#Thank you for the prompt!! my art block has been rough and I knew what to draw for this immediately <3 <3

[vpofcookies]

for the tiny techno doodles u should put him in a little bowl :) boy soup

I was looking for a ham sandwich but I think I found a grilled cheese instead

[iwadori]

hello! I love your works so much! Can I request an angst to comfort scenario for #21 on your prompt list?

“It’s my fault for trusting you”

Feel free to use whichever character(s) you like!!

When the haikyu boys neglect you for another girl PT 3

Part One Part Two Part Three Part four Part Five

Word Count: 2.7K

Genre: angst,fluff

masterlist

Akaashi

You and Akaashi were beautiful people

Probably the most attractive pair of young adults that anyone can find

You were both top tier models in the industry

You always had a little rivalry between you but you always promised each other to never let it affect your ‘relationship’

“Beautiful darling, your beautiful” praised your photographer as you finished your shoot giving you air kisses on your cheeks. You thanked him and the rest of the staff and entered your dressing room sighing.

“Rough day?” Asked a voice, startling you a bit. You looked up to see your boyfriend, Akaashi Keiji sitting in the corner of your dressing room on a love seat.  

“Gosh Keiji you scared me” clutching your chest dramatically “But yes, the day has been tiring Fabio has really been overworking me lately” you complained. Akaashi walks towards you and gave you a peck on the cheek “Aww poor baby” he cooed mockingly, “but don’t worry ‘bout it Y/N your sucess will be all be worth it eventually” he says making you smile.

“and besides, you’ve got a shoot with me soon anyways” he winks, making you chuckle. You finished removing your make-up as Akaashi tells you about his shoot today and Bokuto’s (your fellow model friend) antics.  

You and Akaashi first laid eyes on eachother when you were both up and coming models, you both are under the same company. At first, both of your agents decided to make you spend time with each other to push the narrative of you being a couple anyways. However, since you and Akaashi had great natural chemistry it made your relationship great and made for a great photo too.  

As much as the public loved your relationship and the saucy photos you tend to make together, they also thrived of the slight rivalry you guys had together or the times when you guys bother shot with other people (since it was easy for a fan to make a new ship off of two people literally standing next to each other.)

You spent the next day having what you and Akaashi called a ‘rest day,’ you both specifically clear your schedules for every 2nd and 4th saturday of each month to not do any work-related for the day and just bask in each other’s companies (as you were both busy and barely got enough time to see one another.)

You watched multiple movies, made your own homemade cookies and dinner, had pillow fights, built forts. You both were having so much fun, until you both got a call...Just then, the vibe changed you went from your free-spirited fun selfs back into work mode.

Your agent told you that two brands *Insert big fashion designer brand here* and *Insert another big fashion designer brand here* were having some form of standoff. To be honest, you didn’t really care about the context of the shoot(s) in this case, as your agents call ruined your day. They wanted you and Tsukishima Kei, to do some competing shoots and promotional videos for their brand against the other designer.

After getting all your information from your agent, you go back into the living and see Akaashi sitting down thinking deeply about something. “What was your call about?” you inquire sitting down next to him.

“Oh just some silly designer brand competition thing.” he mindlessly replies, still thinking deeply.

“Yeah same. So what’s got you thinking all deeply then?” you ask

“My fellow model is going to be Kiyoko Shimuzu” he sighed, making you blink repeatedly before immediately saying “You can’t do the shoot”

Kiyoko Shimuzu was japans beauty. Everybody loved her, she’s been a model since she was a child everyone wanting a grasp on her looks. The guys wanted her, the girls wanted to be here. Kiyoko Shimuzu was a force to be reckon with.

The real problem at hand wasn’t her stunning looks, popularity and fame. It was her connection with Akaashi. Before Akaashi went big and met you, he was Kiyoko’s boyfriend (well ex-boyfriend now) and they broke up because of long-distance or something like that.

However, to you, Kiyoko’s feelings for your boyfriend have never went away. Whenever you guys bumped into each other at red carpet events or runway shows, she always seemed to linger a bit too long around your boyfriend, which definitely wasn’t to your liking.

Akaashi lifted up his head from inside his palms and looked at you as if you had grown another head. “What do you mean, ‘I can’t do the shoot’” he asked in disbelief

“I mean, you can’t do the shoot” you reiterated not understanding why he didn’t understand.  

Akaashi sighs before putting his face back in his hands to think, “Well I know you got to the shoot aswell Y/N who’s yours with.”

“Tsukki” You said nonchalantly say as if it was nothing, making Akaashi look at you again as if you were fully crazy before he had a chance to speak you cut him off saying “Don’t even start Akaashi.”

You and Tsukishima Kei, have best friends since you were kids. You weren’t romantic in any way shape or form, well at least you weren’t. Akaashi always claimed that that Tsukishima was in love with you, that you and Tsukishima were the perfect example of every ‘childhood friends-lovers trope’ ever, which to you wasn’t true. Everything between you and Tsukishima was and still is completely platonic which you can’t say the same for Akaashi and Kiyoko.

“You’re not doing the shoot” he says firmly as if he was your father.  

“Oh so you can do your shoot with your literally EX GIRLFRIEND, but I can’t do mine with my best friend... yeah make sense” you say standing up, astounded.

“Y/N chill, If you’re so adamant about me not doing it with Shi- Kiyoko, then I wont” he says pulling your arm down making you land on him “and you better not do it with ‘Tsukki’” he mocked.

“Okay so none of us are doing the shoots?” you ask looking up at him  

“Yup” he says  

“Pinky promise,” you joked sticking out your pinky in his face.

“Pinky promise” he agreed hooking his finger around yours.

For the next month it seemed you were booked busy, you barely got to see your boyfriend as his agent had him running around all of Japan and even had him booked in some places in Europe for this month. Of course, you missed him, but you understand how busy it can be doing your line of work. You’ve been quite busy too, doing the usual shoots and runways.

Although he was busy, Akaashi basically went radio silent on you. You still expected him to reply to some of your messages or at least call once or twice when he had the chance, since he must have 10 minutes of break time and that's the bare minimum.

It’s been two weeks since you last saw Akaashi (and that was on your saturday rest day) and you were expecting him to come over today so you could have another. Since of course, Saturday ‘rest days’ were basically a tradition for you and Akaashi before you even started dating.

You had no text from Akaashi explaining his lateness/absense, so you just figured he wasn’t coming putting a damper on your day. You spent the day lounging around and shoving your face with your favourite snacks and food.

You get a text from Tsukishima which read:

Tsukishima: 1 Image Attached  

Tsukishima: Looks whose boyfriend stumbled on set...

You didn’t respond as you were shocked at the sight you saw, the image was a picture of Akaashi and Kiyoko on set doing shots for the *insert the other rich designer brand* the shoot that you both agreed you wouldn’t do, which was also a LINGERE brand.  

You felt betrayed, you both agreed to not do the shoot and it’s not like you did do yours. You made sure to turn it down the day you made your agreement. And he skipped on your traditional saturday ‘rest day’ without even giving you any word of him not planning on arriving.

You didn’t know what to do, do you confront him about it? Or do you wait for him to approach you? Since he would plan on telling you about this right? You eventually messaged Tsukishima a ‘thanks’ and you decided how you were going to handle the situation. Pop up on Akaashi and Kiyoko at the photoshoot.

You knew where it was at, since you had the address already from when your agent first offered you the idea. You drove to the place in a breakneck speed, strutting in there like a woman on a mission (which you technically were.) You decided to wait in Akaashi’s dressing room, not wanting to cause a scene at the shoot which would be bad for yours, Akaashi’s and Kiyoko’s image and would be a waste of the time of the staff and photographer there.

Akaashi finally finished the shoot and entered his room with a sigh not realising that you were sitting in the corner of his room. “Did you have a rough time?” you ask mockingly making him jump and his eyes widen as you were the last person he expected to be there. “Why so shocked, you weren’t expecting me?” you still keep the same mocking tone in your speech.

“Y/N I-” He started  

“Y/N what?” You interrupted “Y/N I’m sorry for basically ghosting you for a month? I'm sorry for doing a shoot with someone who I know is still in love with me? I’m sorry for lying to you? I’m sorry for skipping out on our rest day with no explanation on where I am?” you stare at him as he stares back speechless.

“Oh, am I missing something?” you continue “Oh yes ‘Y/n I’m sorry for doing the shoot that we both agreed that we weren’t doing’” you sit down and wait for him to reply.

Akaashi puts his head down in shame, not really knowing what to say. Because of his silence, you roll your eyes and get up fed up with his lack of explanation. Before you fully leave Akaashi blocks your way with slight tears in his eyes “I had no other choice Y/N, I had to do all those shoots and travel other places with Kiyoko because sh-”

“Wait, that’s where you were?” you shout “Gallivanting around the country with HER!” you extend your arm pointing outside the door before you turn trying to leave again.

“N-No No Y/N you’ve got to listen to me” he said putting your hands on my shoulder “She has something, on me and I-I couldn’t I can’t get out of it. It’s deeper than just a simple shoot.” You were confused but you were so upset you just didn’t want to hear it so instead of listening to your boyfriend you decided to say “you’re so full of shit Akaashi” making him gasp at your coldness and the use of his last name. “ but hey I guess thats my fault for trusting you”

You finally left the room and went to go get a breather for a second with tears sparking in your eyes. You leaned against the wall and whispered “fuck” frustrated with the whole situation. Making you jump, Tsukishima said “you should go talk to him you know.”  

“What do you know Tsukki” he cringed at the nickname

“I know more than you Y/N, just go talk to him.” he said making you squint your eyes at him wondering what information he held.

When you walked back to Akaashi’s dressing room practicing an apology in your head. But you paused your arrival hearing Akaashi talking to the one and only, Kiyoko Shimuzu in his room.

“Let’s face it Akaashi, now that I’ve got this sex tape of us, I basically own you.” she said to him making your eyes widen.  

You decided the smartest thing to do was to pull out your phone and record as much as the conversation as you possibly could. Because you could already tell Akaashi was in a bind.

“The next thing I want you to do is...” she continued acting as if she was thinking “break it with Y/N!”

“No certainly not Kiyoko, you’re going too far.” he said making you smile internally that he still defended your relationship. “Me and Y/N are definitely NOT breaking up.”

“Akaashi are you forgetting that I have something over you.” she pulls out her phone and she plays a video, which you can only assume is the sex tape. You can hear a bunch of moans and groans which made your stomache ache.

Tired of hearing this, you burst into the room and say “What the fuck are you doing Kiyoko”  

“Oh Y/N how lovely for you to join us...” she said with a smile, “I was just discussing with your ‘boyfriend’ plans for our next shoots.”

“I always knew you were a bitch.” you say shocking your head at her.

“What do you mean Y/N?” she says with a fake smile, not knowing that you were listening in on your conversation “Actually Akaashi was telling me something he had to tell you... isn’t that right Akaashi.” you both looked over at him and he was scared and speechless.

“Oh you mean how you’ve been blackmailing him for the past two weeks...” you accuse  

“You have no proof of that.” She taunted  

“Oh do I..” you rebuttal then pressing play on the recording you just took watching as both Kiyoko and Akaashi look shocked. Kiyoko scurries out the room knowing she’s been caught leaving you with a triumphant smile.

You sit down, gesturing Akaashi to sit next to you. “Akaashi, I’m so sorry for not listening to you earlier I felt so betrayed thinking that you went agaisnt out agreement, but I guess I was just being a self-obsessed bitch” you say with you now looking down in shame.

“Y/N” he says with you still not meeting his eye “Y/N look at me” he lifted your chin up so you met his eye “It’s fine, It’s completely fine you didn’t know of course you didn’t know, how would you know of sex tape I unknowingly did back when I was 16!” he exclaims “Its fine, we’re good” he pulls you into a hug and kisses you on the forehead.

After you both calm down, Akaashi explains how Kiyoko started to blackmail him and how the agency loved the idea of them two being together (not the blackmailing) as it created a jealousy storyline between you and her and how every time they met she kept proposing ridiculous demands.

“Also, how did you know I ended doing the shoot?” he asks

“Oh a little bird told me” you tease  

“You mean a 6ft2 bird with blonde hair and a shit personality.” he retorts making you laugh  

“Heyy don’t be so mean, if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t of came to save the day.”

“True, I’d give him that.”

Eventually, you and Akaashi go to your agency and present all your evidence and claims that Kiyoko was blackmailing Akaashi. Although they were upset, that Akaashi did partake in a sex tape they knew that they’d be an even bigger scandal if you presented your news that Japans sweetheart Kiyoko Shimuzu was blackmailing Akaashi Keiji. So the agency thought it was in everyones best interest if they got Kiyoko to sign an NDA saying that she will never bring forth or share the Sex Tape to anyone and she’ll agree to be dropped from the agency.

Your life was great now, with Kiyoko off your back and Akaashi being back to his usual self you couldn’t wish for anything more. You ended up doing the shoot persuading the design brand person (whatever the name for it is) to agree to let you do the shoot together instead of with other people. Both brands let you, because who wouldn’t want Akaashi Keiji and L/N Y/N to do a shoot together?

AUTHORS NOTE: this is the longest work ive written for a single character and i am TIRED lol..I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my other works so I hope you enjoy this one.. to be honest I think with my works I start off strong and end shitly :// However I wanted to do something different today by making them models instead of students so I hope you like it. Now im off to read some fanfic so you guys have a good day!! <3 

[malethirsty]

Polar Saviour: Sandy

Summary: When you trip up at a rally, a different type of hero steps up to help you, one that has opposing views, but sometimes, opposites attract & make a blasting connection.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!)

Attending an Anti Trump rally was something you’d never experienced before, but you were part of the generation that he and many like him was fucking over, so you had to do your part for a better world. So you threw on a ‘Why be racist, sexist, homophobic, when you could be quiet’ shirt, grabbed your homemade banner saying ‘Peach showers await Mr. Trump’ and made your way out to the streets.

As expected the place was packed as you marched down the streets of New York, chants alternating between ‘No Trump, No KKK, No Fascist USA’, ‘Lock Him Up’ and various other things like that. The reason you hadn’t gone to one of these before was because of the raucousness of the crowd & this was no exception, people were hustling and bustling about, and various people were being squashed around, including yourself. Not wanting to cut in front of people, you reluctantly stayed where you were as the crowd bustled forwards through the streets. Suddenly, you lost your footing and fell hard onto the pavement “Fuck!” You groaned, if you’ve ever fallen over, you’d know how rough and gut wrenching it is. “Shit man, are you ok?” Came a voice, you cautiously moved your head to see a man had departed from the crowd and had moved over to make sure you were alright “Yeah, leave me here for a bit and I’ll gather my strength” you said. The man laughed “I think people will think you’re dead if you stay stock still on the road.” “I guess so” you conceded “I’m gonna help you up alright?” He stooped down and pulled you up, “We’ll head to a cafe on the corner, I’ll check you out, make sure you haven’t hurt yourself.” You nodded, only half listening gazing at your savior, he had black skin, with darkly tinted brown eyes to match and a shaved frizzy hair style, he looked absolutely gorgeous, like a beautiful dream that had come to life.

You barely even noticed the change of place until he sat you down on a chair in an emptied out cafe and started to check you over. “I don’t think you’ve broken anything, there seems to be a bit of bruising though” You looked down and saw what he meant “It still stings but not as much as it did, thank you Mr.” you looked at the man hoping he would get the prompt “Sandy” he responded “Sandy, well I’m Y/N, thanks for helping me out.” “No problem Y/N.” The two of you placed orders and started small talk, you learnt he was steeped in political knowledge as he learnt about your journalism. “So I figured if I went, I’d have something to write about this week for my column.” “Yeah, ‘PROTESTERS: practice spacial awareness at events’ should be your headline” Sandy quipped back, leading you to laugh and grin, usually sarcastic comments would be retorted against, but something about his delivery worked so well.

“So why were you there? Something Trump tweeted about John Lewis? The ‘First Black President’ statement during Black History Month?” You asked, having had the ‘President’ blocked on Twitter for years on end “No, I’m actually a Republican.” Midway through your handful of chips, you choked. Sandy rushed over to hit you on the back, clearing your airways. “You keep running into trouble Y/N!” Sandy exclaimed “Yeah” you subtly said, if Sandy was a Republican, what was he doing at a Democratic event? You posed the question to him after he returned to his seat “Well whilst some of my views are Right Wing, like the right to own guns, I think my party and the world deserves better than Trump.” “Absolutely, but guns? When they contribute to massive deaths?” “So do knives but you don’t see people calling for a boycott.” Sandy responded “And it’s more complex than that, the amendment even if it could be changed, would take a while to pass by, rednecks could refuse to give their blessed weapons over, pandemonium potentially breaks out. I’m not saying anyone should be allowed to own a gun, but there are things people need to consider regarding our constitution.” As much as you wanted to stand very against his viewpoint, you knew he had points “I guess, cutting gun passage and starting proper screening processes could help minimize the amount of deaths in America, I get the whole defense thing, but it’s a shame that this country has turned into a place where Ultraviolence is an art form. Where sex is bad but violence is the new black.”

Sandy stared at you, taking it all in “I like how you debate your issues & how you didn’t storm off or make a big deal due to the side of politics I’m on.” “Well I probably would have tripped over my chair and hurt myself more.” You countered making him grin “And also when a big threat to our world is posed, people on opposing sides have to meet in the middle, or else the threat picks at our weaknesses and plays us against each other.” Sandy nodded “Very true. Geez, at least this went better than the last conversation I had about this.” “I hate to ask but what happened?” You grimaced slightly, worried about what it could have entailed “It was my ex girlfriend, Hannah her name was, she initially saw past my views and we had a decent relationship, and then it came back up because I didn’t like her essay and even when we broke up, she still wanted sex.” Your mouth dropped open, you felt bad for the poor guy, whilst being Right Wing wasn’t the best thing in the world, this Hannah sounded like a right piece of work “Shit Sandy, I’m sorry you had to go through that.” “And it always happens, people like her are like ‘Oh I’m in my 20s, I’m gonna move to New York, be a free spirit, date a black guy and go to a dangerous part of town.’” “It’s like they want to date black men because of the societal view of thugness or thrill that comes with it!” You exclaimed “You took the words right out of my mouth” Sandy quipped.

You soon finished your meal, and you reached for your wallet to pay “Nah Y/N, let me.” Sandy started “No Sandy, you’ve done enough for me today.” “Seriously, my treat.” He responded to you. You abandoned your attempt to get your wallet “Well I have to pay you back somehow.” “You don’t have to, unless you wanna go back to mine.” He subtly grinned your way, and you wondered was there a trace of a flirt in his grinned gaze? You decided to take the chance “Yes I will.” You said “Good. I thought you might.” Sandy responded. Having rested in the cafe for a while, you were able to stand on both feet and you followed Sandy past the crowds to his flat.

His flat seemed like any other that you’d come across, everything neatly arranged, his political books all stacked on a shelf & his bed tucked away in a corner. “Mind if I rest my leg up against the table so I can see how my bruise is doing?” Sandy nodded and having his ascent, you sat down and tentatively stretched your leg out, the black and blue colour now starting to stand out stronger than what it did “Oh that’s bloody great, people are gonna fucking notice that, it’s as clear as day.” “What if you stayed in with me?” Sandy offered “What would we do, streaming and cooking is great, but that can get tiring, no offense.” You quickly turned to see if Sandy was alright and found his face studying yours, much like how you did on the way up to the cafe “None taken, babe” and before you could react, he moved over & kissed you deep.

His lips felt so pleasant yet dominant, you moved further in, letting a moan fall out of your lips, making him laugh “And I haven’t even got your clothes off yet” “Well you better take it off then” you countered. Sandy proceeded to take off each garment “Fuck, you look real sexy when you’re naked man.” He exclaimed with a lustful tone in his voice. He lusciously stripped his shirt off for you, his sculpted pecs and four pack made you moan out in pleasure “Pants. Now” you got out as Sandy laughed and quickly disposed of his pants & underwear, his big cock flopping out. He moved your leg from table to lounge and moved his dick in front of your face “Suck my dick babe” he said softly & not wanting to waste another second, you lowered your head & began to suck. Sandy threw his head back breathing out an “Oh fuck!” you moved further down, tracing his veins. Louder groans filled the room as he grabbed your head and guided you “Oh fuck, you’ve got an amazing mouth, so fucking good!” He leant down and gave you a kiss “Fuck, I taste good on your mouth!” 

"Sandy I want you to fuck me.” you got out. Sandy not wanting to prolong you, made his way to the other end of the couch & began to shove his cock in your ass “Oh-Oh Fuck!” You moaned out, "You alright? If it hurts too much I’ll stop.” You nodded at Sandy and he stopped so you could steady your breathing “Keep going” you told him and he finally bottomed out balls deep. “Guess it’s true, black men have big cocks.” You said, causing Sandy to laugh “Babe, if you think our cocks are big, wait till you see how we fuck.” He started a passionate fast pace fuck into you, moans filling the apartment. You ran your hands down Sandy’s chest & tweaked his sensitive nipples, making him cry out in pleasure “Yeah Y/N, keep going!” You continued whilst running your hands down his four pack, getting to grips with his defined muscles while Sandy continues to fuck you.

“You wanted this” he moans out “Yeah I fucking did.” You responded, the adoring pretty gaze you had given him on the streets was gone, replaced by a look of lust. “And now you’re getting it, such a good fucking slut!” “Yeah, I’m your fucking slut Sandy!” You responded, the dirty talk flowing naturally “Yeah, good sluts like you get rewards.” Sandy gripped your cock & began to stroke it in time with his pace “Fucking come for me, shoot all over me baby boy!” It felt so sudden, like your load had been brimming up this entire time, but you hadn’t noticed because of how good Sandy was fucking you. “OH SANDY!” You screamed aloud as you shot your load all over him “Oh fuck!” Sandy laughed out “You blew a lot! I must be fucking you real good then.” “Y-yes you are.” You breathed out “Well then, I better keep going.” And he thrust in harder than before, drawing another lust toned scream from you, you didn’t know how he could have gotten faster than before, but he did, despite that, you knew that even the strongest man has limits.

And this was proved right after a while, as Sandy’s pace got sloppier “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” He groaned “Yeah Sandy! Give me your cum!” You moaned out, riding him hard, meeting him with every beat. “You want me deep in you?” He groaned out “Yeah fill me up please!” You yelled out. Sandy continued go rut inside you, gazing deep as he did so “Fuck babe, I'm cumming, God I'm cumming! Oh Fuck!" He finally cried out as you felt his cock pulse, load upon load squirting inside you." "Y/N babe, that was fantastic!” He kissed you, you returning with the same amount of passion. You rested up against him “Fuck, you’re amazing!” Sandy grinned “Nice to know Y/N.” He picked you up and led you to his bed “Now, we have two weeks and a bunch of positions to do & this time I’m gonna show you the blacked the berry, the sweeter the juice. And by berry, I mean my balls” You grinned up at him “Bring. It. On.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

INDRUCK 6 PLS (sfw is prob more appropriate for this prompt but idc)

#6: their mentor just died (of natural causes don’t look at me like that). If I went to the funeral out of costume would they recognize me?

Indrid sees the obituary as he’s reading through the tiny, local paper, eggnog latte in one hand a plate of poptarts before him (his metabolism has been odd ever since he got his super powers).

Leo Tarkesian (1954-2020), passed away in his sleep. Mr. Tarkesian was a beloved figure of the Midtown Kepler community. He was dedicated to keeping the charm and friendliness of the town alive.

“And dedicated to being a pain in my ass.” Indrid grumbles.

A small funeral service will be held at Green Hills Cemetery, followed by a celebration of his life at the house of his long-time friend, Duck Newton.

The date and time follows, but Indrid keeps looking back at that name: Duck Newton. Or, as he’s known to Indrid, the Green Knight, superhero and thorn in his side.

Indrid moved to Kepler because it was a small enough city that he assumed there would be no heroes to get in the way of his villainy. Or, what everyone insists is his villainy: the disasters linked to his name were never his fault. 

The thievery, art heists, and blackmailing of a few (corrupt) local politicians he takes full credit for. 

Leo, AKA Lionheart, was mostly retired until Indrid appeared, at which point he took on a protege in the form of Duck Newton. Along with their friend Minerva (AKA Blue Thunder) they defended Kepler as “The Chosen Squad.”

In truth, Indrid does not bear Duck as much ill will as he should. And most of it is currently coming from the black eye he’s nursing, the result of his last fight with the hero. The man is noble, even as heroes go, never more aggressive than he needs to be, and (annoyingly) rather charming at times. 

Then there’s the fact that Indrids powers of future sight have shown him glimpses of Duck’s daily life (those same powers are why he knows his foes’ secret identities, but they have no idea about his). A mild mannered park ranger, a good friend, a bachelor who talks to his cat in extremely funny voices. 

He flips through timelines until he lands on what Duck Newton will likely be doing today. In each one, the hero looks worn, and when he wipes his eyes or his voice goes rough, Indrid turns his minds-eye away. Even obnoxious do-gooders deserve privacy.

Would it be strange for him to visit the funeral and offer his condolences? He’s fairly certain his secret identity would stay that way. 

No, it would be ridiculous. Leo was well-liked, and no doubt Duck will have plenty of support. There’s no need for Indrid to put his identity at risk just to say “I’m sorry.”

—————————-

Indrid stands at the back of the clump of black-clad bodies. He found a black suit jacket buried in his closet, but no slacks, so he had to opt for the nicest black jeans he could locate. To be extra safe, he’s removed his trademark red glasses. He dislikes how exposed he feels without them. 

The ceremony is indeed brief, Duck giving a short eulogy as the casket lowers into the ground.

Indrid waits, letting others speak with Duck in hushed, sad tones. Looks around the cemetery as he does; it’s peaceful, full of flower beds and stone benches, not overly manicured. It might be a nice place to come draw one of these days. 

When next he glances back at the headstone, Duck is nowhere to be seen. He must have left for his house already.

Indrid tries not to be too disappointed, turns back towards his car. He’s nearly there when something black catches his eye through a clump of tangled rosebushes. 

Duck Newton, alone on a bench, with the bearing of a man trying and failing to get himself together. 

Indrid steps through the archway into the little grassy circle, at the center of which sits a fountain, barely bubbling. 

“Tissue?” He produces a small packet of them from his pocket. A villain must be prepared for everything, after all. 

“Oh, uh, thanks, uh.” Duck looks at him just long enough for Indrid to start worrying. Then he reaches for a tissue and wipes his eyes. 

“You, uh, a friend of Leo’s?”

“Not really. But I went to his store regularly, and he was always very kind. It seemed only right to pay my respects.”

(It’s not a lie. Indrid’s loft is on the same block as Tarkesian’s General Store. So what if they were enemies, sometimes you run out of milk). 

“That’s, uh, that’s real kind.” Duck keeps his eyes on the ground, and Indrid sits down beside him.

“You are the one hosting the celebration of life, right?”

“Yeah. Guess I oughta head over there, since it’s technically my house. But Minerva already went ahead with the first group of guests, and I trust her and…and well, I needed a moment of not havin to run things.”

“Quite understandable. I will leave you in peace. And I am sorry.” 

“You don’t, uh, fuck, I wasn’t tryin to be rude, fuck-”

“It’s alright” Indrid holds up his hand to stop Duck continuing, “You are allowed to grieve as you need to.”

Duck looks at him again, this time more deliberately taking in his features, “Do we know each other? You seem real familiar.”

“I imagine we’ve passed each other on occasion. Kepler is small as cities go. Although I don’t get out often. I embody the reclusive artist stereotype too well at times.”

“You paint?”

“I draw, mostly.” He’s about to stand when Duck leans forward.

“Shit, someone got you good.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Your eye.” Duck taps underneath his own right eye, indicating the bruise. 

Cursing himself for his oversight (his glasses normally cover the mark), he blurts out the first explanation that comes to mind, “It was the Mothman, the supervillain, I ran into him in a, uh, dark alley, and there was a fight.”

Duck frowns, “Thought he knew better than to go after random bystanders. Uh, fuck, that is, he honestly don’t strike me as the mean type. Just self-centered and hurt. Uh, that, fuck, that is ah, from what, fuck I’ve read?”

Indrid ignores the terrible lie, clears his throat, “Well, that’s certainly a kinder view than most people take of him.”

Duck shrugs, “Leo always said hero and villain shit was never as cut and dry as people wanna believe. He had the right idea. I think the Mothman might come around some day.”

“Perhaps.” Indrid murmurs, wondering if is inappropriate to ask ones nemesis if they could draw them; Duck’s face is even more striking without his mask.

“I ought to be going. My condolences again.”

“Thank you.” Duck stands with him, walks out the archway by his side before they each turn towards separate parts of the parking lot, “Uh, maybe I’ll see you around some time?”

Indrid can’t stop his grin, “Most definitely.”

[unholyhelbig]

Ever heard of the song Mrs Jackson can you make that into hizzie! Love you work in the hizzie oneshot series like seriously I live to read those oneshot's.

[a/n: Thank you so much, I still feel like I struggle with their dynamic a bit. I also can’t explain why this song made me think of this type of one-shot, but I for sure got this energy from it.] 

Read on Ao3 | Send me more Legacies Prompts

Title: Miss Saltzman

Ship: Hope Mikaelson/ Lizzie Saltzman

Hope Mikaelson felt the cool edge of drywall push up against the wet of her back. Her legs ached, the apron digging into her stomach as she sat in the small corner of the business office. Different sticky notes in foreign writing littered the walls and a small fan hummed in the corner- but all it did was circulate hot air.

“This has officially been the worst day of my life.” She mumbled into her hands, tasting the salt of sweat against her lips.

The hotel was in the middle of its busiest season; with graduations and regular vacations to the large amusement park that sat thirty minutes from the coast. Every single room had been booked up to capacity and more than half of them called down to the kitchen with ridiculous requests that could be fulfilled with one easy trip to the grocery store.

Penelope worked an easy hand through her sweat-dampened hair. “You’re telling me. Room fifty-four keeps calling down for fresh strawberries because she saw another room with them, and you know Rick is too cheap for shit like that.”

“Rick is too cheap for everything.” Hope moved her hands and put her head against the wall behind her, letting the cool air hit her neck.

Ebony Creek sat at the end of a long city block packed with bakeries wafting with sweetness. There was a bookstore and a small local grocer. All of it was overshadowed by the large sandstone building with emerald awnings and fresh-cut roses.

The kitchen was located towards the back of the hotel, facing an alleyway where her coworkers would pull in heated breaths of nicotine. There was a cool breeze seeping in through the office, the door propped with a plastic bucket once used for large quantities of ice.

Three monotone rings echoed through the small space and Hope had to fight off a groan. Penelope sighed and grasped the phone from the hook. She listened silently for a moment, nodding as if the person on the other line could see her. “Yes ma’am, I’ll send her right up.”

There was a beat of silence after Penelope put the phone noisily back on the hook.

“Hope,”

“No”

“It’s room 237.”

Her breath caught, and it felt like lead in her throat. Hope had grown dreadful of the calls, and that very floor; but the guests there had a permanent stay in Ebony Creek. They paid a good sum of money to have keypads on the doors from the stairwell, to have a personal elevator that brought them to the fanciest rooms that were more like apartments. They rented month to month, and most of them nodded politely at the staff but never made use of them.

Most of them weren’t Elizabeth Saltzman.

She was a modern heiress with extreme taste when it came to extravagance. She enjoyed the post-modern art that hung on the walls of her hallway and deep gold crown moldings at the corners of her rented room.

Lizzie barely ordered anything from the kitchen; but with each phone call, she would request Hope. And each time Hope fixed her a vodka soda with barely any seltzer and bring that with her on a metal tray. Her hands would shake and the ice would clatter.

“Can’t refuse that,” Hope sounded out eventually, rubbing the sweat from her collarbone.

“No, I suppose not. Don’t take too long, alright? We can’t afford to be without you.”

Hope pulled herself to a standing position, not paying much mind to how her legs burned, or the good amount of wetness that built up behind her neck. She quietly mixed Lizzie her drink and pretended not to notice the cooks staring at her with curious eyes- despite knowing the weekly ritual by heart.

Hope set the crystal glass on a tray and walked through the double doors into the shocking coolness of the hallway. She could smell the chlorine of the indoor pool and hear the hum of the vending machines that were marked up in price when all you truly got in return were stale chips and out of date chocolate.

She got into the elevator that leads only to the second floor and found herself pulling out her hairpins with her free hand. The sweat had dried and her palm shook under the metal tray, the ice sounding like fairies that were robbed of their gold dust. All of this, she ignored too- all the way to room 237.

Hope schooled her shoulders, knocked three times (loud and sure of herself) before losing that nerve and stepping back like a timid child delivering cookies, or passing out pamphlets about the church of Christ.

Lizzie took her time answering the door, but when she did, Hope could swear she had to swallow her heart because the heiress would be able to hear her in a moment. She was dressed modestly in a nice blouse that cut too low and a pair of gray slacks. Hope knew from experience that the matching blazer would be slung against the back of one of the chairs in the room.

It was a rare occasion to see the woman smile, but each time the corner of her lip turned into something of a smirk, Hope’s legs would lose their feeling and her mind would run faster than any living creature could.

“Miss Saltzman, here’s your drink.” Hope balanced the tray and Lizzie took the glass as if it were a formality, and neither of them could fool one another, it was. “Is there anything else I can get you?”  

“You can come inside, let me grab a tip from my purse.”

The first time, nearly two summers ago, that Elizabeth Saltzman asked Hope to follow her into her room, she hesitated. The year before that she had delivered pizza’s and the golden rule was to always stay on the porch unless you wanted a knife in your back or a healthy dose of hoarders syndrome.

But it was a classy hotel, and there were cameras in nearly every hallway. Penelope had told her to always make sure the guest had everything they wanted; and if someone as powerful as Lizzie asked her to wait in the little area by the door in order to collect a tip, she would.

Hope tucked the metal tray under her arm and obliged.

Lizzie had the AC on and that seemed to do nothing to appease the intense burning across the skin of her cheeks. She felt the exhaustion of the day and the cool metal that pressed close to her side. More than anything, she felt the closed door against the skin of her back the second that they were locked away from the rest of the world.

A knee was between hers and the tray clattered to the carpet with a dull thud. Lizzie’s nails dug trails of acid across the back of her neck and their lips met with all exhaustion forgotten. Lizzie tasted like mint and bourbon.

“I had a rough day,” Hope said as the woman nipped slightly at her jawline, and then a little further down. “So if you can go a little easy on me-“

“I can have whoever wronged you fired on the spot.”

Hope scoffed; Lizzie wasn’t one for affection, not the ordinary kind and after a while, Hope realized that. She had fought hard to carve out a place in the city for herself and her brand. People found her brash and power-hungry, but her words were always calculated and both of them knew that it was a sign of how much she cared.

She found herself consumed by the woman in every aspect. How soft her movements were, how much she smelled of fresh-cut flowers, how she had just enough arousal built up inside of her to get her through the rest of her shift.

Lizzie led her to the small sofa that was a deep crimson and shuttered gold. She lifted Hope’s shirt above her head and took with it the scent of a kitchen, of freshly peeled garlic and sink water. She was being straddled and the coolness of the couch mingled with the heat of her skin.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Lizzie growled, soft like the purr of a motor, before unhooking Hope’s bra and throwing it to the corner of the room with her t-shirt. “It’s a shame that you’re trapped in that hot kitchen all day long. Aren’t you just begging for some kind of release?”

Hope was, in fact, close to biting her tongue to keep herself from whimpering requests. She writhed under Lizzie’s touch and let out a small gasp when the woman ran her tongue over her nipple delicately. She liked to tease, and part of Hope didn’t have the patience but knew never to rush her.  

Lizzie palmed Hope’s other breast and kissed lightly down her stomach until she reached the waistband of her pants. Each movement felt like a new form of lava as energy pulsed through her. She lifted her legs, allowing the girl to pull her jeans down to her knees, taking her underwear with it.

Lizzie was attentive and tender, biting ever so slightly at Hope’s thighs as a wetness slowly formed between them. She moaned at the sensation, at the anticipation that overwhelmed her in every sense of nature.

“For fuck's sake,” She mumbled, biting down on the edge of her arm. The walls were the only expense that Ebony Creek didn’t double down on. They were thin and every single staff member took bets on which room was seeing the most action- Hope always knew it was 237.

“What was that?”

Lizzie’s breath was scalding against her center, and Hope wanted nothing more than to push herself further down the couch for any type of contact. “Please, Miss. Saltzman.”

Her southern manners were something prided in food service, and the same expectation carried to encounters like this. They weren’t on a first-name basis. Hope was the help even though sometimes it felt like the other way around, depending on who did the pleasuring.

Even with her quickness, Lizzie was gentle. She moved her tongue against the length of Hope’s sex, soothing the innate energy, if only for a moment before she got to work. Hope found her nails digging into the red fabric, leaving little crescents in the cushions. Her other hand guided Lizzie evenly, fingers laced into blonde hair.

“Holy shit,” Hope purred, waves of satisfaction rippling through her as Lizzie latched onto her clit.

She suddenly forgot all about the stress in the kitchen; the way seven meals had been sent back, and how room fifty-four wanted fresh strawberries that still needed to be defrosted from the furthest reaches of the freezer. The only thing that mattered was the skill of Lizzie’s tongue and the vodka soda that chilled on the table by the door.

Hope suddenly tensed, that build-up of pressure inside of her was releasing. She felt the tremors move through her body and bit down on the side of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. Despite herself, she was successful in muffling the sounds of her own satisfaction.

Lizzie pulled away, clearly impressed with herself. A dumb and prideful smile sparkled against her lips, even as they met with Hope’s once more. Her palm was on Hopes collarbone, both of them could feel the strength of her heartbeat as it pounded close to her ribcage.

Hope could taste herself, masked with vanilla, on Lizzie’s lips.

“You always tip me the most,” Hope panted

“You work hard.” Lizzie frowned and then focused her stare back on Hope’s, those deep indigo eyes. “You deserve it.”

[talesofpanem]

The Interview

Author: @xerxia31

Rating: T for potty language, adult situations, mentions of substance abuse and minor character death.

Summary: This has all the makings of the most uncomfortable job interview of all time.

Author’s note: This is for the prompt ‘work’, but I just couldn’t get it done on time. Thank goodness for make-up week!

————

It feels like entering another world, driving through the grounds of the west campus. Everything is wide open, lush, green, alive, a huge contrast to the dirty and crowded city where I’ve been living for the past two years.

There are young people everywhere on the expansive lawns, throwing frisbees or leaning against trees with books or binders in hand, and not a cellphone to be seen. It’s like a utopian fantasy world, on the surface.

But I know better.

I pull up to the building where my appointment will be. Grey stone, old, but not yet old enough to be considered classic. Its architectural failings have been compensated for by brightly-painted window trim and shutters, and climbing vines clinging to the stones, bursting with purple flowers. Elegant, but only if you don’t look too closely. For all of its window dressing, it’s an institution.

I’d been instructed to wait in the lobby, arranged as a waiting room of sorts. It’s little more than a dozen chairs ringing the area, facing the double set of interior doors, faded industrial carpet underfoot. I settle into one, the sun-hardened vinyl squeaks in protest. The walls are covered with inspirational posters, pictures of sunsets and mountaintops with words of wisdom in bold print underneath. Motivation. Persistence. Achievement. 

“Mr. Mellark?” 

I jump to my feet as a young woman with glossy black ringlets enters the room where I’ve been cooling my heels for twenty minutes. She smiles at me. “They’re ready for you now.”

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I wipe my hands on my suit pants before picking up my portfolio. I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous about anything. Young Peeta Mellark was an outgoing, gregarious fellow. But I haven’t been that guy in a very long time.

The doors close behind me, electronic locks snapping ominously. 

The young woman, Rue, she tells me her name is, leads me along a dim corridor, the floors polished to gleaming, reflecting scattered pools of light. “We only use emergency lighting in the offices on the weekends,” she confides. “Budget…” I nod. The schools where I worked while finishing my master’s degrees had all struggled with budgets too. Education is not a career that is steeped in money.

But working with children is what I’ve chosen. And this job, at this particular school, is the one I want more than anything.

Art therapist at the Panem Institute.

The Panem Institute is the preeminent residential facility for kids in trouble, kids struggling with substance abuse issues or mental health disorders. And unlike most centres of its kind, lack of funds is not a barrier to admission.

I can’t help wondering how different my life might have turned out if I’d had access to a place like this when I was a teen. Would I be established now, with a life I could be proud of? A wife, maybe even a family of my own?

Instead, I’m thirty, with a shiny new double MA in social work and art therapy, and precious little in the way of resumé experience. That the institute is even meeting with me is almost miraculous. Apart from student placements and volunteer work, I have almost nothing to show for my life.

But I want this job so badly I can almost taste it. This job, this place– this is why I’ve worked so hard the past six years, for the chance to make up for my own failings.

My childhood wasn’t fantastic, but it was typical by most measures. The youngest of three children, I was born upstate, in a quintessential white-washed all-American small town where everyone knew everyone else. My parents didn’t get along, but they stuck it out for the sake of us boys, which is retrospect was probably far, far worse for us than if they’d simply split.

Instead, beaten down by a life she hated and a town she couldn’t escape, my mother was cold, and often rough with us. Rye, Brann and I learned young to hide from her temper. She, in turn, hid in a bottle.

My dad, though, was my hero, mine and my brothers’ too. He coached our little league teams, came to every one of our wrestling matches, filled our lives with cookies and hugs. Shielded us from mother’s ever-increasing drunken and violent episodes.

Then midway through my senior year of high school, the unthinkable happened. My father, my kind, generous father, was murdered. Shot by some punk barely older than I was, killed for nothing more than the two hundred dollars in the cash register of the small family bakery my father owned.

I was devastated.

There was no one left to moderate my mother’s behaviour with my father gone and my brothers away at school. Down to one final obligation, freedom in sight, she made it her sole purpose in life to be rid of me as well. Or maybe she was just drowning in grief and alcoholism and wasn’t even aware of how she was acting, a theory my brother broached at the time. Whatever the reason, life at home deteriorated. Badly.

And like my mother, I sought refuge in a bottle. Or many, many bottles.

I’d already been offered a college wrestling scholarship based on my earlier performances. A good thing since I showed up at the state wrestling championship - my last ever high school wrestling meet and the first one where my father wasn’t a spectator - hungover as hell, or maybe still a little drunk, and ended up placing second.

College was supposed to be my escape, but by the time I got to State that September, I was far more interested in getting bombed than in studying or practicing. 

Over the course of a year, I destroyed every dream I’d ever had, every hope, every plan, every relationship. I alienated every friend, every mentor, even, eventually, my own brothers.

And I hadn’t even cared.

Twelve years later, I’ve clawed my way back, one sober day at a time, through more ups and downs than I can even remember. Fought to become a man my father would have been proud of. But I didn’t do it alone. Therapists and counsellors helped me heal, and in doing so showed me how satisfying it could be to guide someone back from the brink, to help set them on the right path.

And that’s why I’m here now, standing sweaty-palmed but hopeful at the door of a boardroom. Interviewing for a job where I could change the lives of troubled young people like I once was.

My escort, Rue, pulls the door open and gestures for me to enter. The room is small and much brighter than the hallway, with a pair of large windows and pale wood reflecting the warm afternoon light. It takes me a moment to adjust to the brightness, to focus on the group of people waiting for me.

Then the bottom drops out of my stomach, and out of my world.

I never got blackout drunk. Consequently, I remember every stupid decision I made, every assholish word I said. And the recipient of one of the tirades I regret most is sitting across the table, her ebony hair pulled back in an elegant chignon. 

Katniss Everdeen.

She and I went to school together, from kindergarten all the way through until I ruined my life. I had the worst crush on her back then. But until after we graduated from high school, she didn’t even know I was alive.

Imagine my shock when, a few months into my ill-fated college career, I ran into her at a party on campus. I’d had no idea she went to the same school. But I was well into a bottle of Bombay that night, and what should have been the start of an epic relationship, or at least a chance for me to talk to the girl I’d lusted after always, turned into a nightmare.

I was already slipping then, already on academic probation, already suspended from the wrestling team and constantly in trouble with my coaches. I was weeks away from losing everything - my scholarship, my sport, my friends. And every encounter with my professors, with my academic advisor, with the counsellor the athletic department had insisted on, every single one had impressed on me that I wasn’t good enough, though I am, in retrospect, certain that’s not what any of them had meant. But I’d had so much anger in my system then, so much loathing. 

And Katniss, beautiful, seemingly unattainable Katniss, for some reason seeing her there triggered the deepest well of self pity to open in my chest. She was, in that moment, the embodiment of everything I’d been told I could never have. My gut clenches and my heart hurts as I remember the vitriol I’d spewed at her that night, the accusations about her character and motivations, every one of them utterly untrue. I’d called her stuck-up, selfish, a bitch, among so many other words. Katniss, beautiful, stoic Katniss hadn’t reacted at all, apart from a widening of her eyes and maybe a slight trembling of her lower lip. When I’d run out of filth to throw her way, she’d simply blinked and said softly, “This isn’t you, Peeta.” Then she’d walked away.

I have heard those words in my head a thousand times since that night. 

It had taken another three years of couch-surfing and homelessness, of lying and begging and stealing to feed my addiction, before I finally hit rock-bottom. In an alley in the Capitol, with a bunch of other low-life scum just like me, I’d listened as they made plans to rob a convenience store a few blocks away. So desperate was I for the few bucks it would have garnered me that I was ready to go along with them… until I saw the gun.

The idea of robbing a little mom-and-pop convenience store at gunpoint was my come to Jesus moment. I was hunched in filth, hungry and so desperate for a drink that I was steps away from becoming the man who had killed my father.

The road back from that point wasn’t straight, and it wasn’t easy. I’d like to say that I never had another drink after that, but it’d be a lie. But I’ve been sober now for seven years and forty-four days, a purple medallion in my pocket reminds me every day how far I’ve come.

As does Katniss’s voice in my head, reminding me when I feel weak, when the cravings hit hard, that I’m not that person.

But she doesn’t know that. Looking across the table, she must be seeing the asshole who treated everyone, and especially her, like dirt.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Mellark,” an older, balding man says, smiling. I recognize his voice, Plutarch Heavensbee, the institute’s director, with whom I’ve spoken on the phone several times before today. I hesitate though, steeling myself to meet Katniss’s eyes. If she looks uncomfortable I’ll leave. It wouldn’t be fair to her if I stayed. As disappointing as it’ll be to walk away from this opportunity that I want so damned badly, I have only myself to blame.

I catch her gaze, silver pools in the sunlight, expecting her to be glaring at me. She’s not though, her expression is carefully neutral. But as if she sees the question in my glance, she nods.

Plutarch introduces the others in turn; Reza Seder, head of counselling services, Dr. Lavinia DeSantis, head of medical services, Alma Coin, head of security. “And of course you know Ms. Everdeen,” Plutarch says, his smile widening, and I can feel my eyebrows crawling up to my hairline. She knew I was coming, told the others that she knew me, and yet I’m still here. They’re still going to interview me.

“Hello, Peeta,” she says, in that smoky smooth bourbon voice that has acted as my conscience for years. And, okay, has narrated my fantasies too, if I’m being honest.

“I’ve already disclosed to the board that we grew up together,” she continues, “and they’re okay with my presence. But of course I’ll leave if it makes you uncomfortable having me here.” Her words and delivery are coolly professional, but beneath them I hear a faint note of pleading. She wants to be here, I just know it. And though I’m likely signing the death warrant on this job, I find myself asking her to stay.

This has all the makings of the most uncomfortable job interview of all time. But if I’ve learned anything from my primary therapist, Dr. Aurelius, it’s that I can’t run from my past. And if I’ve learned anything from AA, it’s that I can’t ignore my shortcomings.

Each member questions me, softballs to start - my education, my job experiences, my plans. I pull out my portfolio, walk them through the educational and therapeutic programs I’ve developed, outline what worked during my previous placements, what innovations I’d like to employ. They seem impressed, and I start to relax. 

“You didn’t go to college right after high school, Mr. Mellark?” Alma Coin asks, her strange, pale eyes cold and judgemental. I stiffen; this is where previous interviews have gone off the rails. I’d never outright lie about my addiction, but I’m not keen to bring it up either. Even seven years sober, people are reluctant to entrust an alcoholic to watch over children.

“That’s correct,” I tell her. “I didn’t start my undergrad until I was twenty-four.”

“Why is that?” I could tell her that I couldn’t afford it until then, that’s true, or about my father’s death throwing a spanner in my plans, also true.

Katniss is looking at me, grey eyes wide and guileless. She nods again, and it feels like encouragement. I know what I have to say.

“I’m an alcoholic,” I tell them, bracing for their reactions. But nobody flinches. “I’ve been sober for seven years. But I started drinking in high school, and I lost a lot of years to the disease.” Across from me, a hint of a smile graces Katniss’s pouty peach lips. I take it as my cue to keep going. “That’s why I went into social work, and why I want to work here so much. To help kids like me. To maybe save some of them from the mistakes I made.”

There are nods around the table, no one looks particularly surprised. I don’t know whether Katniss has told them, or if it came up in my background check.

“And you’re not concerned that working with addicted children might trigger you to revisit your own demons? Your CV is completely lacking in experience with troubled youth.” It’s true, my field placements were all in middle schools, my experience as an art therapist mostly with kids with ADHD or autism spectrum disorders. The kids here by and large have much more complex issues, abuse and addiction and mental illness all compounded, often violent and criminal backgrounds too. 

“I’ve spent years in therapy learning to cope with my triggers,” I tell Coin.

“That’s not the same as real-world experience,” Seder interjects. “These kids, the things they tell you, the things they’ve seen. It’s gutting.”

“I realize that,” I tell her, affecting the most professional tone I’m capable of despite the cavern that’s opened in my stomach, the knowledge that I’m nowhere near qualified enough in their eyes. “I completed a research project on intergenerational addiction in college and interviewed hundreds of young addicts.”

“That’s really not the same as interacting with them day to day,” Seder says, and it’s not cruel, but it feels dismissive.

“I also observed troubled youth in counselling during my practicum while I was in graduate school.” They know this, it’s in my resumé, along with letters of reference from the clinician supervisors. But Seder is shaking her head and Coin looks unimpressed and I can feel the opportunity slipping away.

“Peeta has volunteered as a mentor at the Children’s Hospital’s substance abuse treatment program for more than three years,” Katniss interjects, and every hair on my body stands on end. Because while that’s true, it’s also something that’s not in my resumé, something I’ve avoided self-reporting because it’s common knowledge that the program volunteers are all addicts in recovery themselves.

I have no idea how she knows that.

My gaze snaps to Katniss. Her expression remains carefully neutral, but there is the barest hint of a smile in her silver eyes.

“That’s an excellent program,” Dr. De Santis says, looking up from her notes for the first time. “They’re incredibly selective about who they choose to work with their clients.” 

“They are,” I agree. The screening had been brutal, but it had been necessary, so many of those kids have lead lives that make mine look like a walk in the park and many are not shy about sharing all of the horrific details. “They can’t risk having the volunteers drop out or relapse. The kids need the stability of knowing that they can’t scare away their mentors. So many of them have had everyone else in their lives give up on them.” I swallow hard; it’s the reason I volunteer there. I’ve seen myself in so many of their faces, kids who use alcohol and drugs to escape the pain, kids who lash out and push away the people around them before those people can abandon them. Like I’d done to my teachers and coaches, my friends and my brothers.

Like I’d done to Katniss, all of those years ago.

“How do you find your personal experiences impact your work with those children?” Katniss asks, a gently leading question, and one for which I am so grateful.

“I can empathise with them in ways that their doctors and case workers often can’t,” I say, mostly tamping down the waver in my voice. Four sets of eyes watch me intently. “It’s the whole basis for the program, giving these kids not only guidance, but hope for their future. If I can succeed after all of my mistakes, after all I’ve done, then they can too.”

“And you intend on continuing to volunteer there?” Coin asks.

“I do.” I’ve already checked with the hospital about whether this job would constitute a conflict of interest, they assured me it would not.

Across the table, each of the interviewers smiles, even Coin, though her smile looks a little less genuine. But I only have eyes for Katniss. Because her smile feels like forgiveness. And though this is my dream job, I feel like even if I don’t get it I’ve accomplished something monumental here. I’ve shown Katniss that she was right, that nasty boy who hurt her, who made her feel small and alone, that person wasn’t me.

Plutarch claps his hands. “Excellent, my boy,” he says. “Now let’s talk salary.”

“I… what?” 

“For the position.” At my expression, he laughs. “The interview is really just a formality,” he says, mirth twinkling in his eyes. “The job is yours if you want it.” He pushes a couple of papers across the table. A contract. “I know it’s a little less in salary than you’d make in private practice, but we offer a comprehensive benefits package. Take a couple of days to look it over and let us know.”

I don’t need a couple of days. I don’t need a couple of minutes. “I want the job,” I tell him firmly.

“Well then,” Plutarch booms with evident pleasure. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Mellark.” He reaches across to shake my hand firmly, and I can’t help my goofy grin. I got the job!

Plutarch informs me that their admin will get in touch with me over the next few days to file the tax and legal paperwork they need, and then I’ll begin at the start of the new term, some four weeks away. And I nod in all the right places, but my mind is spinning so fast I’m almost dizzy with it.

I shake each of their hands in turn, lingering just a bit longer to squeeze Katniss’s hand tightly. I thank each of them, but my gratitude to her means more. I think she can tell.

“Could you see Mr. Mellark out?” Plutarch asks Katniss, and she agrees, though she doesn’t meet my eyes. 

I follow her silently down the corridor, towards the exit, the delicate tapping of her heels on linoleum almost drowned out by the pounding of my pulse in my ears. Katniss was a cute kid, tiny and scrappy, and she had morphed into a fierce and self-possessed young woman  by the time we’d graduated high school. But now, at thirty, she’s an absolute bombshell. Still lean, but with delicate curves that her pencil skirt and blouse highlight perfectly. She walks with confidence, back straight, head held high. She’s more intimidating than ever.

At the electronic doors, she pauses, hand poised just above the lever that would release the locks. Then she sighs, and glances back at me over her shoulder. “Would you like to have a cup of tea with me? Catch up?” I’m nearly rendered speechless; not only is Katniss Everdeen willing to work with me, she’s willing to talk with me too. 

“I’d like that,” I rasp, the first words I’ve spoken directly to her in twelve long years.

She leads me back into the building and up a set of stairs. Another corridor stretches in front of us, windowless doors set close together. “Our offices,” she says. Partway down the hall, she stops and pulls a set of keys from her pocket. A small brass plate on the door reads Katniss Everdeen, Lead Addictions Therapist.

Her office is small, and appears to be set up for both paperwork and individual counselling sessions with a tiny desk tucked back into the corner but comfortable looking couches dominating the space. She confirms my guess. “I see the lower risk kids here,” she says. “It feels less institutional that way.”

I can only stare, stunned, as she unlocks a cabinet and withdraws a tea kettle. I knew Katniss’s title here from Plutarch’s introduction of course. But until now, it hadn’t really sunk in, what she does. She’s an addictions counsellor. How utterly incredible that she went into the very field that eventually inspired my own career path.

“Sit, please,” she says over her shoulder. I slip off my blazer, draping it over the arm of the couch, then sink into plush microfibre. The ceramic clink of teacups and spoons and the sultry sway of her perfect posterior as she putters, preparing tea and humming just faintly are almost hypnotic. For all of the times I’d thought about Katniss Everdeen, I never imagined I’d ever actually see her again, and good lord she’s so much hotter than even my edgiest fantasies. “Black, right?” she says, snapping me out of my lurid thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” I say after a moment’s pause where I try to pull myself together and remember that she’s making tea, so that we can talk. So that I can apologize to her. As glorious as her ass is, I have no business looking at her that way. I lost any possible chance I might have had a dozen years ago.

But she knows how I take my tea. The last time I saw her, gin was the only thing I was drinking.

She sets a red mug in front of me, on the low table between the couches. But she herself sits beside me, instead of across from me, which surprises me. Though maybe it shouldn’t, since she’s a therapist. Knowing how to set someone at ease is part of her training. It’s backfiring in my case though, since her closeness feels intimate. I catch a hint of her scent, something fresh and green but with a little bit of spice, like a campfire in the woods. So perfectly Katniss. “How have you been?” she says, sipping from her own mug.

“Better,” I tell her, because she’s not asking to make small talk. In addition to knowing everything I confessed in the interview, she was there when my world fell apart, she saw first hand how shitty I was.

“I’m glad,” she says softly, and she smiles, and it’s so beautiful and sweet it nearly breaks my heart.

“I am so sorry,” I tell her, but the words are completely inadequate. How do you tell someone that they are not only your biggest regret, but also your biggest inspiration? “For how I treated you when I was drinking. You didn’t deserve any of that, and I have regretted it every day.”

“I know,” she says. 

“And what you did for me today,” I continue before my nerve runs out. “I can’t begin to thank you. You not only gave me this chance when you could have told any of them I wasn’t worth considering, but you actively helped me in the interview.”

“You earned the job, Peeta. Plutarch was already convinced before you even walked in the door.”

“The others weren’t.”

She laughs. “I knew Lavinia would love you. And Alma, well, she doesn’t really like anyone, but I have a feeling you’ll win her over eventually.”

“What about you?” I can’t help asking. She’s treating me so kindly, but she can’t possibly have forgiven me. I know she hasn’t forgotten. 

“I believe in second chances.” Her smile is softer, a little pained. “I knew you’d find your way back.”

“I was such a dick.”

“You were,” she agrees. “But I knew that wasn’t you.”

“You said that back then too,” I tell her, my tea forgotten. “I, uhm.” My neck feels hot and I rub it distractedly. “I hear you saying that, when I’m having a difficult day. It’s helped me so much over the years. You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know.” It’s embarrassing as hell to admit that. But she deserves the truth.

She snorts, and it’s a sound so at odds with her elegant presentation and with the seriousness of our conversation. My gaze snaps up to her face, she looks amused and abashed. 

“You’re the reason I went into psychology,” she says, and my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “I was a biology major first year. But seeing how everyone failed you after your dad died, and how easy it was for you to fall…” she trails off. “And then when you came back to school to try again, sober and working so hard, I knew I’d made the right choice.”

“You were there?” 

She nods. “Just for a semester. I was finishing my masters. I saw you a couple of times on campus, but you never noticed me.”

Honestly, that’s probably for the best. That early in my recovery I was still so fragile, just getting through classes took every bit of effort I had, and I spent so many hours with my sponsor and therapist back then I had no time for anyone else. “I wish I’d known,” I tell her. “But I had my head pretty far up my own ass.”

“You didn’t though.” She looks away, towards the tiny, narrow window on the exterior wall, barred, like all of the windows I’ve seen in this building. “I watched you. I’ve kept track of you over the years, when I could. Even then you were already working so hard to make amends.”

I was. And I can tell by that specific word that she knows why. One of the steps in AA is making amends for the shitty things we’ve done, at least where doing so won’t cause any further damage. In those early years, I’d concentrated mostly on my brothers, and earning their trust again. But I also spent time speaking with professors and coaches who I had alienated. It would have been far easier to start over at a different college, and likely would have been less triggering. But it’d have been a coward’s way.

“I never got a chance before now to apologize to you,” I whisper. She’d kept track of me, but I hadn’t made the same effort. Before the booze, Katniss Everdeen was that perfect, unattainable fantasy woman I put on a pedestal and never approached. And after, I locked her away, so terribly ashamed by my actions that I never sought her out, even though she would have been easy to find. I was terrified by how she might look at me.

But she’s clearly a much bigger person than I could ever be.

“I think the time wouldn’t have been right before now,” she says. “For either of us.”

We lapse into silence, Katniss still staring out the window, me fiddling with the mug I’ve picked up again. “Can I ask you something?” she says, and there’s something in her tone that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Of course.”

“That night… why me?” She’s trying to keep her voice even, I can tell, but the slight waver slays me. 

“You were there, and I was a drunken asshole,” I rasp, but she shakes her head, glancing at me.

“It was more than that. The things you said…” she looks away, but not before I see the shine in her eyes. Not before I see the hurt I had been expecting all along. The knowledge that even all of these years later, my words continue to bother her is gut-wrenching. I feel like the biggest piece of shit.

“It was all bullshit, Katniss, the ramblings of an absolute lowlife shit of a human.”

“There’s always truth, even in ramblings,” she says softly. “It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d been called those things. But we’d never even spoken before then. I didn’t know you even knew my name.”

“I knew you, Katniss. I’d always been watching you.” She turns back to me eyebrows raised, confusion in every line of her beautiful face. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, and I don’t want to make excuses for my absolutely inexcusable behaviour. But she deserves the whole truth. I drop my gaze to my lap. “The truth is, I had a huge crush on you, nearly the whole way through high school.” 

She makes a little choking sound, and I can’t bear to look at her. I know I’m doing unfathomable damage to our potential working relationship, confessing like this. I’ll decline Plutarch’s offer, if being here will hurt her. But I can’t let her think that any of the awful things I said had even a speck of truth to them. I can’t let her take any blame. 

“In senior year,” I continue, “I had finally convinced myself that I was going to talk to you, to ask you to the Valentine’s dance. But then…” I trail off. My father had died at the end of January, and everything else in my life had fallen away, sucked into the black pit of grief.

A soft, cool hand lands on my forearm, and I glance up. Far from looking disgusted, as I was expecting, Katniss is looking at me with compassion, even through her confusion. “When I saw you that night,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out. “I had already screwed up everything else in my life. I was just so angry at the world, but mostly at myself. I was drowning in regret and self-loathing. And you were there, and you were every bit as beautiful as you had always been. And you just represented everything I wanted so badly and had fucked up. My father was gone, my sport was gone, and the girl of my dreams was completely out of my league. And I lost it, lashed out at you instead of at the person who really deserved it. Me.”

“You didn’t deserve it either,” she whispers, and her eyes shine silver under a film of moisture.

I place my hand over hers where it still rests on my arm, and she doesn’t pull away. “I’m truly sorry, Katniss. Hurting you is the biggest regret of my life.” 

“I accept your apology.” I squeeze her hand in gratitude, and a sad half smile ticks at her lips.

“I won’t take the offer,” I murmur, and her brow furrows again. “This is your career, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, being here.”

She shakes her head. “You won’t,” she says. “I’ve been watching you for so long, cheering for you from the sidelines. I feel like I know you. And I know you won’t ever repeat that mistake.”

“I won’t,” I swear. “I’ll always be an alcoholic, and there will always be a risk that I’ll relapse. But I’ve learned so much in therapy, about communication and managing my emotions. About coping. I have better mechanisms now, and a really great support group behind me.” It had taken a long time to make things right with my brothers, but they are my staunchest supporters now. And my sponsor, Haymitch, is a crusty old bastard, but he’d rip out someone’s throat before letting me down.

“Then stay,” she says. “I’d like to start again, if it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. Build up that friendship we should have had.” She looks down at our hands. At some point, she’d flipped her palm and I’d entwined my fingers with hers.

“Always,” I whisper in awe, and she smiles, that beautiful, elusive smile that I know will be the stuff of all of my future fantasies. And maybe, just maybe, the stuff of my future reality too.

[sebthesnipe]

Bibliophile

February Prompts 2/21

Prompt List

First // Previously // Next

The February Collection on AO3

My Dearest Procyon

Other works by me

Prompt: Quit / Quick

Ship: Prinxiety and logicality

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

Virgil breathed deeply, the earthy smell of old books filling his lungs. Tension seemed to fall from his shoulders as he released the breath. There was nothing quite as comforting as being hidden behind shelves and shelves of books. Libraries and bookshops, like this one, had always been his haven against the horrific truths of the world. He allowed his fingers to dance across the spines that lined the shelf in front of him, enjoying the  rough cloth or stitched leather that covered them before finally making his selection.

The thick book slid from its spot with ease, leaving a small line in the dust where it had been sitting. It was obviously not a popular selection, not that Virgil minded. It had a generous amount of weight to it as Virgil caressed the block and gold cover reading the engraved words ‘Collection From The Crypt’. It was an apt name for a collection of poetry revolving around death, and one that Virgil had read many times. In fact, it was one of his favorites, he would be lying if he claimed not to have wished for a copy on their travels. 

His lips turned up in his excitement as he gently opened the book, flipping through the pages slowly to take in the titles of each page. 

“What are you reading?” Roman asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and causing Virgil to start snapping the book shut.

“What?” the witch replied a bit too hastily not to be suspicious. 

Roman moved closer, stepping around the bookshelf he had suddenly appeared from behind. “What are you reading?” he asked again, bending to try and get a glimpse of the title. 

In a quick jerk of his hands, Virgil brought the book up to his chest, hiding the cover. He was unsure as to why he felt so embarrassed about his passion for poetry but it was certainly a driving force at the moment.

“Nothing you would be interested in,” Virgil insisted, hoping beyond hope that Roman would accept that as an answer and leave it be. Naturally, he was wrong.

Despite Virgil’s valiant efforts, Roman had managed to catch sight of the gold lettering against the black leather. He couldn’t help but give a knowing smile as he met the witch’s gaze. 

“Oh?” he asked curiously, arching a brow. “Why is that?”

“I dunno,” the smaller man mumbled with a shrug, obviously unsure of himself, “Its probably not… princely enough for you.” Roman’s smile faltered slightly, though Virgil wasn’t quite sure he was meant to see it. 

Roman took a moment to gather his thoughts. Was that really how Virgil saw him? Was he nothing but some snobbish prince that was only as good as his title? Well, that stung a bit more than the prince had expected it to. 

He gave a nod, pursing his lips as he turned away, moving to the small chair at the end of the row of books and sat down. He seemed a bit out of place among the dusty tomes around him, but Virgil was just thankful he had allowed him some space as he turned back to his book.

“God lay dead in heaven;” Roman’s voice came softly, causing the witch to tense. “Angels sang the hymn of the end” his voice was gentle as he paced the words slowly, allowing them to creep towards the smaller man, causing the hair on his arms to stand on end. “Purple winds went moaning, their wings drip-dripping with blood that fell upon the earth.”

Virgil’s head lifted in surprise as he finally recognized why he knew the words. His wide gaze met the prince’s as he continued to recite  the poem from one of Virgil’s favorite collections. 

Roman’s voice remained low, despite the dark tones of the words. He spoke them as if every utterance was a prayer; like an ode to a love lost. It was heartbreaking and inspiring at the same time. Virgil wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. 

“It, groaning thing, turned black and sank. Then from the far caverns of dead sins came monsters, livid with desire,” Roman continued, his hazel gaze meeting Virgil's glamoured one almost flatly. “They fought, wrangled over the world, a morsel.”

“But of all sadness this was sad-” Virgil interrupted, seizing his chance, “A woman’s arms tried to shield the head of a sleeping man from the jaws of the final beast.” 

Silence fell between them for only a moment before Virgil finally averted his gaze, face flushing with a mix of emotions. 

“Not one of my favorites, but I’m a little surprised that you know it,” he admitted softly, toying with the corner of the book still in his hands.

“Why? Because poetry isn’t ‘princely’?” Roman asked, using the man’s own words against him. 

Virgil knew he kind of deserved that. “I wouldn’t say that it’s poetry in general,” he offered, trying to placate the obvious offense Roman had taken, “it is more due to the fact that the end of the world in that poem seems a bit dark for your… well, you-ness.” 

“My ‘you-ness’?” the prince asked, earning a vague shrug from the witch. Roman gave a small sigh, shaking his head slightly before replying. “I would argue that the meaning of the poem isn’t dark.” 

“What?” the smaller man scoffered, hugging the book to his chest once more. “It’s about death and destruction devouring the entirety of the world!” 

“Is it though?” Roman asked with an arch of his brow. 

“What else could it possibly be about?!” Virgil demanded.

“It is a beautiful tale of a brave heroine!” Roman replied, fervently tossing his hands up, it seemed to be a custom when the man grew excited, Virgil noticed. 

“You have got to be joking,” the darker of the two huffed in response. 

“I never joke about poetry,” the seriousness in Roman’s tone had Virgil pausing, a shiver running down his spine.

“Alright, Your Royal Pain, how so?” He had to admit, he was curious as to where Roman was going with this. It wasn’t often he had a chance to discuss his interests outside of Logan, and even then the fellow witch was a bit dry. 

“Well, as you pointed out the other day, even though we live in the same society, I experience a world that is vastly different from your own,” Roman pointed out.

“Yeah. So?” 

“So,” the prince sighed, causing the too tight shirt that covered his chest to squeeze him just a bit more, drawing the witch’s gaze. Virgil really needed to quit staring. He forced his mismatched eyes up, trying his best to focus on what Roman was actually saying rather than the way he was dressed.

“What if ‘the world’ that the poem speaks of isn’t the land around us at all? Perhaps it is the woman’s own experience within the world,just as you and I live in two different worlds,” he explained, waving a hand between himself and the smaller man standing before him to reinforce his point. “We see how she has lost her faith in God. The Angels weep for her as the darkness of the world she lives in claws at her very being.” 

Virgil stared at the other man, his heart beginning to beat a bit fast as Roman continued. He wasn’t quite sure how the prince did not see his explanation as ‘dark’, but he was far too interested in discovering where he was being led to bother asking. 

“However, despite the dark and twisted world she sees, despite the horrific evil that surrounds her, wanting to rip her apart, she does not think of herself,” Roman sighed, a soft almost awed smile playing on his lips. “No, her thoughts are with the man that is with her. She thinks not of herself as she uses her own body to shield his. She thinks not of herself as she feeds herself to the beast in the hopes of delaying the man’s suffering. In the end, she knows the creatures will reach him. She knows he will live the same fate as she…” his voice cracked slightly, pulling Virgil from the spell he had seemed to be under. 

As the witch focused on the man before him, he noticed the slight gleam in Roman’s eyes. He appeared to be on the verge of tears as he continued his tale, although Virgil was unsure if it was from being moved by the poem or his own recent trauma. 

“Still, she is willing to give everything to provide him with just a brief moment of security. A moment in which he may be able to feel relief from the horrors, a moment where there may live just a little bit of joy in his dark existence. Because in the end, she is not willing to live in a world where he has no joy.”

Silence fell between the two men as Virgil couldn’t help but stare down at the prince, awestruck and a bit concerned. The tears had broken free of the green-brown gaze and began to streak across Roman’s cheeks quietly. A lump formed in Virgil’s throat at the sight, fighting back his own wave of emotion. 

Roman always seemed playful and teasing when the two of them were together, it was difficult to remember everything he had gone through during the last few days. Virgil couldn’t imagine the pain he must be feeling and yet, somehow he managed to hide it from the rest of them. No doubt, the dark poem was a vivid reminder of all that he had lost.

“Hey… Listen,” Virgil managed after a long moment, the word coming as a whisper. Despite its barely audible utterance, the sound seemed to pull Roman from his thoughts. The glaze that seemed to have covered his hazel eyes cleared slowly as he blinked slowly. He glanced up at Virgil before ducking his head to quickly wipe away the tears, obviously ashamed of them. 

“I’m sorry about your home.” Damn! Virgil was pretty sure that was too blunt. He wasn’t that good at the whole comfort thing. “I’m sure when you finally get back you’ll be able to rebuild. I know it won’t be the same, but at least it's something, right?” Virgil offered. 

Roman gave a small snort, still trying to rub the redness from his face. “You’re really bad at this,” he teased lightly, shooting a sly grin up towards the smaller man, though the amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Virgil knew what the prince was doing. He deflected far too often not to be aware when someone else did the same. Still, he could appreciate Roman’s efforts to make him feel a bit more comfortable in the situation, despite that he felt bad for not knowing what to say. 

“Thanks, but…” Roman took a shaky breath before pushing to his feet. “I don’t even know how I’m going to get back, much less what I will do when I get there. Honestly, it’s one of the reasons I’m still hanging around you losers,” he teased lightly, shooting another one of those award-winning grins. 

“Only one?” Virgil shot back, arching a brow as he offered his own amused grin. 

The silence that fell between them this time was nowhere near as melancholy. Instead, the two stood facing one another, only a few feet apart, Virgil’s head tilted up slightly to compensate for Roman’s slight height advantage, the scent of old books working its own form of magic around them. 

Despite his inner turmoil, Roman couldn’t help but feel a warmth curling in the pit of his stomach as he met the other man’s gaze. Virgil had a way of making him feel more at ease than anyone the prince had ever met. It was infuriating and interesting, reassuring and stressful; he wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to get anything productive done when he felt like this all the time. 

Virgil was the first to break eye contact, as usual, clearing his throat as he suddenly found the floor to be the most interesting thing on the planet. 

Roman couldn’t help but give a huff of amusement at the response before collecting his cloak from where he had draped it on the counter when they had first walked in. Virgil had the books he had come there for, which meant they should probably be getting on their way. 

“You never actually told me where are we headed anyways?”

To be continued...

Taglist:

@hiddendreamer67 @nightashes @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

[devilbat]

Secret Admirer

For RiversDayOfLove, @loki-the-fox prompt: Person A is a secret admirer of Person B and reveals themselves on Valentine’s Day.

Warning: Just fluff.

Loki x reader.

A/n: Snoots are not mine they are from two famous poets.

~To my dearest Y/n~

*Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

*sonnet 18*

~Truly yours your Secret of Amir.~

The note was attached to the most beautiful arrangement of lily and roses you ever seen. And it was addressed to you. Waiting for you on your desk, when you arrive at the Averages lab. You eyes had widened when you saw them. You could feel your face heat up. As you read the note over and over, before you started.

“All right who done and pissed you off, Y/n?” Tony asked as he walked into the lab noticing the vase of flowers. Which startled you in the process.

“For your info if it was anyone that pissed me off it would be you and I doubt this would be from you.” You held up the note. As Tony read it, haking his head.

“Yeah definitely not me. I don’t do poetry. But hey you have a stocker.” Tony teased.

“Wow, what did you do to piss of y/n this time Tony.” Bruce stated as he walked in noticing the arrangement as well.

“Hey now I have not pissed off y/n in a week.” Tony hissed.

“Well that’s a new Record for you.” Bruce’s chuckle.

“For your information our little y/n has a Secret admirer.” Tony purred. Patting you on the back. “Great job there kid. Now I have to figure out who I have to kill.” Tony walked over to his work table. Both you and Bruce rolled your eyes at the billionaire. As the three of you got to work.

Once your day was over you had planned on going out for drinks with the girls for a much needed girls night. Though you were just going to go right after you worked in the lab. But the unexpected arrangement had you taking them to your room. Not wanting them to get ruined in one day. You made your way through the compound carefully carrying the lager vase of flowers. Trying to make it to your bedroom.

“What in the nine realms are you doing with those.” You heard Loki’s voice somewhere in front of you, not being able to see the god as you view was blocked by flowers. Though you felt you heart sink a little. Deep down you had a small hope that they were from Loki. As he was a lover of book and poetry. You managed to move the flowers away from your face to look at the god.

“They’re um, were on my desk this morning.” You mumbled. “I guess I have an admirer.” You half smiled at the god.

“Well, I hope who ever it is could do better then this.” His voice sounded cold. Like he was annoyed to see you with anything from someone else. The god walked passed you, mumbled to himself.

“I thought they were pretty,” You whispered not think he could hear you. “Though, I thought they were from you.” As you watch him walk away. Finally you made it to your room a little disappointed. Deciding to change for girls night. With Nat, Wanda and Pepper. Taking a quick Once over. Before you left the room. You almost tripped over something. When you looked down you saw a box from Teuscher the up scaled chocolate place at the Rockefeller center. You always treated yourself on your birthday. But it wasn’t just a piece like you normally would, it was a whole box of all your favorite kinds when you opened it. Under the lid you found another poem.

~To my dearest Y/n~

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

*sonnet XVII*

~Truly yours your Secret of Amir.~

It made you blush as you looked up to see who may have left it. You watched as the elevator door opened, as Loki emerged. He took note at what he saw. You pink cheeks a smile on your face holing a box he recognized. Then pushed the elevator closed with him still in it. With a sigh you set the chocolates in your room. As you left to meet the girls.

This went on for a few days, gifts randomly showing up. Little things that meant a lot. The gift ranged from, slippers so you would touch the cold floor, an at home spa basket you enjoyed taking baths it helped with stress, even earring from your favorite 5th Avenue store. That was probably the most lavish gift. And each one came with a sonnet. Tony tried to help you figure out who had been leaving these gifts. But F.R.I.D.A.Y. Systems always seem to be off line or failed when he looked at the video. That lead you to late nights with the billionaire. Trying to figure out what was going on with his security systems.

Tony had left to go get more coffee, which seemed to take him forever to come back. You figured maybe Pepper stopped him. You rest you head on the table. Thinking of just taking a little power nap. When you woke up, the sunshine in through the blinds. You slept there all night again. But unlike the other time, were you woke up freezing. You noticed a deep green blanket draped around you. You took a deep breath as you did you remember the sent coming from the blanket. Pulling the blanket towards you, you recognized it as Loki cape to his armor. You smiled to yourself as you pulled it closer to you. You were so wrapped up in the fact that loki had done this you never heard Bruce or Tony walk in.

“Y/n did you sleep here?” Bruce asked. Which startled you. Pulling yourself to your feet ball up loki cape. So they didn’t question it.

“I guess I did, I was waiting for Tony!” You hissed, glaring at the man. Who currently looked very sheepish as he walked in. “He was supposed to bring coffee.” Bruce looked over at Tony.

“In my defense Pepper grabbed a hold of me and throw me in bed. For someone who is tiny she is very spry.” Bruce pinched him nose with his fingers, shaking his head. You could only roll your eyes.

“I’m going to call it a day.” You stated as you walked out of the lab not looking back. You could hear Tony yelp, and asked what was that for. “You deserves that.” Knowing Bruce smacked him upside the head.

You were on a mission to find Loki. You had noticed that ever since you’ve been receiving gifts, that Loki would avid you or make some snarky comment. Also you noticed little things. Like this as you held tightly to his cape. Or he had coffee ready for you when you woke up, when went down to the kitchen. Saying that; I figured since I’m making my tea I might as well make yours as well. Only to find out each time it was just how you liked it. Even though you still thought loki had given you the other gifts. When you walked into the Library where Loki frequent you looked around. You were rather shocked not to find him. Maybe he was sparring with his brother. But as you got to the training room no sign of either Asgardains.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, have you’ve seen with Thor or his moronic brother?” You called up to the A.I. She knew where everyone is.

“I am sorry y/n. I have not, not since morning. And my data shows no one has left the compound.” A.I. Spoke back through one of many speakers above you.

“Uhg,” You huffed in annoyance. “Alright thank you.” You walked off. Not really paying attention to the apology the A.I. Stated. You though maybe he was in his room. But no such luck. Giving up you walking over to your room. Before opening your door you heard muffled sounds like someone or somebody’s having a scuffle in your room. You opened it slowly. But what you saw was not what you expected. Thor had Loki chained to a chair and was fighting his raven hairs brother with what looked to be duct tape. You stood there watching. The brothers had yet noticed you.

“Why is this necessary.” Loki hissed dodging his head at his brother attempt to stick the tape over his mouth. “You know I’ll turn you into a toad again.”

“I told you that if your not going to, someone need to push you in to telling lady y/n.” Thor voice boomed with happiness with his cleaver plan.

“Tell lady y/n what?” You cooed behind the brothers. Both stoping to look over to you standing in the room.

“Ah lady y/n, happy day of love. I have brought you a gift.” Thor beamed with glee in his eyes.

“Surprise.” Loki stated annoyed, as this felt way to familiar to him. Thor patted his brother on his back. As he walked towards you.

“He is all yours lady y/n, do as you please.” Thor smiled proudly. As he left the room shutting the door. Leaving you and the God of mischief alone.

“You know I could explain this.” Loki chuckled nervously.

“Oh, I think I figured it out.” You bit your lip as you walked over the the god. “You’re brother sent the gifts to make you jealous, and when that didn’t work he did this.” You laughed as you stood in front of him.

“Yes. That sounds about right.” Loki smile his charming smile the one that could send your panties to space taking out a Klingon war ship. “Would you mind untying me love?”

“You know I think I like you like this.” You smirked as you sat down on Loki leg facing him. Making the god raise his eyebrow. “I’ll untie you if you can tell me what Thor wants you to tell me.” You whispered into his ear. You felt Loki tense up. Moving your head away from his ear. “I’m listening.” Your face looked unamused. Loki squirmed around in the chair.

“Fine.” He huffed giving in. “I have liked your for some time now darling, and would like to court you. And yes I was rather jealous that someone else may have had taken a like to you.” You smiled at him. “So may I have the honor to take you out tonight as is it your Midgard festival of love. Though I’m not sure why you celebrate love on a day that was a massacre.”

“Oh loki, shut up.” He was about to say something when your lips crashed onto his.

“I take that as a yes.” He mumbled against your lips.

“That’s a yes to massacre you later.” You smirked kissing him one last time before getting off his lap.

“Massacre me as in showing me your undying love right?” Loki asked as you started to walk away from him. “Y/n!” He yelled. Struggling against his binds. As you shut the door to the bedroom.

Permanent tags: @kitkatkl @lokilvrr @instantnoodlese @drakesfiance @meyoko10 @jackheart180 @miraclesoflove @wolfcore227 @mr-hiddlestons-pet @madleiine @teageowen

Tom/Loki Tag’s: @theoneanna @graveyard-groupie @silverquartx @moonfaery @kcd15 @moonlightprime @youveseen--thebutcher @shockwavee @sabine-leo @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @vethrvolnir

[scriptaed]

friends with snacks

genre: dramatic fluff; roommates!au; friends to lovers!au; drabble

pairing: jin x reader

length: 2.8k

summary: after your roommate jin commits yet another dire misconduct, you come to the revelation that you two would never work out as more than friends. ‘what could he have possibly done? did he cheat on you or something?’ your friends ask you, but it’s far worse than that. no one would understand the repercussions of his actions - no one but you and him, a couple founded on the concept of friends with snacks.

prompts: “i tried my best to not feel anything for you. guess what? i failed.” “don’t you dare die on me!”

Food at your friend’s house isn’t exactly the same as food at your apartment with your roommate. Jackson doesn’t understand culinary arts. From pastries to dessert to dinner, there isn’t a single meal your friend can cook that your roommate, Jin, can’t. A year before when you had just moved into the city, you came upon the horrifying discovery that Jackson failed to properly appreciate the masterpiece that is food, so you, being the food enthusiast you are, knew he would never work out as a roommate and ultimately decided to dorm with his friend, whom Jackson claimed to be a ‘food maniac.’

From then on, you have really gotten to know Jin better than even your friend who had convinced you to move into the city in the first place; his sleeping habits, his bed head, his recycled dad jokes, his teasing yet awkwardly endearing attempts to comfort you, and most importantly, his favorite snacks, breakfast, and dinner, you know them all. In fact, you get to know him so well that you feel like you’re diving into the confusing mess that is your affections head first, as if Jin has this alluring aura about him that pulls people in and wraps them around his little—or rather, loosely jointed—finger; akin to a black hole, you don’t even realize how deep in you’ve been swallowed until you’re already head over heels drawn into something other than food—that very something being Jin.

But alas, with the recent misconducts committed by your roommate, the stars had coasted and crossed across the skies to officially declare the ill-fated end to your relationship with Jin. His actions tell you more about him than he ever could, perhaps even more than food ever could; and after having already let him off the hook the last two times, you had decided enough is enough and temporarily moved into Jackson’s apartment.

“How long are you going to stay?” Jackson groans and tosses the greasy black pan into the sink.

“What?” you gasp, completely appalled by his attitude. “What do you mean ‘how long am I going to stay?’ Do you not enjoy my presence? You’re the one who begged me to room with you last year!”

“I know, I know, but that was before I found out just how comfortable it is to live alone,” he drawls, picking up his maroon cap and smoothing his hair down before tucking it back on. You follow him like a cop on duty as he struts out of the kitchen and mumbles, “especially not when you keep complaining about how I eat.”

“I want you to eat healthily, Jackson!” you exasperate, seating yourself across from him as he plops into the comforts of his own leather couch. “Stop buying instant noodles and cook something worth eating for once!”

Your friend nearly jumps onto his feet when he hears your accusations, eyes popping and mouth falling agape, “what do you mean cook something worth eating for once?! I don’t only eat instant noodles! I’m the one always telling you to eat more green vegetables, organic green vegetables, and organic green tea!”

“Yeah,” you cross your arms and avert your eyes to mutter, “but they don’t exactly fulfill the vast capabilities and wonders of food.”

“What are you even saying?” Jackson narrows his eyes at you in genuine confusion.

Turning your head to look him straight in the eye, you spill words that only Jin would understand, “I mean your organic dish’s presentation would merely rank a 6 out of 10, maybe 5 out of 10 for taste, and barely rack up your most redeeming albeit failing rating of 7 out of 10 for effort.”

Silence then befalls the living room; Jackson stares at you, barely enough energy nor effort to even lift his eyelids, and his mouth still agape in horror at your geeky moment. Of course, only Jin understands you. It’s a fact you’ve always known, but have never come to acknowledgement until you lost him just a week ago.

“...sorry,” you grumble, looking down at the ground and nervously scratching your right elbow with your left hand. “You’re letting me stay with you for so long, and I’m treating you like this…”

Being handed your sign of defeat, Jackson snorts and lets out a short, high pitched cackle resembling that of a hyena’s squeal before plopping back onto his couch. Lying down with both hands under his head and shut eyes, your friend sighs, “no worries. I understand. I mean that I understand your apology and not your nerdy food expertise. I won’t ever understand that—you nor Jin.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle and twiddle your thumbs. “I just want you to experience all that food has to offer! You’re my good friend, after all.”

“Good friend?” Jackson quirks a brow. The raised pitch of his voice and the smile crept in the corner of his lips remind you of the days when he constantly teased you about Jin; certainly, those days only stray a week from today, but with each counting hour absent of your roommate, your partner in crime, your food enthusiast, a week seems like eternity. “I see I’ve been knocked off the top of your friends list! I wonder who’s your best friend now… hm... could it be… the very man that is Kim Seokjin?!”

“No,” you blurt, louder than you intended before lowering your voice. “You’re still my best friend. Both of you guys are my best friends—I mean, were. Jin was my best friend before he did… that to me.”

Jackson stares at you with lidded eyes and pressed lips, “uhuh, sure, Y/N. If he’s not your best friend, then is he your friends with snacks? Get it? Friends with benefits but with snacks…”

“Stop it,” you deadpan, “Jin already made that joke and I don’t want to hear such a terrible dad joke again.”

“Ew!” Jackson wrinkles his nose and narrows his eyes at you. “He made a friends with benefits joke with his roommate? You guys aren’t even together, not to mention you haven’t even kissed yet… wait, you haven’t yet, right—”

“—no!”

“Oh,” he cups his chin with his right hand, “Jin has a peculiar way of flirting. I can’t believe he mentions food even when he’s flirting.”

“Stop judging him,” you frown and cross your arms. “It’s a tactful and tasteful, no pun intended, way of flirting. Unlike you.”

“You and him with your food puns. Truly, you two are made for each other,” he rolls his eyes and sighs. “Don’t get me wrong, Y/N, at the end of the day, I’d love to room with you and I’ll always welcome you with open arms when you need me… but you were just raving about how much you liked Jin two weeks ago, that you were so glad I introduced you to him, and that you two were like… what is it again? Like a match made in heaven? I don’t get it, why’re you so mad at him now? What happened?”

The worst thing that he could have ever done to you, that’s what he did. He discovered your most precious treasure in life, took it, swallowed it and trampled on your torn heart along with it.

“Nothing,” you lie.

“It’s obviously not nothing if you’re ignoring the calls and texts from the boy you were just gushing over a week ago and even moving out of your shared apartment with said boy,” Jackson remarks. After a couple seconds of silence filled with the tick of the clock and the uncomfortable albeit worried gaze of Jackson’s, he clears his throat and lower his voice. “Y/N… was it really that bad? Did he hurt you? I swear I’ll kill him if he did anything to you—”

“—no, he didn’t physically hurt me,” you quickly clarify after hearing the rage rising in his low, raspy voice.

Jackson frowns, brows furrowed and lips down-turned. “Then what? Did he… cheat on you? I mean, not cheat cheat since you two aren’t technically together, but did he lead you on?”

You know he’s only asking out of worry, but his constant pestering only reminds you of the heart-wrenching pain Jin had inflicted upon you. Fate must be laughing at you right now, because just when you thought you had found the one, it turns out to be a red herring. It’s only ten in the morning, you really don’t want to cry your eyes out in front of your friend.

“No,” your voice cracks and you avert your eyes from the fret rising in the crease between his brows, “it’s worse than that.”

“Worse than cheating…?” Jackson says to himself before shaking his head and livening up the mood when he jumps to his feet and exclaims. “Well! Enough of that jerk! Let’s have some food—I mean, fun, of our own—”

—the buzzing of his phone on the couch interrupts him as he stops mid sentence and diverts his attention to the glaring screen.

“What is it?” you say after a long minute of watching him tap away at his phone.

“Huh?” he blurts, looking up at you with wide eyes. “Oh, uh, nothing! What was I saying again? Ah, right! Let’s go get some bread from the cafe down the block!”

“Wait what?” you begin to protest when you glance at your outfit—you’re still wearing the baby pink hoodie you had stolen from Jin. “At least let me change—”

“—nope, your sweater will do just the job,” a bead of sweat drips from his temple when you narrow your eyes at his odd remark. “I mean… I know I won’t be the only one thinking you look beautiful just the way you are!”

Without allowing another second to slip by, Jackson grabs your hand and drags you out the door. As you stumble behind him, the cotton and pink drawstrings of Jin’s hoodie bobbling and shielding you from the cold, as if Jin himself was embracing you in his snug, warm hugs. Jackson’s rough, dry hands doesn’t compare to Jin’s; they aren’t long and slender, and they aren’t soft with the occasional sweat from nerves. Jackson is your good friend, but his hyena laugh doesn’t even resemble Jin’s squeaky, windshield wiper cackles. You miss Jin’s toddler like way of talking and whining.

If only he hadn’t done that to you.

-

“Are you serious, Jackson?! You set me up for him?!”

You’re pushing your back against Jackson’s hands, but the lowering of your center of gravity and the use of every ounce of energy in your legs aren’t enough to help you escape the scene before you… because sitting in a chair just a few tables down from yours is the very man who had did you wrong.

“If you’re going to live with me, then you should at least end things with him right! I don’t want my friend hating me for stealing his roommate!” Jackson argues, giving you one final push until you stumble right into the chair across from Jin’s table.

“I see you’re finally here, Y/N. Ah, you’re even wearing my hoodie that you stole from me before moving out of our apartment, huh? Well, hate to break it to you, but you look good in it and I’m politely asking you to return it until you come back home,” Jin calmly remarks and folds his hands on the tabletop. He gives you a cheeky, passive aggressive smile, both corners of his pressed lips curving upwards into his raised cheeks and crescent eyes, “why don’t you take a seat and explain to me why you haven’t been coming home for the past seven days?”

Is he really blaming you now?

You scoff and cross your arms, “no, I’m not sitting with someone who betrayed my trust! Of course I’d stop living with you, you lying piece of… tuna!”

Jin gasps, his hand clutching his chest, “you know I prefer other types of fish!”

“And you know what you did wrong!”

“I don’t get it! How am I supposed to know what I did wrong unless you tell me?!” his eyes are wide and his plush red lips fall agape to match the rosy hues of his cheeks.

“Yeah, what did he do wrong?” you can hear Jackson mumbling to himself, probably while snacking on some popcorn and watching the scene play out before him in suspense.

“You… the leftovers...” the words get tangled in your head and it takes everything in you to yell it out without having to break down in tears. “You ate the last slice of pizza in the fridge!”

Jin gasps, and a terrified expression befalls his usual cheerful, worry-free ones.

“Wait, what?” you can hear Jackson questioning you in the back, but you don’t care.

“So what’re you going to say to that, huh? How are you going to fix what you did to me, Jin?!” you huff. “You know that was my favorite type of pizza ordered from my favorite restaurant! I was looking forward to it the entire day only to come home to an empty fridge!”

It feels like weight has been lifted off your shoulders, but Jin blinks blankly at you with those wide eyes of his softened by the puffs of his eye bags before recomposing himself to respond.

“W-What? I was hungry! I know I shouldn’t have taken it no matter what, but what was I supposed to do—” his voice rises in pitch with each word which spills from his plush red lips, his entire body aligning with his argument as his shoulders sway side to side and his hair bobs up and down along with his shaking head, and as much as he resembles a toddler defending himself against the entire world, you have to admit you’ve missed it “—you told me you were going to buy the groceries, but it was midnight already and I was hungry! I would’ve cooked something for the both of us except I didn’t have any materials to work off because someone didn’t bring home the groceries!”

“...this is literally the dumbest argument ever,” Jackson grumbles.

The resentment you had pent up in your knotted stomach finally releases when you register Jin’s explanation. He was hungry and waited for you all the way up until midnight…? You left him hungry? You committed the second most sinful act aside from eating the leftovers? You were just as guilty as Jin, but the thought of accepting such a fact is too much to handle all at once.

“I… I’m sorry, Jin. I didn’t know how terribly I treated you...”

“Oh my God…” you can see Jackson ruffling his hair under his cap.

“Okay, okay, as long as you understood,” Jin nods his head in agreement. “I guess you can keep the hoodie then. Are you coming back now—”

“—but you still haven’t apologized! You could’ve at least bought me another pizza!” you exasperate and turn your back on him despite the petrified look in his widened eyes. “I really thought we were… the perfect food couple. But after your recent wrongdoings, I tried to stop myself from hoping for too much. I tried my best not to feel anything for you. Guess what? I failed. I liked you, no, I still like you, but I just... don’t think we’re going to work out.”

Jackson’s jaw slacks open when he watches you stride your way in the opposite direction of Jin before you hear the rattling of metal chairs scraping against the concrete floor followed by the thumps of someone collapsing and yelping.

“Wait, no! Y/N! Help!” Jin cries out.

Whirling around, you find him sprawled on the floor with his hands outstretched in a vain attempt to reach for you. The familiar sight incites a gasp from you as you run to his side, “are you okay, Jin?! Did you skip brunch again?! You know you can’t do that or you’ll end up like… like this before lunch!”

“I…” his voice cracks as you lay his head in your lap. “I had to if I wanted to see you… what is a foolish man like me supposed to do when he’s so in love with a foolish woman like you?”

Even in such a dire situation like this, his words never fail to render your silent. Gazing at the beauty that lies in your lap, butterflies flutter in your stomach at the thought that this perfection of man likes you. Stroking his soft, jet black hair, you relish in the sparks of his hands cupping your cheek.

“Y-You really mean that?” you say in between sobs.

“I do,” he utters so softly you have to lean in to hear, “now will you come home and be my friends with snacks again?”

“O-Of course!”

“Good,” he smiles before his eyes shut and his hands falls from your cheeks and onto his chest, completely limp of motion.

“No, Jin!” you cry. “Don’t you dare die on me! I’ll buy you all the bread you want!”

Jackson just glares at the soap opera playing out between you two and scoffs.

“You two are disgusting.”

[whorror-jpeg]

Rottweiler (pt.4)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: How much are you really willing to risk for him? Your art? Your grades? Your social status?

Prompts: noNE BENCH

Song: Rottweiler Playlist

Request: none

Requests Are: Open

Warning(s): cursing, family fights, friendly teasing,

Word count: 1.5k

Author’s note: can you catch the Supernatural reference? Also, as the reader isn’t involved with, nor is aware of the Upside Down, Eleanor is Eleven’s public name.

one//two//three//four//five//six//seven//eight//nine// ten.

Billy had left before you’d woken up, leaving the bed a mess, as expected, but left a thank you note, explaining he had to take his stepsister to the arcade and asked to give your mom thanks, as she’d washed and dried his clothes for him.

You walked down the stairs, greeting your mom.

“He’s a nice boy, (Y/N),” she said mindlessly while cooking soup for your visit to Hopper’s cabin.

“He doesn’t seem to think so.” you sighed, stealing a taste of the soup.

Your mom frowned, “Why’s that?”

“Just something about his body language, the way he presents himself, how he acts in public. I dunno.”

“You’ve got your dad’s intuition, kiddo. You’re gonna notice things.” she smiled, petting your hair, “I used to get so mad at John. He knew when I was keeping a secret.”

You smiled lightly, adding some spice to the soup.

“I knew it needed more of something,” she says, watching you add more garlic salt to the mixture.

“Mama, do you ever see two different sides to people?”

“Of course.”

You sat up on the counter, “Well, with Billy, he’s… an asshole, frankly, when he’s at school. But, he told me something last night that gave some sort of explanation, and… Mama, he broke down in front of me. I’m not excusing his behavior, but watching him cry on me was the saddest thing I’ve seen a seventeen-year-old boy do.”

“It’s not the saddest, (Y/N). It’s the strongest. And, Billy, was it? He trusts you.”

“But we barely talked before-”

She shook her head, smiling, “His inner-self trusts you.”

You groaned, “Mom, you’re such a hippie sometimes.”

She laughed, “Baby, I’m saying this now, you’re seventeen, and he’s the first person you went on a date with. Keep doing it.”

“Did you take your medicine today, Mama?” you half-joked, aiming to change the subject. She nodded, kissing your cheek after you jumped off the counter.

“I’ll go start the car.”

The two of you arrived at your uncle’s cabin, being greeted by your cousin.

You smiled at her, “Hey El, how’s it going?” you ruffled her hair while holding the pot of soup in one hand, making her smile brightly.

“Hey Marry,” Jim greeted, “Hey kid.”

“Ya know, this ‘kid’ has a name, Uncle Jim.” you giggled, setting down the soup on the table, “Some people would consider you a bad uncle for not remembering your niece’s name.”

“Yeah, whatever.” he poked, hugging you tightly.

The four of you sat together at the table after Hopper put the soup on the stove to reheat. Eleanor had brought over a deck of Uno and was currently being taught by your mom how to shuffle and deal.

“So, (Y/N), how was your week? You didn’t visit as much as you usually do.” Hopper asked.

“Ahh, it was hectic. My art project is due next month for the art show and I still have no idea what I’m doing.” you laughed, hiding your events with Billy.

Hopper nodded, and that’s when your mother spoke up.

“She went on a date!”

Hopper looked at her, then back at you, expectantly.

“With who?”

“A guy from gym class.” you tried to shrug off.

“You didn’t tell me you had a class with Billy?” your mom asked, making your heart rate increase. Jim’s body turned completely to you.

“Billy? As in Billy Hargrove?!”

You tried to excuse the situation but was ultimately interrupted by your uncle.

“What did I say about that boy?” he growled, “Do you understand how many tickets I’ve written him? How many times he ended up staying the night at the station because he was beating up some kid?”

“Can we not do this in front of them?” you asked quietly, not meeting his stare.

“Billy’s been arrested?” your mom asked.

“Mary, you weren’t aware of anything this boy’s done?”

“Jesus Christ, Jim! Can you not talk about someone you don’t know?” you yelled, then sighed, going to leave, “I’ll be back.”

You got in your car and drove off mindlessly, eventually reaching a convenience store.

“Hey, princess.”

You jumped, turning to see Billy smirking.

“Oh my god, Billy, learn to not sneak up on people, would you?!” you scolded, holding your chest.

Billy raised his hands in surrender, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he laughed, making you glare at him.

“What are you doing here anyway, Hargrove?”

“Buying cancer sticks and a soda. What about you?”

You hugged yourself and looked down, “Getting away from my uncle while we’re supposed to have family game night.” you chuckled.

Billy hummed, thinking for a second, “Wanna go somewhere? Hangout?” You looked at his face, it was healing well. The bruise from Tommy H. had disappeared, more or less, and the wounds his father had left had begun to turn green.

“Yeah, actually.”

You ended up at an empty park with the Hargrove boy about a block from the convenience store, a comfortable silence between the two of you as you sat on the playground swing while Billy lit up.

“You want one?” he offered, making you laugh.

“No thanks. I’m trying to get away from my family, not kill myself.”

“Whatever.” he shrugged, sitting on the swing next to you, the silence taking back over.

You turned to him, seeing he was already looking at you.

“It’s rude to stare.” you teased.

Billy blew off your comment, “You’re really pretty, ya know that?”

You scoffed and looked away, “Please.”

“I’m serious. You’re not like the girls at our school.” he shrugged, looking at his lap.

“Well, yeah, go figure.”

“You’re better,” he said quietly, making you look back at him.

“Billy Hargrove, are you blushing?”

He snapped his head back to you, “The fuck, no! Stop making fun of me, I’m trying to be serious!”

“You wouldn’t be getting so defensive if I was wrong!” you laughed, poking his side. He grabbed onto your swing’s rope, pulling you closer, smiling, before pushing you back, making you squeal.

Billy got up, going to the sidewalk and tossing his cigarette butt into the road, you following.

Without looking at you, he started talking.

“You know, you make it really hard to not like you.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion, “How?”

Billy clenched his jaw, something you noticed he started to do when he was nervous, “I wasn’t lying before. You’re pretty. There’s a whole lot about you that is.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m about to announce to Hawkins what a hopeless romantic you are, Hargrove.”

He turned to you, smiling, “No you’re not.”

“I’ll do it, Hargrove. I really will.”

“You’re too shy,” he smirked. You smirked back and inhaled deeply.

“ATTENTION HAWKINS! BILLY HARGROVE IS A-”

Billy clamped his hand over your mouth, a look of dread, surprise, and fright mixed into his face as he shushed you and looked around while you laughed through his hand, making him laugh along. He dropped his hand slowly, before resting it on your hip.

“You’re too much for your own good, (Y/N).”

You looked at him, grinning ear to ear, watching his face turn calmer, a bit more serious.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

This took you by surprise. Not the want of intimacy from him, but simply the question. The question of permission was foreign to someone like Billy Hargrove, so where was this coming from, truly?

“Yes,” you replied quietly, meeting his intense gaze.

Billy cupped your cheek softly, and leaned in closely, but not enough to connect the two of you. He waited for you to finish off the space. And you did.

The kiss was soft, not something you’d seen him do with his other flings. Billy was a rough guy, and he showed it through the way he kissed in the halls. But now? He was gentle, and brought his body closer to yours instead of pulling you to him, and pet your cheek with his thumb softly. You put a hand against his chest and another around his neck, pulling him closer. Billy was the one to break the kiss, looking astounded before smiling lightly at you and pecking your lips again before stepping back lightly.

“We need to head back, yeah?” he asked, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. You nodded, beginning to walk forward as he let go of your hip. You felt his hand brush your arm, wanting to hold your hand, so you did as he kissed the top of your head.

“Who knew you’d be a softie, huh?” you asked, looking up at him.

He bumped his shoulder against yours, smiling like an idiot. The two of you walked, small talking along the way to your cars.

“This is me.” you said lightly getting to your car, “I’m gonna have to go face the awkwardness sooner or later.”

Billy laughed, nervous for you, “Good luck with that.” he leaned down and kissed you again.

“Bye Billy,” you mumbled against his lips.

He backed up, watching you get in your car and drive off, a smile tugging at his lips.

----- 

TAGS:

 @leavingtonight-1967 @nistaposebno @artisticlales @letmeletmetrashyourlove @twisted1ginger @madhatterweasley @cherriesinspring @sleepy-rad @arronity @his-cocaine-heart @xsuperwholockaddictx-blog @chlootheghost @sighsophiia @nicospaten not-a-glad-gladiator @haahhhhhahahah @creepykatftw @doomed-vodka @fangilringanditswonders @aspyn

[unfolded73]

This Graceful Path (3/19)

Summary: Emma has just moved in with Mary Margaret and started working as a deputy in the Storybrooke sheriff’s department when she meets Killian Jones, the town’s introverted harbormaster. When a prominent Storybrooke resident is found murdered, Emma tries to juggle solving the case with new friendships, parenthood, and romance. A Season 1 Cursed!Killian AU.

Rating: Explicit per CSBB guidelines (violence, sex). If you are someone who uses my usual distinction between M and E to decide whether to read something I wrote, this is more of an M on unfolded73’s scale. The sex, when we get there, is not extremely graphic in nature. Same with the violence.

Content Warning: This fic contains two major character deaths, one of which is S1 canon (in this chapter) and one of which is not but happens in Chapter 2. This chapter contains descriptions of violence.

Total word count: ~ 75,000

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @j-philly-b for betaing this monstrosity. Thank you to @caprelloidea for all of the read-throughs and cheerleading; not sure I could have written it without your excitement early on. Thank you to @teruel-a-witch for the original prompt on tumblr which sparked this fic. Thanks to the CSBB mods ( @sambethe in particular, who had to look at my check-ins) for your support and for enduring my neuroses.

ART! The first of @pompeiiablaze’s wonderful art pieces accompanies this chapter and is included below in the text. Also go give her some love.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 – AO3 Link

Chapter 3

The phone on Emma’s desk rang, the jangly sound of an actual bell inside the workings of the ancient telephone. She jumped, then picked up the receiver.

“Sheriff’s station.”

“Emma, it’s Graham. I’ve found… I need your help.” She could hear his breaths panting down the phone line.

“Are you hurt? Where are you, are you sick?” she asked, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She should never have let him go, Emma thought. She should have followed him.

“Not me, I… There’s been a murder. We need to…” He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, he sounded calmer, more professional. “I’ve found a body in the woods. About a quarter mile west of trail marker 47. Bring a trail map so that you can locate me. Also, there should be some evidence kits in the storage room, do you remember I showed you? Pack up some evidence kits and get down here as soon as you can. Also flashlights; it will be dark soon.”

“Okay, got it.” Hanging up, Emma jerked up out of her chair, out of the comforting pool of light from her desk lamp, and made for the storage closet. Maybe it was a bear attack or something, she thought, and not a murder. Graham himself had laughed at the idea of a murder happening in Storybrooke. He’d found the very idea hilarious.

In mere minutes, she was behind the wheel of the squad car. Flipping on the lights and the siren for the first time since Graham had shown her where the switches were, she peeled out of the parking space.

By the time she parked along the side of the road at the closest hiking trail crossing to marker 47, the remaining daylight was gone and a damp, foggy chill had settled in the air. Shouldering the bag of evidence kits and clicking on her flashlight, Emma set off down the trail. At marker 47, she stopped and pulled her phone out, opening the compass app. “West,” she muttered, setting off in the right direction once she had confirmed what the right direction was.

She was so focused on the compass and not tripping over any fallen tree limbs, she almost collided with Graham where he was standing and waiting for her. His hands reached out and gripped her arms to steady them both.

“Over here,” he said, pointing. Emma stopped and reached into the bag, producing the other flashlight to give to him.

They made their way carefully forward. “Emma, have you seen a dead body before?” Graham asked.

She thought back to the days when she’d been living rough, on the run for jumping bail on a couple of minor thefts. She thought of Cleo. “Yeah, I’ve seen a dead body.”

“Just to warn you, the scene is bad.” He glanced back at her. “I’ve called the coroner, but we should have enough time to investigate before they get here to pick up the body.”

Heart racing, Emma continued to follow him. She didn’t know the first thing about a proper crime scene investigation; she hoped Graham did.

“Before you touch anything, put on gloves,” Graham said.

Emma rolled her eyes. Well, she knew that much. Dropping her bag on the ground, she stepped forward.

The first thing she saw were men’s dress shoes, the toes pointed up to the air. She walked closer, moving the flashlight up the body; when she got to the torso, her gorge rose and she had to swallow, breathing sharply through her nose. It was hard to tell because the suit was dark, but the entire front of the man’s suit appeared to be soaked with blood. Underneath the shredded fabric, she caught a glimpse what she feared were partially exposed organs. Averting her eyes from that sight, she jerked her flashlight up to the face.

(x)

“Holy shit, this is Mr. Gold.”

“Yeah,” Graham agreed.

“Could an animal have done this?”

Graham had put on gloves from the bag she’d brought, and he knelt down and carefully moved Mr. Gold’s tie aside before undoing a few of his shirt buttons. “These look like stab wounds to me. Definitely not claw or teeth marks.”

Her mouth seemed suddenly full of saliva, and she swallowed again. “Is there a weapon?”

“Not that I’ve found.” He gestured to the side. “There’s a shovel, but it didn’t do this.”

Emma went over and looked at the shovel where it lay next to a shallow hole. “Did you check to see if something was buried here?”

Graham shook his head. “The ground below seems to be undisturbed. Like Gold was in the process of digging the hole when he was killed, not that he was filling one in.”

“Or maybe the killer was digging the hole?” she asked.

“Perhaps.”

Emma pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the shovel and the hole. “Should I take pictures of the body?”

“Be my guest.”

Trying her best for professional detachment, Emma took a series of photos of Mr. Gold’s corpse. “Did you find anything else?” she asked Graham.

He circled the small clearing, examining the ground. “Before I lost the light, I could tell that two people came from that direction,” he said, pointing.

“Wow, you’re quite the tracker.”

He flinched. “I couldn’t make out any clear footprints, though. The earth is too dry.” Graham began to work, wrapping one of the evidence bags around the blade of the shovel and another around the handle, despite dismissing it as a possible murder weapon. Emma looked around, at a loss for how she could help. There didn’t seem to be any other evidence, and short of pulling plants out of the ground and putting them in evidence bags, all she could do was stand there and continue to avert her eyes from the body.

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked Graham. “I really think you’re coming down with something.”

“I’ll be fine,” he grunted, but he still looked pale to her.

She heard a crashing through the underbrush, making her jump and swing her flashlight around toward the sound.

Two paramedics approached, carrying a stretcher with a black body bag slung over it. And with them—

“Regina,” Emma said.

“I expect to be notified when a dead body is found in the woods, Sheriff,” she said, addressing Graham and ignoring Emma completely. Regina wore an immaculate cream-colored suit and heels, looking completely incongruous as she stood there in the woods with her hands on her hips. “Why do I have to hear about it from Doctor Whale?”

“I was planning to let you know first thing in the morning,” Graham said, stepping forward and blocking her view of the body.

“That’s not good enough. Who is it?” Regina made to walk around Graham, and he stopped her with a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s quite gruesome, Madam Mayor,” he said, but she pushed him aside and marched over to where the paramedics were going through the motions of looking for life signs from the corpse.

It was Regina’s silence when she saw Gold that told the tale of how shocked she was, rather than any kind of exclamation she might have made. She was still as a stone, staring down at him, and when she spoke, her voice was like ground-up glass.

“Who did this?”

“We don’t know,” Graham answered. “But rest assured—”

“I don’t want your assurances!” Regina said, turning on a dime to white-hot anger. “Do you have any idea…?” She stopped herself and exhaled. “We have to find who did this immediately.”

“We will,” Emma said, trying to sound confident. She didn’t know if the source of Regina’s emotion was due to the loss of control of her town or some feeling she had toward Gold, but whatever it was, it was laced with something Emma had never seen from Regina before: fear.

Finally and mercifully, the paramedics began the process of putting the corpse inside the body bag and zipping it closed.

“The dag— the murder weapon, did you find it?”

“It wasn’t left at the crime scene,” Graham said, “but once Doctor Whale has examined the entry wounds, we should have a better idea of what we’re looking for.”

Regina opened her mouth, only to snap it closed again.

“You knew Mr. Gold pretty well, Regina,” Emma said. “Did he have any enemies?”

Regina laughed darkly. “Who in this town wasn’t his enemy?” She started to pace but stopped short after only two steps. “Killian Jones.”

“The harbormaster?” Emma asked.

“He hated Gold more than most,” Regina said.

The paramedics had the body strapped to the stretcher and started making their way back toward the hiking trail. With nothing left that they could do in the woods, Graham, Emma, and Regina followed.

“I’ve never heard of any bad blood between Gold and Jones,” Graham said.

“It was a long time ago, but it still festered,” Regina said. “Bring Killian in and question him. Search his apartment, search his office, search every boat in the harbor. Believe me, Killian Jones should be your number one suspect.”

~*~

“What can you tell me about Gold’s death?” Sidney asked in a rush, jumping in front of Emma as she tried to make her way through the crowd at Granny’s and get an infusion of caffeine. It was her second night in a row working late, and it was taking its toll. All she wanted was a simple coffee, but with the chaos currently swirling in the diner, there wasn’t going to be anything simple about it. She stared at the lapels of Sidney’s immaculate suit, feeling slightly nauseated by the overwhelming scent of his cologne.

“If you think I’m going to talk to you after—”

“Come on, Deputy Swan, this is the biggest story to ever hit this one-horse town. You have to give me something. What was the state of the body? Do you have any suspects?” Sidney tried to give her a disarming smile. With a glance, Emma could tell that he wasn’t the only one in the crowded diner waiting for her to speak.

“Sheriff Humbert gave his official statement earlier, and that’s all we’re going to say about it during an open investigation.” She pushed her way toward the counter, as the patrons around her grumbled and reluctantly moved aside.

“The question I have is, who’s going to inherit all of his property?” Granny said, both to her and to anyone standing within earshot.

“Did he have any family?” Emma asked.

“There were rumors of an estranged son, but no one in town’s ever met him, far as I know.”

“Well, someone that rich must’ve had a lawyer. Maybe more than one. I’m sure they’ll sort it out. That part of it’s not really my job,” Emma said.

“It’s your job if somebody killed him to inherit his money,” Ruby pointed out, tapping on the counter with a long, red fingernail.

She had a point. There was so little Emma knew about Gold that it was hard to know where to begin. She had hoped Graham would have some ideas of how to investigate this killing, but he’d been holed up in his office for most of the day.

Returning to the station, she eyed him through the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the room. Taking a deep breath, she approached.

“Did you hear from Dr. Whale?”

Graham was staring into space and didn’t answer her.

“Graham?” Still no response. ���Graham!”

Finally, he looked up. The only word she could call up to describe his facial expression was haunted. “What is it, Emma?”

“I asked if you heard from Dr. Whale about the medical examination of Gold.”

“Oh, yeah.” He picked up a report from his desk, almost as if he’d forgotten about it. “Cause of death, puncture of the right ventricle of the heart. Other stab wounds to the chest and abdomen, fourteen in all. Wounds are consistent with a short sword or dagger of at least a twelve inches in length. Markings on three ribs consistent with a curved or irregularly-shaped blade.”

“Wow, okay, that’s useful. Although, sword? Really?”

Graham shrugged.

She huffed in frustration. “Graham, I know you’re… I don’t know, going through some stuff and maybe aren’t feeling a hundred percent. But isn’t this kind of a big deal? Don’t we need to be out… investigating?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, and then stood up and brushed past her, continuing through the station and out the door. Emma chased after him. She found him standing on the sidewalk outside, looking around in confusion at the darkened street.

“Graham?” Emma said, approaching him slowly.

“It’s my heart. I need to find it,” he muttered.

“What? Wait, is this another way of saying you can’t feel anything?”

“If I follow the wolf, I’ll find my heart,” he said, turning to face her. His eyes were fever-bright, she noticed now that she was close to him. She wondered if he would heed her if she insisted he go home and rest.

“Okay, you’ve lost me,” she said in as calm a voice as she could muster. “What does the wolf represent?”

He shook his head in frustration, his hand reaching out to grip her arm. “If I follow the wolf from my dreams, it will help me find my heart. I saw it in Henry’s book.”

“You’ve been talking to Henry about this?” She replayed what he had just said in her mind. “Hang on. Graham, you really think you don’t have a heart?”

“It’s the only thing that makes any sense. It’s the only thing that explains why I don’t feel anything.”

“Listen to me, Graham: you have a heart. If you didn’t, you’d be… you know. Dead.”

He shook his head as she spoke. “I don’t, she took it. She’s keeping it somewhere and I have to find it.”

“Look, I can prove it to you.” Emma reached for his hand, and as she took it she could feel him trembling. Bringing their joined hands together to his chest, she pressed his hand down, her splayed fingers fitting between his. There it was, the rhythmic thump-thump of his heart. Other than his pulse being quick, his heartbeat seemed normal to her untrained senses. They stood close, knees almost touching, and Emma looked into his eyes. “Feel that? It’s your heart.”

“It’s a trick.”

“Graham, let me take you to the hospital; you’re not well.”

A white flash of movement in the dark street caught Emma’s eye, and she turned to look. Staring back at her, at them, was a large white wolf.

“What the fuck.”

Graham’s gaze followed hers. “There it is, I’ve seen it before. I saw it in the woods last night.” “When you found Gold?”

“Come on,” he said as the wolf loped away. Graham chased after it, and there was nothing for Emma to do but chase after Graham.

“He better not lead us into the woods,” she muttered, glancing down at her boots. “I’m not exactly prepared for long-distance running.”

Pushing aside the thought that she was currently chasing an animal like this was some kind of Harry Potter story, she focused on what Graham had said about seeing the wolf in the woods the night before. She’d wondered how Graham had come across Gold’s body in the first place; now it seemed he’d come across it following a wolf. She wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it last night when she’d suggested an animal attack, not that wolves were in the habit of using twelve-inch blades.

The wolf led them across the grass of the cemetery, its green color fading as fall was beginning to turn into winter. The animal stopped in front of a stone crypt and sat on its haunches.

“This is Regina’s,” Graham said, still approaching.

“Graham, be careful.”

“The wolf won’t hurt us.” He looked up, seeming to focus on the symbol over the door. Was it tree branches? No, she thought, squinting at it. It was deer antlers.

“Why are we here?” Emma asked.

“Because of my heart. It’s in there,” he said, gesturing toward the crypt.

“Graham,” she said helplessly. How do you convince someone that their heart hasn’t been stolen from their chest? He was already pulling uselessly at the door to the crypt. “Okay, you know what? Let’s find out.” Maybe if she could show him there was nothing here, then he would let her take him to the hospital. Positioning herself at his side, she gave the door a sharp kick, forcing it open.

The inside of the mausoleum was small, dominated by a sarcophagus in the center. There really wasn’t much to the space: some recesses in the walls, one containing an urn but the rest with nothing in them. Emma turned on a flashlight as Graham fumbled around, getting more and more frantic.

“There has to be something here. A hidden door. Something.”

“Graham, there isn’t. It’s just what it looks like.”

“So, first you try to take my son,” came a steely voice behind them, and Emma whirled around to face Regina in the doorway, “and then you try to take my lover, and then you defile my father’s grave?”

“Take your who now?” Emma blurted. This hardly seemed the time or place to explain that she and Graham weren't like that, but it was tempting to do so.

“Don’t blame Emma, it was my idea. It’s my fault we’re in here looking,” Graham said.

“And what, pray tell, are you looking for?” Regina asked. Her red lips were a violent slash across her face in the dim light.

Graham seemed to shrink under her gaze. “Nothing.”

“Graham, you look unwell,” Regina said, taking his arm and steering him out of the mausoleum. “Let’s get you in bed so you can rest.” Emma followed, unsure of what to do.

Graham pulled away from Regina, taking two stumbling steps backward. “I’m not going with you.”

“Oh, but you’ll go with Miss Swan?” Regina said viciously, gesturing at Emma.

“Nuh-uh,” Emma said, her hands up. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“It has nothing to do with her.” He pulled himself taller, looking down at Regina calmly. “I thought the reason I couldn’t feel anything was because of me, but it’s you, Regina.”

Regina shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “And so you’re leaving me for her?”

“I’m leaving you for me. It’s over between us.”

“I don’t know what I ever did to you to deserve this,” Regina said, stalking toward Emma. “To have you keep coming after everything I hold dear.”

“I told you, Regina, it’s not her.” Graham sounded more lucid than he had all day, Emma couldn’t help but notice.

“None of this started happening until she got here,” Regina shouted, her hair whipping against her cheek as she jerked her head around from Emma to Graham. “Can you honestly tell me she’s not to blame for your sudden change of heart?”

Emma had had enough. “Regina, did you ever stop to think that maybe the problem isn’t with me, but with you? Henry came and found me. Graham asked for help from me. Both were miserable. Maybe, Madam Mayor, you need to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask yourself why that is. Why is everyone trying to get away from you?”

Regina’s eyes flashed with rage. “Both of you need to get out of my sight.” “Gladly,” Emma said, backing away. “Come on, Graham.” With one last look at Regina, he joined Emma and they walked out of the cemetery together.

They walked in silence for awhile until Graham broke the silence. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I kind of lost my mind.”

“It’s okay. You were sick and stressed out… And kind of heartbroken.”

“I don’t know why I let myself get mixed up with her,” he said.

“Because it was easy. Not feeling anything’s an attractive option when what you feel sucks.” She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering against the chilly, damp air.

“I guess,” he said. “Still, it feels a little bit like I’m waking up from a nightmare, and none of the things I did in the nightmare make sense now that I’m awake.”

Emma chuckled softly. “I’ve been there.” She reached out and tentatively patted his upper arm, the sleeve of his leather jacket smooth under her hand. “You’re gonna be okay, though. You believe that, right?”

He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know.” They came to the sidewalk and started back toward the sheriff’s station.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand, though,” Emma said. “Hmm?”

“What the hell was up with that wolf?”

Graham shook his head. “I still have all these memories in my head, or what feel like memories. I have dreams that seem so real when I wake up. Dreams of this world where I’ve…” He stopped and turned to face her. “Dreams where Regina is a queen, and where she orders me to murder…” He frowned, his brow wrinkling. “I think it’s Mary Margaret, Regina wants me to cut out her heart…” His breaths have started to come quick and shallow, beads of sweat breaking out on his brow.

“Okay, calm down, let’s not go down this road again, not until you’ve had some rest—”

Graham gasped, his hand going to his chest.

“Graham? What’s wrong?”

He fell; Emma had never seen a human being topple over like a dead tree, but that’s what Graham’s body did. She made a grab for him, trying to slow his fall, but his head hit the pavement hard.

“Graham!” She dropped to his side, her fingers going to the pulse point of his neck, but she was too cold and scared to tell why she wasn’t feeling anything. “Graham, please wake up. Please.” Fumbling for the phone in her pocket, Emma pulled it out and dialed 911.

Chapter 4

[blizzardfluffykpop]

(Zelo) Jun-Hong X Reader

Summary:You know all my life I never thought it end up how it has, and I’m content with that.

One-shot

Mentions of depression

Prompt: 32. “If I could grant one Christmas wish, what would it be?” “I wish you would dare me.”

Choi Jun-hong the name still rings in my head. The guy I had dated for years, dumped me. It’s like I can never escape, as I listen to the new song by B.A.P when I find out the guy rapping to the song is Zelo, his real name being Choi Jun-hong. And I realize how much I miss him, we dated all of our high school years.

He had dumped for the reason, believing that we were in immature love, that it would never last in the real world. That there was probably more to life than me. I was devastated for months, and I just forced myself to get over him. I’m still numb, now I can’t even listen to my favorite band that just comes onto my google play music, because I know he’s in it. You know how shitty it is the one thing that made you happy after years of being depressed. But no it seems life doesn’t like the idea of my joy.

The only thing I can really be grateful of is this tattoo job. Nothing could to deter me from that, at least that is what I thought. I’m working on a tattoo for this girl it was an intricate flower with music notes flowing out and then being swallowed by a piece of paper. I thought it was beautiful, it was saying she was the beauty that was broadcasting her voice, having it heard, and writing it down as she goes.

When I hear the one voice I hadn’t heard often other than hearing him rap or sing. Not that I really counted it, because it always sounded so different. It sounded like our conversations that would last forever. You have to be kidding me, I knew he always wanted a tattoo, but couldn’t he have gone to any other shop.

I finish it up as he starts going over the details and my friend says, “I’ll set you up with (Y/n). She’ll be happy to do this tattoo she’s really one for art. You can see her latest work if the girl allows you.”

I see him stalk over to me and my canvas as I would put it says sure, to him. And he says, “Wow that’s so amazing it speaks paragraphs about you.” She thanks him sweetly and goes over to, Lillian, my friend, the one who co-owns the store with me.

He looks up to meet my eyes finally and he says, “Wow. I never thought I’d see you again. You look good, (Y/n).”

“Save it, Jun-hung.” I say with so much venom I’d be a poisonous snake draining my own venom freely into a witches brew.

“Feisty as ever.”

“What do you want tattoo, so I can get this done and over and never have to see you again.” He rolls his eyes at me and says, “‘Relation in time’, you know that master piece right? I was going to get it because it used to be our favorite master piece. I was getting it because-”

“I don’t want to hear your life story, remember? I’m to immature to understand it.” He scoffs at me, and I ask him where he wants it. I tell him to sit on the chair and move to the next to room to work in piece. Not wanting to be near him for more than I needed. I’m sick of it. Lillian comes bounding over to me in the room and she says, “Remember today is Christmas wish day and I still haven’t heard you ask someone there wish. And he’s going to be your last customer so times a wasting.”

“Fuck off, will you?” I grumble and she rolls her eyes, “What can’t handle a hot guy once in your life?”

“You don’t understand, if I were to tell you, you’d kick him out. We need this money to pay for rent for this shop.” She rolls her eyes and goes back to her new customer that she gotten a few minutes ago, she lets me work in this back room, while she does it in front of customers. I finally finish it up, sigh as I grumble about this, we both wanted to do this once we grew our hair out longer. Mine was already at a reasonable length at that time he need to grow his out, seems he never did. I cut mine anyways, so doesn’t even matter.

I show him the piece and he says, “It looks amazing!” I give him the slight sign of a smile. I sterilize his stomach so he won’t get any infections while I do the tattoo before, placing the paper on him and pulling it off so the adhesive purple stayed behind.

I grab my black ink put it into the gun and put my purple gloves on. And start my tedious work. It wasn’t as hard as it could be, being as it was only one color, unlike my canvas who had so many different petal colors it wasn’t even funny.

While switching out the ink since I had a different model, I ask him, “Lillian started this thing where in December we ask our customers a different thing, it has to be at least to one. And woo-hoo guess who one that because it slipped out of my mind with the last customer. And yours is taking the rest of my shift. If I could grant you one Christmas wish what would it be?” I say with the most disinterested voice I could pull off and he replies, “Are you sure you want my answer?”

“I’m only do this because I was asked, its up to you to answer.”

“I wish you would date me… Again”

“Why, would you ask that if I was so immature, and you had so many possible choices???”

“Because I realized how wrong I was when I left you.”

“And it took you that long to realize that? I was left in an absolute depressive series, it’s like season nine now. And it’s been 4 years, you couldn’t have found me sooner. When you knew where I was the whole time, until you suddenly blocked me for no reason?”

“I’m sorry okay… I really am.”

“Yeah that really helps to know you’re sorry. Thanks a lot, and if you would like to know something, it was just a question. So I don’t have to grant your wish.”

“Please… Please, I’d hate to beg and you know I do. But I can’t find anyone like you, who makes me feel the things you do. Just one date, is all I ask for. If you decide to leave in the middle of the date, you can. Just this once.”

“You should be glad you’re receiving a second chance from me. I’m only giving you once, you fuck it up. You will never be allowed to enter here ever again, even with good paying money. Understand?”

He nods his head obediently and I go back to finish his tattoo finally. When I finish I place medicine on it so it heals nicely, and I leave a kiss right above it. I’ll let you in on something I did that because of how much I missed him, and that kiss meant so much to me. I place the tape and wrap on it so it heals nicely. I let Lillian explain the healing process to him.

I was sitting there shell shocked that he asked me to be with him on a date. I told Lillian and she said she was surprised that I said yes. Especially to the inconsiderate bastard, she likes to call him.

I sigh as I get ready for our date, he came into tell Lillian his phone number since I wasn’t there. I was getting groceries since it was my day off after all. He texts me he’s on his way over to pick me up. I should have told him to let me drive there by myself but I really do not like being alone by myself at night in a car.

I hear the door knock and I open the door after slipping on my jacket and my shoes, I open the door. To reveal the guy I had been crazy about for years, standing in front of me again. Like our first date all over again, just without my parents. It was surreal.

He gets in the car after opening and closing the door for me. And he starts up the car and he takes me to a place I hadn’t been since we broke up. I put boundaries on every place we ever touched and refused to go in them. It was our first date when he got a car, the place every guy wants to take every girl for as a date. The drive-in, the drive-in that displays the moves as you sit in a car and can order if you like. (I know they can’t drive till 20 but, I live in Ohio the age is 16).

I watch as he pays for the movie and he pulls in 3rd row, like every time we went. Oh my god I want to puke, my anxiousness is filling me. He looks over at me and it was like that date all over again. We were sixteen again, giddy sophomores, happy to be by ourselves. But except we were nervous it was like our first date mixed with this one.

And without much difficulty we are talking like we never broke up. He grabs my hand and lightly squeezes it, and I realize how much I miss his truck with the bench seat that you could slide next to the driver and cuddle. No, this is quite different, it’s like there is a wall keeping us from each other. A console in the middle of us, and I move on top of it not carrying anymore, I missed his touch, I missed his hugs, his voice, his nuzzles. And not that I really care about it, but the way he matched me in bed so well unlike the hundreds of one night stands, and a boyfriend that last a month couldn’t match. The rough but tender, fast but deep, soft but it felt like you were being split in two, sex. I missed it so bad. But I missed more over the top was him. Everything, and when he leaned forward and kissed me, I was in a state of shock and it was like our relationship never really did end. And we were back to square 541 I suppose and no longer at square -427.

And we watch the movie with comfort of popcorn, luckily it was snowing so the drive-in was open until it started up again. And we watched the sappy rom-com happen and just watch it spiral. And it made sense it was something we had always done together, and now here we are again doing it all over. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

When he brought me back to my house, and he left me with a deep kiss on my porch, and walked back out and I yelled, “Tomorrow, coffee?” Knowing he’d know where to be, our coffee shop. The one with the art work forever displayed on the walls, that will forever be on his stomach as well. Now I could listen to B.A.P. without wanting to cry because of how much I miss Jun-hong. How could you miss someone you already have? Well I mean… Not the point I’m making. And first time since we had broken up and now we are together again, I feel complete. And I still have that depression lingering in the back of my mind, but it seemed that boi didn’t matter as much to me as Jun-hong did and does.

[misssophiachase]

Klaroline superhero prompt for you! Caroline works in an office w/ Klaus & basically everyone knows he's a superhero but he thinks he's so secretive no one has figured it out. So basically Stefan covers for him during meetings, Caroline covers his calls, Katherine keeps Elijah from asking too many questions about paperwork. And Bonnie refills his first aid kit all the time. Their whole cover is blown when Kol gifts him a new costume to fight battles in during the secret santa gift exchange. Thx❤

HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY JEN (my almost birthday twin). I wanted to get this done before I went away. Thanks for the prompt, I love me a bit of superhero Klaus : ) Hope you like it. I also hope you have a wonderful day next Thursday (with lots of cake and have some of that amazing Texan BBQ for me while you’re at it). 

Wind Beneath My Wings

December 23….

Last night had been particularly rough, Klaus was lucky to make it home in one piece. Who knew a crazed idiot with bleached, blonde hair and a maniacal laugh riding a lawn mower (of all modes of transport) could do such damage? He was starting to wonder where these new and decidedly eccentric breed of villains were coming from. 

After an extended shower to ease the bruised muscles, Klaus dressed in his usual suit and tie combination to head into work. Klaus was joint CEO of Mikaelson Construction with his older brother and their company had basically built half of Manhattan. He’d started out from practically nothing but now he was a billionaire. Not too bad for a young kid from one of London’s poorest suburbs. 

It was after he’d acquired his first 50 million that Klaus began to get bored, he always did love a challenge and work was no longer providing that spark. His siblings as usual had offered their opinions. 

Elijah suggested playing the stock market, Kol suggested a friend with benefits (or multiple) and, although she was in London, Rebekah went with Pilates. She insisted it was good for core strength and channeling the desire to want to punch Kol in the face. As much as he wanted to hit his younger brother at times, he wanted a different kind of thrill. Something worthwhile that would help people at the same time.

Fast forward nine months and Klaus was trawling the streets for bad guys. He’d seen a news report on CNN about crime levels increasing at an alarming level in New York but the cities police force didn’t have the manpower or resources to combat the threat. 

Klaus considered himself an extremely fit person. He’d trained in three different martial arts (basically from boredom) and regularly took part in marathons and triathlons. All he needed was a suit to keep his identity secret. Unfortunately his face was recognisable in business and social circles so it took a bit of work on the sewing machine (yes he had mastered that skill too, not that he broadcast it). 

“Where is that paperwork from the Ferguson deal?” Was the first order Elijah barked at him when he walked through the glass doors.  Klaus figured once he got laid on a regular basis the stress would abate with his uptight, elder brother. Obviously not. 

“I put that on your desk, don’t you remember?” Katherine interrupted, her brown eyes flickering over his toned body. 

“I don’t recall,” he stuttered, his gaze now firmly focused on the fitted, black dress that hugged every one of her curves. 

“How about I jog your memory in your office?” She purred, it didn’t take long for his brother and their public relations manager to disappear. The King of decorum, Elijah was fastidious about professionalism but when Katherine Pierce had come on board he was unable to resist. For the record Klaus and pretty much everyone else were happy for the distraction. 

Klaus discreetly hobbled his way towards the supply closet, realising that the hastily applied bandage on his leg was peeling off. He’d sometimes wondered just how the first aid kit seemed to be fully stocked all the time but he wasn’t about to complain. 

As he turned the corner, he noticed Bonnie rummaging around. Klaus knew he had to play it cool though so as not to arouse any suspicion. “Morning, Bonnie.”

“Hi, Klaus,” she smiled, closing the cupboard door quickly. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is,” Klaus lied, realising that in his extreme pain he’d barely even looked up at the sky on his way into the office. 

Bonnie was in human resources and Kol had taken an immediate liking to her. The feeling wasn’t mutual at first (hardly surprising when it came to his younger brother) but in some magical turn of events he’d managed to convince her he was worthy. They’d been married on Long Island six moths earlier. 

“I should really get back to work but is there something you needed?”

“No it’s fine,” he murmured. “I just got a cut on my finger that’s all.”

“You’ve got to watch that paper, it’s dangerous,” she grinned, moving past so he could access the first aid kit. She’d obviously been taking sarcasm lessons from Kol. Klaus consulted his watch, hoping that his day would start moving a little faster given the excruciating pain he felt. 

“Finally,” Caroline drawled as he approached her desk. “Given your quick exit last night I assumed you’d be in on time. Don’t worry I’ve got the phones covered, as usual.” 

She looked stunning, her blonde waves cascading down her back, that cobalt figure hugging dress only accentuating those brilliant eyes even more. Even after all this time, she still had the power to stop him dead in his tracks. 

He’d finally mustered up the courage and invited her to the Mayoral Ball the previous evening not expecting his night job to interfere with his plans. He’d mumbled some feeble excuse and rushed off. If Klaus was being honest he was torn for the first time between his conflicting lives. He’d never felt anything like he did for Caroline. Yes, he was her boss but he couldn’t deny just how much she lifted his spirits even if they were arguing or exchanging witty banter which was common place. 

“I’m sorry about last night, you have no idea, love.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” she smiled, almost knowingly. Klaus wasn’t sure what she was alluding to but he figured it couldn’t be his double life given he’d kept it so quiet all this time. “Unfortunately, I am the bearer of bad news though.”

“Oh really?” Klaus dealt with some pretty tough things in his life so figured he could handle just about anything. 

“Kol’s in your office.” Maybe not. He rolled his eyes at Caroline by way of response and walked into his office, making sure Caroline couldn’t make out his lingering limp. 

“Well, don’t you look like crap,” he teased from the other side of the desk as Klaus finally sat down. 

“Good morning to you too,” he scowled. 

“It must have been a big night judging by that injury,” Kol quipped, looking towards his leg. “I never took Caroline for the aggressive type.”

“It wasn’t Caroline,” he shot back through pursed lips. “I fell down some stairs at my apartment, if you must know.”

“I’m almost disappointed,” he joked. “You realise we’ve all been waiting for you and Goldilocks to finally get together, right?”

“I’d really prefer that you and everyone else keep out of my private life.”

“What private life?” 

“Someone thinks they’re a comedian,” Klaus growled. 

“When Elijah is getting more action than you there needs to be an intervention,” he chuckled. “You wanted something to do, how about Caroline?”

“I will hit you, I swear,” he threatened. No one spoke about his beloved Caroline like that and got away with it. 

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he drawled. “But it’s nice to see you’re showing some actual feelings towards the girl. Its only been like over a year.”

“Did you have a point in coming here? You know possibly work related because we’re in the office.”

“Just wanting to say how much I’m looking forward to the Secret Santa exchange this year,” Kol smirked before strolling from the room. Obviously he was going to be the lucky recipient of his brother’s attempt at humour. He couldn’t wait.

Klaus had completely forgotten about it, although it wasn’t entirely unexpected given his busy schedule. He was about to press the intercom and speak to Caroline before she breezed into the room like she knew he needed her.

“I figured you might need some caffeine after dealing with Kol,” she smiled placing it on the table. 

“That or possibly a whiskey,” he grinned. Whatever mood he was in, Caroline always had the ability to make him smile. “Now, about this S…”

“Your gift is on my desk,” she interrupted. “Katherine will adore the Channel No 5, trust me.” Just when he thought she couldn’t be any more amazing she had to go and do that. And it wasn’t because she was his Executive Assistant either. 

“I’d really like to make it up to you,” he murmured, standing up and coming around to the front of the desk, unknowingly hobbling a little as he did. She gazed at him curiously, a slight smile tugging at her pink lips. 

“What did you have in mind, Mikaelson?”

“You, me and my chalet in Vail,” he suggested, trying to block out visions of them naked and lying in front of a roaring fire together, so as not to encourage his arousal any further. 

“How about we get you cleaned up first,” she suggested, surprising him and grabbing a nearby tissue and placing it on his face tenderly. “Don’t want you bleeding all over the carpet.”

“I must have..” he replied feebly.

“Cut yourself shaving?” She finished his sentence, which was something she had a tendency to do. She was so close he could have kissed her but thought better of it given all his injuries. 

“Something like that,” he uttered. When he’d started this whole superhero journey he’d actually enjoyed keeping it a secret until Caroline. There were so many times he wanted to tell her but he’d faltered worried about what she might think of his chosen lifestyle.

“I think you’re okay now,” she whispered, removing the tissue and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Klaus didn’t think he’d ever felt anything so devastatingly innocent in his whole life. “Secret Santa exchange is in three hours.” 

Before he could react to the kiss or respond to her comment she was gone, leaving a trail of floral perfume in her wake. The one thing he knew was that, superhero or not, Klaus was in love with Caroline Forbes and had every intention of proving that to her. 

“Thanks, Caroline,” Katherine said, sending Klaus an amused look three hours later. 

“Last time I checked, that was my present,” he scoffed.

“Which I’m sure you went to the store and bought personally,” she shot back. Caroline gave him a look to say he was on his own.  

“Whatever,” he grumbled. 

“Looks like someone needs a little pick-me-up,” Kol sing-singed placing a box on his lap ceremoniously. Klaus had been dreading this moment for the few hours. “Merry Christmas.” As Klaus undid the ribbon and opened the lid slowly, all he could think about was how un-merry it all felt.

What  he wasn’t expecting was to find a superman costume housed inside the box. Klaus figured the burning, hot sensation crossing his face wasn’t a coincidence. “Uh, very funny, Kol,” Klaus managed to bite out, albeit with difficulty.

“Seriously, Kol?” Bonnie gasped, looking at the contents. “You idiot, what were you thinking?”

“Obviously someone’s trying to be a smartass, know-it-all,” Katherine chided. 

“I thought it was time we tell Niklaus that we know about his poorly-kept secret identity,” he boasted. “Plus, I really wanted to mess with Elijah.” By the look of bewilderment on his eldest brother’s face his surprise gift had the desired effect. 

“We’re a little too old for dress-ups, Kol,” Elijah scoffed. 

“I don’t know, maybe ask Niklaus about that,” Kol teased. Now all eyes were on Klaus and he wasn’t quite sure what to do or say. He noticed Caroline had been decidedly quiet and wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad sign. 

“You knew all this time,” he hissed, standing up defiantly, even if his muscles were screaming in pain. “You all knew?” Suddenly everything came back in flashes. Bonnie frequenting the always fully stocked first aid cupboard, Katherine distracting Elijah and Caroline…His eyes met her blue ones willing her to answer. 

“You’re not the best liar, Nik,” Kol admitted. “I just thought it was time we all stopped pretending that you weren’t doing something completely unexpected like fighting crime in your spare time.” 

“What he means to say, but is expressing it badly, is that we want to be able to assist, without all the false pretence. When we realised about your double life a while back we decided to help you out a bit. You know lighten your load,” Bonnie offered, meekly. 

“I’m not the most selfless person,” Katherine began and by the knowing looks around the room no one was going to rebut that statement. “But given your celebrity status I figured I could least lend a hand.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Elijah insisted. 

“Klaus is the Original,” Caroline finally spoke, although her voice was muffled and her eyes downcast. They all knew, even her. Suddenly he felt so stupid. 

“You know Elijah…”

“I know who that is Kol,” he growled. “But how?”

Klaus wasn’t in the mood to talk about this right now surrounded by people who’d deceived him. 

“I can’t believe you all lied to me,” he hissed. He made a move for the door before she spoke again, her voice making him freeze. 

“What? Like you lied to all of us?” She baulked. “Look, we knew you wanted to keep this a secret so we went along with it. But we don’t like seeing you hurt all the time and not being able to admit we know why.”

He turned to face Caroline his gaze trained on her beautiful features and thought back to earlier that morning and the way she’d tended to his bleeding cut without a word. Maybe their silence on the matter was killing them just as much as it was him. 

“I’m still confused,” Elijah interrupted.  

“It’s okay baby, I’ll explain it to you.” Katherine cooed, pulling him up from the lounge and leaving the room, the rest of them in tow sensing he needed a minute to cool down. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He mumbled, finally finding his voice. 

“Because you didn’t,” she murmured, moving closer and cupping his cheek, stroking her thumb over the spot she’d tended to earlier. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t say anything, but you have to believe me, I wanted to every single day,” he conceded. “I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel about my choice in extracurricular activities.”

“You thought I’d be scared.” Her blue eyes were now boring into his and Klaus was finding it increasingly difficult to breath. 

“No, I thought you’d only want me for my superhero status,” he teased, earning a slap on the cheek for his efforts. “Hey!”

“You deserved it.”

“I was trying to lighten the mood,” he reasoned, pulling her into his arms and running his hands through her golden waves. “But just so you know I have no intention of ever leaving you, sweetheart, because I love you so there’s no reason to be frightened.”

“Can I have that in writing?” She grinned, her palms lying flat on his toned chest, causing a certain area to tingle in response. 

“How about we come to another type of agreement in Vail?” 

“You’re really going to take some time off from superhero duty?” 

“For you I would do anything,” he growled, greedily capturing her lips and losing himself in the gentle massage of her mouth against his. It was something he’d wanted for so long but had never really dreamed possible.

After a few minutes, she pulled away unexpectedly, Klaus feeling a little rejected. She looked at him sternly and Klaus knew she was about to give him an order.

“As much as I love this and can’t wait for our snowy get away, with your superhero suit of course, you need to go out there and apologise to everyone.”

“But…” he replied petulantly, still feeling somewhat deceived. 

“But nothing, they have been your support system all this time even if you had no idea…” Before he could argue she read his mind as usual. “And that includes Kol.”

“Fine,” he conceded, pretending to be upset but his stupidly goofy grin no doubt giving him away. “You know you’re pretty good at giving orders, any chance you want to don a cape and join me?”

“Just wait until you get me into bed Mikaelson. All of my superpowers will be revealed.” She purred, leaning in and nipping his lips briefly before sauntering away, her hips wiggling seductively as she did. 

Maybe this superhero gig did have its perks after all.  

You can read on FF HERE

[intheheartoftomholland]

Lost My Way. (Tom Holland.)

Requested – No. This is like my comeback, I’m also sorry if it sucks ass.

Prompt – Famous actor Tom Holland has been in the film industry for years now after making it big as Spiderman and he loses himself along the way.

Warning – Douchebag!Tom. Angst. Fluff at the end.  

Words – 2,097.

Requests?

The flashing lights headed towards Tom’s direction as he stood along the red carpet with his hand around his costar’s waist. He looked in her direction and noticed the smile on her face was fake. Almost everyone has a fake smile around the paparazzi and it was rare to find someone actually enjoying it. There once was a time when Tom could genuinely smile in front of cameras but that time is long gone.

“Tom, stop looking at me. They might think we’re dating.” Angelina, Tom’s costar, whispered and faked another smile.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be caught dating you.” Tom scoffs and lets go of her waist and walks off into the venue where his new movie was going to be released for the first time. Premieres weren’t as glamorous as they were before when Tom was first starting out. He lost the excitement he always felt when he saw his new movies on the big screen. It’s like a repeating pattern now in Tom’s eyes.

Slowly Tom was starting to realize that acting just wasn’t fun anymore. It’s like he lost the passion that he once had and the passion was replaced with distaste. Tom wanted to feel the exhilaration again but it was as if he was stuck trying to figure out which direction to go in. As he started losing interest in what he used to love, Tom also gained an attitude problem and the tabloids noticed.

There were magazines saying that Tom didn’t stick to one girl because he was picky and no one could satisfy him. Then there were others that said he was heading towards the direction of drugs and alcohol. It all got tiring for Tom looking at it because none of it was true but at this point he didn’t give a shit what others thought of him. In the end, the truth will be twisted anyways.

“Hey man. How are you holding up?” Harrison, his best friend, said as he sat next to Tom waiting for the film to start. He knew that Tom was having a rough patch and was one of the only people willing to stick by his side through his tough phase.

“What do you think, Haz? This is all a bunch of bullshit.” Tom complained as he sat there with a scowl on his face.

“Don’t you remember when we were younger that this is what we wanted? The thrill of seeing our own movies on the big screen is what you need to focus on. Our dream has finally come true and you’re not even enjoying it.” Harrison lectured and Tom only rolled his eyes.

“I’m done trying to enjoy it Harrison. None of this shit satisfies me anymore. What happened to just acting? I’m sick of the media trying to exploit our work and turn it into something that it’s not. I hate seeing my face on magazines saying that I’m dating my costar. That’s not what the film is about. They never talk about what’s really important.” Tom ranted and Harrison nodded his head understandingly.

“I get that Tom but this is still your career. Don’t throw it all away by being moody all the time.” Harrison tried to reason out but Tom didn’t want to hear any of that shit.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Haz. I never do but you give it to me anyways.” Tom said rudely and Harrison’s face fell.

“I’m done trying to play nice with you. We’re in fucking public Tom; at your own fucking movie and you can’t even be a decent human being to your best friend. Maybe the tabloids are right, you have changed.” Harrison walked off and sat next to Tom’s brother, Paddy. All of Tom’s family came and not once has he said hello.

Sometimes Tom does feel like a monster because he started ignoring his family. Of course he loved them but they constantly asked about his career and only that. It was as if Tom was just an actor, not an actual human being. Tom felt like he was losing the dream that he once had to act for the rest of his life. He wasn’t so sure that he could act as if everything was fine anymore.  His passion is vanishing and it was slipping through his grasps.

Tom couldn’t take it anymore and he fled the theater to go walk. He wanted to clear his head and not watch a stupid movie that he didn’t even put enough effort into. His role was a cliché and it felt forced, not his best work. It could have been good if his heart was actually in it but it just wasn’t.

As he walked along the streets of Hollywood trying to go by unnoticed, Tom took turns into alleyways trying to avoid people that knew him. He has a lot of recognition as an actor so it wouldn’t be hard to spot him. Tom just wanted a break from it all. He just wants to get his life together again so he wouldn’t feel as lost.

Tom noticed a small coffee shop nearby and sighed thinking about how great it would be to have a nice cup of tea right now. He looked through the windows to see if there was anyone that would recognize him but he confirmed that there was mostly the elderly in there so he walked in. Tom’s steps took him to the front counter and behind it was a beautiful girl. He was slightly dazzled with how natural she looked because it was kind of different from what type of girls he usually sees nowadays. She had a smile on her face and looked up greeting him.

“Hello sir! Aren’t you a little dressed up for a cup of coffee?” The girl raised her eyebrow and joked at Tom. He realized that this girl didn’t even know who he was and he smiled back in relief.

“I just like to try my best. I actually would like some tea if you have any.” Tom requested and the girl ringing up his order on the cash register.

“I thought you must have dressed up for the premiere to night a couple blocks away. I don’t even know what movie is playing. Everything is trash lately. When I become a director, I’m going to make better films hopefully.” She babbled and Tom’s breath hitched at the mention of the premiere but he exhaled trying to play it off.

“No, I just dress to impress. You want to become a director?” Tom asked interested in why someone would want to be in the film industry but then again the girl doesn’t know how much it can ruin a person because of all the stress.

“Yeah, it’s always been my dream. I mean I’ve been hesitant because it’s rare for a director to become big in the industry but I really want to try and direct art to make something beautiful. There was this one time— Oh wait! I’m sorry! I’m babbling to a customer!” She waved off the rest of her sentence but Tom wanted to know what made this girl so inspired to keep pushing her dreams. Tom quickly looked at her nametag and formed a sentence in his head.

“(Y/N), it’s okay! I would love to hear it. It seems like this coffee shop isn’t that busy. Would you like to come sit with me as we have a conversation?” Tom suggested and (Y/N) looked as if he had gone mad.

“Are you sure, sir? I’m pretty much a bore for the most part.” (Y/N) questioned as she poured a cup of tea for Tom and passed it to him. “That will be two dollars!”

Tom grabbed his wallet from his pocket and grabbed a five-dollar bill and said, “Keep the change (Y/N). By the way, my name is Tom and I would love to hear more about you.”

(Y/N) blushed at Tom’s words and moved out of the counter to sit at a table near the window. The two of them sat down and Tom sipped his tea silently motioning for (Y/N) to go on.

“I really don’t get why you want to hear this. I just really want to become a director and I can’t think of anything else I want to do for the rest of my life. “ (Y/N) stated as Tom began to speak.

“But what if you lose that passion for directing once you become big and famous for your work?” Tom queried.

“I know people fall out of love with their passions but at the end of the day, you once wanted it and you just really got to dig deep because the passion is still there. You just have to find it again.” (Y/N) explained as Tom listened intently.

“I want to feel that passion again but I just don’t know how to dig deeper. It’s like I have a shovel that I can’t use.” Tom admitted and (Y/N) nodded understandingly.

“Connect yourself with why you started your passion in the first place. Maybe, it’s because of your family? Or friends? Sometimes all you have to do is go back to where it all started.” (Y/N) advised. Tom thought about his family and Harrison immediately because they were the reason why he was inspired to become an actor.

He remembers putting on little shows for his family when he was little, watching his dad do comedy, and going to a performing arts school with Harrison. Everything was hitting him all it once like he had a sudden realization to who he really was. He’s getting that rush that he used to get when he thought of acting.

“That was actually the best advice anyone has ever given me. Thank you, (Y/N). I don’t know many girls like you. All the ones I know are very uptight and out to become famous.” Tom claimed and (Y/N) grinned.

“That’s a great compliment from the great Tom Holland himself.” Tom was shocked to find out that (Y/N) knew exactly who he was.

“You know who I am?” Tom asked dumbfounded.

“Of course I do! I want to become a director Tom and that means to watch movies even if I think some of them are complete shit. Your movies are some of the only ones I can tolerate watching. I’m just an overall huge fan of yours but I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” You explained flustered by the way he was looking at you.

Tom was in complete awe with you. He was amazed with how you can make him realize why he started acting in the first place. Tom wasn’t sure if he was simply infatuated with you or genuinely fancies you, but either way he knew he had to see you again. Tom felt normal for once in your presence even though you knew exactly who he was.

“Thank you so much, (Y/N). It may not seem like it but this conversation really helped me out. I would like to chat some more but I have to get back to the premiere. I’ll be back for you.” Tom stood up and ran out the door so he can fix things with his family and best friend but before he completely left, he saw you through the window smiling to yourself.

As Tom got closer to the venue, he sees Harrison pacing back and forth in front of the theater.

“Where the fuck have you been, man?” Harrison shouted at Tom.

“Before you scold me, I have to say something about my douchebag behavior. I just lost my way for a while. I guess I just forgot why I started acting in the first place and the reason why I did was because of you and my family. I wouldn’t have achieved this dream if it weren’t for you guys. I never want to lose what’s important to me, so this is me saying sorry. Harrison you are my best friend and my number one supporter. I’m glad to have you by my side.” Tom released a couple of tears.

Harrison smiled softly and asked, “I forgive you. People forget the beginning of their story. But quick question, why did you realize this all of a sudden?”

Tom smiled and started to explain the story of him and (Y/N)’s instant connection.

“So I met this girl...”

Masterlist. 

[everlarkficexchange]

The Naked Truth

Written by: @peetaspikelets

Dialogue Prompt: this has got to be the strangest day of my life…(submitted by @xerxia31)

Rating: M (for nudity and language)

A/N: I need to thank Mr Pikelet for helping me bring this story to life. He brought ‘an event’ to my attention and after my initial shock and a bit of a giggle I thought I have to everlark this some how. 

A BIG thank you to my beta @sponsormusings for her amazing guidance, support and advice. I would be lost without you!

Enjoy!

Katniss hears the ringing of the front door bell as she’s putting on the final touches to her outfit. With fumbling fingers, she fixes the back of her pearl stud earring and shoves her feet into the only pair of strappy black heels she owns, praying that by the end of the night her feet won’t ache and swell with juicy blisters.

She gives her reflection a quick once over in the dust-covered mirror sitting in the far corner of her bedroom - her molten grey eyes stare back at her with nervousness and hesitancy. Taking a deep breath, she lowers her gaze and fretfully smooths out the wrinkles the iron failed to press out of the forest green spaghetti dress that clings to her body and highlights her small frame. It was the most expensive and date appropriate outfit she could find. She’d forgotten that she even had it, stumbling across it by accident behind all her winter coats at the back of her closest, ignored and with the sale tags still on. Katniss has never had a place or the opportunity to wear it out anywhere until tonight.

She rarely goes out on dates, especially blind dates and isn’t the type of person who enjoys socialising and fluttering around aimlessly like an overzealous butterfly high on life. Her work colleagues are her only friends, but even that’s a loose statement depending on who you talk to. She much prefers to stay in the warm comfort and safety of her own cocoon since moving to Panem three years earlier. She likes that she has full ownership of the remote control and can watch any reality TV show she wants without the embarrassment and likelihood of snide remarks and ridicule. She’s a creature of habit, one who prefers to curl up in her favorite armchair, dressed in sweats and enjoying a cup of creamy hot chocolate, no matter what the weather’s like outside.

However, a couple of months ago on Katniss’ birthday – celebrated alone, exactly how she preferred it - fractures of doubt had begun to appear out of nowhere, threatening the fragile existence of her perfect bubble. It was that night while eating a cupcake she’d bought for herself as a treat that she’d realized that the mangy, pain in the ass cat she was looking after while her sister Prim was away at school, had started to hang out with the identical flea ball next door, and seemed to be having more of a social – and sex - life than her.

The wakeup had been like a bomb going off, ringing loud and clear in her ears and it had forced her take a good, hard look at herself. She’d realised she didn’t like what she saw - she was thirty two, had no real friends, no potential boyfriends waiting for her in the wings, and not even a single hobby she could draw any happiness from. She was living the same day over and over again like Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day. The only difference between them was that she had the ability to actually change things, and yet was still purposely choosing to live this way on a daily basis. Deep down she’d known that she’d needed to break free from her comfortable haven and start experiencing more of what life had to offer beyond sitting on a couch. At the rate she was going, the only legacy she would be leaving in this world was the imprint of her rear end on an acrylic cushion.

She’d already known what was holding her back. She hadn’t needed an expensive psychiatrist to help her figure it out, it had been as clear as day – fear. Fear had been her biggest adversary since she’d been a child and she’d lost her father in a car accident. The crippling anxiety and the worrying thoughts that something bad might happen to her had been annoying and unwanted like foot rot, but they’d stuck. But she’d realised that now that she was older and matured, and was able to identify her triggers and the reasons behind them, she’d hoped she could lock all that away in a little black box and bury it 6 feet under. She knew she just needed to get out there and take that initial leap into the big, wide world and see where she landed.

Which is exactly why the doorbell is ringing. Katniss had finally succumbed to months of bribery and heavy pressure from her work colleague, Madge, and agreed to go out on a blind date with a guy from the marketing department. She absently lists everything she knows about him in her head - his name is Cato Jackson and he works as an associate advisor for District Advertising. He enjoys lifting weights, camping…and apparently arriving fifteen minutes early to pick her up for their date. The doorbell rings again and Katniss tries not to grit her teeth in annoyance. She grabs her purse off the bed and heads to the front door, her heels clicking on the tiled floor, mimicking the rapid beating of her heart as she gets closer. Taking a deep breath, she swallows her anxiety and the internal need to pretend she’s not home and swings open the door quickly before she can change her mind.

No, no, no. Absolutely not. This is a terrible idea. Has Madge lost her mind?

It’s all she can think when her eyes fall upon the strange man’s overbearing frame that’s covering half her doorway, posing like he’s on the cover of GQ magazine. This hulk of a man is triple her size and his broad shoulders are straining hard against his navy shirt, like he’s about to break out and destroy half of the Capitol. Meanwhile, his blond hair looks like it’s been bleached or he’s spent way too much time under the hot rays of the sun, and the length is so short that it makes his head look out of proportion with his body. Madge had said he liked to lift weights but that would have to be a gross understatement. He’s obviously a junkie who lives at the gym 24/7, who has protein shakes for every meal and injects high doses of steroids into his body on a regular basis.

“Katniss.” His voice comes out rough and scratchy, like the sound of scraping sandpaper.

Her face is tight, but she manages to curl her mouth and muster a polite smile. Her stomach twists and clenches as she watches him blatantly look her up and down, clearly admiring her small, toned body. His gaze lingers a few seconds longer than necessary on the breasts that are being pushed up to effect thanks to the tight bodice of her dress.

Oh god, this dress is a mistake. This whole thing is a mistake, her brain screams. I can’t go out with him. Why on earth did I agree to this? I feel like a piece of meat being displayed on a butcher’s block! Frantically she tries to think of an excuse to cancel the date at the last minute, her mind racing before he speaks up again.

“So if you’re ready, I thought we could go and check out Cinna’s Art Gallery in the city.”

Katniss pauses and her eyes widen dramatically. Any thoughts of an escape plan now lie in the background to sit and simmer. That sentence. It was the last thing she was expecting to come out of his mouth. She’s quite amazed he even knows what an art gallery is, not to mention the fact that he’s offering to take her there on their first date. She was under the impression from Madge that he was a typical beers and football kind of guy and that they’d probably head to a bar for the night. Katniss had just been hoping whichever off the wall establishment they’d found themselves in would at least serve some decent food so she didn’t have to eat a bowl of peanuts for dinner. But maybe she’s been reading this whole situation wrong. Katniss knows she can often judge people harshly and jump to conclusions, so perhaps this time her assumptions about Cato Jackson are incorrect. Relief appears and sweeps through her system as she lowers her defences. She gives him a true, genuine smile and can’t help but feel a little excited.

“Cinna’s Art Gallery?” She confirms. “That actually sound amazing. I’ve never been there before.”

“Really? Well you’re in for a treat. I heard this exhibition is supposed to be…um…one of a kind,” he answers, stumbling on his words before chuckling. “I went ahead and already purchased our tickets.”

“Sounds great,” she replies beaming, and steps out onto the porch. She looks down to appraise her outfit for the tenth time. “Oh wait! Am I dressed alright for the exhibit? I know galleries can be fancy. It’s not too revealing is it?”

He gives her a smirk and looks her up and down again, his eyes turning bright with lust. “You look hot, there’s no need to worry about your dress. We’ll be the envy of everyone there. Trust me,” he winks.

That’s…odd, she thinks, but she lets it go and follows him down the footpath until they reach his shiny BMW parked in the driveway. Katniss tries not to show her displeasure when she notices his right tire is sitting on top of her small garden bed of primroses, the weight of the car crushing the beautiful and delicate flowers she only just planted two weeks ago.

————————

Standing in the large foyer at Cinna’s Art Gallery is like being part of a blissful dream you never want to wake up from. Katniss has never stepped inside such a building, one that can only be described as majestic. With wide eyes and a goofy grin, she looks like a kid on Christmas morning as she takes it all in. Her neck strains as she admires the huge cathedral formed ceilings and clear glass windows that are showing off the night sky. The universe is putting on its own exhibition tonight with its twinkling stars and orbiting planets, each one shining bright against the dark backdrop.

Returning her gaze to the room around her, she’s mesmerised by all the stunning pieces that are laid out on display in the arrival area where they’re waiting in line to enter. Every piece is unique and she’s itching to step out of her spot so she can take a closer look. She can only imagine what kind of beautiful wonders are waiting for her inside the actual exhibition. Just the ambience in the room is humming with excitement and electricity, but instead of it causing her alarm and the need to run back to the safe confines of her house, it brings her a sense of comfort she’s can’t explain.

“So what’s the show about?” Katniss asks curiously, turning her head to look at Cato. They haven’t talked much since getting into his car, and at the moment he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to her. Instead, he’s staring straight ahead, his neck craning around an older man with a shaved head who’s standing in front of him, and looking around like he’s searching for something. She follows his line of sight, but all she can see is a group of people being politely escorted to a room on the left hand side of the building after they’ve had their tickets scanned. That must be the entrance to the exhibition, Katniss thinks.  

“Cato,” she tries again, her voice now louder to get his attention. It does the trick. He turns around to stare at her with an annoyed expression on his face. “What’s the exhibition about?”

“Oh, um, you know…art and stuff.”                

Katniss’ brows narrow at his unwillingness to share. She doesn’t understand why it has to be a big secret. There must be some reason why he picked this place tonight. “Well it’s got to be something in particular,” she prompts. “This place is packed. The name of the exhibition should be written on our tickets.”

He turns to her with a smile, though his eyes are cold. “Can’t a guy surprise a girl on a date anymore?”

They reach the counter where a young woman with long red hair and a kind smile greets them. Cato pulls the tickets out from his back pocket and hands them to her to scan. Katniss tries to sneak a peek, but Cato’s large, veiny hands cover most of them. Something unsettling begins to wash over her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention as she feels his hand find her lower back and begin to nudge her along, heading to the room on the left.

With a shake of her head and any semblance of social decorum now out the window, she digs her heels into the granite flooring and forces them to stop mid walk. “What’s going on?” She asks turning to him, her voice growing high with suspicion. “I don’t understand why you’re being so secretive. What’s the exhibition about? Why won’t you tell me?” He stands still, staring down at her intently for a few moments, his body vibrating with heat and refusing to give her an answer. “I’m not leaving this spot until you tell me,” she pushes.

Cato drops his mask of stone and groans with enough exaggeration that it causes a few people to look over. He drives his fingers roughly through his hair. “Women,” he whispers with a huff. “Fine! It’s a nude exhibition, alright? The artists are naked! They’re the exhibition. You happy?”

It takes Katniss’ brain several moments to catch up and process what he’s said. “A nude exhibition?” She whispers back uncertainly, shock clearly written across her face. Her mouth gapes open a few times like a fish out of water but she’s still not sure what to say to that unexpected confession. Nudity. The artists are nude. Naked like the day they were born, she thinks and feels her cheeks flame with heat. Katniss has never viewed something like that before. She’s always been shy and uncomfortable around nudity. She’s only had one boyfriend and that was before she moved to Panem. The relationship lasted seven months and during that time they only ever had sex with the lights off.  Katniss has always been self – conscious about her body, never comfortable in her own skin, no matter how many times Darius told her she was gorgeous. She never believed him. And now just thinking about what awaits for her inside that large hall where a group of male and female artists will be fully nude and standing around on display… well it causes anxious butterflies to appear and dance around in her belly like they’re trying to fight each other to escape.

Her shock of the situation however soon quickly turns to boiling rage – at herself. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted him. Of course he wasn’t into art, he had his own agenda for tonight - using their date as an excuse to come and ogle other women. She’s never felt so angry…and hurt.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He says, reading her expression. He has the gallantry to look defeated. “It’s just I thought this would be something different to do on a first date – something we could experience together. Madge said you wanted to get out and explore life and shit…”

Her mouth forms a tight line. She can’t believe Madge actually told him that after she confided in her. Ugh! She tries to take a few calming breaths to mellow out the resentment she now feels towards both of them. What he said, though, was true. She does need to get out and explore new things and this exhibition would definitely fit into that category and yank her out of her comfort zone. This type of art is not her thing. She was seriously expecting just to see a bunch of paintings and sculptures from famous artists or local talents – nothing too confrontational and confronting…but maybe she could do this. Looking around at the sheer number of people who have turned up tonight it seems like this type of exhibition interests a lot of people from all walks of life.

“It’s a movement thing,” Cato continues, trying to convince her. “You never know, it could be fun…” He gives her a devastatingly handsome smile, one that’s almost convincing with his pearly whites and eyes shining bright. But his mouth curls in a way that causes Katniss to sense a small amount of doubt about his sentiments.

What the hell, she thinks. She’s here and she doesn’t want to make a scene by leaving, especially when they’d already gotten their tickets scanned and an usher is waiting patiently nearby. Besides taking Cato’s lying out of the equation, this exhibition could be good for her. She should do this for herself. “I wish you’d told me earlier,” she tells him tightly before softening her tone. “But alright, I’ll go in.”

He looks surprised for a moment that she’s actually agreed to go in with him but quickly covers it up with a flirty grin. “That’s great,” he replies, taking her hand in his. It feels cold and stiff. “I just know we’re going to have a lot of fun together and I hear,” he leans down and whispers in a conspiratorial tone, “that it can be good for foreplay.”

She swallows the bile rising at the back of her throat and shakes away the invisible sensation of creepy crawlies scuttling along her neck from where his breath just laid upon her skin. Do most women fall for his charm? If that’s the case, he’s going to be sorely disappointed when the night is over, as absolutely nothing like that is going to be happening. Ever. As soon as the opportunity arises she’ll be hailing down a cab and hightailing it out of there before he even realises she’s gone.

As the usher greets them with a pleased smile, he passes Cato a key and directs them to go straight inside the room on the left. Katniss isn’t sure what the key is about. Maybe it’s connected to something in the exhibition, like some kind of symbolism. She’s not too sure, as she’s never been good at finding hidden meanings.

She bites her lip nervously as they move closer to the door. At least I’ll have one positive thing to tell Prim about tonight, she thinks. It didn’t surprise Katniss one bit that her sister literally screamed in delight when she’d told her she had agreed to go on a blind date during one of their weekly skype catch ups. And knowing her persistent sister, she’ll be wanting every minuscule detail.

“Here we go,” Cato announces, opening the unmarked door and allowing her to walk through. She makes her way inside, gearing herself up for what she’s about to come face to face with, but instead she stops in her tracks, afraid that her eyes are deceiving her. She scans the room closely trying to make sense about what she’s seeing, and the realisation hits her like a ton of bricks, her eyes widening in horror. Every one of her limbs freeze and her body stiffens. Even the heat radiating off Cato’s body against her back is not helping her move. And she really wants to move so she can get as far away from him as possible while screaming at the top of her lungs, “How dare you?” and “What the hell is this?”

Standing in front of her are about twenty naked people. Bare ass naked like the day they were born. Male and female. Their bodies all different sizes; big, medium, small. Toned, saggy. Every inch of their skin is exposed and hanging out for everyone to see. But that’s not what’s horrifying her – it’s the fact that these naked bodies don’t belong to the artists. She recognises these people - they were just waiting in line with them to view the exhibition. The old man with the shaved head who’d been in front of them is now standing a few feet away, wearing his birthday suit and scratching his nuts. With dazed eyes, Katniss watches as he places all his clothes into a locker, which she can now see is one of many spread out across the entire room where people are shedding their clothes. She eyes the key in his hand, noting it’s identical to the one Cato received, as he locks the small metal compartment. He gives them both a kind smile as he walks past them and heads towards another door at the back of the room, where a sign on display says, ‘Exhibition Entrance.’

She feels Cato pushing her forward, towards a locker that’s situated at the back of the room. Immediately she rises out of her stupor and rounds on him. “What the fuck is this?” She hisses through clenched teeth, and tries to keep her voice low. But there’s no mistaking the anger seeping out of every pore of her body.

“Oh come on, what’s the difference?” He defends sharply. He clearly knows what she’s talking about. “It’s no big deal. You said you were fine with naked art.”

“Yes! But that’s when I thought only the artists would be nude. I didn’t think…I had…to…” She starts to stammer as her throat begins to close up with an emotion she doesn’t want to deal with right now. Instead she turns it into anger. Anger is good; it’s familiar and powerful and besides, he deserves the full brunt of her wrath after this implausible stunt he’s just pulled. “I can’t believe you brought me here on a first date!” She yells back. “You tricked me. You’re a liar!”

Out of the corner of her eye she can now see the majority of people leaving the change room, scurrying out the door like rats in order to get away from the dispute they’re bearing witness to. If she wasn’t filled with so much rage she could probably find the humor in watching a bunch of naked people running for their lives.

“Listen, I know I wasn’t completely upfront with you about everything,” he says like owning up to his deception will make everything better. “But don’t you think you’re overacting a bit? Most women would love to do this with me.” To emphasise his point he begins to unbutton his shirt, dragging the material down his shoulders like he’s getting ready to model. His tanned and muscular chest glistens under the changing room’s downlights and she wonders in disgust if he purposefully slicked himself up with baby oil before he came to pick her up.

With every article of clothing he takes off, her mouth only twists further and further into rage and horror. He played her like a damn fool, to the point that she ignored her own instincts – twice. She opens her mouth to let fly every single, hateful word she has for him, until out of the corner of her eye she’s distracted by another couple entering the room and she’s forced to pause mid breath. Their presence is like a stop button on a remote control, pausing a vital scene in a movie. The overzealous giggling coming from the woman cements Katniss’ attention as they close the door. The man has his arm wrapped around the woman’s waist and they both have huge smiles on their faces like they don’t have a care in the world. The man is tall, with a stocky build and broad shoulders. His blond, wavy hair curls at the tips of his ears and his piercing blue eyes stare at the blond woman in his arms like he’s the luckiest man on earth. Walking past them to find their locker, they greet Katniss and Cato with a smile, unaware they’ve just stepped into a potential war zone. Just looking at them it’s obvious they’re very much in love and devoted to one another. For the first time it makes Katniss envious of a romantic relationship and her heart starts to hurt. She takes in every line of expression and curve of their lips as they whisper and help each other out of their clothes lovingly. They’re truly a captivating couple.

“You said it yourself that you wanted to try something new,” Cato says, breaking into her reverie. “What could be better than this?”

Using a quieter voice as she doesn’t want the perfect couple looking over and listening in on their private conversation, she replies coldly. “Yes, that’s true. But I also wanted to try new things on my own terms. Not to be forced into it and not to do something so….” scary, terrifying, she thinks, but she doesn’t voice those fears out loud.

“Don’t be so pure, Katniss,” he berates, taking off his slacks and leaving him in his underwear that leaves nothing to the imagination. Katniss takes a step back. “Wait a minute - are you a virgin?” He asks suddenly, alarmed by her reaction. “Is that why you’re upset? Because you’ve never seen a naked body before?”

Pure? Virgin? “What does that have to do with anything?” She snarls. “Oh my god, what is wrong with you? Are you deluded? Did you actually think you were doing me a favor by bringing me here?” His audacity has her reeling. “And by the way, the only thing that isn’t pure around here is your intentions.” She doesn’t care anymore if the flawless couple can hear her now, she’s too enraged at his stupidity to hold back. “I can’t believe I gave you another chance – again,” she scowls and to her horror she feels a pesky, burning feeling start to form at the back of her eyes and she wills her body with all her might to stop it immediately. But instead her vision becomes blurry and her chin begins to quiver. “You’re an asshole!” She cries out before lifting her hand and slapping him across the face. The sound resembles a gunshot and it echoes through the room, making the ideal couple look over at them, startled. Katniss feels her hand vibrating with hot heat as she tries to shake away the pain but she gets no relief. Taking one last, furious look at Cato, who is holding his crimson cheek in shock – Good! I hope I left a mark - she runs to the nearest door, hoping it’s an exit out of the gallery.

But instead of finding sweet relief from the date from hell, she discovers she’s not outside but instead standing alone in a bathroom that looks so pristine and high tech she wonders briefly if she’s stepped onto a space shuttle. She peers over her shoulder to make sure Cato isn’t following her. He’s not, but not wanting to chance it, she moves into the middle toilet cubicle and locks the door. In defeat, she drops the toilet lid down loudly and sits herself on top of it with a loud sigh. Her shoulders break first; trembling and shaking under the heavy weight of tonight’s events and soon watery tears descend and fall, sliding down her heated cheeks. She sniffles and wipes them away hastily. She shouldn’t have been surprised about how her night turned out. The odds were never in her favor. Why did she even try?

Tonight was just a reminder that she’s doomed to be alone forever. Stuck in a life where her destiny resembles the life of a mouse. A creature who spends most of its days running around aimlessly on a wheel, who does the same thing over and over again and never having any hope in changing it or going anywhere.

Just the thought causes another fat tear to slip down her cheek and she rips a piece of toilet paper off to dab at her swollen eyes. I’ve failed, she thinks and for the first time in years she lets herself truly break and feel the grief of her lonely and possibly insignificant life.

She doesn’t know how long she remains in this state. She only stops when there are no more salty tears to shed and the unsettling thought of how she’s going to get out of here hits her. Her worrying, however, is short lived when the bathroom door unexpectedly creaks open. She stops and freezes as footsteps pad inside, listening intently as she tries to remember if Cato walked with a heavy gait. It’s obvious where she’s hiding. The thin wooden toilet door between them offers her very little protection and there’s no way she will be opening it up willingly for him, especially not after slapping him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the type of guy who would use threats or an element of force with her after an incident like that. She pulls out her phone, ready to swipe Madge’s number when an unfamiliar and masculine voice speaks up.

“Hello.”

Taken back by the stranger’s greeting she remains silent.

“Are you alright?” He speaks again, his voice kind.

She sucks in a sharp breath and feels an unusual heat creep upon her skin. She doesn’t know why but she’s taken back by the soothing sound of the stranger’s voice. There’s something comforting about it, like warm honey sliding lazily down your throat.

He coughs. “If you’re worried about the guy you were with, don’t be. He’s gone. You’re safe.”

The relief that Cato isn’t out there anymore hits her instantaneously. The tension leaves her shoulders and her whole body relaxes in reply.

“Are you hurt?” He asks worriedly.

The question startles her. “No,” she finally answers, finding her voice. But it comes out hoarse and she hates the fact it makes it obvious that she’s been crying.

“Can you please open the door so I can make sure you’re okay?”

The sweet pleading in his voice convinces her that the stranger’s concern is genuine. She nods, but then realises he can’t see her. She doesn’t want to leave this tiny stall just yet so she leans over and unlocks the door. Slowly it swings open and reveals the face of her mystery man. She’s quick to assess that it’s the same man from the change room who’s part of the captivating dynamic duo. Although now instead of standing in front of her naked, he’s wearing a long, white terry cloth robe.

“There you are,” he smiles, but his eyes can’t hide the shadow of concern. “It’s okay. My name’s Peeta.”

“Katniss,” she murmurs, meeting his gaze.

“It’s nice to meet you, Katniss.” His smile then drops, and takes on a serious expression as his eyes rake over her body like he’s looking for any signs of injuries. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She nods. Now that she’s in close proximity to him she manages to catch a whiff of his scent, which she recognises immediately as cinnamon and dill. It reminds her of her favorite bakery she likes to frequent before work. Their cheese buns and hot chocolate are to die for.

Staring up she can’t help but be mesmerised by the profundity in his ocean blue eyes, almost to the point that she feels like she’s drowning in them. Her attention is drawn to the muscular chest that peeks through the top layer of his robe and she has the sudden urge to kiss and swirl her tongue all over it. He’s got handsome and wholesome written all over him, like he’s been plucked out of a 1950’s sitcom. Her eyes travel across his body trying to map out and remember what he looked like naked just a few minutes ago. The momentary flash she got of his gorgeous body while she was fighting with Cato is now imprinted permanently behind her eyelids. But then the image of the happy woman he was with takes centre stage and the show is over. She feels terrible and shakes her head in shame. “Thank you,” she replies quietly. “It was nice of you to come back here and check up on me. But really I’m fine. You should go back out there to your girlfriend and enjoy the exhibition.”

He blinks, confused for a second. “But…I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Her eyes narrow and she looks at him baffled. “But - back in the change room, you were all over that blond woman.”

She watches as his features transform briefly from one of confusion to a look of understanding, before relief reaches his lips and he lets out a throaty chuckle. “That wasn’t me.”

“What do you mean, it wasn’t you?” She asks, and rises to her feet. “I saw you with my own eyes. You were all over each other,” she accuses. She feels the anger building up inside her again like boiling water. She can’t believe there’s another guy standing right in front of her and blatantly lying to her face again. “Did you think because you saw me with some dumb meathead that I’d be too brainless to figure you out?”

Peeta’s face drops. “No! Listen you have the wrong idea. I was -”

“I have the wrong idea?!” She reiterates angrily, her eyes scorching back with fire. “Well then please enlighten me. What ingenious excuse were you going to come up with?” She adds sarcastically, and steps forward into his personal space. “Maybe you were going to tell me I’m crazy and I just imagined you and your girlfriend in the changeroom? Or maybe you were going to tell me that the guy back there is actually your identical twin brother?

Peeta stares at her wide eyed for a moment. “Ah, yeah actually. You’re right on the money with the twin thing,” he manages to get out apprehensively.

Her lips purse firmly in thought and she closes her eyes in irritation. “Look,” she starts, before she opens her eyes again. This time the anger has faded and been replaced by exhaustion. “I’m not in the mood to have another guy lie to me tonight, okay? So I’m giving you to the count of three to tell me the truth or I’ll have no regrets about kicking you in the balls.”

Peeta winces as he holds his hands up in surrender and takes a careful step back. “There’s really no need for that, I swear.” He pointedly looks down at Katniss’ feet, worry etched across his face that she’s about to strike any second like a cobra. “Kicking me in the nuts would be a really bad idea. Look I’m sorry you’ve had a rough night, but I was being serious earlier. I do have a brother and we are identical twins. I can prove it to you.”

The rush of worry and desperation in his voice pulls at her heart strings uninvited and causes her to pause and reconsider. His frantic eyes search her face begging to be believed. Sighing loudly she goes against her better judgement and steps back as he pulls out an iPhone from the pocket of his robe. “Here, I actually have a photo of the three of us together,” he says, offering the device to her. She looks at the screen and there in front of her is no denying the familiar giggling, blond dressed up in a floral dress with bouncing curls. She’s standing happily in between two familiar blond men who look completely identical down to their button up navy blue suits and matching smiles that could rot your teeth with their sweetness. All three of them are standing behind a colorful banner that reads. “Congratulations on your engagement Delly and Rye.”

“No trick photography or image altering I swear,” he jokes.

Omg! There’s two of them, she thinks and lets out an audible groan. Her cheeks bloom in shame and she feels mortified about how she just spoke to him, when all along he was being a nice and considerate guy coming in to check on her wellbeing. Surely she’s hit her limit now. Her name has to be worthy of being featured in the Guinness World record books under the award of ‘having the worst and most embarrassing night of your life.’ She lifts her head, looking contrite. “I’m so sorry. I should never have accused you of being a liar. That was awful of me. And I’m sorry I threatened to kick you in the balls,” she finishes awkwardly.

He laughs. “It’s alright, don’t be so hard on yourself. You weren’t to know. I understand why you would have made that assumption. Believe it or not it’s not the first time I’ve been mistaken for my brother in less than ideal circumstances,” he jokes. “Kind of comes with the territory of being an identical twin.”

She gives him a small smile, grateful at his understanding and for his talent at putting people at ease.

“It sounds like you’ve had a rough night,” he adds sympathetically.

“I think that’s the understatement of the century,” she answers solemnly and hands him back his phone. She steps around him and out of the cubicle until she’s in front of a porcelain sink. She leans over to splash some cold water onto her face and through the mirror she notices Peeta straightening up his robe.   

“How did you know I was in here?” She enquires, reaching for a fluffy hand towel.

“Rye and Delly,” he states like its explanation enough. “They saw you upset and running from a guy in the change rooms. They were worried and said the guy looked a bit…shady so they came and found me. Said you might need some help.”

“Are you a security guard?” She asks, although as soon as the question leaves her lips she thinks it’s unlikely due to the lack of clothes he’s wearing. Unless security is going nude for tonight too, she wonders.

“I’m one of the artists,” he explains not missing a beat. “But I’ve worked at the gallery for a long time. We take any harassment, especially on nights like this, very seriously. There’s no room for chances.”

She nods, worrying her lip between her teeth as he watches her closely.  Unanswered questions burn bright from his eyes like lasers. After everything he’s done for her tonight, she knows he deserves an explanation. “My blind date brought me here,” she shares quietly. Peeta doesn’t say anything, but the light in his eyes soften, the action telling her it’s okay and to take her time.

“I thought we were just going to see some sculptures and paintings. I didn’t realise it was a nude exhibition and that…we had to be nude too.” Rehashing the memories of Cato and his true intentions make her feel like an idiot again and she lowers her head in shame.

“Wait a minute,” Peeta’s appalled voice cuts in and echoes against the tiled walls. He takes a few steps closer and his presence causes her to lift her head. She’s shocked to see his face contorted and anger swimming amongst the depths of his eyes like a violent storm is brewing. “Let me get this straight. You’ve never met this guy before and he brought you here to this exhibition on a first date?”

“Yes. He had tickets. Said it could be good foreplay.”

Peeta growls with animalistic fervour. “That’s just fucked up! Who the hell does something like that?! You know he’s lucky he’s not here because I would love to give him a piece of my mind before throwing him out on his ass!”

Her lips tug up into a smile before she can help herself. He looks livid. His fists are clenched and his jaw is tense, making him look all pumped up and ready to go into battle for her. It’s kind of cute and endearing, and her heart starts to warm and swell with something. No Katniss, don’t go there. Even though he’s nice and feeling protective towards you it doesn’t mean he would ever be ever interested in someone like you. He works here and is just being concerned. She clears her throat, turning her facial expression neutral, hoping it will disguise the fact that her heart is beating so quickly she’s afraid it will jump out of her chest and land at his feet in a pathetic heap. “Well it looks like I’ll have to thank your brother for going to get you – he sounds like a great guy.”

“Oh, please whatever you do, don’t say that to his face. I beg you. He’ll be milking this for weeks and I have to see him every day,” he tells her but his tone is friendly and humorous. The way his face relaxes when speaking about his brother tells her that they have a close and playful bond. “If I thought I could get away with telling people Rye is not my brother – trust me I would. I like to refer to him as the evil twin, whereas he prefers being called the devilishly handsome one.”

Katniss flings her head back and laughs in delight, before Peeta joins in too. It’s nice to let bursts of laughter spring forth and allow some of the tension to seep out of her body after the night she’s had. She can’t believe how comfortable she feels around him and they’ve only just met. She’s never felt like this with anyone before, not even Darius. She smiles, taking in the huskiness of his laughter and realises she likes it. It’s a deep and joyful sound that she thinks even the birds would stop to listen to. “So is there any way to tell you two apart?” She asks curiously.

“Well, let’s see…he’s right handed and I’m left handed,” he shares with a shrug. “So if you ever have trouble telling us apart just hand over a pen and demand us to write. It’s what Delly used to do when we were kids,” he chuckles and his eyes drift off briefly like he’s remembering something funny. “Oh, and I do have a small scar just near my hairline.” He smooths back his hair, showing off his forehead. She leans forward, and can’t help but take in another whiff of his scent like she’s breathing in some kind of heavenly life force. She eyes the small ragged blemish that you wouldn’t know was there unless you were looking for it. “I got this when I was 13 thanks to Rye. We were competing against one another at the regional wrestling competition. I came off second best,” he adds with a feign grimace.

Her mouth opens in fake indignation. “Siblings, right? They can be a real pain in the ass sometimes can’t they?”

“Tell me about – he still likes to gloat over it every now and again. But whenever I suggest a re-match he suddenly has to go home.”

She unexpectedly lets out a giggle. “Sounds like someone is threatened to lose their title,” she teases before her face drops to one of envy and sadness. “You’re lucky though that you have your brother close by. I haven’t seen my sister in almost a year.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“She’s living on the other side of the country studying medicine.”

“Oh wow, that’s great,” he remarks sounding impressed. “Although I’m sorry you don’t get to see her often. That would be tough. But you must be proud? She’s out there following her dreams, with the courage to leave the safety of her comfort zone…”

Comfort Zone. Two simple words that mean nothing to her when spoken separately but when they’re put together hit her straight in the gut like a freight train. And the way he’s looking at her now makes her feel a little uneasy, like he’s got x-ray vision and is using his superpower to look straight through her to view her very soul. Her skin suddenly feels hot under his intense stare like she’s standing underneath a giant spotlight. It causes her to pull away and break eye contact. “Yeah I guess so,” she answers softly, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation has taken. “So, um…” She clears her throat, wanting to get back to what they were talking about earlier. “So it’s only those two things that can tell you apart?”

He stares at her for a few moments, clearly thinking. His eyes bore into hers longer than what’s necessary before he answers. “Well if we’re only talking about physical appearances there is something else that can tell us apart.” And without hesitation, he lifts up his robe. For a crazy, split second, she thinks he’s going to flash her which doesn’t make any sense, but then she notices the robe has just been lifted up to his left knee. The action causes her eyes to be drawn down to his lower limb. But she’s not looking at flesh and bone. Instead, she realises he’s wearing a prosthetic leg.

Peeta stands still and composed, watching her closely and waiting for some kind of reaction.

Katniss is shocked for a few moments as she gets her bearings. She certainly wasn’t expecting to see that when he lifted up his robe. Her eyes travel carefully up and down the artificial limb inspecting it in wonder. She can’t believe how real it looks. “What happened?” She asks, looking up into his eyes. She’s surprised by her concerned tone considering they’ve only just met, but she can’t hide the fact that she feels somewhat protective towards him. Her heart clenches thinking about all the terrible things that could have happened to him.

He shrugs his shoulders with a wry smile. “I wish I had more of a dramatic story to tell you. But I was 16, away at a school camp and my friends and I wanted to go visit Arena Mountain. And of course the teachers wouldn’t let us, so we snuck off and I ended up slipping down a hill and cutting my leg on some rusted fencing.”

She winces. “Oh my god. What did you do?”

“Obviously not the smart thing,” he tells her dryly. “We didn’t want to get in trouble so we kept our little adventure and my injury to ourselves. I thought cleaning it up with water and soap would be fine.” He runs his free hand through his hair with a loud sigh. “But before I knew it, I got really sick and found out I had blood poisoning. The doctors were able to save my life but not my leg.” He gives her a tight, accepting smile. The mood in the bathroom has now dropped a couple of degrees.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she tells him, reaching out to touch his arm in a gesture of comforting. “After all that did you at least get to Arena Mountain?”

He looks down at her with a double take before his face splits into a wide grin and bursts of hysterical laughter escape his lungs. The effect causes his shoulders to shake and his eyes to water. “You know no one has ever asked me that before. Usually when I retell this story everybody just wants to focus on the negatives. So thank you,” he says between gasps. “I mean, that was the reason we snuck out, but no one has ever cared to ask if we made it to our destination or not. But to answer your question, we got there, banged up leg and all and it was amazing.”

“That’s good to hear,” she smiles, her eyes bright. She was hoping the question would have that kind of effect on him. Knowing from past experiences, she knows he doesn’t need or want her pity. Sometimes deflecting off a painful memory that’s right in front of you can be the best medicine.

He finally gets his laughter under control, wiping away the stray water from his eyes. He gazes down at her, and she’s surprised at the way his eyes are dancing across her face, almost in what could only be described as pure wonderment. He’s looking at her like he’s in the presence of an amazing piece of art that he can’t take his eyes off. The thought makes her feel self-conscious and giddy.

The moment however fades when he coughs and his features turn serious. “I’m not going to lie to you. I’m alright with it now - it’s been 15 years,” he shares thoughtfully. “But for a while there I was quite depressed. It took me awhile to get use to it.”

Katniss nods.

“I learnt a lot about myself during that time though. Did a lot of thinking.”

“What did you think about?” She asks with interest. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so taken with someone before. Every word coming out of his mouth is like a magnet to her ears.

“Well obviously I know now that I need to head straight to the hospital whenever I have a medical emergency,” he smiles with a self-deprecating chuckle. “But I also realised I didn’t want the accident to change me. I still wanted to be that person who enjoys life and loves to get out there and explore new things. To not let the fear take over. I refused to have that part of myself cut off too.”

“You wanted to be you,” she states.

“Yeah,” he smiles, his relief that she understands obvious.

She’s in awe right now. She can’t deny she’s completely taken with him. She’s never felt this way before and didn’t think in a million years that she’d ever truly find someone she had this type of connection with. He makes her want to try for more.

Here in front of her is a man whose life was dramatically transformed but he refused to be changed by it and let it define him. He fought back, willing to get out there and experience real, authentic snapshots of what life has to offer. The notion makes Katniss feel shameful about her own life. She’s never had to experience physical adversity in her life like he has, yet she still doesn’t have the guts to live beyond her comfort zone.

“So is that why you do nude art?” She asks.

He laughs. “Well I do all kinds of art,” he assures her. “My love affair with it started after my accident. It was part of my therapy and I was fortunate enough to turn it into a career. But this exhibition and the miracle of the human body has a special place in my heart. I don’t think there’s any other times in our lives when we are truly bare and vulnerable. And to me that’s beautiful. That’s what makes us human.” Smiling boldly, he adds, “Although I could include sex into that equation too. But I think showcasing that would be taking it a step too far, don’t you think?”

His words cause her to blush, and she lowers her head. But she’s still attuned in fascination to what he’s saying. The meaning of his words are reaching out to her with gentle hands and guiding her to open up and listen. To not be afraid to express yourself and to have the courage to indulge yourself into a new world of possibilities.

“If you take away all the fancy clothes, jewellery and iPhones we’re the same,” he continues. “This is me and I’m a human being capable of anything. My body is a blank canvas.”

“I like the sound of all that. Really. You make it sound so simple…and beautiful. But I just…I don’t know how you can go out there and be…naked in front of all those people. Don’t you get scared?” She asks, lifting her head.

“I get nervous of course - which is normal,” he explains calmly. “But when I’m out there I feel like I’m in a different world. A peaceful world where it’s just me. Everybody and everything just seems to wash away unnoticed into the background. I wouldn’t be able to tell you who I see out there.” He pauses and thinks carefully for a moment. “There is something liberating and freeing about the experience. It’s like being on a natural high. And I don’t care if people see me,” he winks cheekily. Her mouth can’t help but curl up and smile in reply. “But seriously,” he adds, his voice turning earnest. “The event we’re offering tonight is in a safe and controlled environment for everyone. And when you think about it you’re not alone. Everybody is out there bare, naked and vulnerable. All in the same boat without letting fear, prejudice or judgement be a part of them or the experience.”

She nods, thinking that makes sense and she’s glad he’s brought that to her attention. Besides Cato, she’d noticed that everyone else in the change room earlier seemed to have genuine intentions and interest towards the exhibition. She certainly didn’t see any bad behavior coming from any of them and that takes a load off her shoulders. “So your brother and future sister in law like participating in these things too?” She asks.

“Yeah,” he bobs his head firmly. “My family is close. You know my parents are out there too.”

Her brows narrow briefly in horror as she lets his admission sink in. She wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything like this with her mother or sister. Not if you paid her a million dollars. She’s doesn’t know how to reply to that as she doesn’t want to offend him or his family and come off as a bumbling prude. But when she looks closer she notices his teeth are digging hard enough into his lower lip that it will surely leave marks, and his shoulders are shaking like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. “You’re joking,” she states in relief.

“Yes, I’m joking.” He sniggers. “But you should have seen your face.”

“That wasn’t funny,” she reprimands and tries to playfully hit him on the arm which he light-heartedly dodges.

“Don’t worry my parents are not into this type of thing, or my grandparents,” he adds as a cheeky afterthought. “My brother on the other hand - well he thinks if his younger brother by 6 minutes can do it, then so can he.”

“Evil twin strikes again huh?”

“The guy has no shame or an off button. Though I’m sure Delly had to down a few shots before coming here.”

“They sound like a unique pair,” Katniss grins.

“Yeah, they are,” he answers fondly. “They’re lucky they found each other. I just hope one day I have even half their luck. I would love to be in a relationship with a beautiful and intelligent woman who has no idea what kind of effect she has on me. And of course after Rye insists on having the final say on my love life, we would get married, maybe have a couple of kids and just live our lives the best way we can.” He stops abruptly, his eyes widening and his face turning crimson. It’s clear as he rubs the back of his neck nervously that he’s embarrassed he revealed too much of himself.

A deafening silence falls over them but all Katniss can hear is her heart beat picking up the pace like a galloping race horse.

“I hope I have the same luck too,” she whispers, not sure where that bold and courageous statement came from. But she knows deep down she means every word - now that she’s had a taste of this amazing man.

The air around them intensifies with crackles of electricity. It’s like they’re joined by a live wire and Katniss feels her skin buzzing. She knows he feels it too, because his embarrassment is gone and he gives her a shy, knowing smile before he clears his throat to speak.

“Um, so yeah back to what I was saying earlier. This exhibition isn’t for everybody. And I don’t want you to feel forced into something you don’t feel comfortable with. I just hope after what you experienced tonight that it won’t keep you away from the gallery. It would be nice if you came back…to visit,” he adds quietly, and looks at her with a glimmer of hope. For someone who has the confidence to model nude in front of complete strangers his self –assurance has suddenly turned shaky and non-existent. But just the thought of what he’s implying - that there’s a chance they can meet up again - makes her heart burst open with hope.

“I’d like that,” she smiles.

He lets out a deep breath, like he was holding it in. “Great. So yeah you can come back anytime you want. I’m here most days. I could give you a private tour if you like – paintings and sculptures only of course,” he smiles eagerly.

Katniss is about to suggest she could come by tomorrow when she’s rudely interrupted by a loud thump on the bathroom door. “Yo! Bread boy! Are you in there? Whatever the hell you’re doing you need to hurry up and get your sexy, naked ass out here before Haymitch blows his load.”

Katniss looks over at Peeta horrified at the woman’s sudden and brazen intrusion.

He reaches out and gently takes a hold of her arm; she feels steady in his warmth and his thumb rubs along her soft bare skin in reassurance. “Ignore her, she likes to be dramatic,” he whispers, before he turns his head in the direction of the door. “Jo, you said you would cover for me.”

“And I did, but I’m not a miracle worker…or a bottle of white liquor. He saw right through me – you know what he’s like. After tonight’s incident with the brainless douchebag he’s as tense as ever. I offered to help him with his load but I don’t think he appreciated the innuendo.”

Peeta shakes his head with a groan.

“I’m coming in – there’s no point in hiding, I know what you’re packing.” She pushes open the door so violently that it bangs loudly against the wall before bouncing back. A woman with dark, spiky hair and mischievous hazel eyes steps across the threshold fully naked, and parades towards them like she’s modelling on a catwalk. With wide eyes, Katniss takes in every inch of her confident form, starting from her toned legs and working her way up until she views her impressive 6 pack stomach and perky breasts. Mortification fills her as she realises she’s been staring. In a flash she turns away, pretending the porcelain sinks are a lot more interesting.

A shrill cackling sound comes from the woman’s mouth and brings her attention back. “I see we’ve got a live one here,” she says icily, judging Katniss’ full attire with distaste.

“Don’t Jo,” Peeta responds sharply.

She shakes her head in disgust. “Have you finished rescuing the damsel in distress yet or what? You know after the Finnick incident Haymitch is watching everybody like a hawk.”

Peeta smirks. “I’ll be right there.”

But not a moment too soon a rough, slurred voice calls out. “Boy! Where the hell are you?” Heavy and unbalanced footsteps follow the question as the man who Katniss assumes is Haymitch pops his head inside the bathroom door. He’s an older man in his forties with dark hair and olive skin and thank god he’s fully clothed. “Mellark, your space is filling up with people wanting to see you. I’m not paying you to sit around in a robe all night and play prince charming.”

Peeta, who is still looking at Katniss, just rolls his eyes in amusement. He’s clearly not affected by either of them. That gesture and his demeanour allows her to breathe and relax her nerves.

“I wouldn’t be worrying what I’m up to,” Peeta pipes up. “If I was you I would be keeping a closer eye on Finnick. I overheard him earlier trying to convince Gloss to help him start a human pyramid tonight with the patrons.”

“Oh bloody hell, not again,” Haymitch curses. “Damn kid.” He turns to leave in a maddening fluster before he unexpectedly turns back around and looks over to Katniss. His features soften. “You sure you’re alright there, sweetheart?”

Katniss is taken back by his complete 180. But she feels touched by his momentary concern for her and nods her head. 

He mirrors her action. “Good. Don’t worry about the asshole from earlier. Security roughed him up pretty good so if you decide to participate tonight he won’t be in there.”

“Thank you,” she stammers out. Her mouth suddenly feels like it’s home to a ball of cotton wool.

“Let’s go Jo, you’ve got people waiting too.”

Jo gives Katniss one final glare, following it up with a devilish smile before she strolls out of the room after Haymitch, swinging her hips seductively.   

Once they’ve both gone, Katniss turns to Peeta with a relieved smile and exhales a long, shuddering breath. She’s not sure what to make of both of them.

“That went surprising well,” Peeta states cheerfully. “They usually don’t converse easily with people they’ve just met.”

“I thought that Jo woman was going to kill me,” Katniss comments wryly. She looks down and is not surprised that Peeta still has a tender hold of her arm.

“You don’t need to worry about Jo. She’s like that with everyone, especially when you first meet her,” he explains. “It’s no excuse, but her life hasn’t been an easy one.”

Katniss nods, although she’s not sure what to say to that and she doesn’t think it’s her place to comment on it.

The electricity that was running between them earlier has dimmed due to the interruption, but Katniss can still feel the exciting hum running through her veins. And for now it will have to do. “Well I guess I better let you get out there and do your…thing,” she says almost shyly. She can’t believe after all the naked bodies she’s seen drifting in and out of this place so far tonight that she’s still feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Peeta agrees but his face clearly says he’s not ready to leave. Hesitantly, he lets go of her arm and Katniss relishes in the fact her arm now feels warm and tingly like his aura is still with her. “I really hope to see you again soon,” he says softly.

“You will,” Katniss assures him. Even if she had a busy schedule for the next 5 years she would already be clearing it and planning on coming back tomorrow. Wild horses couldn’t keep her away now. But she doesn’t want to voice her plans out loud to him, afraid she’ll come off lonely and desperate.

“When you go out to the foyer, go and see Annie at the ticket counter,” he instructs. “Tell her I sent you and she’ll call you a cab.”

“Oh no you don’t have to do that –”

“Please I insist. After everything that’s happened tonight I’ll feel much better knowing you got home safely.”

She’s touched by his sweet gesture and she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t turned on by his chivalrous manner.

“Bye, Katniss,” he mutters. Reaching the door he turns back around, his smile bright but his eyes shaded with a hint of hesitancy, like he’s worried he won’t ever see her again. She wants to reiterate and reassure him that he will, but he turns around and leaves before she can get her mouth and brain to cooperate.

After the door closes unceremoniously behind him, the whole place is filled with a deafening silence. The only sound she can hear is the click clack from her high heels as she steps out into the change room and takes in the empty space. She’s alone and every locker is closed tight. All except one, she realises. The locker that Cato had a key to. The compartment door is wide open like someone left it in a hurry…or they were pulled away from it abruptly. She can’t help but wander over to it, contemplating. In a way it feels like a lifetime ago she was standing right in this spot next to Cato. She thinks so much has happened since then and she feels different. It’s a good kind of different though, one she thinks she’ll have a hard time putting into words, but she knows she has Peeta to thank for her potential new outlook.

Tonight definitely hadn’t gone the way she imagined or planned for herself, that’s for sure. It was a disaster in a lot of ways, but if she hadn’t come here with Cato she wouldn’t have met Peeta. And no matter how angry she wants to be about the events that led her here tonight, that part is like sunshine breaking through the dark clouds and brightening up her life.

A delicious shiver runs down her spine just at the thought of Peeta and what he could be doing right now. She can’t deny she’s curious about what’s going on behind those closed doors. Her mouth starts to salivate and her pulse thumbs against her neck when she imagines what his body could look like. Is it identical to his twin’s? All broad shoulders and muscular chest? Does he have the distinct pelvic muscles that curve sharply into the letter V too?

Not to mention the thought of him is bringing up their conversation from earlier. “And when you think about it you’re not alone. Everybody is out there bare, naked and vulnerable. All in the same boat without letting fear, prejudice or judgement be a part of them or the experience.”

She really doesn’t want to go home, she suddenly realises. Not when the only thing waiting for her there is stone cold humiliation thanks to her unsuccessful date. She also doesn’t want to face the high probability that Prim couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning to talk to her and has already left an enthusiastic message pushing her for every single detail. Plus having to deal with the smugness from that asshole cat who will be looking down his nose at her and thinking, I knew you couldn’t do it. How’s that mouse’s wheel treating you?

She shifts her attention to the door. The one that has a sign above it stating, Exhibition Entrance. In Katniss’ opinion it may as well have a large, flashing neon sign.

Could she really do this? Step out of her comfort zone and be naked in front of all those people?

But the most important question of all is - does she really want to do this?

……..

Yes she does.

She doesn’t think anymore, instead she just concentrates on the familiar and debilitating sensation of uncertainty leaving her body, like a heavy weight is lifting. Now all she hears is Peeta’s soothing words in her ears encouraging her over and over again like a broken record. Quickly, she takes off her shoes, unzips her dress and slips her underwear down and piles them into the locker.

It’s a weird sensation, she thinks as what she’s doing begins to dawn on her. She’s now standing in a public place, stark naked where anybody could just walk in and see her. Her hands wring nervously in front of her and she feels her heart beating so hard against her rib cage it’s almost painful. I can do this. Remember you won’t be alone. Don’t be afraid. Time to step out of your comfort zone. You had a failed date tonight with the douchebag from hell, but you will experience something amazing tonight, Katniss Everdeen.

Her hands shake slightly on the door knob until she conjures up another image of Peeta. His smile, his bravery and his wise words comfort her and push the nerves down again. As she stands there waiting to take her first steps into a brave new world, she suddenly feels like the most powerful woman on the planet. The unknown is exhilarating, like she’s free falling without a parachute.

She opens the door with no hesitation and takes a determined step inside.

The first thing she notices in the large, marble room is that it’s very quiet, to the point you could almost hear a pin drop. A few people standing nearby give her a brief glance before smiling kindly and turning back around to murmur about a model’s pose. But there’s no one leering towards her, making snide comments or yelling out obscenities about her body. It all seems muted and respectful.  

She works her way around the room slowly, becoming more aware by the second of how her body is moving; the insides of her bare thighs are brushing together and she can see her breasts are jiggling with every step she takes. She never really took the time to look at herself like this before.

Gazing around she notes there are ten artists who are spread out across the entire floor. There’s no velvet ropes to separate or distinguish, but you can tell who they are as each of them are either standing or sitting down in different and elaborate poses that look so raw and beautiful it makes her stop mid step. She didn’t think a show like this could affect her so much, but there’s awe in her eyes and appreciation etched deep within her bones.

She then feels a magnetic pull from somewhere deep inside, like she’s attached to something. The sensation leads her to the far corner of the room and she’s not surprised by who she finds. Peeta. She’s unable to see his full profile at first, only recognising the top of his head over the crowd that’s gathered to observe him. After a few minutes several people step aside and she’s able to move in for a closer look.

She forgets how to breathe for a moment when her eyes fall upon his entire naked body. It is as she suspected - a masterpiece. An artwork that seems to have been carefully crafted and layered with love by the gods themselves. She always thought the human body was a weird construction with all its different parts and functions but watching Peeta now performing with all the grace and beauty of a ballet dancer and admiring how every muscle in his body can twist and turn into simple and complex shapes she now believes the body is truly a magnificent thing to behold.

None of the artists are interacting with the patrons, each of them seem to be in their own little worlds performing and sharing their own beauty and abilities. Either way, Katniss still wants to be as close to him as humanly possible. She sneaks into a spot at the front and off to the side. Continuing to be mesmerised by the view of him, she watches as he changes the shape of his body as he curls his back and then brings it forward again before lifting his leg up high so it’s flexed and balancing straight in front of him. But it’s when he dips his head to the side that he catches a glimpse of her standing there in all her naked glory; his neutral expression drops and he loses his steadiness for a few seconds. She can’t help but feel excited at the clear effect she has on him. Very carefully, so the other patrons can’t see, he gives her a pleased grin before he twists his body into another position and sets his features back into his model persona. Everything is back to normal except his eyes. They’re staring straight ahead bright and alert, and dancing in delight that she’s here standing before him participating. She feels his heated gaze staring at her out of the corner of his eye and she knows he’s taking in her naked form. She feels a little self-conscious but considering she’s standing here with her brain brimming close to the edge with naked images of him that could fill an entire scrap book she thinks it’s only fair.

This has got to be the strangest day of my life, Katniss thinks to herself weirdly. What a bizarre way to meet someone. He gives her a wink, like he can read her thoughts and their moment is over. He turns his body away so his back is to her and settles into a different pose.  

“Please tell me how on earth you made him break?” A rogue voice whispers, his disbelieving breath ghosting against the shell of her ear. She’s momentarily stunned for a moment that she was caught off guard by someone who’s standing in her personal space. Usually she has the hearing of a wild dog out on a hunt for a good feed, but not this time around it seems.

She turns around to face the man with a scowl, wanting to find out what his deal is, when she’s left feeling gobsmacked. Again.

Standing beside her is a very familiar looking man who’s identical to the one standing on display. Rye. Her shocked grey eyes travel across his well acquainted face before they drift down without warning to explore even more of him. Yep. Identical in every way. He coughs and the noise breaks her out of her dazed spell, bringing her back to her senses and forcing her to seek eye contact with a guilt ridden expression. His eyes are dancing around in playful delight and he gives her a knowing smirk. “You’d think staring at my brother for most of the night would have been more than enough…but maybe you haven’t had your fill…”

“Rye, leave the poor girl alone,” a female voice cuts in and sighs loudly. “And leave your brother alone too, he’s trying to do his job. He doesn’t need you distracting him.”

“I think this young woman right here is doing a good enough job for the both of us,” Rye smirks playfully.

The woman then comes into Katniss line of sight and she tries not to stare too hard or lower her gaze. It’s the blond woman from the change rooms.

“I’m sorry, we’re being so rude aren’t we? I’m sure you have no idea who we are.” Redness blushes the other woman’s cheeks and she holds out her hand in greeting. “I’m Delly and this is my fiancée Rye – who’s obviously Peeta’s twin.”

“I’m the devilishly handsome one,” Rye cuts in and it makes Katniss laugh automatically, remembering what Peeta had said about his brother.

She takes a step forward and shakes Delly’s hand and then his. “I’m Katniss.” What a weird circumstance to meet.

Delly smiles. “Don’t pay any attention to this one. He’s just jealous,” she tells her and wraps an arm around Rye’s waist. He dips his head and looks down at her with a loving and charming smile. “He’s been trying to make Peeta laugh or fall over for the last 10 minutes with no success.”

“The guy has no sense of humour when it comes to this. He’s acting like one of the Queen’s guards.”

“He’s acting like this because he knows what you’re up to. He knew you would try and pull something like this, your brother isn’t stupid,” Delly explains and gives him a teasing pinch on his hip. She moves her attention over to Katniss and gives her a mischievous grin. “Maybe Katniss can pull it off because she has something that you don’t.”

Rye scoffs. “Yeah and I’m sure I know what it is,” he replies dryly.

Delly shakes her head at him with exasperation. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“Oh come on you love it,” Rye replies huskily, with hooded eyes. He leans down to give her a kiss on the lips, their tongues meeting slowly and languidly. Even though the three of them are standing together fully naked Katniss still feels like she’s standing in the middle of a private and intimate moment, and looks away.

“So were you okay after that guy of yours left?” Rye asks carefully. His voice brings her attention back and she sees them both looking at her with joint concern. “From what I overheard, the guy sounded like a real piece of work.”

“Oh, yes,” she stumbles, trying to get her brain working again. “Thank you for going to get Peeta. I really appreciate it. The night definitely didn’t turn out the way I was expecting.”

“You poor thing,” Delly says. “There are so many bad ones out there, isn’t there? But it just makes you appreciate it more when you find a good one. Peeta is a good one,” she adds pretending to sound off handed, but her blue eyes are twinkling

“He’s great. I’ve never met anyone like him before,” Katniss tells her with a smile and she feels Rye looking down on her with curious eyes. He looks exactly like Peeta, but they say the eyes are the windows to the soul and Katniss can see some differences. Rye seems like a bit of a larrikin, a carefree joker, where Peeta seems to have more of a sensitive and serious side.

“I don’t think you need to play matchmaker here Dell,” Rye then pipes up. “I think the hook has already landed the big fish.” Without further ado, he gives Katniss a wink and says, “We’ll leave you alone so you can perve on my brother in private. You have my blessing.”

She nods nervously, surprised that her intentions for Peeta seem to show as clear as day to his brother. She says her goodbyes and then looks over to Peeta who still has his back to her but he now has his knee up high and bent, while his back curls forward and his head is tucked into his chest.

She decides to come back later so she doesn’t distract him again or get him in trouble. She strolls around the exhibition and views all the other artists on display. She watches Jo for a while, but only because her back is to the audience. She then finds herself standing in front of a man with bronze hair and green eyes the colour of water you would find on a tropical island. She has a funny suspicion that his name is Finnick as she swears she hears him whisper to the small group that has gathered, “Have you ever wanted to be a part of a human pyramid?” She walks off with a shake of her head and wonders off-handed where Haymitch could be.

But throughout the night she can’t get away from or deny the heated and comforting gaze she feels following her around. Her skin feels alight with flames as she senses him watching and looking out for her. The butterflies in her belly are back and this time they’re flapping around in excitement counting down the minutes until she can talk to him again.

Half an hour later and it’s like everything in the universe aligns and answers her prayers because when she’s back in the change rooms, zipping up her dress, she feels a warm presence behind her and the distinctive smells of cinnamon and dill that she’d smelled earlier.  

Unable to hide the excitement and confidence the evening has brought to her, she turns around and gives Peeta the biggest grin; she’s relieved to find him beaming back.

“You were incredible,” he states in awe. “I couldn’t believe that you’d really gone out there. I thought for a moment I was seeing things,” he laughs. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

“I’m feeling pretty damn good,” she answers back with a proud smirk. “You were amazing too, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he nods, the tops of his ears turning pink. He pauses for a moment before speaking again. “Um, so I was thinking, if you’re not in a hurry to get home that is, maybe we could go out for coffee, talk about the show…or anything really.”

“I would love to, but I don’t drink coffee,” she states firmly.

“Oh…um, okay…” he pauses, looking crestfallen.

“I could go for a hot chocolate though,” she offers alternatively and gives him a wink. She doesn’t know where this new and sudden boldness of hers is coming from but she thinks she likes it. “I know a great bakery around the corner that’s open late.”

His shoulders sag in relief, and his eyes twinkle. “I believe I’m familiar with the place you’re thinking of,” he says, offering his hand.

Without further thought, she gently places her hand in his, admiring the warmth radiating from his palm and the rough texture of his fingers wrapped securely around hers. They fall into step, walking alongside each other in comforting silence as they move across the spacious floors of the gallery. Outside she sees the bright neon sign of the Mellark Bakery flashing and suddenly realizes she’ll have an amazing story to share with Prim and her stupid cat tomorrow. Not only did she find the courage to walk around naked in front of complete strangers, but she also managed to meet a nice guy and go on a date. But the most satisfying thing out of this is that she was able to accomplish all this by herself, with no safety net or comfort zone. Tonight had brought her confidence, and a sense of fun that had been missing from her life.

As they step inside the warmth of the bustling bakery, something tells her there’s a good chance she could become addicted to the free fall of a comfort zone free life, and fully exploring the possibilities of what life has to offer. Because even after only one night of taking that leap of not knowing where she was going to land, she’s already found Peeta. And she can only imagine what she can possibly accomplish with him by her side. 

[missbrooklyn2you]

GreatHeart AU Nude Model FanFiction with Gajevy

Levy is an aspiring art student at GreatHeart School of Art and Music.

Hi everyone and welcome to my second GreatHeart AU fanfic. I am sorry that this took so long, but I want to give a big shoutout to @firiare for this prompt! I hope you enjoy it and please like and reblog, as well as provided much needed constructive feedback. Thanks!

 “Great another long line”. Levy muttered to herself as she approached in the six person lineup in the café for her breakfast. She knew that she should really start waking up early and cooking breakfast at home, but who needs to do that when you can buy the warmest, fluffiest, most delicious breakfast rolls every morning with a side of vanilla chai?

She dug around in her backpack, searching for her wallet so she wouldn’t have to fumble at the register as she usually did. “It has to be in here somewhere…” She murmured to herself. She kept walking and walking until she knocked into something. Or someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She sputtered, looking up frantically. “I wasn’t looking where I was go-“

Her breath caught as she met the eyes of the man that she just collided into. His black eyes bored back at her in a bewildered stare, before a smirk settled on his pierced lips.

“Watch, where you’re going, shrimp. Wouldn’t want someone to step on ya now.” He flashed a mocking smile towards her followed by an inconspicuous wink before turning around.

She stared daggers into the back of his head as he stood in front of her. As much as she fought it, her eyes drifted from the back of his head, down to his shoulders, to his back, studying him. His thick, black hair blocked most of the view but she could make out the outlines of his muscles underneath his black shirt, toned and smooth. She continued to analyze him, following the hem of his shirt as they tucked into the waistband of his black jeans, down his calves to his shoes.

“If you like something you see, you should just say something, shrimp.”

His rough voice snapped her back to reality as she looked back up at him. He cocked an eyebrow over his shoulder to her flabbergasted expression, obviously amused by toying with the blue-headed stranger.

“It’s not that!” She whispered fiercly as she averted her gaze to her wallet that she now held in her hands. “It’s just that as an art student, I am trained to pay attention to details and to-“

“Next!” The cashier at the register called out, abruptly cutting her off and unable to finish her statement.

He tossed an amused look over his shoulder once more before approaching the counter to place his order.

Levy’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as she lowered her face and ran a hand down the side of her cheek. “I really need some coffee.” She said, tiredly.

After placing and receiving her order, she exited the shop and headed in the direction of the art school. The black-haired stranger intruded in her thoughts, making her body run on auto-pilot as her mind went elsewhere.

There was something about him that piqued her interest. Was it all the piercings? Or the way the rough, yet smooth timbre of his voice made everything he say sound so…snarky? Or the way the cotton material of his shirt settled on his back, outlining the rises and dips of the muscles in his back that wasn’t blocked by his thick head of hair?

“Forget that jerk.” Levy said, taking a sip of her latte as she ascended the steps to the main entrance. “I have better things to worry about”.

That she did.  In addition to a special announcement that her teacher hinted at last week, today was an exam that her professor sprung on her class just last week. Their task would be to create a realistic painting with a live, nude model as their muse and to translate it exactly unto an easel and canvas. Nudity didn’t bother her. I mean, that’s how everyone was born into this world, right? She saw the human body as one that can be translated into different meanings for different individuals, an intangible form of the purest form of art that there is. It also helped that the model today would be the same as her previous assignments and exams had been, Aaron Madrid, a professional model who has been in the industry 10+ years and has bared it all in front of hundreds of the region’s best artists.

She entered her classroom and took one last bite of her breakfast roll before crumpling the bag into her backpack and setting up her easel.

“Hey, Levy!” Lucy chirped behind her as Levy rested her canvas in its place. “How was your weekend?” “It was good, so far.” Levy sighed as she sat down in her seat and chatted with her friend for the next couple of minutes.

Their conversation was abruptly cut short when her professor entered the room, commanding everyone’s attention with just her presence alone.

“Good morning, class.” She projected, resting her briefcase behind her desk as she addressed her students. “I hope everyone had a good weekend. I know that all of you are dreading today’s exam, but I just want you to relax and try your best. A nervous artist makes for a bad artist.”

There were some mutters and chuckles in the class before she continued. “However, Madrid would not be our model for today.”

Everyone that was texting or not paying attention immediately tuned in. Concerned whispers and questions filled the air. Levy turned around to match Lucy’s lost expression, knotting her eyebrows together into a furrowed brow.

Raising her hand to indicate silence, she continued. “He has taken up a contract with Xpression Studios and will not return until next semester.” Groans filled the class as she continued. “However, a very brave student has decided to be our model for the rest of the semester. Come on out, Gajeel.”

Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes bulged out of her head. She darted her eyes between Levy and the new student.

Levy, with her back turned to the front of the class, oblivious to what was going on behind her, knotted her brows together in a confused expression as she faced her friend. “Lucy, what’s wrong?”

“Levy, isn’t that the same dude that you said was a huge jerk to you this morning?”

She spun around in her seat as she met the all too familiar gaze of the stranger that she met in the café just a few minutes ago. Although he was across the room, Levy felt her heart catch in her throat as she gasped for words.

His heated gaze didn’t leave hers as he entered the center of the room and dropped his towel from around his waist. His hair was pulled back behind him, a stark contrast to the tanned his tanned chest and torso. An all too familiar smirk settled on his expression as he chuckled at her deer-in-headlights expression.

“Now, you have your model. You have your materials. You have two hours. When you have completed your project, you must alert me, and I will immediately give you a grade for the assignment. Begin.”

Levy choked on air as she stared back at him. There was no way this was happening right now. His biceps bulged and abs tightened as he chose a comfortable position that he could maintain for the duration of the assignment.

Levy’s eyes betrayed her again as her gaze now took in everything about him. The way his skin glistened underneath the overhead lights. The way his shoulders slumped like slopes on a mountain, lowering down to his chest and tightened abs, all the way to his…. Snap out of it, Levy! She rebuked herself as she picked up her pencil and began her outline, focusing every ounce of her energy unto the canvas. It isn’t the first time you have seen a naked man stand before your art class before. What is wrong with you?

She muttered to herself as she tried desperately to avoid looking at him more often than necessary. She didn’t want to send the wrong idea, after all. She glanced at him once more, hoping that he would be looking in another direction, so she could take in more of the details. For her portrait, of course.

But when her eyes rose from her canvas, his eyes blazed back at her face as emotionless and blank as a wall as if she was the only person in the room.

Her eyes drifted down below his waist as she took in the most intricate details of his member. Heat rose in her cheeks as she furiously etched his outline onto her canvas, desperately avoiding his stares, his expression becoming more mocking and infuriating by the minute.

Finally, she was finished and her portrait was completed. Despite herself and distractions, she produced a very good portrait. She just hoped that her professor would think the same. When she leaned back in her seat, she realized that the entire class was deserted besides her professor, who was grading papers quietly at her desk, and Gajeel, the stranger that hadn’t taken his eyes off her ever since he entered the classroom.

“I’m finished, Ms. Maribee.” Levy stated as she tried to focus on something else other than the toned physique of the cheeky stranger.

She crossed the room as she analyzed her painting. “You may put on your clothes, Gajeel.” She said, still staring at the portrait. “Thank you for your time today.”

“Sure.” He grunted as he stepped off the stage and retreated through the same door that he came through in the beginning of the class, not bothering to put back on the towel that he gripped in his hand.

“You’ve really improved since last semester, Ms. Levy This is quite remarkable.”

Levy smiled sheepishly to the compliment. She was glad that her hard work started to pay off. She remained silent as she waited for her grade.

“This is excellent work, Levy. You get an A for this assignment. Good job.” She lovingly patted her shoulder as she made her way back to her desk. “I will see you next week.”

Levy released a breath that she didn’t know she was holding as she packed up her materials. At least she could put the assignment behind her and focus on relaxing this weekend.

As she exited the room and made her way down the hall towards the elevators, she pulled out her phone to shoot a quick text to Lucy. She absentmindedly pushed the ground floor button and entered the elevator as she remained engrossed in her phone.

Her stream of focus was interrupted when an all too familiar stranger joined her before the doors quickly shut.

She looked up and twisted her face into a scowl, desperately trying to push down the heat that started to arise within her cheeks,

“Following me now?” She spat as she adjusted her bag and stared straight ahead.

“Just using an elevator, shrimp. Don’t look too deep into it.”

She pressed her lips shut as she stared straight ahead, never meeting his gaze. After a few moments, he turned to face her as bent his body down, so he was about a foot or so away from her face. “So, did you like what you saw today?” He taunted her in a suggestive tone.

Levy whipped her head around to shoot him a vexed expression. She was taken aback by the boldness of his comment as she pressed a finger into his broad chest. “Look, if we are going to be working together for the rest of the semester, then you should really work on that attitude of yours. It is unprofessional and uncalled for. And besides that, I am an artist, who paints and sketches nude artists all the time. Don’t think just because you have big muscles and a toned body makes you somehow more special or ‘blessed’ than the other models I have had before.” She gave him a gesturing up-and-down look before arching an eyebrow back at him, waiting for his response.

Gajeel scanned the tiny blue-haired woman in an amused manner, his mouth twitching up into a smirk. “So, you think I’m toned, huh? He flashed a smile, chuckling.

Levy’s eyes widened as she blushed and averted her gaze from him, clearly embarrassed. If only he wasn’t so snarky about it. “Don’t look too deep into it.” She retorted in a mocking manner.  

The elevator doors opened as he took a step towards her. She pressed her mouth into a thin line as she crouched down to meet her at eye level.

“Whatever you say……Levy.”

She stared at his retreating figure as she stepped out of the elevator, breathing an exasperated sigh.

“He is so rude.” She muttered to herself as she trudged home. “This is going to a really long semester. I can’t believe that we have to work with that jerk for five more weeks.”

Yet, somehow, she couldn’t keep her mind off him. Something about him interested her. Made her want to scratch the surface of whatever bad boy act he attempted to pull off.

She waved a hand dismissively as she entered her apartment. “Whatever, I’m sure I will have plenty of time to worry about him later. Time for some rest.”