#Maroon Fall Nail Designs

[ebuddynews]

Top 7 Maroon Fall Nail Designs 2022

Top 7 Maroon Fall Nail Designs 2022 Ladies who like to create their nails more glowing with maroon this fall, here are a few top ideas for maroon fall nail designs for you. #maroonnaildesigns #fallnaildesigns #naildesigns #maroon #nailartideas #nailart #maroonnailart #nails #fashion #lifestyle #fashionandbeauty #nailbeauty

Ladies are fans of beautiful, bright nail designs and will look more glowing in the fall. They get to see so many patterns and designs that they fall in love with them and want to get them all at once. They take so many artifacts as inspirations for actually creating nail art designs. We can find various kinds of wildflowers of different shapes and sizes or different wild and domestic animals,…

[hyunnielix]

Prelude: The Invitation

Prelude of Maroon

Series Masterlist

— lee minho x reader (f)

— word count: 1.3k

— genre: non-idol au, acquaintances to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, right person wrong time/place typa beat

— warnings: mention of sexual abuse, mc has a lot of baggage emotional and physical. group therapy?

The room was a light cream colour. The kind of colour that was used to represent that homely kind of feeling. The kind of bland colour that shouted PAINT ME! COLOUR ME! Almost like a blank canvas to a kid who held crayons. You could imagine the scribbles decorating the walls; clumsily drawn red carnations and zoo animals…. Something friendly and not so dull and lifeless.

In some ways the colour represented you.

The bag you held had become creased under the amount of pressure you’d forced onto it. Your hands were crumpled like paper. The material under your nails had felt somewhat grounding. An exhale fell from your lips as you closed your eyes. Only a few more sessions. You kept reassuring yourself that you’d be out of here soon. No more mandatory treatment due to court order. No more wasted Wednesday afternoons. No more condescending therapists.

The opaque glass in the windows of the door stared straight back at you. It had felt like a taunt; you can’t see through me like I can see through you. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as simple as ditching the sessions. (you’d tried that once before and it ended up with a longer court sentence much to your dismay).

So here you stood, swallowing what was left of your pride. Holding your head high, you swung the doors open. Frowning immediately at the same old familiar faces. They sat in a circle on metal chairs that looked two seconds away from falling apart. They were the most uncomfortable seats ever. You’d rather be forced to sit on a patch of prickles. Unfortunately, they preferred to keep you all inside. As if that’d make it any less depressing. In a gloomy room with those damn cream-coloured walls. Your inner architectural designer was screaming expletives.

No one had acknowledged that you were late. Even Minji, the therapist. She’d just sat, hands in her lap nodding consistently at whatever spiel one of the regulars was on. You rolled your eyes, plopping yourself down in one of the seats. The chair creaked unceremoniously. Minji had spared you a glance for a split second as you manspreaded. It was the only way to feel somewhat comfortable. Majority of the room were men as well, so once again you were a singled-out factor... well apart from So-hee, though she didn’t speak much.

That wasn’t even the worst part about the sessions. You’d been recognized by someone who you’d gone to high school with. Not to make it even more unbearable or embarrassing. Han Jisung sat to your right. At first, you couldn’t tell if he was staring daggers into the back of your head when you’d first joined. Turns out he just had a really bad staring problem, that, or tended to completely dissociate. A part of you preferred to believe the latter.

He was a sweet kid. You weren’t in the same friendship groups, but you were paired together for a couple of projects before. He was nerdy but endearing. You’d been invited to many of their get togethers because you were mutual friends with Chan. The ones that you actually showed up to? They were few and far between. That all felt like a lifetime ago now. You wondered what had happened for him to be stuck here. Although you couldn’t really talk, he was probably wondering the same thing about your situation.

A poke to your shoulder broke you out of the bitter reminiscing. You glanced at Jisung as he sat back, a soft smile on his features. You tilted your head; he really reminded you of a squirrel or a quokka… something along those lines.

“Y/N? are you with us today?” The condescension in Minji’s voice had caused your shoulders to tense. Interrupting your stream of consciousness.

You sighed exhaustedly. “What was the question again?”

“Have you done the homework?”

What was this? Math class? You sat up as she basically spat the question in your face. The rest of the group were silent, staring straight at you. Usually in these kinds of situations you’d get anxious, but every flying fuck you previously gave had evaporated. You didn’t care what these people thought of you. Okay, maybe Jisung but bar the rest.

“I like how I’m patient, I think it’s my best trait.”

“How so?” She prodded deeper.

You scrunched your nose up, venom in your tone. “I can take it again and again and again and no longer flinch or talk back.”

You watched the way Minji swallowed. She was shocked by your honesty. You could read her pretty easily. She was a bad therapist, that was an objective fact. You never really understood the idea behind paying someone to listen to your problems. However, since this was a mandatory government requirement you assumed she was getting paid through the nose. After all, this was all voluntary for her.

The chair wobbled as you stood abruptly. “Are we done for today? because I showed up, so I think that means you have to sign it off.”

Minji let out a sigh of relief, shrugging. She wanted you gone it was obvious. She waved her hand to dismiss you. Deciding to play on it for a bit longer, you took your time to curtsy dramatically. Shooting her a deadly smirk. A slight blush dusted her cheeks. She was embarrassed by your display. Good. She deserved a taste of her own medicine.

You glanced over your shoulder, slugging your bag on your back. “You coming?”

Jisung’s eyes almost bulged out of his head, pointing to himself cluelessly. You nodded repeatedly. Turning around, you walked casually towards the door. Ignoring the countless pairs of eyes following your trail. Jisung scampered after you, causing a giggle to escape from your mouth. Oh, you were definitely a bad influence.

It was much calmer outside. The sky was crystal blue, clear and open. Unlike the confines of the facility, the bland popcorn ceiling was the most interesting thing about that place. You kicked the tip of your shoe against the dirt, satisfied by the crunching sounds of sand.

“Why’d you do that?” Jisung for the first time had spoken up. You glanced at him, staring at his face over your shoulder. He seemed confused. His brows were furrowed, lips pulled taut.

“Why?” You spun around to fully face him. “I just saved you, sheesh Jisung have a little gratitude.” He automatically looked towards the ground, nervous under your stare. “I’m not going to bite you—”

You shrugged, smiling unnervingly. “Or maybe I will, I like getting a reaction out of people.”

His eyes locked with yours as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Your gaze softened. Had your hard ass personality really scared him off that much? You knew that your lack of filter usually got you in hot water, but you never thought it was intimidating. Maybe he was scared you’d call him out on something. The corner of your lip twitched. That was probably the reason he hadn’t told you why he was here.

“Actually.” He stepped forward, fidgeting with his sweater paws. “I wanted to give you this, I was trying to build up the courage to.” He pulled a maroon envelope out of his back pocket. Now this piqued your interest. He held it toward you with a pleading look in his brown eyes.

You sceptically raised your brow. “Tell me what it is first.”

“It’s an invitation to a high school reunion, it seems weird since it was only six years ago, but a lot can change in that amount of time.” He paused, “Well, people can change.”

You noticed his hesitation, carefully plucking the envelope from him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Make this one of those gatherings you actually show up to.” He sent you a lazy smile, a welcoming one. You couldn’t help but flash him one back. Your fingers brushed over the cardboard like material, staring at the deep red, no… maroon coloured invitation.

[test4yourdreams]

modelones 24 Pcs Gel Nail Polish Kit 7 ML, 20 Colors Fall Brown Nude Orange Glitter Gel Polish Set Autumn Shades Maroon with Bond Primer Glossy&Matte Top Base Coat Design Manicure Gifts for Women

[stucky-starnes]

Gleam and Glow

Chapter 3

Pairing: Grey! Bucky Barnes x fem! Reader

Word count: 2,924

Description: There’s nothing like the cold cold comfort of brick and mortar, southern comfort isn’t supposed to mean south of the surface.

General warnings: This story contains dark elements and various dark characters!! Do not read if this makes you uncomfortable!!!, kidnapping, violence, language, angst, whump, for the purposes of the story the reader has 70ft foot long hair that glows gold- this does not change regardless of hair color or texture, inspired by the movie Tangled. This list is subject to change and develop as the story continues

Chapter warnings: soft Loki, neglect, Walker is really gross ew man, death threats, soft Wanda, very very subtle hurt/comfort, this is a pretty easy going chapter

A/N: Finally chapter three! This took absolutely forever as I had little time this season but i hope you enjoy this chapter none the less! This chapter has not been beta’d so feel free to point out and confusing grammatical errors that may pop up! I have opened requests temporarily as well!

DO NOT REPOST FOR ANY REASON, REBLOGS ARE WELCOMED AND MUCH APPRECIATED.

It was almost impossible to tell what exactly was drawing you closer to sleep. It had been three days in the prison cell and winter was drawing closer. You were freezing cold, exhausted, and thirsty beyond belief. In the time spent here since your unfortunate kidnapping only five people had come to use your “gift”. They never spoke, never introduced themselves or said thank you once they’d been healed, they simply came and went. Once a day, a woman would bring you food, usually some sort of broth and a torn chunk of buttered bread. The woman never spoke just like all the warriors who would visit, she kept her eyes trained on the length of your hair or on your cuffed hands. With your wrists chained to your waist you couldn’t feed yourself alone, in the first two days the woman hadn’t noticed or maybe hadn’t cared but recently she had taken to helping you eat. It was a little embarrassing to be fed by someone else, even mother hadn’t helped you eat like this at least not since you were a baby. Despite the embarrassment you were far too weak to refuse the help, the food helped a lot but without sleep it was practically useless and you refused to fall asleep here. If you were asleep you were vulnerable and you wouldn’t be any wiser if some warrior came by while you were out. So you stayed vigilant, never closing your eyes for more than a few moments, always waiting even though you weren’t exactly sure what for.

The woman who comes to visit and bring food was a sharp contrast from the warriors you usually met. The warriors were always dirty, caked in blood and dirt, their clothing always dark and made of thick fabrics or plated with metal. They always wore their sheaths but their weapons were always missing, likely to keep you from trying to take them. The woman however was clean. She was never coated in blood or dirt and her nails were well kept, lacking the dirt many of the men had beneath them. She was pale, long copper red hair pinned out of her face by beautiful maroon pins designed to look like intricate twigs or horns. Her clothing was very practical, warm and protective, dark maroon colored leather over a black, wool-lined tunic and trousers donning protective leather guards in the same maroon shade and leather wrist gauntlets looped around her middle fingers protecting the back of her hand. She was one of few people you’d seen wearing red, you could only gather that the color signified a higher status but you couldn’t begin to understand why someone of a higher status would be coming to feed you. In the beginning the woman almost seemed afraid, utilizing the wider slot in the cell door to slide the tray of food through and taking a few steps away to monitor you. She still hadn’t opened the door and came into the cell like most of the men did, she managed to feed you through the bars even though it was quite a reach and very inconvenient.

Today was different, when she came by the tray seemed to be fuller though you couldn’t tell what else was on it from your place on the floor. The woman pressed her palm to the locking mechanism of the cell door, it emitted a red energy similar to that of the man who relinquished your freedom and the lock clicked, the door opening with ease. She grabbed a chair that had been hidden to the side of the cell and brought it in with one hand, the other balancing the tray of goods. She set the chair across from you and took a seat, playing the tray in her lap. While the tray contained the regular cup of broth and bread, it also had a small bowl of steaming vegetable stew and a goblet that you pray is full of water. She started with the stew, carefully spooning it to your mouth in silence. It was far more delicious than you had expected and the warmth it brought was more than welcome. After feeding you a chunk of bread she carefully lifted the goblet to your lips. For a moment you were cautious, you’d never had alcohol but you know it causes dehydration and at this point wine might figuratively kill you. The moment the liquid hit your tongue you could tell it was water, your hands jerking up to try and hold the goblet tugging on the shackles in the process, you tipped your head further gulping the water down hastily. You almost didn’t notice when the woman laughed, more like giggled at your haste. You pulled away from the nearly empty goblet and looked up to the goblet.

“What’s so funny?” You whispered, voice gruff from days without speaking.

“You are very eager. It’s a nice change.” Her accent was thick but her voice was gentle all the same.

“I haven’t had water in some time…” you looked down to the cuffs encasing your wrists. Her eyebrows furrowed but she remained silent, continuing to feed you.

When you finished the food, feeling more full than ever before if that was even possible, the woman didn’t stand to leave.

“What’s your name?” You asked. And she almost hesitated.

“Wanda. And you’re Y/N.” She replied.

“Are you the same as that man? Loki?”

“Our magic comes from different places. He and I are not the same. He is much older. I am sorry for what he did to you. I assure you he is just as much a prisoner as you are.” She stood from the chair. You scoffed.

“You’re never a prisoner when you do others bidding so willingly. He isn’t powerless. He did this to me because he wanted to.” You were almost angry.

“I cannot make you understand.” Wanda shook her head and used her power to open the door, removing the chair with her.

“Wanda-.” You stopped yourself. It was a stupid question but she turned to your regardless.

“You can let me go, you have power too, you can undo this and set me free!”

“I- I am sorry but I can’t. There are things here that you do not understand.”

“Then help me! Help me to understand please. Please Wanda.” You were begging, groveling at her feet regardless of the fact that you didn’t have a choice.

“I cannot speak of such things in company, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She left quickly, struggling to remove the tremor from her voice.

The room was silent and cold again. The smell of burnt lantern fuel lingering in the air the way it always had. The silence was almost healing to your aching heart, this is the way it must be and you’d have to grow accustomed. Laying down as much as possible, partially in a bed of your own hair, you allowed yourself to fall asleep. It consumed you, your body more than exhausted from just trying to defend itself from the incoming trauma. The sleep was dreamless but fulfilling, you would have slept for the rest of the week if the slamming of the cell door hadn’t woken you.

Your eyes snapped open, bleary from sleep, you struggled to focus on the man entering the room until he was close to your face. John Walker. His face was bloodied and his eye was swollen shut, he stumbled, falling down next to you only to turn his head and spit blood onto the cell floor a foot away. While you had been taught not to take pride in others’ pain, you couldn’t help but be glad he was hurt so severely, it meant he was only here to heal. Without a word he snaked his hand to the back of your neck, scooping your hair closer to him roughly from its base. There were several braids still tied into your locks from previous warriors and each time one got in his way John gripped it roughly, nearly ripping it from your head as he threw it away from him. You struggled to stay silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction. He roughly began to braid a chunk of the hair, albeit very badly but the magic didn’t discriminate, the green energy wrapped around his injured face and body as he worked. John gasped when he finished and the green energy disappeared with a small gust of wind, leaving him freshly healed under the remains of the blood.

You breathed out a sigh of relief when he stood, expecting him to leave the room, instead he kneeled back down into your space and grabbed your jaw, smashing your cheeks with his fingers as he squeezed.

“If you ever - and I mean fucking ever - heal Laufeyson I swear I will kill you.” He was furious.

“I don’t get to choose” you barely mumbled out.

“Well you better fucking figure out how to hold it in princess because if I ever fucking hear even the slightest whisp of a thought that maybe he came to visit? I’ll treat you like the meat your really are, slice you open and use you up like god intended.” He threw your face away from him and stormed out of the cell, locking it quickly.

You were speechless, unsure if the feeling on your jaw was from the heat of his palm or the developing bruises. There was no way of knowing what happened, how John became so injured or why you’d die for saving a specific person. It’s impossible to prevent someone from using your hair to heal themselves, especially given the spell Loki had placed on you, the only way out would be cutting it all off but there wasn’t a sharp object in sight and no one ever entered wearing their weapons. Once or twice you heard the men argue over relinquishing their sabers and daggers to the guards at the door of the prison complex, they always gave in and you never heard anything more.

From what you could tell, you were the only prisoner they had. This wasn’t completely surprising, though you’d never understand the point of having an entire prison building to only house one person, you always just assumed they killed those that cross them instead of going through a judicial system. It was difficult to admit that the isolation of being alone in a cell and used without control wasn’t what broke you the most, it was the lack of people. The isolation of knowing there wasn’t a si glow other person in the building in a somewhat similar position to you. There would never be someone on the other side of the wall, hoping for an escape or a quick death in the same way you sometimes find yourself hoping. This was it. You barely had a side in this, standing completely alone with this curse as the Vikings rejoice in ravaging your mind and arguably your body. Letting out a breath you carefully lay back down, concentrating on your fingertips that look so much different than they had just a few days ago, dirty and broken in some aspects. Exhaling you tried to force yourself to accept the facts and to find a middle ground, hardly a solution but some twisted fantasy you could hide in for safety. Moments later something cold graced your hand, thinking it’s part of the chains you don’t look until it happens again.

A small lizard carefully nudged at your thumb and for the first time, you smiled. It was a tiny little thing, it’s head far too big for its scaly body. It was so pretty, with shiny dark green and blue scales. You turned your hand over, opening your palm as an offering to the little guy. The lizard climbed on without hesitation, settling down to use the heel of your palm as a pillow.

“Gotta keep warm huh little guy?”

The lizard curled its tail into itself, relishing in the warmth your hand provided in the cold winter. Moments later the lanterns in the hall outside the cell doors were burnt out, the same way they are every night, leaving the room to be lit by the small window near the ceiling that led outside. The same window the lizard probably entered from. The extinguishing of the lanterns seemed to be some sort of cue for the lizard, who quickly left your palm and ran towards the door. You expected it to leave, to scuttle through the bars and live the rest of his life warm on a rock in the woods with a little baby lizard family, but he didn’t, he stopped at the gate and seemed to poke his head out to look around.

It was strange behavior for a lizard, something not totally unheard of but slightly uncanny and you couldn’t help but watch. Once the lizard had deemed the hall safe, he ran over to a clearing before you. You offered your hand to him again but quickly pulled it away as the lizard began to glow a brilliant green. The green glow spread to encompass him, turning to a sharp energy. Just as quickly as the lizard had come into your life, he disappeared in a mirage, turning into a rather large dark haired man who quickly clamped his hand over your mouth as you gasped.

“sh, sh, sh, it’s okay I am not here to harm you.” He moved into the light as he spoke in a hushed whisper.

It took a moment for your memory to catch up with you as you stared into his blue eyes. He removed his hand from your mouth slowly.

“Loki?!” You tried to scoot away from him, limited by your chains as you struggled.

“Calm down it’s okay, it’s okay” he held his hands up to show he wasn’t a threat.

Despite his harmless façade, you knew better than to trust him, settling to keep a close eye on him from afar. Loki slowly lowered his hands to the clasp of his cloak, slipping the metal apart to remove the thick material. Lifting it for you to see both sides, he turned it in his grasp, shuffling closer on his knees to settle the cloak around your shoulders. You held eye contact as he fastened the clasp, he wasn’t trustworthy by any means but the warmth of the cloak was far too enticing to not be a little grateful.

”I never wanted this to happen to you, I had no idea they would leave you in such conditions.” He cupped your cheeks, despite your agitation, closing his eyes and muttering as he healed your wounds and bruises.

He sat back with crossed legs, resting his wrists on his knees as he looked you over for any other injuries Walker may have caused.

“If I had predicted he would take his aggression out on you… I can’t apologize enough I am deeply sorry. I do believe he has learned some type of lesson.” Loki vaguely confirmed the origin of Walkers injuries and threats, attempting to make conversation.

”You hexed me.” You whispered.

”I had as much of a choice as you did in the matter” he shook his head.

You scoffed, bringing his attention to you as opposed to the stone he’d been concentrating on. Loki’s eyes looked incredibly distant, almost distraught as they dulled, face paling even further is at all possible with his ghost-like complexion. He couldn’t form the right words, unable to explain.

”I didn’t have a choice.” he whispered, turning his gaze to his left arm.

Loki pulled the laces of his forearm gauntlet, untethering them to remove it and lift his sleeve. He stretched out his fingers and exhaled, exposing his inner forearm to your gaze. The skin at the crease of his elbow appeared to be volcanic rock, pulsing as it feathered out to blend with his tone. Archaic Futhark runes seemingly carved into the stone overlapped into the flesh, glowing a brilliant blue as it pulsed along with the spreading veins.

”I didn’t have a choice.” He emphasized.

”You’re a prisoner too? They praise you as if you’re a God”

“Not in many years. These runes-“ he ran his fingers across the carvings. “They hold me captive, similar to your chains, inhibiting my magic. I am but a puppet. There are moments when the abrir of the runes weaken, allowing me to perform petty tricks for a short amount of time.”

“That’s how you changed forms? Became a lizard?” You questioned, becoming more comfortable as he shared.

“Yes. But I cannot hold it for long, although weakened, the spell has a form of security that is always enabled. When I perform magic or divulge information that is not in favor of the puppeteer, this stone spreads, burning through my veins. It may encapsulate my entire being with time.”

”You’ll become a statue.”

”Indeed.” He nods, pulling his sleeve back down but neglecting to replace the guard.

“Why? Why choose you and not someone like Wanda? Or any of the other sorcerers in the city?”

”I’m afraid my story is far too complicated to answer such a simple question. I am not a sorcerer, they didn’t need one. They wouldn't be able to help.” he paused.

”I cannot free you, I’m sorry. But I can ease your strife in these conditions. With time you may earn better accommodations, some leniency with the council.”

The heavy creak of the prison’s doors sounded, torchlight flashing against the walls in the distance as footsteps approach, accompanied by muffled voices.

”Leniency? Loki, they will drain me dry here, I cannot survive with leniency!” You whispered harshly.

”You have to.” he whispered back, reverting to his reptilian form and taking his leave as the men in the hall neared the cell door.

Leaving you with a thousand questions and a dark shadow to settle within.

[avengersassemble123]

THE ONE WITH THE WEDDING -part 2

Fandom: Marvel, avengers

Note:hey guys!! This is going to be a series and a new chapter will come out on Fridays every week. This series is based on Friends (Monica and Chandler’s relationship)

Warnings: hate for step family, some few bad words, idea of a bit of lovemaking at the end(just mention), alcohol consumption but mainly fluff.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You were invited to your stepsister's wedding at the last minute and your stepmother wants you to bring a date. Bucky Barnes decides to become your so-called date and shenanigans ensue. But will he remain your ‘so-called’ fake date or will he be someone more?

Thursday. The day which you dreaded the most. The day when you have to attend your stepsister’s wedding. Your alarm blared at 8 in the morning but you still didn't want to get out of your bed. You almost decided against not attending when you realized that you might not get to meet your loved ones too. So you finally managed to pull yourself out of the bed and proceeded towards the bathroom. You brushed your teeth and took a bath as slowly as possible, delaying the day's events. By the time you finished your breakfast, it was 10 am. Since there was no one to accompany you in the kitchen as all of the teammates except Bucky, left for a mission the previous day, you were grumpier than usual. You were just playing with the cereals and the spoon when you heard someone walk in, knowing exactly who the said person was.

Bucky took a milk carton from the fridge to drink while he looked at you, playing. He knew what kind of situation you were in since he knew your history with your family, and since you didn't acknowledge him when he walked in the kitchen, which you tend to do when you were in deep thoughts.

“From the milk carton? Seriously? When will you learn that it's disgusting to drink directly from the carton and that people would rather prefer a glass or a bowl?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Bucky raised his eyebrow at you and purposely drank from the carton right in front of you. You groaned, which made Bucky chuckle.

“Alright, alright I'll stop since you're gonna have to experience more torturing situations today.” he looked at you genuinely, while taking a glass from the cabinets. You smiled a bit, knowing your colleagues and friends, or let's say your second family always had your back.

“So when do we leave?”

“We’ll leave two hours early since it'll only take 45minutes to reach there, but I want to introduce you to my real loved ones, for they are the only reason I want to go to the wedding.”

“Oh wait you mean your dad, grandma and your twin brother right?”

“Yep you got it right Sargent.”

You both chuckled, a few seconds of silence when Bucky said, “Tell me about them.”

“Hm?”

“Your loved ones..tell me about them, if I'm gonna meet my fake date’s family, I'd rather go prepared, don't you think?”

You giggled.

“Well let's start with my grandma. She is the most generous person you're ever going to meet-”

You continued to talk joyfully, which made lucky smile too. He observed how your features carefully. He could memorise all the details and still observe you again all the time. He liked how you were smiling widely, how your cheeks were lifted by the beautiful smile on your face.

You guys talked for an hour when you decided that you should start getting ready so that you guys could leave at the designated time.

It was 3 by the time you guys got ready. You were wearing a decent long sleeveless maroon indigo dress while he wore a black tux with an indigo coloured tie to match your dress. You both wore hair buns, yours being adorned by a floral hair pin.

You both were in the cab, when you started fidgeting and biting your nails. Bucky noticed your nervousness, which made him to hold your hand gently and give you a reassuring look, which made you fidget less. You both held your hands, basking in the silence, not an awkward but a comfortable silence.

As soon as you reached the wedding hall, you dragged Bucky inside the hall, your eyes searching the whole crowd. When you met a familiar pair of eyes, you rushed towards it, still pulling Bucky along you. You both came in from of an old lady, dressed decent but beautiful enough for the wedding.

“Granny!!” you squealed, while hugging her. The sight of both the hugging ladies in front of Bucky, made his heart melt. He tried to give you both privacy by taking a step back. Your grandma noticed him and asked you, smirking, “Now who's that gentleman here y/n? Why don't you introduce him to me?”

“Introduce who?”

“Dad!!” you squealed while hugging him tightly.

“Oh God...i missed you so much baby girl.” he said while holding your face between his hands and kissing your forehead.

“I missed you too?”

“What about me? Did you forget me?” you ran towards your brother and he hugged you tightly lifting you up a bit.

“Whats up bro? Still being a jackass?” you asked slyly and teasingly. “Well now I know you're still the pain in my ass.” your brother retorted making all of you laughed.

Just then your brother’s attention turned towards Bucky.

“Hey I know you. You’re Bucky Barnes. Y/N’s colleague.” he says while shaking Bucky’s hand but also squinting at him suspiciously.

“Its an honour to meet you three. You must be Y/B/N, Y/N’s brother.” “And I am Y/F/N, Y/N’s father” your father chimed him also shaking his hand and squinting at him suspiciously.

“Now now both of you back off from the poor man. Now he may be older than me but I am older than you and I suggest you do not torture the poor man already, since our dear Y/N got him as her date.” your grandmother said, looking at you mischievously.

“Thats the thing...” you started. You then filled the three of them about how your stepmom had called you at the last minute to taking Bucky with you as your fake date.

“Oh then it's fine..” your dad said, “i think we tortured James a bit don't you think Y/B/N?” “I think so too dad.” they both said, but still squinting at him suspiciously. Your grandmother swatted, both of their heads lightly which caused you to chuckle. You then heard someone call out to everyone to take their seats as the wedding was going to start soon. Your grandmother ushered all of you to take your seats, while you joined Bucky.

“Sorry about that,” you said while sitting beside him. “Oh don't, in fact, I quite liked your family, especially how protective your father and brother were. Honestly speaking if I were in their place and if I had a daughter myself then I would have the same reaction too.” he smiled genuinely. “Oh thanks,” you said while your cheeks burned a bit. You two looked at each other for a bit when someone called out that the wedding began, beeaking both of yours stares. You both sat together, watching the ceremony while you and Bucky cracked jokes on the topics of the decoration or the food or the bride or groom. You both had to stifle your laughter to save yourselves from the embarrassment. When the reception began you excused yourself to the restroom. While returning back from the restroom, you were stopped by a shrill voice behind from you, your stepmother. Of course it is. You turned your back slowly and smiled a bit too much, while walking towards her. “Hello Y/N” your stepmother said, walking towards you, having a smile almost as fake as you. “Hello to you too stepmom.”

“Well are you enjoying the wedding?”

“Oh I am, in fact I liked the decorations.”

“Oh thank you. This had to be wonderful since this is the only wedding that was gonna happen besides your brother’s”

You clenched your jaw but still managed to laugh it off.

“Well I have got a wonderful son in law you know, I mean of course no one but my daughter deserves it since she is the only one capable of being successful like this, and you know being this beautiful than anyone in the whole family.”

Every word stung you but you still managed to regain yourself and chanted in your mind that you saw this coming.

“I mean of course she was better, smarter and deserving than both of you”

This bitch wasn't even trying to hide her hatred towards you.

“Oh honey, I'm sorry for the date. I know you are not capable of finding someone-”

“Actually her date is right here.”

You felt hands on your shoulder and a kiss placed on your cheek. Bucky was smiling and chuckling beside you, hugging you tightly sideways.

“Oh I'm sorry how rude of me, I'm James Buchanan Barnes, Y/N’s boyfriend, my friends and Y/N call me Bucky”

And you saw your stepmom have the most surprised look on herself when Bucky introduced himself to her.

“Well honey I think I gotta show you something. How about we take a walk. Now if you'll excuse me-” bucky pulled you towards the end of the hall.

You both sat on the empty chairs, facing towards the balcony.

“Hey Y/N you okay?”

You nodded while rubbing your eyes roughly, “You didn't have to do that James.”

“Well what kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I don't save my own fake girlfriend from her troubles?” he said cheekily which earned a giggle from you. You both looked at each other, observing each others features. You saw how his baby blue eyes shined due to the hall lights, few hair strands falling on his face, his cheeks having a pink flush, a scruff of beard on his face with an adorable smile adorned on his face, making him look more attractive. You both stared at each other intently. “So was it true?” you asked.

“What?”

“That you would have the same reaction if you would have a daughter.”

“Oh that...uh well yea...its true..”

“Do you want a family?”

“Yes....yes I do...”

You both smiled at each other with a comfortable silence between both of you, when one of the bridesmaids came to inform you two that the rooms to stay we're ready. You both parted each other hesitantly but asked Bucky to go ahead to his room since you were the direct family member and had to stay behind to make sure everything was settled. He nodded and headed towards the room.

It was almost midnight when almost the whole staff was clearing out the decorations, you were about to head back when you again saw your stepmom approaching you. You tried to ignore her but she grabbed your arm and turned you towards her. “Now listen here you minx, I know you were the one who tried to steal my precious daughter's spotlight so you better apologize now.” what? What was she talking about?

“What are you talking about? Why would I wanna do that?”

“Oh so now you're gonna play the victim card. Well listen here sweetheart I know how you tried to out best your sister by making yourself pretty and finding an avenger boyfriend for yourself so that everyone could talk only about you. I was surprised that you got a boyfriend for yourself yet alone an Avenger, but now I see it that he is your fake boyfriend, and you just wanna be in the spotlight and want more boys to fuck with. Well hear me out you will never be better than anyone, always be the most dumb one and no one is going go accept you. So I better not see you outshining my daughter again, you hear me you whore? Shame on yourself.”

Your stepmother left you all by yourself in the hall, leaving you in tears. You just couldn't handle it anymore. You saw a bottle of wine on the buffet table and you picked it up, walking towards your room.

1 am

Knock knock.

Bucky was awake due to his nightmares and since he didn't want to scare his neighbor but he got suspicious when he heard knocks at his door.

He slowly approached the door, ready to act on spot, when he saw you at the door, still in your party clothes, but a drinking a glass of wine from a straw. “Hey Y/N” he says a bit surprised. “Hey Buck, cute clothes.” you say making him realise that he was shirtless with him only in his jumptracks and dog tags.

“Well I wasn't exactly expecting company at...1am.” he nodded while looking at the walk clock.

You walked in the room, placing the glass on the table.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, concern etching on his face.

“Well other than the fact that when I was returning to my room, my stepmom accused me of stealing my sisters spotlight, bringing you as a means to my ends of fucking other boys and called me a whore, ...yeah Im fine.” you said with a smile on your face but tears threatening to spill.

“Hey do you want me to talk to her with your dad and brother? Just tell me what to do. I know it's been a real emotional time and you've had a lot to drink so you know..you just gotta let it go, okay? I mean you were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight.”

“Really?” you asked.

“Are you kidding me you were the most beautiful woman in the most rooms-”

You suddenly pounced at Bucky, kissing him passionately, his hands roaming on the back of your body, you both were kissing for a few seconds when he suddenly pushed you a bit, “Woah Woah woah what's going on? You and I just made out. You and I are making out?”

“Well not anymore.” you sassed.

“But we don't do that.” he said

“I know I just thought it would be fun.” you said shyly.

Bucky squinted at you for a second before asking, “how drunk are you?”

“Drunk enough that I know I want to do this, not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage.” you said too fast as excited.

He started at you for a few seconds.

“Well that's perfect amount.” he said, pulling you towards his bed. You both sat on the bed and started kissing each other when you broke off and said, “ you know what's weird?”

“What?”

”This doesn't feel weird.”

“ I know”

“And you're a really good kisser.”

“Well they didn't call me a ladies man in the 40s for no reason.”

You giggled and continued to kiss him.

“Want to get in the covers?” he asked. You nodded and you both went inside the covers.

You were removing your dress when you saw buck already naked.

“Wow you're really fast.” you said.

“Well it bodes for me that speed impresses.”

You nodded in approval.

“We’re gonna see each other naked.” you said.

“Yep.”

“You wanna do it at the same time?”

“At the count of three?”

“One” you chanted.

“Two” he chanted.

“Three” both of you peeked inside the covers at your bodies and looked at yourselves over the covers with wide eyes.

“ well I think it's safe to say that our friendship is effectively ruined.”

“Well we weren't that close anyway.” you said.

“Yeah” he replied, and you both started making out with each other.

And let's just say all your wild dreams came true...

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

Tag list

@pretty-vulture

@itsanerdlife

@dreamwritesimagines

@starkn

@aynanasstuff

@natsblackwidow

@shurisneakers

I added requested tags as well as some tags of some of my favorite fanfic writers

Ignore the tag if it bothers you😅😝😊

Taglist is open!!!

Read chapter 3 here

[meyhew]

some merch ideas for hshq that they’ll never utilize:

jean fucking jackets. idk how many times i have to say this but the gays go buck wild for some denim jackets. embroider a sunflower on the back or sell canyon moon-esque patches and i’ll buy 87 of them 

i cannot stress this enough: a lil nail polish collection. give me a metallic silver for lights up and a bright yellow for sunflower and a rainbow set for tpwk and matte maroon for cherry and black for falling 

a joke book.... i know it sounds stupid as hell but im Telling u i’d buy 10 copies of a lil book full of jokes harry comes up with. print them in his own handwriting with his lil doodles and thats a goldmine right there

rolling with books... give me an art book. give me blown up versions of his cute lil doodles that i can colour myself. give me concept designs inspired by the album tracklist that i can colour and then maybe frame if i want to 

harry’s own doodles as stickers and patches?? like cmonnn who wouldn’t want a puppy sticker on their laptop if it was drawn by harry?????

i want socks. is there a way to adequately emphasize just how much i want SOCKS?

water bottles but make them insulated. no one wants to drink warm water 

tapestries. imagine all the sick visuals they can come up with that ppl could hang on their walls. harry’s songs are dripping with stunning imagery and concepts 

earrings.... there’s so much fruit-related content in his songs like hello ??? where r the lil cherry earrings?? where’s the strawberries? lemons???? 

those cool keychains filled with liquid that u can shake.. bro Give me that with a lil figurine of The Boy and his fishie friend 

fairy lights but make them rainbow and each set comes with candid polaroids of harry 

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

it’s halloween month so I would love to know any and all of your dan/nate halloween headcanons (bonus points if milo’s there too) 🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡

you sent this on the first of october like the wonderful festive pumpkin pal that you are! but i have been sooo no thoughts head empty,,,, and i wanted to give this actual deliberation & thought before diving right in, so....

DAN, SPECIFICALLY:

ok. i think dan would have complicated & conflicting feelings re: halloween. we already know, canonically, that rufus was really into halloween, so this paints a pretty elaborate image in my head of halloween at the humphrey household - i bet it was a lot of fun! but then, of course: alison left. i think holidays in general become difficult for dan in the After, because they remind him of a time his family was truly happy that he cannot go back to.

so halloween is always bittersweet for dan, he'll carve all the pumpkins and get nate all the pumpkin flavoured stuff from all the cafes, and his wardrobe is so full of browns and sweaters that he's always ready for fall anyway, and he's happy! he is. but sometimes he'll remember another family he used to be part of that's all fractured & fragmented now, and he'll get a little sad. it happens less frequently over the years, but it never quite stops. (nate the ever observant always puts an arm around him and kisses his cheek, and says something silly to make dan smile. sometimes they talk about it; most of the time they don't. but nate is always there, quiet & non-judgemental, waiting for when/if dan needs him.)

NATE, SPECIFICALLY:

on the contrary........ halloween is natie's absolute FAVOURITE. much like the thanksgiving flashbacks we get in 1x09, i feel that halloween for nate, during his childhood, would involve being with blair & serena and all of them having the time of their lives. i think anne & howard would drop him off at the waldorfs, and eleanor would entrust blair & serena & nate to dorota's care. when they're younger they go trick or treating, and blair is very serious and very prim & proper and has on a perfect, sophisticated costume (she dresses as movie characters always) while serena's in a state of chaos, her costume for whatever she's dressing as (usually a witch or a ghoul or something like that) is a bit lopsided, the ribbons in her hair are coming out, her makeup is smudged (not deliberately!). nate, naturally, is sort of in between those two states - blair dolls him up and sets him to rights, serena takes his hand and runs around with him until his costume is a little wonky - by no means as much as hers, but definitely not in pristine, blair-approved state. blair just gives serena & nate a tired, Adult look, like they're toddlers and she's the babysitter (this doesn't change over the years, and this dynamic sets in remarkably quickly.)

once they're older, there's alcohol, there's halloween parties maybe, but nate still sticks with blair and serena, and they still hang out with him. halloween & the first of november are THEIR days, because they always do a sleepover on the 31st, and waking up together on the 1st of november is just something that makes the day Theirs, to nate. so unlike dan, for nate, he DID have that family feeling, and he had it consistently over the years, and he knows that it exists still.

DAN & NATE, FINALLY:

nate gets so excited for halloween! he goes full on into event-planning mode. he and jenny get really engrossed in designing costumes for the humphrey gang, and dan is like "who are you again?" and nate gives him the finger + an unamused look. halloween is a great bonding time for dan & jenny's gf, actually, because both of them get to watch their partner be an absolute dork over the holiday AND get really into designing (which is normal for jenny but not for nate, lol.) they just sit together and share drinks and act very, very cynical.

dan knows that halloween month is a special month for nate, and he's determined Not to be a grouch, so he goes out of the way trying to keep that cheer alive. he bakes sugar cookies that he ices to look like ghosts, he carves pumpkins, he does All The Things. but in a similar vein, nate knows that halloween month is a bit rough for his bf, so he is extra cuddly and patient, and goes out of his way to remind dan again and again that he loves him, that they're family now, etc.

i think halloween would also bring a lot of gender feels to dan, who gets this one holiday in which it's socially acceptable to wear makeup and doll himself up and dress up as whoever he wants to be. i think that'd give him a lot of euphoria, a lot of questioning, and a lot of anxiety, all at once, and i think nate would just be there like a stabilising force, because nate just loves dan that unconditionally, whoever dan is, even if dan is figuring that out - nate loves dan. i had more to say about This Point specifically but i am so tired, i kind of forgot what it was.

oh!!! vampire movies. all of them. nate and dan WOULD. they'd watch endless nights and they'd watch vampire porn and they'd definitely sleep together after THAT. nate would bite dan's neck and repeat some dialogue from the porno, and dan would laugh, but he would also be so, so turned on. (what! parts of this are literally canon!)

since dan also canonically reads anne rice (i wonder if he's one of the fic writers who got a cease & desist or whatever she was sending at them back in the day, that would be an interesting dan humphrey backstory) i think he'd read it aloud to natie. nate would just be lying there with his head on dan's lap, and dan would be sitting up reading aloud, one of his hands carding thru nate's hair.

at a blairena halloween party one time, dan and nate dress up as... *drum roll* each other. are you surprised? yeah, me neither. they keep making risque references to That Night At Yale, and blairena threaten to kick them out of the party (empty threats.)

MILO HUMPHREY MY BELOVED:

i wish i had more milo headcanons than just "jenny designs extremely elaborate costumes for milo, and nate goes trick or treating with him" but that's kind of it. milo would also end up wearing a LOT of orange-brown-maroons to school all through october (dan is like, nate, the kid is 5, is this the age to put your fall agenda onto him? nate is like, yes.) i think once he's older, milo would start getting these ridiculous mugs home in october - a pumpkin mug, a mug shaped like a skull, a mug shaped like a skeleton hand, etc. think mugs that look like THS thing that krysten ritter is holding:

dan looks at the collection of horror themed mugs they have with equal parts dismay and pride, and looks at nate like, yeah, you sure did raise this kid alongside me, didn't you? this is all YOUR influence, babe.

i also feel like milo would wear black nail polish ALLLL the time. he'd start during halloween and just never stop. i mean. if you're curious about this, i have two words for you: aunt jenny.

BONUS:

nate finds photos of a younger dan trick or treating - dan must be 7 or 8 in these photos, and he & vanessa are both dressed up as witches, with the hats and everything. dan is carrying a pumpkin shaped lantern, and marx is sitting in the lantern, peering out from inside it.

dan just smiles, and goes, "yeah, when i was a kid, all my costumes involved marx in some way." there's marx with angel wings (looking extremely disgruntled), there's marx with a green blanket around him ("he was a caterpillar that year," dan informs nate seriously), there's marx with a little bonnet on his head ("he hated that SO much," dan laughs).

the humphreys adopted marx when dan was around 7 - and given how unconcerned rufus is by lily's lack of pets - when he moves in with her, they do not discuss getting a cat or a dog or a bird or anything.. i'm guessing that maybe alison and dan went to pick marx out. i think dan and jenny have both seen marx grow from being a kitten to an adult cat, but because dan was older he remembers it slightly better. and dan and that cat were INSEPERABLE, to the extent wherein dan would often put marx in a pram and stroll him around everywhere. (there are halloween pictures of this, too.)

anyway, i'm just saying.

"he was my partner in crime," dan says fondly, looking at a picture of marx.

"i'm your partner in crime," nate corrects him.

"well, yeah," dan says. he raises an eyebrow. "but do you really need to compare yourself to my cat?"

/end

[sam-and-buck]

At Home With Captain America

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes

Rating: G

Words: 7.7k

Also on AO3

“What can you tell me about how you got to know the Winter Soldier?”

Wilson chuckles. “The first time I met Buck—Sergeant Barnes—he ripped the steering wheel out of the car I was driving on the freeway. He got on the roof, punched through the windshield, pulled the steering wheel off. Just like that.” He mimes with his hands as he describes it.

This doesn’t sound like an auspicious beginning to me, but Wilson is laughing.

At Home with Captain America

By: Adrien Davis

Published: February 2, 2026, 3:35 PM 

To say I’m intimidated by interviewing Captain America in his own home would be an understatement, and I would never have thought to ask if I could do that if he hadn’t personally invited me. Normally, I’d start one of these articles by describing the location, maybe even throw in an anecdote or two about how I got there, but that’s not going to be possible here.

Sam Wilson lives on [REDACTED] in [REDACTED]. It was a windy day.

Here’s what I can tell you: it’s an apartment. A nice one. Two bedroom, two bath.

“Am I allowed to describe the inside of your house?” is one of the first things I say to him, after getting his permission to turn on my recorder.

“Go right ahead,” he laughs, arms crossed over the worn USAF logo on his gray t-shirt. “Just don’t put the street name in there or anything.”

Wilson gives me a moment to poke around. Whoever decorated this place has good taste; it’s no haphazard bachelor pad. There’s an exposed brick wall in the otherwise slate blue living room, several plants (which I assume are fakes—albeit convincing ones—since Wilson is, by his own admission, not home as often as he’d like to be), a sturdy walnut coffee table, and a magnificently squishy-looking red couch.

It’s unmistakably lived in, though. I don’t get the sense that the place has been scrubbed spotless or particularly arranged for my visit. There are two abandoned mugs on coasters sitting on the coffee table, along with several different remote controls, and a stack of half-finished books with dog-eared corners. A pile of mail has been pushed to the side. Next to the door, a wall-mounted coat rack holds several leather jackets in shades of brown and black, and at least as many sweaters, mostly navy blue, charcoal and maroon. The shoe rack underneath houses multiple pairs of black combat boots, worn running shoes, house slippers. And next to that, on the floor, a large, gleaming silver case with red detail that could only contain Wilson’s Falcon wingpack. The legendary shield is propped up against it, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

I’m trying to imagine how it would be to leave the house for him. Got my keys, wings, phone, shield, wallet?

There are pictures on the walls and the mantle above the fireplace, under the television. People who I can only assume are Wilson’s relatives by their similarly gap-toothed smiles. Veterans. Wilson in full air force gear next to a blond man I don’t recognize. Then Captain Steve Rogers, in the 1940s with the Howling Commandos, and in the twenty-first century by himself. Wilson with Rogers, and Natasha Romanoff. One conspicuously empty nail where a large frame would clearly fit. 

Scattered among these are several very old, dour black and white photographs of a dark-haired family. The first shows a mother, father and two small children, a boy and girl. The second is the mother and children only, taken some time after, judging by their apparent ages. The third is several years later still; the same children with light eyes and dark hair, but they’re teeangers now, and without parents. They look haunting and out-of-place among the glossy prints of Wilson’s big, happy family in matching 80s colorblocked tracksuits, or Wilson and his sisters in front of a Christmas tree, surrounded by wrapping paper and toys.

There’s also a wood-framed painting that stands out: an idyllic watercolor of a little farmhouse with a green roof and shuttered windows in a field. A small pile of lumber and a white mailbox make up the foreground. The most distinctive feature is the signature at the bottom: S.G.R. I know those initials. 

“Captain Rogers painted this?”

“Uh huh,” Wilson nods fondly, hands now in his pockets. “Man of many talents. Maybe every talent. Having a hard time thinking of anything he wasn’t good at.”

I hear the unstated in that. A tough act to follow.

I think, for purposes of journalistic integrity, I should probably insert my bias before we go any further. We had never met before this interview, but I am and have always been enormously supportive of Captain Wilson and the work he’s done, and have written myriad articles and think pieces about him over the past several years. He’s shown himself time and again to be a man of unshakable integrity and endless emotional intelligence, and frankly, I’m more worried about the poor sucker who’s going to have to follow Wilson. Rogers did a lot of great things, but among the best of them was choosing a successor.

I tell him as much and he smiles, looking down at his shoes.

“Yeah, I know that’s how you feel,” he says. “I requested you for this piece, actually, because of that. People are going to accuse me of wanting a softball interview here, and maybe they’re right. For this one, I think that’s what I need.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, but he continues before I can ask.

“We should probably do this in the kitchen.” Wilson indicates behind us with his thumb, after I’ve stood silently in his living room for probably way too long. “That couch is too comfortable. I end up falling asleep every time I sit on it.”

The kitchen is, perhaps, a little cramped. There’s a large, dark marble-topped kitchen island that just fits in the center of the room with four bar stools tucked under it. The cabinets are tall, with glass doors showcasing a massive collection of healthy, but non-perishable food. The shelf nearest us holds several well-used bags of pantry supplies: chickpea flour, arrowroot starch, raw sugar. There’s a pasta shelf above it, but no Kraft Mac in sight; everything is lentil-based, chickpea-based, black bean-based.

“Have a seat,” Wilson says, inclining his head towards one of the barstools. “Can I get you something to drink?” He opens the refrigerator.

“We have…” he pauses. “Water. Sorry, just got back from Ecuador this morning. Sparkling or still?”

I accept a glass of still water from Captain America. He sits down on the stool next to mine.

His house, or what I’ve seen of it, is homey in a way I can’t imagine any of the late Tony Stark’s buildings ever were, and I mention this.

“I lived at the Avengers Tower briefly,” Wilson tells me. “Tony liked everything streamlined, really modern. Kinda sparse for my taste. I needed some real furniture when I got out of there, you know? Like, things that were made by human beings. Stuff with ‘character,’ that’s what Steve would call it.”

“So you decorated this place?”

“I think it’s about fifty-fifty,” Wilson says, indicated with vague hand motion.

This is my in.

This interview, as you may have read on the cover description, is actually intended to be an exposé about the working partnership between Wilson and Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, but I didn’t want to be the one who brought him up first. 

All I knew going in is that they’re a package deal in the field, a unit. We’ve all seen the footage.

Also, Barnes lives here too, but evidently, he’s not home.

“What can you tell me about how you got to know the Winter Soldier?”

Wilson chuckles. “The first time I met Buck—Sergeant Barnes—he ripped the steering wheel out of the car I was driving on the freeway. He got on the roof, punched through the windshield, pulled the steering wheel off. Just like that.” He mimes with his hands as he describes it.

This doesn’t sound like an auspicious beginning to me, but Wilson is laughing.

“I hope he apologized to you for that,” I tell him, because I’m not exactly sure how else to respond.

“Oh yeah, of course he did, even though he knows I don’t blame him for it. He doesn’t remember it at all,” says Wilson. “There are a lot of gaps, to be honest. Most of it is gaps.”

What Wilson is likely referring to here is the decades-long period in which Barnes was under the complete mental and physical influence of the Nazi splinter group known as HYDRA. If you’re unfamiliar with the history of Sergeant Barnes, I’ll list a couple of great articles for you to read at the end of this one. I assure you, it’s worth your time. 

Wilson has without a doubt been Barnes’s most ardent supporter. He’s spoken out many times about not judging Barnes based on the actions he couldn’t control, and has masterfully refocused the national conversation towards Barnes’s invaluable contributions in World War II and in the recent war to bring half the universe’s population back into existence. Wilson has been quoted as saying, “The least extraordinary thing about Sergeant Barnes is his vibranium arm.”*

But perhaps Wilson’s most effective act towards building public confidence in Barnes was his decision to designate him as an almost exclusive mission partner. Even if the general populace has been reluctant to trust the Winter Soldier, it is abundantly clear that Captain America does, absolutely. Barnes is a constant in the footage of Wilson’s exploits. The moment he touches down on the ground after a successful arrest or negotiation, Barnes is right there. He’s been sighted treating Wilson’s minor injuries, tightening straps on the Falcon wingsuit before Wilson takes flight, and he stands quietly behind Wilson during almost all of his many public appearances.

Despite his ubiquitous presence in Wilson’s company, Barnes has remained elusive for comment. He has no social media, and the only public statement he’s made to date was in November of 2023, in support of Rogers’s decision to pass on the legacy of Captain America. Barnes expressed his categorical agreement that Wilson is “the best and only choice for this job,” describing him as both “worthy of the honor,” and “equipped for the burden.”**

“Is it fair to say that Sergeant Barnes almost comes with the shield?” I ask.

Wilson makes a face.

“No, it isn’t,” he shakes his head. “The shield is an accessory; my partner is not. I really don’t like it when people lump him in with the shield. It sort of minimizes how Bucky and I have made a series of conscious choices to be the way we are now. Especially because he’s experienced being fully stripped of his personal autonomy—as a veteran, I can say I’ve had a taste of that, but nothing like what he’s been through—and I think it cheapens his choice to do what he does if we imply that he, as a person, is a package deal with my title, you know?”

The therapist in Wilson is showing. In addition to his decorated military history and service as Captain America, he has a background in psychology, and a Masters degree in Social Work with a focus on Veterans’ mental health issues. He’s worked extensively with the VA as a leader in group therapy.

“So Sergeant Barnes is by your side day in and day out because he wants to be?”

This, Wilson has another unequivocal answer for. “Yes. He wants to be there, and I want him there. And here at home.”

“Tell me a little more about that,” I say. “After the...steering-wheel-stealing incident. Once he was more or less himself. Did you two hit it off right away?”

Wilson laughs again. “Not at all,” he says. “I think there was this resentment, kind of, in the beginning. Like I’m Steve’s best friend and no, I’m Steve’s best friend. Real elementary school stuff. He really got on my nerves; just everything about him annoyed me, and the feeling was mutual. Looking back…”

And here Wilson pauses for a moment. He chews on his bottom lip, and I notice all at once how nervous his body language has become. His fingers are drumming on the table, the line of his shoulders is taut, his leg is bouncing. He clears his throat though, and seems determined to continue.

“Looking back, I can see where it was coming from. It wasn’t clear to me at the time, but now I get it. There was this one time, it was during the fight over the Accords. We barely knew each other at this point. Buck and I, we’re fighting Spider-Man—who neither of us had ever even heard of before, like, that afternoon—and he pins us to the floor of this hangar with that goo he shoots out of his wrist. Really gross. I manage to get Redwing [Wilson’s drone] to fling Spider-Man out the window. So we’re just laying there, me and Bucky, stuck. And he goes ‘you couldn’t have done that before?’ And I just turn to him, and I’m like, ‘I hate you.’”

At this, Wilson really starts cracking up. He relaxes visibly, just a little.

“Did you mean it?”

“I sure thought I did,” he says, still chuckling. “Like, I wasn’t about to take it back.”

He continues: “Anyway, so after Steve, you know, passed on the shield to me, that’s when things really changed. Actually, back up a second. After the whole Accords incident, we ended up sending Bucky to Wakanda for like… to hear him describe it, it’s like we sent him for a two-year spa retreat. They unscrambled his brain as best they could—and really, I think it’s a good thing they couldn’t do any more because I wouldn’t wish some of his memories on my worst enemy—and he spent like months meditating in a hut and milking goats and going to therapy every day. When I met up with him again, I barely would’ve recognized him.”

“So that’s kind of when you guys reconciled? The arguing stopped?”

“Oh, it never stopped,” Wilson says with a grin. “We still argue all the time, about all kinds of things. Just ask Rhodey [Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, aka War Machine] or Scott [Lang, Ant-Man] or anybody. But the dynamic shifted a little, I think. Bucky’s got… Like I can’t imagine some of the stuff he’s been through, but he’s just kind of learned to roll with it. He is hands down the most resilient person I have ever met. Easily. It was real hard to keep hating him when he was so dead set on getting me to like him, too.”

“Can you walk me through the process by which you two decided to live together?”

“Yeah,” he says, and the nervousness is back. He smooths his hands on his thighs over his jeans. “So, basically, once I got the shield, we’d just barely come back. Like everyone else who got… I—I still don’t know if this is like an okay question to ask people. Do you mind me asking if you were dusted?”

I don’t mind. “Yeah, I was.”

“So you get it,” Wilson says. “Might be the most vulnerable I’d ever felt. I got nothing. Nowhere to go, just the clothes on my back. Then Steve hands me this shield and this enormous legacy—and I look back and there’s Bucky, standing a couple of yards behind me, nodding like, yeah, it should be you. He was the first person who knew, and he’s been right by my side ever since.”

“So you decided to stick together?”

“The original conversation about it was pretty logistical,” Wilson says, rubbing his beard. “There was so much going on, it’s hard to remember exactly what was said, but I think it was along the lines of him offering to fetch the shield for me while I learned how to throw it, and stuff like that. Just easier to do when we’re together 24/7.”

“So rooming together didn’t actually grow out of field partnerships?”

“It was definitely the other way around,” says Wilson. “Basically, I’d get a call from the powers that be that there was something I had to go check out, and it was easier to just walk across the hall than to pick someone else, try to wake them up, and then have to rendez-vous and strategize.”

“I’ll bet,” I say.

Wilson nods. “Easier and faster. Bucky can go from dead asleep to fully geared up in under three minutes. The first few times were like that, with me just knocking on his bedroom door like ‘hey, I need—’ and he comes barreling out covered in knives thirty seconds later like, ‘where are we going?’ We just… clicked. And I’ll be honest; I was really surprised. He’s got my six, I’ve got his, and I never question it. I started asking for him specifically on all my assignments after that, and Fury [Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.] and everyone caught on quick that that’s how it was gonna be. I don’t have to ask anymore.”

“Do you see this continuing long term?” I ask.

Wilson doesn’t hesitate. “Definitely.”

“How would you describe your relationship with Sergeant Barnes now?” I ask. “Clearly you’re partners in the field, and roommates, but…”

Wilson takes a deep breath. His hands are shaking, but he clasps them together in front of him and looks me straight in the eye.

“As of last month,” he says slowly, “Bucky and I are married.”

In the spirit of my interview with Captain America, who stands for honesty and justice and integrity, I think you deserve to know the truth. I want to say that I didn’t drop my recorder, but I did. It clatters to the floor, luckily undamaged.

That startles Wilson into a laugh. For the second it takes me to retrieve my recorder from under my seat, I wonder if he’s kidding.

“Come on,” he says. “Say something. I’m getting nervous.” He’s smiling, but not joking.

“Congratulations,” I blurt out. “I...really?”

“Yeah.” The tension leaves his body in a rush. “We, uh, it’s official.”

I’m struggling for questions at this point. The talking points I was planning on hitting in this interview are all suddenly moot, and I decide to throw out my mental to-do list entirely. I finally settle on, “How long have you two been together?”

“A little over two years,” Wilson answers. “About three months after I took up the shield.”

“How did it happen?”

Wilson grins. “Uh, well. I had sort of been…having feelings about him, you know, for awhile. Actually, it’s more like I had noticed that I was having more-than-friendly feelings in the few weeks leading up to that. I think the main reason we had so much trouble getting along in the beginning is that it took some time to process those feelings as attraction. So in a way, I was interested on some level right from the get go.”

“Even if that person wasn’t...behind the wheel of their own brain, so to speak—” I start, but Wilson interjects.

“I see what you did there.”

“—I think it would take a lot for me to be attracted to someone who had previously tried to kill me.”

“Less than I would’ve expected, that’s for sure,” Wilson says. “But it’s not like I was checking him out while he was busy tearing my wings off my back; I’m talking about once he was mentally present in his body. That was like...two years after the whole steering wheel incident, and I hadn’t seen him at all in the interim. I didn’t even know where he was during that time.”

“So it had at least been awhile since he had tried to kill you?”

“Oh yeah. And plenty of other people tried to kill me in those two years, and they weren’t even sorry about it. You gotta adjust your standards, you know?” he says with a laugh.

“Anyway, if you ask him, he says he’s been all in since the moment he saw me back in Wakanda after his little vacation. Now we’re talking about four years since the steering wheel thing. Me, Steve, Nat and everybody; we landed in Wakanda and Bucky’s there. He and I look at each other over Steve’s shoulder, and like, bam, that was it for him. 

“And then there’s five years where neither of us exist. We get back, we fight the monsters, Steve gives me the shield, and while all this is happening, apparently Bucky has come to the conclusion that he’s in love with me. After that, he was just waiting for me to catch up.”

“And he just knew you’d get there? Did you give him any indication that you were interested, or…?”

“I definitely did, but not intentionally,” says Wilson. “He’s very perceptive—like way more than I was giving him credit for—but I think it’s a combination of that and me not being as subtle as I think I am.

“Because, see there’s this invisible line I’ve drawn here—at least that’s how he was thinking about it—and I keep dancing a little closer to that line every day, the line being the no homo line; the point where you can’t take it back. The flirting, I mean. I, of course, think he has no clue and that I’m being slick about it. Actually, lemme ask—how much detail are you looking for here? Like do you want to know the whole story or just—”

“Lay it on me,” I tell him. “Just however you want to tell it.”

“Alright. Where was I? So I’m just there going back and forth on whether or not it’s a good idea to risk this roommate-partner-buddy thing we’ve got going here by trying to make a move that, frankly, I have no clue if he’s gonna be receptive to. You have to remember we’re talking about a guy from the Great Depression here, like that’s the time period he grew up in. I’m no historian, but I think it’s common knowledge that if you were a man who was attracted to men back then, you mostly kept that to yourself. The chances of him bringing up his sexual orientation unprompted are very low. And like, I’m 90% sure I’ve caught him looking before, but that’s never a guarantee, you know?

“So, instead of sitting down and having a mature conversation about my feelings, I keep doing this thing where, for example, say he’s trying something new with his hair, and I’ll say something nice about it. And then I follow up immediately with, ‘Almost makes up for your ugly mug,’ or whatever, which—I mean, he’s such a good-looking guy, like what ugly mug, obviously I don’t mean that. And he’s not stupid, he knows what he looks like. So he picks up on what I’m doing, doesn’t say anything, and lets this go on for months.

“Eventually, there’s one night… We’re on the couch, watching like, I don’t know, Seinfeld or something. Whatever was on. He’s reading a book on my tablet, looking all relaxed and handsome. I can’t have that, so I start egging him on like I usually do, and I guess I got close enough to the line that he just puts the tablet down, turns to me and says, ‘Sam, you know there’s no line, right?’ 

“And I’m going, okay, what does that mean? Like, is this a conversation I was previously a part of and forgot or...? Where is this ‘line’ thing coming from? And so I ask him—I think I just said, ‘What?’ At that point he looks me right in the eye, and he goes, ‘You can kiss me if you want to.’” So I did, and he was ready for it, like no hesitation. Like I said: waiting for me to catch up.”

This, as you can imagine, is far beyond the level of detail I could have ever imagined I’d get about Captain America’s love life in my wildest dreams. I decide to ask a new question, because I feel like I’d be pushing my luck to delve further when he’s already been so open about this experience. 

“Who proposed and when?” 

“Ooh,” says Wilson, “I guess technically I did, but I’m gonna go on record saying that one was a group effort.”

“Well, now you’re gonna have to explain that,” I tell him. “What’s a ‘group effort’ proposal look like?”

“Hmm. I backed myself into that one, didn’t I?” he says. “First, I want the record to show that before I called you guys to set up this interview, I specifically asked Bucky if there were any us-related topics or whatever that were off-limits to discuss and he said ‘No,’ and I said, ‘Are you sure?’ and he said ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ and I said, “You better be sure, because whatever I say is gonna be public knowledge after that,” and he said “I know, I get it, Jesus.” Then I dropped it because he sounded like he was getting kinda irritated. If he didn’t want me to tell you any of this stuff, that would’ve been the time to speak up, so here we go:

“We were at… Well, I can’t tell you exactly where we were, but let’s just say we were working. There was nobody else in the room, but we were getting ready to go out in the field; seemed like it was gonna be a pretty...intense situation out there. I had my whole suit on, he was calibrating his arm, and the conversation ended up at living wills. As you can imagine, that’s an important thing to have when you’re in this line of work. So he proceeded to tell me that the last time he’d updated his was never and that his next-of-kin was nobody. And I was like, ‘So what, your grenade launchers are all gonna go to the state? I don’t even get the red one?’ and I’m just giving him a hard time, you know, and he’s like, ‘Sam.’ 

“And then, my god, he just goes all the way off about how much he loves me and trusts me and I—we don’t usually go there. I mean, we’d been on the same page for a long time as far as, we’ve established that we’re in love, this relationship is going well, but it’s not something that we’d verbalized in any real depth. That’s just a level of like, exposure, vulnerability, I think, that doesn’t come naturally to most people, myself included. 

“So he just keeps talking—and I think it’s fair to say he’s not a very talkative guy most of the time—and I’m standing there with my jaw on the floor because he is not holding back, and this is all clearly unrehearsed. Like, this is just how he really feels about me, apparently. By the time he’s finished, I’m crying, he’s crying, it’s a mess. And so I open my mouth, and I have no idea what I’m gonna say to all that, but what comes out is, “Will you marry me?” I wasn’t planning on it, but suddenly I just knew. Best decision I ever made.”

“And you’ve made some very important decisions in your life.”

“That’s right. I know which ones I’m leaving out by saying this was the best, and I stand by it.”

At that moment, as if on cue, the lock clicks, and Sergeant Barnes walks through the front door carrying two very full bags of groceries on his vibranium arm. He tosses a set of car keys into a little dish and locks the door behind him.

“Hey, babe,” Wilson calls out, catching his eye.

“You did it?” Barnes asks.

“Yeah.” Wilson tilts his head up.

Barnes rounds the corner, pecks Wilson on the lips with all the comfort and familiarity of a couple who have done it a thousand times. I hear him murmur, “Proud of you,” under his breath.

Barnes sets the groceries on the counter in front of me as Wilson introduces us.

“Call me Bucky,” says Barnes, reaching out with his right hand to shake mine. There’s a silver band on the fourth finger, and when I look back over at Wilson, he’s slipping his wedding ring out of the pocket of his jeans and putting it back on his left hand.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d be able to go through with all this,” he says, gesturing to me and my notepad. “I took the wedding pictures down in the living room too, before you got here.”

“I knew he could do it,” Barnes tells me. His voice is low, soft, and so quiet, a hint of an old Brooklyn accent underlying his words even now, despite everything he’s been through and everywhere he’s been. He shrugs out of his nondescript hoodie and tosses it on one of the unused stools, grabbing a kettle and putting it on the stove.

“Hibiscus or chamomile?” he asks me, pulling two boxes of tea bags from one of the grocery bags and letting me choose before turning to Wilson. “Bad news, hon. They were out of your whole wheat pita.”

“Again?” says Wilson, with feeling. “Really?”

“They only had the gluten free. I guess I could check the other store tonight, but it’s supposed to rain later, and I kinda don’t feel like going out again,” Barnes says, head buried in the cupboard as he stacks cans. “I was thinking maybe I could just try making ‘em. How does that sound? How hard can it be, right?”

“‘How does homemade pita sound,’ he says,” Wilson repeats, jabbing a thumb towards Barnes. “Can you believe this guy?”

“I honestly can’t.” It’s the truth. My brain refuses to reconcile this man with the supposed playboy I read about in my 11th grade history textbook, nor the internationally feared assassin.

“Is that a yes or no on the experimental homemade pita?” Barnes asks Wilson, still deep in the cupboard. “No promises on quality.”

“That’s a yes, Buck,” says Wilson, then he turns to me. “Don’t listen to him; he’s a great cook.”

The Winter Soldier is a great cook, I write in my notes. And then I realize this is my moment to shine.

“I actually know a good recipe for homemade pita,” I tell them. “It’s whole wheat.” That gets Barnes’s attention.

“You do?” he says, pulling out his phone. “Can you send it to—hmm.” He frowns. “Sam, it’s not showing the thing.”

“What thing?” Wilson asks, taking Barnes’s phone from his hand. “Oh, yeah, that’s cause it’s set to Contacts Only, Buck, you have to switch it to Allow Everyone.”

Wilson looks at me, smiling. “Bucky here hates technology—”

“—I don’t hate technology—”

“Oh yes you do, you won’t even let me get you an iPad—”

“Yeah, for what? What do I need it for? I wouldn’t even use—”

“You wouldn’t use one, huh? How about I stop letting you borrow mine for a couple of weeks, then we’ll see how you feel.” Wilson turns to me, passing Barnes’s phone back to him. “He should be showing up on your AirDrop now.”

Sure enough, I’m able to send the recipe link to Bucky’s iPhone. He thanks me and starts scrolling right through it, argument apparently totally forgotten.

As Barnes continues to read, periodically checking on the kettle; Wilson excuses himself to help put away the rest of the groceries, which are mostly produce. 

“I hope you have like, immediate plans for these,” Wilson says, inspecting the avocados as he pulls them out of the paper bag. “They are ripe, man. Tomorrow’s gonna be too late for them.”

“Yeah I do, I was gonna make grilled chicken and avocado sandwiches for dinner,” Barnes replies. “I got tomatoes, swiss cheese—”

“What’s all this about pita then if we’re having sandwiches?” Wilson asks.

“No, the pita is the bread here,” Barnes explains. “You stuff everything in the pocket. I’m gonna have to get started pretty soon; probably gonna double the rising time since it’s cold out.” Wilson hums in apparent approval of this course of action.

I lose Wilson to the refrigerator for several minutes. He stands back up after arranging things in the crisper to his liking.

“Any chance I could get a peek at those wedding pictures?” I ask.

“Oh,” says Wilson. “That okay with you?” He turns to Barnes, who nods, carefully steeping bags of tea in three steaming mugs, and then leads me back to the living room. 

Wilson has stashed two silver-framed pictures in a drawer of the coffee table, apparently in anticipation of my visit, and he pulls them out to show to me. Both are taken in front of a familiar-looking farmhouse, which I struggle with for a moment before placing it as the exact one in Captain Rogers’s watercolor painting that’s hanging to my left. Wilson’s suit in the photo is a matte but brilliant shade of cobalt; Barnes wears black.

One is of just the two of them, arms around one another and foreheads together. It’s almost too intimate to look at; I feel as though I’m intruding on something intensely private, even though Wilson is standing right here offering me a glimpse of it.

He puts that one back up onto the mantle.

The next is them in the center of a large group that consists of some people I recognize and others I don’t. Familiar faces include Dr. Bruce Banner [The Hulk], Clint Barton [Hawkeye], and Maria Hill [Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.]. Also present: King T’Challa of Wakanda and his sister, Princess Shuri. There’s a young girl in a white dress, carrying a flower basket and missing a front tooth, standing in front of [C.E.O. of Stark Industries] Pepper Potts. Next to them is a teenager with floppy brown hair doing an indescribably awkward double thumbs up.

“Who’s that?” I ask, pointing at him.

Wilson snorts. “Some punk. Family friend.”

That picture gets hung on the empty nail next to Captain Rogers’s painting.

Barnes knocks quietly on the doorway behind us. “Tea’s ready.”

An awkward silence settles in with us once we sit back down in the kitchen, Wilson and Barnes next to one another, and me across from them. I flip through my notes, taking a sip from my mug.. My drink is sweeter than I was expecting, because apparently the Winter Soldier has added agave to the hibiscus tea he made me. It’s delicious.

Barnes eventually breaks. “So whatcha go over so far?”

“How we got together, how we got engaged,” Wilson answers him. “In detail too, so if you don’t want that published, you’re gonna have to grovel at the journalist yourself, because you said—”

“Oh my god,” says Barnes, old-school New York sarcasm dripping from every word. “How dare you tell people about the best thing I ever did, huh? Now they’re gonna think I’m like, a sensitive, good guy, and here I’ve been coasting along on this murder cyborg image. What have you done, you dick?”

Wilson rolls his eyes.

“So...you’re okay with it?” I ask them, absolutely ready to scrub the record if he hesitates.

“You kidding me?” says Barnes. “Every other week comes up some new atrocity I committed against my will in like...the 70s, and you think I’m gonna be upset with people knowing that once in a while I say nice shit to someone I love? Write it. Please. Knock yourself out.”

Okay then. Since Barnes seems willing to talk, I ask them if I can throw them a few questions I have for them as a couple. Barnes looks as though he wasn’t anticipating this.

Wilson turns to him. “You wanna be here for this?”

Barnes nods slowly, hesitantly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“You’re okay?” Wilson asks. “You decide you’re done at any point and I’ll end it. Or you can go hang out in the other room, your call.”

“I’m good for now,” Barnes decides. “I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“You can ask whatever you want,” Wilson says to me. “I can’t promise we’ll answer everything, but go ahead and shoot.”

“I guess the first question I have is: what’s the hardest thing about navigating your jobs as a couple? What bothers you the most about that?”

Wilson exhales loudly. “I mean, the obvious answer is the danger,” he says. “The nature of what we do is fundamentally unsafe. I think it goes without saying—I’ll still say it—that we’re always aware that one of us might not make it back from a mission, which is...” Wilson trails off for a moment, shaking his head. “You don’t get used to that feeling. The fear.”

“Mm hmm,” Barnes agrees, from behind his mug.

“And,” continues Wilson, “I’m also aware that by doing this interview, I’m putting Bucky in additional danger. I’m not naive enough to think that the people working against us won’t try to use my relationship with him as leverage against me.”

“That makes sense,” I say, because he’s absolutely right, and pretending that public knowledge of his marriage doesn’t put them both in a new kind of danger seems disingenuous. I face Barnes. “Your turn.”

“Racist assholes,” says Barnes immediately.

Wilson smirks and cocks his head in agreement. “Sometimes I think I’ve talked that subject to death, other times it’s like I could never hope to address it enough. Today feels like the first one.”

A diplomatic, but clear answer. Time to move on. 

I’m about to ask the next question when he adds: “Another thing that gets under my skin is how it’s like Bucky’s image in the eyes of the general public is totally dependent on me hyping him up all the time. As far as I’m concerned, he’s proven himself a hundred times over, and yet if I’m not on T.V. reminding people of that every day, it’s suddenly like ‘oh, the Winter Soldier, can we ever really trust him?’ 

“I just… It bothers me. I want us to come to a collective understanding that everything that happened happened to Bucky, not because of him. It kinda circles back into another of the things I’m passionate about, which is mental health care and awareness. I think if we as a society were better about recognizing and addressing mental illness, and particularly Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, I wouldn’t have to keep having this conversation about my husband.”

Barnes’s face is getting pinker and he says nothing, but he’s smiling a little at Wilson, who puts an arm around his shoulders.

“Anyway, we can move on,” says Wilson, his expression going easy again. “Just had to get that out there one more time.”

“Hopefully this one’s a little more pleasant,” I say. “What inspired you to come forward about your relationship? I know you guys—” I gesture between them, ”—have been together for a couple years, so why now?”

“I want to go on a date in public,” says Bucky. “I haven’t been on a date since the 40s.”

“That’s right,” says Wilson. “We’re doing all this so I can take him Denny’s and hold his hand over a $6.99 Super Slam.”

When I finish laughing, Wilson continues. “Part of it’s because we realized it’s gonna get out there whether we like it or not. You already knew when you got here that we lived together, and that’s because that information got leaked to the public last week, so it was always just a matter of time before people found out anyway. I’d rather have some control over that narrative; better you hear it from me and Bucky, how we want to tell it, than in some tabloid.”

He’s right about that: they would undoubtedly have been outed one way or another. Their status as “roommates” was reported by TMZ a week and a half ago, and there was a Buzzfeed piece only yesterday, rife with gifs, entitled 15 Times Captain America and The Winter Soldier Made Us Wish We Were Their Third Roommate, that ended on the note of how Wilson and Barnes are “absolute BFF GOALS.” Wilson continues:

“But I think the biggest reason is that we decided, together, that we actually think it’s good for people to  know. I’ve seen firsthand the impact that having a Black Captain America has had on the Black community and on the national topic of race, and we think—we hope—that a Captain America who is a member of the LGBT community will have a similar effect. 

“The people who already hate me aren’t going to like me any better or worse for being bisexual, but some bisexual teenager out there is hopefully gonna read this article and feel a little bit better about themselves than they did before. That’s really the impact I want to have here. Got anything to add, Buck?”

“Actually, yeah,” says Barnes, staring at the counter in front of him and fiddling with his wedding ring. “I grew up gay in thirties. The idea of being able to just...tell people, that’s still amazing to me. The fact that I’m sitting here talking about it with a stranger and you’re not screamin’ in my face right now…”

“You do know I’m not straight either, right?” I ask him. I’m not exactly shy about that, it’s the kind of thing most people can tell just by looking at me.

“Even so,” says Barnes, finally looking me in the eye. “You fool around with a fella back in the day—or worse, you make a pass and he turns you down—then he knows about you, and then it’s like, what if he tells someone? Some of the worst shit I ever saw came from people who found out that way. So, other gay guys. Basically you never felt safe.”

“What about Captain Rogers?” I ask. “Did he know?”

“Oh yeah, Steve knew,” says Barnes with a dismissive wave of his hand, like that ought to be obvious. “He wasn’t gonna tell anyone; I got too much dirt on him.“

“Pfft. He’s messing with you,” Wilson interjects, directed at me. “There’s no dirt on Steve anywhere; believe me, I’d know by now if there was.”

“I want you to guess how many times I’ve had to clean up Steve’s puke,” says Barnes in a total deadpan, leaning forward. “Whatever number you think it is, the real answer is higher. 

“This again,” says Wilson. “I keep telling you Buck, Steve throwing up on you at Coney Island isn’t the big scandalous story you seem to want it to be.”

“Sam wasn’t there, he didn’t see it,” Barnes insists. “We were with these girls and they just left us standing there by the Cyclone, covered in hot dog chunks. Actually, that part was kind of a relief ‘cause one of ‘em was definitely jonesing for me to kiss her before that, and I really didn’t want to. 

“But seriously, after everything we went through together, I knew I could trust Steve with anything. And that made me luckier than most—at least I had one person. Lots of guys had no one. 

“Anyway, my reasons for coming out with all this are probably more selfish than Sam’s. You know some of those Nazis—we’re callin’ ‘em something else these days, like ‘alt-right’ or whatever, but I know a Nazi when I see one—they have this crazy idea of what I was like back in the day. They’ve got this fantasy, like a golem of toxic masculinity with my face on it, and I just want to publicly shit on their dreams. Every date I ever went on with a girl was a total sham, and I was scared down to my bones that someone would figure that out. I fight because someone needs to and I’m good at it, but I hate hurting people and I’d much rather be sitting here cuddling on the couch with a man. This man.”

Barnes is grinning big and wide by the time he finishes—a real, genuine smile that brings out the sparkle in his eyes—and suddenly I feel like I’m catching a glimpse of what Wilson must be seeing in him. Wilson himself is laughing.

“I like how you snuck your little buzzword in there, baby,” he says. “Toxic masculinity. That’s one of Bucky’s things he learned about from his Wakandan therapist. 

“Obviously super important,” Wilson adds, lest I think he’s making light of something serious.

“I think it’s great that we’re talking about it so openly now, especially with respect to the military.”

Barnes tilts his head in agreement, checking the time on his phone. We’re probably approaching the point at which he wants to get started on that pita bread, and I’m definitely in his way.

“So what’s next for you guys?” I ask.

“Isn’t that always the question?” Wilson asks, taking Barnes’s right hand in his left and resting them, intertwined, on the countertop. “Sometimes it’s aliens. Sometimes not. Who even knows anymore?”

“Hopefully, a whole lot more of this,” says Barnes, looking down at their hands.

Wilson smiles. “Well, that’s a given. That’s always.”

This is when Barnes gets up to pull a stand mixer out of one of the cupboards, and I read that as my cue to take my leave. I end my recording, Wilson thanks me for stopping by, I promise to give him an advance copy of my writing to make sure he’s comfortable with what I said, and I find myself standing back on the sidewalk of [REDACTED] moments later.

I’m not typically in the habit of including as many details about the dinner plans of my article subjects as I have here—and I’m certainly testing the limits of my editor’s patience with the word count—but in the spirit of Wilson’s wishes for what his coming out story will mean to the people of America, I wanted to emphasize how human his marriage is. 

Barnes and Wilson have extraordinary jobs that they are undoubtedly uniquely suited for and that most of us will never fully understand, but they are also two people who have been through a lot of hardship and found happiness and peace in one another. And that’s something that most of us do understand: love, the human experience that transcends the divisions we give ourselves.

*From a press conference Wilson gave on May 7, 2025.

**From a statement written by Barnes and issued through a S.H.I.E.L.D. representative on November 1, 2023.

For further reading on Barnes, the author recommends: 

1. Greatest Generation X: The Impossible Life of James Buchanan Barnes, by Ariel Guzman, published in 2025.

2. R.Y. Uhlencott’s column “The Wolf of Brooklyn” in the October 2024 issue of Time covers the basic timeline and trajectory of Barnes’s life.

[talkfastromance4]

Beauty behind the Madness--Ashton Irwin (mafia!au)

**copyright listed below

A/N: It’s finally here! This idea was born so many months ago but I never did anything with it until I watched the movie 365 and ideas started to flow. I’ve worked on this for nearly two months, and I’ve never spent so much time on something as big as this before,so thank you for your patience! I would like to give enormous ‘thank you’s to @sexgodashton and @sadistmichael for beta reading, editing and giving feedback and other insights when I was stuck (which was many times), to @spicycal @karajaynetoday​ and @cheekysos​ for also beta reading and letting me scream at you about this process. I’m so so grateful for each and every one of you!❤💖 Also, this fic is inspired by The Weeknd’s ‘Beauty behind the Madness’ album and I listened to it a lot while writing. (Drown by Tyler Carter is Ashton and Nadia’s song in my head as well)

Word count: 27.1k

Warnings: mentions of violence involving guns, mentions of blood, casual drinking, swearing, sexual occurrences (female receiving oral, fingering, male receiving oral, consensual sex, slight dom!ashton). Please read with caution

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Ashton sets his drink on the lacquered maple countertop inside La Belle Vie, the ice clinks together in a satisfying finish. He checks the time on his gold embroidered black Rolex; he’s just in time to finish the dirty work his cohort set up. He slips past the bar, half ignoring the woman sitting at the end who stares him down like a hawk and descends the concrete steps to the interrogation room.

He faintly hears a fist connecting to flesh, grunts echo along the walls and his designer boots smacking articulately on the floor. One of his guards opens the door with a grandiose gesture as he undoes his cufflinks. As soon as he enters the room, another associate removes his suit jacket. It’s a rehearsed dance with the next step being Ashton rolling his sleeves up.

In view is his right-hand associate, Calum Hood, dressed down to his black tank top tucked into his Armani trousers. His face is contorted in concentration as he delivers another bloody punch to the man’s face who is tied to a chair. His face is a bloody mess, his shirt torn.

“We got what we needed?” Ashton asks coolly pulling his glock from the holster resting against his left side.

“Yeah,” Calum huffs, shaking his hand and flexing his fingers. “He said something about Nadia, though.”

Ashton’s hazel eyes flash in anger, he clicks the safety off his gun, and the man groans before him.

“What did you say?” Ashton demands as he shifts places with Calum who is handed a towel from Luke. The man mutters something under his breath. “Speak up, it’s hard to hear you through your own blood.”

“What does it matter? You’re going to kill me anyway, no?”

Ashton presses the end of the gun to his cheek, pressing hard so it turns his head back. The man’s green eyes are vibrant against his blood, and Ashton can see the fear in them.

“Tell. Me,” Ashton says fiercely.

“You better keep your bitch on a leash, or the Snatchers will catch her,” the man cackles manically.

Ashton snaps his wrist swiftly and pulls the trigger, right in the center of the man’s forehead. His body jerks and slumps in the chair, the sound of the gunfire echoing in the small room. He glances at Calum, his jaw working in anger at the man’s last words.

“Clean up down here, gentleman, then join me for a drink,” Ashton says, slipping his glock back in the holster. After a kill, his body is always electric and warm, so he holds his arm out to the associate who removed his jacket and they drape it over his forearm.

Calum follows quickly behind him, pulling his dress shirt on as he ascends the stairs. Paco, the bartender, already has his glass refilled along with a new drink for Calum. The woman at the end of the bar reaches for Ashton, her fingers greedy and her eyes crazed.

“You seem tense, can I help?” she asks, batting her fake lashes.

“Sorry doll, he’s a taken man,” Calum intercedes by pushing her hands away. She pouts as the two men walk away.

“Thanks, she had her eyes on me the whole time I was here,” Ashton says pressing his lips to his glass. The amber liquid is refreshingly cold as it slides down his throat.

“I’ve seen her here before, not really sure who she is but she should know who Nadia is.”

The two gentlemen take a seat at their table near the back, far away from everyone else and in perfect sight of the door. The music is loud enough to enjoy as the girls dancing on stage move hypnotically to the beat. Other associates and frequent club members sit in the leather chairs with cigars and drinks in hand as they observe the women.

“That almost worries me, Cal,” Ashton sighs resting his foot on his opposite knee. “I don’t want anyone knowing of Nadia and it seems like everyone does. That puts her in danger.”

“She’s well-guarded at all times, you know that. The bastard was just talking shit to get a last rise from you,” Calum says then smacks his lips after taking a drink.

“What did he say to you?” Ashton watches Calum carefully, his dark brows crease. “Calum, what did he say?”

“He said the Rozhkov’s and the Snatchers love the way she dances.” He glances nervously at his friend, his boss.

Ashton checks his watch again. Nadia should be arriving at the club soon with Vinny; he sent her on a full spa day. She’s been working hard and one of Ashton’s main goals is to make sure she’s well taken care of.

“He was talking shit,” Calum repeats, “No one would dare go after her.”

“How did—” Ashton stops short because the doors open and his eyes meet Nadia’s.

His whole world shifts, all that he’s done, all that he will do, vanishes. Nadia is the light of his life and she shines as she walks her way over to him. Her dark hair falls in perfect waves down her chest, the silver necklace he bought her hangs perfectly between her cleavage. She’s a vision as he rises from his seat, as does Calum, to greet her. It’s respectful to stand whenever a boss’ significant other enters the room, they’re like royalty.

Ashton extends his hand, gaudy rings shining in the lowlight and Nadia’s hand slips inside his.

“Hi angel,” he says softly, giving her a squeeze.

“Hi, honey,” she smiles walking into his arms. She pecks his lips delicately, a feather light touch. “Hi Cal,” she smiles and leans over to kiss his cheek.

“Come sit with me,” Ashton pulls her with him as he sits back in his armchair. She finds her place in his lap comfortably, one arm behind his shoulders. She crosses her tan legs that show beautifully beneath her gold dress. Ashton’s arms hold her close, his fingers locked together on her hip. “How was the spa?”

“Wonderful,” she smiles, rubbing her nose against his. “You didn’t have to do it, you know.”

“I wanted to; you had a rough week.”

“It’s only Tuesday,” she giggles.

“Yeah, and you came home last night all in a tizzy, climbing into my lap in my office—”

Nadia covers his mouth with her hand, silencing him. “Shush!” Her warm brown eyes glide to Calum.

He smiles behind her hand, pulling it away from his mouth to kiss her fingertips.

“I’ve heard way worse, sweetheart, trust me,” Calum chuckles taking a drink. “Can I get you something?”

“Amaretto sour,” Ashton answers for her and she smiles. “Three cherries.”

“Comin’ right up,” Calum winks then moves to the bar.

Ashton sighs, trailing his fingers over her back, staring into her warm brown eyes.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she smiles adjusting one of his chains. Her blood red, almond-shaped nails rub through his chest hair, she follows the trail to his top button of his shirt. She unbuttons it delicately. “There, now you can breathe.”

“One amaretto sour,” Calum says, handing the glass over to Nadia. She takes it with glee, slurping up the drink happily. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Asana in the Gold Room.”

Ashton and Nadia look behind Calum to see Asana waiting by the deep maroon curtains that lead to another set of stairs. Her dark hair is in a high ponytail atop her head, the gold eyeliner and gold lipstick contrast beautifully with her dark skin. It made her appear regal and Nadia was always stunned by her beauty.

The Gold Room is a special room where members of Ashton’s association go to…unwind. Men and women of the association meet there frequently when there’s downtime, like tonight, or after a successful mission. Asana is the head of weaponry; Ashton always gets the best from her and he trusts her with his life.

“See you two later,” Calum winks starting to walk backwards, his eyes on Nadia, “make sure he gets some rest.”

Ashton and Nadia watch Calum approach Asana who gives him a sly smirk as he takes her hand kissing it. As they disappear behind the curtain, the song changes and a cloud of cigar smoke creeps up on Nadia and Ashton. She scrunches her nose at the smell, Ashton kisses it.

“We can take our drinks to my office, angel,” he tells her, knowing she doesn’t like the cigar smoke. It always gives her a headache.

“Aren’t Luke and Michael going to join us, soon?” she asks while plucking one of the cherries from her glass.

Ashton’s momentarily mesmerized by the way her lips pucker around the bright red fruit before it disappears in her mouth. She tosses the stem onto the small table beside his chair then swipes her thumb on her chin collecting the cherry juice and licking it off.

“I think they’ll understand. Come on,” he pats the side of her bare thigh, so she stands.

Their fingers link together as he leads her past the bar to a secret door on the left. Once inside, Nadia clutches onto Ashton’s hand a little tighter, she says the space creeps her out because of the minimal lighting and dark walls. He’ll never tire of her feeling safe with him, that’s all he wants is her love and trust to protect her.

They reach the silver elevator doors; he pushes the button with one of his rings and the doors part open. Her heels scrape against the floor as he pulls her against his chest, her giggles echo the small space, their reflection apparent on every wall.

“Is this that new dress you bought a few weeks ago?” he asks tenderly, eyes roaming over the glittery gold fabric hugging her body perfectly.

“It’s the new dress you bought,” she pokes his nose. “You’ve got to stop spoiling me or people are going to get the wrong idea, honey.”

“What wrong idea is that?”

The doors slide open as they land on the second level, only certain clientele is allowed up here. Nadia is always at the top of the list. Nadia tugs his hand leading him out of the elevator right into his office. The first time she was brought into his office, it made her feel apprehensive, but it was also the first night they met, and it was under dangerous circumstances.

 ***

The rain is falling harshly on the hood of Ashton’s red Aston Martin Superleggera. He's cloaked in the dark of the night as he sits and waits for members of the Rozhkov family to arrive at the abandoned building he’s parked next to. Aleks Rozhkov has scheduled his associates for a pickup of money and parts. Parts that have intrigued Ashton so greatly that he wants to find out exactly what they are.

He’s been here for hours, waiting, watching.

Calum insisted on going with him for added protection, but Ashton declined. He knows the target on his back is large, but his element of surprise is his calling card and this ambush would give him the answers he needs. He sighs glancing at the clock on his dashboard, his thumb rubbing over the silver-winged design on his steering wheel. He always liked how the emblem of his car matched the condor tattoo on his neck, a dangerous pair with the desire to fly.

There’s movement to his left, and he sits up a little straighter then sighs when he sees it’s a civilian. She’s walking through the rain with an umbrella clutched tightly in her fingers, and Ashton notices she keeps looking behind her. Then she stops and three men suddenly surround her; the three men Ashton has been waiting all night for.

When one of them tosses her umbrella to the ground, Ashton springs from his car, running over. He pulls on the arm of the man closest to him before turning him around connecting his fist with his jaw. The other two spring into action, but Ashton is quick with his punches and elbow thrusts. In minutes all three men are down in the rain-filled alley, the woman breathing heavily against the brick building.

Ashton crouches to one of the men who’s grunting in pain and staring at Ashton through a swelling eye. “You tell Aleks, Ashton Irwin doesn’t appreciate him doing his dirty work in my city,” his voice is calm, but the warning tone is loud, “and that cornering a woman is warranted in death. Got that?”

The man groans nodding his head. Ashton stands, his eyes softening as he stares at the woman before him. He can barely see her through the falling rain and the dimmed streetlight, but he can tell she’s frightened, as if he can sense it.

“Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” he asks gently, stepping closer to her. She shakes her head in response. A car backfires and she lets out a scream. Ashton responds by grabbing her hand, “I have somewhere safe I can take you,” pulling her to his car and helping her inside. He cranks the heat as the engine purrs quietly to life, zooming to the main road and to La Belle Vie.

She’s visibly shaking while he drives to his club. He wants to comfort her in some way but is unsure how to. He’s pleasantly surprised she got into his car so willingly, but maybe his coming to her rescue appeased her.

He parks smoothly in his spot outside of La Belle Vie, he can hear her teeth chattering.

“Come inside, it’s warm and I can get you a drink,” he tells her before getting out.

He keeps a safe distance behind her, nodding to one of the guards at the entrance. They open the door just as thunder rumbles in the distance. Ashton and the woman are met with more dimmed lighting, and soulful, tantalizing music dances in their ears while the dancers on stage move hypnotically.

The woman halts as she takes in her surroundings and Ashton bumps into her back.

“Keep moving to the end of the bar, my office is in the back,” he murmurs pushing her forward gently. Ashton eyes their surroundings, the only people taking notice of him are Paco and Luke sitting at the bar. He shakes his head as if to say, ‘don’t ask, don’t stop me,’ and continues his way to the secret door.

He pushes on the wall; the door opens to reveal a dimly lit hallway with cement floors and dark walls. He feels her cower against him once more.

“You need to get brighter lightbulbs,” she mutters, shoulders rattling as she shivers again.

Ashton smiles at her comment but wants to get her warmed up as fast as he can. He leads her to the elevator, pushes the button and the doors open quickly. The elevator ride is short as it ascends to his office, he ushers her inside where he makes sure to turn all the lights on.

“Please, have a seat,” he motions to the plush black couch in front of the fireplace.

He turns it on with the switch beside the mantle, discarding his leather jacket placing it on the back of an armchair. He moves across the room to a closet that has blankets for when he sometimes spends the night here, and there’s a bedroom next to the fireplace. You can see a part of it through the flames if you look close enough. He doesn’t dare let his mind drift to the countless women he’s brought back to that room, suddenly he feels ashamed about those encounters.

He drapes the thick, soft blanket over her shoulders, she jumps from the contact, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you.’ Ashton moves to his desk picking up his phone that immediately rings the bar.

“Sir?” Paco answers.

“Send up some towels, dry clothes and two hot chocolates, please,” Ashton requests then clicks the phone back in its cradle. He sits across from her in the armchair that doesn’t have his coat on it, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks again. Now that they’re in brighter light, he sees how beautiful she is. Her dark hair hangs in wet strands framing her perfectly round face, her eyes are large and round and the prettiest brown he’s ever seen. Although she’s shivering, everything about her, from her tanned skin to those eyes screams warmth. A warmth Ashton hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Fine,” she responds quietly, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. She sniffs.

“I’m having towels and clean clothes brought up, along with some hot chocolate,” he offers, his fingers twisting one of his rings. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Why did you hurt those men?” she asks the same time he does.

“They were going to hurt you,” he says simply. He notices her eyes are watching the movement of his ring, he glances down noticing the dried blood on his knuckles that clearly has her attention. He frowns slightly. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t think twice about the blood, but he doesn’t want this woman to fear him due to this act. 

“Why were you there? Who’s Aleks Rosco—”

“Rozhkov,” Ashton corrects. He inhales deeply then leans back into the chair making sure to skirt around the truth. “He’s…a businessman that I’ve been wanting to meet with. We have things to discuss.”

“You—”

Three sharp raps to the door cause Ashton to stand and open the door. Luke’s there with the essentials Ashton requested, the towels and clothes in a bag, two hot chocolates in a carrying tray and a question in his baby blue eyes.

“Is she one of Rozhkov’s—”

“Thanks Luke,” Ashton replies shortly, taking the bag and carrying tray.  He shuts the door in the younger man’s face then brings the goods to the beautiful mystery woman on his couch. He places the bag in front of her legs which he’s just noticed are bare beneath her coat. He swallows harshly. “Towels and dry clothes are in here, there’s a shower just through that door you can use to warm up.”

Hesitantly, she lifts the bag, crooking it between her elbow and stands. Ashton moves to the door opening it, smacking the light switch on the wall. It illuminates the room showcasing the large California king bed with high posts and a thick black comforter. Again, he pushes memories of the numerous sexual partners he’s pleasured here, as if his dirty thoughts would offend this beautiful woman. He doesn’t want to offend her in any way, though he fears he already has.

She’s been visibly shaken since the alleyway and won’t look him in the eye choosing instead to keep focus of the blood on his hands. Is she fearful of what she’ll see in his eyes? Madness? A monster? 

Her small sniffle pulls him from his thoughts.

“Use anything you’d like in the bathroom. I’ll be out here if you need me,” he offers a half a smile then turns to give her some privacy. Then he hears her mumble something and quickly turns around. “What?”

“Nadia,” she says again, her brown eyes finally meeting his, “My name’s Nadia.”

***

She walks around his large desk, twisting her arm so she can push him gently into his specially made chair. It’s a black, wing back chair with gold accented buttons and the letters ‘A’ and ‘I’ stitched in gold on the front of the arms.

“What wrong idea?” he asks again, placing his drink on the coaster on his desk. It also has his initials on it.

Nadia shakes her head hopping onto the surface of the desk, her dress slides up her thighs. She takes a long sip of her drink as Ashton rests his palms on her knees, his thumbs rub onto her skin.

“Nadia,” he says her name sternly. He knows she knows that tone of voice, and she looks at him expectantly. “What will people think?” he softens his tone.

“That I’m nothing but a ‘sugar baby,’” she pouts, her fingers create the imaginary quotations.

Ashton sighs. Being in his line of business, doing what he does, he knows that’s what he’s perceived as, but he always waved it off without a care. He didn’t like, however, that Nadia has been labeled as a sugar baby.

“You know that’s not true,” he stands from his chair, towering over her. He removes her drink from her hand, placing it on another coaster then rests his hands on the wood. He stares at her until she meets his gaze. “You know how much I love and care about you.”

“I do,” she nods earnestly. “But I still hear the whispers.”

“Is it from people within my circle? Tell me their names and I’ll deal with them—”

“No, no, it’s no one associated with you. It’s…others. In the streets, in the shops we go to.”

“Don’t listen to them, and if I hear it—” he leans forward pressing his lips to her cheek “—they’ll have me to answer to.” His voice tickles her ear and she giggles from the vibrations.

“Why did Cal say you need rest?” she asks.

“Long day,” he shrugs. He relaxes when Nadia places her thumbs under his eyes, he can only imagine the dark circles beneath them.

“What did you do?” she moves her fingers to his hair, massaging through the dark locks onto his scalp.

“Angel,” he says in a warning tone, “what’s my number one rule?”

“Don’t ask specifics about your job,” she sighs, fingers still massaging.

“And why is that?” he sighs. His hand pushes her legs apart, his fingers run up the smooth skin of her thigh. She spreads her legs wider, welcoming his hand higher.

“To protect me,” she whispers and moans slightly when his fingers skim over her bare, wet folds. He tuts his tongue.

“No panties, hm? Why’s that?” he asks, teasing her slit. “You want to stain my desk?”

“N-no! Just didn’t feel like it…I thought you’d like it,” she sighs against his neck, her breath hot, and fingers still locked in his hair.

“You know I love it, angel.” He teases her hole with his middle finger causing her to squeak in response. He smiles, kissing her shoulder then inserts his finger slowly. Her own fingers tighten in his hair, her breathing becomes ragged. “Should I make you come right here for me? Right on my desk where I do my work?”

Nadia rolls her hips with the motion of his finger inside her, spreading her open and rubbing against her walls.

“Please,” she begs breathlessly.

He inserts another finger and Nadia whines in his ear, his thumb rubbing harshly against her clit. He loves hearing her moan for him. He works his fingers faster until her body clenches and she’s left gasping loudly in his ear.

“That’s my girl,” he praises twiddling his fingers inside her as her orgasm subsides. He removes his fingers gently pulling back to give her a smile while he sucks her off his fingers. Her eyes are glazed, her cheeks a bit rosy. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” she sighs. She drags her fingers back to his cheeks and pulls his mouth to hers, moaning into his mouth. Her fingers are quick to undo his shit buttons, palms pressing to his torso, nails dragging along his skin.

“You want another one?” he smirks against her mouth, her hands tugging his silk shirt from his trousers.

“Like you said,” her voice is sultry in his ear as she unbuttons his pants, “I’ve had a rough week.”

When Nadia’s fingers pinch the zipper, there’s a very loud urgent knock on the door. She lets out a sigh, visibly upset as Ashton snaps his pants back into place and rebuttons his shirt. He grins at her petulance, taking her chin in his fingers to give her a delicate kiss.

“I’ll be right back, angel.”

He checks his shirt as he struts across his office, hoping that whoever is behind that door is in a life or death situation. Everyone at La Belle Vie knows that if he has Nadia in his office, he is not to be disturbed. A rule that’s been established since that first night he brought her here. They’re being interrupted now just as much as they were then.

***

Ashton made sure to remove his rings from his fingers, placing them in a black porcelain bowl in the other bathroom used for guests; he’ll have them professionally cleaned in the morning. He feels empty without them. The added weight always made him feel secure somehow. One ring, a gaudy one with an onyx stone was always perched on his left pinky finger. Another one, specially made, sat on his right middle finger that always left his initials on the perpetrator’s skin, a flameless branding.

He sighs, turning on the tap and scrubbing extra hard, so the blood is completely gone. He’s never been this meticulous after a fight, or a kill for that matter. He’s become immune to the cold killings he does, usually saving the clean up when he’s back at his house in his large waterfall-style shower. He turns the water to the hottest temperature and yet, he still feels numb.

When the blood is gone, he watches his reflection as he dries his hands. Dark circles are under his eyes while the whites of his eyes are bloodshot. No wonder Nadia wouldn’t look at him, he looks every bit the monster behind such monstrous acts.

The door to the bedroom swings open, Ashton quickly tossing the towel into the sink and approaching Nadia as she exits the doorway. The t-shirt and sweatpants she’s changed into hang off her small frame, but she looks warmer. Her cheeks are rosy from the heat of the shower, she’s still hesitant as she glances at him.

“Find everything okay?” he asks politely.

“Yes, thank you,” she’s even more polite in her response.

To his surprise, Nadia moves to sit back on the couch and picks up one of the hot chocolates, bringing it to her lips. Ashton moves carefully around the couch and takes his spot from before in the armchair. She hums appreciatively at the warm drink, brown eyes flickering to his.

They stare at each other for a moment. Ashton is trying to decipher what she could possibly be thinking. He usually had a knack for that in women, but all he’s getting from her are unasked questions. Ashton has never been vulnerable with any of the women he’s had relations with, making sure his hard exterior remains impenetrable.

“You shouldn’t walk near that building that late at night. It’s dangerous,” he tells her, fixing his slight moment in weakness.

“I live a block away from there, and I haven’t had trouble until tonight,” her voice is stronger now. Ashton wonders if she’s got more courage from her warm shower or if there’s alcohol in her hot chocolate.

Testing his theory, Ashton picks up the other cup and takes a drink. All he tastes is milk chocolate with a hint of cinnamon, no alcohol detected. What changed?

“Why were you walking alone so late?” he asks. His interrogation voice rises to the surface, and he sees her fingers tighten on the cup.

“I teach ballet on Fifth and I stayed later,” she sniffs, her long nail traces the rim of the cover. “It started raining so I continued dancing hoping it would end, but it didn’t, and I had to get home.” Her eyes raise to his. “Why were you parked in that alley?”

“What age range do you teach?” he dodges her question. Luke’s unfinished question if she’s one of Rozhkov’s associates hangs in the back of his head. Nadia is a Russian name, after all, so she very well could be. “What’s your last name?”

“Why aren’t you answering my questions?” she deflects, eyes narrowing.

“Why aren’t you answering mine?” Ashton leans forward, eyebrows raised.

Nadia sighs, keeping her gaze steady on his. “I teach from the ages of four to ten, and my last name is Sharapova.”

Ashton’s jaw clenches, he needs to be on high alert because she could very well be working with Aleks Rozhkov. But his instinct is telling him she’s not associated at all, that she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her newfound confidence is questionable though. Ashton needs to do some more probing.

“Can you answer my questions now?” she asks, her tone is a bit softer, and it throws Ashton for a loop again.

“You only asked me one,” he points out, forcing himself not to smirk. “And I already answered it, I had to speak with them about business.”

“What kind of business? Are you a club owner? Is this Aleks guy a competitor of yours?” she’s rapid fire now, and Ashton thinks the hot shower and dry clothes has brought this out of her.

The innocence is still shining in her eyes, but Ashton is smart enough to not share his true business with someone. No matter how beautiful they are.

“I do own the club downstairs, and Aleks Rozhkov is…a competitor of some sorts, yes,” he nods.

“You only answered two of my questions,” she murmurs behind her cup before taking another drink.

“I can’t answer the first one. It’s better you don’t know what I do. Do you only teach ballet or dance in a troupe?” he asks. The surprised flick of her eyebrows tells him she’s impressed by his terminology, he hides his smirk behind his cup.

“I’m in a troupe,” she nods, “um, I dance with the Chamber City Company.”

“How long have you been with them?”

“Four years. Why can’t I know what you do?”

Ashton lets out air from his nose, she’s not letting this go.

“It’s dangerous for you and I don’t want to put you in any more danger like you were in earlier.”

Nadia sinks a little further into the couch, her hands clutching her hot chocolate tighter to her chest. “Are we safe here?”

Ashton mentally reprimands himself; he doesn’t want her to fear him, yet here he is treating her like the common offender that he deals with daily. Firing questions at her and questioning her motives when really, she’s an innocent woman.

“I’m sorry Nadia, I don’t mean to scare you,” he sets his hot chocolate on the coffee table rubbing his face with his hand. He’s reminded that his rings are gone, he feels exposed then removes his hand to look at her. “And I don’t mean to offend you with my questions, I’m only trying to figure you out. I promise you that you are completely safe here. I can—”

There’s another knock at his door, and Ashton becomes a little irritated. When he’s in his office, unless they’re called, no one is to disrupt him.

“Excuse me,” he tells her then moves to the door. He opens it to see Michael standing there, his cross earrings dangling. “What?”

“There’s been a raid by the abandoned building you were at earlier,” Michael says in a rush.

“Michael, you only come to my office if it’s vital, how is this important?”

“Because it was her apartment that was raided,” Michael glances behind Ashton at Nadia.

Ashton looks behind him, Nadia’s back is to them, and he pushes Michael back into the hallway so he can close the door.

“How do you know that? You don’t even know her name—”

“Nadia Sharapova? Yeah, I do. I was given a list of names and photos of the residents and when Luke saw her photo, he told me you brought her here. Does she have any connection with Aleks?” Michael asks.

“No, she doesn’t,” Ashton shakes his head.

“Are you sure? I know she’s pretty, Ashton but—”

“She’s not, all right?” Ashton snaps. “Why was it raided?”

“The three men you fought told Aleks you defended her and now he thinks she’s close to you. She’s a target now,” Michael responds quietly.

“Shit,” Ashton hisses, his hands curling into tight fists and he begins to pace. When he comes in front of Michael he stops, “what’s it look like outside?”

“Nothing in sight. We think he might’ve set the raid as a warning, to let you know he’s watching. I can send everyone downstairs home and bring in our best—”

“No, no, keep everyone here. I don’t want to raise alarm,” Ashton is rubbing his chin now in thought. “Make sure the right people know what’s going on, and check on Meyers that his cover is still hidden. Have Asana assemble our needed artillery. I need to tell Nadia—”

“You’re really going to tell her you’re in the mafia?” Michael’s dark eyebrows disappear under his dirty blond hair.

“No, I need to tell her she doesn’t have a home to go to. Only come to my office if you have other news.”

“Yes sir,” Michael nods.

Ashton sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. His good deed of helping Nadia has now put her between a rock and a hard place. He’s not quite sure which one he is in the metaphor or which is worse. He opens the door to see she’s standing in front of the bookcase next to the fireplace. She jumps at his entrance.

“I’m sorry, I was—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves his hand, “I have quite a lot of books in here. Um, there’s something I need to tell you, and it’s going to be difficult to hear.”

Nadia crosses her arms over her chest, not in defiance, but in more of a comforting way. Ashton almost wishes he could be the one comforting her. She nods at him to go on.

“Aleks Rozhkov is a…dangerous man and one of my…colleagues just informed me that your apartment was raided by his men,” Ashton explains carefully. He wishes he could tell her everything, it pains him to skirt around the truth like this with her.

“How do you know it was my apartment? I only told you—”

“We were sent names and photos of the residents and yours is on that list. I’m so sorry. You’re more than—”

“Names and photos? What are you, the CIA or something?” her voice rises in hysterics. She begins to knot her fingers together then grabs a lock of her hair and twists it between her fingers. Her eyes are moving frantically about the room, “This isn’t—what is happening? Why would he send men to raid my apartment?”

“Nadia, listen to me,” Ashton speaks slowly, moving his head in her line of vision. His hazel meets her brown and her breathing becomes more even. “I promise to keep you safe, but you have to trust me.”

“How can I trust you when I just met you?”

***

Ashton opens the door to see Michael standing there, his green eyes frantic as he meets the gaze with his boss.

“Mike, you know the rules—”

“I know, I know but this is urgent. There’s a woman downstairs who says she works with Liam and he wants to speak with you.”

Silent alarms go off in Ashton’s head. Liam Payne. He hasn’t heard that name in five years. They used to be a team, Ashton and Liam. They owned the town and partied with the most beautiful women. Others feared them because together, they rose to the top at an exponential rate.

Both took over the family business after their father’s ran off and hid because they were caught with extortion of money from the police. At the ripe age of eighteen, they became head bosses and had to learn the ropes from the associates their father’s left behind. Bonding over that life-altering event, they shared ideas and became as close as brothers.

It didn’t take long for them to excel their fathers’ legacies, both Liam and Ashton were easily the most respected and valued amongst their associates. Liam was the one who thought of the idea of La Belle Vie since they were living the good life. Two young men in their early twenties partying, meeting beautiful women and getting rich? What more could you want?

Another life-altering moment happened with Liam when one of the women he was seeing became pregnant. He stepped down from his duties which meant stepping down from Ashton. Ashton could only understand to a degree of why Liam stepped away, but his father leaving him left a deeper wound than he thought.

His father was all he had, but even when he was around, Ashton never felt love from him. He was always gone on “business trips” and would only say a few words to Ashton when he was home. He grew up void of love. When his father ran, Ashton swore to himself he wouldn’t have a family so he wouldn’t treat his children the same way.

Liam came around and soon after so did Michael, Luke, and Calum. The four of them became his brothers, his true family. He vowed to protect them with his life. So, when Liam left, too, he felt abandoned all over again. But he’s proud that he left to be what their fathers couldn’t be, present.

There was a raid that was happening, and Ashton called Liam for backup. He could fight like no other and drives better than any professional racecar driver he’s ever met. Liam was quick to say yes and once he arrived it was just like old times. Liam filled Ashton in on the new house he and Tanya bought, how the nursery was going to be set up with dinosaurs because they were having a boy.

Ashton could see the change in Liam, he had a new light of happiness and even showed him a picture of a large diamond ring he bought to give Tanya. Ashton was happy for him, he truly was, but to have one of his best friends—his brother—back by his side made him happier.

The raid went awry as soon as Ashton and Liam crossed the threshold of the warehouse. There were explosions and Liam was quick to pull Ashton into cover. One of the Snatchers—the Rozhkov’s errand boys—ran by and Liam took care of him quickly with a flick of his wrist and pull of his trigger. Just as Ashton was about to ask what their new plan was, Liam’s phone rang.

He picked it up because it was Tanya. Ashton remembers hearing her crying through the phone, Liam asking her what was wrong, where she was and then a scream followed by the loudest dial tone Ashton ever heard, was left in her wake. One of the Snatchers cackled behind them, gloating to another that their plan worked.

Angry and confused, Liam sprung from his place with Ashton reaching for the coattails of his suit, his gun pointed directly at the two Snatchers. They cackled again as they informed Liam that his new cookie-cut-life is no more.

Tanya and his unborn baby were in the house as a bomb went off and Liam lost control.

“Ashton…Ashton!” Michael snaps his fingers in front of Ashton’s face, snapping him back to reality.

Ashton composed himself quickly, “Did he say what he wants?”

“No. Should I have him come upstairs?”

“No, no, I’ll…I’ll be right down. Seat him in the Brandy Room, have Paco make him whatever he wants.”

“You got it,” Michael responds quietly. He looks like he wants to say something else but nods instead and moves back to the elevator.

As soon as he’s gone, Ashton backs into his office. He hears his name but it’s as if his head is underwater, his ears are ringing, and the numb feeling is back. He walks robotically to his desk, eyes on his glass as he lifts it in his fingers then flings it across the room. The glass shatters loudly on the door, the wood glistens from the liquid and ice as it runs through the panes.

The resemblance of names makes his head pound. Then his ears stop ringing and he’s shifted back into focus, Nadia’s hands are clutching at his arms spinning him around to face her. When his hazel eyes meet her warm brown ones, he locks into her gaze and holds on. When she touches his cheek, his hand is quick to cover it, feeling her warmth on his skin.

“What is it? Talk to me,” she asks him softly.

“An old…” Ashton swallows harshly and licks his lips, “a family member is here that I haven’t seen in a very long time.”

Nadia’s eyes soften, she rubs his cheek with her thumb. “Okay. What for?”

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head then knocks his forehead to hers. He breathes in her coconut and white gardenia perfume. All he wants is to stay here with her, but his past is flowing like a river into her life. He doesn’t want her to drown like him. “We didn’t leave on good terms.”

Nadia lifts her other hand to his cheek and stretches her lips forward to give him a soothing kiss. Ashton wraps his arms around her back, holding her close. She continues to stroke his cheeks lovingly. “You don’t have to tell me now,” she begins, “but if you’d like to talk about it, you know I’ll listen. Do you want me to stay up here and wait until you come back?”

“I’d like you with me,” he sighs giving in to his own selfish desires. Nadia helps keep him grounded, keeps his head level and his anger at bay.

“Okay,” she nods shifting her fingers to link together at the base of his neck.

Ashton pulls her into a tight embrace, he kisses her shoulder and exhales deeply as she kisses his ear. He gives her one more kiss before pulling back.

“How do I look?” he asks.

He watches Nadia fondly as she fixes his hair, adjusts his buttons and smooths down his shirt. Her eyes flick to his and she smiles.

“Handsome as ever.”

“Thank you, angel,” he forces half a smile. His mind is already downstairs on Liam waiting for him. Ashton grabs her hand, making sure she’s careful as they walk over the broken glass; he’ll ask Peter, one of his best waitstaff, to clean it up.

Their footsteps echo against the walls to the elevator. He leans against the parallel mirrored wall, the doors still open as Nadia settles next to him. She pushes the correct button and the doors close, showing their reflections.

***

Ashton and Nadia’s reflections stare back at them. They’re a good half a foot apart in the elevator as it starts to descend. He’s offered one of his guest rooms for her usage and for her safety. It took some convincing but after she finally agreed, he decided to take her to his place, it’s getting late.

He tries not to stare at her in the reflected elevator door but something about her captivates him. He wants to know more about her, and the thought terrifies him. the doors open once more and Ashton leads her down the hallway, he notices the way she inches closer to him, then pushes open the secret door.

There are only a few patrons left in the club, two of them being Luke and Michael sitting close together. Their heads snap in Ashton and Nadia’s direction as Ashton leads her by.

“See you tomorrow, boys,” Ashton tells them. They nod, eyes flickering to Nadia.

Once outside, Ashton opens the passenger door of his car for Nadia as she slides in. He makes sure to turn her seat warmer on which she thanks him for quietly. The ride is silent as he takes side streets and back roads, always taking the long way home in case he’s followed.

In another life, maybe he would be driving Nadia back to her place after a nice dinner, not back to his place because her home was raided. His fingers tap on the wheel reminding him how exposed they are without his rings. He’s being his most vulnerable with Nadia and they just met.

After twenty minutes, he’s pulled into his garage and shuts off his car.

“We—” when he looks at Nadia, her head is against the seat, eyes closed. He admires her for a moment, trying to decode what it is about her that has him going against his norm. Shadows from her long lashes kiss her cheeks and her cupid’s bow sticks out a little as she breathes evenly.

He doesn’t want to wake her. She looks so peaceful after a night of crazy circumstances that is ending even crazier by spending the night at a stranger’s house. Ashton sighs then exits the car moving to her side quickly. He opens the door and unbuckles her belt with care then places his hand on her shoulder.

“Nadia,” he calls her name softly. She sighs deeply, eyes fluttering open and she jumps in her seat taking in her new surroundings until her gaze lands on Ashton. “You’re all right. You fell asleep.”

He holds out his hand helping her get out, he can feel how heavy with sleep she is as they walk into the house. When they’re in the guest room, across the short skyway where Ashton’s room is, she’s practically hanging off his arms but he’s supporting her.

“There’s a bathroom just next door and remotes are in the nightstand if you’d like to watch TV,” he explains sitting her gingerly on the bed. “My room is right through the other end of the skyway, come get me if you need anything.”

Nadia nods heavily, her eyes drooping from exhaustion. Her adrenaline has finally started to subside, and she feels so drained.

“Thank you, Ashton,” she begins to crawl under the covers.

Ashton is frozen in place at the sound of his name leaving her lips. He watches her slip into the bed and curl up to one of the pillows. Her long brown hair fans behind her then he remembers it’s time to leave her be and rest. Even though everything in him wants to sit in the corner and make sure she does sleep soundly.

“Right,” he clears his throat, “Goodnight, Nadia.”

He closes the door as quietly as he can then walks through his skyway, his pathway illuminated by the moon. He hangs his suit jacket on the back of his chair, removing the rest of his clothes. Usually a man to sleep in his boxers, or naked, he pulls on some shorts and a tank top just in case. In case Nadia needs him and he doesn’t want to burst into her room completely naked.

As Ashton settles into his own California King bed, he stares up at his ceiling mulling over the events that happened tonight. Sitting outside the abandoned warehouse felt like days rather than mere hours ago. He didn’t even get a chance to investigate what exactly Rozhkov’s men were doing there. Nadia’s presence had completely shifted his focus and now all his attention is on her and keeping her safe.

He’s never truly felt alone until now, sure, he has his brothers, but this is a different kind of loneliness. It’s a loneliness of companionship while there’s a beautiful woman who crossed his path sleeping alone as well. What a twisted piece of fate.

The next morning, Ashton is on a phone call with Calum going over logistics of the raid in the kitchen when Nadia makes her way downstairs. Her arms are wrapped around herself as she takes in the whites and blacks of the appliances and surfaces, Calum’s voice drones on.

“I’ll call you back,” Ashton interrupts Calum then hangs up without a goodbye. “Good morning,” he greets Nadia.

“Morning,” she responds with a wan smile, eyes still taking in the room. Then she zeroes in on a coffee pot.

“Would you like a cup?” Ashton springs into action quickly by opening a cupboard and grabbing a mug. He pours her a decent amount then shifts to the fridge opening it up. “I have quite a selection of creamer, what would you like?”

“Um, do you have French vanilla?” she steps towards him peering into the fridge doors.

He pulls the requested creamer from the door then moves to her cup he’s started; she follows like a shadow. Ashton swirls the contents then pops the top and begins to pour.

“That’s good,” she stops him when the cream blooms in the dark coffee.

“Sugar?” he asks opening another cabinet. He realizes the double meaning of the sweet product and the pet name, for some reason he wishes he were calling her that.

“Two spoons.”

He stirs the concoction together with a spoon, tapping it on the lip before turning around to hand it to her. Nadia takes it graciously, blowing gently over the hot liquid before taking a tentative sip. She hums in approval then gives Ashton a smile.

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

He’s hypnotized by her eyes, being this close and in the natural light he can see tiny flecks of green and gold around her pupils. He blinks then lifts his own mug back into his hand.

“How did you sleep?”

“All right. I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that happened last night…”

Ashton notices her shy demeanor is back.

“I know, it is a lot. I was speaking with a colleague of mine before you came in and he’s going to check it out, make sure there isn’t anything dangerous left behind. I was thinking I could take you there so you can gather some of your things and bring here,” Ashton suggests.

The notion didn’t sound so odd in his head but now that he said it aloud, he’s realized how peculiar it is to have a woman he saved from the street move in with him in less than twenty-four hours. Even if it is temporary. He hopes she doesn’t question his motives, that she can see he only wants to protect her.

Nadia takes another drink of her coffee. “That sounds like a good idea, thank you,” her voice wavers slightly.

She leans against the counter, staring outside as two little birds dance around each other on the birdbath. She tilts her head as one of the birds do, wings flittering before it hops into the water near to the other bird.

“I’m assuming you want me to stay here because it would be safer than a hotel?” Nadia asks thoughtfully.

“Your assumption would be correct,” Ashton moves from her side to stand in front of her, he cocks his head so he can capture her attention. “I want you to feel safe, Nadia. I’m so sorry that you’ve been brought into this and I hope you trust me.”

“Can’t the police do anything?” she asks, and he smiles smugly.

“I’m better than the police, trust me.”

“I do trust you,” she downs the rest of her coffee, eyes flickering to the two birds who are now gone then back to Ashton. “That’s what scares me.”

Nadia then retired to her room while Ashton waited to hear from Calum about her apartment building. When he received an all clear, he ascends the stairs walking across the skyway then pauses before he knocks gently on her door. She responds with a quiet ‘come in’ and when he opens the door he finds her sitting on the window seat with her legs curled up underneath her gazing out the window.

How can she be so effortlessly beautiful?

“Um, if you’d like to get changed we can head on over to your place,” he says from the doorway.

She turns her head then slips off the seat, her bare feet sinking in the plush carpet with every step. “I have nothing to change into,” she shrugs, “this is all I have right now.”

Ashton curses himself.

“Right. Um, then let me get dressed and we’ll make our way there. I won’t be long; you can meet me in the kitchen.”

Ashton changed into one of his more casual suits, making sure he had his gun holstered inside the jacket, before meeting Nadia in the kitchen. Their drive is silent, Ashton doesn’t really know what to expect when they arrive at her building. He made sure Calum would be there and stand guard outside while Ashton and Nadia were upstairs.

He parks smoothly along the curb, rushing to her side of the car so he can open the door for her. Calum meets them halfway on the sidewalk, he grins at Nadia kindly.

“Calum, this is Nadia. Nadia, this is Calum, he’s a colleague of mine and a brother,” Ashton introduces them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nadia,” Calum grins again holding out his hand which Nadia takes. “I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nadia smiles weakly. When their hands release, she crosses her arms over her chest, an action Ashton notices she does a lot.

“We all right to go in?” Ashton asks nodding to the building.

“Yeah, everyone else is out. I spoke with the landlord and he said he’s going to have authorities take over to try and catch the—whoever did this.” Calum glances at Nadia then Ashton, he heard from Michael that Ashton doesn’t want her to know what his line of work is.

“I know who did this,” Nadia offers throwing a quick glimpse to Ashton, “he just won’t tell me why.”

Calum’s eyebrows raise in amusement, eyes darting between his boss and this woman he rescued the night prior.

“He’s a smart man. I’ll be out here if you need me.”

“Thanks Calum,” Ashton claps him on the shoulder as Nadia skirts around him. She pulls on the door; Ashton follows her down the hall to the elevator. “Which one are you in?”

“4C,” she says pushing the number four.

He follows her again as she walks down the hallway to the fourth door on the right, he knows Calum cleared the building but he’s keeping his wits about him. Nadia pulls her key from the pocket of her borrowed sweatpants, slotting it in the lock and turning. He notices her shoulders rise, then fall before she pushes the door open.

Peering over her head he can see the destruction her apartment is in. Plates and mugs are broken on the kitchen floor, chairs and tables are overturned. Her couch is even ripped open on the seats and she takes tentative steps inside, Ashton close behind. Picture frames are askew on the wall or tossed on the floor along with magazines, books, and dirt from upturned plants.

After taking in his surroundings, he shifts his focus to Nadia who has her hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she takes in her home. Nadia walks slowly to certain areas; her couch and her bookshelf in the corner, a spot on the wall that has impressions of picture frames left on the paint. When she pushes open her bedroom door, that’s when she gasps.

Not wanting her to be here longer than necessary, he moves behind her with his hand out as if to hold onto her elbow or cup her shoulder in comfort. He drops his hand in silent defeat, shoving it in his pocket instead.

“I can help you pack some clothes or pillows or whatever you need—”

“Can I have a few minutes, please?” she asks quietly, her voice cracking.

“I can—”

“Please, just…five minutes, Ashton.”

Ashton backs out of her room silently. Before he can make it to her main door, he hears her choked sobs as she cries. He swears in that moment he will protect her with his life.

***

The two men standing guard in front of the Brandy Room door, Charlie and Emil, step aside as soon as Ashton and Nadia approach. They nod solemnly to Ashton then smile in unison to Nadia as they open the doors. Nadia notices the usual men and women standing along the border of the room, Ashton always had his best security in La Belle Vie but she pauses on the woman with sleek black hair sitting at the table and a man in an Armani suit standing with his back to them. She assumes this is the family member Ashton is nervous about.

“Liam,” Ashton calls his name and Liam turns.

Nadia’s taken aback at how handsome he is, sharp jaw, chiseled beard with an odd, hard glint in his eyes but when he smiled it disappeared. When he smiled Nadia was reminded of a puppy that she wanted to get to know.

“Ashton! How’s it going, mate?” Liam sets his short glass of brandy on the circular table in front of him. He walks around the table, his arms opening wide for a hug but Ashton steps back. Liam chuckles shaking his head, resting his hand on the back of one of the chairs. “I deserve that,” he indicates the woman, “this is Veronica.”

Veronica has almond shaped eyes that are a piercing green in color. A beauty mark lies above her perfectly full lips. She stares at them as if bored and Nadia feels very intimidated

“We’ve met briefly,” Ashton’s voice is clipped as he keeps his gaze on Liam. “What are you doing here, Liam?”

“We’re not done with introductions yet! Who may you be, love?” Liam peers behind Ashton at Nadia.

Ashton turns to her; his face softens as he stares at her. He wants to hold her hand, but he knows if he does in this moment, he’ll be weak at her touch which is the opposite of what he wants to be right now.

“This is Nadia.”

Liam brushes past Ashton to take Nadia’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips, smiling on her knuckles.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nadia. I’ve heard whispers about you and they’re true, you are an exceptionally beautiful woman,” he murmurs then kisses her knuckles before releasing her hand.

Nadia’s cheeks flush at the compliment, she’s quick to peek at Ashton whose jaw is clenched at the interaction. She knows how protective he is of her and although Liam looks like a puppy when he smiles, he could have a mean bite for all she knows.

“Thank you,” she replies politely, nonetheless.

“What are you doing here, Liam?” Ashton asks again forcing his voice to remain even and controlled.

“I hear Aleks is still at large and I want to help end him,” Liam shoves his hand in his pocket walking back around the table. He struts confidently as if he owns the place and Nadia is confused at how comfortable he seems as he picks up his glass and takes a smooth swallow. “Veronica has been my little fly on the wall relaying what’s been going on to me.”

“You’ve been spying on me?”

“Spying, getting intel…it’s all relative,” Liam shrugs finishing off his drink. He places his empty glass on the table then leans on it with his palms. “I’m sick of him getting away with shit. I know you’ve got a plan and I want in.”

Ashton is reverted to that horrible day, where he lost his brother forever. Liam went ballistic and charged for the Snatchers who were boasting about the death of his girlfriend and unborn son. It was a distraction that took Ashton and Liam from the main quandary of reaching Aleks.

Ashton hurled himself into the throes of Liam’s rage and broken heartedness until the Snatchers were unconscious. Then Liam fired two kill shots into their foreheads. Aleks got away. Liam and Ashton had a fallout with harsh words then Ashton was abandoned again.

“What do you say?” Liam’s voice pulls Ashton back to the present.

“Why do you want to help now? I haven’t seen nor heard from you in five years, Liam. You don’t want this li—you don’t want a part of this…business… anymore,” Ashton catches himself because of Nadia’s presence.

Liam’s eyes flicker between Ashton and Nadia, the corner of his mouth twitches as he makes the connection that Nadia is completely in the dark of Ashton’s true business. He lets it slide this time.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I want to get rid of Rozhkov more. Veronica is my eyes and ears and when she heard Rozhkov is selling or buying or whatever the hell he does, I had to see you. Just think about it, yeah?” Liam reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a card. He holds it out to Nadia between his two fingers, she plucks it delicately from him. “I know he won’t take it from me, but I can tell he trusts you, beautiful. Make sure he calls me.”

He winks at her quickly, gives Ashton one final look then snaps his fingers. Veronica springs from her seat gliding to the door as they both make their exit. Nadia reads the card in her hand, it’s slate gray with silver writing that reads his name and below that it says ‘Efficient in getting the job done’ followed by a phone number.

Ashton exhales loudly, leaning on the tabletop and Nadia shifts her attention to him. She moves forward, stroking her hand over his back while the other grips his bicep giving him a comforting squeeze. She waits patiently for him to say something, analyzing how heavy his body seems. Not entirely sure on what he did today, she can tell that whatever it was has left him drained then Calum’s advice pops in her head.

“Let’s go home, get you in a nice hot shower and into to bed,” she offers.

He stands to his full height, sighing with a smirk as he strokes her cheek with his fingers.

“I’ll never deny a shower with you, angel. Come on.”

The couple say their quick goodbyes to everyone in the main room of the club, Calum and Asana now seated at the bar. Asana’s long legs are crossed as she sits atop the bar, Calum’s hand resting on her knee as he eyes Ashton after watching Liam exit the Brandy Room. Ashton shakes his head, Calum nods in understanding then turns his attention back to Asana who pokes his nose with her gold painted fingernail.

Ashton keeps a firm hand on Nadia’s thigh as he races home. The events of the day and seeing Liam are trying to catch up with him but he doesn’t want to face them quite yet. He’ll face them after spending time with Nadia in the shower and in their bed until she inevitably falls asleep from the activities they’ll be participating in.

Nadia takes the lead by grabbing his hand and pulls him upstairs to their shared bedroom. While she gathers their towels, Ashton discards his gun from his holster. He unloads it, double checks the safety is on and places it in the perfect outline of the case next to his side of the bed. Before Nadia, he’d always kept it loaded and right on the nightstand but now, he didn’t want her to accidentally pick it up and hurt herself.

He shuts the case with a satisfying snap then turns to Nadia who’s leaning against the opening of the bathroom door. She flashes him a keen smile then pushes off the door jamb entering the bathroom. The water sprays on as he makes his way into the bathroom just in time to see Nadia reach for her zipper.

“Let me,” he tells her softly. His fingers overtake hers, pulling the zipper down its track to the very bottom of her lower back. He brushes the straps off her tanned skin, the fabric drops to the floor in melted gold. She turns around and his breath is stolen at the sight of her naked body before him. “I’ll never get over how beautiful you are.”

Her cheeks flush, then Ashton watches her intently as she unbuttons his dress pants yanking his shirt from the waistband before working on the buttons of his shirt. He lets her push it off his shoulders while he kicks off his boots. He takes over by removing his pants, boxers and socks; his eyes never straying from hers. He lets her lead him into the large shower, steam rolling over them in clouds.

In a controlled manner, he cradles the back of her head in his hand pushing her against the dark tiled wall under the stream of water. Nadia gasps at the movement then hums when he presses his body against hers. She tilts her head back, eyes darkening with lust and love. He smirks at her submission, moving his hand from the back of her head to her neck, his thumb pulling her mouth open.

“What do you want from me, angel?” he asks huskily dipping his head so he can kiss the underside of her jaw. His teeth graze at the lobe of her ear before sucking a bruising kiss on her neck, his favorite form of showing she’s his woman, his love. “Speak to me.”

“Your lips,” she sighs, and he smiles pulling his head back to meet her eyes.

“Where do you want my lips?”

Nadia raises her hand then taps her bottom lip. “Right here.”

He crushes his mouth to hers, tongue invading her mouth easily and he tightens his grip on her waist and the back of her neck. His fingers knot in her hair while her hands travel up his back, squeezing the muscles in his shoulders. He feels as if he’s kissing her too roughly, so he reins it back. Many times before, he’s taken his frustration out by releasing it in rough sex with her. He knows her body well so he knows what she can take, and she always, always has a safe word that if she utters it he will stop whatever he’s doing immediately.

Right now, though, he wants a different form of passion with her, so he kisses her slowly.

“What else?” he mumbles on her lips and she hikes her leg up to his waist. The height difference makes it difficult because she can’t get a firm grip, so he helps by securing his hand behind her knee. His already hard and aching dick brushes against her inner thigh, she bucks her hips forward.

“Want you to fuck me,” she gasps, her nails digging into his skin.

“Already? You don’t want my fingers first?” he teases pushing his hips against hers. Her eyes close and he grins. “You were so good for me in my office…took my fingers so well.”

“Please, Ashton, please,” she whines trying to grind her core over his hot, wet dick.

He leans back then lifts her other leg, so it hooks around his waist securely. He grabs the base of his dick, rubbing his head through her leaking folds, pushing in slightly. Nadia bites her lip.

“You want me to go slow or fast?” he pushes in more, his senses tingling by feeling her warm walls take him in.

“Fast,” she whispers, eyes lowering to watch him enter her inch by inch.

As soon as he’s slotted into her fully, Nadia gasps from the fullness of him, and he begins a fast pace of thrusting. His grip is firm on her thighs as he holds her against the shower wall, cock propelling easily with his force. Nadia’s nails scratch at his back while her body jerks against the tile, her head smacking it as well.

Ashton nudges his hand behind her head as a cushion, he doesn’t want her to get a headache but continues to pound relentlessly into her as her moans bounce off the walls from the stimulation. With each push she clenches around him and it brings Ashton closer to his release. Nadia’s head falls to his neck, her lips suctioning onto his skin.

“Nadia,” he warns through his teeth not wanting a mark to show and he slows his movements. She moans against him instead, her breath hot on his skin, teeth still embedded on his shoulder. “Nadia,” he repeats more sternly, and she releases her teeth.

Satisfied, he picks up his pace, dick slamming in and out in an effortless glide. Her moans are more consistent as she’s rocked with pleasure, clenching around him as she comes.

“That’s my good girl,” he groans, his own orgasm taking over. His hips continue to pulsate against her, his body stilling as they both come down.

Nadia hums, releasing her nails from his skin that Ashton’s sure is covered in red streaks. He doesn’t mind those marks because his men won’t see those. He loves the lasting impression of her passion ingrained in his back, the burn a constant reminder of their fiery love.

He kisses her wet hair, thumb rubbing at the bottom of her scalp before lifting her off him. He sets her down tenderly onto the floor keeping a steady hand on her hips as her legs shake slightly. He glides his hands up and over her chest to cradle her cheeks.

“Let’s clean up and go to bed, yeah? What do you say?”

“Thank you,” she mumbles.

He smiles at her response, it’s not quite the one he was looking for now, but he appreciates it all the same. It was a method he came up with. If she didn’t thank him for an orgasm, it meant he didn’t satisfy her enough—or at all—so that’s his green light to keep going until he pleasured her.

He kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, then gives her a soft peck on the lips before he cleans her up. They massage shampoo in each other’s hair, letting it rinse off as they held each other kissing under the water. Ashton turns the water off and wraps her in the large fluffy towel.

As their bodies dry, they brush their teeth and he brushes through her hair after she toweled it off. It’s one of his most favorite intimate acts to do with her, Nadia adores her hair and he loves the shine and softness of it. Changing into their sleep clothes, he shuts the light off as she crawls into their large bed. When he’s settled next to her, he turns her by the cheek to look up at him.

“I love you, Nadia. You know that, right?”

“Of course, I do. I love you, too, Ashton.” She stretches up to give him a kiss. “Get some sleep and we can discuss Liam tomorrow, okay? I know you’re thinking about it.”

He doesn’t reply as she nestles into the sheets and against his chest, she’s asleep in seconds. Ashton remains awake for hours after. His mind reeling from his past coming into his present, it’s bringing forth emotions he thought he’s long forgotten. Nadia’s fingers tighten on his tank top, sighing out “sleep, honey. ‘m right here.”

He kisses her head then closes his eyes, she’s his weakness as much as she’s his strength.

***

It’s been three weeks now that Nadia has been staying with Ashton. In that time, he’s driven her to and from work and to practice in the city. He’s always parked outside so he can watch for Rozhkov’s men and thankfully she’s been safe every time. Ashton prefers when they’re at his home or La Belle Vie because he knows Nadia is one hundred percent safe.

With his new role of security for Nadia, Calum, Luke, and Michael have all stepped up to take over his usual duties at the club and intercepting phone calls. Ashton is constantly in the know on everything which caused endless late nights; he’s running on caffeine.

The only time Nadia and Ashton are truly apart are when he’s in meetings at the club and while they sleep. One night while he was sending e-mails, he heard a commotion from the kitchen. Jumping into action quickly, he flew down the stairs with his hand on his gun, when he saw her poking around in the cabinets.

Sighing with relief, he removed his hand as he approached her slowly while also forcing himself not to stare at her long legs extended from her shorts.

“Are you all right?” he asked, and she jumped at his voice.

“Yeah, I’m…I can’t sleep so I was looking for a snack…I’m sorry, this isn’t my home I shouldn’t be—”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” he shook his head. “I’m the reason you’re here, treat it like your home. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Popcorn?”

When the popcorn was popped and in a large glass bowl, he invited her into his study that was opposite his room. Hearing her munch on the popcorn behind him was oddly endearing as they walked through the skyway. He motioned to a plush armchair that had a blanket thrown over the back. Periodically he would place blankets all over the house for her to use, they appeared to be a comfort for her.

“You’re still in a suit this late?” she asked pulling the gray knit blanket over her legs. “Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?”

“Not really,” he shrugged crossing out a number on his sheet of paper. “I’ve been wearing suits since I was eighteen.”

“It’s like a dress code,” she mumbled shoving popcorn into her mouth.

“How so?” he grinned.

“All of you wear them. When we’re at La Belle Vie, everybody there is in a suit. Even the women, which, isn’t a bad thing of course, but it’s…interesting.” She gave him a narrowed look and he laughed.

“Are you making observations?”

“I am. I’m trying to do process of elimination.”

“For what?”

“Figuring out your job.”

Ashton froze. The playful banter was short lived like he should expect, but he never wants her to know what he does or has done in the past. He never wants her to see the copious amounts of blood on his hands.

“You won’t figure it out, and it’s better if you don’t. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, remember?”

Nearly every night after that, she would join him in his study while eating a bowl of popcorn talking with him until she finished it. It was always his favorite part of the day, spending this time with her. He got to ask her questions and understand her the more she opens up about herself.

He discovered she started dancing at the young age of four, she was constantly dancing and spinning around the house until her parents decided to set her up with lessons. Nadia quickly danced her way to the top of her class and was always excelling to the next age level, two years ahead her own age.

While ballet had its own structure and poise, Nadia really felt free when she danced, like it was the only place for her to be. She received a full scholarship to Juilliard at the age of seventeen, even studied abroad in the Royal Ballet School in London for one semester and then in The Paris Opera Ballet School in Paris.

Ashton is impressed by her successes asking what made her decide to dance at the Chamber City Company when there are plenty other prime ballet companies to be a part of.

“I love it here; I love teaching other young dancers and ballet is more of my soul than a job. If I were to join any other troupe, I’d be run like a machine and it wouldn’t be enjoyable,” she explained.

On another night, he found out how much she loves chocolate covered strawberries and the fog that blankets over dewy grass in the early mornings. Her guilty pleasure is watching classic black and white romance movies amongst her other likes of Italian food and dislikes of avocadoes. Her brown eyes shine a bit brighter when she talks of her interests, but nothing compares to the sparkle in them when she talks about her dancing.

She’s tried to figure out what his job really entails but Ashton catches on to her innocent questions easily and doesn’t reveal a thing. She never gives up and although he admires her perseverance, it upsets him that he continually lies to her but it’s for her own protection. He knows he’s rationalizing, but he brought her into this mess and telling her the truth would make it messier.

Nadia’s upstairs in the bar area with Michael while Ashton is down in the third lowest level of the club with Asana in the weapons room. She’s tapping away at her laptop while he eyes up some new artillery she has displayed out for him.

“I hear you’re going to Italy soon,” Asana starts conversationally.

“I’ve been trying to get out of it,” he mumbles.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t want to leave Nadia alone.”

Asana smirks and continues typing when she replies, “Why don’t you bring her with you?”

“Absolutely not,” Ashton deadpans, the look on his face clearly signifying it wasn’t open for discussion.

“She’s safest with you,” Asana sighs and closes her laptop. She leans on it; her dark eyes pierce his. “And if Aleks is keeping eyes on you, he’d use your distance from her as an advantage. He could come here and take her out while you’re gone.”

Ashton ponders this for a moment. He would trust Luke and Michael to protect her while he was gone but Asana has a point; Nadia is safest with him. Wherever he goes, there’s plenty of security plus he’s a deadly weapon himself.

“Wouldn’t that be moving too fast? I’ve known her for three weeks and I’d already be bringing her on a trip to Italy? What would she even do while I’m meeting with the Guerriero’s?”

“I could come with and take her shopping,” she smiles.

“This isn’t a vacation, Asana. And Calum would be working as well.”

“I know, and you know that I protect my own,” Asana’s voice turns assertive. “I can see how much she means to you, boss man. Three weeks or three years, there isn’t a deadline on caring for someone. It happens unexpectedly.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then she says no,” Asana shrugs crossing her arms. “I’ll stay here and help make sure she’s safe and going to practice. Have you seen her dance yet, by the way?”

“No…should I have?”

“I’ve read the forums and reviews of the Chamber City Company, and she’s the best dancer. I was only curious.”

“I’m sure I will someday. Thanks Asana, I’ll think about what you said,” he says then turns to the door, but he stops. “What’s going on between you and Cal anyway?”

“Figure it out, boss man,” she sighs airily then goes back to her work.

Later that night Nadia knocks on his study door and Ashton invites her in with a dull tone. He’s standing near the window rubbing the knots in his neck as she enters. His suit jacket has been tossed on one of the armchairs and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He’s been stressed all night.

“Everything all right?” Nadia asks setting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. She crosses her arms over her chest approaching his desk.

“Not really,” he sighs. “I’m needed in Italy for the next four days. I’ve tried negotiating and sending only Calum but they’re requesting me.”

“Why’s that a bad thing?”

Ashton turns to look at her, his jaw tensing. “I won’t be here to protect you. And while I trust my men and women to do that while I’m away…it puts me at ease when I know for sure you’re safe. With me.”

A soft pink blooms on Nadia’s cheeks at his sentiment. Over the last few weeks, her trust in Ashton has increased tenfold. He’s treated her with the utmost respect and never overcrowds her. He’s sure to give her her space and that she feels comfortable in his house. She’s still trying to figure out his line of business but her only leads are that it’s dangerous and Ashton is fearfully respected from everyone around him.

“Oh. Would I be here by myself?”

“No,” he responds quickly, “I’d have Michael and Luke here with you. My security system is top of the line but--”

“How long would you be gone?”

“Four days. There’s another option but I’m unsure of it,” he swallows thickly then rests his hands on the desk. He lifts his head looking at her in an almost morose way as he weighs the options he’s been given.

“What’s that option?”

“Asana, my head specialist, suggested I bring you with me so I would know you’re safe. But by knowing me…your life has already been upturned, and I don’t want to add more by flying you across the world.”

Nadia chews on her lower lip. How odd is it that if he were to leave her here, she’d be worried about him? From what she’s gathered on her own probing, his job is dangerous, but she doesn’t know exactly why or how.

Since the moment they met, he’s been protecting her with his life.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Italy,” she says brightly.

Ashton’s eyebrows raise in bemusement then he’s laughing, and Nadia follows.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to miss practice or your classes with your students.”

“I’m sure. I can get a sub and practice is on hold because the floors are being redone. There’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t have a passport,” she laughs nervously. Excitement and nerves bubble in her stomach at the thought of traveling to Italy. She has always wanted to go but never would have dreamed it would be with a man like Ashton, this mysterious, handsome man who has taken her in.

“I can have that arranged, Nadia.”

***

Every morning before Nadia leaves for practice she and Ashton share a cup of coffee and a light breakfast of English muffins and fruit. She leaves the remaining crumbs outside for the birds that always come by the feeder and birdbath, a request she made to Ashton long ago of keeping birdseed on hand. There’s something about watching them that soothes her and always brings a smile to her face.

“How long is practice today?” Ashton asks watching her place the small scraps of food in her palm.

“Three, then I teach from four to five thirty,” she rises from her place at the table and opens one of the French doors. Ashton watches her as she sprinkles the treats on the wooden platform of the feeder then comes back inside to stand next to him. “Do we have plans tonight?”

“Well,” he sighs winding his arm around her waist to pull her closer, “I’ve got a big meeting today that I’m hoping won’t go until five thirty. I was thinking we could go downtown to Caesar’s Palace for dinner?” He rests his other hand on her stomach, rubbing her affectionately.

“You know I never turn down Caesar’s,” she smiles brushing his dark hair away from his forehead. “Should I have Vinny drop me off at the club or come home and wait for you?”

“Meet me at the club, I’m having a new dress delivered for you,” he grins up at her and Nadia tugs on his hair.

“Ashton! What did we just discuss last night?” she whines in mock irritation.

“I can’t help it that I want to spoil you, baby,” he tickles her stomach until she’s doubling over squealing in laughter.

“Spoil me too much and I might get used to it,” she growls lowly in his ear. She nips at the shell of his ear and Ashton tries to drag her onto his lap but Nadia fights away from his grasp. “No, no,” she wiggles her finger at his perplexed expression; she’s never pulled away from him before. “If I spoil you too much, you might get used to it, honey.”

She twirls on her heels and Ashton has half a mind to follow after her, take her in his arms and press her against the kitchen island while his teeth graze along her throat and his fingers slip into her shorts. He restrains himself, knowing that in doing what he desires will leave them both late which isn’t much of a concern for himself, but he doesn’t want to put Nadia in that position. So, he watches her in an ever-growing fondness as she skips upstairs to their room to get dressed.

Within an hour, both Ashton and Nadia are in the main foyer waiting for Vinny to arrive. Ashton is making sure his cufflinks (black with his initials in gold) are situated perfectly while Nadia is plucking off small pieces of lint that only she can see off his shoulders. Her hair is done up in a French chignon with some fly aways shaping her face.

“So, at precisely five forty-five you will be in your office waiting for me for dinner?” she asks, her eyebrows flicking up.

“If the meeting goes well, yes, I will be waiting anxiously for you at five forty-five itching with excitement to help you change into your new dress,” he winks.

“You’re terrible,” Nadia giggles gathering her bags in her arms and over her shoulders. “There won’t be room in our closet if you keep buying me all these dresses.”

“I could always have a new closet built for you,” he suggests tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“My own Barbie Dream Closet, huh?”

“If you say so, doll,” he grins bending down to give her a tender kiss. Nadia sighs into his affection, always welcoming it.

“People will think you dress me every morning,” she mumbles on his lips.

“I prefer to undress you,” his mouth travels to her ear. Nadia snickers and pushes on his chest, but his grip is tight on her forearm.

“You’ve been insatiable, lately,” she sighs in appreciation, “what’s gotten into you?”

Ashton’s lips freeze on her lobe as her words set in. He’s acting the way he did when he was eighteen with Liam, the feeling of losing control so he tried to combat it by fixating it on his sexual endeavors. He doesn’t want Nadia to be a part of that spectrum, but with Aleks Rozhkov coming at large and Liam reappearing, it seems he’s slipping into his old self.

“I’m sorry,” he huffs kissing her cheek innocently before pulling away. “Things have been tense at work.”

“We can talk about it at dinner, and Liam if you want. He’s a big part of this too, right?” Nadia frowns.

Ashton sighs, he desperately wants to tell her everything about his life. She’s been wrapped up in it with him for almost a year and a half. Could he tell her? Should he tell her? Before he can answer, there’s a swift knock on the front door, Vinny’s arrived and Ashton sighs again.

“We’ll talk at dinner. Have a good day and dance your heart out for me, okay?”

“I always do,” she smiles rising on her toes to give him a kiss. “I love you. Don’t work too hard.”

“I love you, too, angel,” he grins opening the door. “Vinny.”

“Hello sir,” Vinny greets. He’s a tall, very broad-shouldered man with a crew cut. He’s tough as nails but is sweet as pie to Nadia, much like everyone in Ashton’s mafia family is. “I’ll make sure she’s at the club right at five forty-five.”

“Thanks Vinny,” Ashton nods as he takes Nadia’s bags from her. “I’ll try to call or text around lunchtime, Nadia.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” she steals another kiss to his cheek then follows Vinny to his matte black Bentley Bentayga that is equipped with bulletproof doors and windows. A feature added thanks to Asana that eases Ashton’s worry when she’s away from him.

Ashton feels the ticking of his watch against his wrist as he watches Calum circle a new Snatcher in the middle of the interrogation room. When he arrived at La Belle Vie, Ashton immediately went to his office to listen to voicemails from the Sheriff’s department and the Guerriero’s requesting his and Nadia’s presence at their annual party. He was called into the interrogation room at eleven o’clock.

Calum has only received bits of information that don’t hold value to Ashton, the Snatcher’s name and his birthday, which Ashton has already forgotten. Michael and Luke have been eyeing Ashton throughout the whole altercation, waiting for his order to do something more or to take the situation into his own hands.

Ashton is exhausted. Each tick of his watch is another reminder that he’s missed his window to call Nadia and it’s left him on a dangerous edge. He wants answers and his fingers twitch at the thought of getting them himself.

“Should we turn the heat up on him?” Michael asks almost excitedly. Luke perks up next to him, this has been a boring questioning for all of them.

Ashton unbuttons his suit jacket, and immediately one of his other associates is beside him to help remove the jacket. He sets his jaw while rolling up his sleeves carefully, watching Calum as he’s bent in front of the Snatcher.

“Hang that up,” Ashton orders motioning to his jacket, “I have dinner plans tonight.” He steps into the square patch of light, revealing himself to the Snatcher who visibly gulps at his appearance. It makes Ashton smirk. “Why don’t you take a break Cal, get a drink.”

“You sure, boss? I just got my ring cleaned and wanted to test it out on this fucker,” Calum turns his fist in the light, his engraved ring that also matches Ashton’s initials engraved ring glimmers. Each member has their initials in a ring so they can leave their mark like Ashton, it’s a form of unity.

“Maybe later. You’ve been at this too long, let me see if I can get our friend here to talk.”

“You’re in for it now,” Calum grins devilishly at the Snatcher. He gives Ashton a quick glance then backs into the darkness.

Ashton cocks his head to the side, folding his arms over his chest as he inspects the Snatcher like a car he’s thinking of buying. He’s contemplating on how to proceed. The ticking of his clock is felt on his whole arm, a constant reminder that his Nadia is dancing.

“From what I’ve heard, you were quite easy to catch,” he begins. “Why’s that?”

“It was either get caught by your stupid men or fall off the building,” the man responds. “I didn’t want to die so this seemed like the lesser option.”

“Oh, you think so?” Ashton smirks. “If that’s the case, then why did you gulp when I showed up?” he walks around the man slowly, taking in his body language. His arms are bound tightly behind him on the back of the chair, but his body is full of tension, Ashton can see the sweat on his neck as he comes back around to his front. “You’ve heard things about me, right?” Ashton bends over to look into his eyes.

The man clears his throat and licks his lips averting his gaze from Ashton’s. “Maybe.”

“I’m curious as to how you think being brought to me is the lesser option,” Ashton stands straight again, planting his feet.

“Others have been let go and told to change their identity.”

Ashton stares at him for a long time, waiting for the punchline because that’s the furthest thing from the truth. When the punchline doesn’t come, Ashton shakes his head sighing.

“Who told you that? Your boss Aleks? Hate to break it—actually, no, I’d love to break it to you, Snatcher, but he’s been lying to you. I don’t let people go.”

“Then just kill me.”

“No…no, I don’t think I will,” Ashton rubs his chin as if in contemplative thought. “This could be your lucky day where I do let you go after you give me the information I ask for. This tough act of mine could be just that, right? An act? So, tell me what Aleks is doing in my city again after being silent and you’ll be on your merry way to Mexico or wherever you think your other Snatcher fiends have disappeared to.”

There’s silence for a long moment, Ashton waits patiently. The ticking against his wrist feels harder, sounds louder, and it just makes him angrier that he couldn’t call Nadia on her lunch break. He can’t let that show right now, he wants the Snatcher to think he’ll walk free and release Aleks’ information.

“I have all day here,” he sighs, “I can order food and drink and enjoy it right in front of you until you talk. Because you will talk. Sandy beaches calling your name and all that.”

“It’s… it has nothing to do with you,” the Snatcher finally says, shoulders falling in defeat.

“What has nothing to do with me? You need to be more specific.”

“He—Aleks, he wants….” He shifts in his chair, but it only tightens the restraints on his body.

“What does he want?” Ashton implores stepping closer.

“He wants Nadia.”

Ashton fights to keep his composure while his associates react to that information and the ticking against his skin isn’t helping as it sounds a lot like her name. Na-dia, Na-dia, tick, tick. He inhales deeply through his nose.

“What does he want with her?”

“He’s getting paid from some anonymous person with a lot of money. They say she dances like no one has ever seen before.”

“What does this anonymous dealer plan to do?”

“Aleks will get paid in full and the anonymous person will kill her.”

Ashton flexes his fingers walking behind the Snatcher again, so he won’t see Ashton shaking with rage. He looks to Michael who understands what he wants without a word; to check on Nadia with Vinny. Michael exits the interrogation room with his phone already pressed to his ear.

Ashton regains his composure then circles back in front of the Snatcher; he rests his hands on the arms of the chair peering at him with a look that could honestly kill.

“What is the point of wanting her then killing her?” Ashton hates speaking the words out loud, it leaves a vile taste in his mouth.

“Aleks negotiated he’d have her as his own tiny dancer before sending her off to the anonymous dealer.”

Ashton stares him down, his anger boiling as the ticking of his watch persists. When he stands to full height he walks back around the chair just as Michael comes back into the room nodding his head that Nadia is all right.

“When does he plan on executing this plan?” Ashton’s voice is leveled.

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head vigorously which in part shakes his whole body. “Can I go now? I told you everything I know.”

Ashton slips his gun from his shoulder holster meticulously; he runs his fingers over his initials on the grip.

“You’re wrong again, because if it’s about Nadia,” he bends down so his mouth is level with the Snatcher’s ear, “it has everything to do with me. It isn’t your lucky day after all.” In one swift motion, Ashton stands straight releasing the safety and pulls the trigger into the back of the Snatcher’s head. “You would’ve been better off falling off that building.” The Snatcher’s body crumples forward as the shot echoes throughout the room. “Put the lights on please. Clean this mess up.”

He holsters his gun while extending his arm for his jacket that is placed over his forearm and he leaves the room. Noises of his associates springing into action follow him up the stairs to the bar. Calum is sitting near the edge of the bar as if waiting for Ashton to ascend.

“Ready for me?” Calum asks rising from his seat.

“He’s taken care of,” Ashton mumbles continuing to walk past him towards his office. Calum is quick to follow, knowing to remain silent in the elevator until they’re in the safety of his office.

Ashton tosses his jacket over the back of the couch moving to his drink cart and pours himself brandy in a crystal glass. He swallows it in one pull before he pours another then sits himself at his desk. Calum approaches him carefully.

“What’d you find out?” Calum asks sitting in one of his chairs.

Ashton circles the rim of the glass with his finger. “An anonymous dealer is paying Aleks to capture Nadia. Aleks plans to use her as his own tiny dancer before sending her off to the dealer who will then kill her.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton murmurs, removing his finger from the glass then sits back in his chair. Calum’s brows are furrowed in thought. “The Snatcher didn’t know anything else. Security is going to be tripled, and I’m going to contact Hotchkiss to be on high alert.”

“But Nadia’s all right?”

“I wouldn’t be here if she weren’t. I don’t want to alarm her, but I’m sending more men to her dance class to be safe until Vinny brings her back here.”

“What about her performance of Romeo and Juliet? That’s in a few days, isn’t it?”

“Shit,” Ashton hisses. He sighs deeply twisting his engraved ring. “I’ll have to tell her she can’t do it. I’m not risking her getting taken right under my nose.”

“She’s not going to like that, mate,” Calum shakes his head.

“Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn. Her safety has always been my top priority, you know that, and she knows that.”

There’s a knock at the door and Peter, the best of Ashton’s waitstaff, enters swiftly.

“Sorry sir, this was delivered, and I was told to personally hand it to you,” Peter says holding out a square envelope.

Ashton takes it from him, inspecting his name scrawled on the front. “Thank you, Peter.” He cuts it open with his letter opener to see it’s an invitation. In a sloping font on hard parchment are the words:

Liam Payne requests the presence of Ashton Irwin and Nadia Sharapova at his favored residence of King’s Club at eight o’clock. Mr. Payne will be on the second floor.

Ashton curses and tosses the invitation across his desk. Calum picks it up, reads through it quickly then glances up at his friend, his boss, with eyebrows raised.

“So, he is back, then?”

“He wants to help take down Rozhkov apparently. I’ll go but Nadia isn’t coming.”

“You were just saying how you wanted security tripled. You know you’ll be more focused on her wellbeing than talking with Liam. Why don’t you want her to go?”

“He showed a little too much interest for my liking.”

Calum’s lips twitch. “Everyone shows a little too much interest in Nadia for your liking. She should go with you; I know how Liam being here is derailing you, but she helps keep you at ease. Security will still be tight, but if you don’t bring her she’ll know something’s up.”

Ashton sighs because he knows Calum is right. Nadia does keep him grounded and with the new information of requesting her kidnapping, he’d be a fool to let her out of his sight.

***

It’s the night before Nadia will be joining Ashton to Italy. She arrived home—how strange it is to call Ashton’s home hers and even stranger that it felt so natural—from ballet class to see bags set aside to the entrance of the kitchen. Curious, she inspects them closer to see one of them has a tag with her name on it. Ashton must have packed for her.

On the counter she saw his wallet and keys and a note of their flight departure, she noticed a passport wasn’t present. Had he forgotten she doesn’t have a passport? Nadia looks all over the counter and the kitchen table for the small blue book but saw nothing and decides to head upstairs in search of Ashton.

There’s low music coming from his room, the door partially closed. She knocks before opening it and doesn’t see Ashton. She steps in a bit further peering into his closet that was open to the right when the bathroom door swings open behind her.

“Nadia?”

“Oh!” she jumps turning around then gasps when she sees Ashton wearing nothing, but a black towel held in his fist on his waist. She ogles at his bare torso, the chains of his necklace shining with his tattoos on full display over his muscular stomach. Her eyes continue to travel over his perfectly curled chest hair down as it disappears in a thin trail passed his bellybutton. There are some scars littered about his skin that she wants to know each story of.

“Is everything all right?” he asks, fist tightening on the towel.

“Um, I’m sorry. I…uhh, I was…” she stutters forcing her eyes back up to his hazel ones that are dead set on her. Her cheeks warm by being caught gawking and clears her throat, “I saw things were packed downstairs but didn’t see a passport for me.”

“It will be on the jet tomorrow morning, don’t worry,” he smiles moving to his dresser. He pulls open a drawer, the muscles in his back flexing with the motion and Nadia’s mouth goes dry. There’s another tattoo on the back of his neck, some type of bird that piques her interest once more. Her eyes follow the slope of his back downward, stopping at the towel where she can see the outline of his ass. He turns around, his expression amused. “Is that all?”

His voice snaps her gaze away and she wishes the earth would open up and swallow her whole. How embarrassing to be caught not just once, but twice at checking out his body.

“That’s all,” she clears her throat once more then walks briskly to the door. “Um, thank you. Sorry.”

She rushes into her room, snapping the door closed behind her and touches her hands to her burning hot cheeks. The first thing she’d noticed about Ashton was how incredibly handsome he is, but she never thought of him without a shirt on. Now that she’s seen him—muscles, tattoos and all—that’s all she sees when she closes her eyes when she’s in bed.

The next morning, Ashton and Nadia arrive at the plane hangar just as the sun is starting to rise from the horizon. Nadia’s only flown on a plane a handful of times, but this is the first time she’ll be on a private jet. She’s still trying to figure out exactly what Ashton does; is he a CEO of some major company she’s never heard of? With all the security (there’s about half a dozen standing outside the plane) she almost wonders if he’s a Prince of some sort.

He motions her forward up the steps, she uses the railing to steady herself because without it she would fall to her knees in disbelief that she’s boarding a private plane. Once inside, it’s decorated the way she thought it would be in dark maroons, blacks and accents of gold. Ashton certainly has a desired taste.

“Pick any seat,” he tells her quietly.

Nadia moves a little bit more towards the back near the bathroom and sits down on the plush leather seat, her fingers rub over the fabric.

“My passport—”

“Is up with the Captain. You’ll get it just as we land,” he nods placing his phone on the seat across the aisle from her. He glances at her to see she’s sitting on her hands, legs shaking as she gazes out the plane window. “Are you nervous?” he moves to the seat across from her.

“A little,” she pulls her lip in her mouth, smiling bashfully. “I’m not too sure why.”

“If it’s your safety you’re concerned about, you’ll be well protected,” he leans forward resting his hand over her knee, “I promise.”

Nadia nods just as commotion from the front of the plane is heard, Calum and a strikingly beautiful woman with long dark hair held in a pony atop her head and skin to match board. Ashton removes his hand as Calum and the woman approach. The simple touch left Nadia’s knee burning, and she had to shift her mind from envisioning him in only his towel.

“Nadia, you remember Calum?” Ashton asks and Nadia stands from her seat, smiling to Calum. “And this is Asana, she’s one of my best specialists.”

“I’m the best,” Asana smiles then holds out her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Nadia.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Nadia shakes her hand, “What do you specialize in?”

“Weapons,” Asana answers simply, Ashton sucks in a breath that doesn’t go unnoticed by Nadia. “The company buys, sells and trades weapons and I know which ones are worth keeping or selling. I hear you’re a dancer. How’d that start?”

Asana sits in the seat Ashton recently occupied and Nadia sits back down in her own.

“I was four when I started dancing and I picked it up super easily. Dancing has always been a part of me, and I dance with the Chamber City Company,” Nadia explains.

“Do you have any shows coming up? I’d love to see you dance.”

“Sleeping Beauty will be premiering in a couple of weeks,” she says glancing quickly to Ashton who appears to be in deep conversation with Calum. “I’m the Lilac Fairy.”

“Oh, how pretty. When’s opening night? I want to be front and center.”

Nadia continues to answer Asana’s questions and asks a bit of her own as well. Asana has been with Ashton’s company for almost four years, she sought him out when she discovered his company is number one in the business. Nadia feels a comradeship with Asana instantly, she’s easy to talk to and is excited to learn more about her on this little trip.

Nadia tries to listen in on Ashton and Calum’s conversation about their meeting, but the only thing she hears is that it’s with someone named Guerriero. Eventually, as the flight continues and meals are had, she becomes sleepy and curls up against the seat.

When she wakes to use the bathroom, Ashton is still awake on his phone as she passes by his seat. Her stomach grumbles a little while she washes her hands, back home she’d be in Ashton’s office with a bowl of popcorn. Nadia returns to her seat to find a small bag of popcorn on her pillow accompanied by another blanket. She looks to Ashton who gives her a smile then pops his own piece of popcorn into his mouth, an opened bag sits in his lap.

“Thank you,” Nadia whispers with a smile and sits back in her seat pulling apart the bag.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back, eyes crinkling and shining in the blue light of his phone.

“You should go to sleep.”

“I will soon, just a few more e-mails.”

Nadia sighs shaking her head but watches him silently as she eats her small bag of popcorn. After a few minutes, Ashton looks up at her.

“You should sleep, Nadia. I don’t want you to have jet lag.”

“You should, too, Ashton.” Her lips spread in a playful smile and Ashton chuckles.

“All right, fine. When we’re done with our popcorn, we’ll both go to sleep. I heard you’re going to be in a show, soon?” he pockets his phone in his suit jacket then picks up his popcorn bag.

“Yeah, opening night is in two weeks from today actually, or tomorrow depending where we are in the world.”

“Would it be all right if I came and watched?”

“I’d like that,” she nods watching the way his jaw muscle works as he chews. “Asana said she’d like to come as well.”

“Then I’m sure Calum would like a ticket,” he grins.

The popcorn is finished in comfortable silence, Nadia drifts off to sleep easily and Ashton stays awake a little longer but he’s not answering e-mails. He’s on the Chamber City Company’s website buying the whole front row of seats and a large bouquet of flowers to be sent to Nadia on opening night. He glances at her while she sleeps, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulder looking soft as silk. He wonders if she thinks about their post shower interaction as much as he does.

The first two days of staying at Ashton’s villa in Italy are spent sleeping on and off by Nadia due to the jetlag. Ashton secretly favored this because he knew she’d be safer in the house with Asana. He made sure a chef cooked her three meals a day while he was with Calum discussing terms with the Guerriero’s and that there was popcorn stocked.

On the third day, Asana finds Nadia out by the pool basking in the sun. She sits on the pool chair beside her frowning.

“What’s up?” Nadia asks.

“Do you want to go shopping? I know Ashton wants you to stay here so you’re safe, but you’re in Italy! There’s a club Ashton and Calum are going to that’s always a good time. Please, Nadia, you’re killing me being cooped up in this villa while we’re in Europe,” Asana urges.

Nadia laughs softly and considers Asana’s suggestion.

“I do want to explore a bit…will Ashton be mad?”

She has seen him beat up three men when they first met after all, but he never raised his voice at her, and how could he expect her to stay inside while in a beautiful country? She’s upset that she wasted the first two days sleeping off her jetlag but that couldn’t be helped. There’s a feeling in her stomach almost nagging at her not to do it but another voice in her head is telling her this is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity.

“What if he does get mad?”

“I’ll handle him,” Asana holds out her hand, “come take a walk on the wild side.”

The pair venture out exploring the city and shop in almost every boutique they walk past. Asana made sure she had some security with them and had her own weapons hidden very discreetly on her person. She can handle Ashton no problem, but she’s seen him furious and hopes that her extra thought to protection would ease him up a bit.

After their quick dinner of true pasta cuisine, they arrive back at the villa to see Ashton waiting for them at the front door. He disappears inside, Asana and Nadia exchange a look before trekking up the steps after him, shopping bags jostling against each other before setting them down on the floor.

“I thought we agreed you’d stay in the villa?” his voice is low and controlled. Nadia can hear the slight aggravation in it though.

“If it was while I was sleeping than that’s not fair, I wasn’t that coherent,” Nadia defends crossing her arms. “I wanted to see more of Italy than out of these windows.”

“She was perfectly—” Asana begins but Calum clears his throat from the stairs. He shakes his head then motions her to come join him. Asana sighs moving next to him and Nadia is alone in front of Ashton.

“It’s dangerous Nadia, and I need to know you’re safe here.”

“What was the point of me being here if I can’t leave? I’m not your prisoner.”

“The point,” he steps forward, his jaw set and his eyes dark. Nadia stands her ground but can understand how intimidating he is to everyone else. “Is that you don’t get hurt. It’s the last night and you’re going to stay here. End of discussion.”

He stalks away down the hall with Calum following him. Nadia turns to Asana who has an apologetic smile. Nadia lifts up her bags of new clothes, grabs Asana’s hand moving upstairs.

“We’re going to that club.”

Ashton is listening to Angelo Guierrero over the pulsating music of the club, his eyes gliding over the dancing bodies below. The VIP suite is filled with members of both mafia families and the drinks keep flowing as women keep interloping between the men in seats. At his vantage point he has perfect view of the entrance and his heart plummets into his stomach when he sees Nadia enter with Asana.

“I am glad we have uh…how you say, come to agreement,” Angelo continues holding out his gold ring covered hand.

“I am too, Angelo,” Ashton responds shaking the man’s hand, his eyes darting away quickly from Nadia. “Do you mind if we enjoy the rest of our evening? No more business talk, yeah?”

Angelo gives out a hearty laugh squeezing Ashton’s hand.

“Si, si! Divertitevi!”

Ashton rises from his armchair leaning on the railing as he watches Nadia press through the bodies. He’s torn between anger and amazement that she disobeyed him by coming here. She looks exquisite in a sparkly maroon dress, her cleavage shimmers in the strobe lights while she dances to the music which is ironically a remixed version of Sexy Chick. Her flowing brown hair falls over her shoulder in a long ponytail while her back is exposed from the dress, and Ashton sees a tattoo inked along her spine.

He’s hypnotized by her movements, her arms are thrown into the air as she dances, her body fluid as water. It makes him want to see her dance ballet desperately. Calum joins his side who sighs in disappointment observing the two women in the middle of the dance floor.

“Do you think Asana convinced her to come?” Calum asks.

“No,” Ashton murmurs watching Nadia move seductively to the beat. Her eyes glide up to meet his and she gives him a sly smile. “This was Nadia’s decision.”

The two men watch Nadia and Asana dance and drink together for a few more songs until Ashton can’t stand it anymore and moves to the stairs without a goodbye to Angelo. He wants to get Nadia out of here and back to villa where she can’t get into trouble. She’s already in trouble with him but he’s not quite sure if he’ll reprimand her yet as he pushes through the hot sweaty bodies.

As he approaches her, there’s a man that’s trying to pull Nadia against him to dance but she’s clearly trying to push him away. Asana is cornered by two other men, but Ashton knows she’ll have them on their asses in about thirty seconds. When Ashton finally approaches, he shoves the man away grabbing Nadia’s wrist and drags her out of the club.

“What is your problem?!” she shrieks trying to twist her free of his vice-like grip.

“I told you stay at the villa,” he responds through his teeth.

“For my protection, right? What exactly are you protecting me from?”

Ashton ignores her as she continues to resist and yell drunkenly at him until they’re to his car. Calum and Asana’s voices carry over to them when he opens the door, pushing her inside.

“I’m not a child,” she glowers at him.

“You’re sure acting like one,” he growls back.

“Sorry, sir,” she snarls clambering into the car.

Ashton sets his jaw then shuts the door in her face. He slides into the driver seat easily, waiting for Asana and Calum to join them in the car.

Once everyone is settled, he peels away from the curb zooming back to the villa. He glances at her in the rearview mirror, his anger dissipates each time he looks back. He tries not to let his eyes wander over her long legs, but he fails miserably. They look smooth as satin and he’s desperate for a touch, but he tightens his hand on the steering wheel.

Back at the villa, Nadia storms out of the car slamming the door harshly in her wake. Asana glares at Ashton and Calum before following her inside. Ashton doesn’t see either of them until it’s time to drive back to the jet the next afternoon. Nadia won’t look or speak to him.

*

Nadia’s opening night is in a few days and in between that time and coming back from Italy, she still hasn’t spoken to Ashton, she’s been very cold and distant. Ashton had decided to be the one to drive her to practice and to her ballet class she teaches. At one point she looked like she was about to say something when he told her that bit of news, but she remained tight lipped, nodded, and walked away to her room.

Thankfully, when she accompanied him to La Belle Vie she would join Asana at the bar and talk with her. The two have become incredibly close since their rendezvous in Italy. Nadia’s laughter always follows him as he greets other associates in the bar area before inviting them to his office.

Nadia watches him disappear through the secret door to his office, his hazel eyes meeting her warm brown. For a moment she forgets she’s upset with him, that he treated her like a child by dragging her from the club in such a manner and forcing her to stay inside like she was a grounded teenager. Then she remembers how little he made her feel and her bitterness is returned.

“He’s very protective of people he cares about,” Asana tries to reason.

“He didn’t yell at you and drag you out,” Nadia mutters.

“That’s because he knows I would kick his ass. Don’t worry, I got a mouthful from Calum,” she shakes her head then gulps down the rest of her dirty martini easily.

“What’s going on between you and Calum, anyway?” Nadia peers at her friend with a slight smirk.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Asana winks then pops her olive into her mouth. “Probably the same thing that’s going on between you and Ashton.”

It’s Nadia’s turn to blush.

She’s not entirely sure what’s going between her and Ashton. There’s no doubt some form of chemistry between them, but there’s so many secrets he’s keeping. She appreciates his protection but the way he treated her at the club was almost insulting. She’s not some fragile doll that will break.

The next morning, she speaks to Ashton for the first time telling him she’ll be at the studio late.

“What for?” he asks scrolling through his e-mails and drinking his coffee.

“I want to make sure I have all my variations down.”

“Opening night is tomorrow; won’t you be tired if you have to be at the theater by five?” his eyebrows raise, and Nadia is taken aback at his knowledge of her schedule.

“No, I won’t be. So, you don’t have to stay while I dance. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

“I’ll stay. No need for me running around and leave you there unprotected.”

Nadia sighs in defeat, she knows fighting him on this will only end in his victory. She’s not nervous about the performance at all, she’s more nervous about having Ashton seeing her dance.

At five thirty on the dot, Ashton enters the dance studio where Nadia teaches the smaller students. He holds the door open for the dance moms and dads as their little one’s prance along the sidewalk. Nadia is cleaning up small ribbons from the floor when he notices her.

“Can you lock the door for me, please?” she asks, and Ashton complies. “There’s a small office through that door you can use. You don’t have to sit out here and be distracted.”

“All right, let me know when you’re ready to go.”

As soon as Ashton settles in the quaint office area and has his phone opened to his e-mails, orchestra music starts to play, and he looks out the window of the door to see Nadia dancing. She’s everything he’s pictured in his head but so much more. He can see the true power in her body as she moves fluidly, her muscles pronounced in her movements.

He loses the concept of time as he watches her glide across the floor, he’s transfixed by her and realizes how deep his attraction and care for her truly runs. He rises from his seat, opens the door and the music fills his ears. With careful steps he moves towards Nadia, her legs lifting high in the air as she moves closer and closer to him.

She comes to an abrupt stop right into his arms, gasping at him being there. Her fingers squeeze on his suit covered bicep while his hand braces her lower back, her brown eyes shift to meet his honey green tea colored ones.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, chest heaving from dancing. “Is the music too distracting?”

“No,” Ashton shakes his head pulling a stray strand of her hair from her lips. “You’re distracting, I haven’t gotten anything done since you started dancing.”

“I’m sorry,” she tries to push away from him, “we can go—”

“Not yet, I have something to do first.”

“What?”

In an instant, Ashton dips his head to kiss her and as soon as their lips touch an electric shock is exchanged. Nadia hadn’t realized how desperately she wanted to kiss him until now and now she doesn’t want to stop. She gasps on his mouth letting him guide the kiss how he wants, her stomach filled with butterflies.

The hand that’s not on her back slides up her thigh underneath the practice skirt she’s wearing giving her chills at his touch. Nadia rises on her toes and Ashton lifts her in the air, their lips still connected in passion. Her legs wrap around his waist, she can feel his strong muscles as he holds her.

Already wanting to be closer to him, she tries to work open the buttons on his shirt and Ashton halts their kiss settling her back down on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Stop apologizing,” he holds her jaw in his hand, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “The reason I stopped is because what I want to do with you shouldn’t be done in an open window studio.” He feels her shiver at his hushed words, and he smirks. “Let’s go home.”

*

Ashton leads Nadia through the skyway hand in hand, the sun is just setting below the trees and they’re cast in a burning red glow. Her stomach twists in anticipation at what’s about to come as they enter his bedroom. Cloaked in red, he pushes her to the edge of his bed, his fingers lifting up her skintight shirt. She pushes off his suit jacket, eyes widening at the shiny gun secured to his stomach.

“Let me put this away,” he tells her covering the weapon with his hand, “and you take this off for me, hm?” his finger dips below the waistband of her skirt. His finger leaves her skin ablaze.

Eyes glued to each other, he watches her pull her skirt down and off her legs, followed by her leggings so she’s standing only in her bra and panties. Ashton groans slightly as she pulls her hair out from the low bun, it cascades over her breasts in dark waves. When he’s finished with the proper safety precautions with his gun, he locks it in his case. He stalks towards her, unbuttoning his shirt then tosses it to the floor. She looks so tempting in the red glow of the night, she’s the epitome of desire and he wants a taste.

“Can you take the rest off for me?” his eyes gesture to her bra and panties. Nadia’s quick to comply, the air of dominance in his voice is apparent yet not forceful. His questions always give her an option for an out if she wishes. She slips her bra off slowly, relishing in the way his eyes practically devour her before pulling down her panties. “Sit down.”

Again, she obeys then Ashton falls to his knees in front of her. He spreads her legs open so he can lean up and give her a burning kiss, his tongue swiping in her mouth. She kisses him back in excitement, hands sliding over his shoulders and into his hair. His fingers tickle up her thighs to her waist, he pulls his lips from hers and smiles as she chases for more of his kiss.

“I’m going to make you feel good, okay?” he pants, and she nods, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Lay down.” She lays back and he falls with her because of her hold on his hair but he leaves sucking kisses down her sternum to her lower stomach.

He lifts her legs so her feet rest on the end of the bed, his nose skims up her thigh then he transitions to the other thigh.  He kisses on her pubic bone and Nadia sucks in a harsh breath. Ashton wraps his arms around her thighs, then flattens his tongue against her core in one long, slow stroke. Her body lurches from the contact. It makes Ashton smile glancing up at her as her eyes close when he stretches his tongue on her lips again.

He dips his tongue lower, teasing her entrance then adds his lips to finally get a full taste. Nadia gasps, her thighs tightening around his head. Ashton moves in quick motions, flicking his tongue against her clit then suctions his mouth on her, eating her out vigorously. She rotates her hips with his mouth, her moans sound quiet and restrained so Ashton pulls his mouth from her.

“Nadia, look at me,” he says kissing up her thigh lazily. Her eyes open heavily. “Don’t hold back. When you orgasm, you’re going to say ‘thank you’ after each one. Then I know you’re feeling good. Understand?” she nods, and he nips at her thigh which makes her yelp. “Tell me.”

“Under…I understand, sir,” she gulps breathless.

“Good girl, I love when you call me that,” he mutters lowering his face to her exposed core. He teases her by ghosting his mouth over her pussy lips, inhaling her in. “Taste better than I imagined,” he sighs then dives right back in. Nadia gasps, circling her hips with his mouth again, back arching as his tongue licks the right spot.

Her thighs quake as she comes on his mouth, he slurps at her excitedly tightening his fingers on her thighs until they relax but Ashton doesn’t let up.

“Thank you,” she sighs quietly.

He hums against her, his tongue circling her clit while he adds a finger inside her. The moan she makes causes the strain in his pants become noticeable, but he ignores it to please her more. He pumps his finger inside her easily, curling it then tickling her spongy wall as his tongue frantically licks.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he sighs.

She’s wriggling beneath him, thighs clenching once more and her orgasm leaks on his tongue and finger. This orgasm lasts slightly longer, her whimpering drives him crazy and he needs to be inside her. He slides his finger out, sucking her taste off him as he does, and her body deflates against the bed. Ashton wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, appreciating the way she looks coming down.

He removes his clothes quickly, slipping on a condom then lifts her up placing her in the middle of his bed. Nadia lifts her legs so he can slot himself in between her thighs, he kisses up her stomach, tongue swirling over her nipple then he hovers above her, his arms on either side of her head.

“You forgot something, angel,” he sighs kissing her neck. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” she responds automatically. He smiles, happy with her quick submission to him. He drops his hips against hers, she lets out an impatient huff. “Please, Ashton…need you.”

Ashton plants his knees on the bed pushing her legs up farther, the head of his dick nudging inside and clipping her clit. Her nails are scratching up the sides of his back urging him further until he bottoms out then begins an even rhythm. Nadia’s fingers slope up his back, meeting his thrusts evenly then he kisses her. He pushes her legs even further to her elbows so he can pound into her with ease and power.

“A-ash,” she pants, nails digging into his back.

He fists the comforter as he tries to keep his release at bay, he’s concentrating on his breathing but it’s so hard when she’s clenching around him. Her nails add another sensation he’s never felt, it’s pulling the burn for her from the inside out.

“Thank you, oh…Ash,” she whimpers in his neck and he quickly pulls out, flipping her over onto her stomach with ease.

He roams his hands over her ass then to her hips, dragging her closer. He slides into her easily, picking up a quick pace of fucking her from behind. From this angle he can see the tattoo inked up her spine, he glides his fingers over the intricate looped design and the flower that rests between her shoulder blades. Nadia’s moans are consistent at this angle, he feels her multiple orgasms lubricating him up, so he’s slick with her juices making it easier to snap his hips against her.

She’s pushing herself onto him, aiding in her release while a quick succession of ‘thank yous’ tumble from her lips. Ashton’s climax is approaching fast, so he leans forward, propelling his pelvis in quick movements. His nose is in her hair, he’s intoxicated by her smell, her pussy clenching around him as he finally lets go. She’s moaning with his groans until he’s finished then remains there for a moment catching his breath.

With kisses to her shoulder and down her back, he pulls out then steps off the bed. He removes the condom tossing it quickly into his bathroom trash. Nadia is still slumped over, her ass in the air and he loves the sight. He gives her a moment, pulling on some shorts and grabs a shirt for her to sleep in.

“Hey, look at me pretty girl,” he coos gently, brushing her hair from her face. She stares at him with tired eyes. “Put this on, use the bathroom and come back to bed.”

Her movements are sluggish as she flips onto her back taking the shirt from him. He helps her pull it over her head and pulls her arms out. She takes his offered hands leading her to the bathroom. He closes the door for her privacy then lays on his bed, the sun has well gone down now but the city lights and moon fill his room with a dim radiance. That fiery red haze is gone but he still feels it in his bones.

Nadia shuffles slowly back to his bed after using the bathroom and he welcomes her into his arms, she snuggles against him as if they’ve been doing this for years instead of the first time. He kisses her hair and she sighs contentedly.

“Now I might be tired for opening night,” she teases and Ashton laughs. “You’ve never done this, have you?”

“Slept with a beautiful woman like you? No, not until now.”

“No—I mean, you’ve never brought someone back here to your own bed. It’s always been in your room at La Belle Vie.”

Ashton sighs. “No, I haven’t. How did you know about that?”

“I know about the Gold Room, why else would you have a bedroom in your office?”

His heart sinks. Does she think she’s just another notch in his belt?

“Nadia, I’ve grown to adore and care for you in a way I’ve never felt towards another person,” he admits, and it feels so good to say it out loud. “You’re very special to me.”

She tilts her head up, her hand finding his cheek in the dim light then drags his mouth to hers for a sweet kiss.

“You’re special to me, too. I’m glad no other woman has been in your bed but me.”

The next night for her opening night as the Lilac Fairy went by without a hitch. All of Ashton’s associates filled the front row seats that he bought with Calum and Asana to his left while Luke and Michael were on his right. His eyes never left Nadia as she danced across the stage. Her name was whispered amongst the people around him and he felt smug that he’s the only one who knows her so intimately.

An hour before the show, Calum told him that Aleks has been keeping a low profile. There haven’t been any purchases on his end or deals that have been scheduled. It left Ashton feeling unsettled because if he knows Aleks, he’s plotting something for sure.

It’s in the background of his mind to set up more eyes on the Rozhkov mansion but Nadia’s performance is on the foreground of his mind. He’s transfixed by her just as last night but the stage lights and the make-up she’s wearing exemplifies her beauty. When the show is over, he plans on taking her to Caesar’s Palace, the most notorious restaurant in the city, after congratulating her in her dressing room on a job well done.

***

Five forty-five on the dot, Nadia breezes into his office with a radiant smile that grows bigger at the sight of the garment bag hanging from his fingers. Ashton grins back welcoming her into his free arm giving her a hello kiss that she deepens, hands roaming over his shoulders and into his hair.

“What’s the matter?” she sighs pulling away feeling how tense he is under her touch. “Did your meeting not go well?”

Ashton clenches his jaw. “It went good and bad, but we have to go to The King’s Club at eight o’clock, Liam’s requested us.”

“Oh, all right,” she shrugs then eyes the dress bag hanging off his fingers. “Can I see my dress?”

“I thought you don’t want to be seen as a sugar baby, angel,” he teases extending his arm away from her grabby fingers. “I can always send it back if you don’t want it.”

“No, please I want to see,” she pouts.

“How about you take it in the bedroom and put it on for me then let me know what you think,” he smiles handing her the bag.

She squeals quietly, snatching the bag the same time she pecks his lips then skirts to his bedroom but keeps the door open. Ashton shakes his head knowing she’s doing that to torment him, but he resists temptation and waits patiently. When he hears her gasp, he knows she’s opened the bag.

“What do you think?” he calls crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s gorgeous!”

He smiles then continues to wait patiently for her to change and grace him with her presence. It’s not long until she’s strutting out in the tight-fitting iridescent dress. It’s two toned with gold and silver fabric with the gold wrapping asymmetrically over the silver and Nadia looks like a bombshell. The colors contrast beautifully with her tanned skin and the plunging neckline showcases her perfect breasts.

“This is perfect, I love it,” her eyes dance with excitement as she parades in front of him.

“You sure? I didn’t know if this area right here would fit you,” he trails his finger down the middle of her ample cleavage, a smirk ghosts his lips.

“Seems like you didn’t really want it to fit,” she giggles then pulls his arms off his chest. “How can I ever thank you for this?” Her hands move to his belt already undoing the buckle and snatching his zipper, falling to her knees.

“Seems like you already have an idea,” he grins enjoying the view of her breasts even more at this angle.

“Just a little thought,” she shrugs shucking his trousers off his hips. She takes him in her palm, he’s hot and heavy in her hand and she gives the head of his dick the gentlest kiss, but it spurs his member to life. She continues to give him soft, wet kisses, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

Ashton strokes his fingers across her cheek trying to keep his breathing even. “Don’t tease me, angel,” he sighs just as she darts her tongue over his slit. “Fuck, baby.”

He watches her open her mouth, eyes still on him, as she takes him in. Her tongue and lips are soft and warm around him as she swirls her tongue up and over his shaft. She works him over, salivating the more she takes him into her mouth until he hits the back of her throat for the smallest second before she tightens her lips on his shaft and pulls off him with a pop. A string of spit clings to her lips and Ashton is aching to be in her mouth again.

“So pretty like this,” he sighs as she wraps her lips around his head again. This time she sucks him into her mouth as she goes down, slightly gagging as he hits the back of her throat once more before she pulls off again. Ashton threads his fingers in her hair, halting her from moving forward. “Don’t strain yourself for me, okay?”

“I want to make you feel good, sir,” she blinks and Ashton groans. She knows what calling him does that to him.

“You always make me feel good. Don’t hurt yourself, Nadia. Keep going,” he nods.

Nadia smiles excitedly latching her puckered lips over his tip, her hand grasping the base that is now slick with her spit. Her hand and mouth work in tandem, sliding up and down effortlessly slurping as she goes. Ashton steadies his breathing keeping his climax at bay so he can enjoy his Nadia this way. His fingers are still in her hair but he’s giving her full control of the situation.

She takes him all the way to the back of her throat for a third time, her tongue clicking against him. The pulsation has his stomach clenching and he’s so close.

“C’mere,” he says gruffly pulling her off him. He spins her around, so she’s seated at the edge of his desk and hooks her leg over his waist sinking into her swiftly. He fucks into her with quick snaps of his hips, groaning against her neck.

She gasps in time with his thrusts, arms and legs wrapping around him like a vine as he fills her with the utmost pleasure. Ashton bites into her neck, sucking on the warm flesh until she’s screaming his name and they’re coming together. He stills inside her as he releases himself dry and her legs fall limp against the desk.

Ashton hums pulling his mouth from her neck that now has a dark bloom flourishing from his love bite. He cradles her cheeks in his hands, nudges his nose against hers then kisses her with a smile. He pulls out of her slowly, Nadia groaning as he does.

“See? Felt so good,” he sighs, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” she whispers on his lips, legs trembling from the loss of his girth. He tucks himself back into his pants as she leans against him, still coming down from their shared pleasure.

Ashton makes sure she’s stable against the desk before retrieving a towel from the sink along his wall. He wets it then makes his way over to her again to clean between her legs. He kisses her bare shoulder as he does, her hand rests on his shoulder for balance.

“Good thing you didn’t have panties on,” he commends on the corner of her mouth. He tosses the towel on his desk, rubbing his palm on her inner thigh.

“I planned it,” she smiles.

When their dinner date is over Ashton speeds to The King’s Club, his hand on Nadia’s knee as he drives to the destination. He’s second guessing gifting her with this dress because now all eyes will be on her. He holds her hand as they walk past the black velvet ropes and two bouncers that he recognized from his past. They let him in easily and others inside guided him and Nadia to the second floor where Liam is waiting on a white couch. Veronica is next to him looking bored.

To Ashton’s surprise, Calum and Asana are sitting on chairs beside him. Nadia smiles at them tugging a preserved Ashton over to them, his eyes are on Liam who is smiling widely.

“You made it!” he announces rising from his couch. “Last minute I invited Calum and Asana who just finished informing me that you two had dinner plans. I hope I didn’t cut into that.”

“Just a little,” Ashton responds tersely. Nadia squeezes his hand.

“It’s no trouble,” she speaks up.

Liam steps forward grabbing her elbow and kisses her cheek affectionately in greeting. “I’m glad you could make it. Please, take a seat, take a seat. What would you like to drink?”

When the acquired drinks are served, Ashton watches Liam very closely as he interacts with Nadia. He’s somehow pulled her next to him on the couch with his arm thrown casually behind her shoulders. He’s telling her about how he and Ashton bonded over the loss of their fathers and all the wild things they got into.

Ashton watches on high alert, his drink held carelessly in his fingers. He feels smug when Liam notices the love mark on Nadia’s neck. Calum and Asana’s gazes are set on their boss wondering how he is so calm while Liam is so close to Nadia. Ashton assesses the situation with a tight jaw but Nadia’s constant smiles at him lets him know she’s fine.

Calum and Asana are getting restless. Then when Liam laughs loudly at something Nadia said, his hand falls to her knee, Ashton slams his drink on the glass table.

“I think it’s time for us to use the bathroom,” Asana says grabbing Nadia’s hand. “We’ll be back gentleman.” She throws a look between Ashton and Liam tugging Nadia along.

Ashton gives Asana a look of gratitude and appreciates Nadia’s hand cupping his chin as she walks by. Her simple touch eased his irritation slightly. He knows she’ll be safe with Asana but nods his head to the guards that accompanied him here and they followed the girls. Liam watches the small party leave to the VIP bathroom then moves to sit on the table in front of Ashton. Calum leans forward wanting to be a part of the conversation.

“What are we doing here, Liam?” Ashton asks bored, he wants to get Nadia home and away from Liam.

“I know Aleks wants to get Nadia,” Liam starts. “Veronica found that out for me and I think we should let her take him.”

In a light of blinding rage, Ashton launches at Liam, his fist connecting with flesh as the sound of glasses shatter to the table and floor. Shouts of surprise are heard all around and Calum pulls on Ashton’s shoulders yanking him off before he could do worse damage.

“Not with Nadia here,” Calum hisses and that’s what really stops Ashton. Liam rubs his jaw where Ashton hit him, but he doesn’t seem surprised that he was hit.

“Listen to me,” Liam growls standing close to Ashton. Calum tightens his hold on Ashton’s arms. “I have the best trackers with the best equipment. We give Nadia a tracker and follow her to wherever Aleks is.”

“I don’t want her involved in any of this.”

“What have you been telling her all this time? You’ve been lying to her for how long, Ashton? She needs to know the life she’s wrapped up in and that she’s the key to stop it. I’ve seen the reputation you’ve built here and Aleks has been threatening that since Nadia has come into your life. She needs to know.”

“Tanya knew and look what happened,” Ashton blurts before he really thinks of his words.

Liam’s eyes flash and he rushes at Ashton. They’re both scuffling on the floor of the suite while others try to get the men away from each other. Calum shouts them away though because they need to solve their differences in their own way. There’s so much history and discord between the old friends it needs to be hashed out. He won’t let it get too ugly and he hopes Asana is keeping Nadia occupied in the bathroom while the situation plays out.

After a tiresome ten minutes, Liam and Ashton are left panting on the floor. Their suits are ruffled, their hair tousled, and their knuckles bruised but their five years of hurt and anger have finally come forth.

“Nadia is safer not knowing,” Ashton sighs standing to his feet. He holds his hand out to Liam who takes it as help. “I’m so sorry about what happened to Tanya. I wanted to tell you five years ago but you left before I could even try and help you.”

“I know…but my whole world ended that day. I had to get out. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“How is letting her get taken going to keep her safe? You know what Aleks wants to do before he sends her off to this anonymous dealer?”

“She will be safe because Veronica is a double agent. She’s been getting into Aleks’ good graces for over a year.”

Veronica appears beside Liam and hands him a napkin to clean the blood from his face. He takes it graciously.

“Then why don’t you lead him to wherever Aleks is?” Ashton asks her. “Why does Nadia need to be the pawn?”

“Aleks is all about his power trip. He has to believe he’s the one in control right now because whoever this anonymous dealer is, has him scared,” Veronica explains. “He’s on a time crunch and if he doesn’t deliver, he’ll be killed. He won’t hurt her because we won’t give him the time to.”

Ashton glances between Liam and Veronica, Calum calls his name. Ashton turns and Calum waves his fingers signaling Ashton to follow him to the railing.

“Excuse me,” Ashton says then meets Calum.

“How can we trust Veronica? Or Liam, actually,” Calum asks glancing at the pair.

“Liam may have left but he’s never lied to me.”

“It’s been five years, Ashton. You of all people should be questioning if he’s not really working for Aleks. For all we know, he could be.”

“Tanya was the whole reason he walked away from this, and if…if Nadia knew what I do, and she asked me to leave…I wouldn’t question it. I’d leave this all behind.”

“So, you’re seriously considering having her taken, just like that?” Calum is baffled at his friend, his boss, giving in so quickly and releasing Nadia to the lion’s den.

“No, not just like that. I want every detail. I know Liam left, but he came back and is offering to help. Family is family, Cal, you know this.”

Calum eyes Liam and Veronica some more than stares at Ashton for a long time. Nadia is going to have a field day at the state he’s in wondering what the hell happened while she was in the bathroom.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Calum shakes his head surveying the situation.

Then the club cracks into darkness and a deafening silence, screams echo throughout the building and Ashton quickly races blindly to the bathrooms. Any sign of trouble and his mind reverts to Nadia. He stumbles with Calum and Liam trying to find their way blindly. The sound of two gunshots and more screams fill the air then he hears Asana’s voice calling for Nadia. Ashton panics, his heart racing.

The three men skid to a stop as the lights power back on, the club fills with the loud bassline as he looks in front of him. Asana is on the floor with a cut on her cheek, Calum is quick to aid her by standing up. He touches her cut cheek delicately.

“What happened?” Ashton asks. “Where’s Nadia?”

“We were coming back out; I was hit and fell to the floor just as the lights went out. I heard Nadia struggling then two shots…” Asana shakes her head looking in the direction Nadia must have left in.

“Veronica—”

“He knows. He knows I knew his plan and he executed it early,” Veronica gasps. “Liam, I swear he told me in confidence it was supposed to be on her opening night.”

“Where is she?” Ashton demands, his fingers shaking because his Nadia was taken right from under his nose.

***

It took Veronica a few hours to pinpoint exactly where Aleks was which resulted in giving him a few hours head start to run with Nadia. Asana didn’t know if the gunshots meant Nadia was harmed or not and it left Ashton uneasy not knowing. She could be hurt or dying and he’s not with her to help.

Aleks took her to Spain which is where Ashton is now killing the few men keeping guard outside an elaborate mansion. He races inside with Veronica’s voice in his ear telling him where to go.

On his way, he takes out more men until he’s in the elevator descending into the basement. He made sure Asana and Calum stayed outside for visuals and had an ambulance and the police on standby. The basement is dimly lit with shelves along the walls filled with bottles of wine. The guards standing inside didn’t even approach him as he stepped inside, they simply watched him pass by.

“You’re right on him, Ashton,” Veronica says in his ear but Aleks isn’t in sight.

“You’ve always been too trusting, Ashton. I knew it would be your downfall.”

Ashton stops dead in his tracks. Stepping into the light from behind a large wine barrel, is his father, Frank Irwin. He smiles cynically.

“Hello, son.”

“What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Aleks?” Ashton is baffled to be looking at his father who left him nearly eight years ago. His hair has thinned and has a few more wrinkles on his face.

“With Nadia, I’m assuming. He was meant to bring her to me like we agreed,” Frank responds moving in front of the barrel. He folds his hands in front of his stomach, Ashton can see the family crest ring is still on his finger.

“It’s you? You’re the anonymous dealer?” Ashton feels like he’s going to throw up from this information.

“Yes, and Nadia is very lovely, isn’t she?”

“Where the hell is she?” Ashton is shouting now advancing to his father. The guards in the room step forward but Frank holds up his hands.

“It’s all right, gentleman. I need to explain to my son here how Nadia is teaching him to be the best boss. Nadia, dear, please come out.”

In horror, Ashton sees Nadia stumble from a closet or room of some sort. In the short amount of time they’ve been apart, her hair has been chopped off to just below her chin. Her beautiful hair that she’s always cherished, and he’s ran his fingers through so many times, is gone. Her face is pale with chapped lips, bruises and cuts are scattered all over her body as the dress he bought her is ripped.

He’s torn between his love and the need to protect her and his anger in realizing she’s been working with his father. His anger wills out and roars inside him.

“Ashton…” she sniffs, tears spilling over her cheeks. “What—”

“Is it true?” he interrupts, voice shaking. “You’ve been working with my father to get to me?”

“What? Ashton, I don’t know who he is—”

“He’s right there!” Ashton shouts pointing to his father. Nadia jumps. “You’ve been fucking with me this whole time under his order, haven’t you? Tell me the truth, Nadia.” He advances towards her, his voice dangerous, and Nadia is visibly shaking at his outburst. He’s never spoken to her like this before.

“Ash…please, believe me. I love you; I would never hurt you and I’ve never met him before in my life.” She’s sobbing, reaching for him but then gasps as a loud bang echoes, and she’s clutching her stomach. Beneath her hands, red blooms in the fabric of her dress.

As if in slow motion, Ashton turns to see Aleks with his gun poised at her from another doorway. Then Liam appears in the elevator and kills Aleks quickly. He’s finally avenged Tanya and his unborn child. Aleks is dead before he hits the ground then the guards jump into action. Ashton and Liam are quick to fend them off, either by injuring them or using their guns until they’re all slumped to the ground.

“Asht—”

Ashton turns around from his most recent casualty in time to see Nadia collapse in a small heap. Frank is laughing behind her.

“She’s right, son. We’ve never met but I arranged for you two to meet. I’ve been a guiding voice in the now late Aleks Rozhkov’s head to egg you on to be a better boss. I thought the continuous chase of her wanting to be taken would flip a switch in you.”

Ashton’s mind is racing with questions and doubts.

“Ash…” Nadia whispers from the floor. Her warm brown eyes are half-lidded as she stares up at him. “Please, I love—”

He knelt beside her immediately because his need to protect her is stronger than his doubts. He helps apply pressure to her wound, and through her blood, he sees the two small condor tattoos on the outside of her wrist, and he’s transported to another time.

“I love this tattoo of yours,” Nadia told him as her fingers daintily traced over the dark ink on his neck. He was in his study at home writing figures down on a pad of paper. “I read that condors mate for life.”

“Is that so?” he asked and pulled her onto his lap. That’s when he noticed the all too familiar looking bandage on her wrist. “What’s this?”

“I got my own birds on me,” she smiled. “I love you, Ashton and I wanted to match this one you have.”

“If I’m a condor bird, then you’re a condor bird, huh?” he grinned taking her hand in his delicately.

“Something like that,” she giggled. “Take it off so you can see.”

Ashton carefully peeled the tape and gauze from her wrist to reveal two birds in flight. One is larger than the other which he’s assuming is meant to be him, and he’s so enamored by the gesture.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect,” he nodded then met her brown eyes. “I love you, so much. You are my soulmate, Nadia.”

He’s kissed those small birds so many times since then and he feels downright idiotic and gullible to believe that she would double cross him. He is too trusting, and he was much too trusting of his father who was never trustworthy in the first place. His trust really is his downfall and it might cost his whole world.

He knows Nadia would never hurt him, and these two birds are proof of that whereas his father has been hurting him his whole life. Nadia’s eyes begin to close and Ashton panics.

“Liam!”

Liam runs to him quickly, sliding on the floor and int the small pool of blood that’s coming from Nadia.

“Shit,” Liam mutters.

“Get her upstairs and to Asana. I’m going to deal with my father.”

Liam rips off the sleeve of his shirt pressing it into the wound. Nadia grunts at the pain trying to keep her eyes open. Ashton touches her cheek the best he can without smearing her own blood on her face.

“I’m sor—”

“Shh, shh, you’re going to be okay. Liam’s going to help and make you better, okay? I’ll see you soon, stay awake for me.”

Liam lifts her carefully into his arms, murmuring a soft “I’ve got you love.” He gives Ashton a look before leaving the basement quickly and then it’s just Ashton and his father.

“How could you do this to me? Is this some kind of sick training session you’ve been instigating for the last eight years?” Ashton asks.

“I’ll admit, I did leave because I would have been stuck in jail well past my dying days. Then I wanted to use this opportunity to build you up to be the best boss there could be. I kept tabs on you, Ashton. You were doing everything right from partying, having women but you were lacking in one major role: being a boss. My leaving was really a chance for you to be great.”

“You left to save yourself. When you were around it was never a family. We protect our own and after you left we finally became a real family,” Ashton says.

“You’ve befriended the authorities and other families that we’ve always held an animosity with. They should all be beneath you.”

“No, we’re equals. I’ve helped with other dangerous mobs in the area and we keep the cities safe instead of stealing from it.”

“You’re abusing your power.”

“I’m utilizing it. There’s a big difference. You’ve hurt a lot of people Frank, me especially and you won’t do that anymore. Your little puppet, Aleks, is now dead and we’ll take down the rest of his Snatchers and whoever else follows him. But your time is over,” Ashton says reaching for his gun.

Frank laughs again.

“Is all of this really because of that girl? You can have hundreds of women, son, that’s the glory of being in this business! You take what you want when you want it.”

“No, that’s not how this business works. It may have been for you, but not me. I won’t leave my men or women behind. I have their back and they have mine.” Ashton raises his gun and clicks it; it’s aimed right at Frank’s head.

“I can keep teaching you to be better, how to be feared. You’ll really kill your own father?”

“I never had a father.”

He pulls the trigger and Ashton turns not even willing to spare his father another glance. He knows he’s dead, he has an excellent kill shot but he couldn’t look at the man who’s hurt him for so many years. He trudges to the elevator, eyes glued to the blood smear on the button as he ascends up. Ashton thought it hurt when he left but the fact that he used Nadia to try and hurt him? Nadia, the one person who loves him so completely and….

Ashton slams his palm against the elevator wall in anger. She’s been loving a liar this whole time because he’s kept so many secrets from her. Her blood on his hands is the last he’ll ever have, it’s because of him she’s hurt when he’s fought so long to prevent that from happening.

His mind is still reeling as he steps outside of the house in the blazing sun. An ambulance is parked near the cars he and the rest travelled in. Police sirens are heard from the distance, but Ashton needs to see Nadia. He finds her in the back of the ambulance with an EMT working on her wound and Asana holding her hand. There’s an oxygen mask over her mouth but she’s more alert, her hand slips from Asana’s and she reaches for him, eyes wide.

Ashton and Asana switch places quickly, he kisses Nadia’s hand fiercely, keeping it pressed to his lips.

“I’m so sorry, Nadia. This is all my fault, but no one will hurt you now. I swear it. It’s time I’ve come clean to you,” he confesses.

She winces as the EMT continues to stitch her up, her lips move beneath the mask, but he doesn’t hear her words.

“What?”

“She already knows, Ash,” Asana says from the doors of the ambulance. Nadia nods at him.

“She knows? How?”

“She figured it out months ago. The Sheriff stopped by when she was home alone once and wanted her to relay a message of thanks to you for taking out the LeBlanc’s. Hotchkiss assumed she knew everything and kept talking, giving her all the information she needed,” Asana continues to explain but he’s watching Nadia as if she’s speaking. Her eyes are soft at her admittance through Asana.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?” he asks, and Nadia pulls the mask down slightly so she could speak.

“Because all you’ve ever done is protect me and part of that was not telling me what you do. I was protecting your secret just the same because I love you.” Her voice is soft and quiet.

“And Asana knew this whole time?” he asks bleakly but his smile is of relief.

“She filled in the gaps. I made her swear not to tell,” Nadia whispers.

“I’m sorry I kept these secrets from you.”

“I know, but it’s okay,” she sighs falling deeper into her pillow.

“We are going to transport to the hospital,” the EMT says, “she needs rest.”

Ashton nods then turns to Asana but doesn’t quite know what to say.

“We’ll meet you there and take care of everything else here,” Asana nods. “You take care of her, boss man.”

The doors close and the ambulance rocks as it starts to move. Ashton presses his lips to the birds on Nadia’s wrist, she cups his cheek as tightly as she can. His world fell apart and has been restored by having her in his life.

“I love you so much, angel,” he whispers squeezing her hand. In her eyes she sees the same love reflected back. Their past, present and future are held between their gazes. “You’ve always been the beauty to my madness.”

• • • •

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[thesleepy1]

Spearmint Tea With A Teaspoon Of Milk And A Dash Of Honey

Tik Tok Writing Prompt

A/N: I saw this prompt on Tik Tok and have been thinking about it none stop for the past three days. I just had to write it. It may make no sense, but that's fine. I enjoyed the writing process for once. Completely unbeta'd because I'm lazy and this was written in a hurry before it left my mind. If you see any mistakes please let me know.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMdVg7jBL/

Pairings: No pairings

Summary: “You have been an immortal for a couple of centuries now. Today, you’re enjoying a drink at a nearby cafe, when someone approaches you and says, “Hey, remember me? Peru, 1821?”

Word count: 2,578

Warnings: mature, suggestive themes, wump, angst, derealizion, mentions of depression, more warnings to be added,

You have been an immortal for a couple of centuries now; if not more. After a certain set of rotations around the sun, you hardly bothered to keep track of exactly how many times you’ve been around the block. You were something of a myth, a feared, terrified, creature of torn legend, a monster that stole little weaning babes from their mother’s arms and spun silver out of corn! A beast that ate beating livers from stray canines, ordered temples to be built out of bones, a ghastly creation by a bored god with too much time on his irreligious hands. Frightful!

All this hearsay and word of the street, were tall and monstrous tales that were overrated in your educated opinion, when simply you required very little to be content with the ways and whims of the vast, wanton world. No new born lamb’s blood or poor, ill timed virgins sacrifices were necessary in your, for lack of a better word, creation. You were merely one breathing thing and then the next; though you’ve fallen out of the habit of remembering to breathe after a while. There was no shedding of skin, sweat producing prayer, or historically inaccurate rain dance that resembled the pirouettes of toeless ballerinas involved. You just were, and quite frankly, isn’t that enough? Existence is never enough is it, though? You just had to think, and speak, and do much more than simply exist; because no one can be happy with the mere existence of another; there just had to be more to it, had to be.

You still vaguely recall the moment where you realized that you were no longer tied down to the laws of the cycle of the unnatural thing called life; a thing like a dream someone else had and merely inflicted you with the useless knowledge. Still having no need for surplus of red blood cells or hastily made offerings of sweets to the traumatized gods; you recalled the transition and the fact that it was a boring process, with no set of rules, or instructions, or any way for you to fully understand exactly what happened. From one form of existence to a new one, like a crawling larvae to a flying insect with big beady eyes and a habit of crashing into windows.

You were in a battle field one moment fighting tooth and nail with a long sword, or a bow and arrow, or a scythe from your own garden, or a hatchet from your home; and the next, you watched your substantially short life flash before your eyes; when ebbingly, you realized that your wounds had closed up and the battle had unbeknown to you, ended. Something over nineteen years after your self assumed death, that is. Your body; with its two legs, two arms, two ears, and two perfectly functioning eyes; as long as it wasn’t pollen season, were still by fair means or foul, in tack. Much to your dismay, for you still felt cursed plague such as irritation, displeasurement, the action of rolling your eyes as an emotion, annoyance, exasperation, and worst of all a hankering for spearmint tea with a teaspoon of milk and a dash of honey. Unfortunately, only one of which was curable.

And while you contained a great many vapid opinions of the flutterings of wingless avians; one of their creations you could never develop a disdain for, for they were simply far too grand, great, and good, were cafes. Magnificent things created by an italian man, a french man, a german man, an Englishman, or a combination of the four, you hardly cared; were the very reason you still wished to see the light of day. Candidly, the comfort that came with cafes; roasting coffee beans with such sharp and acidic aromas, the tinkering of ceramic mugs with adorable little glazes, scrumptious sweeties and colorful pasties that settled against your mind like ringing gunshots to war torn innocent unimpeachables. Cafes were just delightful, there were no two ways about it; an unassailable fact.

That was why, today; sunny, cloudless, and boundless today with skies as blue as incest mutated eyes, you were enjoying a nostalgic drink at a nearby cafe. The coffee house was a mix between modern and vintage, though for a creature such as yourself, you could hardly tell the difference. Their teas and coffees, and assortment of beverages were made in the classic fashion from even as far back as your day, and that was saying something. The walls were painted with a deep maroon, a shade of fine wine on a brick of vinegar; except one, which was left a bare, textured concrete with growing vines and dangling fairy lights the color of loose leaf chamomile offering a soothing dim lighting. The tables and chairs and any sort of decor hung up on the ways were mismatched, not one thing belonging to another; not one round mahogany table with spanish carved to the legs matched with any neon cushioned seats that looked like something from a feverish dream. Four paned windows were like eyes towards the street front, small enough to see outside but with an air of privacy from the delicate handmade lace curtains that were tied up with a sash of the same design. You could see the wayward world beyond the door from the faux safety of your table; couples biking with helmets strapped on too tightly, dog walkers with malnourished dogs, and a quartet of friends that were so obviously in love with one another.

Their love for each other was so clear, the baristas behind the repurposed bar counter were making bets on who would be the first to cave and spill out their love like guts from a deep heat, blistering sword wound. The barista with dyed gray cornrows and nose piercings betted ten pounds on the tallest of the quartet, who couldn’t stop playing with something in his pocket; a nervous reaction to being around the people of his affections if you had to guess. The barista with the rigid scars falling like uncrossed tallies down her arms betted twenty pounds on the shortest of the quartet who seemed to be the glue holding the quartet together in the first place. You personally betted on the fellow trailing the group from behind, a brother of one of the quartet members; from the shared features, and an ex lover of another if you had to predict from the way he walked and looked at them with an unhealthy yearning. He was going to pull them apart and in return be left with nothing as they rebuilt what he had destroyed. You had an intuition for these sorts of things, the passing lives of strangers and what they decided to do with themselves with their limited time. It was game to you, their lives seemed to end in days like a good book that you can’t set down; and like a book, you could flip it close at any given time with a flick of your wrist.

Your attention was drawn back to the present by the sound of the cafe bell that rang out through the small room with high ceilings, the simple pulley system alerting the baristas and yourself of a new occupant. Your hand instinctively wrapped around your cup of spearmint tea with a teaspoon of milk and a dash of honey protectively. The heated ceramic warmed your otherwise cold skin, your whole body was icy to the touch; you had no need for impractical things like a respiratory system or body heat; they were merely things you did when you remembered to, a delayed afterthought.

Like socialization for one, speaking to others was not your cup of tea; quick compliments and orders were one thing, however holding conversations were another. You sat alone at your seat, a red velvet cushioned sofa pulled up against a square oak table. Not once have you attempted to make conversation or even make eye contact with any of your fellow cafe goers; when you know for a fact that you would have gotten along swimmingly, only you’re too afraid of starting anything that’s doomed to end. The immortal existence was a long one and it tended to feel more drawn out when you had no one to spend it with.

Too deep in thoughts; the depressing thing the living chose to lose themselves in; a subject that you have yet to be rid of, you didn’t notice when someone approached your table. Whoever stood in front of you stared at you for a moment as if to make sure you were real, something you had to do for yourself every now and again, before saying in an astonished tone full of life, “Hey, you look familiar. I’ve seen you somewhere, haven’t I?” You looked up to meet their eyes; taking note of a face that could blend in during any time period, during any moment; a dime a dozen, a face that could be recognized for hundreds of others. “Remember me? Peru, 1821?”

You were hard of memory despite the centuries of existence in your pocket; unable to ever recall important dates and places, or those deemed important by those who still pondered what after truly meant. No wars that had cost thousands if not millions of lives lingered in your narrow mind, no treaties that had never been written in the blood of the man holding the pen; no discoveries stolen from their true inventors and instead repurposed and rebranded. Naught of which mattered; were paramount enough to be stored in the file cabinets so old, they perhaps predated the university of oxford. Those with an expiration date, nitpicked which dates and places were worth keeping record of; which war really mattered to one side, but not the other, and most definitely not the third party who lost the most in terms of wealth during the whole skirmish. Which treaties were worth putting up an act of righteousness and which were lit to ashes the moment the feather left the parchment. Which discoveries to credit the inventor, or the distributor, or the man with the large enough pockets with lots of loyal friends with not quite, but still ever so deep pockets. You cared little for the whims of those who philosophized and wrote the inaccurate, hyperbolized tales of the lawless, anarchic children with graying hair, wrinkled skin, and groaning bones.

Instead, your quite narrow, yet wrinkled mind remembered the seemingly dull things in life that only an immortal and tired soul would recall. You remembered the estonian woman with thick curly hair who flustered when you commented on how her fetching silk blouse brought out the brown in her eyes, as if you had just seen her on your way here. You remembered the blazing, aged guinean sailor with hair as red as sedimentary clay layered with crimson and bone marrow, who tricked you out of the very last shining coin in your pocket that you had saved to return to the mainland; as if you had just spoken to him the week before last. You remembered the french street performers who gave you the most complexing, suspicious looks when you loitered as they tuned their instruments, your hands clapping and tossing coins into their open cases before they had even the chance to play their trip the light fantastic ditty; as if you had spotted them as you left your home for the day; perhaps because you had just spotted the cellist, violinist, and fiddler some hours prior.

But you just can’t seem to recall ever seeing the face in front of you besides that of the paintings reusing the same model over and over again. This person was familiar, that you knew for sure, but you couldn’t recall exactly where. 1821? Peru? You had gone to Peru before, you thought, you must’ve been everyone on the pandering planet at least once by now; statistically speaking. You existed during 1821, though you don’t recall much from the time besides some man being crowned king of some small islands, some paintings being painted, some lives being born, and some lives taking their last breath. Things that could have happened anywhere else in the woebegone world, during any time that your breathing counterparts inhaled and exhaled; a simple date and simple country rang no bells.

This person that approached you, must have known you, having recognized you and walked up to you free of will. Yet, as you stared at them, pondering how they must’ve known you after all these years, decades, and centuries without a mere mention of another immortal roaming the weak world; here you were, with another person just like you. It was astonishing, made your non beating heart skip a beat and stop again; because you’ve been so out of practice. It was almost unbelievable; a person with a limited mind would have fallen heart first into the claims and thought of them as gospel. You were not as blessed with the same ignorance that came as second nature to the rest of the parasitic population, because you recalled your trips to Peru; suddenly remembering just what you got yourself into in the year of 1821; you would have memorized a face like dozens of others; the similarities causing the sameness to be abstract. You would not have forgotten a face like that, a voice of naïve wonderment like the one you just heard. Immortality was not just something that was thrown like a swear, caught like a flu; there was no rhyme or reason to it. You would know; in the almost eight billion people in the wide, withering world you have not met another like you, and for this day, today; radiated, and diaphanous day with skies as blue as hypothermia stricken bodies; you were alone and had yet, still yet, to be proven otherwise.

You solemnly shook your head, having gotten your hopes up so far beyond the atmosphere; falling back down was misery like the first moment immortality had dawned upon you. This person must’ve mistaken you for someone else; a picture book with pages too bright to warrant your attention, a history book that pictured a person that shared your features or that of your long gone siblings who must have children because they were the type to yearn, and hope, dream, and live their lives instead of solely subsist; anyone but you. For you were alone on this endless path, just like how your life was now boundless, and had been for a while longer than you can remember. You cleared your throat, your voice unfortunately grating from years of hardly any use; hoping to make the interaction quick and to the point; something that was truthful and that would cut this painful conversation short so you could return to your envy filled hobby of assuming other individual’s lives because they had indisputable ends while you repeated in this endless pastime.

The person who claimed to share a curse with you, had a voice that rang out like a fencing rapier, cutting through the air with such precision that it hurt without even slashing against you; could stab you with words instead of metal, “I’ve seen you somewhere, haven’t I? Remember me? Peru, 1821?” And like a fencer running on the necessity for revenge for someone that wasn’t himself, you answered,

“No, I do gay porn.”

[duchessfics]

Business and Pleasure Part 4

(https://thefearestwolfsansa.tumblr.com/post/179527034319/medium-billie-dean-howard)

Billie x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW, Cunninlingus, D/s dynamics, Semi-public sex

Summary: After spending the night with Billie, the reader is still trying to figure out her place in Billie’s world. But she is slowly finding her footing as well as seeing parts of Billie that reveal more than just her smooth smiles and witty remarks.

Word Count: 7351

A/n: I know it’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything, but I promise I’m working on stuff behind the scenes. I just need to actually edit it all 😅 but here’s part 4! I hope you enjoy it 😌

Part 3

The blare of your phone’s alarm drags you out of blissful sleep and you haphazardly reach out to grab your phone, brushing your fingers along the cool, smooth marble surface of nightstand until they bump up against the side of your device. That’s when it registers in your mind dulled by sleep that you and Billie still hold each other close in her wonderful-feeling bed. She inhales deeply as you wince and groan at the bright light of your phone screen working to turn off the obnoxiously loud alarm.

Then she snuggles closer into your chest and mumbles against your neck, “What time is it?” Too early. You would love to stay where you are nestled. But you start to untangle from her embrace before you fall back asleep as you murmur, “It’s time for me to get up. But you keep sleeping. I’ll wake you up in a bit. Ok?” 

The medium lazily reaches out for you and manages to grip your arm, but you press a soothing kiss to her forehead and retuck the covers around her while whispering, “Get some sleep. I’ll be back in a little bit.” In her drowsy state she easily lets you go and mumbles, “Ok.” And before you even grab your toiletry bag and step into her bathroom you can already hear her deep breaths of sleep in the darkness.

Once the door is shut, you flick on the fluorescent lights and shield your eyes with your hand. After a moment your eyes adjust to the bright setting and you look into the bathroom mirror. Your eyes automatically find the small hickeys on the side of your neck. 

You’re definitely going to have to wear your hair down today. 

The darkened skin feels sensitive when your fingers skim over it and you find your face flushing as the memories of last night come back to you. Billie is right. She does have a stamina that is unmatched, and you still feel exhausted from having sex far too late into the night.

After assessing the bruises and determining how much concealer you’ll need to use, you unlock your phone to see the time is 5:05 in the morning. You need to be out of the bathroom no later than 6:00. In an effort to stay on time you keep your clock open while rushing through your morning routine. 

Fortunately you stay on time and step out to the main bedroom at 6:00 exactly. In the sliver of bathroom light you see your employer snuggled under the plush duvet with her honey-colored hair spilling over the pillow she sleeps on.

Even though you hate to disturb the peacefully sleeping blonde, you turn on the bedside lamp and sit on the edge of the bed before resting your hand on her shoulder. Then you gently shake her and murmur, “Billie, it’s time to wake up.” 

She lets out a low groan and makes a big cat-like stretch before opening her eyes and huskily asking, “How much time do I have?” You scoot back a little to encourage her to sit up while answering, “About an hour.”

The medium drowsily sits up and leans back against the cushioned headboard as you assure her, “They’ll do your hair and makeup on set. So at least you don’t have to worry about that.” She reaches her hands up towards the ceiling and doesn’t miss the way your eyes catch on her nearly exposed chest due to the generous v-neck of her stain maroon negligee. And your eyes only shift to watch her her nimble fingers comb through her tousled locks. 

While you look to her face she smiles at you and teases, “Can I at least get a good morning kiss?” You chuckle, shaking your head at her mischievous behavior. But seeing her look so attractive and sleepy from just waking up leads you to relent, “Ok, One kiss.” Those words make her smirk and she leans forward to meet you halfway. Her lips lazily move against yours and you feel her hands come up to cup your face. But when you go to back up, her lips chase yours and her hands keep a solid grip on your face.

You squeak in shock and manage to back up enough to mumble against her lips, “Billie.” But she quickly silences your words and shifts to her knees, so she towers over you. The now significant height difference complicates things. However you bring your hands up to her shoulders and go to push her away before your resolve melts and you run late.

But before you can move against the medium, she breaks from your lips to kiss along your jaw and neck well aware of how her lips on the sensitive skin of your neck can turn you into melted butter in her hands. 

Your hands reflexively squeeze her shoulders as she keeps going and it takes everything in you to not moan. And even then your voice sounds strained when you plead, “Billie, you need to get ready or we’re gonna—”

But your sentence is cut short by your own laughter when her lips suck and tease that one ticklish spot in the bend of your neck. Before last night you never even knew about that spot. But Billie found it and has teased it ever since. She keeps going and chuckles against your skin as you beg between your laughter, “Billie, please...please don’t! You know how—ah! Ticklish I am…come on Billie! Have mercy on me!”

Thankfully she listens to your cries and moves to press one soft kiss to the shell of your ear before purring, “Sorry, sweetheart. But your laugh is just too cute.” Then she backs up and briefly pecks your lips before asking, “What time will the driver be here?” Your chest heaves as you catch your breath and your cheeks burn in arousal as you whimper, “7:00.” The blonde grins at your flustered state and teases with a smug smirk, “Well I guess I should start getting ready then.” 

You watch her push aside the remaining covers off of herself and start to slide towards the bed’s edge, completely dumbfounded. However she pauses to peck your cheek and taunts with her innocent voice, “Oh, and you may need to conceal those hickeys again. That’s my bad.”

Your hand reflexively comes up to cover the love marks and you gasp, cheeks flaming as you look to Billie who grins at your embarrassment. Then she stands up and you watch her hips sway as she walks to the bathroom while saying, “I’ll see you at 7:00, sweetheart.” And when she turns back to shut the door, she gives you a flirtatious wink before disappearing.

For a moment you sit in shock at all that just happened in less than 5 minutes. You may have had control yesterday, but Billie easily took the reins back and you’re once again just trying to keep up. In the next hour you pack a bag of anything Billie may need for today before gathering your own belongings and stowing them away in your car…

By 7:00 you’re on your way to the TV studio and you pull out your phone as you ask what Billie would like for breakfast. The blonde automatically nibbles on the tips of her acrylic nails in thought while looking out the window. However she stops almost as soon as she starts, still working on amending that nasty habit she has dealt with since childhood. Instead Billie busies her hands with adjusting her designer sunglasses as she answers, “I’ll take a breakfast sandwich with eggs and bacon, an iced coffee with an extra shot of espresso and almond milk, and a cup of water too.”

After you type her order into your notes app you ask, “Do you want it from any specific place?” Her fingers flick as if she has an imaginary cigarette and she tells you to go to a local restaurant close to the studio. 

Once all of that’s sorted, you open your calendar app and tell her, “The schedule for today isn’t terribly busy. You’ll be filming from 8 in the morning to 3 in the afternoon and that includes an hour lunch break and time for hair and makeup. Then you have a meeting with your producers at 4:30. It shouldn’t be too long. They’re mainly talking about plans for the next two weeks and the anticipated viewing numbers. After that you’ll go home and Candice will be there to give you a fresh set of acrylic nails. While you’re getting that done, I’ll give Jared your order and he will be cooking dinner so when you're finished it’s fresh for you to eat.”

After reading through the itinerary, you look up from your phone to see Billie staring out the window with her chin resting on the hand of her arm that’s propped up on the window ledge. Even though you said the schedule isn’t too hectic, you know this will be a long day and try to soothe, “After that you’ll be free as a bird.” The blonde lets out a sound of amusement but doesn’t smile or have a witty comeback. 

But in the next moment she snaps out of it and turns to face you with a smirk on her lips, asking, “What color should I pick?”

What in the world is she talking about?

Your brows furrow at her question and you slowly answer, “Color? I-I’m not sure what you mean.” The response makes her chuckle and she replies, “For my nails.” You’re confused at this comment too. Billie only does red nails. However, rather than questioning her again, you look down and fiddle with your seatbelt as you cautiously reply, “Oh…well your red color is nice.” 

But your movements still when she leans closer so it looks like she’s showing you her nails. Then she murmurs so only you can hear, 

“I want better than ‘nice.’ I want something fierce, something sexy.” And she leans even closer to whisper, 

“Something domineering that makes you wet just looking at it.”

Your eyes widen and you look to her, hissing, “Billie!” She laughs at how easily flustered you get and backs away to where she was while casually asking, “Do you have any ideas, sweetheart?” Her layered suggestions cause your face to burn. Meanwhile your employer doesn’t seem fazed at all. So you try to pull yourself together, clearing your throat and shifting in your seat as you reply with a strained voice, “Not at the moment.” 

Your bashful demeanor makes her smile and she innocently suggests, “Well, how about you think about it and tell me tonight.” Your eyes dart to the driver, wondering if they are picking up on anything going on in the backseats. But if they are, they show no sign, looking forward and seemingly focused on navigating LA’s traffic. So you return your gaze to the medium and answer, “Ok.”

After getting Billie to the TV studio and setting her up with hair and makeup, you nearly run to the breakfast place she requested and purchase her breakfast. Then you return as fast as you can without spilling her drinks that are in your hands. 

By the time you get back to the set the blonde is nearly done with her hair and makeup, but she eats her sandwich and drinks her two beverages as they work. When she’s finished you throw away her trash and less than a half hour later the cameras are rolling on Billie.

The medium looks all done up with her freshly blown out curls and immaculate makeup. She wears a fashionable outfit made up of a cream-colored tea dress with blue-green flowers printed all over it and heels that are nearly the same color as her bronzed legs. You remember her mentioning something about wanting her legs to look elongated, so the stylist suggested the choice. And let’s just say, her legs look excellent in your opinion. Between getting powdered and having her hair and clothes adjusted, Billie does multiple takes promoting her TV show and the channel.

In the middle of her filming, your phone vibrates in your pocket and you pull it out to see it’s her manager. So you step out of the working area and answer their call.

Instead of going through the formalities of greeting you, they cut to the chase and say, “Listen, I pulled a couple strings, made a few phone calls and got Billie a spot on the tonight show this Friday.” You gasp in shock and nearly drop the phone while stammering, “You—You mean the tonight show…with Jimmy Fallon?” Her manager laughs and replies, “Yeah, kid. Who else? You got what you wanted. I’ll let you tell Billie the news since it was your idea.” 

You’re speechless in surprise at this whole thing, to the point that the manager asks, “You still there?” Coming back to your senses, you nod your head and  quickly answer, “Yeah. Sorry about that. Thank you so much for looking into it. I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.”

So they tell you the details of when to be there and what to expect and you write everything down in your notebook, making sure you have every detail right. Just as you jot down the last bits of information, you hear the director call for a lunch break. So you gather your stuff together while explaining, “I gotta go. They just called for lunch and I still have to get hers, but I want to thank you for everything, and I’ll make sure to tell her everything.” So they say a quick goodbye and you dash over to the spread of lunch food, grabbing some of Billie’s favorite items in addition to a cup of water.

When you have everything, you see Billie’s eyes scanning the group of people looking for you, so you make a small wave with your hand holding her silverware to get her attention. Her eyes light up in recognition and she walks over with her pleasant but artificial smile she uses while working. However when she gets closer she looks around the room while softly asking, “Can you get somewhere quieter to have my lunch?” 

As an experienced personal assistant you’re used to requests like this. So even though you have no plan of action yet, you automatically nod and answer, “Of course.” Then you go to walk away, but the blond gently takes your upper arm and murmurs, “I can hold my lunch, sweetheart.”

That makes you look back to her and ask, “Are you sure? I really don’t mind—”

But she softly shushes you and takes the plate, silverware, and beverage. So you give an affirmative nod and say, “I’ll have something in a minute.” Now she gives you a more genuine smile and you run off to find a private place for her to eat.

A couple conversations later, you are holding the door open for Billie to enter one of the smaller, but quiet unused dressing rooms. After closing the door, the blonde lets out a sigh of relief at the privacy and walks over to sit in the cushioned chair where someone would normally get their hair and makeup done. 

Rather than facing the mirror, she turns around to face you so the mirror reflects her honey-blonde hair. Once she’s settled you ask her, “Do you need anything else?” Billie takes a seductive bite of the strawberry she holds, and when she takes the fruit away you see a slight tint of red on her lips. Your eyes then trail down to her neck as she swallows and you can’t help but lick your own lips wishing you were the strawberry she so delicately savors. All this time the medium looks up to you with doe eyes and when she finishes her bite she purrs, “I can think of a couple things.” 

You’re sure she can ‘think of a couple things.’

You let a smile slip at her seductive insinuation and answer, “No.” Your response makes her lower lip jut out and she looks through her darkened lashes while pouting, “No fun.” Now you chuckle at her shameless flirting and shake your head while telling her, “Still no. But I have something to tell you.”

She perks up at that statement and asks, “What is it?” You can’t conceal your grin as you reply, “Your manager called while you were filming and said they got you a place on the tonight show this Friday.” 

Now she smiles with you and exclaims, “Are you serious? That will be amazing publicity. You’re sure it’s legit?” You nod, giggling as you answer, “Yeah. Your manager told me all of the details. You’re gonna be on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon!”

Your happiness is contagious and Billie laughs with you before saying, “Thank you for pushing them to do it even when they didn’t want to consider it.”

Your cheeks warm at her compliment and you find yourself looking to the floor as you reply, “You’re welcome.” After a moment you venture to look up and aren’t surprised to see her dark brown eyes looking over you. You have gotten used to the feeling...somewhat, and pull out your notebook before keeping eye contact for too long. Then you explain the main details while she eats. 

When Billie finishes up her light lunch she rolls her shoulders back and sighs, “I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t filmed in awhile or something else, but I’m glad we don’t have much more to do. I feel so…tense.” The admission catches you off guard simply because she is not one to complain. However it’s in that moment a devilish idea pops into your head. 

What if you could help her relax a little? People say an orgasm can relieve stress and tension.  Should you offer to do that? No. But would it be amazing? Yes. No! Y/n L/n, no you need to be professional and rational—

“I think I could help you feel less tense.” You blurt out before gasping at the words that left your mouth and  bringing your hand up to cover your mouth so you don’t say any other foolish thing. The medium looks up to you with a raised eyebrow and smirks at your wide eyes as she inquires, “Do you now?” Her lower voice makes your knees weak and you slowly take your hand away. 

Originally you planned to use your own sultry voice. Instead you weakly squeak, “Yeah.” before sinking down to your knees.

Her darkened eyes follow your descent and she asks, “And just what do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” You kneel beside her legs and the luxe material of her dress brushes against you. Then you do your best to look up through your own lashes as you shyly tease, “I thought I could help you...release some tension. And I won’t even mess up your makeup.” 

However the moment of bravery ends and your gaze falters when you stutter, “U-unless you don’t want to. Which is totally fine as well--”

Billie softly shushes you and brings one of her hands down to cup your cheek. You automatically lean into her soft, inviting touch and she chuckles in amusement before murmuring, “I would love nothing more. Do you think 10 minutes is enough though?” 

Your cheeks burn with arousal at the challenge and you nibble on your bottom lip as you nod. So the blonde sets her plate to the side where makeup would normally go and pulls her skirt up just enough for you to get up under it. 

Let’s hope you didn’t overestimate your skills. 

You look up to her shadowed face as you slowly kiss up the inside of one of her legs. She easily relaxes into your touch and watches you disappear under her skirt. However when you continue to press light kisses, she leans back and sighs with a smirk, “Don’t take too long with your foreplay, sweetheart. We wouldn’t want you to get caught in such a compromised posi—Fuck y/n!”

You giggle at her reaction and Billie can feel the vibration of your face since your face is suddenly buried in her folds. Rather than going through the trouble of removing her panties, you hold them to the side and lick at every part of her your tongue can reach. Her skirt obscures your vision so you can’t see her face, but the way her thighs clench up around your head and she breathily moans you would be surprised if she lasted 5 minutes.

Because you’re short on time and you really don’t want to be caught like this, as soon as you find her clit you latch onto it sucking and nibbling at a relentless pace. However she tenses up a little at the intensity and whimpers, “Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you’re gonna kill me if you keep going that hard.” 

Her unusually higher tone makes you slow down a little and when your lips and tongue decide to play nicer she lets out a sigh, spreading her legs once again and relaxing further into the chair.

While the medium can’t slide her hand over your hair she uses her hands to keep her skirt out of your way while murmuring in that low voice you love, “Good girl.” And you smile against her, practically squeaking in pleasure at the praise. She chuckles at your reaction to her words of affirmation, however her voice dies off when you hear a group of crew members laughing and talking as they pass the room.

Holy fucking shit. 

Billie must sense you tensing up because she soothes, “You still got 7 minutes, baby. Go ahead and give me everything you got. I can take it.” So you take a deep breath to get back in the zone and speed up your movements while her body twitches and shudders in arousal.

Within seconds her thighs spasm around your head and she lets out muffled moans, trying to keep quiet by covering her mouth with the back of her hand. There is a part of you right now that feels pretty proud of making her moan and whimper so much. However, you also know time is of the essence so you don’t tease her too much after her orgasm like you did to her last night. But you do take the time to lap up her arousal with your tongue before replacing her panties and backing up.

Upon coming out from under her skirt you see the blonde’s cheeks are naturally flushed and her chest heaves as she catches her breath. Seeing her so blissed makes you grin and after licking her excess arousal off of your lips, you ask, “Feel less tense?” 

Billie gives you a breathy laugh and murmurs in her warm, rich tone, “Far less tense. You’re such a dear to me, Y/n.” Your whole body warms at her praise and while she smooths her skirt down you stand up and readjust your clothing and hair to where they were before replying, “You deserve it.”

Now you’re the one who has to look down to keep eye contact and for a moment you silently watch each other. Billie’s milk chocolate colored orbs scan over you, but it isn’t the same feeling as when she looked over you earlier. Instead of lust clouding her eyes, something else does, but you can’t tell what it is. 

Then Billie goes to tell you something when someone knocks at the door before opening it a crack and peeking their head in.

The production assistant looks to Billie and quickly says, “Sorry for interrupting, but they want you back on set in 5.” She gives them her trademark friendly smile and smoothly replies, “Of course. I’ll be out in a minute.” Then the PA leaves you two alone.

After the door closes, the medium looks to you and teases with a grin, “That was close.” 

Yeah. Too close. What the hell were you thinking?! 

You give a nervous half-laugh in return and nod in response because the surprise of someone walking in left your throat completely dry. Then you walk over to take her empty plate and cup. Billie stands up as well, but before she walks out the door, she comes up to peck your lips and gives you a knowing wink while purring, “I owe you one.” Immediately you shake your head and stammer, “No, really. T-that’s ok. I’m good—”

But she places a finger on your lips, effectively silencing you and repeating with an arched brow, “Y/n I owe you one. No ifs, ands, or buts. Do you understand me?” Her dominant tone makes your insides melt into submission and you nod. She smiles at your agreement and pulls her finger away while saying, “Good. I’ll talk to you in a bit.” You nod again, still unable to form a coherent sentence and just like that she is gone once more.

Billie continues to film, sharing exclusive behind the scenes tidbits and making some additional promo work for the TV channel. And without prompting the director comments on how the medium seems to be glowing. Thank god she can’t see your face as you swallow your giggles by taking a drink of your second iced coffee. 

Meanwhile she just smiles and throws out some random excuse. By 3:00 they wrap and she changes back into her own clothes. Then you make the short drive to the network's corporate offices and go up to one of the conference rooms filled with multiple producers and their own assistants.

You always dread these meetings because you find the producers to be pretty intimidating. However, Billie always has a natural ease and is never dissuaded by their slighted offers. She can be just as stubborn and hard-headed, if not more so.

You keep notes for her while they speak about different topics including the predicted number of viewers for the season’s premier and publicity for it. That’s when the medium announces, “My assistant actually informed me today that I have a spot on the tonight show Friday night. So that’s another opportunity for publicity.” 

For a moment everyone looks at you and you would like nothing more than to duck under the table and hide. Instead you give a small smile and they all move on. But even that small moment is enough to send adrenaline coursing through you. 

After going through additional upcoming interviews and events, the head producer tells her that they hired a publicity manager to help her and that they will call her after each event to make sure she’s on the right track and in the good graces of the public. Billie scoffs at that idea and asks, “Is that really necessary? I mean, my assistant has that covered.”

When answering the head producer looks to you when he says, “With all due respect,” then his eyes return to Billie’s and he continues, “This individual’s specialty is publicity. They know all the things that draw people in, how to work the crowd, and even the most effective posture to maintain during interviews.” 

For a second the blonde’s fingers twitch in her desire to nibble her nails while thinking. Instead she settles for tapping the tips of them on the glass tabletop as she relents with a labored sigh, “Fine.” The producers go on to speak about tentative future plans and contracts with Billie, but don’t make any decisions yet. First her show has to perform well. 

By the end of the hour, the medium is saying her goodbyes so you step out and text Candice about coming over saying you’ll be home in an hour. Then you and Billie head to the car and her driver takes you to her house.

On the car ride there she leans her head back against the plush, leather seat and closes her eyes before asking, “Did you think of a color yet, sweetheart?” Because her eyes are closed, you allow yourself to look at her hand that rests on the middle cushion and you would like nothing more than to hold it with your own. 

But you turn away to ignore the desire and look out the window as you answer, “This isn’t too different, but I think pink would look good. Not like a barbie or bubblegum pink color, but a baby pink. The pastel color would suit your undertone. If you wanted something outside of the red spectrum you could try ivory or chartreuse. The colors you see in nature are generally well-suited to…”

But you cut yourself off and look down to your hands resting on your lap as you apologize, “Sorry, I was rambling.” 

Billie had opened her eyes as you spoke and didn’t miss the spark of excitement in your eyes when watching your reflection in the window. You miss her smile at your words, and she soothes, “It’s no problem, Y/n. Actually I found it interesting.” 

That prompts you to look over to see she smiles at you. And not that artificial one that she wears more often than not. No, this is a genuine smile where her dimples are prominent, and her eyes have an unusually warm and vulnerable tone.

Your cheeks warm at the undivided attention and you find yourself looking down to the seat’s cushions as you reply, “Thanks.” When you do venture to look up, the blonde gives you a wink and much cheekier smile. But the same genuine nature of her eyes remains and you can’t help but smile back. Both of you stay quiet the rest of the ride going between looking out the window and sneaking glances at the other. 

Now that the day is wrapping up you have time to appreciate her peach-colored knee length pencil skirt that nearly matches the approaching sunset and her ivory silk blouse that buttons up the front. But she keeps the top one undone. Today she doesn’t wear her string of pearls, but does have pearl stud earrings on. And of course she wears her trademark jasmine perfume.

When you get to Billie’s home Candice is already there and greets Billie before whisking her away to the sunroom. However, before you can head to the kitchen, the medium calls out your name and curls her finger in a beckoning motion. So you dutifully follow the pair but keep back a little to give personal space.

Once you step in the room both women sit on either side of the portable nail station and Billie looks to the nail tech before asking, “Candice, honey, do you happen to have any light pink nail polishes on you?” Her brows furrow at the question, but she looks down to rummage through her kit while answering, “I think I’ve got a couple options.” And she takes out 4 bottles in various shades of light pink. Then Billie looks at you and asks, “Ok Y/n, which one would suit me best?”

Your eyes widen and you reflexively take a step back while stuttering, “M-miss Howard I’m not the one to ask. I’m sure Candice knows more than me.” The blonde lets out a low chuckle and she looks to Candice before speaking in a soft tone as if sharing a secret but loud enough for you to hear, “She’s always so formal.” 

The nail tech smiles, and Billie returns her gaze to you before saying, “Hypothetically which one would you choose? Just for shits and giggles.” In working with Billie for nearly a year you are very aware of how stubborn she is. So instead of trying to resist, you take a couple tentative steps forward.

Then you look to Candice and softly ask, “May I pick them up to see them closer?” She chuckles at your timid behavior and replies, “Of course. Knock yourself out sweetie.” You smile and whisper thank you before cautiously picking up the bottles and looking them over in the evening glow pouring in from the expansive windows. As you closely observe them, the two women share a smile at your soft demeanor which is very uncommon in Los Angeles.

After a moment you carefully set each one down, but keep one separate as you say, “I think this one would be most complimentary for your undertone.” But you quickly sputter out, “But that’s just my opinion.” 

Billie picks up your choice of polish and says, “I’ll use this one.” Automatically you open your mouth to protest, but after seeing Billie give you a stern look with a raised eyebrow as if challenging you to say something you clear your throat in an attempt to cover up your original sentiment and ask, “What would you like for dinner?”

Her teeth worry her lower lip for a moment and when she releases it you try to not stare at her pouty lips as she replies, “I’ll take grilled chicken and some kind of vegetable. He can pick.” Before you can do anything else that’s stupid you nod and assure her, “I’ll let him know.” Then you make your way to the kitchen to give the order to her personal chef.

As he cooks dinner you sit at the breakfast nook and catch up on the emails, phone calls, and texts for Billie so she doesn’t have to go through what can be up to 100  or more emails on a daily basis. And just about the time Jared is finished cooking, Billie saunters in with a familiar smirk on her lips.

She murmurs a warm greeting to the chef before her eyes zero in on you and she strolls over to the breakfast nook. In response you scoot over to let her in and tell her, “I’ve responded to any phone calls or emails you had. So you’re free for the night.” The blonde gives you a smile and murmurs, “Thank you, Y/n.” 

Do not let one thank you ruin your composure. Keep calm, cool, and collected.

You give her your practiced smile back and reply, “You’re welcome.” Then the chef brings over two plates of her dinner choice and after pouring Billie a glass of red wine that compliments tonight’s meal and getting you a glass of water you both thank him. Of course he replies you’re welcome with a smile primarily directed towards his employer. And as you both eat dinner he collects the dirty dishes he used to cook and begins to wash them. However when you see the medium’s hand that holds her fork you notice she doesn’t wear acrylics. In fact her pale pink nails are filed down to a smooth rounded tip.

The observation makes you pause and comment, “Your nails…you don’t have acrylics on.” Now she stops eating and looks at you with a wicked grin as she smoothly replies, “I thought I could let my nails have a break. Plus they were getting in the way of…daily activities.”

Your eyes reflexively dart over to the sink where the chef washes the dishes. But he doesn’t pay attention. In fact he may not have even heard. So you return your gaze to Billie’s and her golden eyes gleam with mischief. 

Well you must mean something to her. She doesn’t just take off her acrylic nails for anyone. Actually this may be the first time you’ve seen her without them on.

Your face feels hot at her explanation and you clear your throat only to squeak, “Oh.” It’s at that moment the tap water stops running making you both look to see the chef drying his hands. Then he looks to Billie and says, “I put the leftovers in the fridge and the soap is already in the dishwasher so all you have to do is put your dishes in and press start. Do you need anything else?” She gives him her trademark smile and replies, “I think we’re good. Thank you so much Jared. Have a good night.” 

His eyes flicked over to you when she said ‘we’ and even you are taken aback by your inclusion. For the most part, a personal assistant is a shadow of their superior. A helpful shadow, but a shadow nonetheless. However both of you keep quiet. You’re not about to correct your boss and he isn’t either. So he gives the medium a smile and tells her good night before gathering his things and walking out.

Once he’s out of the room, Billie snakes her arm around your waist and pulls you as close to her as possible. Being tucked into her side fills you with a warm feeling of safety and security that you haven’t really felt before. Or at least not in a long time. Her heat radiates through the layers of both of your clothes and you’re tired of resisting what you truly desire. So you let out the breath of resistance you’ve made yourself hold since the car ride home and relax into her.

Anytime you’re wrapped up in Billie’s embrace, she no longer feels like your employer, but a lover. And the burden on your chest of keeping professional is alleviated if only for a moment. She hums in approval when you lean into her and you feel the reverberation of her sound within yourself as if you’re one. At the same time her thumb casually brushes up and down your side in a steady motion.

You look to her face, studying her profile as she drinks the rest of her wine and sets down the glass. Then the blonde turns to you so your faces nearly touch, and she unabashedly looks to your lips with sultry hooded eyes. 

Just having her undivided attention drives you wild and you whimper in need making her let out that wonderfully low chuckle of amusement. As she presses her lips against yours you end up getting a taste of her wine and the flavor layers perfectly with her already sweet taste. You let her lead, twisting your body towards her so your chest rests against hers and in the process your hand comes up to cup the side of her face.

Her lips smile against yours at the tender touch, provoking you to smile too. And the tips of your fingers lightly thread through her silky locks, but you stay gentle today and don’t tug at her. 

Billie is the one to break the long-lasting kiss and both of her arms wrap around your middle so you feel her hands on the small of your back and she pulls you closer so you’re flush against her body. Then the tip of her nose brushes against the tip of yours while she whispers, “Stay the night.” 

You would love to. God you want to stay so, so much. But you haven’t packed anything at all and you’re flying to New York City tomorrow.

So you close your eyes and go against everything you desire as you whisper, “I-I have to pack for New York. I’m sorry Billie.” She gently shushes your plea for understanding by pecking your lips and her thumbs make small circles against the small of your back. Then she gently soothes, “It’s ok sweetheart. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up in New York.”

Her forehead feels comforting against yours and you venture to open your eyes. However you bite your lip and rasp, “Y-you’re not mad at me, right?” The question makes Billie hug you closer and give your cheek a comforting kiss before answering, “No. I would never be upset at that.” Then she leans in to place feather-light butterfly kisses along your cheek while saying, “Ok?” 

Her concern and touch relieves your nerves and you nod while whispering, “Ok.” After your soft affirmation the medium pulls back enough for you to see her beautiful smile. You smile back and feel warmth blossom in your chest when she purrs, “There’s that gorgeous smile.”

Then she lets you backup a little so you can breathe. Even though you turn your head away from Billie to finagle your phone out of your pocket, your body stays close as you tell her, “There’s a couple things to go over before I leave.” Billie’s lips move to rest against your temple and her voice vibrates against your skin as she murmurs, “Fire when ready.”

You smile at her comment and look down to your screen before saying, “You’re personal trainer will be here at 7:30 for a 60 minute session so you’ll have enough time for a—”

But you pause as her lips start to make a slow and deliberate descent down the side of your face and ask, “Are you paying attention?” The medium smiles against your jawline and replies between gentle kisses, “Of course.”

In an attempt to get her attention, you turn to face her effectively removing her lips from your flushed skin and ask, “Then what did I say?” She comes back up to peck your lips and answers between small kisses, “Personal trainer is coming. 7:30. 60 minutes.” 

After the last peck you respond with narrowed eyes, “Ok.” Then you turn back to look at your phone. Billie takes the opportunity to start kissing down your chin and along your jawline as you try to keep on task when saying, “Because your session ends at 8:30, you’ll be able to take a quick shower.” 

However you pause again when Billie’s lips start to travel down to your neck, sucking at your sensitive spots like no one else can.

And before you can even ask she pauses to murmur against your skin, “I’m listening, sweetheart.” The reverberation of her words sends shivers down your spine and your voice is weak and shaky as you continue, “But don’t take too long because your driver—Ah! Wait Billie not again!”

The blonde laughs against that one ticklish spot before teasing, “The driver what?” You squirm to get away, but she easily keeps you pinned up against her as you giggle and plead for her to stop. In response Billie says against that sensitive spot, “Finish your sentence and I’ll stop.” Your eyes get misty from laughing so hard and you whimper, “The driver—ah, Billie!—will be here—No! Please! They’ll be here at 9! Ok!”

Finally she grants you reprieve and backs up to look at you with a wicked grin, cupping your heated face with her hands while you gasp for air. But she doesn’t give you a long break, skimming her thumbs along your flushed cheekbones as she taunts, “You seem so tense, y/n. But I think I know a way to help you out.”

You’re sure she does know a way to ‘help you out.’ 

Before you decide to stay here for the night and forget this trip altogether, you breathily plead, “I’ve got to pack.” The blonde smiles at your voice and pats your cheek while mimicking your innocent tone from earlier today, “Oh don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be 10 minutes tops.” Now you chuckle at your own idea from earlier being used against you. By now you can actually breathe and whimper, “Billie—”

But she kisses your lips and purrs, “I owe you from earlier.” Then she moves to place her hands on your shoulders before gently pushing you to lay back on the cushioned bench. 

Of course you could totally stop her at any point if you wanted to, but her methods of seduction worked and the only thought that crosses your lust-clouded mind is how good Billie Dean Howard’s tongue is going to feel on your already soaked pussy. 

Once you’re completely laying down you tell her in what should be a stern voice but sounds more like a moan, “Only 10 minutes.” By then the medium is already undoing your pants but pauses to look at you with a devilish grin as she replies, “Oh baby, you’ll be lucky to make it 5 minutes.”

Part 5

Tagged:  @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk, @chokemepaulson, @versonstar, @find-me-a-constellation, @cordwliagoode, @psychobitchtess, @midnight-lestrange, @mysweetdelia, @venablesbitch, @peachesandlesbians, @nerdaroo, @cordeliafoxxe, @leskaksel, @lovelymspaulson, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @whatabluddymess​, @natasha-danvers, @saucy-sapphic​, @marvelfansince08love​ 

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

[puppyluver256]

Oh look, more BYS art with actual swaps rather than just sad Boris and livid Aunt Carla :3

Trevor Garbo has been a close friend with Dr. Stargazer for a good number of years, back in a time when they never spoke verbally at all, and honestly for the longest time he considered them one of his only friends period. However, shortly before Boris arrived, he and the doctor had a really bad falling-out over something that neither of them could control. Namely, Dr. Stargazer's heavy speech impediments and Trevor having some auditory processing issues and needing them to repeat what they had said for one time too many. They had lashed out, and in their anger told him to stop talking for once, and he was so hurt by this that he actually tried this out of a desperation to return to their good graces. He tried to take a vow of silence, but come on, even in a role swap he's still Trevor so that didn't last long. He tried to force it with tape, but that proved to be the obvious challenge to get around come meal time so he gave it up and settled for sulking up on the roof under the stars. Though he did make a bit of a goof with the tape thing...he'd wrapped it around his head and now it's stuck in his hair, and it's very uncomfortable if he's perfectly honest. He just hopes that the third of their original trio is doing okay as he hasn't heard from her since that incident...and that someone could go get him some solvent so he could get this tape out of his hair without cutting or pulling it.

Kamal Bora came to the still-unnamed mental health retreat after a pretty severe anxiety attack, and while he knew his parents would help him get the professional help he needed he wanted to try and take care of his issues himself given that they're so busy with the rest of the family. Unfortunately, when he got there he had a hard time opening up to anyone so he just kinda hid in the boiler room. At least that lady in the wall seems nice enough, same as this quiet redhead that just showed up, maybe one of them can help him with the newest of many worries he's developed while he's been here. Because even though he knows for certain that there's no way they can be real, he swears he saw that old sea dog flash some vampiric fangs...

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

~If you like, please reblog to show your friends! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs let more people see my content! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

Trevor Garbo and Kamal Bora © LimboLane Break Your Silence designs and artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

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[Image Description: A digital illustration of role-swapped designs of Trevor Garbo and Kamal Bora from Smile For Me. Trevor is a man with olive-ish skin, green eyes with yellow sclera, and orange hair that has large pieces of duct tape stuck in it. He has dark painted nails and is wearing a dark green bomber-style jacket, a yellow shirt, blue jeans, and red high-heeled boots with pink soles. He has one hand on his hip and the other scratching the back of his head. Kamal is a boy with medium-brown skin, dark blue hair in a ponytail, and dark blue eyes with yellow sclera. He is wearing a turquoise button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves, a maroon and yellow striped scarf, dark teal jeans with rolled-up cuffs, and maroon and yellow sneakers. He is slightly squatting down and looking uncomfortably nervous, with shifty eyes and sweat running down his face. The background is a pixellated gradient of teals, maroons, and yellows. End ID.]

[clodybbuk]

MARC JACOBS FALL 2017 READY-TO-WEAR COLLECTION

This collection was inspired by a documentary called “Hip-Hop evolution” and Joel Meyerowitz photography. Marc showed us the most casual New Yorker way of dressing up for a simple walk by combining together sportswear, pumped up hats and platform shoes. Everything was thought out: the nail designs, the lip pigments (Bordeaux shade!!); every model had her own individual look. The hats were made by Stephen Jones and the jewellery is a collaboration with Urs Fischer.

"With a palette focused on the warm neutral colors camel, ginger, brown, gold, red, maroon and silhouettes borrowed from casual attire and sportswear, dressing for 'everyday' is as simple as a coat over a dress, a sweater with pants or the casual polish of a track suit."

“Several months ago I watched a documentary called, "Hip-Hop Evolution." The 4-part series chronicles the poignant and pivotal cultural movement that reshaped and redefined the landscape of music, which gave way to a whole new language of style. As a born and bred New Yorker, it was during my time at the High School of Art and Design when I began to see and feel the influence of hip-hop on other music as well as art and style. This collection is my representation of the well-studied dressing up of casual sportswear. It is an acknowledgement and gesture of respect for the polish and consideration applied to fashion from a generation that will forever be the foundation of youth culture street style.”

Models walked a long path through the Park Avenue Armory and then outside, sitting down on chair at the end and playing around with the phones in specially designed cases - making selfies, talking and texting.

I truly liked this show and the way Marc constructed it. The basic neutral tones of the pieces and the leather accessories are somewhat my obsession nowadays.

As a resource for all the info I used Elle.com website.

[despressolattes]

THE HEARTBREAK PRINCESS » CHAPTER ONE

THE HEARTBREAK PRINCESS MASTERLIST

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Lorelai smacked into the royal blue matts, the cushions within them doing little to nothing to soften her fall. She huffed, her abdomen aching from the aftermath of a punch she hadn't blocked. The sound of her body colliding against the surface echoed throughout her training room of the Kastilyo.

She saw stars, but not from the blow. Instead, her eyes now faced the ceiling, the rose golden stars that adorned the top of the high walls in her view. She groaned as she sat up, rubbing her head comfortingly. Her vision moved itself from the stars and trim of the walls right before they met the ceiling, and could now see her own tousled state in the mirror in front of her. The wall parallel to the door was one giant mirror, adorned with the same opulent design as the top of the walls.

The Kastilyo was what the Kingdom of Estrelya called their castle. The original designers had been careful and thorough when creating the five story building fit for royals.

Amira stood in front of her, moving on the balls of her feet swiftly, maintaining her stance with her fists protectively placed in front of her chin. She watched as the princess leaned back onto the mat, letting her dark brown hair bunch up just above her shoulders as she laid there silently.

"Giving up already?" Amira questioned, dropping her stance when she got no response.

Instead, all she heard was heavy breathing as Lorelai caught her breath.

Amira stood there with her hands on her hips. "You're the one who asked for sparring sessions, Lor."

Lorelai let out a groan, pulling herself to sit up. She moved her hair out of her face, practically slicking it back from her sweat-stained forehead. She looked up at the royal guard in front of her, looking posed.

It was a year ago that Amira had made it to the official ranks, setting the record for the Kingdom of Estrelya 's youngest member of the Royal Guard. Standing at a heaping five-foot-one, she wasn't that much shorter than the princess laying in front of her.

Despite being a mere nineteen years old, she was acknowledged as one of the strongest guards in the kingdom. She had begun her apprenticeship at the age of fifteen, skipped the status of Official Guard, and went straight to Royal Guard at the age of eighteen. It wasn't long before she scaled the ranks once again, entering a special assignment as the Princess' personal guard and attendant.

Now, she was practically beating up the princess she swore to protect—all with good intentions, though. Lorelai had requested private sparring sessions with Amira.

Amira turned to grab a water bottle from its spot near the mirror. As she stood up facing the mirror, she fixed her silken maroon hijab that was on her head.

Lorelai sat there, wondering how Amira managed to look flawless after a sparring match whilst her own hair was frizzy and untamed. Instead of answering Amira's question, she let out the one thing that had been on her mind the entire time they spared.

"I think Mom's still upset with me," Lorelai sighed, huffing breaths in and out.

"What for?" Amira asked her, turning around and taking a seat across from Lorelai on the mats.

"She had Taylor introduce me to a few more suitable candidates," the words fell off her lips mockingly, mimicking the posh accent the Royal Secretary had when she spoke. "And in person this time! I told them all it was nice to meet them, but I wasn't interested."

Amira chuckled.

"You know she's not going to give up trying to introduce you to a nice boy," Amira sighed. "Might as well humor her, let just one court you before rejecting them."

"Why get their hopes up?"

Amira bit her lip and gave her a defeated look, knowing that Lorelai had a point there. She pressed on the floor and stood up. "I'm gonna go shower if you're done for the day. Princess Daniella and Princess Kavina are supposed to be arriving today."

Lorelai gave her two thumbs up before allowing her body to fall backwards once again. Amira chuckled as she walked out of the room. Lorelai stared at the ceiling of the training room, attempting to catch her breath as she contemplated her ancestry.

"That's a good idea," Lorelai whispered to herself, pushing herself off from the ground yet again. "If I stay in all of this sweat, my eczema is gonna scream at me for it later."

Not to mention my friends are arriving soon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lorelai glanced at herself in the full body mirror that hung from her walls, not flat against it as her room was built in a circle, with a cone roof. She believed her tower-like room might have been one of the few things that made her feel like those damsel in distress princesses from a fairytale—the way it felt like she was in some tower. Only she wasn't the one who was locked away, kept hidden from the outside world. No, not her. She swayed side to side, fumbling with the satin material of her brown sundress.

The loud sound she heard next was one she found hard to describe. It wasn't as if the word "shimmer" made a sound, but it was the only adjective that clouded her mind when she heard it. A loud, echoing, shimmer that would ring throughout the Kastilyo.

The sound of the Estrelya Portal Dock being in use. There were six Royal Portal Docks in their land—one in each of the six kingdoms. To use, however, the receiving portal would have to have its Master Key inserted and turned to the correct number on the portal's dial that corresponded with the portal that was dispatching.

The Estrelya Portal Dock was 1.

Royal Portal Docks weren't the only form of Portal Docks that existed. Smaller versions of them existed that could only be used for small distances within kingdoms, able to move from city to city, or from different neighborhoods. Because of its short range, they didn't need a Master Key to operate.

Excitedly, she skipped over to one of her many windows, pulling back its heavy curtains to look up at the bright azure sky. Her bedroom, thanks to its tower-like structure and position on the fifth and final floor, gave her a 360-degree view of the Kastilyo's surroundings. A faint pink light shot up into the sky from just past the gardens in the back of the Kastilyo—another indicator that the portal's Master Key had been inserted.

She ran out of her room quickly, breaking out into a slow jog. She descended the small spiral set of steps that had led up to her bedroom door, but she paused at the last step. There, at the end of the royal quarter's hallway right before her bedroom hung a large portrait that was just a bit bigger than a door.

Her eyes scanned over the painted portrait. They roamed over a familiar pair of golden eyes that was so evidently not those of a human's. The man, if they could really call him that, had sharp and long pupils that could only resemble a cat. Despite his young facial features, he had long, white hair, and he was standing straight up with a beaming smile on his face. He was in front of the Kastilyo, it's exterior unmistakable. He was clad in a black robe with rose gold hems, signature to Estrelya. That painting had been in the castle for eons, a reminder of the era when magic still roamed the land. The Mage of Estrelya, as history would come to know him, a hero in history books that became more of a folklore than anything else. It was hard to believe in something people couldn't see. But for her, staring at the portrait made Lorelai feel a deep sense of connection, as if there was some personal bond between her and the one depicted

Despite being talked about in books and in school, aspects of him became more of a folklore. People found it hard to believe in the things he had done. It was hard to believe in something that one couldn't see—but the Portal Docks were standing proof that magic once roamed. The last remnant of it. The sole reminder.

There was no longer street entertainment from Mages filling up festivals and events, there was no more barrier surrounding castles, there were no longer magical potions to help with ailments and surgeries. There was no Mages helping with military efforts, helping with construction—there were no Mages. All because of built up prejudice and a mindset that they had an unfair advantage in life. All because some man in power liked being the one to hold it.

She walked towards it, clenching her fists tight, feeling a slight pain in her palm as her long nails dug into them. She stopped right in front of it, letting her fingers trail down the carved wooden frame around the canvas portrait.

Do I have time to go and... she wondered.

"Lorelai."

Snapping her head around, her entire body turned to face the voice. Amira stood at the end of the hallway in a new outfit from the one she wore during training. She wore the uniform of a Royal Guard in the royal colors of the Kingdom of Estrelya: black and rose gold, with an embroidered rose gold star on the biceps of her long sleeves. The star on her biceps had twelve points with a frilly design, six of the points pointed straight and six curved in a wave matter, and it was known as the royal symbol, or the Estrelya Star.

The broach that fastened the top of her shirt signified her ranking by what kind of star she had.

There were four guard rankings at the Kastilyo. A three pointed star symbolized an apprentice. A five pointed star was an official guard. A ten pointed star, similar to the royal symbol but with straight points, five longer and five smaller meant it was a member of the Royal Guard. Almost the same as the star for the Royal Guard, Special Assignment Royal Guards had one small adjustment in their broaches: a sword would pierce through the star.

Amira proudly wore the highest of the stars on her broach.

The hijab upon her head was black with rose gold trimmings as well, everything about her outfit screaming professional and elite. Amira looked badass in her uniform, and Lorelai was never quite able to get over how in awe she always was with her.

She pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and said, "Callen's arriving."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

They walked briskly down the Glass Corridor, which was located at the very end of the west wing of the Kastilyo's second floor. It stretched from both ends of the front and back of the Kastilyo. Since it jutted out further than the main walls of the house, it had a small ceiling that was also made of glass.

From the Glass Corridor, Lorelai was able to see the Estrelya Portal Dock. It was built large enough to look like a door to nowhere when it wasn't on. Painted black with rose gold hems and frills, it also had a small ottoman sized control panel right next to it. On that panel was a circle dial that ranged from numbers 2-6 with a slot in the middle of the golden Master Key. Now that the key was inserted, the portal no longer looked like a door to nowhere. Instead, a pink glow formed inside of its empty space and shot up into the sky, fading the further up it went. The entire dock was on a white circular platform that had five small steps leading up to it.

Getting to the courtyard, the two briskly walked from the courtyard, out to the garden, around the side of the castle towards the Portal Dock. Lorelai couldn't help but notice how official everything felt—and yet there she was, in a simple brown sundress.

Guards lined up by the portal, her parents already waiting at the end of the string of guards, her mother's right hand woman, and a few other members of the royal cabinet. Sakura Icis, the Head of the Royal Guard and Chief Advisor to the Crown, stood at the end of the string of guards, closest to Queen Amor herself.

Queen Amor and King Jeune Bituin were clad in royal attire. Queen Amor in a rose gold dress with black lace and flourished hemlines, her crown sitting upon her curled black hair. King Jeune in a black long sleeve shirt and slacks with a rose gold tailcoat over the ensemble, his own crown upon his gelled back black hair.

Gorgeous and poised, like always, Lorelai believed. She saw the way the sunlight hit her parents' crowns, the reflection almost blinding. The King and Queen were truly breathtaking in every way to Lorelai.

As Lorelai looked around at those who had gathered, she realized she was the only one not formally dressed. She tried to reassure herself that there was no reason to have gotten all dolled up just to greet her childhood friends at the portal, but there was no mistaking that she stood out like a sore thumb.

A few aides materialized first, carrying suitcases with the Kingdom of Callen's royal emblem on them: a pastel purple colored outline of a mountain with what is meant to be a laelia orchid growing on top of it. The mountain represented the Callen Mountain, which their castle was built upon. The entire emblem was encircled in a thin, pastel purple line.

The first of the royal family to materialize out of the portal was Princess Daniella Laelia. The smile on Lorelai's face widened, as did her eyes, as she looked at the princess. Daniella had been one of her best friends all her life, but standing before her, Daniella looked almost completely different.

Her typically long blonde hair was now colored a dark blue. Her attire made Lorelai feel less out of place, as she was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, obviously not caring much for appearances. All she had to do was walk through a door, for crying out loud.

She threw up a peace sign with her fingers upon seeing Lorelai, making her way down the stairway to embrace her friend.

"Oh, my! Your hair!" exclaimed Lorelai, reaching to touch it. As she moved it, she realized she also had an undercut. "Damn! Your hair!"

Daniella laughed, motioning to the portal with her head as she said, "They're not exactly happy about it since it's 'right before the Ball,' but I really couldn't care less."

The Three Queens' Ball, an event held once every decade in honor of the alliance formed between Estrelya , Callen, and Chandrama, signed into place by three queens eons ago: Minorin of Estrelya, Azalea of Callen, and Riya of Chandrama.

It was the Kingdom of Estrelya's turn to host it at the Kastilyo, though the other two kingdoms were planned to arrive early enough to help with the arrangements.

The princesses and prince had been small children during the last time the Ball occurred; though, the only thing that seven year old Lorelai really remembered from the event was that it was long, loud, there was lots of food, and lots of traffic in the capital city.

The Ball itself was a national holiday in all three Kingdoms. For those who were able to make the journey to the host kingdom were able to attend, admittance free to all of their citizens. Local business owners were even able to request petitions to open booths along the passageway leading to the castles. The Ball always left the castle cities bustling with tourists, traffic filled streets, and every form of lodging fully booked. Despite the actual ball only being a day event, the month before and after was full of celebration. Those who traveled far made vacations out of the Holiday, so the castle cities stayed busy for quite some time.

Daniella linked an arm around Lorelai's, and turned to face the portal, watching as everyone else came out.

Out came Queen Adalaide and King Barry Laelia, walking down the steps hand in hand, King Barry slightly ahead of Queen Adalaide, helping her on their way down. Like Lorelai's parents, they were clad in their royal outfits, almost identical to Amor and Jeune's, but instead, in the lavender and silver of their own kingdoms.

Like her daughter—or at least until yesterday— Queen Adalaide had light blonde hair, while her husband's was a dark brown; it could be mistaken for black depending on the lighting. Standing next to each other, they looked as if they were day and night.

Lorelai couldn't help but think about how beautiful they were together.

The guards in the line had bowed down their heads for them as they walked over, and Amor stepped forward with a smile, arms open to embrace Adalaide. King Barry and Lorelai's own father stood off to the side with one another, pleasant smiles on their faces as they spoke in soft tones together.

"Thanks for the help, Dani," grumbled a voice from the top of the dock.

Attentions moved to the last person to exit the portal—the crowned prince himself, Elijah Laelia. He was a stark contrast to his baby sister in the same way their father contrasted their mother. His hair was short and black with onyx eyes, which put him aside from his sister and parents who all bore grey-blue ones.

The only similarity between the two siblings was their complexions: both of a light, warm beige. They didn't look like one another around the face, either. Elijah had inherited their father's high cheekbones with a rounded face, while Daniella's was more sculpted like their mother's.

He was clad in a black button up shirt with lavender buttons, unbuttoned to reveal a silver silky undershirt. His family's symbol was embroidered on the pocket over his right chest.

It didn't go unnoticed to Lorelai that Elijah tended to tie in his kingdom's royal colors into all of his outfits even when he wasn't dressed up, from the silver to the lavender in his attire, to the embroidery on his pocket. It was so very formal of him for a nineteen year old.

Lorelai almost never wore her family's royal colors outside of official events and meetings, despite how much she liked the colors black and rose gold together. Nor did she have the Kingdom of Estrelya's rose gold star embroidered on any of her casual clothes.

But she knew that in Elijah's defense, not that she would ever come to his defense, that this was just an example of how he oftentimes tried too hard to appear to be a perfect prince.

Elijah was carrying a few bags left behind by the aides when they descended the steps. The way he was glaring at his sister, one could only presume it was her bags.

"What a gentleman," Daniella teased him, staying stuck in her spot as Elijah wobbled down the stairs and across the path towards them. "Thanks, Eli."

He put them down with a huff and rolled his eyes. He merely nodded his head in Lorelai's direction, and the Princess responded in the same manner. Without exchanging any words with one another, Elijah's attention refocused on the two kings, making his way from the Princesses towards their fathers.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The arrival of the royals from the Kingdom of Chandrama happened only a few moments after Callen's. Their arrival was almost identical, with the only difference being the emblem on their suitcases. It showcased a golden full moon, which had white craters worked into its design, and a frilly letter C in the middle in white.

Lorelai and Amira had been ordered by Queen Amor to go to the kitchen and see if the meals being prepared were ready, and to meet in the garden for lunch. Lorelai had been disappointed that she had to miss the arrival of the crowned princess of Chandrama, and the last member of her Princess Trio: Kavina Chandra.

"The meal?" Prim Keirnan glanced behind herself. The Royal Chef, with her unruly red hair that was up attempting to stay in its hairnet, stopped paying attention to the steak she was searing in front of her. "I already had it sent to the garden dining table, love!"

"Oh, alright, thank you!" Lorelai smiled, turning abruptly on her heels, Amira in tow.

She glanced down at her dress and back to Amira's guard attire, a frown forming on her lips.

"Amira," Lorelai called, snapping her head in her guard's direction.

"Lorelai?" she responded, raising an eyebrow up at her.

"Am I underdressed?" Lorelai questioned, grabbing fistfulls of her dress and then letting it fall back down into place.

"As the crown princess of Estrelya greeting two allied kingdoms? Yes," nodded Amira, and Lorelai cringed. Then, she added, "But as a teenage girl waiting for her friends to come over? Nah." There was a small pause, in which Lorelai smiled at the response. "If only you could be a mere teenage girl."

Lorelai frowned again and used her elbow to softly nudge Amira, sticking her tongue out at her.

The two of them made their way to the second floor of the Kastilyo, well on their way to the exit out to the courtyard and garden. Their strides were quick paced, the clicks of their shoes echoing against whatever fancy material the Kastilyo floors were made of.

The two made it to the top of the staircase, reentering the Glass Corridor section of the large castle.

"Hey, Heartbreak Princess! Amira!"

The voice came from the other end of the Glass Corridor, and the two of them halted. They stared at the newcomer, waiting for them as they approached.

Actually, Amira stared at them, but Lorelai shot an icy glare in their direction, crossing her arms over her chest at the sound of a nickname that she found ridiculous. She wasn't a heartbreaker.

Amira bowed her head in respect, and Lorelai tore her attention away.

"Prince," Amira greeted, pulling her head back up.

"Elijah," Lorelai acknowledged him, but she didn't turn her head back in his direction.

Elijah looked away as well, and a stagnant silence fell over them.

Amira glanced between the two of them, letting out an undetectable sigh when she realized the two of them rather stare than say something.

"Heading to the garden, Prince Elijah?" Amira questioned him.

"Yes, ma'am," he responded with a nod.

"Good, you can accompany us," Amira said with a smirk, ignoring the glare Lorelai was shooting her. "Chef Prim said the food was already brought out."

"Wonderful," Elijah said politely.

The three of them resumed their walk, exiting the Glass Corridor and entering the same hallway that connected to the grand entrance and the entrance to the courtyard. They were met with the romantic architecture of the Kastilyo, with rose gold curtains and long, frilly windows with white gold trims, a white paint coating the interior. There were chandeliers hanging from the ceiling every few feet.

Outside of the grand entrance, which had been left open with guards standing on both sides, inside and outside, they could hear murmuring and see the flashing flight of cameras. Lorelai glanced at Elijah, who already had his eyes on her.

"Should we?" he asked, turning his head towards the door, as if to point at it.

She wasn't surprised with the change in atmosphere. She oftentimes let Elijah's attitude towards her dictate the attitude she would give back. He had his moments where he acted like one of her closest friends, but there were other days where he hardly even looked in her direction. She willing danced to his beat, though, deciding just going with it was easier than questioning why he did the things he did.

Like why did he insist of dressing the way he did? Why did he insist on talking so proper even if they were in a casual setting? Why did he insist on never dropping his guard?

"Might as well," she shrugged, a small smile on her face as she spoke.

Amira watched from behind as the prince and princess stepped into the opening of the Kastilyo's door, and just like that, the voices intensified into enthusiastic shouts.

There was a small group, likely tourists, standing outside of the gates, more guards stationed in front to keep people from attempting to enter or scale the fences. Still, there were people who liked to take photos in front of the Kastilyo, and others who kept up with the royal news and knew that the Callen and Chandrama royalty would be teleporting in. Most of them had probably seen the pink lights anyways.

Despite being behind a gate that was at the end of a path, they could make out the faces of the prince and princess.

As they were taught to, the pair stepped a few steps past the entrance and onto the entry steps, their best smiles plastered on their faces. Elijah bowed while Lorelai curtsied, the two of them waving before retreating back into the Kastilyo. The crowd cheered as they snapped photos of the two royals.

"We'll be getting more of that than usual this month," Elijah stated, smoothing out his shirt as they walked further through the main hallway, making a right at the entryway that led to the courtyard.

"Ah yes, your fangirls will be lined up outside the walls of my house like they always do during your visits," Lorelai teased him, falling out of her standoffish attitude from the staircase and right into her playful banner.

"At least I'm not breaking hearts left and right, hm, Heartbreak Princess?"

There was the nickname again. Elijah had given it to her when she was fifteen and he was seventeen after witnessing her reject the son of some aristocrat who had found themselves invited to Daniella's fifteenth birthday party over in Callen.

"Oh please, no one should be heartbroken over me not being interested."

"You'd be surprised," Elijah muttered in a whisper.

Lorelai snapped her head in his direction, sure he had said something but hadn't caught it.

Louder, he added, "You know how many girls in the kingdom would kill to be in your position, Lor?" Lor? "Constantly getting asked on dates by cute men—"

"If you think they're so cute, why don't you ask them out, Prince?" Amira cut him off, her tone monotonous even if she was poking fun at him.

Lorelai's hand went up to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh, but she failed miserably. Elijah's cheeks heated up as he glared over at the guard, but he couldn't get mad at her. He, like the princesses, had formed a friendship with Amira over her years of employment at the castle, especially since the two of them were the same age.

"Back to what I was saying," Elijah grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, choosing to ignore Amira's comment. "You get asked out all the time, and you get to hang out with me. You're living the dream life for most girls in our kingdoms."

Amira scoffed out a laugh before covering her mouth, better than the Princess at silencing her humor. Lorelai just looked at him as if he said the most ridiculous thing ever, her mouth ajar but lips curled up in a smile.

"You're unbelievable!" Lorelai chuckled, shaking her head. "Most girls in our kingdoms may have a little crush on you, but your ego is why you're single."

"Or because I choose to be."

"Oh, so you're lecturing me about rejecting people, yet claim to be rejecting most girls in our kingdoms?" she mocked him, using air quotes about the words he spoke. "Are you sure you're not the Heartbreak Prince?"

"Shut up."

"That's what I thought."

They made it across the courtyard towards the entrance to the gardens. Tropical plants entered their view, and the sound of a miniature waterfall pouring water into a small pond somewhere thin the greenery could be heard from all around.

Their banter ended as they got to the dining tables that were out in the garden. Enough tables and chairs were set up to seat not only the royal families, but their attendants that had arrived, and Estrelya 's royal cabinet as well. Upon the tables were white table clothes and trays of appetizers, made for a nice light lunch. Kavina was sitting with Daniella at a table with three seats available.

Lorelai squealed at the sight of her friend—and mentally sighed in relief when she saw that even Kavina hadn't dressed up, wearing a dark green shirt that complimented her darker complexion and ripped loose jeans, her wavy hair up in a bun. She ran over, hugging the other princess.

Amira and Elijah looked at each other at the sight in front of them before shaking their heads and heading over to take the other two free seats. Lorelai couldn't help but smile, excited for the planning and preparing for the Ball that would be approaching, and for the time she'd be able to spend as a mere teenage girl with her friends.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: welcome to book one of the original series I've been working on for the past year! I currently have 10 of the chapters written, but I want to know your guys' thoughts before bringing in the rest of the chapters I have ready!

also available on my wattpad

general works taglist:

@yaskna @mariishat @misssugarless @drarrylov3r @luluwiie@laudthingcat @walecznypisarz @bubblywriter0 @superhermit@chloflower-blog @dummies-world

[noorakardemmomesaetre]

Through the Snowfall - The Final Chapter

Or Read It On Ao3

Pairing: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: The Coopers and Andrews have rented the same cabin in the woods every holiday season since their kids were two years old.

And with Archie and Betty leaving for college in just a few months, Betty is determined to make this Christmas a memorable one…by telling Archie how she really feels.

What she doesn’t plan for is Archie bringing his best friend.

Or the way her gaze is suddenly lingering on the wild dark curls peeking out from beneath a crown beanie rather than the ginger spikes she’d set her sights on so long ago.

Note: I hope you all had the most wonderful holiday season celebrating however you’re happiest celebrating! ❄️☃️

This is the first multi-chapter fic I have finished in over a year and a half and, as sad as that is, I can’t thank you all enough for deciding to go on this little holiday journey with me 💙 you’ve all been so kind and lovely, truly.I hope you enjoy this last chapter!

xx B

Chapter Five: Sunrise

Betty’s just finished buckling the strap of her heels when a knock sounds on their bedroom door. Veronica is FaceTiming Cheryl and Toni, showing them the Swarovski crystals that are delicately sewn into the elaborate neckline of her gown.

Betty opens their bedroom door and tilts her head knowingly when she sees Archie standing there, already dressed in his favorite classic black-and-white tuxedo. “Can I help you, Archie?”

“Is Ronnie in there?” He’s wringing his hands nervously in front of him, though his smile is relaxed and Betty nods.

“Veronica, you have a visitor!”

Veronica makes her way over, waving at Toni and Cheryl before handing the phone to Betty. Her mouth parts when she sees Archie standing here, but her expression is nothing compared to his. His eyes are wide as he takes in her deep red satin gown and elegant chignon. If her life was a cartoon, Betty’s sure his heart would be physically beating out of his chest.

Betty leaves them, knowing Archie is asking her to the soiree, and it makes her heart swell with happiness for them. She’s glad that, despite the miscommunications and her lack of awareness about her own feelings, they found each other.

“Betty dearest, you’re sparkling.”

Cheryl’s voice interrupts her train of thought and Betty turns her attention to the phone screen. “Oh yes! Do you like?”

She moves the phone screen down so that her friends can see her full look. A form-fitting rose-gold glitter gown with a thigh high slit she normally would never have been brave enough to try on let alone buy (though she’d gone shopping with Veronica and that should be explanation enough) adorns her body.

Her hair falls in waves that compliment her face and the dark maroon color painted on her lips makes her feel somewhat like a movie star.

While Cheryl and Toni toss compliments at her like they’re confetti, she can’t help but hope that a certain someone is also blown away by this look.

“Well, I’ve got to go check on mother, kisses to you Betty. Have a wonderful time!” Cheryl blows a few kisses and makes her way upstairs, leaving Betty with Toni.

“Cooper,” Toni starts and Betty arches an eyebrow at her best friends’ girlfriend, who has also become one of her closest friends. “Something’s got you distracted, or should I say someone?”

“Oh no,” Betty shakes her head quickly, moving into the bathroom in case Archie can hear her over his and Veronica’s excited giggles. “I’m just excited for the soiree, Toni, I promise.”

Toni smiles at her knowingly through the screen, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “As long as this soiree is nice to you and good-looking, I’m excited for you too.”

Betty rolls her eyes, but the grin on her face is undeniable.

-------------

Archie escorts them both down the stairs and their parents gush over them like it’s their first prom. She smiles her brightest Cooper-esque smile, although her eyes are trained on the staircase as though he’ll suddenly appear on the steps at any moment.

But when he doesn’t come down twenty minutes later, she heads over to Archie.

“Where’s Jughead?”

Archie turns from where he’d been placing his mug in the kitchen sink and smiles sadly at her. “He’s not feeling well, Betty, he said he’ll catch up with us later.”

Her heart drops and she glances up towards the boys’ bedroom again. “Does he need anything? I can stay with him-”

“He’ll join us in a little while, Betty, he just needs some rest I think.”

“Okay,” she accepts softly, though her disappointment is obvious. She’d been hoping he’d see her walk down the stairs in her gown and make-up and finally realize she’s everything he could ever need.

But seeing as that’s not happening, she reluctantly joins her family in their car. They’d hired a driver for the night and he seems nice enough as they make their way down the few miles towards the transformed rec center.

The Winter Wonderland-themed center is packed and Betty recognizes a few people from previous years spent at the cabin. She’s making small talk with different people as Archie and Veronica find their seats at their designated table, their hands never leaving one another.

Her thoughts drift to Jughead again and again, even whilst she’s in conversation. Is he okay? What’s he doing? How did he get sick? Is he even sick? Perhaps he’s lonely and she should join him?

Her father sits next to her during dinner and provides enough of a distraction to keep her from bolting out the doors and back to the cabin. They discuss a new car he’s been dying to renovate after he speaks to Alice about cutting back at the Register. Betty tells him good luck with that and they share a laugh that earns them a glare from her mother.

The dance floor is soon cleared, blue and white lights swirling around the hall to enhance the mood, and people move to the music. Veronica and Archie are talking, their heads close together as though they’re whispering secrets.

She’s sitting there, surrounded by her friends and family, the bass of the music thumping through the ground and the sparkles of the snowflakes whirling around her, and all she can think about is him.

She can’t do this.

So she squeezes Veronica’s arm conveying meaning with which only her best friend could understand and takes off towards the main doors.

Snow has started to fall, slow and steady, but she hardly has the time to acknowledge the beauty of it all as she jogs as quickly as she can in her heels towards their car.

“Elizabeth!”

Her mother’s shriek pierces the air and stops Betty in her tracks. She can feel her mother’s nails digging into her arm as she pulls her around to face her and, in this lighting, the lines between her eyebrows are more present than ever.

Mary just catches up to them, pulling her coat on as she watches the two of them with concern.

“Elizabeth, where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to go home, Mother, I don’t feel well.” The lie is more than obvious, but Betty can hardly find the energy to care. All she wants to do is see him. Make sure he’s okay if he really is sick. Make sure he’s okay if he isn’t.

“This better not be about that boy,” Alice spits and Mary arches an eyebrow in warning at her friend. “I expected this of your sister, but for you to throw your life away for some boy named Jughead no less, when Archie is right inside-”

“I wouldn’t be throwing my life away if I went to Jughead!” She’s yelling. She know this because her mother rears her head back as though Betty’s lunged for her and Mary’s mouth is parted in both disbelief and pride. “And if you can’t see that, Mother, you haven’t been paying attention.”

Alice shakes her head, her lips twisted in a disgusted grimace. “Elizabeth, if you get into that car, you are making a dire mistake.”

“Staying here for this long, with you, is the only mistake I’ve made tonight,” Betty retorts in just above a whisper, closing the space between her mother and herself. Mary remains a few feet away, watching the two of them carefully and Betty knows she’ll intervene if necessary. “And Mother?”

Alice arches an eyebrow.

“I’ve applied to only out-of-state universities and I intend to leave in the fall.”

With that, she turns on her heel and rushes to the open door of the car waiting for her. As soon as she’s seated and buckled up, her chest heaving with the adrenaline of what has just happened, she glances out of the window.

Her mother is storming inside and Betty hopes she doesn’t snap an ankle with the way she’s stomping on her heels. Mary is still standing there with a look of pride that spreads a warmth through Betty’s heart. She nods at her as the car pulls away and Betty offers her a wave of gratitude.

She’s got her phone out, her finger hovering over Jughead’s name, but her cell reception is non-existent this deep in the forest and she groans. It feels as though the car is moving in slow motion and she keeps looking through the windows as though Jughead may materialize through the density of the trees.

When they’re about a quarter of a mile from the cabin, the driver stops and turns to Betty with a frown. “My apologies, Miss Cooper, but I cannot go any further than this. I won’t be able to turn around.”

Betty glances down at her heels, sighing inwardly. She’s so close she can practically smell the cinnamon on his flannel jacket. But she can’t possibly run that far in her heels, that would be completely outrageous.

The driver is still looking at her, concern etched across his face, when it hits her.

“Of course!” She turns around to find their snow gear still settled in the back of the car from their last snow day. She reaches for the first pair of snow boots she can find, thanking a higher power that they’re Veronica’s, and quickly unbuckles and kicks off her heels. She slides on the boots, buttons her jacket, and waves goodbye to the driver.

The snow is fresh, pillowing around her boots like clouds, as she huffs her way through it. She can just make out the lights of their cabin in the distance and all she can think about is rushing to the warmth of the fire, or the warmth of his arms. She’d much prefer the latter, but these temperatures have her accepting what she can get at this point. Her breath falls from her mouth in what looks like puffs of smoke and she folds her arms across her chest in an effort to keep warm as she moves.

“Cooper?”

His voice rings gently through the snow falling around them and Betty lifts her gaze to find him standing a few feet in front of her.

Her breath catches as she takes in his svelte all-black suit and bowtie and she can’t help but think he’s quite actually the most beautiful man she’s ever seen.

He’s currently sliding out of the jacket he must’ve borrowed from Fred, quickly closing the space between them so that he can wrap the jacket around her shivering shoulders.

“It’s freezing out here, Betts, what are you-”

“I thought you were sick-”

He stops speaking, his face only inches from hers, and concern tugs at the corners of his mouth. She wishes she could reach up and sofly trace the freckles along his face before pulling his lips to hers by his chin, but he’s now stepped away from her.

He runs his fingers through the thick waves of his hair and it’s then that she notices he’s pulled his beanie off, clutching it between his fingers.

“I’m not sick.”

Her eyebrows furrow as she stares at him through the snowflakes swirling between them. “Then why didn’t you come with us to the soiree? I would’ve waited for you-”

“I couldn’t come,” he interrupts her, the pain in his eyes gripping her heart like a vice. He takes a deep breath before meeting her gaze once more. “I couldn’t bear to watch you look at Archie all night the way I wish you would look at me.”

The words catch her so off guard that they leave her breathless.

He shakes his head as if even just saying what he’s said is shameful. “But then I realized how fucking selfish that is, Betts, and if he’s who you want, than I support you. I will always support you-”

“I don’t want to look at you the way I look at Archie.”

He stops speaking and a sadness colors his facial expression as he nods in acceptance. “Of course not, I don’t know why I thought-”

“Because I look at Archie like a brother,” she clarifies softly as she steps closer to him, a small smile gracing her lips as he blinks in confusion. “And I certainly don’t look at you that way.”

She carefully wraps her arms around his neck, again stepping closer to him as realization dawns across his features. He looks so shocked by her confession she has to draw her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from giggling.

“I just have one question for you, Jones.”

“I’m an open book for you, Cooper,” he says quietly and with so much honesty she has to fight the urge to press her lips against his in response.

“That day we made snow angels and I told you my secret,” she whispers as snow continues to fall into their hair, speckling the deep color of his waves with white. “You were about to tell me something. What was it?”

He searches her face for only a second before a wide smile that matches the pure happiness in his eyes dances across his lips. “I was going to tell you that I applied to schools in those very same states.”

Her lips are against his before he has time to finish his sentence and she giggles against his lips when she realizes she’s taken him by surprise.

But then his hand cups her cheek, his other wrapping around her waist to pull her flush against his own body. His lips part against hers and she can taste him in every way she’s wanted to since she slipped her hand into his upon their first meeting.

And despite the dropping temperatures around them, Betty’s never felt warmer.

-------------

Epilogue: Almost One Year Later

Snow is falling gently about her as she leans against the Jeep her father and she had restored before she’d left for NYU. She feels the vibration of her phone in her coat pocket and she answers the FaceTime call with the brightest smile she can muster in the cold.

“B!” Veronica squeals, her face filling the screen. She can just make out Archie packing the last few articles of his clothing into a suitcase behind her.

“V!” Betty responds with just as much enthusiasm as she waves at the screen. “Are you guys leaving soon?”

“Five minutes, right Archiekins?” Veronica turns to Archie who grins and waves at the camera before confirming only five more minutes.

“Those nicknames are borderline nauseating,” Betty teases and Veronica rolls her eyes before they both break into giggles.

“Don’t be jealous, Betty!” Archie calls and Betty flips off the camera only to receive the same gesture from him in response.

“Ohmygosh, can you two behave for two seconds?” Veronica manages through her own laughter before turning back to the camera. “Are you leaving soon?”

It’s then that she sees him leaving his apartment building, his dufflebag casually thrown over his shoulder. Her heart beats to a rhythm that’s theirs and he stops, tilting his head towards her with a playful smile.

“B?” Veronica’s voice drags her back to reality and she raises her eyebrow expectantly. “Are you guys about to leave?”

“Yes,” Betty finally confirms, fighting the urge to return her gaze to the man who stole her heart only a year ago. “We’ll see you guys in like 45 minutes?”

“Sounds good! Enjoy your man!”

He closes the space between them just as she hangs up, sliding her phone back into her coat pocket. Her arms wrap around his neck as his wrap around her waist and she presses her lips to his in a kiss that still triggers butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against her lips and she smiles into their kiss before pulling away.

“I was just here last weekend, Juggie,” she teases, her fingers playing with the collar of his infamous flannel jacket he’s yet to get rid of.

“Any moment without you is a moment I’m missing you,” he says softly, pressing his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss before smiling at her. “Are you ready?”

“Are you?” she asks, still feeling a bit breathless being this close to him.

He chuckles and shrugs, tossing his duffle bag through the open passenger door before turning his attention back to her. “I can handle your mom. Especially now that Cheryl and Toni will be there as well.”

Betty giggles and nods in agreement. Her parents had agreed to allow the “kids” to rent a cabin next door this year (although Betty thinks her mother’s motive may be to avoid Betty and her beau, not that Betty minds) and Betty had jumped at the chance to invite her other friends to join them.

She’s looking up at him, taking in the way his stance is so easy and comfortable with her, and he lowers his gaze to meet hers.

“Everything okay, Betts?”

“I love you.” The words fall from her mouth in just above a whisper and his expression softens. It’s not the first time they’ve said it, but each time feels like a more comforting and honest version of the first.

“I love you too, Betty Cooper,” he whispers against her ear as he pulls her into a warm hug and she can’t help thinking this Christmas will be even better than the last.

That every Christmas with him will be more magical than she could have ever imagined with anybody else.