims.

“The day that what you say makes sense is the day I stop twisting them around, as you say.”  You look him up and down with disdain before rolling your eyes.

Chris takes a deep breath looking towards your house.  “You got a big party going on in there.”

You shrug.  “It’s a milestone, so I wanted to make it special.  No one else was going to do it for me.”

“If you gave me another chance, I could do that for you, but you won’t give me a chance.”

“What chance is there to give!”  You shout out loud, your voice carries down the block.   “You don’t want the life I live Chris.  You made that abundantly clear that night of the full moon?  You looked at me like I was a monster when all I ever wanted was for you to accept me and you tricked me into believing that was possible.”

“Can you blame me for being caught off guard?  I thought that you were going to tell me you were a virgin or a recovering alcoholic, but then you go and-”

You hold a hand up.  “Shut up!”

Chris claps his hands in frustration, testing his body away from you with disbelief.   “That’s what I’m saying!  How can you make an assumption of me when you won’t let me-”

“Shut the fuck up Chris!  Cops are coming.”

He listens.  “I don’t hear…”

A couple seconds pass until the faint squeal of a siren begins to build.

You roll your eyes.  “Dammit!  Dealing with you, I forgot about figuring who the fuck called the police on my party.”

“Goddammit.  I’ll stick around in case of anything.”

You give him a stank look.  “No, you may leave.  You’re dismissed actually.”

“I’m not going anywhere,”  Chris says.

“I don’t care what you do but you have GOT to stay out of my business!  Especially when it is not yours anymore.”

“It will be my business,”  he says under his breath but you catch every word.  You see the red and blue light bouncing off the neighborhood surroundings and prepare yourself for the confrontation.  As a squad car pulls up, they silence the siren and step out of the car.  Two white men step out, hand near their comfort zone.

“What’s going on here tonight?”  one asks.

Chris starts the conversation.  “Hey guys, it’s my girl’s birthday tonight and we just decided to have a night with some friends to celebrate.”

“Ahh.  How old are we, miss?” he asks.

Chris parts his lips before shutting them quickly to look to you.

“A lady never tells their age, sir,”  you say with a chill tone.

He smiles at his partner, who looks less amused.  “I guess if I ask for some ID that would clear that notion up, wouldn’t it?”

Chris starts again, “Officer, is there a reason you’re questioning her?  For God sakes, it’s her birthday!”

“Chris, be quiet,”  you hiss at him.

The officer puts his hand on his gun but not out of the holster.  “We have every power to question anything we expect to be suspicious.”

“Thing?”  you whisper to yourself.

“We will quiet down, if you’re here to warn us, that’s no problem.  Sound good?”  Chris offers.

The officer remains steadfast.  “I already asked for an ID.  If I ask twice I will consider this a resisting.”

“You’re damn right it’s resisting.  This is a joke,”  Chris retorts.

“Chris, if you say another fucking word, I’ll your tongue out myself!  Officers!”  You demand their attention as you speak to them slowly.  “The music is not loud enough to hear from the street and therefore your time is being wasted here.  Please go back to your cars and resume your evening elsewhere.”  

They stand frozen for a few seconds before taking a relaxed stroll back to their vehicle and driving away.  You take a deep exhale, hearing the music in the house pause.  You look to your house and see a few people standing outside the door.

“Everything good, madam?”  one asks.

“It’s fine!  Thanks for checking!”  you call back with a wave.

“Shame, I was hoping for a dinner party.  Is he part of it?”

You look back to Chris, who still seems to be doing mental math.  “No, not the dinner part, anyway.”

“Ugh!  You never share!”  They slam the door and commence the party in full force.

When you turn back to Chris he starts to work it out.

“Does this have anything to do with what you said on our date during the full moon?”  Chris asks slowly.

“Kind of, yes,”  you say hesitantly.

“They all know?”  he asks.

“They all are a part of my brood so, they definitely know.”

Chris goes quiet, nodding and looking off at the ground.  The sickening feeling you got earlier comes rushing back as you start to walk away, but his hand grips your arm quickly.

“What are you doing?”

“Going back to my party,” you say, ripping your arm loose.  “People who understand me are there.”

“And I don’t?  I just came over here to make amends and seen you mind control two fucking cops to go away and I’m still here!”

“Then why did you react that way before?”  you ask quietly.

Chris fumbles with his jacket nervously.  “I never wanted to let you go for something that is essentially who you are.  You trusted me enough to show me and I want to be receptive.  It just caught me off guard, but I wasn’t going to reject you.  You rejected me, remember?”

You turn away.  Despite him being human, his eyes had a pull that could knock you off your feet if you focused on them.  Chris tries to catch your gaze, bending down in front of you.

“Yes, I did.  And maybe I...got scared too,” you say, kicking a shoe in the dirt.

Chris snickers, opening his arms wide.  “Happy birthday, babe.”

You look up at him with annoyance, all while falling into his chest as his big arms wrap around your back for an uplifting bear hug.

“If you’re here for my birthday, where is my gift?” you look up at him patiently.

He loosens his grips on you while he thinks.  “Does an ex get his ex a present on her birthday?”

You nod.  “I like presents from my exes.  They are truly the best gifts.”

Chris chuckles.  “So if I don’t want to be an ex anymore…”

“...then you owe me a big gift, yes.  What’s not clicking?”  you snort laughing in his face as you push him back.

Chris sits back on his car.  “How about this.  If you kiss me and you still want to be my ex, I will give you whatever big gift you want.”

“Anything?  Be specific, because I’m sure you have a budget.”

“Ouch!”  he holds the left side of his chest in theatrical pain.  “No, I mean anything you want.”

You meander his way, holding your hands in front of you.  “I started this night with every intention of forgetting your face and every memory attached to it.”

“That can still be arranged,” Chris says in a snide tone.

You rest your hands on the hood of his car, right on either side of his thighs.  You closed the distance between the two of you so fast, he caught himself with his elbow before falling directly backward.

“But I will play your game if in the end I am getting something I want out of it,” you whisper into his face.

He takes one side of your face, eyes twinkling with cautious care as he pulls you into him, resting your mouth on his.  His smell, his touch, his lips welcoming yours made you buckle over him as you slowly melted on top of him.  Your leg half straddles him as your hands push into his chest, submitting himself to the weight of your body as he deepens the kiss.  You feel your passion building as you search under his shirt for the warmth of his skin and he could provide but stop abruptly looking down at him as he smiles.

“And?”  he asks.

You take a pregnant pause, pulling your hand from under his shirt.  “I don’t feel anything.”

Chris’ face screws up.  “What?”

You stammer, “I mean...I don’t want to get back with you.  I really don’t.”

Chris’ eyes roll back in frustration.  “Then what do you want?”

You cup his face, sliding your hand down his well trimmed beard and over his Adam’s apple.

“I just want you to look me in the eyes...and relax your neck.”

Chris stares at you a moment, gaze glazing over as your directive reaches him.  You feel his muscles relax under you as his heart rate slows under your fingertips.

“I’m sorry this one will have to show, but just assume it is a cut from shaving.”  You unhinged your mouth as you sink your fangs into his neck, enjoying the hot flow of his rich blood filling you up.  He gasps, gripping your waist at first from the initial puncture then letting out a long labored groan as his strength is drained.

When you finish, you lick the remnants from his neck, kissing his wound for good measure as you sit up satisfied.

“You’ll wake up in 5 minutes, go home and sleep.  When you wake up, you’ll meet me at a park for the first time and we will go out on a date.”

You slide off of him, looking at him with pity.  Such a big man taken down yet again by you.

“You’re still keeping him alive?”  A voice from the house calls.

You smile down at the unconscious Chris.  “I like him.  He’s fun.”  You look back at your partymate.  “You’re just mad you can’t keep a supply for yourself like me!”

They hiss at you.  “You are so tired.  I like my meal hot and fresh while you’re stuck on last week’s leftovers, who will only become more obsesses with you, the more you feed if you recall!  Happy 290th by the way!”

Just then Chris began to stir.  You trot your way back to the house, checking back at Chris one last time from your front door.  You swear next time you’ll treat him better.  Too bad he tastes so good.

[365days365movies]

February 24, 2021: Annie Hall (1977) (Part 1)

Well...Woody Allen.

I, uh...OK, look, I could get into the whole Woody Allen thing, but INSTEAD of me doing that, I’ll just say this: look into it. Because there is a LOT on this subject, and it’s controversial as HELL. At the end of the day, I’ll recommend this upcoming series on HBO, and just recommend that you look into it.

Because, uh...yeah, it’s not great. That’s all I’m gonna say, because I need to educate myself on it more as well. Instead, let’s talk for a few seconds about divorcing the art from the artist. But ONLY for a few seconds.

I understand why some of you might be surprised I’m doing this one. Because, again...Woody Allen. But, yeah, I always try to do my best to divorce the art from the artist. Because some people suck, but they still make nice things, or at the very least, things that should be open to interpretation and appreciation.

“Superfreak” is a classic song of 1981, and everybody’s heard at least some of it, but Rick James fuckin’ kidnapped two women and kept them in his basement, WHERE HE TORTURED THEM. Edgar Degas made beautiful paintings of ballet dancers, and was also A MASSIVE ANTI-SEMITE. And before he was (RIGHTFULLY AND JUSTIFIABLY) outed as a roofie-ing piece-o-shit...I grew up with - and genuinely enjoyed - this guy’s comedy.

And you can judge me for this, but...I still think his stand-up was and is genuinely funny, and I still appreciate the cultural impact that The Cosby Show had on society’s perception of African-American families, divorced from the stereotype of the ghetto. Fact of the matter is, works themselves deserve to be separated from the artist who made them. That’s my philosophy, and I’m sticking with it Entirely fine to disagree with me, by the way, I get it.

But in that spirit, I’m watching Annie Hall, despite its creators likely transgressions. After all, this is technically his magnum opus, and it’s a good look into the man himself. And so, with that in mind: Annie Hall! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) is talking directly to us about his outlook on life, and his view on the potential future. He tells half of a joke, then an amusing anecdote, and a bit more until telling us that he’s broke up with Annie, and he’s still thinking about it, trying to figure out exactly where things went wrong. He goes back to the beginning, which is punctuated with flashbacks.

He grew up in Brooklyn in World War II, and a young Alvy (Jonathan Munk) is with his mother (Joan Newman) at the doctor’s. He’s depressed after learning that the universe will one day end after a period of expansion, and is having his first real existential crisis. I had mine around the same age, actually, went I learned that the Earth will one day get swallowed by the sun. And THEN came the realization that I’d be dead by that point. AND THEN came the realization that I’d die one day, and that was a WHOLE NEW crisis to...anyway.

He grew up under the Coney Island rollercoaster according to him (although his analyst says that he exaggerates), and that’s what he blames for his “nervous personality. He’s also got an active imagination, often blurring fantasy and reality. His Dad ran the bumper cars on Coney Island (a place that I’ve never been, but desperately want to go).

He continues on talking about his former schoolmates, and not really that well. While in class, young Alvy kisses a...little girl...ahem. And then, when reprimanded by the teacher, current Alvy notes that he was always...like that...and he also says this to the little girl, and they talk about Freud’s latency period, and Alvy said he never...had...one...that’s uh...that’s fuckin’ SOMETHING, now isn’t it?

OK, well, shoving that forcefully aside as hard as I can, Alvy wonders aloud on where his classmates now, and one of them says this:

This also involves a little girl saying she’s “into leather,” which is...awkward as FUCK, but WE’RE GONNA MOVE THE FUCK ON. Alvy recounts his paranoia, and was so even after he became a famous comedian (which we say after a VERY good joke about qualifying for the army as a hostage). He speaks to a friend, Rob (Tony Roberts) about potential anti-Semitism from a person in a passersby meeting, then heads to meet Annie.

Annie Hall (Diane Keaton) arrives at a movie theater, late and in a bad mood. The two are late to their intended film, argue briefly, then head to another film that they’ve already seen, The Sorrow and the Pity. In line, they’re in front of a man loudly soliloquizing on film, much to Alvy’s annoyance.

Annie and Alvy continue to argue a bit, while Alvy openly berates the casual film critic. In the middle, he talks to the audience about it, only to be followed by the crtiic himself, who also acknowledges the audience! Huh! Anyway, he’s a professor at Columbia, and starts continuing his line speech, this time on the work of Marshall McLuhan, one of the most important early media theorists ever. And then, Alvy brings out Marshall McLuhan (Marshall McLuhan) to debate him on it, only for Alvy to turn to the audience and wish aloud that life could really be like this!

I’m beginning to understand why people like this film. It’s metacontextual before metacontextuality was really a thing in film. It’s a fourth-wall breaking movie in some fantastic ways. But will it still hold its muster after breaking the fourth wall’s become so commonplace? we’ll see, I guess.

After a showing of the film, the two return home, and Alvy tries to initiate sex. But Annie’s not really into it at the moment, and Alvy complains that they used to have sex all the time, and it’s been a while since. So, I guess that retroactively awkward scene at the school was meant to foreshadow Alvy’s high libido, that will probably cause some conflict in the film. Anyway, Annie notes that Alvy once went through something similar with Allison, his first wife. Who’s Allison? Flashback!

Allison Portchnik (Carol Kane) is a graduate student in political science, working for a campaign that Alvy’s about to perform for. He’s nervous, as he’s going on after another comedian. She comforts him by saying that she thought he was cute, and he does well. But we flash-forward to a night after they’re married, shortly after the death of JFK, which Alvy’s obsessing over, entertaining various conspiracy theories.

However, Allison rightly points out that his obsession is simply a way for him to avoid having sex with her, which mirrors the present-day situation him him and Annie. Flash forward TO Alvy and Annie, and there are just lobsters...everywhere, on the floor in their kitchen. After that commotion, they talk about Annie’s past romances.

And by talk about, I mean they LITERALLY WALK THROUGH her memories. And I gotta say...I fuckin’ love this method of storytelling. One of her previous boyfriends is an actor (John Glover), and his over-dramatic prose sickens Alvy. We see a second marriage of Alvy’s to New Yorker writer Robin (Janet Margolin), who’s dragged him to a stuffy high society party of intellectuals that he has no interest in going to. Same her, Alvy. I bet the caviar’s canned.

He tries to initiate sex with her - in the middle of the party, mind you - and she turns him down. later, when they get to it in their apartment, she’s unable to, uh...reach satisfaction. From there, we flash-forward after that marriage ends to a tennis match with Rob, where he meets one of his mutual friends: Annie Hall.

And for the record, Annie’s pretty obviously got a crush on him, and she’s adorable as fuck. Also, that outfit, real talk...that outfit rules. She offers to give Alvy a list, during which he’s quite worried about her driving, but the two still get along well enough. Annie’s an amateur photographer, during a time period where photography is considered a relatively new art form. The two go to her apartment, and share familial anecdotes and personal stories about themselves. And as they talk, we also see a set of subtitles on top of each of them that betray their inner feelings and thoughts.

I do genuinely like the stylings of the movie, goddamn. This conversation leads to Alvy asking her out on a date, although they end up scheduling it after Annie auditions at a nightclub as a singer. And while it doesn’t go great, Alvy tells her she was fantastic, and they share a kiss before they head to dinner. They head to her place afterwards, and we cut to later that night, post-coitus.

And then, we get a flash-forward back to the next day, where the two are at a bookstore, and Alvy speaks on his personal philosophy of life.

I'm obsessed with uh, with death, I think. Big - big subject with me, yeah. I have a very pessimistic view of life. You should know this about me if we're gonna go out. You know, I - I feel that life is - is divided up into the horrible and the miserable. Those are the two categories, you know. The - the horrible would be like, um, I don't know, terminal cases, you know, and blind people, crippled. I don't know how they get through life. It's amazing to me. You know, and the miserable is everyone else. That's - that's - so - so - when you go through life - you should be thankful that you're miserable because you're very lucky to be miserable.

Iiiiinteresting.

Shortly into their relationship, they admit they’re in love (or “lurve”, as Alvy says). She moves in with Alvy, which he initially isn’t the biggest fan of, having been burned in two previous marriages And already, their relationship is showing a few bumps. Alvy’s also always trying to push her to take college classes, while she uses mariuana whenever they have sex, which Alvy doesn’t agree with.

But as they have sex one night, without the marijuana at Alvy’s urging, Annie’s mind wanders - LITERALLY.

This film...this film has a VERY unique style of visual storytelling, and I am HERE for it! Seriously, I genuinely love this method of storytelling and comedy, it’s extremely engaging to me.

Soon enough, Alvy gets an interview to write for a talk show host, which he ABSOLUTELY despises. But in doing so, he decides to go into stand-up for himself, and is actually quite successful at it! But before we get to that, we’re at the halfway point! See you in Part 2!

[unitydorian]

can you do modern!arno x reader hcs? i don’t have any specifics, it can be from meeting to going on dates just about anything

( For my modern au he’s a history professor at a nearby university so let's stick with that! )

Arno Dorian HCs:

Meeting/start of the relationship

- I would picture him meeting his significant other by accident. They bumped into him on the streets of Paris while getting some morning drinks to start their day. With the crowded streets, Arno gets pushed and causes his future s/o to drop their drink. He apologizes, but runs off in a hurry. His morning classes start soon. That leaves his s/o standing there with their drink on the pavement, lowkey ruins their morning that day.

- They officially meet when his future s/o pops by the cafe and Arno offers them to pick something off the menu for free in repayment for the dropped beverage. His future s/o accepts and they both sit and talk for a while before Arno has to leave the conversation because one of his students had come in for tutoring.

- The both of them begin to see each other more due to mutual friends throwing together a small party or hosting small dinners. Arno used this as an opportunity to get to know them a bit better and after a few months (maybe three at most) Arno would make it official that he was seeing someone.

Dating

- At the beginning of the relationship Arno would probably stick to homemade food for awhile, before actually going out to eat. He’s a great cook and he’d want his s/o to know it. If his s/o sucks at cooking then that’s fine! He’d be able to spend more time with them in the kitchen helping them learn.

- For “dates” most of them would be extremely casual! Some of the “fancier” dates would be saved for more romantic gestures or anniversaries when dating him. Arno likes to keep things simple when going out.

- Arno would still also be the guy who is so utterly romantic it's kind of sickening. He would still be his charming sarcastic self don’t you worry, but I feel like he’d pull some cheesy stuff like in the movies. Arno would bring his s/o flowers whenever he could. Sometimes if they woke up late and quickly had to rush for work, he would stop by and drop off some lunch for them as well as a morning snack. Arno often tells his s/o that he likes and cares for them and just all around lets them know they are loved by him.

[musedblues]

Always Something There To Remind Me [Part: 2]

summary: Home is where the heart is. You're working on finding yours. After a handful of misfortunes, your old friend Joe helps to unravel life's greatest mystery while adding a bit of extra grief to the mix.

warnings: Another death and a funeral (I'm sorry in advance) general sadness but also a bit of resolution!? He’s here lads.

w/c: 4k

a/n: ❗This time only I'm adding lovely mutuals to my tags, who gave feedback in the first chapter so this one doesn't flop 😳 moving forward I'll make a normal tag list so, let me know if you'd like to be added!

@anincurablefangirl​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @supersonicfreddie​ @ogrogerbattle​ @sonic-volcano​ @tensecondvacation​

Part 3

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The sound of sirens pierced through your head. You thought you were dreaming.

You were home, in New York, in bed. You had been here for two weeks. The last you saw of Wales was the airport, where Tegan dropped you off and promised to ship some of your things to America. Every day you woke up in your childhood home, a new small package would arrive at your front door. You would tote the boxes inside and your mother would remind you to brush your hair, like when you were a kid. But instead of taking you to school, she would take you to therapy.

You tried to drive there on your own once, but you broke into a panic before you could pull out of the driveway. So your mother drove and tried really hard to act like everything was fine. She would play Bruce Springsteen songs on those drives and gush about his music. You used to obsess with her, but your head usually ached too bad to think of anything besides how much it hurt. You knew the headaches would go away if you figured out how to sleep again. But sometimes your daydreams were too nightmarish and you were terrified to fall asleep and let your subconscious take over.

That's why when the faint shriek of sirens grew loud enough to wake you up, you were only frustrated with your imagination. You had finally fallen asleep, for once. But when red and blue lights flooded through your bedroom window, you realized you weren't dreaming. You shot out of bed in a panic and prepared for the worst. A familiar vice tightened around your throat as you crept downstairs to investigate.

Your mother was wearing a vintage silk robe and her hair was frizzy and wild from sleep. She rubbed her eyes and watched you float down the stairs in the same pajamas you'd been living in for some days in a row.

"It's three in the morning. What could possibly-" Your mother wondered, peering past the blinds where the red and blue lights shone brightest. You watched her grow a frown and the vice around your throat tightened ever so slightly.

"What?" You plead to know.

"Mr. Mazzello hasn't been doing so well this month. The ambulance is stopped across the street."

"No." You frowned, scurrying toward the window, hoping you wouldn't see anything but a quiet suburb. But there were indeed cop cars and an ambulance stopped outside your favorite neighbors home. You watched lights turn on inside the living room window, and a sickening regret-filled your stomach.

You had been home for two weeks and hadn't seen the Mazzello family once. You heard Joe's mother stop over one morning and chat with your mother downstairs. You recognized her voice from behind your closed bedroom door, but couldn't bring yourself to leave and face her. So you didn't.

Your mother turned her dusty grey eyes toward you. They were sad and tired.

"Go back to bed. I'm sure things will be alright."

"You shouldn't say things will be alright just because you want them to be." You groaned on your trek up the stairs. Maybe everything would be alright, but it seemed foolish to hope for otherwise, these days.

///

The next morning was worse than the night before. You were the one who opened the front door to a weeping Mrs. Mazzello. She was as beautiful as ever, hair light at the roots, eyes like stars. But you only caught a glimpse of the lady before she threw herself in your arms and proceeded to cry. Of course, you held on to her and tried to unravel your complex feelings- happy to see her again, but terribly afraid of what caused her such grief.

Your own mother appeared and started begging her best friend to explain why she was in such distress. With a deep breath, Mrs. Mazzello shared the news. Her husband didn't make it through the night. After her world started spinning the opposite direction, she was sent home to get some rest. Mrs. Mazzello couldn't imagine going home all on her own and apologized for showing up at your door and causing such a scene. Your mother cried along with her, and try as you might to express the storm inside of your chest, you just couldn't. Joe's father always made sure to invite you to every Halloween party, and every spur of the moment family game night. He was the closest thing you had to a father figure since moving to New York. You never got to tell him hello again, or goodbye. Now, you only sank deeper into the dark pit that had swallowed your heart whole, some weeks ago, searching to claim it once again.

After a cup of tea, and even a few giggle-filled stories, Mrs. Mazzello hugged you again, this time with a smile. You always thought Joe had her smile, the kind that reached his eyes. The kind that made your heart melt a little.

"Sweet girl, I'm so glad you're home." She cooed into your hair as you hugged her back; happy to know she still thought you were sweet, like in high school.

Eventually, you and your mother stood on either side of Mrs. Mazzello and walked her across the street. You helped her inside the old familiar oak front door, and into the living room that hadn't changed much since last time you'd been there. You tried not to look around, strangely afraid of feeling too attached to a home that wasn't yours.

///

You waited in the car of all places, while your mother attended Mr. Mazzello's funeral. Your throat grew tight at the prospect of sitting through a drawn-out goodbye, and even though you were dressed for the occasion, you couldn't move. Your mother wasn't angry. She was almost afraid to leave you alone. But you coxed her inside the funeral while you sat in silence. When folks started leaving, your own self pitty was trumped by regret.

When folks started trickling out of the service, you demanded your mother to follow the procession, instead of taking you home. The cemetery was dusted with snow that melted underfoot. You barely made it onto the greying green before you were reduced to tears of panic. Your mother turned around and suggested you stand and watch from the car, like your own twisted safe zone. You leaned against the cold metal and watched your mother shrink in the distance, to a gathering between to empty branched trees. The late autumn chill reddened your nose and the cold weather became a perfect excuse for the tears you were suppressing and making your eyes all puffy.

The crowd was full of faces you recognized, but couldn't bother contemplating. When the group thinned out you asked your mother to wait while the car heated up, so you could pay your respects in private. There was a cold looking priest and some cemetery workers chatting beyond the freshly dug grave. The headstone was respectable, inscribed with Mr. Mazzello's name. His casket was in your line of sight. Looking at it made your stomach churn, and you wished you would have just stayed home today. You loved Joe's dad, but you weren't ready for another funeral. You were still coping with the last one you'd planned. Your therapist had their work cut out, that was certain.

"I didn't know you were in town."

You knew that voice. It was velvet cutting through the cold. It belonged to Joe. You turned your head toward the sound in near wonder. Joe was there, standing a few feet behind you, sporting a warm looking coat, and red looking eyes.

"Surprise." You barely smiled as you turned to face your old friend all the way. You were bound to see him, but you weren't so sure you recognized the man standing before you. Joe was all grown up, decorated in dark stubble and expensive-looking shoes. Nothing at all like the worn-out pair he ran around in all of senior year.

"You're just a little late." Joe joked. Or... did he? His expression was empty and he made no move to approach you like the friends you once were.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have come here." You realized fully, digging your nails into the sides of your coat you'd been gripping. Your old best friend watched you hurry past him and toward your mother's car. You wanted to turn around to see if he was watching you walk away, but your eyes were fogged with tears.

Your mother parked the car in your very own driveway and made a move to cross the street. The Mazzellos were hosting a dinner party and guests were already headed in with pans of food in hand. But you couldn't do it. You raced inside your own home and locked the door, knowing your mother had a key and that anyone else who tried to disturb you, couldn't.

You took a shower and cried for as long as the water was warm. As the sunset, you lit a few candles and called Tegan. You told her all about the funeral and seeing Joe and when she asked how you felt about it, you couldn't quite tell her. She cursed in Welsh and her raspy tone was music to your ears. You giggled and thanked her for listening. She said nothing was the same without you around. She spoke to you for hours. Tegan begged you to call her once a week and you begged her to bump it up to two or three more times.

///

The next day, your mother was preparing to leave to take photos of a couple's engagement. You were sitting at your writing desk, going through the latest box of knickknacks Tegan had shipped over. Last night's conversation with her was better than all the therapy sessions you'd received in the past three weeks. For once, since Kris died, something in you settled.

You heard the front door creak open downstairs and thought it was strange that your mother wasn't leaving through the garage entry, and without shouting goodbye to you. But then you heard muffled voices and you realized someone else was here. Who could have possibly shown up at eight in the morning on a weekday?

Then you heard heavy footsteps taking your staircase two at a time, and before you could worry over what was happening, Joe was standing in your bedroom doorway. He was dressed in joggers and his auburn hair was mused like he'd just woken up and bolted across the street to your door.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Joe asked you, his luminescent eyes were wide below two furrowed brows. The second time you laid eyes on your friend of too many years to count, you still couldn't believe how much he'd changed since last you really truly saw him.

To make matters worse, you really couldn't be sure of exactly what Joe was talking about as you stood from your desk to face him. Was he wondering about your homecoming, or had he found out the reason for it?

"Why didn't I tell you what, Joe? Yesterday didn't seem like the time for twenty questions."

He only responded by rolling his eyes and clenching his jaw all while stepping further into your room. You trade places with Joe, shutting the door as your stomach churned.

"Shit, I'm sorry." You sighed, afraid that bringing up yesterday might be crossing some kind of line. Since when were there boundaries between you and Joe?

"It's okay, it's..." Joe breathed after a moment, casting his eyes around your room that had barely changed since highschool. He'd spent many nights helping you build forts out of the blankets still decorating your bed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Joe asked one more time. The sorry timbre of his voice was hint enough to what he was really asking.

"I tried." You shrugged, shifting a little closer to your old friend. You'd called Joe the morning after you found out Kris died. You called him before you called your mother. He never returned the missed connection.

Now, Joe's brows were pushed together and the look in his eyes seemed nearly unrecognizable, and that pushed you over the edge.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, and everything else. Can we just like, be friends again?" You plead all of a sudden. You weren't sure you ever stopped being friends in the first place, but you'd certainly drifted far from the bond you once had.

Joe just barely grinned. And then you watched as he seemed to relax completely, you could almost see the weight being lifted from his shoulders as he stepped closer to wrap you in a hug. His embrace was warm and familiar. You hadn't felt such peace in months, maybe years if you were being honest with yourself. Joe was back on your side.

"I'm sorry too. It's been weird." Joe kept his comforting latch on you as he mumbled into your hair.

"I know. You can hang around here, if you want." You reminded as you pulled away. Joe was smiling for the first time since your reunion. It was a real, gentle and genuine expression.

"Are you sure? You can finish whatever you were doing before I came over to yell at you." Joe nodded toward the box on your desk with a little laugh.

"Oh, God no." You glanced toward the shipment of your leftover Welsh memories. Unpacking them fell to the bottom of your to-do list, all of a sudden. "You came here just to yell at me, huh?" You smirked at your friend.

"No. I came over because we have a  lot of time to make up for." Joe handed out a loaded statement. But said so with a little half-smile. So you opened your bedroom door and made a show of gesturing he follow you downstairs. Your mother was slinging her camera bag over her shoulder and sliding into a pair of strappy sandals. Her grey eye's lit up when she noticed you and Joe descending the staircase together.

"Well, I've got to run. I should be home by lunch."

"I'll make something." You shrugged, suggesting a change of pace. You hadn't done much of anything besides sulk since you landed back in the states. And you were seriously craving lentil soup. Your mother shot you a suspicious smile as she reached for her car keys and nodded your way.

"Have a good day, kids." Your mother waved as she hurried off to her job as the best damn wedding (now engagement) photographer in the whole state. Joe gave your mother a pleasant goodbye as she shut the door and left you alone with your best friend for the first time since God knows when.

"Sit,  I'll make some coffee." You pointed Joe toward the living room as you shuffled toward the kitchen. Joe followed orders, and you lingered near the coffee maker, finding clean mugs in the dishwasher and putting some other glasses away while the coffee pot filled up.  You made Joe's coffee the way he always used to like it and started toward the living room to offer him the drink.

You rounded the corner to find Joe comfortable curled up against an old decorative pillow, asleep. He must have been exhausted from all the family business he'd been dealing with. You abandon the mug of coffee on the table near the sofa, for when he woke up. And before you left the living room, you watched Joe laying there, seemingly content, breathing deeply. And for just one moment, you felt fine. You didn't feel like you used to; like a highschool kid. You felt like your boyfriend was dead, and so was Joe's dad, but that it was alright because Joe was still right next to you. The things that we're okay right now balanced out the worry that they wouldn't always be.

Joe stayed just like that for the next couple of hours, so you went about your day like normal. Putting the rest of the dishes away, sipping your coffee, and folding a bit of laundry. You were sat at the kitchen table with a new book in hand when Joe finally woke up.

"Hey, thanks." He noted, walking into the room with his old cup of coffee. Just then the dull thrum of a blasted radio and the sounds of car doors slamming in the distance were unmistakably coming from across the street- Joe's house.

"Should you be over there?" You wondered, shutting your book as Joe moved to put his mug in your microwave.

"It's actually nice to uh, not have to worry about all of that for a minute." Joe cast his eyes around the room and you understood what he meant. Living in Kris's house with the knowledge that he was never coming back through the door again was worse than waiting up when he disappeared for days on end.

"Well, you can hide out here for as long as you want." Everything was normal again. He grinned while the microwave counted down seconds.

"Sorry for falling asleep. What'd I miss?" Joe chuckled lightly.

"Uh..." You let out a breath of a laugh, a thousand memories from the past few years hitting you like a wave. But certainly, that wasn't what Joe was asking, now. "Not much." You responded because everything you'd done while he napped, wasn't worth mentioning.

Your friend with tired eyes seemed to consider your answer, and then the microwave beeped. Joe's mug was steaming as he carried it over to the table. He eased into the seat next to you as you raised your own mug to your lips. Joe had yet to look at you, his jungle toned eyes focused on the patterns of your dining table. But after a quiet moment, Joe raised his eyes to look right at yours.

"What happened?" Joe dared to whisper. You watched his eyes stay glued on yours and felt sorry for letting too much time pass. You knew exactly what Joe wanted to know, so you sat your mug to the side and thought for a moment before speaking up...

"He was drinking and driving." You started easily. You had talked through this with your mother, and Tegan, and therapist. The latter helped you sort out your mourning Kris, but there were still scattered fears of driving cars and falling asleep you had to sort through. But side effects aside, it didn't hurt so much to recount the outlines of what happened. And oddly, you still felt security spilling your guts to Joe. You both kept your focus on each other as you went on filling in blanks

"Things were really bad. I mean before, with Kris and I. It doesn't matter why they just were. He was never home and he was always drinking. Then... he died. So... I guess that's the short version of what happened." You sighed emptily. The fights and the misunderstandings and the late nights, all built up and up until they crashed over a bridge with Kris. Now you were here. Joe cast his troubled gaze back toward the table, while his fingers tightened around his coffee mug handle.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You wondered. About his dad. About how he was feeling.

"I'm sorry I never called you back." Joe looked up again. Sure, it had been a while, but you were together again, weren't you? These long faces of his were making you a little too sad.

"Why don't you make it up to me by staying for lunch?" You grinned. Joe did too, nodding in agreeance. The two of you spent the next hour scrolling through Pinterest to find the most exciting recipes you had enough ingredients for. Then you made plans to make dessert. It was like once you started you couldn't stop, planing for soup and bread and even an apple fucking pie.

Joe helped you bake, spinning around your kitchen because he already knew where you kept most things. As you stood cutting up apples at the counter, conversation about kitchenware lulled and you couldn't go on any longer without asking what Joe had been up to, all this time.

"What were you working on in London, anyway?" You asked, a little embarrassed to be so far outside of the loop. Your friend was leaning against the counter at your side, watching you work.

"Bohemian Rhapsody." Joe shrugged, stealing a bit of chopped up apple as you went on cutting.

"Like the Queen song?" You wondered, a bit confused.

"Yeah, like the Queen movie, now. I landed a roll in the biopic."

"Joe. Holy shit." You rested your knife and turned to face him head-on. That was a big name drop. He really was living his dream, huh? Joe was holding back a cocky smirk as he stole another bit of apple from the board at your side.

"Starting right now," You chucked as you reached for the knife. "we're telling each other things again." You pointed the utensil near him like you meant business.

"Whoa, I surrender... and agree." Joe laughed, moving out of the way as you reached for a big bowl. Your afternoon faded into a mess of home-baked goods and stories you'd been meaning to tell each other. Yours were silly ones about missing the bus and making friends with a stray cat who showed up at your door every night for a year or two.

But Joe's news was far more enchanting. He simply gushed over his newest castmates, and the members of Queen he was lucky enough to meet. As your apple pie baked, and you started to make soup, you began to realize the extent of Joe's career. He rambled about leaving soon for the premiere of his new movie. You realized he wasn't going to be around like he used to be. Like always. So you listened more intently to what he had to say like maybe this was the big finale of your friendship where you got to tie up all your loose ends and move on. You didn't want to move on. You wanted to move through this shit together. But you knew that was selfish and you knew Joe had a life to get back to, one that didn't include keeping you any sort of company.

Your mother nearly fell to her knees when she came home to find the feast you made, waiting on the stove while you laughed in the living room with Joe. You insisted he tell you everything he'd been up too, genuinely afraid this day was a one-off chance you'd never have with Joe again. You all ate lunch to the tune of his most hilarious stories, and Joe even helped clean up, while your mother complained about her day and the traffic.

"Well, I'm off to London." Joe laughed like he was kidding, but he wasn't. "The U.S premiere is like twelve days away. You know, I can put your name on the list." Joe shrugged as you walked him to the door. The sun was low in the sky, and his flight for the UK premiere was leaving tomorrow afternoon.

You figured he'd just offered out of politeness, as a way to trade thanks for this strange easy going day. But no matter your friend's motive, there was no way you'd be able to prance through the city and mingle with his superstar friends. You barely made it out your front door in weeks.

"Thank you, Joe. But I don't think I'm ready for all that. I hope you have a safe flight and a fun time, though."  You nodded softly, really wishing him well. Joe deserved every good thing.

"I guess I won't be seeing you till Christmas Eve, then." If you hadn't been so caught off guard by his comment, you would have noticed Joe pout a little.

"Christmas Eve?"

"Duh. Same time and place as always. Right across the street." Joe chuckled lightly. "You'll always be invited. I'm just glad your home to finally start showing up, again." Joe shoved his hands in his pockets and bumped his elbow against yours as he joked.

"Yeah, okay... I guess I'll see you across the street on Christmas Eve, then." You smiled softly as Joe reached for the front door. He lingered in the doorway, telling you goodbye one final time, and you stood there watching him jog across the street, spinning around to flash his smile your way. The kind of smile that reached his eyes and melted your heart just a little. You could have easily settled back into spending every waking hour with Joe. Even after spending all day with him, it seemed like you'd hardly caught up at all. Funny how you'd been fully prepared for him to leave with a halfhearted thanks and a vague goodbye until further, distant notice. Christmas was a couple of months away, but now you had a reason to look forward to it.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[bensakindofmagic]

Chapter Fifteen

A/N: hey hey hey, sorry it’s been a while, but life is super busy atm, so writing is going on hold in favour of actual uni work. but I'm here now to grace your screens and your hearts with a little chapter of ben hardy christmassy fluff. enjoy

Warnings: a tiny wee bit of swearing

w/c: 3k+

Chapter Fifteen 

Christmas came and went in a blur of mince pies and mulled wine, and cozy nights at Ben’s place, snuggled under a blanket with the greatest hits of Christmas music playing and a youtube video of a fire on the telly. It was all fairy lights and fluffy coats and old movies that made you feel like a kid again. Though you met up with everyone as often as you could over the break, you all went your separate ways for Christmas to be with your families, and you and Ben thought it was too soon to be having Christmas Day together — though the conversation did make you imagine what that would be like, maybe ten years down the line, in a house with a few kids running around. It would be absolute chaos, the older ones would be arguing over their new toys, you would be fretting about getting the turkey cooked on time, Ben would be frantically trying to get one of the kids’ toys working before they got upset, but in a moment of quiet he would pull you onto his lap and kiss your cheek, telling you how proud he was of your little family, how much he loved you all. The thought made your stomach tighten. 

Instead, you had your own little Christmas celebration a few days later, and everyone was due to come round to Ben’s with their partners. You were cooking a full roast dinner for everyone, and Ben had cleaned the place to within an inch of its life. Fairy lights were up everywhere, candles filled the air with hints of cinnamon, and the tree sparkled quietly in the corner. You remembered decorating it with Ben, and smiled at the memory of him laughing at you as you anally made sure every decoration was well placed and facing the right way. He had taken advantage of you reaching up to hang a bauble on a high branch and tickled you relentlessly. You’d kicked and squealed as you rolled around on the floor, and when Ben had landed atop you, breathing heavily, his eyes locked intensely onto yours, you couldn’t help but bring his lips, and with them his whole body, crashing onto you. It was suffocating, really, how much you adored him. 

“How’s it going?” Ben called as you heard him come through the front door and into the kitchen. He was sweaty from the gym, his tshirt sitting snug on his chest. He almost sparkled in the cool December sunlight. 

“Yeah good, all on track.” 

He came up behind you and rested a hand on your hip, leaning across to kiss your cheek. 

“Sorry, I’m sweaty,” he murmured, but there was something about that musky sweet scent that made you hum. “I’m just going to jump in the shower then I’ll come and help.” 

As promised, he wasn’t long and came out of the bedroom in slacks and a shirt, looking handsome and smelling of cologne. 

“What can I do, angel?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

You pointed him to the carrots, already peeled and waiting to be chopped. 

“I can do that,” he nodded, “Discs or batons?” 

“Always batons,” you insisted, and he chuckled. 

“I’m learning new things about you everyday.” 

Music was playing and you had a glass of wine in hand by the time the knock came on the door. As much as you were excited to see your friends, the sound had almost pained you. It was the most exquisite bliss just being with Ben, pottering about the kitchen together, rarely speaking but exchanging loving glances, singing along to the music, peppering each other with chaste but frequent kisses. But you greeted your friends with open arms, and ushered them to the table. You fussed over getting them drinks, and making sure Gwil and Allen’s partners felt welcome and comfortable.

“How is it that we’re at my house but you’re hosting?” Ben muttered to you as you poured out two glasses of wine.

“I can’t help it,” you chuckled. “Will you grab those chipolatas out of the oven?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

As you passed him, you stuck out your cheek and he placed a sloppy kiss on it. 

“You two are sickening,” Lucy smiled as you passed her a glass. You smiled, bashful, but she only continued, “I’m so glad it’s working out for you.”

“Allen told me you guys started seeing each other pretty recently?” Jessica, Allen’s girlfriend, inquired.

“Yeah, only a couple months ago.”

“Is that all?” Gwil’s girlfriend Erin exclaimed, “God, you seem like you’ve been together for years.”

“It’s a match made in heaven,” Lucy winked.

You ate till you feared you would explode and then ate some more — dessert is essential, no matter how full you believe yourself to be. You spent much of the evening getting to know the other girls, exchanging past dating horrors and dishing out the gossip on the boys to each other. For much of the meal you could feel Ben’s eyes on you from the other end of the table, and occasionally you looked up from your plate to see him gazing at you soppily. He would smile, or wink, and you would blush a little but return the gesture. You noticed Joe catch your eye and whisper something to Ben, but your curiosity was quashed as Jessica asked you a question.

“You two are really smitten, huh?” Joe chuckled in Ben’s ear.

Ben faced him, concerned, “Sorry mate, I don’t mean to shove it down your throat.”

Joe chuckled and assured him it was okay, sure he was the only single person at the table but he wasn’t bothered by it. “I’m happy for you, man, honestly.” 

“I don’t know how I got so lucky. It already feels like she’s my whole world.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I did wonder if you were ready to commit yet, you know? I had occurred to me that your feelings might be a rebound, just someone to latch on to, but it really feels like you two are the real deal.”

Ben smiled; it was a comfort to know that other people saw what he felt. Sometimes it scared him, how quickly he had fallen for you, but when he looked over at you an increasingly familiar feeling of certainty and tingling warmth settled over him. You seemed to move in slow motion, a laugh bubbling from you, your glass sitting lazily between your fingers, radiant. The dying light shone like a halo behind you. You glowed. He seemed to gravitate towards you like a magnet finding due north. You were his ground zero, his homing beacon. And he wanted you for the rest of his life. Unlike so many times before that thought didn’t frighten him, it didn’t make his pulse thump in his ears. Instead, he inhaled and took a long sip of his drink to hide his grin.

“She’s perfect for you, man. You’re perfect for each other.”

He looked Joe full in the face and nodded, “I know.” 

When he caught your eye again from across the table he winked and you felt suddenly pulled toward him. You had the urge to hold him tight in your arms and kiss every inch of skin you could find. 

“This is incredible, Y/N, thank’s for cooking!” Gwil complimented, shaking you from the thoughts in your head. The others chimed in with their agreement. 

“It’s my pleasure. Plus I couldn’t let you all endure Ben’s cooking.”

Ben spluttered, gesticulating indignantly, “Why does no one believe I’m a good cook?”

“I’m sure you are,” Rami said holding back a grin, “But you’ve got nothing on our Y/N,”

After everyone had left you lay snuggled on the sofa, half watching a rerun of some old movie and half napping. Ben stroked your hair gently while he fiddled with his phone. 

“Hey, so I’ve been invited to a New Year’s party with some old school friends.” 

“Oh right, sounds fun.” 

You hadn’t really thought about New Year, supposing you would have an evening in with Ben. But if he was going to a party you were sure you could gatecrash whatever Sav was doing. 

“You’d be keen then?” he proposed, hopeful. 

You sat up, “I’m invited? To a party with your mates from school?” 

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He seemed nervous as he continued, “I thought you might enjoy it, you know, getting to know them a bit. You only really know me as an actor and—”

“I’d hope I know you a little better than that,” you said as you nestled closer into him. “But I’d love to come and meet all your friends. But you have to come and meet Savvy.”

He smiled and a tension that you hadn’t previously noticed in his shoulders abated. “It’d be my pleasure.” 

You kissed his cheek, then stroked his jaw to make him face you before planting a kiss on his lips. He hummed, and you both turned back to the TV. 

After a moment you frowned, muttering, “I suppose that’s one step closer to meeting the parents.” 

You both went stiff. 

“We’ll talk about that another time.” 

New Year’s Eve was a blast. You had always found it the most disappointing of he annual celebrations because it turned everyone into one of two people. All those in couples acted sickeningly happy and in love, and all the more keen to shove it down everyone’s throats — much like their tongues — and as you had never been that person they just made you want to throw up. Or it turned you into a sour singleton, bitter at being alone on New Year (again), desperate to find someone to kiss at midnight, the combination of which usually resulted in horrific drunkenness so you were left either holding back your friend’s hair while she vomited in the toilet, or you were the one doing the vomiting. Either way, it wasn’t pleasant, vomit was involved, and the next day was a guaranteed write off. Excellent start to the year. But this year was different. This year, you were the one who was sickeningly happy and instead of vodka making you feel sick, it was the moments when you caught yourself in blatant acts of PDA with Ben. As much as you didn’t want to be that person, you were dizzyingly happy. A few drinks in, with a pleasant buzz of adrenaline and Ben’s arm sitting heavily around your waist, you mingled confidently with Ben’s old school friends and delighted in all the embarrassing teenager stories that they seemed to have stocked in abundance. Your particular favourite was when he’d been sent to the headmaster’s office after he told his chemistry teacher that his ‘salmon’ pink shirt was, “about as salmon as your bald head, sir.” You looked with playful intrigue at the girls that he had had flings with or crushes on, and cheered him on louder than anyone else as he downed his pint in a race. It sounded weird to you, hearing his friends call him ‘Jonesy’, and there were moments when you saw him revert to an older version of himself — more cocky, more brazen, less of the reasoned, intelligent, compassionate man you knew him to be. It didn’t really bother you, but it did make you wonder more about what he had been like before you knew him, and if any of that change had been because of you. But when he held you during the countdown… 10, 9, 8… looking unflinchingly into your eyes as the numbers ticked down… 7, 6, 5… you saw the Ben you knew… 4, 3… and you bathed in him… 2, 1. A chorus of ‘Happy New Year!’ resounded through the room and Ben kissed you fearlessly.

He pulled away but let his forehead rest against yours. “Happy New Year, gorgeous.”

“Happy New Year,” you hummed back, feeling alive and fulfilled and happy.

“Oh you have for sure got it easier,” you laughed, pushing the door open to a busy cafe and scanning the room for your best friend. “This is only two people, and they basically count as one.”

“No way, it’s definitely easier at a party. There’s booze to take the edge off and you can just talk to someone else if it gets awkward. Here I’m trapped.”  

You spotted Savannah and Chris by the window and grinned. “I’m so glad you see it that way. Anyway, it’s just lunch and it’s not like you’ll be alone, I won’t go wondering off to chat to someone else and abandon you in a room full of strangers.” 

“That’s harsh,” he frowned. 

You chuckled and took him by the hand, dragging him over to your friends. Sav turned her head, dark chocolate curls that you’d always envied dancing playfully, and she jumped up to greet you, barely holding in an excited squeal. The two of you spoke constantly and met up whenever you could, but reuniting with her was always a tad melodramatic. 

“Darling! It’s so good to see you, you look radiant,” she beamed as held you at arms length before wrapping you up in a crushing hug. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” she muttered in your era.

You smacked her gently on the arm and reassured her that you weren’t before stepping round her to give her husband, Chris, a hug too. 

Ben stood awkwardly behind you, hands thrust into his pockets, and you shook your head lightly. 

“Um, guys this is my boyfriend, Ben.” 

It occurred to you that you hadn’t actually called him your boyfriend before. You never had ‘the conversation’ and you’d spent most of your time on set where everyone already knew. Even when it had come out that you were together, you never told anyone yourself and people had asked you if you and Ben were “seeing each other” but never if he was your boyfriend. Ben had introduced you to his friends by your name, nothing else. But Ben, always totally collected, didn’t seem to notice the way you stalled, and shook Chris’ outstretched hand. Savvy couldn’t contain herself and went right in for a hug — you knew she was using it to see how cuddly he was, what cologne he used, how muscular his shoulders were. You had tried to reassure Ben over meeting Sav (he knew exactly how important she was to you, she was basically a sister) telling her she wouldn’t be judging and he needn’t worry about making a good impression because you knew he would without trying, but it was blatant that she was sizing him up. 

‘Be nice,’ you mouthed behind Ben’s back.

She shrugged, eyes widening as if to say ‘I don’t know what you mean’. 

You made small talk until the waiter came to take your order. Ben shifted in his seat beside you; he hid it well but you could tell he was nervous, so you gently clasped his hand under the table.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Chris asked. 

“We already know that,” chided Sav impatiently. 

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “I want to hear it from them.”

“Well I suppose you’d say were started dating that night after we went to the pub,” Ben offered, looking at you, “We never actually ‘made it official’.”

“That was, what, two and a half months ago?” you commented.

“Just now was actually the first time you called me your boyfriend.” So he did notice. “It sounded nice,” he whispered, only to you. 

Chris smiled, “So all pretty new then?”

“I guess, but I think we feel settled.” Ben squeezed your hand. 

Conversation flowed freely through the meal, and it particularly heartened you to see Ben and Chris getting on so well because you fully intended to spend much more time together as a four. Every now and again Savvy would catch your eye and grin, pumping her eyebrows. You were so desperate to hear what she thought of him, to get her seal of approval — you knew he was amazing but you wanted her to know it too — so as soon as you had finished your food you announced that you were going to the toilets and Sav was to come with you. 

The second the door closed behind you she burst, “Y/N he’s great. I’ll admit I was skeptical after the whole fingering thing and how long it took you to get together, and him not talking to you, but honestly… he’s great. And he’s perfect for you.”

Relief flooded through you and exploded from your face in a grin. You smothered her in a hug. “I’m so glad.”

“You adore him, don’t you?” 

Your sigh was almost more of a grunt as you effused, “Completely.”

“I knew you liked really him but I had no idea it was this serious already. I don’t blame you though, babe, he’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t he?” You felt like a teenager with a celebrity crush. “And he’s kind and thoughtful, he makes the bed every morning and he smells great—”

“He does smell great.”

“—and he’s charming and so good in bed, like, he’s attentive and considerate but also a fucking machine,” you inhaled, “and he’s funny and so intelligent and he can cook…”

“God, hurry up and marry him already.”

You looked at her honestly, “Don’t even joke, I’ve thought about it.”

Sav laughed brightly, “Of course you have.”

You slumped against the wall and mused longingly, “He’s so pretty.”

“He is,” she nodded, “and what’s more I think he’s a keeper.”

“What have you two been nattering about then?” you smiled as you sat back down next to Ben, sliding up close to him on the bench seat. 

“Just discussing juggling work with starting a family,” Ben stated sedately.

When you pried further that evening, it warmed you to hear Ben talk about how lucky he felt that he was in a profession where he could take a prolonged period off work to help when the babies were born: knowing he wanted kids at all was a relief. He had reminded you that he already knew you wanted three children, because he’d asked you back when you barely knew each other, on the very first day of shooting. It felt like a lifetime ago. Your life, your future, had changed since then. Because now Ben was not only in it, he was all of it. 

taglist: @anikatcmh​ @queen-turtle-boiii​ @orchideax​ @rogerspoison @my5secondsofneverland​ @mrsmazzello​ @ixchel-9275​ @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @devin-marie​ @rogmeddows​ @mercurycrowley​ @spaghetittiesbcimgay​ @valeriecarolinaw​ @saint-hardy​ @caborhapch​ @stephanie-everlasting @coldmuffinpartycloud​ @drowse13​ @shhhs3cret​ @blind-melon-taylor​ @ohsososophisticatedd​ @malfoybaby​ @littlepanda-love​ @leezie​ @shesakillerquueennn​ @borhapgrande​ @stfxlou​ @vangogh-groupie​ @dep-thx​ (just ask if you want to be added to the tag list! sorry if tumblr won’t let me tag you)

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 7 Chapter 8 Rundown

Another fantastic chapter, and a real nail biting way to leave us hanging for an extra week of holiday hiatus. I have many thoughts about this one, lots good but some more foreboding. So, with this very late edition to my ongoing efforts to review the Volume, and a warning that I will be focusing on events one group at a time rather than cutting back and forth like the episode does, let’s begin. 

The chapter opens on Team RWBY plus Oscar gathered to look at the invitation to the dinner party Weiss is holding. According to his public statement on the news, Jacques says this is an act of kindness to soothe hostilities as he transitions into his position on the Council, but they know this is pure intimidation and Weiss even calls it a hostile takeover. The other council members have been described as scared and seemingly easy to persuade one way or the other, and if Jacques is good at anything it’s talking others into doing what he wants. So Ironwood will be on full blast here, with his rival having full control of the conversation rather than getting to open up about his actions on his terms. Weiss is still in disbelief that her father won the election at all, and they entertain the possibility that Salem’s influence had a hand in this. He’s not the type to get involved in her brand of evil, but he WILL do whatever he has to to get his way. So Ruby thinks they should do whatever they have to for the sake of proving his misdeeds. Team RWBY will go to the party and Weiss will sneak off to look around for clues of anything fishy. Afterall, no one would question why she’s walking around in her own house. Weiss looks like she doesn’t want to do that, but she will anyway. She’s a brave girl. 

We finally see an exterior shot of the Schnee Estate as the limos pull up front, and it’s just as sprawling and impressive as we had guessed. Ironwood and Winter are there with Penny of course, as are Team RWBY, JNR and Oscar came too, and even Qrow and the Ace Ops. Winter wouldn’t be caught dead smiling here though, which Ironwood cracks a joke about. The doorbell is rung and the doors open to reveal... Whitley, playing the part of gracious host with sickening false sweetness. It would seem dear Klein was fired, likely for helping Weiss escape. So that’s even more guilt for her to deal with. They all go inside, with the General, Winter, Penny, and Clover splitting off to meet with Jacques at the table proper. Qrow and Clover have a cute little exchange about wishing them good luck, before Qrow practically gets ‘nam flashbacks upon being offered a glass of wine. He heads off to patrol the grounds instead, and the remaining Ace Ops follow suit. Harriet warns the kids not to wander off or break anything and to be ready if called upon. Yang has a different set of guidelines in mind however, and Weiss heads off to go snooping... before being stopped at the stairs by Whitley who wants to brag about how he’s the heir now and she’s the runaway disgrace come crawling back. This one-sided conversation drags on for a while before JNR decide to cause a commotion to get him off Weiss’ back. Nora get a tray stacked high with food, and she and Ren “accidentally” bump into each other to send the food flying right onto Whitley... or it would have. Unfortunately a woman looking to get some hors d’oeuvres walks in front of him and gets the food all over her dress. Fortunately, she had a glass of wine and tosses it on Whitley when she freaks out over getting such a mess on her. So Whitley leaves to get cleaned up while Weiss is trying not to show any emotion that might suggest she was in on that and RBY laughs to themselves. Great job, JNR!

The General and company are greeted by Jacques himself and sit at the far side of the table from him, with two council members, Councilman Sleet and Councilwoman Camilla, sitting by the Schnee patriarch. Robyn Hill was even invited to the party, and sits halfway between the two sides in a subtle show of her allegiance being up for grabs. Jacques is playing gracious host better than even his son had, and says Robyn was invited to discuss the concerns towards the kingdom, of which they seem to have a lot. Before James can even propose a topic to start with, Jacques starts pointing venomous fingers at Penny, asking if her being there is in everyone’s best interest considering what the public believes about the recent massacre. Ironwood tries to set the record straight with what has been officially confirmed as the truth, but his words are a bit morally questionable. Oh sure, saying the footage everyone is freaked out about was doctored is fine, but he says Penny is completely under his control. That’s not how you refer to a subordinate, it’s how you talk about a machine like one of his drones. She is a living person with a soul and will of her own, you asshole. You don’t control her, you employ her. She can speak for herself and her own actions. Granted, she may not have the debating skills to keep up with a master manipulator like Jacques, but really neither does Ironwood. As a very clever podcast has pointed out, this is a job for soft skills, which Ironwood does not have a lot of practice in what with his job mostly involving ordering people to do things and making strategies for battles. The man would do quite poorly against Vizzini from the Princess Bride. Speaking of the bastard, Jacques springboards off of Ironwood’s phrasing to call into question exactly how much the General has control over. 

The scene shifts back to the kids but when we see the dinner table again it is now Councilman Sleet pointing out that they have given Ironwood free reign to act as he sees fit for the last few years but with the way things are in Atlas right now that may have to come to an end. They need him to cooperate and to feel like they can keep him from acting on any outlandish military motivated impulses that might endanger the kingdom at large. And when you think about it, this is an oddly laid out political system. There seem to only be 5 council seats in total, and it’s been established that as both general of the military and academy headmaster Ironwood holds two of those seats. The position Jacques now holds on the council is especially important since a manipulator like him could get the other two on his side to outvote anything Ironwood proposes. With all the secrets James has been keeping about who they’re really fighting and how Atlas might become the next Beacon, the council thinks there is no danger to the kingdom thus embargo is pretty much pointless and should be lifted.  After all, there is no immediate threat from another kingdom, they had no connection to the attack on Haven, and it’s been proven that the robot soldiers attacking at Beacon were hacked and thus they are not at fault. So all the embargo is doing is hurting their relations with the other kingdoms. This news is exactly what Jacques wanted to hear, since that means he can start selling Dust and earning money again. And Robyn apparently hasn’t been the biggest fan of the border closing either, since it’s been hurting the people within the kingdom every bit as much as it has hurt how the rest of the world interacts with them. The least these people deserve is an answer as to why they’re suffering. Jacques takes this opportunity to dig even deeper into Ironwood’s decision making and recent activities. If there are no leads or apprehended suspects for the warehouse rally massacre or the string of anti-Ironwood public figures murdered, the military seems quite ineffectual at keeping the people safe. Clover tries to play it professionally and say they can’t divulge the classified details of ongoing investigations like that. But their host points out there have been an awful lot of “classified” things that no one is being told about. To the surprise of a now in the know Robyn, the council has no idea what the Amity Project is for and have every reason to worry it’s a pointless waste of time and resources. As usual, the General tries to keep things vague but reassuring in saying that the Amity Project is going to help with the problems they brought up, but it’s very important that he not go into much detail about it. Jacques calls into question Ironwood’s very real problem with trusting others to know what he knows. Winter had been growing more and more agitated as accusations and doubts were thrown at the General, and at this point she SNAPS much to Robyn’s subtly smirking appreciation. Jacques Schnee can buy just about anything he could ever want in this world, but trust has to be earned. I almost wish we could look back and see her “Volume 4″, the point in her life where she broke under her father’s domineering pressure and realized she had to escape to make her own life like Weiss had. Unfortunately for her in the moment, this outburst is exactly what her Papa had been hoping for. If Mr. Schnee has to earn trust then so does Mr. Ironwood. And after everything he’s done as of late, ol’ Jimmy has burned through what trust he had without doing anything like catching the criminals plaguing the Kingdom’s streets to earn more. Winter is appalled that she has made things that much worse for her boss, and leaves for a bit to calm down. Penny comes out to find her fuming quietly in a hallway and tries to have a heart to heart. But Miss Schnee’s habit of saying exactly the wrong thing isn’t over yet as she implies that Penny is incapable of understanding how she’s feeling on account of, y’know, being a robot and not having emotions that can get the better of her like her’s did. At the very least, Winter realizes her blunder and apologizes, clarifying that this situation is bad only for her because she’s grown up here and had to deal with Jacques controlling her life for so long. Penny did not live that life and thus doesn’t know about how bad those experiences were. Winter thinks she had sounded like a petulant child back there, but Penny shows wisdom beyond her youthful innocence and thinks what Winter did was totally fine and natural, a human response. But Winter has been conditioned for so long by both her home and military life to think that speaking from the heart is a bad thing compared to staying in line that she sees this as a problem. Penny admits that Winter is right, she DOESN’T understand what Winter is so upset about. That kinda feels like a zing at the older woman’s mindset, saying her way of thinking about the contents of her heart is wrong and she should let herself be more open. And I hope Winter learns from that.

Weiss wanders the halls and passes a room where a wall is lined with many Schnee family photos. Weiss standing by her father, Whitley playing the piano, profile shots of Jacques and Willow (as her name is confirmed to be in the credits) on either side of the doorway from what we can assume by her veil was their wedding day, and Grandpa Nicholas Schnee himself in a suit of armor and a red cape. Lots of eye candy, and it lasts about 5 seconds. The other photos seem to be of places, like the entrance to the now abandoned mine and what I assume is a view of the city from a distance. Weiss gets caught off guard by a butler walking the halls whom she thanks for their hard work and walks by on her way to her father’s office. But once she gets inside and closes the door behind herself she finds a surprise waiting for her. Mama Schnee!!!! And she looks quite beautiful, in a white shirt and blue waistcoat combination with a belt just above her hips, a pencil skirt and a jeweled cravat. Her hair hangs over her left shoulder in a low ponytail that everyone has identified as the dead anime mom hair and her pale blue eyes have a few lines under them I am perfectly willing to believe are more from the stress of living with Jacques than any kind of significant aging. Now seems as good a time as any to introduce my classifications of the four absolute waifuTeam RWBY moms whom have all had at least a few seconds of on screen time. Summer is the lovable sweet mom who tucks you into bed at night and reads you a story and makes sure you get a peaceful good night’s rest. Raven is the hot mom you might want to sleep with. Kali is the spunky and flirtatious mom who might want to sleep with YOU. And Willow is the hard working mom who tries her best to keep her family together and doesn’t get enough praise for it, whom YOU want to tuck into bed and make sure she gets a peaceful good night’s sleep. She seems to be in her physical prime, though we see mentally she can’t quite compare... or can she? Some of her first lines are trying to give an excuse for why she’s not socializing at the party, blaming it on not feeling well, but here’s the saddening part. She calls it Weiss’ party. So either she’s so out of touch with the world around her that she doesn’t know who/what the party is for... or she thinks this is still the night of Weiss’ charity concert from Volume 4 and she’s missing that after party. Either option paints a despairing picture of her mental facilities. And the bottle of vodka in her hand shows right off the bat what the trouble is. Weiss seems all too used to her mom’s excuses and forgives her quickly, knowing she has no ill intent. Willow gets enough clarity and mindfulness to wonder why Weiss came to Jacques’ office when he’s elsewhere, and Weiss bluffs that she’s come to retrieve something she left in here. That seems to jog Willow’s memory that Weiss herself had left not so long ago, and the tone of voice is heart wrenching. As the same wonderful podcast I mentioned earlier points out, this realization hits her with a sense of “oh I forgot something important again...” and you can’t help but feel a little sorry for her. She’s in this deep rut of drinking to cope with her sadness, and that keeps her from being there for her children so she only grows more sad. That isn’t to say she’s helpless or dumb. Weiss admits she needs to check her father’s computer and that she has suspicions he’s done something awful, and Willow has enough wit to quip that the family has come to assume that conclusion at this point. Weiss is a bit curt and says that some of them are actually trying to do something about his ill intentions, and Willow only responds with a tighter grip on the rim of her cup and a glare before chugging vodka straight from the bottle. 

It has been brought to my attention that even the label of her vodka has a fairy tale origin, it being called Six Swans. The inspiration comes from one of Grimm’s Fairy Tales, of a princess whose six brothers are cursed by a witch and turned into swans. The only way to break the curse is if she can sew six shirts out of nettles in six years without making a single noise lest her entire effort be undone, a task she dedicates her life to. A different king is taken with her beauty and takes her for his wife, though misfortune and cruelty befall her at the hands of his mother and she is accused of witchcraft. With no way of defending herself or else her still continuing efforts will be ruined, she is sentenced to burn at the stake. The night of her execution the shirts are very nearly done and she brings them with her, only for her swan brothers to come flying in since the six years are up, and get the shirts thrown onto them lifting the curse. However, she hadn’t finished one sleeve so the youngest brother is left with a swan wing for the rest of his life. The princess is now allowed to talk and defend herself and with the help of her brothers they reveal the old queen’s evil deeds and get her burned instead, but still.. that’s an imperfect happy ending if I’ve ever heard one. And it may shed a little poetic foreshadowing for what may happen with our youngest Schnee child here... maybe he won’t get out of this as unscathed as his sisters? Who knows?

Regardless, Weiss looks sad and even a little guilty when her mom starts drinking, and then Willow lets her in on a little news that would make her task a bit harder: Papa Schnee has been locking his computer as of late. But now her brilliance shines through, as Willow reveals she has set up surveillance cameras in the office and every other room of the mansion that Jacques doesn’t know about. And it’s very likely that even Watts wouldn’t know about them or to try and disable them. So as luck would have it, she has a video of Watts and Jacques meeting up to talk back in episode 4. Though Willow’s motivations for putting the cameras in aren’t that grand. She did this to keep her family safe, so they can keep track of the madman they call Father, in case Willow ever had to... well she doesn’t finish that sentence but I have a few guesses. If she wanted to escape like Weiss she could keep track of where he is so she can avoid him. If he ever started being more abusive and she needed proof to show the police. But instead of worrying Weiss with grim possibilities Mama Schnee worries herself with if Weiss has come back to stay, and she asks as much. Weiss firmly and confidently says she has not. And Willow is glad, tearfully proud that her daughter has found a life outside of her father’s tyranny. The two awkwardly avoid eye contact for a moment while the mother wipes her eyes. Willow then tells Weiss about a man coming by and hands over her own Scroll. She worries Jacques is involved in something worse than even he realizes. Not worried for him, obviously, but for everyone else who may be affected. Chief among those she worries about is Whitley, whom she prompts Weiss not to forget about. Weiss tries to argue that Whitley wants nothing to do with her... but Willow tips the whole perspective on its head. Why would he want anything to do with his sisters? They went off to academies and left him alone in the house with a diabolically controlling father and a mother too drunk and scared to stop him. It’s a little sad that she recognizes she’s part of the problem, but she isn’t wrong. She didn’t help much. We all hated Whitley so much, thinking he was a little brat who wanted to be just like his dad, but really he was just adapting to survive. The Schnees perfectly show the 4 types of fear reactions in how they handle Jacques; Weiss: Fight. Winter: Flight. Willow: Freeze. Whitley: Fawn. As Willow leaves the room, Weiss stares in curiosity at the video and wonders just who her father has gotten mixed up with.

Fittingly, we cut to Watts himself standing under an umbrella in the rain, on a rooftop in front of a holographic billboard. He’s scrolling through all the systems he can now control thanks to his deal with Jacques, and settles on the most dangerous option. With a tap of his thumb, all heating systems in Mantle shut off and the rain turns to snow. At first people seem a little entertained and delighted, a safe and surviving preschooler even calling to his mom in glee as he looks out his window. But I’m quite sure it’ll be a dangerous blizzard in no time. Watts means to freeze Mantle to death and frame it all on the “malevolent” city of Atlas that have been screwing over Mantle for a while already. 

Let it snow indeed...

[lily-onher-grave]

hey

hey

y’all want an excerpt? i got the good stuff

(from the prologue of my new project)

//

They say the Witch is going to die. They say that’s why the Wizard sent Dorothy.

Glinda pays the rumors no mind. Perhaps the Wizard wants Elphaba dead—does he remember them, from all those years ago?—but the idea is laughable. Elphaba’s survived the marshy Quadling lands, a campus haunted by Morrible, and the filthy, shadowed streets of the Emerald City. The Wizard will have to do much better than a little farm girl if he wants her gone.

But maybe it’s better this way. Maybe her letter will reach Elphaba first, and she’ll think of a way around the Dorothy girl. Glinda imagines different scenarios, reveling at the cloak and dagger of it all. A faked death, perhaps? The new ruler of Oz reuniting with a criminal. It excites her, and not just because she’ll finally get to see Elphie again.

Without meaning to, she finds herself wholly tied to the prospect of being with Elphaba once more. Years of separation have taught her wariness, but now there is no doubt in her mind. And why should there be? They were reunited in Munchkinland. And though they left on such bad terms, they had also been able to pick up again so flawlessly. Glinda remembers the thrill, the bliss, the hope. It was a sign of things to come. She’s certain of it.

But she’s smart enough not to let it show. After she sends her letter, she finds herself waiting. Her life carries on mostly normally, but she notices the small details that are changing. More politicians are showing up at the dinner parties she’s invited to. A sorceress from the palace extends an invitation to meet for tea.

“We should do the same,” Chuffrey says one evening over his nightly brandy. “Host a dinner, invite over all these new friends you’re making.”

There’s a touch of bitterness in his voice. She’s amused by his jealousy—as if she were ever his in the first place.

But it’s a good idea nonetheless, and so she sends servants out with handwritten invitations for all of the city’s finest: palace officials and Gale Force officers, heads of estate and bank owners. She even invites Madame Morrible, just to be cheeky. She knows the old woman can barely make it out of her bed these days.

She doesn’t particularly like hosting, but she knows she’s good at it. Her smile is dazzling as each guest is ushered in. Men bow low and kiss her hand, while ladies dote over her dress, her shoes, her necklace.

Chuffrey stays unusually close, and she both expects and hates it. Usually he’s inviting men to the den for cigars and business talk. How patronizing. But tonight he’s at her side, tagging along as she wins the hearts of the city’s most powerful people.

“I’m just happy my Glinda is getting the recognition she deserves,” he tells people. He doesn’t smile down at her as she says it. He doesn’t even act like she’s there. “She’s always been a bright one—for a lady, of course. Went to that college up in Shiz.”

There’s always an air of mockery when Chuffrey talks about Shiz, as if he’s revealing something scandalous about her. But Glinda places her hand on his chest and smiles, saying nothing. Nobody ever asks her what Shiz was like, what she studied. Usually they just awkwardly move on, not sure how to address the idea of an educated woman.

“A college girl?” asks one of the bankers around them. He winks at Chuffrey. “You caught a wild one, didn’t you?”

Or, if they’re feeling bold, they say something like that.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Glinda says before Chuffrey can speak. The man looks at her, smug with her sudden attention. “I was quite serious about my studies.”

“Of course, Lady Chuffrey. I went to university myself. I know not all studies are purely academic.”

Chuffrey chuckles good-naturedly, cutting off any response Glinda can come up with. “What does the past matter?” he asks. “It brought her to me in the end.” She feels his fingers tighten around her waist.

“Indeed.” The banker raises his glass. “And we are all the better off for it. Congratulations, both of you.”

Their little group disperses at that. Alone for a moment, but with eyes still on them, Chuffrey turns to her. He leans down, and she tilts her head so his lips brush her cheek.

His other hand comes up, touching her jaw and turning her so he can kiss her mouth. She feels the prickle of his mustache against her lip. It’s quick and light, nothing outrageous in front of the company. But it doesn’t need to be a lot for her to understand what’s behind it.

These are the nights when she misses Elphaba the most. Elphaba, who knows how important Shiz was, and how hard Glinda fought to be there. Elphaba, who asked about her studies, her thoughts, her passions. Who would let Glinda tell a smirking businessman off, unless she just couldn’t hold back and had to do it herself.

Elphaba, who sees Glinda as her own person. A real human being, with ideas and desires and complex emotions. Not someone to be won or owned. And who, when she kissed Glinda, never did it for show.

And now her missing Elphie is not only an ache, but a craving.

When she first married, she would try to imagine Elphaba in bed with her instead of Chuffrey. It was a lost cause, of course. They are too different, in every possible way. But sometimes, on the rare nights when she sleeps alone, she can pull up old memories: lumpy beds in noisy rooms where Elphaba could never seem to let go of her, or their freezing dormitory. Yes, that’s one of her favorites. When she heard Elphaba shivering across the room and gathered her blankets, going to wrap both them and herself around her. And when she went to kiss Elphaba’s cheek good night, Elphie turned her head to meet her. Glinda thinks of how they didn’t sleep, but they kept plenty warm, and her fingers are close enough to Elphaba’s that, for a moment, she’s no longer alone.

A shrill laugh brings her back to the party. Chuffrey is standing too close, his hand still on her waist, and the heat flooding through her turns to something sickening. She pulls away.

“Let me go fetch us some champagne, hm?”

He smiles his thanks, already turning away to greet one of his business associates. Once free, Glinda takes a breath to steady herself. She almost makes it to one of the servers, but a graying man in a sharp emerald suit steps into her path.

“Lady Chuffrey,” he says, tilting his head toward her. She notices the gold stripes at his shoulders.

“Captain of the Guard.” She holds out her hand. “You honor me.”

He kisses her knuckles. His movements are curt, formal. For a moment, she’s genuinely intimidated.

“You have a lovely home,” he tells her, “and lovely taste in guests.”

“I count myself as very fortunate.”

“Perhaps, though the people tend to believe you deserve it.”

The intimidation is gone. He’s wrapped around her finger, too. Glinda gives him her most charming smile.

“I’m flattered. I only hope I can continue to do so.”

“I’m sure you will.” He meets her eyes. “It is safe to assume, then, that you’ve heard the rumors of—”

“Captain!”

A boy runs into the ballroom, one of the servants on his heels. Glinda thinks, briefly, of Boq. This boy is so small. So young. He nearly skids to a halt before them, coming to attention.

“News from General Lakree, sir, in the Kells.”

The servant bows low. “I’m sorry, my lady. I told him to wait for me to fetch someone, but—”

“It’s quite alright,” Glinda says. “I won’t have my household getting in the way of Gale Force business.”

For the first time, the boy seems to realize who he’s interrupted. His eyes dart nervously between her and the captain. His suit is also emerald, but it bunches at the shoulders, a touch too big on him, and there is no gold save for the buttons.

“Report,” the captain says.

A hush has fallen over the room. The boy relaxes his stance.

“The general has broken camp. He and his troops are personally escorting Dorothy and her company back to the city.” The boy runs out of breath and has to pause before continuing. He looks less nervous now. “Kiamo Ko is now abandoned. He checked the castle himself. The Witch is dead.”

Behind Glinda, a champagne flute explodes.

[theonewiththefanfics]

I’ll Never Let You Go (Part 2)

Part 1

Synopsys: It’s finally time for the Reader to meet Tom’s parents, but things sometimes don’t work like people hope they would. And sometimes the only answer is heartbreak.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Genre: angst, still going strong, ma dudes

Warnings: like one swearword :D

Word count: 1972

The whole ride back to London, Tom was quiet. Usually, even when he and Y/N got into a huge fight, he’d vent to Harrison and ask for advice on how to make things better. But not this time. Now, staring at the rain trailing down the window to darkness, he was simply empty. There was nothing inside. He was just a hollow shell of a person he once was, having left everything with Y/N.    Harrison kept glancing over at his best friend every three minutes or so, and with every passing second, he grew more and more worried. Had Y/N and he had rows before? Of course, which couple didn't. There had even been a time they’d almost broken up; the girl didn’t speak to the actor for almost three days before both got their heads out of their asses and worked things through, crying in each other's shoulders and making up. But this, whatever it was that happened, seemed to stem from something deeper.    “Mate,” Harrison spoke up and had to clear his voice. It sounded intrusive even with the radio filling the silence of the car. “Tell me what the bloody hell is going on, cause you two… it’s never been this bad…”    Tom kept staring out the window. It was like he wasn’t even in the vehicle with Harrison.    “Mate…”    Maybe he should’ve left it alone, maybe he should’ve let Tom stay silent and off in his own world because now all he could see were the street lights reflecting off of the new tears rolling down Tom’s cheeks.

   “She broke up with me,” it was defeat, simple as that. "This time for real,” a violent hiccup interrupted the thought train, “and I know I said to her I wouldn’t let it end there, not like that. But fucking hell… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make it better. If I can make it better. Y/N- she-she- when I kissed her, it was like all the fire had died out. I could feel it. It was like she didn’t want to fight anymore, had no more strength. And I’m so scared because I don't know how to save something that’s crashing and burning, but I love her so much and I don’t know what to do. And it’s so bad. So so bad.”    Tom was in full-blown hysterics now, so Harrison, ever the concerned friend, pulled off the highway and off to the side, parking the car on some gravel side, leaving only the headlights on. The rain fell heavier every second and was almost mimicking his best friend’s cries.    “I- I still don’t understand what happened that made you two split so suddenly. Didn’t you just take her to meet your parents?”    The brunet’s whole body shook, his shoulders shuddering with each ragged breath he took, a bitter laugh accompanying the last one. Red eyes turned to look at Harrison, the gaze filled with anger and sadness.    “That’s exactly why.”    “I’m confused.”    For a second Tom debated leaving it at that. He could simply not give an explanation, for the memory was raw and painful, but most of all he was ashamed. Ashamed of the fact his own parents could say, that such a small thing was a valid reason for the two to break up. They must have been blind if they didn’t see how much Y/N cared for him and the boy for her. Yes, she didn’t like being in the spotlight, but that was not her job. It was his. And both of them were happy with their predicament.    When their relationship had started out, it had been her idea to keep it on the down low.    “I don’t want people to think I’m in it for the fame or money,” her voice had been a whisper in the dark, as Tom’s body curled around her, both of them struggling to sleep comfortably in her dorm room's single size bed. “I want to make a name for myself, not be recognized as Spider-man’s girl. I know it soun-“    But he interrupted Y/N with a kiss to her lips. “I understand, and you don’t have to explain anything to me. We’ll keep it between us and only us for as long as you want.”    And they had. For two years, only the pair and their closest friends knew about the relationship. Admittedly Tom had met Y/N’s parents much faster than she had met hers. They had decided to surprise the girl at Uni, only to find the two of them cuddled up on the sofa, but they absolutely adored the pair. Which could not be said about Tom’s parents and their thoughts on the relationship.    “They said they didn’t think she's the right one for me,” Tom sniffled and wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his sweater.    Harrison’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. “Why? What happened?”    He was in just as much shock as everyone else, because during those two years he’d never seen Tom happier. So, the fact Dominic and Nikki- two of the most welcoming and kindhearted people Harrison had had the pleasure of knowing- would so blatantly say things like that, without double checking who was listening, was astounding. True, telling Tom even in private wouldn’t have been nice, but it was the fact they were so openly admitting it, that surprised Harrison.    “They said she’s not cut out for my lifestyle,” Tom scoffed at that, “said she wouldn’t be able to handle it. And- and Y/N heard it. She ran out. I don’t blame her, honestly. I would have done the same, but… I just don’t get it. While we were having dinner, everything was going great. At least I thought it was. Dad was constantly laughing at her jokes and they both seemed genuinely interested in Y/N and what she was doing, how her life at Uni was and all that jazz.”    Tom hit his head back against the seat. “But I guess all of that was an act.”    Harrison was speechless. Never in a million years did he think Y/N and Tom would break up. Sure, they had their fights, but they always resolved whatever the issue was. It was almost sickening how much PDA there would be after Y/N forgave Tom for something or the other way around. Like to the point, she once came to the set of ‘Spider-man: Homecoming’ and Tom had been complaining about needing a bathroom break for the last ten minutes, but right as Y/N had shown up, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to the trailer. Harrison had found them fast asleep and cuddling.    Tom had actually met Y/N through Harrison. She had been invited to one the parties both boys hosted at their apartment but seeing how the nightlife scene had never been her style, Harrison had practically begged for her to come.    “I never see you anymore. You’re always studying and I’m doing some other shit.”    Her joyous laughter rang through the phone. “Because that’s called having a life and a career, Haz. Besides, we just saw one another a month ago, so it hasn’t been that long. Don’t make it sound like a Greek tragedy.”    The blue-eyed man dramatically groaned and plopped down onto the couch. “The last time we actually caught up was during the post-production of the shoot. And that was almost quarter of a year ago. I wanna spend time with my friend!”    “Oh, stop pouting!” Y/N could imagine how Harrison jutted out the bottom lip, pouting at what the girl was saying.    “No.”    “You're such a baby, Haz.”    “And you're a prude.”    “Drama queen.”    “Traitor.”    “Soccer is the dumbest sport ever created.”    “Harry Potter sucks.”    A silence filled the line before Y/N responded, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. “That’s it. You’ve crossed a line. I am disowning you and no longer does this friendship exist. Have a good life, Osterfield and do not contact me ever again. Erase me from your phone and mind. Goodbye!”    “Wait, no I’m sorry!” Harrison laughed. “I didn’t mean it! Please!” he shrieked causing Y/N to cackle so loud she thought her neighbours would call the cops. “Don’t leave me! Harry Potter is the greatest thing ever created and I’ll get a tattoo across my forehead that says so. Just don’t make me face the cruel world alone!”    “Alright, alright! I’ll go to the party!" Y/N relented. "But it better not be a bore.”   So she went. Right as Y/N had entered the apartment she was pulled into an iron-tight hug by Harrison to which his flatmate Tom raised both his eyebrows in confusion.    “Do you have a girlfriend I don’t know about and if yes- what the fuck mate?!”    Y/N and Harrison giggled, and she allowed the brit to introduce her to the actor. Tom and Y/N had clicked instantly. Throughout the whole party, Tom tried to find every possible excuse to talk to the girl, to get to know her life and every single secret she had. Because of that, she was the last one, apart from Tom's brothers, to leave and even then, it was done reluctantly from her part.    “I promise, I’ll come visit more often. Surprisingly enough, you weren’t a drag,” she said hugging Harrison.    “Of course, I’m not a drag. How dare you!”    Tom had been one step behind, letting the two friends say their goodbyes before he came to stand beside Y/N at the doorway.    “Listen, I know we just met, and this might be way too forward, but if you don’t mind, I’d really like your number so we could keep talking.”    Surprise overtook Y/N’s facial features before her lips split in a wide grin and she nodded.    Harrison had been incredibly sceptical about letting his best friend date the girl, always keeping a watchful eye on the two whenever they flirted or simply hung out, but when Tom had come back one day from a coffee date, a completely love-glazed look in his eyes, Harrison knew he was in it for real. That she wouldn’t be just a one-night stand or a distraction when things got tough. Tom had fallen. Hard.    “I don’t know if she’d even want to get back together,” Harrison was taken out of reminiscing about the good old days and back into the dreaded present. “I mean, come on! Imagine if your girlfriend’s parents said they didn’t like you and didn’t think you were good enough. You wouldn’t want to spend time with them one bit either!”    The blue-eyed man was quiet for a moment before softly speaking up. “So, what are you going to do?”    “I-“ Tom ran a hand through the wet curls, “I don’t know. All I know is that I love her and can’t imagine my life without her.”    And despite the horrible situation, Harrison smiled before revving up the engine again and getting back onto the freeway. “Then you have some work cut out for you. Cause I may have not been the biggest fan of you two dating in the beginning, but if you let that woman go as simple as this, then I can guarantee you’ll be experiencing more than a broken heart.”    Tom’s lips pulled up. “What? You’ll ruin the money-maker?” he said pointing to his puffed-up face.    “Mate, you’ve broken your nose almost as many times as you’ve said you’re Spider-man. One more or less won’t make a difference.” "Y/N would be pissed." Even though her name was like hundreds of needles pushing their way into his heart, the simple memory of how concerned she always got when Tom did something stupid, soothed the ache. Reminded him of how much they cared for one another. "Yeah, she would," Harrison said after a few minutes of silence.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @wantingtobekorra @kylokayd @infamousmany @3blue-dreams3 @sarcasticvodka @synka-rin @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver 

A/N: am I... being... productive?!?!? Also, holy shit do I have new ideas for a Star Wars crossover with Avengers and shit :D I should be working on my assignments, but oh well :D

P.S. so I guess this will be a series? tell me what you thought :D

P.S.S. tags are always open :)

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

[nachtgraves]

I don't know if you take requests or things but i really like your writing. But can i get some jealous!Kuzuhina (like they both like each other or are dating and they both get simultaneously jealous?) Your writing is really good i love it.

Aw thank you! And I do very much take requests so thank you for the prompt! This took a while because I got fixated on figuring out UK peerage and titles and barely any of it made it into the fic that got longer than intended as per usual lol. Not sure if this quite what you had in mind but I hope you enjoy!

Title: Under Sunlight // AO3Word Count: 4,670Warnings/Tags: G. Victorian au sorta, established relationship, secretly dating, i took liberties with uk peerage, not historically accurate, a little past one-sided peko/fuyu(the kids’ former high schools are their ‘territory’ for their titles, so Duke Green Hills is gottagofast Togami)

Hajime’s nerves battle between excitement and dread andanxiety that is not entirely because of the fairly rocky carriage ride. Hecan’t seem to sit still, smoothing his hands over his legs, buttoning andunbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, fidgeting with the lapels of his coat. Chiaki,sitting across from him, reaches over and stills his jumping knee.

“You’ve been to parties as my companion before. And we knowMakoto and Kyoko. What’s wrong?”

Hajime sighs. “I know. It’s nothing, just, he’ll be there.”

“I don’t understand. Shouldn’t you be more excited aboutthat?”

Hajime shrugs helplessly. He should. He hasn’t seen his loverin months and letters are nice but never enough. And it’s not like he can talkabout his lover since no one but Chiaki knows that his lover is the Marquess ofSuzuran, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu.

They are something that shouldn’t have happened, couldn’thave happened if not for chance. Chiaki’s world alone is something that Hajimeas a boy didn’t think he’d ever be a part of. And he’s still not, not really.He isn’t an earl or even a baronet, he’s Chiaki’s friend and valet. The linesare blurred and they’re already stomping over the lines of propriety andtradition and Hajime wasn’t about to test his luck with making his andFuyuhiko’s relationship public knowledge. Even with Chiaki, Fuyuhiko is of aprestige that is out of Hajime’s reach. He cherishes every second he can bewith his marquess.

“To the public, we don’t know each other,” Hajime finallysays. Even if he wanted to use Chiaki he couldn’t, his best friend and hislover are in completely different circles. Makoto and Kyoko’s engagement partyis one of very few parties where different ranking mingle, Kyoko a duke’sdaughter and Makoto a baron’s son. “And I can’t pretend not to know him the wayI do if we’re together.”

Chiaki hums and pats his knee before withdrawing. Theychange the subject and talk about who else will be in attendance, who they’relooking forward to seeing. Who they’re not. Due to the disparity between Kyokoand Makoto’s ranks, their relationship has been the fodder for gossip rags andspiteful gossip since they became public and their engagement party is not theintimate gathering of friends that they would have preferred.

Soon enough, they arrive at the Kirigiri estate. There’s aline of carriages and they wait until it’s their turn to disembark. A footmanopens the door and Chiaki gives their names as he helps them out. Free of thecarriage, Hajime smooths out his clothes and offers Chiaki his arm after shesorts out her dress. They walk arm-in-arm past the tall gates of the estate andimmediately come into a large garden party. There are patio tables andlace-decorated umbrellas. Servers mill about holding silver platters ofchampagne and lemon water. A band plays a gentle number that a few pairs danceto on the grass.

There are many familiar faces around, some Hajime knowspersonally and others he knows only by reputation. One of the tables has beenrepurposed for cards with spectators gathered around Lady Celestia and HisGrace Green Hills, Lady Touko hovering by His Grace. Sonia is in discussionwith Gundham and Kazuichi. Nekomaru, Akane, Lord Leon, and Lady Aoi are in themiddle of some sort of ball game with Dame Sakura keeping an eye on them.

“Ah, there’s Kyoko!” Chiaki says. She tugs Hajime towards asmall gathering. In the center of it is the happy couple, Kyoko drawn into thethick of the conversation and Makoto standing by her side. They’re with peopleHajime doesn’t know but when Makoto catches sight of them he looks relieved andextracts himself from the gathering after a word to Kyoko.

“Chiaki, Hajime, thank you for coming.” He seems to want toreach out for a hug but they’re in mixed company and restrains himself to abright smile and the use of their first names.

“Congratulations, my lord,” Hajime says teasingly, claspingMakoto’s hands in place of a hug.

“I’m not a lord yet.” Makoto flushes pink from embarrassmentand happiness, maybe a bit from the sun bearing down on them. He looks back toKyoko who’s glancing towards him. It’s absolutely sickening and Hajime couldn’tbe happier for them, if a touch envious.

They spend a few minutes catching up, and it’s mostly Makotothat has had major changes in his life since they last saw one another. He’s inthe thick of legalities to make Komaru the heir of their family’s barony afterhe marries into the Kirigiri family. He’ll become an earl of one of theKirigiris’ smaller lands when Kyoko inherits her father’s duchy.

They’re in the middle of discussing and lamenting all thatis involved in the preparations for Makoto and Kyoko’s wedding when Hajime hearssomeone say, ““Oh, the Marquess brought only his knight. Maybe there issomething to the rumors.”

Hajime can’t help turning around and there he is, in a darkthree piece suit with matching coat and a dark gold tie fixed in a perfectknot. And on his arm is Dame Peko, in a suit-styled dress that matches withFuyuhiko. They look a powerful pair.

Hajime knows he needs to look away, that his face is likelyfixed in a picture of longing and envy, but he soaks Fuyuhiko in. The vest,shades lighter than his coat and trousers with burnt gold fastenings and adarker embroidered design of Eastern styled dragons, is one Hajime remembers. He’dseen it in passing in a shop window the last time he had managed to visitFuyuhiko. He remembers mentioning it but they had quickly moved onto less coherentlyverbal matters.

In any case, he’d been right. The vest looks amazing onFuyuhiko and Hajime wants to peel off Fuyuhiko’s coat to see the fabric infull. They’re stopped by peers and Hajime turns around, trying to pretend hewasn’t staring so openly at the two. Chiaki’s giving him a knowing look heignores.

“I wish I could keep talking with you both, but I can’tleave Kyoko to do all the hosting. After all of this,” Makoto waves his handsabout, “is over, we must get drinks or dinner. I miss you both.”

“Of course, if you can find the time to pull yourself awayfrom your future duties as an earl and the husband of a duchess.”

Makoto rolls his eyes but waves as he returns to Kyoko, takingher arm in his, accepting felicitations and joining conversation.

Chiaki slips her hand from Hajime’s elbow. “I need to run tothe wash closet,” she says. “You’ll be fine on your own for a bit?”

“I’m supposed to be the one watching out for you,” Hajimeretorts. “I’ll be by the buffet table.”

Chiaki asks him to grab something for her before she leaveshim alone. The buffet table laden with bite-sized treats ranging from biscuitsand tea buns to mini-sandwiches and puddings in tiny glass cups. He walks downthe length of it, picking up sandwiches and pastries he knows Chaiki likes. Ashe continues to peruse the offerings, he comes to a tray of fried dough bites.Hajime doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he’s very familiar with thesweet, incredibly unhealthy snack.

He reaches for the pair of tongs to grab a few of the darkstrips of dough and brown sugar but someone else has the same idea. He looksup, apology halfway off his tongue but stops short.

“Lord Suzuran,” Hajime says in a mix of surprise and trainedgreeting. He barely remembers not to call Fuyuhiko by name.

Fuyuhiko’s face is impassive but Hajime notes the way hiseyes flash in amusement. He’d done this one purpose.

“Mr. Hinata,” Fuyuhiko returns. He takes the tongs and loadsup his plate with his favorite food. “You like these?”

He’s being unfair but Hajime can’t just ignore him, and ifhe lies Fuyuhiko will never let him forget it. “Um, not really no.”

“Oh?” Then why wereyou going to grab them? remains unsaid but his expression is knowing, mouthcurved in a slight smirk.

“I just know someone who loves them,” Hajime buckles,looking away in his admission. When he looks back to Fuyuhiko, his marquess iseating one of his fried dough treats, licking his fingers of the brown sugarsyrup residue. Hajime follows the movement closely. He’s being so obvious it’sprobably pathetic. They’re out in the open and they’re in vastly differentcircles, not supposed to know each other even as acquaintances. Fuyuhiko’s amarquess and heir to a dukedom and Hajime is little more than the valet andclose friend to a viscountess.

Hajime knows what Fuyuhiko is doing. His lover has made itclear that he’s not exactly happy with keeping their relationship a secret,only doing so at Hajime’s behest. But he doesn’t try to make things easier inthe few times they attend the same social functions.

He tries to find some other topic to switch to and stupidlyasks, “Lady Natsumi couldn’t make it?” Of all the topics to pick this is thelast he could and should have gone with. But he can’t help himself. At least hedidn’t outright ask about why he brought Dame Peko. Fuyuhiko is notorious fornot courting or bringing anyone but his sisters and his knight to events as hiscompanions. His excuse has always been that he has no time nor interest forcourting and society and Natsumi loves all sorts of events so he acts as herchaperone since he doesn’t trust anyone else. It kills two birds with one stonesince it makes him fulfill the social obligations of his position.

“Natsumi’s at school so it’s just me and Peko.” He looksover his shoulder and Hajime follows suit, seeing Dame Sakura and Dame Pekoconversing. The two were schoolmates, Dame Peko a year ahead. They both havesuch rigid and neutral, if somewhat threatening, expressions it’s difficult to tellthat they’re familiar with one another.

He eats another fried dough strip. “I take it you’reaccompanying Lady Chiaki?”

Hajime nods. “Ah yes.” And speak of the devil, Hajime seesher coming towards him. “There she is.”

When she approaches, she links her arms with Hajime’s. “Sorryfor making you wait,” she says to Hajime, and then she greets Fuyuhiko.

Fuyuhiko’s eyes linger at their linked arms, the golden orbsgo flat. He fixes a polite smile and returns Chiaki’s greeting, but he’salready distancing himself. “I’ll leave you two. I should return to Peko.”Without much else, he turns on his heel and walks over to his knight. Hajimewatches after him, his heart heavy. Fuyuhiko slips easily into conversationwith Dame Peko and Dame Sakura and Hajime reaches for champagne from the trayof a passing server. He downs it quickly and grimaces at the after taste.

Chiaki leans against him. “Did I interrupt?”

Hajime sighs. “No. Oh, hey, you like this waltz, don’t you?”

It’s not the smoothest diversion but Chiaki allows him it,and it’s not like he’s lying. It is a waltz Chiaki enjoys due to its ease andsimplicity. Hajime abandons the food he’s lost his appetite for and they joinother pairs on the grassy open space in front of the band, sliding into the familiarsteps.

Hajime does his best not to look at Fuyuhiko whenever theother man is in sight over Chiaki’s shoulder. He tries to focus on Chiaki,chatting and laughing as he spins her around. They dance for two songs beforethey need to take a break. There’s really no cover from the sun. They takerefuge at one of the patio tables and manage to flag down a server with glassesof chilled lemon water. Hajime would prefer they have a quiet moment to themselves,but that’s near impossible at a gathering like this.

Chiaki, like Fuyuhiko, doesn’t always attend socialfunctions. Unless it’s a small and intimate gathering with those she considersfriends, she’d much prefer to be left to her own, literal, devices and books.

But they’re stuck and have to navigate the shifting socialwaters. Or at least Chiaki does. Most tend to ignore Hajime or order him aboutthinking he’s staff. Which he is, but only to Chiaki if he’s attending as hervalet and not companion, and that’s rarely the case if Chiaki can help it.

But today is one such time that he’s treated as less byindividuals that try to simper and curry favor from Chiaki. A lord Hajime onlyfaintly recognizes but cannot recall his title, much less his name, inviteshimself to their table and snidely questions why Hajime is just sitting there,beside Chiaki. Hajime fixes a smile and settles a hand on Chiaki’s knee underthe table to stop her from tearing the lord apart.

“I was resting. I don’t dance often and while today islovely overall, the sun is brutal.” He can’t outright correct the lord of hismisconception, it would go against all sorts of social decorum and Hajime wouldbe the one in the wrong regardless. He doesn’t want to cause Chiaki griefbecause a peer was called out on his behaviour and publically embarrassed by acommoner.

Chiaki adds, “Hajime’s a great friend. He’s always humoringme even at risk of heat stroke.”

The lord pretends it was all in jest and tries to backtrackby laughing the discussion off and moving onto safer topics of estates anddebutantes and the season’s fashion. It’s all over Hajime’s head and topics hecan’t have much say in because of his station. Even if Hajime could and wouldhave wanted to take part, the lord very pointedly directs all his attention toChiaki and all but erects a wall between them. Chiaki pats his hand in supportunder the table.

As conversation is not open to him and he’s not about toleave Chiaki alone with his man, Hajime takes to looking around. The Kirigiriestate is an architectural and landscaped masterpiece with not a stone norbranch out of place. And if structure and décor bores him, the variety ofguests dressed in the broad range of the current fashion provide plenty to beobserved.

But his eyes keep going to the man with buzzed blond hair.And he wishes they didn’t. Fuyuhiko and Dame Peko have moved on to spectate agame of cards. Some uninformed or cocky lord is trying their hand against LadyCelestia. Dame Peko leans down and whispers something in his ear, it looksintimate and Hajime’s stomach twists. He knows better, but he still feels illwhen Fuyuhiko snorts and looks up at Dame Peko with a hint of a smile andreplies, rising up on his toes before she leans back down so he can whisper inher ear.

“Who do I have to see about putting money on the Marquessand his knight being the next society wedding?” the lord says, drawing Hajime’sfocus back to the table.

“If there is such a pool, that’s the last I would bet for,”Chiaki replies.

“Now, my lady, it would be a bit scandalous but look at ourhosts. Anything’s possible, apparently.” The derision is accompanied by rolledeyes directed towards Makoto.

“The illusionary differences of social class have nothing todo with my opinions. And if someone ever thought that of me, they really do notknow me at all, now do they, Hajime?” Rarely is Chiaki curt or cold, but she’sbeen growing steadily irate with their unwelcome table companions A tense cloudsettles over the table and the lord is not so oblivious to not realize he’smade a misstep yet again.

He stumbles over some sort of recovery but Chiaki is lenientenough to save him the trouble. “If you’ll excuse us, I haven’t had the chanceto catch up with Lord Nagito.”

Chiaki gets up and Hajime follows suit but he almost stopsin his tracks seeing just whom Lord Nagito is currently with.

Lord Nagito is an eccentric peer and Hajime has never quiredisliked the man, but he can’t say he quite likes or enjoys his company. Hecan’t quite place Lord Nagito’s feelings towards him either. The odd lord hasfew close companions and by some strange logic one of them is Fuyuhiko. Hajime’snever understood and Fuyuhiko’s never been able to put a finger on it himself.

So he really shouldn’t be surprised that up ahead, champagneglasses in hand, Fuyuhiko is rolling his eyes at whatever Kazuichi and LordNagito are discussing, although arguing may be closer verb.

Chiaki reaches out and holds onto Hajime’s arm, leaning overand saying quietly, “If you want to take a few minutes, there’s probably no onearound the back.”

Hajime hesitates. He doesn’t want to runaway but he alsoisn’t into punishing himself more than he already has. There’s still a goodwhile before it’s acceptable to leave, even with the excuse that he and Chiakiwill be going straight home rather than lodging somewhere in the city. “I’llfind you in a bit.”

Chiaki lets him go after a quick kiss to his cheek. Hajimecan feel stares on them but doesn’t look around. “Go on, I’ll be fine.”

Chiaki goes off and Hajime forces himself not to stare afterher and subsequently Fuyuhiko, turning away and heading for the quieterbackyard of the estate. He walks around the edge of the manor and comes to alarge back garden of the season’s flowers in full bloom. They’re made up almostlike a maze that guides to a gazebo that’s mostly hidden by miniature trees andflowering bushes. Like Chiaki had guessed, there’s no one else around.

He follows along the path and steps into the shade of thegazebo. Inside is a white wicker patio set; a square table set with a glass topand two chairs with intricate weaving. Hajime sheds his coat and folds it overthe back of a chair before he takes a seat, leaning back and closing his eyes. Musicand chatter from the party are a faint noise in his peripheral.

While he doesn’t quite fall asleep, he must have dozed a bitdeeply because he’s blinking out of a daze when someone’s shaking his shoulder.

“Stealing away for a nap?” Fuyuhiko says looking down athim. He’s standing between Hajime’s legs that have ended up in a long sprawland still fuzzy-headed, Hajime reaches out and cups Fuyuhiko’s face, pullinghim down for a kiss.

Fuyuhiko braces himself with one hand on the back of thechair but otherwise falls into the soft but firm and lingering press of mouths.Hajime can feel Fuyuhiko smile into the kiss and it pulls a smile of his ownuntil an applause echoes from the distance and Hajime remembers where they areand that even though the gazebo is out of the way and gives the illusion ofprivacy, it is just an illusion.

It hurts his heart to see Fuyuhiko’s smile dip when Hajimehurriedly pulls away, getting to his feet and trying to create distance withouttoppling backwards over the chair. Fuyuhiko takes a step back and crosses hisarms over his chest. He’s discarded his coat as well and the vest looks just asgood as Hajime thought it would on him. Unfortunately, they’re not in a placewhere he can properly appreciate it.

“I, sorry, I forgot where we were,” Hajime says, smoothingout his clothes to take his mind off of Fuyuhiko’s.

“There’s no one around, Hajime,” Fuyuhiko says. “Everyone’sbusy with champagne and dancing and gossiping.”

“Someone could have the same idea as us and come back hereto take a breather,” Hajime argues. “Any little action lends to gossip andrumors.”

“Doesn’t stop you from fueling the rumors about you and yourviscountess,” Fuyuhiko grumbles, looking off to the side.

“You know those are baseless. Anyone that actually knowsChiaki or me knows that we’re siblings at most. And it’s expected. We grew uptogether. And it’s not like you and Dame Peko are any different.” He shouldstop there, but he can’t help bitterly adding, “At least Chiaki and I havenever had romantic feelings for each other.”

He regrets his words as soon as they escape him. Now he’sbeing unfair and purposely so about something long past. Dame Peko and Fuyuhiko’srelationship is entirely platonic and he knows it. When Dame Peko did havefeelings for Fuyuhiko, it was long before Hajime and Fuyuhiko even met.Fuyuhiko and Dame Peko had been children, it was a first crush that settledinto loyalty and trust and a bone-deep friendship.

Fuyuhiko doesn’t even say anything. He just shoves his handsinto his pockets but Hajime can see they’re clenched into fists within thefabric, his muscles tense. His face goes blank, a flinty steel to his eyes.

“Fuyuhiko, I didn’t—” Hajime tries to apologize but Fuyuhikocuts him off.

“I should be returning. If you’re going to continue napping,there’s a bench close to the doors that won’t fuck up your neck.” With thatFuyuhiko turns around and walks away, quickly disappearing behind shrubbery andreturning to the party.

Hajime falls back into the chair and hangs his head. He’sreally shoved his foot in his mouth now and he’ll definitely have to figure outhow to make it up to Fuyuhiko, if Fuyuhiko will even still talk to him.

It takes him a few minutes to make himself get up and rejointhe party even though he is far from a partying sort of mood. But he can’t disappearand abandon Chiaki until it’s time to go home.

Returning back to the rest of the party, Hajime finds thateveryone is at tables chatting or gambling or discussing business and trade. Theband’s taking a break, their instruments put off to the side under some shade,all of them down water and wiping sweat off their brows. Anyone who was wearinga coat no longer is and sleeves are rolled up. A server stops Hajime and asksif he might take Hajime’s coat, to which Hajime gratefully hands off the itemwith a thank you before looking for Chiaki.

He finds her in the shade of a looming tree with LordNagito, Kazuichi, and Lady Aoi. He joins them and makes an excuse of needingsome time away from the heat for his prolonged disappearance. Chiaki frowns athim, she must be able to tell that something had happened.

“I saw Fuyuhiko slip away for a bit,” she whispers to himwhen they have a second.

Hajime shakes his head. “I messed up.” Fuyuhiko’s across theyard. Hajime meets his eyes for a second but Fuyuhiko quickly looks away.

Chiaki pats his arm in sympathy but says, “I understand yourposition, but it must be hard on him too.”

“It’ll be harder for him if we don’t do this.”

Chiaki makes a noncommittal noise. “It was hard for Makotoand Kyoko. But they stuck together. Makoto was so worried but look at him now.”

Makoto is all smiles that are even softer when turned toKyoko, the sun shining down on them.

Hajime looks to Fuyuhiko and his heart clenches in his chestat the marquess. It’s not obvious to others, but Hajime has learned Fuyuhiko’sbody language and he knows when Fuyuhiko is upset and angry. Dame Peko doestoo. Her usually emotionless mask cracks into a hint of concern and she leansdown to whisper something to Fuyuhiko. Fuyuhiko shakes his head and runs a handthrough his hair. He smiles, a tired one, and Hajime knows it’s his fault evenbefore Dame Peko looks up and shoots him a judging glare. Hajime looks down,ashamed, and lets conversation happen around him, only making noises ofacknowledgement when needed.

Not long later, the band returns to their instruments toresume their next set. Their leader calls for couples, namely Makoto and Kyoko,to take the floor. There’s cheering and clapping as Makoto takes Kyoko’s handand leads her to the center of the cleared space. Other couples and pairssurround them, getting into position and waiting on the band. Everyone who camewith a companion finds a space. Hajime automatically takes Chiaki’s hand andgets into position, ready to move to practiced steps.

But when the band starts, Hajime recognizes the song as thefirst few notes sing through the air and his legs freeze. It’s a song native tohis hometown, a song about fate and true love discovered in touch and a leap offaith. It’s the first song Fuyuhiko and Hajime ever danced to. It was one oftheir first secret meetings, a private indoor picnic of wine and pastries spiritedaway from the kitchens.

Chiaki pats his cheek. “You should dance to this with whoyou’re meant to.” She pulls away from him. “I’d rather raid the snacks whileeveryone else is busy.” And she walks away and does exactly that, leavingHajime standing alone. Someone snickers at him but he turns and finds Fuyuhiko.He and Dame Peko have managed to snag an abandoned set of chairs. Fuyuhiko’sleaning on his elbow and looking at the pairs dancing with a wistful tilt tothe purse of his lips.

Hajime’s been a cowardly idiot. He makes his way around thedancers and comes up to Fuyuhiko. Dame Peko notices him first but she doesn’t domore than send him a warning look and make some excuse to get up and leave. Shedistracts Fuyuhiko long enough that Hajime is in front of Fuyuhiko beforeFuyuhiko can bolt.

“Mr. Hinata,” Fuyuhiko says, cautious, surprised. He quicklyshoots a glare at Dame Peko, quickly figuring out his knight had abandoned himon purpose.

“My lord.” Hajime’s voice cracks at the address, but hesoldiers on. “My lord, would you allow me a dance?” He bows at the waist, armextended, palm up. His hand is shaking ever so and he knows there are eyes onhim. A lowly valet asking a marquess to dance to a love song played at everywedding and engagement party. But all he can look at is Fuyuhiko’s face, hismouth parted in surprise, eyes wide in disbelief. And then he’s smiling, aglimmer in his gold eyes that Hajime has only ever known in privacy andseclusion where they were free to be. Well, where Hajime thought they were freeto be, but they could be free in public too.

Fuyuhiko takes his hand and Hajime almost doesn’t believeit, but he pulls Fuyuhiko to his feet and leads him to an open space, into hisembrace and the first steps of the dance. He leaves the space of proprietybetween them but Fuyuhiko steps in a little too far at the next beat andreduces it to one of intimacy. Anything less was for private rooms or acurtained alcove.

“If we’re doing this, we’re not doing it halfway, Mr.Hinata.”

Hajime laughs and lowers his hand from Fuyuhiko’s shoulderblade to the gentle curve of his lower back. “Then you should be calling me byname, Fuyuhiko.”

Fuyuhiko rolls his eyes at him but he leans up and Hajime’seyes go wide thinking that Fuyuhiko is actually going to kiss him. He’s alreadytaking such a big leap, he doesn’t know if he can qiute go that far though. Butwith a mischievous smile, Fuyuhiko angles to the side at the last second and ittakes a moment for Hajime to register the brief peck on his cheek. Before hepulls away, Fuyuhiko tsks by Hajime’s ear, “There are a few things I’d preferwe keep under moonlight.”

Hajime’s ears are bright red throughout thedance, but his heart is light and full and his smile won’t leave his face forhours to come.

[bts-svt-mx]

Maid For You (Part 5) Taehyung x Reader (M), Jungkook x Reader

Author: bts-svt-mx

Taehyung x Reader

Jungkook x Reader

Rating: Fluff, M, slight smut

Tags: Enemies to Lovers AU, slight smut, slight exhibitionism?, Idol! Taehyung, Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Reader, Hoseok, mentions of other members

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 (M), 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Word Count: 3,600

Description: Wanting to get out of your parents house and experience what the world had to offer is way more expensive than people tell you it will be. So when your glamorous “manager to the stars” cousin Hoseok hooks you up with a  job as the live-in maid for a hillside, massive mansion, you feel as though life might actually be looking up. That is until the mansion’s absentee high profile celebrity owner surprises you by moving back in leaving you to wonder if this mansion is big enough for you and his huge ego. 

previously...

Your words are firm and strong. You will not let him take advantage of you. “Go ahead. Get me fired. But I have never and will never tolerate being treated like this. Goodnight, Taehyung.”

And with that, you push past him walking straight back to your own wing of the mansion. Far, far away from that despicable man you left behind you.

The third thing you had learned about Taehyung: He truly had no boundaries.

Chapter 5:

It may have been the fact that Taehyung has been in and out of the house for the past few weeks for days at a time. It may have been the fact that you had yelled at him for treating you like his own personal slutty slave. 

Or, it may have been the strongly worded 3 page contract you wrote up after the day you denied his little “gift” outlining the boundaries you were setting up for yourself, the tasks required of you in this job, and what was ‘his space’ and ‘your space’ complete with a map of the house and everything. It honestly could have been a combination of those things but you really didn’t care because Taehyung had finally ceased all of his frivolous requests for you.

No more stupid errands of his to run, no more pointless deep cleaning of rooms no one ever goes into, and most importantly, no more of his demeaning words and poorly veiled come-ons. You had successfully returned back to your normal routine around the mansion of doing what you were actually paid to do.

Everything was all quiet again. Or so you thought.

Though Taehyung was absent throughout the week days, he had traded in his relentless requests of your aid for weekly Friday night raging parties hosted in the grand foyer and subsequent kitchen, dining room, living room, lounging areas, game room, and main balcony of the mansion.

It was the 4th week in a row now that Taehyung has thrown a party. And not just any type of party. No, these parties were just short of a full on Las Vegas nightclub with the amount of people and alcohol present. Celebrities, groupies, management companies, socialites, and of course the random people who had managed to weasel their way in were all present at these shindigs.  

And these parties would last all night long. With the last people still passed out on the living room floor at 6AM the next morning.

Though the party was always contained to the 2nd floor of the mansion, since that was technically the ground level of the house, the clean up was still a multi day process with how huge this place was. But your personal wing of the mansion was off limits. And Taehyung knew that. In fact, it was one of the requests of yours that boy had always actually respected even before your self written contract.

You always took careful precautions to make sure that no one could disturb you or your things. And if anyone dared to enter that area of the house… you couldn’t even think of the hell you would unleash on Taehyung and his stupid “guests”.

------

“I really don’t know how much more I can take, Minjee,” Letting out a huge sigh, you complain to one of your dance class friends on the phone. You had managed to make friends with a decent amount of people during your classes and explorations throughout the city but never told them too much about your life at the mansion. In fact, Minjee was really the only one out of all of them you trusted enough to tell where you lived and who you worked for. That was because she was pretty much like your sister and you knew you could trust her with anything.

“Well if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em! Come on, Y/N, you need to let loose. Taehyung has practically cornered you in your side of the house with these parties. Show him you’re not the stiff he thinks you are! Besides, think of all the celebrities that could be there!”

Well she wasn’t wrong. This place would definitely be crawling with high profile, young celebrities. Not that you truly cared about famous people anymore now that you’ve seen how pretentious and rude they can be thanks to Taehyung. But Minjee definitely hit it on the nose with the part about you needing to let go.

Taehyung had made you so tense and anxious and stressed these past couple of weeks that you needed to be free. To drink, to dance, to have fun. And if Taehyung wasn’t going to respect your right to a good night of sleep then you might as well utilize everything this stupid party has to offer right?

Plus, who would turn down free alcohol?

So you decided to get your butt out of bed to get ready to head out. Using your adequate makeup skills, and picking out your favorite clubbing dress hugging your body in the best ways, you step out of your room and make your way out of the door to your wing of the mansion.

As soon as you open your door you’re greeted by the back of a bulky man dressed in a nice black suit. Umm who is this guy? Tapping lightly on his shoulder the man turns around in front of you and gives you a polite smile. He doesn’t say anything but you notice he’s wearing an earpiece with a clear wire connecting it to the lapel of his suit jacket. He nods to you and you think you can hear what sounds like security updates coming from his earpiece. 

In front of you and across the hall from him stands another man dressed identical to him. Well that explains why no one has even tried to get into your wing of the mansion during the past couple of week’s parties. There are security guards posted everywhere.

You could say a lot of bad things about Taehyung but at least you knew he was responsible as to making sure nothing really bad happened in his house. Locking your bedroom door and brushing past the unfamiliar guards you take a deep breath and walk towards the booming music.

Downing your third shot from the bartender in the great hall of the main living room, you look around taking in the transformed rooms. Colorful strobe lights swirl around you as an almost full room of young famous singers, actors, groupies, and completely random other party goers grind on each other on the dance floor, each of them trying to forget the struggles and pressures of their everyday lives. Just like you were.

You honestly could barely recognize the place. You had seen it go unused for so long. You had once wished this place would be used to its full potential but not like this. You were thinking more along the lines of nice dinner parties and benefits for charities. You know, grown up stuff. But instead, it was filled with people who only cared about being seen, hooking up, and getting wasted.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but this new setup confused you. How did that dance floor even get here? Who set this all up? And who is paying for all of this shit?

As if to answer your question, a bunch of squealing girls catch your attention as they all flock around Taehyung at the other end of the large living room/night club. His hair is a half bright pink and half bright yellow combination now. It had been a few days since you saw him last with his normal blonde hair around the house and for some reason the fact that he was glowing like a glass of strawberry lemonade made you even more annoyed by the aura he was exuding.  A lazy, cocky smile flashes across his face but it’s soon replaced by that distant stare you had seen him wear many times before. He’s sat on the edge of one of the nicest couches in the whole mansion along with about 5 other random people you have never seen before in your life. Not surprising since you don’t actually really know anyone here besides Taehyung and the random celebrities you have only seen on TV and magazines.

One of the five people sitting on the couch drunkenly spills their red cup all over themselves and the couch earning a cheer from those around him and a severe grimace from both you and Taehyung simultaneously across the room. Ugh, you’re going to have to hire someone to clean that thing tomorrow. There’s no way you could get that stain out yourself. You suddenly feel the need to drink enough to forget about all of the cleaning up you’ll have to do in the morning. You flick your hand towards the bartender with a sweet smile beckoning him to pour you another shot. 

Just barely finishing the last drop, suddenly a hand lands like a clap on your shoulder causing you to almost choke on the sickening taste of the vodka.

Oh hell no, you did not come out here to be manhandled by some random man. Who the fuck does this person thi-

“CUZZZZ!!! Man, am I surprised to see you here!” A beaming smile meets your scowling face which instantly softens when you see Hoseok's twinkling eyes in front of you. Of course. You should’ve expected him to be here. He is Taehyung’s manager after all, and to be honest, he might have actually organized part of this party.

Turning around in your swivel chair, you flash a happy grin at your cousin who’s actually physically standing in front of you. Instantly, he grabs you out of your chair spinning you around and hugging you tightly, giggling with you as you let out a tiny squeal of happiness.

It has been almost a year since you had last seen him in the flesh. Sure you pretty much talk to him on the phone or over facetime every other day but there’s something different about seeing a person actually in front of you. You truly hadn’t realized how much you missed the dumb idiot. But he was your idiot, your family.

Hugging him tightly back, you realize this is the first real laugh you’ve experienced since- Well, since before meeting Taehyung. Hoseok eventually puts you down after making somewhat of a scene to those around you at the bar but he doesn’t let go of your arm.

“Y/N I want you to meet some of my friends!” Pulling you away from the bar and out the of the wall to wall glass paneled exit to the balcony overlooking the garden and pool, Hoseok lands you right in front of a group of laughing guys talking amongst themselves. Some you vaguely recognize from pictures of Hoseok’s he’s always showing you but most you don’t know.

You stumble a little at his abrupt stop and also due to the fact that you rarely ever wear heels. They hurt a little bit when you first put them on earlier, but at this point, you were too numb from the alcohol to care.

Hoseok greets his friends and gestures to you. “Y/N meet the boys! This is Yoongi,” He points to an intimidating shorter, silver haired man on his left with a shy smile. He nods in acknowledgment in your direction before continuing his conversation with someone next to him. “He’s one of the two main producers on Taehyung’s label.” You try to hide the instinct to blanch at the mention of Taehyung’s name. Yoongi seems chill enough though, maybe not the friendliest, but he seemed like if you got to know him he’d be cool.  

Next, Hoseok turns to a tall, handsome, and authoritative looking man to Yoongi’s left whose gaze is already on you. His face lights up with a comforting smile and he extends his hand out to you which you take with a warm smile back. “I’m Namjoon, Taehyung’s other main producer,” His low voice speaks. Woah his hand was so big and soft.. And his dimples were a mile deep. He exuded confidence and comfort. You imagine he would be the perfect man to settle down with if you lived a different life than you do. If you were actually someone in this world...

Pulling you out of your thoughts, a shorter, attractive, dirty blonde haired boy in front of you pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m Jimin! I’m Taehyung’s choreographer!” His grin is so wide and bright white as he pulls back from the embrace, he’s almost blinding. Looking at him was like looking at the sun. Or a field of bright sunflowers on a cloudless day.

Finally, Hoseok turns to the smiling boy on his right, clapping a hand on his shoulder much like he did earlier with you. “And this is the Golden Maknae of the label, Jeon Jungkook! Y/N, Jungkook. Jungkook, meet my super great, super single cousin Y/N,” At that Hoseok raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oof!” Hoseok gasps as you send a direct elbow to his stomach knocking the wind out of him before you flash your flirtiest grin and extend your hand out towards Jungkook. You didn’t notice him when you first walked up because of the new firey red hairstyle he was sporting probably for his next comeback. In contrast to his hair, his features were so soft and handsome, young but dripping sex appeal at the same time.

Oh if last year’s version of you could see you now. Staring right into the dreamy eyes of the newest and hottest artist in the country.  “Nice to meet you Jungkook,” The words come out from your mouth like sugar, the alcohol making you more bold than you would usually be in this type of situation as you slink your dainty hand out in his direction.

Catching your gaze fully, you notice Jungkook’s eyes grow slightly more intense and his smile turn into a full on smirk as his arms extends towards yours. His muscles straining all the way through his tight leather jacket. The way he slides his hand into yours sends shivers down the pads of your palm and fingertips, through you arm, and down your body.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N,”

-----

The music flows through you involuntarily making your hips sway in time with the beat. Around you in the middle of the dance floor, you can feel a few pairs of eyes on you as you start to get more into the music, letting it take over your senses. Blood pumping in time with the beat, alcohol surging through your veins after you had taken a few more shots with Hoseok earlier. Nothing mattered right now and nothing could bring you down. It had been such a long time since you last felt this way and you weren’t about to let that feeling go.

You knew you looked good and you knew you were attracting attention. It was clear that the sexy dress you picked out earlier was successful in doing its job and that fact only made you enjoy yourself even more. Stumbling again on your heels during a particularly good part of the song now blasting through the speakers, you fall slightly backwards regaining your balance but in doing so you bump into a hard body behind you that catches your arm.

Oh jeez, you were already clumsy sober, adding in a lot more drinks and dancing into that equation definitely did not help.

“I’m so sorr-” Your head whips to look behind you at who you just bumped in your drunken state and you’re met by Jungkook’s soft smile as he chuckles slightly. The room around you doesn’t seem to stop spinning in circles but Jungkook and his beauty remains clear in front of you.

He looks so hot in these multi-colored lights. Green, blue, red, purple, orange. Each color that flickers over his face makes him look even more attractive than the previous color.

“On second thought, I’m actually not that sorry,” You beam with the flirtiest smile you can manage.

Making no moves to separate yourself from his hold, you turn back around in place to resume your dancing, hoping he would get the message you were so clearly not trying to hide. Jungkook was cute. Scratch that, he was incredibly sexy. In his tight black shirt showing off his strong arm muscles and skin tight black jeans making his thighs bulge in all the right places. You vaguely remember him wearing a leather jacket earlier but you don’t blame him for shedding it at some point during the night. It was so hot in here and it wasn’t just because of the close proximity of the many sweaty dancing bodies around you.

Muscular hands land on your hips from behind, helping them return back to the rhythm you just had going as Jungkook pulls you towards him. Your backside lightly pressed against his front. Ah, there we go. You knew he was smart enough to pick up on your flirting earlier when Hoseok first introduced you two. To be completely honest, you had only really wanted to dance by yourself tonight, but you saw the way Jungkook was looking at you earlier and his hands… Oh god, his hands were working magic as his thumbs lightly rubbed your hips through your thin dress.

You welcomed your new dance partner, finding that the dancing skills you’ve seen in the few videos you’ve watched of him did not disappoint. Mentally you thank yourself for the dance lessons you’ve been going to as you begin to gain more confidence in your movements with him.

Both Jungkook and your hips sway perfectly in time but you want more. No one has touched you in so long, save for that one night a month ago when Taehyung had deviously put his arms on you and whispered in your ear and we all know how that turned out. But you didn’t want to think about Taehyung’s stupid attractiveness and douchebag-ness right now. Jungkook is right where he needs to be here and now and he’s doing all of the right things.

The need to be closer to him grows inside of you and it could only be the liquid courage in you that wills you to push your ass closer to him. You didn’t care if you would regret this in the morning. This felt way too good. And who in their right mind would give up the opportunity of dancing with one of the hottest boys in the world?

Your hips follow the beat of the music, first to a faster pop song then you slow it down with more calculated moves when it transitions to a slower, sexier song. Jungkook’s hard breathing matches yours and if there was any indication by the way Jungkook tightens his grip on your hips and moves his head to slip into the crook of your neck, he was definitely enjoying this too.

Following a particularly slow grind of your hips, Jungkook’s low groan against your neck and the light touch of his lips to your skin spurs you on to continue the movement every so often as you tilt your head lightly back inviting him to suck on the most sensitive part of your skin. You had always been a neck girl and god did it feel good with his lips moving against yours.

Jungkook’s hands slide down your soft, red dress, rubbing lightly along your thighs. One hand running back up past your stomach just barely reaching the underside of your breast, the other hand staying closer to the inside of your right thigh, kneading the sensitive spot so close to where you wanted him so desperately. He pushes you closer with the hand pressed against your thigh, which adds more pressure to his hardening bulge behind you.

Jungkook’s hips thrust perfectly behind you in time with the music. Before you can stop yourself, you let out a low moan surprising yourself as Jungkook leaves more of his sloppy kisses and no doubt a hickey or two on your neck. “God, Y/N you’re so beautiful,” Jungkook whispers next to your ear in between his assault on your neck. You can’t help but moan again, louder this time at a particular hard grind of his hips paired with his own low groan against you. Your eyes snap open. Did anyone hear that? And is anyone else here noticing that you’re basically one step away from having sex on this dance floor?

Looking at the other couples and strangers around you, too occupied in their own affairs and dancing, you realizes no one was really paying attention to you or Jungkook. There wasn’t anyone here taking pictures, seeing as most of the people that came here were celebrities that didn’t want their dirty dancing escapades and hookups broadcasted on every gossip site. Everyone here was too busy reveling in their own sinful ways to notice yours.

Indulging in the fact that no one is looking at Jungkook and you, you move one of your hands to rest over Jungkook’s hand that is still kneading your right thigh. Taking control, you move it towards your center where you need him the most and let your other hand slide in between your two bodies, squeezing Jungkook’s own muscular thighs behind you, earning a low groan and a barely audible “fuck” coming from Jungkook.

You don’t have to guide him anymore as Jungkook gets the hint of what you wanted him to do. His fingers graze your bundle of nerves at your center tracing the same circular motion in which your hips are swaying. Slow and teasing as your hand moves from his thigh to his hard member behind you. Both Jungkook’s and your breathing growing fast and shaky as you work your hands on each other.

You turn your head towards Jungkook once more, lips so close to one another, you could smell the expensive whisky in his breath and he could probably smell the vodka in yours too. Jungkook’s lustful eyes lazily graze over your face finally landing on your lips. His hips and hands still moving with skill to the beat of the song as you palm each other over your clothes. Being this close, you realize how this boy really deserves to be one of the up and coming hot new pop stars. He’s so attractive. Sexy with a hint of innocence that you’re sure makes women of all ages keep coming back for more.

Girls must be falling all over him.

You were falling all over him.

Your eyes land on his lips soon after you’re done exploring his beauty in your drunken state. He’s so close, one slight move towards him and finally your lips connect with each other. First slow and gentle but soon turning into a more needy kiss. And you swear. You swear you’re one minute away from taking him back to your room and just having your way with him. Finally being able to properly hear those sweet moans he’s been spewing in the privacy of your own room in your big bed as he peppers those soft lips all the way down your body to your-

“WHERE DID IT GO?” A deep, exasperated voice booms so loud you can even hear it over the music filling the room making you break your kiss with Jungkook. Was that someone yelling? Was there a fight or something? You look around to see if anyone was reacting to the strange yell you just heard but almost everyone is still lost in their own world. Including Jungkook who doesn’t seem to notice your distraction as he continues kneading his hands on you and swaying to the music. 

“WHERE DID IT GO?” The voice booms again.

This time you’re sure you hear it. You would know that voice and that tone anywhere but you hoped that maybe just maybe he wasn’t talking to you. You don’t see the source of the yell so you turn your gaze once more back to Jungkook and lean in again before-

“Y/N!”

Ah, shit.

<-- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter -->

[crosbys-guccifloral-crocs]

Helloooo, please can you write an imagine where Y/N and Harry were best friends at first then were a couple for almost 1 year and a half but break up and she’s now in relationship with a guy and he told her at a family dinner that he still loves her but she told him smt like “You were my real first love and love story, and I love you but I love him more. He’s the man of my life. But we can still be friends.” Something like this❤️

Warnings: not proofed. Angsty as hell, teen!harry, X factor!harry, best friend!harry.

 *** 

 Y/N and Harry shared everything: a street, toys, friends and even a birthday (Feb, 1, 1994) just as their mothers had. Given that they were also childhood best friends. Y/N and Harry had been friends for years — but then, the X Factor happened… Y/N hated those 3 words. They were the words that had changed the entire dynamic of their relationship; as both friends and as a couple. Well… as much of a “couple” as love sick 16 year olds could be. They’d dated for just over a year before he auditioned for the X Factor. They had been each other’s first everything: first kiss, first real person, first time and of course, first heartbreak. First he broke hers. It happened when news broke that he had made it past the first round of auditions.

“I made it, Y/N.” he’d said. It was totally casual and caught her by surprise. They were lying in his family’s living room in Holmes Chapel watching The Notebook with Gemma, Anne and Robin.

She shot up straight from her position on his lap.

“W-what?” She gasped.

“I made the X Factor.” He said, sitting up to pause the film.

“O-oh. That’s great! I knew you could do it, H!” She stammered hugging him close.

“We’re moving to London.” He mumbled.

“Wait… what?” She questioned.

“We’re moving to London, Y/N. as long as I’m in the competition I need to be on set, and because I’m not 18 mum and Robin need to be with me on set.” He murmured.

“Oh… well London’s only 3 hours away. I could come visit on weekends.” She quipped.

“I don’t know, love. That’s a pretty big commitment. We can’t even drive yet, and that’s a lot to expect from your parents.”

“You could just tell me you don’t want this anymore Harry. I don’t need your pathetic excuses.” She cried rushing out of the living room.

“Y/N, honey! Come back please!” Anne called out.

“BABY PLEASE!” Harry cried running barefoot down his cobblestone drive. But it was no use, she was gone.

Over the next few weeks before he left for London, H made every attempt to contact Y/N. He waited for her at her locker at school, outside of her classes, showed up at her doorstep every morning before school with his famous iced tea that she loved so much and everyday she would walk right past him as if he were some stranger passing her on the street. She’d even resorted to blocking his number on her mobile and not allowing her mother to answer their home phone when his number showed up on the caller ID.

Eventually he learned his lesson and stopped attempting to contact her. But not before he could leave a note in her locker before he left for London.

“Y/N,

I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t mean what I said the way it sounded. Please let me explain.

I love you,

H.”

——

It had been nearly 3 months since Harry had made any more attempts to contact Y/N, and she had made no attempts at all to reciprocate those attempts. But nonetheless, it still broke her heart to even think about Harry in the arms of another girl — let alone an older woman… not to mention a woman 14 years his senior! It was sickening. She tried her hardest not to pay attention to the rumours and wanted nothing more than believe they were false, but when every media outlet in the UK was reporting about the supposed relationship between “16 year old X Factor contestant Harry Styles and the host Caroline Flack, aged 30” the rumours became rather hard to ignore. But she had to see for herself, so one weekend, close to the show finale, she decided to take Anne up on one of her multiple offers to make the trip to London because “Harry was dying to see her.” She, Anne and Gemma decided to surprise Harry and meet him at Nando’s one evening to surprise him with her visit, only to see him show up hand in hand at the restaurant with her.

That’s when Y/N truly decided to let Harry go. She no longer tuned into the competition, deleted him on all social media and no longer hung-out with the friend group they shared at school. Instead she became a secluded introvert, only going from school to work.

—— 8 years later (January, 28, 2018) ——

It’s been 8 years since Harry and Y/N had physically laid eyes on one another. Not even at Robin’s wake or service. She went of course she did. He was almost as much of, if not more of a father to her than her own dad, she just sat in the back and only made her presence known to Anne and Gemma when Harry was no longer in the room. She decided to unblock his number for a short while and send him her condolences on Robin’s passing, but then she was back to ignoring him. That doesn’t mean that she’s a stranger to her ex boyfriend’s crazy success and scandalous relationships. She’s run into Anne now and again when she was out and about in Holmes Chapel visiting her mother. She also still had the occasional girl’s day in London with Gemma whenever their schedules meshed properly.

She’d moved there 6 years ago when she was 18 after being accepted to Oxford for (your choice in major). She decided to stay in town after she graduated, she received a job offer with a salary that was impossible to pass up just weeks after graduation.

Soon after she started her new job was when she met Kyle. The way they met was kind of serendipitous, if you will. She’d literally spilt her iced tea on him after they collided turning a corner on the street. They’d been inseparable ever since. He’s been her everything for the past 6 years. Which is amazing, considering she never thought she’d feel this way about another man ever again. Not after he broke her heart all those years ago. Anne and Gemma were happy for her, but would be happier if it were Harry she were still with. They liked Kyle enough though, he treated her well and that’s all they ever wanted for her.

Now, four days before their shared 24th birthday she’s sitting on the sofa in the flat she shared with Kyle trying to get Gemma off the phone.

“Gem, how many times do I need to tell you I. Don’t. Want. A. Party. 24 is no special occasion. I’m not 16, or 18 or 21. ‘M just another year older. Can’t we just go to Greece for a weekend? Just the 2 of us and the mums?” (Anne and Y/M/N). Y/N begs.

“Ugh. Fine. I guess, if that’s what you want. But are you sure you don’t want anything on your actual birthday? Y’know like dinner or summat?” Gemma questions.

“Um, no. I think Kyle’s taking me to Gordon Ramsey’s new restaurant in Chelsea that night. Think he wants it to be a surprise though. I over heard him making the reservation a few weeks back.”

“Oh yeah, I know the place. Fancy little bloke inn’he?” She giggles finding her own sense of humour rather amusing.

“Ha ha, Gem. Laugh it up. S’more than you can say H—-“ Y/N stops herself just before her friend’s brother’s name leaves her lips. “Never mind. Sorry. I didn’t mean that.” She retracts.

“No, Y/N, S’okay. I get it. Know he’s m’brother and what he did was a while back but it still makes him a wanker.” Gem agrees.

“Okay. I’ll call you in a few days to sort out the details of the trip, Gem. Talk soon.” Y/N smiles.

“Laters, baby.” Gemma laughs.

—4 days later, Birthday evening (Feb, 1, 2018) Gordon Ramsey’s restaurant.—

“Wow, Ky. This place is amazing, you shouldn’t have.” Y/N gasps as the hostess brings them to their table and informs them their server will be by shortly to take their orders.

“Course I should, love. S’not every day the girl you love turns 24.” Kyle smirks.

Just as the sommelier (wine expert) approaches their table.

“Excuse me, are you Miss. Y/L/N?” He questions.

“Um yes? What is this about?” She asks sheepishly, confused. Kyle himself seeming just as clueless.

“This is for you. Compliments of the gentleman over there at table 4. Enjoy your meal. This pairs lovely with the prime rib, if I do say so myself.” The wine master smiles as he departs from the table.

Y/N looks over Kyle’s shoulder to see the one and only Harry Styles smirking at her from across the dining room. “Happy Birthday, love” he mouths, lifting his own glass of wine in a “cheers” salute.

“If you’ll excuse me, Kyle I need to take care of something really quickly.” Y/N says, giving her date a tight lipped smile before marching over to Harry and hauling him up from the table by the cuff of his Gucci suit jacket.

“Oi, love. That’s no way to greet an old friend on his birthday is it?” Harry jabs as she continues to maneuver them out the main doors of the restaurant.

“First of all a $300 bottle of wine? Are you freaking kidding me, Harry? Second of all… s’tha’ all I am to you, an’ “old friend?” And third, how the bloody freaking ‘ell did you find me? Especially tonight of all nights?” She whisper yells as they gat far enough into the parking lot.

“One, happy birthday. I know you love that wine. He probably would’ve ordered you some cheap $50 merlot. Two, no love, yer much more to me than just and old friend. S’what I came ere to tell yeh. And three, I’m Harry freaken Styles, love. There’s nothin I can’t do. Not to mention Gordon owed me a favour after I performed at his daughter’s graduation last year. When Gem told me yer new bloke was bringing yeh ere tonight I decided to call in that favour.” Harry smiles, taking in the appearance of the girl he’s loved for the last 20 some-odd years of his life. The same one he hasn’t seen in nearly 8 years. But seeing her here, tonight looking gorgeous as ever in that tight black dress and killer Louboutins, with him?? Well that was a hell of a kick in the nads.

“Why did you really come here, Harry? Because I know it wasn’t just to give me expensive wine and say happy birthday. But if it was, happy birthday, Harry. Goodbye.” Y/N mutters, shaking her head and walking away.

“N-no, baby please! Don’t walk away. Not again.” He begs grabbing at Y/N’s wrist and pulling her into him. “Please, baby. I love you. Don’t walk away again. If you do, I don’t think I can take it.” He says, full on sobbing now and literally begging on his knees outside the busiest restaurant in the Chelsea district, not caring who sees him.

“Get up, Harry. You’re making a scene. Im not your baby anymore. I haven’t been for the last 8 years. And that was your choice. I loved you, but I love Kyle, now. I’d still like to be friends though, yeah?” Y/N says in an attempt to plaster a fake sad smile on her face and look away from Harry to wipe her own tears.

“Not Harry to you baby. ‘M anything but. What happened to H or babe or love or handsome?? Anything but Harry. That makes it too real. You know we can never be friends. We’ve been through too much.” He sobs, standing up to hug her again.

“M’sorry, H. I love Kyle and he’s inside waiting. I’m sure I’ll see you around yeah?” She says, releasing herself from his embrace and kissing his cheek before reentering the restaurant and leaving Harry out in the cold.

——

Fin?? But could definitely see this being a small series if you all like it! There are plenty of places I could go with this! xx M.