#lucie's man is tall dark handsome and does whatever she tells him to do....

[aylskarstark]

i love that the lucie and jesse’s relationship is basically an interlude for whatever the fuck is going on with everyone elses relationships like luciejesse supremacy 

[alfredosauce50]

The anatomy of the obsessed artist [2p! Italy x reader]

Synopsis: You have the golden opportunity to display your art at a newly opened gallery. Nobody stops to look at your work until an eccentric connoisseur praises it, even asking you if he can buy it. Touched and fascinated by his personality, you agree to meet him over coffee. Now that he’s no stranger, he keeps inviting you over to his lavish estate until he realizes it’s not the art he’s so obsessed with. It’s the artist. Wordcount: 3, 686 The reader is referred to as she/her. “Nihilism represented a crude form of positivism and materialism, a revolt against the established social order; it negated all authority exercised by the state, by the church, or by the family.” - Encyclopedia of Britannica

“It's hideous.” He murmured, his eyes narrowed with contempt. They were a hot magenta hue, quick-moving and critical of everything they fixed on. How much he wished to say he was standing back to admire a masterpiece. Tossing his paintbrush into the kitchen sink with a sigh, he sauntered to the couch and plummeted down on it.

A loud clang was heard, but it never fazed his companion, who barely dodged the trajectory of the brush. “Oh, really?” They snorted. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done.”

He whipped his head to him and glared.

“Like you'd have an eye for these things, Lutz.”

Said man gave a shrug. This was probably the hundredth time they had this conversation, so he could practically predict what Luciano was about to say—and how he would wind up listening unwillingly to his passionate spiels.

“Just listen to me speak for once.”

Lutz scoffed and poured himself a hot cup of coffee. “Here we go again...” He grumbled with a distinct droop to his features.

Rolling his head back to the pristine, white ceiling, Luciano threw his hands up in emphasis. “It's the only damn thing that gives this room some color. I need to do better, Lutz. Otherwise, I'll tear this whole place down!” Even then, his animated movements were minuscule compared to the tall walls that surrounded him.

The other sipped on his mug. “If you're so stuck—” He smacked his lips. “—how about going to the new art gallery downtown? Anything to get you to shut up.” Lutz grinned at that, half-expecting him to launch a few throwing knives his way. But he never did. Instead, he jumped up and extended an index to point at him accusingly.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo? Well, I might just go. Just to prove you wrong.” Grabbing his coat hanging over the couch, he threw it on and marched downstairs. As the echoes of his footsteps faded, he gave one final reckoning. “You can't rush art, dumbass! I'll turn the place upside down, and I still won't find anything worth my time.”

The volume of his thoughts had never been so loud. It was the only thing he heard in this quiet institution during its downtime. Nobody was around, save for him, but that allowed him to ramble to himself--whatever he was staring at, it was everything he had been looking for.

“This was definitely worth my time.” He muttered with a pistol grip on his chin. As he scanned over the canvas to take in the brushstrokes, he shook his head. “I hate to think he said something smart for once.” They were so violent, yet so gentle. A unique balance of nihilism and faith. Reaching up to his dark maroon hair, he dug through it and laughed in awe. “This is magnificent. Bellisima!”

“I hope you mean what you say, sir. That means a lot to me.” He turned to the voice ended up gawking at a woman. As he processed the words, he was at a loss for his own.

“Oddio--you don't mean you painted this, do you, signorina?”

She nodded coyly, much to his delight.

“Mhm. The name on the label is mine.”

At the sound of that, he gleamed and took both her hands into his own. “How much?”

She blinked, unsure of whether she heard him correctly. Was he offering to buy her work? “Sorry?”

“How much do you want for your painting? I'll pay you handsomely. One grand. Ten grand. However much you desire! I just need this in my living room. Whatever you ask for, it's a done deal!”

In your short career, you never imagined capturing someone's attention so passionately with your work. Your initial impression of the man was a rich art collector of some kind--an eccentric enthusiast--and not a connoisseur by any means. He even dressed the part, having adorned himself in a loose, silky blouse with a coat tied around his waist. His fashion was flashy and exuded confidence, though nothing else could have suited his personality.

As you talked to him over a coffee, however, it became clear to you he was much more than that.

“I've never seen somebody use color like that! You must've done lots of practice to get that good, eh?” He mused, watching you light up at his praise. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, so you couldn't help being drawn to him and his zeal. “I'll be honest with you, bella. I'm not letting you run off before we settle on something.”

He could tell from the way you leaned in so subtly, never once breaking your eye contact as you listened to him. And knowing this did wonders--he slowly found himself drawn to you.

“Thank you, Luciano. I'm really flattered, but I can't just sell it to you. It's part of the gallery now.” You smiled gently, curling your fingers around the cup handle. Even as you sipped on your beverage, your gaze on him never faltered. And before you could catch any disappointment on his part, you waved your hands at him.

“I don't mean anything by it, honestly. I'm glad that you understand what I'm trying to say--like, you could've interpreted it completely differently. I wouldn't be able to stop you, either. But the fact that you didn't...” He followed you attentively with those sharp and mysterious orbs, but you were strangely comfortable under his scrutiny.

“Maybe we have similar minds.”

The man had been studying you as you spoke. While he did, this one, singular thought occurred to him. There was nothing in the world he loved more in the world than being heard.

“Hearing you talk is the same as being listened to,” Luciano admitted with a small laugh. Deep inside, he knew Lutz always listened. Unwillingly, that was. But being heard and understood was another story. “You take the words right out of my mouth, bella. I don't know how you do it, but you have to stop reading my mind. It's invasive.” He darted his eyes over your expression that morphed into dumbfoundedness--which served as a prelude for embarrassment.

So he couldn't help but smile flirtatiously. “Take me out to dinner first. Only then will I let you finish my sentences.”

You furrowed your brows together, but his smile was far too contagious to be staved off. The end result was an endearingly stupid face that was a cross between a frown and a grin. “Does lunch count then, you impossible little man? I mean, it's around noon.”

He shook his head, amused. Luciano expected you to pull away, but it seemed like he bit off more than he could chew. You were a handful. He was never a fan of handfuls or really anything that required his energy, but he'd be damned if this was the last time he saw you.

“But seriously, (F/N). I need your paintings. And it doesn't have to be something you've already painted.” Standing up at that, he neared your side lowered himself to your level. He settled a hand on your shoulder, much to your surprise. But you never tried to pull away. “I want you to paint for me at my place. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll drink my weight in this mediocre coffee if I have to.”

With his intoxicating personality, all he needed was a few more espressos to do the convincing.

“I can tell from your taste that you're pretty nihilistic.” You commented with a hint of disbelief. “But this is just crazy! What do you even do for a living?” All the expensive decor and extravagance of his stupidly large mansion must have costed a fortune! Lifting your head to take in the sheer size and height of his living room, you then shot him an incredulous look. “Well? I'm curious.”

Luciano leaned against the couch and folded his arms. “Oh, you don't want to know, trust me.” He grinned devilishly.

“What, are you in the mafia or something?” You joked.

He craned his head from right to left.

“Eh. Something like that.”

You blinked, not expecting him to be so frank. Then, you laughed sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if you've walked right into a trap. “... Are you serious?” The man sensed your uneasiness and walked over promptly. Before you could react, he held your arm, but it was much too gentle to stir any panic.

“Don't worry. Nobody would go after an artist I hired.” He leaned in to keep you hostage to his piercing eyes. The close proximity only heightened the tension you didn't know existed. What he said next, however, would have you blushing like a bride. “To have a target on your head means you're a liability. So unless we were an item--”

He smiled contently at the sight of your reddening cheeks. “--nothing will happen.”

Fortunately, your mortification was short-lived as you remembered your circumstances. Giving him a light shove, you walked off to his hallway. While your back was turned to him, he bit back a sharp grin, but to no avail. Man, were you feisty.

“Stop being such a womanizer and show me your studio, Luciano.” You mused, pausing in the doorway to glance at him over your shoulder. Was that playfulness he saw in your eyes?

“It isn't very professional.”

He hung his head and threw his hands up. Being scolded and ordered around was his worst pet peeve. But when you did it, he was only more compelled to misbehave.

“Mi dispiace. But I was only kidding. If I was part of the mob, my windows wouldn't be this big. Nor this abundant.” Making his way to your side, he walked with you to the said studio.

“And Luciano is a bit of a mouthful, no? You call me Luci.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, someone else had entered the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. And boy, were they in for a show.

“You got it, boss. You call the shots.” A voice spoke in a gravely-exaggerated mobster accent.

“You're milking it...”

“I'm just joking, Luci. Let me have this moment.”

“Fine. Maybe I should've kept pretending. That'll get you to be a little more obedient.”

“And where's the fun in that?”

“Hmph.”

Lutz narrowed his eyes once the voices faded into silence. And he thought he hated being called Luci.

A mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

“Looks like somebody's found their inspiration.”

A few hours later, he appeared in the studio with a canned beer in hand. Even in such a lavish estate, no form of entertainment could beat pestering an old friend. Waltzing inside like he owned the place, he grinned toothily at what he saw. You and Luciano were busy working on a painting. But rather than using brushes, you both used your fingers.

“Hey.”

Luciano glanced at him and immediately felt the beginnings of anger simmer inside. “What do you want?”

Lutz laughed breathily. “Heh. No knives today?”

“If you don't get out, there will be!” The other whisper-shouted.

You stopped painting and turned to the newcomer with nothing short of curiosity. “... Hi. Are you Luci's henchman?” The joke was probably long dead, but you couldn't resist. Not when the stranger was built on six feet of pure muscle. “Nice to meet you.”

So this was the mysterious artist who managed to tame the bastard, huh? Lutz flattened his lips thoughtfully. “... In a way.”

“No, he's not. Now, get out. Your presence is ruining the mood... And killing my brain cells.” At the sound of that, you exploded into a burst of hearty laughter. Seeing Luciano push him out and leave colorful handprints on his tank only intensified those laughs. Once he managed to get his henchman out of the room, he whipped his head to you with a flustered glare.

“What's so funny?” He frowned. For one, he was rather taken aback at how he wasn't annoyed at you. At all. If someone like Lutz pushed their luck by teasing him, there would be more than one scar marring that punchable face of his.

“Nothing, nothing. I just thought... Maybe we could ask for his top and sell it. That was definitely a masterpiece.” You sighed, catching him off guard yet again. “It's the best work you've done today...”

The blush on his face deepened. A comment like that should've ticked him off, but he only found himself thoroughly infatuated. But that was preposterous! He was only letting this slide because you weren't that German bastard of a bum. That had to be it. But no matter what you did, he didn't have a single mean bone in his body for you. And he was about to test that theory.

“If you thought that was a masterpiece, I'll make you some more.” Marching over and undoing your apron, he wiped his fingers all over your once crisp white shirt. Looking down with a gasp, you weren't prepared for him to clap your cheeks and leave two brown handprints.

“You bitch!”

In his whole life surrounded by the worst potty-mouths, himself included, he'd never heard somebody cuss with so much sincerity. So the most logical reaction was to return the favor, if not be a little annoyed. But even as you ruined his blouse, which happened to be more expensive than everything in the room, he was cackling hysterically.

By the time you both calmed down, he had settled his chin atop your head and wrapped two arms around your neck. The paint on his face was drying up, but he was in no hurry to wash it off. Giving you a squeeze, he leaned down and pressed his cheek to yours. “You're coming tomorrow, aren't you?”

“Mhm.”

“And the day after that?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Then what about the day after that?”

You faced him and pinched his cheek affectionately, but he never complained. “If I was, what's the point of leaving, hm? I have something on that day, but I'll update you.”

Standing up at that, you felt his arms slide off of your shoulders. Luciano pulled away reluctantly, and as you left his studio, he found himself trailing after you against his own will. As quiet as he was, inside, he was tearing himself apart, torn between asking you to stay in the guest room and driving you home. But in the end, he got in the car.

Once he arrived outside your house, his body acted out unexpectedly when he shot his hand out to grab yours. The sudden contact startled you, though you could only gleam at his paint-smeared face that stifled back a thousand words. “What, do you miss me that much already?” You chuckled, much to his pleasure.

“You're just missing me too less.” He closed his eyes for a satisfied look. When he opened them again, he added this. “I'll pick you up here. Same spot. 9 am. If you don't show up in five minutes, I'll break inside and pull you out of bed.” Only then did he let you go.

“You got it, boss.”

With that said, you waved at him and made your way inside. Once the door clicked shut, he returned his gaze to the dashboard and shook his head with a defeated smile. “Oh my god.”

When he climbed the flight of stairs to appear next to the kitchen, the hiss of an espresso machine was heard. Rolling his head to it absently, he dropped his keys on the island and dug his hands through his sticky hair. Without addressing the blonde, who took an obvious interest in his disheveled appearance, he sauntered to the couch and flopped down on it.

“... Luciano.”

“What do you want?” He muffled his voice into the cushion.

Lutz walked over with a mug in hand and sipped it. Pointing to his own face, he swirled his index in circles. “You have a little something there.” When the other rolled his head to him, so did their colorful face.

The next two days saw steady progress in the project he paid you to do. While the painting moved closer to completion, he cared less and less about the finished product. At the same time, his eagerness for you to come grew exponentially. He could never admit it, but that didn't mean Lutz couldn't see right through him.

A single glance at him working in the studio was more than enough to deduce the conclusion that he was hopelessly head over heels for you. For one, it wasn't right to say he was even working anymore. Instead, he was staring at you, and sometimes, for twenty minutes or more if you were particularly immersed in your art.

This was only confirmed in due time.

Trotting downstairs to the cellar, he discovered that over ten bottles of wine had disappeared. And the culprit promptly made an appearance when he returned to the living room. Luciano was holding an empty bottle when they bumped into each other, the contact on his shoulder causing him to drop it. When it shattered on the marble floor, so did his patience.

“What the fu--watch where you're going, you fucking idiot!” He hissed, giving the other a strong shove back.

Beer fizzed out of the can and splashed onto his white tank. Lutz couldn't care less about ruining his clothes, but wasting beer? He pulled back with a growl. “I could say the same for you. I'm not the stumbling drunk here cuz' I can actually hold my weight.”

Luciano rolled his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

“You know what, just leave me alone.” He huffed, kicking the shards on the ground. Once he scattered the glass all over the hall, he stormed off to his studio. Letting out a frustrated string of colorful words, he tore through more canvases than he cared to count. Punching a hole in one, then using another as target practice, half of the artwork was completely destroyed by the time Lutz showed up.

“I don't get it! Why am I so angry? Why can't I paint something like this?” Luciano exasperated, gesturing forcefully to the painting you were working on. Then, he marched up to the man and gripped the front of his tank. “Am I just that shit? But that can't be!”

At this point, Lutz was done with arguing.

“... You know what I'm about to say.”

Luciano threw his hands up as they chorused the same line simultaneously. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done--yeah, I know! I didn't really expect you to give me any useful advice. I just wanted you to listen to me.”

“Don't I always listen to you?”

“No--”

“Wasn't it me who suggested for you to go to that art gallery?”

“Yeah, but it's not like--it's not like you knew she was gonna show up! (F/N) being there only happened once in a blue moon. You were just lucky, so don't think you're a genius or anything, ha!”

Lutz scoffed, but his unimpressed expression quickly morphed into a shrewd one. “Accept it, liebling. You're down bad. Down astronomically. Just invite her over, and when she comes, you'll know what I mean. It's not the paintings you're making a fuss over.” He watched Luciano's hair spike up like a cat, then him light up like a Christmas tree. That little man was many things, but an honest person was not one of them.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo?” Luciano pointed at him accusingly. “Well, I might just do it. Just to prove you wrong.”

When he left, Lutz clicked his tongue with raised brows.

“That's what you said last time...”

And invite you over he did. When he spotted a silhouette on the other side of the blurry glass, he sprung up from the couch and swung open the door with great gusto. There you were, as effortlessly charming as he remembered, and a little startled. You never had the chance to knock, nor process his scruffy appearance.

“Luci--hey! You look... A little more tired than I remember.”

Without a shred of hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to his bedroom. Yet again, his body was acting against his will, but perhaps, this was what he wanted in the first place. He just never admitted it. As he slowly came to terms with it, his eyes widened to dinner plates, and his heart pounded obnoxiously in his chest.

“Hey, what're you--”

He pointed wordlessly to the bed.

You shook your head, unable to figure out what he meant. “What do you want me to do?”

Luciano glowered at you, but it served as a stark contrast to the softness in his voice. “I'll pay you. As much as you want. Just stay there.” Seeing that you had yet to go along with his requests, he marched over to you and laid you down. Before you could object, he threw the blanket over you and tucked you in.

Sliding himself in from the other side, he scooted in and coiled his arms around your stomach. “Now, sleep.”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you rolled to him and brushed his mussy bangs back. “For someone so straightforward, you're not very honest, are you?” Sitting up to unzip your jacket, you proceeded to take your shirt off. When you stripped down, blood rushed to flush his cheeks as he came to realize he was completely love-struck.

“... Holy shit.”

Climbing onto his lap, you laughed over his lips and squeezed his neck. “You're really bad at hiding things. But like you said, I can read your mind.”

Luciano knitted his brows together. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “And it's very invasive. Please stop it.”

“Only if you promise to pay me in the morning.”

“... You're not a prostitute.”

“Oh, but you are one too. We're all whores, if you think about it. We just sell different parts of ourselves.”

“Go to sleep, idiota.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[groovybaybee]

Greener - I

cw: mentions of abuse (not this chapter and nothing too intense but better safe than sorry) also alcohol consumption

(6k)

Spago, 7pm, reservation under my name, have fun saucy xxx 

Oh, Lucy. Lovely, wonderful, maddening Lucy. Not only would she select my date for the evening, she, of course, would make a decision about when and where.

 In all honesty, I do not mind. I would gladly allow that girl to run my life, she pretty much has made all the big decisions for me anyway. Lucy had been the one who forced me to enter our school’s talent show and sing in public for the first time. I lost hard, unable to compete with Anthony Piaz’s flaming diabolo tricks, but I was grateful to her, nonetheless. Lucy was also the one who made me move out to Los Angeles with her, telling me we needed to be with the stars if we wanted to be like them. It might sound cheesy, but that girl can be very persuasive when she wants to be. Since we were teenagers, she told me all about how we were going to make it big, I would be a singer and she would produce all my music.

 Lucy has always been a dreamer, but she is the most dedicated and ambitious person I know, plotting out every detail of every day to make sure she could get to where she wanted to be. Her and I had understood that we could not just rock up in America and instantly start working for record labels. We would spend hours in her room, writing and producing songs every weekend, sending them to local and national radio stations, record labels, anyone we could think of.

 Then one day, the universe fell into place. Our song, Penny, started to gain some traction. I will never forget the day we heard our song played on the radio for the first time. I never could forget it with the video of the two of us screaming and crying and laughing and hugging being sent to my phone every time I get frustrated.

 ‘They never gave up, and neither will we’

 Luce has always been good like that, putting things in perspective when I start spiralling out.

 Truthfully, Lucy has always been a bit of a hero to me. The voice of reason, even when I did not want to hear it. I trust her with my life. So, when I was offered a contract with a record label, I had insisted that she aid in the production, knowing that once the world could see her talent there would be no stopping her. And there never has been. Though we still work together on projects and tracks wherever we can, both of us have been blessed with opportunities to work with some of our idols in the music industry. However, it still feels the most special when it is just her and me working together.

 Knowing that she always has my best interests at heart, agreeing to be set up on a blind date by her was easy. It was only afterwards that the doubts had started to creep in. Of course, Lucy knows me well, probably better than anyone, and so her choice of date for me would undoubtedly be my type. I know that they will be charming and funny and most likely have a smile that makes me want to swat them directly in the face for being so cute. However, it would be impossible for her to know the other person so well, so me showing up may not be what they had hoped for.

 They could want to meet someone girly, polished, calm. While I can be those things sometimes, pretending to be anyone but myself would only lead down an unfortunate and embarrassing path in the long run. This self-assuredness, in theory, is lovely, but does not stop the nagging feeling in my stomach that whoever I am meeting at the restaurant will not be pleased to see me.

 Trying my best to shake this thought, I get ready for my date. Landing on a simple black dress (knowing my tendencies to spill anything in my grasp), partnering it with a silver chain necklace, a few matching rings, and some thickly heeled silver boots. I put on a touch of makeup, style my hair, and spritz myself with perfume before grabbing a coat, stuffing the pockets with my necessities, and getting in the Uber I had pre-emptively ordered. I am going to be early but that suits me just fine.

 Arriving at the restaurant, nestled beside Rodeo Drive, I thank the driver and exit the car. Spago is far too fancy for me to feel fully comfortable, a small part of myself always believing that my life is some sort of coma dream and one day I would wake up back home, older and having done nothing with my life. Despite my instinct to run and feign illness, I enter the restaurant and tell the matre d’ Lucy’s name. He gives me a pleasant smile and leads me through the bustling restaurant to an empty table on the patio outside. Thanking him, I seat myself at the table beside a sheltered, freestanding fireplace, taking a second to appreciate the warmth of the toasting embers against the slight breeze of the evening under the dwindling sun.

 Looking out to the chair across from me, panic and excitement swirl around in my stomach. Wondering what they will be like and whether we will get on has me desperately searching around the quiet outside space for anyone who works here to urge them for a glass of wine. I manage to locate someone, but the thought instantly leaves my mind when I notice a person trailing behind them. They head straight in my direction and my head snaps back to the table, trying not to have their first impression of me be my crazy wine-hungry eyes. I take a deep breath, and a second to remember Lucy’s message: ‘have fun’.

 Turning to meet my date as they stop at our table, a smile slips across my lips without my telling it to. Yep, Lucy definitely knows me. The man in front of me is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, but with an added dash of unreservedness, dressed in a black dress shirt, the collar of which pokes out over a baby blue suit jacket, trousers matching. My eyes land on his hand, ringed fingers clutching a bouquet of yellow roses. I cannot deny it, the sight sends a little zip of happiness through my body. Travelling upwards, I land on his face. And pause.

 If this is a very elaborate prank, I have to give it up to Lucy. This is incredible. I remember her telling me that she was working with him on a track for his second album, but I would not have thought they were close enough to discuss love lives. If so, surely she would have snapped him up for herself. The amount of conversations we had spent discussing our celebrity crushes and he always popped up on both of our lists. There is no way this is happening. This just proves that I am, in fact, comatose.

 “Hi,” he speaks with a tentative smile.

 On the off chance that I am not in a simulation, I stand up and greet him, still unable to form words as he presses a kiss to each of my cheeks.

 “Lucy said you liked yellow,” he says almost sounding nervous, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hand.

 “I do,” I say softly, shaking my head to bring me back to reality while he is looking away from me. “They’re, uh, they’re beautiful.”

 He hands me the flowers and my brain almost completely malfunctions, unable to comprehend that I am sat, on a date, with a man I have been fawning over from afar for over a year. Sure, I have always known of him, but something about him kicking off his solo career and dressing differently, acting differently, it was all just incredibly attractive. Something so sexy about his confidence. An opinion I had expressed to Lucy many times in varying degrees of enthusiasm, her use of the word ‘saucy’ in her text to me suddenly making a lot more sense.

 “Thank you, really,” I say, looking up from the flowers to him, a full head taller than me. “Sorry, I’m being weird, Lucy just… is full of surprises,” I admit, meeting his gaze as he observes me cautiously. He must think I am crazy, or incredibly rude, most likely both.

 “I’m Violet,” I quickly introduce myself and gesture for us to sit. He does, with a relieved smile which I mirror.

 “Harry,” he says gently.

 Duh.

 Harry Styles. I am on a date with Harry Styles. The man I had admitted to wanting to let ‘break my heart and sex me back together’. Not one of my best lines, I will agree. And he is even better looking in person. His hair is kind of messy in a very put-together kind of way. His eyes are deep and their hold on me is strong. And his lips kink up at the edges, pulling joy out to his cheeks as he watches me, almost assessing me.

 “Yeah, I’m actually a fan of your music,” I admit shyly, hoping that he finds it endearing rather than psychotic.

 “Likewise. To be honest, I can’t believe I’m sat here with you,” he speaks deeply.

 This has to be a prank. No way on Earth did Harry Styles, Harry Styles, just say that to me.

 “I didn’t realise you and Lucy were so close,” I confess, allowing my confusion and curiosity to spill out of my mouth at lightning speed.

 “Oh, yeah, first day we met it was like instant sibling rivalry, you know? Straight away bullying each other,” Harry explains with a low, breathy chuckle. God, even his laugh is sexy.

 I will admit to being relieved to hear that their feelings for one another were strictly platonic, not wanting to step on Lucy’s toes even if she had been the one to set us up. Something about hearing this new information allows my most recent conversations with her to make a lot more sense, her being the one to let me explain in detail all the disgusting things I would let this man do to me while she just laughed. That sly devil.

 “How long have you two known each other?” he asks, sipping at the glass of water on his side of the table.

 “Oh, since we were kids, think our souls are melded at this point,” I tell him, earning a captivated smile that reaches up to his eyes. “Do you do this thing a lot?” I ask, fascinated as to how I ended up in this situation. When he looks at me blankly, I hurriedly add, “Blind dates?”

 “Not really, only one other time and it was… interesting,” he says, eyes glazing over as his mind flashes back.

 “Me neither,” I start, bringing his attention back to the present in hopes to prevent him from reliving whatever terrible memory I had just triggered, “I do have a very important question for you though,”

 “What’s that?” he asks with a grin that matches the one creeping on to my face.

 “Are you a wine person?” I ask, faking sincerity.

 “Oh, yeah,” he nods, laughing at my intensity.

 “Good, ten points to you,” I smirk as we both glance down at the drinks menus, after a moment of reflection I speak up, “Want to just get the cheapest? Don’t think my palette could tell the difference.”

 Harry lets out a small laugh and agrees happily, ordering a bottle of chardonnay for the two of us when the waiter circles around to us. My mind begins to spiral as I watch Harry pour us each a glass, wondering how I ended up here, what I think of him, what he thinks of me. Brain almost about to short-circuit[AH1] , I cheers my glass with his and take a long sip of white wine, desperate for a touch of Dutch courage.

 We sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, eyes locked as we drink in our surroundings, allowing the madness of the evening to sink in for our brains to process. There is a gentle smirk on each of our faces, enjoying the mischief of our mutual friend.

 “I really loved the album by the way,” I confess to him, only to be rewarded with a bright and grateful smile.

 “Thank you,” he says softly, an excited buzz coming from him as he shifts in his seat to lean his elbows on the table, chin resting on his interlaced knuckles. “I listen to The Lady Grey Project at least once a week,” he admits, and if I look closely (which I do) I can see a light rosy flush appearing on his cheeks.

 At this point I reckon a rhinoceros could stampede into the restaurant and I would not bat an eyelid. Of course, he listens to my album regularly, this is a dream, in all honesty I am just shocked he does not have a tattoo of my face on his body somewhere. I say a silent prayer that I will be allowed to remain in whatever simulation I am in.

 “You’re too kind,” I smirk, having to use my wine glass to hide as much of my blushing face from him.

 “Can I ask where the Lady Grey name came from?” he asks curious about my stage-name, watching intently as I swallow and place my glass down. “Sorry if I’m being too nosy by the way, tell me to fuck off if you want,” he says, causing a light laugh to tumble from my lips.

 He watches me with a soft gaze that makes me want to melt into a puddle underneath the table. Does he like me? No, he is probably just being polite.

 Calm down crazy.

 “Um, well, Lucy and I used to spend days in her room making music, and all we would eat was Cadbury’s Fingers and all we drank was Lady Grey tea, it was kind of our fuel you know? And then it just kind of stuck, and we used to joke about who Lady Grey was and I don’t know, I sort of idolised the character we created,” I explain as best I can.

 “So, you became her?” Harry asks softly, his smile never faltering once while I spoke.

 “Yeah, Lady Grey and Lucy Hind were going to take on the world together,” I say, looking down at the tablecloth, a slight feeling of embarrassment for oversharing my childhood dreams. It probably seemed so silly to him.

 “And you are,” is all he says.

 When I look up at him, his eyes are so gentle and comforting, and staring into them feels like stepping into a warm bath.

 The waiter arrives back to our table to take our orders, preventing me from drooling over how idyllic this date is becoming. Harry apologises for the two of us, neither having even looked at the food menu yet, and asks for another minute. Eventually, we order our food and the conversation continues to flow easily, finding out about each other’s passions for not only music, but art in general, both discovering that the other loves to draw and paint despite having very minimal talent for it.

 We talk about what we are working on, both giddy at gaining secret information about the other’s new projects. He whispers to me that he has a new album coming out at the end of the year, in return I tell him I have a small tour happening in a few months, a few intimate venues across the country. He tells me he would love to come to a show. I mentally let out a scream.

 We discuss our hometowns throughout the main course, both hailing from the north of England, giggling over the surprising culture shock of living in LA. Conversation moves to talking about our families and still feeling homesick.

 “I’ve been writing about home a lot recently,” I admit, finishing my second glass of wine, “I miss the colour green so much,” I laugh honestly, missing the miles and miles of fields and trees I could see from my family home.

 “I get that completely,” he says, refilling my glass without me even having to ask, “I miss my little village and knowing everyone there. LA can feel a bit lonely at times,”

 There is a pregnant pause, silence falling over the two of us as I give him a small nod, understanding wholly the feeling of moving across the world. It is scary and isolating and you really have to push through and commit to your work to ensure it was all worthwhile. However, that does not leave much room for forging any kind of relationship other than professional. Harry is right, it can be very lonely sometimes.

 I find myself watching him, eyes a little bit softened by the wine and the evening light. Seeing his face flicker under the crackling firelight feels like I am seeing him for the first time, as though his features are completely new to me and I get to meet a whole new person. He really is breath-taking. Something about getting to know him allows me to see his personality in his physicality; patient eyes and dimples that deepen every time I nearly knock over my glass and insist that I am not drunk, that this is just how I am. Finding myself smiling while I watch him, I remind myself to act like a normal human being and sip at my wine.

 But he watches me right back.

 When desert rolls around, both of us are too full to appreciate anything fancy, sadly deciding to call it a night. After insisting that we split the bill, threatening to get his bank account details somehow and send him a direct deposit, we leave the table.

 “Man, I shouldn’t have worn this dress, looks like I’m smuggling a watermelon,” I say, rubbing my bloated belly slightly as we walk through the restaurant, now significantly emptier than when I had arrived nearly three hours earlier.

 “I like it,” Harry tells me, biting back a smirk, “Wrote a song about watermelons, actually,”

 “Really? You’ll have to let me hear it sometime,” I say, thanking him as he holds the door open for me to walk through.

 “Do you, uh, do you need a lift home?” Harry asks once we are outside, wrapping our jackets a little tighter around ourselves in the early autumn air. I pause to look at him and assess the sincerity of his offer. When he looks at me with nothing but kindness and caution, I nod, finding his trepidation incredibly endearing.

 “That would be great, thank you,” I say softly, failing to mention that I would say yes to any offer he made so long as it meant I could spend longer getting to know him.

 “Cool!” he says with so much enthusiasm that I have to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from smiling too big, utterly smitten with him. Harry clears his throat and pulls out his phone, calling his driver to come and pick us up. “He’ll be five minutes,” his voice is back to its low rumble when he turns to me, a light flush spread across his cheekbones. I pretend not to notice, instead fixing my attention to the roses in my hand.

 “I’ve had a really nice time,” I tell him, hoping that in showing some vulnerability it will ease his embarrassment. It works. As I look up at him, he meets my gaze and smiles down at me gently.

 “Me too. I think you’re really cool to be around,” he says tenderly, taking a step closer to me so that he is less than an arm’s length away. “More than exceeded my expectations for tonight,” he teases.

 “I think part of me still thinks this is a prank,” I admit, breathing a laugh as I find myself gravitating closer to Harry, silently praying that he will kiss me.

 “I know, I was listening to Penny on the way here to keep me sane,” his voice has dropped to just above a whisper, his face less than a foot from mine.

 “As if,” I laugh incredulously, finding myself stepping back slightly so I do not deafen him.

 “I was!” he defends with a chuckle, “I love that song,”

 “Sorry,” I breathe, “I just didn’t think anyone really listened to it, except maybe my parents,”

 “It was the first song of yours I ever heard,” he says, closing the gap between us again, “Thought how talented you were, even wanted to cover it.”

 Back into the simulation you go.

 “Wanna make sweet music together?” I tease, my voice a little low and breathy as the space between us rapidly reduces.

 Harry exhales a chuckle, eyes flitting between my own and my lips.

 He is fully going to kiss you.

 Or at least he would, if that had not been the moment Harry’s driver decides to pull up to the curb, startling us both. Gaze fixed to the ground to hide my certainly bright pink cheeks, I shuffle into the car when Harry opens the door for me, sliding in shortly afterwards.

 “Where to?” Harry asks, clearing his throat slightly.

 I tell him my address, watching as he and his driver share a small nod before we set off.

 The first few minutes of the ride are, I will admit, awkward. The only sound to be heard is the crinkling of the paper surrounding my flowers, my hands fidgeting nervously.

 He was going to kiss me. He totally would have kissed me if we were alone for just one more moment.

 An assertive person would kiss him now.

 Would he want that? Would I want that? For our first kiss to be in the back of his car as we drove through my neighbourhood. I’m not so sure. Harry feels special, like he deserves a bit more romance than that.

 I continue to fiddle with the paper in my lap.

 “What’s your favourite flower?” I ask curiously, eyes fixating on the bright yellow petals.

 “Quite like apple blossoms,” he tells me. His voice is soft, and I can tell his head is turned to look directly at me.

 “See, I never would have guessed that.” I confess. Upon hearing him breathe a laugh, I follow it up with a mirrored tone, “What? You’re a mysterious dude.”

 “Very mysterious,” he jokes as I look back up at him. There is a warmth in his eyes as they shimmer with laughter. It is almost as though the small amount of time focussing on something other than him has erased all memory of his face. Suddenly, excitement courses through my body. His stupid, happy face making my stomach squeeze itself.

 “A real enigma,” I smirk after gathering myself.

 There is silence again in the car, our eyes softly locked on the other’s, even as we pull up beside my house.

 “This is me,” my voice is barely louder than a whisper.

 “I’ll walk you,” Harry says, our gaze still unmoved.

 For a moment, my mind drifts to Harry’s driver. I wonder what he makes of us sitting in the back of his car despite reaching our destination. Perhaps he thinks it is sweet, two kids still so nervous enough around one another that we both refuse to make a move. Maybe he thinks we are crazy and should just get out of the car like normal people would.

 I nod my head slightly, more so trying to encourage myself to get moving rather than Harry. In all honesty, I would love little more than to just sit here and look at him, to feel whatever tension there is between us for a moment longer. But I steal myself away from that thought and open the car door.

 Harry, ever the gentleman, sees me to my front door. It is a little old-fashioned but incredibly charming, nonetheless. I turn to face him once we reach the doorstep, craning my neck a little to meet his eyes.

 My gaze lingers a moment on his lips, and I wonder if I should kiss him. Or would he not like that? He seems like he would not be opposed to a woman making the first move, but he is also the type to open doors and walk people to their homes. What if he wants to be the one to initiate? I doubt he would find me kissing him to be emasculating, but what if he recoiled at the thought? Maybe I shouldn’t kiss him. Maybe I should invite him inside. I will admit, the idea of ending the night with him sounds idyllic, but what if that gives the wrong impression. What if he is the type of guy who cares about a woman’s sexual habits? I never would have him pegged for that sort of person, but you never know.

 Nerves and paranoia form a whirlpool in my brain, sucking me in until I am so overwhelmed that all I can physically do is stare at him, trying not to allow my eyes to widen too far in fear of looking like a maniac.

 He looks down at me with a gentle gaze, his right hand lifting and fingertips gently grazing the side of my left hand. His thumb brushes across my wrists, his eyes flitting across my face until I am convinced that he has stopped on my lips. The palpable energy from outside the restaurant returns.

 “Can I—” Harry starts but I interrupt him.

 “Yes,” I say hurriedly, my heart beating a little louder in my chest at the thought of his lips against mine.

 Thank goodness he’s making the first move. If it were up to you, you would be standing here for days.

 “Great,” he smiles broadly, quickly retracting his hand from mine and reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, “Lets make music sometime.”

 Harry hands me his unlocked phone.

 You absolute fucking idiot, V.

 I quickly input my phone number and hand it back to him with a small smile.

 “Great,” he grins, part of me hating how adorable he is, the majority simply hating how dim-witted I am.

 He wasn’t trying to kiss you.

 “Hang out again soon?” he asks brightly.

 I just nod and return a polite smile. He beams down at me before bidding me goodnight and walking back to his car.

 As quick as physically possible, I unlock my front door, dash inside and shut the door behind me.

 Idiot, idiot, idiot.

 I sink to the floor, back pressed to the door. He wants to work together. While that notion alone would have had me fainting before tonight, I cannot help but feel a little disheartened to have misread the situation.

 He didn’t want to kiss you.

 My mind quickly scans through the whole evening, wonder at which event I began to misinterpret the signals. Maybe he was going to give me a hug outside the restaurant. Maybe he actually was going to kiss me, but then I laughed in his face and stepped away from him. Did I put him off me that quickly?

 Pulling myself off the floor, I put the flowers in a mug of water, telling myself I will deal with them tomorrow once I am over the embarrassment.

 * * *

 I barely sleep, tossing and turning and reliving every stupid detail and mistake I undoubtedly made.

 “You absolute cow!” I shout with a laugh when I spot Lucy walking towards me.

 She just laughs along with me, a slight bashful blush arising in her cheeks as she steps closer to me.

 I had text her when I got home last night, asking her to meet me first thing and she had agreed. Meeting at the dog park between our houses had been my idea, desperate to see her new Dalmatian puppy, Pip. I had arrived early, pre-emptively getting Lucy and I lattes, knowing fully well that no matter what time I got there I would still beat her by at least ten minutes.

 “Thanks, gorgeous,” Lucy greets, taking the coffee I had extended to her.

 “Hello, sweetpea,” I say in a higher pitch than my natural tone, crouching to welcome the excited dog. Pip wags her tail aggressively, desperately trying to lick my face. I giggle as my face scrunches at all the attention she is giving me, “I know, I know, it’s been a whole two days since I saw you, how could I neglect you like that?”

 “She pissed on my shoes. Right little dickhead,” Lucy muses as I stand up, giving the pup one last scratch behind the ears. My eyes drop to her feet as we begin to walk through the park. “Not these ones, idiot,” she laughs.

 “Don’t call me an idiot, I have a bone to pick with you,” I reply, trying my very hardest to chastise her but just giggling through it, faking sincerity always having been difficult for me, “What was it you told me? ‘Its just a date, no biggie’?”

 “Something like that,” she mumbles, feigning shame but smirking as she looks at the ground.

 “Harry Styles,” I mock, “Harry fucking Styles. You could have warned me, mate! I thought about him in the shower before dinner, thought I must have slipped and bumped my head when he rocked up,”

 Lucy laughs as continue through the park, walking out on to the open expanse of the field. Pip excitedly yaps at the dogs playing in the distance, a little too young to join them just yet. We walk in bemused silence for a moment until we find a bench and take seat on it, sipping intermittently at our cooled down coffees.

 “How was it then? Complete disaster or did you hold it together?” Lucy asks.

 “Well, I thought I was holding it together, we were even kind of flirty,” I begin. Remembering last night stirs up excitement in my stomach, contrasting my skin crawling with embarrassment, “But he never kissed me. He walked me to my door, got me to give him my number and left,”

 Luce nods, letting me give her the gist of the previous night, not pushing for more information as I bounce one of my legs anxiously. “He got your number though?” She offers, always looking on the bright side.

 “Yeah, because he wants to make music together,” I say, a small smirk interrupting my words.

 “Make music or make music?” She teases, wiggling her eyebrows dramatically.

 “I don’t know!” I laugh, giving her a gentle push when she keeps leaning closer to me and putting her creepy moving eyebrows in my eyeline, “We complimented each other and stuff, and it became a bit of a joke but now I’m worried he was serious and I just made a fool out of myself… I did have half a bottle of wine,” my tone more serious now.

 “One, you’re a delight when you drink. Two, I bet Harry was such a fucking flirt, ‘Oh yeah, baby, lets make symphonies with our bodies’,” I cannot help but crack a smile at her, surprisingly accurate, impression, “And three, even if you did misread things, it sounds like he would be up for working with you, and if I remember correctly, you said you’d give your left kidney to sing a duet with him,”

 “I’m never drinking sambuca again,” I mutter, shuddering at the memory of that night, drunkenly screaming as Sweet Creature played over the speakers of the bar.

 “I say text him,” Lucy shrugs as if the solution is so obvious that she cannot understand why the two of us are even having this conversation.

 “Ah,” I breath, “That’s another thing. I was a bit distracted by the whole ‘not wanting to kiss me’ thing that I forgot to ask for his number.”

 “Idiot,” Lucy giggles, picking up Pip as she paws at her leg and setting her between the two of us on the bench, allowing me better access to pet her freely, “I’ll text it you,”

 “I can’t text him out of the blue, won’t that look psycho?” I stress.

 “No,” Lucy says, again so plainly it is as though she cannot believe she is explaining something so simple, “Pretty sure Harry likes confident people anyway.”

 “Why would he want to date me then?” I mumble, eyes fixed on Pip’s as her mouth hangs open, tongue rolling out happily as she gets attention from the both of us.

 “Maybe because you can throw it back like no one I’ve ever seen,” Lucy teases.

 “Fucking hate sambuca,” I grumble half-heartedly.

 The text from Lucy arrives on my phone a few hours later, just as I step out of the shower. I have to wipe a few droplets of water from the screen before it allows me to unlock it.

 Don’t puss out x

 Underneath is what I can only assume is Harry’s number. I stare at the white screen for a while, contemplating whether or not to text him. Should I? Luce said he liked confidence, and I wanted him to like me, or at least not think of me as some blob of flesh he sat through dinner with. What would I say? What possible message could I send that did not make me sound like a creep?

 Hey it’s Violet. Lucy gave me your number, promise I didn’t ask for it

 No, that sounds rude.

 Hi, it’s Violet from last night. Lucy gave me your number, hope you don’t mind. I’d love to make sweet music with you

 He could read that two ways. Either he would read it as me just wanting to work together, or that I wanted to see him with no clothes on. Neither option appeal despite both being shamefully accurate.

 The condensation on my bathroom mirror has almost vanished by the time I set my phone back down. Desperate to go about my day without worrying, I head across the landing and into my bedroom.

 Despite having lived here for well over a year, the Los Angeles heat never fails to stifle me, even as autumn creeps into view. The humidity seeps into my bare skin as I flop back on my bed, urgently searching for a reason to get back up and be proactive with the work I need to get done today. That in itself should be reason enough, but the temperature in my room seems to counter any sensible thoughts in my brain. So, I let my eyes close for a moment.

 However, Lucy’s words keep circling around in my mind.

 ‘Don’t puss out’

 That is what I always do. Deciding to grow a backbone, I stand up and march back into the bathroom to pick up my phone. I quickly unlock it, ignoring the notifications on my lock screen, assuming its just my manager prompting me to get my act together. I quickly copy the phone number from Lucy and make a contact for Harry, set on typing a message to him and pressing send before I can overthink how keen I will most likely come across.

 You are keen.

 Selecting his contact, my phone takes me to a chat with him, however, it is not blank like I had expected. Instead, there is a white bubble of text, a smaller bubble beneath it, both timestamped seven minutes ago.

 I know films and tv shows always say you should wait at least three days before messaging but I reckon it’s all bollocks. I had a really good time last night and would love to hang out again. I understand if this seems a bit eager so I’ll leave it up to you. Whatever you fancy I’m up for – Harry

 Also I don’t know why I signed that off like it’s an email but I’m going to stick with it so I seem confident – Harry

II

[jayankles]

Root of your New Problems

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Sam x Waitress!Reader

Word Count: 13,018

Dedicated to @onethingthatkeepsmealive Thank you for everything, for being patient, for donating. I love you and I hope this is okay <3

Summary: You work in a restaurant, life was okay, nothing really special until a handsome but rude customer comes into the diner. Turns out this handsome but rude customer was a Mafia crime boss. Just your luck. He is the root of your new problems when someone follows you and makes an attempt on your life.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Explicit sex, (fellatio, cunnilingus, riding, penetrative sex, dirty talk), fluff angst, dark fic, stalking, shootings, mafia stuff, talks of abortion (if I’m missing anything please let me know.)

Written for: @goodthingshappenbingo​ / @badthingshappenbingo​ / @spnonewordbingo / @samwinchesterbingo​ / @spngenrebingo​ / @spnkinkbingo​

Admiring / Tearful smile / suitcase / mafia boss!sam / hospital au / dirty talk

I’m sorry I took such an unplanned break, maybe I needed it but I hope this will be the start of something that can keep the fics rolling out. I hoping for maybe once a week but I’ll try for more but who knows.

Feedback is gold and appreciated

Hustle and bustle. That was the life you lived. Working in a big city was always a rush but thankfully, the cafe that you worked at was located in a busy environment but not enough to knock you off your socks and make you want to rip your hair out.

You got to know a few of the people that came in as regulars, chatting with them if you had the tiniest of moments to spare or as you were serving them. Just as you were doing now, but you were unceremoniously interrupted by the bell above the door rang that for the umpteenth time that day, you looked up and instantly smiled at the customer that came through there.

A man in a suit. A tall drink of water with flowy locks that sat on his shoulders, he scoured the vicinity of the cafe and locked his eyes with your seating area, he made his way over to a seat that someone was already sitting in. You looked on, eyebrows crinkling when the other man scurried out of his seat, easily finding another. What the hell was that all about?

“Hi.” He had simply said, making no effort to help you clean the table he had just made someone vacate. What a fucking asshole! Forget that he looked like a god, if he was rude, there was no way that you could ever be into a dude that acts like that. Not even if he was the king of the world. It was a shame that you couldn’t treat him the way that he had probably treated everyone he came into contact with. (But if you did, you would definitely be out of a job.) So instead you said this...

“Hello, there, Sir.  What can I get for you?” You smiled sweetly, even though he hadn’t even acknowledged your presence other than saying a simple greeting.

The man took out his phone from a hidden pocket on the inside of his, probably expensive, jacket and began typing. He had no desire to even look at the menu you tried to provide him. “Egg white omelette and a large coffee.” 

Writing down the order on your notepad, you nodded and asked if that was all that he wanted. Standard questions to be asked when working in a restaurant.

“Did I say anything else?” He almost snapped at you but brushed him off handing the order to the chef and started to work on the coffee. With that, you placed the largest cup of coffee you had onto the table and slid it over to him, careful not to spill a single drop of his drink.

“Your omelette will only be a few more minutes can I get you any condiments?”

Finally, he had looked up from his phone, his whole demeanour changing from disinterested to something akin to hungry and hunting a prey. It was making you uncomfortable, there was something about him that was making you uneasy even before he looked at you like that.

The bell behind you ding dinged, signalling that the order was ready. Thank god. Nodding your thanks to the chef, you turned back to the scary customer, placing his order in front of him, almost immediately ready to head back to your safe place behind the counter. Wow, you never would have thought you would say that about the dull boring counter that you had to stare at five days of the week.

You made your rounds around the tables and booths, offering them more coffee and grabbing their bills, occasionally gaining a tip that may or may not help you, depending on whether or not they were regulars or considered wealthy in that specific area.

When you got to the booth, you took a deep breath and smiled at him, keeping most of your attention to the man’s plate and away from direct eye contact, seeing the man’s nostrils flare in anger in your peripherals.

“Is everything okay over here, Sir? Can I get you some more coffee?” You asked the man, making sure that you were at a safe distance.

“Sam, please, Sir makes me feel old. Another coffee though would be lovely.” He looked down trying to find a name plate but he couldn’t. You also couldn’t believe this whole attitude turn around, Sam definitely freaked you out. Nodding, you poured the coffee almost to the brim of his cup and turned your attention to any of the other customers. “Well, little lady. You know my name but I have no clue of yours.”

When you were about to give him a fake name, your boss walked out, asking for you to bill another customer. “My name is Y/N. Excuse me, I have another customer waiting. I’ll be back with you soon.”

Sam smirked, a nasty one at that but it made him weirdly attractive. Stop it. “I’ll await your next visit, Y/N.”

After waiting on a few tables and taking their orders, your boss called you over, when you got there, a stunned look adorned his face.

“What is it?” You asked, putting your customers payment in the till before leaving a thank you message in return for the tip he had left.

“Do you have any idea who that is?” Should you? Max cried, his voice sounding panicked like you had never heard before. You had heard his screaming to other about orders and tardiness but this was something else. Max sounded scared, like he was purely terrified of this man, enough to let this man eat here for free and that was speaking volumes to you.

“Nope, not really. He’s just a rude ass guy who is acting like he owns the place.” You didn’t really care who it was really, you just wanted to serve have him pay the bill, maybe tip you and have him leave as quickly as possible.

He scoffed, frantically waving his arms around, “that’s because he practically does. How have you been here for most of your adult life and you have no idea who Sam Winchester is? Jesus Christ, Y/N. What is the matter with you?”

You held in the eye roll, but if this guy had so much power over everyone in this town then you were in trouble. A lot of trouble. How could you not have any idea of who he was, it should have been obvious from the get go. It paid to be naïve, you had absolutely no idea of what that man was capable of.

“Whatever I’ll just go about my day like I usually would because he is just another customer, just as important as everyone else in this joint.” You shrugged, not really caring about what he was about to tell you.

“Wrong answer. You give him whatever he wants when he wants and you have to top it. And don’t worry about your other customers, Lucy can take care of it.”

Jesus, this was going to be a long shift. (Emphasis on long.)

If you weren’t playing close enough attention you would have missed the groan that Lucy released. She was definitely not happy about taking over your shift but you made yourself a promise that you would talk to her after this Sam left the restaurant, you’d let her go home a little earlier and take over for her. Oh, the joys. 

After a week of Sam coming into the café, the tips became bigger and bigger, but you were getting more and more attention from him and it may have been possible that you were letting him get closer to you. You were letting yourself connect with the man. The man that you found out was, not only a part of the mafia, but their leader.

You were also surprised when the unwanted attention from hooligans that came into the café, whether it was a college frat boy or a grown ass man that just wanted everyone to know about his dick and what he can do with it. It was ridiculous, even to the point where the attention was drawn to you when you finished your shift and headed home.

“So how about you let me take you out on a date?” Sam asked the next evening, a glimmer in his eyes as he scraped the whipped cream from the side of his mouth, ready for his next plate. Honestly, you had no idea how the man ate so much and didn’t have a stomach ache. But his question wasn’t going to go unanswered he would just get an answer that he didn’t want.

“And what makes you think I would say yes to your proposal?” you replied, serving yet another plate of waffles taking away the old plate, retreating almost instantly but you spun around on the heels of your feet. “You think you can buy me? Is that what you think?

“I don’t want you to buy me, I want you to seduce me. Seduce me with your words. Not your money and power because I am not a woman who can be bought. If you want me, give me something that cannot be bought, something a value to me that I can treasure. Because I am not your little play toy that you can throw away as soon as you get bored of me.

“Have a nice day, Sam.” You finished with a wink and a smile and with that, you clocked out of work, collecting your earnings and left the café.

It was the strongest you had ever felt, you had no idea how exhilarated you would feel after your little speech but your heart was racing and your palms were still sweaty. You got this. It was like a magical weight had been lifted off of your shoulders, even if you were terrified that it come crashing back down on top of you.

When you got back home to your studio apartment, your shoes were off, bag hung up along with your coat. You were ready to fall straight into bed, waiting for your eyes to close as soon as they hit the pillow but when you did so you couldn’t drift off as easily as you thought. Tossing and turning, you just couldn’t get your body to cooperate with your tired mind. You had even watched a few episodes of the latest show, scrolling through all of your social media’s but it still wasn’t doing the trick. Finally, it was the hot milk that you made you succumb to a restful few hours.

You went to work the next day with an uneasy feeling in your stomach, maybe you had crossed the line with the mobster boss. He had the power to do anything he pleased with you and you basically told him to seduce you or fuck off.

No sign of Sam. Maybe he just wanted you for god knows what reason, you would rather not think about it and get to work, get your mind off of the subject. But when you opened your locker, a piece of paper fell out of it. Oh goodness, were you fired? No, Max wouldn’t fire you like this would he? Dammit.

Y/N,

You were right. It was wrong of me to try and buy your affections.

I now know that you are different from everyone else. That is why I’m attracted to you, there is something about you. Something that I cannot fathom what being around you does to me.

I am no Shakespeare. I am no Nicholas Sparks. I am no other romantic novelist.  I don’t express too much emotion to do with personal life but with you. But I am trying, and that has never happened before. Not before you.

I have tried to write this a hundred times but they never seemed right. I even tried to use a ghost writer but that never worked out either because they didn’t capture your essence but I’m not doing very well in that department either so you are just going to have to trust me and have patience with me because I will get one of these letters right. One day. It just won’t be today but I can hope that you will read my future letters.

Sam.

That man. Sweet and dangerous. What a combination. A combination that could love you dearly or kill you harshly; you weren’t ready for either option. Everything was bad. Everything was so bad.

The days passed and you received more letters like that. Getting no more articulate but still sweet no less, one about how your beauty had compared to none other than anything that he had seen before, which you had rolled your eyes when you thought about how corny it was but it made you smile nonetheless.

Your boss had refrained from giving you any instructions when it came to Sam, and you had an idea that it may have been due to a word or two that was shared with the man in question. There was suddenly like a tension when it came to you and your boss but that wasn’t going to stop you from doing your job. A job you needed so desperately.

Sam came into the café and sat in an empty booth, it must have been deemed his because only one couple had sat there all day. He greeted you with a goofy, teeth flashing smile, he must have been in a good mood. He droned on about getting possession of a property last week so it may have been something to do with that or he had successfully destroyed someone else’s life but that is none of your business. Only his.

“Hey, Sam. How are you today?” You said happily, his smile contagious making you do the same.

“Better now that I’ve seen you.” His usual response when coming into the café, a response that you were sure you would soon get tired of but it still had the same affect on you.

“Is it the same as usual then?”

“Exactly, but throw in a chocolate muffin and slice of pizza. I’m feeling extremely hungry today.”

You repeated the order to him and when he nodded, you put his order in and got to work on his coffee, waiting for his food to be prepared and cooked.

“Did you get my letters?” Sam asked a little shy, seeming off from his usually overconfident self.

Setting down his cup of coffee, you nodded, telling him that you did and that you were very flattered by their contents. “Your food shouldn’t be too long.”

You served other customers, taking their orders and putting them in for the chef but there was nothing else you could do other than wait for the food to be cooked before you could serve it to your customers.

Sam had stayed longer than usual, outstaying all the other customers until it was just you and him, all other staff apart from your boss but even he had grown tired of waiting and gave you the keys to lock up the café behind you.

“What’s on your mind handsome?” You asked, taking a seat after you had taken away and cleaned his penultimate plate.

“You. Always you.” Was what he wanted to say but he wouldn’t say it aloud not when he was one of the most notorious mafia boss’ there was. So instead he said, “nothing but business. You know what would make it better?”

“What’s that?”

“A night with you.”

You pressed your lips together and shake your head. Of course he would go there. Rolling your eyes, you rose from your seat and sauntered away. Pulling out your pen, you leaned against the counter making sure you had your denim clad ass on show to tease him. You wrote on the pad and tore off the paper before waltzing over to the booth where Sam now held his head in his palms.

Curling your fingers around his, you pulled them away from his face. Before you could get a word out, he was already apologising for taking it to far. Pressing a kiss to his cheek to silence him, you whispered in his ear, “go home, Sam. Call me tomorrow. I get off at noon, if you’re not too busy that is. Sam had asked for the bill not long after your suggestion to meet him after your shift tomorrow.

*

It was nearly noon but you started at six in the morning, you were exhausted, especially due to the morning rush but you were full of energy thinking about what you and Sam would be doing in a few long awaited minutes. You were ready to take the next step, to take control and hangout with him instead of just fucking each others brains out. At least that was what you believed he thought - you shouldn’t jump to conclusions, maybe that wasn’t what he wanted but you had enough experience with men to know what they expect. And you were starting to get that feeling that when Sam hadn’t shown his face in the diner

Untying the rope at the small of your back, the apron loosened its grip on you, allowing you to take it off and put it back in your locker. Luckily all you had to do was change from the diners custom grey and blue polo into one of your tops that you kept in there; at least it was a cute floral one that fell off the shoulder.

Grabbing your purse, you flung it over your shoulder and stalked your way outside of the diner after a quick wave goodbye to Max and even Lucy, telling your boss that you would see him in the afternoon tomorrow and your co-worker in a few days time when your schedules would once again clash.

You were playing with the hem of your top, walking down the street to your car before you felt an arm wrap around your waist and a hand covering your mouth, pulling you towards their chest and into an alleyway. You attempted to scream anything to break free of his hold, you were ready to throw a punch but stopped quickly when you realised that it was only Sam.

“Why would you scare me like that. Fuck sake. Why can’t you come to me like a normal person? You know face to face.” You shoved his shoulder away from you, putting your hands on either side of your face to calm down. Why he would think it was okay to act like a creepy kidnapper? You couldn’t know why.

He tilted his head and rose his perfect eyebrows. “Baby, I’m far from normal.”

“Why? Are you kinky? Is that why you tried to kidnap me? Is it for your sex chamber?” The random questions spilled from your mouth without you thinking and now that you thought about it, it sounded ridiculous.

“I did not try to kidnap you but I shouldn’t have scared you like that. I’m sorry. And as for the kinky thing – you’ll just have to find out later on.”

“Ah so you limit your kinks per day, smart move. I like that in a guy.” With your lips pursed, you nodded in comprehension.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to scare you but I think someone was following you. I’m just trying to protect you.” He said, true desperation spilling from his mouth, he was exceptionally concerned and that worried you all the same. If this big, bad mafia boss was worried, you knew that you should do the exact same thing, maybe worry a little more. 

“I believe you. But you could have gone about it another way, you know, one where I don’t almost pee my pants?”

“Is there any indication of anyone wanting to hurt you in any way?” He asked, pulling out his phone and tapping away on his touchscreen keyboard.

Your heart was racing, something wasn’t right. Something had happened and you had no idea of what it was or why someone was following you. Why would they do that? You tried to rack your brain of why but nothing came to mind. “I’m just a waitress. Nothing special. I was only a cleaner before that and that doesn’t get any attention. Is it because of you?”

You asked him out of interest, not really expecting an answer but he still gave you one.

“It’s a possibility.” He said bluntly, shaking you to your core. “My line of work is dangerous and there are always people that want me dead and that includes the people around me. Nothing is going to happen to you. Not when I’m around.”

That was an answer that you did not want at all. Not one bit. You wanted to be safe and you couldn’t be because there was a threat against your life because you were talking to a man who just so happened to be a gangster.

But now that you knew a threat was out there, you had no clue what to do. If you stayed with Sam, you could get hurt but if you stayed away from Sam, you could still get hurt. It was a lose - lose situation.

“I know that you’re scared right now.” Sam started but you interrupted before he could even finish.

“Scared are you fucking kidding me. That doesn’t even begin to cover how I’m feeling right now. You think that you know how scared I am. Because you don’t. I’m terrified because someone is after me. For what? You, probably information about you that I don’t have because I don’t fucking know you.”

“Come with me.” He quietly demanded. “I just need you to trust me to do at least try and keep you safe.”

“I feel like I’m dead either way so I might as well.” Ah yes, the bitchy maybe a bit too sassy inner dialogue. She was a real beauty when you were scared out of your wits.

Sam rolled his eyes, gripping your wrist and pulling you closer to him. “Stop thinking about death, you’ll live if I have anything to do with it.”

“Fine.” You huffed, but your heart was almost beating out of your chest. Being so close to Sam and not being able to do anything about it. Your eyes flicked over his lips, spotting the peak of his tongue licking at his top lip. Still there was nothing you could do about it other that fantasise about what his lips could do, how they would feel on your own lips and your body. “Just look after me. Don’t let anything happen to me.”

“I give you nothing but my word and protection. I will do whatever it takes. Even if I have to do something that you may not like.”

Of course he meant kill a man or woman but he didn’t want to say it out loud to you. If it was any other person, he would have come out with it, been blunt about the situation. Sam wouldn’t have even cared about a stalker, it didn’t concern him most of the time. But you were different. This time someone had stalked you because he simply came to the café that you worked in. It was his fault, this time it was on him and he didn’t like it.

Sam had checked if the coast was clear, after a few seconds of surveillance he came back, yanking your arm once again. Crossing the street, he pushed you into a car that you could only assume was one of his. He hadn’t told you otherwise and you were not about to argue with the man who had both physical power and economical power.

When Sam was sure that no one was following you, he pulled into the next turning, parking in a space where you were surrounded by other cars. Just in case someone had seen you with him.

“I need you to stay in the car just for a few minutes.” He reached over, pulling open the glove compartment to reveal a gun. Your whole body tensed, shuffling back in your seat and shriveling into yourself. “Climb into the back and stay down.”

He covered you with the blanket, then exited the car. With your heart in your throat, you followed his instructions and stayed put. There was no way you were going to move one inch, not when there were two threats outside of this car. The stalker and the gun that Sam had.

Clenched fists, you curled your legs into your stomach, waiting for everything and nothing to happen at the same time. But you still weren’t ready for the gunshots outside of the garage. The shot’s echo ran through the garage, ricocheting through your whole body, you started to shake, scared of what had happened out there. What if Sam had got caught in the crossfire and you were next? What if Sam had shot an innocent person? All those what if’s running through your mind.

Five minutes had passed, still no sign of Sam. Of course, whilst you were in the car, Sam had taken care of the situation. Although he had been shot at, Sam took the final shot and killed the stalker who he noticed was part of his rival’s gang. The man had pleaded for his life, but Sam had no sympathy for the man who had stalked and prayed on women, Sam even knew that the man had abused other women, sexually and physically. The man didn’t deserve to live. Not at least in the eyes of the mob boss and that was enough information he needed to do what he did.

When Sam had returned he almost made you jump out of your skin, yanking the door open and checking you over to see if you were okay. There was a tinge of anger that softened as he tried to calm your shaking body. Of course, you were scared out of your wits but there was nothing you could do about what was happening in the world you were living in.

Sam was quick to get out of there and to wherever the hell he was taking you.

*

“But do I really have to stay here? I’m fine and the man is gone. I’m assuming you took care of him so I have nothing to worry about.” You said, a little whine in your voice, as you spread the butter over the two slices of bread. You didn’t want to stay in the safe house, you just wanted to go back home, even if it was to the studio apartment that you could only just about afford.

“Listen, Y/N. I’ve told you three times now. Don’t make me repeat myself again. While I take care of business, it will be safer for you to remain here. You are here for your own protection and that is final.” He was angry, of course he would be, he had already mentioned the importance of you remaining in the safe house. It was for your protection but you didn’t get it, not really. But still, something in his voice made you exponentially upset, something you couldn’t even rationalise inside of you, he was trying to protect you and all you could think about was being caged in the safe house like an animal.

Not saying another word, your nostrils flared and you purse your lips. Huffing, you continued to make your sandwich, cutting it in triangles like your mom used to. When you had plated it up, you grabbed a bottle of water, heading upstairs. And, not being familiar with this space, you walked into every other room, struggling to find your room. Not so great when you’re angry.

Sam had left you in your room to calm down, listening out for the creaking of the wooden floorboards when you used the bathroom or explore the current house. He sat in the make do office, sending out texts and making a few calls to his brother and his subordinates. He found out that one of his men had been beaten to death in retaliation to the hit his rivals took earlier in the day. Of course, he hadn’t been too happy about that but at least his guy was in the hospital with a few broken ribs, a swollen eye and a dislocated shoulder and not six feet under, down in a ditch where no one would find him.

When he thought it was appropriate, Sam took the liberty to lock up his office because you didn’t need to see what was in there, he wasn’t going to let you get involved even more that you had done. Entering the dark kitchen, he flipped on the light and decided to make you a cup of tea. He had seen you drink it on multiple occasions at the café when your customers had stressed you out or made you angry enough to have tears in your eyes. He didn’t want to be the reason that you had those tears – or any tears ­– in your eyes, he didn’t want to be the cause of your problems yet here he was causing tears to spring to your eyes and he felt even worse that he brought a stalker to you. Sam shook his head and got back to work making you the tea, he really hoped you would be okay, or even accept his token of apology.

Checking in your newly assigned room, he noticed you were quiet even though he had asked you how you were; you had just shrugged your shoulders. Nothing would come out, it was as if your voice had been taken from you, but with what had just transpired, you didn’t need to talk. You just needed time to adjust to this huge change in your life that had happened so suddenly. Fucking mobs and their rivalries with each other.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” He had difficulty putting it into words at how sorry he really was, but he couldn’t say them out loud. He knew he may have been too harsh, but he just wanted to keep you in the clear, to keep you safe. He was the one that got you into this mess after all.

“Okay.” Was all you could say, nothing more could pass your lips, there was nothing more you could really say after someone had threatened to shoot you for not listening to them, for wanting to redeem your freedom and not be confined in a space away from everything you grew up with. Everything you were used to was now gone, all because of Sam Winchester. Sam Winchester, the mob boss, the dangerous man that no one wanted to encounter.

“I brought you up a tea. I know that it shall not make matters any better but all I can hope for is the first step to forgiveness.” He spotted a tiny nod, and Sam took that as an opportunity to settle the cup onto the nightstand and left the room, just waiting.

*

After the spat that you had with Sam, you finally forgave him. Even if he had given you a scare.

You had moved safe houses three times within the last five months, this place that you had been in the longest. This may have been your favourite one of them all, despite moving so far out of town, you were in another state but it allowed you to feel a little more safe and secure. With that Sam had pulled a few strings and got you a job in one of the local diners, a partial appearance change and a new name later, you only hoped that no one but Sam would recognise you. 

Speaking of the Devil, he had walked through the doors of the diner. Tall, dark, and handsome he still was. Quickly, you hide your smile, trying not to get distracted or have Sam notice that you had already seen him,

Sam had been sure to sit in a seat that had a whole view of the diner, but in someplace where he was hidden from a direct view of the window.He was concealed but could see everything from his vantage point. Where he sat was indeed in your sector, but he knew that.

Regardless of the diner not being busy, you took your time getting around to Sam’s table. His order already memorised, you had already written it down before you made it to his table and he opened his mouth. You slipped him a note, heading back for the kitchen to hand the chef his order.

Finish in an hour. Meet me out back.

Sam smirked and slipped the note inside his inner pocket. He couldn’t wait for this hour to be over. There was something about the glimmer in your eye that made Sam a little stiff in his crotch, the newspaper was a handy tool to cover his growing tent.

*

Walking through the door, Sam was on you in an instant, pushing you into the wall as soon as he had slammed the door shut. His hands and lips were everywhere; lips tracing all exposed areas of your skin and his hands skimming over your body, pulling you closer to him.

His fingers traveled to pop the button of your jeans, you did the same for his pants then pushed the suit jacket he wore off his shoulder, revealing his broad shoulders encased by his white shirt. Bringing his lips back to your, you devoured him as he did you, your fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt, clumsily pulling them open.

He was rough, biting at your skin, at your lip. Your mouth hung open as his fingers dove into your underwear, pushing them against your soaked lower lips. He stepped back and you whined at him. Sam pulled his shirt from his shoulders, revealing a perfectly chiseled body from the gods themselves. He tosses his shirt carelessly onto the floor. Whilst he was preoccupied with his attire, you pushed your unbuttoned jeans down your hips along with your underwear. 

Yanking off his boots, you peeled your top from your skin and added it to the pile of clothing on the floor. With you naked and under his heated gaze, Sam was just down to his underwear, you aggressively pushed them down over his thighs to where they now pooled at his ankles. You silently moaned at his size, taking him in as your hands reached out and caressed his stomach, his abdomen rippling at your feather light touches.

Your hand traveled to his neck so you could pull him into a heated kiss. His lips attacking yours for a moment before your lip caught in between his teeth causing you to moan into the little gap between the two of you. Your free hand grips his hips and push him onto the bed so that he sits near the end, enough to give you space to kneel.

Within a flash, your straddling his hips and pressed your mouth against his. The little kisses turn sloppy but not any less passionate. Rolling your hips against his caused the perfect amount of friction between the two of you. He groaned low in his throat as you repeated the motion; a positive reaction. You smile as you press your lips to his once more before pushing him onto his back, where you trace his jaw with feather light kisses, making a descent further down south.

He goes to stop you but you quietly hushed him.

“Let me take care of you.”

“Oh, baby.You can whatever the hell you want with me. Just tell me what you want and you can have it.”

With one final kiss to his stomach, you stop your ministrations and sit back in your haunches. “Maybe I just want you to wreck me with your tongue until I’m sated and spent.” You say nonchalantly, like you hadn’t been planning to say that all day but you continue to explain the perfect night in your mind. “And then we could go for round three and we both get what we want. But first, I’m gonna suck you off. You’ll be so deep in my throat that I’ll almost forget how to breathe. It’ll so fucking good when you come because then I’ll just have to swallow it down... How does that sound?” You seductively run your fingernails over his thighs.

He practically moans “Oh my god, Y/N, you’re freaking perfect!”

Remembering that he had put a pause your actions, you asked, “you want me to stop?”

“Fuck! God no!” He almost shouted, nearly whimpered as you gripped onto his cock.

You squeezed a little as you moved your hand up and down over him, your motions slow and calculated. Seeing as his eyes were trained on you, you decided to put on a little show for him. Dropping to your knees on the floor, you saw that Sam was now on his elbows, watching your every move.

Without another thought, you took the crown of his cock into your mouth, tasting the salty precome that slid from his slit. He moaned, encouraging you to give him little kitten licks to the tip of his cock, the velvet head of it slipping easily into your mouth. You took him deeper, pumping at the base of his dick, where your throat couldn’t take anymore.

“God, you’re so good at that, baby.”

Sam’s head fell back onto the covers, you could tell he was struggling to keep himself from canting his hips upwards. Your head was bobbing up and down along with your fist, saliva dribbling down and out of your mouth, coating Sam with your spit.

“Oh, fuck! Such a dirty girl, Y/N.” Sam groaned as he threaded his long fingers through the strands of your hair and gripping onto it firmly.

You heard the tone he used in his voice and knew he was close to blowing his load so you cradled his balls in the palm of your hand and squeezed them with a little added pressure. The combination of your movements had Sam’s balls tightening and nearing his orgasm. You decided to push down further on him, he was hitting the back of your throat now.

Quickly, he sat up and knotted both of his hands in your hair, trying to get you off of him but you stood your ground, releasing his balls and clutching onto one of his thighs, crescent moon shapes appearing as they dug into his thick, muscular thighs. You hollow your cheeks and increased your pace. Finally he allowed himself to release his load into your mouth, the salty taste lingering before you greedily swallowed it down. Sam hips thrusted into your mouth once more and you came off of his dick with a wet pop and licked your lips, your thumb wiping at the corner of your mouth, taking off the remnants that stuck to you.

He grabbed your face in his hands and pulled you up into his lap so you were once more straddling him, you stopped him though.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He was genuinely concerned, maybe you couldn’t go further that he wanted to.

Looking into his eyes, you searched for any uncertainty. “Nothing, it’s just…”

His thumbs stroked over the apple of each of your cheeks and waited for you to continue.

“I had your dick in my mouth and you wanna…you know.” You almost whispered.

You were clearly embarrassed but Sam pulled you closer and kissed you anyway, softer and sweeter that the first one that the two of you shared at the beginning of your encounter. When he pulled away, no matter how sweet it was, he still left you breathless. “I don’t care, you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that, we’re just going to enjoy it, together, you understand?”

He waited for your confirmation and dove straight for you again, the tenderness all but forgotten as you were all teeth and tongue, moans and groans as your mouths forcefully clash together. He slid his tongue at the seam of your lips and you opened your mouth for him. Sam groaned as he got a taste of himself on your tongue. Your arms wound around his neck and you pulled him closer, eager to have him as near to you as possible.

Your breaths mingled until the need for oxygen became too much and you had to part, your forehead slanted against his as you tried to control your breathing.

“If you don’t sit on my face,” His eyes almost black, hooded with lust as he looked into your eyes. “I will spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

From the expression alone, you could have got drunk, you gained the confidence again to answer him with a giggle. “Well, to that romantic soliloquy, I’m going to have to say fuck yeah! I hope your tongue has special qualities to it and make me satisfied with it.”

“Yeah? You doubt me?” Sam bit his lip as he awaited your answer, you gave a quick nod and kissed him again. Slowly. “You better prepare yourself, little lady, because you are in for one hell of an experience.”

Unwinding your arms, you lightly gripped onto his shoulders and pushed him down so that he was lying underneath you. Without breaking apart for long, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and maintained contact with him, your lips grazing over the corner of his mouth to his jaw, to the sensitive spot you found behind his ear.

“You coming up here or what?” He inquired with a deep groan.

You gave him one final kiss on the lips before you started to crawl over his body, your pussy sliding over his cock, causing him to hiss and the pleasure in the movement was borderline painful. You apologised before lifting yourself off of him and moving towards the front of the bed where his head was resting.

Gripping onto the headboard, you stood above him and looked down into his eyes, you saw the pure and utter desire in them. His eyes darted from your eyes to your soaked pussy and back to your eyes again, a hunger that overtook his hazel orbs. Leisurely, you lowered yourself so that you gradually got closer to Sam’s face, you wanted to drag this out for as long as you could so that he had a chance to back out if he didn’t really want to do it - or if you didn’t want to do it. It got to the point where he got so impatient he grasped your thighs and pulled you onto him, the sudden contact eliciting a high pitched gasp, almost like a squeal.

He didn’t dive straight it, no, he wanted to drag out where you needed him the most, albeit a bit apprehensive of being in that position with someone for the first time. Your pussy was so close to his face that you could feel his breaths, but every time you went to sit a little closer he would push you further. Not allowing you to take the reins.

He turned his head to the side and kissed the meaty flesh of your thigh, biting it softly and licking over the slight sting he had caused. He had only just begun but your body was already on fire.

“Sam, please.” You pleaded, feeling Sam’s fingers flex a little,his untreated nails digging into you thighs, you took that as a sign that he was going to do what he wanted and not what you wanted. He was the one that was giving the orders, in his daily life and in bed with you. You couldn’t believe you had waited this long to take the next step in your - would you call it a relationship? You had no idea what the two of you had but at least it was something. “You know what I need. You know what I want.”

“Exactly.” Without uttering another word just yet, he craned his head to the other side, blowing hot air from his mouth onto your dampening core before repeating his actions to your other thigh. When he was good and ready, only then would he start his torture - or pleasure, you didn’t know. Sam’s hands moved from your thighs to your ass, pushing you up a little and you could feel his scruff against your heated skin. You wiggled as you felt the tiny hairs prickle your flesh. “Just because I know what you want doesn’t mean I have to give it to you. You should know that. This is my world and you’re just living in it.”

Closing your eyes, you missed Sam’s tongue flick out and lick his lips. He completely caught you off guard, inching you closer to his face in a flash. His mouth was hot against your core just seconds before he dove in, his tongue darting straight out and dipping into you. Shaking his head, he looks as if he was vibrating, the tongue parted your folds as the wet muscle entered into you.

The pressure on your pussy was perfect, so perfect in fact that you couldn’t help but buck your hips into his face. He hummed in delight but then stopped shaking his head when you clutched a handful of his hair between your fingers, pushing him away for him to breathe and for you to look him in the eye and tell him that you needed him somewhere else, somewhere more sensitive.

“Please?” You begged trying to sound as sultry as possible, hand rubbing over your thigh, trying your best to sell what you had to offer.

Sam smirked; he knew exactly where you needed him. His tongue peeked out once again and licked a long stripe over your pussy. He notices you rocking against his face, convulsing. And you moan as the tip of his tongue flicks against your clit. It’s not long before the coil in your lower abdomen tightens, threatening to snap as he sucks your clit into his mouth, not letting up until he’s ready to do so. He suctions and rolls the little bundle of nerves between his lips and you can’t help the quivering of your thigh and your whole body for that matter.

“You like that, baby? Yeah, you fucking love it, don’t you?” He grunted in between breaths and eating you out. 

“Fuck, Sam!” You grip tightly to his hair, shoving his face deeper into your pussy, almost to the point where he can’t breathe. But he knows that you are worth it.Knows that whatever you are about to give will be worth the few seconds he has without breaths. Sam squeezes at every available piece of skin that he can get; your hips, your tits. When he gets to the latter, Sam plays with the breasts, pressing them together before taking and nipple and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You gasped at the sensation, the action on the brink of being too painful for you to handle but you just jerk on top of him.

The movement you make and his tongue and his touch. It was everything that you could ever want but you didn’t want to come yet, everything would be over too quickly, and you didn’t want that to happen. Sam is there though, moaning at your taste when you come. He’s there lapping at your juices when they spill from your insides. He pulls away, allowing you to come down from your high, he smiles at you deviously, looking at you straight in the eye, you see your arousal on his chin.

Your breathing has evened but you don’t have much more time to recover as he lunges for you once more, your first orgasm not enough for him. Still sensitive, your hips don’t know whether to move away from him or move closer to him. It seems the latter has won. Your hands rush to be in his hair again, clutching onto it for dear life, almost too hard so that he winces, retaliating with a bite of his own at your inner thigh.

Before you know it, his tongue is shoved deep inside your entrance as his nose bumping against your clit. He eases in and out of you, he closes his lips around your clit and sucks as if his life depended on it. One of your hands release Sam’s hair, but when you do, he quickened his pace and your eyes roll to the back of your head, your thighs boxing him in and drawing him in closer. 

You grope at one of your own breasts, as your second impending orgasm is drawing near, that same feeling returning. Another flick to your clit and he awkwardly shoves two of his fingers inside your dripping cunt. He curls his fingers in a come hither motion, finding your g-spot easily with his digits, stroking your walls that were clamping down on him. His coarse stubble was scratching against your inner thighs, only intensifying the fire building in your lower belly. You come once again that evening, enjoying the bliss that you’re in as you collapse next to him, trying to calm your erratic breathing.

Both Sam’s and your chests are heaving, exhaustion ready to take over your body as you curl into him, tracing patterns onto his tattoo that you had only just noticed. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand to remove your arousal that is still glistening from his chin, you look up and see that Sam has a goofy grin on his face.

“What are you smiling at?” You ask with a furrowed brow but a slight curl of your own lips.

He turned his head to look at you and brought his hand up to cup your face in them, “can I kiss you?” He inquired, not answering your question but you nodded your head anyway. Sam leaned forward, thumb stroking of the apple of your cheek, drawing you closer to meet in the middle.

His lips slant against yours and you immediately open your mouth to him as he silently asks for entrance. You moan as you taste yourself on his tongue and see why Sam wasn’t so weird about it earlier.

When he pulls away your eyes are closed and you struggle to open them after such passion has already been exerted and you have barely even started. He gently presses another kiss to your lips and your eyes flutter open, instantly connecting with Sam’s brilliant hazel orbs.

“You taste that?” You nod. “That is why I was smiling.”

His hand moves from your face and skims down your body, over your luxurious curves but stops short of your thighs, his hand resting on your hip. With him touching you, your body was on fire, a trail of heat left behind. His kisses were so intoxicating that you had to go back for more. Lewd moans spilled from your lips as you felt Sam’s hands spreading your legs so he could circle his fingers around your clit before he dipped them into your entrance, his thumb now brushing against your clit, applying the smallest amount of pressure to make you feel the effects. Soon enough, his fingers started pumping in and out of you, curling them until he was buried inside you knuckle deep and finding that sweet spot within you once again.

With an idea sparking inside your mind, you bite at Sam’s bottom lip before continuing the passionate kiss. Your hand wanders down Sam’s body, over his chest, over his abdomen, over his cock. You caress his cock before taking him in your hand, dragging your hand up and down, your thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock. When you broke apart from your kisses, you barely spoke above a whisper. “I wanna feel you.” 

With a final few pumps of his fingers, he withdraws them, leaving you empty and wanting more but it is hardly noticed. He kisses you once again before pulling you onto his lap so that you were straddling his stomach. “Go for it, baby.”

“You have a condom?” Sam stretches out an arm to the nightstand next to his bed and pulls out the shiny foil packet, ripping it open with his teeth and handing the rubber over to you. Shuffling back, you now balance on his thick muscular thighs. Grabbing his growing erection, making it stand upright instead of resting against his stomach, you pinch the top of the condom and smoothly roll it down on his cock. When that was done, Sam offered you one of his hands, intertwining your fingers together. Placing a hand on his chest, you lifted yourself up, hovering over him. The hand that was on his chest came to grip his cock and line it up with your entrance.

Slowly, you sank down on him until he was buried to the hilt inside of you, the blunt head of his cock hitting your cervix. Subconsciously, you threw your head back in ecstasy, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Your body automatically quivering, hips rolling, your clit brushing over his pelvis.

“Fuck! You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight.” Sam grunts. He mumbled something about wrecking that pussy but you had only just heard it over yours and Sam’s panting, choosing to ignore it and see if he would live up to his confident words.

You sweep your hair back out of your face and tuck it behind your ears as it blocks your view from him and his gorgeous body. Yes, you are objectifying him but who wouldn’t? What he doesn’t know won’t kill him besides if he owned a mirror, he would know or he is totally modest, or blind. The smirk on his face told you he just knew what you were thinking, he knew he was hot as hell.

You realise your fingers are still linked when Sam squeezes them, you squeeze back and release them, guiding both his hands to your hips. Grinding down on him, you feel the full length of him pressed inside of you, pressed against your inner walls. They clamp down on him as his pelvis juts up to meet yours and you know that that is your cue to start bouncing, moving, anything that will satisfy the both of you. But you wait a little while longer, this moment between the two of you was something different, something that you hadn’t felt before.

Sam’s fingers dig into your skin and you’re sure that there will be bruises but you don’t care, you want to be marked by him; he has ruined you for all men anyway. You lean down to attach your lips to his and the new angle creates a whole other level of pleasure, the waves that flow through you make the coil in your stomach tighten once again. You can feel your next orgasm approaching and you know you won’t last long.

You never broke the kiss, only deepened it before it became sloppy, tilting your head to the side and pulling his face closer to yours. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip and you obliged his silent command to open your mouth. Your tongues battled for pure and utter dominance, flicking against each other every few seconds to gain the upper hand.

When you finally pulled apart, he chased your lips and started to sit up but you pushed him down. Your lips going to his neck to suck a hickey, he had already marked you, it would only be fair to mark him as he had with you.

When you pulled away, you were happy with the mark, dark and purple and all yours. Dragging your hands down his chest, you trailed them down to his abdomen, his hands move to your thighs and gives you free reign. Finally, much to Sam’s approval you start to bounce on him, going up until he’s almost out of you, just the tip inside, but then you crash down on him. You do this and your nearly there, nearly over the edge but you need that little extra push and Sam knows it too. He reaches between your bodies and instantly connects with your clit, rapidly flicking over it.

“Ahh, Sam, don’t stop.” Reverting back to grinding, you feel the familiar clenching of Sam’s ball at your ass and you know you are both about to explode. “Right there, fuck, keep going, keep going, keep going!”

You rock your hips and Sam thrusts upwards and deeper into you, with one final magic touch of the pleasure button, your orgasm rushes through you as white spots start to cloud your vision. Tumbling over the edge, your pussy clamps tightly around Sam bringing him into his own finish, shooting white hot ropes of his come into the condom but he isn’t done with you yet, he flips you so that you are on your back and he’s hovering over you, his forearms supporting his weight so that he isn’t fully on you.

He’s managed to stay inside you and you feel full and sweaty, as the suds roll down your face and build on your chest. You know he wants to go once more before he is finished with you and you are totally okay with that. You are totally okay with the predatory gaze in his eyes that he holds with your and you know he’s about to attack.

He dips his head and you think that he is going to kiss you again but he doesn’t, he buries his head in your neck and repeats your earlier motions, sucking on any skin that is available to him, licking over the small wounds he has made as a soothing gesture to calm the almost pornographic moans that are leaving your throat.

Sam starts pumping his hips, driving himself deeper and deeper into you. He creates another new angle, hips rotating and grinding and dragging, it all feels so fucking good but his rhythm is interrupted, Sam stops his actions and pulls out of your soaking wet pussy. Flipping you onto your front, he presses his hand in between your shoulder blades, your chest to the mattress below you. You were almost positive that there was a hand print left in its wake.

He takes this time to remove the condom and replaces it with another, he’d deal with the old one later. But right now, he was focused on fucking you as hard as he can because he knows that he is on the brink of another orgasm; he just wants to fuck you first.

Ass in the air, Sam’s hand drags across the length of your back, squeezing your hip and giving your ass a harsh smack before he grabbed his cock and pushed it inside you once more. He starts his punishing rhythm once again, fucking you from behind and making your whole body shake and shiver. Clenching your fists around the sheets, you almost curl your body at how good it feels.

When he pulls just one more orgasm from you, Sam’s whole body explodes, grunting and groaning as he comes. The mob boss falls on top of you, his dead weight crushing your body under his. Rolling you both onto your sides, Sam finds your clit and starts to rub at it, ensuring that the waves of your orgasm have passed and all that is left is the aftershocks, ready to wear off.

Coming out of your daze, you only just realise that Sam has already slipped out of you and jumped off the bed. He discards both of the condoms in the trash in the bathroom coming back with a warm, wet washcloth to clean you up. You thank him, eyes glossed over as you snuggled into the pillows.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” You ask, clutching onto his biceps as he removes all the evidence of your activities. He tosses the washcloth haphazardly on the floor and tucks you into his arm.

“You wanted to be wooed. This is all on you.” He kisses you soundly, tracing patterns on your naked body as you both finally drift off into a peaceful sleep. You’re too tired to even think of a witty response.

*

Sam picked you up everyday after your shift even if it had been a late shift going all through the night. He didn’t mind and you didn’t have to ask. It was endearing, sure, but if you were being honest there were some days that you just wanted to be alone and walk to the house by yourself. As you were told multiple times, you knew that wasn’t possible. It wouldn’t be possible anymore if there was still this rivalry between the two gangs. No matter how many people each of them had exterminated, nothing would stop this until everyone or everything was dead.

Sam had been away for a long time and even though he had sent another one of his crew members, you were still scared for Sam. At first, he had sent his brother, Dean, then suddenly he stopped coming too. You had only recently learned that the new driver was called Bobby. Through his grumpy demeanour, you saw that he was somewhat a softie but there was still an edge to him that made you weary, almost terrified of him. But you knew that if Sam had trusted Bobby then you would be safe, that you would have nothing to worry about.

After two days of being driven about by Bobby, you asked him the question that had been burning through your mind. “Bobby, if you don’t mind me asking… where’s Sam at these days?”

“Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to discuss anything of his whereabouts.” Came his gruff reply but you were sick of being ignored, of being in the dark.

You weren’t going to take this bullshit anymore. “If you don’t tell me right now, then I swear to whoever is listening, that I will jump out of the moving car and kick up a storm until I know what the hell is going on.”

Bobby pulled the car over and checked over the back seat and grabbed your chin between his fingers, a little too violently. “You listen her, little girl. The less you know the better off you’ll be. Understand? The world you’re living in now ain’t no sunshine and rainbows. The real world is filled with death and murder. No happy endings. So get your head out of your ass and grow up.”

His words had shook you to your core, you had no idea what to say of how to react. How could you have been so stupid to end in this whirlwind of a criminal life?  Of course you had to fall for a guy that was in the craziest business of them all. Looking out of the black tinted windows, you sat back in your seat, your bottom lip quivering but you refused to let any tears fall. That would have been unbecoming of you.

Later that night, with Bobby stationed outside of the safe house, you heard the jingle of keys before the twiddling of the doorknob. With sharp ears and feline feet, you quickly hid away in your closet. Even though there were signs that someone you knew was coming into the house, there was still doubt in your mind, something telling you not to take any chances, not when Sam wasn’t here to be with you and protect you.

“Y/N?”

You sighed when you heard the familiar voice of Sam’s brother. It was like a whole weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You could get back to talking to someone other than yourself. Putting down the knife that you had hidden in the closet, you compose yourself and call out that you would be with him in a moment.

Greeting Dean, you stepped into a small embrace before offering him a coffee. When all the pleasantries were exchanged, you led Dean to a seat and took a deep breath. You had to pluck up the courage you had to ask about where Sam was and if you could see him. But before you could speak, Dean had already interrupted your thoughts bringing them to life.

“So, Bobby told me that you kinda exploded today on the way home from work.” He scrutinised your face and spotted the small finger shaped bruises that had already formed on your face. “See he already warned you, huh?”

You nodded, taking a sip from your coffee before you spoke. “Yeah. I just wanted to know- I just wanted to know where Sam was and why I hadn’t seen or heard from him. I just want to know whether or not he’s okay. I pushed too hard and got pushed back. Not one of my best days.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose within a fraction of a second but you caught it, you also caught the tiny smirk that was on his lips but you never questioned it. Never questioned anything they did anymore because if you did you figured that you would only get hurt.

“Get dressed. We’re going for a drive.” Dean demanded, before he pushed back the chair back and shoved his arms through his jacket, tossing it over his shoulders. “I’ll be waiting in the car. Don’t take too long, you won’t wanna miss this drive. Go.”

A single nod and you were flying up the stairs. What clothes you had, were shooting across the room. You changed out of your work top and switched it out for an old tee and a hoodie you think you had stolen from Sam and ungracefully slipped into your tennis shoes. Checking the time on your phone, you saw that only a mere two minutes had passed. Time to get into the car and pray for your own safety and answers about Sam and his whereabouts.

The car ride was almost silent, apart from Dean’s soft humming of a Metallica song. Somehow, over the past week or so of riding in the car with Dean, you found out that he was a huge metal head, you had finally learned the difference between Metallica and Led Zeppelin, and even Bon Jovi. Who knew it was more than one guy?

“Listen. Hit me if you want but could you tell me something? Anything about Sam? Even just to say that he’s fine or if he never wants to see me again. I just need to know something. Please?” Quickly but clearly, you uttered your words to Dean, your fingernails scraping across the pads of your finger, as well as the cuffs of your hoodie. All of what you said was risky, your heart beating a mile a minute but you just wanted- no you needed those answers, even if Sam just didn’t want to see you ever again.

He chuckled, Dean actually chuckled at your words- at your tortured words. “Just be quiet. You can wait a few more minutes, can’t you?”

You swallowed but bit at the inside of your cheek before nodding at the dark man. Moments had passed and Dean had turned into a road where he came to a stop. Oh no, this is how you died. Down a dark and dingy alley. This couldn’t be the last place you saw before you left this earth.

“Let’s go. Chop, chop.” Dean demanded, the car door creaking open before it slammed shut behind him; you quickly followed suit, the deafening sound of the car lock screeching in your ear.

Opening the heavy doors, the light that shone through blinded you. The stark white against the pitch black of night. A few nurses and doctors were first to pierce through your vision, they were the first things that you saw when your vision had readjusted.

“We’re here to see Steve Buchanan.” Dean mentioned to the receptionist. He nodded, wiggling his fingers over the keyboard after he had given you a once over with a disdainful look on his face. The monitor flashed and the man swiped a finger - indiscreetly - over his nose, a not so secret signal, you presumed.

“You know where to go, Sir.” The man tipped his head and continued to scour whatever was on his phone. He was obviously so done with his job but you didn’t know what to expect in this hidden hospital, one that you had only just found out about a few moments ago. For all you knew there could have been a gun pulled on him under the desk. It was better just to go along with things than to question them. You learn things like that the hard way.

But who was Steve Buchanan? You racked your brain for any mention of the name but nothing was coming to you. You had absolutely no idea who the man this Steve was. Maybe he was the reason that Sam couldn’t see you. Was he a rival? A friend? Family? Hopefully, this visit would be the one where you would get some answers, you prayed that it wasn’t one that would have you ask more questions.

You were quiet when Dean lead you to the elevator, not daring to make a noise when you traveled through the hospital. Mutters, wheels rolling and the scuffling of feet could be heard, a few beeps here and there but other than that it fell on deaf ears.

Six rhythmic taps on the door brought you out of a daydream, your feet working on autopilot as you followed. The door Dean knocked on opened and you immediately stopped playing with a thread in your pocket, your jaw almost falling off of your face.

You felt as if you had been hit in the stomach then slammed to the floor. Unable to do anything. You took a few deep breaths trying to make sense of it all. Taking a step back, you shake your head, you didn’t want for this to be true. You took off, finding the nearest nurse to ask where the toilets were.

“Straight down the hall and to the left, darl.” She responded, you missed the look of concern she had for you on her face. You couldn’t even thank her, the bile in your throat rising. You could barely breathe.

Finding the bathroom, you fell onto your knees in the first stall. Seeing him like that wasn’t what you expected, all the bruises and wires, cuts and tubes. It wasn’t what you wanted to see and all but hoped that you would never see it again. Everything that you ate for breakfast and lunch. When the contents of your stomach had completely emptied, you sat back on your haunches, your temple on the wall just waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass.

You hated that Sam looked so vulnerable, so helpless. And you couldn’t do anything to help him.

Everything from your head to your throat to your stomach was aching.All you could think about was the pain, the pain of what Sam was going through, of what you had just experienced.

A few moments later, you still hadn’t moved from your space until Dean’s voice had sounded through the door. When he didn’t get an answer from you, he carefully came through into ladies bathroom.

“I know it looks bad but it did look worse at the beginning of the week.” Dean joked as he rubbed a hand over your back. A quick chortle followed before it stopped. He must have realised how stupid he sounded, but the fact that he was making jokes did cheer you up a little. Just a little.

“Why didn’t you- anyone tell me sooner?” You sniffled, wiping your tears and your nose on your sleeve.

“Because we know about the baby, sweetheart.” Dean simply said, making your stomach drop. “Sam had someone keep an eye on you, you picked up the pregnancy tests at the pharmacy. And you’re throwing up right now so I think my deductions are correct. You’re pregnant.”

*

“I didn’t think you would change my life the way you did but I don’t think I can do this anymore.” The tears were streaming down your face, you didn’t want this life anymore. You couldn’t bring a child into the world that their father lived in. Not when there was such anger and hatred, blood and violence. It just wasn’t worth it, no matter how much you loved Sam. No matter how much you have come to love Dean and Bobby, too.

This was the hardest decision you would ever have to make but it was probably the most important one too.

“What are you talking about?” Sam scoffed, running a hand through his hair before he reached out to take hold of yours. It took everything inside of you to pull it away but you had no strength to do it; so you let him take it. “You’ve been acting weird ever since I got out of the hospital. You can talk to me. No harm with come to you.”

“You can’t promise that. You couldn’t even protect yourself. How are you supposed to protect us?” You almost snapped, pulling your hand from his to rub over your face, trying to get rid of the ever flowing tears but they just wouldn’t stop. “And I know you know about the baby, so don’t play dumb.”

“You’re keeping it?” He asked incredulously, extremely confused about your decision to keep his and your child.

“You may be a killer but I’m not. I wouldn’t kill this baby. Because that is not who I am.” You rose from your seat and you didn’t hear if he had answered, but you didn’t know that he was too stunned to even think about a response. He knew that you were right about being a killer, he accepted it because that was what he and his family were. But he remembered who the fuck he was. Remembered everything his father taught him, everything his mother taught him, even remembered what Dean had taught him. All the family values he possessed. 

He wouldn’t want this baby to grow up in a world that he had been caught up in. It was his fault that he had continuously pursued you. He should have known that this would have happened but you were just so hard to resist especially after making him work, after making Sam almost beg on his knees.He shouldn’t have done it but he did and now he had to pay for the consequences. If he had a chance to stop it he would. That was exactly what he was going to try and do. 

“Is that what you think you’ll be doing if you abort this baby?” He didn’t even give you time to respond. “You will be saving them from imminent death. A death that we may not be able to stop if people find out about this baby. The others will take their anger, their frustrations out on our baby and there will be no remorse at all because that is what they do. They live and breath the smell of blood because it is what gives them an edge, a sort of power, a blood lust that they haven’t been able to control. Not even when it comes to women and children.

Storming up the stairs, your feet angry and quick, you grabbed your suitcase and filled it with all your belongings. You didn’t take too long, you barely had anything a value. A few days clothes maybe a week. Unframing the only two photos that you had in the house, you carefully dragged your finger over the picture. You and Sam posing in the snow. You don’t know how but you held Sam’s entire weight on your back long enough for Dean to capture the picture. The second was a little more candid. The two of you in the diner and he had cracked a corny joke and it was just an awful one that you had heard way too many than you cared to admit but after a moment of silence you couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt to carry out a successful pick up line.

The thought made you smile, but then you remembered how angry Sam had made you moments ago. The way he had just naturally assumed that you would get rid of the baby. There was no way in hell that you could do that right? Or maybe there was a chance that you could do it, you couldn't bring a child into this world. A world of war and massacre. But women gave birth everyday. Women can also make the decision to get an abortion. Maybe you were just angry with him because he hadn't asked what you were going to do about the baby, how he hadn't even considered talking to you about your options, about what the two of you should do.

When you deemed the suitcase filled with your most valuable belongings, you took a deep breath and glanced around at the room that had become part of your home. You were going to miss this place, miss the memories, miss the people. All good things must come to an end. You just wished that they came to an end to make room for new, better things. This was it. One final look and you were on your way out of here, to wherever the wind took you. It was a new adventure, you kept telling yourself. It was a new adventure and you were going to be fine. Whatever you do, wherever you went, you were going to be okay.

feedback is gold and appreciated

Forevers: @super100012​ @lupine-princess​ @plaid-lover-bay25​ @atc74​ @growningupgeek​ @sophiebobzz​ @docharleythegeekqueen​ @poukothenerd​ @grace-for-sale​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @jesspfly​ @supernaturallymarvellous​ @sammysgirl1997​ @roxyspearing​ @mogaruke​ @be-amaziing​ @deanandsamsbitch​ @frankiea1998​ @hennessy0274-blog​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @iwantthedean​ @capsheadquaters​ @emoryhemsworth​ @notmoose45​ @essie1876​ @cassieraider​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @its-my-perky-nipples​ @riversong-sam @jotink78​ @captainradicalpassion​ @jadalecki-jackles​ @spnbaby-67​ @holyfuckloueh​ @gh0stgurl​ @alyssa6marie​ @esoltis280​ @bumber-car-s @alexwinchester23​ @x-waywardaf-x​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @randomparanoid​ @kellianz​

sam @deans-baby-momma  @shamelesslydean​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @thorne93​ @oneshoeshort​ @sandlee44​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @plaidstiel-wormstache​ @welldonebeca​ @mrsbatesmotel53 @starry-chaos @deans-treasure @nyxveracity​

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Gift of Sight (Lucifer Morningstar)

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar/Reader Words: 1.7k+ Warning(s): None A/N: OOF i am back everyone! kind of. ill try and write more today ^^ I hope you enjoy! The ending is bleh btw im sorry  Request:  Can I request a Lucifer Morningstar x reader? The reader has a gift of sight and she can see his true form even when he looks human to other people? He's surprised she isn't afraid but she's more turned on than anything. He falls for her easily since she isn't afraid of who he really is.

   You checked over your appearance one last time in your mirror before you left your new apartment in Los Angeles. You had recently moved to L.A. from your hometown due to a job transfer. You were a crime scene photographer for your hometowns police and the LAPD needed a new one, so they offered you a well-paying job and you accepted. Your whole body buzzed with excitement and nervousness for your first day.

   "Can't forget my camera on the first day!" You said to yourself. You grabbed the black case and made sure to check that our camera was there before you left out the door. You took an Uber to the LAPD and arrived ten minutes early, just as you planned.  You wanted to get to know some of your co-workers and to get a tour of the building.

   As you walked up the steps to the precinct, you notice a very beautiful woman walk out of the building. She had long black hair with tan skin, which complimented her dark outfit quiet well. You made eye contact with her and for a few seconds, her face shifted into something else. Half of her face was still the same, but the other side was like it was burned or rotted away, leaving grey and black skin. Her once dark eye looked clouded with a yellow tinted white.

   She stared at you as you both walked past each other, she stared too. The woman's face was pure shock before and you decided best to just look away and keep walking forward to the building. Whatever you just saw was strange, but you tried your best to just let whatever happen go. You needed a clear head for your first day.

-

   You've been at the LAPD for two hours and you were already having a blast. You were spending most your time with Ella Lopez, the forensic scientist for the LAPD. She is very outgoing and made sure you felt at home; even giving you a tour of her lab. Currently, you both were in the lab as she told you about all her close friends who work alongside with her.

   "Chloe Decker and Lucifer Morningstar are like the top team here." She explained, "They work well together but Lucifer can get a bit... arrogant? Yeah that can work for him. But he is still a good guy nonetheless. Chloe is great too. She's a good worker and an awesome friend."

   "I can't wait to meet them." You smile with excitement.  

   "Oh, I can't forget about Dan Espinoza! He's a really sweet guy and a good detective, despite his past."

    Ella told you more about people in the station, and some of the gossip too, just to keep you in the loop. As she told you the relationship theories between one of the officers and the janitor staff, she dropped her story mid story and dragged you out to the main floor, towards two people at a desk.

   "Lucifer! Chloe! Meet our new crime scene photographer!" Ella smiled as she called out. The man and woman turned around and smiled as well. Your eyes went to the blonde woman first, she had a kind look and presence about her.  

   "Hello, I'm Chloe." She greeted, shaking your hand.

   "I'm (Y/N). I can't wait to work with you." You responded.

   "Hello, darling." The man's British voice pulled your attention away from Decker. You looked to the tall, handsome man. But once your (e/c) eyes met his dark eyes, his face became distorted. You were taken back his face, it was red and marred, his eyes were sunken in while their color was a blood red. You gulped and broke eye contact with him, his face was back to normal. From the look of his face Lucifer was also taken back as well.

   "Well, I should probably get you more familiar with the lab, (Y/N)." Ella pulled you away, back into the lab room. "What was that?"

   "Did... Did you see that?" You stuttered, wondering if she too could see what you had just saw.

   "Yeah, you and Lucifer were making googly eyes at each other! Like you were having a rom-con 'love at first glance' moment." Ella exclaimed with a grin on her face. "Oh my gosh you guys are soulmates!"

   "What? No! It's just," You paused for a second, wondering if you should tell her wat you had saw a few moments ago, "He looks a lot like someone I know back where I used to live, I thought he might've been that person."

   "Oh, uh huh..." She smirked but thankfully she dropped the subject and went on to showing you the lab.

--

   You through your keys on the corner table and closed your apartment door. Despite it being an easyi-sh day, you still were tired after all you learned. You put your bag down and immediately put on pajama bottoms for some comfort before going to the kitchen. Right as you were about to make yourself some food, there was a knock on your door. Your head fell back and you groaned but went to answer the door anyways. To your surprise, Lucifer Morningstar was standing in front of you.

   "Oh hey, Lucifer... How did you find where I lived?" You asked, a little cautious since he hardly know him, and because of what you saw.

   "Easy, the police data base." He smiled, but you can tell by his body language he was nervous.  

   "Why are you here, may I ask?"

   "It's best if we talk sitting down... Can I come in?" He asked. You nodded and invited him, watching him carefully as he strutted towards your couch.

   "Would you like something to drink?"

   "No thank you dear." You joined him on the couch, he was squirming and fidgeting. "Well, I'll just right to the point: you can see my devil face."

   "That's what you call it? A devil face?" You didn’t mean to giggle, but it was a funny way to describe it. "Wait was that woman I saw in front of the L.A.P.D. a demon?"

   "Mazikeen? Kind of scary looking, wears a lot of leather, half her face gone?" You nod, his description of her was exact. "So how can you see us both? I mean, how can you see our faces? How does it work? How-"

   "Whoa whoa, Lucifer. I don’t know anything, I didn't even know I could see your true faces until today!"

   "You have to come to my apartment tomorrow, to test how much you can see. Starting with my angel of a brother!" He exclaimed. "I cannot believe I found a human who can see my devil face, this is amazing!"

   "So, I guess demons and angels are real..."

   "Sorry if seeing my face is frightening or off putting. I know for you humans it can be a lot to take in."

   "No, no! You don't scare me. I was startled at first, but it isn't so bad. I bet you’re a real sweet guy...devil?"

   "Do you really mean that, (Y/N)?"

   "Of course, Lucifer. Can't judge a book by its cover, right?" You smiled sweetly while he stared with his mouth open. "Would you like to stay the night? Just to chat and figure out my whole seeing thing."

   "I would love to darling."

--

   It has been a month since your first day at the L.A.P.D. and to say you and Lucifer were close was an understatement.  You two were attached to the hip. He would hardly ever leave your side and grew extremely protective of you; even Mazikeen and Amenadiel grew close and protective of you. Chloe and Ella were you closest friends and Dan become a brother to you, you quickly grew your own little family here in Los Angeles. Lucifer even introduced you to his therapist, who connected with you due to you both have seen his real face.

   You were currently at a diner near Lucifers apartment with him in tow. He and you were getting breakfast before work. He sat across from you, enjoying a traditional American breakfast, while you enjoyed (food of choice). You picked up on his nervous behavior and notice his face seemed to flash in-between human and Devil to you, a thing you noticed when he felt anxious.

   "Is everything alright, Luci?" You asked, using the nickname you picked up from Amenadiel. "You are more fidgety than usual."

   "Oh yes of course! Of course, dear." He replied to quickly, taking a bite out of his food.

   "You know I can tell you are lying, your face is flickering."

   "I guess I need to get this off my chest." Lucifer wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and cleared his throat, before he stared directly into your eyes. "You are... the first human to see my face without me purposely showing it to you, and you fully accepted me for me. You always support me but you are never afraid to speak up if I do something truly stupid. I guess what I am attempting to tell you, dear... Is I really... Oh hell!"

   Next thing you knew is Lucifer slid out from his side and was immediately at your side, his soft lips were on yours. One of his hands was placed on your jaw, while this thumb gently brush against your warm cheeks. You were in shock, but it was good shock. Immediately you melted into the kiss, reciprocating while your hand rested on one of his shoulders.

   "Lucifer..." You say over a whisper, a smile slowly growing on your face as you broke apart from him.

   "I'm quite smitten with you, dear. Ever since you invited me to stay the night at your apartment, I've fallen hard for you."

   "I can say the same for myself. I've grown to really like you as well." You both smiled. Lucifer pulled his plate over next to you and sat down, pulling you to is side with his arm around your shoulders. HE sat confidently, but had a charming smile on his face, not his usual smirk.

   "Eat up dear, we are going on a date day."

   "But what about work?"

   "I'll pull some strings, today is a day for you and me, darling."

[justsomewritingsandshit]

The Struggles of a Male Veela (Part 1 - Of Veela Blood)

Louis Weasley x Soulmate!OC

Length: 2658 words

Warnings: not really. This is a soulmate!au, ive altered the ages of many of the next gen!, also the logic of what a veela is but whatevs. I pictured a young Hunter Parrish as Louis, but there’s like no gifs of him???, not a reader insert the OC will have a name and is female

Part 1 of ‘The Struggles of a Male Veela’ Series | Masterlist | Part 2 |

Louis Weasley was of veela blood.

The gene ran through the blood of his mother’s family. Various members of the line had been veelas, some marrying into the family, others being born so. Louis’ own mother, Fleur Weasley nee Delacour, had been only one quarter veela, stemming from her grandmother.

Louis was lucky, or unlucky, that his father’s blood was tainted. Not in the way many old pureblood families will claim, but rather through an experience he faced. Whilst not a true werewolf (as he was not bitten on the full moon), Bill Weasley did hold the slight changes of were-kind, none more obvious than in his veins. The mix of bloods that pulsed through Louis’ veins meant that he inherited the full-veela gene.

As well as all the problems that included.

His changing happened not long after his fifteenth birthday. The school term was to end in three days, and Louis had just been leaving the OWL examination room (he had taken his Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL) when he collapsed. He’d been feeling weird all morning, slightly feverish and he had a headache, one that only increased during the exam.

Teddy Lupin, current head-boy, and godson of Harry Potter, called over to his ‘cousin’, “Louis?” When there was no response, or movement, he ran over. “Mate?” Teddy himself had just come from a NEWT examination (Transfiguration), just down the hall. Carefully, Teddy lifted the younger boy into his arms, barely straining at all. “Out the way!” He shouted to the small crowd that formed around the two, before heading off to the hospital ward, his normally bright blue hair turning a concerning red. “Madame Bones!” He’d pushed into the room, and quickly manoeuvred his younger ‘cousin’ onto the closest bed.

The nurse ran over, spotting that the boy was unconscious, and that Teddy Lupin was beginning to worry. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing Miss, he just collapsed!” Teddy explained, “He came out of his exam, and he just toppled over!”

Madame Bones pressed her hand to the boy’s forehead, then his neck, and felt that he was burning up. “He’s feverish,” She checked his pulse next, “And his pulse is racing.” Conjuring up a cold, wet towel, she pressed it to the handsome young man’s forehead. “Mr. Lupin, please go fetch the Headmistress, and any of your relatives you find on the way.”

“Yes, Miss.” Teddy nodded, and gave a glance towards the now sweating young boy, before rushing out.

Whilst he was gone, Madame Bones got to work, pulling out several bottles, and a quick quill, which composed a letter to Bill and Fleur Weasley, explaining that their son was sick, and that he was in her care. After the war, it became obvious to many of the teachers that those involved in said war were much more attentive, and worrisome, than parents had been in the past. It was well known how Ginny Potter, and Andromeda Tonks, had burst into the hospital ward in Teddy’s first year, both fretting over his fall in flying class, nearly starting a fight with Madame Bones over his care. Not long after the nurse replaced the cold compress on Louis’ forehead, did several of his family members come running into the ward, frantic looks on their faces.

Out of the entire Weasley/Potter brood, Louis was one of the most tame, non-clumsy, and non-accident prone. For him to be laying on that bed unconscious, it meant whatever was going on was very serious.

The first into the room was Victoire Weasley, twin sister to the Gryffindor on the bed. The Ravenclaw fifth-year rushed to the side of her brother, her blonde hair flying out behind her, tears gathering in her eyes at the sight of her twin. “Louis! Madame Bones, what’s going on?” She began running her hands over her brothers face, feeling the intense heat behind his skin, and pulling her hands away in shock.

Before the nurse could answer, third-year Gryffindor James Sirius Potter was running into the room, followed by fellow third-year Gryffindor’s’ Roxanne and Fred (II) Weasley. The second set of twins in the family were the son and daughter of George and Angelina Weasley. “What’s wrong?” All three panted out, having run from several floors away, at top speed, after Teddy had run past shouting that Louis was sick.

“Louis’s ill!” Victoire cried out, her face screwed up in fear, “He’s unconscious, and really warm!” As she explained to her cousins, they came closer, careful to stay behind Victoire, on one side of the bed, and out of Madame Bones’ way.

“What’s up?” Albus Severus Potter (first-year Slytherin), the calmest of all the Weasley/Potter brood, strolled into the large room. With him, was a concerned Rose Weasley (first-year Gryffindor, daughter to Ron and Hermione Weasley), and a frantic Dominique Weasley (second-year Hufflepuff, and youngest sibling to Victoire and Louis).

As these members of the crew joined the others, Victoire and James filling them all in on what they’d figured out, the powerful and tall figure of Professor McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts, entered the room. Behind her was Professor Longbottom, Herbology professor, long-time friend to the Weasley/Potter brood, and head of Gryffindor. Teddy Lupin was bringing up the rear, with the last members of the family (whom attended Hogwarts), Molly Weasley II; a sixth-year Gryffindor, and Lucy Weasley; a second-year Ravenclaw. Both were the daughters to former Hogwarts head-boy, Percy Weasley.

“Madame Bones,” the Scottish brogue of the headmistress began, “What seems to be the issue here?” The woman had known the Potters’ and Weasleys’ for nearly her entire teaching career, and even before that as Charlus Potter had been a prefect when she was in her first year of Hogwarts, and thus she was concerned.

“Did you send word to the parents?” Professor Longbottom, or Uncle Neville to most of these children, questioned, knowing very well the temperament of Fleur Weasley.

“I sent an owl, almost fifteen minutes ago.” Madame Bones answered. “However, I have a feeling that we may need the input of those at St. Mungo’s on this case.” The woman shared a significant look with the headmistress, silently telling her that this issue was serious. Turning to the Weasley brood, her eyes focussed on the siblings of Louis, she asked a question that hushed the children, “Does your family have a history with veelas?”

“Yes.”

“Oui.”

The English answer came from the two young girls, who stood at the bedside of their brother. The French affirmative had come from the mouth of Fleur Weasley nee Delacour, who’d flooed into the castle, via the fireplace in the very ward they all stood in.

“We ‘ave a long ‘istory of veelas. The Delacour’s’ ‘ave always been part veela, I myself am one quarter veela.” The woman swept over to her son’s side, the children parting to let her through. “Oh, ma cherie!” Fleur cried out, finally seeing her son. Her blonde hair was now greying slightly, and her face showed the faintest signs of aging – yet she only looked aged in her eyes, which were slightly dull as she looked at the pain her Louis was in.

“That means the last full veela was one of your grandparents?” Madame Bones questioned carefully, knowing well the anger and pain that any mother feels could cause them to lash out.

“Oui.”

Professor McGonagall was confused at where the nurse was going with her questioning, “What are you trying to say?”

Madame Bones sighed, “I’ve seen a few cases like this, when I was training in France.” She looked at Fleur, making sure their eyes were locked, “Mr. Weasley seems to be going through the ‘changing’.”

Those who knew what this meant, gasped.

“’zat iz not possible.” Fleur whispered, her shock making her accent thicker. “’zere ‘as not been a male veela for ‘undred of years!” She stroked the side of her son’s face, knowing deep down the woman was right. “’ow did ‘e inherit, though?”

“Yeah, Louis and I should be less than one quarter veela!” Victoire commented, knowing what was being suggested.

Albus Potter, still the calmest in the room, drawled out, “Perhaps it has to do with Uncle Bill’s bite?”

Professor McGonagall contemplated this fact, “Louis is the eldest twin, perhaps his blood took all of the inheritance?”

“We need to get him to St. Mungo’s, and have him put into an isolated ward, just in case.” Madame Bones commented, preparing to wheel the bed towards the floo, first placing some papers and vials on the bed. They would be needed, to get him admitted. “Mrs. Weasley, please follow me.” The two women, plus the young man on the bed, were flooed to the wizarding hospital, after Madame Bones cried out, “St. Mungo’s!”

“Children, please return to class. After dinner come to my office, and you will all be informed on the health of the young Mr Weasley.” Professor McGonagall, with the help of Professor Longbottom, ushered out all the children. “No complaining now, don’t dilly-dally either. I know that this is worrying, but we know what is going on, so the Healers at St. Mungo’s will be able to heal him faster.”

“He’ll be on the mend now.” Neville told them, a small smile on his face, telling them not to panic. “Come on Potter, Weasley, you’re supposed to be in my class now, anyway.” He pushed Albus Potter in front of him, along with Rose Weasley, as both were supposed to be in his Herbology class at that very minute.

As people turned the corner, the small voice of Dominique called out to her older sister, “Victoire? Will Louis be okay?”

Before Victoire could speak, Teddy Lupin walked over, pulling the young girl into his arms, comforting her. “Of course, Louis’s going to be okay, Dom! You know him, he’s always alright, isn’t he? You Weasleys’ are always bouncing back, no matter what.”

Smiling thankfully at him, Victoire spoke, “Teddy’s right.” She pressed a kiss to her younger sister crown, before smoothing down her blonde hair, just like her mother did. “Besides, you heard the teachers, Louis is on the mend now. Everything will be back to normal before we know it!”

That summer had been difficult for the Weasley/Potter clan.

It went exactly how it usually did, with the children spending most of their time at Molly and Arthur Weasley’s (now empty) house, due to their parents working most of the time. The difference, though, was people had to be careful around Louis now. As with all young veelas, Louis was vastly over-protective of his family, his younger sisters’ especially. Often, at the beginning of summer, he was seen flying into a rage, and turning into his full-veela form, at the smallest thing – such as Dominique, his youngest sister, being accidentally pushed over by James. Even though he moved out of this phase, no longer being so temperamental after a few weeks adjusting to his inheritance, it wasn’t completely safe to be around Louis. Despite being one of the loveliest people to walk the Earth; a young, unmated veela (especially a male one, who has the need to protect those he loves) was always dangerous to affiliate with – at least until they mated.

Bill and Fleur had warned all family members, before Louis had finally finished his changing and returned from St. Mungo’s, that they had to be careful around him, that they had to look after him now. Also, she vaguely mentioned, not to be too ‘freaked out’ by his sudden change.

The veela-form was odd, they’d discovered during his first change. It was tall, taller than Hagrid, and had large, bird-like wings that extended from the top of his back, the very tips reaching his ankles. The wings were a vibrant, iridescent, purple-blue, and they were powerful enough to launch him into the air at vast speeds. Louis’s eyes changed colours too, in this form, from their normal colour, to ones that matched his wings, and were just as vibrant as them too. Other than those obvious changes, were the subtle ones – such as his incredible strength, his heightened senses, his newfound ability to know how people were feeling, and his ability to manipulate people using the typical veela appeal. The last had been used to achieve more of his grandmother’s pie one evening, and had meant he’d walked away with the entire dish – much to his mother’s anger.

By the end of that summer, though, Louis felt confident that he had complete control of himself. He was able control his shifts into the other form, and (with the help of his family) he’d conquered his abilities. He no longer accidentally crushed his cups, felt people’s emotions, or forced people to do his bidding. Everything was going to be okay.

September first came around faster than anyone would have liked. While every student did love Hogwarts, it was still school, and therefore they kind of hated it too.

Like every year, the entirety of the Weasley/Potter clan was stood on Platform 9¾, well those who could make it. George and Percy Weasley weren’t there, as the two were at Weasley Wizard Wheezes, working.

Percy had joined George after the war, helping out a little around the shop, and eventually stayed because he genuinely enjoyed the work. Generally, he was always doing the more clerical things, like the accounts and checking inventory, but every now and then he himself invented something interesting. The self-replenishing ink-well was his idea, as was the idea for other ink wells filled with wacky colours and glitter. Bless him, though, Percy tried his best.

As usual, the station was hustling with students and parents, it was as hectic as every year was. It was easy to determine who were new kids (as they tended to stare) and who weren’t. The same went for their parents. That didn’t matter to the Weasley/Potter clan, though – they’d been doing this for too long to get caught up in the looks and whispers that surrounded them.

“Louis, be careful this year!” Mrs Weasley (Molly the first) was beginning yet another speech on how Louis should be careful at Hogwarts, and not pull a ‘Harry Potter’ at school (as something bad always happened to him, although not usually his fault). “Do not start a fight with anyone, and watch your surroundings when you shift! Merlin knows those wings can take someone’s eye out…”

Just as she was about to continue her rant about how the Weasleys’ need to ‘calm down’, and ‘have a normal school experience’ – bang. Louis Weasley, the one closest to the wall they had all literally just come through, was violently knocked over by the small figure that landed on top of him, her dark hair spilling over his shoulders and getting in his face (and a little in his mouth too).

“Oh, I’m sorry!” The girl scrambled to get up, flailing slightly due to embarrassment, and accidentally kneeing the poor boy in his gut in her haste. “Oh, Merlin! I’m- I’m sorry, I was in such a rush, my mums went ahead with my cart, I thought I was going to be late! Ugh, I’m such a-” The girl had managed to get to her feet, and was now pulling Louis up onto his, desperate to right her small ‘wrong’. She’d just dragged him onto his feet, his grasping her arm to steady himself, when he’d locked eyes with her.

Suddenly, nothing else was visible to him, apart from her beautiful, shining eyes. Something inside Louis clicked into place, his new veela body singing at the sight of this girl’s face. Whilst she was shorter than him, she looked about his age, and vaguely Louis wondered if the two shared classes together… If so, he needed to be her partner for all of them. Her mouth was perfectly curved into a smile, and her dark eyes spoke of a future, their future – together.

TAGGED:

@iamwarrenspeace, @itsnotnormalteen

[not-just-any-fangirl]

Days of Summer CH 3

A/N; Gasp! What do you mean this has a constant update schedule? If you like that, go wish @hannah-nobody good luck on her assignments!

Here’s the updated playlist!

Summer has arrived, and with it the start of the two month long music camp; Fairy Tail! Full of new songs, friends, and adventures, the campers learn things they never knew about themselves and one another. And just how easy it is to sneak booze and a full sized karaoke machine out into the middle of the woods.

Camp Rock!AU

Pairing: Nalu, Gajevy, Gruvia, others mentioned; Fairy Tail

Words: 6100

Rating: T

Parts: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven

Chapter Three: All The Boys

Closer now...

And closer still…

Then it’s closer to her

‘Til she knows you’re there

Lucy leaned against the wooden countertop attached to the wall, trying to look around inconspicuously as Cana poured a quarter of a bottle of inappropriate liquid into her half full bottle of orange juice, swirling the contents until she was satisfied. Tucking the thin flask back into the pocket of her brown khakis the brunette gave Lucy a playful wink, Lucy rolling her eyes and shoving away the outstretched bottle Cana offered her. She didn’t feel like risking getting kicked out of camp on the first day. She looked around the room much more relaxed now, taking in the long rows of clear stained wooden tables and high domed ceilings, all designed for excellent acoustics within the large space.

One never knew when or where an impromptu sing-a-long or rap battle could happen at Fairy Tail.

The single door beside the canteen was pulled open suddenly, the unexpected noise drawing Lucy’s attention. Cana had started walking over to where Juvia and Levy sat already, abandoning Lucy as she stared dreamily at the large glass windows on the East and West sides of the building. Lucy’s curiosity was piqued when she watched Gray and Loke enter, both agitated and with a growing tension forming between the two guys. She started to walk towards them to greet them, but her brow furrowed as she noticed the two had stopped walking just inside the door and were talking in a conspiratorial hush. Were they arguing? Loke was the first to notice Lucy’s approach, and immediately ended whatever fight he had been having with Gray, large smile forced and swagger exaggerated as he walked towards Lucy.

“My Sunshine!” he purred as he slung his arm around Lucy’s shoulder, “Seeing you always eases my soul, as though you are the brightest star and I am but a traveler lost at sea.”

Lucy shrugged off his arm with an eyeroll, snorting audibly at Loke’s dramatic declaration. “Why don’t you save that for a girl it might actually work on, that one was pretty good.” Lucy teased, any annoyance she might have felt at his statement smoothed over by her good mood carried over from meeting her cabin mates.

“Not as pretty as you, babe.” Loke shot back, lips curling in a suggestive smile and face leaning in towards hers. Lucy planted a hand firmly on the side of his face, smushing his cheek and lips as she shoved him away.

“Hey Gray.” Lucy greeted as the raven haired boy finally strolled towards where Lucy and Loke stood. He grunted in reply, and Lucy raised an eyebrow as she looked over him. “Forgot something?” she asked innocently, smirking at his annoyed expression. She knew him too well, and she knew that was his I-feel-better-but-don’t-want-to-show-it-because-I-never-showed-I-was-upset-in-the-first-place grimace. Stupid emo boy.

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically, bumping her shoulder and giving her a small grin as he passed her to walk in the direction that Cana was waving. Lucy’s eyes lit up and she lifted a finger beside her head as she spoke.

“Oh that’s right!” she chirped, “We have some new friends I want you guys to meet!”

She grabbed Loke and Gray’s wrists, dragging them behind her as she walked quickly to the table where her friends sat. Cana was harassing a bright red Juvia, Levy snickering behind her hand as she watched her cabin mates’ antics.

“Guys, meet Juvia and Levy! Girls, this is Loke,” Lucy said, releasing her friend’s wrist and motioning at him with her hand, “and this is Gray.” Lucy yanked on Gray’s wrist so he moved from his half hidden spot behind her shoulder to be in full view of the group of girls.

“Definitely Pete meets Edward.” Levy said as she looked over Gray, sending Cana and Lucy into a loud fit of snorts and laughter, even Juvia tittering behind a pale hand before she collected herself with a delicate cough. Loke shot them an amused glance while Gray was torn between glaring at Lucy and fighting back a light blush.

“I’m sure Juvia wouldn’t mind if Gray got that spread in Rolling Stone.” Cana drawled, sending the others into another round of giggles, although Juvia’s laugh sounded a little confused. A musical fanatic probably wouldn’t understand such a pre-teen ‘bad boy’ reference.

“Pete meets… hey, do you mean Pete Wentz?” Gray asked in confusion before a spark lit behind his eyes, “Wait, are you talking about ‘The Fabulous Life And Secret Torment’ interview? In Rolling Stone?”

“Erm.” Levy gaped, but it was too late. Gray was spiraling back into middle school. His former self was taking over.

“Issue 1012,” Gray continued, eyes wide in wonder as he looked to a fonder past. A past which featured a heavy use of eyeliner. “March 2007. I waited in line for fifteen minutes at the corner store just to buy it. Classic. You know that interview happened like a day before the release of Infinity On High? Man, iconic.”

The group stared at him in stunned silence as Gray signed to himself, nodding as if he’d wrote the article himself.

“Juvia thought it was the MCR Gray yearned to be a part of.” Juvia frowned in confusion.

“Oh sweetie, if their songs titles have more words than the number of years their fans have lived then he’s fantasized about being with them.” Cana soothed, patting Juvia’s head, the girl in turn nodding in serious understanding.

“But sadly it isn’t 2007 anymore, so Gray has to find someone else who understand the consequences of being deeply misunderstood.” Loke smirked before turning his attention to Juvia, “Say, how good are you with eyeliner?“

Gray turned a vibrant shade of pink, gritting his teeth to keep from punching Loke at Lucy’s pointed look.

“I can do my own eyeliner, thank you very much.” He ground out.

The group erupted into laughter. Nearby tables cast them concerned looks.

“Wait! No! That’s not what I-” Gray stammered.

“Juvia thinks it is impressive that Gray is so skilled with make-up,” Juvia’s voice cut through the laughter, “Juvia wishes she had Gray’s skill. She can never get the wings even.”

“Hey, I’m sure he’ll be happy to teach ya Juvy.” Cana snickered as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

Juvia’s face brightened suddenly, Lucy following her gaze and looking in the direction she was waving at, her jaw dropping as she realized who their sweet and innocent friend was drawing towards them. A tall boy who looked like he was already in his third year of university stalked towards them, long black hair wild and intimidating. Well, all of him was intimidating. He was well over 6 foot, maybe pushing 6 and a half, and was barely fitting in his tight black tank top, matched with torn and abused jeans and combat boots. His face was littered with eyebrow and nose piercings, his ears glinting silver when his dark hair shifted around them.

Lucy supposed he could be handsome if it weren't for the fact that his scowl could make flowers die.

He stopped at the edge of the table, eyes shooting to Gray and Loke with mild disgust before he looked at Juvia. “Really, your first time makin’ friends and these idiots are the ‘chosen ones’?”

Juvia pouted at his bored voice, Lucy balking at the deepness and smoothness of it. “Juvia thinks Gajie is being too rude to her new friends.” Juvia chastised, standing from her spot on the bench seat and walking towards her friend, her arms looping around his heavily muscled one so it was crushed to her chest. Lucy tensed as she waited for the boy to jerk his arm back from Juvia. Instead he rolled his eyes, his scowl softening to a grimace when he looked down at her.

“How many times do I hafta tell ya not to call me that?” He questioned dryly, something like amusement or fondness growing in his red eyes as Juvia looked up at him, eyebrows knit as she thought.

“Gajie, Juvia was wondering if you still travelled with your emergency eyeliner?” She ignored his previous question, blinking up at him innocently. ‘Gajie’ spit out a sharp squawk, cheeks turning a soft pink and eyes glaring down at Juvia. He left his arm in her hold still, though.

“I haven’t in years, Rain Woman. And the name’s Gajeel.” he grumbled, Juvia sighing deeply and looking down.

“Now Juvia will be unable to learn Gray’s amazing skills.”

“Oi!” Gajeel barked, turning a heated glare on Gray as he shifted his arm -and Juvia- closer to him protectively. “The fuck is Juvia goin’ on about, Stripper?” he asked menacingly, Gray and Loke swallowing sharply under his deathly look before Gray replaced his mask of indifference and sneered at the other boy.

“Nothing, ‘Gajie’.” He mocked, Lucy looking between the two in confusion.

“Call me that again and you’d best be sleepin’ with one eye open for the next two months.” he warned in a low voice. Lucy looked at Cana as she became even more confused, Cana shrugging her shoulders as well.

“Does Gajie know Gray?” Juvia questioned, unaffected by the dangerous aura radiating off of the boy whose arm she was hugging. “Why didn’t he tell Juvia he was friends with the MCR models.” She pouted, her eyes sparking as Gray choked. “Or did you two meet in the ‘pit’ Gajie is always texting Juvia about?”

Gajeel sighed heavily and removed one hand from where it was shoved in his pocket, fingerless studded glove resting on top of Juvia’s head as he patted her hair. “No, Waterworks, I’m sharing a cabin with Dumb and Dumber here, and my idiot cousin.” He explained bluntly.

“You’re Dumber.” Loke interjected, looking at Gray flatly. Gajeel shot Loke a look, who just raised his hands and slipped into a spot beside Cana. Everyone else settled into the benches so Gajeel was left at the front of the table with Juvia clinging to him. He tensed suddenly when he realized everyone was staring at him, Lucy’s skilled eyes -from having to decipher Gray’s basically monotonous facial expressions- picking up on the tightness around his lips and shoulders. She smiled at him comfortingly, Gajeel blinking blankly at her. Lucy’s smile waned until he looked away, the pink tips of his ears showing through his black mane of hair.

“Yer both morons.” Gajeel frowned, recognition flashing in his eyes when Juvia led him to the bench seat beside Levy, who sat at the end of her side of the table. The girl was pointedly stabbing at a piece of lettuce and ignoring the looming boy beside her. Lucy’s eyes widened as she watched Gajeel’s face crack into a large smirk when he leaned into Levy’s personal space. “Almost didn’ see ya there Shrimp.” he teased, Juvia clapping her hands delightedly on the other side of Gajeel.

Levy looked coolly out of the corner of her eye at Gajeel, whose smirk widened more to reveal pointed canines. Until Levy’s fork somehow found it’s way into his hand. “Oops.” Levy said with false apology, Gajeel rubbing his hand with a wry and impressed glint in his eyes.

The group fell into easy chatter, Loke hitting on Levy and Juvia and failing hard, Juvia staring at Gray in awe before looking away just as Gray looked at her with hidden curiosity, Gajeel remarking on Levy’s tiny size just for the blue haired girl to hurt him in some ‘accidental’ fashion. Lucy couldn't help but beam as she watched her friends, new and old blending seamlessly as they picked at the food on the table.

“Decided not to go sulk by the river like a pussy?” Gajeel asked suddenly, grinning over Lucy’s shoulder where an unamused snort sounded.

“Fev’s string broke as I was walking over. Got your text and decided food wouldn't be a shitty substitute.” Lucy looked over her shoulder at the boy who was talking, recognizing him as the stranger from before. His dark beanie still covered his hair, green eyes twinkling with mischievousness as he countered Gajeel’s comment effortlessly.

Lucy looked away as she felt a flutter in her stomach. Maybe camp food didn’t agree with her.

“Who’s this cutie?” Cana interrupted, eyeing the boy behind Lucy as she took a swig from her ‘orange juice’. She smiled coyly, leaning forward and pushing her cleavage together. Lucy rolled her eyes and chased a chickpea around her plate before pushing her fork into it violently. So what if Cana was looking for a new fling this summer, it was none of Lucy’s business that the cute guy behind her had caught her friend's attention. Even though he had talked to her first...

“O-oh umm,” she heard behind her, Lucy lowering her head and glaring at the half of the chickpea that had flown from her fork. So what if his nervous and flustered voice sounded even cuter than his confident one. She looked over her shoulder again, head turning without permission. Her expression lightened considerably when she saw his uncomfortable look, eyes wide and looking at Gajeel for help. Not that Lucy cared that he wasn't interested in Cana. Because that would be petty. And Lucy was a good friend. Yes. And good friends encouraged one another to try and kiss cute people. Wait, kiss?

“Natsu! Juvia is glad to see you again! Are you still hallucinating about your girlfriend in the shower?” Juvia asked brightly, eyebrows pinching in concern as she finished speaking. Natsu made a high noise as his face turned bright red while all three boys at the table burst into loud and raucous laughter. “Gajie was quite concerned for his cousin’s mental health.” She continued, pouting as she looked around the table. “Natsu’s mental illness is no laughing matter.” She mumbled to herself, Lucy looking at Natsu critically and taking pity on him when she noticed his clenched fists and raised shoulders.

She couldn't help the giggle that bubbled in her throat when Natsu looked at her, his eyes bright and clear and captivating Lucy. She didn't think she had ever seen such a pretty green before. He looked away quickly, hands stuffed in the pockets of his open, faded-red hoodie. She smiled when she recognized the band name on the shirt under it, opening her mouth to ask him about it when she was cut off.

“Really? Jimmy Eat World?” Gray sneered, Lucy looking at him in shock. “I bet you just love the song The Middle, don't you?”

Lucy narrowed her eyes at his condescending tone, looking up at Natsu when he made a low ‘tch’ sound. “You think you're so great, I bet you tell everyone you were kissin' the Way brothers asses before Welcome To The Black Parade because everyone hasta know you were ‘tragic’ before it was cool.” Natsu shot back, lip curled up and eyes hard as he looked at Gray. Lucy had to clap a hand over her mouth to stop from snorting, Natsu looking at her in surprise at the sound. His expression softened and he grinned crookedly at her, Lucy struggling to compose herself again.

“Well I like Jimmy Eat World. And The Middle is my favourite song.” Lucy said pointedly, holding Gray’s cold stare until he looked at the table and stole one of Cana’s fries. She held her hand up to Natsu and smiled her most friendly smile. “My name’s Lucy, but you already knew that,” she said teasingly. Natsu blushed and tugged at the white scarf wrapped loosely around his neck before taking her hand and giving it a firm shake, his skin warm and rough against Lucy’s.

“I'm um, Natsu. And I don't have a girlfriend!” Natsu rushed out, eyes widening in horror when he realized what he had said. Lucy giggled again. Natsu relaxed and grinned at her laugh, his look melting and making Lucy blush the longer they stared at one another. Both jumped apart when Cana cleared her throat, Lucy laughing nervously and Natsu scratching the back of his head as they tore their hands from the other’s. Lucy stuck her tongue out at Cana’s raised eyebrow and approving smirk. Gray glared harder at Cana’s fries and Lucy worried they might actually freeze over.

“What happened to your stupid sweater?” Gray asked coldly, Natsu’s mouth twisting as he faced him.

“I fixed the thermostat, so now I don't have to worry about freezin’ my fucking dic-” he grinned victoriously, stuttering as he looked at Lucy again, mouth frozen mid word.

Loke and Gajeel both groaned loudly to themselves, Lucy looking between Natsu and Gray at the obvious inside argument.

“Fucking overgrown lizard.” Gray hissed, Natsu looking away from Lucy once again.

“Ice Princess. You gonna sing Let It Go at karaoke or something?”

Cana burst into loud laughter, thumping Gray on the back as she howled. Gray was thoroughly unimpressed.

“Well at least I don't go garbage diving for all my clothes.” Gray smirked, looking Natsu up and down condescendingly. Natsu tensed again, eyes narrowed as he growled back.

“Like you even wear clothes you perverted stripper.”

“Really, watch who you're calling perverted you fucking mol-”

“Enough.” Gajeel said suddenly, Gray biting his tongue at the warning tone. The table sat in awkward silence for a few seconds before Lucy was reminded of her growing anger at Gray when he made a face at Natsu.

“Well I think his clothes suit him,” she mumbled defensively, looking at her platter and stabbing another innocent chickpea. “There's no need to be so rude.” She looked up at Gray when she heard a dry snort, Lucy’s lips twisting down at his cruel smirk.

“Yeah, ‘cus he’s trash too.”

“Gray Fullbuster that is it. You are acting like such a pretentious asshole right now and I don't care what you two are fighting about but Juvia is our friend and he is Juvia’s friend so you will be nice to our new friend.” Lucy seethed, Gray flinching back and lower lip puffing out by a fraction, looking back at the fries as he stole yet another. Lucy rolled her eyes. Great, now Gray was pouting.

“And you,” She turned to Natsu, who also flinched back under the remainder of her glare. “Stop encouraging him.”

“Aye sir.”

Lucy blinked at his quick reply, shaking her head with a sigh as she looked away. She met Gajeel’s impressed look before looking at Cana, who was tugging on Gray’s ear, pulling him across the table by the ear. He was hunched uncomfortably as Cana whispered something harshly to him that was making Gray pale more than usual. Levy and Juvia wore matching looks of concern. Loke just looked bored.

“Why don’tcha take a seat there Flame Head,” Gajeel offered gruffly, Natsu looking around the table and finally eyeing the only available spot beside Lucy. He looked at Gray, a sort of unspoken conversation happening between the two for some reason before giving a small smile.

“I think I'll just head back to the cabin with a sandwich or something, I don't wanna be any more trouble...” He excused, smile becoming strained as he shoved his hands back into his pockets.

“You're not any trouble Natsu,” Lucy said firmly, speaking over Gray’s unintelligible murmur. Ass.

“Nah, I gotta go check on Lily and Happy anyway.” He took another step back, Lucy looking up at him and ignoring Loke’s comment on ‘devil spawn’.

“Sit.” She ordered, but Natsu remained standing awkwardly, pulling nervously at the sleeves of his hoodie.

“C-Can I erm, go get some food first?” He stammered.

“Oh, of course!” Lucy blushed, realising she may have come across as a little bossy, “Help yourself! We’ll still be here when you come back!”

Natsu looked as though he were doubtful of that fact, but he nodded anyway before shuffling away. Lucy watched him go, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed into the pocket of his ripped jeans as though he were trying not to draw attention to himself.

“Wow Lu, eager much?” Cana’s snicker drew Lucy’s attention back to the table.

“It’s not like that!” Lucy flushed, “I just- he… seems kind of familiar is all.”

Her mind flitted back to earlier, when she’d bumped into him on her way out of the auditorium. The way he’d looked at her… and he said her name like it was a prayer. Even remembering it sent shivers down her spine. She wondered again how he’d known her name before she told it to him.

“Didn’t you do volunteer work with that special needs school last year?” Gray pondered, frowning when he received a slap to the wrist from Cana as he was caught stealing another of her fries, “Maybe he was a student there and that’s where you remember him from.”

“What is your problem?” Lucy hissed, kicking his shin under the table. His answering yelp of pain was grossly exaggerated, “Why do you hate him so much? You’ve only known him for a few hours.”

“Gray’s just a little worried that Natsu’s desired cabin temperature will thaw his frozen heart.” Loke mused as he closely inspected the piece of lettuce impaled on his fork, “Or, y’know, that Natsu is hot enough to do it himself.”

Gray looked more horrified than he had when he and Lucy had watched The Human Centipede on Halloween last year at Loke’s words. Their orange haired friend simply shoved his fork in his mouth, the lettuce having passed his inspection. Loke finally caught Gray’s look and flashed him a green-flecked grin.

“Juvia wishes she could thaw Gray’s frozen heart.” Juvia pouted from beside Gajeel.

“My heart isn’t frozen,” Gray scowled, “And you’re way hotter than Natsu.”

Juvia squeaked as Gray’s face turned as red as the tomatoes in Loke’s salad. Cana and Lucy shared a look of delighted surprise while Gajeel and Levy looked a mix of amused and uncomfortable. Gajeel holding majority of the latter in his expression, as Lucy no doubt suspected he was losing circulation in his arm by now.

Natsu took a deep breath as he walked back to the table, eyebrows knitting as he joined mid sentence.

“Who’s hotter than me?” Natsu questioned, adopting his previous stance of standing awkwardly by the table, this time with a tray stacked with food.

“No one!” Lucy blurted, the same time Gray drawled ‘Everyone’.

Natsu stood there chuckling nervously as he glanced at everyone seated, avoiding Lucy’s eyes for fear his face would literally catch on fire. There was an awkward moment of silence during which Juvia- still attached to Gajeel’s arm- narrowed her eyes at him and hissed something that sounded distinctly like ‘Love Rival’.

When his eyes finally met Lucy’s once more, she smiled at him brightly and patted the space beside her. Natsu gulped, mustering his courage as he sat down.

Don’t be weird, don’t be weird, don’t be weird, rang through his head like a mantra.

He sat in silence, nervously poking at his food. Gajeel always told him he was a monster when he ate. He figured a sweet girl like Lucy wouldn’t want to see something so… uncouth. That’s what Grandine had called it right? Something about no manners. He was too nervous to eat anyway.

He dared a glance at her out the corner of his eye. He couldn’t believe this was real. That he was sitting right next to her. At Fairy Tail. Maybe he’d have the best summer of his life and during the final performance the beat of the song would turn into the steady thrum of one of those hospital machines, and really he’d just been in a coma the whole time. That seemed a whole lot more likely than finding her again and her actually liking him.

He chanced another look, just to make sure she was still there. Green eyes met brown. Natsu quickly looked away.

“Can I ask you a question?” Lucy turned to him, setting her fork down and pushing her plate away.

Natsu sat up straighter, keenly aware of her focus on him. He pushed his own plate away despite having yet to eat one bite.

“Sure.” He offered her a weak smile.

Don’t be weird, don’t be weird, don’t be weird.

This was it. He was going to have an actual conversation with her. Not an imagined one. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her he’d already known her name when she’d offered her hand earlier. She knew he already knew her name. Oh god, what if she thought he was a stalker or something? Girls like her probably had their fair share of stalkers. Oh god oh god oh god, what had that icy bastard told her while he’d been in the lunch line? What if she didn’t even remember bumping into him before. She didn’t remember making out with him, why would she remember him gaping at her? Oh god he didn’t think he could take her forgetting him twice-

“Are you alright?” Lucy frowned at him.

“W-Was that the question?”

“No,” A furrow appeared between her brows as she leaned a little closer to him, “You’ve just gone awfully pale all of a sudden...”

He was dimly aware of Gray and Loke snickering in the background, but for the most part the sound was drowned out by the ringing of his pulse in his ears.

This was it. This was what a heart attack felt like.

“Ah yes,” A skimpily clad brunette sitting two down from Lucy leaned across the table to nod at him in deep understanding, “That was my exact face when I first got a stellar view of the twin peaks.”

Natsu’s mind groped for understanding until the brunette made a honking motion with her hands in front of her own chest. Natsu looked back to Lucy in confusion, then his eyes moved of their own accord.

It was just for a split second, but when his eyes found hers again he knew. He knew that she knew. They both leaned back slightly, cheeks blazing pink. He was dead. His heart attack had killed him and now he was in hell. Pure, mortifying, hell.

Lucy shielded her chest before whirling on her friends.

“Cana!” She screamed, “What have I told you about-”

But Natsu didn’t hear the rest of Lucy’s protests as he felt a jolt go through the table, his tray of food moving away from him with the force. He looked up to find Gray twisting the handle of his fork, working it deeper into the wood of the table as he glared at him.

“You’re dead,” Gray seethed, his words uttered in a quiet but deadly calm. Natsu heard them loud and clear even over Lucy’s shouting, “You so much as look at-”

“Gray please,” Loke sighed from between the still yelling Lucy and Cana, “When they’re that nice you can’t blame a man for peeking.”

“Loke!” Lucy and Gray yelled in unison.

“Juvia knew chivalry wasn’t dead.” Juvia sighed dreamily, “Gray is a true gentleman.”

“How can he be a gentleman when he’s not even wearing a shirt!” Natsu protested.

“You say that like I don’t threaten guys who look at you all the time.” Gajeel frowned at Juvia, who finally let go of his arm to rest her chin in her hands and stare dreamily into the distance.

“Juvia wishes Gray was her protector.”

This spurred another round of protests from Lucy, who insisted Gray was not her protector. Gajeel expressed his disbelief on Juvia’s deaf ears, claiming the girl was ungrateful. Cana and Loke were placing bets on which of Lucy’s assets would distract Natsu next, while Natsu demanded to know why Gray was willing to murder him for glancing- which he stated, many times, was unintentional- at Lucy’s chest while others were freely allowed to discuss it in depth.

The ruckus of their table drew many curious stares, all of which Levy noticed as she watched the mess unfold before her.

“You’re crazy.” She whispered to herself, “All my new friends are crazy.”

Their whole table became so engrossed in their arguing that they didn’t notice the steady rise of their ‘indoor voices’ or the red-head stepping up to the announcer's podium on the other side of the room.

“SILENCE.”

The voice roared over the speaker, stopping not just their table but all the others dead. Lucy’s stomach filled with dread as everyone’s eyes turned to the redhead behind the podium, only to find that she was glaring directly at their table.

“Shit.” Lucy heard Gajeel whisper.

This was promptly followed by Natsu.

“Shit shit shit shit shit.” He whispered to himself.

Lucy turned towards him to find him hurrying out of his seat, his green eyes wide with fear and never leaving the podium. She followed his gaze to find not only the red haired girl making her way towards their table, but Gajeel practically crushing Levy -who was frozen in place in fear- in his attempt to flee his seat.

The moment Gajeel was free he ran, head ducked as he darted through the tables as though that would do anything to hide his bulky six foot and heavily pierced frame. She turned back to find Natsu crouched by the table ready to flee. He seemed to be hesitating.

He held his hand out to her cautiously.

“Come with me if you want to live.” He whispered dramatically.

Lucy barely had time to squint at him in confusion before Natsu squeaked- actually squeaked- in fear and scuttled away.

When she turned back to the table, her friends shared her look of immense confusion. Levy was staring down at the table, avoiding any and all eye contact.

Gray shrugged the expression off with a roll of his eyes.

“Pussies.” He snorted in amusement.

A shadow fell over their table.

“Disgusting.” The red haired girl scowled as she stood at the head of their table. “You. What is your name?”

She pointed a finger at Gray, who swallowed nervously. He was trying not to look scared, but Lucy could see right through him. The poor boy was terrified.

Lucy didn’t blame him. Intimidation was practically rolling off this girl in waves. She seemed a little older than the rest of them. Her stance was powerful, chest sticking out slightly as though to show off the Fairy Tail logo on the breast of her t-shirt off with pride. Lucy gulped as she read the words Camp Enforcer embroidered there.

“G-Gray Fullbuster?” Gray answered in a timid voice.

“You don’t seem very sure about that.” The girl narrowed her eyes at him. Lucy watched her carefully as the girls head shot up and looked around the room. “Natsu! Gajeel! Don’t think I don’t hear you snickering out there. I will find you!”

Lucy heard a distant crash near the back entrance accompanied by shouts of ‘Save your own ass Flame Brains!’ from what she assumed was her new friends mad dash for freedom. She was suddenly very glad she’d stayed as the redhead’s eyes blazed with anger. The consequences seemed worse for running.

“As for you,” She addressed Gray again, “Do you always use such vulgar language when there are children present?”

“Ah- I- Erm-” Gray stammered.

His chest was heaving and he was beginning to sweat. Lucy and Loke shared a worried look. Gray looked like he was on the verge of an asthma attack, even though he hadn’t had one in over eight years. Lucy still carried an inhaler with her, just in case, but it was back in her cabin.

The first call to the Camp Paramedics was postponed however, when Juvia unleashed the full force of her smile.

“Erza!” She beamed, “Juvia is so happy to see you!”

The redhead- Erza- turned her gaze to Juvia. Her anger seemed to dissipate somewhat at the joy in Juvia’s smile.

“Juvia,” Erza greeted with a nod, “I’m glad to see you’ve made some friends. Albeit disrupting ones.”

“We’re very sorry about that ma’am!” Lucy pipped up, seizing the chance to get into the ‘Camp Enforcers’ good books, “It won’t happen again.”

“I can assure you it won’t,” Erza smiled pleasantly, “Not after I catch those two swine. Nice to see you as well Levy.”

Without any further chit-chat, Erza went on her merry way. Lucy could have sworn there was a skip in her step as she went off in the direction Natsu and Gajeel had fled.

“I could have died,” Gray wheezed with a hand to his chest, “I should be dead.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Cana drawled, “Juvia would have given you mouth to mouth, there was never any danger.”

“Would Gray like some CPR?” Juvia questioned the dark haired boy eagerly, shuffling a little closer to him.

“Erm, I can breathe just fine on my own, thank you.” Gray cringed a little as Juvia wrapped her arms around his.

“Juvia can’t.” She sighed as she rested her chin on Gray’s shoulder, “Gray takes Juvia’s breath away.”

The rest of the table made gagging noises, but Loke looked impressed.

“Damn,” The orange haired boy muttered beside Lucy, “That one was smooth.”

A sharp staticky sound filled the room, drawing all eyes back to the podium at the front of the cafeteria. As sudden as the noise had been it was cut off, unintelligible frustrated mutterings and curses coming from the seemingly empty stand. Lucy watched as two bells came into view, attached to the ends of a purple and orange stripped court jesters hat -Lucy assumed that's what it was supposed to be anyway. More agitated murmurs floated through the air until finally the head of the camp director Makarov popped into place.

“Listen up brats,” he began, white moustache twitching in a scowl as he eyed the direction Erza had walked -skipped- off in. His expression softened to a wry smile when he looked around the room and at the expressions of the teenagers around him. “So here we are, yet another start to Camp Fairy Tail.

“I just want to wish everyone an unofficial and Fairy Tail welcome, and I hoped all you youngsters enjoyed our opening ceremony, courtesy of our very own Gildarts Clive.” A small round of applause scattered through the campers, Lucy smiling at Makarov’s warm grin at the sound. “Yes, an amazing force of Fairy Tail when he remembers to come back home from his tours. Oh shut up you know it’s true you walking wrecking ball.” Cana snorted as the hushed sounds of Makarov bickering with her father came through the microphone, giving a small wave when Gildarts beamed over and swung his arm through the air in exaggerated motions.

Makarov released a heavy sigh, muttering under his breath before he forced a large smile on his face and continued speaking.

“As all of our returning family know, the first week is a settling in week. The camp directors and I want to let all you brats get used to the layout and the independence of the camp, as well as to meet some of your fellow campers.

“This year’s week themes will be posted by the end of the day today and the pairings for the first week will be picked by the councilors, both from your submitted bio’s and from our watching you interact. Most pairings will stay within the age groups, but sometimes we like to see one of our older children mentor the younger ones. There will also be a karaoke night one of these evenings, please see our lovely Mira Jane for more details.” Makarov scratched the side of his head, eyes closed and brows knitted in thought. Lucy snuck a glance at Cana and Loke, the only two in the original group who had been here previously -granted it had been years ago. Both were smiling fondly as they looked up at the podium, Makarov still capturing their attention like a grandfather who was telling the same story about walking up the hill both ways before handing out a piece of candy. Or a beer, in Cana’s case.

A loud crash and a high pitched wail came from outside the cafeteria, followed by what Lucy assumed was a war cry. Makarov’s eyes opened tiredly and his shoulders drooped, Lucy thinking she saw the phrase ‘I’m too old for this’ mouthed by the old man.

“And a last reminder. There is no camp enforcer at Fairy Tail. Just a very, very, passionate young woman who could quite possibly kill a bear. Good luck!” And with that note his head disappeared behind the podium again, an eerie silence falling over the campers in the seconds following.

Lucy grinned worriedly as she made eye contact with Juvia. Well, that was one way to start off the summer.

Playlist:

All The Boys - Panic! At The Disco (Not on Spotify)

The Middle - Jimmy Eats World

The Take Over, The Breaks Over - Fall Out Boy

Right Back At It Again - A Day To Remember

Come Alive - Astoria Kings

[what-is-sibling-test]

Prompt (get to it whenever, there's absolutely no rush): 'So we've never met but our showers are on opposite sides of the same shared wall so sometimes we're showering at the same time and we sing duets.'

Lucy isn’t really fond of her apartment. It’s small and old, and she’s not allowed to paint the walls according to her landlord, and the pipes are contrary. But she makes do. It’s what she can afford while she saves up for a proper place, because renting a cardboard box to live in in San Francisco costs a fucking kidney, and since she’s refusing the Cahill-Preston money and would frankly rather die of frostbite while homeless in a New York blizzard or something dramatic like that before she accepted said money… here she is.

One thing about her apartment? The walls are thin in places, especially the bathroom.

So when she’s in the shower, or brushing her teeth, sometimes, she’ll hear her neighbor on the other side turning on his shower–and she’ll hear quiet singing.

He’s got a low gravelly voice, and tends to sing older songs. Lucy feels stupid for it but she loves listening in. It’s… a soothing voice, and okay, maybe she’s lonely, but she likes to think that the man who has that voice is a nice guy, maybe… tall… his face changes depending on whatever actor she’s most recently decided is good looking, but still. A little daydreaming never hurt anyone, right?

She sings in the shower too, of course, always has, and she thinks her voice isn’t too bad, but she’s not even thinking about the possible connection until she comes home from a really shit day and wants nothing more than hot water surrounding her, and she hops in the shower, and starts singing “Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men because fuck it’s that kind of day.

“I don’t like walking around this old and empty house…” she sings.

“So hold my hand I’ll walk with you my dear.”

Lucy drops the soap.

Did she hear that right? Or was it her imagination?

“The stairs creak, I should sleep, it’s keeping me awake,” she sings, and then waits.

“It’s the house telling you to close your eyes,” comes the response, sung in that now-familiar voice, almost hesitantly, like the person sang back to her without thinking about it and now is unsure if they should continue.

Lucy finds herself, oddly, almost wanting to cry. She doesn’t really have a whole lot of friends here yet, and Amy’s far away, and this is the first real, genuine connection she’s had with someone in ages.

She sings back, and so does the guy on the other side of the wall, and neither of them are ever going to win a karaoke competition, but it doesn’t matter. It’s fun.

After that, they start singing together regularly. Lucy tends to be the one to start the songs but he always knows the words. One time he didn’t join in at all and she found her heart sinking, but then the next day he said, sing-song and making her laugh, that he’d been sick and lost his voice.

She wishes that she could see his face and talk to him, but the walls aren’t quite thin enough to talk at a normal volume and she doesn’t want to have a conversation through shouting. But could she… could she say anything? Should she say anything? Singing with him is so stupid and sappy but it’s the favorite part of her day.

Amy has a solution, because she always does. “You can figure out what apartment number he is,” she says over Skype. “Leave a note in his mailbox or something. Or just go up and knock.”

There’s no way she could leave a note. She’d drive herself nuts waiting for a response.

But just going up and knocking…?

Ugh, fine, fine! She’ll do it, she’ll do it, fine.

According to her calculations, the apartment the man lives in is 21B.

Her legs are shaking as she goes down the hallway, a tray of homemade chocolate chip cookies in hand. Stupid of her to bring these but she wanted to bring something and it was all she could think of and it’s too late to turn back now. She spent an hour pulling her hair up, then down, then up, then curled, then half up, then down again, and now she’s just left it as a pile of messy curls around her face that she hopes look boho cute and not ratty.

It’s now or never. Lucy knocks on the door…

…and a very pretty girl with tan skin and large dark eyes answers. She’s wearing a shirt that says “To Boldly Go” and holding a cup of coffee.

“Oh, my God.” Fuck, does this guy have a girlfriend? Not that it matters, it’s singing together, that’s not–y’know it’s not necessarily even romantic, so it’s not like she was helping someone cheat, maybe she’s been reading this wrong… “I’m so sorry, I didn’t… wrong apartment?”

The girl stares at her. “Who are you looking for?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy confesses. “I’m sorry, this was stupid, I should…”

The front door of the apartment next to them, 23B, opens and a man steps out. “Jiya, you got my mail aga…” He pauses, looking at Lucy.

Oh, wow. Hi. He’s tall, which she’d imagined, but the rest of him isn’t like she pictured at all and she is… more than okay with that. Dark soft hair, a bit of stubble, dark eyes, definitely handsome…

“Yeah, thanks Flynn.” Jiya takes her mail. “Rufus wants to know if you’re still on for pizza night?” She glances between Flynn and Lucy and adds, “You can come too if you want, if you let me take those cookies.”

“Deal,” she says quickly, thrusting them at Jiya.

“Tomorrow night, seven p.m.,” Jiya says. “And your name is?”

“Lucy,” Lucy says. “I’m Lucy.”

“Great. Oh, and by the way? My boyfriend and I love the duets,” Jiya says with a smirk, and then promptly closes the door in Lucy’s face.

Lucy looks over at Flynn, who is staring at her like she just sprouted wings.

“Hi,” she says, waving awkwardly. “I’m… I’m Lucy, and I’m guessing you’re my duet partner.”

“Um, yes. Yeah, that would be me.” He has an accent that she can’t place but she definitely likes. “I’m Flynn.”

“I wanted to–I thought–I mean, it’s hard to have a conversation through…”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Flynn blurts out. “But the walls–and I wasn’t sure if…”

“No, me neither, same.”

They stare for another awkward moment, and then Flynn opens his front door. “Do you want to come in? I have coffee.”

Lucy smiles, and then Flynn gives her a small, soft, crooked smile back and her heart melts a little. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.”

from 'RittenhouseTL' for all things Timeless https://ift.tt/2QKiqrJ via Istudy world

[the-dj-is-asleep]

Watching From Afar

AO3

Kara remembers Del-Or. His eyes were blue, though when reflecting the red tones of Krypton’s sun they had often seemed more purple. And his hair had been brown, a deep, rich brown that made him seem royal, not that Krypton really had royalty. He’d been smart too and always willing to work with Kara on her projects as they were both fast-tracked into the science guild. Her father had liked him, her mother had liked him even more. And Kara had really liked him.

She’d been young. Young enough that she hadn’t really considered being with him, just considered the what-ifs and the maybe-somedays. But the implosion of her planet, the loss of everyone in and on it had destroyed those thoughts, those imaginings. And when Kara had arrived on Earth, a brand new planet, so different from Krypton, from everything she remembered, she hadn’t had a chance to think about it. She’d thought she’d never be able to. Humans were so… fragile.

How could she date a human when she could break bones by just holding their hand? How could she date a human when an ill-timed kiss could shatter their nose? And how could she love a human if they could never know who she really was?

At least that’s what Kara had thought back when she’d first arrived. Back when the world had been so bright and loud, back when she hadn’t been able to stop herself from tearing doors off hinges, and back when her strange speech patterns drew unfriendly eyes. But she’s better now at fitting in, at being normal. And she’s held Alex’s hand plenty of times and hasn’t hurt her. She’d hugged Eliza and kissed her cheek. It’s been years since she broke anything using super-strength (breaking things using plain old clumsiness was another story).

And now Kara is in high school. A sophomore in high school to be exact and once again she was the new kid, though for very different reasons this time. It wasn’t technically her fault Alex had been kicked out of their last school. She knows that. It’s just that… it kind of feels like it sometimes. Because Alex had punched someone, hard enough to break his nose, after he’d made some pretty obnoxious comments about Kara’s adoption. Eliza had yelled at Alex for half an hour, reminding her that violence was not the answer, but Kara had heard the proud undertone in her voice, the one that said, “thank you for watching out for your sister.”

To be honest, Kara doesn’t mind starting at a new school. Too many of the kids at her last high school had gone through middle school with her and they remembered her from before she could pass for human. They mostly ignored her now, but they remembered how weird she’d been, how out of place. And they will always see her as Alex Danvers’s weird adopted sister. Here, she can get a fresh start.

And there’s another reason she does not mind going to a new school. That reason is tall, dark, and handsome, and his name is James Olsen. He’s a year older than Kara, a year younger than Alex, and he is everyone’s favorite person. He’s funny and smart and he’s captain of the hockey team. And on top of being a generally perfect human being, he is also one of the nicest people Kara has ever met.

Not that they’ve actually met. Not really anyway. She’s seen him from afar and once he helped her pick up a book she dropped after colliding with a locker that she was sure had not been there three seconds before. And even if they did know each other, it seems unlikely that he would want to date her. She’s just… Kara. She does her best to seem unremarkable and other than her ability to lift a car, which she hides really well, she actually is pretty unremarkable. She’s not funny or cute or interesting in any way at all. And the last person James Olsen dated was Lucy Lane, who is gorgeous and funny and cute and pretty and smart and badass and Kara could go on for days. Next to Lucy Lane, Kara Danvers is nothing.

But that’s not going to stop Kara from admiring James from afar. And there’s a lot to admire. He’s tall and muscular and has a penchant for tight t-shirts, and his arms… no one should be allowed to look like that. His eyes are warm and soft but by far, Kara’s favorite part of him is his smile. Always wide, always happy, and always lighting up whatever room he is in. She could drown in that smile.

“Earth to Kara Danvers! Earth to Kara Danvers!”

Winn is cupping his hands around his mouth to make it sound like his voice is coming from a patchy radio receiver and it’s enough to jolt Kara back to reality.

“Huh?! What?”

“Could you please, for just a second, stop drooling over James Olsen over there and pretend that you actually enjoy my company?”

“I do enjoy your company,” Kara says with a jolt of guilt. She loves Winn’s company. They’d only known each other for about a month so far, but he’s her best friend in the whole world already (other than Alex of course).

“I know, I’m just messing with you,” he says with a grin. “I mean, I get it, y’know? James Olsen is… wow. I mean, a good-looking dude if I’ve ever seen one. But… this is getting painful to watch. Either you need to go and ask him out. Or you need to stop staring at him from afar and instead help me with this physics homework.”

Kara rolls her eyes, but turns a little so that her back is to James and she will no longer be tempted.

“Man, how do you do that?” Winn says, as Kara writes down three quick equations and comes up with the right answer.

“Eliza tutors me at home,” Kara replies quickly, with the age old excuse for her much too advanced understanding of science.

It’s not like she can tell Winn that she was on a fast-track to join the science guild as soon as she came of age. It’s not like she can tell him that Krypton’s science was years ahead of earth’s and that even by Kryptonian standards she was advanced for her age. She wishes she could though, because being stuck doing basic block-moving-along-a-frictionless-surface problems is getting very old.

“Too bad she can’t tutor you in history,” Winn says gleefully, recalling the only class that he’s doing better in than his friend.

(Not much better though because Winn is science-minded as well. He just has the advantage of having Earth’s history being poured into his mind since he was born. Kara a lot of catching up to do.)

“She’s a scientist. Not a historian. Anyway, it’s not like I’m failing the class.”

“Not yet anyway,” Winn mutters under his breath and yelps when Kara pinches him lightly.

Kara gets called into Mrs. Hamilton’s office after physics ends on Tuesday.

“Hello, Kara,” she says kindly.

Kara likes Mrs. Hamilton because she doesn’t get frustrated when Kara gets distracted by sounds in the background and she doesn’t force Kara to speak in class.

“I know that you’ve been helping Winn out with some of his class work,” Mrs. Hamilton says.

“I’m sorry,” Kara replies quickly. “I’m not just writing the answers for him. I explain it to him so that he understands. I was just trying to help.”

“Don’t worry, Kara. I’m not mad. Winn always does well on the tests so I know you’re not just doing his work for him. And he’s a smart boy. I’m not sure why you’re helping him at all, to be honest. But, I was just thinking that if you wanted to help students maybe you could get something out of it. I have some students who need tutoring for a few bucks an hour, if you like.”

Kara blinks in surprise.

“I, um, can I think about it? I also need to ask Eliza.”

“Of course. Take your time and let me know. I don’t want you doing this unless you’re sure.”

“I think it’s a fantastic idea, Kara,” Eliza says over dinner.

“You don’t think it could get me in trouble if I show people I’m too smart?”

Eliza lets out a little huff of amusement.

“It could get you in trouble if you were tutoring them in rocket science but unless you really go out of your way, I don’t think anyone will notice the difference. Plus, you’ve learned how to hide by now. I trust you’ll be able to keep it under wraps.”

“Ugh, but now I’ll go from having weirdo as a sister, to having a nerd as a sister,” Alex fake-whines.

“You were top of your class last year, Alex,” Kara snarks back. “I’m the one who has to put up with having a nerd for  a sister.”

Alex sticks her tongue out at Kara and Eliza rolls her eyes.

The first person Mrs. Hamilton assigns to Kara only introduces herself as Vasquez and never bothers to tell Kara of her full name. Kara tries not to be offended. She’s brusque and sharp in her mannerisms but she’s not stupid and she listens when Kara explains.

It’s frustrating at first because all of this stuff comes so naturally to Kara that having to explain it at all is exhausting. But she learns what works best for Vasquez and herself and they start to make progress.

She meets with Vasquez on Tuesdays and Thursdays after class. Then Mrs. Hamilton has Kara work with M’gann, a transfer student, on Fridays. She’s incredibly nice but very bad at physics.

“I’m good at science,” she says. “I swear. But I’m more into biology. This stuff doesn’t make sense to me.”

She and Kara end up wasting half of their session together as M’gann tells Kara all sorts of interesting biology facts. (Kara soaks them up like a sponge because earth’s creatures and their biology are different from Krypton’s and it’s all really cool.)

And then, Mrs. Hamilton asks Kara for one more favor.

“Okay, so I know this is a different situation because he’s an athlete and therefore he can’t work with you directly after school. You would have to meet either on weekends or later during the day. He says he’s happy to work with your schedule to make it work, if that’s okay.”

Kara nods immediately because she likes tutoring. Before, her afternoons after class had been largely uneventful, as she waited for Alex to get home from lacrosse practice. Also, she can see that she’s helping people and she likes that. She likes feeling useful to someone. And it gives her a chance to meet new people, which is always fun.

“I really don’t mind. I’d be happy to,” Kara says. “Um, who is it?”

“James Olsen,” Mrs. Hamilton says. “He’s a bright boy from what I understand but he doesn’t quite have a head for the sciences. You’ll need to work hard with him. He wants to do well in the class, but I’m afraid he needs more one on one attention than I can give him.”

Kara’s brain short-circuits. Attention. One on one. James Olsen.

“Kara,” Mrs. Hamilton says. “Are you okay? Will that be alright?”

“Uh, yeah… I mean, yes. Definitely. That will be fine.”

“Well then, I’ll give James your email address and he’ll get in contact with you.”

Kara nods and bids her goodbye. The moment she’s alone in the hallway, she giddily covers her face with her hands and tries not to blush.

Hey Kara,

This is James Olsen. Thank you for agreeing to tutor me. I’m free anytime after five during the week and most of the day on weekends unless it’s game day. Let me know what works best for you and we can meet up.

James

——

Hello James,

How many times would you like to meet? Any of those work for me but if you want to meet more than once a week we should spread it out. Maybe Monday and Thursday nights? Where would you like to meet? School is usually closed by five but we could meet at the library.

Kara

——

Actually, my house is only five minutes from school. Closer than the library and then I can drop my gear off so you don’t have to sit around smelling that. And Monday and Thursday is great. I think I really need a lot of help in this class.

James

——

Sounds good to me. I’ll see you Monday at 5:30?

Kara

——

Perfect!! See you then!!

James

——

Kara hasn’t breathed properly in half an hour. When she’d knocked on James’s door, he’d opened it with a smile already in place. He’d showered after hockey practice and was wearing just shorts and a tank top that put his arms openly on display. He smelled nice too, and if Kara were able to string a sentence together, she might have asked him what shampoo he uses.

She has been doing her best to stumble her through tutoring him and it’s much harder than it had been with Vasquez and M’gann, but then again neither of them had been sitting there all distractingly attractive. On the bright side, it seems that James’s only problem is visualization. He understands the concepts and the equations and when to use them. He just needs help setting up the initial force diagrams.

“Okay,” he says, as he draws the diagram for the third problem. “I think I’m getting this. How’s this look?”

“Uh… good! Mostly… you forgot the normal force again… and friction goes in the opposite direction of motion.”

James groans and slams his head down none-to-gently on the table. Kara wants to help, wishes that she could do something other than offer weak condolences.

“Don’t get frustrated. You’re already doing so much better than when we started! I mean it!!”

James lifts his head up from the table and grins at Kara and her heart trips and stutters because she’s never seen that smile (so warm and open) up so close before.

“Thanks, Kara,” he says, softly and then turns back to his work.

Kara does her best to not spontaneously combust. By the end of the hour, James’s has finished his homework and he did the last two questions mostly without Kara’s help. He slams the textbook closed triumphantly and leans back in his chair to stretch. Kara does her best not to look at where his tank-top rides up above his shorts (she fails and oh man, those abs would make Superman jealous).

“Man, it’s a lot easier to do the way you explain it,” James says. “I mean, I like Mrs. Hamilton but what she says in class makes no sense to me.”

“Different people learn differently,” Kara says, adjusting her glasses as an excuse to hide her blush. “We just had to find what worked for you.”

James’s expression shifts from gratitude into something even softer somehow.

“You’re incredible,” he says. “I mean, you don’t know how many people have tried to help me with this stuff and it took you one day.”

This time, there’s no hiding her blush.

“No… I mean, I just… It was really no big deal. You’re smart so… it’s not like… it wasn’t a problem.”

“It still means a lot to me. Um, but I don’t want to keep you past your time,” James says, suddenly flustered, jumping out of his seat. “Let me walk you to the bus stop.”

“Oh no,” Kara replies, standing. “You really don’t have to. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Sorry Kara,” James says, and he grabs Kara’s bag for her and slings it over his shoulder. “My mom raised a gentleman so there’s no getting out of it. I'm walking you there and you're just gonna have to deal with it."

Kara opens her mouth again to argue but he’s already sweeping past her to grab the keys and holding the door open for her.

“I… thank you,” she says.

They walk to the bus stop in silence. Kara desperately wants to find something to say because she doesn’t want this to end now. She wants to pretend that she and James are actually friends (ideally more but she won’t kid herself) and she wants to pretend that he isn’t just being nice just like he is to everyone else. But she’s terrified of saying the wrong thing, of showing exactly how weird and not human and not worthy of his attentions she is so she bites her lip instead.

James waits with her until the bus arrives. He doesn’t try to talk and he doesn’t seem uncomfortable or awkward. Instead, he looks out over the street regarding everything that goes on around him. He watches the birds that flit overhead and the kids playing in the yard and the red card that zooms past them far too fast. His eyes seem to soak in and catalogue everything around him. It’s only when James glances over at her that Kara realizes she was staring and she quickly looks down at her feet. She’s saved from having to make something out of it as the bus pulls up along the curb.

“Thanks again for tonight,” James says, handing Kara her bag. “I’ll see you Thursday? Same time?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. I’ll see you.”

Through the tinted windows of the bus, Kara watches as James stands on the corner until the bus is out of sight.

“Soooooooo,” Winn says as he slides into his seat next to Kara at lunch on Tuesday. “How was tutoring the Great James Olsen?”

“Good. He knows how to do all of it. He just needed a little help with the force diagrams.”

“I bet you helped him.”

Winn waggles his eyebrows.

“That’s… that wasn’t even funny, Winn,” Kara says in exasperation. “And like…. nothing happened. I mean, he knows I exist now, which is more than before, but nothing happened.”

“Nothing at all?” Winn seems genuinely disappointed. “No casual touching of hands? No catching each other staring? No leaning closer than necessary to talk?”

“Nothing. I mean, I’m sure he caught me staring a bunch of times but… He looked at the textbook more than he looked at me.”

“What? You’re way prettier than a textbook,” Winn says and Kara rolls her eyes at him. “Well, this was just the first time. Tutoring love stories never unfold at the first session. But you have to keep me updated okay? I am living vicariously through you right now.”

There’s not much to tell Winn at first. Every Monday and Thursday Kara goes to James’s house at 5:30. They work for an hour and then James walks her to the bus stop. James keeps getting better at physics and Kara keeps getting better at not being caught staring (at least she hopes so).

And then one day, James cancels. He sends her a text on Sunday telling her that he can’t make it on Monday but that he’ll see her on Thursday. Kara spends the rest of the evening feeling strangely empty. It only gets worse the next day when she doesn’t see James at school at all, not even sitting with his hockey team at the lunch table.

“Why wasn’t James in class today?” Winn asks Kara.

He seems to think that she has some sort of inside knowledge about him as if they’re actually friends and not just casual acquaintances.

“I don’t know. He cancelled tutoring tonight as well.”

“Weird. Maybe he’s sick.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

But the next day James seems fine. Completely healthy and happy as he messes around with the guys from his team at lunch and Kara only gets more curious. It’s strange that James would just skip school. He’s a good student and a hard-worker and it’s entirely out of character.

On Thursday, when Kara knocks, James lets her in with pleading eyes.

“This oscillation stuff makes no sense to me Kara. You have to save me,” he says. “Ugh, this is what happens when I miss one tutoring session. Everything falls apart.”

Kara laughs because she’s fairly certain that it’s not as bad as James is making it out to be. The way he grins at her tells her she’s right. Kara sits at her usual seat at the kitchen table and then turns to James.

“Can I ask why you cancelled? I noticed you weren’t in school either.”

James glances at Kara and his eyes suddenly seem dark enough to drown in.

“I-I mean, you don’t have to if it was personal or something. Gosh, I shouldn’t have asked… It’s none of my business,” Kara says.

“No, no,” James says, reaching over as if to touch Kara’s arm but stopping just short. “It’s fine, Kara. It was the anniversary of my father’s death and every year my mother and I go to visit his grave. It’s at a military cemetery about an hour and a half away so we usually make a day trip out of it.”

It’s only then that Kara realizes she’s never seen or heard James talk about his father at all. She’d crossed paths with his mother a couple times as she came in and out of the house but she had assumed that his father worked late or something. Really, she hadn’t even thought about it.

Now, she does, and she thinks about her own father. She thinks about crushing sadness. She thinks about how every day is bad, but the anniversary of the day she came to earth is the worst because the date resonates. April 15th. It’s a date that is engraved into her mind. She doesn’t skip school on that day, because she doesn’t have a grave to visit and its better if she stays busy but she can understand the desire to.

“Oh,” Kara says, and there’s nothing else she can really say.

She’s been searching for the rights words for situations like these. The ones that would make everything a little less terrible. But there aren’t any. In her experience, everything falls short. So instead, Kara reaches across the table and places her hand on top of James’s. He glances down at it and then flips his hand over so that he can squeeze Kara’s finger’s gently with his own.

“There’s not much you can say to that, is there?” James says playfully but, while his tone is light, his eyes remain firmly locked onto their joined hands and the smile he’s trying to force doesn’t quite make it to his eyes.

“Not in my experience,” Kara replies softly.

James looks up at that and his eyes are a little wet as he does.

“You’ve lost someone?” he asks.

Kara nods.

“My parents, in a fire when I was twelve,” she says, and she has to swallow down everything else that she wants to say.

Not just her parents. No, she lost her aunt, who she loved like a second mother. She lost her friends and classmates, and teachers. She lost Del-Or. She lost the sound of Kryptonian in her ears every morning and she lost the technology and the way the air always smelled slightly of sulfur. She lost the way the red sun turned everything soft shades of deep red. She lost her whole world.

But she can’t tell him that. She can’t ever tell anyone that, and even those she could tell, how would they ever understand. So she keeps it simple. She lost her parents. In a fire. It’s enough though to make James’s eyes soften with understanding and sympathy.

The moment hangs between them heavily and for a moment neither of them moves, fingers still intertwined over the table and tears gathering in their eyes as they let themselves, just for a second, feel the overwhelming crush of their loss. But then James is clearing his throat and pulling away and Kara lets him because this is not what she came for.

“So… um, wave motion,” James says. “I don’t understand it.”

Kara nods and reads over his work so far to see if she can help.

That day changes the dynamic between them somewhat. James’s eyes always soften now into something warm and familiar when they see each other and it makes Kara’s heart race each time. He says 'hi' to her in the halls now and every so often, when they catch each other with time between periods they’ll chat about their classes. He’s frighteningly easy to be around. Winn keeps encouraging her to make a move, to ask him out, to do something but Kara likes the way things are now and she’s afraid of messing it up.

Of course, that balance can’t last forever and it’s broken in the most surprising way possible. One day, a Thursday after tutoring James, Kara comes home to find Lucy Lane in her living room. She and Alex are sitting side by side hunched over a poster board with markers and glue sticks in their hands. They’re leaning together, talking under their breaths but when Kara walks in they both look up.

“Hey, how was tutoring?” Alex asks, glancing at Lucy as she does.

“Fine,” Kara replies.

She doesn’t know if Lucy knows that Kara is tutoring James. Doesn’t know how she’d feel if she did know. Technically it’s none of her business who James is being tutored by, especially after they broke up, but Kara is still nervous in the face of James’s ex-girlfriend. Even without the fact that Lucy had dated the guy Kara is interested in, Kara is pretty sure she would be nervous in front of Lucy Lane. She’s just so… perfect.

“Well, Lucy is staying for dinner, which Mom said you had to help her with when you got home. I helped last night.”

Kara nods and gives Lucy a little wave of acknowledgement. Lucy smiles back at her and waves as well. Alex snickers at the exchange and Kara darts away into the kitchen to hide her blush. Eliza is busy chopping vegetables that she hands over to Kara the moment she walks in, in favor of preparing the chicken. Kara doesn’t actually mind helping with dinner. It had taken a while before Eliza had really trusted her with a knife, not because she might hurt herself (she couldn’t) but because she when she’d first arrived she’d never been gentle enough. They had bought three different knife sets before banishing Kara from the kitchen until she got better at controlling her strength.

Now, she does much better and she likes that she’s being useful and helping out. Kara, for the longest time, had felt bad about encroaching on the Danvers’s family. She knew how much they were doing for her (how much money they were spending to keep her fed and replace the stuff she broke). She also knew that Jeremiah leaving and subsequent death could also partially be blamed on her. But whenever she tried to promise to make it up to Eliza when she was older and had a job of her own, Eliza shut her down.

“You’re family, Kara,” she’d say. “You don’t owe us anything and if you try to give me money at any point in our lives, I will not accept it.”

So Kara has stopped trying to make promises and resorted to helping out in any way she can. She knows that Eliza appreciates it after long days at work and Kara likes being able to spend time with her adoptive mother, who is kinder to her than anyone else has ever been.

“Hmm, well, that should do it,” Eliza says, putting the final touches on the meal. “Would you please call Alex and her friend?”

Kara walks into living room to see that Alex and Lucy have either finished or abandoned their project in favor of watching youtube videos or something. Kara hadn’t known that Alex and Lucy were this close, or close at all for that matter. But from the way they’re curled up on the couch together, they seem like old friends. Kara clears her throat awkwardly.

“Uh, dinner’s ready guys.”

They both look up as if surprised that she’d there in front of them but it only lasts a second before Alex is rising off the couch and practically running to the dinner table.

“I’m starving,” she says in lieu of an explanation and Lucy laughs.

They’ve barely settled down before Eliza starts asking questions. She wants to know everything about Lucy and Alex’s project, which is apparently for the US Government class they have together. Alex is well-used to her mother’s questions and she answers her promptly and easily taking care not to allow any openings that would lead to further questioning. Lucy just nods along and adds anything she can wherever it’s relevant.

Eventually though, Eliza’s attention turns to Kara.

“So, how was tutoring?”

“Good,” Kara replies. “He’s getting a lot better. Mostly doesn’t need me anymore honestly. I should probably stop taking his money.”

“That’s good to hear. But hopefully there will be other students who need your help. I can tell that you’re enjoying it.”

“I think that might have a little to do with who she’s tutoring,” Alex mutters under her breath.

From all the way across the table, Kara knows Eliza didn’t hear it. Kara wouldn’t have without her superheating. But Lucy is sitting right next to Alex and she glances over curiously.

“Who are you tutoring?” Lucy asks.

“I-I,” Kara stutters. “I’m not supposed to say. It’s confidential really. I think there have been cases in the past of bullying?”

Lucy nods politely.

“Oh, don’t be silly Kara. Lucy’s not going to bully anyone,” Alex says. “Kara’s tutoring James.”

Eliza shoots Alex a sharp look that tells her she will be getting a lecture later while Kara does her best to just… sink into the floor. She watches recognition flicker across Lucy’s features. Lucy looks at Kara closely, her green eyes darting across her face, most likely cataloguing how Kara won’t look her in the eye, how she’s blushing, how Kara reaches up and fiddles with her glasses. But thankfully, she doesn’t press.

The moment passes without Eliza noticing thankfully and they move on to talk about the conference Eliza is going to next week. After dinner, Alex is roped into cleaning up while Lucy goes back to the living room to work on their project a little more. Kara tries to sneak upstairs to her room but her foot is barely on the first step before Lucy calls out to her. A little reluctantly, Kara turns back to face her.

“You like him,” Lucy says with no preamble.

Kara wouldn’t say she knows Lucy that well, but she does know that she can be a little blunt and very forward at times.

“Who?” Kara asks, hoping that playing dumb is the right move.

“Don’t play dumb.” Okay so not the right move. “It’s okay, it doesn’t bother me. I think I’d be happy if he ended up dating you actually.”

Kara blinks because of all the ways this conversation could have gone, she could never have predicted this.

“I… what?”

Lucy sighs.

“Come here. Sit.”

Kara knows her movements are jerky and unsure but she feels like she’s walking into a proverbial lion’s den. She sits next to Lucy and doesn’t say anything.

“Everyone at school has a million and two ideas about why we broke up,” Lucy says, and she leans back as if she’s about to tell a very long story. “I know that we were, for lack of a better term, the ‘It Couple’ and that our breakup shocked a few people.”

It’s true. It had been the talk of the school when Kara had arrived though it had happened over the summer long before Kara had arrived. People kept wondering when and if they would get back together. Kara had done her best to ignore it but it was nearly impossible.

“But not many people know why we broke up. It’s nothing dramatic,” Lucy adds hastily catching Kara’s curious expression. “I mean, it’s the opposite of dramatic really. We both realized that we liked each other, a lot, but mostly as friends. I think I was dating the idea of him, y’know? The golden boy, good at everything. I thought my father would be proud if I took him home with me, he wasn’t, but I thought with my sister dating Clark Kent, maybe I could live up to her somehow. And James, it turns out, was dating me because everyone said he should. And, I mean… He liked me, but not as much as he should have I guess. And we had a really long conversation about it and we’re still friends, but I… I don’t have feelings for him anymore. So if that’s why you’re being weird, don’t worry about it.”

It’s a lot to process all at once and Kara has to sit quietly for a second. She had thought… she wasn’t sure, but it had been hard for her to imagine that James and Lucy had been a clean split after all the time they’d been together.

“Lucy!!” Alex calls from the kitchen. “Your dad’s here to pick you up!”

“One sec,” Lucy shouts back.

She gathers up her things and then looks back at Kara who is still sitting nervously on the couch.

“What I’m saying,” Lucy says, “Is that we’re still close, me and James. And we talk sometimes. And you? He talks about you a lot. You don’t have to do anything with that information. I’m just letting you know.”

And with that, Lucy walks out of the living room, leaving Kara completely stunned.

“Are you okay?” Winn asks. “Because you haven’t said a word since you sat down and it’s freaking me out a little.”

Kara fiddles with the crust of her pizza and pensively takes a bite. When she’s done chewing she looks at Winn.

“What if… What if you knew someone you liked liked you back?”

Winn’s jaw drops in pure surprise and then his lips curl up into an excited grin.

“Did James ask you out? Did he say something?”

Kara tells him about her conversation with Lucy, including her parting words. Winn listens, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

“Dude!! That’s great! That’s great news!! Gosh, you two are going to make a very attractive couple.”

“Winn!” Kara hisses emphatically. “I don’t… what am I supposed to do?”

“Ask him out!!”

“H-how?”

Winn opens his mouth, as if ready to retort and then falls silent. He scratches his chin thoughtfully.

“With words I guess? Say hey, wanna grab lunch or something? I don’t know. It’s not like I have that much experience in this…”

Kara sighs and glances over at where James is sitting with his friends. She watches him as he laughs at something they say, his white teeth glinting like a toothpaste commercial even in the fluorescent lights. And then she watches and he slowly turns to look at her. Her first instinct is to blush and turn away, but before she can, James already has, a small smile dancing at his lips. Slowly, cautiously, he turns back to look at her again, and when he finds her still watching, his smile grows and he lifts a few fingers in a wave.

“Oh my godddd,” Winn whines. “Honestly, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were dating already.”

Kara swats at his arm and pouts when he just laughs before breaking down and laughing with him (she can never stay serious for long around him, that’s why he’s her best friend). When she looks back at James’s table, he’s looking away.

At this point, James barely needs her help. But Kara would come even if he wasn’t paying her. (She feels a little bad that he is still paying her because he really doesn’t need to be anymore.) She loves spending time with him. Her crush on him before she’d really known him had been difficult to manage but now that she knows him better, knows how kind and smart and wonderful he is, it’s nearly impossible.

Whenever she’s around him, her fingers itch to reach out, to touch him, hold him. She wants to hug him and curl up with him on the couch to watch movies. She want so kiss him and feel him kiss her back. She finds herself staring, and since she doesn’t need to help him that much anymore, more often than not, she daydreams.

“Kara? Kara.”

Kara blinks away the images of her and James eating potstickers together and focuses instead on the way he’s looking at her with mild concern.

“You okay? I’ve been saying your name for a while,” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kara assures him, waving away his concern. “Do you need help with something?”

“Uh, no actually. I finished.”

Kara glances down at her watch to find that there’s still technically half an hour left in her session.

“Wow! That was fast!” she says.

“Uh, yeah, this week’s homework was pretty easy I guess,” James says, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.

Silence falls heavily between them. Kara doesn’t want to leave yet. With Lucy’s words echoing in her years, she wants to believe that James doesn’t want her to leave either. Still, she’s not sure what she’s supposed to say now.

“It’s kind of weird that we don’t hang out at school,” James says suddenly. “I mean, I feel like you know more about me than most people. I haven’t told that many people about my dad and all that stuff. And I like you… I mean, I feel like we’re friends and it’s just weird that we don’t really spend time together.”

Kara blushes and shrugs.

“I mean, you’re usually with your hockey team and I’ve got my other friends I guess.”

“Right, right,” James says and he looks… disappointed.

Kara thinks about Lucy's words, the implication that James maybe liked her. The implication that her feelings weren't one sided and if she asked, James might not say no.

“Do you…” Kara says, “want to hang out some time? We could… go to a movie?”

“I would love to,” James replies and his voice and eyes are soft. “I’ll text you. Or you can text me. Are you free this weekend?”

Kara feels giddy with something that’s hard to describe and she can’t stop smiling long enough to speak so instead she just nods.

“Cool.”

“Great! Awesome!” Kara says, nearly tripping over herself as she stands to leave.

She drops her backpack twice and James laughs good naturally as he hands it back to her. As he walks her to the bus stop, Kara feels butterflies in her stomach that only get worse every time she glances up at him to see a small, content smile on his face. When he waves goodbye to her as she boards the bus, Kara thinks her heart might burst.

“Oh my god,” Alex says. “You have a date? You have a date with James Olsen and you didn’t think to tell me until fifteen minutes before you had to leave?”

“It’s not a date,” Kara says. “We’re just hanging out. And I need help picking a shirt.”

“Why do you need a fancy shirt if you’re just hanging out?” Alex says.

“Shush and just help me okay?”

Alex rolls her eyes and hands Kara a blue shirt.

“I can’t believe you’re going on a date with James Olsen and you didn’t tell me. You better give me every single detail when you get back.”

“It’s not a date, but fine, I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

When James rings the doorbell, Kara nearly breaks her bed in her haste to get up. It groans under her weight and Alex shoots her a warning look. Kara hears Eliza greeting James downstairs and she gets downstairs as fast as she can so as to spare James as much parental interaction as she can. When she gets down he is standing charmingly in the doorway, politely telling Eliza what a wonderful home she has. When he catches sight of Kara though, he falls silent and his smile grows. Eliza follows his line of sight and her expression softens.

“Uh, hi Kara,” James says and, gosh, they’re just hanging out but it feels like the beginning of a date.

Alex seems to agree because she whispers under her breath so that only Kara could possible hear, “not a date my ass.” Kara really wants to say something back. Instead she blushes and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear (it’s not meant to be flirty but the moment she realizes she’s doing it, she thinks it might be).

“Hey James. Are you ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah, we don’t want to miss the movie,” he says.

“Right, yes,” Kara says.

“Be back before dinner,” Eliza reminds her. “Have fun you two.”

“I will make sure she’s home on time, Mrs. Danvers,” James says politely, making Eliza’s smile grow.

It’s not a date. It’s definitely not a date, but it feels like one when James buys Kara her ticket and a large tub of popcorn before she can protest. It feels like one when they sit next to each other, reaching into the popcorn tub at the same time. It feels like one when James leans over to whisper a comment and his breath brushes against her cheek.

They stop for ice cream afterwards and they eat as they walk through the park. James laughs as Kara talks rapidly about her favorite parts of the movie, acting scenes out with sound effects and everything. (It’s a bad habit she picked up from Winn but James seems charmed by it more than anything else.)

But eventually they finish their ice cream and everything seems to slow down. Kara doesn’t want to go home even with the promise of Eliza’s dinner waiting for her. She slows down her walk subconsciously so that she can pretend that as she slows down, time will too. James matches her without complaint until eventually, they both come to a stop.

“I had fun today,” James says.

He’s smiling a little, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks down at her. Kara ducks her head.

“I did too.”

“We should do this again,” James says. “Hang out, I mean. We don’t have to go to a movie.”

Kara nods. “I would love to.”

“I’ll, um, I’ll walk you home,” James says.

He’s about to start walking again, and Kara is flooded with panic. Today was... perfect. It was everything Kara had been dreaming of since first seeing James and she doesn't want it to end. She wants to know that after James drops her off at her house that they can do this again, and she wants to know if maybe next time i can mean something. So, with a rush of bravery (encouraged by Lucy's words) Kara steps up in front of him and shakes her head.

“Not yet,” she says. “I don’t want this to end. I... I had a lot of fun today and I don't want it to be over. James, I...”

James looks down at her and blinks slowly. His eyes dip to her lips, probably subconsciously, because they flicker right back up to her eyes. But Kara doesn't miss it, and without meaning to, she mirror's him. When her eyes dip, Kara hears his breath hitch quietly. They move at the same time, Kara pressing up onto her toes and James leaning down until their lips meet softly, gently, almost cautiously. Kara’s heart races and she can feel James’s thundering as she presses her hand against his chest for leverage. It stops being cautious when James brings his hand up to Kara’s neck, pulling her closer. He’s smiling against Kara’s lips and Kara can’t stop herself from smiling in response.

When they pull away, Kara knows her face is flushed and James’s smile is bigger than Kara’s ever seen it. It only makes her fall for him more.

“I’m so glad I wasn’t the only one who wanted to do that,” James says.

Kara ducks her head and nods though it wasn’t really a question.

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” James asks. “On a real date?”

“Yes please,” Kara says.

James grins at her and leans down once more, slowly as if he’s not sure he’s allowed. Kara doesn’t hesitate to press up onto her toes.

“I should… um,” James says after pulling away. “I should get you home. But tomorrow, a date, definitely.”

Kara uses his collar to pull him down for one more kiss, “Definitely.”