after-hours-art

[after-hours-art]

01.06

Pairing: Chuck Bass x f!reader

Genre: fluff, comfort

Disgust. Nothing else can describe the expression on Chuck's face better than disgust.

Is he disgusted because you are on a call with another man? No. Because the man is your so-called friend? No, he poses no threat to a man like Chuck. Is he disgusted because the guy is your ex? He knows you are loyal to him as he is to you. Is he disgusted because he just saw the woman he loves to death crumble under the judgy words from her 'friend'? Yes. It makes him re-think many things. Why are you friends with someone who throws stones at her. Why is that guy in some poor dormitory. Why not fund him a ticket and crash his plane somewhere in the Pacific? After all, there's big insurance on Bass Industries jet. If someone could document a list of Chuck Bass's enemies, the top would take his uncle and Dominic, respectively.

He finishes his glass of Scotch when you finally end the call. His jaw tightens, seeing you expression. Like a kicked puppy on the verge of tears.

- I didn't understand a word you two said, but from your face, I assume it didn't go well... - he walks from behind the bar and sits on the couch, patting the cushion next to him invitingly. You don't say anything, just plopps down next to him.

- He called me stupid. In his suble way, he managed to make me feel small. Again. It is and if his fucking.... willpower feeds by me feeling small and worthle-

- Don't you dare to end that word. - his voice sounds lower, more stern than usual. - You're priceless. Worth everything.

- He said... that I'm basically buying my degree. Because I'm attending evening classes and pay for it. That no employer will ever take me seriously. That... evening studies degrees are just... bought degrees. - a tear runs down your cheek. Chuck takes a deep breath, knowing well that promising to you that he'll kill the bastard the second he sees him isn't the best idea now. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close, pressing his lips to your temple.

- Allow me to enlighten you, Y/N. In America, we all pay for our degrees. So yours will be no less real than Stephen Hawking's. He is just jealous of you.

- Jealous...? - you wipe your cheek, looking a bit confused.

- Princess, that genius majoring in English ended up on exchange in Turkey where when I last checked more people speaks Russian than English. He doesn't have CAE certification. He doesn't have a handsome billionaire boyfriend by his side. - he cracks a joke, corner of his lips lifting when you let out a chuckle. Mission accomplished , you smile.

- Really? Is it just jealousy? - you ask quietly.

- Y/N. Your GPA is 4.5 now. You aced last two exams, princess, it wouldn't happen if you were just lounging around, right? You work hard for your grades. You're talented with languages. And his poor ass knows he's nothing next to you. So he brings you down. He tarnishes what you love because he hates what he does. He wishes to be you. - he reassures you, saying exactly what you needed to hear. Despite being friends with Dominic for five years, you couldn't see all the hate. You took it way too personal, way too deeply, and it ended up hurting you way too much. Seeing your absent expression, Chuck kisses your head again.

- No more feeling sad over a guy who used you as a rebound when you were a teen and now uses you as a punching bag. He's more toxic than anyone on the Upper East Side. - he says, his arm pulling you closer to himself. - You're my priceless princess, my morning kitchen barista, my little scholar, my miss perfect. You're perfect. Your major isn't worthless. You are priceless. Ambitious. Smart. Don't let a guy who openly hates his major tell you that you're dumb. He was dumb for using you and discarding like a toy. He is dumb for taking his unhappiness out on you.

You look down on your hand and nod. He knows you don't fully agree. You take everything so personal it's sometimes hard to watch like one bad word can ruin your day. He kisses your head once more.

- There. Three kisses so it won't hurt your pretty head anymore. No more bad thoughts. Weren't you just excited about some remote job you wanted to do on your free days before that bastard called? Tell me more about that job? - he smiles, encouraging you to open up with pure curiosity in his voice. You feel something flutter in your stomach. Butterflies. The way he looks at you like you're the only woman in the world, a priceless painting, his life. You blush and smile, reaching for your laptop.

- So I found this, no experience needed to that's the most important part... - you both chuckle on your comment. He actively listens to your idea, asks questions, expresses his genuine opinion, and even offers help with setting separate bank account for your new income source later. The butterflies stop flying in your stomach. All the thoughts of your worthlessness vanishes somewhere tied to the phone call and the now blocked number. You feel safe. With the man who believes in you.

[after-hours-art]

Question:

What do You, as a Reader, prefer instead of Y/N in self-insert fanfictions?

[after-hours-art]

me: I write for myself, not validation

also me after posting a fic *refreshes ao3 every five minutes*

(two things can be true)

[after-hours-art]

The good, the wrong, and the right

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x f!reader

Genre: forbidden romance, professor x student

Warnings:

*The good*

It felt good to Levi to have Y/N by his side. Not literary speaking, but the front seat in the row by the window - that is, right in front of his desk - fall pretty close under the term 'by ones side'. It never occurred to him that he might like one of his students. The majority of them were showing, more or less, a lack of general interest in his classes. Not that he was ever surprised, lecturing about linguistics nor ethics were written under a 'dream job' on his papers either when he was their age. And somehow, he ended up there, by the desk of his late teacher. With a weirdly shy, yet smart and attentive young woman in front of him. So much for executing his field of work when having an interest in one's student is, if not unethical, then at least highly inappropriate. Obviously, he never showed off with his interest. After all, he never planned to tarnish his or Y/N's reputation. Yet, it felt good, satisfying even, when she openly tried to answer his question, how she brought slight upturn in corner of his lips when she read answers from her notebook thinking that he can't see it. There was something about her that made him crack a smile every time she said 'hello' or 'goodbye' or merely walked past him on the corridor, doing the little polite bow.

It felt good to watch her take notes, the blue pen rushing across the notebook's pages as she tried to capture both his commentary and explanations and text on the screen. He felt a slight bit of pride every time she tried to answer his question.

- Every X has a Y that it loves? - she muttered, trying to read a logical formula from the screen. Levi smiled when she got it right. He nodded gently and clicked to another slide. His eyes focused on her, hoping that she'll read another formula, but this time, another student took the laur. Levi, not wanting to be unfair or show any favouritism, praised the student, equally happy that more than one person actually focused on his attempts to explain a little bit of logic that is in this curriculum. He went on with the class, still sometimes crossing his gaze with hers. He wanted to talk to her, recommend her a book on logic used by law students, it's not like he believed that she'd buy it or read it, but he just wanted to talk and get an ounce of her attention as a person not as her teacher. Before he got a chance, other students approached him, asking something about some summer language program. That is what he has for being a dean of the department. Not a second of free time. Yet, the second she said quite goodbye and smiled at him, his heart stopping for a fraction of a second, corners of his lips lifting in his regular smile when he saw her. Her eyes shined in the sun that fell into the classroom through the window. It made him feel like spring and summer are definitely times when she shined the brighter. She looked less tired than she used to during the winter semester.

*The right*

It felt right to ask her out. Inappropriate, scary as he knew that if she'd feel uncomfortable, she could report the incident to the dean and ultimately end his education career, but somehow, it felt right. His heart was racing the day she walked up to his desk.

- Mr. Ackerman? - she asked, smiling, her own voice shaking a little as if she was equally nervous as he was.

- Yes? - he looked up at her. If he could, he'd drown in her eyes the second their made eye contact, yet again that day.

- I just wanted to ask if you could maybe send us the PDF you we're showing today?

- I'm a-afraid that it won't be possible, Miss Y/N. However, the book should be av-available online to download or in our library. - the typical for him stoic tone cracked under her presence, causing him to stutter, something he hasn't done in years.

- Oh... okay, then...

His heart clenched slightly at how disappointed she looked. Before he could think or consider his words, he heard his own voice.

- I-I can help you look for it. O-Only you want, of course.

The silence fell in the classroom as neither of them believed what just had happened. Her eyes widened as she felt the temperature of her cheeks rise. Levi looked equally shocked by his own words, his cheeks flushed with pink as well. She has never seen Professor Ackerman looking so confused and even... scared. Something in his gray eyes gave away that the simple question he asked himself startled him. She blinked a few times, snapping back from her thoughts.

- S-sure... - she muttered. Levi's eyes lightened up, his jaw, that he didn't realise he was clenching, relaxed.

- Okay. Then... email me when you have time and... and... and we will meet. - he stuttered, cursing himself for letting his nervousness show.

It felt right when a week later he walked her through the labirynt of shelves. He talked constantly, always throwing a word in about any book that remotely caught her attention. Her knowledge about linguistics expanded more during this short walk than it did during a semester of classes. By the time he shows her the hardback copy of the book he used during classes, Y/N felt prepared for the final exam, even when it was still weeks away. Yet, she drank every word that came out of his mouth. She couldn't help but find it adorable how Mr. Ackerman's eyes lightened up when he spoke about differences between French and Japanese, two languages he used most when stating examples during his lectures.

*The wrong*

It felt wrong to save her number on his phone. It felt even worse to text her during the day, when she was out of the college, doing her own things, probably not even wanting to think about her professor.

It felt wrong, like not only breaking a sort of a social taboo - a student , potentially dating her teacher - but also violating his teachings. Because, in what world, professor teaching ethics does something so unethical, from the point of the third person seeming like taking advantage of a vulnerable female student? Apparently, in this world.

But he still opened the door, letting her enter first in the cafe. This one is further from the campus, closer to where she lives. It's small, in one of the side alleys. He pulled the chair for her to sit, judging from her expression she had never encountered such chivarly before. He took a seat across the table, pretending that he's looking at the menu. Y/N looked different that day. Her hair less messy, as if she took a lot of time to style them. Not that he ever complained about her hairstyles before. He loved her messy hair, though the bags under her eyes always worried him during exam sessions. Her outfit also looked different - a nice knee-length skirt and delicate sweater were quite an upgrade from jeans and hoodies. Not that he ever complained. Y/N has always looked cute, but that day she looked... feminine for the first time since he met her.

If felt wrong, having her on the bed at his place. It's nothing fancy, just a two bedroom apartment in the older district that he inherited from his grandmother. Mahon furniture, bookshelves bending underneath the weight of books collected by five generations of Ackermans. And her. His Y/N, his Y/N in elegant black lingerie, sat at the edge of his bed. Her cheeks flushed with blush as he knelt in front of her, as if she was a goddess and he was a mere worshipper. His lips kissed her calf. He didn't dare to even suggest any intimate activity that went beyond stolen kisses, dates, or movie nights when they ended up falling asleep on the couch together. But she said she wanted to celebrate the end of the finals week. His kisses slowly moved up to her knee caps, his fingers toying with the edge of her lacy underwear. He never thought that she'd wear something like that. She seemed too shy for that. Even when she wore dresses, she looked modest to the power of ten. He gently spread her legs, his lips continuing the ministrations on her skin, his fingers gently pulling the lacy panties down. He looked up, searching her gaze. He asked her if she was sure of a million times. When she suggested it, when they came to his apartment, when she undressed, when he undressed. His gray eyes, filled with adoration that could be found only in most devoted lovers, the most religious believers when they stand in front of the object of their worship.

- Are you sure, Y/N? - he asked, his voice hoarse, deeper than usually, dripping with desire mixed with uncertainty. His hand dangerously close to your virtue.

- I'm sure... - her voice was quiet, not wanting to disturb the heating up atmosphere they created. The bedroom suddenly felt warmer when the matter of ethical behaviour mixed with desire that lingered between them two.

It felt good to run his fingers through her hair, his lips lingered against her temple, his hands gently tracing circles on her stomach. The hot water in the bathtub gently washed off the sweat and high emotions of their love-making.

- How are you feeling? - he asked, his voice deeper than before, possibly from the intensivity of their previous action. It's not like abscinated from physical intimacy. He simply had too much respect for women to contribute to the so-called 'hook-up' culture. Not only is that against his values, but also, contrary to how it was marketed, found it was more oppressive to women than liberating.

- Fine. Tired. - her quiet voice broke the silence in the bathroom.

- Are you sure you feel fine? - he asked in concern. After all, hurting his dear Y/N, even by accident, was the last thing he wanted.

- I promise that I'm fine, Mr. Ackerma- - her words got cut off by a deep kiss on her lips as he gently tilted her head back, closer to him.

- Call me... Levi - he said quietly against her lips. - P-please.

He stuttered a little for the first time in weeks.

- Levi... - she said carefully, as if savouring the word on her tongue. Levi splayed one of his hands on her stomach, the other one gently squeezing her thigh.

It felt wrong to feel so right having her in his arms.

***

- Je t'aime.

Those little words slipped through his mouth by accident, somewhere between their night in, medical drama playing on TV, and the weight on Y/N's head on his chest. Upon hearing himself say the declaration of love, he froze, his hand still on Y/N's head, as he was playing with her hair to sooth her and help her relax after her last final she wrote that day. She finished the freshman year of university with GPA 4.5, not what she wanted, so being the perfectionist she was, she spiralled into self-pity for the whole day. And Levi just wanted to make her feel better. With her favourite show marathon, her favourite food, lots and lots of cuddling.

- What? - she tilted her head, looking up at him. In the dim light of the living room, she couldn't see the blush on his pale skin. Maybe that's better, saved him even more blushing.

- N-nothing. - he muttered, trying to save his face. Maybe she didn't like him like that. It wasn't like she had to. They sort of flirted for four months, dated in an unofficial manner for another three months. He couldn't... couldn't just expect her to feel the same. Forcing his feelings on others wasn't in Levi's book, or at least that's what he always told himself. A quiet chuckle from Y/N made him blink twice. Her hand found his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

- I... I think I love you too, Mr. Ackerman. - she said, flinching when he pinched her side.

- I told you to call me by my name, ma lumière d'étoile. Especially now, when we said 'I love you' to each other. - he pulled her closer, kissing the side of her neck, his warm breath hitting her delicate skin. - And please, no more Mr. Ackerman. I checked your syllabus, and we won't have more classes together. Not that I'm not sad about losing your presence for those half an hour per week, but... I'm glad I'll be having you around my place more often.

- We'll still have to not show off with us at school. - she pointed out. He placed a kiss on her neck, gently sucking on the skin till there was a small, pink love bite formed.

- There. Now we won't have to show off to make everyone understand that you're taken. And when this pretty one will go down... - he leaned to the coffee table and took a small box from it. He opened it, showing a necklace with a silver book pendant. - You can just look at this and think of me. I... I-f you think it's cheesy or too much. It just seemed so straight out of those books you love I just... - he started to stutter again. Y/N slowly sat up, taking the necklace in her hand.

- It's beautiful, Levi. I promise it's not cheesy. Sometimes.... all the romance needs to spark is a little cliché. - she smiled. Her expression lightened up even more when she saw a silver necklace with a star pendant around his neck. Ma lumière d'étoile.

[after-hours-art]

Louis Grimaldi

[after-hours-art]

my dream as a fanfic writer is for one day, one of my fics to be someones comfort fic. like the fic that they reread when they don't feel good and want to be happy. i want my words to comfort someone one day

[after-hours-art]

[after-hours-art]

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

WHO IS USING THIS

AN APP??? THEY HAVE A FUNCTIONING WEBSITE

THE LAST FUNCTIONING WEBSITE

[after-hours-art]

Get up, loser. We're going riding

Pairing: Nate Archibald x f!reader

Genre: fluff,comedy

Warnings: language,

All hail spring break. The sweet escape from the mundane of the Columbia lectures, banters between Serena and Blair, assignment due dates, and stress. And nothing quite says Spring Break like a retreat to Hamptons where your parents happen to own a small English-styled ranch. Every summer for you was always filled with lounging around the pool, horse rides, and parties with your friends.

You sigh in pleasure as you sunbath by the pool in the backyard. White swimsuit contrasts with lightly tanned for the past week skin. The weather has been generous enough to be sunny throughout your stay this year despite it being merely March. Unfinished tea stands on the table, already having caught the attention of the bees who found your sweet drink more appealing than the bush of blue peonies. Your eyes are closed as you savour the last day out of the city. Suddenly, a shadow casts down onto you. Confused, you open your eyes only to see the neighbours' son - Nathaniel Archibald. Though, your father only referred to him as Vanderbilt, refusing to acknowledge Nate's father. You raise your eyebrows, and then you spot two black helmets in his hands.

- Get up loser, We're going riding. - he says, throwing one on your stomach.

- Why? It's our last day of the break. Let me sunbath.

- Really? I've expected more enthusiasm out of the Hamptons Classic Horse Show champion. - he says, corner of his lips lifting up in a sheepish grin, one that really reflects his boyish energy, so unlike for a young Vanderbilt. He seemed more down when you saw him the last week at Columbia with that girl, Juliet, or whatever her name was. - Plus, sunbath in what? Sun might look nice, but it's still merely 46°F.

- Ex champion. The last time I've checked it's March, not August ten years ago. And I can sunbath whenever I want.

- Champion is still a champion. - he says. - Come on, not make me beg. And I bet you'd love to say goodbye to your horses, too. - he says, trying to tug on your heartstrings.

You roll your eyes, ready to scoff.

- You know that the point of lounging here and not being with horses is to ease my goodbye to them tomorrow?

- That's why we should come for a ride. To say a proper goodbye. - he takes your hand and gently pulls you up to sitting. - Come on. Last ride with a friend before it's time to return to gray reality?

- Why you're so clingy? - you scoff.

- Because I miss the girl next door. All the fun we had when we were younger, all the parties we ruined. - he smiles.

- The girl next door attends your school but you don't happen to notice her. - you say, pulling a thin white gown over your shoulders. Your lightly sun-kissed skin contrasting with the material catches his attention, making him smirk. As much as he'd like to control it, he's just a guy. When you notice the way he looks at you, you shoot a disapproving glare.

- Really? You're asking me for a ride only to ogle me? - you scoff. You start walking towards the house, Nate following after you with his glance focused on one particular part of your body.

- What can I do? I'm just a man.

- You're just a man, but it doesn't mean you can't control yourself. I'm just a woman, and you don't see me staring at your crotch. - you say, causing a pink blush of embarrassment to appear on his cheeks. - Meet me at the stables in half an hour.

- Wait. If you couldn't control yourself, you would stare? - he calls after you, but you're already halfway up the stairs on the first floor and pretend like you can't hear him. Nate shakes his head and is still a little ashamed for being called out like that walks out of your family's summer house to get ready himself.

//

You stand in the 5PM sun, leaning against wooden stall doors. Black Friesian mare that stands behind you nibbles on your tweed Chanel jacket.

- Coco, quit it. - you say in baby voice. - Don't be a little bitch. - you scold your horse gently.

Coco has been in the family for quite a long time. She's your mother's favourite. That fact might have affected the way she behaves since, for a horse who doesn't quite understand the value of the dollar, she is quite spoiled. Beige breeches hug your legs, elegant, freshly polished, riding boots reflect the setting sun. By your heel rests riding helmet from Chanel's 2013 collection. You mutter sweet praises to Coco as you await Nate.

- Finally! - you raise your voice and smile seeing the blonde in the navy riding set. You can't help but smirk seeing a polo riding helmet in his hands. - Archibald! I thought you're trying to be late and come for a ready horse! And that helmet, is it a Ghost of Hamptons Past?

Nate returns the smile, walking up to you.

- Forgive me. Mother had to dig this outfit out when I said I'm going horse riding with you.

- Lovely, she wants to play a match-maker. Too bad I'm engaged. - you present a fake pout.

- Oh, I didn't know. How's the lucky guy? - Nate looks confused, his expression reminding you of your golden retriever when he gets confused by commands.

- I was joking. Christopher doesn't want to get too serious. He says it'll hurt his 'bad boy' renoma. - you roll your eyes and turn around to face the stalls. Nate walks over to you, greeting Coco with gentle pat on her neck. The black mare's ears instantly pin flat against her neck as she tries to bite Nate. He jumps away from the stall, looking slightly scared.

- Your gigantic dog tried to bite me. Please tell me I'm not looking at my trail ride companion.

You can't help but crack a smile.

- My mom would've killed me if she knew I let anyone touch, let alone ride Coco. She's her little princess.

- Like what, she loves the horse more than you? - Nate jokes, following you to the small tack room. You pick a set of black bridle with a simple bit and hand it to Nate. He hangs it on his shoulder, ready to take a saddle from you when you'll hand it.

- Coco was supposed to be my horse. My mom had that classic equestrian fantasy that her child would grow up along the horse, they'll become best friends and such. - you tell, picking a black general purpose saddle that has black deprecation half pad and navy saddle pad. - Guess what, Coco was sassy as a filly, and she remained that way. Never really liked me, so... when I was thirteen, I got my own horse.

Nate chuckles as he takes the saddle from you.

- You picked a horse with a tack that matches my outfit for me? - he chuckles as you pick up your equipment.

- I'm just a girl, Nate. I couldn't resist.

He rolls his eyes but doesn't comment, a soft, content smile lighting up his face. Hamptons is always so easy when you're around. You always were his sweet escape from Blair and Chuck's schemes, from Serena's flirts and dramas she tends to cause. There definitely is something about sheltered girl next door that always was in the back of his head. Something about that innocence radiating from you, equally annoying and captivating. Though it definitely served as his very own entertainment show when religiously for four summers, you've been rejecting Chuck's advances.

Nate follows behind you as you walk towards the stalls. Your family doesn't own a lot of horses. Your parents permanently moved to Hamptons only a few months ago when you started university, though they still make monthly visits that last a week. You guide Nate to the stalls, finally hanging the tack on an iron hanger. A head of a bay Hannoverian gelding pops out from above the door, curious horse instantly reaching to sniff your clothes.

- Hello, pretty boy. - you gently touch the horse's muzzle and give him a quick kiss. - You gonna miss me, don't you?

You turn back to Nate and point a stall next to yours.

- That's your companion. His name is Snowflake. He's a gelding and a total cutie. But be careful with back hoofs. He thinks that you might want to hurt him or something.

- So I did got a horse that will try to kill me. - Nate jokes, putting his tack on the hanger. - And here I thought you liked me.

- I do. I picked you a horse to match your outfit, did I?

He leans over the stall door, his eyes meeting with an Andalusian gelding.

- Poor guy, they chopped your balls off? - he says, letting the horse smell him before carefully grabbing the halter as he opens the stall door, wanting to walk the horse out. If Snowflake is so sensitive about his legs as you claim, then it's definitely safer for Nate to groom and saddle him up outside the stall.

- That's what we do when our boys are bad... - you joke, entering your horse's stall. - Or at least that's what happened to Snowflake. When we got him, he was so aggressive towards Coco. - you murmur, gently grooming your horse. - But then again, Coco wouldn't let herself be attacked, so she beat him up. Pretty badly, he was limping for a few good months. Damage was just almost permanent. So he got fixed. And immediately became a sweet gentelman. Who knew what magic could simple removal of testicles do? - you chuckle and carry on with brushing your horses coat.

- So that's what you'll do to Christian if he'd piss you off? A quick fix? - Nate jokes, carefully cleaning the front hooves of Snowflake's, white gelding looking like he's about to take a nap.

- His name is Christopher. And no, I won't have to. He shows so little initiative that I won't ever have to. - you mutter quietly, putting the tack on your horse, fastening the girth loosely.

- A pillow princess boyfriend?

- No. Actually sex is the only thing he shows initiative towards. - you murmur quietly, mentally questioning yourself why you're even sharing this detail. You gently tug on the reins, waking your horse out of his stall. It does hurt that Christopher only shows initiative, or any feelings other than indifference or annoyance towards you, in a situation where he knows he'd get you to do things for him. And, as gullible to his empty yet sweet words and people pleasing as you are, you always do.

Nate follows you with his gaze, suddenly feeling pang of guilt for even mentioning your boyfriend.

- So just a regular jerk.

- He's not a jerk. - you scoff, adjusting the length of the stirrup leathers, just to avoid his worried expression.

- Then what he is if not a jerk? A caring boyfriend? Loving partner?

- It was supposed to be a nice, friendly ride. - you say, your hands almost automatically reaching for Snowflake's tack, carefully saddling up the gelding, leaving Nate to only observe. - Not a therapy session.

- The dude makes you need therapy? - Nate asks bluntly, gently putting the bridle on Snowflake.

- Nathaniel, please. - you ask, fastening the girth so the saddle will stay secured. Nate doesn't answer, respecting your request, putting on his polo helmet.

- Thanks for saddling him up. - he says, turning to adjust the stirrup leathers.

Corners of your lips lift a little in a relieved smile that he dropped the uncomfortable topic. A soft muzzle touches your lower back. You chuckle and turn to your horse, the gentle gelding apparently sensing your distress wanted to sooth you the only way he could. Metal snap link shines in the sun, making a clicking sound when you take it off your horse's bit's circle.

- The mounting block is next to the pasture. And from there it's straight road to the gate so you have to be careful. - you instruct Nate, clicking your tongue to distract your horse from Snowflake behind him.

A few moments and little adjustments to saddles' girths later, you find yourself on the small trail to the beach. Horses' hooves hit the gravel trail, which, mixed with occasional horse snorting and singing birds, being the only sounds around you two for now. The sun falls on your faces once you take a turn to the left and walk down on the beach. Your horse, surprised by the sudden change on the bed, flinches and backs out, his rumb dangerously close to Snowflake's chest and Nate's right leg.

- Y/N... I'm not an expert, but your horse seems like he might kick Snowflake... - he says, just in case of being bucked, grabbing the reins firmer. His stomach twists uncomfortably seeing that his leg is in almost direct way of your horse's potential kick. Both horses have their ears pin flat, which only serves as another stress factor to him.

- It's okay. I got this. If you could... back Snowflake a little? - you ask, holding the reins firmly yet gently, using your calves and pelvis to encourage your horse to walk on the sand.

- Back a horse?

- For God's sake, you played polo. - you mutter, trying to control your own emotions, not wanting the nervous creature underneath you sense any negativity from you.

- Yeah, a million years ago. - Nate scoffs, but thanks to muscle memory, he manages to back Snowflake. He straightens his posture up, lifting his hands up and with slight pressure applied to the reins and subtle leg pressure. The Andalusian responds to gentle guidance from his rider, removing himself just enough to be relatively safe from potential bucking from your horse.

Your gelding keeps on resisting the careful pressure of your calves on his side and gentle tugs of the reins, necessary to prevent him from sudden bucking.

- I can't do this anymore. - you mutter and get off the saddle.

As if touched with a magic wand, your horse obediently follows you down the tiny slope, not minding the change of footing from gravel to sand. You turn and look at the bay gelding in pure disbelief. Right behind your horse, Nate's walks down, and his rider doesn't hide a smile on his face.

- You're laughing now. - you scoff, pretending to be hurt, as you get back in the saddle, gripping the reins tighter as not to let your horse spring into full gallop the second he sees the open field of the beach. - But if it was you, you'd be begging me to switch horses. - You settle in the saddle, hands gently yet firmly holding the leather reins.

Nate smiles as he looks at you, the sun making your shine with a hint of warm golden hue. He can't help but notice a few sparks in your eyes as you take the scenery - empty beach, waves, horses - in.

- Wanna race? - he asks, guiding his horse to stand next to yours.

He doesn't get a chance to hear your answer when Snowflake yanks reins from his hands, starting to gallop down the coast. The hooves hit wet sound, and the soft noise combines with the sound of the waives. It takes him a few seconds to gather up to loose reins, knowing how dangerous it would be for the horse to just leave them to the fate. Despite regaining the control over the horse, the Andalusian still remains stronger as he carries on with the gallop, ears perked up. Nate looks over his shoulder, chuckling to himself when he sees your horse running after his.

The wind hits your face as you're trying to catch up to Nate. Couple tears fall down your cheeks as the pressure of the air irritates your eyes. You shift your position in the saddle, lifting your bottom off the saddle to the jumping position, letting your horse run even faster. Being generally lighter than Snowflake, your horse has no problem with catching up to the white steed in front of you. The sound of hooves hitting the wet sand, combined with the snorts of the horses, as neither of them wants to lose, creates an ambience of every equestrian's dream. Another five hundred meters into the race, both horses start to wear down, gradually slowing to canter. You gently nudge your horse to slow to trot. The Hanoverian relaxes, reaching his head forwards and chewing on the bit. Nate slows down his horse, having him align with yours.

Once both caples calmly walk together, you reach over to Nate and smack his arm.

- They needed a warm-up. You can't just show them an open road and gallop down it. - you scoff, caressing your horse's neck. Nate smiles apologetically.

- Snowflake yanked the reins from me.

- And that's an excuse you'd use during the polo match?

Hearing your jibe Nate can't help but smile a bit. He missed that friendly teasing between you two.

- You know that you haven't changed? - he says softly, a hint of melancholy in his voice. - It's like going back in time five years, and we're fifteen again.

- We're missing poorly riding Chuck a kilometre behind us. - you chuckle. Nate bursts into a laughter at the memory of his best friend's attempts to endear you, that including a structured lie about horse riding skills.

- If you had given him a chance, he'd give up. Chuck likes chasing more than a steady relationship.

- Come on. - you chuckle. - As if you didn't enjoy it when your grandfather's horse had enough and bucked him into water.

- I didn't. - Nate says in solidarity to his friend, but in his eyes shine small sparks of joy. He turns his head to face you and admires the setting sun at the sea horizon. - Do you ever wish that times like this could be frozen in time?

You look at him, a few blond locks poking from his helmet shining like gold in the sun. For the first time since you two met, Nathaniel Archibald appears to you as someone else than a partner in crime from childhood and adolescence, descendant of Vanderbilt's. Before you can name the feeling, you focus your gaze back on the beach in front of you, reminding yourself that you are already in a relationship. Finally, you break the silence.

- You ass would hurt if we were frozen in eternal trail ride. And horses would get tired.

Upon hearing that, Nate laughs again, his eyes still locked on you.

- I should've expected this answer.

[after-hours-art]

fanfics are one of the best things that humanity has come up with. i fucking love reading stories about my favorite characters from people who have the same brainrot as me

[after-hours-art]

Aftercare

Pairing: Chuck Bass x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings:

Aftercare. This term never really figured in Charles Bass's dictionary, but if it somehow found its manifestation in reality, it could come up in rather weird ways. A generous tip if his partner happened to be one of his dad's hotel staff members or a regular sex worker. However, most of the time... all he did was offer a glass of water in the morning and point at the door.

That is until he met Blair Waldorf and later... you.

You were definitely higher maintenance. Not because you were brought up in such an environment, but in his eyes, you simply deserved more. Not meaningless sex but a, hopefully, long-lasting relationship. Well... it didn't turn out with Blair, but he still has a shot with you, doesn't he? Another thing that connected you to the famous Queen B is the fact that both she and you, for some reason, insisted on hiding a relationship with Chuck. Not that he didn't get it. With Blair, because she was still with Nate at that time. With you... he simply is the last person someone with a reputation like yours should be seen with. The school president shouldn't mingle with the outlaws after all. Yet, here he is. Under your pink satin bed sheets, eating you out like a man starved.

With a low hum, Chuck smiles as you reach your high, his tongue gently lapping on your soft, delicate folds.

- You taste divine.... - he groans and smiles sheepishly. His right hand travels down your thigh.

- So fucking perfect. - he murmurs, leaning up, connecting your lips in a searing kiss. You return the favour, tasting yourself on his tongue that finds its way inside your mouth. He finally breaks the kiss, letting you both breath. You look down at him and smile shyly.

- So I guess I should... - you start getting up, a force of habit making you want to leave even though you two share the bedroom. A solid grip on your hips forces you to stay in place.

- Chuck... - you start, but he still holds you in place.

- Don't you fucking dare to get up.

- What? Why? I should get dresses and...

- No. You shouldn't do anything. - he pushes the sheets off his back and gets off the bed. - You stay here. I'll wipe myself, put on some pants, and give you an aftercare of your life.

- After- what? - you frown, confused. Obviously, you know the concept of the aftercare, but you never experienced it firsthand. Your previous boyfriend never found it important enough to provide you comfort after a sexual encounter. And since he was your first, you never found yourself worthy of said affectionate aftermath of sex.

- Aftercare. Time when you shut up and let me pamper you, Y/N. - Chuck leans down and kisses your forehead. You drop down back on the pillow, turning your head to the side, observing as your boyfriend quickly washes himself and pulls on his boxers. You roll your eyes, but can't help and smile when he walks over to you with a washcloth soaked in warm water.

- Smiling like a stupid to the cheese? - Chuck jokes and gently runs the cloth across your privates, gently washing off any remains of lube and your bodily fluids. You blush and look away.

- Chuck, stop. I can shower myself. I really ca-

- You can, but you don't have to. Y/N, showing you that I care about you and want to comfort you isn't a trap. I'm not him. I won't throw a chocolate bar at you and call it a day or demand one more blowjob before I take off. - he says, the wet cloth in his hand gently cleaning you up. - Although, I remember that the taste of chocolate helps you settle and... overpower the taste of other things. So, if you want some Lady Godiva, just say a word.

You bite your lower lip and nod. Chocolate, no matter the brand and quality, really became your go-to for soothing yourself after intercourses in your past relationship. But here comes Charles Bass with the most charming smile, just the right amount of foreplay, being attentive, gentle touches, and now the aftercare.

- You're staring at me like I'm about to kill you. - he says softly, putting the washcloth on your bedside table. His voice brings you back to reality.

- It's not my fault this whole thing is weird.

- Caring for my girlfriend is weird? - he raises his eyebrows, gently pulling a sweater with the logo of your university over your head to keep you warm, knowing that nothing works better on you when you're overwhelmed than the safety and warmth of your favourite sweater. He chuckles at the sight of your messy hair. - My little scholar... doing so well at university. - he lays down next to you, gently pulling you closer so you rest on his chest. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, soft material wrinkling under his hand, his touch gentle and soothing. For a moment, you both just lay in silence. You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, feeling your body gradually relaxing under Chuck's gentle caress. As you are about to drift off to sleep when you feel a tender squeeze at your waist.

- Y/N... Y/N? You asleep? - he places a soft kiss on your head, coaxing a soft hum from you. - Awake? Good. I had your maid draw us a bath.

- Bath? - you murmur in a sleepy tone. The presence of your boyfriend often causes you to feel sleepy which, as you later found out, is tied to the fact that the feeling of safety that he provides allows you to stop being so tense all the time.

- Yeah. Bath. You wash off the sweat and all? - his grip tightens on your waist as he sits up, scooting to the edge of the bed, holding you in the bridal style as he gets off the bed.

You wrap your arms around his neck to secure yourself as he carries you to the bathroom. He gently places you on the side of the bathtub and opens a wooden cabinet where you keep all your bathing supplies.

- Pick your bath bomb of the day. - he smiles, holding a painted white wooden box where you keep your collection of bath bombs and bath salts. You look in the box, and after a moment, you pick the one that smells like your favourite flower. Chuck smiles, watching you take the bath bomb and putting it in the water, soft smile on your face as you eye the dissolving toiletry item, making his heart feel warm. He quickly undresses, helping you do so as well. The little clothes you had ended up folded on the counter. His hand finds your palm, serving as a safety rail as you get in the bath. The warm water combined with the smell of the flowers successfully soothes any tension that remains in your body.

- Come here... - Chuck says as he gets in the bath, too, sitting with his back resting against the edge of the bathtub. He gently pulls you closer, letting you sit between his legs, your back leaning against his chest. His right hand moves from your waist to your stomach, gently caressing your skin. He starts placing butterfly kisses on your neck, his nose brushing against sensitive skin.

- Chuck, can we not waste...

- We're not wasting time. - he interrupts your words. - I don't know who was dumb enough to put in your head the idea that giving you aftercare is a waste of time, but it isn't. I want you to feel safe around me, Y/N. You're not a disposable toy I kick out of my bedroom once I'm done. - he places a few more kisses on your neck. - You're my love. And my love deserves all the best.

- But... Chuck... - you gasp when he gently sucks on your neck, leaving a red mark.

- No 'but', Y/N... You deserve the aftercare. - he kisses the hickey he left on your neck. - I'm sorry, I bit you a little too hard. - he gently caresses the side of your neck, warm water from his fingers dripping on your neck.

Your heartbeat quickens slightly, the tenderness of his actions making you feel all sorts of things. Part of you wants to get out of the bathtub, no matter how relaxing the warm water and smell of the flower bath bomb are, and hide in your room like you used to do in your previous relationship. But there's also a quiet desire to stay safely wrapped in his arms and let him take care of you. You close your eyes, tilting your head back, resting against his shoulder as his hands gently roam around your body, gently washing off the sweat from the devil's tango you indulged before. A warm hum comes out of his throat once he realises that you start to relax.

- See? Not that much of a time waste. - he murmurs against your neck, his right hand gently brushing against the swell of your breasts as he works the lather of body wash against your skin, his fingertips tracing patterns on your ribcage.

You shiver under the caress, yet you don't pull away like you would usually do. Chuck lets out a soft purr, placing a kiss on your nape.

- HaveI finally gained the entirety of your trust, love? - his warm breath grazes over the back of your neck as he visibly enjoys you, trusting him enough to relax in his arms. - You're beautiful when you relax, you know? - he wraps his arms tighter around your waist in an attempt to keep you warm while the water in the bath cools down. - You should let me take care of you more often. - his lips find the nape of your neck again, tracing butterfly kisses down to your shoulder.

His fingers stroke along your ribs in soothing motion. He loves you like this, rare like a painite moment when you let go and relax. As much as he knows you trust him, he still treasures moments when he has you completely calm in his arms, knowing how hard it is for you to let your guard down.

- I can take care of myself. - you murmur, slowly sliding out of his once the water gets cold.

- I know you can, Miss Independent. - he says, reaching his arm out in case you lose your balance. Soon, as you wrap a fluffy blanket around yourself, he gets out of the bathtub, too, drying himself and changing into fresh clothes. You spot a set he has prepared for you - a white set of off-the-shoulder white top and white shorts along with a fresh set of underwear.

- I'll leave you to it. - Chuck says, kissing the side of your head and walking out.

As bizarre as it is, despite being able to actually perform sensual entwinement but when it comes to an end, you become too shy to even change in front of him. He knows it's linked to something in your past and he respects it, letting you stay under the duvet, preparing bubble baths so your body is hidden under foam or simply leaving the room per your request. You take your time, your back facing the mirror, so you don't have to look at your naked form as you put on the white set. You let out a soft sigh, finally turning around, brushing your hair, letting them loose so they can dry after the bath. You walk out of the bathroom. Upon not finding your boyfriend in the bedroom, making your way to the kitchen annexe.

- Chuck? - you say in the void of the penthouse as you walk through the open living room area. You finally find him in the kitchen, dressed in one of his regular suits, making coffee. He hands you your favourite mug with steaming coffee inside.

- Just how you like it... - he murmurs, making one for himself. - I got a waiter for the restaurant to bring us breakfast. I forgot to ask you what you'd like today so... - he takes his mug from the coffee machine, taking your free hand in his, guiding you to the living room where two waiters who just got there started to settle the whole breakfast menu of Empire Hotel for today on the bar.

- You didn't... - you start but he once again cuts you off.

- I don't care that I didn't have to. I wanted to. I want to. You're my love. - he puts his coffee mug down on the bar and cups your cheeks. - And I'll keep spoiling, loving, caring for you till it'll finally get thought to that thick skull of yours that you're worthy of the aftercare, baths, cuddles, dates, everything.

He places his right hand on the side of your neck, his fingers brushing against your nape, his thumb caressing lightly your jawline as he pulls you closer. His gaze boring into your eyes, as if having silent conversation. You can feel your heart pounding inside your chest as the tension between you two rises, the air thickens. Finally, he pulls you closer, his lips crushing against yours in a searing kiss as he pours all his love and heartfelt promises into you. His left hand soon finds its way to the other side of your neck, gently cupping it as he deepens the kiss. Not breaking the kiss, you place your coffee mug on the bar so you won't spill the hot liquid on either of you. You subconsciously move closer, yet not initiating anything more.

When he pulls away, both of you are slightly out of breath, yet smiling. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks before he drops his hands down, taking your palms into his. He turns to the bar, eyeing the dishes.

- Pick your poison, love. I'm thinking maybe pancakes since we have a day off?

[after-hours-art]

Fake it till we make it

Pairing: Lev Haiba x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: x

"It's okay. You don't have to love me".

Those were the exact words you heard from him three years ago when you first met Lev after graduating from high school. Neither of you knew by that time about the arrangements made by your parents and despite your reluctance to the idea, you two still got married. You couldn't be more different. While you buried yourself in studies at Tokyo University, he dropped out the second year and started his modeling career. A pretty successful modeling career. In merely a year you moved out from college dorms as he managed to purchase a two-level penthouse and pay off all your student fees. Soon, you couldn't do as much as walk to your favourite library without someone asking about him after he mentioned in some Vogue interview that he is married to Y/N Haiba.

//14.02.2021//

You wake up to your alarm clock, surprised that Lev isn't beside you in bed. You sigh and shake your head, slowly sitting and stretching your back. You slide your feet into fluffy slippers, throw silk robe over your shoulders and make your way downstairs. To your surprise instead of Masha, your maid, by the stove you find your husband.

- Lev? - you walk up to him, a little confused by the man whom you never saw in the kitchen, is making eggs.

- Oh, hi. Crap. You weren't supposed to be up yet. - he looks a bit panicked.

- What? Brought a mistress last night and scared I'll find her? - you joke, walking over to the filter jag and pouring yourself a glass of water. Awaiting his answer, you slice a lemon and put one slice in your glass, putting the rest in the fridge.

- What? A mistress? No. Never. I just... do you even know what day is today, Y/N? - he asks, carrying on with the cooking.

- Umm... Sunday? - you murmur, checking on your phone. You roll your eyes at all the DM notifications asking about Lev. Ever since he said your name in that interview his fans found your account, trying to get to him through you.

- Yeah... that too. But what else? - he hums, handing you a plate. You frown confused at eggs shaped like a heart, with some peppers and avocado toast on the side.

- Thanks... - you murmur while taking the plate, full of suspicion.

- You really have no idea what day is today, Y/N? - he follows you to the dining table. - It's Valentine's day, dummy. Happy Valentines, wifey. - he says and kisses the side of your head.

- Oh, right. Happy Valentines, Lev. - you murmur without enthusiasm. Your husband sighs and brings his own plate to the table. He takes his seat by your side, his eyes don't leave you for a while.

- Y/N... - he starts quietly and takes your hand. - There's a thing. I know we don't really celebrate Valentines since we're not in love or anything but... the W Magazine asked to do 'A night with' article with me and... my manager didn't run the idea through me before agreeing so...

- We're stuck together on the holiday created by paper card sellers? Faking a perfect image of lovebirds in marriage or something? - you ask, making him chuckle. You are always so down to earth.

- Yeah... basically that.

You roll your eyes. Valentines never meant anything in your calendar. Just another random day. Obviously, Lev took you out every Valentine's day and brought you red roses and you got him some small gift of something that you knew he wanted but never got to actually buy it, like volleyball match tickets.

- We... I can try to back us out. Think of an excuse or something. - Lev tries to reassure you, though deep down he's somehow sad that you don't want to actually celebrate with him. He reaches his hand to you and takes your hand.

- You... W Magazine will probably be pissed and might end the contract with you... - you mutter.

- Yeah but... you being comfortable means more to me than W Magazine. I still have some othe-

- Lev. - you cut his words. - I'll do it... You always do so much for me and I... I might not be a dream wife and I know it. We're not in love but it doesn't mean that I don't like you at all.

- Y/N! - he gets off his chair and steps to the side of your chair. He leans down and hugs you from behind, his hands crossing on your collarbones as he kisses the side of your neck. - Thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise it won't be annoying. My manager already called your boss so you have a day off.

You sigh. It appears to be a very long day.

//

You walk down Dior's alley with Mina, an interviewer from W Magazine, following you with a camerawoman. Your eye catches a beautiful pink dress that takes your breath away. It's not a lie when they say that it's visible when a designer loves women. Christian Dior definitely did.

- So, is this how every Valentine’s looks in the Haiba household? - the interviewer asks, not even trying to hide the jealous expression on her face when she sees the price of the dress. You swallow, not turning around for a while.

- Lev definitely has a romantic soul. - you say with a smile, finally facing the camera. - Each year it's something that comes straight from his heart.

- Must be a dream to be married to such a romantic man.

- Yes... it is. - you murmur. It would be if it wasn't an arranged marriage. It would be if you would be more accepting towards each of his gestures. If you haven't stated it clearly when you got married that you're doing it for your parents and don't seek for love.

- What do you think he prepared this year?

*a plan he told you this morning so you wouldn't get surprised and mad*

- I don't know. But I'm sure it'll be great. Like every of his gifts.

*gifts that you never accept.*

- How does it feel to be married to one of the most successful models of the last few years?

- It's... magical.

*magical since the marriage is basically on paper and between your parents' businesses.*

- Very. Every day is... like a new adventure.

- Adventure you say? - Mina smiles and follows you as you move on to another dress.

- Yeah. - you sigh, wondering why you agreed to the stupid idea of this article. - You never know what idea he'll come up with next. - you say, calling over your favourite shopping assistant. - I'll take this one. And the pink one. - you sigh. You watch the interviewer shift her attention to the dress, asking the shop assistant for specific details to possibly describe it best later in the article. You reach into your bag and take out your phone, checking for the nearest Harry Winston. It is Valentines after all, and Lev knows how much you adore a new piece in your jewelry collection. Access to high jewelry is definitely one of the things that you very much enjoyed about being married to a man with such high income as Lev.

You smile at your intuition failing you, when you're greeted enthusiastically by the Harry Winston staff member when you enter the store, even when you're accompanied by the nosy interviewer and cameras. They have known you for a year now, always very pleased to welcome you, as well as your husband's money.

- A, Mrs. Haiba, here. Your husband made a call and we prepared something *just* for you. - elderly man guides you to one of the tables. - He had reserved all the pieces from our Winston With Love collection. Each letter represents each stage of love, yet Mr. Haiba said that it doesn't matter on which stage you are because you just adore our pieces and might as well get all. - he chuckles at his own words, placing some of the jewelries on the satin pad. - It's a lot of pieces, but we were suggested to show you necklaces. And... Mr. Haiba also suggested Secret Collection.

You smile, looking at the colourful pieces from the Love Collection. You pick a beautiful diamond necklace, one with rubies, pink sapphires, spessartite garnets and yellow diamonds. The necklace is so *happy* that you just can't help yourself and smile.

- This is the Brilliant Glow Necklace. Allow me... - elderly jewelry gently takes the necklace from your hands and carefully puts it on you. You turn to the nearest mirror and smile. Happy colours on a technically happy day.

- The Brilliant Glow is the first stage of love. - the jeweler says as you keep on admiring the shining of the diamonds. - All the gems express excitement and light. Like with newfound love. - he smiles, carefully taking it off your neck and placing it back on the pad.

- Put that one aside, please. I might get back to it. - you ask, looking at the remaining jewelry.

- Yes, Mrs. Haiba.

You looked at the jewelry for a while longer, admiring the diamonds, yet your eyes kept returning to the Brilliant Glow. You can't help but smile at the colours, smiling at the idea that Lev in fact did call in and knew you'd like it. You look down at the assistant as he packs the necklace for you. You start to wonder what Lev would like. It's not like you don't talk to each other at all. You do. But you just happen to not know your husband at all, while he knows so much about you. Your favourite designer. Jewelry you'd love. Your favourite food, coffee brand, places, cities. All you know is his job. You don't even know his favourite colour. Deep in your thoughts, you wander off to the station with watches.

- Excuse me? - you turn to the elderly jeweler. - This watch? - you point at white watch with a blue leather band. The man smiles and walks over to assist, spotting the occasion that both camerawoman and interviewer focus on the diamond jewelry around.

- This, Mrs. Haiba, is our Ocean Biretrograde Automatic. 18 karats white gold. Blue alligator leather. Very popular. From our The Ocean Collection. Automatic watch, very nice and classy.

- You... seem to know my husband very well. - you say turning to the man. - You think Lev would like this?

- Oh, Mrs. Haiba. I can assure you that your husband will love anything that will come from you.

- How do you know? - you ask suspiciously.

- Because I am a man in love myself. - he says with the brightest and proudest smile you have ever seen. - And I love everything that my dear Yuri gives me. See, Mrs. Haiba... - he walks closer and shows you golden cufflinks with a purple, flower-like pattern. - She got it for me when I started to work here 30 years ago. And tell you a secret, I've always hated purple. But I still loved those cufflinks. Even more when I learnt that she painted them herself. And since then that minx gives me things with purple accents. Before I knew it, I fell in love with the colour equally to how I fell in love with her.

- So... - you stare at the cufflinks, admiring his wife's handy work. - He'll love anything?

- I saw his eyes and heard his voice when he came here to purchase something for your first anniversary. He said that you were too stressed with work to even know what day it is. He wanted to make you happy.

You hold your breath for the moment, not knowing what to say.

- Pack the watch, please. - you mutter nervously, in your head going over a list of things you have to do. You pay for the watch, completely forgetting about the necklace. You bow politely to the jeweler and practically run out of the store. You put your phone to your ear as you get in the car.

- Alisa? I'm gonna need your help.

//

Lev laughs with the interviewer as he enters the apartment. Today is only getting more challenging for him. First he finds out that the dry cleaner ruined his suit for tonight's Valentine Evening that he planned on inviting you for. Then he finds out that the restaurant he planned to take you to before the party cancelled his reservation with some absurd excuse.

- Usually Valentines are less complicated than this year's. You know, you try to make a good image to press and the universe does the oppos.... - he stops talking when walking deeper into the apartment as enters the living room, which makes it connected to the kitchen. His eyes lighten up, his smile growing when he sees several types of oinarisan on the table and you standing next to it. Your hair is tied up, pink Dior dress hugging your body, emphasising all the right places. Lev walks slowly in your direction, still taking the whole sight in. He puts a huge bouquet of red roses on the table before he gets to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly, your face buried in his chest.

- Y/N.... why...? - he whispers quietly. - I know you, you wouldn't pull something like this without a reason. All that because of the W Magazine?

- No. - you murmur against his shirt. - I just... I wanted to thank you somehow. For... for being in love with me when I was chasing my career rather than make our relationship grow.

- Y/N, sweetheart. You don't have to love me. - he whispers, his accent suddenly appearing attractive to you.

- I know. But... you love me. And I was too blind to see it and then the jeweler told me that you know my taste in jewelry, that you'll love my gift and...

- Stop, you'll hyperventilate... - he chuckles, pulling away a bit, gently placing his hand on your cheek. - The jeweler made you do all this? Cook and staff?

- I just... I never realised how much you do for me. From the beginning I saw our marriage as a piece of paper to help our families' brands, you as a roommate or something. I had no idea that you actually loved me. You never said anything.

- I didn't say anything because I thought you don't want me to love you. - he admits and kisses the top of your head. You sigh and look up at him as he isn't wrong here.

- I'm sorry... - you say quietly.

- Don't be sorry, Y/N. Forcing people to love each other is... well... wrong. Our marriage is probably questionable, morally speaking since we were young when we got married but... I guess I grew into loving you. You're smart, determined, elegant, funny, just perfect. - he cups your cheeks and pulls you gently into a kiss. Warm feeling spills through your body, your stomach twisting in excitement, your heartbeat quickening as you press your lips against his. Lev deepens the kiss, one of his hands moving from your cheek to the small of your back as he pulls you closer. The time seems to slow down for you two as you savour the first real kiss, both wrapped up in the sensation. Lev finally pulls away in order to catch a breath, his lips hovering close to yours, his warm breaths hit your skin.

- Wow... - you say quietly, as that's the only word you can think of now.

- Wow indeed... - he whispers. His thumb gently caresses your cheek. You look at him, your gazes locking for a longer moment, that is until you remind yourselves that you're not exactly alone. You look at the interviewer and camerawoman behind your husband, visibly surprised and happy with just recorded candid material. Lev let go of your, taking a step back. He reaches to the table, taking a jewelry box from it. You already know what is there.

- For you, love. - he opens the elegant box and presents you The Brilliant Glow necklace you chose for yourself earlier today. - Exquisite taste, baby. - he whispers, putting it on you. - And it looks so lovely on you... and with this dress. - he gently guides his fingers along the diamonds on your neck, touching onto your collarbone occasionally.

- Thank you. - you smile and reach for the watch you picked for him. - I know your electronic one broke down. So... I got you something more reliable. - you smile, making him chuckle. He thanks you with a kiss on your cheek, as you put the watch on his wrist, blue leather elegantly hugging his wrist. Your eyes meet again, this time the intensity of his gaze makes you blush as if you're a high school girl with a crush.

- I think that's where the interview should end... - Lev says and turns to Mina and the camerawoman. - I think W has enough material and... me and my wife would rather dive in oinarisan feast she prepared than attend a boring party.

- Understandable. - Mina smiles and nudges her coworker to stop recording. - Happy Valentines, Mr. and Mrs. Haiba. - they bow politely and walk to the door.

You bow too in respect and turn back to face your husband, who's already checking out the food you've made.

- Lev?

- What? - he asks with his mouth full, seeing him like that makes you chuckle.

- Thank you. For being a good husband and everything. - you take a seat next to him and smile. The gentle light of the setting sun makes the diamonds in your necklace glow. Lev chuckles.

- Brilliant Glow indeed. - he smiles and looks at you with the soft glance of a man in love.

- So... what now? - you ask between bites of oinarisan. - Since I called off the reservation you made and Kenma no longer expects us at the party...

- We can... watch a movie? Talk? - he suggests. - We never really talked, you know, how couples do. We don't really know much about each other aside from where we work, what food we eat and what brands we wear. - he caresses your cheek.

- Okay... so... when you fell in love with me? - you ask curiously. Lev chuckles and looks over at you softly.

- When you came home after your midterms, third year. I just came back from the paycheck after a gig with Dior. You were exhausted, almost passed out at the doorstep. You yelled at me that you study so hard and still doubt yourself, your career choice, while all I do is look pretty in front of the camera. - he chuckles.

- You fell in love with me when I said that? Like degradation much?

- No, dummy. But you let me carry you inside, make you tea. We watched around fifteen minutes of that movie you like and then you passed out on my chest. That was our first hug since the dance at our wedding. - he says. - You looked so small and I just couldn't stop looking at my strong, independent wife in such a vulnerable state. All I wanted to do at that moment was to take care of you forever. - he smiles. - When you fell for me?

- I feel for you? - you raise your eyebrows.

- You. I don't know much, but I know for a fact that a person who isn't in love doesn't kiss the way we kissed.

You sigh and look at the wedding band on your finger.

- I guess it was it all. Breakfasts, considering my opinion in everything you do, the little things you do. - you murmur, playing with the golden ring. - And the elderly jewelry at Harry Winston said that you love me. I don't know why, I guess a stranger saying that you know what jewelry I'd like and how said that you'd love anything I'd get you for Valentines because he can recognise a man in love.

Lev chuckles.

- Really?

- Really... he said that you sounded like a man in love when you called them. - you try to somehow defend yourself and your logic, making him laugh.

- I'm just teasing, Y/N. - he says, taking your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. - Man in love... he wasn't wrong, though.

You drop your gaze at the wedding bands on your and his finger.

- I guess we faked it till we made it, huh?

- We faked being in love? - he chuckles.

- I mean for press and such.

- Then I guess we did. - he kisses the side of your head, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, holding you close. - Now tell me more about how you made all those oinarisan. Since Masha has a day off I know it was all you.

[after-hours-art]

What happens in Switzerland, stays in Switzerland (but occasionally travels to New York)

MDNI -> minors do not interact!

Pairing: Chuck Bass x f!reader

Genre: attempted smut, little bit of fluff and angst

Warnings: bad Spanish (I used Google since I don't speak Spanish myself), rather poor attempt to write intimate scenes (small usage of advice from AI to write the scene due to inexperience of the writer), alcohol, narcotics, minors being exposed to and using alcohol and narcotics, underage sex and alcohol usage, drunken sex, infidelity

Everyone, from Saudi Arabian and English kings to New York's people of business, at some point struggle with their kids. And whether the reason is to ensure fine education and instil etiquette in young brains or simply remove the offspring from the paparazzi after the scandal they created, there's one to-go place where both worlds collide. In the middle of Western Europe, remaining neutral for ages, known for banks and watches, but also finest and expensive education - Switzerland. 

//

And Charles Bass makes no expectation for this rule. At merely 15 years old, he was sent off by his father to the Institut. Apparently, not all 'young mistakes' are worth it. 

What an irony it was when a kid who knew no boundaries since he learnt that rules can be broken found himself in the kingdom of rules and strict teachers. However, it is not a secret that no matter how good the reputation of the place... we all know that behind closed doors, those cute uniforms are switched for brief skirts and unbuttoned shirts. Soon enough, Charles found a new crowd, a crowd that made him feel at home and almost missed Nathaniel, Blair, Serena, and Georgina. They knew how to have fun and... they would definitely enjoy the secret party themes as much as he does.

//

You walk down the school hallway, gripping tightly on the pile of books in your hands. Midterms are coming, and you really want to make your parents proud. Suddenly, you hit someone's arm, causing the books to fall on the stone ground.

- Fuck - you hiss and start picking up the books, when suddenly your hand lands on someone else's. You look up and meet a gaze of a brown eyed boy, to your eye maybe a year older than you or your age.

- I'm terribly sorry - he says with a slay smirk. - Let me help with your... - he pauses to look at the book. - History...

- No need. - you say dismissevely. - Sorry for bumping into you. - you say, quickly picking up your books. You rush down the hallway, not wanting to be late for the study date you set up with your two closest friends in the library.

Chuck looks past you, chuckling to himself at the way your braid swings behind you. He let out a huff when someone suddenly hits his back, throwing their arm around his schouder.

- ¿Qué estás mirando, Bass? - the blonde boy with Spanish accent, Carlos Perez, chuckles and looks in direction Chuck is looking at. - At our nerd?

- 'Our nerd'? - Chuck turns his head to Carlos.

- Yeah. Y/N is like one of the best students - he chuckles. - Come on, mate, you can't not know her. Debate team? Horse riding? School council? - Carlos keeps listing activities you do aside from regual school work, yet nothing right a bell for Chuck.

He shakes his head, making the Spanish roll his eyes. 

- Parties then? 

- What you said?

- Parties? She is always there. How blind can you be? - Carlos lightly smacks back of Chuck's head. - Come to Carter's next party. I guarantee you won't regret it. Might even get something out of it. - he says, moving his eyebrows suggestively.

Chuck rolls his eyes, not believing for one second. He adjusts his red scarf and pushes Carlos's hand from his shoulder. 

- Come on... we have English tests to pass - he says what makes Carlos scoff. They both have answers to the questions for a good week. As they head to their class, they walk past the library. Chuck catches a glimpse of you. No way that a girl with such neatly done brain, no sight of makeup or nail polish, who's just now scolding her friend for not knowing some irrelevant to today's age and words most boring historical fact could be the queen of the night. There is no way.

//

A party like any other. Elegant banquet. Parents invited. Bart is obviously not showing up, but... with third glass of champagne, Chuck stopped mourning over his father's absence. After all, he isn't here for the stupid elegant banquet. Everyone knows that in the Institut, it's after parties that truly count. 

- Chuck 

He turns around as he hears his name. A pretty redhead, an Irish girl from an old nobel family, and his supposed date for the banquette stares at him in the way that makes him roll his eyes. Obviously, Evelyn only came here to actually attend boring dance and show off as Chuck Bass's date. Pity that only those two know the real reason why he showed up with... what was her name?

Chuck sighs and walks over to the girl. Her green dress beautifully hugs her body, emphasizing all her attitudes. If not for the character, Chuck would've go in devil's tango with her once again. 

As he takes her hand, his heart stops for a second, as on the stairs appears persona that he knows from somewhere but couldn't recall from where. Carlos, who swings in a walc with his current girlfriend, passing by Chuck, whispers mutely "Y/N" and carries on with the performance. Chuck's eyes wander back to you. He needs to close his eyes for the longer second, assuming that he already got drunk. It's impossible to turn a legit nerd into... 

You hold Carter Baizen's hand as he leads you down the stairs. Your burgundy ballroom dress swings around your legs, making everyone stare.

- Chuck! - Evelyn calls him again, but he's already on his way to you. As soon as Carter walks off to his father, he spots his chance. 

- No one told me you go to our school. - Chuck teases, bowing a little and kissing your hand, as a gentleman should. - I'm Chuck Bass. - he says in a low tone, earning all your attention with a simple introduction. - What did you do to our dear nerdy student council president?

You only scoff but perform a small bow.

- What? A girl can't be both smart and beautiful? 

- I never said that. - he says and leads you to the dance floor. His supposed date sends you a death glare as he walks out of the ballroom, visibly pisses. You smirk to yourself. Two birds, one stone. You did have plans to somehow humiliate Evelyn for trying to kick you out of position as school's Queen B. And you planned to get to know the 'Dark Prince' of the school. 

You shiver when his hand lands on your waist in solid grip, material of your dress wrinkling at your waist. He holds you firmly as he leads the dance. And you let him, surprised how good of a dancer 'Mr. I don't give a fuck about anything' is. Between your two are merely centimeters, the distance shortening between his lips and your temple. 

- What the hell do you want, Bass? - you ask, not missing a step. He only chuckles.

- I had to see for myself that our Page Six nerd could indeed have fun. Though, I hoped we'd share other types of tango... - he says quietly so no one would hear.

- It's a walc, you ignorant. - you scoff, yet your knees feel weaker as his voice dropped an octave when he whispered in your ear. He doesn't answer to your insult. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist, as if trying to leave a handprint to mark that you are his. At least for now. At least for the night. Because... he's Chuck Bass. He doesn't need more than a one night stand. And getting laid with the most popular girl in school probably would only add to his resume. 

- You going to Carter's later? - you ask when the music fades, the band taking a five. Still holding your hand, Chuck leads you to the buffet, getting you a glass of the fruit alcohol-free champagne that the school provided. He looks at you, his eyes studying your every move, his lips subconsciously partying when you leave a red lipstick mark on the edge of the golden glass. 

-  You better tell me what would I find there if I come. - he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

- You've never been to you supposed friend's party?

- I've been. But I've never been on a hunt for a cute nerd during them before. How come you sneaked under my radar? You wore some prude skirt or something?

- Or was I hanging with a crowd better than you? - you raise your eyebrows, sticking the needle where it hurt the most. After all, young Chuck needed to have the attention.

- Better than me? - he asks quietly, his hand returning to your waist gripping it tightly.

- Better than you. - you say and push his hand away from you when you spot your date. - Excuse me, Bass. Carter is waiting.

- Don't tell me he's your 'better' crowd.

- He's not. But his annoying ass managed to befriend children of most influential people. Apparently, his handmade gambling club is their only entertainment in this establishment. 

You walk off to your date, smiling cutely. Chuck scoffs at you. For a little nerd, you must be incredibly smart to use Carter Baizen and probably other people before him, for your benefit. Or simply Carter is just too stupid? 

//

None of the facade of elegant, well-mannered teenagers is left of any of the students. As alcohol poured from the expensive bottles. Girl changed long elegant dresses for fly, skimpy skirts, and guy loosed ties and threw off their blazers. And Chuck Bass is no different. He sits on the couch with two girls, one on each side of him. He pulls brunette on his right in a hungry kiss, yet the corner of his eyes is focused on a girl in a short black dress. Lace sleeves, short wrinkled black material hugging your figure, your hair falling on your back in unruly waves as you drink champagne straight from the bottle. As the song hits the beat, everyone puts the bottles away, dancing around in a drunken order. The room is filled with loud laughs. Grey smoke is lingering above everyone's heads, a couple of people already high on resting on the windowsills, some freshman girls playing 'the bottle' on the floor, kissing each other as a dare. In all that chaos of the party, he still manages to find you. You swag your hips to the rhythm of the music, making his uncontrollable senses of a young boy go crazy. 

- Excuse me, ladies - he says and gently pushes away both girls and makes his way through the dance floor to you. As you spot him, you only scoff.

- Wow... You came. I thought you didn't like the company of Baizen. - you say, looking over at the table where said boy and couple other were playing round of Black Jack.

- I don't like him. - he says a little loud to make himself heard through the music. - But I like what I'm seeing here. Where did the little nerd go, huh? - he asks, his gaze wandering down from your eyes to your chest, waist, hips, and legs. Before he knows, he's holding you, allowing you to have a little chaotic dance, himself rather holding your hips than making a move. Hot girls and parties definitely were left out of the flyer his father gave him. Not that he complained now. 

- You're... - he doesn't finish, gripping tightly on your waist, his hot breath gazing over the nape of your neck. As if accidentally, you tilt your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck. Chuck swallows, unable to keep himself in check any longer. His lips find your neck, kissing the sensitive spot gently. He can feel you shiver, smirking to himself.

- Enjoying yourself? - he asks, between gentle kisses that slowly turn into delicate sucking on your neck, leaving a couple of red marks. There's no answer coming from your side, only low murmur of pleasure as he sucks on your neck, leaving very much visible hickey. 

- Come on, nerd. Wanna have some fun...? - he whispers to your ear, his low voice making you feel things you are afraid that you shouldn't be feeling. In one swift move, he turns you around so you're facing him. Cupping your cheek with one hand, he pulls you closer to himself, connecting your lips in a kiss. You shut your eyes, savouring the moment. He tastes like dry champagne and weed. His tongue  gently pushes past your lips, tasting you and rose you had, getting drunk solely on the feeling. You continue to make out for a longer moment until you both can't take it anymore.

Chuck grabs your hand and leads you upstairs. Once you find his room, he practically pushes you onto the bed, getting on to hover over you.

- Beautiful... - he murmurs against your skin as he slowly pulls down your black dress, kissing each part of your body that he unravels.

- Still a nerd? - you ask and chuckle, now only in your black lacy underwear, watching him take off his own clothes.

- How the hell did you end up with someone like Carter? - he scoffs, putting on a condom. 

- Who said I ended up with Carter? - you ask, gasping and letting our a quiet moan when he gets back on the bed kissing your neck and down your torso.

- That's the only guy I saw you with.. - he murmurs, pushing down your bralette.

- You're not Carter. - you point out, blushing once he can see you bare. You never felt this shy before, not counting your first time.

- And you're not Y/N 'the nerd'... You're like a goddess to be worshipped - he says, capturing your lips in searing kiss, his hands wandering around your body, for some reason knowing exactly where to touch, getting quiet moans out of you. You arch your back, letting him kiss down your body, shivering when he gently cups your sex, his fingers tracing in a teasing manner. He keeps kissing you, gently biting onto your lower lip to take your focus off the devil's tango you two are participating in now. The temperature in the room raises as you two get deeper into it, fog appearing on the mirror by the dresser. Your little moans and whimpers mix with his low growls of pleasure.  His eyes never leave yours, his right hand holding yours once you reach the climax. You roll your eyes and arch your back, feeling how pleasure hits your body. He chuckles.

- You lasted shorter than I will... - he murmurs against your neck, and you ride down your climax, his fingers running through your hair to sooth you. 

- Shut up, Bass... - you say, your little insult soon turning into a moan when he presses closer, melding your bodies together, kissing your lovingly as he fills you completely. You gasp at the feeling, and the air becomes even more heavy as the world disappears, leaving only you two and your bodies, lost in the passion of the act.

//(2009)//

No hope, no love, no glory, no happy ending. That's how it was supposed to end. That was the way that you two loved each other. Giving other one no chances and no hopes for the future. Yet, somehow you managed to keep the 'relationship' for the whole year until the argument, after which he was pulled out of school due to some incident he and Carlos and couple other guys caused during the Institute's anniversary. 

So when you and your fiance, Carlos Perez, with whom you kept in touch and eventually got engaged to, step out of Perez Air plane on New York's sole, you expect nothing but a causal batchelorette party. That is until you see him. The cold glare, the significant smirk, and that voice.

- Carlos Perez. What can I say, than thank you for Bass Industries's aircraft - Chuck smiles and walks up to Carlos and exchanges handshakes. His eyes land on you, causing him to take a deeper breath. He knew Perez booked a room in a hotel for him and his fiance. But he didn't know that his fiance was you. So much for 'bros before hoes'.

- Don't thank me. So much I could've done for old friend and my best man - Carlos smiles, his hand resting on your waits. - I believe you remember Y/N? Soon to be Y/N Perez. - he says, placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

Chuck stares at you two, mentally re-living many times you two got intimate years ago. 

- I remember. Nerdy Queen B. Congratulations on your engagement. - he says, kissing top of your hand. - And my deepest condolences that you'll be stuck with this idiot for the rest of your life.

Carlos burst into laughter. 

- Come on, I'm not the same guy who almost burned the school down.

- It wasn't that long ago - you point out. 

- Oh, shush. At least we'll have stories to tell kids. 

Chuck's eyes never leave you when you're all in his limousine. 

- Why marrying so young? I always thought you'd get a degree before husband. - Chuck says, handing you and your fiance each a glass of champagne, himself getting a whiskey.

- What can I say...

- It was love - Carlos gets in between your words, making you shake your head. - And that night before we got kicked out from the Institute. You believe someone dumped her?

- I don't... - Chuck says, his eyes darkening. It was him who 'dumped' you, or rather, ended your friends-with-benefits relationship. But never assumed you'd go search for consolation in arms of his best friend.

- Gotta say, I wanted to punch the asshole when Y/N came to me in tears, but... I'm telling you what happened next was..

- Carlos - you scold him, not wanting to get into spicy details. It is enough that he speaks like you're not even here. Chuck doesn't say anything. He is hurt. Hurt that you changed fronts so quickly and easily. Now, with the loss of Blair, it somehow stings him more that it is another girl that chose someone else, his friend. He finishes his whiskey in one sip, alcohol burning down his throat. Hopefully, it will also numb the feeling in his chest. Blair chose Nate, and you chose Carlos. And he ends up alone again.

- I'm happy for you two. And i hope that Palace will offer you all you need. - he says, pouring himself another glass. Carlos chuckles.

- I see drinking habits never changed. 

- And you're still as bold as you used to be.

You roll your eyes, suddenly feeling fifteen again, on the couch at some party playing a drinking game. But instead of Chuck's hand sneaking under your skirt, it's Carlos's palm on your trousers covered knee. Funny how things can change. 

The rest of the car ride passes in silence. Neither you nor Chuck are ready to look at each other. That warm night in June was supposed to end it. You weren't supposed to see each other again, especially after you yelled that in his face when he accused you of cheating. Yet here you are as the future bride of his friend.

When Carlos betook himself off to a meeting with some airlines representative, Chuck came by your room. 

- Charles? - you rise up your eyebrows seeing his at the doorstep to the apartment. - Carlos just went to see the United representative, but if you want to wait for him...

- I came to see you. 

- Me?

- Yes, you. And ask you what the hell are you doing with that trust fund baby. Weren't you the ambitious one? - he snickers, making you roll your eyes.

- Everyone in that school was sort of a trust fund baby. Aren't you set for inheriting Bass Industries? 

- I most likely won't because my old man thinks I'm not good enough. Meanwhile, that guy is running around probably burning Perez's money on bad investments.

- Hey. - your gaze darkens as you step up for your fiance. - Carlos grew up. His father believes that he's ready to be the COO of Perez Air. 

- He's ready? He? The 'bad experiment with fireworks that almost burned down the school' Perez?

- Yes, Carlos is ready. He really grown those past few years. You apparently didn't. - you say and show him the Gossip Girl site on your phone. - Really? New York or Switzerland, always going after a friend's girl? I don't know if I should feel more sorry for this Blair or Nate.

- You weren't Carlos's girl. You were mine.

- I was his the freshman year, but we broke up. Then I hooked up with you.

- You fucking kept our relationship a damn secret because of him? - he snaps a little.

- I liked you, Chuck. But you don't understand. I needed Carlos. And now I have him. And we weren't in relationship. Not in a real one.

- What the fuck you needed him for? What that Spanish idiot has that I don't?!

- Ability to trust me! You accused me of cheating when I did a damn project with Carter! Cheating doesn't exist if we're friends with benefits, I might add.

- And that's why you chose him?

You don't answer, not bothering to. It is pointless to explain to spurted man why you chose another guy.

- Y/N!

- Chuck. Stop. I'm not with you. Leave it.

- How can I leave it when I can't forget you? 

Your eyes open slightly wider. He can't forget you?

- You what?

- If you really need to hear it, I'm still lovesick because of a girl I met when I was fifteen. And Blair Waldorf being so painfully alike you only made it worse. Straight A student, pretty, both smart and knows how to have fun. She is literally an American version of you.

You stare blankly at the guy who just is admitting that he's never got over a teenage romance... or more like a teenage affair.  You take a step closer to him.

- Are you kidding me?

- Do I look like I'm kidding? - he asks coldly. Shutting the door to your room, he takes a few steps closer to you. You take deeper breath as you feel like you're getting smaller under his gaze. His hands gently cup your cheeks, his thumb gently caressing your skin before his pulls you into a kiss, a searing kiss that speaks for a whole three years of missing you. Against yourself and your beliefs, you kiss him back, your hands wandering to his waist, holding onto his blazer. Suddenly, you're fifteen again, stealing kisses in between classes so no one would catch you, sneaking him in your dormitory and having passionate nights.  He finally pulls away, breathing heavily.

- God, I waited for so long.

- Chuck, we can't.

- What do you mean we can't? We can! Call off the wedding. Come with me. We can even go back to damn Switzerland if that's what you want. 

- Chuck, don't you understand?! I can't. I'm someone's fiance. Your friend's fiance!

- Oh, please. Me and Carlos were friends just like you were with that Japanese girl who fetched stuff for you.

- Charles! Does your brain not record the word 'no'. Get the fuck out. - you say and start pushing him out of the apartment suite. - And don't say a word to Carlos. I love him.

- If you really loved him, you wouldn't have kissed me. You wouldn't persuade me for so long in high school. You wouldn't have slept with me.

- Charles that's enough!

- Y/N? - your name said with Spanish accent catch you off guard. You look above Chuck's frame, Bass also turns to look over his shoulder. Carlos Perez drops the buquette of red roses. 

- -¡¿Qué carajo?! ¿Acabas de besarte? ¿Cuánto tiempo lleva así? ¿Es por eso que quieres celebrar tu despedida de soltera en Nueva York? - Carlos goes off rambling in Spanish, possibly cursing both, you and Chuck. You try to interrupt him in Spanish, but he only dismissed you, finally yanking your hand and taking the engagement ring off your finger.

- You two are worth each other. You, little cheating bitch. And you... - Carlos looks with hurt expression at Chuck. - I thought you were my friend. I forgave you circling around Y/N back in Switzerland, but she's... she was supposed to be my wife now. - Carlos aims a punch at Chuck. Young Bass falls on the floor under the impact. Perez shoots one last gaze full of hurt and hate in your direction.

- At least I learnt about your infidelity before we got married. Saved me a couple of thousands of Euros. I'll have your things sent to your parents by the end of the day. Don't bother to get back to Milan. - Carlos says, storming down the hotel's hallway to the elevator, bumping into some businessman on his way, not bothering to say sorry. You look at the floor at Chuck and sigh. What happened in Switzerland was supposed to stay in the year 2006 in Switzerland and on photos from the parties. Apparently... temptation also travels to New York.

- I hope you'll end up with a black eye - you scoff when he finally gets up. 

- I thought you liked how I punched that duke after he catcalled you. - Chuck smirks, recalling somophore days. 

- Fuck you.

- Correction... - he says and grabs your waist, pulling you into a kiss. - Fuck with me.

- I'm... - you try to reason and push him away, yet every single fibre in your body craves this asshole who just ruined your chances for marriage.

- You what...? Missed me? - he says and starts to kiss down your neck, making you gasp

- I hate you. - you manage to mumble between short gasps

- Good. I can work with that. - he says in a low voice, almost a growl like a wolf who finally cornered the pray he's been hunting for so long. A few moments later, not breaking the kiss, he gently pushes you back into your room. Wooden door close behind you two with a soft click.

[after-hours-art]

‘Ai used’ and ‘tried my best’ are contradictory moron

Actually, in this context, they refer to two different things. English isn't my first language, so I might have phrased and placed those two wrong in the description, but I have a feeling that I did it right. Just in case, I specified the description to possibly avoid any misunderstandings later. Nevertheless:

'Usage of AI' refers to the particular scene of the sexual intimacy about which I cannot write that well due to personal experiences which left we with inability to remember what happens during physical intimacy, hence the term 'inexperience' used.

'Tried my best' refers to the rest, the oryginal part fanfiction, as well as the paraphrase I wrote of the given by AI prompt, which helped me in describing the intimate scene (which, due to said 'inexperience', was cut short).

And... sorry to point that out, but I have a strong feeling that you should've added a comma between 'contradictory' and 'moron'.

Have a nice day/night ♡

[after-hours-art]

30.01

Pairing: Chuck Bass x f!reader

Genre: comfort

Warnings: self-esteem issues, need for academic validation, not the finest of my works

[Author's note: I had a horrible day, so... I wrote this.]

You always were little Miss Perfect'. You always got As throughout school years. You got into Columbia, majoring in your favourite language. All the pieces of life puzzles started falling into places - beloved major, academic performance, perfect boyfriend. Right, Chuck indeed put a lot of work into himself, dedicating his time to working on Empire and your relationship. Everything was perfect. That is, until midterms.

//

You get back back to the penthouse after your classed. You don't say a word, throwing your jacket off and kicking off your boots. You walk over to Chuck, who, seeing you in such state after exam, puts away his whiskey glass. You plopp on his lap, curling up like a little kid and start crying. His arms instantly wrap around you. He doesn't have to ask to know the reason for your tears. His little Miss Perfect. His grip around you tightens, his lips hovering above top of your head, giving you few supportive kisses.

- Hey...? Wanna talk about it? - he asks gently, gently tracing patterns on your back in soothing motion. You shake your head, sniffing against his collarbones. He sighs, knowing that his Paul Stuart suit is probably now dirty with a mix of your mucus and ruined makeup. Yet, he doesn't complain. He just holds you for as long as you need. He knows you overthink a lot, that you have that urge to prove yourself academically. To him, it's stupid since he already sees you as perfect. But it's just the way you are. His little overthinker, Miss Perfect grades, his little future translator. He kisses your temple, gently squeezing your waist to coax out some words.

- Y/N... - he says quietly, his lips brushing against your hair. - I won't help you if you won't talk to me. I need to know what's wrong to help.

His voice sounds soft, yet with the usual hint of darkness, like a sweet dark honey.

- I got a question wrong... - you finally mutter. - I didn't know what 'natural language' is, and instead of answering that it uses 'arbitrary signs,' I said that it used 'indexes'. I'm so stupid. I...

- You're not stupid. - Chuck says sternly, cutting your words. Any time he does it, it feels to him like scolding a little kid. Even when the scolding is used in order to build some of your self-esteem, which is so deeply rooted in your grades and academic performance. Almost as if you forgot about other amazing qualities that you have.

- And getting one question wrong isn't the end of the world, Y/N.

- It is! You don't understand! - you snap a little, pulling away from his chest. His hands still supporting your hips, so you won't fall off his lap. His heart clinches slightly as he sees small trails of ruined foundation that your tears carved on your cheeks.

- You can't be serious. - he says.

- I am! You don't understand! I can't fail! I can't fail! I can't disappoint my professor! I can't disappoint my family, myself... you. You fucking pay for this college, I don't want to waste your money on me, not when I'm not even able to pass damn linguistics exam!

-Y/N... your tuition is the last of my concerns. My main concern is my girlfriend throwing a tantrum over the possibility of scoring 95% instead of 100%. - his voice is a bit more stern. His left hand lets go of your side and gently touches your cheek.

- You're not a failure. It's one question. One. It doesn't define you. I could've asked the most ridiculous thing about the language and you'd know the answer...

- You don't understand! I got questions wrong! I won't have perfect GPA, I..

- I don't care about your GPA. - his voice is still calm, but his patience is wearing off slowly. - However, I do care about having my girlfriend in her right mind. I care about my girlfriend not living off one meal a day because stress keeps you from eating. I care about my girlfriend getting nine hours of sleep instead of crying yourself to sleep as getting less sleep than I do. I care about you. - he says, his gaze locked on your teary eyes. - Your grades are secondary. Grades don't tell how smart you are. So what if the questions on the test were ones that you didn't know. There's always a second try, right? Your friends...

- Classmates... - you correct him. He rolls his eyes and sighs.

-... your classmates are probably laughing at their bad scores, that's what college students do.

- You don't understand. They don't understand... - you mumble.

- Y/N. - he cups your cheeks and makes you look at him. - You're right, I don't understand. I'm a businessman, not a college student, nor I ever really cared for the little letters next to names of the subjects. So yeah, I don't have grounds to understand your need for academic validation. - he sighs, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. - But I love you. And in case that's what your little heart is after, I'm proud of you. I really am. You ace every single test in English and your target language. One tiny linguistics exam that you can retake won't change the fact that I'm so damn proud of my girlfriend for getting in Columbia and majoring in something she'll love to work with. - he says, finishing the sentence with a gentle kiss. Your face twists into a grimace as you start crying again, this time merely from those five words 'I'm proud of you'.

- Shh... you're okay. It's okay. - he murmur, pulling you back into his embrace, his fingers gently caressing your back of your head. - I got you, love. I got you. And I'm damn proud of you. - he whispers, his warm breath hitting delicate skin on your ear. After a couple of moments, your breathing slowly settles. You rest your chin on his shoulder, still yearning to be close to him, your safe space. Seeing you slowly calm down, Chuck gently pushes you up, just so he can see your face.

- There she is... my amazing, smart, skilled, funny, sexy girlfriend... - he hums, gently cupping your cheeks, hoping to make you smile. Corners of your lips do lift slightly as the last adjective he used, but that would be it for smiles today. He carefully wipes any remaining tears from your cheeks, kissing you once he's done.

- How about I get you to bed? Or draw you a nice bath? - before you even open your mouth, he answers himself. - Bath. I bought those essential oils you like. Ones that you religiously used for whole month before SAT's. - he says, placing his hands under your thighs, slowly starting to get up. You wrap your arms around his neck, so you won't fall. He picks you up, taking a moment to glace at you.

- I'm proud of you. I really, really am. - he says softly before carrying you to the bathroom.

- So, which essential oil does my love want today? - he asks before closing the bathroom door.

[after-hours-art]

White Party and not so white lies

Pairing: Chuck Bass x plus size f!reader

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: language

Every relationship comes across some run-ins. Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf are no exception. Especially when their 'relationship' wouldn't be called a relationship per se. Spurned Blair brought herself a little English souvenir from Europe. And Chuck Bass didn't stay behind. So when they meet again in Hamptons before the start of the new academic year, both of them are torn by strong feelings. And the presence of you only adds the oil to the fire.

//

Hamptons isn't your go-to place to spend summer. You much prefer Italy. However, you let Chuck persuade you to join him and his step-siblings' friends there for the last week of summer vacation. Who would've thought that one night at the bar could spark a feeling in your local womanizer? Yet, it did. For two months, he was very much involved in the stirring of the relationship that grew between you two. 

You are resting on the lawn chair, pastel pink bikini with small daisy prints only adding character to your soft curves, when you suddenly hear sounds of the argument coming from the main house. You don't think much of it, after all arguments are fine between friends. The noises get louder and, therefore, closer, allowing you to unintentionally eavesdrop a big part of the heated conversation.

- You left me at the fucking airport! You can't expect me for like your new bitch.

- Don't call her that!

- So then you get to call James a British fraud?!

- The conversation is over, Blair. I hoped you two would like each other. She's literally another version of you but in Upper East Side. Classy, good student, knows her fashion. You two should click like freaking Siamese twins. She has more in common with you than you have with Serena.

- Screw you, Bass.

Loud sounds of heels hitting the wooden floor make you guess that you won't start a loving friendship with Blair. A shadow in the shape of cocky billionaire's kid falls on you.

- You're stealing my sun. - you say, tilting your head back a little to be able to look at shadow's owner.

- My apologies, but I can't have you burned in this sun. - soft, low voice works calming on you as Chuck leans down to kiss you, his hand automatically sliding down your arm in a soothing manner.

- So... I guess I'm not invited to the White Party anymore? - you ask once he breaks the kiss and sits on the lawn chair next to yours.

- And who told you that? - ha asks, his hand absently tracing small shapes on your outer thigh, enjoying feeling of your soft skin under his fingers.

- Well... told as much as I heard. 

Chuck smirks, scoffing a little.

- So you heard the whole... conversation? - he asks gently.

- You two were very loud and clear. - you murmur.

- And despite how loud and clear and hateful Blair Waldorf can be, she's also not the host. And Celia Rhodes loves you. And you're staying. I didn't suffer all those hours on shopping for your white dress for nothing. 

The last sentence makes you laugh. Chuck smiles himself, too. He loved your laughter from the moment he met you at the bar. His hand goes higher on your thigh as he leans closer to you, kissing you, his tongue gently nudges your lips, encouraging you to part them. Once you do so, his tongue slides in your mouth, tasting you, letting out slight moan. His hand moves to the edge of the bottom of your bikini. He breaks the kiss once you two need to breathe. His lips now travel along your jawline, moving how to your neck, delicately kissing all the sensitive spots. 

- God, you're divine - he murmurs against your collarbone, using all his willpower to not leave a hickey, as you forbidden him from doing so for the sake of the White Party. Showing up with a love bite, even when in a relationship, would be considered a bad taste in the eyes of older guests. His kisses travel across your collarbones, slowly down to your sternum when...

- For the love of... get a damn room. - Serena says as she and Blair walk out from the house. - Oh, hi Y/N. - the blonde smiles when she spots you as she throws her towel on the lawn chair. Blair's gaze sends daggers in your direction as she walks past you to join her friend. Chuck pulls away from you and sighs.

- Hello to you too, sister dearest. - Chuck mutters, still looking pisses at Blair, who pretends that you both are not here.

- Hey, you coming to the party? - Serena asks you.

- Y-yes... - you say, looking at Chuck as if searching for his support, which you get in the form of kiss on the cheek.

- Come. - Chuck says as he gets up, offering you his hand to help you get up. - We'll 'get a room' like ladies here suggest. 

You sigh and nod. You never intended to fight with Blair. You didn't even know that she and Chuck had some unfinished business until he told you that when you got to Hamptons. You get off the lawn chair, following Chuck as he leads you in the house. Blair looks over her shoulder, glancing how you wide hips sways as you follow her... your Chuck. Her stomach twisting with jealousy at the sole thought of you and him in bed. 

- God, that he had to bring her with him. - Blair scoffs and turns to Serena, getting back to the conversation they had.

- So, you didn't you anything whole summer? 

//

You stand in front of the mirror at the hallway, waiting for Chuck to join you. As you adjust your hair, suddenly, a reflection of Blair appears in the mirror.

- You know... James is just the best. - she says, playing with her hair.

- That British guy?

She rolls her eyes when you call her newest love interest that. 

- Yeah... 'the British guy'. - she says, in her mouth, making it sound like an insult.

- Well... good for you. - you say, adjusting the strands of your hair before you put on Harry Winston's silver necklence that perfectly puts your outfit together. Blair makes a disgusted face. 

- As if you could bring any more attention to your cleavage... - she mutters, putting on transparent lip gloss. You turn your head and glance at her.

- As if you could act more jealous. - you talk back, your voice dripping with a mixture of sarcasm and kindness, and put on a smile when you see Chuck coming from the upstairs. - Have fun at the party. And please, Blair, try to behave civil. I didn't steal your boyfriend, I merely was in the right place at the right time. - you add and walk over to your boyfriend, leaving Blair with parted lips and expression of disbelief. She sees red when Chuck greets you with a kiss, his hand travelling to your hair, then your cheek. 

- Damn that mother-chucker... - she scoffs, walking out to the garden with the most charming smile, as she looks for James.

You stand with a glass of white sweets wine next to your boyfriend as you and his step-grandmother are having a delightful conversation about the garden designer. Cece goes on and on about the flowers, the prices, and costs of maintaining. You feel Chuck's hand gripping tightly on your waist. You look at the white rose bush that Cece is showing you, and over it spot Blair kissing her date right in front of two of you and Chuck. James leaves once he sees you two he realises why she has done it. You look up at your boyfriend, seeking any signs of jealousy, but you don't find any. Instead, he leans to your ear and whispers.

- I told you not to worry about Blair. - he says in low voice, the kind that drips with desire and makes you shiver. - I love you. And I thought I made it pretty clear in bed this morning... - he says, kissing the nape of your neck when Cece turns to call Serena over to you. You don't answer, putting your hand over his in acknowledgment of his words as you watch Blair run after James, partially feeling bad for her, but after all she's just using the poor guy to make Chuck jealous. Feel Chuck take your glass from your hand.

- I'll go refresh your drink, princess. - he says and disappears in the crowd.

You walk over to Jenny and Erik with whom you connected pretty well, given that they're similiar age to your younger siblings who unfortunately couldn't make it to Hamptons as they are doing mini tourne around Western Europe as your sisters wants to go to boarding school for high school. You feel a pang of jealousy in your stomach when you see Chuck talking to Blair. Million thoughts run through your head as you see them. What seems like an argument between them two might be as well a conversation or some form of a twisted foreplay. 

- You okay, Y/N? - Jenny asks and looks in the same direction that you do, her smile slowly fading as she spots Blair with whom she still has tense relations. 

- Yeah... I'm okay. - you say. - Excuse me... - you say and put the glass on the bar when you see Blair walk past you and walk through the house. You follow her to the front of the van der Woodsen's summer house. You walk to the door, stopping halfway when you see her with Chuck again. You swallow nervously, leaning against the door frame. You're too far to hear, but you can only try and read the expressions. At least for a moment before a car stops in front of the entrance and covers your view. Minutes pass when she spots you, walking in your direction. 

- He lied. - she says as she passes you. - He loves me. You are just... a summer fling.

You grab her and stop her mid-step.

- What do you mean? 

- That Chuck and I are meant to be. All this time with you, he was just licking his wounds.- she says as she yanks her arm out of your grip. You stare blankly, your eyes following her.

You rush to catch up to her when you accidentally hit against someone's chest.

- Oh my.. I'm so sorry... - you look up to see who you bumped into. - James

- No need to, dear. And.. my name is actually Marcus. - he smiles and looks at you. - Have you perhaps seen Blair? She vanished into thin air when I went for refreshments. 

- I think I know with whom... - you say, your glare telling it all as you see Marcus clenching his jaw.

- She told me that it's over between them. - he says, visibly pissed.

- He told me he loves me so I know how you feel. - you murmur. He looks at you. 

- You'd look like young Queen Victoria if you'd tie your hair up. - he smiles. - Allow me... - he gently touches your hair and tries to recreate for the memory how the queen had her hair styled in the painting. He carefully holds your hair in place, nudging you to look in the mirror. You chuckle and smile seeing your reflection, as your generous figure and put-up hair now really makes you resemble Queen Victoria when she was young. 

- You aren't wrong, Marcus. - you smile at your reflection. - I'm sorry Blair is... well, Blair. You don't seem like a bad guy.

- And you don't seem like a woman that should've been left alone. Someone might want to steal you. - he let go of your hair, letting the strands fall freely on your shoulders. He reaches his hand out to you. 

- Mind if I'll keep you company? 

- Two abandoned lovers? - you chuckle and take his arm. You are hurt indeed that Chuck has been playing a perfect boyfriend whole summer only to tell his ex lover that he loves her. But you can't be angry, feelings aren't to be controlled. You just regret that he can play two fronts so well, make passionate love to you, and then confess love to her. You let Marcus lead you as he starts talking about England. You smile seeing how you two partners shoot confused gazes when you and Marcus step in the garden. You see Chuck walk directly at you two, his expression at least pissed.

- What the hell you're doing with her? - he asks.

- Did you lose Blair in the crowd? I simply assumed you two are each other plus ones by now. - you say, still holding the Englishman's hand.

- What the hell? Y/N, what crazy idea was born in that pretty head of yours?

- Idea? You should tell us why you and Blair are sneaking around confessing love. 

- We didn't confess anything! Y/N, don't make things up.

- I'm not making anything up. And don't yell. People are starting to stare. - you scold your... your still boyfriend.

- Then what gave you that idea? Haven't I spent summer with you? Haven't I brought you to Hamptons? Haven't I bought you this dress? Did I spend a moment away from you? 

- You did. - you say and let go of Marcus's forearm. - You met Blair in front of the house. You said that you love her. End of story. 

- You met... Dear God... - he scoffs, now looking purely mad. He takes a sip of whiskey from his glass. - I fucking told her that I don't want her anymore. That I have you. That the Birt can have her.

You and Marcus stare at Chuck dumbfounded as you try to connect the dots.

- Why would she lie? - you murmur, feeling a hand landing on your waist. You look up to realise that it's Chuck's.

- Because she's Blair. What other reason do you need? - he scoffs and looks at Marcus with glare that unequivocally says to get the hell away from you. 

- Blair! - Marcus looks agitated as she makes her way to your little gathering. Brunette walks to you with a smile that slowly disappears. 

- What? - she asks, confused by your faces.

- Did you tell my girlfriend that I love you? - Chuck asks. - Right after I told you that I'm no longer interested in you?

Blair shrugs her shoulders. 

- You do. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You look at me like a lost puppy. - she says and then looks at you. - Besides, he'd cheat on you sooner or later. I wanted to save you the humiliation and trouble. A little white lie in a good cause. - she smiles innocently.

- I wouldn't cheat on Y/N. - Chuck looks offended, though fidelity isn't his strongest forte. He never really had a girlfriend, more of a collection of one-night-stands.

- Chuck. You would. - she says, walking away. Marcus follows behind her, leaving you and Chuck alone. You turn to him, letting go of his hand. He looks confused by your action. 

- Y/N. Please. I wouldn't cheat on you. Ever. 

- Yet she said that you would. She knows you her whole life. Two months are like nothing next to that. 

- Y/N... - he tries to take your hand, but you slide it from his fingers. - Y/N, please. 

- Did you love her? - you ask quietly. 

- In past tense. In past tense, yes, I did love Blair Waldorf. But now I love you Y/N Y/L/N. Get that in your pretty her of yours. - he says, looking more pissed off than before, apparently not being a fan of talks of this kind. 

- Just... leave me alone for now. - you say and turn around to make your way back to the house. Chuck sighs and looks behind you, keeping an eye on your till you disappear behind a corner. He finds the bar and pours himself a glass of whiskey, already wondering how to fix the situation that he has never had before. He loves you. He's sure of that. Wanting to introduce you to his father and Lily. He takes a sip of the brown liquid, letting the alcohol burn his throat and hopefully also the knot in his stomach. He closes his eyes, recalling everything her had shared with Blair, past two months with you, every 'relationship' he ever had. The conversation with Blair plays in his head replays in his head. Hearing the sound of heels in the hallway, he walks there, hoping to find you, but he finds Blair. 

- Why did you do this? - he asks. 

- You think your girlfriend would be happy if i said that I asked you for 'I love you' and you just froze instead of saying that you love her? - she asks. - Now, at least, you saved your face. I don't mind being the bad guy. 

- Why did you do that? - he asks again. His gaze finds hers, the tension in the air cumulates with each second. 

- A sweet girl like Y/N doesn't deserve an unsure relationship. And I hope she'll realise it soon. 

- She just did. - you say softy, your voice filled with a feeling of betrayal.

Blair and Chuck jump away from each other as you emerge from the start behind the wall. Your expression looks broken. 

- Y/N... - Chuck starts, but you raise your hand, signaling him to stop. You look at Blair, her heart clenching as she recognises the look. It's the same that she had when she realised that Chuck had left her at that handicap. She finally sighs, pushing the strand of brown hair behind her ear.

- I... I gotta go. Marcus is waiting for me. You two... figure it out, I guess. - she puts her hand on your shoulder as he passes you. - I tried to save you from this. - she says before walking to the entrance, walking out to the red car. 

Your eyes are locked on Chuck's. His body yearns to you. He'd fall on his knees if that would make you forgive him.

- Y/N... 

- I asked if you love her. You said that it was past. Past lovers don't look at each other like that. 

He grabs your hand. 

- Y/N. I love you. Please, believe me.

- She just lied for you. How am I supposed to believe you? 

He pulls you closer. His lips naturally find yours, his right hand holding your cheek, his left hand gripping gently on his waist, his fingers digging in the soft flesh. When he finally breaks the kiss, he doesn't let go of you. 

- I love you. I do. I'm sorry for the lie, I'm sorry for Blair's jealousy, I'm sorry that I acted somehow jealosu of Marcus when I was supposed to worship the goddess I have in my arms right now. Please, Y/N, if you give me a second chance, I swear I won't let you down. - he says, emotions pouring from his words, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. - Please.

Chuck Bass is begging you. Not that he isn't capable of begging it's just... it's not an everyday sight. Begging Chuck Bass. You stare blankly at him. You gently grab his wrists and push his hands away from you. 

- If you love her... - you start.

- I don't. - he interrupts you.

- ... then go after her. 

Chuck's breathing becomes a little heavier, his mind not able to wrap around the idea of leaving you and going after Blair. You slowly take a couple of steps back, ready to leave to your room and start packing. 

- Thanks for the summer, Chuck.

You start walking up the stairs. He stands at the first step and watches you go upstairs before he rushes after you. He finds you in your room, and your luggage opens on your bed as you start packing. He grabs your wrist and spins you around so you face him.

- Y/N, listen. - he says, his voice low and filled with heavy emotions. - I want you. I love you.

- You can't love two people in the same ti-

- You are second. - he says, cutting off your words. - You can't love two people because if you fall in love with the second one, you never loved the first person to begin with, I know that. And I fell in love with you. Not in a twisted way. We don't need games. I love you for you. Please, believe me. - his thumbs caress your soft cheeks. 

- You can't have it all, Chuck. - you warn him.

- I already have it all. Here. In my arms. - he says, pulling you into a gentle kiss, slowly deepening it. At first you don't return the favour but second later you give in the feeling. You kiss him back, biting onto his lower lip, earning a low, deep moan from him. You finally break the kiss, your eyes a little red from a couple of tears you shredded before. He gently holds you, his forehead resting against yours.

- I love you. Stay with me, I will serve my redemption however you'll like. I'll be just like during summer. 

- Chuck... - you gently push him away. - I think we should take a break. Reevaluate.

His expression looks broken, but seeing your serious expression, he only nods. 

- So... you wanna get back to New York now? - he asks gently. Once you nod, he starts folding clothes on your bed.

- I'll help you pack. And I'll have Arthur drive you. - he says, helping you pack, his eyes locked on you the whole time.

// October

Summer faded, and world turned red, orange and brown. It's officially autumn and start of your senior year in high school. But even the coldest days aren't scary to you, especially when you get a good warm-up running around the stylish, expensive stores with your unlikely best friend.

- Retail therapy is the best. - Blair chuckles as you two walk out of Chanel store, your maids behind you carrying bags from your 6th Avenue shopping spree. After the summer in Hamptons, you bumped into Blair at the Fashion Week, and just like Chuck had predicted before, you two somehow clicked. Now you see each other at least once a week to gossip, study together, or just for lunch. It's definitely not a lie that the best people come unexpectedly.

- Speaking of the best... - she grabs your arm, making you stop. She points at your car against which leaning is no other but Charles Bass. His head is slightly lowered as he smells the bouquette in his hands - your favourite flowers. You stop breathing for a second. 

- Go. You have no idea how much he missed you. - Blair says, clearly excited at your reunion.

- Missed me? - you ask confused. - He never called nor texted me.

- He gave you the space you asked for. Instead, he gained all information from me once he saw us on Gossip Girl together. It's like a daily interrogation, and questions are all about you. - she gently pushes you forward. - Go get your Bass back so he'll get off my back. 

Chuck lifts his head, turning in your direction. His eyes instantly lighten up, his expression softening as his eyes take in all of your persona, from the lovely autumn coat to the rose from the cold wind cheeks. You stare at him for a longer while, unsure what to do, finally choosing to walk in his direction. 

- Hi - you say hesitantly once you're few steps from him.

- Autumn is your time of the year. - he says, admiring the way beige sweater matches, the dark orange skirt hugs your hips, and your soft thighs are covered with burgundy tights. - This colour scheme on you could only compete with that pink bikini and white dress you wore this summer. - he says softly and hands you the flowers. - Blair probably told you already that I asked her about your favourite flowers. I hope you like them. - he smiles when you bury your nose in the flowers. You smile as soft petals touch your face. His hand gently goes to your hand, his thumb caressing top of your palm.

- Thank you. - you say and look at him. - But why?

- Because I can't give you space for more than two months. It has been hell keeping myself away, having Blair and Gossip Girl as my only source of information about you. - he gently squeezes your hand. - I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sorry for what happened at the White Party. I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I promise that I will be the best boyfriend you'd ever have. 

You stare at him, turning your head to look over your shoulder at Blair. The brunette nods her head, and so does Dorota and your maid to encourage you to say 'yes' to Chuck. You turn back to the man and sigh.

- You mean it? - you ask hesitantly.

- I do. I love you. - Chuck says softly, his right hand finding your cheek, his left slightly squeezing your waist as he gently pulls you closer, your foreheads almost touching. - I never loved anyone or anything as much as I love and adore you, Y/N. - he says, leaning closer to you, his lips hovering over yours. Your eyes remain locked on his, his gaze soft and adoring. You lean closer and kiss him, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you closer, wishing that he won't even have to let you go. You deepen the kiss, pouring into it all the feeling that you kept hidden for the past two months. 

- I love you... - Chuck murmurs against your lips once you break the kiss to catch a breath. - Come with me. I'm sure Blair can finish her shopping on her own.

You turn to your friend, who shows you a big smile and thumbs up. You nod and turn to Chuck.

- Okay. - you say, not controlling how wide and happy your smile is. Chuck's heart swells with love at this sight. He opens the door to his limo for you.

- Ladies first, princess. - he smiles, his eyes never leaving you as you get inside. He follows you, shutting the door. He takes his seat next to you and hands you a glass with your favourite wine. 

- No tell me all about those two boring months when you wanted space. - he smiles, sipping on his whiskey as the car enters the traffic on busy New York streets.

[after-hours-art]

Can I request chuck bass x reader plus size with jealous Blair waldwarf at first but then after while she and reader become bff

Hi, how are you?

I want to thank you very much for the request. It's the first one I ever got. I was so excited and nervous that I wrote two versions. I really hope that I managed to meet your expectations with this one.

Have a lovely day/night ♡

Emerald lie

Pairing: Chuck Bass x plus size f!reader

Genre: fluff,

Warnings: slightly explicit language,

Every relationship comes across some run-ins. Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf were no exception. Especially when their relationship wasn't called a 'relationship' per se. And Blair isn't the one to chase after. She is to be chased. And Chuck Bass's sadistic tendencies aren't going to make it easier for her. Watching Blair walk on eyelashes to get him to fall under her charm without having to fulfil her side of the bargain, which is saying those three words and eight letters. However, what if the mischievous plan will backfire against him, which was exactly what happened when he fell for the girl he intended to merely use. One drunken kiss was all it took to make him want to make you his.

//

In Constance, there's a strict social hierarchy that's commonly known by all the students as well as sacred to them. Undoubtedly, the 'queen' title belongs to Blair for the past three years straight. But if you ask a grey mass of students, they would call her 'dictator' rather than 'queen'. That title would get... you. Maybe not fitting the 2000s models body type by five sizes, but with the natural beauty and kindness you possess, you can dethrone Blair if you wanted to. But you don't strive for it. First of all, you never really cared for social status since yours is pretty high, even without playing high school kingdom games. Second of all, you value your life. It's scary to imagine what mad Blair Waldorf could be pushed to. I mean... just look at Little J.

Your normally peaceful school life, however, got disturbed by Chuck Bass. For some reason, the cocky guy has you in his sight as his... his what exactly? Normally, you would've called yourself his 'pray' or 'victim' since it's Chuck. But he isn't after physical pleasure. He is after something else. 

- Hey, princess. - he smirks as he sits on the stone table next to your books. You look up at him, not fully understanding the intentions. One night out for drinks was fun. One drunken kiss was acceptable, but you can't sense what the hell he wants now.

- I told you to not call me that. - you scoff.

- Fine. Hey, Y/N. 

- What do you want? Again. - you ask, shivering in surprise when his hand goes to your chin, lifting it up gently. He leans down, his lips connecting with yours in a delicate butterfly kiss. 

- Hi, better? - he asks, not letting go of you, caressing your chin with his thumb. You stare at him in disbelief, just like the others. In panic, you look at Blair. Queen B stares at the scene with mouth slightly opened. 

- What the hell are you on, Bass? - you ask sharply.

- Love. Have you heard of it? It's a pretty strong drug. - he says, his thumb still absently caressing your chin.

- I'm serious. - you say, your hair dancing around your head when you shake your head. - Get lost. If you're trying to just piss off...

- Blair? No. Have you considered that I might actually like you? - he scoffs, his red scarf hanging from his neck. 

You blink in confusion. You've never exchanged a word with Charles Bass until a week ago. And somehow, subconsciously, you knew, or wanted to believe, that he's just using you to make Blair jealous. At least that's what you could've guessed from the latest posts on Gossip Girl and simply being observant. Nothing is more out of ordinary than Chuck looking at Blair and Nate like a kicked puppy. Or maybe, more extraordinary is him talking to you. 

- Not really. - you mutter. 

- Then try to consider that. I've heard you're a good student. If you can calculate shitty things in math and believe that some Greek dude came up with the perfect formula for a triangle, you can also believe that I'm being honest. 

- Charles Bass and honesty? 

- Yeah. See? That's what I'm talking about. Honesty. Try that one sometimes. - he smirks and ruffles your hair a little before he jumps off the desk and wanders away. You stare in utter disbelief. Your gaze turns to Blair, meeting her gaze. You automatically blush and pick up your books with the intention to run away. High school isn't a place for childish conflicts. At least not in your dictionary. They might know how to ball, but you much prefer to know Aristotle than become another pawn in their sick game.

//

Blair Waldorf doesn't turn green with envy. Straight A's, perfect attendance, beautiful face, body that her fashion designer mother approves, Nate Archibald - she has it all. Why is she even bothered by the sight of Chuck Bass kissing a random girl in the middle of the courtyard? She feels that stinging something in her stomach that she feels every time Serena steals something from her. Jealousy. Things that girls like Blair Waldorf shouldn't feel. 

- See you later... - she says to Nate and picks up her bag, walking back in Constance's building, following you. She finally finds you in the library, yet she doesn't enter. She just observes you and your best friend as you share some snacks. They seem like those Japanese rice cakes - mochi. Her stomach twists. The feeling of jealousy consuming her. She admires the way your curves fill the school uniform. Her hand automatically goes to her own stomach, flat since she skipped breakfast again. As she looks at you instead of a rival she sees someone she secretly wishes to be - a girl that can laugh with her best friend, a true best friend, over croissants and macaroons without feeling guilty after eating her favourite food. 

When your friend leaves the library, she finally steps in.

- You. - she walks up to the desk where you sit. You swallow, as this is exactly the thing you wanted to avoid. A confrontation with Blair Waldorf herself. 

- Yes? - you look at her.

You two stay in silence for a moment.

- What are you doing with Chuck? - she finally asks.

- Nothing. I met him at the club once. I never spoke to him before. - you try to explain and drop your gaze.

- Just... be careful. Don't believe one word from his mouth. - she says, making you look right up at her.

- He... he said that he lik... loves me.

Her expression seems broken as you say it. To you, it's a love confession, to Blair it's her losing again. She swallows and blinks twice.

- Chuck Bass.. The Chuck Bass said that he loves you? - she asks quietly. If you were telling the truth, it took you a week to have him wrapped around your finger.

- Well, yeah... But if you're saying I shouldn't believe him, I won't. Thanks for the warning, Blair.

She watches as you pick up your stuff when the bell rings. You smile at her and say a quick 'bye', walking out of the library, your hips swinging elegantly as you walk down the hallway. She stares at the direction in which you left.

//

The music is blasting, water is splashing, and clothes are falling off. Because who said you can't have a pool party in autumn? At your school's indoor pool. And it's always in good taste to have connections, such as being friends with one of Blair's minions, as to be well-informed about whatever social events are on the table.

- You're disgusting. - Blair scoffs as she walks past Chuck who's sitting on the lifeguard's chair,  shamelessly ogling you as you sit by the edge of the school pool with your friends, chatting and sipping on the pink drink. His eyes travel along the hem of your red two-piece swimsuit. He bites his lower lip to regain composure over himself. If only you knew what you're doing to him. If it wasn't for the splash that leaves him mildly wet, he wouldn't even notice Blair and Nate kissing near him, or rather Nate trying to kiss Blair, but she doesn't look so sure. His eyes drift to Chuck yet never meet his gaze as it's locked on you. 

He was supposed to use you. Use you like any other girl, use you to make Blair jealous and regret not being with him after that evening when they left Victrola together. But he can't. You're mesmerising. From the first moment when Chuck saw you at the club, noticed how black stockings deliciously were wrapped around your thick thighs, they way your dress hugged your soft curves and your ample bosom jiggled while you danced with your friends. In that moment, he knew you couldn't be just another one of his pawns. You have to be his. 

Chuck walks over to the swimming pool ladder. His red-white strapped shirt clings to his body as he swims up to you and your friends.

- Excuse me... I need to borrow Y/N for a while. - he says to your friends. They look at you, but when you nod, they leave walking over to a makeshift bar and mix some alcohol. Chuck swims a little closer, his hands finding your knees, resting a little above your knee caps.

- Chuck... - you warn him.

- What? You don't want me to drown, do you? - he asks as innocently as he can.

- Sometimes I do. What do you want? Building my hopes up? Blair already told m-

- Blair? - he interrupts you mid-sentence. - What the hell she told you?

- Nothing. Just to be careful around you. That you tend to... bend the truth.

- I'm not lying this time. - he says, subconsciously knowing what Blair talked with you about, his hand gently squeezing your right knee. - I mean it. I saw you in that damn bar with your friends, and I have been smitten ever since. You're... - he pauses, unable to find the words since none of the ones he knows are good enough.

- Chuck..

- I mean it, okay? You want me to prove it? - he says and grabs your hand, pulling you into the water. You scream, yet no one hears over the music. You end up underwater for a second before you feel his hands grabbing you under your hips, picking you up. He holds you close, his fingers digging in your thick thighs, enjoying the soft feeling of your stomach rolls against him. It's like holding a cloud of fluff in his arms. He chuckles as you spit the water. Your hair is now completely wet, some hair strands sticking to your cheeks.

- You okay, princess? - he asks gently, admiring how smooth and radiant your skin is up close, even in the poor light of the indoor pool.

- I hate you... - you mutter when you finally pick up your composure.

- Too bad... - he leans in and gently kisses you. At first you don't return the favour, too surprised to do anything. It's the third time he kisses you in public. One of his hands makes it up to your face, gently resting on your chubby cheek. Being in the water makes it easy for him to hold you with just one hand. His thumb gently caresses your cheek, making you finally kiss him back. You're not as confident as he is in your doings. After all everyone is watching and so far you had only an ex-boyfriend back in middle school to practice your kissing skills with. You finally break the kiss in need of air, but if it wasn't for that, you would've kept going.

- Hey... - he keeps on caressing your cheek gently, his forehead resting against yours. - I told you. I love you. I love you, though I highly doubt that I'm capable of such a thing. 

- Chuck...

- Hey, I'm not telling you to love me. I know what people talk about me. If you heard a fraction of it, you might see no reason to even tolerate me. I'm just hoping that one day you'll love me. I'm not forcing anything here. - he says, gripping on your soft waist a little tighter, his biceps flexing as he picks you up and sits you back on the edge of the pool. - See you later. I'll be waiting in my limousine after the party. I'll drive you home. - he says, in one swift movement, getting out of the pool and walking over to Nate for a chat.

- Is this seat taken? 

You hear a delicate voice over your head, and soon the brunette girl sits next to you. You look over at Blair, smiling when you notice that your swimsuits are the same colour, just hers has white polka dots.

- I... - she starts. - I wanted to tell you something.

- Sure, what's up? - you say, looking curiously at her. Blair looks down at both your thighs.

- I... I might have lied. Not on purpose, but... when I told you not to believe Chuck, it was because I wanted to spare you the experience of being literally used for the sake of some twisted game between me and him. We... we got together for one night and... - she doesn't finish, but her tone and blush on her face tell everything. - Then I got back with Nate, Chuck got pissed, and now... he has very questionable morals and very sick ways of getting what he wants. What looked like wanting to make me jealous at the courtyard... might as well be the truth, and I was just lying to myself.

- So... you love him? - you ask, your hand on top of hers, giving her a supportive squeeze. She shakes her head.

- No. I just wanted him gone from my life, and I guess my wish came true.

- But you're not sure if you really wished for it? - you ask softly. 

- I... - she swallows, looking like a lost puppy in the rain.

- Oh, my god... you do like him? - you ask, your heart picking up the pace.

- Don't tell anyone. Please. I don't want Nate to find out. 

- Blair, but if you love him, you should- 

- He loves you. - she cuts your words, looking at you, her fingers interlocking with yours.

- But...

- No 'but'. He loves you. And if he wants to... - she pauses to look at Chuck and Nate on the other side of the pool, talking to Serena. - If he wants to, he can be a great guy. I really believe so. So don't write him off yet. 

You shake your head with a smile. 

- The kiss in the water was impressive. - you murmur.

- That was impressive? No way, he was just copying Nate. - she jokes, soon leaving you two giggling together. You look at the brunette and her honest smile. Apparently, the devil, or rather Queen Bee, is not so black as she is painted. 

- What are you two giggling about? - Nate asks as he comes over, handing you and Blair a Martini each, then taking place next to his girlfriend, throwing his arm over her shoulder.

- Nothing. - Blair smiles and sips on her drink. You lift your cup to drink too when suddenly someone takes it from your hand and replaces it with another. You look up to see Chuck winking at you, and then you look at the contents of the cup. It's the same pink drink you had before.

- I know that Martini isn't your favourite. You didn't want it when I bought you one at the bar. - he says as he sits next to you, his hand automatically going on your thigh, his eyes scanning your voluptuous figure using all his willpower to not act on lust right now. 

- You look stunning. - he whispers to your ear, his grip on your thigh tightening a little. - But you don't look like a girl who'd go to bed with someone on the first date, do you? - he says, his voice throaty, sounding almost like a low growl. You swallow, a blush appearing on your face as he gently kisses behind your earlobe.

- It's okay, princess. I can wait. Just know... my thoughts always drift back to you. - his warm breath against your delicate skin makes you get goosebumps. He smirks, satisfied with how you're blushing,

- You're starting to like me back, aren't you? A little... bad boy for your heart?

- I... I still don't like you yet. - you argue, despite your body giving other signals.

- You will. I'm taking you out on Friday. I have everything planned. I'll pick you up at six... - he starts, his fingers absently tracing trails along your thigh. - Take you to Jean-Georges. We have a nice 1997 Classic. Then... a surprise I have for you. And then I'll bring you back home as a gentleman should. You in, princess? - he asks, his voice dripping like a dark honey balancing somewhere between lust and love. You take a deeper breath and finally nod. Chuck smiles and kisses the side of your neck. 

- Amazing.

//

You check yourself out in the mirror in your bedroom admiring your dress, a custom-made Eleanor Waldorf Designs green satin dress. The material hugs your curves perfectly, emphasising all the right places. You let your hair down, adjusting the strands before you put on Harry Winston's silver necklace that perfectly puts your outfit together. Suddenly, you hear the knock on the door. Your maid walks in your room, smiling as she sees you.

- You look lovely, Miss Y/N. Mr. Chuck is waiting downstairs.

- Thanks, Sonja. - you say and look at yourself for the last time before you follow your maid. 

Chuck is waiting, petting your ginger cat that just happened to come to greet him. When he finally hears the sound of your Mary Jane's on the stairs, he looks up and holds his breath. He stares at you as you walk down, a million thoughts in his head, ranging from 'she's so beautiful' to the things he'd do with you in bed.

- You look... - he takes your hand, kisses the top of your palm, and lifts his hand a little, encouraging you to do a small twirl. - Beautiful, to say the least. 

As you finally look at him, you can't help but chuckle seeing that his bow tie in emerald, matching your jewellery. 

- You look handsome yourself. - you smile and take your coat from Sonja. 

- Shall we? - he reaches his left hand in the direction of the elevator, his right hand grabbing yours. - Dinner can't wait.

You take your seat on the white couch, smiling at the waiter as he hands you both the menu. 

- We'll both have the 1997 Classic. - Chuck says to the waiter before you can even open the menu. - Trust me, you'll love it. - he says and hands the menus back to the waiter, ordering a wine as he does so. You look outside at Central Park, smiling at how beautiful it looks in the mere light of the park lamps and city lights. When you turn your head away from the window, you startle when you catch Chuck looking directly at you. 

- What? Can't a man admire his date? - he asks, his hand wandering under the table to your thigh as he gently caresses the plush flesh with tenderness. You shiver, feeling his hand over your dress, the silk slightly puckering under his touch. He only smirks.

- You look absolutely stunning in this dress... - he leans closer so no one around would hear. - But I'd love to see you without it... - he whispers, his voice low and husky. His hand travels under the material of your dress.

You hold your breath when he suddenly lets go when the waiter appears with the first course. Chuck moves a bit away from you. The dinner passes you by exchanging the stories from summer and winter voyages with your families. Whenever he's done with his food, Chuck's hand always finds its way back to your thigh, either simply gently resting or caressing the material of your dress, not daring to try more for now.

After the dinner, he leads you to the park where your surprise awaits. Your eyes lighten up when you see a carriage with two majestic horses. 

- Hi.... - you say softly as you walk up to let them smell your hand and gently pet their cheeks. Chuck stares at you with adoration in his eyes as he watches you enjoy the horses.

- If i knew you'd love them so much, I would have booked a ride instead of a carriage. - he chuckles. - Come on, princess. Your 'royal ride' awaits. - he jokes, holding his hand out to you. 

You finally leave the horses and walk over to him. He holds your hand, helping you get in the carriage before joining you himself. Once he does so, the carter nudges the horses to start walking. Minding that it's September, Chuck pulls a blanket over your knees to keep you warmer. You two remain silent for a while, as you watch Central Park from the carriage, admiring how it looks in early autumn. Chuck's gaze is locked on you, as he's taking in your whole being, your persona, your appearance. He leans closer and whispers to you.

- You look like a young Queen Victoria in her carriage - his voice soft, his breath warm against your ear. The compliment makes you blush, awaking some fuzzy feeling in your stomach. Butterflies.

- Really? Well... she rocked green dresses, too. - you smile.

- Next time, instead of dinner, I'll take you shopping so you will get your very own Victorian gown. - he murmurs, his imagination already turning on. You chuckle and shake your head. 

- I'm not joking. I'd buy you her dress but... I guess you're a bit taller than her. You deserve your very own gown, not a second-hand one.

- Even when it belonged to the actual Queen?

- Even then. - he says, gently taking your chin between his fingers and turning your head so you can face him, kissing your lips. - You deserve the best.