#girl with a pearl earring movie

[whiteleviathan]

- "Girl with a pearl earring" by artist Johannes Vermeer on the left

- A frame of actress Mia Goth from the set of "X" movie on the right

[harmslength]

(Mostly) NSFW Headcanons Part III

Disclaimer: Slight spoilers so be warned. Just covering movies I have seen or characters I know enough about to judge. This is just for funsies, just my own personal opinions, so it’s totally okay if you disagree. Fully aware how much of an ass I’m being. Horny hater at my core.

Disco Pigs (2001) | Enda Walsh, Kirsten Sheridan - Darren

• starting out strong with THE freak of freaks

• not to state the obvious but.. possessive, dominating, jealous asf but also loyal asf

• Incel ass behavior, would definitely have a Reddit account, frequent user of 4chan.

• would jerk off to hentai titties if he could

�� would probably ask you to do the ahegao face during sex…

On the Edge (2001) | John Carney - Jonathan Breech

• as much as he would hate to admit it.. hopeless romantic. Super devoted but would have an annoying tendency to flirt with other girls to see if you’d get jealous.

• honestly.. great first bf to have. Would absolutely destroy your perception of what love should be.. but hey isn’t that first loves?

• heavy breathing and moaning in your ear. Loves to give hickeys.

Sunburn (1999) | Nelson Hume - Davin McDerby

• oh davin… dead beat baby daddy fr.. loved his character arc regardless tho

• ngl probably absolute shit in bed. He screams premature ejaculator..

• has a porn addiction, but would hide it from you

• would pick up edging and would talk about your sex life very openly with “the boys”

• loves sending nudes and nut vids if he had the chance

Intermission (2003) | John Crowley - John

• he has no qualms about saying it: you’re a whore 😌

• probably feels the need to be in charge and take control but really.. you’d be the one calling the shots mostly

• definitely the type to make stupid jokes during sex

• whiny, would definitely triple text if you didn’t respond fast enough

• still a cutie ofc

• jealousy is his middle name

Girl with the Pearl Earring (2003) | Peter Webber - Pieter

• breeding kink but not in the fun way. Breeding kink in the way where he would wanna fuck like rabbits and procreate like rabbits.

• would want you to have like 6 of his kids is what I’m saying

• acts like he’s touch starved half the time, really handsy, likes to tease and leave kisses all over you

• knows how to handle his meat

At Deaths Door (1999) | Conor Morrissey - Young Reaper

• this one is just for shits and giggles

• it’s giving virgin, inexperienced but passionate

• shy asf, again you’d probably have to make the first move

[4h20art]

"KILL BILL Vol.3"

[fujunfuren]

How about 5 ones that you love the most?

yoooo this is harddd but okay let's go:

Rurouni Kenshin (2012-2021).

Mulan (1998)

Il mare (2000)

Lord of the Rings (2001 -2003)

Girl with a Pearl Earring (2003)

[mobstersandlobsters]

I love the piece of artwork Girl with a Pearl Earring (hence the title and what this movie is about), but it's insane how blatantly obvious they make it about the objectification of Griet (although pretty much all of the details of this movie are false, aside from the artist's name and the painting itself). It is obvious about the smears of jealousy and lust that others have for the character Griet (as I've mentioned), but the main point of the movie which I find interesting is if Johannes (the other main character which is the man in this), sees her as a lover or merely a piece of artwork, or both? Either way I thought this movie would suck and be 2 straight hours of dog poop, but it was really captivating.

[pqnnier]

reading on tablet is like hell to me

[shotmrmiller]

sugar daddy!simon would go so hard cuz he'd need no sugar but lets his hand linger on the small of your back when standing at the register with his wallet out or grab your foot to massage beneath the table at the upper scale restaurant yall are dining at.

he doesn't push (surprisingly but hey it works for you!) you give him whatever you want, be it just your hand to hold or a chaste kiss on the cheek in thanks after carrying all the stuff he bought to your room. he spoils you rotten regardless but then the issue comes when you actually want him to touch you.

simon doesn't touch. not when you model the little slips of clothing he so generously gifted you from that one overpriced shop at the mall. not when you wear his favorite skirt, the one that got him to talk to you in the first place on the sugar daddy website. not when you invite him in for a nightcap, letting your bare legs rest on top of his while watching a movie.

he. doesn't. touch.

simon doesn't touch you even when you want him to.

keeps his right hand curled around the glass he's nursing and the other laying on the backrest of the couch when you tell him if he wants to peel off the undergarments he'd just bought you today. (a shot you don't shoot is a shot missed anyway.)

"'s not necessary," he says. "got 'em for you to wear." he hasn't taken his eyes off the screen once.

that'd sting more if you hadn't caught him discreetly palming himself outside his trousers while you'd modeled these too.

"might not be necessary but it's what i want." that gets his attention, an arrogant curl on his lip making your heart flutter in your chest.

he gives your knee a squeeze. "i've always given you everythin' you've ever wanted but this is the one thing you're gonna 'ave to work for."

work for? simon doesn't wait for you to ask what he means.

"only way i'm touchin' ya is if ya beg," he rumbles.

should've known it was too good to be true. but you've got an ache between your legs that won't go away no matter how many times you've used the rose (also another gift.) guess you'll just have to "beg".

/

your definition of begging and his are not even in the same dimension. he had shot you down when you'd said please. when you'd batted your pretty eyes at him while saying please. when you'd gotten on your knees between his legs and said please with your hands flat on the carpet.-

simon had only tapped you on the nose and said, "'s good, but not good enough."

what had been good enough was you riding his thigh until sweat slicked your skin, until your lip trembled with need, until his trousers looked like he'd spilled his drink on it while you mewled out your please's.

only then had wiped the corner of your eyes with his thumb and whispered tiny words of praise into your ear, his breath warm against it.

"wasn't so hard, was it, pet?" you'd been beyond reason at that point, core burning almost painfully hot with desire, so you'd jerkily shaken your head. anything to finally get him to touch you like how you need.

his long fingers splayed out across the back of your head, palm almost engulfing your entire head. "now tell me where you want me to touch."

he touches with clever fingers, his warm tongue, even uses his crooked nose to rub at your pearl while his thumb, spit slick, presses into the girl of your arse. having him fuck you is a whole different beast you have to tackle. if you plead for something, anything, he'll rut his cock between your thighs and come over your sticky pussy :)

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, prostitution

fem reader

You’re his favorite whore…

You’re not cheap, but you’re worth it. He thinks it’s because you don’t act or dress like one. No skanky fishnets or slutty PU leather dress or hot pink stripper heels—just a cute white top and a little pleated skirt like any other girl your age.

It makes him feel better—like a man with morals and standards even when he’s far from it.

You don’t talk like one, either. When you jump in the passenger seat, you’re all smiles and sweet greetings, leaning over and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek—as if he’s taking you to the movies.

As if he isn’t driving you to a love hotel, as if the suitcase in the backseat isn’t filled with toys he’s going to use on you, as if you don’t have a tramp stamp right above your ass between the smilies—a heart with angel wings.

But of course, you were no such thing.

“Put on your seatbelt and take off your panties.”

You giggle, all flirtatiously with fluttering lashes—innocent-like. But you listen. Snapping your seatbelt in place before reaching under your skirt to pull your little lace number off—placing it in his open palm for confiscation.

He put them in his pocket for later, then placed his hand on your thigh. Taking advantage of the fact that you were now pantyless, he traveled closer and closer until his fingers were intimately teasing your slit. Rubbing your clit with gritty fingerpads as you sat and shook, balling the edge of your skirt in little fists with a tiny slip of a moan.

“Make a mess in my car, and you’re cleaning it up,” he warned.

You whined at his strictness, stuttering weakly, “S-stop it then.” Voice adorably sweet in his ears, instantly pulling a smirk onto his face as he continued circling your pearl.

“Drivin' makes my fingers cold. Where else should I keep 'em warm?” he joked.

His grin dropped when you took his hand with both of yours, lifting and guiding his fingers up to your mouth.

And it’s things like that which drive him crazy about you.

With one hand on the wheel, he took his eyes off the quiet, undisturbed road to look at you—licking your own slick from his skin, bathing and lathering his fingers with your tongue. Eyes drunk on your lewd actions, he began playing with the soft wetness.

Yeah, you’re no angel.

He gave a groan, growling, “You’re begging for a face-fucking.” 

You gasped from the shock as he dug his fingers into your palate—wiggling down your jugular until you choked and gagged before he pulled them back to himself. Inspecting the translucent strings snap and cling as they dripped over his worn knuckles.

With a huff and a click of his tongue, he gripped the wheel and shifted in his seat—crotch uncomfortably tight. 

“Prepare your throat for a workout the minute we arrive.” 

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Dabi, Enji, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji, Higuruma ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Daichi, Kuro, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Ukai ♡ AOT – Eren, Erwin, Zeke

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[darkbluekies]

GOLDEN TRIAL

Yandere!mafia x yandere!female!mafia x female!yandere x yandere!king x yandere!doctor x male!detective!reader

Summary: Its 1935 and you've been sent on the Liner Normandie to retrieve a stolen painting. You have six suspects and the clock is ticking — you only have four days before the ship reaches New York to find it. But soon, you find yourself caught up in something even more serious than you could have believed.

Warnings: getting hit in the head with a bottle, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, stalker behavior, light misogyny(?), guns, needles, violence

Word count: 11.7k

DAY 1 — Debark

The ship towers over you like a mad giant. Gray smoke rises from the two forward funnels. It’s the biggest in the world, bigger than any man made object that can float. You shake your head. Focus. You’re not here for pleasure. You continue your way over to the terminal. The agency sent you in hopes of finding the lost painting, no one else. You need to stay focused, they’re counting on you.

Without questioning, you give the fake ID to the man behind the desk. When you had started out as an agent, you were always nervous that your covers would be blown and you would be found out. Nowadays, you’ve noticed that if you look nervous, risk are that you’ll be asked questions. 

You walk over the gangway with your bag in hand. You have just above four days to find the painting — a very famous portrait of a woman with her head slightly turned to the viewer, wearing a big, blank pearl earring. It was stolen from the Mauritshuis in the Netherlands two weeks ago, and details have revealed that it has been taken to France, and will be moved to America on the SS Normandie. The painting itself isn’t insanely big, but the fuss about it’s disappearance is. You have to find it at all cost. 

Before you got here, you had time to take a look at the passenger list. There are six people you recognise, where of five could be your potential smugglers. 

Silas Achilleos, a mob boss wanted by the police, and his second in command. A man like him was probably not interested in paintings, but he could have clients who did. And those could pay him heaps of money. 

Edmund of Vesanus, a young king who likes the bachelor life. He surrounds himself with loads of women and alcohol, partying like nothing matters. He would take the painting because he doesn’t want anyone else to have it. He’s traveling with his doctor, a certain Karl Kry who you don’t know much about. 

Hedwig Carter, a young heiress who’s father is noble, and who's mother is famous in the acting business is traveling with a young woman named Jerry Kim, someone you guess is Hedwig’s chaperone. Hedwig is known for getting whatever she wants with a snap of her fingers, and if she wants a painting … she will get it. Jerry, however, does not have much information out in the open. Everything about her before she started to work for Hedwig is wiped away. You want to know who she is and where she comes from, and what she would want a painting for.

You walk down the stairs to your cabin on A-deck and start to pack up, using the second bed in the room to store your bag. After settling in, you decide to take a look around this magnificent vessel to get familiar with it. You make your way up to the promenade deck and give the open cinema by the stairs a quick look. You guess that they’re going to put on movies once the ship reaches open water. If you’re lucky you’ll see something interesting. And hopefully, you have the time to watch it. 

The promenade is enclosed decorated with a gray floor, comfortable deck chairs and clear windows. A line in the tricolor fashion runs along the floor, as if to show where to walk. You walk on the line, flashing a little childish smile. You’ve left Le Havre and are on your way out towards the Atlantic’s open arms. The clock is ticking. 

Your eyes lock onto someone walking towards you and you immediately realize that it is Hedwig and her chaperone, an east asian girl … wearing pants and a long sleeved shirt. You don’t realize how obvious it is that you’re staring until the woman opens her mouth and you realize that they’ve stopped right in front of you. 

“What are you staring at, sir?” she asks, raising her eyebrows and putting her hands in her pockets. “If you want to say something, do it.”

“No—no, sorry”, you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Tell me, do you approve of women who wear pants?” 

It sure looks weird, but is it? When you think about it, aren't pants just pieces of the same fabric as skirts, just sewn differently?

“Uh, I … suppose so.”

To that, Jerry nods approvingly.

“I don’t see why only men should wear pants”, she says.

“Well, I don't feel comfortable wearing them”, Hedwig chuckles nervously and smiles softly. “But they fit you, Jerry. They really do.”

“You must be miss Carter”, you say, as if you don't know, and shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, please call me Hedwig! Who are you?” 

“I’m Axel Ainsworth, I'm in the art industry.”

Hedwig’s smile widens. “That is very interesting, I love art. Especially portraits. Capturing humanity’s differences and details are magical. Don’t you think so, Jerry?”

“I’m more for that new thing — surrealism, I think it’s called — where everything is here and there and weird to believe”, Jerry says, shrugging. “But portraits can be okay too, depending on what type.” 

Hedwig has turned her eyes to you, glued them onto you as if you are the only thing she could ever see. “Are you traveling alone, mister Ainsworth?” she asks. 

You have remembered your entire forged background and learned it skillfully. Even your fake name rolls off the tongue as smoothly as if it was your real name. You're traveling alone because you're on your way home to your fiancé from a business trip. 

“I see”, Hedwig smiles and turns to the woman next to her. “Let me introduce you to my chaperone, miss Jerry Kim. You're always welcome to sit with us during dinner. We'd be more than happy to accompany you.”

“I'm grateful to know that, miss.”

With that said, the two women walk away. You frown and sigh. Hedwig seems like a very sweet young woman, it’d be a shame if it was her who was the culprit. Her chaperone, on the other hand, gives you weird vibes. Something about the look in her eyes … as if she’s looking right through you, scanning you. 

You continue down the promenade until you turn into the Winter Garden, a half moon-shaped room full of plants and lamps and big, wide windows, overlooking the special shaped bow that has given Normandie the speed it has. Passengers have already started gathering in the Winter Garden to talk to friends and family and watch how Normandie makes her way out onto the Atlantic. None of them resembles the men you’re looking for. You continue your way through the ship, eventually finding yourself in the smoking room on the embarkment deck, where you had stepped onto the ship. You had only glanced at the room before, but now when you’re standing in the smoking room — and very well the lounge since they’re connected — you realize how stupid you must have been to miss it. There must be ten meters up to the ceiling, you think, and bigger than a concert hall. A long, grey staircase leads up to the outside deck. The art deco interior is modern and sleek, but the whip overall has a classic, conservative design that reminds you of the great liners of the old age. You sigh while thinking of the Mauretania and the Olympic, Britain's biggest rivals which now are laid up in Jarrowtown, side by side, ready to be scrapped. There’s something melancholy about it all, and at the same time something beautiful, starting as enemies and now ending it all under the same flag, together. 

You shake your head. Focus. Your eyes catch someone standing by the windows, someone very familiar. Silas and his right hand man. You move closer, trying to hear what they’re talking about.

“I’m not complaining, I just think that it is annoying that it has to take four days to get to America”, Silas mutters and takes a whiff off his cigar. 

“Any other ship would take double the time, sir”, his second in command says apologetically. “I doublechecked.”

“I don’t like being in one place for too long.”

“See it as a vacation. You’re deserving of it. Let’s enjoy some good food, alcohol and some company. It’ll do you good.”

“I don’t like to be in one place too long. Especially when we know that they're on board!”

You furrow your brows. Who?

“Nothing will happen.”

Silas hums and smokes again. You’ve stood by the windows a few meters away, pretending to be interested in the horizon. Silas turns his eyes to you. 

“You, sir”, he says, pointing at you with his cigar. 

You look away from the ocean. Both Silas and his second in command have turned to you, their dark eyes looking right at you. 

“Yes?” you ask. 

“Is it true that the Normandie keeps her speed?” Silas asks. “No matter the weather?”

“I believe so, sir.”

Silas nods in satisfaction. “Good.”

You decide to try to get some information out of him. You know who he is, but he doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t know that you’re out to get him. To him, you’re just another first class passenger. 

“Are you in a hurry?” you wonder. 

“You could say that”, Silas sighs and turns his eyes out the window again. 

You hold out your hand. “I’m Axel Ainsworth.”

Silas second in command gives him a short look before his boss shakes your hand. His grip is hard, firm. 

“You can call me Silas”, he says. “No need for a surname.” He takes another blow on the cigar. “What brings you out on the ocean like this?”

“I’ve been on a business trip, but now I’m going home to my fiancé”, you say, pretending to smile at the thought of your made up fiancé.

“What business are you in?”

“Art.”

Silas lifts one of black his eyebrows. “Art?”

His second in command straightens his back. 

“Yes, sir”, you say. 

“Are you a … painter?” Silas wonders. 

“God no, I can’t handle a brush even if my life depended on it. I’m an art trader, I help people sell their paintings for the right price.”

“I see. Well, one can’t do everything.” He blows a cloud of smoke. “Have you traveled on this ship before, Axel?”

“No, it’s my first time. But I’m not unfamiliar with the ocean, I used to travel a lot on the older ships in my younger days.”

“Then I suppose you have a favorite?”

You think for a second. “I did like that Cunarder, the Lusitania … such a shame Germany sunk it.”

“You never know which ships are safe or not, just look at that Titanic fiasco. They thought it was the safest ship afloat. Yeah, sure it was.” Silas shrugs. “Wouldn’t surprise if this peace of junk also sinks. Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well …”

Silas’s second in command taps him on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Silas frowns and nods before turning to you. 

“It was nice speaking with you, but I have some business to deal with”, he says shortly. 

“Have a good day”, you say. 

Silas nods politely and leaves. You follow him and his second in command with your eyes until they’ve left the smoking room. He was nicer than you had anticipated. 

Your next suspect, you find in the dining hall that evening. You’ve met up with Hedwig and Jerry in the reception. Hedwig is wearing a pink evening gown with pink gloves. Her honey blonde hair is curled and put up with hairpins. Jerry is wearing a dark purple, sleeveless dress, showing a couple tattoos. In her short, black hair, there’s a little decoration that reminds you of a flower. She's wearing dark lipstick, in contrast to Hedwig who wears a Hollywood red.

“They wouldn’t let me in unless I dressed ladylike”, she mutters. 

“I think that you look gorgeous, Jerry”, Hedwig smiles and takes her hand. 

“I guess that it isn’t that bad.”

“I like your tattoos”, you say. “Where did you get them from?”

“A tattoo artist, of course.” She then twists her arm to show something on the inner side of her bicep. “Okay, I made this one myself.”

You step closer, seeing a small heart tattooed on her arm. 

“That’s cute”, you smile. 

“Thank you”, Jerry smiles smugly. “Hurts like hell though.”

“I can imagine.”

The stewards allow you into the dining room and — for what feels like the thousand time today — you’re amazed by the interior. Silver walls with golden ceiling and art decor wherever you could see. In the middle of the long dining hall, there’s a gigantic, golden statue of a woman. 

Hedwig and Jerry leads you to a table and sit down. That’s when you see your last suspects. They’re walking through the dining hall, dressed in tuxedos. The king can’t be more than twenty years old. His doctor is a minimum of fifteen years older. 

“You son of a bitch”, he says suddenly and looks at the table you’re sitting at. “Hedwig?”

Hedwig’s eyes widen in shock.

“Edmund, what are you doing here?” she asks with a smile. “Sit with us, please.”

The king and his doctor sit down at your table. 

“Good evening”, the blonde doctor says and shakes yours and Jerry's hand before introducing himself. “I’m Doctor Kry.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Axel Ainsworth”, you say. 

“This is king Edmund.”

You’re about to shake his hand, but Doctor Kry removes your hand. 

“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t shake people’s hands”, he whispers. 

“Oh, I see”, you say. 

The king gives you a bored look. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty”, you tell him politely. 

“How do you know Hedwig?” he asks shortly. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“We met today”, Hedwig smiles. “Axel, Edmund is my relative. It’s been months since we last saw each other.”

“I’ve told you to visit.”

“I know.”

“Are you that much of a hypochondriac that you need a doctor to accompany you while you’re traveling?” Jerry chuckles. 

“What are you doing here, Jerry?” Edmund mutters coldly. 

“She’s my chaperone”, Hedwig explains.

“Oh fuck me.”

“Your majesty, maybe you should think about your language”, Doctor Kry says. “We are around others.”

Edmund rolls his eyes before looking at you in a bored manner. 

“Tell me”, he says, “where do you come from, mister Ainsworth?”

You ramble your rehearsed background. Edmund nods along with you.

“I’ve always wanted to visit that place”, Doctor Kry says. “I’ve heard that it is a beautiful city.”

“It is”, you say. 

“And now you’re going to America”, Edmund says. “What were you doing in France?”

“I was on a business trip.”

“What type?”

It strikes you as odd. He doesn’t sound interested, but still he asks you curious questions. 

“I’m in the art business”, you say.

“What for?” Edmund wonders.

“Art is beautiful and should be getting what it is worth.”

“I like art”, Doctor Kry. “I would do anything to see the Mona Lisa.”

“Why didn’t you visit it when you were in France?” Hedwig wonders. 

“We didn’t have time … Edmund didn’t want to go there.”

“Why should I squash together with other people to see paintings?” Edmund scoffs. “If I want to see a painting, I get it for myself. That’s that.”

“But do you like art, your majesty?” you ask. 

“Everyone likes art”, Edmund replies nonchalantly. “That’s what gives life meaning.”

“Have you read a certain story, Edmund, called ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’?” Jerry asks with a teasing smile. “Thought that it’d fit you.”

The story is about a man who wants nothing more than to remain youthful … to the point where he has a painting of himself where all of his sins can be seen. In the end, the picture is as gruesome as can be, but Dorian himself is as youthful as he started.

“Oh, shut up, Jerry”, Edmund mutters angrily. “One day, I’ll teach you manners, believe me.”

Jerry smirks. 

You eat dinner together with the young king and the doctor. Afterward, to soothe your aching stomach, the five of you walk up to the outside promenade deck to get some fresh air. You strut under the lifeboats, under the stars. Above you, a big luminous sign spells out the name 'NORMANDIE’, casting a soft light on you. Doctor Kry has lent his blazer to Hedwig, and you’ve tried to offer yours to Jerry who refused before you had the time to open your mouth.

“Ladies, I think it’s time for you to retreat”, Edmund says, sounding sweeter than before. “It’s starting to get late.”

“The evening is young”, Jerry insists. 

“I’m tired”, Hedwig yawns.  

“Jerry, be a good girl and bring Hedwig to your cabin”, Edmund grits. “Please. I’m not fighting with you again.”

Jerry rolls her eyes, removes the doctor’s blazer and tells you goodnight. Hedwig gives you and Edmund a hug. Her flowery perfume clogs up your nose, dulls your head for a moment. The three of you wish the girls a pleasant evening and continue walking. 

“Hedwig is a stupid girl”, Edmund says, strolling slowly. “One can’t help but want to take care of her.”

“She seems very sweet”, you admit. 

“She is. Just very naive. I’ve promised her father that I’m going to take care of her whenever I meet her.”

“Her chaperone is … interesting”, Doctor Kry remarks. 

“God, yes, I hate her!”

“What is it about her that you don’t like?” you ask curiously. 

“I do not like girls like her. Did you see her tattoos? She often walks around in man’s clothing and I don’t think it’s fitting for a woman — especially someone that is close to my relative. I don’t want her influencing Hedwig.”

“I don’t think you have to worry, your majesty”, Doctor Kry says calmly. “I think Hedwig is going to be okay.”

“If there’s one thing I’m glad for, it is that Hedwig is predictable.” He groans. “I need a cigar. Let’s go to the smoking room.” Edmund turns around to give you a look. “Axel, are you joining?” 

“I don’t know”, you reply. “It’s the first day, I’m still tired from embarking.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re going to bed now.” He looks at his expensive watch. “The clock is ten. Stay one hour.”

You give up and follow them to the smoking room. Maybe it is for the best. If you want to get close to them, you’ll need to spend as much time observing them as you can. 

Sitting with them in the smoking room, you find that Silas and his second in command aren't here among the other men. You frown, thinking that they would be here since they were earlier. 

When you’re allowed to leave, two hours later, your mind is fogged up by smoke and whiskey. You make your way through the empty corridors to your cabin, closing and locking it behind you. Tiredly, you sink down on your bed and sigh out. You have observed them, and talked with them the entire day, and yet you haven’t figured out who could be hiding the painting. They all seem interested in art. They all could have taken it. 

There's so many questions. What kind of doctor is Kry? Where did Jerry come from and why is there no information about her? Why would someone like Hedwig hire her as her chaperone? And who is that person that Silas doesn't want on board? Is there someone you haven't accounted for, someone else that can have stolen the painting?

You hide your face in your hands and groan. Three days left.

DAY 2 — Sea

You wake up early, get ready and head out into the corridor. You lock the cabin door behind you, feeling the handle to make sure that it is locked and make your way to the Winter Garden to have a cup of coffee. The large windows give you a wide view of the calm ocean. The sun rises up from the blue water in a magical sense that has you hypnotized. It's all so very quiet and relaxing.

After your cup of coffee, you stretch your muscles, and contemplate going down to the swimming pool to take a few laps, to warm up your muscles and clear your head for the day's work. You pay the purser and make your way down to the swimming pool on D deck. The tile walls are covered with art that reminds you of ancient Greece and the new, abstract type of paint. The pool itself was formed as a long rectangle with curved corners, green steel ladders, and a steep and a shallow part. Throughout the shallow part, there were thick, dull spikes, likely to stop children from going out into the deep end. 

Despite being the early hours of the first morning on board, someone is already in the water. Doctor Kry.

“Good morning”, he says. “You’re up early.”

“So are you”, you reply.

“I always need to clear my head before starting the day.”

“What about the king? Is he swimming too?”

“Don't kid around. He doesn’t wake up until nine. I wouldn’t be able to get him out of bed before that anyways. He’s a very deep sleeper and hates getting woken up.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. 

“Where do you have your cabin?” you ask. 

“On the promenade deck, one of the suites. A-54.”

Bingo. 

“Why do you ask?” Doctor Kry wonders.

“I was just thinking that since the king doesn't want to be disturbed, choosing the right cabin place is important.”

“Did we choose a good cabin then?”

You nod, despite not knowing a single thing about cabin placements. The only thing you're aware of is to be as far away from the noisy engine room as possible.

Perhaps if you asked the purser, you could get the number of the other cabins. He, if anyone, should have the passenger list. 

You glance back at Doctor Kry who's still hanging by the side of the pool. This is your time to investigate him. You slowly get into the water.

“Such a shame that you didn't get to visit the Mona Lisa”, you say as you start to swim. “It's a very pretty painting.”

“So I've heard”, Doctor Kry says slowly.

“My favorite painting is ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’, have you had the opportunity to see it?”

He's quiet for a second.

“I haven't”, he says, sounding low. “I guess that, an art trader like you, must be troubled by its disappearance.”

“Of course”, you answer.  

At this point, a detective and an art trader don't seem like different things, especially since both would be looking for the same thing.

“Can I ask you something?” you wonder.

“It depends”, Doctor Kry says. “Go ahead.”

“Forgive me for being nosy, but why doesn't his majesty like Jerry?”

“He is very old fashioned. He doesn't think that women should be dressed in pants or have tattoos. Edmund is very self centered, yes, but he's also very possessive of the ones he holds dear — example being miss Hedwig. As you may know, his parents were murdered by enemies to the monarchy and ever since, the only relatives that have been in his life have been Hedwig and her family. They're very close in age too — Hedwig being eighteen and Edmund nineteen — which has been a very important thing for him. He sees her as a friend, maybe his only friend. So having someone that could potentially blemish his friend and only family is a threat to Edmund.”

“Then why does Hedwig have Jerry?”

“I don't know. It could be because of a teenage revolt. Jerry is different to everything that Hedwig has ever known … and now that she's eighteen she might want to try something new.”

“Do you think that Edmund is worried about her? Because of Jerry?”

“I wouldn't say worried, because the only thing the king worries about is himself, but I think that there's something along those lines. I think that he sees Hedwig as an extended part of himself rather than her own person.”

You nod carefully.

“I wonder where Hedwig found Jerry”  you say. “How someone like her could get the job as Hedwig’s chaperone. Do you know where she comes from?”

Doctors Kry suddenly laughs.

“You ask an awful amount of questions this early in the morning”, he says and gets out of the water. “I'm sorry, I don't have more answers for you, Axel.”

You look up at him, where he stands on the tile floor. He looks down at you with a small smirk.

“You remind me of a little boy”, he says and lowers his eyes onto your physic. “You're awfully trained to be an art trader. One could think that you were an Olympian.”

“Shouldn't a doctor be pleased that I am taking care of myself?”

“I am. You look good, healthy.  Just found it humorous.” He wipes away a few drops of water trying to go into his blue eyes. “I suppose that I will see you later. Goodbye, Axel.”

“Goodbye.”

You decide to do a few more laps around the swimming pool before getting up and drying yourself. Tomorrow morning, you will sneak into Edmund’s and Doctor Kry’s cabin to see if the painting is in there. But for now, you need to go to the purser. 

You change into your suit. In the front pocket, you keep a little commonplace book to take notes. You  make your way back to the pursers office. The man behind the desk gives you a service smile and asks how he can help you. 

“Do you happen to have the passenger list?” you ask. “I would like to know where some people’s cabins are located.”

“What is your name?” the purser wonders. 

“Axel Ainsworth.”

“Who are you wanting to find?”

“Hedwig Carter and Silas Achilleos.”

The purser disappears into his office. You wait impatiently, suddenly feeling watched. Carefully, you glance over your shoulder, but the only ones in eyesight are two men who are conversing. The purser returns. You fish out your notebook, ready to note it down. 

“Miss Carter has cabin B-23 and Mister Achilleos has cabin A-11.”

You write it down. “Thank you.”

With that said, you leave to go to the staircase. You’re not sure where to go, so you decide to take a stroll down the enclosed promenade while thinking. Doctor Kry knows more, you think, but he doesn’t want to tell. 

You sit down on one of the deck chairs to write down what you have gotten to know, so that you won’t forget any important information. You write down the suspects' motives to steal the painting, Silas’s weird enemy, their relation to each other — which only connects Edmund, Kry, Jerry and Hedwig — as well as the answers that you have gotten from Doctor Kry earlier today. Who has the painting? Your first instinct says that Doctor Kry doesn’t have it, because he’s not interested in that painting. Had it been the Mona Lisa, things would have been different, but this painting doesn’t interest him. That doesn’t mean that the painting couldn’t be in his room, though, because Edmund could still want to have it. 

You stand up after a while and continue walking. Your eyes fixate on something in the distance. A woman dressed in pants talking to a man in a suit that seems to be hiding in the corner of the promenade. You frown. 

What does Jerry have to do with Silas's second in command? 

You want to move closer, but you don’t want to expose yourself. You’ll have to change the relations in your notes, because there’s clearly something more than you’ve been led to know. 

What if Jerry’s lack of background has something to do with the mafia? It would explain her tattoos … that or being a sailor. But because of what you've just witnessed you can most likely scratch the latter. A shiver runs down your spine. If Jerry is dangerous, then Hedwig could be too. You stop in your tracks. Hedwig? Really? Edmund said it himself, she's a stupid, naive girl. Could she be dangerous?

You walk up to the open deck in the stern of the first class accommodations where you find a few kids playing something reminding you of curling. You sit down on the zig-zag benches placed out on the deck and watch them. They notice you looking and ask you to join them, so you do. You decide that maybe you can pleasure yourself in a harmless children's game for a few minutes, and continue the mission after.

When lunchtime rolls around, you make your way down to the dining hall. It's emptier than yesterday evening. You find Silas and his second in command sit by a table. Silas notices you and waves you over. Your feet bring you to him.

“Sorry to cut our talk short yesterday, Axel”, he says politely and gesticulates at the chair in front of him. “Sit down. Let me buy you lunch.”

And so, he does. You sit down and try your best not to glance at the second in command who’s black eyes burn through you. Your stomach twists. 

You both get lamb, something you have eaten many times before. Still, it tastes better at sea.

“What did you say that you were here for again?” Silas asks suddenly as he’s cutting his meat.

His voice sounds different from yesterday. You clear your throat to make sure that your voice won’t shiver.

“I’ve been on a business trip”, you say. “And now I’m going home.”

“Yes, yes, I know that. What I mean is that you didn’t tell me why you were in France. What kind of business trip was it? What did you do? I know that you were there for art, but what do one do on an art business trip? You have to forgive me for being curious.”

“I was meeting some people from the Louvre.”

“I see. About what?”

“Art’s future, how to make sure they don’t break or smudge or get tainted by the sun. And how to protect them. You must have heard about ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’ missing?”

“Yes, of course. Isn’t it weird that someone would steal that painting? Why not a Monet painting? Or the Mona lisa?”

“I don’t know. Maybe taking one of them would be too big of a deal. Maybe the one taking the painting thought that since it isn’t one of the most cherished, they’d have an easier time taking it … that the commotion about it would die out sooner or later.”

“Perhaps.” 

You’ve noticed that you haven’t heard the second in command’s voice at all, beside the talk he had with Silas yesterday. He doesn’t speak to anyone else than Silas … and Jerry. You still don’t dare look at him, scared that he will see right through you and know that you’ve seen him talk to her. You wonder what they were talking about.

“Did you have a good time yesterday?” Silas asks.

“Yes, I did”, you reply.

“Did you meet someone?”

“No, I didn’t. I chit-chatted with some people here and there, but kept mostly to myself.”

“You do good in that. You never know who you can trust on a big ship as this. You never know who wants you good or not.”

“Why are you traveling, Silas?” you ask innocently. “You said that you were impatient to get to America. Is there a reason?”

“Of course. Everything has a reason. But I don’t think I can share that with you. At least I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Silas turns his black eyes to you and smiles slightly. His hungry gaze makes you freeze. He had seemed so sweet yesterday, but you finally see a slice of what makes him so terrifying. 

“Because someone like you shouldn’t know that”, he smiles. 

“I understand”, you say and take a piece of food into your mouth, to avoid speaking further.

“You have to excuse my man here”, Silas says and nods at his second in command. “He’s the shy type. He goes wherever I go, so you have to get used to him.”

“Is he your bodyguard?” you wonder. 

“You could say that. But I’m always prepared in case someone wants to attack me.”

He opens his blazer, showing you a revolver tucked into the fabric. You have your own in your suitcase. Walking around with it feels too risky, but maybe you’ll have to go get it. In case anything happens.

After lunch, you’re left with a weird feeling in your stomach. You have talked with him for an hour, about everything between heaven and earth … and yet it feels like you have been having two conversations in one — one on the surface and one real. 

You walk to your cabin and press down the door handle and walk into the room. The first thing that strikes you as odd is that there’s a new smell in the air. A flowery scent. You can swear that you have felt it before. Without a second to waste, you open your bag and pick up your gun, putting it in your suit. Quickly, you turn around, realizing something. Didn’t you lock the door when you went out this morning?

That evening, you spend dinner with the two girls and stay in the smoking room with Edmund for what feels like an eternity. Edmund wants to play a deck of cards with you. He seems a bit more relaxed than yesterday and even smiles a bit. 

After your games against Edmund, you decide to retreat. You walk down the long, dimly lit corridor. The narrow spaces feel almost ominous at night time, although barely any daylight reaches here at daytime either. You glance over your shoulder every tenth step, hesitating, can't help but feel watched. Your hand reaches for your gun, but before you have time to get it, someone reaches up behind you and smashes something heavy in your head. Everything turns black.

DAY 3 — SEA

“He's waking up.”

Your eyes feel like lead, and your head is even heavier. It takes a few tries to open your eyes and when you finally manage to, you want nothing more than to close them again. For a few seconds, you wonder if you're dreaming. They're all here, looking down at you. You look around and notice that they've tied your hands and feet, and left you on the floor at the end of the bed, with your back against the footrest.

You catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. Just a bit past one in the morning. The third day has begun. You have been blacked out for three hours.

Your head is pounding, making it hard to think clearly.

Jerry bends down, grabs your chin and turns your head back and forth to inspect the damage caused on your head.

“He'll live”, she says and gives your cheek a quick, but harsh, tap.

“Well, well, Y/N”, Silas says, smirking. “You're a bit nosy aren't you?”

The mention of your name causes you to twitch and widen your eyes. In your dulled stage, you wonder if you've heard wrong, but the smirk in their faces confirm that you have, indeed, not lost your hearing.

“So, you were the agent”, Silas continues and shrugs. “I gotta admit, I was hoping that it wasn't you.”

“You were smart-”, Doctor Kry starts. 

“But not smart enough”, Edmund cuts him off sharply with his arms crossed over his chest. “‘Art dealer’, yeah, sure. A detective dealing with art. That's not the same, Y/N, if you didn't know that.”

Silas picks up something from his pocket, a small commonplace book. 

“‘Suspects are all interested in art, could be any of them’”, he reads out loud. “‘J involved with S? Talked with SIC.’ Jerry? Involved with me? Talked with my second in command? You seem to have it all written down.”

“I was involved with Silas”, Jerry says. “I know his second in command very well.”

“How—How did you … know?” you ask, baffled. “Were you all in on it?”

“Not from the start, no”, Doctor Kry says. “I only knew Edmund and had met Hedwig before. I didn’t even know Jerry, Silas or his second in command.”

You quickly realize that Jerry is the linking chain between them. She linked Hedwig, Edmund and Kry to Silas and his second in command. 

“I had already been informed and knew that there would be someone on this ship out to get me”, Silas says. “I heard that Jerry was on board and caught up with her. She told me that she and Hedwig had met you. It was her that thought it was weird that you asked all of us about art. My men dug, and found out your real identity. My men saw you speaking with the purser, hearing you ask for our cabins and decided to tell it all to me and my second in command, who told Jerry … who told the others.”

“You have more men?” you ask and can’t hide how shocked you get.

“Of course. You don’t think I would go on board with only one man? Do you think I'm stupid, darling? You, on the other hand, probably should have had someone, at least.” 

“Awfully inconsiderate of your bosses, don't you think, to send you all alone?” Jerry says.

“You were looking for this, weren’t you?” Edmund asks and pulls out something from a wooden box behind him. 

You stare at it with wide eyes. The painting.

“Who—Who had it?” you can’t help but question, gulping between the first word. 

“Me, of course”, Edmund says with an offended, yet proud scoff. “It will do nicely in my castle.”

“Now, little Y/N, you know”, Silas says. “Are you happy now? Your mystery is solved.”

Your head hurts too much to answer. You’re not sure if you’re happy. You have learned where the painting disappeared, but you’re tied and hurt, and in the enemies’ grasp. A mixed bag, so to say. 

“I can’t watch the blood”, Hedwig suddenly says and stands up from the armchair she's sitting on. 

She has been the only one that hasn’t smirked at you and seems genuinely apologetic that you're here, but you don't trust that damsel in distress look anymore. She pushes through the others to reach you with a wet handkerchief in her hands. Carefully, she kneels down in front of you and wipes the wet cloth against your forehead. She wipes away the dried blood gently.

“What are you going to do now?” you spit, coming your head to the side. “Throw me overboard?”

“Not exactly”, Silas says, smiling menacingly. 

“Not yet, at least”, Jerry says, grinning.

“If I don't meet my contact in New York, people will know that something has happened to me”, you say coldly. “They'll hunt you down.”

“Oh, will they now? I didn't realize that we had stolen their golden boy.” Silas's cruel smile widens. “Well, Golden Boy, plans seem to have changed.”

You glare at him in confusion. Silas pets your head twice and you hiss at the painful touch. Whatever they hit you with, it must have caused a gigantic bruise.

“Seems like we have to keep you for a while”, he says. “But you will have to stay in here, I’m afraid. You probably understand that we cannot let someone like you wander around the ship.”

You glare at him.

“Do you really think ropes will stop me?” you ask. “I'll be out of here in no time.”

“I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free.” He gives you a testing look before turning to his new companions. “Oh, and one more thing …” He picks up a familiar revolver, spinning it around his hand. “... thank you for the free gun.”

You want to curse at him, but keep quiet for your own sake.

“It's late, the ladies should head to bed”, he says, gesturing for Hedwig and Jerry to leave. “We need to keep someone here to make sure that our little Golden Boy won't free himself and run around, causing trouble.”

“I can take the first shift”, Doctor Kry says and golds up a syringe filled with a translucent liquid.

“Do not harm him, you hear me?” Silas tells him warningly. “I want him alive, coherent and unharmed.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Edmund questions angrily. “In this cabin? Now that I'll have people staring at me?”

“You and Doctor Kry will take Y/N’s cabin”, Silas says.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Stop being so spoiled, your majesty.”

“Won't that be suspicious?” Silas’s second in command questions. “If they see the young king exit and enter someone else's cabin instead of his own?”

“No one knows his cabin”, Silas says as if things were obvious. “Besides, we're in New York tomorrow anyways. It won't be a problem.” He turns to the others. “Scatter.”

The five of them walk out, leaving you and Doctor Kry alone. The doctor sits down in one of the two armchairs in front of you with a long, tired sigh. In his hand, he twirls the syringe.

“What is that?” you mutter.

“Something that will make you go to sleep if you're trying to escape”, Doctor Kry says simply, as if he was talking about watering flowers.

“Why did you hit me in the head if you had that instead?” you ask bitterly.

“Because it wasn't me, it was the second in command and Jerry.”

“Did you lie down in the swimming pool? About not knowing where Jerry came from?”

“No, Y/N, why would I? I told you that I didn't know anything. I didn't get to know until this afternoon.”

“And yet you're quick to jump the wagon to get me killed. I thought doctors were supposed to be nice.”

“I’ve never said that I was nice.”

“What do you gain from this? Why do you want to engage in collusion with people like this? What kind of doctor even are you?”

“Still, with all these questions … look, Y/N, it’s late. You’d do good in trying to get some sleep.”

“On the floor? With my head pounding in pain? With my hands and feet tied?”

“Suit yourself.”

There’s a deadly silence after that. You listen to the sounds the Normandie creates, and somehow wishes that she could save you, but you’re trapped within her, there’s nothing to be done. You rest your head back onto the edge of the footrest and sigh heavily. Doctor Kry looks at his syringe as if it is the most interesting thing he has ever witnessed.

“I'm thirsty”, you say after a while. 

Doctor Kry stands up, walks over to the dressing table where a crystal carafe is waiting and pours you a glass. He returns to you and holds the glass to your lips, making you drink. You gulp it down and breathe heavily. Doctor Kry returns to his armchair. 

You don't know how long you've been sitting on the floor before you start to fall asleep. You thought that you wouldn't, not in this position (figuratively and literally) but you somehow fall asleep. 

“Wakey wakey, Golden Boy.”

You feel someone poke your head to the side multiple times and open your eyes to see Jerry hold a stick in her hand which she's using to poke your head.

“It's morning”, she says.

You groan groggily. She imitates you and chuckles.

“Did you have a pleasant night?” she teases.

You decide not to answer, not to humor her further. Your eyes draft onto a silver tray on the table.

“Yes, that's your breakfast”, Jerry says and lifts the tray, putting it on the floor in front of you before sitting down. 

She picks up a piece of toast and holds it to your mouth. You take a bite, feeling more humiliated than ever. If only you knew that this was where you'd end up when you stepped on board in France.

“We will be in New York tomorrow”, Jerry says, holding the toast to your lips. “And we'll sneak both you and the painting past your contact.”

“It's just a painting”, you say cluelessly. “Why do you all want it so much?”

“I’m not particularly interested in the painting, but I know that Edmund and Hedwig are.”

“Why?”

“Art nerds.”

“Is it even selling for much?”

“It is — if you give it to the right consumer.”

“And you? What do you gain from this?”

“The thing isn’t about what I gain, it is what I lose … in case I let you roam freely. I don’t trust what you will do with the painting or it’s contents. Plus, you know who I am. If you wouldn’t have stuck your nosy head in everything, you wouldn’t have any problem with me.”

You suddenly realize something. 

“Jerry, I need to go to the bathroom”, you say. “I haven’t been to the bathroom since before you knocked me in the head.”

She sighs heavily. “Alright, come here.”

Before pulling you up on your feet, she unties them. You stumble, almost falling on Jerry. 

“Watch it, big boy”, she warns you. “If you knock me down I’m kicking you between your legs until you can’t have children.”

“If you hadn’t tied my feet, I would actually have blood in them. I can’t feel them.”

She unties your hands bitterly. You make your way into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Hedwig had wiped away some of the blood, but there were still traces of it in your scalp. You sigh heavily. What should you do? Finally, your hands and feet are free, but you aren’t yet. And — after a quick look around — there’s no way out. The only way out is through the door which Jerry is guarding. 

You could perhaps get out by defeating Jerry, but you have something against fighting women. But, then again, she had knocked you with — what you guess was — a glass bottle. You look around for something that can help you and lay your eyes on a metal bar over the bathtub, used to pull one up. Without a second thought and will all your might, you rip it off. You give it a few squeezes, feeling if it could be strong enough to be used as a weapon and trying to find a comfortable, yet strong, grip. 

You open the door quickly and swing the metal bar towards Jerry. She tries to grab it out of your hands but you push her off and knock her to the ground with the bar. You're not sure how hard you are hitting her, but it's enough force to keep her down. Quickly, you make your way past her and storm out of the cabin, almost crashing into the opposite wall in the corridor. You look around quickly, trying to think of where to go. After what Silas said, that he has more men than just his second in command lurking around, you're not sure who you can be seen by. You need to find an officer. You need to get higher.

Shit, the painting!

Your heart is beating loudly in your chest as you scurry back into the cabin. Jerry is lying on the floor, unconscious, and you almost feel bad for knocking her, but you know that it had to be done. It was her or you. Quickly, you open the wooden box and fish out the painting, tucking it under your arm. You can't hide it in your cabin, not when they know about it. You have to dispose of it somewhere safe.

Every step you take is careful, planned and mortified. You clutch the painting tightly, as if it is life itself.

Moving through the long corridor, you're certain that someone will jump out behind a corner and knock you out, like yesterday. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, almost making you nauseous. You continue through the corridor, over to the hall with the staircases. Your suit has dried blood on it, you look (and feel) manic, will anyone take you seriously?

You freeze as you see a pair of eyes on you. Kry. His blue eyes seem to darken as he notices you, and the painting.

Quickly, you throw yourself into the elevator, and press a random button, wanting the doors to close before Doctor Kry reaches you. And they do, but when you look at the display beside you, you're going the opposite to where you need to go. New plan, you think, I have to sneak into tourist class — or third class, whatever gets you furthest away.

While standing in the elevator, you take a look at the painting to make sure that it hasn’t been damaged in this mess. You turn it around to inspect the canvas and notice something stuck in the corner of the wooden brackets. Carefully, you reach your fingers in and pull out a folded paper. Tucking the painting between your arm and your waist, you unfold the paper to find a list of names and locations … some of which you recognize. They’re all wanted criminals and you guess that the ones you don’t recognize are criminals as well. And the locations …

Your body goes cold and stiff. For a few moments, it feels like the entire world has stopped spinning. This is suddenly more serious than you could ever expect. Quickly, you put the paper in the pocket of your black pants.

You make your way through corridors you haven’t been in before, through doors you’re sure you’re not allowed through. You can’t help but look around at the new environment. Despite being one of Normandie’s lower classes, the attention to detail had been given to every centimeter of the ship. 

Focus!

You’re not sure where you’re going, but you need to find someone that can help you. You consider giving it to a random passenger and ask them to give them to an officer, but in your entire training, you have been told not to pull innocent civilians into your job. They could get seriously hurt and it would be completely your own fault. 

You make your way through tourist class, making sure not to be seen by anyone. If Silas have more people than you thought, why wouldn’t they be in multiple classes? You’re not even sure why the painting have caused this big of a commotion, but there’s no way you can give up the painting now — not after everything you’ve gone through. Your head is still pounding from the glass bottle and your heart beating out of your chest by the sight of Doctor Kry. He knows that you’re roaming freely, and soon, they all will know … and they will look for you. Silas’s words still ring in your ear; “I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free” — well you surely don’t. But where can one run where the space is limited? It’s not like you can grab a lifeboat and sail your way to safety. The sea can be just as dangerous as the people you’re dealing with. 

You look around for someone in black uniform, desperately wanting to find someone to help you before you get a bullet through your head. Finally, you find a steward carrying a metal tray. Like lightning had struck through you, you barge forward and grab his arm. 

“Sir, you have to help me!” you hiss and pull him into an empty corridor. 

“What are you doing-?” he gasps. 

“Please listen and listen quickly”, you whisper in pure panic. The words fall out of your mouth incoherently, but you somehow manage to create the sentences you need for the steward to listen to you. “I have to get to the Captain! Like … now! It’s really, really urgent! Please, just trust me!”

You look around with wide eyes, heart now pounding in your throat. The steward nods in confusion and signals for you to come with him. You’re not sure why he decides to trust you, but you’re ever so grateful for it. He takes you through hidden passages used for staff so that none of the paying passengers will have to see them, up a couple of steep stairs and through some more doors. You hug the painting tightly against your roaring chest. Every corner makes your heart stop, terrified that someone will stand on the other side and knock you out the second you turn. 

The steward points at a door with a golden sign on it — ‘Officers’ quarters’. You pound on the door until you’re sure your knuckles bleed. A stern looking man in neat uniform opens, giving you a dark look. 

“Who are you?” he questions. “What do you want?”

“I’m Y/N L/N, I’m an agent of the crown and this is the missing painting that has been all over the news … you have to keep it secure until we reach New York.”

The officer looks confused as he takes the painting in his hands and lets you into the quarters. 

“You’re bloody, what happened to you, sir?”

“There’s six passengers — Mr Achilleos and his man, His Majesty Edmund of Vesanus, Doctor Karl Kry, Miss Hedwig Carter and Miss Jerry Kim. They knocked me out and kept me in a cabin the entire night. They’re working together. They want this painting …”

… and probably my life by now.

“ … keep it safe”, you beg the officer and feel your voice quiver. “Please. If i can’t meet you at the harbor when we dock tomorrow, please give it to my contact — I will write down his name —  and tell him that he can find further information on board the ship.”

“I will tell the captain about the passengers, they will be taken care of and kept in arrest until we reach land where the police will deal with them”, the officer says.

“Thank you. A lot. Really.”

“You can stay here if you want.”

You feel for the note in your pocket and shake your head. “I have to do something first.”

The officer nodded. On shaky legs, you open the door and walk out into the corridor again. The steward is long gone and you’re alone in an unfamiliar corridor. You suddenly feel exhausted and decide to stay close to the door for a few moments to catch your breath, as if the officers’ quarter was a safe place. 

The note has to be hidden somewhere across the ship so that your contact can find it in case you don’t make it out alive. The note is more important than the painting and can, under no circumstances, go in the wrong hands. These names have to reach your contact. The group will look for the painting in belief that the note is still there, so the note has to be hidden separately so that they won’t find it. 

You make your way through the corridors slowly, making sure not to be caught with the list of names on you. In a weird, panic filled daze, you make your way through corridors, through lounges and dining halls where you hide the note. Underneath a chair, stuck to the corner. You deice to find your way back to the officers’ quarters and somehow find yourself out on deck. The wind is grabbing at you, pulling you left and right. You have a hard time keeping yourself on your feet. No one else is outside and you suspect it has to do with the fact that it’s early in the morning and the dark gray sky above you threat of rain.

“Y/N, don’t move.”

You turn to see the second in command with a gun in his hand.

“If you shoot me you'll ruin your life”, you say to him as confidentially as you can muster, but you can't help but worry if he's going to pull the trigger. 

“Do you think I care?” the second in command questions with a scoff. “I serve my boss until my last breath, I couldn't care less about other trivial matters. Where's the painting?”

“You don't care for the painting. Ask me instead where the note is.”

His eyebrow twitches.

“You know about the note, huh?” he says, eyes narrowing. “Seems like I'll have to get that out of you.”

“Why don't you have your boss do it? Or is he in arrest?”

“Don't worry about him, he always comes out on top. Come with me now or I will shoot you-”

“Shoot me then. The note is hidden and the painting is with trusted people.”

“Idiot. Do you think I was born yesterday? If I shoot you, I can't get the note. You may be stupid, but i dont think youre careless enough To sacrifice yourself for such a trivial thing. Get over here. Now.”

You're unarmed and alone, but if there's one thing you've been taught, it is to not give up without a fight. Your eyes catch onto an officer patrolling the upper deck and whistle. As the second in command takes his eyes off of you, you dive head first into the swimming pool. From his perspective, you don't think — wish — that he sees the man above him. The water wraps around you like a cold blanket and for a few seconds you can't even feel the wetness, only biting cold that almost makes you gasp under the surface. Somewhere, you think that you can hear a gunshot and see something whooshing past you in the water. And then another, and another. And then nothing.

You don't return to the surface until you're sure that the bullet rain has stopped. Your burning lungs gasp for air and you grip the ladder to your left. The second in command has been wrestled down on the deck by the same officer you saw. A smile tugs at your lips as the second in command glares at you from the floor, smashed against the planks.

“Sir, are you alright?” the officer asks, panting.

“I'm okay”, you reply, panting heavier.

An ice cold wind cuts right through you.

“Go inside”, the officer tells you.

“Y/N!” the second in command shouts as you've started to walk. “Don't forget that there are more. You barely know half of the people we have on board. Don't think for a second that you are safe!”

You pretend not to hear him and make your way inside for warmth. Unsure of where to go because of the second in command’s words, you return to the officers’ quarters.

That evening, you make your way down to the arrest. There are still two questions you haven’t gotten an answer to. You've gotten your gun back from a steward and have tucked it in your blazer. Nausea is eating you up from the inside as you walk into the room, watching the cell and its habitants.

“Look who it is”, you hear Jerry snicker. “Change your mind, Golden Boy? Do you want us out?”

You don't even bother to answer.

“The painting is in a safe place, and so are the note”, you say. “I suppose that Jerry, Silas and your second in command wanted the note and not the painting … and Edmund and Hedwig wanted the painting … but what did the Doctor want?”

“Me?” Kry asks coldly and walks over to the bars with his arms crossed. “What I wanted?”

“Yes”, you reply.

“You, of course. Imagine, my own little lab rat that I could do whatever I wanted with … no one would even bat an eye if both you and the painting disappeared.”

“You won't get any of it.” You let your eyes wander over the six people. “Not the painting, not the note, and absolutely not me. Jail is what you will get.”

You can hear Hedwig start to sob in the corner of the cell. She has sunken down along the wall with her head hanging between her knees, body shaking with sobs. Edmund sighs and walks over to her side, grabbing her shoulders and trying to pull her up on her feet.

“Don't cry”, he says quietly. “We won't go to jail, I will make sure of that. I won't allow it.”

“Did you just come down here to revel in our misery?” Silas asks you. 

You're not sure why you came down here. Did you want to make sure to yourself that they were behind bars? Or make you feel more powerful? Or even just get to see them?

“You do know that we will have our revenge, don’t you?” Edmund says and looks at you. “This is not the end.”

“I hope that you like being a dog, because that's what you're going to be, leash and all”, Silas scoffs.

“Tattooed”, Jerry adds on with a tilted smile. “Marked. Would Golden boy like that?”

You ignore her, and walk over to the cells bars, eyes glued onto Hedwig. 

“What were you doing in my cabin?” you ask. 

She freezes, looking cluelessly at you through her teary eyes.

“What?” she asks in shock. 

“Your perfume was all over my cabin”, you say coldly. “Why were you in my cabin?”

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N!” she cries and runs over to the bars, reaching out for you. 

You back away.

“I’m sorry, I-I … I looked through your things. I couldn’t help it, I just … I really, really wanted to hold you. I didn’t take anything, I promise! Please believe me, Y/N, I just wanted to- … it doesn’t matter. Forgive me.”

You don’t answer. Maybe Hedwig isn’t as sweet and innocent as you thought. 

DAY 4 — End of voyage

After your hell night last night you couldn't be more grateful for the somewhat pleasant night you had. Every single sound and movement woke you up, preparing you to see one of the six criminals or their acquaintances. And since a ship is in constant movement and makes sounds only God knows about, you barely slept for an hour straight. But at least you were in a warm bed.

You can't eat anything during breakfast. You stare at the sandwich and steaming coffee in front of you with a twisted stomach. The room is filled with passengers, like normal, but the bright room can’t be more dark and sinister. It is as if someone has drained it of color. Any of the smiling guests can be one that want to put a bullet through your skull, and is waiting for you to rise from your chair and follow you outside.

When a waiter comes over to your table, the coffee has stopped steaming. 

“Good morning, sir”, he says politely and places a silver tray with a silver cloche on your table. 

“What is this?” you ask in confusion. 

“A gentleman told me to give this to you. He has paid for it and everything.”

With that said, he smiles and walks away to continue his job. You glance down at the dome looking metal and feel your heart sink. Although you don’t want to, your heart reaches out to pull it away and reveal whatever is lying on the silver tray underneath. You’re not sure what you are expecting but a small, folded paper is certainly not it. As if on autopilot, you open the paper to see only a line. 

“We will be waiting for you when we dock, you won’t get past us. We are watching you.”

You were right. A knot appears in your throat. Your legs go numb. You will be killed. 

The air is hard to breathe in and you have to get out before you suffocate. You get out on the deck with the lifeboats hanging above your head and lean against the railing. In a few hours, Normandie would dock and you would be caught. You’re not sure that the steward who had helped you before would be able to save you, and you don’t want to put him in more danger … but you can’t step off the ship in New York’s harbor. The lifeboat above your head gives you an idea. A stupid, right out ridiculous idea … 

You look around you before your shaking hands release the lifeboat from its holds. You have been taught the most outrageous things to rescue yourself — including lowering an ocean liner’s lifeboat. The davits slowly bring the lifeboat downwards and you climb in, lying down to avoid being seen. Your body trembles with fear, unsure of what this will bring you … or where it will bring you. 

There's nothing on the ship that you should bring with you. There's no guarantee that the lifeboat will reach the harbor safely, but its a try. The painting will be more secure with the steward. 

You feel a ‘thump’ from when the lifeboat hits the waves underneath you. You see how Normandie towers above you, the black steel never seeming to end. A pair of heads stick out from the side and something hits the water beside you. Quickly, you cover your body with your arms and legs, curling up until all vital organs are covered. Hitting you with bullets on this distance are harder than one can think, but not impossible. The second you’re sure that they can’t reach you, you get up and start to paddle. If the men tell a steward about the missing lifeboat, they’ll steer their ship over here to get you. 

Your arms quickly grow sore. From now on, you’re entirely alone. There’s no one to save you in case anything happens and you will have to find your way to land by yourself. But it's better than being on board the ship.

The sea around you feels abnormally calm. There’s no distinctive sounds apart from the waves hitting the side of the lifeboat. 

You sit for a moment, taking the time to think. This case has been different from all the others you have done. More personal than you could ever have anticipated. You’re not sure why, but something with this case told you that things wouldn’t be over if they got their way. It was more than just materia, they want you too … to use as they please. Doctor Kry was right. Who would bat an eye if you disappeared along with the painting? They wouldn’t call it a kidnapping, it would be a disappearance that could be explained by the painting. And now they have none of it. Not the painting, not the list of criminals and not you. Pretty successful, you think. Maybe you succeeded this mission after all? 

You hiss as you touch your sensitive head. You’ll have to find a doctor in New York.

Hours go by. You row, you rest, row, rest, row, rest. Throw up. Damn if you have gotten a concussion, you think, but it’s probably just the sea air making you nauseous. 

How things had turned out. You thought that you would have had to deal with one or two criminals … not six. Ad how Silas had seen right through you … 

It’s over now. It will be over soon. Is it over?

You continue to row. 

in the distance, you see a fishing ship pulling up their net and you wave with your arms in hope for them to see you, which they inevitably do. Your exhausted, cold body is picked up and wrapped in an old blanket. 

“What were you doing out in a lifeboat like that?” one of the old sailors asks. “Which ship has sunk?”

“It’s the Normandie!” another one says as he reads the name on the wooden planks. “Has the Normandie sunk?!”

You tell them that it hasn’t suck — in fact, it’s steaming on better ad stronger than ever — but that an accident had happened, which resulted in you all alone in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. 

They give you a yellow rain coat that you use to hide in and join the sailors to New York’s harbor that evening. In the distance, you see the different ocean liner piers. Cunard-White Star Line, United States Lines, HAPAG, Italian Lines, Swedish-American Lines … and finally, Compagnie Générale Transatlantique. Normandie was towering above all the other liners and you stood there on the pier, looking at it. Four days ago, you had been standing in the harbor at Le Havre and been excited to step on board. But now, that you are looking at it from afar, in the dim lights, there’s something unsettling about the her. It looks like she’s apologizing to you for everything that she allowed to happen between her walls. You almost start to cry. 

You turn around and walk without giving the ship one more glance, hoping that it will be the last time you get to see the Normandie. 

You meet up with your contact in a small warehouse that following morning and tell him what you have hidden on the ship. He promises to retrieve it. He already has the painting and has secured it, had gotten it from the very steward you had left it with. 

“I have something else too”, he says and gives you an apologetic look. 

“What?” you ask and watch him closely as he takes out a paper from his pocket. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You open the paper and feel your blood go icy cold. The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the nickname you see written in black …

“Thought you could lock us in? Think twice, Golden boy, we’re already out. We’ll find you, be so sure of that. Don’t think that we will let you slip away. You will look good in a leash.

S.A”

You fold the paper just as quick and breathe out a shaky breath. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N, you will be protected”, your contact promises. “It will not be any problem, I assure you.”

With the six people’s contacts and power, you doubt that your protection will do much, but you nod. The painting is safe and the note is safe. They may have escaped jail and are looking for you, but you succeeded with your mission. And that is all that matters.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

WAR OF HEARTS

TIME: February 1942

TW: it's inspired by a movie "Pearl Harbor" FLUFF

PAIRING: soldier!anakin x nurse!reader

Anakin laid on the medical bed, every broken bone ached with even the slightest movement. He was thirsty, hungry, and desperate to recover, but the relentless pain gripped his every nerve like a living nightmare, stabbing his spine with invisible knives

His ears were filled with the groans of fellow soldiers, all victims of the war - each sharing their own agony. His mind was haunted by images of the battlefield—the relentless gunfire, the screams of men in torment, the thick scent of fresh blood, and the cold, unforgiving rain.

The only solace in his hospital stay was the presence of his favorite nurse, you. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen; your kind and sweet demeanor coupled with your gentle touch made his time more bearable. Your voice was soothing and sugary, providing him with brief moments of comfort amidst his suffering. He thought of you as an angel, a true angel sent from heavens by God himself, to bring him back to health and ease his suffering—a reward for the sacrifices he had made for his country

As the days passed, Anakin found himself eagerly anticipating your visits every time. Every time you entered his hospital room, a sense of calm washed over him, as if you brought with yourself a piece of heaven.

He found himself captivated by your every move—the way you carefully checked his bandages; the softness in your touch when you adjusted his pillows..it all gave him a tingly feeling in his gut. Day by day he found himself falling for you even more and it was almost surprising for him how easily you could wrap him around your finger, by doing nothing but showing kindness and care

"How do you feel today?" your sweet voice rang in his ears as you came for your daily checks on not only him but every patient here.

Anakin turned his head to face you. He managed a faint smile, the most he could muster through his agony.

"Could be better," he admitted, his voice betraying the strain he was under. "But seeing you makes it bearable.” the last words dripping with the last braveness he could bring to offer

You offered him a smile while Anakin's eyes traced up and down your figure as you moved around, checking things and taking notes on a clipboard. Despite his pain, a different kind of ache stirred in his chest. Somehow he longed to reach out, to touch you, to draw you closer. But he knew better than that to not do it, at least not right now

"Thank you... for taking such good care of me, Nurse Y/N."

"It's my job..." you replied, this time forcing a smile as your fingers slowly untied the bandage on his arm.

His gaze lingered on your face during your work. His blue eyes followed your every movement, almost studying your expression– your delicate features, the way your eyes seemed to glow with warmth. Each glance only deepened the ache within him, a yearning for something more amidst the chaos of war. The pain in his arm flared as air touched his wound; however he tried to remain still, not wanting to make your job any more difficult. He gritted his teeth for a moment, then exhaled slowly, trying to relax his sore muscles.

Your brows knitted together. "Well, it is healing, but you're going to have a scar…”

Anakin glanced down at his arm, wincing at the sight of the raw, angry-looking wound beneath the bandage. The thought of a scar didn’t bother him; he had plenty of those already. He looked back at you, his expression a mix of resignation and determination.

"Scar or not, I'll be fine. I've been through worse,"

You hummed softly, gently changing the bandage and tying it up firmly. He kept watching you intently, to which you were now used to. His eyes tracing the delicate movements of your hands; the pain in his arm had lessened to a dull throb, thanks to your skilled care. Seeking a distraction, he initiated conversation.

"How long have you been here?" he asked. The curiosity was evident in his voice.

"Started a few months ago," you replied softly with a sigh, moving your hands to the bandage over his head.

He felt strangely at ease in your presence, as if her very essence had a calming effect on him. And he didn't know you at all. But maybe it's this magic of being an angel? That every person you're around immediately feels intense trust towards you?

"You're a natural at it," he said, a note of admiration in his voice. "You're always so... gentle."

"Well, this job requires that... Does your head still hurt?”

He winced as your hand accidentally touched a sensitive spot on his head, the pain flaring up momentarily. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he tried to control it. He managed to nod,his expression a mix of fatigue and discomfort.

"It does," he admitted, his voice slightly shaky. "But it's getting better, I think.”

You sighed, twisting your body to the near nightstand. You opened the cabinet, roaming over the different pills inside. Anakin's eyes followed your every move, once more, feeling almost hypnotized by you. Well, he also wanted to memorize every second you spend here, with him before he will lost you..He wanted to say something meaningful, something beyond the polite small talk you usually exchanged. His mind raced with indecision until he decided he had nothing to lose.

"Will you go out with me?" he asked out of nowhere, his voice suddenly serious yet gentle.

"What?" you scoffed, turning to face him

Anakin mentally cursed himself for his impulsiveness. Your response was not what he had hoped for. "You heard me," he kept going nonetheless "I want to take you out on a date. Once I'm discharged from this place, of course”

"I... but you will be sent back to the frontline."

Anakin's expression darkened, the harsh truth of your words hitting him hard. The idea of returning to the place he was taken from filled him with a mix of dread and resignation. "Maybe," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But that doesn't change the fact that I want to take you on a date. A proper date, not just here in some hospital room."

Surprisingly for him, you chuckled, gently placing a pill on his tongue before holding his head so he could take a sip of water. "First, you need to get better.”

He complied, swallowing the pill and taking a gulp of water, his gaze remaining fixed on her. He hated how weak he felt, having to rely on you for his basic needs. It felt weird but at the same time, it's nothing bad. He was, now, fragile and vulnerable. Something, yes, he dreads, however your presence healed his self-consciousness "And then you'll go out with me?" he asked, a hopeful smirk playing on his lips.

You smiled warmly, leaning down to give him a kiss on the forehead, to which Anakin's eyes widened slightly. His heart skipped a beat, a mix of surprise and excitement washing over him "We will see," you whispered before walking away.

He watched your hips sway back and forth, a strange, happy flutter filling his stomach

In all his days he had never felt such excitement and building nervousness at the thought of you possibly agreeing on the date. Gosh, he was in heaven

A month later, Anakin stood nervously outside the hospital, already dressed in his uniform. He clutched a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne, knowing he would soon return to the frontline. He exhaled the cold February air and waited for you to finish your work

Whereas you have just finished your shift. With giggling friends all around you, you took the step out of the hospital and the frigid air made you shiver. You wrapped your coat tighter around you hoping to shake off the cold air. Your eyes caught the visible in cold breaths before they lingered on the high man that stood in the darkness. Soon you acknowledged who it was and your cheeks flushed even more. Gosh, you didn't even know this man. You just took care of him, as your job required you to. But now, as you two made eye contact, you could see his face without all the bandages and small cuts. And only one thought crossed your mind;

He was divine

"What are you doing here?" you asked after your friends left your side, giggling to themselves after you've said your ‘bye’s’

Anakin smiled nervously, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the watchful eyes of your friends. He held up the bouquet and the bottle of champagne, his voice slightly shaky.

"I came to see you," he replied. "I wanted to take you out on that date I promised. Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

Anakin nodded, his expression serious as he took a step closer to you, holding out the bouquet and the champagne.

"Yeah, tonight," he affirmed, his voice earnest. "I only have a few days left before I…” he swallowed “.. have to go back. I want to spend every moment I can with you.”

your expression softened, accepting the beautiful bouquet "Well, I don't see why we wouldn't spend some time together," you replied sweetly.

Anakin's heart leapt at your response, a wave of relief washing over him. "Great," he said, a smile returning to his face. "I have a surprise for you. Come on.” He held out his arm, offering it for you to take. With a soft chuckle, you've accepted his arm

You couldn't help but notice how Anakin's muscles were toned and strong beneath your touch. It was a silent reminder of the physical demands he endured in his duty. He led you through the quiet streets, the night air chilly yet oddly comforting. A thrill of excitement coursed through not only him but you as well while you walked together, acutely aware of the limited time you had.

Finally after some time, you sat down on a bench. "Okay, so... I've never done this before, so I—" he muttered, attempting to open the champagne bottle. But unfamiliar with the process, the cork unexpectedly popped off and hit Anakin in the face. He grunted in surprise and annoyance.

"Damn it...!" he cursed, rubbing his nose. He glanced down at the spilled champagne that stained the bench.

"Are you okay?" you gasped, noticing the escaping blood

Anakin nodded through the pain, trying to play it off. "Yeah, just a little sting," he said, though the blood trickling down his nose betrayed his discomfort. He attempted to discreetly wipe it away, only managing to smear it on his glove

The difficulty in breathing began to distress him, his expression a mix of pain and annoyance. Anakin cursed silently, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"Damn it, I was trying to impress you…”

You chuckled softly, finding it adorable. Swiftly, you grabbed ice from the ground and gently pushed his hand away to press it to his nose. "It's okay..." you whispered

He winced as the ice touched his tender nose, but the coldness provided some relief from the throbbing pain. Anakin looked up at you, embarrassment mingling with gratitude in his eyes

"I feel like an idiot now..." he muttered, feeling his face heat up under your too gentle gaze. He felt bold again and settled his head on your lap, hoping you wouldn't push him away or feel uncomfortable. A sigh escaped him as the pain in his nose subsided with the cooling sensation of the ice.

"This is not how I imagined our date would go..." he mumbled

you couldn't help but chuckle softly in response. "It's okay," you repeated again to run your free hand through his curls

He closed his eyes, savoring the gentle touch of your fingers. It was a soothing sensation, distracting him from the discomfort in his nose. His body relaxed, tension draining away as he allowed himself to immerse in the moment.

"I'm really glad you agreed to this," he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

"I'm glad you've asked me out.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he let out a soft exhale.

"Yeah, I was honestly scared you would say no," he admitted, opening his eyes to met your gaze, vulnerability and honesty shining through "But you didn't, and now I'm here with you, and everything feels..." he paused, searching for the right word. "... perfect."

You hummed softly. "Does your nose still hurt?”

He shifted slightly on your lap, feeling the lingering ache in his nose. Anakin let out a small sigh before answering; "Not as bad as before," he replied, his expression slightly pained. "The ice helped. But it still stings a bit.”

"The ice should stop the bleeding."

He nodded gratefully at your nursing knowledge. "Maybe you should kiss it to make it better," he suggested with a widening smile.

"A kiss will make it better?" you raised an eyebrow

"It's a well-known fact," he teased. "A kiss from a pretty nurse can work miracles.”

"Didn't know that," you chuckled softly, to which he did the same

"Well, now you know," he said, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. "And I wouldn't mind if you tested that theory out for me.”

You giggled again, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on his nose. When he felt the softness of your lips against his nose and he momentarily forgot about the ache. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding while his heart fluttered in his chest.

"That definitely made it better," he said, his voice slightly more breathless than usual. "Though, I might need a few more kisses just to be sure."

"Oh, more?" You teased playfully.

He nodded, a playful glimmer in his eyes as he shifted on your lap to bring his face closer to yours. "Yeah, just to make sure the pain is completely gone," he whispered, his voice a low murmur. "A few more kisses on the nose, maybe a few on the mouth, just to be thorough."

Without much hesitation, you brought your lips to his once more. However this time you've heard Anakin wince slightly, the extra pressure exacerbating the pain in his nose. But the initial discomfort quickly faded, replaced by the sweetness of your mouth against his. He let out a small hum of enjoyment and deepened the kiss.

You leaned in, your breath warm against his skin. However this time you've heard Anakin wince slightly, the initial pressure intensifying the pain momentarily. But the discomfort quickly dissolved, replaced by the tender sweetness of your kiss. He let out a contented hum, savoring the moment as he gently deepened the caress.

The night air around you was cold, but the heat between you two created a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. And he couldn't be happier right now, not when he managed to have such an angel by his side

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @slutforfinnickodair

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[binniebakery]

(What's The) Hot Topic?

HotTopicWorker!Gyu x Fem!Reader, Strangers to Lovers(?), Suggestive! ♡ Summary: In search for a birthday gift for your friend, you stop by your local Hot Topic where you stick out like a sore thumb. A certain employee sees a pretty girl in need of his assistance, so who is Beomgyu to say no? (In which emo gyu takes a liking to the girl dressed in delicate ribbons and bows.) ♡ Warnings: Things move a little fast here, makeout with a stranger, cursing, reader gets called fem nicknames, etcccc not proofread! ♡ A/N: ty for the request! I got so motivated to write this I hopped on my pc so quick LMAO (this user loves oreo beomgyu with a passion n will do anything to write for him) so more coquette x txt !!!! lmk if u guys want me to do other members too! Hope u enjoy~

The mall was quieter than usual today. A perfect time for you to show up in your cute heeled boots and winter coat, perfectly lined with white fur and ribbons. The sound of your shoes clicking mixing in with the atmosphere of the mall. You found your way to the store you were looking for. As you stood in front you stared at your phone with furrowed eyebrows. How were you supposed to find Yeonjun’s gift again? You walked in with eyes glued to your text messages. Nirvana, yes. You wanted a Nirvana shirt for your good friend Yeonjun’s birthday. Easy right? Or maybe he wouldn’t like that? It was hard to figure out what he had and what he didn’t have in his collection. You bit your lip as you looked at the t-shirt section in the back of the dark store. You could practically feel the stare of another shopper which made your uneasiness grow. Though you couldn’t blame them, you sort of stood out like a sore thumb. Pretty pearled headband with light ribbons tied, and a purse in the same color to match. Your whole outfit screamed sweet pastels and spring while you stood next to the bloody horror movie merchandise. You sighed in relief as you saw the previously mentioned customer get helped by an employee. Yet to your luck, you were left standing waiting like a lost deer. Maybe you should’ve just ordered something online– “Hey there, has anyone helped you yet?”

You turn to see a taller figure standing by you, his black long hair chopped into a wolf cut with platinum blonde highlights to further highlight his pale skin. He was a guy your age for sure, and he had quite an eccentric appearance. Which made him even more attractive. “Hi! Um yes sorry, I do need help with something if you don’t mind? I’m looking for a gift for a friend. I don’t really have the same style so..” you trailed off, noticing how his eyes look over your figure, a tinge of pink blooming on his ears. “Sure thing. Just tell me what kind of stuff your friend likes and I can help you, pretty girl. Name’s Beomgyu.” he grinned. You felt your heart nearly stop as you choked out an “Ah! I’m y/n.. th- thanks..” and proceeded to show him Yeonjun’s list of favorite artists and demands for his birthday. “Hm. I think I have the perfect thing for him. Follow me please.” you watch him swiftly turn around as he walks deeper into the back of the store… into the employees-only room? You stood there dumbfounded, were you supposed to go in there too? Was this a normal thing for Hot Topic? You hardly came to the store but you swear the employees-only room should be for.. Well, employees only. “Don’t worry doll, you can come back here.” He chuckles as he watches your big eyes scan around nervously. You nod and walk in with him, the door closing behind you. The room was dim, a single light bulb being the only source of light for the two of you. It wasn't too large of a room, with an employee bathroom towards the end of it, a desk with a computer sitting in the corner, and tons of shelves filled with extra merchandise waiting to be set up. Beomgyu hummed as he dug through the boxes with various artists’ names labeled on them. The room was quiet and the atmosphere felt thick. You played with the ribbons on your soft coat as you waited for him to find what he was looking for. “I have a question for you. You ever visit this store?” Beomgyu asked as he dug further, you tilted your head at the question. Was he trying to say something..? “Yes.. but I’m not really a common customer..” You nervously laugh and Beomgyu stands up with a set of items in his hands. “Mhm, I figured. No offense, but you really stick out in here. That dumbass was staring at you like you were a zoo animal.” He laughed. “Though I mean that with no offense- I wouldn’t blame him. You’re a pretty girl y’know?” He smiled as he handed you the merch in his hands. Your face flushed at the compliment. “Ah, thank you. You’re really kind.” You smile. Neither of you move. You’re looking at the floor, you really want to say something more. Ask him for his number, tell him he’s attractive as hell, or that you want to just stay in here a little longer. Alone with him. Suddenly, you feel a hand stroke a strand of your hair. You look up to see Beomgyu admiring your soft locks with gentle eyes. “Such a pretty girl.. You have a boyfriend?” He tilts his head, lips forming a smirk with tongue in cheek. You could almost pass out. Your eyes were locked on Beomgyu’s expression, his face scanning yours as he waited for your response. You could tell he was taking his time analyzing your features. You felt yourself shudder under his intense stare, you shook your head. “No actually.. I don’t..” Beomgyu’s smile widened. “Really? An angel like you? Surely I’m not your type though, someone like me with a angel like you?” “Well..” You looked away, staring at Yeonjun’s present that was still in your hands. He did have a point. You were just a sweet little thing, dressed in bows and frills, while Beomgyu wore ripped jeans and dark shirts with multiple band pins, all while sporting multiple bandaids from his skating endeavors. “I could say the same about you…Beomgyu.” His name sounded like candy coming from your glossy pink lips. He just had to hear you say it more. Beomgyu decides he’s had enough and closes the gap between you, pulling you in for a kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, leaving you craving for more. His hands snake their way around your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. You find yourself tilting your head, deepening the kiss and he groans at the feeling of you pressing yourself against him. “Wanna hear you say my name..” he mumbles against your lips and your mind is growing fuzzy. “B- Beomgyu..” you whisper and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth the second you say his name. You spend minutes like this, his hands roaming your warm and soft coat, your fingers tracing the choker on his neck. Yeonjun’s gifts long forgotten on the ground. When you both finally separate for air, Beomgyu presses his forehead against yours, admiring the way your eyes have darkened, pretty lashes glistening in the dim room’s light. “I get off in an hour babydoll. You want my number?” You find yourself nodding profusely and he smirks. “I’ll see you when I get off then.” “Promise?” You tilt your head cutely, voice soft and sweet like cotton candy, and he feels himself drawn more to you by the second. You separate from each other's arms and he helps you pick up your items. After all, you still had to head to check out. “I prom-” The door swings open as Beomgyu’s coworker walks in. “Beomgyu! What are you doing? There’s like two customers out there and- oh what-” The slightly taller male who’s nametag read Soobin tilts his head in confusion. His brows knit together as he sees your slightly disheveled hair and Beomgyu’s face smeared in your pink lipgloss. “Oh my- get the fuck out of here! Jesus man, it makes sense for Taehyun to pull something like this but you?” he groans as Beomgyu’s shit-eating grin moves him to the side, walking out with your wrist in his hand, guiding you to the counter to pay.

[decojellyfish]

New Friend!

Hi, this is my first post! So please be nice, and if you have any constructive criticism, please comment! I hope you like it :)

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Hybrid AU! TF141 Fancy Kitty! Reader x Rescue Dog! Ghost and Rescue Dog! Soap (Feat. a tiny bit of x Owner! Price) Reader acts fem but is only addressed with “you”

SFW ~ Fluff (Tiny bit of angst, if you squint) Warnings: Mentions of death (though, not directly)

───♡───────────── Beginning Your life was everything you could ask for. Always brushed, fed the finest cuisine a kitty could ask for, and wearing the finest items your owner got you. Your favorite was a collar that looked like a pearl necklace, similar to the one your owner wore daily. Your fur smelled like her too, vintage perfume (her favorite from when she was a teenager, though she always talked about how it was hard to come by now in the modern day), and those little strawberry bonbons she always kept in her purse. And you would always have a pretty pink bow tied around the base of your fluffy tail. Resting your head in her lap, her aged hands petting your white fluffy ears or brushing them with this one brush. A beautiful golden brush, with an ivory plaque on the back that had roses, tulips, and violets painted. It was her favorite from when she was a little girl. Life is good, life is paradise.

Until one day, she didn’t get out of bed. You were still curled up in your pink fluffy cat bed, waiting to hear her sweet voice call out your name whilst serving up your borderline gourmet breakfast. After about an hour, your confusion pushed you out of bed and made you go to your owner’s room. She was still sleeping? Maybe she had a rough time sleeping last night and just felt like sleeping in. Yeah, that was it! She was pretty old after all, why wouldn’t she want to sleep in once in a while? So you curled up atop the floral bedsheets, nice and close to your owner, and waited for her to wake up. You knew she would love to wake up to her pretty little kitty all snuggled up because you missed her so much! So you waited. And waited.

And waited.

A few days passed. Wow, this must’ve been the sleepiest old woman you’d have ever seen! She even had visitors and she didn’t even wake up. It was kind of strange though. They were crying as if they were watching one of those sad movies your owner would watch, with you curled up beside her. The day your world came crashing down would be the day these strange people came to your owner’s house. One of them guided you down to the kitchen, proceeding to feed you some random wet food they found on the counter. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were while you were waiting for your owner to wake up. You hadn’t even noticed the other people carrying your owner’s body out of the house while this one person was playing with you. Jingling your favorite bell toy, calling you a “precious little kitty, so beautiful, yes you are!” the whole time.

That’s when he came into the picture. He came in an hour after these people arrived, it was John Price. Your owner’s son. He had come to visit her a few times, you enjoyed his presence when he was visiting. Price approached you and began to pet your silky, fluffy white hair and fur. “Hey there, pretty thing. How’ve you been holding up?” You didn’t know what he meant by that, but your purrs were all he needed to hear to not fret over you. He figured you were okay and ready to go with him. When he began to guide you out to his car, that was when you realized that he was taking you somewhere! He reassured you that your owner wouldn’t mind having you go on a little trip. You didn’t know you were headed to Price’s own house, all of your belongings in his trunk unbeknownst to you. You, in the present, wouldn’t be mad at Price for taking you home with him and becoming your new owner. No, you wouldn’t mind that at all, John Price was a lovely person! Like his mother. What made you pissed at him was the fact that he never mentioned the two dog hybrids he also had ownership of. That also lived in the house.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price had told Ghost and Soap, his two rescue dogs, about the new arrival of a new addition to the family. That of which is a cat. Ghost wasn’t excited about the thought of a cat being in the house all day, every day. It annoyed him, he never really liked cats. Soap, on the other hand, was very excited to meet the new kitty. He had been waiting, impatiently, by the door ever since Price had gone off to retrieve the cat hybrid. Once Price had finally returned, Soap was ecstatic. He pounced on the first being that entered the doorway, licking their face all over. That first being was you. You screeched and hissed at the seemingly rabid dog that was coating you in slobber. He was mucking up your hair, too! Once Soap realized that it wasn’t Price, but, the new kitty that Price had brought home, he grew even more elated. Before he could continue any further with his slobber, Price had pulled Soap away from you, giving you time to breathe. Your tail was beyond fluffy now, you were terrified. Your claws were out and almost gripping the welcome mat by the front door. Soap was confused, Ghost’s guard was up, and Price knew in the back of his head that something like this would happen.

It took you a while to settle in, you were still frightened by the dogs and would try to maintain a distance from them. Ghost would happily oblige, avoiding you whenever you were around. Soap, not so much. He ruined his first impression meeting you! He scared you, and that is not what a good dog does. So, he spent all day and night all over you. He would tell you about his day, and ask you about yours, only for you to stay quiet, and then he would continue talking to you. Soap LOVED being around you. Why wouldn’t he? You’re such a pretty kitty, you smelled good, and your fur was so soft and silky! He loved pawing at the little bell attached to your pink ribbon collar. It was so cute! You looked like royalty with it. Ghost, on the other hand, would mumble about how uppity you seemed. Spoiled, bratty. I mean, at some points you did act like that. Whenever Price didn’t get the right food for you, whenever the sun wasn’t shining in the right spot for you to bask in it, or how loud and annoying the boys’ squeaky toys were. You and Ghost would often avoid each other. Whenever you would accidentally brush up against each other in the halls, it would result in you hissing and him growling loudly, baring his teeth. Price would have to step in and separate you two, telling you both to quit it. But back to Soap, who is an absolute lovebug when it comes to you. He would come by and curl up right next to you whenever you were curled up and lying in the sunlight. At first, you would get up and leave to a new spot. But eventually, you gave up and let him curl up as close to you as he wanted to. Through Soap’s constant yapping, you find out that both he and Ghost were survivors of illegal underground dog fighting. They were from different parts of the UK, but they both ended up at the same shelter. That’s how they met Price. Soap would point out all of his scars, telling their backstories, and talking about all the other injuries he went through. He would also compliment you, as well as attempt to pamper you. You had to give him instructions on how your owner used to do it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It smelled of overwhelming masculinity in the house. It was such a drastic change from the old lady perfume and flowers that your old home smelled like. It took you a bit to get adjusted to the lack of floral prints that your new home had. One day, you were especially homesick. Even though you were in your new, permanent, home, you still missed your old home. It was foggy out that day, the weather not helping your mood at all. You were curled up on the couch as you looked out the window with sad eyes, your fluffy tail flicking around as you were deep in thought. You hadn’t even noticed Soap and Ghost staring at you, they could smell the sadness radiating off of you. It was a slightly pungent smell compared to your usual scent that smelled of fresh flowers. It made Soap whine and quickly approach you. He curled up close to you, trying to soothe you, bring you out of your sad thoughts, with his warmth. It did help, it brought you out of your deep thoughts. But you still smelled of sadness. You would curl up against him, letting out a tiny sigh.

Then Ghost curled up next to you.

That was a first. He had always avoided you, per your request. But you didn’t mind this sudden act of affection. It was nice, you got a better chance to identify the keynotes of his scent. With Soap being around you so much, you had no choice but the memorize what he smelled like. Musk, timber wood, vanilla, and tiny hints of coconut. Part of that was because of the shampoo that Price would wash him in during bath nights. You had always kind of known what Price smelled like, what with him visiting your old owner every so often. Dirt, but not in a dirty way, an earthy way, smokey, toffee, and sandalwood. Cozy. You eventually came around and stopped being so mad at him for not telling you about his dog hybrids. Especially since you started to like them now. Kind of. Ghost, he always kind of smelled smokey. But not like Price. Price smelled smokey in a round way. Ghost smelled smokey in a sharper way. Kind of a difference between cigars and pungent cigarettes. But now that he was sitting so close to you, to wipe that sad look off your face, you could get a more clear reading of his scent. Smokey, yet bitter, musk, cedar wood, and lavender. That also must have been because of the shampoo. But they must have two separate shampoos that they picked individually. You had your own that Price had brought from your old home. It smelled of cherry blossoms.

Fast forward a few minutes, now Soap is teaching Ghost how you like your hair brushed with your favorite brush. And you’re crying and venting about how much you miss your owner and your old home.

This caused Soap to have a lightbulb moment.

A few days later, you’re napping in your cat bed when you suddenly start to wake up to a familiar scent. Rose petals, peonies, orchids, and lotuses. Flowers. You wondered if you had suddenly returned back to her old home. You open your eyes. Nope, you’re still at Price’s. But the scent is coming from a little candle, in an ivory candle holder (a favorite of your old owner), sitting on the dining room table. Price noticed you as he finished serving breakfast for you and the boys. He explained that he “found it at the shop and thought you would like it.” Actually, Soap had begged him to find a way to cheer you up because it hurt him so badly to see you cry like that! Ghost was standing by Soap, not moving a single bit. But Price could see in his eyes that he was silently agreeing. He didn’t want to admit it, but he cared for the little cat hybrid. So Price had gone out and looked for his mother’s favorite candle. He knew the one. Now, back to the present, you’re looking at the candle with wide eyes. You’re looking at Price, then the boys, then the candle, then Price again. You feel your eyes start to sting. Tears abruptly well up in your eyes. All of the men are now worried. Did they mess up? Did Price pick the wrong candle? But he was sure of it! Soap quickly got up and hugged you tightly, asking why you were crying. Ghost even got up and walked over to you, just as worried but he wouldn’t show it. You eventually explain to them through tears and hiccups, that you love all they’ve done to make this new place feel like your old home. It makes you so happy that they want to see you happy and comfortable. They’re all relieved, Price gently wiping away your tears with a handkerchief his mother gifted to him when he first went into the military, petting your fluffy ears and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

These men all love you, they would do anything to not see you in pain. And you love them just as much, knowing that they would do anything to protect you. :3

───♡───────────── End

Again, if you have any constructive criticism, please comment below!

Thank you for reading :)

[talkbycolor]

me and my husband

A/N; wholesome old fashioned marriage in 1950, ITS 5AM I DIDNT SEELP ALL NITH

Pairing; "Mychael" x AFAB!Reader

CW; fluff / this is a what if MC stayed willingly on the forest, forgetting about the cat, his job and everything / reader is called wife and wears dresses but that doesnt mean its a woman (to my transmasc fellas (probably only me)) / this made me feel like inside a disney old movie / mawar, sansuyu and primrose are kinda like their babies / cute implied sex

The morning was as beautiful and warm as your heart, the sun's rays came through the windows while you combed your hair in front of the mirror, you could hear the morning song of the birds echoing from outside, the aroma of the forest was fresh, like a delicious mint tea in the morning, ready to brighten your day.

"Honey, Mychael, are you awake?" You asked as you looked at the green-tinted body next to you, the non-human boy only letting out a few muffled sounds, trying to sweep the dream away from himself.

"Good morning, firefly" Mychael said in a lazy tone, he opened two of his four eyes before leaning down to kiss your lips, morning breath was not a problem when it came to showing how much he loved you.

"I'm going to make breakfast, can you feed the girls?" Even though it was a question you were already standing up to put on a coat and head to the kitchen.

Mychael imitated you by standing up and putting on a coat, it would soon be winter and the weather was already starting to change, but that was okay! It meant you could be the little spoon when giving yourself nightly cuddles with your husband.

Ah, husband, that word sounded so nice.

Not long ago you told Mychael about what marriage was and the emotional meaning it carried, how that made you "officially" a family, so to speak.

Your wedding was in the garden, Marmar, Sunny and Rosie were present of course, Mychael walked you back to the city to get a beautiful white suit and veil, you looked so beautiful that day, Mychael made sure to repeat it every second and make you feel like the most esteemed jewel in the world.

You could still remember how your mother told you things about maturity, how sweet life would be once you found your loved one and shared a life together until death do you part.

Mychael was that, your loved one, a boy with a heart of gold who only loved you.

And to his three girls, of course, Mawar, Sansuyu and Primrose, since that day, every moment has felt so fresh and pure, like tasting paradise, swimming in clouds, sobbing stars.

And Michael? Oh, it was so adorable to see how he did anything for your comfort, you were his beloved pearl, his old-fashioned lover who loved naps by the fireplace and telling stories about his life.

If chickens could talk, they would say that you look at Mychael with radiant love in your eyes and he does the same.

While you were washing the vegetables for breakfast you heard Mychael entering back into the cabin after feeding the chickens and checking the crops. He approached humming a song, the same one he played for you for the first time on his kalimba, his hands wandering. over his hips and moved playfully from side to side, inviting you to dance with him.

"Come on sweetie, don't you want to dance with your husband for a moment?" He whispered in your ear, his hands took yours to force you to stop working and turn to look at him.

Yes, he didn't look human but that doesn't mean he wasn't attractive.

Your hand went up to caress the strange mushroom-patterned horn on his head, causing your husband to purr, it was so cute to see him so comfortable next to you, with you, with the life they had.

You left your job behind, his old home, but you wouldn't change anything you have now, a quiet and domestic life was all you needed.

Both bodies moved through the kitchen, spinning to the rhythm of Mychael's humming, the home was so cozy that the cold seemed nonexistent.

Despite still being a little numb from just waking up, you interrupted his humming to sing, it's not like you had the best voice and it was actually kind of embarrassing, but when you're in love, who doesn't do the cheesiest things? You laughed a little at how happy it made you to dance alongside your husband.

"Hey, hey, hey, lover… you don't have to be a star, hey, hey, hey, lover… I love you just the way you are" Your cheeks burned with grief but that didn't stop you from smiling, Mychael leaned in to gather his forehead with yours as he enjoyed the moment with you.

Being with you made him the happiest man in the world.

"My wife is so sweet, you make me so happy, firefly" he whispered as one pair of eyes watched you, the other pair was closed as he savored the dance with you, he pulled your hips to cling to his body even more. "My beautiful wife, my beloved is so alluring, so charming, so wonderful, stunning, breathtaking" Receiving compliments from your man was always so pleasant, if you could purr like him you surely would.

"You look so alluring wearing that flowery apron" He commented with a mischievous smile, Mychael was a bit cocky by nature and loved to tease you.

He knew you liked that.

You both cooed at each other for a long time until your stomach growled, demanding food, you couldn't ignore the routine anymore so you both got to work on breakfast.

It was such a complete love, such a full life, such a happy heart.

After having breakfast you made sure to take good care of Marmar, Sunny and Rosie, that the field was in perfect condition, and clean the cabin. Mychael had gone out to bring a few things that were missing from the home, such as more firewood, meat for dinner and some pipes to install the drainage system in the bathroom, it was almost ready.

Not every day was the same, sometimes they had time to spare and they would settle down together in front of the fireplace, go for a walk through the most relaxing areas of the forest, or cuddle the chickens.

"Honey, wifey" Your husband's voice rang, he was knitting new wool sweaters since it would soon be winter. You walked over to your husband to snuggle up next to him, the atmosphere making your eyes feel heavy.

"Tired, firefly?" Mychael asked, just watching you pout and bat your eyelashes was enough to have the green-skinned boy carrying you bridal style to the bedroom, it always worked so you didn't help but let out a malicious giggle.

Things in bed were also fun, you were both passionate and loved each other intensely.

"I love you so much, Mychael, I want you to lull me, drown me, crush me…" You asked him in a whisper despite being the only ones in the cabin, the warm atmosphere of the home protected them, You were in the dark, the sounds of the forest setting their act of love. "My husband is so good, he knows how to make me feel so good, so desired" You confessed to him with a blush on your cheeks, saying what you felt so openly (maybe even a little bold) was still something that made you nervous.

"Thank you for coming into my life, dear" The seriousness with which he said those words carried so much feeling, he gave you a sad smile, you knew that Mychael was alone before he met you… very, very alone. "You always fill my heart with so much joy, knowing that you are mine... I feel so loved and… I want to make you feel loved, I am completely devoted to you, firefly, your wishes are my commands"

You were both sighing under the sheets, exhausted by their recent act, bodies so close together that they seemed to melt into each other as they enjoyed the other's heat.

"I love you"

"I love you"

You both laughed, sharing a loving kiss before falling asleep.

♡

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

Experimenting is bound to give you attention. Magazines are trending, and not just in the women's department. A one-eyed boy who has recently been caught with something vulgar has respect for women. How surprising.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: boys being boys (worse than b4), swearing, one-sided anger, reference to a movie (Hot Rod), love triangle again (new character??), fluff (finally?!?!?!)

===

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Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

===

I flip through page by page the new magazine I bought. It was imported from america, and the second I heard of it, I ran to the nearest booth.

That was yesterday. Today is Monday morning. I woke up a little earlier to scroll through my said magazine and look for inspiration. I thought I'd do something different. A bit more bold.

Hair bumps and bangs. A style well worn by Priscilla Beaulieu, the speculated lover of Elvis Presley. The magazine was filled with her.

I grab my scissors, lifting my head to look into my bathroom mirror. I read the directions on the magazine, parting a small section at the middle of my hair, pulling it in front of my eyes.

I take a deep breath in. A click from the scissors is heard. Not half bad, I say to myself. I shag it a little, smiling to myself.

I continue to read the instructions to Priscilla's hair bump, deciding to make it just a small bump, curling the ends, then adding hair spray to keep it all intact. Once I was done , I added a pair of pearl earrings.

There's a new dress waiting for me in my closet. It was a present from my parents. A knee-length flowy dress with a boat neckline and a thin strap belt, all in the colour of watermelon red.

I put it on, patting down the skirt, and grab my kitten heels. I pray that I don't get caught. This is probably how Michèle felt on the first day of school.

I take one last look in the mirror. I looked older, like a proper lady. I straighten my back and smile strainedly. I breathe out slowly.

I grab my satchel and coat, then head out of my flat. Walking to school, eyes follow me. From my lovely neighbour to the men smoking cigarettes in the street. I don't mind them and continue to make my way to school.

Once I get there, I see Laubrac walking away from Michèle. I walk up to her and put on a smile.

"Michèle. How have you been?" I lean in to hug her.

"Wow, Y/N. You're stunning. You look like you were made to be in movies." Michèle laughs, and I laugh with her.

"Don't go that far." We smile at each other and make it through the gate. Once again, eyes are on me, younger this time.

We look towards the bathroom, seeing Felbec run towards it, then get rejected access through. A tall frame pushes him away, and I knew exactly who it was. I furrow my eyebrows.

A boy then comes running through the gate, shouting out how he has the money. I notice Annick as she suddenly walks away. When he makes it there, the school bell rings. I laugh, watching him move around disappointed.

××《☆》××

"Literary salons are almost always hosted by women. Madame de Sèvignè, Madame de Lafayette." Our teacher says as he leans on his table with his arms.

The lecture fades, and all I hear is the tapping of my heels on the hardwood floor.

"Dupin." Our teacher calls out. I turn around to take a look, but my eyes lock with one. I squint at Descamps, then shift my eyes to Dupin.

"As you won't stop talking, you seem well-versed on the subject. Can you share your thoughts on the salons with us?" Dupin stands, and I smile softly, seeing his embarassed state.

I turn my head back to the front, but a stare stays on me, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

I ignored it at first, and then it started to get annoying. So I turned, and I saw him, and he was smiling. He's smiling. Every time I look at him, either he looks dead inside (though, in my opinion, no dead person could look that pretty.), or he's smiling. And that's what he's doing. He's smiling.

How I wish I could wipe it off.

××《☆》××

My ears pound as I hear Ms. Giraud's voice. I might go deaf, but I keep my composure. The bell rings, and we're finally dismissed.

I hear rushed shuffling. Ms. Giraud calls out to the boy.

"Are you in a rush, Lamazière?" Ms. Giraud yells. I notice it's the same boy that ran to the bathroom with money in his hand.

He gets punished, and I laugh quietly. I grab my things, rushing up to the girls.

"Hey, I need to go to the bathroom. Continue walking without me." They nod, and we part ways.

After using the toilet, I look at myself in the mirror. I never expected that. How conscious I'd be of my looks, my movements, and my habits.

Maybe it comes with the fact I dressed up. But for what, I start to wonder. I don't know why I dressed up in the first place. I know I said for a change, but is that really all?

A flash of an eye comes to mind. I quickly shake it off. No way. Not him.

I clear my throat, then grab my things. I hastily walk out the bathroom, suddenly needing fresh air. As I make it to the hallway of the stairwell, footsteps slow down, and eyes follow me. I stop in my tracks.

I scanned through them, what face they were wearing while looking at me. I look down on myself. I still looked presentable, so what were they looking at?

I start to walk, my eyes following the faces of the boys. Each step I take down feels slower. One flight finished, and I stop glancing at them. My feet tap on the porcelain floor of the stairs as I keep my head down.

One flight left, a tall frame walks into the school. He turns to the stairs, and I stop. Descamps stares at me. I stare at him. He then looks up and sees plenty of eyes on me. I see his jaw clench.

He claps his hands. I flinch at the echo of it.

"Will you boys keep staring, or will I go shopping for a new eye with all of yours?" This gets them moving. The stairwell is noisy again.

I turn my head back to Descamps, and I glare. Hard. I walk towards him, and then I'm reminded of our height difference. I crane my neck upward.

"I could've handled myself, you know?" I squint my eyes, and all he does is stare. Why is he just staring? Can't we fight already? I feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"Are you just gonna stare or are you gonna sa-"

"You're beautiful." I barely even heard it. But I did. Then I acted like I didn't.

"What?" I stutter out, flushed cheeks redder than before.

"You're miserable. You clearly needed my help." I scoff, the comforting warmth I felt quickly replaced with boiling anger.

"Just leave me alone, Descamps." I walk away, and into the courtyard.

Who does he think he is? Some knight in shining armour? He's more like a thief in the streets. But then no thief could be as annoying, as dreadful, as smiley as him. That stupid smile, and those stupid words, and his stupid face. Stupid, stupid face. Sometimes I just wanna grab it and-

I stop in my tracks. There's a line in front of the boys' bathroom. What would they be lining up for? I see a mop of blonde hair and framed eyes. Applebaum. He hasn't talked to me, hasn't said hi, and I always wonder if I'd done anything wrong.

But he's the past. I guess he just doesn't like me. It's too bad. I had high hopes for him. A whip of air pushes by me, and it's Descamps again. He's jogging towards the bathroom. He's collecting coins from them. Really, what's going on?

I look in front of me. Michèle and Simone are seated on the stairs. I sigh in relief. I sit beside them.

"I can't do this anymore. All the boys, they're dreadful. Why did I come here in the first place?" I groan. The girls watch me, amused.

"Because you moved here from Paris and-" I cut Simone off.

"Rhetorical." I mutter. She purses her lips shut.

Michèle clears her throat. "So, you think you'll get married?" I lift my head up.

"To who?" My eyes are wide open as well as my ears.

"Eugène. Simone's lover boy." I cover my mouth in shock.

"What? I thought you had a thing for-" Simone cuts me off this time.

"No. It's a little too soon for that." She answers Michèle's question. I mouth sorry. She nods.

"Aren't you worried he'll want to take things further?" Michèle asks Simone. I started to click the pieces together. I bite on my lip to hide my smile.

"I don't know." Simone smiles at the thought. "Can I have a bite? Thanks." She says as she grabs Michèle's apple and takes a bite from it.

"I hope I find a husband soon. So I can get out of my parents house." I nod at Michèle's statement.

"That's true. But hopefully, no one from here. I'd rather die." They laugh at my overreaction, but honestly, I might just die than marry anyone here.

Well, except for one, maybe. Who, I ask myself. Right. Who am I even talking about? My eyes drift to a one-eyed boy. No. Don't even think about it.

Descamps as a husband? I laugh to myself.

Sure, I can imagine him going to work, coming home, smoking a cigarette or two as he reads the news.

Lounging in the living room one lazy afternoon, shirt slightly unbuttoned and pants a bit loose. Eating breakfast with his family, cooking with his wife (who, for some reason, looks almost like me. Very weird.), kissing her shoulders as his arms wrap around her waist.

His scent, his soft lips, his large frame. Carrying his kids in his arms as he spins them around the backyard. Teaching his son how to catch, playing dolls with his daughter, taking a break on a bench, one arm on his thigh, and the other on me.

Me? I shake my head. No, not me. His wife. Certainly not me. I grimace at the thought. Why would I even?

I sigh deeply, frustratedly. These damn thoughts are infuriating, just like him.

"Happy New Year, Ms. Palladino." My trance gets cut off.

"You too, Sir." Simone responds. I clear my throat, composing myself.

Michèle calls out for her uncle and gets up. I wonder what she's going to do. I don't pay much mind as I scoot over to Simone.

"It's Jean Pierre, isn't it?" She flinches.

"What do you mean?" I roll my eyes at her response.

"You know what I mean. Eugène? It's definitely Jean Pierre." Her cheeks flush, and she drops her head.

"I'm happy for you, really." I smile as she lifts her head, hope in her eyes. My smile wavers a bit. "But how will you tell Michèle?"

Her eyes lose that hope, and she looks away.

"I don't know. He said we shouldn't because she'll never let us see each other again."

"But one day, you'll have to." I grab her hand and rub it gently. She sighs.

"I wish you luck." I whisper, then hug her. She hugs me back. Once we pull away, Michèle sits with us again.

"He didn't want to lend it to me. What does 'adult' mean." I raise my eyebrows and puff out my cheeks, clearly not wanting to answer her question.

Michèle looks around. "What's up with everyone today?"

"You only noticed now?" I chuckle.

"Come with me." Me and Simone get up, following Michèle. She walks and calls towards Pichon.

"What's going on in the bathroom?" Pichon pauses. Too long of a pause.

"Nothing." I squint at him. Obviously not nothing.

"Somethings been going on in there today."

"Not at all. Nothing's going on." Pichon tries to walk away, but I stop him with a palm to his chest.

"Really? Why did you react that way when you ran into Mr. Bellanger?" I start to talk.

"What do you mean?" This is getting annoying.

"Don't act dumb. We know you aren't." I snap at him. "Now, why was your face all red?"

"No. It's not red." I furrow my eyebrows, now really getting angry. I almost shove him before Michèle holds me back.

"Simone, is his face red?" I ask her.

"It's red. Very red." I look back at Pichon and raise my eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"It's not. It's just my complexion." I try to lunge at him, but Michèle's hands are tight on me.

"So you're not gonna tell us?" Michèle calls out for him. I whip my arms off of Michèle's hold, and she's quick to let me go.

"Of course he won't." I glare at the back of his head.

The bell rings.

××《☆》××

Descamps' group walks into the class together. They're rushing a bit.

"And Applebaum?" One of them asks.

"He's gonna sprain something." Descamps answers. Sprain what? What are they doing in that bathroom anyway?

"He's gonna go deaf." Oh. A shiver runs down my spine as I gag. Gross.

I hear Michèle ask Simone something, probably about what the boys are talking about. I don't wanna tell her.

Ms. Couret walks in and greets us. We're granted to sit. The door opens.

"Didn't you hear the bell, Mr. Applebaum." I gag again seeing him. I should've known he was like everyone else. To believe I might've given him a chance. I grimace.

The boys whisper and laugh. There's a boiling in my stomach. Ms. Couret moves on to the topic.

"Do you know the Beatles?" This catches my attention. No one answers, until Pichon does.

"The British band?" Ms. Couret nods.

"Yes. Let's see if those names ring a bell." I shuffle on my seat, giving my full attention to the discussion.

I don't notice the boys passing around a magazine 'till it comes flying towards Michèle's table. I peek over, and in front of her lies a flashy magazine.

××《☆》××

"He said if we didn't give him a name, the class would get detention every Thursday." Pichon says as everyone huddles in to listen. I feel a warm frame over and behind me, but I ignore it, thinking it's just another classmate.

"Then we all get detention." Dupin states, as if it wasn't already obvious.

"The whole class." Pichon exclaims.

"Even the girls?" My brows furrow. What did we do to be blamed?

"Everybody." We all stop.

"That's not fair." Simone says, and I nod with her.

"Right. What did we do? It was you guys who were being perverts." I call out.

I get more frustrated when a chest bumps into me. It's the same frame I felt earlier. I turn around, and I'm met with Descamps.

"You. You were the ones selling the magazine and passing it around." I glare at him.

"You're disgusting. I don't want you near me." I turn again and bid a quick goodbye to the girls then head home.

"Pardine!" I hear Descamps call out. I roll my eyes and keep walking. Once we're in a quieter area, he grabs my arm and gently pushes me to a wall.

"Please. I swear I would never." I glare up at him.

"Then why were you passing it around?" I ask him, tilting my head up.

His pants fill my ears. It's worrying. I place a hand on his chest.

"Calm down." I state, the worry etched in my voice.

He relaxed under my touch, I felt it, the way his muscles stopped being tense. I kept my face hard.

"Now, explain." My voice comes out demanding.

"I needed some money. What better way to collect it quickly than when there's hundreds of prepubescent boys in one school?" I roll my eyes. I almost walk away before he cages me in the wall with his arms.

"Please. Just... listen. I needed money, okay? I wanted to save up for... for..." He stutters, and my brows crease more.

"For?" I raise my brows, expecting an answer.

"For... records. Yeah. For my mother." I squint at his answer.

"That still won't excuse the fact you're a pervert."

"No, I swear. I would never. I know you don't believe me, but I swear. I swear on my mothers life I would never. Not in school, not anywhere. I respect a woman way too much to do something like that."

"A woman? Who? Your mother?" My brain turns to different answers.

"Yes." He stuttering again. "Definitely, my mother." He pushes away from me, and I feel cold.

I hum. Then I look back up at him, eyes still squinted.

"I'll let it pass for now." I see his face fill with relief, and I almost laugh.

I walk away, but before I get too far, I hear him mutter.

"You look pretty." I turn around, shocked and confused.

"What did you say?"

"I said you look shitty. Goodbye, Pardine!" He calls out as he walks away in a rush. I scoff, then turn back around to walk home.

××《☆》××

I pet George, lounging on my bed, thinking of going out to run some errands. I get up and head to the kitchen.

Stuck to the fridge, I read my mother's shopping list. I get rid of the magnet and stick the note into my coat pocket. I glance at George, then the door, then George again.

I sigh. I pick him up, head to my door, and lock it. We go down the stairs. I place him in my bicycle basket. I make sure he's tucked in well, then ride to the farmers market.

Once I'm there, I glance at the shopping list again. Some vegetables, fruit, flour, etc. I walk past each stall, buying what's needed. Just then, a boy, somewhere my age, walks towards me.

"Hi." He seems confident. "I'm Callum. What's your name?"

I look at him up and down, and then the hand he reaches out for a hand shake. He's tall, but not too tall. Maybe five feet and ten inches. He has long, wavy brown hair, neatly brushed behind his ears. He has deep doe eyes and a smile on his face. I hesitate.

"Y/N." I slowly lift my hand and shake his. His smile widens.

"So, I have a project that requires a model, and when I saw you, I thought you'd be the perfect candidate. Not to be blunt about it, but you're beautiful." I blush at the sudden compliment.

"All you need to do is let me take a couple of photos, and I'll pay you, about... 300 franc?" I gape at the offer.

"Are you sure? Just for pictures?" They nod.

"Yes. Good transaction, yeah? If I win the project, the pictures will be displayed in the front of a car magazine. Is that alright with you?" I think again, but what's there to think about when there's 300 franc on the table?

"Deal." I shake hands Callum's hand, and he smiles wider.

"Good. Now, I'll take you to my car, and you can do a couple of poses in front of it." He led me to his car, and the second I saw the bright mint blue of it, my jaw hits the floor.

"This pretty one," Callum pats the front of the car. "is a 1955 Ford Thunderbird. Mint blue exterior, white top, and a mix of both for the interior. It has the brake horsepower of 193, and she's my most prized possession. She goes up to 23,069 kilometres. Very lovely, right?" He leans on the car, almost hugging it.

I cover my mouth, hiding my smile. He walks over to me, gently grabbing my wrist and pulling it away from my face.

"Keep that smile on, pretty lady. We need it for the pictures." He tilts his head towards the car. "Go on."

I walk slowly. Once I'm near the passengers door, I pose, and I see the flash of the camera.

"Get inside. Take a feel around." I walk to the other side of the car, opening the door and closing it once I'm in. I feel the leather of the wheel against my palm, and I scoff in awe. The camera flashes again.

"I didn't get to pose!" I laugh, slightly embarassed.

"You didn't need to. You're a natural." He snaps another photo, and I laugh again.

After taking a few photos and reviewing them, Callum finally chose one. It was me smiling at the camera with my hands on the wheels, windows rolled down.

He told me I looked perfect, which was, based on what he said, the first thing that came into his mind when he saw me.

The rest of the day, he accompanied me shopping and even offered me a ride around town in his car. I obviously couldn't say no.

He pulled the hood down, letting the wind flow through my hair as we drove in the roads, making it to the fields, stopping by for some gas, and then getting on the road again.

××《☆》××

Callum parks the car in front of his flat, which was only a few blocks away from mine. We decided to walk to my place instead of draining out the car, not before him telling me that it was absolutely fine for him to drive me directly home. When I said I needed my legs moving, he stopped pushing it and agreed.

He puts the hood back on, locking the door with his keys. He walks to my side.

"Good luck with the project." My hands are in my coat pockets as Callum walks me home. He smiles, then looks at me.

"Meeting you was luck itself. That means if you're in my pictures, I'll bring luck with me." I roll my eyes.

"Cheesy." We come to a stop infront of my flat's door.

"Well, this is it." I purse my lips, looking up at him.

"Yup. I guess we're here." His eyes sort of lose its spark. I worry.

"You okay?" I raise my eyebrows, concerned.

"I wanna see you again." He blurts out. "Is tomorrow okay? The results will come out, and I sort of want you to be there."

"Sure. I'll be there." I rub his arm reassuringly. He slowly lifts his hand to cup mine on his arm. He lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He smiles softly, lets go of my hand, and leaves. I stay in my place, unsure of what to do. When his frame disappears from my sight, I shiver. What was that?

I'm greeted by George as I get in my flat. My heart's beating out my chest, and I feel anxious. There's something in me. It doesn't feel so good. Some sort of regret. Why?

A boy. Not Callum. Someone else. Taller frame. Shorter hair. One eye. Fuck no. No way. I can't. I shouldn't. Why am I thinking about him?

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. 'I don't even call him by his first name.' Joseph Descamps. I feel indifferent calling him his first name. I'm not in terms with him like that. We aren't close enough for me to call him that.

Then suddenly, I want to. I want to call him Joseph. 'Why?' I wonder. Joseph, Joseph, Joseph. It feels nice on the tongue. Descamps is suddenly too long of a name. Joseph is fine. The name, I mean. Not him.

Then suddenly, again, it is. He is. 'No, he's not', but I want him to be. How do I get him to be? 'I can't do this. I really shouldn't.' But, oh, how much I want to.

'No.' I quiet my thoughts. 'No. Never. I won't do it.'

But I want to.

Fuck.

××《☆》××

The next morning, most of the boys are called to the principles office. I sigh in boredom, looking out the window.

"It certainly feels emptier today." Simone says, breaking the silence. I want to laugh, but I can't. I wanted to see the way Joseph's green cardigan looked on his wide frame longer.

I shake my head. I totally didn't get enough sleep last night with that thought popping in my head.

Though, that cardigan really suited him. Green really suits him. It makes him sort of glow. It's not like he doesn't already. Come to think of it, his hair glows, too. It was a bit messy. He probably rushed to school today. I wonder how soft it'll be against my fingers when I brush it off to look neater.

I remember how warm he was that day in the alley. He was so much taller, so he had to basically break his back to reach me. I double take that thought.

He had to break his back just to reach me.

I know he didn't actually break his back, but I just knew that sort of hurt. But it was nice, so I guess it was worth it for him. At least, I hope it was.

Okay, wait. Why am I thinking like this? I guess we're on good terms now. I mean, sure, we bicker, but not as much anymore? I don't know. Whatever. I guess we're fine. I want us to be. I'm tired of being mad at him for no reason.

Yeah. We're fine. That's why I'm thinking like this, right? You know, as a friendly, 'I want to take care of you' kind of way. Which is platonic. Totally. Yeah, that's fine.

Maybe I should say hi from time to time? Or no. Maybe just a nod for a greeting? Too bland. A smile will do. He might be creeped out, though.

I groan internally. Why am I overthinking this? Whatever, I'll just smile and wave. That's good. Simple and effective. Don't overthink it. There's nothing to overthink about.

Ms. Couret walks in, and the class collectively stands up. She's wearing a green dress. It looks nice. It reminds me of Joseph.

Woah. Why am I thinking about him? I think I'm just worried. Yeah. I'm worried about him because we're friends. Wait, are we friends? I'll ask later.

We're told to sit down, and we do. Ms. Couret pulls out a copy of the news. This must be about The Beatles, I remember from the last discussion, before it got interrupted. I light up in my seat.

"We won't wait for your classmates. They're getting tortured at the dean's dungeon." The class laughs.

"Today, we'll start with an article on President Kennedy's murder." So it isn't about The Beatles. I furrow my eyebrows.

I raise my hand.

"Yes?" Ms. Couret lifts her head.

"What about the song?" I shrug my shoulders, asking a bit sadly.

"No. There won't be a song. I don't have the record." I purse my lips in silent disappointment. She passes us some papers, and I sit the rest of the day quietly.

××《☆》××

I walk outside of the gate, the crowds of students slowly dissipating. My hair flows in the wind, styled the same way it was yesterday, except done in a half up half down style. My yellow dress lifts up and down as my legs do.

I'm headed to Callum's school, excited for the results. Almost halfway there, I stop. Joseph is in front of a magazine booth, buying. My heart drops, assuming it was another one of those flashy magazines. But then he leans out the booth, holding a magazine with my face on the cover.

My face is on the cover, and Joseph is buying it.

Two very important things.

One, I got on the cover, so Callum won. Two, Joseph is buying a magazine with my face on the cover. My question is, does he know it's me on the cover? Or is he buying it because he generally likes cars.

I take slow steps forward. The closer I am, the more I hear. And there's a voice inside my head repeating Joseph's words.

"That's my girl." He points to my picture in the magazine, showing the booth owner. "She's gorgeous. I mean, look at her." He makes the magazine face him again. There's a wide smile on his face.

He's smiling. I think I'm starting to like it on him.

The second he turns his head and sees me, the smile I just started to admire drops. He looks red under the afternoon sun.

"Pardine." He clears his throat, hiding the magazine. "What are you doing around here?"

"Headed to St. Patricks. You know the all boys school?" I smile softly. His nervousness seems to fade, for only a little.

"What would you be doing there?" He sounds off.

"Meeting a friend." I lift my shoulders, showing off a smile.

He looks like he melts, then stiffens back up. "A friend? Who? What's his name? What's he look like?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Answer mine first, then I'll answer yours." He nods. "What are you doing here?"

He stutters. "I was just looking around. Thought I'd buy a magazine but then saw you." He's acting uninterested. Or atleast trying to.

"Saw me walking towards you, or saw me in that magazine you have in your hands?" His eyes blow open. I hide my laugh.

"What? What do you- oh." He points to the magazine booth that he's still standing next to.

"That's you? Wow, I didn't know you modelled. It's not like I care or anything." He puts his head down, shrugging his shoulders.

"Why'd you buy it, Joseph?" I smirk, tilting my head, trying to meet his eyes. He shys away.

"I was... gonna burn it. Yeah. I was- wait. What did you call me?" He whips his head up. I try to recall, then flush when I do.

"Nothing."

"You totally called me Joseph." Yes, I did.

"No, I didn't." I shake my head.

"You never call me that." No, but like last night, I want to.

"I didn't call you Joseph."

"You just did."

"You're so childish, Joseph."

"You did it again!"

I groan, walking away from him, as red as when he saw me. Why was he red when he saw me? Whatever, I need to get to Callum.

I hear his steps behind me, and I roll my eyes.

"Y/N, come on." I turn around.

"You called me Y/N."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did." He definitely did.

"I didn't." Mhm, sure.

"You did. You never call me that." I mock him. He rolls his eye.

"Whatever."

"Whatever." I walk away from him. He doesn't seem to follow after me anymore, but then after a while, I hear his steps again.

"What's your friends name again? Are you sure I wasn't the friend you were gonna meet?" Oh right, I was gonna ask him about that.

"Are we friends?" I stop and turn to him.

He stops, too. No talking, no walking.

"Do you want us to be?" He asks. I pause.

"Yes."

"Then, yeah." There's that smile I missed.

"Good." I continue to walk.

"You didn't answer my first question."

"His name is Callum. He was the one who photographed me." I feel him grab my arm, and we stop again.

"He photographed you? When did you even meet? How are you sure he isn't some old creep?"

"Yes, he did. Yesterday, when I was in the market. He's our age, I made sure to ask."

"Okay, how exactly did he come up to you in the market?" He squints, tilting his head.

"Just went up to me, said hi, called me beautiful, offered money for the photos, took the photos, we drove around in his car, and then he walked me home." I shrug simply. He's still hesitant.

"You drove around in a stranger's car?"

"Correction, friends car."

"Yeah, a friend you just met."

"Whatever, I'm here now safe and sound anyways."

"But what if he was some creep? You need to be more careful, Y/N."

"I said it's whatever, Joseph." His eyebrows are furrowed, then after a while, he nods.

I continue to walk, and he follows. I don't stop him.

Once we're in front of St. Patricks' gate, I see the familiar Ford Thunderbird and quickly make my way, Joseph hot on my feet.

I see the familiar man leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets, then I see his toothy grin. I run up to him and give him a hug that he returns.

"Callum! Congratulations. I knew you had it in the bag." I say as I lean away from him. He keeps his arms wrapped around me. I feel a burning stare on us.

"Told you, you brought me luck." He takes his glasses off with his hand, then places the arm he used back on my waist. I hear footsteps and Callum's hold loosens.

There's an arm around my shoulder. Then, an all familiar voice.

"You alright, man? Congrats on the magazine. Y/N's told me about you." I look up at Joseph. His jaw's clenched.

"Of course she did. She told you about the ride on this pretty thing?" He pats the car, and I flush.

"Yeah, she did. I'm Joseph." He puts a hand out for Callum to shake. They clasp hands, and their grips are tight.

"Callum, but I guess you already knew that. If you don't mind me asking, who are you to Y/N?"

"Her b-"

"Friend. He's a friend." I cut him off. He looks at me with hurt in his eyes, then masks it with fake joy.

"Yup. I'm her friend." He nods to Callum.

"Oh. It's a bit weird that she hasn't mentioned you. You know, since you're friends and all." Joseph's arm tightens around me.

"Yeah, it's not like her to talk about her friends to someone she just met." There's a sarcastic smirk on his face.

Callum hums. "Well, s'nice to meet you, Joseph. Have a good one, yeah? And you, pretty lady..." Callum's gaze shifts to me, stare softening.

"Have a good night." He lifts my hand to his lips, placing a soft and lingering kiss on it. I take a deep breath in, maintaining composure, overwhelmed by the attention both boys were giving me.

Callum turns around and drives off on his car. Once his car was out of sight, I look back at Joseph, his stare still on the road where Callum rode off to.

"What was that?" I squint, tilting my head up. He instantly looks down at me with tending eyes.

"Nothing. I'll walk you home." His hand comes town to my arm, rubbing it gently. We turn to the way to my place.

The sun has set, and the street lights are on. It's a quiet night, the only things being heard are footsteps and draining water.

Only a block away from my flat, Joseph's arms are still around me. It feels comforting. It's nice to have a new friend. Though, I've known him longer.

"When you get home, I want you to say hi to George for me." I laugh at that. "I'm not kidding."

"Yeah, I'll say hi to George for you." I smile at the ground, then look up at him. He's already looking at me. We slow down a bit, just staring.

Then he leans in, and I mirror him. We lean in closer, closer, and closer. A moped engine turns on. We stop, and pull away.

"Here we are." He stops, and I didn't even notice we were already at my place.

"Oh. Right." He steps away from me, the arm around my shoulders gone. I feel alone again.

"Well, good night, Y/N." He stand there with his hands in his pockets.

"Good night, Joseph." I purse my lips. He nods. I walk up quarter way to the steps, then I stop.

I go back down, see Joseph, I tip toe, then press a kiss on his cheek. I quickly walk up the stairs again, almost tripping.

I make it to the inside of my flat, not bothering to turn the light on, then rush to the window. I peek out of it, and he's still there. He looks bewildered. Then, a smile slowly sits on his face. He stays there for a while, and then he walks away.

I slowly get up from my place, turning on the light, and I just stand there. Then, I squeal.

Holy fucking shit. Oh my gosh. No way, no way, no way, no way. I just kissed his cheek. Holy shit.

That's normal. Totally. Just a friendly kiss. But it felt nice.

I check the time. It's 12 in the morning. New year's kiss. I just had Joseph as my New Year's kiss. Kind of.

I see George, and smile wider.

"Joseph said hi."

I definitely don't hate not hating him anymore.

××《☆》××

End of- Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

Next- Chapter five: You Know Where To Find Me, and I Know Where To Look

××《☆》××

It's finally done 😭😭 watch me take a month for chapter five /j. Anw, this is a handful chapter. So many emotions. This is turning out to be an enemies to frienimies to lovers. What do u guys think abt Callum? Honestly, hes lowkey me cus i love cars. I wish i had his car. More of him soon too. I wanted tk add fluff so that u guys dont get the idea that im not making joseph and reader end game. I promise i am but u guys have to wait. Happy reading hope u guys liked this!!!

[pappydaddy]

you are my love (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

a/n: i made kiara, john b, and sarah really mean in this, but its mostly kiara and sarah (john b is a little jealous tho so he joins in). in no way is this anti-these characters, they are just more likely to act this way until told off!

synopsis: jj's friends don't like y/n. y/n knows that but desperately tries everything. jj doesn't quite notice, pushing his friends further from y/n. This leads to an explosion that might result in the end of jj and reader.

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover *line through you user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: people being mean and shitty - basically bullying reader.

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- not my gif -

GIF by masonmaya31

One bonus to dating outside of your friend group: in case of a breakup, you don’t need to find new friends. One downside: what happens when your boyfriend’s friends don’t like you? That is what Y/N is worried about. Things with JJ had gotten serious, the L-word having slipped out at the sixth-month mark. Now, nearly a year into their relationship, it appeared that his friend group was reluctant to let her in and it was making her nervous.

  It was a small, tight-knit group and JJ was basically the only thing connecting her to them aside from them all living on The Cut. Well, that isn’t necessarily true, Pope did tutor her in Chemistry in freshman year and still remains friendly. In fact, Pope was really the only one who was welcoming to her. And that stung. Especially since JJ told her that John B all but forced Sarah Cameron into the group. But now that JJ was introducing her into the mix, they all seemed unwilling. JJ took some notice, but he just thought they needed to warm up to her. They were like cats - it takes a while to get them to start accepting you. 

  But JJ didn’t see the eye rolls and the shared glances between Kiara, John B, and sometimes Sarah Cameron whenever she does anything, says anything, or JJ talks about her (which, he does that a lot, making her blush and want to curl into herself). She loved when he was talking about her because he looked like he was talking about his most favourite thing on the planet - no. His favourite thing in existence. She hated hearing about herself so much, but the look on his face was enough for her to suffer through it - especially when she could always clearly see the horrible faces of his friends. 

    Even now, she wasn’t even with them. Standing at a distance as she waited at the coffee cart for their orders with Pope, she watched them peering into a store window. The store alone looked fancier than any of their houses (aside from Sarah Cameron’s) and Y/N was sure one item from it cost more than their houses combined - including Sarah Cameron’s probably. “Look at this,” JJ pointed to something in the store window. “This painting reminds me of Y/N.”

  “JJ, it’s a replica of The Girl with a Pearl Earring, I don’t think it can remind you of, Y/N.” Sarah Cameron snarked, sharing looks with Kiara and John B behind JJ’s back. Their noses curled up in a sneer and their eyes rolled so hard that Y/N feared that they would roll right back in their heads. 

  JJ looked back at them and they dropped their faces. “I know what it is,  she’s the one who showed me the painting. It’s her favourite. She talked my ear off for hours on one of our first dates about it.” He blinked, pulling a face as he broke through the three of them, making his way back over to the coffee cart. 

____

  The air was heavy with awkwardness that JJ seemed to not notice as Y/N sat beside him, tucked under his arm and reclining back against his chest. He leaned back against John B’s ratty old couch, smoke rolling from his lips as he exhaled. “Did Y/N tell you guys that her essay on the significance of Gatsby in the modern world was entered into a nation-wide contest to be put in some sort of magazine or something?” JJ spoke up suddenly when there was a lull in the conversation. 

  Y/N felt the uncomfortable heat rising in her cheeks, making her cover them with her hands - dropping her hold on JJ’s because of it. He always was finding a way to talk about her. “That’s so cool, what magazine?” Pope asked, his hand pausing in his popcorn bowl. 

  “It’s some sort of fancy one,” JJ tried to think of the name, taking another drag of his joint. Breathing out the smoke all the way, he waited until there was no more before looking down at Y/N. “What is it called? It’s big, talks about politics a lot-”

  “The New Yorker,” She answered, mumbling as if it wasn’t something to be proud of that her essay met the qualifying conditions to be entered, let alone the fact that she is one of the finalists. “My teacher kinda twisted my arm into it and I didn’t have anything to lose so I let her submit it for me. It’s not a big deal.” 

  “Are you kidding me? It’s a huge deal, Babe!” JJ exclaimed, looking down at her as he leaned forward, cradling her gently as she moved with him, stubbing the blunt out and laying it carelessly on the coffee table. John B and Kiara’s eyes watched it, shocked that he put over half a blunt down. 

  “It really is. The New Yorker is huge and for a high school student’s essay to be even just considered by them is big enough.” Pope nodded, popping two pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Kiara spoke up with a shrug. Her body language and movements made it seem like it was just a simple comment. A nonchalant input to keep the conversation going. But her tone was sharp and jagged. Like a broken piece of glass aimed for the heart. Pope looked at her oddly, JJ seeming to not notice her tone. “I mean, it is a contest looking at other high school student’s essays. It’s not like she’s up against university students or published authors here.” 

  Y/N blinked, eyes drifting down to her lap where her hands now lay, fingers twisting and tugging at each other as she tried to not let the words and tone hit her. “What are you talking about? She’s like the only student in the contest still that attends a public school. The rest are all preppy little shits that probably pay for people to write their essays.” JJ questioned her, voice high in question. 

  Kiara rolled her eyes. “I know someone who is still in the running. They go to a fancy private school in Connecticut and she averaged a D in English class,” Sarah chimed in from where she sat on John B’s lap, a red solo cup clutched in her hand. “I don’t think the competition is too stiff.” 

  “You know, they’re probably right. It’s just a stupid contest and I didn’t even want to enter it anyway,” Y/N spoke up, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch and lifting herself from her little nook. JJ’s arm tried to tighten and pull her back, but she stood too quickly, not meeting anyone’s eyes as she tried not to cry. She was excited and proud about the fact that she was a finalist. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Not after they shit all over it. “We can just talk about something else, I’m gonna go into the kitchen and get some water.” 

  Quickly, she bolted for the kitchen, weaving around the few people who wandered into the house from the party outside. She blinked furiously, trying to force back the tears. They already didn’t like her, she didn’t want them to think she was a cry baby too. John B’s house wasn’t big, and the noise from outside wasn’t too loud which meant she could hear JJ’s hushed words digging into three of his friends and Pope’s noises of support. “What the hell is wrong with you guys? She’s excited about this and you just shit all over her accomplishment when she’s been nothing but nice to you guys!” 

  “It’s not our fault she’s sensitive, we were just being honest. She doesn’t have to get so upset.” Kie spoke her normal tone, her voice reaching Y/N easily as she hid behind the fridge door, trying to make it look like she couldn’t find a bottle of water even though they were right in front of her. 

  “Yeah bro,” John B spoke up. “Maybe they shut the conversation down because we’re tired of hearing about Y/N-” 

  “What the hell,” JJ roared, standing up before looking over at the fridge, trying to see if Y/N heard it. “Tired? You know what I was tired of? Trying to convince Kie to accept Sarah and hearing you complain about it. You know what was tiring? Hearing you,” He pointed to John B. “Whine like a bitch when Sarah and you had that three week fight.”

  “Those are not the same! You talk about Y/N all the fucking time,” Kie stood up, not caring that she was yelling now. “It’s always Y/N this and Y/N that! And let me fucking tell you, she’s not that special!” Ouch, that hurt. Y/N winced, tears welling in her eyes. 

  “She’s a little bit of a bitch, honestly-”

  “What the fuck did you just say,” JJ interrupted Sarah’s comment, eyes flaring with anger. Just then, the fridge door slammed and Y/N took off towards the door. It was a flash of purple (the colour of the dress JJ saved up for and bought her for her birthday which was yesterday. Pope stood, rushing after her - sensing that JJ was about to tear a strip off of their friends. “Please, tell me how she is a bitch when she gave you her last five dollars left in her paycheque so that you could have an ice cream with us when you forgot your wallet,” He directed that at Kiara. “And what about how she gave you her surfboard to use when you forgot yours? She sat there on the beach with nothing to do for three hours while you used her board,” He pointed to John B. “And you, she literally gave you the shorts she was wearing when you sat in gum so that you could go buy a new pair. You never gave them back by the way and she had to buy new ones that trip,” He pointed to Sarah who had shrunk back into the couch she was sitting on. “That is the girl that I love and you guys have been nothing but horrible to her and if I lose her, this is all on you three and I will never speak to you again. Actually, I don’t even know if I will speak to you again after tonight!” 

  With that, he stormed off, crossing the room and slamming the door all within ten seconds. It took him a second to spot Y/N and Pope, but soon his burning blue eyes spotted them at the end of the dock, Y/N’s hunched frame shaking. Pope’s hand was on her shoulder, talking quietly to - reassuring her. 

  Once JJ saw her, it was like his feet were moving on their own - carrying him to her. Within a minute, he was standing in front of her, Pope heading back into the house to gather her stuff so JJ could take her home. Hands on her shoulders, he tried to dip down to look at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Y/N-” He repeated her name in whispers, trying to get her to look at him. 

  “No, JJ,” She sniffled and his heart broke hearing the hurt in her voice. “They don’t like me. I have tried to get them to like me. I have tried everything. I was talkative then I stayed silent. I was nice to them. I tried everything and now you’re gonna break up with me because they are your best friends and they have been with you through so much-” She cut herself off with a little sniffle. “And I can’t bring myself to look at you because I know you’re gonna break up with me and my heart can’t handle so much rejection then heartbreak.” 

  JJ’s hands slid along her jaw, cupping her cheeks. Gently, he lifted her face so she was looking at him. Bloodshot and water filled eyes of someone so kind and innocent blinked up at him. A teardrop rolled from the corner of her eye. Quickly, it was swiped away by his thumb. “Y/N, I’m not going to break up with you because those assholes in there can’t see how happy you make me.”

  “But, JJ-”

  “I don’t give a damn if they are my friends. I don’t care if one of them was a saint. If they don’t like you and are mean to you, the sweetest, kindest, and most likeable person I know, then they are the problem, okay,” He asked, his own eyes welling up with tears. “You, You are the one I love. You are the person who makes me the happiest person ever. You are my best friend. You are my love.” He nearly chanted, his forehead resting against hers. 

  “So, what does this mean for your friend group?” She whispered, guilt eating at her. Even after they spoke so horribly of her, she was still worried about their friendship with JJ. 

  “I have no idea, but I am sure that with you by my side, I’m going to be okay.” He whispered like a prayer, arms wrapping around her, pulling her into a hug. He knew that was what she needed. She didn’t need a kiss. She didn’t need the words he just spoke (though they helped a lot). She just needed him to hold her. Hold her for however long she needed. So that she knew he was there. She always said a hug is the best way to feel someone’s love for you. A hug given the right way is like a hug to the heart. And this hug proved her statement.

[wholoveseggs]

Better than flowers♡

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

 ♡♡ Happy Valentines Day  ♡♡

You've always hated valentines day until Elijah changes your mind with a magical date.

3.2k words - Warnings: smut, oral, so corny and romantic it hurts …

You always hated Valentine's day because most of the time, you were alone. Last year, you'd just been dumped, so you spent the entire day in bed. It wasn't until you saw everyone's pictures from their cute dates that you really felt bad.

Even though you were dating someone new, you didn't expect anything. Elijah was always sweet and thoughtful, but you didn't want him to feel like he had to go over the top for this holiday. You had only been dating for a few weeks, so you were happy with just a card and a bouquet of flowers.

It was naïve of you to think that would be enough for him. He was the most romantic guy you'd ever been with. He would randomly buy you things or take you to dinner just because. He even planned a weekend away with you, which was the best.

So, when you got home from work on the 13th you found a garment bag on the bed and a note, you couldn't hide your excitement.

Y/n, I know you dislike Valentine's Day, so I wanted to show my appreciation for you the day before.  I'll pick you up at 8. -Elijah

He liked to leave notes like that for you. It wasn't surprising that he did this. He was such a romantic man. Sometimes it made you uncomfortable because it felt like it was out of a fairy tale, almost surreal.

You were curious about what was in the garment bag and carefully opened it, the hanger still on the inside of the sleeve. The beautiful blush-colored dress inside made your jaw drop. You gently ran your hands over the fabric, a slow smile spreading across your lips. It was romantic and flowy, the kind of dress you would see in an old Hollywood movie.

You took your time getting ready, making sure every part of you looked perfect. Elijah was worth going all out for. When you went to get dressed you noticed he had also bought you lingerie. It was incredibly luxurious, the set probably cost more than your rent.

You smirked to yourself as you slipped into the lingerie. You checked yourself out in the full-length mirror. It fit perfectly, and the color matched your dress. You weren't the lingerie type of girl, but sometimes you could appreciate how good they made you feel.

When Elijah knocked on your door, you finished putting in the pearl earrings he bought you when he asked you to be his girlfriend. The memory made you blush, he'd been so sweet when he asked.

You put your feet in your matching shoes before heading for the door. Your breath was taken away when you saw Elijah. His hair was perfectly styled, and his dark eyes were shining. He dressed for the occasion.

"Hi," he breathed out, giving you that cute lopsided grin. "You look- you look beautiful."

You returned his grin, pressing your hand to his cheek, enjoying the feel of the stubble there. "Thank you. So, where are we going?"

He reached up and held your hand in his, bringing it away from his face and placing a kiss against your knuckles. You could never get tired of that.

"It's a surprise," he said as he led you down to his car. 

“Always with the surprises," you teased.

Once you were sitting in the passenger seat, he smiled over at you, and started the car. He reached over to place his hand on your thigh as he drove. You turned on the radio, surprised when the song you always sang along to came on.

Elijah gave you a soft squeeze when he heard you start singing. He probably thought it was funny, you knew you were not the greatest singer, but you couldn't help but sing along to songs you knew by heart. Elijah always thought it was cute.

When you realized he was taking you outside of the city, your curiosity growing. 

"We're almost there," he told you, and squeezed your thigh again.

He parked in a gravel parking lot, there was no buildings near by, just a forest path. You weren't sure if you should be nervous, but you felt calm around him. He was always protective and sweet.

"If we are going on a hike I didn't wear the right shoes," you joked as he helped you out of the car.

"Not that kind of hiking, not tonight anyway," he commented, and you were a little relieved by that.

His hand held yours as you started down the gravel path. It was dark, you used his phone to shine a light. Your heels didn't do the best on the uneven ground. You stumbled a bit and Elijah scooped you up, making you giggle.

"If you are planning on murdering me in the woods, this is the most romantic way someone has ever done it," you joked, you couldn't help thinking of the worst-case scenario, it was just in your nature.

He chuckled and kept walking, his hands supporting your thighs and back as he carried you. "I wouldn't put in this much effort to just murder you in the woods, love." He teased.

You arrived at a clearing just before the sun was beginning to set. There was twinkle lights strung in the trees and a few lanterns that provided light. At the center of it all was a large wooden table set with plates, champagne, and roses. Candles were lit in every corner of the space.

There was a trail of red rose petals that lead from where you stood to the end of the table, disappearing into the dark of the woods. The moment was surreal.

"Whoa," you muttered, looking around in awe.

Elijah carefully placed you on your feet and held your hand. "You like it?" He asked, his eyes searching yours for approval.

"Elijah," you breathed out his name and placed your hand on his cheek, "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I love it."

His hand reached up and cupped yours against his cheek. You could feel his blush. He always got so nervous and shy around you, and it was honestly the cutest thing.

Out of the woods came a few servers that began to put food on the table and fill your glasses with champagne. You smiled up at Elijah as he thanked the servants. He led you to your seat, and you grinned as he pulled out the chair for you.

"Such a gentleman," you cooed at him before sitting down. He sat down beside you, turning his chair to face you.

"I would do this for you every day if you would let me," he whispered, his hand sliding across the table and taking yours.

You didn't know how to respond to that so you took a sip of champagne and smiled. He continued smiling back at you, both of you growing more comfortable in silence. You talked for a while about each other's day and you finished off a bottle of champagne by the time the food was ready.

The meal was incredible. Everything was so good. You didn't even notice the sun had set because the whole area was lit up. Elijah had planned it all out and he was amazing.

The table was cleared and moved out of the way so you had room to dance. A violist came out of the trees and started playing, slow jams that you and Elijah could sway to.

You knew he'd been planning this for a while, all the trouble he went through, the lengths he went, just to make tonight special.

"You really didn't have to do all this, all I was expecting was flowers," you confessed.

His mouth brushed against your ear and you felt yourself growing warmer from the intimate gesture. "If I didn't do any of this, then you would continue to hate this holiday. I'm going to show you that it's worth celebrating."

"Show me then," you murmured, wanting his lips against your skin.

He pressed his lips to yours, his tongue lightly brushing against yours before slowly pulling away. "I'll show you every year, every holiday, for the rest of our lives," he promised.

"I can live with that," you purred and sealed your promise with another kiss.

"I do have a confession," he whispered, his fingers weaving through your hair.

You pulled back and looked up at him. His dark eyes were soft, relaxed. You sighed contently, feeling happy and loved. "I'm listening."

"I have another surprise," he muttered, and you hummed at him curiously.

He stepped away and held your hand, leading you toward the trail of rose petals. You held on tightly and leaned into his body. You couldn't stop the silly smile that was spreading across your lips.

Once you got passed the line of trees you could see the cabin. The rose petal trail ended on the porch. It was simple and quaint. Just as beautiful as the romantic clearing you were in just minutes ago.

He scooped you up in his arms. "Elijah!" you squealed, but quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

Elijah quickly carried you up the steps to the door and set you down. You were both laughing and kissing. He smiled against your lips, his nimble fingers unlocking the door.

You let out a gasp as you took in the place, flowers were everywhere, their smell sweet and welcoming. There was a four-poster bed with vines of roses that were climbing the columns. A fireplace was already lit, making the entire place warm and cosy. The place was only one room, with the bed off to the side. There was a ottoman near the fire and even a telescope to look out into the night sky.

"Elijah... This is amazing." You sighed as you felt his arms slip around you from behind.

"You like it?" He inquired, his lips pressed against your cheek.

You rested your hands against his, leaning back against him. "It's gorgeous, thank you."

He took your hand and led you to the fire, where another trail of red rose petals guided you to the fluffy carpet at your feet. There were more gifts for you laid out, a massive teddy bear and a stack of chocolate bars. It all made you laugh.

"You are ridiculous," you teased, hugging him.

"Is that a good thing?" He mused, holding you and kissing you.

You hummed and sighed. "Yes, yes it is," you assured.

You felt butterflies fill your stomach, knowing what came next. The two of you had only had sex a few times, it was still new, and you were still shy around him when it came to intimacy. He'd always been respectful and sweet. It wasn't as if you were new to this, but he was unlike anyone you'd been with before.

You looked up at him. He gave you that smile that made you weak in the knees. You brushed your fingertips against the creases around his eyes, you loved how they deepened when he smiled.

He leaned in and kissed you slowly, softly, guiding you to the bed as his fingers unzipped the back of your dress. You pushed at his jacket, helping him shrug out of it. Your hands ran over his chest, fumbling with his tie. His hands pushed the straps of your dress down, kissing the newly exposed skin.

He helped you to step out of the dress, gathering it up to fold it carefully before he placed it on the ottoman. Always so organized, everything in place, clean, perfect.

But him seeing you in the sexy lingerie made him drop the dress. The look on his face was unlike anything you've ever seen. For a second it was almost as if he didn't know what to do. He seemed frozen in place, all he was doing was stare.

You felt your cheeks heating up under his gaze and you looked at him shyly. "Thank you for this," you told him, gesturing to the sexy underwear.

"It was a purely selfish purchase," he chuckled, closing the distance between you, his hand coming to rest on your waist.

He traced his fingertips across the see-through pink lace. His touch was gentle and loving. You were growing impatient. You were getting turned on by the way he was touching you, his eyes drinking you in.

You started working on the buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly. He leaned down and kissed you again, his lips capturing yours. He walked you back to the bed, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the mattress.

He gently guided you to lie down, his mouth following yours, not breaking the kiss. You helped him to undress, removing the last of his clothing and tossing it aside.

You ran your fingers through his hair, admiring the way his dark hair was a little messed up. He smelled so good, like the cologne he always wore and just the faint smell of his natural scent.

He was on top of you, his hands holding yours. His lips were trailing soft kisses down your neck. His hips moved, rubbing himself against you. You let out a soft moan, your breath hitching in your throat.

"I love hearing the sounds you make," he confessed, his lips against your ear, sending a shiver through your body.

You felt the warmth of his fingertips brushing against your inner thigh. Your body tensed in anticipation. He was taking his time, teasing you. He kissed you slowly, his tongue gently slipping between your parted lips.

You wrapped your arms around him, keeping him close as his fingers teased your panties, pushing them to the side. He was still being slow, driving you crazy.

He groaned against your mouth as he felt how wet you were. You whimpered, feeling his fingers brush over your clit, circling it slowly, watching your responses. He loved the way you were looking at him, the sounds that were escaping your pretty little mouth.

He began moving down your body, kissing your neck, your collar bone, between your breasts. You reached up, trying to unhook your bra, but his hands stopped yours.

His lips closed around your nipple through the sheer fabric. You ran your hands through his hair, pulling on it, urging him to continue.

He continued to move lower, down your belly, smiling against your skin as he spread your legs, settling between them.

He hummed at the sight of your arousal, your wet panties clinging to your skin. He kissed along the waistband, his tongue peeking out to taste. You could feel his breath, as he moved the delicate fabric to the side.

Your hands tightened in his hair as his mouth found your clit. You couldn't help but rock your hips, pushing against his mouth. His hands moved over your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he devoured you. You moaned softly, your toes curling as his tongue slid inside of you.

He looked up at you, his eyes watching as you started to fall apart. He wanted to stay this way forever, with the taste of you on his lips, the sounds of your pleasure filling the room.

Your breathing was becoming uneven, your moans growing louder. Your thighs were trembling, your back arching as his tongue flicked against your clit.

You let out a soft cry as your orgasm hit you. Your eyes shut tight, your hands gripping his hair, trying to keep yourself together. His tongue was still on you, working you through the wave of pleasure.

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips capturing yours, his fingers caressing your face, pushing your hair back. He was looking at you like you were the only person in the world, and it made you melt.

He was resting between your legs, his erection pressing against you. He was still for a moment, his gaze soft and warm, just gently kissing you.

"I love you," he murmured.

You couldn't stop the smile that was spreading across your face, and neither could he. You ran your fingers through his hair, holding him closer. 

"I love you, too," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

He pulled your panties off, his eyes never leaving yours as you pulled off your bra as well, tossing it aside. You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks as his gaze fell upon your naked body.

His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, your legs wrapping around him. He eased into you slowly, watching your eyes widen then turn hazy with lust.

His lips found yours, kissing you passionately as the two of you moved together. Your hands were tangled in his hair, pulling on it as you formed a perfect rhythm.

You looked down to watch him slide in and out of you. He was holding back, trying to make this last. He was always so focused, his expression almost stoic, his breathing even.

Your hands ran down his shoulders, gripping onto his biceps, your eyes never leaving his, not even to blink. You didn't want to miss a second of this.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ghosting over your lips.

You felt your face grow hot from his words, and you kissed him to avoid making eye contact. You could feel his heart beating in time with yours. He caressed your cheek, tilting your head to look at him.

You couldn't hide from him. He was looking at you so intensely, all of his love pouring out of him. He smiled at the sight of you, flushed and sweaty, you were gorgeous.

He cupped the back of your neck and held you in place as he kissed you again. Your legs began to tremble as another orgasm crept up on you. You moaned against his mouth, trying to keep your breathing even.

You couldn't hold back anymore, not with the way he was looking at you, the way he was touching you. You came, moaning his name, his fingers laced with yours, your foreheads pressed together.

He followed right after, letting out a low groan that made your skin prickle. He kissed you, his mouth swallowing up your cries.

You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him as the two of you rode out the high. Your heart was still racing, your breaths ragged.

The light of the fireplace cast an orange glow over the both of you, your bodies intertwined in the low light. You smiled at him, kissing him softly.

"That was a lot better than flowers," you giggled, feeling a little silly and lightheaded.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He hummed, kissing you again, his fingers caressing your cheeks.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Elijah," you whispered, nuzzling his nose with yours.

He brushed his lips against yours. "Not yet, it's still the 13th," he reminded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"Does that mean we have another night?" you purred, giving him a playful smile.

"I like the way you think," he teased, kissing you again, rolling you on top of him.

He held you close, the both of you giggling as he kissed you all over, making you shriek and squirm.

You'd never had a Valentine's Day quite like this one. But you hoped that this was just the first of many.

♡♡ Today is my three month anniversary on here & I just want to say thank you so much for all the love ♡♡

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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