#and let me tell you. cooking was not 'coming naturally' to me before. i spent my first decade on earth as my mom's sous.

[confinesofmy]

for the first time in a long time, i threw together something to eat and it was actively bad. not because of parosmia or any other external thing, it just genuinely wasn't good. i barely finished it and was really glad it was one serving. #humbled

[cerise-on-top]

Poly!141 x Reader

Imagining being in a happy and healthy relationship with these four has worked wonders for my mental health, it's unbelievable. So naturally, I was gonna write something about this. And I will write about this again because they bring me so much joy and I adore these lads.

Once the fighting is done and they can finally relax with each other and you, no matter how brief the respite may be, you can be absolutely certain you’ll be caught between Johnny and Kyle. John is usually too busy to come cuddle immediately and Simon needs to be coaxed into the pile. It doesn’t take a lot of coercion, though. If he’s tired enough you can simply beckon him closer and he’ll wrap himself around whoever’s nearest.

John needs to be dragged away from work, though, which is a lot harder to accomplish. Fortunately, Simon is strong enough to simply pick him up and carry him to the couch. John proceeds to tell all of you that he’ll indulge you for five minutes only, but that has been a lie every single time since he has a tendency to fall asleep when surrounded by the warmth of his beloveds.

It’s fairly domestic with the four of them, actually. Sure, they can be rowdy boys who do like to fight and spar with each other, especially Kyle, Johnny and sometimes Simon, but whoever so graciously cooks that day will receive a kiss on their temple as well as Simon’s assistance. He has a sixth sense for when someone in the household needs something and helps them out however he can. He’s not such a bad cook either, he knows quite a few recipes since he’d been alone for a long time.

Kyle spent a lot of time outside the UK, so he knows quite a bit on how to prepare exotic foods from where he had been. John, too, can cook quite well, even better than Simon. Johnny, however, never really had too much time to learn and it never interested him that much either, but the few recipes he does know he can do really well. If you’re ever in the mood for baking you should call Simon, he actually has taken a liking to it.

As mentioned before, there will be some play-fighting here and there. Most of the time nothing severe happens, but sometimes someone’s ankle gets twisted or a shoulder needs to be put back in place. No one really gets mad, it just happens, but sometimes you have to chime in and tell them to stop before someone gets hurt even worse. Sometimes they listen, sometimes they keep going in secret. They have a surprising amount of energy that needs to be let out.

If they decide to take the sneaky route that day, call John. They do respect and love you, but there’s a good chance John will be more stern with them than you will. If one of you is hurt, then the others will do what they can to keep you happy. If it’s you and you’re a civilian, you can be certain they’re taking turns staying with you and checking in on you to make sure you’re okay. That’s one of the perks of dating several people: If one of you is sick or injured then someone else will always be at home to take care of you.

Game nights happen occasionally. Simon prefers card games since he’s hard to read and they don’t always rely on luck, Johnny likes board games simply because he wants to get on Simon’s nerves from time to time. It never works, but he doesn’t mind that either. Kyle is neutral about it, but will jab at whoever is losing. In the same sentence, though, he sometimes also makes fun of whoever is winning from time to time, especially if they’ve won a few rounds that night already.

John is flexible when it comes to games, he’s just happy to be there with you. Yes, you’re bickering because you’re certain Simon cheated at UNO, but there’s something pleasant about that chaos. It’s not a war he’s fighting, it’s home. It’s his partners getting riled up about something small, such as the dice getting stuck on the table’s leg and showing two numbers at once. It reminds him that that’s what he’s fighting for.

Kyle and Johnny have a tendency to be little shits from time to time. They’re not on base, they don’t need to show proper etiquette all the time and can just let go. Sometimes they’re playing hide-and-seek with one of them lying in wait for someone unassuming to walk by and scare them, other times they drag whoever is nearby along with them for a stroll to the nearest cafe or bar for a drink or two. If that person is willing, great! If they’re not they’ll simply pick them up and force them outside.

Going drinking with the two of them is fun, though. Johnny can hold his liquor really well, Kyle has learned how to do that as well. If you’re a lightweight then you’re gonna get teased to hell and back about it. It’s not impossible to get them drunk, but Johnny’s gonna take it as a challenge to outdrink you. Once either of you is wasted, you call either John or Simon to pick you up. While they may pretend to be annoyed or disappointed in you, they do think conversing with your drunk selves is fun. Kyle gets a bit less cheeky and more affectionate and Johnny gets even more bold and handsy, but nothing more than that happens. If your drunk self is also more on the affectionate side then you’re gonna get cuddled and kissed like there’s no tomorrow.

If the five of you are proud owners of a house then you’ll find Simon getting into gardening at some point. He bought a house plant at one point because he heard taking care of one is good for your health, and so it started out with a small aloe vera branch he was able to get from an acquaintance. Watching the little plant grow brought him immense joy, so he opted for another one. A few seasons later he started his own mini garden in his backyard, planting watermelons, paprikas, tomatoes, anything that would grow. He trims the apple tree, he harvests the fruit and asks you to bake an apple pie with him.

John gets wind of that and is very proud of Simon for having such a relaxing hobby, helping out whenever he can. If Simon ever gets sick then either you or John are the ones to take care of the plants. Kyle can keep a cactus alive for some time if he tries real hard, Johnny has drowned two cacti already. Simon revoked his plant rights for that one. The plants have names, but only Simon knows them and he won’t tell anyone. The very first few he ever got are named after you, John, Kyle and Johnny.

Even off-duty, John can be rather strict at times. He means well, though. His soldiers are disciplined, most of the time, at least, but sometimes they can act a bit inappropriately, be a bit too energetic when he wants to take a nap. So, sometimes punishment is in order. It’s nothing bad, though. Someone is put on dishwashing duty, maybe having to clean out the basement in general. Small tasks that need doing anyway. He can be a bit more rough if he wants to, but that’s usually mellowed out a bit by him using a soft and kind voice.

It’s rare for either of you to stand up against him because he’s pretty much always in the right, but if you do he’s willing to hear you out. He still has an air of authority around him from time to time, so if some of you are able to change his mind he won’t hold it against you. John is well aware that miscommunication causes a lot of problems, so he will always hear you out, no matter what it is. This goes for other things as well. Had a rough day? Wanna tell someone about the cute stray you saw? He’s the last person to shoo you. In fact, it makes him happy when you tell him those things, it shows him that he’s trustworthy in your eyes and such a thing is worth more than the world’s gold reserves to him.

Johnny adores having an exercise partner, it doesn't matter whether you’re jogging in the morning or straight up lifting weights at the gym. If he can, he'll always drag one of you along, there’s no specific schedule to which one it is either. Normally he asks Kyle since he also goes to the gym from time to time and, being as competitive as they are, they motivate each other quite well to try and raise their limits. If you don’t exercise, for whatever reason, Johnny will try to get you to start doing it. You don’t have to run five kilometers straight, you don’t have to cycle for an hour, but even the smallest of steps would make him incredibly happy. You’re trying, that’s all that matters.

He’s very supportive as well but won’t go overboard. As soon as you get dizzy or your arms or legs get wobbly you will take a break. But no matter what, he’ll always reward you for doing so well. You’ll get a kiss, a hug, a piece of fruit, whatever small thing you want. Always reassures you that you’re not dragging him down either. Yes, he could most definitely run a marathon if he wanted to, but you can’t and that’s okay. Baby steps, you’ll get there eventually. Has a schedule for which exercises he does when. Even if he simply gets to stretch with you in the morning he’s more than happy to take that chance. Might make an inappropriate comment or two during yoga the first few times, though. But you’re dating, so he doesn’t mean anything bad by it. Tell him to tone it down and he will.

Kyle is the type of guy, who, in order to unwind, plays extremely stressful games. Bloodborne, Elden Ring, Sekiro. And yes, he does start swearing up a storm when he’s frustrated enough. Will refuse any and all affection until he’s beaten the boss as well. You can get him to play more relaxing games with you as well, though. Give him a Pokemon game and you’ll find him having caught each and every single one of them at some point. Because he’s a smart cookie he can probably recite some of the Pokedex entries as well. But his favorite games are still the darker games.

Won’t shy away from something along the lines of Team Fortress 2 or Portal either. In fact, he’s probably the one to make the suggestion of playing those games together. Sometimes Simon and you watch him play, with Simon giving him pointers if he’s having a hard time. Naturally, Kyle snaps back from time to time and dares Simon to beat the boss since he’s so smart. Despite being no gamer whatsoever, after a few tries, usually three to four so he can learn the game mechanics and the controls, Simon is able to beat almost any boss, as long as it’s not a rhythm game. Kyle is stumped every time, but you don’t dare to make a sound in case he makes you play next. Is grateful anyway, but a bit embarrassed because what was the last game Simon even played properly? Super Mario World? That was more than 20 years ago.

[fuck-i-love-october]

"James has ADHD!"

WRONG

James Potter is so patient and so focused and so understanding.

James Potter has OCD.

James Potter focuses so much on the little details of absolutely everything. People being no exception. He gets people gifts correlated to an interest or desire someone has brought to his attention once or twice in passing. He notices habits and actions and fears of others and makes sure to adjust his responses or the way he comforts them to better fit their needs. James Potter has chronic skin picking disorder. James potter gets so frustrated that he cries. James Potter cares way too much about not caring. So much so that he spends all night awake, worrying about whether he seemed cool enough or kind enough or himself enough for others. James Potter doesn't talk about his issues, and when he does it's matter-of-a-factly. James Potter is so acutely self-aware that he would interrupt his own therapist to explain what was wrong with him. He knew the answers to his problems, but he liked the conversation of it all. James Potter has food aversions. He's a calorie whore. Makes sure he isn't over or under the allowed amount every day, both in fear and in habitual routine. James Potter has spent months perfecting each aspect of his every move during quidditch. When he was 11, James Potter spent an entire year working his hands to the bone to make absolute sure he was good enough to be recruited. He only smiles when people tell him he's got it easy. That he's a natural talent, only narrowly fighting back the urge to hold up the callouses engrained in his skin and tell them "Look. Look what i did. Look what it gave me." James Potter is a great cook, but he doesn't do it all too often anymore after he got that nasty scar on his thumb, because he wondered all too really what it would be like to press his palm onto a lit burner. James Potter, when alone, sometimes finds himself trying to make sense of it all. The whole universe. He surrounds himself so often with people because he just plain hates being alone with his thoughts.

James Potter gets caught in the little moments. James Potter has wondered all too many times what it would be like to just knock a lit candle over or stab a quill into his hand. To just let go of his broom while flying. James Potter avoids ledges and no one could quite tell you why. And no one knows that he has it. He'd never tell. It's a shameful secret between him and his psychiatrist. He knew years before he was formally diagnosed. He did, like with everything, months of extensive and detailed research on the subject. Despite it all, an orange bottle of little white pills remains dormat in his cabinet. Unopened, untouched. He isnt sick. The doctors said hes sick he isnt sick. James Potter gives himself headaches over little things and shames himself when hed comes to the realization that no one else seems to pay mind to them. James Potter was so stressed about his own yet-to-be-planned surprise party that he threw up once. He was eleven. James Potter has had the same haircut since he was twelve. The same glasses since 13. James Potter has OCD.

I offer you this very good and very real headcanon

[diejager]

We need more Dark!Captain Price please!!

Behave, Love

Pairing: Dark! Captain John Price x fem!reader

Cw: implied smut, DARK, IMPLIED NON-CON, possessive behaviour, kidnapping, kinda Stockholm syndrome, captive reader, mean Price, punishment, basement wife?, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2.6k

“We have guests tonight, love,” he told you this morning before leaving.

That was a warning, the only one you needed to understand what you were told - ordered - to do. You spent the morning cleaning up, wiping off the nonexistent dust from the shelves, washing off the clean tables and surfaces around the house that you’d cleaned yesterday after he called to tell you that he was coming home. The following hours were spent vacuuming the wooden floor and mopping up any nano-spill of some kind. Only after the long hours you took to clean every speck of dust in your shared home, did you start cooking.

Price was a simple man in the things he liked, he might’ve been strategic in his plays and his decisions, down to the smallest aspects of each mission, or preferring his gun or knives maintained in a specific way that was his only, but anything at home, he liked simple. Perhaps it was a blessing for you, never spending time learning how to cook or bake, your training took up all your time and any free time you had was spent resting or on extra training. He liked well-rounded meals, having meat, vegetables and a bit of spice on his plate with rice or fries on the side.

You dread the moments he leaves as much as the giggle of the knob, leaving meant that he’d be watching you remotely, from the small screen of his phone with alarms and countermeasures against your escape - to which you’ve tried and failed many times, the severity of his punishment racking up from an hour in the dark basement to being tied up and tortured to overstimulation of a fake cock moulded to replicate Price’s cock - and his return would leave you at the mercy of his prying eyes and hungry mouth, letting his hands trace the scars that littered your skin. Any sign of disgust: shuddering, flinching or freezing would get you some time in the basement. 

He pulled you from years of training, the result of your blood sweat and tears gone with the flick of Price’s wrist. He had you discharged and had you move in with him - how fortunate you’ve been living on base without an apartment outside of the compound, you saw no use for it if you’d rarely be home - even though you fought against him, tooth and nail. Yet that only landed you in time out - or so he called it. 

“We’re going to get married, love,” he told you, a bright smile hidden under his beard, a wishful gleam in his eyes. 

You weren’t only getting married, you were signing off your body and soul to your captor to become a glorified housewife. From a private to a housewife, how saddening, you couldn’t help that self-deprecating attitude rather than the confidence and strength that were beaten into you during training. 

Any connection to the outside world was cut off, Price made sure that you wouldn’t have any way to contact your family without his supervision - he had you call them once a month to reassure them that you were safe and happy with your new life - or the authorities, not that they’d listen to you with The Captain John Price and his decorated background. Granted, you had a TV to entertain yourself in moments of boredom or the book-filled wall in the living room, even a few recreational activities he wanted you to practise: knitting, sewing, cooking and baking.

Naturally, you turned to cooking and baking as a way to pass the time, leaving the radio or the TV on as background noise to fill the depressing atmosphere. With time, you’d grown more comfortable in the kitchen and Price could trust you with more complicated dishes, even being excited to eat a homemade dinner when he came home. He liked meat, so you read about different meaty dishes - especially with the notion of the other coming over for the afternoon - with good portions of vegetables. 

You moved around the island, setting the table with plates and cups, knives, spoons and forks on the sides with a bowl of fries in the middle. The steaks were almost done, sizzling besides the warm sauce you were boiling after cracking the can. The beans and mashed potato were already set on each plate, waiting for the juicy meat and sauce you worked on, hoping that you’d be finished on time for Price to get home. You hoped Price would be nicer to you while the men ate, nothing too rash or possessive from him during their stay.

The lock clicked as you placed the final piece, the rattle of keys and the familiar steps of Price’s heeled shoes were - unless you missed his soft “I’m home, love.” - the usual sounds you’d hear when he came home, the only indications that you were never truly able to relax.

“Welcome home, John,” you returned, greeting him with a small kiss on the corner of his lips, his bushy beard irritating your cheeks. 

He leaned down, chasing you for a second, deeper kiss, his teeth catching your lower lip before he moved aside to let his coworkers enter. 

“Ma’am,” Gaz jumped in, lowering his cap in a mock bow to you.

Being called ma’am made you feel old and married. While you were married, you were a year or two younger than him with him having an authority over you on base. You didn’t necessarily know him before your discharge, only catching a few glances when either of you were passing through the gym or shooting range, or when you crossed paths in the halls or mess hall. Perhaps in another universe, you would’ve been friends or teammates by chance. You swallowed down a sigh that threatened to slip from your pursed lips.

Soap followed closely behind Gaz with a boisterous greeting of his own, his smile infectious and giddy. How couldn’t you smile back at him when he seemed so happy to be here, you couldn’t bear to break his heart, his puppy-like joy. You shook his hands, they were as firm as the last time, his fingers more calloused and harder on the tips from the many deployments between their last visit. Ghost was a step behind everyone, giving you a quick but welcoming nod, his eyes softening at the dark bags under your eyes. 

“Come in, I was just about finished.”

Without so much of a complaint, they sat down, watching you pour the brown sauce over their plate. Price - as always - sat at the head of the table, watching you and his team from his vantage point. Ghost sat to his left with Soap beside him and Gaz on the opposite from him, taking the seat to your right. The seat to Price’s right was always reserved to you whenever you were present, a rule he imposed himself. He could easily hold your hand while it rested on the table, he could sneakily place his firm hand on your thigh, or he could send you a quiet message through the corner of his eye, something so discreet that not even Ghost noticed.

Dinner with 141 was always animated, with Soap and Gaz throwing jabs at each other and Ghost jumping in with a few jokes of his own - though they were the usual dark and morbid humour that he thrived on - while Price watched over it all, a proud smile adorning his face as his thumb brushed your knuckles. You could see the fatherly joy in his eyes whenever everyone was at the table, this joy that almost made you happy that you were part of this small family - almost. You couldn’t forget the pain and harrowing sadness that clouded your mind every day, Price’s influence on your life becoming the looming shadow that kept you locked away from the freeing sun.

“It was tidy, bonnie!” Soap thanked you, collecting the plates while the rest helped around.

“Thank you, Johnny.”

While you washed the dishes, burly arms reached around your waist and locked fingers, pushing his chest to meet your back. He hummed a comforting tune, peppering your neck and shoulder with kisses, playing the loving and caring husband he was to the rest of the world. Laying his head on your shoulder, he was content with watching you work, ears listening to the chatter in the room and your beating heart, a calm and soft beat that soothed his nerves. 

“A right delight,” Price breathed out, hips swaying side to side in a drawl dance, rocking you along with him. 

He pressed his lips to your ear, mumbling praises for your behaviour and playing the husband he wanted to be - was. He was gentler with you, his strong arms holding you lovingly and expressing his devoted obsession with you with kisses and whispers. It was a side you saw often, Price being the ever-loving man he vowed to give you on the day of your marriage, the other one was the possessive and obsessive man who wanted your everything, your mind, body and soul. That side of him was given to you when you misbehaved, when you did something to displease him or when he deemed you worthy of punishment.

The other rarely saw their captain acting so soft and loving, even toward them, his little, ragtag of a team. Although it was something to be proud of, unendingly happy because at least one of them finally settled down, who were they if they couldn’t jab at Price, just a bit.

“Growing old, Cap’? You look like a romantic sap,” Gaz snickered, watching Price narrow his eyes in mocked anger through squinted eyes.

“Aye, I dinnae yer were a bodach,” Soap elbowed Gaz, failing to hold back his cackle, head tilted back and arms around his abdomen.

“English, Johnny.”

Price huffed, shoulders shaking with his own laughter.

“Oh, sod off,” he spat, lips stretched in a snarky smile. “Am I an old sap, love?” 

He clung to you, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt

“ ‘Course not, John. Maybe romantic, but not old.”

Calling him old wouldn’t do him or you any good, especially since you were married to him, a man over a decade older than you; and calling him romantic would be a lie thrown to the face, at least to you. Price would call himself a romantic man and preen about his rugged, yet gentlemanly character, his hands calloused and loving, his mouth praising and biting, his eyes ravaging and devoted, his acts protective and possessive. How Price would proclaim himself as the perfect husband - he said he was the day he dropped you the discharge letter - and how lucky you were to wound yourself with him rather than any boy your age. 

Price chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back as he tightened his hold around you. He liked your reply, that wide smile pressed to your throat with nipping kisses made you aware of his joy. You rocked back against him, dancing along the lazy sway of his hips, you were catering to his whims to stay safe and alive. His training wasn't for nothing, carved into the seams of your mind with every thrust of his cock or the silicone mimic of his cock. You learned quickly that if Jonathan Price was happy, you’d be safe and unharmed, so you aimed to please him and keep him happy.

If it meant playing the reciprocating and happily married wife to their captain, you’d do that. There wasn’t any loss of dignity and pride in wanting to feel safe, wanting to ignore how his hands gripped you too firmly or how your skin was littered with painful bruises after a rough night. To the Task Force, you were a willingly discharged soldier who became a housewife for their hardworking captain and your loving husband. The gold band carved with curved and intricate words added to the illusion of your perfect life. 

It made you want to scream and pull your hair out at how trusting they were of Price. All and any man had his darkness, that ugly need buried under the mass of duty and morality that made them who they were, but if let loose, they could be like Price, another monster wearing the skin of a man.

You couldn’t help squinting your eyes in a silent plea to the men, watching them drink and laugh merrily without a fault. Being a witness to their bountiful smile and full-bellied laughter when you were glued to your captor by the hip, his arm looped around your waist, pulling you to him. Laying your head on his shoulder as the bottle of whiskey grew lighter and lighter over time, the golden liquid rolling down their throat with a comforting burn after a long week at work. The little glances Price sent your way were reminders for you to behave until the end, his fingers curling over a healing bruise from when he held you too tightly, pussydrunk with his head between your thighs.

You smiled and nodded, going along with whatever they were chatting about, from meaningless affairs to slightly classified subjects. Nothing was off the table with you, they trusted Price enough to trust you with sensitive subjects and they all liked you, someone who could relate to their cause and understand their pains. Perhaps that played a part in his obsession with you.

Even when they stood on your doorstep with slurred speech and hooded eyes, they were always aware of their situation and minds sharp, but they were blind to your plight. Gaz and Soap shook hands with Price, the darker Brit bowing to lift his cap in a familiar salute: “‘Night, ma’am.”

“Thanks fer the meal, bonnie.”

“It’s always a pleasure having you over, Johnny.”

Ghost waved at you from the driving seat, he drank less comparatively to the other men, being designated as the driver between them. You send him a tired grin with a wave of your own, still within Price’s grasp. You looked on beside him as Ghost drove off, returning to base with two drunken sergeants in his custody. With them gone and the door shut and locked - bolted down with keys and codes only he had access to - he pulled you to his chest, rumbling out praises with his deep, soothing voice. 

 “You were so good today, love,” he pressed his lips against yours, hand cupping your nape with a slow lave of his tongue to deepen the kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”

He dragged you away, feet hanging on your toes to follow his movement while letting him press for more kisses, growing passionate and stealing your breath. You clung to him, fingers clawing at his form-fitting shirt as you walked backwards, stepping into your shared room. He blindly kicked the door shut, throwing you to the bed with a rough push. He stared at you through lidded eyes, bouncing on the bed as you scrambled to get your footing before he straddled your hips between his thick thighs, rutting his covered hardness against your stomach. 

His leaky head trapped under the tightness of his briefs and pants drenched his clothes, his chest rising with deep and laboured breaths. In the silence of your privacy, Price became handsy, wanting to grab and touch every part of you, cradling your face and wiping the drool on your lower lip with his thumb. He brought it to his mouth, sucking his thumb with lust-hazed eyes as he peered down at you. His brown hues were darker in the dim lighting, nearly black with lust and need as he grappled himself over you. He wore a crooked smile on his perfect lips.

“You deserve a reward for behaving so well, yeah?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs

[zombiedumbie]

cooking!

summary: the reader is learning how to cook, but no one likes it.

content: fluff (not exactly fluff, but is kinda cute), no pronouns used, reader is a devil fruit user

pairing: law x gn!reader

word count: 1.336

an: haro everynyan. I can finally write something, so i'm writing about my hushband, tell me if you like it, please. by the way, this akuma no mi power I thought for an OC of mine! I want to write something for her (maybe a one-shot or even a few chapters of a fanfic, I don't know), let me know what you think!

Law left his office late at night. It was one of those days when he had spent too much time in his office, and his body was starting to crave even the slightest bit of attention. He walked into the kitchen, hoping there would be some leftovers from tonight's dinner; he could feel the pressure of the sea in his ears, making the place even quieter than it already was.

But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing; he appreciated these moments of silence, when all the crew members should already be asleep or quietly going about their activities. The clock and the silence were his only indications that night had arrived in a place where sunlight barely reached.

The silence was broken as he approached the kitchen; he could hear soft music playing and a sad humming. Light seeped out from under the door, indicating that someone was still outside the room.

With calm steps, he approached. Initially, his intention was to get something to eat, but now he wanted to find out who was singing. As he approached the door, Law could feel a gust of wind coming through the gaps. If he didn't know his crew, he would have been quite surprised when he opened the door and saw the plates floating in the air in an orderly synchronization. But he couldn't help but be enchanted by the way they moved through the kitchen, following a sequence to be cleaned, dried, and then put away.

"Hello, captain," you said, stopping your singing in tune with the music. He entered and closed the door behind him, containing the air flow that kept the plates in order, like a production line. He also noticed the little Den Den Mushi humming a melancholic tune.

"Y/N," he greeted you. You had the power to control the wind, which was quite useful in battles, especially due to your abilities and creativity in manipulating your power. But it was also useful in everyday situations like this, where you could simply wash the dishes while using your abilities to finish all the work.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" he asked with his usual formality. You had recently joined the crew and had never really talked to him before, and you thought you never would. He was always locked in his office, focusing on things other than wasting time talking to a newcomer on his ship.

"Just… washing the dishes," there was a strange tone in your voice, as if there was a lump in your throat preventing you from speaking. Law noticed it.

"Are you sure?" It was impressive how he could notice subtle things. You were sure that beneath his stoic nature, there was a person who was attentive to everything happening around him. You admired that about him. "You don't have to speak if you don't want to." He walked through the kitchen, carefully avoiding the floating dishes. His eyes searched for food, anything that could quiet the rumbling in his stomach.

That's when he found a shy tray with three cupcakes, hidden next to a gigantic pile of plates. They seemed to have been decorated by a child, with crooked icing and colorful star-shaped sprinkles.

Law found it adorable.

"C-Captain!" you said, finally finishing washing the huge pile of plates. "Don't eat those."

"Oh," he shared a glance between you and the tray. "Are they already reserved?"

You sighed with his innocence. "No. But I'm going to throw them away."

"Why?" He picked one up. "They look good." He could see that the icing was poorly mixed, so there were still parts that were white instead of being colored with dye. "Have you tasted them?" Normally, he wouldn't insist or even ask about such things, but he couldn't see a reason to throw away food.

"I made them," your voice had a hint of sadness, as if you had been crying before he arrived. "No one wanted to eat them because of that."

"Why?" he asked again, sounding like a child with so many questions. However, his expression was curious, as if he wanted to know why you sounded so frustrated.

"I-I…" you held both hands in front of you, trying to gather the courage to tell your captain, as if you were ready to reveal a secret. "I'm trying to learn how to cook."

He raised an eyebrow, expecting you to continue your story, although he already had an idea of where it was going.

"When we saw the Straw Hats… I was impressed by Sanji's cooking skills," he raised his eyebrows at the mention of the cook. "It reminded me of an old desire to cook when I was younger. I loved cooking with my mother, but I didn't really do much myself." Law listened attentively to your story as he looked at the cupcake in his hand.

"I asked him to teach me a few things, but he could only teach me how to cook rice properly and make onigiri," Law looked up at you, his expression always calm. You sighed before continuing. "So, I tried to continue without his help, using a recipe book I bought on an island. And apparently, I'm terrible at cooking!" Law hid his look of pity.

"No one wants to try what I make because apparently everything turns out bad!" Law saw some frustrated tears rolling down your face. "This fucking cupcake didn't turn out bad! I tasted it! But no one wanted to even try it."

You watched Law delicately peel off the cupcake wrapper and then take a bite of the cake. A bit of icing stuck to his nose without him noticing. You found it adorable.

The cupcake wasn't anything special; in fact, it looked like just another regular cupcake, but it was tasty enough for him to want another one. He couldn't understand why someone wouldn't want to eat it.

"This is good, Y/N-ya," you sighed in relief, afraid that he would also complain. If he did, you would probably throw yourself into the sea at the first opportunity. "I don't understand why they refused."

You smiled, wondering if he was just being kind or if he genuinely meant it. You didn't know him intimately, but Law didn't seem like the type of person who would lie just to please someone. You thanked him with a heavy heart, deciding not to irritate him with such a question.

"Can I have another one?" he asked after finishing the one he had taken. You nodded, and he headed back to the tray. "You know, I can cook too," he commented, and you looked at him in surprise.

"I usually don't have much time for it," he sighed, taking another bite of the cupcake and once again smearing the tip of his nose. "But I cook sometimes for the crew, and sometimes for myself when everyone is asleep."

It was strange to see him like this, his tall figure slightly hunched over and his disheveled hair without the hat. He was wearing casual clothes and talking about mundane things like cooking, which contrasted with the serious and calculating figure he imposed on himself. "If you want, I can teach you what little I know," you returned his gaze to his eyes, wondering if you had heard correctly. "Apparently, we have some spare time until the next island."

"S-Sorry?" you asked as if your ears had deceived you.

"Um…" for some reason, his cheeks were tinged with a light blush. "I said I can teach you what little I know, you know… about cooking?" He seemed embarrassed now.

"Oh, I would love that!" you accepted, with a gleam of excitement in your eyes. Law looked at you as if he was melting in your eyes.

You approached him, carefully wiping the icing off the tip of his nose. "It was dirty." You saw the man blush so intensely that it looked like he was going to change color at any moment. "Thank you, Captain," you smiled sweetly.

Law's face turned bright red, seeing how lovely you looked when you smiled. He began to regret it, mentally wondering if he could handle seeing such a kind smile from you frequently.

oh to have a Law pressing me against the kitchen counter

[storiesforthemoonchild]

Caught In The Bliss | Lucy Bronze x Reader

pt. III of the Lucy fic. a little angst... a little suggestive... a lot of fluff

hopefully the different moments and progression of their situation makes sense. I've enjoyed this whole Lucy fic... so I hope you do too :)

pt. I | pt. II

It has been eight months. Eight months since you told Lucy that the two of you shouldn’t get caught up in bliss, and then doing exactly that. Eight months of first times and stolen moments, vulnerability and comfort, and pure joy. You couldn’t remember the last time before Lucy where you felt so genuinely happy.

The first time you make an effort to give things a try is a month after you left her in a Tilburg hotel room. You were fighting hard to let whatever happened between you two stay in the past, but Lucy refused it. Flight information for a long weekend in Barcelona popping up randomly on your phone in the middle of the day. A text attached, ‘I’ve got a free weekend coming up. Make some time, I’ll see you then’. 

A week later you were on a flight to Barcelona to spend five days with the defender. She greeted you at the airport like one of those videos of long-distance couples meeting after time apart. Arms around your waist, spinning you with a joyous smile on her face. “I knew you would come,” she tells you, planting a kiss on your flushed cheeks. 

The whole trip felt like a fever dream. Frankly, it all scared the hell out of you. Lucy was so domestic in her actions around her apartment. She had made room for your things to go in drawers, even though you assured her it was fine to stay in your suitcase. She would wake up in the morning and pull you closer, asking for just five more minutes of cuddles. You’d cook breakfast together everyday, well you’d cook and she’d give you kisses while wrapping her arms around you at the stove. You’d send her off to training while you did some work from her apartment. 

Then she lets it slip that you were meant to be her date to a teammates birthday dinner over the weekend. You spend way too much time thinking of what it means if you meet her friends. Did that mean she had told them about you? Were the two of you at that point, admittedly you had definitely talked endlessly about her to yours, but that was different right?

“Don’t be nervous,” Lucy squeezes at your hand. 

“What if they don’t like that I can’t speak Spanish well?”

“I speak it well enough for both of us,” another squeeze. 

“What if they don’t want some random lady at their party?”

“I want you here,” she assures you.

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Baby girl, look at me,” Lucy stops in her journey to the front door, turning you to face her. “You will be fine. They will like you and even if for some crazy reason they don’t it will still be okay. Do you know why?” You shake your head, “it will be okay because I like you and that won’t change.”

Lucy had a way of assuring you, that washed away all your anxiety. She was confident as she walked in the home, a chorus of Spanish greetings reaching your ears. People you had never met were pulling you into hugs and kissing at your cheeks. Lucy’s protective grip around your waist never leaves. She introduced you and with how things were going you half expected her to call you her girlfriend at that moment. You heave a sigh of relief when she sticks with just your name.

The dinner party was very low stress after the initial shock wore off. You spent most of your time under Lucy and sipping wine. The girls made you feel welcomed, Aitana was sweet and chatted your ear off, Mapi reminded you of Lucy with how she would joke around, but your favorite was Patri she had your stomach aching from laughter every time she spoke.

Then there was Alexia, she had a protective nature you liked. She gave Lucia, as she called her, a firm talk about making sure to treat you well. “Alexia is fit,” you tease on your way back to her home. 

“Yeah maybe, but I’m still the fittest,” Lucy is sure of herself and you couldn’t deny it.

You leave Barcelona two days later and fall right back into your habit of trying to push her away. You don’t know why, but you are preparing for her to leave you. Trying to protect yourself from the inevitable only creates a frustrated Lucy. Two weeks is all it takes for her to have enough…

It was a normal phone call, you two ended nearly every day talking to each other. An off-handed comment you make causes Lucy to snap. “You will move on by then,” you try to play it off as a joke, but Lucy doesn’t laugh.

“Why do you say things like that?” She sounds genuinely curious when she asks.

You chuckle, “It’s fine Lucy, you can admit it.”“I am trying (y/n),” you can tell she’s tired by her voice.

“Why?” 

“What kind of fucking question is that?” this was what you wanted. You could hear the anger in Lucy‘s voice. She was finally going to prove you right. 

“I just don’t get it, I’m sure there are plenty of women in Barcelona who will fuck you Lucy. You don’t have to keep flying me out just to get laid.” As usual a poor argument on your end. There had been very little intimacy on your last trip, Lucy opting to fill your nights with conversation. 

She huffs, composing herself before she speaks, “this is a joke right? You are having a laugh.”

“Not everything is a joke. Tell me why? Why do you care to try Lucy?” There’s silence on the other end.

“Jesus,” Lucy finally sighs, “she really did you in. She did such a number on you that you can’t even see when someone might actually care about you.”

It felt like a low blow for her to bring up your ex, she knew it still hurt. “Fuck you Lucy. Next time you want someone to fuck just call your little teammate and leave me alone.”

“Yeah, fuck me,” you hear her say right before you disconnect the call. 

You feel nothing immediately after. However, a Lucy sized hole carves itself into your heart over the following days when you don’t hear from her. You know you miss her, but pride refused to let you text her first. 

Two weeks. That’s how long she makes you wait before you finally hear from her. As usual flight information and a short message, ‘sorry I got upset. I want to talk it out in person. Please come baby girl’. 

A shorter stay this time only for the weekend. You didn’t reply to her message, but you never doubted if you would be on that plane. Lucy was addictive. She could tell you to meet her halfway across the world and you would go. 

She’s waiting for you at baggage claim again, she knew just like you did that you would be there. There’s no exciting reunion this time. She just grabs your bag and offers her hand silently. 

The drive is tense and there’s no hand resting on your thigh like usual. Soft music floats through the car as she travels the Barcelona roads you are becoming familiar with. 

“I’ve missed you,” she finally breaks the stalemate once you’ve reached the confines of her home. “I’m sorry for not reaching out. I just needed to think a minute.”

“Okay,” you whisper, afraid of what conclusion all her thinking brought her to. 

“I’m trying because I care. I’m trying because I like you. Maybe it’s hard to believe, but that night we met is still my favorite memory of you. I saw you dancing with your friends and you looked so carefree. I was mesmerized by you. Every moment since then I’ve been hooked on you. What I said…about her doing a number on you was wrong. I just want you to see that I’m not looking to do that to you. I don’t fly you out here for a good lay and I don’t know what you meant about sleeping with my teammate, but I swear I’m not. There’s no one else I’m interested in sharing these moments with. I’m not looking to play around (y/n).”

You’re unsure if she even meant to say all that. She looks a bit shocked at herself. You on the other hand are barely keeping it together. You take a few tentative steps in her direction and she is quick to grab hold of you. Her strong arms wrapping around you as you let yourself break. 

“I’m scared of how happy you make me. I’m scared you will leave,” you’re sobbing and if it was anyone else seeing you like this you’d feel ashamed at how weak you look, but it was Lucy. Lucy who only pulled you closer and leaned down to attempt to kiss away every tear as they fell. Lucy, who had been nothing but gentle with you from the moment she took you home. 

“I’m not going anywhere, baby girl. Just please stop trying to push me away.”

That was probably the worst and best time during the past eight months. You learned a lot about yourself through being vulnerable with Lucy. She was patient with you as you worked to be able to trust her. She listened when you just wanted to vent and gave you space when everything became too much. 

You were falling, and it took you three months to realize it. Every weekend trip, every dinner date, every phone call, every quickie in airport bathrooms, it was all perfect because it was with her. Your mind told you to run, but your heart craved more. You wanted the fairytale to last forever.

Five months in and Lucy was finally visiting you in Amsterdam this weekend. It was only for two days, but you planned to make the most of it. You were getting ready for dinner at your favorite place, followed by a night on the town. “What color ya wearing?” Lucy asks, walking into your room in just a sports bra and shorts.

It felt intentional, she knew exactly what she was doing as your eyes drank her in, “b-black,” you reply meekly. Lucy hums, turning to rummage through her luggage. That view does nothing to slow your filthy thoughts, “we don’t have to go,” you suggest.

“What?” Lucy laughs, looking over her shoulder and noticing your state.

You really didn’t want to explain, “we can stay in. We should stay in, order takeaway.”

She pouts, “but I wanna match outfits with you and hold hands as we walk through Amsterdam.” She’s teasing and you know it. 

“That’s very cute, but you walk in here like that and now all I want to eat is you.” Lucy’s jaw drops, eyes darkening as she takes two calculated steps to get to you in a hurry, “but if dinner is what you want I’ll get ready.” You slide past her to your wardrobe. 

Lucy molds her body against your back. You can feel every ripple, and you have to suppress a moan at the feeling, “that can be dessert.” She licks along the shell of your ear causing your knees to wobble, she was definitely better at the teasing game than you were.

Once you arrive you are a bit embarrassed by the fancy restaurant you chose, it felt very date-y. Well technically it was a date, but it felt like a place for couples and that’s not what you and Lucy are. You don’t actually have a single clue what you and Lucy are.

“This was a good choice, I like it here.” Lucy grabs at your hand across the table, your worries eased instantly. 

“(y/n)!” You recognize the voice calling you, hand stiffening in Lucy’s. The panic sets in Lucy’s eyes immediately as she run’s a thumb across the back of your hand. “I thought that was you,” the girl says, reaching the table.

“Hi,” you reply politely, eyes flicking up to take in the sight of your ex who you hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. She hadn’t changed. You used to melt under her intense gaze in the best way possible, but now all you feel is insecurity. 

“Look at you. How have you been?” You straighten up at her words, removing your hand from Lucy’s grip. You begin to fuss over yourself, fixing out your hair and brushing down your already straightened top. A terrible habit you had fallen into while dating her.

“Good, yeah good,” you respond. You can’t look towards Lucy, you know she is judging you. You can feel the piercing gaze, burning into you. 

A hand reaches for your shoulder, “you look good. Amazing actually, what are your plans later?” she squeezes and your whole body tenses. 

You go to respond, but Lucy beats you to it, “I’m Lucy,” she nearly shouts.

“Okay?” your ex brushes off barely sparring her a glance before her eyes are boring back into you. 

“We have plans and you are interrupting our dinner,” Lucy presses on. 

Finally picking up on the situation, your ex looks back and forth between the two of you before laughing, “oh this is a date. Sorry to interrupt, just call me when you get done with…that yeah?” 

You don’t know why, but you nod as she walks away. “Let’s go,” Lucy commands as the waiter returns with her card.  She makes her way to your side of the table, gently pulling back your chair and wrapping your coat around you. If it wasn’t for nearly being able to see the steam coming from her ears you would think everything was fine.

She grips your hand, a calming thumb stroking along the back as you stand waiting for the valet to bring your car, “I’m sorry,” you tell her just as they pull up. Lucy furrows her brow, but doesn’t respond, opening the door and ushering you inside before hopping in the driver seat. 

“Look at me,” your glossy eyes meet hers. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m just upset I couldn’t do more baby girl. I’m upset she ruined a great night, but not at you. Never at you. You are perfect.”

“The night isn’t ruined, we still have dessert right?”

Lucy smirks, dropping her hand to your thigh and gripping firmly. It stays there the whole drive, occasionally moving up to brush against your center. 

The moment you enter your apartment Lucy has you pressed up against a wall, teeth nipping at your neck. “I didn’t like it.”

“What?” You question, attempting to stretch your neck to give her more access.

“The way she looked at you. I didn’t like the way she looked at what is mine,” Lucy is fevered in her movements, a moan falling from your mouth at her words. Lips moving to devour yours in a needy kiss. Hers, you love the way that sounds. 

“Tell me again,” you pull away stroking gently at her cheek to calm her movements. “Tell me I’m yours.”

Lucy smiles, softening as she pecks your lips, “you are mine baby girl.”

There was a shift after the weekend she spent in Amsterdam. You didn’t wonder what you and Lucy were doing anymore, it was blatantly clear. There was no question about it, you were actively dating the Barcelona defender. While it was news to you, it seemed she had known that much longer. 

From then on, every Monday morning like clock work there would be a flower delivery. A sweet note attached telling you to have a good week. Your days would be full of cute and flirty text. Every night ended with you curled up in one of her hoodies and a phone call that always kept you up too late. 

You were done fighting it. This was so much better than anything you could have imagined. You were introduced to new sides of Lucy. The passionate side, the shy side, aggressive, motivated, focused, all these different parts of her that made her whole. Your favorite was jealous Lucy. The distance flared this side a bit more. You’d seen it before on her trip here but over the phone it was just adorable. 

“Who else was there?” Lucy cuts your story off to ask her question. 

“No one. Why?”

“So it was a date? She asked you on a date?” She presses on and you try to gauge if she’s serious. 

“No,” you keep your answer short. 

Lucy grumbles, “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like what?”

“Her.”

You hold in your laugh. You were in the middle of telling Lucy how your new coworker asked you to lunch to get to know one another. “She didn’t do anything to you Luce.”

“She took you on a date. That’s my responsibility not hers,” her statement is firm and you melt. 

“Babe,” well that was new. You try to control the panic after the term of endearment slips for the first time. “It wasn’t a date and if it was in her mind it was the world's most boring date.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. No dates unless they are with you,” you send her a wink through FaceTime. “Even if I have to go all the way to Barcelona to have it.” 

Lucy watches you silently for a moment, “you can just move out here and I’ll take you out every night if you want,” she shrugs as if it’s a casual thing. 

This was an ongoing conversation, she always brought it up. Never in a pressuring way, just an if you wanted to, you could kind of way. You’d thought about it. You’d thought a whole lot about it, but last time you stayed in a city for someone you were dating it didn’t turn out great. You weren’t eager to run off and do it again. 

“I like when you called me that,” Lucy changes the topic seeing the wheels turning in your head. 

Your cheeks blush knowing exactly what she meant, but you feign ignorance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure you don’t baby girl. Just know I liked it a lot,” you nod grateful she’s letting you off the hook. A soft smile rests on both of your faces, just staring at one another for a while. As soon as the smirk begins to spread across her face you prepare for the cheeky comment, “tell me what you’re wearin.” 

The drop in her voice makes you laugh, “you can’t ask that on facetime where you can quite literally see what I am wearing. I thought you were better at this.”

“I just wanted to hear you laugh,” she shrugs, leaning back on her bed and letting out a yawn.

“Get some sleep,” you whisper out.

“Not sleepy,” she mumbles. She never wanted to be the reason the call ended, always finding a reason to prolong it. 

You chuckle, “yeah I know, but I am. I will text you in the morning, yeah?”

“Fine,” Lucy tries her best to sound mad. “Good night, beautiful.”

You smile so hard it hurts your cheeks, “good night babe.” Lucy flushes, the childlike smile taking over her face showing her pure joy at the term. She nods, refusing to hang up and waiting for you to do it.

There was nothing you could do, you had to accept the fact you were at Lucy’s mercy. After eight months your heart was hers to break and you couldn’t even begin to think what that actually meant. 

You talked to Alexia via Instagram, you wanted to plan something for Lucy for a change. A surprise, but you needed help and she seemed like the most logical option. You hadn’t seen Lucy in person since she last came to see you. Three months felt like such a long time at this point. 

Alexia picks you up from the airport, and you’re nervous. You didn’t necessarily know her that well, but you were happy she was willing to help. You get in her car and she drops a package in your lap, “a gift,” she says in her thick Spanish accent.

You pull back the paper wrapping and pull out the Barcelona jersey. BRONZE adorning the back makes you blush, “thank you.”

“I know you want Alexia on back, but Lucia will be mad,” she jokes and it does well to calm your nerves. 

Barcelona played tonight and you hadn’t seen Lucy play since the night in Tilburg. Alexia drops you at her apartment and introduces you to her girlfriend. She lets you know she will take you to the game seeing how Alexia had to be there early.

The atmosphere of the Barcelona match was even more exciting than the first match you attended. As usual you watch only her from the moment she steps out the tunnel, definitely the fittest. Again it’s not until the teams line up and Alexia points in your general direction that Lucy notices you. 

When your eyes lock with hers it feels like time stops. You can’t decipher what the look on Lucy’s face means, but you’re very sure what the racing of your heart means. You couldn’t say those three words, but you know they were true. It seems like Lucy finally snaps out of her trance and she sends you a wink. 

Several times throughout the match you catch her gaze drifting your way. Every time she lifts her shirt to wipe sweat from her face she makes sure she’s turned your way. Your core clenching each time, but then you quickly feel jealousy rise at everyone else getting to see that as well. “Jesus,” you mumble frustrated at the arousal you feel.

The match couldn’t end quick enough for you. It feels like Lucy is taking her time going around and greeting fans just to torture you. It’s embarrassing how turned on you were at a football match. When you finally see her head back you are quick to text her, ‘hurry up please!’

Her response is cheeky of course, no words just two simple emojis, 😏💦. You're sure Alexia’s girlfriend thinks you're a psycho. Nearly bouncing in your seat on your way to meet up with Lucy at her apartment. 

You see her car pull up and nearly sprint to it after saying your thanks.  Lucy goes to get out, but you are quick to open the back door and throw your luggage in, “do NOT get out yet.”

“Hi baby girl. What a surprise,” Lucy’s cocky smirk resting on her face as you slide in. 

“I didn’t like it,” you copy her words, pulling her into your lips by the strings of her hoodie. Your hand slides up the front resting against her abs that she flexes under your touch. 

She tries to take control of the kiss, darting her tongue in your mouth only briefly before pulling away, “What didn’t you like, baby girl?” 

“Keep your shirt down next time. There’s already enough videos of these out there,” you tell her running a hand down her stomach. 

“Oh, have you been watching edits again?”

“Shut it, hi babe surprise,” you blush realizing you hadn’t even properly greeted her. You take a deep breath, calming yourself from the lust that took over you during the match.

“Hi beautiful. Feeling alright?” You nod accepting the kiss she puts on your forehead. “Come on, let's get inside.”

Lucy carries your bag as she guides you towards the apartment. Your nose is hit with the overwhelming scent of Lucy the moment the door opens and you realize how much you’ve missed it. You wish you could bottle it and take it back with you when you leave or better yet never have to leave. “How was the flight? Are you tired? Have you eaten? Sorry it’s messy.”

Lucy speaks rapidly until you walk into her arms, wrapping yours around her neck, “I’m fine, everything is perfect. I’m just happy to be here.”

“Sorry, it just doesn’t feel real that you’re here. I’ve missed you. I nearly ran off the pitch when Alexia pointed you out.”

“I thought we were long overdue for some date nights and cuddles. Did I ruin any plans you had by coming unexpectedly?” You place a kiss on her lips as her hands trail up your sides. 

“You do know I would cancel every plan just to spend even an hour with you right?”

“You have to stop saying things like that…”

“But I mean it. I can’t explain to you how I felt when I looked up and saw you today,” she’s giving you that smile that caused all this. The one that made you absolute putty in her hands. 

“Lucy…” it’s said like a warning. You can feel yourself close to slipping. A confession you were so sure of, but scared to admit. 

“(Y/n),” she gives right back, pulling you closer. You fight it by taking a step out of her grip. Those eyes and that smile were too much for you. “It’s okay, you know.”

It feels like your heart stops. She knows, of course she knows. It was like she always knew what you were thinking before you even had time to process it. “I can’t do this.”

“No,” Lucy’s voice is firm. She makes her way back to you, a gentle touch placed on your waist. “We aren’t doing that anymore, remember? I won’t let you run away baby girl.”

“I’m scared,” you admit. This wasn’t how you planned this trip going, at least not right away. You weren’t supposed to get here and feel all these things. She wasn’t supposed to look at you like you were the most precious thing and smile at you like you were the only person capable of bringing her joy. 

“It’s okay to be scared, but don’t shut me out. Let’s be scared together because you aren’t the only one,” that catches your attention. Your eyes searching hers for a clue to what she meant. “I’m happy you’re here. Let’s just enjoy it, yeah?”

“I missed you,” you finally relax back in her grip. Lucy could soothe even the wildest of storms within you with just a few words. Her presence and gentle whispers were able to hush every worry and any doubt. Her eyes are a reflection of tranquility.

“Should we go out for dinner?” 

You shake your head, “no, let's stay in.” You didn’t want to share her with anyone. You selfishly wanted every single bit of her attention to be on you.

“That sounds amazing, baby girl. Why don’t you shower and get settled. I’ll start dinner.” You nod, turning to head towards the bedroom when she grabs your wrist again pulling you back. “Oh, did I mention how good you look with my name on your back?”

“You didn’t have to, I know.” You leave a kiss on her lips before making your way. It’s not until you reach the bedroom that you realize all the pieces of you scattered about her apartment. The hair products on the dresser exactly where you left them, the skincare essentials lined up next to hers, your hoodie across the bed that she clearly wore the night before. What used to be one drawer of your things that went back home with you had turned into you nearly having your own side of the dresser. 

You head to the shower to stop the racing thoughts of when that even happened, only to be met with your shampoo resting on the ledge beside hers. You’re about to step in when Lucy enters, “Here baby, a new toothbrush I threw your old one out with mine. I wanted to wait til you got back to open yours. I made sure to get your favorite color this time too, crybaby,” she teases, giving a soft smack to your bum as she slides it in the holder.

You’re speechless. There was nothing you could say right now that wouldn’t be the cheesiest confession you ever made, so you settle for a smile. You were so fucked. 

The shower fails at washing away your thoughts. You slip into the hoodie she laid out for you, it was your favorite one of hers. You had sent it back with her when she left Amsterdam because it no longer smelt like her. You take a deep inhale of the fabric as it wraps around you, glad to have it back. 

You can smell dinner from the bedroom and head out, “Took you long enough. I was about to send in a search party.” Lucy is focused on her task of setting the table and adding the finishing touches to your meals. Having slipped into shorts and a shirt she clearly went through your bag to find, she looked perfect to you. Glasses perched on her nose and a low bun in her hair, you were sure she never looked this beautiful before. 

“Lucy…” you whisper from just inside the doorway.

“Sit, it’s almost ready.”

“Lucy…” you say it a bit louder this time as your voice cracks. 

Her eyes immediately focus on you when she hears it and she’s by your side a moment later, “baby girl what is wrong?’

“I am having big feelings right now babe,” you feel the first tear roll down your cheek and wipe at it aggressively. You couldn’t fight it anymore.

“Okay, what do you need from me?” Lucy is cautious, not wanting to make anything worse if space is what you wanted.  She was the one who started the whole ‘big feelings’ thing when you were working through trusting her. It was stupid and felt like what you say to a toddler, but it was cute when she said it and allowed you space to be vulnerable.

“I love you,” you hate that your voice cracked when you said it. “I love you more than I thought humanly possible to love another person Lucy. I want you and I want life with you here. I have no clue what you do to me, but I never want it to end.”

Lucy blinks, pulling you close to study you before a smile breaks across her face, “say it again.”

“No,” you are suddenly very aware of the fact you just confessed your feelings and can’t stop the blush of embarrassment. 

Lucy kisses at your cheeks, “please baby girl. Just one more time.”

“I. Love. You,” you peck her lips with each word before she holds you close to deepen it. 

“I love you too,” Lucy shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to admit. You shove her at the nonchalant attitude, “what? I’ve known I loved you for months now.”

You playfully shove her away from you again, “why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“You weren’t ready to hear that. I was okay keeping it to myself until you were on the same page as me. You’ve had me since the moment I laid eyes on you (y/n).”

You groan, “sorry I made you wait.”

Lucy shrugs again, the same one you found so charming on that first night, “I would’ve waited a lifetime for you baby girl.”

a/n: sorry if there was any mistakes... I feared if I read it one more time I'd end up hating it and starting over lol

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 13

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | AO3

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Eddie wakes up in the morning - or at least, he thinks it's morning, though he guesses he could still be losing track of time, and it might still be the same day. His head lulls automatically to the side, gaze seeking out the hospital bed next to him like it's second nature, and -

Steve's gone.

There's no one there, the bed clean and empty with sheets all tucked and a pillow still in plastic, like no one was ever there in the first place.

Fuck, what if he wasn't there? What if Eddie's doped up brain imagined all of this, giving himself the comfort of a circle of friends that would stay with him in the hospital, that promised they wouldn't leave him and meant it? What if he really is alone now?

His breath is coming in short, desperate gasps, and he recognizes enough to know that he's hyperventilating again - though it feels distant, fuzzy, like it's happening to someone else and he's just observing.

Somewhere through the thick cotton obscuring his ears, he can tell someone is saying his name.

It's Dustin, fuck, he knows that voice, and he knows that means he's not alone, that they're still here with him, but he can't quite seem to get the rest of him on board with that thought, can't make it cut the panic racing through him.

There's a loud squawk by his ear, a hitch-pitched whine of feedback and a rush of static, and that startles him enough to focus in on Dustin urgently asking someone to do what they did before.

"Hey, Eddie, can you hear me?" Steve asks, voice tinny but still there, and Eddie tries not to feel pathetic about how hard he latches onto it. "You're all right, you're safe. You're not alone. We've got you, Eds, everyone's okay. We all made it out, we're all with you."

He keeps up the mantra as Eddie's breathing slowly evens out, as he feels himself settle back into himself. Dustin's sitting next to him, eyes wide and panicked, clutching a walkie-talkie and holding it up close to him as Steve's voice sounds from it.

"I'm-" Eddie starts, then has to swallow a few times around how dry his mouth feels. "I'm here. I'm good. Just - saw your bed empty when I woke up, kind of panicked."

"We've all been there," Steve says. "I got myself discharged a few hours ago - I'm out getting things ready. I'll let Dustin take it from here, okay? See you guys soon."

Eddie hums an affirmative, and Dustin lets go of the walkie, tucks it back into his pocket. There's a moment where Eddie has no idea what the fuck to say, but then Dustin shoots a little smile at him.

"It's okay," he says. "It happens to all of us. We skipped school to be with Will the first time this all happened, and I spent the night at Steve's for a week straight once."

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up. "Your mom let you sleep over at Steve Harrington's place for a week?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "She loves Steve, it's kind of annoying. I told her he got his concussion defending us from bullies that time, and he needed someone to stay with him and make sure his brain didn't bleed out of his ears in his sleep."

There's a pause, and then the kid's eyes go a little bit earnest, like he's trying to sell him on something. "It was great, though. Steve made breakfast every morning, and he let me get whatever I wanted on my pizza, and he cooked dinner sometimes too, and he's got a huge TV and a ton of movies on tape, and he only complains a little bit if you-"

The door slams open, and Eddie jumps.

"We gotta go," Robin says as she and Lucas crowd into the room. "Did you tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Eddie asks, eyes darting around the room, fully expecting to see clocks or vines or fucking bats. "Is it Vecna, did that fucker recover already?"

"No, Max says he was in pretty bad shape. He's gonna be down for a while," Lucas replies.

"It's the cops and the rest of the town looneys," Robin says, taking up a post by the door while Lucas paces across the room, looking out the window. "We heard on the police radio channel, they found out you're here. We gotta get you out."

"Fuck." Eddie swallows, tangling the fingers of his good hand in the sheets of the hospital bed so tight it makes his knuckles creak. "I'm kind of out of options on safe places to lay low and recuperate here."

"What?" Dustin looks affronted. "No you're not. I told you, you've got us."

"All of us," Robin says, as Dustin comes to stand by her at the door.

He cranes his head down the hall. "Is there a doctor coming to release him?"

"Yeah, Erica yelled at him until he gave in, he's on his way." Lucas glances away from the window to look at Eddie. "We hid El in Mike's basement for days without anyone knowing, you think we can't do the same for you?"

Robin snorts. "It's not going to be Wheeler's shitty basement, Eddie, don't worry."

Eddie stares at them. Part of him is aware of what they're saying, is processing that he needs to get out of the hospital and he's not going to have to do it alone - that even though the world isn't technically ending right now, they're all going to stand by him.

But he feels like he did when they came back from sticking up for him with Carver and the others - overwhelmed, like he hasn't done anything to deserve this, like he doesn't know what to do with such clear, undeniable evidence that they've made him one of this party now.

"Eddie?" Dustin asks, stepping in a little closer. "You okay?"

Eddie snaps himself out of it. "Yeah. Just - fuck, all right, let's do this."

Robin helps him stand up, stays by his side as he steps into a pair of loose scrubs that someone's scrounged up for him - he doesn't ask, and he's assuming the clothes he wore in the Upside Down are trashed - and lets him lean on her shoulder so he's somewhat steady on his feet by the time a harried looking doctor makes it into the room.

"You realize you're not ready to be discharged?" the doctor asks immediately.

"I'm over eighteen," Eddie replies. "You can't keep me here if I want to leave, right?"

The doctor sighs. "You'll be leaving against medical advice."

"But I'm not going to, like, die of blood loss or infection or something if I do?" Eddie presses.

"We can't answer that question with any surety without another few days of observation," the doctor replies, then relents when everyone glares at him. "It's highly unlikely."

"Just tell us what we need to do to keep an eye on him," Robin says.

The doctor goes over the cliff notes - soft foods for a while, showers are okay but no soaking, no lifting things over five pounds, there's a page of stretching exercises for his shoulder and leg, a timeline for recovery, and a prescription for the rest of his antibiotics and a smaller one for some painkillers.

"That's all I can give you since you're leaving against medical advice," the doctor says, which Eddie knows is a load of bullshit, but he's too exhausted and itching to get out of here to call him on it.

They herd him out of the room and to the elevator, standing in a little half circle around him like he's got his own little string of tiny bodyguards, and the thought makes him giggle, just a little bit hysterically.

"You guys look like little lion cubs," he says.

"You think we can't protect you?" Dustin asks, sounding hurt.

Eddie shakes his head. "No, no, I'm feeling very protected right now. Thank you."

The elevator dings, and Eddie takes a deep breath as he steps off - into a controlled chaos. The waiting room is packed, some gurneys set up right out there with nurses tending to what seems like minor cases, and even some people sleeping on the floor. Eddie feels a moment of swooping panic, but no one even looks his way. They shuffle him out of the hospital to where Nancy and Erica are waiting in the Wheeler station wagon.

Eddie gingerly climbs in, and Lucas and Dustin slide into the backseat with Erica.

Robin holds up his prescription. "I'm gonna get this filled. Swing back and grab me after you drop them off?" she asks Nancy.

Nancy hums an affirmative, eyes flicking around to make sure everyone's wearing their seat belts before she takes off.

Eddie thinks about asking where they're going, but his stomach and chest and legs and arm ache, and he's wiped just from the walk out of the hospital and to the car. So he just tips his head back against the seat of the car, closes his eyes, and tries to hold himself still enough that the seatbelt doesn't rub up against his wounded gut.

Eventually, the car stops. He expects more talking, but there's a tense silence in the flurry of activity, until someone pulls open the car door and is unbuckling his seatbelt for him.

"Shit," Dustin says. "Is he out again?"

"M'up," Eddie mumbles, though admittedly, he's not entirely sure he's up for moving.

"Go get Steve," Erica orders imperiously. "Someone needs to drag his sorry ass around again."

Eddie forces his eyes open. "M'up, m'up, I got this."

In the time it takes for him to get oriented well enough to notice that the car is in a garage, and then shuffle around to get his feet pointed in the direction of out, though, Dustin's apparently managed to collect Steve, who emerges from what Eddie assumes is the door to a house, wearing a pair of sweats and a Hawkins swim team sweatshirt.

Eddie waves his hands around, preemptively slapping Steve away before he can even get to him. "No," he tells him, as he comes to a stop just out of slapping range. "I know you've got stitches, too. No heavy lifting."

"We're not going to lift you, Eddie, we're just going to help," Nancy says, coming around to his other side, and -

Hmm.

"Yeah, okay," he agrees, lowering his arms for a moment before changing course, and holding one hand out to each of them.

Nancy takes one hand, and Steve the other, and they both step in closer to help guide him out of the car and to his feet. They promptly sling one of his arms over each of their shoulders, and start shuffling their way into the house. Eddie pretends the sharp hiss and the sting of tears in his eyes are due only to the edge of pain from the movement, and not to the fact that he's feeling overwhelmed again by just how willing all of them seem to be to help him when he needs it.

The house that they shuffle him through is fucking pristine, a laundry room that feels bigger than Eddie's kitchen right off the garage and into a hallway, a closed off double door to the right and then a massive living room. There's an l-shaped sofa all made up with pillows and blankets, and that's where they take him, letting him settle down on it with a sigh of relief.

"Robin's filling his prescriptions," Nancy says to Steve. "I'm going to go get her, we'll be back soon."

She heads out as the herd of children Eddie apparently belongs to now troop into the living room, their voices all clamoring together.

Steve whistles, sharp and clear and making Eddie wince, though it does cut through the noise.

"You two," he says, pointing at the Sinclairs. "With me, we're calling your parents from the kitchen. Dustin, you're after them."

The noise picks up again, and this time Eddie can make out loud protests. Steve puts his fingers to his mouth again, and nope, nope, Eddie does not want that sounding off this close to his ear again.

"Hey!" he roars, and even though it makes his throat hurt, it works to shut them up. "Thank you."

"Parents," Steve repeats. "Or they're going to come looking for you, and maybe no one else will think to look for you guys here, but they will."

Dustin groans, but he doesn't protest again.

"What are we even supposed to tell them?" Lucas grumbles.

Steve shrugs. "What do you usually tell them?"

Dustin considers. "…yeah, okay, the babysitter cover will probably still work."

"Add in the Starcourt special," Lucas says.

Eddie looks between them all. "Is any of that supposed to make sense?"

"I told you, our parents love Steve," Dustin says. "He's been beaten up enough protecting us that they think he's some kind of defender against bullies and natural disasters."

Unwillingly, Eddie remembers the headlines after Starcourt, puts it together with what Robin'd told him and how beat to hell Steve looked when Eddie saw him. It doesn't sit well with Eddie, how casually Dustin talks about Steve getting beat up protecting them, but he also remembers Dustin holding onto Steve like he was a lifeline back in the hospital, so he thinks maybe it's a coping mechanism as much as it's a belief that Steve is invincible.

"We'll just tell them Steve was with us when the earthquake hit, and he kept us safe, then we waited with him at the hospital until he was discharged," Lucas says. "It's not even technically a lie."

Erica snorts, unimpressed. "And how does that explain you three sneaking out of the house when the cops were there and running away?"

"The cops? Oh, fucking great," Steve mutters. "What'd they say to you, are you guys okay?"

Max waves her good hand. "They didn't have anything on us. We weren't under arrest, they didn't tell us not to leave the house. They've got nothing."

"Question," Eddie says, holding up a hand. "How does that fit in with Steve carrying my unconscious ass into the hospital and telling everyone we were attacked?"

"You were attacked by the real killer, obviously," Dustin says, rolling his eyes. "But we're not going to bring that out until things have settled down a little."

Eddie considers if it's worth protesting exactly how flimsy that cover story is, and how much it won't hold up to anything, but - well. If he thinks too much about how deeply screwed he is with this murder stuff, it just makes him panic, and he doesn't really have room for all of that right now considering he's barely able to physically function.

He's pretty sure their parents will be too focused on their kids being safe after the "earthquake" for now, so he lets it go.

Steve seems to agree - or comes to an entirely different conclusion with the same result, fuck if Eddie knows, because he just points at Lucas and Erica again. "Kitchen. Now."

The Sinclairs reluctantly follow him, leaving Max and Dustin alone with Eddie.

"They're probably going to make us come home," Dustin mutters.

Max gives him a disdainful look. "At least you probably have a home to go back to."

"Wait, what?" Eddie asks when Dustin winces.

"The trailer park's a wreck," Max says flatly. "The earthquake or whatever it was hit the worst at the gates."

The gates. One of which was on the ceiling of his living room, right where -

"My uncle," Eddie says, trying not to freak out. "Is he okay, has anyone-"

"He's fine!" Dustin says hurriedly. "He was already out of your guys' place, cause, you know, crime scene. The school's been set up as a temporary housing until they can get everything sorted out, he's there."

Fuck if that doesn't make Eddie feel guilty all over again, but knowing his uncle is at least physically safe calms him down.

Max looks a little abashed, like she'd forgotten that she wasn't the only one in this little group who lives on that side of town anymore, which makes his heart go out to her. It's easy to forget about the things that should divide them, when they're all focused on saving the world and just trying to survive another day. He wonders how she deals with it when they're not all caught up in the Upside Down - wonders if she just hasn't been dealing with it at all, considering he knows she's a new resident of Forest Hills and that she'd been pulling away from the group before this.

She doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't ask.

Steve comes back before it gets too awkward, eyes automatically landing on Max in a way that, for a ridiculous moment, makes Eddie wonder if the guy is actually psychic.

"Mrs. Sinclair is asking for you," Steve says. "Do you want to come talk to her?"

His voice is soft, gentle, and he gives Max time to think it over - Eddie gets the feeling that Steve already has an excuse prepared for the Sinclairs if Max says no.

Max's eyes dart over at Eddie and Dustin for a moment, like she's not sure she wants to say anything in front of them. Then she deflates a little and looks back at Steve.

"My mom call back?" she asks.

"Not yet," Steve replies. "We can try again."

Max's jaw sets, and she shakes her head. "No. I want to talk to Mrs. Sinclair."

She stands, and doesn't push Steve's arm off of her when he grabs her in for a side hug as he guides her back into the kitchen.

Dustin leans back in the recliner he'd claimed, propping his booted foot up on the footrest. "I'm going to see if Mom'll let me stay over here a few days," he declares.

"Good luck with that," Eddie says. "Your mom's love of Steve aside, you've been gone for days. I think she's entitled to a day or two of hovering over you."

Dustin's nose scrunches, like he really wants to protest that but he's pretty sure Eddie's right.

"Fine," he mutters. "But you guys have to agree to walkie me every night. Every night, Eddie. And you have to make sure Steve leaves it on, and charged up, and I'm going to make him promise to check in as soon as he wakes up in the morning."

His heart - his stupid, not nearly cynical enough heart - cracks a little. "I'm okay, Dustin. Steve and I made it out okay."

"This time," Dustin says, and he won't meet Eddie's eyes, his voice thick enough that Eddie suspects he's holding back tears. "But you almost didn't. You almost died, Eddie, if El hadn't been ready for Vecna maybe you would have. And Steve - he's my brother, and I know he thinks he's invincible but one day he's not going to be, and he doesn't know how much I need him, how much I need you both -"

"Hey," Steve says.

Dustin yelps at the same time that Eddie jumps, hissing when that pulls at his stitches.

"Shit, Steve, make some noise next time!" Dustin complains.

"Sorry," Steve says, then reaches out to ruffle Dustin's hair. "I know, Dustin. Eddie and I both know, okay? We need you, too."

Part of Eddie wants to wheel back, to tell Steve that's awfully presumptuous of him, but - the part of him that he doesn't want to acknowledge, the bigger part right now, really fucking likes the way Steve says we, the way it makes Dustin stop looking so broken.

"Go home for a few days, then you can tell your mom that you're worried I'm going to rip my stitches trying to take care of myself and come stay over for a while, okay? We'll do it just like the first time."

Dustin considers that for a moment, then nods. "Okay."

"Good," Steve says. "Because it's your turn. You want me to bring the phone out here?"

"Nah, I can make it." Dustin lets down the recliner and slowly shuffles his way to the kitchen.

Steve shoots Eddie a look, and there's something quiet and intense in his eyes, something that Eddie feels like he can almost get, if he just -

Then Steve's moving, following Dustin back to the kitchen, and it's gone.

Eddie's alone.

This is the first time since he spent that long, shitty night in the woods that he's actually had some space to himself without one of the others in this strange little party right there. Part of him thinks he should enjoy the reprieve, taking in a breath and letting it out without worrying about what anyone else might see. Part of him thinks he should be panicking, like he did every time he thought he might have been left alone in the hospital.

He doesn't know what he actually feels.

There's a faint murmur of voices from the kitchen, low and soothing, and he thinks - he thinks about how if he yelled, any one of them would come running for him. He thinks about how if he heard yelling from them, he'd be launching himself up off this sofa and scrambling for the kitchen, bloody bite wounds or not. He thinks about how he ran, and how he didn't, and how none of them seemed to blame him when he ran from an invisible monster that turned a girl who was nothing but nice to him into a broken doll, and how they yelled at him for almost dying when he didn't run from a mob of demon bats who almost tore him to pieces. He thinks about how not one of them ever called him a coward, thinks about how they dragged him out of hell and slept in his hospital room and whisked him off to safety.

He thinks, maybe, they might just keep him, even if he isn't Steve's soulmate.

Steve comes out of the kitchen, shoots him a little wry smile and says, "Kind of figured none of us really want to be alone right now," and Eddie -

He thinks, fuck, he still really wants to be Steve's soulmate anyway.

Taglist (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

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Part 14

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

An Americano, Please? Part 3

Word count: 1.3K A/N: Just an FYI, I don't usually upload twice a day, I just felt particularly inspired today. As always, italics in quotation marks signify the speaking is using romanian dialect.

Y/N's POV:

I gotta admit. It hurt when Jenna didn't send me a text immediately. It's been two days, and still nothing.

Maybe it was a meaningless banter. Oh well. I guess I just really thought something could come out of it.

"What are you sulking about?" Nessa asks me one day after our shift. 

"I'm not sulking, I'm just a little sad because I didn't get a text from someone," I explain, "It's not like she owed me a text or anything, but I don't have to be ecstatic over the fact that she hasn't done so."

"Oh my god, you're into the American one," Nessa exclaims, "I knew it! I mean, she's gorgeous. Like if I were into girls I would definitely be into her." I take a sip of my cortado (half espresso, half milk) as I listen.

"Well in any case, she's probably not interested."

"Stop sulking, Y/N," Nessa scolds me, "Let's do something fun. Gotta get your mind off of this girl."

Since our shift just ended, and we have a whole afternoon ahead of us, Nessa and I take her car to Predeal, the closest thing to a modern city we have around here.

It's about seven miles, so about twenty minute drive. The town's mostly filled with ski resorts, but there's a few fun places to shop.

A great deal of the afternoon is spent sitting outside a store judging the tourists. 

"Oh my god she's probably saying something stupid like, 'I know it's winter but my husband will love this hawaiian T-shirt I bought in Romania,'" Nessa mimics the normal thought process of the typical tourist.

"This guy's even worse though,"  I stifle a laugh, mocking his actions.

After a thorough mockery of all of the Predeal tourists, we head back to our town, content with our afternoon.

I still haven't stopped thinking about Jenna, though. I wish I could have gotten to know her better. It's so nice to finally have someone I can talk to in English.

All I can do is hope that she comes back to the shop. Even then though, she probably won't want much to do with me.

Nessa drops me off at my apartment, waving goodbye. Almost instantly, I shed my winter coat, relieved by the warmth of the building.

The first thing I do is turn on the TV and open Netflix. A new baking show just dropped, and I'm not the type to turn down new entertainment.

The show turns out to be a combination of baking and engineering. It seems cool, but it's hard to tell from the first episode.

My phone lights up with a bright reminder Remember to feed Cupid!

Sighing, I get up from the couch and grab my fish flakes.

Cupid is my purple betta fish. She's about a year old and as of yet hasn't had too many health issues, which is super lucky for both of us. She's at the point where she recognizes my face. So when I go up to the tank, fish feed in hand, she eagerly swims up to the glass.

"Hey Cupid," I laugh, sprinkling some food into the tank.

After feeding her, I head back to the couch, where I continue watching my cooking show. Before I know it, I'm five episodes in and the sun is starting to set. I look out of the window, trying to gauge the temperature and weather condition.

It's a fairly clear twilight right now. There's a good chance I'll get to see stars tonight. Actually, I've decided I will see stars tonight.

I don my winter coat and make my way down the apartment complex stairs. One of the perks of not living in a huge city is that I can see the night sky beautifully.

One of my favorite places in town is on the outer edges of it. At this point, all of the buildings are housing, be it apartments or actual houses. The long stretches of pavement are perfect for strolling down while admiring the night. 

Not a lot of people choose to come out here late at night, which is honestly their loss. I wouldn't necessarily say I'm super into nature and the great outdoors, but when I am outside, I can find an appreciation for my surroundings.

So that's how I found myself strolling the streets of Bușteni Romania, not looking at the cement in front of me.

BAM! I find myself crashing into another person, almost knocking both of us over.

"Fuck, I am so sorry," I find myself defaulting to english, "I- I mean, I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

"Y/N?" A familiar voice asks.

"Jenna?" It may be dark, but I can just barely see the details of her face. God I hope she's not mad.

"Yep, it's me," I hear her faintly laugh.

"Are you okay? I almost knocked you over."

"I'm okay, just a little rattled."

"Sorry for that again," I apologize, "I should have been watching where I was going." 

"You could make it up to me by walking me to my apartment?" she offers.

"I'd like nothing more," I laugh, linking my arm with hers and we start to walk.

"So, Y/N, tell me about yourself," she starts the conversation.

"Well, my name's Y/N L/N, I work at a coffee shop. I speak English and Romanian, which is useful for when people like you come to the shop."

"I know that stuff," she interrupts me, "what do you like to do outside of work?"

"You know, the normal things, be around the people I care about, watch shows, I read sometimes, listen to music, that kind of stuff. What about you?"

"Well for starters, I'm Jenna Ortega, I also love to read and listen to music," she tells me, "I also like to write though, I have like, twenty scripts and stories sitting in my FinalDraft™ folder."

"Damn, you must really like writing," I respond, "that's pretty awesome."

"I guess so," she shrugs.

"Have you ever considered publishing your work?" I ask.

"Yeah, I actually published a book called It's All Love," she answers proudly.

"That's like, the coolest thing anyone's said to me all day," I tell her.

"I guess I'm just a cool person," she jokes, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, only an arrogant person would say that."

"No, you have reason to say, it. You're a published author, the lead in a TV show, and fun to talk to. Don't discredit your own awesome-ness." 

She laughs, "thanks for saying that."

"Sure thing." 

"So, does your offer to take me around town sometime still stand?" she changes the subject.

"I'm a woman of my word, Jenna, if you still want a tour, you have my number," I remind her, trying to sound kind and cool at the same time. Which is kind of challenging.

"Oh my god, I forgot to text you, didn't I," she gasps, "I'm so so sorry, Y/N. I've just had so much going on." She starts to talk herself into a panic, "I have work for like, eight hours a day, plus cello lessons, plus german and fencing, it's just so much." If I had known how busy she was I never would have felt so hurt. That must be so overwhelming.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm not mad about it." Which is true. 

"That's such a relief," she exhales, "again, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, Jenna, it's okay. How about the next time you have a day off, we get in touch and I take you around town."

"Well, conveniently enough, my next day off is tomorrow, so how about I see you then?" she offers.

"I wouldn't be opposed to that," I smile, doing my best to hide how excited I am for this.

"Well this is my place," she announces, "thank you for walking me home." 

"Anytime," I reply, sad to know the night is ending. She heads through the door to her apartment, leaving me to walk the short five minutes to my apartment alone.

As soon as I get home, I dash to my bedroom, putting on pyjamas and getting ready for bed. I'm tired from the day. At at the same time, I'm so happy I got to see Jenna. I'm so excited that she wants to see me again, maybe tomorrow! I can't wait to get to know her better.

My phone lights up with a text from a new number

                       +1 ***-***-****

Does 11 AM tomorrow work for you?

-Jenna

I smile, quickly texting back 

                               Sure thing, see ya then :)

I can hardly wait.

[masuchu]

↻ MORNINGS WITH HIM ?!

pairing. dazai x reader, chuuya x reader, kunikida x reader

warnings. none, fluff

a/n. wrote this at like 2am , hence how small it is aha,, i like it anyways tho :b

dazai —

dazai loves being in bed with you, not even in a sexual way, (though, he loves that too.) mornings with dazai are soft, warm and lazy. you’ll wake up (nine times out of ten, before him) with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his chest pressed against your back, getting as close to you as possible. it’s nice to just bask in the feeling of each other for while, in a tired state of half awake/half asleep, putting your hands over his and pulling him closer (if that’s even possible). you’ll know when he wakes up, because he’ll shuffle around a bit and begin to press small kisses to your neck, chuckling softly when you whine and tell him it tickles. if you try and make a start to your day, getting up to make you both breakfast, he’ll pout and pull you back down to him, complaining about how he rarely gets days off and how you should both sleep all day. and to be honest, you do like the sound of that. maybe you’ll get up in an hour or so, but for now, some more sleep won’t hurt you..

chuuya —

mornings with chuuya are calm, lively and loving. he usually wakes up before you, it’s out of habit, he’s used to early mornings and lates nights at the base. he really savours his time with you when he can, he’ll run his hand softly over your cheek, laughing lightly when you press into him in your sleep. if your fast asleep, he’ll slowly inch of bed and make his way to the kitchen, making breakfast for the both of you (but always making your favourite things, even if he doesn’t like them.) maybe the sizzling of the pan will wake you up, a little disappointed at the lack of your lover, but mouth watering at the smell of warm pancakes and newly cooked food. laughing at the sight of him in your pink frilly apron, you’ll hug him from behind and tell him to come back to bed. he’ll smile softly, turning around to hug you back, stroking your hair and saying ‘i’ll come back with food in a few minutes, how about you go and wait for me, hm?’ you can’t say that doesn’t sound good, so you’ll wait for him, curled up in blankets. he’ll chuckle as he walks in, sitting down next to you and telling you to open up, say ahh. the rest of your morning will be spent feeding each other, wiping honey of your faces and sharing strawberry filled kisses <3

kunikida —

kunikida takes pride in his carefully thought out routines and life guides, his mornings always included waking up early, working and writing. that was, until he met you. mornings with him are teasing, lively and filled with guilty pleasures. he’d still wake up early, maybe 6 am, it’s natural for him now. he’d try and get up, but with your arms clinging onto him and your chin hooked over his shoulder, it makes it quite hard. so he’ll sit there, debating wether to wake you up, move you or indulge in a few more hours sleep (something so unfamiliar to him that he’s overthinking it already.) he’ll settle for just waiting for you to wake up, which he’ll find out, was probably a bad idea. when you finally wake up, he’ll cup your cheek and say please let me up, love. you’ll pout and whine, telling him a few more minutes won’t hurt, pleaaaase? and he just can’t say no when you give him that face, as much as his brain is telling him too. those few minutes turn into an hour and he’s given up on work, in fact, he’s completely forgotten about it. all he focusing on is you, how you laugh at his grumpy face and kiss his nose when he looks away, the way your face lights up when he agrees to take the day off.. he’s really changed because of you. for the better? he’ll never tell, but if it’s for you, then he’d like to say it’s for a good cause (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

[farfromstrange]

just read ‘long distance’ and i was wondering if you could serve pain? jen walters was mentioned and reader exists, that means angst and maybe cheating (or even a hint of it?) please??? i love your fluff and smut pieces. also the angst (but i dont dwell too much since self harming is better left in the past for me) but i really like how you deliver pain. i hope this gets chosen and written, but no pressure ofc. thank you and may the spirit of creativity live within you.

Hi, nonnie! I'm sorry you had to wait so long. I wasn't sure if you wanted a part 2 or an entirely new fic, so I kind of used part of what I already mentioned in Long Distance and continued in this fic. I didn't do full-on cheating, but it's still angst, and well... there is no comfort. I hope you like it!

Burn | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt comes home after his work trip and tells you something that changes your life forever.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of Smut, cheating

Word Count: 2.7k

You’re not sure what happened. 

Matt spent a few weeks in Los Angeles to work on a case that would bring in some money. You didn’t mind; he does it sometimes. Since he, Foggy, and Karen opened the doors of their law firm again, work trips between the three have become more frequent. They’re making money now, and you would always support it.

You have also never been insecure about your relationship with him before. You and Matt have been together for years, even before the Blip, and you held onto each other when all of your friends disappeared. You thought you were happy. His job is going well; you are happy and don’t have to live paycheck by paycheck anymore. At least you thought so. 

While he was away, you talked over the phone regularly. He always seemed so relieved to hear your voice. You often talked for hours, and you texted him sweet nothings during the day. He told you he appreciated it. 

Every other night, you would retreat to your bedroom and he would guide you to orgasm after orgasm with the sound of his voice, and you would do the same. The toy he got you before he left for LA came in handy more than once since you could be connected over the distance now and still somehow control each other’s pleasure.

When he texted you he would be home earlier than expected, you were so excited, you took the day off, put on your best lingerie, and cooked dinner. You thought he would be happy to be with you again; he told you how much he missed you. He compared it very dramatically to a lack of air and that you were his oxygen, and you remember laughing at him. You have never loved a man as much as you love Matt Murdock, so it is only natural for you to get excited, right?

You talked about marriage before, maybe even kids. You planned a future together. Deep down, you’ve been waiting for him to pop the question. Foggy is an idiot and he let something slip one day, and ever since you have been vigilant. You thought that he might finally ask you after coming home from his trip. 

You thought. That seemed to be the common denominator. You always just believe and hope for the best; in the end, things don’t turn out how you want them to. 

You’re really not sure what happened, but something did happen because when Matt opens the door, he’s not even smiling at you. 

“Welcome back!” you greet him with the brightest smile you can offer. Maybe he’s just tired. 

But you know him and you know the difference between exhaustion and guilt; the man before you may be tired, but he is also struggling with the shame he inflicted upon himself, and it is not his duty as Daredevil this time. 

He drops his bag by the door. You lean in for a kiss. “How was your flight?” you ask.

You’re in denial. Something happened, but you don’t want to ruin it. You don’t want to ruin this. You keep telling yourself it’s going to be okay, but you just don’t know what happened to get you here–

He evades your lips, simply hugging you briefly before answering, “Good.”

Your body trembles. “Matt.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, what’s wrong?” he retorts. He moves to the kitchen and grabs himself a bottle of beer. “I’m just tired.”

You frown. “Is that why you can’t even look at me?” you ask.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart–” the usually so endearing nickname sounds so bitter now. “You know I can’t see,” he says. 

“You know what I mean.” You cross your arms. “Something isn’t right.”

His expression is serious, and it sends a wave of unease crashing over you. You try to push away the worry that gnaws at your insides, but it's hard to ignore the change in his demeanor.

He avoids your gaze, his eyes flickering around the room as if searching for something, or perhaps, avoiding something. Silence hangs heavy in the air, stretching the seconds into eternity.

That’s when you know that something happened, and it affects you because if it didn’t, he wouldn’t be so distant toward you. You taught him to always be open with you about his struggles, and he has managed to learn how to voice his needs, so it confuses you when he does neither and treats you more like a stranger than his girlfriend. 

There was only one time in your relationship he acted this way and that was the day Elektra stepped back into his life, and with it, yours. 

Your stomach churns. The hope you had built up crumbles, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. “What happened?” you urge again. 

He leans against the kitchen counter, turning his head away from you. Tears are glistening in his eyes behind his red glasses. 

“Matthew, please,” you beg. “Talk to me. Tell me!”

The room feels heavy with tension. His shoulders slump, and for a moment, it seems like he's about to break, to let the words spill forth. But just as quickly, he straightens his posture and averts his gaze.

"I can't," he whispers. "I can't tell you."

You step forward, but he shies away as if being close to you is somehow toxic. It breaks your heart. He looks disgusted, and you wonder if it's because of you. Maybe you used the wrong body wash, but that would elicit a different reaction. You didn't do anything differently today, you're simply excited, that's all there is, but as you look at him, he seems to be the exact opposite. Stoic, empty, cold...

“We've always been honest with each other, Matt," you say, still walking up to him even as he recoils. "I cooked dinner for you, took a shower, got dressed... and now you won't even fucking try and look at me. You've been gone for weeks! Please, just... I deserve to know what's going on." You reach for him, but this time, he moves away wholly.

The distance between you becomes a void that you could easily slip in and drown. His body language is a storm, causing the waves to crash into the shore and choke up with their cruel claws. 

His grip tightens around the neck of the beer bottle, his knuckles turning white. You can see the faintest scars; you know he brought his suit with him, you just didn't think he would actually use it. "You deserve better," he says, more to himself than to you. There is the guilt you have been waiting for, but it still affects you because he is talking about you.

Your heart skips a beat. You have had this conversation many times in the past. "Better?" you ask. "Matt, what are you talking about? I don't want better, I want you." You laugh in disbelief, but he doesn't even smile. He's not trying to hide how much pain he is from the weight of his guilt, and it makes you scared for what's about to come.

His gaze flickers toward you, and his eyes reflect myriad emotions—sadness, regret, and something else you can't quite place. "You shouldn't want me," he loathes himself, “Not after... not after everything." 

"What?" You place a hand on his arm, forcing him to turn to you. "I love you," you say.

He shakes his head. He never shakes his head when you tell him you love him. It's like he's telling you the opposite, that you shouldn't love him or that he doesn't feel the same for you anymore; the feelings swirling in your chest are confusing, and you just don't understand. Your mind races, trying to connect the dots, desperate to make sense of his cryptic words. 

His grip on the bottle loosens, and he takes a shaky breath. "I- I fucked up."

Your heart sinks. The pain you had sensed, the distance between you, it all falls into place. The parallel between his behavior now and back when Elektra almost tore you apart. The pieces of the puzzle form a picture you never wanted to see find their way together.

"Did you... cheat on me?" you ask, the words catching in your throat. The mere thought feels like a knife twisting in your chest, but you don't cry, you simply stare at him, waiting for any kind of reaction. 

It's the thought you loathe the most, but you seem to hit the nail right on the head.

Matt's silence is confirmation enough. "Oh God," you breathe.

“It was just a kiss,” he whispers. 

“A– you kissed someone else?”

“Yeah.”

“Walters?”

He takes a shaky sip of his drink. 

“Oh, my God, Matthew!” The cork to your heart pops and you start bleeding out, it seems. “What?” you ask. “Please, tell me you’re just messing with me. Please!” You want to get on your knees and pray to God that he’s lying, but he’s so quiet and his face is so stern, you can’t help but believe him.

The one thing he promised you he would never do, he did. And that is something you once told him that if he ever did it, you wouldn’t be able to forgive him. 

The foundation of trust you had built with Matt feels shattered, and you struggle to comprehend how he could break his promise to you. Emotions swirl within you, colliding with one another, leaving you feeling lost and vulnerable.

He grabs your hand suddenly when you try to put some distance between you to sort your thoughts, his glasses now discarded, and he looks past you with so much pain in his eyes, you can feel your own tears near. He whispers your name. 

“No,” you say. “I can’t–”

“Please, listen to me. I can explain,” Matt says. “I can–”

“You can’t! You promised… I– wasn’t I good enough for you? What happened, Matthew? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. Please, it was a stupid mistake.” 

“A mistake?”

He tugs at your arm again. When you don’t seem to budge, he sinks to his knees. Your throat tightens, your heart shattering on the floor next to him. He has torn it out with his bare hands, squeezed it too hard and now you’re nothing more than an empty shell, your very essence broken on the living room floor. 

“Please,” he begs. His hands rest on your hips and his unfocused eyes try to search for yours. 

The fact he only now thinks he has to fight for you instead of coming clear right away makes you angry, not just sad. You turned your back and that’s what prompted him to fight, even though he should have tried so much sooner. 

You loved him with all you had, and a foolish part of you still does, but hearing the words coming out of his mouth that he betrayed your trust in such a cruel way tears down the walls you have been seeing through rose-colored glasses and cut your love for him into pieces with a sharp dagger. 

Your best friend once told you that you should be careful, Matt would do anything to survive. Yet, you stayed around through the sleepless nights and the heartache. You worried about him every day and every night he went out as Daredevil to cleanse the streets, and you stitched him up without knowing what you were doing. You held him as he cried, offered him your endless support, and then some more, anything just to be loved by him, but he treated you so well. He gave you everything you needed, showed you a love no one has before and he was so dedicated, you felt at home with him. You trusted him with your life. You owe him your life, and yet, after everything you have been through together, one work trip to another State is all it takes for him to throw away years of history and kiss someone else? And Jennifer Walters, no less? 

You never thought you had to be worried about anyone catching Matt’s attention. You had been so confident before, but now? Now you just feel useless, imperfect, and like a damn fool. 

“Matt,” you whimper. 

He holds on even tighter. “Can we talk about this?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You look up, but the tears are flowing freely now. 

“I’m sorry. Please, I don’t want to lose you. I love you so fucking much, baby. Please! I can’t live without you. Don’t leave me. I can make it up to you, I promise, just… give me another chance.”

“Yeah?” It pains you to tear his hands from your body, but you have to. “If you didn’t want to lose me,” you say, “you should have thought about it before you decided to kiss someone else.”

He says your name, begging you once again to just stay. Talk this through. Stay. He is like a serpent in your ear, and you want nothing more than to give in, but when you reflect on your time together, you don’t know if you should even think about giving in. 

Matt has been obsessed with justice from the start. He chose it over you more than once, and it took you many nights and many fights for you to get him to stay even for a night or two to be with you, the person he claimed to love most of all. And now you are supposed to stay after he did what he did? It may be stupid to react this way if it was just a kiss, but he never once said it was accidental, and that means he has thought about cheating on you. He kissed someone else, someone who isn’t you, and he set your heart on fire the same way he has set your life together alight. 

Maybe he kissed her because she’s like him–maybe he kissed Jennifer Walters because she understands, and he has often accused you of not understanding. Maybe in her, he has found someone who won’t keep him from New York City just for one date night. Maybe in her, he has found someone who doesn’t break down crying when he comes home late because she thinks he died in a fight with a criminal. And maybe in her, he has found the woman he actually wants to marry. 

Marry. The word makes you choke up. 

As if he read your thoughts, he crawls toward you and stops you from walking away. He digs his fingers further into your hips, retrieving a small box from his pants, and God, do you want to punch him right now. 

You were right about the proposal, but he was planning to propose and still kissed someone else, and that is a betrayal on a whole new level. 

“The audacity,” you whisper to yourself. 

Tears are streaming down his face and he looks as if he thinks pulling out a ring after telling you he made out (no, kissed) with Jennifer Walters in Los Angeles is going to fix everything. 

“Please,” he begs, “I only want you. I wanted to ask you–”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t you fucking dare, Matthew!” You pull away. “This is… I’ve been waiting for you to do this for so long, but you… what the fuck? No! Especially not now!” Your body Wracks with a sob. “I need time, and I can’t do this right now. Kissing Walters is one thing, but telling me you bought a ring for me and still kissed someone else? It hurts,” you say.

It hurts too fucking much, you can’t breathe. He was your oxygen too, in a way, but he has cut off the supply and now you are dying a slow and agonizing death.

“I’m so sorry.” His arms drop to his sides in defeat, but he remains on his knees. “I never meant to hurt you,” Matt cries, “I promise! I just… I made a mistake.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“I–“

“I’m sorry for falling in love with you. That was my mistake.”

Ouch. Now you have taken his heart, pulled it out and shattered it with one twist of your wrist. But he deserves it.

Matt listens to the sound of your hasty movements as you pack some clothes. He listens to your tears, your sobs, and the shaking of your muscles as you shudder. He listens and stays right there on the floor, his head lowered as God’s judgment comes upon him. 

And within minutes, your heartbeat leaves his ears and you are gone. 

You left him, and he deserves every last ounce of pain it inflicts on him. 

He’s an Icarus who has flown too close to the sun, and you deserve better than him. 

It wasn’t Jennifer who brought him back to life, it was you and it will always be you, but he screwed that up, too, and he has to live with it now. Without you. 

The ring box slips from his hands and then, he allows himself to break down. 

Matt Murdock Angst Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife

[ode-to-spring]

˚⊹₊ ⋆ MISC. BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS ...ꜜ

genshin boys as significant others, what are their little quirks that make loving them all the more worth it?

ੈ♡˳ ayato, diluc, gorou, heizou, itto, thoma, venti, xiao, & zhongli x reader (romantic, separate !) yes they're in alphabetical order cause i'm me

ੈ♡˳ category :: fluff :)

ੈ♡˳ warnings :: n/a, please tell me if i missed any !

ੈ♡˳ a/n :: ouuuu emilia's writing again OUUUU

. . . boyfriend! ayato, who always delivers gifts for you when he's on trips abroad. it's a secret he'll never tell his peers, but he hates going on business trips. not because he dislikes the notion of traveling, or that he isn't willing to fulfil his duties as yashiro commissioner, but he doesn't like how it takes him away from you. thus, even when you're an entire ocean away, he sends you little souvenir and delicacies from wherever he visits to let you know that you're remembered. an embroidered fan from liyue, world class pies from mondstadt, delicious sweets from sumeru... nothing is too lavish for his love, who never leaves his mind no matter where in the world he may be.

. . . boyfriend! diluc, who leaves you little notes at the winery for you to find. sometimes, his duties call earlier than he'd want them to (much to his dismay, if he decides he hasn't spent enough tine with you yet). on those days when he'll have to leave at dawn without being able to give you so much as a goodbye, he takes time to scribble down a message for you before he takes off. messages of love, little reminders, a brief on where he's going and why-- anything he can to show you that he still cares no matter where on teyvat he goes.

. . . boyfriend! gorou, who likes laying on your lap after a long day of training. at first, you teased him for it, saying his dog genes were getting the best of him, but after a while you noticed he genuinely seemed comfortable with you that way. more often than not he'd fall asleep, even. kokomi explains it as him seeing you as his comfort person, that he'd be at ease when he was with you despite how tired he'd be from duties as general. you found this phenomenon quite adorable.

. . . boyfriend! heizou, who claims he can think more clearly and work much better when you're by his side. a childish claim from he who claims to be the best detective in the world, but he couldn't care any less. he always manages to make up an excuse for you to come along on his cases. when investigating, sometimes he asks for stupid things under the guise of asking for your help. holding his hand so he can lead the both of you closer to the answer? undoubtedly logic in his eyes! grabbing you by the waist to keep you near him so you won't get lost? don't see the problem with that! kissing his forehead so his genius brain can work better? ...alright, maybe that will take him a bit too out of commission to focus on the case.

. . . boyfriend! itto, who has the ataraki gang help him to set up your dates. knowing him, he won't allow anything involving you to be simple and sweet, no no, he's all about extravagance! only the best for the love of his life, he says! last minute planning and execution with the arataki gang has become a recurring factor when it's his turn to decide on dates and the nature of them. admittedly, they don't quite always go well... maybe a little fire here from burning food they cooked, or a horrible attempt of a live musical performance going south because of the members sheer lack of skill... but it's the thought and effort that counts! and they certainly have a lot of that ♡

. . . boyfriend! thoma, who always makes you handmade and homemade gifts. whether it's a little origami craft he learned how to make, a pastry he got the recipe of recently, or a flower crown with blossoms he picked himself while out to do errands-- he's willing to give anything he can to you. they aren't just random little trinkets either, not for him at least. each one he makes with the intention of giving it to you first and foremost. love and care are carefully put into the craft, and you always get first look when he tries something new. after all, you deserve nothing but the best in his eyes!

. . . boyfriend! venti, who embarrasses you by singing songs he wrote for you in public. as a bard, he considers it his duty to entertain the people of his city, but does he really need to make it obvious who his songs are for specifically? he sings with such a smile on his face that you know he knows what he's doing, annoying bastard. his excuse? well, he wants to proclaim to the whole world his love for you! songs dedicated to you will reach across the seas of teyvat and be sung till the end of time, he promises. for as long as his music lives and his lyrics never die from peoples memory, memoirs of his love for you will live for ages to come.

. . . boyfriend! xiao, who never fails to make time for you. work as a yaksha is terribly busy-- even when there aren't any demons around liyue to eradicate, he spends a great amount of his days patrolling and protecting the nation however he can. but still, he makes sure that his work doesn't keep him away from you for too long. he isn't quite used to this relationship thing, and frankly might not know his way around making you feel loved, but he tries. even the simple moments of rest he has with you he appreciates, he can only hope you feel the same.

. . . boyfriend! zhongli, who takes you out to gorgeous places in liyue. barely anyone would have discovered otherwise. he has governed this land for a great many centuries, and in turn have seen the rise and fall of many beautiful places due to change in geographical landscapes. but still, he's bound to have a few with beauty preserved throughout the years, and he's more than happy to take you to all of them. on top of tourist worthy spots, he sometimes brings a bit of food, wine,  and flowers to present to you on these dates, as well as a great many stories if where you're visiting to keep you both entertained.

[xsweetcatastrophe]

You Broke Me First

Part 17

Zoe had a smile on her face from the second she got that text from Cillian, all throughout the hot shower she took, picking out clothes, getting dressed, picking up coffee and driving to work.

She picked out a white sleeveless bodysuit with structured shoulders, black pleated dress pants and some mules. She put on her gold bracelets that her grandmother passed down to her when she died (they were in her jewelry box collecting dust) and put on some gold necklaces and earrings. Instead of straightening her hair or putting it in a messy bun like usual, she decided to add some product to it and let it stay wavy, blow drying it upside down and scrunching it so it had volume. Zoe's hair was naturally very wavy and normally she hated it, but she decided to embrace it today.

I look like a lion, she thought to herself as she took one final look in the mirror.

Zoe arrived at work and walked in with her head held high. She walked down the long hallway towards her office, past the cubicles of junior writers that once stared her down. She felt confident, she felt happy, she felt wanted. Cillian had transformed her entire mood. If she knew one blackout night and a sloppy facetime call to him would change everything, she would of done this a long time ago.

She closed her office door, set her bag and coffee down, and sat at her desk. First things first - music. She opened her spotify and shuffled her "liked songs" playlist.

She took out her notebook and opened to the most recent page. She always made a "to do" list for the following day at the end of her day. Since she didn't get anything done on Monday, she wanted to speed through her to do list for Monday and play catch up for today:

Monday:

schedule Emma Stone interview- get talking points and questions

try and get contact info for wardrobe assistant for Poor Things - check with Casey from accounting?? cousin was a PA on set or something??

follow up with editor for Cill article --- where is it haven't had any feedback in weeks?????

see if can get invite for new PR firm party next month - Jlo should be there with Ben

speaking of ben - see if i can get a contact for jennifer garner, want to do segment for her Pretend Cooking Show and possibly do ina Garten collab -- pitch to Donna first

Zoe didn't get a chance to get started on anything before there was a knock on the door.

"Come in-" Zoe started, but the person had walked in anyway. "Oh, hey Mia"

Mia was one of the junior writers at Zoe's job. She latched onto Zoe as a mentor and always asked her to proofread her articles and, in turn, became somewhat close to Zoe.

Mia closed the door and sat down in the chair across from Zoe.

"Something is going on and you're not telling me" Mia said.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem... happier... well no shit, you're dating a movie star, I bet you jetted off to San Tropez for the weekend and spent it on a yacht" Mia said.

"Mia, you couldn't be more wrong" Zoe said, laughing while reminiscing of her spilling out of the dive bar Sunday night. Not exactly San Tropez.

"Ugh, I hate you so much," Mia said, leaning back into the chair and looking up at the ceiling. "How does it feel to be the envy of every girl ever?"

"Oh, stop it" Zoe said, rolling her eyes.

"Zo, you're dating Tommy Shelby. Girls have wet dreams about being with Tommy Shelby."

"I'm not dating Thomas Shelby" Zoe said, rolling her eyes.

"He still has the haircut. So at least you can pretend" Mia pointed out.

"Do you need help with something?" Zoe said, half jokingly and half serious. She felt uncomfortable talking about her relationship with Cillian, mainly because she still didn't feel comfortable lying about it. She rather avoid the entire topic all together.

"Just tell me one thing, please" Mia said, leaning forward in her chair, elbows on her knees and lowering her voice, "Is the sex good at least? Tell me it's mind blowing"

Couldn't tell ya, Mia, Zoe thought.

"Its... it's indescribable" Zoe settled on. Not exactly a lie, right? You can't describe what you don't remember.

"Ugh, I bet!" Mia said, standing up. "I'll tell you one thing" She continued as she walked towards the office door, "If he ever comes to visit you and I'm alone with him the elevator, i can't make promises I won't keep my hands to myself" She said, sticking her tongue out.

"You're a creep, close my door" Zoe said, rolling her eyes.

Before the door could click shut, it swung open again.

"Hi Honey!" Donna said dramatically, walking in.

"Hey Donna" Zoe smiled sweetly.

"Listen, sweetie, about your Cillian article," Donna paused, "I think it's best if we shelf it for the time being."

Zoe was heartbroken. "What???" why? it's with the editors, I was actually going to follow up so I can get it to publishing"

"Actually, I pulled it from the editors last week and it's been with me on my desk all this time" Donna said, looking out the windows behind Zoe's desk.

"What? why?" Zoe asked again.

"I just think... We, the partners feel that with your current 'relationship' status that an article written by you about him wouldn't exactly go over well" she stated.

"So it's a dead interview?" All that work for nothing. She's in a fake relationship because of this interview! well.... not fake feelings... I think.. Zoe thought, started to spiral.

"We are thinking about how to proceed, we might shelf it, or we might re-do the piece with Cynthia conducting the interview instead"

Zoe saw red. "Donna" She started

"Oh Zoe don't start. Enough with this rivalry. You need to bury this" Donna said, walking towards the door. "Again, no decision has been met yet, I just wanted to keep you posted. Lets do lunch later this week sweetie, i'll see you later" She said, leaving just as fast as she arrived.

Zoe sat there in silence, trying to figure out how she felt about those two interactions.

On one hand, she liked that she was the envy of the females, according to Mia. Even though it's technically a contract relationship, the feelings are real... right? right.

As for the piece... that flat out pissed her off. Cynthia and Zoe got hired at the same time, but where Zoe had to show a lengthy portfolio of articles she's done, Cynthia's father "donated" new Mac computers to the entire building. Her heart wasn't in the storytelling part of journalism, she wanted to be close to celebrities and be one. Granted, Zoe was the one who was now dating one..... but Zoe didn't intend for that to happen. Cynthia tries to date everyone she interviews - what if she makes a move on Cillian??? No, she wouldn't. She knew they were in a relationship... right?

Zoe threw her pen on her desk and leaned back in her chair. This day started off so promising, so positive and happy, and now she had a knot in her chest.

Just then, her phone went off, a text.

From Cillian.

Dinner tonight? your place? unless you're sick of me xx

Zoe smiled.

-My to do list got cut in half, i'm leaving here at 4. Gonna stop at the store first, meet at my place at 5? -sounds good love. xx

Okay, that's something to look forward to I guess. Zoe thought. She'll pick up a bottle of wine and relax with her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend.... her"boyfriend"? Her contractually obligated boyfriend?

Cillian. She'll relax with Cillian.

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

Zoe pulled up to her apartment to Cillian sitting on the front steps. She parked and hopped out of the car carrying the bottle of wine.

"Hey you" Cillian said, standing up and immediately pulling her into a kiss. "You look absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you" Zoe smiled. She looked behind him on the steps and noticed the pizza box. "Pizza night?" She asked.

"Yea, I didn't know what to get last minute, and didn't want to show up empty handed, and I figured it's a safe bet" He said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Of course pizza is a safe bet. Lets go upstairs" She said, silently thanking god that she straightened up her apartment before she left that morning.

They went up the stairs and entered the apartment, placing the pizza and wine on the counter.

Zoe turned around, half expecting Cillian to pounce on her. She knew there was sexual frustration since last night, and she wanted to continue what they started.

But, much to her dismay, Cillian began to get the wine glasses out of the cabinet and uncork wine, pouring Zoe a glass first. He carried the pizza box and his wine to the coffee table, placing them down and sitting on the couch in front of it. He opened the pizza box before yelling back to her "Hey, can you grab napkins for us?"

Hm. okay. a little bit too domesticated for me tonight, but okay, Zoe thought, grabbing some napkins. She kicked off her shoes and sat next to him on the couch, accepting a slice from him.

They made small talk about their day, and Zoe asked how the house hunting went. Cillian's mood suddenly changed.

"It's turning into a nightmare" He said, shaking his head.

"Why?"

Cillian sighed. "because now that she signed the papers, she wants this done, like yesterday. As if she wasn't the one who dragged this out for so long. She wants me out of the house in the next couple of days or else the buyer is gonna walk away. So I need to be out of the house by Thursday"

Zoe stopped chewing. "Cillian... its literally Tuesday"

"Yea, no shit" Cillian huffed. "I found a house, put in an offer, but no way it'll be ready by Thursday. It's fine. I have my assistant looking for an airb&b for me in the meantime, but I have to board Scout, which I don't like"

Zoe had an idea.

"Well... you can stay here" Zoe said.

Cillian looked at her. "I don't know, love, I don't want to be in your way-"

"This sounds like a conversation we had last yesterday, except roles were reversed" Zoe laughed. "But I'm serious. I'm assuming all of your furniture is going to storage, correct?"

Cillian nodded. "They started today actually"

"So pack a bag for a couple of days, bring Scout, and stay here. Stay for as long as you need. I know it's not much, we have ubers here, the streetlight outside flickers all night, the hot water takes a minute to get luke warm, if you want hot you gotta wait about 5 minutes, and the walls are a little thin, but it's not that bad. And you're more than welcome here" Zoe said, standing up and heading into the kitchen.

"Are you allowed to even have pets here?" Cillian said, standing up and following her.

"Yea it's fine, there are dogs here. And this way if the house falls through, you can look for another one and not have to worry about extending the airb&b or finding a new one"

Zoe was drying her hands on the dishtowel when she felt Cillian wrap his arms around her from behind, nuzzling into her neck. "But where would I sleep?" He teased.

Zoe smiled. "Scout and I already claimed the bed. You sir are getting the couch" She teased back.

"mhmmm, and I bet you'll be on the couch with me before you fall asleep" He said, starting to kiss your neck.

Zoe rolled her head to the side, making it easier for him to kiss her neck. He squeezed her tighter in his arms, making Zoe sigh and relax into him. He suddenly stopped and spun her around; she was now facing him, nose to nose, still trapped in his arms.

"Ok," He whispered. "But you gotta let me help out"

"Help with what?" Zoe laughed. "It's not hard to manage a 900 square foot apartment, I assure you"

"I could be a pain, you could end up hating me by the time this is done" He said softly, hands traveling from her back to her hips, right where the hem of her jeans sat.

"I could handle you" Zoe responded, which prompted Cillian to raise an eyebrow and smirk.

"Alright love," He said, fingertips gently dipping into her jeans, rubbing the soft flesh of her stomach.

"You wanna play house? Lets play house."

tags: @lau219 @shopgirl6us

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Ever in our favour

CHAPTER SIX

[Table of contents]

Summary: Someone new enters the fray... Warnings: Cannon typical violence, descriptions of blood and death Author's Note: Hey, it's been a super long time since I've updated this fic, and I apologize for that. This chapter is also a bit shorter than the rest, but I felt it was a good stopping point, and figured posting something rather than nothing would be better. Enjoy!

“You mean to tell me you showed someone one of your specialities?” Your mentor stared at you with a saddened look in her eye, her long blonde hair tied up into a messy bun atop her head. She shook her head slowly, sighing. “What did I say before?”

“I know,” You mumbled, shrugging as you poked your food around your plate. The dining room in this apartment was splashed with a multitude of colours- it still shocked you, having grown up in the muted world of District 9. “Don’t show them what I can do so they don’t know what to look out for. Don’t make friends, don’t talk to any of the others, because you’ll just feel worse when you’re in the arena. I know.”

“What do you mean, ‘don’t make friends’? Did you make a friend?” She asked, glancing between you and your district partner- the one that had brought up this conversation. The one that had told on you to your mentor, saying you showed a contestant or two how much you know about differentiating plants. You didn’t really care if she knew, but you were trying to avoid this exact argument. You sigh, looking back up into her eyes.

“Yes, I made a friend. I think if I’m completely alone out there I’ll be killed quicker than I can run.” You held back your next comment- that you actually liked Peeta, that you hoped he liked you back. But you couldn’t think that way, you were doomed. You both were. Your mentor shakes her head again, reaching out to place a hand on your fidgeting one.

“Y/N-”

“Oh stop it,” You pull away, shaking your head. “We both know I won’t survive this. I’d rather go out on my own terms. Being loyal to someone who is loyal to me. Maybe even helping the right victor succeed.” You push away from the table with a huff, shaking your head. “I’m going to my room for the night.”

Those memories were already precious in your head, and you wouldn’t let either of them spoil it, not when you were about to lose your life no matter what. You would take that smiling, sparkling image of Peeta to your grave. His laugh was infectious, and you knew from the looks of the other contestants that you were just painting another target on your back. But he’d seemed so sweet… You had just wanted to know if his eyes really were that shade of blue…

As you startle awake, you hear voices nearby. The events of last night slowly come back to you as you sit there, blinking in the low light. After having escaped from Toby, the boy you had killed for the fish, the group of you had hunted down a secluded enough spot to build a campfire and rest for the evening. Peeta seemed almost too good at spotting the right areas to sleep, as he had come across a natural cave opening that seemed the perfect spot. You had settled down to begin carving the fish as Rue ran back and forth, gathering materials to build a big enough campfire that could cook the fish for the lot of you. Peeta spent his time disguising the entrance to your little cove, and after all was said and done you had taken a look. If you hadn’t just pushed past that bundle of leaves, you wouldn’t have even known where the entrance was hidden at- or that there was an entrance to begin with.

You would feel settled by that fact now if you didn’t hear a distinct female voice that you knew was not Rue. Not only did Rue tend to talk in almost hushed whispers most of the time, but this one sounded older. Probably around your own age. You push yourself to stand, wincing at the soreness of your muscles, before inching yourself into the small grotto that Peeta had surrounded. You spot Rue sitting next to the snuffed campfire, knees pulled up with her arms wrapped around them. She lifts her head as you emerge, shooting you a smile through her fear, and you begin to make your way toward the exit. You can hear the voices clearer now.

“What do you mean you can’t- Peeta-”

“Listen, I have-” You hear him grumble, and you begin trying to find a spot where you might be able to peek through the foliage. “I just can’t come with you, okay?”

“What, is it that District 9 person you kept talking to before? You know they’re just going to betray you, Peeta.”

“And what, you won’t?” Peeta’s voice almost sounded harsh, but his demeanour wouldn’t let it get that far. Instead, he just sounded firm, almost in disbelief of what the girl had said. The silence that followed said a lot before you heard her finally speak up again.

“Of course not, Peeta. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Only one of us can make it out of here alive, Katniss.” ‘Oh, it’s her. The girl from your hazy memories, the Girl On Fire. Peeta’s district partner.’ “You know that as well as I do.”

“But you choose to follow around someone you don’t know?”

“I know-”

“Someone you hardly know, then?”

“And I know you more? You hardly knew me back in twelve.” There’s another silence and you feel yourself getting antsy, patting your pockets to locate and withdraw your knife. You flick it open, feeling it lock into place as you strain to listen for any movement. “Look, you should just go. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you give me a reason.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me, Peeta,” You hear a soft voice reply, and that antsy feeling in your chest ramps up to 100%. You push your way through the disguised exit, not bothering to hide the knife you’re wielding, but not raising it either. You watch as both sets of eyes turn to you quickly from the noise, and you make sure to keep your face emotionless. She looked plain, almost too plain for someone who had flames bursting out of her back a week ago.

“I think he said he’d like you to leave now.”

Katniss stood tall, a few feet away from Peeta, with her hand holding a rather impressive looking silver bow. With Peeta’s eyes on you, he missed her reaction. You never thought you’d see such a burning hatred in someone’s eyes, something that was hardly reflected on her face. She still looked emotionless, but she couldn’t hide her feelings in her eyes. You began to wonder if Peeta could see it too, if he knew how to read her as easily as you did. You glanced to him, watching him visibly swallow, eyes slightly wider than normal, his hand twitching at his side. They both spoke at the same time.

“Y/N, please, go back inside-”

“I told you before, nine-”

CRASH

You stumble back, knocking into the pile of bushes behind you, managing to catch yourself before you fell through. The scene before you seemed to happen in slow-motion, but also in an instant. Something- someone, just crashed through the nearby brush. Someone large, who had pushed through from the opposite side of the tiny clearing the three of you had been standing in. Katniss was knocked to the ground immediately, and you watched in sick fascination how her head banged against the rock nearby before she immediately tried to push herself up, shaking her head. Meanwhile, the figure that had pushed Katniss down now grappled with Peeta. You knew from experience that he had some skills with wrestling, but it didn’t seem to matter when opposing this brute of a man.

You couldn’t think, everything began moving quicker and quicker, Peeta getting thrown to the ground and Katniss stumbling on her own feet, shaking her head and raising a hand to her new wound. The man turned his attention to you. You locked eyes, his deep brown gaze penetrating yours, and his dark hands reached out toward you. You swiped your hand toward him, feeling resistance and watching in satisfaction as he hisses and withdraws his right hand, a new slash of blood welling up on his palm. He snarls, moving to pounce.

Peeta had pushed up already, tackling the man with all of his might, but still unable to move him more than a slight stumble. You try to regain your balance from your half-leaned position in the disguised opening of your campsite, but you couldn’t regain your footing fast enough. The man grabbed Peeta by his shirt with both hands, lifted him until his feet were no longer on the ground, then yelled out in fury as he threw Peeta a good distance away. Your heart rate spikes, and panting, you finally manage to gain a footing, crouching slightly in some memory-locked defensive position. Behind him, Katniss raises her bow, aiming an arrow for his back.

He looks at you, then charges. His hands wrap around your throat, pushing you down to your knees. You couldn’t fight him, his strength was just too much. You glanced behind him again, and watch with dread as Katniss slowly releases the tension on her bow and lowers the arrow. She wasn’t shooting him.

You were pushed further down, struggling against his hold. You couldn’t breathe- not in a panicked way that you’ve since grown to know, but in a holy-shit-I’m-about-to-die way. Your back hit the grass, the dew from the morning beginning to sink into your shirt and soak it. What an odd thing to worry about now, the chill on your back as you struggle to find breath. You beginning hitting his hands, pounding down onto his wrist in any attempt to move him.

“Thresh!”

This scream was familiar, but you had no time to ponder why Rue would suddenly be yelling since you were able to finally gasp a lungful of air. Thresh had looked up, directly behind you- likely at the young girl who called for him- and accidentally released his hold on you in surprise. You gasp in again, pushing his hands away from you in a panic before his gaze looks back down at you, locking eyes. Then a silver arrowhead appears in the center of his throat. Through his throat. You can see his eyes widening, a gurgle of blood spilling from his mouth and falling down onto your chest. Frightened of your fate if he falls forward, you begin to frantically push him to the side, managing to get your feet planted on the ground for an extra shove. He falls to the side, and you decide you can’t look at him anymore- figuring the gurgling sounds and his clawing at his own throat will haunt you enough.

By the time you managed to stand, the blackness fading from your vision as you heave deep breaths, you watch Peeta run across the small field and shove Katniss.

“What the hell was that?” He screams, and you’ve never heard him so angry, so bloodthirsty.

“What do you mean? I saved them!”

“I saw you!” He pointed at her, glaring as he took a few steps back. “I saw you lower your damned bow-”

“I shot him, didn’t I?”

“You were protecting the kid!” Peeta screams, clenching his fists. You blink, remembering Rue and turning quickly. She stared in shock at Thresh on the ground, unmoving. You rush to her, turning her around and holding her face to your stomach.

“Of course I was protecting the kid! You think I’m going to protect them? What do you think this is, Peeta? Some romp in the woods? A fun little camping trip to meet friends?” You placed your hand over Rue’s available ear, pressing her tighter against yourself. Peeta was visibly shaking in anger, shaking his head.

“I know what this is, Katniss.”

“You obviously don’t.” There was blood framing the right side of her face, dripping down from the top of her head and beginning to drip off of her chin. Her eyes were dead of emotion, but flickering constantly for danger. She looked deadly.

“I’m not going to let them change me, Katniss.” Her eyes finally settled on him, and there was something there. She was too far away, and the light was low surrounded by all of the trees, but there was something there that just looked too familiar.

“Then I’ll do it for you.”

She’s so quick you almost missed her moving, but suddenly she had an arrow notched and ready to fly, aimed directly at you. You watched her breathe out, and it was a split second before she released that Peeta sidestepped quickly to set himself between the two of you.

“No,” Peeta growled out angrily, shaking his head. His hands were still clenched, and he looked tense enough to pounce at any moment. “I won’t let you. If you touch them- either of them- I will kill you myself.” You hear no response, but after a few moments pass (long enough that you want to throw Rue somewhere safe and push Peeta down and yell at him to stop being so self-sacrificing) you watch as Peeta takes a slow step forward, his voice low and dangerous. “It wasn’t five minutes ago you were telling me that you don’t believe I’d harm you. Want to test that theory?”

You slowly start prying Rue off of you, who had at some point raised her arms and circled you in a death grip. It took a bit of struggling, but you pulled her off and kneeled down in front of her. As quiet as can be, you point back into the concealed camp. She shook her head, her curls flying back and forth, before you stern your expression and point again. She raises a hand, rubbing the (real) tears from her cheeks, and begins to scamper back into her hiding spot, as quiet as a mouse. As you stand, you hear her voice.

“We should worry about One and Two before we start the infighting, don’t you think?” Glancing over, Katniss not only finally lowered her bow, but slung it onto her back. Peeta was still tense, his hands loosening and clenching once more, over and over. If you didn’t know any better, he might’ve been deciding whether to deal with her now or later. You take a small step forward, then another. Enough that you’re right behind him now. With a light touch to his back, he still startles, loosening the tension as he turns to look in your eye. He seems so conflicted, and your heart breaks slightly for him. He must’ve known her back where they’re from, somehow.

“I think that sounds like a decent plan, don’t you?” Your voice was a whisper at this point, but you could still see the confusion cross both of their faces, as you turn your gaze from Peeta to Katniss. It might not be a very smart plan, in all honesty, but you only knew one thing for sure. You would kill Katniss, yourself.

[findmeontheisle]

chasing the ocean: part 17

author's note: i'm back??? and i kinda went crazy with this one ngl. not to scare y'all either but i already wrote the ending and it hit me deep in my emotions, like yall aint ready for that shit, but don't worry im delaying like hell because idk if i can emotionally give it up this has been my baby for too long.

warnings: slight angst, cursing, fluff

masterlist

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“evie, this is one of the worst ideas you’ve ever talked me into.”

i watch her through the mirror as she happily braids my hair and i almost don’t expect her to answer for a moment until she leans back to examine her work, her lips pursed to the side as she waves a hand dismissively. she taps my shoulder and i lift the bobby pin from my lap to place in her extended hand.

“you say that every time i have an idea.”

rolling my eyes, i remind her, “that’s because last time, your idea was to kiss frogs by the enchanted lake.”

she laughs loudly at the memory and pins a strand of hair behind my ear, “you’re only mad because you ended up falling in a mud puddle when you tried to catch one.”

my laughter betrays me and i shake my head. evie and i have been friends ever since she first came to auradon and sat next to me in our home ec class. we had been assigned as partners and made an agreement immediately that i would be in charge of the cooking portion of projects if she handled the sewing aspect. our friendship blossomed from there and i seem to always find myself getting talked into all of her schemes and ideas, which led me to sitting in front of the mirror in her bedroom as she inspected every detail of my outfit.

“you gotta admit, y/n, a double date is a little bit better of an idea than kissing frogs.”

the reminder of what is coming causes a pit to form in my stomach once more. biting my bottom lip, i stare at my reflection anxiously. evie had braided the top portion of my hair and leaving the rest natural. she had spent an unnecessary amount of time focused on makeup as she cautiously applied highlighter and concealer. her work and effort showed in how much i looked exactly like myself while also being the best version i had seen in quite a bit of time. a gentle glow, as she called it.

evie frowns before resting her hands on her hips and demands, “okay, spill. i haven’t seen you this quiet since… ever.”

a half smile pulls at my lips, my chest warm at the concern in her eyes as i breathe a small laugh, “what gave me away?”

she looks to the ceiling and pretends to count on her hands, “you were going to let me put orange eye shadow on you with green eyeliner, you didn’t correct me when i sang the wrong lyrics to your favorite song, and - you’re trying to distract me.”

my laughter is louder and more authentic this time when she slaps my shoulder. shaking my head and suppressing my giggles, i sigh and stare at her reflection, “you can’t make a big deal if i tell you.”

the look in her eyes gives away her curiosity, but she can tell that this is genuinely affecting me so she nods quickly, “of course, y/n.”

heaving a small breath, i squeeze my eyes shut as i confess, “harry and i technically have never been on an actual date before.”

silence.

for a moment, i’m worried i broke her, but when i open my eyes, she’s still standing so some of the worry dissipates.

suddenly, we’re both jolted from the silence when we hear two knocks against the door. we share a look of panic, which is only worsened when we hear doug call out, “hey evie, we just came to see if you two were ready.”

evie takes a deep breath and in a slightly rushed voice, she calls out, “one minute, dougy!”

my face scrunches in slight disgust and i mouth dougy? at her and she responds by silently flipping me off.

before i can process that she's moved, she grabs a glass bottle from her bedside table and is quickly spritzing me with it. i cough at the overwhelming smell and wave my hand to clear the air from the sparky mist.

she sets the bottle back in its place and i sniff the air before tilting my head in confusion, "why do you have a perfume that smells like harry's cologne?”

evie is focused on fixing her lip gloss in the reflection of the mirror, but i swear i see the corner of her lips turn up at the question.

shrugging, she grabs her purse from the bed and answers, "i have a million perfumes, i just grabbed the closest one because i can't have you smelling bad on your first date.”

frowning, i follow her to the door and mumble, "I smell just fine."

evie ignores me and slowly opens the door. I'm still hidden behind the door as she announces, "boys, i am proud to introduce you to the always lovely, y/n.”

rolling my eyes at her dramatics, i shift my feet anxiously and watch as the door slowly opens more to reveal doug and harry.

all of my thoughts fade away as i stare at harry.

his hair is brushed down, but the front is still tousled like always, as if he mindlessly played with it before doug could stop him. he's wearing a white tank top that has minimal amounts of rips compared to the clothes he usually wears and a leather jacket on top. his black denim jeans have small red designs across them.

he was standing stiffly when the door first opened, but the second we made eye contact, his shoulders loosened and he let out a small breath. a smile crosses his face almost subconsciously and if anyone else had looked at me like that, i would've felt an urge to hide or duck my head.

instead, i feel like a flower blooming under the warmth of his gaze.

doug and evie are talking, but i pay no attention to them as harry steps forward. his hands are behind his back and his blue eyes are wide as he stares into my eyes.

"darlin', ye look absolutely breathtaking."

i smile sheepishly at him and lift my hands to run through his hair. he dips his head to help me reach easier as i ruffle through his dark locks. shaking my head happily, i tsk and mumble, "they always try to tame your hair."

harry chuckles and shakes his hair when i finally finish fixing it, "i was gonna fix it for ye, but i like when ye play with me hair."

snorting, i shove his shoulder playfully. he laughs at how flustered i look before seeming to remember something, "lass, i got ye something."

he begins to move his hands from behind his back, but i stop him quickly. harry tilts his head in confusion and i hurriedly ask, "please tell me you didn't spend any money."

the smile that takes over his face is brighter than the sun and i find myself smiling as well.

"ye know, doug tried to convince me that you would want a necklace or chocolate, but i figured ye would say something like that."

my cheeks feel flush once again and he chuckles as he pulls his hands from behind his back.

in his hands, he holds a bouquet of wildflowers. i gasp and my heart feels like it will explode from excitement as i gently accept the flowers from him. the colors of the bouquet somehow matches the colors on my floral sundress that evie had chosen for today. i breathe in the smell of the flowers and can still smell the lingering bit of perfume that evie had sprayed on me earlier.

"harry... i- thank you. these mean the world to me."

his cheeks are tinted with pink and he shrugs nonchalantly, "anything for my lass."

evie gasps and i realize that she's just noticed the bouquet in my hand. she rushes over and begins rambling excitedly. i smile apologetically at harry before asking evie for a vase to put the flowers in until the date is done. her and doug begin scouting the room because evie swears she has the perfect vase for it, but it's lost somewhere under all of the extra pieces of fabric in her room.

suddenly, i feel harry taking one of the flowers out of the bouquet. his touch is gentle as he inspects the daisy before tucking it behind my ear. i didn't know that i had begun holding my breath until it felt like my lungs were going to burst. exhaling slowly, i stare up into his eyes and his smile is so large that i know it must hurt.

"god, lass, ye're so fucking pretty."

i can't help myself in that moment. the tension had built up far too much for me to resist as i grip his leather jacket to pull him closer. he must have been expecting it as his arms wrapped around my hips in perfect timing and our lips connect passionately.

it's nowhere near being our first kiss, but the sparks still send chills down my spine. i feel harry smile into the kiss and i let go of his jacket in favor of letting my hand slide up into his hair to ruffle it some more.

"you two do realize we're still standing here, right?"

i can hear evie smack doug for ruining the moment and my laughter breaks the kiss. when i pull back, i can see some of the sparkly lip gloss i once was wearing is on harry's lips. lifting my hand to wipe it off, i smile as harry leans out of my reach and playfully scolds me, "ay, why're ye trying to take my lip gloss?"

rolling my eyes, i joke, "well, i can't have you looking better than me."

harry pulls me into a quick hug and presses a kiss on the top of my head, "that's impossible, lass."

doug steps forward with the glass vase before i can respond. his face is deadpan of any emotion, which is a comical difference in comparison to evie who is nearly in tears from excitement and happiness. this is the first time she's witnessed harry and i actually talking or being affectionate since we typically don't spend time together in public.

we take the hint and i hand the bouquet over to doug, who quickly puts it in the vase and sets it on the table.

evie bounces on her toes excitedly and asks, "okay, so dougy, what are we doing?"

doug opens his mouth, but harry speaks up first, "actually, i planned this date."

evie seems skeptical, but i grin excitedly at this. somehow, harry always has an adventure planned or a new place found for us to go to.

today's adventure is at a place called heads up.

i vaguely recognize it as jack of heart's mini golf shop. the heart family had recently all agreed upon having a family business after being released from the isle, all aside from their parents, who still awaited their release. jack, as the oldest of the four, had been running independently while the others finished their schooling at auradon.

evie gasps at the hand-painted, whimsical sign hanging above the entrance, "i didn't even know that jack had opened this place up."

doug rolls his eyes dramatically and huffs, "that's because any time he sees you, he's basically releasing doves and writing poetry for you."

without missing a beat, harry mumbles, "maybe ye can learn a thing or two from vk's when it comes to romance."

i snort and elbow his side gently before pulling him forward by his arm.

"come on, captain, i'm in the mood to beat your ass in putt putt."

harry laughs and steps closer to throw his arm over my shoulder. pulling my head closer for him to kiss the top, he uses the leverage to ruffle my hair, "not possible, lass."

the whole course was painted in trippy patterns with red, white, and black paint. doug scowls the entire time we receive our golf clubs and balls while jack smoothly coos at evie and offers her a discount until she mentions that her and doug are paying together. the cheshire grin that had been on his elegantly handsome features dropped.

from there, harry and i stepped forward to receive ours. harry stared directly into jack's eyes and grinned with a darkness in his eyes that i only vaguely recognized from when i first knew him, "mate, if ye know what's best for ye, then ye wouldn't even dream of tryin' anything."

jack stares back with the confidence only a prince can have, "not with her."

harry's face darkens even more and his arm is removed from my shoulders as he clenches his jaw, but i put my hand on his chest reassuringly, "i used to babysit harley when the heart's first moved here. jack was working too much and trying to set this up and harley loves painting so i would watch her on the weekends and she'd paint my walls with me."

blue eyes glancing back and forth between jack and i, harry still seems uncertain until jack nods, "she's family."

i extend some cash out to him in an attempt to hurry along the tense interaction, but jack shakes his head sternly, "family doesn't pay."

smiling gratefully, i take harry's hand and pull him forward so we can join evie and doug at the first course.

doug spends the first two holes sulking miserably and harry keeps glancing towards where the front desk is, as if jack is waiting around the corner. their attention is returned to the mini golf when evie gasps.

they turn to her instantly out of worry, but she doesn’t notice as she whines, “guys, y/n is beating our asses at this.”

harry doesn’t believe until he takes a look at the score sheet as well. we had gone through four of the eighteen lanes so far and i had only scored 7 points, meanwhile harry was at 10. doug and evie were tied for last at 14.

for the second time that day, i watched harry’s blue eyes widen at me, but this time it was in complete disbelief as he jokingly huffed, “fuck me, i didn’t know we had brought tiger woods to play mini golf.”

snickering, i shrug a shoulder happily, “i told you i was gonna win.”

in that moment, it felt like we were back in the prank war as we playfully glared at each other and he nodded slowly, “alright, princess, get ready to lose.”

from that moment on, i felt like my lungs were going to give out from how much i laughed. evie and doug had devised a plan to ‘help’ each other win by kicking the other’s golf ball closer to the hole, but somehow even with the cheating, they were losing terribly. harry had formed his own tactic of trying to hug me or scare me anytime i hit my golf ball. in retaliation, i would whistle sharply every time he pulled back his club to swing.

the scores looked terrible until we just stopped keeping track, deciding that whoever could make it to the final lane first, wins.

i have a decent lead ahead of everyone else by reaching lane 15 whilst harry is stuck on 13 with doug and evie because they keep hitting his ball with theirs on accident.

smiling to myself, i decide to focus on this lane and to play by the typical rules of hitting it the least amount of times. i gently set my red ball down on the square of grass and line up my club with it, taking a breath to focus my energy.

“heads up!”

a white golf ball narrowly misses my head as i duck down quickly. i turn to see who hit it in my direction and my face falls into a scowl when i realize who it is.

uma jogs over to retrieve her golf ball, a smile on her face as she glances back to the lane she had been on, “sorry, it’s my first time golfing and-“

her words come to a stop when she realizes who she’s talking to. the smile drops from her face slightly and instead a twinge of annoyance crosses into her features. i force myself to smile politely at her the way my parents had trained me, despite the voice in my head encouraging me to ignore her.

my voice is strained as i grit my teeth and insist, “it’s fine, uma, no harm done.”

turning back to my golf ball, i assume that’s the end of that interaction until she speaks up, “is harry with you?”

she now has my attention fully as i glance over my shoulder to analyze her body language. there’s no aggression or clear intent to be seen and she knows i’m looking for a reason why she would want that information as she sighs, “i really need to talk to him.”

i don’t know what to say, but i don’t have to say anything.

“lass, did ye just see that? i got it in- uma?”

the excitement and pure joy drops from harry’s voice so quickly. despite my upbringing teaching me to always choose peace and facing a former captain of a pirate crew, it took all of my willpower to not start a fight.

but i know that harry is capable of making his own decisions so i simply mumble to him, “she wants to talk to you.”

harry looks down at me uncertainly, but i keep my eyes locked on her. she stares up at harry, a nervous smile playing on her lips as she waves. i feel a hand on my shoulder and another slowly clutch my chin to pull me to look at him.

his blue eyes are swimming in emotions and my heart swells in my chest as he mutters, "what do you want me to do?"

blinking in surprise, i tilt my head and answer immediately, "whatever you're comfortable with, harry. you know that."

the words mean something to him, but i can't focus enough to decipher it when he nods and kisses my forehead gently, "okay, lass, give me a minute and i'll come back over to beat your ass at mini golf."

typically, i would laugh and shove his shoulder as i go find evie and doug to hang out. instead, i glance over my shoulder at uma, who is still staring at harry, and turn back to him, "i'll be right over there, if you need me... just wave and i'll be here. you don't have to do this alone."

he smiles and nods, but says nothing more so i step away and walk over to evie so i can wait anxiously.

he watches as y/n joins evie and doug's conversation before turning back to someone he once trusted his life with. a grimace almost takes over his face before he forces his expression into something more neutral as he greets her simply, "uma."

she tips her head in acknowledgment before nodding in the direction of his friends, "you're with her again."

it's bait. he can see the questions brewing in her eyes like a storm in the distance and immediately drops any politeness that y/n had taught him. it's clear that uma is happy to play by the rules of the isle.

"is that what ye wanted to talk about?"

the grit in his voice catches her off-guard and she glances over her shoulder uncertainly. he doesn't need to follow her line of vision to know that mal is probably over there and giving her a nod of encouragement. uma sucks in a breath before turning back to him.

"mal thinks you're waiting for an apology... so, i'm sorry. i wish i could go back and fix everything, but i can't."

it's his turn to be caught off-guard in that moment. the words sound weird coming from her, but he can vaguely hear a familiar laugh coming from where evie and doug are standing and suddenly, he remembers what he's here for.

nodding his head at her, he shrugs a shoulder, "okay, cool."

with that, he turns and takes a few steps before he feels her grip on his arm to stop him from walking away.

"so, we're friends again right?"

the words pull a laugh from his chest before he can fully process what she's saying. he faces her once more and furrows his brows at her, "no."

he was thrown off by the question. she seems thrown off by the answer.

they lock eyes and stare at each other in silence for a few moments. in those moments, he feels like he can't remember the days he used to know what she's thinking just from a look. back in those days, he would've said that those shared looks was the closest he had ever been to feeling love. now, he reserves that word for whispering in the silence after midnight between the sounds of waves that had been recorded for him. that word dances on the tip of his tongue each time he's pulled into a spontaneous dancing party that ends with the sound of giggles as he dramatically pulls his princess in for a kiss.

now as he stares at uma, he feels like he doesn't recognize the person in front of him.

"i forgive ye, but that doesn't change what ye did."

uma's lips pull downward and her voice shakes bitterly as she sneers, "what happened to ride with the tide, harry?"

he blinks in surprise at the suddenness of her anger, but chuckles humorlessly, "i did ride with the tide, uma. you threw me overboard the second the trials started just for a chance to get away from the isle."

the conversation can end there.

but then, he wouldn't get the closure that y/n had once mentioned that he deserved to have. that thought is what gives him the courage to turn back to uma and huff, "everyone left, uma. everyone fucking left me and i had to act like that was okay just for a chance at ever leaving that isle. i wasn't okay, but i got to come here only to get left again. no one cared or even noticed my existence... except her."

he doesn't have to say her name. uma knows who he's referring to.

“you care about her.”

it wasn’t a question. there is disbelief in her voice, as if she couldn’t process the fact.

it’s been a long time since anything got under harry’s skin, but the tone in his former captain’s voice is enough to make his jaw ache from how tightly he’s clenching it. he runs his hands through his hair in frustration, but the action reminds him of how gentle y/n’s fingers felt when she tried to fix his hair earlier.

breathing in deeply, harry keeps his eyes closed as he hisses, “why is everyone so confused about my feelings for her?”

uma squints her eyes and tilts her head, “she’s changing you.”

his anger peaks once again and this time, he snaps.

“no, i changed for myself so i wouldn’t get shipped back to the isle. i was always go to do what it takes to never go back. that was the plan i had made for months while everyone else was here living better lives without me.”

he pauses, chest heaving and throat tight from emotions that he’s not sure he can process. glancing over his shoulder, he can see evie attempting to talk to y/n, but y/n’s focus is entirely on harry. her face is full of concern and once his gaze meets hers, she furrows her brows and mouths, “you okay?”

harry feels like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again. her wide eyes, braided hair, sparkly lips that he longs to kiss again, the daisy still tucked behind her ear.

exhaling slowly, he nods to her and his words to uma fall freely, “that was the plan until i met her.”

the interior decoration and oddly shaped golf club feels too whimsical for serious conversations suddenly, but harry persists and nods to himself, “and yeah, my plans have changed. i’m not focused on myself as much anymore and i’m not interested in being a pirate. but she did not change me in any capacity. i have made myself a better person since i’ve met her, but she accepted me when i was still a dick to be around.”

uma looks over in y/n’s direction and shakes her head, complete shock in her eyes, “so, that’s it, huh? you meet a girl and fifteen years of friendship down the drain?”

thoughts of what y/n would say if she had heard that crosses harry’s mind and he chuckles to himself before answering, “no, uma. you threw that friendship away when ye didn’t once stand up for me, reach out to me, or even talk to me when i got over here. you don't get to blame me for what you ruined.”

with that, harry walks away from uma and joins his friends once more. he can feel the cautious and concerned looks y/n is giving him, but all he can focus on is the lightness in his chest and how comfortable he is at her side.

as they all gather to watch evie attempt to line up her golf ball with the hole, harry stands behind y/n and wraps his arms around her torso. he pretends to watch evie as he rests his head on her shoulder.

doug is trying to help evie adjust her form as harry turns his head enough to whisper into y/n's ear, "i can't find the words to tell ye how much i appreciate ye for being there for me."

a smile takes over the princess's face and she shakes her head bashfully, "i'll always be there for you, harry."

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[anastasiaskarsgard]

Can you do a one shot where the reader is getting harassed by someone in a fancy party and while running away, the marquis backs her up and gets her away from that guy. They talk and they start to bond

“How do you even know these people?” You ask your friend Bethany, as she drives up the driveway of a massive estate.

You’d been driving towards the sprawling mansion for at least a mile. The grounds were all manicured and as you got closer to the home, you could see a large fountain before the entrance. There was even a valet.

Turning to your friend, you asked her again, but she just laughed and shrugged her shoulders. Rolling your eyes, you checked yourself out in the visor mirror and decided to reapply your lipstick.

You’d known Bethany since grade school, and you never were really close, but you’d party together sometimes. Her mother had married some rich guy a few years back, so now she ran in a different crowd.

When she’d called you earlier today and asked if you wanted to go to a party, you’d been excited just to see her again. Now you weren’t so sure. She’d changed a lot.

No more was the sweet girl that snorted when she laughed and only wore sneakers. She looked like she had gotten several cosmetic procedures, was dressed head to toe in designer couture, and had made you go change your outfit twice before she’d let you in her car.

Speaking of her car, you’d never been in a Bentley and felt very nervous about messing it up. You had been nervous to sully the car with yourself, and had felt like you were in some alternate reality.

As the valet opened your door and helped you out of the car, you didn’t feel any less out of place.

“Don’t embarrass me.” Bethany whispered to you as she took you by the arm and led you up the stairs to the front door: “you’re the only one from my old neighborhood that looks the part, if you can just act like it, we can go to more parties like this and maybe you can meet a rich guy and get out of the slums as well. “

Your eyes widened at her insult of her prior neighborhood. It wasn’t the slums at all! Your neighborhood was an upper middle class working people type neighborhood. The houses were average size and everyone took pride in their appearance. There were no run down homes in your neighborhood, and you all looked out for each other. Like when Mrs Dewey’s husband died and she was on a fixed income, and couldn’t paint the exterior of her home, the whole neighborhood got together and made a day of it. She cooked everyone a meal and next thing you knew it was a block party. Bethany had been there that day, and you remember how happy and carefree you both had felt.

Looking over at your friend now, hardly recognizable with her new nose, lips, and face injected with fillers, new hair that must be extensions, fake tan, fake nails, fake tits, fake lashes, fake teeth, and likely a bunch of other things you didn’t know to look for, you couldn’t help but feel bad for her. You couldn’t imagine allowing some doctor to butcher you into something society liked to look at. Everything that had made her different, and truly beautiful was gone.

As you followed your friend inside, you were too distracted by how similar all the women here looked to even notice the ostentatious wealth that surrounded you. Everywhere you looked you saw women that were thin with breasts and bums that didn’t look like natural proportions. They all seemed to have the same nose and lip doctor, and all appeared to be variations of the same kind of doll.

Offhandedly, you wondered how much time these women spent healing. You’d never had any work done, beyond getting your wisdom teeth taken out, but that probably didn’t count.

“Hello? Where did you go? Come back to earth, I want you to meet my friends, and I swear to God, if you embarrass me girl…” Bethany warned you, with a fake smile for appearances on her face.

Noticing a group of people looking expectantly between the two of you, you could already tell by the way they looked you over, that you weren’t going to like them. Pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind, you decided to make the best of this night, and not judge anyone before you spoke to them.

Bethany introduced you as her childhood friend, and then listed a brief list of your accomplishments and interests, as if she were at a livestock auction, talking up the next beast up for sale.

They appeared to be 3 couples and one single man, that had walked up half way through Bethany’s introduction and visibly flustered Bethany when she turned to see him standing there.

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing as she stumbled over her words, before falling into an awkward half bow, half curtsy turning the color of a stop sign.

Although the man was extremely statuesque, attractive, and well dressed, he also appeared to be no older than his late twenties and appeared to be friendly. Maybe she had a crush on him? You didn’t know, but you did know you were thirsty.

Looking around the large Ballroom, you could see a bar not far from your group, and decided to just go grab some drinks while your friend got her wits about her. She just needed a drink to take the edge off.

As the bartender prepared your Long Island ice teas, you turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat right next you.

It was one of your friends acquaintances, so you smiled and turned your attention back to your drinks being made.

“So why did you run away? Scared of the Marquis, or just don’t find any of us appealing?” He asked you.

Looking at him incredulously, you shook your head and told him that taken men weren’t your type. “Furthermore, I don’t even know if anyone even holds a Marquis title anymore. Last time I checked, most of the aristocracy was wiped out during the Revolution.”

“That whore isn’t my girlfriend. She’s been run through by more guys than your dear friend Bethany. They’re just a bunch of spoiled rich girls, that me and my boys are sick of, so we told them to bring us fresh meat.” The guy chuckled, before reaching over and taking a piece of your hair between his fingers. “This is your real hair isn’t it? I’ve never seen you before, and I would have noticed you.”

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, you side stepped away from him, and decided to just ignore him. You knew guys like this, and nothing you said to defend your friend, or tell him what a jerk he was, would be able to penetrate his ego.

“You really have no idea who I am do you?” He asked as he took your hand in his and tried to pull you back over to him.

Planting your feet firmly, and flashing him your fakest smile, you attempted to pull your hand from his, but he was gripping it so tightly, it was almost painful. Not wanting to make a scene, you blocked out what he was saying into your ear, and nearly jumped for joy when the bartender delivered your drinks.

“Looks like I need my hand back,” you told him, batting your eyelashes at him, like you weren’t desperate to escape him. “I need to carry our drinks.”

Glancing at the two drinks before you, he pulled you closer to him, with an expression on his handsome face that you were sure he thought was alluring. Too bad it had the opposite effect on you.

“Listen buddy, I’m trying to be polite, but if you don’t let my hand go, we are going to have a problem.” You bit out, unwilling to be touched by this jerk another second.

He cocked an eyebrow and smirked down at you arrogantly, “ooh so you’re from the working class. Lucky for you, so am I. You look like you belong here, but you really just won the DNA lottery and look this way naturally. You see, every woman in this room pays me hundreds of thousands of dollars to look like you. I must say tho, you are exquisite. I’ve never said this to anyone, but I don’t think you need anything done. Maybe some nice fuller breasts? Would you like that? I can make that happen for you. I could make anything you want happen.”

You were shocked by the things this guy was saying to you, and it only got worse, the more he spoke. “Are you fucking with me? Bethany had to have put you up to this right?” You laughed out loud at how long it took you to catch on to the prank. No one was this delusional. When your laughing calmed a bit and you turned to see his dumbfounded face, you burst out laughing again.

“Oh my God! Ok ok! You can stop. You’re an amazing actor. I honestly thought you were seriously some ego maniac that I was going to have kick in the balls to eacape from!” You watched as his expression grew more confused, before his jaw tightened, lips thinned and he glared menacingly at you.

That wasn’t good. Once again unsure of this man’s intentions, you snatched your hand away, picked up the drinks, and made a mad dash to Bethany.

Finding Bethany still speaking to the mystery guy, you quietly stood next to her and placed the drink in her hand. Before you could introduce yourself, Mr. Wonderful stormed over, had excused himself and said he had to speak to Bethany about a pressing matter.

Bethany looked at you accusingly, but let the guy pull her off to the side.

“Pressing matter my foot.” You stated out loud, forgetting you weren’t alone.

“I think you have hurt Andres feelings.”

Turning to the mystery man, you rolled your eyes and smiled. “Only if he was honestly hitting on me, and not just playing a prank on me. Bethany and I used to mess with people all the time. We were terrible children. He’s probably upset I caught on. He acted like he was some big plastic surgeon, that has run through all the women here, so he ordered Bethany and her friends to bring them new sacrifices. He even offered me new boobs, and I laughed so hard I think I peed a little.”

The man’s eyebrows drew together and he asked if you needed assistance cleaning up, or a change of clothes and you couldn’t help but warm to him a bit.

“I didn’t literally pee, it’s an expression. And I’m afraid to ask why you have spare women’s clothing in your car or something.” You said.

“I have clothing of various sizes in one of the guest -“ he started to say before being cut off.

“I’m sorry Marquis, but I need to take her back home,” Bethany stated overly cheerily.

“Why?” You asked.

Bethany gave you an exasperated look. “I’ll tell you on the way to the car.”

“Why can’t you just tell me now? Is it because of your creep of a friend?”

Bethany’s eyes widened and she looked between you and the Marquis close to snapping.

“I don’t think your friend wants to leave.” The Marquis started.

“She’s not my friend. She’s an acquaintance from years ago. I thought she was cool, but turns out she’s not.” Bethany stated, before turning to you again. “It’s time to go. You wore out your welcome, and they don’t want you here.”

Your mind started to race with what to do. You honestly weren’t too shocked that Bethany had turned on you so quick. You internally cringed when you realized that guy wasn’t kidding and had been being serious.

You contemplated telling Bethany what her “friend” thought of her, but before you could organize what to say, the Marquis stepped between you and Bethany, facing her.

“I’ve got her from here. You may go join your friends.” He said.

“With all due respect, I brought her here. She’s nobody. Just a girl I used to know that’s pretty, so I brought her here to meet my friends but she thinks she’s too good for everyone and was really rude to him for no reason.” Bethany explained.

The Marquis just chuckled shaking his head. “I know Andre very well, and I can guarantee there’s a reason.” Turning his back to her in dismissal, he offered for you to take his hand.

Glancing over his shoulder at Bethany’s furious expression, you turned your attention to the nice mystery Marquis, and followed him to the dance floor.