#'right on front of my salad' vibes

[wraithsoutlaws]

dagger and dum dum trying to fuck but keep getting interrupted by cockroach getting into some shit on the other side of the apartment

[sosooley]

… and the joy we have tasted

get a room you two 

they pretend it’s not a date, because of Period-Typical Homophobia you know

it’s still a date though

[n0phis]

Scientology magazines?

i need a reaction image i can use for every single one of these asks. smth like this

someday ill make one and until then

huh

[andiftheycare]

Three different vibes.

[jerek]

Wait were you talking about j/a/a/kk/ola…

I mean. Quite possibly?

[catslvrr]

bound 2 (falling in love)

danielle marsh x fem!reader | one shot

Synopsis: Good news: Danielle has agreed to be your pretend girlfriend for Christmas so Haerin can stop extorting you of money. Bad news: Danielle is a bit too good at being a pretend girlfriend.

Contains: suggestive and threatening jokes, cursing, obligatory mistletoe scene

Song: Gingerbread Lover — Ivoris, Chevy

“I’m so screwed,” is what you say as you plop on the booth across from Minji.

She makes no movement to greet you, engrossed in some YouTube video titled ‘How Ceramic Tiles Are Made’. She’s never expressed any interest in tiles nor has any history with tiles, but this is not anything unusual for Minji.

She’s also playing the video at an uncomfortable volume, not necessarily on full speaker, but loud enough that the people on the next table over could hear and possibly be annoyed at.

You start digging into your chicken Caesar salad and smile to yourself in amusement as you spot Minji’s finished plate of it as well.

The two of you made a pact to eat healthier. Issue is, there’s this one dessert place two streets down that makes some bomb biscoff cookies, and you always catch each other there at least once a week. There’s a silent agreement that this does not break the pact.

You both sit in silence for a few more minutes until the video is finished — you eating and Minji watching.

Minji takes a loud sip of her hot chocolate when the video transitions to an obnoxious outro. “You were saying?”

You retell the story to her with a mouth full of food, and there are occasional offtopic segues, as there always are.

To sum it up: Your cousin Haerin is a force of evil and strangely has a good memory. Allegedly, you made a wager with her when you were both nine years old that you would get a girlfriend to bring home for Christmas when you turned eighteen.

And apparently, if you didn’t find one, you would have to pay her a hundred dollars.

Two things strike you as absurd: that younger you somehow thought you would be charming enough to get a girlfriend, and that younger you somehow thought you would have a hundred dollars just lying around to spare.

And for some reason, Haerin decided to never remind you of this wager until, of course, yesterday. You obviously didn’t believe her, but it was kind of hard to argue with Haerin.

Not because she’s good at arguing, but because she just stands there with this look in her eyes that makes you uneasy. So, you didn’t bother questioning her because you know there’s no escaping this fate.

So now, you have just a few days to find a girlfriend, because there was no way you were paying money. 

There’s also the matter of pride, too.

“Yeah,” you finish off your monologue. “I texted Hanni if she could be my date, but she just ignored it and sent me some TikTok of a stupid looking dog.”

Minji steals a piece of grilled chicken from you, to which you step on her foot under the table. You pull back your feet in time before she can return the favor. You get a glare instead.

“And Hyein?”

A notification ding stops you before you can speak. You lean forward to look at your phone. “Speaking of Hyein…”

Hyein’s text reads, I think I found someone for you! You two meet at the usual cafe at 12 tomorrow :)

“Okay,” you start. “Good news or bad news first?”

Minji thoughtfully chews on another piece of grilled chicken that she stole. Your plate of salad somehow now sits in the middle of the table instead of right in front of you. “Bad news.”

“Well I want to say the good news first,” you wave the fork in your hand dismissively. You’re pretty sure Minji mumbles “asshole”, but you ignore that as well.

“Good news,” you declare with a smile. “I found a girlfriend.”

Minji is unimpressed.

“Bad news,” you sigh. “I have to talk to said girlfriend who is a stranger.”

She is still unimpressed. “This is why nobody wants you. You don’t talk to anyone outside of us.”

“You don’t get it. It’s part of my mysterious vibe,” you grumble petulantly.

“Well, if you don’t want to socialize like a normal person,” Minji is folding a serviette into some sort of disfigured airplane. “Then consider paying Haerin that one hundred bucks.”

“I would never,” you fold your arms. “And even if I would, I can’t, because I literally only have 76 dollars in my bank account.”

You text Hyein back: you’re the BEST i love u so much xoxoxoxoxo

Minji tries to throw her tissue airplane at you, but it flops unceremoniously into your now empty bowl.

She sighs. “I guess I’m paying for lunch.”

“It’s your turn anyway.”

And that’s the end of the conversation, or at least the conversation concerning your predicament. You both spend the next hour babbling on about recent life updates and rehashing the same old stories over and over again.

“How do I look?”

You have your phone set upright by leaning it on this worn red panda plushie. Its head is permanently twisted after you and Haerin fought for it as kids and ended up ripping it in two, which led to your mom having to stitch it back together. She didn’t do a very good job, clearly.

You see Hanni, or what you think is Hanni, squint at the camera. “Like a bunch of pixels. The connection is so shit that you look like those wendigos from Until Dawn.”

“I’m sure you look fine,” Minji chimes in. This is the first time that she’s spoken since the call started (the call has been going on for half an hour), her camera pointed at her ceiling, and you’re pretty sure she’s half asleep.

“Thanks,” you say. “And I’m pretty sure it’s your WiFi, Hanni.”

You think she’s arguing back, but it’s all a garbled mess, and then the call drops. (It was definitely your WiFi.) You check your appearance one last time before you make your way to the cafe.

The cafe is named “Spill The Beans”, which you find appropriate, because that’s all you ever find yourself doing there. The walk there is a bit long, but the decent prices and good quality make up for it.

Plus, it means that most people would rather go to a cafe that’s closer, so this one has a bit more of a ‘if you know, you know’ vibe to it.

You’re also friends with one of the workers there, and she occasionally sneaks you a free pastry, or even better, gives you gossip about one of the regulars. You smile when you see her signature blonde hair through the window.

The cafe is decorated for Christmas — tinsel stringing on the top and bottom of the windows and cutely drawn candy canes and baubles stuck on the panes. There’s also a cardboard cutout of a snowman holding a coffee cup sitting next to the door. You hear the muffled voice of Mariah Carey.

Your entrance is announced by the light tinkling of the bells. You make your way to the cash register to greet a familiar face.

“It’s beginning to look a latte like Christmas!” Yunjin sings as she twirls clumsily, broomstick in her hand as a microphone. You are forced to stand there and watch this. For some reason, she’s adamant on greeting you with a coffee pun everytime you come in. She has yet to crack a smile from you.

“Stop it,” you groan, scanning the cafe and checking who’s in. There’s only four or five people in right now, most of whom you recognize. She holds the last note, with an unnecessary vibrato, for a few more seconds.

“So,” she leans toward you with an eyebrow raised. “Anything new or interesting you wanna share?”

“Asking for gossip?” You deadpan. “Is that how you take orders now?”

“Just curious,” Yunjin says nonchalantly. “You’re never here alone.”

You give her a scowl. “Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m here.”

There are some things that you can be sure of in life. You know how the saying goes: death, taxes, and Yunjin being all-knowing. She and her little army of spies (spies being her co-workers) are the most nosy people you could ever meet.

You’re pretty sure they consider eavesdropping as their main job, and that the cafe is just a means for them to satisfy their curiosity. (Again, an extremely appropriate cafe name.)

She grins cheekily, dropping her voice to a whisper and tilting her head. “She’s on that table.”

You follow her gaze to the table against the window, where a girl who seems around your age is staring outside like she’s the protagonist of a coming-of-age movie.

Yunjin slides you a slice of a carrot cake and winks. “On the house. Good luck!”

You grab the plate off the counter and slowly make your way toward your future fake girlfriend.

“Hi,” you clear your throat awkwardly as you slip into the seat opposite her. “Danielle, right?”

She enthusiastically nods and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You slide the plate of carrot cake towards her, to which she gratefully accepts. “Has Hyein filled you in on everything?”

“Hm,” Danielle taps her cheek. “Christmas party, a wager, and me as a fake girlfriend?”

“Sounds about right,” you hum. “Not to be nosy, but is there a reason that you’re doing this? I mean, you’re not getting anything in return.”

“Hyein did say she’d owe me a favor,” she answers with a hint of amusement. “Which I’m sure will come in handy one day. You’re also cute, so it’s a bonus.”

You internally wipe a proud tear. God bless you, Hyein. You make a note to get her something snazzy for Christmas. You were so thankful for Hyein that you didn’t even process the last sentence.

You then realize that you’re just spacing out and probably look a bit crazy, so you quickly clear your throat. “So, we should probably come up with our origin story and all that.”

“We should,” Danielle agrees.

You scratch your nape awkwardly before pulling out a notebook. You have this secret theory that notebooks are a hoax and people just pretend to use them. Which is a bit contradictory for you to say, because you’re using one right now. But you still hold onto that belief.

“So, when did we first meet?”

She seems a bit taken aback by the presence of the notebook, but her face quickly relaxes into a smiling one. “What are your interests? Maybe we share some and that’s how we met.”

“Actually,” you proudly flick to the back of the notebook. “I have prepared for this question.”

It reads: About Me

I like staying indoors

I go to the cafe sometimes

And that cookie place

Cats are cute

?

“Wow,” Danielle says after surveying your notes. “This is a very… extensive list.”

“Anything that can be used for our story?”

“Let’s just say we met at the cafe,” she decides. You nod in agreement.

“And who approached who first?”

“Definitely me.”

You frown and stop writing. “Why definitely?”

“I mean,” Danielle gestures at you vaguely. “We have to make the story realistic.”

“I hope you mean that because I’m too irresistible, not because I can’t talk to anyone.”

She smiles. “…Right. That’s exactly what I meant.”

“Excellent,” you say, continuing to pen down the story. “So, let’s say about three months ago, give or take, you entered the cafe for the first time. And then you saw me, sitting there all cute and pretty, and you knew you just had to ask for my number.”

“Right…”

“And because I’m never here alone, I’ll just say Minji was in the bathroom. I gave you my number, and then we instantly hit it off.”

“And Minji is…?”

“Oh,” you pause. “She’s a dumbass. Don’t worry about her.”

“Okay,” Danielle says slowly. “And our first date?”

“We’ll get to that in a sec,” you tap your pen. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I,” she heaves out as she bends down to reach into her tote bag. “Have also prepared.”

She slaps a folder on the table that resembles a police case file. You feel a sudden wave of affection crash over you. You immediately open it in anticipation.

It’s an in-depth profile of Danielle. There is the technical stuff, of course: name, date of birth, star sign, MBTI. Then, there’s the ‘favorites’ section: color, animal, season, time of day.

“Oh wow,” you run your fingers over the page. “This is more than I expected.”

You turn the page. There’s a ‘fun facts’ section, although you’re not sure if it’s considered fun. Example: “I once broke a tooth from trying to eat a rock. I also choked on it and my friend had to perform the Heimlich maneuver.”

“Oh wow,” you say again, louder this time, and out of concern more than awe. “Was this when you were a kid?”

“No,” Danielle blinks innocently. “Just last year.”

She is fucking insane. How on earth did Hyein find her?

The last page features results that she got from various UQuizzes, like “what romance trope is meant 4 you?” (ironically, she got fake dating) or “which ‘-core’ aesthetic are you?”

“I’ll make sure to study this when I get home,” you stare at the pages in astonishment.

“Sure,” Danielle smiles. “I was thinking our first date could be at the local arcade.”

A memory of Hanni breaking the buttons and joystick of a fighting game flashes in your mind. The joystick somehow flew and hit a worker in the face. To this day, you still have no idea how it happened.

Regardless, you always look back at the memory fondly, especially because Hanni didn’t even end up winning, despite putting her whole body into smashing the buttons.

“Haerin will know that’s a lie,” you grimace. “I’ve been banned from that place for three years now. Long story.”

She looks curious but continues anyway. “How about a classic dinner?”

“Hm,” you purse your lips. “There’s this amazing Korean restaurant that’s a 10 minute walk from this place.”

“And you’re not banned?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No. They make this amazing jjajangmyeon. I’ll have to take you someday.”

“Sounds good,” Danielle’s eyes twinkle. “I think that’s good enough for now. Anything else I should know?”

“The party is on Christmas day, of course. It’ll just be a dinner and some party games, nothing too serious. After the party, our work is all done!”

“And Haerin,” you hesitate. “She’s nosy. But not in an ‘asking questions’ way, but in a staring way. So we have to act really good if we want her to believe us. Like, a real couple and everything. Like-”

Her laugh cuts you off. “You can say PDA, it’s okay.”

You cough and turn to the side to hide the heat rising in your cheeks, but when you look out the window, you see an odd sight.

Across the street, on a bench, there are two suspicious figures sitting. Suspicious meaning wearing sunglasses, a coat, and a scarf despite it being hot today. Suspicious meaning Minji and Hanni.

No fucking way, you think. Those little fuckers.

“-you okay?” Danielle waves her hand in front of you.

“Huh?” You quickly turn back. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”

“I love physical touch,” she admits, although somewhat shyly. “So I’m okay with hugging and holding hands.”

“Good!” You reply stiffly. “Great. Awesome. All done.”

There’s a mix of confusion, concern, and amusement on her face. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes,” you slide your phone across the table before opening her file in front of your face to hide your embarrassment. “Let’s text in between so we get used to talking to each other too.”

The two of you exchange numbers and you watch Danielle leave with a smile and a wave. Minji and Hanni proceed to shuffle inside the cafe, sighing in relief as they take off their ‘disguise’.

“Oh my god,” Hanni whines, resting her cheek on your outstretched palm. “I thought I was gonna die outside.”

You retract your hand in disgust, but not before flicking her forehead. “You’re sweaty. And you deserve it.”

“So how did it go?”

You recount everything that happens. Minji makes you pay for her lunch. You now have 46 dollars in your bank account.

When you get home, you hug your red panda plushie and turn on your phone to see a text from Danielle. You spend the next few days talking to her, your feet kicking in the air and a stupid smile on your face.

The day of the Christmas party has arrived. It’s due to start at six in the evening, and exactly three hours before that, Haerin sends you nothing but an ominous text: I will be awaiting you and your girlfriend’s arrival.

You roll out of bed and get ready in the morning, and read through Danielle’s file one last time. You’ve annotated it, adding sticky notes and highlighting it, which is more work than you’ve done for the entirety of university so far.

You make sure to put the matching reindeer headbands that Danielle suggested on before leaving. You drive to pick her up and you try not to weigh the meaning of the warmth blooming in your chest as you see her.

“Hi girlfriend,” Danielle puffs her cheeks out and smiles as she gets in the car. It’s awfully cute.

“Hey.”

“Before I forget,” you reach over into the glove compartment to grab a little box. “I got you a Christmas present.”

Danielle gasps, eyes shining as she opens the box. It’s a gold necklace with a sun pendant. You remember her eyeing it when you went out to the mall.

You don’t expect her to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

She also takes out a little box from her pocket. “I also got you a present.”

God, she even prepared it with a nice ribbon. You unwrap it to find a silver bracelet with a moon pendant. You think you’re a tiny bit delusional for thinking that you two were meant to be, but you let yourself live in this fantasy just for today.

“Oh my god,” you grin. “We’re matching now.”

The both of you put on your respective gifts before you start the car. You instinctively pass her your phone to pick a song. Of course, she puts on Christmas music. You glance at her as she takes out her crochet supplies.

“What are you working on?”

“Nothing much,” Danielle says. “Just a little cat to add to your car. It’s kind of plain.”

Her thoughtfulness makes you feel an out-of-body experience where you want to scream your lungs out and melt into a gay puddle.

You manage to get out one word. “Cool.”

The two of you pass the time by quizzing each other and ironing out the fine details of your ‘relationship’. And belting your hearts out to Christmas songs.

The drive is only an hour or so, and there’s a tender feeling encompassing you as you truly realize that it’s Christmas. Spending time with family is always nice. Receiving presents is too.

You only see Haerin a few times a year, and Christmas is one of them. Despite your bickering and her foreboding aura, she’s still somewhat endearing.

Danielle looks out the window in excitement as you draw closer to Haerin’s house. There’s a large blow-up Santa set up on the lawn that they reuse every year, and a bunch of other generic Christmas decorations.

You can already spot Haerin in the window of the house staring at your car.

Pretending to check your phone, you mutter, “She’s watching us. Let me open the car door for you.”

Danielle only responds with a giggle. You dash outside the car in record time, open the back to get your cookies and presents, and open the car door for her, as planned.

She surprises you with a kiss on the cheek. You’re sputtering and blushing, and she has to drag you toward the house (and lock the car for you).

By the time you come to your senses again, Haerin has vanished.

You heave out a long exhale and your gaze flickers to Danielle. You find that her eyes are already on you. If there was a person who could embody the joy and comfort that Christmas brings, you think that it would be the girl in front of you right now.  

“You ready?”

Danielle brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. For a second, you indulge yourself in the yearning of your heart and pretend that this is all real.

“Of course.”

Inside the house is chaotic as always. Everyone’s rushing to finish wrapping gifts, preparing the food, putting plates and cutlery on the table, setting up the TV to play Mario Kart, the usual.

You take Danielle around to introduce her to everyone, and you feel slightly guilty as everyone fawns over her. Haerin is the last person you find.

“Haerin,” you say. She nods in acknowledgment. “This is my girlfriend, Danielle. Danielle, my cousin Haerin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Danielle gushes, letting go of your hand to hug her. “I’ve heard so many stories about the two of you and your adventures.”

“Don’t trust those stories,” Haerin says. “She probably changed it to make her look better.”

You whip your head around. “What the f-”

Danielle winks. “Don’t worry. I know how much of a loser she is.”

You take a deep breath in and force a smile. You must maintain the jolly Christmas spirit.

Haerin gives Danielle a once over before nodding mysteriously. She then stalks off to who knows where. Danielle looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

You pat her shoulder. “That’s a good sign.”

“That felt surprisingly easy…”

“Oh no,” you laugh. “We’re just getting started. They’re going to try separate us-”

With perfect timing, you hear your name being called before you’re dragged into the kitchen.

“Be a dear and help us with the food,” your mom says kindly. (You know this is a facade.) You accept your fate and place down the cookies before starting to cut the vegetables for the turkey.

You try to keep an eye on Danielle, who’s now putting ornaments on the Christmas tree with your other relatives.

The Christmas tree has been around since you were a baby, and if you look closely, there's pieces at the back that is slightly charred. Haerin pushed you, you tripped on your own feet, crashed into the tree, and it fell into the fireplace. Alarms went off, neighbors left the house in a panic, the firefighters were called… it was bad.

You strain your ears and try to hear what questions your family are asking Danielle right now, and you hope it’s nothing too over-the-top or personal. She seems to be taking it well though. Your aunt keeps bringing you new things to do and speaking loudly in an attempt to distract you.

“First girlfriend, huh?” Your mom nudges you with her shoulder.

“Yeah,” you laugh awkwardly. “I’m so lucky, right?”

“She seems good for you.”

You pause your chopping. “It’s only been five minutes, Mom.”

There’s a gleam in her eyes. “That’s all I need. And you finally have a reason to go outside for once.”

You roll your eyes and continue chopping. Your aunt comes in at one point, and together, the two of them grill you about the details of your relationship. The words fall out of your mouth just as you rehearsed.

It’s around half an hour later when you’re finally reunited. The dinner is delicious, as always, and it all feels so good.

The light squeezes on your arm, resting her hand on your thigh under the table, making sure you get the crunchy potatoes because that’s your favorite — it feels so good.

And none of this is real, but as you listen to Danielle bantering with your family, your feelings start to feel more real.

The realization sets your heart aflame, just like the fireplace once did to the Christmas tree.

You’re leaning on the kitchen counter, nursing a can of Sprite as you watch Danielle squeal over Mario Kart (she just got hit by a red shell).

Haerin joins you. She doesn’t announce her entrance but you can sense her presence.

“No money for you,” you smirk.

“No. I guess not.”

Hell yeah. Your bank account is safe. “What do you think of her?”

“She seems too nice for you.”

You elbow her ribs. “Be nice. It’s Christmas.”

“…I’m happy for you.”

“Oh Haerin,” you muster up a sweet voice and open your arms out for a hug. She grabs a knife and holds it in front of her. Nevermind. You take multiple steps backwards.

The race is over, and Danielle finishes in a whopping seventh place. She turns around and looks for you, and smiles when your gazes lock.

You tilt your head, and she tilts her head back in response.

“I’ll be back,” you slither out of the kitchen. “The girlfriend calls.”

You think you hear Haerin scoff but you’re too busy focusing on Danielle. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Oh,” you cough. “Sorry, I’ll show you the way.”

You try not to stumble as you hear someone call out “don’t run off and make out!” Thankfully, Danielle takes it well and isn’t weirded out.

You’re unsure if it’s weird to wait outside, but you do it anyway (from a respectable distance) in case she needs anything. When she’s done with her business, the two of you make your way back to the living room, and your worst nightmare (but also a dream deep down) comes true.

Haerin is standing there, with her stupid mischievous smile and Rudolph’s nose on, holding some DIY fishing rod. At the top of that rod hangs a mistletoe.

“Haerin,” you hiss. “Put that down.”

She closes her eyes and pretends she doesn’t hear you. It’s like everyone’s telepathic, because suddenly everyone has their attention turned to you, and they’re egging you on.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

This cannot be real, you think. This is some skit or a sick joke.

You turn to Danielle awkwardly.

“A cheek kiss will be enough,” you say apologetically. “We don’t have to-”

She cuts you off with a kiss — a chaste one, but it shocks you nonetheless. You can barely hear the cheers of your family over the pounding of your heartbeat.

Haerin eventually brings you back to Earth by smacking your face with the rod, and everyone’s back to doing whatever they’re doing.

“Sorry,” you see Danielle’s worried face as your vision starts to refocus. “Was that too much?”

“No,” you blurt out. “I’m sorry. Because I actually like you but I just realized that twenty minutes ago and I have to tell you now because I don’t want you to think that I’m using you-”

“I know,” she laughs, grabbing your hand to squeeze. “Me too.”

You blink. “Oh. Cool.”

“…So we’re real girlfriends, right?”

“Yes,” she pokes your nose. “We are.”

“Awesome! Because I was going to ask you to be my fake girlfriend again for New Year’s.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls you back to the living room, and you finally understand, for the first time, all the cheesy Christmas songs.

God bless you, Hyein.

[eshden]

right in front of my salad vibes

[starberry-cupcake]

I have made the most 2008 goth forum-like banner I could create to put my liveblogging posts of tlt under because those are the vibes I find appropriate and it gives me nostalgia. If this was 2008 blogspot, you'd be hearing something like HIM's Wings of a Butterfly, or something like that, please picture that.

previously, in gideon the ninth:

this happened

were we are now:

I forced myself to stop reading for the day so I could update a sensible amount and not a thesis length post nobody will read

it wasn't easy to force myself to stop reading

you know how it is

so, turns out that protozoa was dead all along (ish)

people here die and live and kinda live-die and die-live, you know

dulcinea del toboso soraya montenegro septimus was hiding that fact

she has also not mentioned exactly how he died (she said an accident??? harrow said he was stabbed?? what, he fell on a sword heart first????)

I am still not done with her

I still don't trust her

she's gonna die and I'm gonna still think she's scheming

ANYWAY

gideon DID suspect harrow

she had a bit of a crisis over it in front of palmolive's salad

palmolive reacts by taking off and putting on his glasses 25 times

and harrow had my exact thought process of "she's gonna go to dulcinea instead of me if she finds out"

I am very unnerved at how much my thought process and harrow's have aligned so far

very concerned for my mental state

ANYWAY (vol. 2)

palmolive says what I said, that it's not harrowcita's style to kill so sloppily

gideon tells palmolive her past trauma and how all the kids in the ninth except her and harrowbeth died and how she blames herself because harrow kinda had the childhood of asuka langley soryuu in evangelion but worse

palmolive does this

camilla, the moon to my stars, the woman of the year, my qp wife, brings in harrow with a handcuff

so, let me set the scene

there's a guy's head in a box, gideon has told palmolive her life story, and in comes camilla with harrow on a kid harness like she's a scary parent at disneyland

this is a sitcom

anyway, they all go to dulcinea's lair and have a talk with the group

I still kinda stan yandere twin ianthe (sp??), I'm not gonna lie you folks

she's ooky kooky spooky in a fun way

like, deranged (affectionate)

so, as usual, nobody agrees on anything and everyone fights and dulcinea coughs up a hairball

now, harrow and gideon go to the pool

which is salty now, much like gideon

my first thought was "gideon can't swim, she's gonna drown like sonic!!"

but they could stand in the pool apparently so it's fine

I mean, physically it's fine, EMOTIONALLY not so much

it's time to come clean, share trauma and also maybe flirt in the pool, if that's what's going on here

I think it's what's going on

it's hard to tell with them, but there's tension, proximity and hugs and stuff

basically, if I understand correctly, the ninth put all the kids in an infomercial blender and harrowbean was powered into life

but gideon is baby hercules and survived

which explains why she was turned into a blood sprinkler and the next day she was doing push ups like a maniac

I mean, it explains why she could physically do that, not why she thought that's the safe thing to do

so the ninth was like ?????? and feared gideon

and proceded to treat her like konoha treated naruto uzumaki

no adult person in the ninth was making sound decisions, it's what I'm getting at

case in point: ortus and his mom were blown to bits

also, very important

if I understood right, there's a frozen girl in the ninth's fridge tomb

a frozen girl like dr victor fries's wife nora in batman, or hyoga's mom in saint seiya, or han solo

ice cube frozen girl with a sword and chains and the vibe of this specific barbie doll from the haunted beauty collection

it's like if snow white was the apocalypse

you're gonna hate all my references by the end of this

I'm so sorry

there's a threat in a girl, in the ice, in the tomb, in the ninth house, that's the gist of it

and harrow has existential trauma because pretty much every person below the age of 18 died for her to live, so she wants to make it count

and gideon is hercules who comes from elsewhere and has the genes of a demigod or a kryptonian

but all of that doesn't matter, what matters is that harrow says the most metal phrase ever and goes: "I am a war crime"

?????? HELLO?????

and here's the thing (I have told you this @lady-harrowhark ), this is the book @ me every time I discover some truth and I look at my ebook's progress bar

if you're not completely annoyed, I'll be back tomorrow with more reactions to reveals

[cinnamon-girl-writes]

dinner dates ! jjk x reader series pt. 3/4

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

featuring: shoko, higuruma, mahito | see: part 1

ieiri shoko:

shoko is soooo lana del ray coded to me 🍒

so in my mind, she takes you to a fancy restaurant on the coastline

i know she has the salary of a school nurse but just hear me out~

she’s wearing a cream colored pantsuit with assorted gold jewelry

omg shoko is such a baaaabbbeeeee (respectfully) smash

anyways- you’re wearing a low-cut navy blue bodycon dress and your favorite jimmy choo’s that she got you for your birthday a few years ago ✨

she drives you there in her black cadillac ct5 with one hand on the wheel and the other holding a cigarette that she inhales from occasionally

when you get to the restaurant, she takes the car to the valet to have it parked and offers you an arm to lead you inside the restaurant

when you’re seated at you reserved table, after you’re served generous glasses of chilled dom perignon, you order only the finest foods: caviar, lobster, wagyu ribeye, and various other delicacies

your dessert assortment is even more lavish ✨

countless trays of pastries, cakes, fraises, and thing you can’t even name are set out in front of you; chocolate mousse cake, mini fruit tarts, serveral varieties of pudding, coconut cakes, lemon scones

all these shiny, expensive things, you think, but the only thing that matters is sitting right in front of you 💞

you pull a special surprise out of your pocket that you had been hiding excitedly all evening~ a 24 karat gold ring with the initials IS inscribed on it

you take your lover’s hand, slipping the dainty piece of jewelry onto her finger: “i love you, koko,” you explain, “thank you for sharing your life with me”

hiromi higuruma:

higuruma’s taking you to a lil steakhouse ✨

he just got off work, so he swings by your apartment to pick you up, still wearing his black suit-and-tie and white button up shirt

you’re wearing a fluttery red sundress that goes down to just about your knees with a little bow in the front 💋

his jaw absolutely drops when he sees you, his beautiful girlfriend, in that gorgeous dress !! he’s a lucky man 🥺

the drive to the restaurant is quiet, hiromi still trying to decompress from a stressful day at work

you make sure to tell him how proud of him you are, though because he works really hard 💞

the restaurant is super nice, the staff are friendly and the food is amazing!

you talk about all the things you’ve got going on in your lives right now

he tells you about the case he’s working right now, a divorce that’s fighting over custody arrangements

you tell him about your plans for the end of the year: visiting your mom in kyoto, your best friend’s birthday that was coming up, a new movie that you wanted to see in theaters

over all just very chill and domestic vibes 🥰

once you guys are done eating, he takes you back to his apartment where y’all get ready for bed (he lended you a pair of gray sweatpants and a black tshirt for you to sleep in)

you cuddle in his bed and watch grey’s anatomy until you both falling asleep, whispering sweet nothings and planting chaste kisses before you do ✨

mahito:

you can interpret this as canon mahito or human!mahito, whatever you prefer 🥰

so you and mahito are dating and are currently staying at a luxurious beach resort ✨

(i’m sorry i just couldn’t bring myself to write mahito at a restaurant because wtf 💀 there will be food in it though 🤷🏼♀️)

your villa is gorgeous, the warm summer breeze flowing through the open windows and linen curtains blowing about lazily

it’s huge, about six thousand square feet in total

but currently, you’re not inside the beach house; you’re laying by the shore, absorbing as much sun as you possibly can before you have to return to the city

your boyfriend is lying on the cot beside you, his arms folded above his head

the two of you had decided to order room service, so there were several trays of food on the little wooden table between you

there’s cebiche, orzo salad, intricately cut pieces of watermelon (you swear one looks to be in the shape of a familiar white-haired sorcerer), roasted chickpeas, and several other dishes you can’t name alongside two glasses of mai thai

you decide to try a couple options from the assortment, spooning a couple pieces into your boyfriend’s mouth that he eats reluctantly)

he does like the salad, though, claiming it has a ‘unique taste’ (you think he was just trying to make you happy by saying that)

as the sun starts to creep below the horizon, mahito rolls onto his side, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear

he leans over and plants a kiss on your cheek, then another one on your lips

as the two of you trudge tiredly back to your villa, mahito’s arm wrapped around your waist for support, he tells you how much he loves you and wishes every day could be like this 🥺💞✨

[nikethestatue]

Happy birthday to my bestie, my mate, my Elriel sister @tswaney17

I wouldn't have joined this fandom without her. So if anything, blame her! Jokes aside, I hope you have a marvelous year and meet your own stranger in the night. Please enjoy!

One shot

Summary: Elain Archeron is celebrating her birthday and happens to meet an enigmatic and mysterious stranger who upends her world

She smoothed her black bodysuit over her hips, though it wasn’t wrinkled and then tousled her hair, in what she hoped, was sexy, beachy curls.  

Anyone else would’ve told her that she looked great—well put together, elegant, and not trying too hard. But to her self-critical eye, she saw a slew of imperfections. Hips too wide, breasts too large, stumpy fingers...She could stand here all night and critique herself, but what would be the point? It was what it was, right? Some part of her though, liked what stared back. The black bodysuit hugged her in all the right places, and paired with strappy golden heels and some delicate gold jewelry, she looked...nice. Not quite her 31 years old. Her friends always said that she was a ‘young 30’. She looked about 24. But inside, there were days when she felt 78.  

Oh well. Time to go. That’s not to say that she didn’t want to back out of her solo restaurant trip about 25 times today. Internally, she’s been telling herself that she is too busy, too tired, too poor, and that staying in with a bottle of wine and pizza would be just fine. Another part of her wanted to get out. Even if she looked like a loser, dining alone. At least it was a Wednesday night—not the weekend—so she could theoretically make up a story of being on a business trip. Not that anyone’s going to ask. But she needed that security blanket for herself: “I am eating alone, because I am here on business’. Yeah, that sounded legit. She was a successful, professional woman, determined and confident, and she was on business in Chicago.  

She grabbed her clutch and headed out.  

It was a warm evening by Chicago standards. The middle of April could be blustery or it could be blistering. You never knew. Tonight was lovely, actually. Trees were in full bloom—white, pink, yellow, assertive red, purple, even blue—bursting in flowers of every shape and size along the streets of her neighbourhood.  

Beatrice was a quint restaurant in Fulton Market. Or as ‘quaint’ as a restaurant could be in the bustling, hipster corner of the city. She only knew it because she’d come here before with her stylish, popular co-worker, Morrigan. She recalled how Mor wore a pristine baby blue bodysuit, sky-high heels, and a sparkling silver belt studded with glittery gemstones. Mor’s hair was a waterfall of golden blonde, which cascaded sensually down her back. Her skin was flawless. Her makeup was perfection, and her nails the right shade of pearl. When they were seated, all the girls in the party immediately rattled off a list of things they didn’t eat, were allergic to, and ‘avoided’. Mor announced that she was ‘celiac’ in a tone that implied that obviously she was celiac! And then proceeded to order bread. When the waiter told her that bread has gluten, Mor said that ‘she was allowed to today’.  

Back then, she’d ordered something called the Straight ‘A’ Salad, not wanting to tuck into something juicy and fatty in front of everyone. It ended up being empty and unsatisfying. But she still wanted to go back there, because the other items on the menu looked good, the vibe was nice and not overwhelming, and the drinks were inventive. If nothing else, she’d get her full in alcohol. 

“Follow me, Miss,” the hostess beckoned her and she scurried quickly between tables, wanting to be seated as soon as possible. 

It was nice. The table was by the wall, and she could see inside the restaurant and out the window. She laid her clutch on the table and exhaled. She was here. She was in her place, in her chair.  

She made it. 

“Are we celebrating anything tonight, Miss?” the waiter asked, when he approached with the menu. 

“Oh no,” she laughed, “I am on a business trip.” 

“And do you have any allergies?” 

“No!” she stated decisively. No. She is going to eat what she wanted. No faux allergies for her. 

The drinks menu looked a bit intimidating. Lots of things with Mezcal and Elderflower and words like ‘smoked’ and ‘hibiscus ginger kombucha’. After discreetly googling what kombucha was, she gagged and decided on a Lemond Drop. Safe and sound. 

The waiter wasn’t exactly impressed by her choice, but she didn’t care. Instead, she ordered Cheddar Popovers with bacon butter, and green chili queso for appetizers. It harkened back to her California upbringing, where things were less formal, the food less complicated, and the loneliness less acute. She suddenly and desperately missed her sisters, who lived back home. She missed the sun, tacos, trips to Sacramento and the simpler life she had back home.  

Sighing, she sipped her cocktail and looked around. It was fairly bustling, couples and friends chatting animatedly, drinking their complicated drinks and laughing. But...she felt okay. Not amazing, but okay. It was peaceful.  

It felt peaceful until her eyes fell on a singular, solitaire figure of a man, who sat at the bar, with a drink in front of him. The reason she even paid attention to him was because he was literally breathtakingly beautiful. So handsome, her breath stalled in her chest. Big. So goddamn big, it felt like he was sucking the air into the vortex of a black hole that he’d created just by simply...being. He sat, unmoving, in a sharply cut suit and a white shirt, unbuttoned at his neck. The other reason why she looked at him was because he was staring back at her. Big, bold, unflinching stare. Those incredible, luminescent eyes almost glared at her, and she wished she’d know what colour they were. The man’s face remained impassive, but he continued staring, even once she’s averted her eyes and squirmed in her seat. And now, all she could feel was his stare, following her every move. It was suddenly hot, and she felt her nipples pop like tiny Whack-A-Moles beneath her bodysuit. Served her right for not wearing a bra! Jesus Mary and Joseph. Well, her evening was ruined just like that. Instead of being at peace with her lemon drop and her popovers, she was not being scorched by the gaze of this absurdly handsome man, and all she wanted to do was look his way and see if he was still looking at her. While she didn’t want him to be looking at her. But she wanted to make sure that he was. Oh, god. What. The. Hell. 

She was on the verge of fanning herself, before realising that she’d be looking like she was having hot flashes, and it was too early for that. Her nipples were hard as bullets and she was forced to cover her breasts with her folded arms, just to maintain some sense of decorum. As she ‘busied’ herself with her drink, she snuck a momentary glance at the man. He was still there, but no longer looking at her. Instead, he was on his phone, and a deep sense of regret and longing washed over her at once. 

He was interested in her for 23 seconds.  

That was it. 

But she supposed that for the most handsome man in the world to take notice of her for 23 seconds was sufficient enough. 

“Miss, your popovers,” the waiter stepped up to the table, placing one plate down in front of her, and then the other, “and queso. Please be careful, it’s hot.” 

The food looked fine, but somehow, she no longer felt particularly hungry. She wasn’t sure if it was because the man was no longer looking at her, or because he was looking at her before. Did she want him to look at her? No. No, she didn’t. He was entirely outside her comfort zone, with his piercing gaze and his unnaturally good looks and he was definitely a player, so there was no need for all of this.  

On her birthday, all she wanted was peace and quiet. She didn’t need smouldering men giving her the death stare. Instead, she forced herself to concentrate on her food. The popovers were light and fluffy and crispy on the outside, and the bacon butter was to die for. Sinful, but so, so good. 

She sunk into her seat, enjoying her cocktail and alternating between the popovers and then the rich, spicy queso. She was still deciding on the main course—penne with spicy vodka sauce? Slow cooked short rib?  

“Miss,” 

Her contemplation was interrupted by the waiter, who was holding a drink. 

“From the gentleman at the bar,” he said and placed the drink in front of her. 

Her mouth fell open. Whaaat... 

Timidly, she allowed her eyes to travel to the bar and sure enough, there he was. Staring. A small, secret smile touched his beautiful mouth and he inclined his head just a bit. She didn’t exactly know how to act in these situations. Was she supposed to drink the drink that he sent? Invite him over? Go over there herself? Ignore him like a total douche? 

Okay, first things first. She raised the pretty coupe glass to her lips and tentatively sipped the drink. Sour and smokey, with a touch of sweetness and heavy on lemon flavour, this was definitely a whiskey drink. And she didn’t like whiskey. But for some reason, she really liked this. She took another sip, a bolder one, and then glanced at the man. He was smiling, as he watched her drink, and when she swallowed, he winked at her. Approving? Enjoying watching her? Smug? Pleased? She wasn’t sure. But she... 

“Ready to order, Miss?” the waiter was back, and she absently said ‘fish tacos’ which isn’t what she even wanted, but she was too scrambled to come up with a better idea. “Very good,” the waiter chirped, and before he disappeared, she said, “can you ask the gentleman who bought the drink to join me?” 

Her throat was dry. Her underarms were sweaty. 

WHAT was she doing?? 

She never did anything like this before? Inviting strange men to eat with her? Never! 

“If he wants to,” she added quickly and the waiter nodded.  

God, please say no. Please. Please god, let him say no. I don’t want it. I don’t. 

There he was. Moving through the restaurant like the Angel of Death. Dark and tall and slim and muscular. Jesus. He was actually coming over! Oh. No. Nononononono. 

And then he was standing at her table, how own drink in hand. 

“I wasn’t sure if Whiskey Sour was the way to go,” he said—his deep, dark, raspy voice matching his appearance to a tee. "But it looks like I did well.” 

She swallowed hard and then muttered, “Is that what it is?” 

Yep, it sounded lame even to her own ears. 

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “First time?” 

Somehow, this made her blush. A simple question, and a correct assumption, but for some reason, it was laced with innuendo. 

Their eyes finally locked.  

Hazel. His eyes are a gorgeous greenish amber colour, spectacular like the rest of him. 

He took a sip of his drink and slowly dragged the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, swiping the droplet and that made her even sweatier than she was before. Soon she was going to be sweating like a sumo wrestler—which of course is the most enticing look a woman could sport.  

“No, I’ve had it before,” she finally managed to answer. 

He smirked a knowing smile. 

“Have you?”  

As he was looming over her and attracting way too much attention from the females of the species, and even some males, she all but ordered him, “you can sit down!” 

He smiled again, that smooth, secret smile, saying, “I thought you’d never ask”. 

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just watched him in silence as he slid onto a chair across from her.  

“Thanks for the drink,” feeling awfully uncomfortable, knowing she was not great at small talk, and completely out of depth with this man, she thought that this was all a pretty bad idea. What was supposed to have been a quiet and nice evening alone, was turning into...well, she wasn’t sure what it was turning into, but it was something.  

“You aren’t waiting for anyone, are you?” he asked, sounding curious. “I wouldn’t need to fight a boyfriend or something...I mean, I’ll win, but,” 

She huffed, and snorted a laugh. 

“So confident?” 

He shrugged, “pretty confident”. After a pause, he pressed, “so?” 

“No,” she blushed despite her best efforts to appear cool. “I am here alone. On a business trip,” she lied smoothly, grateful for having this little nugget in her pocket.  

He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, lounging comfortably. Suddenly, he said,  

“Nope. Try again.” 

Startled, she glowered at him, not knowing what he meant. All the while, as she squirmed in confusion, he casually drank his whiskey, watching her closely. 

“What,” she brought her glass to her lips and took a generous swig of the drink, “what do you mean?” 

“Only that you are not being exactly truthful,” he shrugged, and then grabbed a popover and swallowed the whole thing easily. “You aren’t here on any business trip.” 

“What?!” she exclaimed with indignation. “Excuse me! How do you know? What do you mean?” 

His eyes slowly slid over her bare arms, her chest, her neck, and again, she blushed like a fool, but there was no stopping her body’s reaction to this strange man. 

He was...enigmatic.  

“A beautiful woman like you, wearing something so elegant and understated,” 

Understated? Did he mean boring? 

“is not in Chicago on any business trip. So, that makes me think—if you aren’t waiting for anyone, and you are dressed up, then you must be,” he cocked his head, considering, “celebrating something? A new job? A birthday?” 

Most of his words rolled right over her head, because all she heard was ‘a beautiful woman like you’. He thought that she was beautiful? He? HE thought that?  

“What?” she asked dumbly. 

He chuckled, amused. “You are a little naughty liar, is what I am saying,” 

“You can’t call me that!” 

“Then don’t lie to me.” 

She bubbled her lips and finished her drink. Finished already? Shit. 

He noticed it too and motioned for the waiter.  

“Another drink for the lady,” he ordered. “And I’ll take another whiskey. And,” he thought for a moment and added, “bring us a bottle of champagne.” He looked at her and asked, “what are you eating?” 

“I think I ordered fish tacos,” she recalled, watching him in confusion.  

“Want to eat them?” 

“I dunno.” 

“Mind if I cancel them and order us steaks?” 

“Uhh...okay?” 

He did just that, telling the waiter that he’d pay for the tacos as well.  

Who the hell was this guy? He flicked his fingers and just got whatever he wanted. The waiter didn’t even question him! ‘Of course, sir’ ‘Whatever you want, sit’ ‘Right away, sir’.  

“So, is it your birthday?” he asked once the waiter ran to fetch the drinks. Literally, ran.  

“No.” 

His brows knitted together and he pursed his lips. 

Something about him and his look made goose bumps rise on her skin and she shifted under the table, crossing her legs. This guy and his unbelievable dominating bossiness were both scary, but also highly sexual. She knew that she was a bit of a submissive at heart, but that was mostly because she read way too many omegaverse books. But now, she was faced with a true Alpha. When they spoke of an Alpha Male, she suddenly became aware that she was in the presence of one. He wasn’t just tall, dark and handsome—even if he was a walking cliche with all of these attributes. But it was his undeniable, almost God-given natural dominance and superiority that she found so fascinating. And yes, so appealing as well.  

“It’s not your birthday?” he repeated. 

“N-no,” she bleated pathetically. 

He didn’t respond immediately, but only drummed his fingers on the table, and she noticed that his hands were scarred. Rather extensively. Burns, from what she could tell. Jesus. How did he get these? And both hands, too.  

“Lie to me again, and I will take you over my knees and spank that perfect bottom until you beg for mercy,” he warned, his voice impassive, his face unchanged.  

Her mouth dropped open and she thought that she was going to slide under the table and dissolve into a puddle. 

Was she supposed to cause a scene and slap him? Was she supposed to storm out of the restaurant? How does one reacted to being threatened by a spanking by a complete stranger? 

Also, he thought that her ass was ‘perfect’? 

“Let’s start anew, beautiful girl,” he proposed then, while she made silent gasping noises like a dying fish. 

The waiter arrived just then, and only that prevented her from fainting or screaming out loud. He popped the champagne bottle with flourish and poured both of them a measure, while also setting their cocktails down before them. 

“Don’t come back until the food is ready,” the stranger warned the waiter and the man nodded and left without saying a word. 

“What is your name?” 

She swallowed, but remembering his warning, she decided to go with the truth this time. 

“Elain.” 

“Gorgeous name,” he approved. “It suits you. I am Azriel.” 

“Azriel,” an exotic name for an exotic man. “Nice to meet you. I think?” she ventured and extended her hand to him. 

“Pleasure is certainly all mine,” he said, squeezing her hand in his huge, warm, powerful palm, watching her with strange, almost palatable hunger. “Whether you’ll receive pleasure from me or not remains to be seen,” he decided vaguely and she bit her lip, sensing that innuendo again and not knowing how to deal with it. 

The one time a guy was instantly interested in her, and he is a dangerous weirdo. Figures. Just her luck. 

He raised his glass and said, “Happy birthday, Elain! I hope it’s wonderful to you.” 

“Thank you. That remains to be seen, I think,” she said softly and they touched their glasses. She sucked the champagne quickly, and with a sense of foreboding and some kind of desperation. She had no idea where this was going, or what he wanted from her. But she wanted it to continue. At least for the duration of this dinner. 

“What do you do?” he inquired, dipping a chip into the queso, but instead of eating it, he held it out to her. She looked around, in some kind of futile hope that someone would save her from this, but there was no one. Only this stunning, somewhat insane man, who was feeding her chips and dip. 

“Come on, beautiful Elain. Open up,” he urged soft, his voice smooth and husky and so tempting.  

Numb, and only driven by the sound of that sensual voice, she opened her mouth and he gently pushed the chip inside. As she pulled it between her teeth, he brushed his finger over her lower lip and then brought it to his mouth and sucked. 

“More?” he whispered and then concluded, “more.” 

He dipped another chip and fed it to her again. 

“So?” 

“I am in marketing,” she answered, knowing in advance that hers was the most uninspiring answer in history. But she was more preoccupied by the fact that she was being fed chips by a strange man in the middle of a restaurant. 

“And you live in the city?” he asked further. “Please don’t even start with the whole ‘I am here on business’.” 

She sighed and admitted, “Fine, I am from the suburbs. But I work in the city. What do you do?” 

He didn’t seem too thrilled about her question and took his time eating the last of the popovers. 

“Do you really want to know?” he asked finally. 

“Yes, of course. Why not?” 

“You might not like it.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? What do you do? Kill people?” she joked. 

He smiled at her, but the smile was less of a smile, and more just a stretch of his lips. The smile didn’t reach his eyes 

“And if I am?” he wondered at last. 

She frowned and then it dawned on her and she laughed, “what? You kill people?” 

“Maybe.” 

A shiver ran down her spine and she gawked at him in shock. Until she dissolved in a flurry of laughs. 

“You had me there for a sec!” she wiggled her finger at him. “A+ for a perfect deadpan delivery! I am impressed.” 

He didn’t seem to be laughing, but he added, “but they were all bad”. 

She stopped laughing and nervously shifted in her seat. 

“Wait. What?” 

“You wanted to know what I did for a living,” he reminded her. 

As she processed his words, he just sat there, watching her intently. 

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed at last, realisation dawning on her, “it’s a scam, right?! You are one of those guys who pretends to be an assassin, or a millionaire, or in the CIA and then I fall for it, and in two months you’ll start asking me for money and I blow all my savings on you and then never hear from you again.” 

Shaking her head in disbelief she grabbed her napkin and then said, “thank you for the drink, Mr. Azriel. But I am not stupid. I appreciate the gesture—the razzle dazzle—but let’s part ways right here so that no one leaves here too traumatised.” 

He listened to her impassively and in the next moment, the waiter arrived with their steaks.  

She was hungry and upset, but she knew that she couldn’t stay here any longer and remain in his company. The whole thing was too bizarre and she didn’t want to get in trouble. And this man was clearly trouble. Or maybe troubled. Or both. 

“Azriel, I am,” 

“Sit,” he ordered, though his tone was soft. “You are safe with me. Don’t worry. But you did ask me what I did for a living,” he insisted again. 

“Well, when I did ask you, I didn’t expect for you to tell me that you are some kind of a killer!” she snapped, her voice rising. 

“I’d rather you didn’t yell,” he requested. “However, I wanted to tell you,” 

“Why?!” she exclaimed. “Don’t killers usually try and keep their profession,” she made a quotation mark sign with her fingers, “a secret?” 

“Normally, yes,” he agreed. “But, I want you to trust me and I felt that being honest is the best way to earn that trust.” 

“Trust me? Why? And,” 

“Because I want you,” he interrupted her and his tone was blunt, but calm. 

“Wha,” 

“I want you,” he repeated. “I saw you and you...well, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And now, I am obsessed with the idea of learning what you’d look like when I enter you. What sounds you’d make when you come on my tongue.” 

At that, the big steak knife fell out of her trembling fingers and she wondered if she was having some kind of out of body experience. An ‘episode’? She wasn’t prone to episodes, but hell, there was a first time for everything, right? 

He shrugged, and continued like this was a perfectly sane conversation they were having, “Sorry if this is a bit unorthodox,” 

An understatement of the century! 

“However, I am not one to mince words,” 

Another understatement of the century. 

“And when I want something, I go after it. And right now, I want you.” 

She made a gurgling sound, but he ignored it, then cut into his steak, and chewed slowly.  

“However, you don’t strike me as someone who sleeps around or who is used to the type of man I am,” 

Was any woman? 

“Therefore, I wanted to build a baseline of trust between us. Like I said, you have nothing to fear from me. I am simply a man, interested in a woman.” 

He was anything but, but okay. 

“So,” she finally found her voice which was lost somewhere in the bottom of her stomach, “telling me you are an assassin is your way of establishing a baseline of trust?” 

He looked at her hand, which was clutching a butter knife, her knuckles white, and smiled faintly. 

“I suppose so.” 

She reached for the bottle of champagne, but her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely grasp it. Smoothly, he took the bottle and topped off her glass. This was probably the worst idea—to continue drinking—but she couldn't think of anything else. 

“Why don’t you relax and eat,” he suggested. “The steak is cooked perfectly.” 

“I don’t think I am hungry.” 

“Nonsense. Lay down your weapon of choice, dig into your dish and relax a bit. Have fun. It's your birthday!” 

He then raised his glass and mused, ‘what should we toast to?” 

“Me remaining sane after this dinner,” she muttered under her breath. 

He laughed.  

“How about ‘to the future’? Because tomorrow with you is worth every yesterday I spent without you,” he said and she almost choked.  

He couldn’t be for real.  

No man talked like that. Ever. 

“Listen, I know I could a little blunt, but in my line of work, I have to move quickly and I typically don’t get many second chances. And I don’t want to miss my chance with you,” he drank his champagne and watched her attempt to concentrate on her steak. “And when I said that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I am being honest. I saw you across the restaurant and you kind of blew my mind. It happens, you know,” 

“No, it doesn’t,” she argued. “Only in romance novels.” 

“Okay,” he shrugged, “so we have a romance novel beginning, so what?” 

“It’s not real,” she insisted.  

“Well, while you think on that, tell me when I can kiss you, because I’d really, really would like to kiss you right now,” 

“Never!” she shrieked. “Stop talking like that!” 

She desperately needed him to stop talking. Stop using that sensual, deep baritone to say deliciously sinful things to her. Because if he continued, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. She kept trying to shield her breasts from him, since her nipples were achingly sharp, threatening to poke through the top of her body suit. And between her legs—disaster. She was flooded. Every glance at his strong, powerful hands made her wonder what they’d feel like between her thighs. What his soft lips would taste like if he did get that kiss from her. And every word he said just made her wetter and wetter. She feared she’d have a stain on her clothes once she got up from her seat, and the thought alone was mortifying.  

“I think you should let me kiss you,” he insisted, watching her intently. 

“No, I am not kissing you!” 

God, this steak was good!  

“How about this then,” he proposed slowly, “I scoot closer to you, and you let me play with your clit, while you eat, and then you come all over my hand. I pay the bill and we go to my place and I’ll continue making you come. Because all I want to do right now is kiss every inch of your porcelain skin, and fuck your soft, lovely mouth and watch my dick disappear between those rosy lips. And then you’ll come on my dick in your perfect pussy and ask for more, while screaming my name. And if you let me, I’ll fuck that gorgeous ass as well and will make you come from that as well. And then you’ll sleep in my arms and in the morning, we’ll go get breakfast.” 

She watched him in dull astonishment, her brain failing to work properly as she attempted to process his words.  

This really couldn’t be real. At all. No man, in the history of mankind, ever said words like these to a woman.  

Yes, he just sat there, with her perfect face and his perfect body, and waited. 

“And then you’ll go and kill some people at work?” was all she managed to say to his explicit monologue.  

She’s never been fucked anywhere, let alone her ass. So yeah. 

“Well, not at work. For work,” he corrected. 

“Uh uh,” she sighed. “And you are okay with me knowing about that then?” 

“Like I told you, I want you to trust me.” 

“Uh uh,” she sighed again. Then she set her napkin aside and told him calmly, 

“Azriel, it certainly has been an interesting evening. I thank you. I am not sure I’ll ever forget it, or you, but...I don’t think that I am the girl you need,” 

“All me to decide that,” he argued sharply. 

She chewed the inside of her cheek, before clarifying, “I suppose I choose not to be that girl for you.” 

“Why?” 

“I like my boring little life. It suits me. And you...you don’t suit me or my life.” 

She couldn’t even believe her own assertiveness. She was rarely like this.  

“It’s unfortunate,” he said sadly. “Forgive me if I offended you,” 

“Astonished, more like,” 

“Better than offended.” 

She got up from her chair and her knees felt soft and shaky, and for the first time she understood what ‘jelly legs’ were. She had jelly legs because of him.  

“Thank you for dinner. I better be going.” 

“I’d like to walk you to your car,” he offered. 

“I think it’s a bad idea. Besides, I am getting an Uber. I drank too much. Goodbye, Azriel.” 

She rushed out of the restaurant and onto the bustling Fulton Market, where there were hundreds of people milling around. Her fingers trembling, she got her phone out of her clutch and pressed the Uber button on the verge of hysteria now. She didn’t know where she was going even, so she pressed ‘home’ even though she knew this Uber would host like $60 at least. But she needed to get away. Away from here, away from him, away from making a bad decision. Very bad, terrible decision that she was yearning to make right now. 

3 minutes. 

3 minutes. 

Okay, she just needed to make it for 3 minutes out here, until the car came. 

She glanced at the phone frantically, over and over again, watching the little car move along the street diagram. 

Suddenly, a familiar scarred hand reached over her shoulder and grabbed her phone.  

“Wait! Give it back!” she demanded desperately. 

Azriel smiled at her and then typed something in her phone.  

“Now you have my number.” 

A text chimed, and he added, “and I have yours”. 

“We’ll never see each other again,” she promised. 

“We’ll see,” he said simply. 

Finally, Honda Civic! Blue! There she was!  

She bounced on her heels impatiently, hoping he wouldn’t do anything, and yet hoping that he would at the same time. 

Ugh. 

“Goodbye, Azriel,” she said again. 

He opened the door for her politely and before she folded herself into the car, he pressed his lips to the top of her head. 

“Happy birthday, beautiful. I’ll see you later.” 

-

Azriel ‘The Shadow’ Night had two problems on his hands. 

As he watched the Honda weave in and out of busy traffic, he lit a cigarette—an occasional bad habit of his—and inhaled deeply. 

Nothing that he told her was a lie. 

He did find her to be incredibly beautiful. And his attraction to her was instant and hit him like an avalanche. He’d never felt anything remotely like this before. He wanted her with every fiber of his being and know, innately, that their paths were crossed forever and for a reason. 

The only omission in his tale was that their meeting was not accidental. And that she was the target, who was his current assignment.  

Now, he needed to figure out how to murder her, while keeping her alive. 

[leviathanspain]

he’s got that fire

doctor strange x reader

synopsis: you have an unusual relationship with your mentor/boss, and when he asks you to be his date to an important awards ceremony, you can’t help but relish in his fire

a/n: stephen strange is so lana del rey coded omff, so heavy sad girl vibes. i haven’t proofread and it’s longer than any of my usual works i think.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he always told you how much of a gift it was for him to choose you. it was always like that, he chose you, like some god. that he had made your life better by choosing to be in it. he repeated that to you whenever you became ‘insubordinate’.

you never really argued though. you knew that it wasn’t ever the right thing to do, especially with someone so arrogant, you’d be wasting a breath and your career if you did so.

but you learned to live with his narcissism, he was the best surgeon in new york, and arguably in the states. his credentials are why you’ve never argued back.

this day was not any different.

“i said that we should do the shunt.” stephen stared at the films. he was cross, had been since the morning and was now profoundly irritated but hadn’t stated why.

“you’ll kill him. think about it, what if we do another approach in a few days? give him enough recovery time so that when you actually do the surgery, he won’t die on the table.” you explained your decision, but stephen had already stopped listening. he was shaking his head, clearly none of this was going as he wanted.

“stephen-“ you closed your eyes, already preparing to apologize for undermining him, when he shushed you. “i-“ you scoffed but didn’t say anything else.

“we’ll do it tomorrow. it’ll be the first surgery of the day, i want it to go well.” he recycled your idea, and turned around with a nod, “get me dr. palmer. i want her to be in there.” he demanded.

you looked up from your notepad and raised your eyebrows, “you don’t want me in there?” you were his student, his resident, you were assigned to scrub in on all his surgeries-

“no. i want dr. palmer. that is final.” he stalked over to the door, pulling it open and letting it shut behind him without another word.

you couldn’t lie and say you were disappointed. you had hoped that after last night, that you and stephen had finally come to an understanding. but this had just proved that he wasn’t capable of listening. and that he was still hopelessly in love with christine.

“dr. l/n.” a nurse had stopped you as you walked around, moping about stephen kicking you off the surgery. she handed you some papers, “dr. strange has requested you in his office. and he needs to sign these papers for the patient in 203.” she smiled thinly, clearly making you do part of her job.

you shoved the papers back, and stalked off.

you had swiped a salad on your way to his office. you had learned from the first few times that stephen requesting you in his office was like attending a lecture, all about him. and you wouldn’t starve if you were going to be stuck there.

you knocked on the door once before pushing it open. stephen was sitting at his desk, an untouched piece of salmon and greens was in front of him. he didn’t even look up when you walked in.

“what’s up?” you set your salad down, including some of your patient files. you took the chair opposite of his, and cracked open your salad.

“i hate it when you speak like that.” his eyes remained glued to his computer screen.

you looked up, rolling your eyes, “one of the nurses said you requested me? might i inquire why or are we just going to stare at each other and pretend like last night didn’t happen?” you were angry.

he could tell.

your voice shook with a twinge of rage that only he could be the reason behind. it was always the same twinge, it was the same twinge earlier when he had requested christine for the surgery.

his eyes broke away from the screen for the first time since you had walked in. he stared at you, as if trying to calculate this moment in his head. he paused, silence taking the both of you as he stared into your eyes.

“i- i didn’t want to have to do this-“ stephen sighed, “we’re at work. when we’re working, i’m your boss, you are my resident. we can talk about us, later.” he sounded so professional that if you didn’t know him so well, you’d probably throw yourself on the floor and beg for forgiveness.

“just tell me why you picked her over me. that’s all i want to know.” you challenged, your eyes boring into his.

stephen scoffed, “i chose dr. palmer because she is a more experienced surgeon than you. you would just-“

“fuck it up?” you finished his sentence and rolled your eyes, “if you don’t have faith in me than that is a reflection on your abilities as a teacher, as my mentor.”

“no it is not. because if you actually did what you were told, you would be on your way to making an incredible surgeon. but you aren’t. you’d be mediocre at best.” his words cut hard. he hadn’t blinked, and you didn’t dare to look away.

it was weakness to look away. you had to be able to continue to stare him down, if he was going to listen to you.

“i do exactly as i am told. last night was the perfect example of that, wasn’t it, doctor?” you raised your eyebrows and incredibly, stephen broke the eye contact.

“get out.” he returned his gaze to the computer screen and you were taken aback.

“what-“

“i said get out. get your shit, and get the fuck out of my office.” stephen didn’t hesitate to yell at you, which made you want to cringe.

you stood up, sighing as you collected your things, you had almost made it out when you stopped, hand lingering on the doorknob, “this is why christine left you. you’re a fucking asshole, and no one will ever love you.” he had turned, but you had already left before he could yell anymore.

you knew you shouldn’t have slept with your boss. clearly, as you sat at home instead of scrubbing in on a surgery, that it wasn’t working out well.

you had left the hospital after your little outburst with stephen. your pager kept going off, but you had ignored it since they were all from, unsurprisingly, stephen. you tossed and turned in your bed, not having the energy to do anything else.

he had ruined you. he had ruined you from the moment you had entered the program.

but yesterday, he had really ruined you. he ruined whatever perfect balance the two of you had. you knew him, and he knew you, but now you were too involved, too emotionally attached.

you couldn’t even curb your jealously. it wasn’t about your abilities or her abilities, it was the fact that he wanted his ex-girlfriend to scrub in with him, and not you.

stephen stared at the wall. he had been staring at it since you left. assumingely, you had gone home. all of his pages went unanswered, and he knew that he had really, really fucked up.

there was a knock at the door and stephen turned, “come in.” he had hoped it was you, but he never had to welcome you in. you’d always just waltz in, carrying food and random case notes.

“i’ve been looking for your resident all day. i heard she’s the expert on the case?” dr. palmer had graced his office for the first time in a long time. stephen didn’t have the best poker face when it came to surprises, and he couldn’t hide this one.

“uh-“ he laughed slightly, blinking as he focused on her, “yeah she wasn’t feeling well today. she might’ve gone home but the case is at the nurses station.” he didn’t smile, he never did at her anymore.

christine nodded, “hey, stephen.. why did you ask me to scrub in with you? if you already have a perfectly capable resident-“

stephen shook his head, “i- i just wanted you there. i don’t know why- but,” he shrugged, “i cant trust residents, can i?”

christine laughed awkwardly, her attempt at trying to get out of this was already shot to the ground, so she just exited.

you wanted to quit. you had spent all night practicing how you’d do it. you were going to go to his office, set the resignation letter down on his desk and walk out without saying anything.

but you couldn’t even gather the courage to print your letter out. you had left the paper jammed in your printer, half inked, as you left to go to work.

“good morning.” stephen greeted you at the nurses station. it was time for the early mornings rounds. you nodded, but didn’t say anything as you walked off.

stephen chose to ignore the fact that you ignored him, and walked after you, “i am going to need any and all case notes on that patient today.”

you scoffed, “why? you never read any of my notes.” which was true. he always thought your notes were just annoying little scribbles.

“they’re for dr. palmer. she requested that she get any notes relevant to the surgery today.” he responded.

“oh, okay. i’ll drop it off at your office along with all the respect i have for you.” and you turned a corner, leaving him in the dust for rounds.

you were sitting in the cafeteria, head in your hands over your tray of food, you hadn’t even noticed the people gathering around your table.

“dude- long time no see.” you looked up to see one of your old friends that you had met during your internship, thalia. before all of this, before him.

you smiled, a real one in a long time, “we’re residents. we’re lucky if we even have clean underwear.” you joked. she smiled, “i heard you’ve been working closely with dr. strange. how is it? he’s got the hands of a god, you know.”

you blinked, almost happy to be able to get through a conversation that wasn’t plagued by stephen strange.

you blinked, hesitating with your words until it all came spilling out. “we slept together. multiple times.”

thalia’s jaw fell, practically hit the floor as she stared at you in disbelief.

“and we’re fighting right now so i’d really love it if we could just move on-“

“dr. l/n.” you turned at the sound of that voice, abruptly ending your conversation with your friend, you couldn’t hide the shock on your face to see stephen standing in front of you.

he never came to the cafeteria. he was always too good for it, and it was evident that even just his presence was shocking enough. all other conversations seemed to quiet down to complete silence.

“stephen-“

“you’re scrubbing in. dr. palmer has another surgery that will run late so-“

you nodded, “understood.”

your unwillingness to say anything more was evident, and stephen would not open that can of shit right in the middle of the cafeteria for all the underachievers to hear.

he nodded, leaving as quickly as he came.

you stared at his hands moving gracefully in the patient. he was a god, it was clear in his work, that’s why he was the way he was.

“suction.” you immediately brought down the tube in your hands, sucking at whatever he pointed at.

his glove caught on the tube, the air trying to suck up his finger. he pulled back, just as you pulled the tube away.

“oh my go-“ you stared at the tube, and turned back to stephen. he raised his eyebrows just as you dipped your head back to laugh.

stephen looked around at the rest of the staff but didn’t say anything as you finished laughing by yourself.

you let out a sigh, your laugh turned into a quiet chuckle, even as you met his eyes, you still couldn’t stifle it.

“i’m sorry.” you apologized, “that was unprofessional and it won’t happen again.” you blinked, head bowed as you waited.

but stephen didn’t say anything, he looked up to stare at you once before going back to work.

stephen asked you to meet him in his office after the surgery. you had to practically throw yourself up each step to get to his office, exhaustion weighing heavy on your bones.

you didn’t even bother to knock this time, you just pushed the door open and dragged yourself in. stephen was sitting at his desk, but he had the case files in his hands.

he looked up once he saw you, and you took a seat across his desk. “you wanted to see me?”

stephen nodded, throwing down the case files, “this is good stuff.”

you blinked. hardly did stephen ever freely give compliments. you had thought you were the worst resident until he had called you “okay” once during an assistive surgery. another surgeon had said that meant you were good.

clearly stephen knew what you were thinking, and he grimaced, “christine suggested i read them.” you hummed in acknowledgment, “and she also told me to apologize.”

you looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“i am sorry for not calling you, or texting you after..” he mumbled off, “and im sorry for kicking you out of my office, it was rude and i am so-“ he faltered and you sighed, standing up.

he watched as you strode over to his side of the desk, hips swaying in your tight scrub pants. your hand gripped the leather of his desk chair, pulling it back as you positioned yourself on his lap.

stephen watched you carefully, watched as you dragged a finger across his cheek, smiling coyly, “i accept your apology, stephen.” you hummed again, “and i am sorry for what i said.”

stephen held your hips, his large hands tightening around them so you wouldn’t fall. “it’s okay. it’s okay.” he assured you, hands moving to caress your neck, he planted a kiss on your collarbone, just underneath your scrub top.

you shivered at the contact, but you were eager for more. stephen was hardly affectionate, especially at work. it made you wonder how it all even happened in the first place, as he was always so clipped with you.

stephen kissed your neck, sucking hard on the skin that you were sure they’d bruise.

“come away with me.” he whispered, “put on a slutty little dress and come away with me tonight.” he gripped hard on your hips, and you laughed, “what? where?” you were surprised he hadn’t mentioned anything about a trip to you.

“i was nominated for an award in california. the ceremony is tonight and i was hoping that you would accompany me.” he didn’t smile, but there was a hint of one.

“publicly?” you drew your brows together, hand on his shoulder as you looked into his eyes.

“well- people would only assume that we work together. but yes, publicly.” he nodded, and you felt your stomach drop to your ass.

“uh-“ you scoffed, “yeah. sure, i’ll go.” you couldn’t hide your hesitation. the last person that stephen ‘worked’ with was christine, and people would notice.

stephen nodded, “okay. i’ll see you tonight, kid.” his lips brushed past yours as he planted a kiss on your cheek. “tease.” you commented, gripping his shoulder as you hopped off his lap.

“i’m the tease?” he grabbed your wrist and you looked at the tent in his pants. a laugh escaped you, even as you strutted out of his office.

waiting was unbearable. you found yourself glancing over to the clock hoping hours would roll by until it finally did, and you were gathering your things to head home and prepare.

stephen said that he had arranged a private flight to california, and that he and a driver would be at your apartment by 8.

“are you out of here?” thalia, standing at the end of the hallway, broke you out of your thoughts, “i heard you’re going with strange to that ceremony?” you nodded, as you met her at the end, you couldn’t hide your smile.

she nudged you, smiling, “aw im so happy for you. especially after we all thought dr. palmer would go with him.”

your smile fell immediately and you stepped back, “what? why would you think that?”

thalia shrugged, “because he asked her. i heard them in the attendings lounge, when i had gone to find my-“ she continued to ramble on but you had stopped listening. you walked past her and slammed the double doors open. she called your name, but you were already in the wind.

all you could do was practically run out of the hospital, dashing past the front desk and out the doors. you panted, feeling the ache of a sob in your chest. you walked now, breaking down in tears on the way to your car.

how could he have asked her, before he asked you?

you realized you couldn’t go home now. stephen would be there soon to pick you up, to take you to an event that you weren’t supposed to be at.

stephen paced the apartment lobby. your doorman said that he hadn’t seen you since the previous morning. your car hadn’t been parked in its designated spot either, evident of your absence.

“fuck..” stephen muttered, his fingers breezing on the screen as he tried to call you. thing was, you always called him, never the other way around so he couldn’t remember the numbers to even dial.

he scrolled through his call list but it was a sea of unknown numbers, and stephen didn’t remember the last time you called.

stephen walked back up to the doorman, “can i go look in her apartment?” the doorman raised his eyebrows and stephen sighed, “i’m her bo-“ he paused, unsure of what to call himself, he grimaced, “i am her colleague. i just-“

the doorman nodded, there was a look on his face as he looked at stephen up and down, “yeah..i know who you are.” as he spoke stephen realized that it was disdain that this doorman held for him.

but as the doorman let stephen up, he didn’t even care how you talked about him, it was that you talked about him at all.

the apartment was messy. of course it was. you were a fifth year resident who clocked in more hours at the hospital than all the combined time spent at home. but it wasn’t dirty messy, it was a barely moved in, hadn’t had time to unpack messy. the stack of broken down boxes in the corner was evident. he pursed his lips at the sight, but continued in.

your bedroom was close, he could see the edge of a mattress through a cracked door. it was barren, besides the bed and dresser, it was filled with packing peanuts and a box of hospital scrubs. he hummed, stepping out and deciding to check out the next room.

he pushed the door open, revealing a very organized office space. there was a long desk along the wall, a chalk board took up the entirety of another wall, medical scrawl was all over it. pictures of anatomy were hung up, including unknown jars of specimen.

stephen was more than intrigued, he was impressed. the rest of your apartment was messy, barely lived in, but your work was your life, and your office was clear of that.

he trailed towards the desk, a dim light shone from your desktop, and he nudged the computer mouse to turn it on.

dear stephen,

i am writing to formally tender my resignation as a fifth year resident under your tutelage…

there was a mix of worry in his mind that he hadn’t felt in a long time. the rest of the letter was just professional bullshit on your decision to leave him. you weren’t leaving the hospital, you were leaving him.

but he had to get the truth.

it had been hours since the award ceremony. hours since it would’ve started at least, looking at the clock, you knew that it was time to return home.

stephen probably didn’t even make it to your house, since you hadn’t received a single call. the area you had gone to, outside of the city, still got decent cell service, so you knew he didn’t even try.

you no longer felt the rage of being overlooked in your career and in your relationship, all you felt was the regret of believing him. you tightly gripped your steering wheel, and silently drove back home.

stephen waited silently. he had looked through your pantry, trying to find something to snack on until your arrival; he knew he’d be there all night.

but didn’t take anything, deciding that he wasn’t even hungry, just restless and angry, and as soon as he heard keys jingle at the door, he stood up.

“stephen.” you were breathless, your hand was clutching hard on your doorknob as your bag hit the floor. it landed upright, but you pushed it to the side with your foot. stephen didn’t move, watching as you cautiously stepped forward.

“what- what are you doing here?” you swallowed thickly, hands feeling clammy against the rough fabric of your hospital scrubs. you looked at him up and down, eyes lingering on his sharp suit, hands positioned at his side. “i’ve been waiting for you.”

you nodded, “i’m sorry if you missed the award-“ you felt your voice shake, afraid of how this confrontation would proceed. you kept your eyes glued to the floor, afraid to look again into his striking face.

“you think this is about that?” he scoffed incredulously, his eyes narrowing at you. you could just feel the edge in his voice, it was the same edge that had haunted you nearly all of your residency.

he took your silence for shame, and continued, “i found your letter. when were you planning to hand it in? hmm? after you assisted on a major surgery or after i was presented with an award with you by my side-“ it was your turn to scoff. you looked up, walking towards him at a speed that had you now nose to nose.

“you think that i’m proud of being second choice?” your voice broke, and you sighed, knowing just exactly how this would end. stephen’s face fell, and he looked speechless at your emotion.

you inhaled a breath, trying to calm yourself down as you fought to say your piece. “i- i had to hear from thalia, of all people, that you had originally asked christine to be your date tonight.” you felt a tear fall down your cheek, “you come in here, into my apartment, look through my things and accuse me of what? riding your success?” you spat, your voice still wavered, but you carried on, “i’ve had to be second to the greatest love of your life. and i will not continue to be.” you sniffled, looking at stephen right in the eye, “i quit. i don’t ever want to see you or that fucking hospital again.”

stephen was absolutely wordless. he didn’t even know what to do with it, and as he watched you strut down the hallway to your bedroom, he found himself following you.

you sniffled, and noticed he was right on your trail, “get out, stephen. get-“

he stayed firmly planted, and instead raised his eyebrows, “christine is not the greatest love of my life- i thought she was.” you rolled your eyes, not wanting to hear his speech, “until i met you. and i’ve been selfish. i’ve been keeping you from your potential. so you should quit, be a better surgeon under someone who-“ he faltered, and his features softened, “who doesn’t love you.”

you felt your face get hot as you tried to speak. stephen strange just told you he loved you…

“it’s okay.” he stepped forward and you found yourself stepping into his embrace. he kissed your forehead, “it’s okay.” he repeated, assuring that it in fact, was okay.

as bittersweet the moment was, you had to release all of the truth, even if you knew it would only hurt him more.

“i love you, too.” you whispered, hands gathering up his suit fabric, gripping it tightly you didn’t want to let go. but he didn’t say anything, the two of you continued to hug until you practically fell asleep in his arms.

[one-piece-aus]

Unbottle Your Emotions

Eustass Kid x Reader (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2 Ahoy, here with Part 2 of this series. Quick A/N that if Apoo is ooc, I don't care. This story is about Eustass Kid :3 Enjoy ^-^

"Yo yo yo! How are my favourite non-party people doing?"

"Hi Apoo," you greeted the DJ who slung his long arms around you and Hawkins.

Apoo's the extrovert friend that adopted you and Hawkins. At first, you didn't understand why he decided to hang around you guys until he admitted he felt excluded by the social crowd in school. You and Hawkins had let him be a part of the conversation and he liked being around you guys after getting to know you. He invited both of you to a few of his parties but then realized you weren't party people, hence the nickname.

"Greetings Scratchman, are you planning to join us for lunch?" Hawkins asked Apoo while you closed your locker.

"You know it," Apoo replied and took his arms off your shoulders, aware you didn't like physicalness for too long. "Where we heading?"

"We're going to the vegan restaurant Hawkins wanted to try," you answer as the three of you head out of the school.

"What?" Apoo look at you dumbfounded. "I thought you didn't like that stuff [N/n]."

"[Y/n] had been partnered with Eustass in English and their last conversation left her not wanting to face the redhead again, so she asked me to get her stuff and we're going to the restaurant as her returning the favour," Hawkins explained to Apoo.

"Oh, you're partnered with Kid?" Apoo looked to you for a response. Seeing you only nod, made him switch topics. "... Hm, to the restaurant we go. What's going to be served there anyway? Salads?"

"You are aware vegans eat more than just vegetables," Hawkins stated with an unamused expression, though to those who pass by, he still kept the same face.

"My bad." Apoo held up his hands in defence. "But you can't blame a guy for thinking vegans just eat rabbit food."

Hawkins would've glared at the DJ if not for you giggling, seeing you amused made him let it slide for now. "Rest assured, there are a variety of dishes you'll be able to choose from."

"We'll see about that," you said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yo, the coconut cheese nachos were da bomb!" Apoo exclaimed as he exited the restaurant. "Who knew vegan food taste so good!"

"Ehhh, I still prefer my burgers," you teased the blond who held the door.

"I'm at least grateful you gave it a try, even if it was for paying back a favour," Hawkins said, letting the door close and joining your side.

"Yeah, yeah." You waved it off.

Your mood has picked up since this morning, practically forgetting what had happened in the first place. You suppose you could thank Apoo for his infectious upbeat vibe. Despite how annoying he can be, it's nice to have someone who can distract you from stressful things in life.

"Next time I'm picking where we eat!" Apoo declared walking backwards in front of you and Hawkins.

"Sure, do me a favour sometime and we'll go." You smiled. "Just as long as it's not you trynna sneak us into a club with a bar again."

"Aw right!" Apoo threw his arm up. "Trust me guys when I say, you are gonna love- Oof!" He stumbled forward when he bumped into something, or rather, someone.

"Watch where you're going," a blue-haired guy said.

"Yo-" Apoo turned around, his defensive mode switched on. "Maybe if you didn't stand around blocking the sidewalk I wouldn't have to," he "countered".

You deadpanned, it's not the first you've seen Apoo puff his pride to where you can hardly tell the difference between him and a barking chihuahua, it just gets old after so many times. Perhaps this attitude of his is the main reason he's excluded from the social crowd at school. Though, it never bothered you much since you knew it wasn't real beef, and Hawkins... tolerated it? Well, he never brought it up so you can only assume as much.

Hawkins rolled his eyes and passed by the two. "Leave it, Scratchman."

"Come on, Apoo." You walked by him and patted the other's shoulder. "Sorry about him."

"Yo, can't you see I'm not the one at fault here?" Apoo questioned you guys.

"People who don't watch their surroundings get killed." The guy glared at Apoo, and that's when you recognized who this guy was. He's Heat from Kid's gang, which means the rest are nearby.

No... no no no. You already didn't want to bump into Kid again, being in range of his anger is so much worse. The thought alone caused stress to weigh on your mind. Haistly, you spun on your heels.

"You threatening me or some- hey!" Apoo didn't finish when you grabbed his arm and scrambled to get away. "Ayo, what gives [Y/n]?"

"Go. Go! Before-"

"What's the going on here?"

Fear ceased your haste, and colour drained from your skin. You knew the voice belonged to Kid before you turned around, though it didn't surprise you that the rest of his crew followed in company. Seems like they came out of one of the restaurants.

"Nuh- nothing! My friend just accidentally bumped into your buddies, sorry about that." You bow to show your respect as you apologize, nudging Apoo to do the same.

"What? I ain't apologizing." Apoo frowned at you.

Kid got ready to pick a bone when he saw you throw a deadly glare at Scratchman while gripping the guy's arm and not two seconds later it had Scratchman saying sorry. He eyed you, intrigued, the actions you just displayed shined a different side of you he had not seen in English class. You gave off the impression you were an academic scatterbrain, then he found out you listen to metal which confused him. You seemed too submissive and agreeable to be into something so hardcore. That glare you threw at Apoo told another story. You were strange, he couldn't figure you out. Perhaps there's more to uncover.

Kid narrowed his eyes at you as if staring at a puzzle. "You should hang out with other classmates, [L/n]."

"It's not like anyone else wants to be around me," you muttered to yourself, not knowing Kid picked it up. "We'll be leaving now, have a good day Eustass." You flashed a soft smile at him.

Little did you know the effect your smile would have on Kid would start something.

[samuelbennett]

why is this so funny and endearing to me, in front of jeremy’s net and everything. gives “right in front of my salad?” vibes.

[myobsessionsspace]

hi i need to say this to SOMEONE 😭 but the general fandom is soo weird about jikook. whenever i see tiktoks the vibes of the comments are so different when its jikook. its so normal to see stuff like "thats his baby" "soulmates" "they love each other so much" "i love them together" when its abt any other pairing but for jikook tiktoks its just comment after comment of people emphasizing the word friendship. like fandom cannot interact w jikook content unless they make sure EVERYONE KNOWS that theyre JUST FRIENDS and i do not see this with other pairings and i do not understand why

Hi Lovely,

You can always come say things here 🫶

It’s crazy because I was just talking to a friend today about something similar!!

I was saying to her that I don’t even want the general public or all of the fandom to ship Jikook. I just want them to acknowledge them as close.

To be honest there are unhinged shippers in everytime subsection, Jikookers included. It’s understandable people that want no parts in shipping because it can go really left of the field, from the hyper feminisation of Jimin, the hyper masculinisation of Jungkook, the a/b/o tropes that people want to fit into everything they do, the hyper sexualisation of them, trying to make their every breath about the ship etc.

It’s understandable that lots of people want to just enjoy the members without all that extra.

What’s not understandable is the total erasure of Jikook even being BFFs, the super focus on certain duos that are not as volatile territory like ‘woah, thighs’, and how it’s fun to trend ‘rapper’s girlfriend’ but crickets from the fandom as a whole and only real noise from jikookers when ‘Jimin Hyung can handle it’ ‘I’m not that easy’ happed in front of our salad?!

That’s not US taking it there, that’s THEM 😩

My friend and I were saying that there are people that do see more when it comes to Jikook but because there aren’t enough big spaces that embrace the unique aspects of Jikook they try shipping spaces, but it’s not for the weak hearted. Some just see Jikook as interesting but not down to the #jikookisreal level and so when they dip their toes in they dip right back out.

Becca aka @wingzie did a post on how there are more jikookers than we may have thought:

I do get you anon, but I’m not so bothered if Jikook were to be acknowledged as ‘just friends’, heck I rarely see Jimin and Jungkook’s names in the same sentence unless it’s with the inclusion of other members or their musical records.

To be real, I care more that they’re not acknowledged as BEST FRIENDS, as closer than close. I see a lot of ‘that’s his baby brother’ ‘that’s just Jimin, he’s like that with all of them’, don’t even get me started on the pass around Jimin narrative that some use 😑.

I too see on a whole some actions that Jimin & Jungkook do that jikookers think is just for Jikook that truthfully isn’t, that can be seen with all seven. More jikookers do need to start dispelling those misguided Jikook lores in addition to dispelling anti Jikook narratives.

BUT I also see when there are things just Jikook that get skilfully ignored.

It’s super frustrating but at the same time it’s not. Because, really, do we want millions upon millions trending every little thing about Jikook if they are real and not explicitly out? I’d rather have the ones that can’t see anything because they have underlying prejudices to stay not seeing anything, because do Jikook need those kind of eyes on them?

Maybe a smaller bubble of jikookers being convinced and spotting their moments, in comparison to the fandom as a whole acknowledging something different with Jikook vs other ships, allows for jikookers to to keep jikooking ‘safely’.

The majority of people that DO see Jikook, see them for the unique softness, fondness, adoration, sweet words and actions, fun and spicy bond they have and want to celebrate it and protect it.

Appreciating Jikook doesn’t need to have millions of people. To be honest with or without us watching, Jikook will keep Jikooking. So let those that see them, enjoy and let those that don’t see them, miss out on a beautiful thing.

Thank you for being comfortable enough to send me your ask.

💜

[philtstone]

if you’re still taking prompts from that list, I’d love to see your take on the nemesis one for any of your modern AUs!

sorry it's not an EXISTING modern au but it is. a modern au. partially inspired by many many many things most significantly a post i literally cannot find again no matter how hard i look... also by anne from anne of green gables. anyway, this is mostly just vibes. and my own salad shirazi opinions. in that order.

In Arwen's house growing up family dinner was always a shared time of day, so it makes her glad that the small apartment her father moved into last year honours the same principle.

“It’s not that he irritates me,” eighteen year old Eowyn, fresh out of her first term of university and with her long gold hair in a tangled braid down her back, is explaining from the dinner table. “I hardly get irritated easily — it’s just that he’s so sweet and friendly all the time, I am sure he’s up to something.”

“Eowyn dear,” says her uncle. His attention is mostly absorbed by the newspaper in front of him. “If you might repeat that first part aloud, and reflect on it a bit.”

Eomer snorts from the sink. Gandalf had tasked him with washing the dishes — he had more or less nothing to contribute to meal making. Eowyn makes a face at him.

“I am good tempered. It’s just no one who’s normal is that nice. Certainly not a man.”

Gandalf, who’s in the midst of a very complex chess game with Arwen’s father, chuckles a bit. 

“Indeed?” Ada asks, with a wry smile. Eowyn blushes.

“Do not tease her, you men,” Arwen says, sweeping in to add hot water to the tea cups. The pale green flats of the fragrant tea leaves sent in express overseas mail by her maternal grandparents swirl in the kettle’s pour. Authentic green tea has a potency Arwen has not found in anything purchased around here. “You know she isn’t talking about you, and anyway, she’s right.” 

While Gandalf says, “Do tell us more, then,” charitably, Arwen returns to the small kitchen island. The rice is coming into its own in the cooker. Rice is always a comfort; it unites across cultures and races. Admittedly to this day Ada will prefer jasmine to basmati, no matter Arwen's own fascination with the latter. She sets about peeling two thick skinned cucumbers and dicing them, along with tomatoes from Mr Bilbo's garden, into a bowl. Then comes the shallot, and its lilac purple skin. Arwen has always loved the colour lilac. She has a nightgown a shade lighter than this onion, which her fiance sighs over dreamily every time it’s taken out.

Behind her Aragorn chops tarragon for the lentils, which are bubbling. He has embraced jasmine rice since childhood. His hair is tied out of his face and just barely escaping the doom of a man bun (Aragorn is too sincere about everything to accidentally look like the smarmiest versions of his countrymen) and he smells of fried onion and rose oil, like he often does when in this place. In matter of fact he smells like this kitchen is decorated: the multiple little knick knacks lining the sil, the old silver, the warm reds of the woven rug in the floor (one of an innumerable number kept in Iverworn’s house), and the cracked old laminate tiling – brown. There is some comfort in the idea that Gilraen's old apartment is still in the family. Only now, Ada has his little shrine in the den which doubles as his study, and a few more photographs have been added to the baby pictures lining the front hallway.

On the other end of the table Gimli and Legolas sort through Bilbo's rock collection while the old man gives running commentary on where he found each one. Arwen’s cousin is being educated on geology in the process. Frodo and Sam and the rest are still at school; Aragorn has volunteered to go pick them up in a half hour.

“This ought to go in the sedimentaries pile, Legolas. You see the distinctive layering – to really know we’d check for carbonate, but I’d say this is a solid limestone.”

“I don’t understand. Many of them have layers. That one with the crystal –”

“Running in parallel. Look, they’ve sedimented. It’s in the name, for Mahal’s sake. The geode, a sedimentary rock? Preposterous.”

“I found that one in Dale you know. It was, oh, twenty years ago or so now — I’d just had a pint with your dad, Gimli – you remember what he was like twenty years ago, wearing those garish red turbans (though they suited him well) – and when we came out on the street there it was by the lamp post, a little lump of a thing. I thought to myself, why, that looks just like Lobelia’s terrible laddoo – you haven’t tried them, but they’re glorified pebbles, with how dry and small she makes them – and then I turned it over and thought, where might a pretty piece of rock like this come from in the middle of such a town? But then, Dale is very metropolitan …“

Absently, Arwen begins humming to herself.

“Won’t someone put on some decent music?”

“Don’t look at us old men, Eomer. Haven’t the youth got a stereo system?”

“Oh, it's all Bluetooth now. Ah — I have your rook there, Elrond.”

“No he hasn’t; that’ll put his queen in jeopardy.”

“Keep your eyes on your lentils, Estel, my own function perfectly well. He’s been doing this since he was a boy.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” says Gandalf, with the wise knowing of someone who was there to witness such behaviour in person.

Between it all, everyone is somehow still managing to listen attentively to Eowyn as she expounds her theories and suspicions.

“He’s asked four times if we could study together after class. Four times. The next major exam we have is worth sixty perfect of the grade and I’m sure he saw me speaking with the professor last week because I was so determined to pass it. No one passes that exam, according to the third years –”

Arwen stirs the lentils and wonders if they ought to take a little bowl to the shrine.

“Perhaps he’s looking for a friend,” says Gandalf philosophically.

“Maybe he’s a creep, like Wormtongue was,” suggests Eomer darkly.

“He’s only starstruck by a girl in the engineering course,” says Bilbo, with a bit of (not unkind) humour in his voice. Then he reaches into his large duffel, which he lugged indoors with Aragorn and Eomer’s help, and extracts a box of fresh sweets for the table. These, Arwen hopes, are better than Lobelia’s – though she is sure they will be much too sweet for her own taste.  

“There are girls in engineering these days, old friend,” Gandalf interjects with a raised eyebrow, but Eowyn is not really paying attention to either of them.

“Last week at lab he gave me a book about zoological diseases I mentioned off hand almost a month ago,” she says with that earnest way she has. “That doesn’t have anything to do with engineering. Do you think he was trying to throw me off my game before our lab quiz?” 

It is very hard to keep a straight face at this inquiry, but Arwen – and many others present – manage it. “Have you considered that he might have just thought you’d like it?” asks Arwen.

“But that’s none of his business,” Eowyn says, as though this was obvious. 

“How did he know you liked it then?” asks her brother, baffled.

“We’ll — I told him,” says Eowyn. She flushes a bit. “But he initiated the conversation. We should have been talking about closed circuits.”

“Or nothing at all, apparently,” says Ada gravely.

“You don’t know him. He’s got a look in his eye. I can just tell.”

“Oh look, I’ve found him on Facebook.” 

And so Legolas has, and they all converge around his smartphone while Eowyn glares defiantly. 

“Faramir, is it? You know, he kind of looks like you, Estel.”

“Yeah – if you were much scrawnier and looked like a dweeby engineering student.”

“They look nothing alike,” says Eowyn hotly, crossing her arms – Arwen cannot help but catch Aragorn’s eye (he looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh, not helped at all by Gandalf, who is looking right at him, and skillfully masking his own merriment besides) “and Aragorn would never be such a — a — a snake, anyway.”

Arwen agrees with this hypothetical assessment, at least. She rummages through the fridge and retrieves the fresh clutch of herbs she needs for her salad.

“But what has he done, Eowyn. The poor boy. There is a bit of dweebishness there, isn’t there … indeed …”

“Look at the last name; isn’t that Denethor’s boy?”

“Oh yes, that would explain it. Engineering? Of all things? I always thought he had a poet's soul when he was a kid.”

“I wonder how they’re doing – haven’t spoken to the man in an age, you know.”

“Denethor you mean?”

“Well, not since the incident with that poor tree in the synagogue’s front yard,” says Gandalf sadly. “You were there Aragorn, you remember –”

“Hmmm,” says Aragorn grimly.

“Well I told you,” interrupts Eowyn. “I haven’t got proof, just suspicions! He’s trying to psych me out of this program. But I tell you – I won’t let him!” 

Arwen wonders if perhaps Eowyn had grown up around sisters, she wouldn’t insist so very hard on sticking it out through a degree she is not really interested in. These ruminations are interrupted by a soft touch at Arwen's waist. “Hm?” she says.

“I’m off to pick up the kids,” Aragorn begins in a low voice (the assembly continues to chatter behind them). She smiles at him, then stops: for reasons unexplained he is suddenly offering her a horrified expression he usually only reserves for conservative Tik Tok mommy vloggers and occasions where Pippin is about to grievously injure himself on the park playset.  “... What are you doing?” he asks.

“Adding the mint,” she says serenely. 

“Fresh?” Like she must be mad.

“Doesn’t it have mint?” 

It is his grandmother's recipe, after all; silly man.

“Dried.”

“Your mother always said it had to be fresh.”

“Fresh dried mint,” he clarifies, gravely.

“Really Estel.”

“Take over the lentils.”

“That was your job — and you’ve got to pick up Frodo and his friends.”

“In ten minutes.”

“You’re going to ruin it. Mr I Can Subsist On A Can Of Beans.”

“I can subsist. That doesn't mean you can add fresh spearmint to a perfectly good salad. It tastes completely wrong.”

“Estel …” But Aragorn has already ducked beneath the counter to reach deep into the recesses of their spice cabinet and retrieve an extremely dusty repurposed jar of dried mint, now cradled in his brown hands. The half-peeled label is for sour cherry preserves, which Arwen is sure no one in this family has bought from a store since they discovered the tree in Ada’s backyard.

“This is hardly fresh,” Arwen says archly.

“I dried it last week,” he says, all innocence. His t-shirt is worn and ratty enough that its low collar shows off her old necklace. She can see the jade flower and her own name etched in the characters of her mothers language at the center.

She sighs. Kisses his cheek; takes the mint. “Go fetch Mr. Bilbo’s wards.”

“They’re going to make a mess of my car,” he says, as if he did not happily volunteer for this task.

“Your car is already a mess, my love.”

So he goes, grinning. Arwen adds the mint to the salad and renters the fray.

“Eowyn,” she says. “Perhaps the next time he asks to study, you might take him up on it. That way you can get close enough to catch him at his awful scheme.”

Eowyn's mouth widens in a ponderous oh, as if she had never thought of this. Arwen pats her shoulder comfortingly.

“Food will be ready in ten minutes,” she says. Ada is smiling at her — a true smile, not without its own edges of memory, but no longer the bittersweet thing of three years ago. Arwen smiles back.

[blue-aconite]

permanent || b.c.s

Summary: “Do you like it?” He’s wrapping his arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head as they stare down the path.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1038

Pairings: Beau Simpson x f!reader

Authors Note: I don’t know what happened, but Cyclone wanted to say hi. Thank you my loves @ereardon​ @yanna-banana​ and @writercole​ for beta’ing and Cole for the title as well!

- Leave your weekend open. Got time off. We’re going away.

She stared at the text, salad forgotten. Going away for the weekend was a big deal. She turned to Danielle, showing her the phone. 

“What do you think?” She chewed on her bottom lip, her unoccupied hand tapping the table. 

“I think you should stop second guessing this and just go. Take a leap. You’ve had a fun couple of weeks, right? He’s handsome, kind and I know you don’t want to hear this, but you never shut up about him.” Danielle wiggled her eyebrows, making her laugh. 

Danielle was right. Even though they had only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks, she was hooked. He was everything she looked for in a partner, something she didn’t think she would find again after Adam. 

But then she met Beau. She had been distracted during her run one morning, slamming straight into him, falling flat on her ass and spilling his coffee all over his front. Instead of the scolding she had expected, he had helped her up from the ground and apologised for not getting out of her way. In turn, she had apologised for the spilled coffee. They made small talk and she was pleasantly surprised when she left the encounter with his number and a promise of dinner. 

Things had gone smoothly since. He worked long hours but she didn’t mind. He still made time for her and while they hadn’t put any labels on their situation, she felt like it was heading somewhere serious. 

Especially now, after receiving his text.

“Oh my god, stop thinking so much. Just go. Spend the weekend with your sexy admiral and have lots of steamy sex. You need it.”

She rubbed her forehead at Danielle’s words, but couldn’t hide a smile. A weekend away with Beau sounded lovely. She picked up her phone, opening their conversation. 

- Sounds wonderful. What should I pack?

“Hi darling. You look lovely.” Beau grabbed her bag and opened the door for her at the same time, ever the gentleman. 

“Beau, I'm wearing sweatpants.” she chuckled, squeezing his bicep in thanks as he helped her into the car. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth, putting his arm behind her seat to reverse out of the driveway. “And you look lovely. I did say dress comfortably for the ride.” 

“So where are we going? Your packing list didn’t exactly make it easier to figure out.” She twisted in her seat, hand settling comfortably on his thigh, feeling the muscles jump under her touch. 

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out, kitten. Be patient.” He laced their fingers together, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “It’s a bit of a drive, why don’t you rest. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

She keeps their hands intertwined as she rests against the cool window, Beau’s hand warm in her own.

The resort is beautiful, just shy of a two-hour drive from San Diego. Beau refuses to let her carry the bags, and still manages to hold her hand while they check in and head to their bungalow. 

There’s a small path leading down to the beach and the deck outside the housing is surrounded by palm trees and colourful flowers. The inside is decorated with a cosy bohemian vibe and she admires the large bathroom with the tub, and rows with scented bath salts and other products. 

There’s a dip in the floor and sliding doors leading onto a small deck and a pool overlooking the ocean, lounge chairs situated on the side. 

Beau is busy putting away their bags, so she wanders out on the deck in the front, enjoying the quiet. 

“Do you like it?” He’s wrapping his arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head as they stare down the path. 

She smiles, turning in his arms. “I love it. Thank you for bringing me here.” She leans up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, enjoying the way his hands tighten on her hips. 

“Only the best for my girl. You deserve a weekend away, I know work has been tough.”

Work has been tough lately but she gets stuck on the first part of what Beau says. His girl. They hadn’t talked about things and this trip certainly is a step into the future. Stuck in her own head, she doesn’t notice the worried expression on Beau’s face. 

“What’s wrong? Talk to me, beautiful." He's guiding them to sit down on the outdoor seating, keeping their hands intertwined as he kneels in front of her. She musters up a smile, reaching out to smooth a hand over his furrowed brow. 

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just thinking about us. I know we haven’t really talked about stuff and—” 

Beau cuts her off, hands cupping her face.“I want more. I want to wake up next to you, fall asleep with you by my side. I want to be the one you call when you’re having a bad day. I know it’s still early but I’m old enough to know that this feeling is permanent. I know what I want. And that’s you.”

If she wasn’t sure about her feelings before, she is now. Never has a man affected her like Beau Simpson. Never has she felt this way before. He’s the one. His words only confirm what her heart already knows. 

She smiles, leaning into his touch. “I’m in love with you. I want that too.” She can’t say it in the way he does but her words are enough for him. 

“I’m in love with you too. If my speech didn’t convey that,” he laughs, pressing their foreheads together. 

Beau kisses her then, softly, his hands leaving her face in favour of pulling her closer by her waist. She can’t help but smile into the kiss, almost laughing. 

“I would really like to check out the beach. But I think a quality test of the bed is first in order.” Beau laughs with her, hoisting her into his arms and marching through the door.

“Yes dear, I think you’re right.”

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