#my long hair has added to the Beautiful Man brand in the past few years too fs

[bassiter2]

my mental/existential dysphoria is so abstract and gnarled that, as i've become less vain and obsessed with my own appearance in the past year, and basically phased that out of being part of my whole brand, i've genuinely felt like a more real person. i still put effort into my appearance/outfits and have a sense of superiority about it, but leaving behind the habit of taking selfies all the time genuinely feels so right. not bc it's inherently bad or anything, but just bc i think that particular brand of self-obsession is a less Real trait. i think that even having the capacity to sometimes feel insecure about my appearance makes me more real. i'm even starting to kind of like the idea of getting a little ugly as i get old. bc then when someone finds me really beautiful even when i don't look like a model anymore, it'll actually feel special instead of like "of course you do, duh." and bc i'm not like fully consciously expecting everyone i interact with to think i'm gorgeous, now, when someone expresses something along those lines i actually feel complimented instead of just vaguely reinforced. i literally fantasize about being a 40something who says and fully believes "yeah haha i used to be a hot young thing" and then has someone tell me that i'm still hot. i want that so much more than i want to be conventionally hot anymore.

[omgsomeonesomewhereonearth]

I'll Write This Scene a Thousand Times - Ch1

AO3 Link || Next Chapter

Ship: Moceit (Janus/Patton)

Warnings: Alcohol, Implied sex, one-night stand, rumours and scandal, swearing, I would recommend a 16+ readership, but since this isn't actually explicit I guess use your discretion?

Summary: For all accounts and purposes, Patton Hart should have been able to make it through his twenties in the music industry without coming face to face with a scandal. The perfect package of talented and adorable, with family connections to boot, all he'd had to do was keep out of trouble, and he was good at that.

He hadn't counted on running into Janus Lyre. The beautiful, frustrating, devil-may-care actor evidently has some sort of effect on Patton, driving him to make the sort of mistake that never would have crossed his mind previously. Now, with their faces plastered across the internet and fledgling careers on the line, the two of them need to keep the lie of their fleeting relationship sustained.

‘The sweetheart and the snake’ - has Janus Lyre found a new ‘Hart’ to break?

Less than an hour after being photographed at the premiere for his own movie, the young star was seen at a swanky downtown nightclub - guess that’s one flick we won’t be catching!

But, dear readers, that’s not the most interesting part. With Lyre’s turbulent record over his few years of fame, one might say playing hooky is just a minor infraction for the beloved bad boy, but the same can’t be said for the cutie hanging off his arms in those photos! Some of you might have already recognised those cute brown curls and sunshine grin, and as hard as it may be to believe that is indeed Patton Hart.

The youngest son of now retired singer Ophelia Hart has made quite a name for himself recently, with his sugary sweet lyrics and impossibly innocent persona - impossibly being the operative word. Is the golden boy finally rebelling? Or had there always been a darker side to Hart, hidden behind the saccharine pastel branding?

---

Logan Wright: Just saw the news. Need to talk immediately. Send me your location, I can arrange for you to be picked up safely.

Logan Wright: Patton please pick up my calls

Logan Wright: I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how urgent this is??

---

Patton groaned around the headache coursing through his skull as he paced the wooden floors of the darkened bedroom, willing the phone in his hand to be still long enough for him to figure out what to do.

This had to be a bad dream.

Patton Hart was not the kind of guy to wake up in another man’s bed with a bad hangover, barely any memories of the previous night, a hundred missed calls from his manager, and compromising pictures of himself spread all over the internet.

Maybe if he just crossed his fingers real hard and opened up twitter again, it would all just be gone and he would wake up in his own home, sans migraine, and everything would be just fine.

Nope. Patton’s own besotted face was the very first thing that greeted him as he opened the app, gazing up at Janus Lyre of all people. He felt like he was looking at a stranger as he flicked through the images despite his own surmounting dread. He watched this weirdly confident version of himself, practically draping himself over a man he barely knew, grinning as Janus leaned in to whisper in his ear, kissing him in the street outside the nightclub, his own unfamiliar hands running through long dark locks, wandering down to lithe waist and hips, pulling their bodies even closer.

Patton felt sick. He had to call Logan, he knew that. Logan knew how to fix things, he would handle this.

Then again, Patton had never given him something like this to fix before.

The tweets underneath the photos ranged between a variety of reactions, from confused, to shocked, to disgusted to “always knew Patton Hart had a dirty side”, to “Can’t wait to see how long Janus keeps this one around.”

To be perfectly honest, all of them made the sea of dread and nausea in Patton’s gut rise and lurch.

“This is so bad,” he muttered to the figure that had just appeared in the doorway, glass of water in hand.

“Oh is it? Is it really? Oh, thank you so much for telling me, I would definitely have forgotten just how ‘bad’ this was if you weren't here to remind me.”

Janus Lyre was infuriatingly cool, in a way that no one really had a right to be in the mornings - let alone on this morning. Somehow, even in sweatpants, with his tousled hair tied back in a low ponytail, he managed to make Patton feel awkwardly underdressed for having put his own clothes back on. His smudged eyeliner, a relic of the night, only added to the effect of his condescending eyeroll.

Regardless, Patton was grateful to accept the water, and the aspirin that was dropped into his palm with it. At least he was a gracious host, all things considered.

He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, sipping slowly as he picked at a rip in his rumpled jeans. He could feel the weight of Janus’ eyes on him, but he didn’t want to look up. It felt like he’d be doing something wrong, shameful even, to be looking at the other man right now, despite all that had already transpired between them.

He didn’t know Janus, not really, but he had known of him. At least, he’d known he was bad news. He was an incredible actor, from what Patton had heard, and had managed to flourish in the past couple of years despite his young age and apparent lack of industry connections.

…Unfortunately, his incredible acting wasn’t all that he was known for. Janus’ name frequently popped up with regards to his sardonic responses to the press, disregard for convention, insulting important names in the industry, and generally being considered trouble.

Patton had often wondered how the man hadn’t been blacklisted yet. He never thought he’d end up tangled up with him in any way, much less this literally.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’re getting how serious this is,” he protested, “I - I just don’t understand how - there are pictures, Janus, everywhere, I have so many calls-”

Janus looked almost amused, as he leaned casually against the curtained windows, quirking an eyebrow at Patton.

“Oh dear, not pictures !” he mocked, “I take it this is your first time getting caught ‘ in flagrante’?”

“Wha- yes,  of course!” Patton flushed.

“Well, don’t worry then, the first time is always the hardest,” Janus responded lightly, seeming as though he was getting quite bored with the conversation, and by extension, with Patton.

“I don’t exactly intend there to be a second time, just so you know,” Patton snapped,” I didn’t even intend for there to be a first time, quite frankly-”

Janus did look amused at this, grinning smugly as he replied, “Oh, is that right? You and I appear to remember last night very differently.”

“I’d really rather not talk about last night, thanks.”

“I’d happily talk about anything else. You are the one that keeps bringing it up,” Janus shrugged, before turning on his heel to face the window, tugging the curtain open by the corner, just enough to invite in a thin stream of light.

Patton might struggle with nuance sometimes, but even he understood that - Janus had got the last word in, and now he was done talking.

He huffed in annoyance, but it didn’t stop his traitorous eyes from following the graceful movement, tracing the dark lines of the tattoo that marked Janus’ light brown skin, a massive serpent that coiled and looped all over one side of his slender frame, seeming almost to writhe, hypnotically, with the slightest movement.

Patton tore his eyes away quickly, tugging self consciously at his own sweater sleeves. The cool water had helped slightly, but he could feel the dread settling in his stomach again. He didn’t belong in this situation, having wild midnight trysts with ridiculously pretty men, and whatever confidence the alcohol had apparently given him last night had evaporated, leaving him utterly unprepared for light, flirtatious morning-after banter.

“Um, well,” he cleared his throat and stood up, “I should probably go now, and call my manager to fix all this. Thank you for, er - the water, and last night, I guess, and I wish you all the best, of course.”

Janus didn’t even turn around to respond, “Oh, and I don’t suppose you’ll need transportation arranged?”

“No thank you,  I can find my way-”

“And give the press an opportunity to catch you leaving the den of the snake? In the same clothes you entered in, no less?”

“I-”

Luckily, Patton didn’t have to come up with a clever response, because Logan - his dear, wonderful, manager Logan - decided to call him at that very moment.

“...I have to take this.” he muttered triumphantly, turning around to lift the phone to his ear, “Hi, Logan, I am so, so, sorry - I meant to call you, I just-”

“No time,” Logan’s phone voice was as always, clipped and professional, and he got straight to the point, “I need to see you. Immediately. There is much to discuss. I trust you’ve had enough foresight to remain at Lyre’s residence and not step outside?”

“I - I’m still here, yep.” Patton blushed.

“Good. I’m sending a car, don’t leave the building until it arrives. And bring Lyre with you, please.”

“You want to meet Janus?”

“The subject I need to discuss with you also concerns him, so yes.”

“Oh- um, okay, I’ll bring him. Um, do you need an address?”

“No need, I have it.”

“Already? How?”

“That is my job, Patton.”

“Right, right, fair enough. Okay, I’ll see you.”

---

Patton had a flashback to middle school - the one time he was sent to see the principal for bad behaviour - as he knocked nervously on the door to Logan’s office.

“Come in.”

He heard a scoff from behind him as he took a deep breath, preparing to open the door - it had been a struggle to get Janus to come along.

Just as he’d expected - and feared - Logan was wearing his “I am a professional and thus I am not going to get upset” face. What he hadn’t expected, was that this look didn’t seem directed at him.

Leaning back in the chair next to Logan’s, high heeled boots on the desk, was a man that Patton had never seen before - and between the half-black, half-silver mullet, curled moustache, and bright green glitter, he was pretty sure he’d remember if he had.

His eyes skipped over Patton entirely before settling on Janus and lighting up.

“J-Anus!” he cackled, “Thanks for not picking up any of my calls from last night, asshole!”

“Remus, good to see you,” Janus sighed, “Looks like your mummy called my mummy,” he whispered loudly to Patton.

To Remus, he said, “I do apologise, Remus, I turned my phone off because I was busy not watching the movie I was in. I’m sure you understand.”

“Ahem,” Logan interrupted, “Mr Lyre, thank you for coming in, Patton, this is Remus Rey, Mr Lyre's manager. Please take a seat, Remus and I have much to discuss with you.”

Patton waved politely at Remus, who winked back.

“Well first things first, I’d like to say congratulations to you both-”

“Remus.”

“-But that was nasty fucking trick you pulled there, Jay! You promised me you’d stop disappearing from important events! You know how much work I have to do to clear that shit up?”

Janus shrugged like a petulant teenager. “Got bored.”

“I really am sorry for putting this on you, Logan.” Patton could see Logan’s knuckles tightening, a familiar tenseness in his jaw, that telegraphed that he was Not Having a Good Time.

“That’s - not to worry, Patton,” a twitch had started to develop in his right eye, “technically speaking, this is - my job.”

“And he’s pretty damn good at it if he’s managed to keep you out of trouble this long eh, Patty?” Remus cracked in, “I mean, for what it’s worth, I always knew there was more to you, but the two of you really had the rest of those idiots fooled, huh?”

“Um…”

“ Anyways,” Logan interrupted through gritted teeth, “Whilst the two of you were missing in action, so to speak…”

Patton sunk a little deeper in his seat. He wasn’t looking at him, but he was pretty sure he could feel Janus roll his eyes from beside him.

“...Remus and I had a chance to sit down and decide how to deal with this in a way that will benefit both parties.”

“ Oh, how fascinating, do tell .”

Logan, apparently much better equipped at dealing with smart-ass comments than Patton, ignored Janus entirely.

“Now, the two of you may have your reservations, but I request that you please hear us out before rejecting the matter entirely.”

“Now, the two of you may have your reservations, but I request that you please hear us out before rejecting the matter entirely.”

“Of Course we’ll hear you out!”

“ ...Yes, because that request didn’t raise any suspicions at all.”

“Remus and I think the best way to spin this current...situation to our advantage, would be with a relationship contract.”

There was a silence in the room for a minute as the full meaning of Logan’s words settled in. Well, a silence accompanied by Remus tapping out a rhythm on the edge of Logan’s desk with his - admittedly fabulous - acrylic nails. After what felt like a full minute he grinned at them.

“Pretty good, huh? It was my idea.”

”Yes, well, I cannot exactly deny that Remus was the one to suggest that,” Logan grumbled, “However, I do support it entirely, and am happy to proceed with your consent.”

“You want us to...date?”

“They want us to pretend to date,” Janus interjected, “A few staged photos, attend events on my arm, everyone thinks this was a sweet little lover’s outing and not a drunken fling.”

“See, I told you mine was smart!” Remus grinned proudly at Logan.

“...Indeed,” Logan nodded at Janus, “I understand you might have your compunctions, but this is the best way for us to spin this into something... close to brand-appropriate, for Patton. And as for you, Mr Lyre-”

“We’re hoping we can make it look like you’re finally setting down, starting to behave yourself, or some horseshit like that,” Remus cut in, “I gotta keep you booked somehow, Jan-Jan.”

Another long silence filled the room - and even Remus stayed quiet for this one. Patton stared at his lap. He didn’t exactly feel great about this sort of thing, but Logan had said it was the only way. And heck, this sort of stuff happened all the time in this line of work, he knew that. Right?

Janus spoke up first.

“How long would this contract be, exactly?”

“We were thinking one year,” came Logan’s reply.

A whole year?

"I assume there are rules?"

"Behave as though you're in a relationship, perform for the camera when necessary, and if you intend to have outside relations, do try to keep them private - or better yet, don't."

“...I’m amenable,” Janus said finally.

And then, Patton could feel three sets of eyes on him, waiting for a response. Logan, calm and expectant, as ever hiding his impatience behind professionalism. Remus, toothy-grinned, leaning forward as if he was watching a sports match.

And Janus. For the first time with sober eyes, Patton levelled his own gaze with Janus’. His face was as inscrutable as ever, but Patton could feel the unspoken challenge behind his mismatched eyes. Asking him whether Patton Hart could handle something like this. Or worse, outright stating that he couldn’t.

…Or maybe Janus wasn’t thinking any of that and it was just Patton’s own loopy consciousness egging him on. Either way, the words slipped out of his mouth before he even thought them.

“I’ll do it.”

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 2)

Chapter Summary: You did make a deal.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 5.5k

Warnings:+18 only, smut, sex deprived reader, boytoy!Bucky, mention to break ups, mention to bad sexual experiences, casual sex, opened relationship.

A/N: You guys and all the feedback you’re giving to this story are just my everything. Thank you for your patience, if you follow my stories for a while you all know I’m a slow writer and not even social distancing seems to be changing that. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. I was going to close the tag list for this series at 70, but you’ve been really amazing, so I’m extending it to 80 spots for now. All I ask of you is, if you’re tagged and liked what you read, please leave me a nice little comment.  Thank you, @lesqui​ 

 Saturday mornings have always been like any other morning to you. Waking up early, making some black coffee and fixing up something quick to eat . Then checking up on your schedule for the day, which more times than you dare to count consisted of working from home and that’s it. Nothing special.  

But this Saturday morning is nothing like the other ones, this morning has actually already passed since you wake up past noon, a lot later than you’re used to, take a long bath with all the pampering accessories you found in your bathroom - something you hadn’t done in a very long time- plaster your face with a moisturizing mask you’ve bought on a late night online shopping spree and has never used, wrap your body in a robe, your hair in a towel and go to the kitchen to make your usual black coffee but also a few chocolate pancakes as a treat to the atypical hunger making your stomach groan loudly.

ThisSaturday is nothing like the other ones because you have the memory, on your mind and your whole body, of three fantastic orgasms you were gifted with the night before. If it was up to you, Bucky Barnes and his sinful tongue would get all the awards in the world.

While you hum a soft tune and flip your pancakes, the night before replays like a movie on your mind, taking small giggles out of you and causing a warm rush to creep up your neck. The man sure knows his game, touching all the right places, playing with your body just perfectly, luring you into a very much needed and longed ecstasy.  On top of that, he was nothing but generous and seemed to get himself off by getting you off and, now that you’re thinking about it, a man acting that way in bed is something entirely new to you.

You have to send Natasha a present, maybe that expensive vodka she’s always drinking…

The memory of your friend quickly fades and the sinful picture of Bucky Barnes’s face between your legs pops back into your mind as you drop the pancakes on a plate and sit by the counter to devour them with your coffee. What a night you had. The whole no strings attached situation makes it even more… enjoyable, you dare say, much more than you thought it would be. There is no dwelling on whether you should text him to say hello, or call him, no need to hold back who you really are or what you really want in favor to make a good impression, nor to think about meeting friends, family, no fear of disappointments from both sides… it was just plain good old sex, which you’ve realized it’s all you need and are looking for.

You hum at the sweet taste of the pancake and take a sip from your coffee. There’s no worries in your mind, no regrets, nothing like that. Except for one thought: the fact you didn’t even get to see his cock. The bulge alone grinding against you was already impressive enough to make your mouth water… Everything was amazing, more than perfect, actually, and left you completely spent and utterly satisfied, more than you’ve been in a long time, if you’re going to be honest with yourself. But now you only get to imagine how it would be if you two had gotten to the whole package, the real deal…

Unless…

You had thought about that night as a one-time occurrence, something to take your edge off and move on, but...  He did propose a deal… And you did take said deal… to call him if you needed anything… You stare dreamily ahead as you take a fork filled with pancake to your mouth and flashes of the feeling of his bulge pressed against your back, grinding on your core take over your senses… it took your breath away then and just the memory is making a number on your lungs.

You sure have a need now.

Glimpsing your phone over the balcony, you reach for it, loving you don’t have to care whether it is too soon or not to do what you’re about to do…but a new message pops up on the screen as soon as you unlock it. Natasha letting you know she was sent away for a mission with Steve Rogers but should go back in a week and wanted to schedule dinner for you to tell her everything… You type her a quick answer, agreeing on dinner, before tapping on the brand new contact of your list, added by Natasha Romanoff herself.

Bucky “Soft Tongue” Barnes.  

You’ll change it. Eventually…

~~~

“So… my place this time, huh?”

The smirk on Bucky’s lips is cocksure enough to make you take a long sip of the beer he offered you, while he lazily leans his elbow on the backrest of his sofa, supporting his head on his hand. You're thankful for the alcohol and for the fact that, this time, he hasn’t gone straight to business. Yes, you’ve been feeling bold and excited in having those kinds of encounters with a - hot as fuck - guy you barely knew. But this is new, and you know you must be careful and gentle to yourself, so it doesn’t blow up in your face eventually. Thankfully, Bucky seems to read the situation just fine since he’s been in cue with your rhythm from the very first moment.  

“Did you have any other plans?” you ask, biting your lower lip and hoping your presence isn’t actually a bother.

“I was happy to see your text.” Even if his answer is kind of vague considering your question, it eases the tension on your shoulders at his wide and comforting smile, “We did make a deal…” His voice is a tone lower as he peeks at you from under his lashes, taking his beer to his lips.

You take in a deep breath as your gaze drops to his lips, “Yes, we did.” You gulp, as your body tightens, feeling the rise of the tension in the air, enhanced by flashes of last night when you two settled said deal. 

His chuckle is a tad dark and laced with mischief and oh, man it makes your skin tingles when he drags his body just an inch closer, his beautiful blue eyes fastened on you.

“Ahm, Bucky… can I ask you something?” You try not to let your voice come out too small, as the heat of his body rolls off to yours and makes your core flutter.

“Sure.”

“How does this work?”  

He frowns as his head tilts a bit sideward, “This what?”

“This… ahm,” you clear your throat, “Deal…  I mean, I’m pretty interested, pretty, pretty interested.” You stress the word and your eyes widen a bit at the honesty slipping out of your lips, but you realize that’s actually how being around Bucky has made you feel, giving his own honesty behavior with you, just like now when he expresses no kind of reaction that would make you feel embarrassed or anything of that nature, so you let yourself continue, “But you must know I’ve got out of a relationship recently. It was really serious …10 years.” You chuckle when he huffs and takes a sip of his beer, “Anyway, I’m not really sure how to handle this.” You gesture between you two, “Should we establish any sort of rules, or something?” You shrug questioningly. Every single movie you saw or book you read where the characters had a deal like that they ended up establishing some rules, you’re not sure if that’s what you’re supposed to do here, but…

“Rules?” His whole face scrunches up, “Let me tell you something, sweetheart,” he lets out a long exhale, “My entire life, all I did was to follow damn rules. Even to this day, I have to follow them all the time in my job, whether is from the fucking government, the pain in my ass which is Stark or Fury and, believe me, even from the giant asshole of my best friend who’s pretty jacked up now but was nothing than a skinny angry ass, like, yesterday… Yeah, you know the punk, don’t you?” He smiles when you hold back a laugh, “It’s all about rules, rules, rules… I have to endure them when it comes to work, but I don’t like them in my personal life.”

He smiles that dazzling smile and you can’t help to offer him a small one, too. You see where he’s coming from. Given what you know of his life, he lived a very strict, military life ever since an early age in the 30’s. You don’t even have to elaborate on what happened next and everything he endured… now he’s part of the damn Avengers… Just like that, you start to get a bit more of Bucky Barnes and why he seems to live his life so lightly and freely now…

“Listen…” he continues, after taking a sip from his beer, “Let’s just have some fun… I loved spending time with you last night, I love that you’re here now and I love even more the prospects of tonight…” He smirks and you gulp down at the promise that comes with it, “I just wanna enjoy our time together, I don’t need rules to do that.” He pauses, as his face turns a bit more serious, differing from the light demeanor he’s been showing so far, “Do you wanna set any rules, though?”

You ponder his question. You did bring the subject up, because that’s what you think you should’ve done, but, now that you think about it, nothing comes to your mind. You kinda love his philosophy. No overthinking, just fun and no rules… “No, actually. I can’t think of anything,’ you decide.

“Great.” He smiles and nods, before his face turns serious again, “There’s one thing I need to clear up, though.” He stops and looks deeply into your eyes, as waiting for your consent before continuing.

“Oh, alright.” You encourage him to elaborate.

“As much as I’m looking forward to getting to know you and spending time with you, there’s absolutely no prospect of this turning into some kind of romantic relationship. See, I like the way I live my life too much and chances are I won’t be exclusive to you,” he says fixing his gaze on yours as if gauging your reaction to what his words, “What I’m saying is if I feel like it, I’ll have sex with other people and I highly encourage you to do the same if that’s something you want. The serum made me immune to any disease, but I’m obviously not against protection,” he adds and you feel your cheeks burning, it still blows you away how comfortably he talks about sex and how blatantly honest he is. You like and are getting used to it, but you’re just not there yet, “We can be friends, or not, we can just fuck our brains out, but we won’t go further than that. I need to know you’re aware and consenting on this, I need to know you’re on the same vibe as mine before we continue… having fun together.” He speaks seriously, but you see the tiny and suggestive curl on his lips when he finishes and waits for your answer.

You let out a small laugh under your breath, “I wouldn’t stress about it… I’m still in love with my boyfriend, to be honest. So, don’t worry about me wanting to turn this into something ahm… romantical.” You wave your hand between the two of you.  

“Uh, ok,” He raises a brow and nods, pondering your response, “We’re cool then?” He checks again.

“We’re cool,” You nod and raise your beer.

He promptly bumps his bottle to yours as you seal your deal with a toast and a shared smile.

“So, still in love with him, huh?” He asks, absentmindedly, after you two take a sip from the beer, “Was it a bad break up?”

“Not really,” you answer, looking down at your finger circling the rim of the bottle, “I just wasn’t expecting it… I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with him… it was settled.” You shrug, “And then, nothing was certain anymore. I’m sorry,” you quickly add, shaking your head with a tight smile on your lips. The last thing you want is to talk about Eddie. And you’re pretty sure that’s not what Bucky expects from the night, either.

“Hey.” He hooks his finger under your chin, lifting it up so you look back at him, “No rules remember? We can talk, we’re not sex robots or anything.”

Your head falls back when you laugh, “Alright.” You nod as he smiles at you, “But I don’t really want to talk about my breakup, now.”

He nods back, accepting your position, “Can I ask you something?” He’s the one to talk again after you two drink from the beer, “Last night,” he continues when you give him your consent, “When I went down on you. Was that the first time?”

There he goes again, talking so freely... You don’t feel your cheeks burning this time, though.

“No,” you answer, and he lifts his eyebrows, showing a bit of surprise at the answer, “It was the second, actually…” You’re quick to add, tightening your lips, “That obvious, huh?” You laugh quietly as your shoulders drop a bit.  

Bucky shrugs, “It’s just that you seemed a bit self-conscious about it…” He brings his bottle to his lips, but stops it midair, “At first…” he smirks at you once again and winks.  

You let out a small chuckle, looking down, playing with the almost empty bottle in your hands, “And I was…” You turn your body to face him, folding your legs on his sofa and leaning your arm on his backrest. It might be the alcohol, or just his laid-back and comforting presence that makes you want to share it with him, “You see, I’ve dated Eddie since college and he was my first…you know?” You bit on your lower lip as he nods at you to continue, nothing changing on his expression at the information, “And what happened was that he was never really a fan of that… we tried once, years ago and that was it… I knew he was grossed out by it, so I never asked him again.”

Clearing your throat, you look away, bringing you your beer to your lips to conceal any sign of embarrassment your face might indicate, you can’t believe you just shared that with him, you know how pitiful that sounds and what a turn off that must be. You’re there to have sex and are sharing how unexperienced you are? Not cool.

You feel his eyes fixed on you, and, when your gaze is attracted to his like a magnet, the pity you thought you would see on his face just isn’t there. Instead, it’s something entirely different you catch on his expression and his eyes. Never parting his focus from you, he puts his beer on the center table and reaches for yours, placing it next to his. He drags his body closer, and his smell – no cologne, just his own manly smell with a hint of what must be a fancy shampoo-  fills in your nostrils, making you breathe in deeply the inebriant scent, “You know what came to my mind while I was listening to you?”

The sultry tone in his voice is almost hypnotic as your lips part and your gaze drops to his, “What?” you murmur.

“Last night…” He licks his lips before drawing his lower one between his teeth, “Your taste…” He leans forward, brushing his lips on your earlobe, causing your breath to hitch in your throat, “Your shaky legs around my shoulders…” His flash hand finds your knee before sneaking up your thigh, carrying goosebumps on its way, “And those sinful sounds you made while I had your pussy in my mouth.” He grabs your earlobe in a gentle bite at the same time his wandering hand grabs harshly the flesh of your thigh underneath your dress, pulling a breathy whine out of you.

He drags his lips to yours and the kiss is sensual, slow moves of his tongue against yours as his lips are a soft and breathtaking caress. You realize you would be willing to spend the whole night just like that… kissing him, as your tongue laces around his and he lures you to melt into him… But he seems to have other plans in mind. You can’t help but seek his lips again as he parts them from yours.  

“And this is what thinking about all of that does to me…” Boring his blue, now darker than ever, eyes on yours he grabs your hand from your lap and brings it to the bulge in his pants.

You gasp at the sensation in your hand as he guides your hand with his to brush the firm and large hardness. Everything about the situation is sexy and makes you light in your head and hot in your body: the way he moans as you move your hand, his warm breath slipping from his parted lips and fanning over yours, how his eyes flutter for just a second before fixing on yours again, his scent, his shameless words… 

“Just to think about eating your pussy…the mere thought of it…. Fuck, it turns me on,” he whispers and lets go of your hand, allowing it to move on its own as he lunges at you again, kissing and nibbling your lips a lot harder than the first time

You kiss him back fiercely while keeping your hand on his cock, palming it through his jeans. You already can tell how thick he is and a fluttering sensation bubbles down your lower belly as the desire to feel his cock inside you takes over your senses and makes you weak in your legs.

“Shit, I can’t wait to do that again…” He drags his lips down your collarbone, whispering between kisses and licks on your skin, “But right now, what I want is to feel your pussy around my cock. Is that what you want, too?”

“Oh, yeah,” you promptly answer, eyelashes fluttering shut at the thought as you press your hand harder against his hardness and digs your finger on his loose locks, “I want it… I want this cock so bad.”

“Bedroom,” he announces, swiftly getting up and pulling you with him.

By the time you get to his bedroom, he already has his shirt off and you’re only in your set of black lingerie, discarded clothes and shoes left on the short way from the living room. Peppering kisses down his neck, you unbutton and unzips his jeans.  

“Holy fuck.” It slips out of you in a breath when you look down and takes sight of his cock bobbing between you two as you pull his pants along with his underwear down his legs.

It’s big… and thick… and beautiful, you dare say…"Wow," it slips out of you unannounced as you keep staring down and you hear a chuckle from him, a tad too smug chuckle, because he damn well knows… of course, he does.

As he proceeds to ravish your neck, grabbing two handfuls of your ass through your underwear, you can’t help but wrap your fingers around him. You can’t take your eyes off your hand playing slowly with it, entranced by how thick and hard he is, anticipating the feeling of him inside you as you swipe your thumb over the tip...

“Stop, stop.” The rasped plea takes you out of your reverie as his forehead falls on your shoulder and his hand stops yours, “I’ll come all over your hand if you keep that up,’ he explains, laying a kiss on the crook of your neck.

You chuckle and bring your arms to circle his broad shoulders instead, peppering kisses on his stubbled jaw.

“Let’s go to bed, or this will be over too soon.” You can hear the smile on his lips as he squeezes your ass and steps out of his bunched jeans and underwear, guiding you to his bed.

Through kisses, licks, bites, and wandering hands on each other, he lays you down and positions himself hovering you after unhooking and taking off your bra with the same expertise from the night before. He focuses on your breasts, sucking each one of them with intense hunger before shifting on his knees, leaving your breasts and whole body burning for his touch.

He moves towards the nightstand and opens the drawer to get a condom. The position gives you a prime view of his fully erected cock. The little dark path turning into the well-trimmed little hairs right above it shows you how careful he is with himself and the thought of your tongue running down on it pops into your mind and sparks the electricity running down your inside. On its own will, your hand snakes down your stomach till your clothed mound.   

A particularly loud sigh of you is what catches Bucky’s attention as he rips the package with his teeth. His eyes drop to where your hand rubs you covered pussy and his cock twitches at the vision.

“Shit… yeah, touch yourself….” He breathes, as he rolls off the latex around his cock.

You promptly slide your fingers under your underwear and find out how wet you are. You draw gentle circles on your clit, never taking your eyes off his burly and beautiful figure, the tightness in your core is a crescendo as you catch every little detail of his perfect body and his hooded eyes on you.

Still kneeling on the mattress, he positions himself in front of your opened legs, but just stays there, hypnotized by the spot where you touch yourself, placing his hands on your knees and spreading your legs wider for him, his pupils growing darker and darker with lust.

You sigh and moan at the pleasure brought by your fingers, but the exposed situation you are in and the sight of him staring down so hungrily at your pussy prompts the tight coils flaming inside you. Just a couple of days and you’re finding out a few things you had no idea about yourself. One of them is that you actually love that kind of filthy exposition. It feels wrong and intimate and fucking sexy.  

He grips his cock, giving it a few slow strokes and it’s all a sweet torture that you can’t take anymore.

“Bucky…Please, fuck me.” Your voice comes out laced in a mix of plea and guttural groan you didn’t know you had in you.

Dark eyes flick to yours. “Oh, yeah? Do you want me to fuck you?” he teases, showing no mercy to your desperation.

“Hard…” you correct him, gritting your teeth, “I want you to fuck me hard.”

His eyes widen and his chest moves up when he sucks in a breath. You’re really that eager that you can’t control your words anymore, but you love the effect it has on him. He pulls your fingers from under the lace of your underwear and leans down to bring them to his mouth. Your lips part at the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen, his eyes fluttering shut as he moans sucking the two fingers clean. Your taste seems to stir something in him and the world around you spins when big strong hands turn you over roughly.

“On your fours,” he growls. The grasp of his hands on your ass tugs at your core.

You promptly comply, getting yourself in the position he wants you in as he keeps himself behind you. You yelp when he swiftly pulls your underwear down your knees, the lace stretching around them as he spreads your legs. Looking from over your shoulder you watch him cursing under his breath and gripping the base of his impossibly hard cock and guiding it to your slit, coating his hardness with your arousal.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as the hardness brushes against your clit.

“In a second…” He smirks when his gaze crosses yours.  He leans over and pushes your back down, positioning your ass in the air as you lay your head on his pillow. Bucky grabs your hand and guides it to your pussy.

He doesn’t need to say what he wants you to do as your fingers quickly start working on your clit and he aligns himself with your entrance. He pushes the tip in and it knocks the air out of your lungs as you brace yourself on his pillows with your unoccupied hand, speeding up the finger on your clit.  Bucky groans as he pushes himself in, inch by inch. You’re soaking wet and he doesn’t find much resistance, but it’s been a year for you, so you’re very aware of the stretch on his way in.

“Shit,” you wheeze, loving how full you feel when he’s all his way in, both of his hands grasping your hips tightly.  

“Oh, damn, you feel amazing.” He groans and you clench around him, “Oooo, someone has a praise kink, huh?” A teasing tone in his words.

Do you? You wouldn’t know… all you know is how your whole body and mind respond to having him inside you and how his sultry words make your head dizzy. It’s an aching and floating sensation all at once.  You feel light and heavy and hot and eager for him to move.

Like he’s reading your mind, he starts his pace. His fat cock stretches your walls at every jerk of his hips, increasing in rhythm as it feels easier for him to slide in and out of you. It doesn’t take long before he’s pounding into you, a punishing hold on your hips to keep you steady enough to him. Being the discoverer of your weakness, he punctuates every pound with grunted words of praise, telling how good and wet you feel around his cock. 

He feels good, too. He feels so damn good, his cock brushing and hitting all of the sweetest spots inside you, the sound of skin slapping against skin... Your mind is a fuzz and your head sinks into his pillow, muffling your moans as you just take it, your body moving along with his powerful thrusts. The coil that’s been twisting your lower belly getting tighter and tighter. You want to come on his cock so bad, you press your fingers hard against your sensitive numb.

“Fuck, yeah, work on that clit, I wanna feel you soaking that cock,” Bucky coos, curling an arm around your stomach and, when you notice, you’re on your knees with your back to his chest. Slick skin burns against slick skin as he drags his metal hand over yours on your pussy, guiding your finger in a different direction, making you gasp at the new sensation the subtle shift brings.

“Oh, God.” You can’t and don’t want to hold back anymore as it’s all more than you can handle and the tightness inside your belly washes over your core in sheer ecstasy. Your back arches and your head falls back on his shoulder as you cry out a mindblowing orgasm.

“Shh,” he whispers in your ear, slowing down his pace, “That’s it, oh fuck,” he curses at the feel of your cunt gripping his cock.

Your senses aren’t fully functioning yet when he pulls out, throws you back on the mattress and flips you over, swiftly taking off the underwear that was stretched around your knees. A delicious smile curls your lips at all the manhandling because you want more and he’s giving it to you, driving himself inside you again, lifting your legs with his forearms, resting them over his shoulders and not holding back on the almost inhuman speed as he thrusts his hips.

He leans over, captures your lips and you curl your arms around his neck as he fucks you. Hard. Just like you said you wanted him to. You had no idea you were so flexible but what a way to find out, having the hottest guy you’ve ever met balls deep -really deep - into you while his tongue curls around yours.

Parting his lips from yours he releases your legs and they promptly wrap them around his hips as he supports himself with his forearms on each side of you and arches his back and to allow him to drag his lips to ravish your breasts, which he seems pretty fond of already. You push his thrusts impossibly harder and deeper with your feet as he alternates from sucking one and the other, licking and grazing his teeth around your sensitive nipples, your vision blanking at the light pain mixed with the pleasure he’s giving to you with his mouth and his damn perfect cock inside you. He doesn't give you time to cool down from the last orgasm as your mind freezes, focusing solely on the dazzling sensations in your body.  

“So fucking sexy.” The praise reverberates through your skin and it really seems to be a kink of yours as, joined with the expert roll of his hips, he brings you to another orgasm. A smaller one compared to the first, but powerful enough to make your body shake and to coax a series of moans out of you.

Bucky lets your breast go with a popping sound after a particularly hard suck and shifts back to his knees. 

Still in the daze of your second orgasm, a weak sound leaves your lips through panting breathing as your hips leave the mattress when, pulling your legs straighten up together and keeping them securely against his chest with one arm, he pounds into you until an guttural grunt rolls from his lungs and his hips still. He shoves his hips into yours a couple of times, deep and powerful,, spilling his own pleasure into the condom, before letting your legs loose and pulling out. The sensitivity etches a hiss out of you before his body drops next to yours. 

For a while, all that fills the room is the sound of sharp pants from both of you. In the past year, you came to think to think that maybe sex wasn’t that important to you and that maybe it wouldn’t matter if it happened or not…What a damn fool. 

You do like sex. Love it, actually. And it is fucking amazing and important to you, no doubt of that, you realize while your eyes shut and you allow yourself to drown into the delicious ache that covers your muscles while aftershocks of your orgasms cause occasional spasms all over your body.

“Holy shit.” Bucky’s the first one to speak, still fighting to breathe, “That was-”

“Fucking amazing,” you complete, breathing hard, but with a blissful smile on your lips you tilt your head towards him, “Thank you, Bucky. You have no idea how much I needed this.” You add, too deep in your daze to care whether you sound pathetic or not.

He laughs loudly and the corner of his eyes crinkle with it, “My pleasure, beautiful, my pleasure.”

A few more moments pass with both of you laying there and enjoying the after state of what you just did until the mattress moves when he gets up.

You gather your strength to lift your head enough to watch him walking towards the bathroom, rolling off the condom out of his semi hard cock.

As you’re alone in his bed, that’s when an awkward feeling freezes up your chest in contrast to the heat you’ve surrendered to so far. What the hell are you supposed to do now? Do you leave? Do you stay? Can you take a shower? You could definitely use one… You know he said no rules and you agreed, but some guidance would suit you pretty well right now.  

“Hey,” his voice takes you out of your own mind puzzle, “Your turn.” A soft towel is thrown at your face.

You grab it in your hands and look up at him with a glare. He’s laughing as he walks towards you, still butt naked, and your glare quickly dissipates into a playful one. “The bathroom is all yours now. There is liquid soap, shampoo and other stuff there if you need them,” he offers casually, sitting by the corner of the bed, “I’m starving, Chinese sounds good?”

You sit, too, holding the towel in your hand, “Yeah,” you frown before nodding “Sure, Chinese sounds great, actually.”

“Alrighty, then.” He taps on the mattress and gets up. You gaze falls down to his perky butt cheeks moving as he walks towards the door. He stops by the frame and looks back at you with that mischievous look of his, “Then, I’ll be ready for dessert.” He darts out that sinful tongue of his and runs it over his lips.  

The brief awkward coldness you felt is replaced by a flush of a welcoming heat creeping up your body.

You smirk back at him, “Can’t wait.”  

~~~

[hualianff]

More Than This VI 《V》

It’s no surprise XL gains his own taste of fame after walking the red carpet with one of the most sought-after actors in the country. He doesn’t mind it, going as far as to create a few social media accounts to interact with fans and scroll through their photos and edits of him. He has a few fan sites too, but only for fancy events where he chooses to be recognized in public.

XL and HC agreed before sharing their relationship with the public that they would maintain a strong sense of privacy when it came to their personal lives. They only share what they want to. The paparazzi who manage to take photos without permission are immediately disciplined so it doesn’t happen again.

(“I can’t believe you did it.”

“Hmm, Gege said he was okay with it.”

“I know! But I didn’t expect you to actually....” XL stares at a recent selfie of them HC had posted on his Twitter, taken the night HC won his award. “We look like we just had sex.”

“Nobody’s gonna know.”

XL raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his boyfriend. HC insists again.

“Nobody’s gonna know-”

“They’re gonna know,” XL says with a sigh, pointing to the hickey marks clearly visible on the photo. HC rolls over closer to XL in their bed, scrutinizing the image on XL’s phone.

“Oh, I didn’t see those when I posted the photo.”

“San Laaang!” XL cries, pushing at the taller man’s shoulder before burying his face into his pillow. HC makes XL breakfast in bed as an apology and promises to not drunk-post anything again.)

Eight months after officially dating–which is over two years since they met–HC asks XL to move in with him. XL doesn’t even need to think about his answer, a simple “Yes! Yes please!” escaping his lips. Both HC and XL’s faces light up with overjoyed smiles.

They seem to have had the same idea about where to live, purchasing a home they’ve been eyeing for months! The best aspects include a massive yard (front, side, and back) for XL to tend to, a hot tub, and a spacious living and dining room area to entertain guests. It’s not the grandest or most impressive residence by size or feature. In fact, the first months have them living in a half-finished, rusty house with the prettiest garden you’ve ever seen.

It gradually gets better. HC and XL knew they would have to do a lot of work to improve the shape of their home. Over the next year, they repair and remodel the house themselves, simultaneously adding value to the property and curating the style to fit their dream home. XL makes sure to post progress photos on his social media. His most recent selfie of HC and himself in hardware glasses got over 500k likes! He pinned HC’s comment that said, “Gege is my own very handyman!”

(HC, in a sleeveless tee, shorts that show off his ass, hair pulled back into a high bun: “Gege, you’re the boss now. Tell me what to do.”

XL, struggling not to gawk at HC’s side boobs: “O-okay, first, can you smash those cabinets-”

Cue them making out against the counter when it’s the only part of the kitchen that is fully done.)

***

Having a partner who considers the outdoors as a second home is a special experience. XL often takes HC on dates to national parks and plant nurseries. They go on weekend camping trips where XL teaches HC how to properly filter water, summit long stretches of terrain, and stay warm during cold nights with below-freezing temperatures.

(HC, trying to fit into XL’s sleeping bag: “Hi, gege-”

XL: “San Lang, you have your own sleeping bag that you can actually fit in.”

HC: ‘But I’m cold. Gege helps keep me warm.”

XL: “Fine. But let’s use yours because it’s bigger.”

HC, kissing XL’s forehead: “Thank you, my love.”)

On their hikes, XL points to different plants, explaining their origins and why he finds each one particularly beautiful. At first, HC picks up random flowers on the way home and then he asks XL about what flower fate gave him that day to gift his beloved. (“San Lang, that’s not allowed!”) HC eventually stores all the random facts in his mind, always eager to listen to XL talking about his passion. He also learns to keep his hands from digging up “poor, helpless plants from their home soil.”

However, this unfortunately doesn't prevent HC from accidentally squishing some plants in their yard that he thought were just weeds.

(HC, thinking he’s a good partner: “Get out, stupid weeds. CHOP CHOP!”

XL: “SAN LANG STOP, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”

HC: “Gege always works so hard. I just wanted to help you in the yard today because you deserve it.” 🥺

XL: *sigh* “I appreciate the gesture, San Lang. But those particular grasses took months to grow, and you just killed them-“)

***

Countless media outlets try to stir up trouble like they typically do with celebrities. Especially when HC has roles that involve romance, articles claiming HC and XL are on the brink of breaking up receive lots of attention. However, what gains more attention are the videos the couple posts on Youtube or Instagram live of their reactions to their “scandals.”

(XL, reading a headline: “Actor bachelor Hua Cheng and co-star Yushi Huang seem to be cozying up after a late-night shoot.’”

HC: “I’m not a bachelor, the fuck?”

XL, smiling: “You could be. Me as well. We can be bachelors together.”

HC, chuckling: “All right. If gege is, then so am I.”

The comments: “That doesn’t make any sense!?”

HC, reading another headline: “HC’s lover found with a mysterious third party??”

XL, exclaiming: “Oh, that’s Shi Qingxuan! You know, the designer for all our red carpet outfits!” 🥰🥰

HC: *nodding along*

XL, cheekily: “-and my secret second-lover”

HC: *blanches* “What.”

XL: “Kidding!!!! San Lang is the only one for me, hehe.” *kisses HC’s cheek* “Okay, next one!”)

Everyone watching the videos is 50% confused and 50% entertained as HC and XL make light of any drama the media portrays them in. Viewers accept that of course, the rumors aren’t true; HC and XL are still very much in love.

They’re in love with each other and will continue falling for many years to come.

***

HC doesn’t like watching himself on screen. However, he does enjoy previewing his own movies for the first time with his boyfriend.

While XL watches the new movie, HC observes XL’s reactions. It helps that XL is a conversational movie watcher too. XL’s narrations consist of horny comments during the sexual scenes (“Ooh, that’s hot. Nice tongue.” “Thank you?”), side remarks about the plot and characters (“San Lang, your character is very rude.” “...”), and dramatic reactions to the huge reveal scenes where HC becomes a human punch bag. (“Oh my goooosh, San Lang!! It was him all along- AHH!!”)

As a perfectionist, something you have to be in HC’s field of work, HC is incredibly self-critical of his performance. Which is another reason why it’s nice to have XL watch alongside with, who never has a shortage of praises for his boyfriend.

(HC: “Fuck, why did they leave this shot in the final? I’m supposed to be mourning for my dead lover but instead, I look like I’m crying out of daddy issues. Why did no one tell me!? It looks so bad-” *pointing to himself on the screen* “-stop looking so constipated-!”

XL, squeezing HC’s nape and massaging his shoulders: “San Lang, no one thinks that except for you. You did everything perfectly. Please acknowledge your hard work and just enjoy the movie.”

HC: *sigh* “You’re right. Okay. Thanks, gege.”

A beat of silence. HC cuddles closer to XL.

HC: “Love you.”

XL: “Love you too.”)

***

XL now knows HC’s movies well enough to quote HC’s lines in his movies to make him laugh. HC happily indulges him, questioning after breaking character, “Gege, are you sure I’m the actor out of the two of us?”

One time, HC and XL are in their kitchen re-enacting a scene with HC as the investigator going to a bartender for more information on his suspect. HC has XL caged against the counter, asking in a teasing manner, “How can I repay you for your help tonight?”

XL lowers his eyelids, looking up through his lashes, flawlessly depicting his character. “Any restrictions on your offer?”

“No, darling. Name a price, a brand, a desire. Right now, anything is on the table,” HC says huskily. XL slyly bites his lip.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

XL brings a hand up to cup HC’s jaw, then smooths it down his neck, traveling down his bare chest. XL tilts his head to expose his neck, wanting to build up his boyfriend’s anticipation. But before he can say his next line, HC effortlessly throws XL over his shoulder like a bag of rice.

“San Lang, wait, this is not how it went in the movie!” XL shouts, a little dizzy from the sudden lift turning him upside down. HC takes long strides to their bedroom, plopping XL on their mattress and blanketing him with his larger frame.

HC only utters a husky “we’re improvising” before diving down to devour XL’s lips. XL’s arms hook around HC’s neck, holding him impossibly close.

***

After a filming shoot where HC’s character gets beaten up–HC performing his own stunts–he heads home beyond exhausted. He just wants to take a relaxing shower and cuddle his boyfriend in their warm bed.

HC arrives at their house a little past midnight. He opens the door and finds XL’s back facing him, quietly humming a song as he takes care of the vase in the living room. The sight makes HC smile.

However, as XL turns around, the vase slips from his hands and explodes into pieces on the ground.

“San Lang! What happened to you!?” XL cries out, the panic in his voice only comparable to the day he had confessed. HC stands in the doorway confused. Was something wrong with his appearance?

XL is on him in an instant, his pupils shaking as he frantically asks, “Does it hurt a lot? What happened!?”

HC blinks, expression blank as he still doesn't understand what has freaked XL out. But as the shorter man gently caresses HC’s face, it suddenly hits him.

The make up!

HC urgently starts rubbing the fake bruises off his face. “Gege, I’m okay! It’s just make up, none of this is real. See?” He holds his hands out for XL to see as the pigment stains HC’s palms. “I’m so sorry! San Lang is dumb, he didn’t mean to make you worry,” HC murmurs as he takes XL between his arms. He really loves this man too much.

XL’s teary eyes shine glimmer as HC embraces him. “Y-you’re sure you’re okay?”

HC nods, leaning into the slender hand that cups his cheek.

“Thank goodness,” XL breaths out as he buries his face into HC’s neck. His next words are slightly muffled. “It looks…so realistic.”

“Yeah, the make up artists are all quite talented, aren’t they?”

XL clings tighter to HC.

“Very much so. Let’s shower so we can properly wash it off.”

“All right,” HC says. “Wait, we?”

XL tugs HC toward the master bathroom.

“Hush, let’s go.”

***

They lay in bed together after four long months of separation. Both of them had been in different parts of the country; HC filmed a drama series while XL traveled for several high-profile projects. Their respective busy work schedules limited communication to brief video chats and text messages, which never seemed enough.

Now, with his head resting on HC’s chest, their legs overlapping comfortably, XL finally feels like he’s where he belongs.

“Why did you choose me?”

Tactical fingers massage XL’s scalp, lulling him into a serene state of bliss. XL nuzzles further into his boyfriend-sized pillow.

“It’s not like I can choose who I fall in love with, Gege,” HC states with a light chuckle. “But if you want an answer, it’s because you are everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner.”

XL looks up at his boyfriend, mouth forming a shape of an O.

“That simple? Even when we made a deal to have no strings attached?” XL asks. HC groans at the reminder of their initial agreement.

“Yes, which was a dumb decision on my part.”

“I agreed to it too. We were both dumb.”

They are silent for a moment. It’s not the first time they’ve talked about or referenced their insecurities when it came to confessing their feelings. XL’s luck when it came to dating someone who could love him for every part of him was practically nonexistent. HC’s constant grappling for his self-identity and worth rendered most of his relationships superficial. And temporary.

Always temporary.

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t like your plants though. They’re so pretty. And fascinating.” HC says, breaking the silence.

“They take up half our living room space.”

“So? You work with plants all day. They’re bound to be a part of your personal life as well.”

XL’s heart bursts with a sudden fondness. It’s a wonderful thing to be appreciated for the little things.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says happily. HC hums in response, sending vibrations to where XL’s cheek lays on his chest. “I can’t believe I didn’t know you were a famous actor for the first three months we…”

“Met up for sex?” HC finishes with an impish grin.

“Yes,” XL laughs.

“It was nice not to be recognized for once. With you, I could just be myself,” HC says with ease he never thought he would be able to do. He’s struggled with letting himself be vulnerable his whole life. It turns out, HC just had to find the right person. And thank god he did. XL is more than HC’s outlet from his career. He’s become HC’s closest friend who knows him the best; he is HC’s number one supporter in any endeavor he pursues; he makes HC feel important. XL sees and loves HC for who he is. No amount of fame or wealth could come close to comparison.

“Gege?”

“Hmm?”

“Does it ever bother you that my life is always everyone else’s business?” HC softly asks.

“Well, the fame can be a bit…uncomfortable,” XL admits. “But you’re an amazing actor. And a remarkable person. I can’t blame your fans for loving you so much, you know? I also got to ride in a limo-“

“Which you rode very well-”

XL flicks his boyfriend’s forehead.

“You’re so predictable.”

“You would’ve said the same thing given the chance. Don’t lie, gege.”

They go back and forth a little longer, never once creating unnecessary distance between each other as they roll around until they’re on their sides. Facing each other in their bed that’s been vacant for months, HC and XL are inseparable.

“As I was saying, fame is something that comes with your job–your passion. You can’t control it, nor does it solely characterize who you are. Besides, I get to be a part of your life! That’s all that really matters,” XL continues. He shifts forward so their bodies are closely pressed together. XL plants a kiss on HC’s chin, then whispers a confession that tilts HC’s entire world on its axis.

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone like you.”

HC’s world spins and spins until all that he sees is his beloved, gleaming brighter than all the galaxies without the power to disrupt their orbit. He wraps his arms around XL and kisses the top of his head.

“Me too, Gege.”

Bonus:

HC watches wearily as XL salivates at a showering scene where HC’s bare ass flashes in the frame. XL turns to HC with a serious look in his eyes.

“San Lang! Hiking has done your ass wonders.”

XL sneaks a grope to a meaty cheek. HC chokes.

***

“You can’t be late to your own premiere!” XL cries incredulously.

“Try me,” HC purrs into XL’s ear, delicately kissing the lobe.

XL gasps as teasing hands roam around his torso, one of them slipping down to cup his behind. He vaguely thinks about how SQX is expecting them in the next hour to help with their red carpet outfits. But when hungry lips attach to the sensitive column of his neck, XL is a goner.

“Gege doesn’t have to do any work. Just lay back and look pretty.”

(Brainchild with @no-one-says-hi!)

[luminescencefics]

fade in, fade out - part seven preview

July 2013

Nora puts the car in park just as the clock on the dashboard changes from three fifty-four to three fifty-five. She knows her mother likes to take her time checking in with Mrs. Clemonte on Fridays to ensure that the staff will be sorted for the weekend, so as she changes the song from “Slow Night, So Long” to “Molly’s Chambers,” she repositions her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose and rests one hand out the window, realizing that The Breakers looks exactly the same as it did almost thirteen years ago.

A flash of movement by the garage door causes Nora’s eyes to shift, and when she notices a tall man wearing a blue and white ensemble with sandy blonde hair, she can’t help but watch him through the glass of the windshield.

There’s no denying that the man approaching the brand new white Jeep in the driveway is Will Clemonte, with the way his hair is still messy atop his head and bleached by the sun, the way his cheeks are tinged a bright shade of pink from forgetting to reapply sunscreen, the way he still towers over everything around him.

Nora hasn’t seen Will in four years, but in that time period, she’s noticed that while he’s still the same boy she’s known since she was seven, he’s completely grown into himself. He’s practically a Ralph Lauren model at this point, considering he fills out his clothes a bit too well for her liking and the rest of his body has finally caught up to his sophomore year growth spurt. From this position, she can’t see his eyes underneath his Maui Jim sunglasses, but if she could, she would almost be certain that the blue in his irises still looks like the whirlpools of the sea whooshing outside the confines of The Breakers.

She watches as he swings the Callaway golf bag off his thick shoulder and places it into the trunk of his car, straightening out his tight white Polo shirt and dusting off a stray piece of grass from the navy blue material covering his thighs. It’s only once he’s started rounding the back end of the car to head towards the driver’s-side door when he notices the old grey car at the other end of the driveway, or more specifically, the dark-haired girl inside of it.

He doesn’t recognize her at first, because the last time he saw Nora Priestley in the flesh, she was sporting blonde wavy hair with overgrown fringe threatening to cover her eyelids. Now, as he begins to take a tentative step towards the old Corolla, he notices the dark strands and thinks that they frame her face almost perfectly. With each slow gait towards the car, Will finds that she looks unassumingly wonderful—beautiful even, with the way her body has matured since high school, the way her lips are permanently placed in a downward frown, the way she has a hardness to her that makes her a bit more alluring, the way she lets him approach her even though she shouldn’t even be saying a word to him considering he treated her so badly in the past.

“Wow, Nora—hey,” Will says once he’s finally approached the old car, one large palm flat on the hood of the Corolla as he crouches down at his waist to see her through the opened window.

“Hi Will,” Nora replies, keeping her sunglasses covering her dull blue eyes as she tries not to notice him flinching when she decides not to call him by his childhood nickname.

“Your mom didn’t mention you were home for the summer,” he asks, grabbing the sunglasses from his own face and pushing them up the bridge of his nose, over his forehead, and atop his head until they’re weaved between his blonde hair, showcasing his entrancing blue eyes Nora remembers so vividly.

“Yeah, was sort of a last minute plan,” she says tonelessly, focusing her eyes on her chipped yellow nail polish instead of looking in Will’s direction.

Will just nods, trying his hardest to fill in the awkward silences with more questions surrounding her mysterious new life. “How was London? I saw a picture of you and Harry on Facebook. Must have been nice to have a friend—”

“—Harry’s not my friend.”

At this point, the silence is deafening.

“Right.”

Will turns around then, not knowing exactly how to continue their conversation. Because he remembers when he first saw that picture of the two of them wrapped up with each other in an old booth at a dimly lit pub with far too much woodwork in the background, and he remembers Carter Donnelly sending it in their barely-used groupchat with a string of question marks attached underneath, and he remembers Alyssa Whalen’s rude comment about Nora’s dark hair.

But, he ultimately remembers liking the picture without hesitation, thinking to himself that the two of them made quite the pairing.

But now, watching the way Nora avoids looking into his eyes and is suddenly sporting a lifeless expression on her face that he doesn’t even recognize, he can only assume that Harry had done something to make her look like this.

And he’s suddenly not sure why he wants to fix it.

It’s that realization that causes him to turn around and saunter back towards her opened window. His sudden change of pace forces Nora to finally look at him, a confused frown etched on her lips when she notices his proximity to her face.

“Listen, if you get bored later, a few of us are going to The Landing for some drinks. You should come.”

“No offense, but I don’t really want to hang out with Townbridge alum,” Nora says with a scoff, offense clearly infused in her words.

Will chuckles a bit before adding, “You know they’re off summering somewhere else. It’s some people from here. I think you’ll like them, they’re cool.”

This time, it’s Nora who’s laughing. “I think you and I have varying definitions of the word ‘cool.’”

“Well then, you’re gonna have to come out and see for yourself then, won’t you, Nora?”

***

Part Seven: The (First) Crisis will be posted on Monday, April 5th

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catch up here!

[mydisasteracademia]

Random LOV Headcanons

• Repeating something from my book “Did My Time”, due to the damage to Dabi’s body, he needs to use eyedrops multiple times a day. The amount depends on whether or not he uses his Quirk a lot; if he uses it more, he’ll need to practically drown his eyes with special medicated eyedrops to help with the dry-eye.

Adding onto this, due to his body’s natural affinity for the cold, he prefers cold things more than hot, because he has a worse reaction to hot/spicy things compared to other people (just like his mother). Yes, this means I HC him to absolutely never get brain freeze. The others are always jealous of him whenever he chugs a Slurpee in one go.

His burnt, scarred skin is extremely sensitive, especially to scents and scented lotions. He’s found that ointment works to keep things moist, but that also means he needs to be constantly re-applying it every time it dries, given that his Quirk is constantly drying out his skin to the point of damage. Every time his staples tug, even a little, it’s really painful and he’s prone to bleeding.

He does have a bit of a protective instinct, but only over those he deems weaker than him (and let’s be honest, he already has a lot of trouble with his own self-image, so that list might be shorter than you’d think). Definitely has an ‘irritated older sibling to hyperactive younger sibling’ relationship with Toga once they start to get closer. Gets unnecessarily competitive with others he considers stronger than himself, even if he himself doesn’t immediately realize what he’s doing.

Due to his Quirk being dangerous to himself, he can smell off, and he gets very touchy about it. Having grown up in a wealthy family, he can get very insecure at his bedraggled appearance and smell. He literally smells like burnt flesh all the time, and it lingers on his own body and his clothing. Due to this, he always hits up a laundromat to wash his clothes a few times a week, using money he’s picked off of wealthier victims of his. Really lays on the cologne to mask his natural corpse smell (and usually ends up smelling like pine trees, smoke, and something vaguely rotting).

Dabi is incredibly touch-starved, given that most people look at him and recoil in horror. He’s more like a cat, though. If you give him too much attention, he gets annoyed, but if he happens to rest his arm on your head or shoulder, that’s his way of subtly asking for positive attention. Depending on who’s doing it, he won’t immediately shove someone away if they decide to hug him. He’s a bit iffy with touch, and the fear of accidentally hurting someone he’s close to with his own Quirk messes with his head a lot. He can be a bit of an attention whore, given his fucked-up childhood, and when he gets praise it can put him in a good mood for a while. He really internalizes negative attention and can brood about not being good enough for a long time though. Won’t admit it, but he lives for headpats. Please give him headpats. He deserves headpats. Just watch out for the hair dye.

• Shigaraki’s Quirk does affect his body, though not by quickly decaying him like he does other things. Instead it’s more of a ‘slow-burn’ decay, and his constant itching is one side-effect of that. Since his body is constantly breaking down (his scratching gets rid of a lot of dead skin on the surface), his skin is incredibly sensitive and he can’t use most face/skin products because it damages him even more and he reacts horribly to it. So far he hasn’t found a brand that can help with his marred skin. Adding to this, he can’t stand spicy foods because it aggravates his decaying body.

Since his body is in a constant state of death and dying, this means he can smell off on even good days. It could be described as musty or ‘stale’, and since he’s extremely sensitive to scents and lotions/creams, he can’t exactly just use any old cologne to mask it.

Sometimes his throat gets super dry and he chokes on debris from his own mouth and throat. He needs to constantly hydrate to keep things from getting a bit too dusty. This means he prefers wet/moist foods over dry, and if he eats anything dry he’ll have a drink to go with it. At Kurogiri’s insistence, he always has a few bottles of water in his room at a time so he doesn’t have to get up in the night to go to a working sink for a drink.

This boy is so touch-starved. Whenever someone of the League hugs him, he acts huffy about it, but he doesn’t shove them off (unless it’s Dabi giving him a noogie, then he threatens death, much to the taller one’s amusement). He secretly craves touching other people. He’s terrified of accidentally dusting someone he cares about again (his family’s deaths haunt his dreams more nights than not), but if someone hugs him he just kind of melts into it. Someone please hug this boy. He needs headpats and positive reinforcement.

• Spinner absolutely loves sunning himself on rocks during summer. Whenever the weather is hot and it’s sunny, if he has a day off you’ll find him chilling outside on a rock just soaking up the sun.

Adding onto this, he really loves humid, hot weather. While the rest of the League (especially Dabi) is suffering, he’s just vibing with the weather.

And he sheds. Usually a few times a year, but it’s not uncommon to see large swaths of translucent white patches left behind. This can annoy the League, but to his credit, Spinner tries to keep it on the down-low. More than once he’s tried inconspicuously rubbing his arm or cheek against Shigaraki to try and help get the dead skin off. (He gets really irritated, but it helps with the itching a bit, so he doesn’t really complain unless he’s trying to concentrate on something.)

• Compress will casually swipe up random items that the League leaves around and later might give them back depending on what it is. The other members can get varying levels of annoyed at this, but they don’t get too beat up about it considering Compress’s Quirk and personality. (This is how Toga lost her favorite lip gloss. She didn’t stop pouting for a week until Twice bought her another one.)

When he gets anxious or bored, he often resorts to simple hand tricks to keep himself entertained: fiddling around with his marbles, practicing simple card tricks, or practicing magic.

• Toga loves horror. Almost any horror. Especially guro. During movie nights with the League, as long as the movie has some form of mutilation and/or blood, she’s giving it her full attention. Adding to this, she really loves anything written by Junji Ito and has read Tomie about twenty times. Despite this, she has a soft spot for cutesy things and her aesthetic is Gurokawa. She definitely has a Gloomy Bear plush or two.

She definitely has a fondness for beauty products, given that she’s still just a normal girl despite her Quirk. This fact can make her really insecure, and she’s prone to depressive episodes just like anyone else in the League where she does herself up real pretty just to try and feel more ‘in tune’ with her femininity and less like the monster her parents saw her as. Magne helped with this a lot in the past, but now that she’s gone she relies more on the others to help cheer her up.

She is not above forcing the other League members into spa days. Shigaraki is the only one who doesn’t have to get a facial, though she does insist on painting his nails and doing his hair.

• Kurogiri’s mist/fog can get blown away quicker than he can create more, but only by a very strong wind. It’s hilarious. Shigaraki can’t stop teasing him for it.

Is not above using his Quirk to forcefully separate two squabbling parties, especially in the bar hideout.

When he’s bored, he does bar tricks, much to Toga’s delight.

Since quite a few League members are under drinking age, he always makes sure to have sparkling cider on hand.

He carries snacks and a first-aid kit every time the League goes out on a mission -- especially when it’s Shigaraki heading out. He really does care for the man and will be the first to hand him ointment whenever his skin gets really crumbly or damaged.

Has come to reluctantly see the League as people he worries for. That’s the closest to “hm yes these are my children now I must protect” that you’ll get.

He misses Magne for how sensible she could be. He appreciates Compress’s overall chill vibe and his being the voice of reason among their little group of mass murderers.

• Kurogiri and Magne were the League’s parental figures. You can’t fight me on this. (Kurogiri reluctantly, Magne enthusiastically.) Compress was more like the outgoing uncle that has a sense of humor nobody can really understand at first and was definitely a theater major in college.

• Shigaraki and Dabi love chicken nuggets. Every time someone brings home fast food, you can bet your ass they’ll have ordered like a fifty-piece chicken nugget meal from wherever sells that. Constantly have to deal with each other trying to swipe the other’s nuggets when they finish their own.

• Twice loves Vine compilations and can recite a worrying number of them from memory. He gets a kick out of the “A Bagel, Two Bagels” one for how much he relates to it.

• Before she died, Magne loved when Toga begged her to help her with makeup. It helped with her dysphoria when Toga would doll her up.

She loved window-shopping and imagining herself wearing some of the stylish clothes in shop windows.

Despite her cruel persona towards her enemies, Magne had a soft spot for elegant-cute things, kinda like Toga but a little less bloody.

• Muscular always challenges the other League members to arm-wrestling when he’s around. He always wins. The others have learnt not to accept his challenges, lest they want bruises/sprains.

• Mustard is very childish in his tastes. He loves chicken nuggets and mac n’ cheese. Provokes people by pulling his lower eyelid down and sticking his tongue at them. I can definitely imagine him muttering “Eat my shorts” or “Don’t have a cow, man” whenever another member is angry about something.

• In this household we pretend that Moonfish does not exist.

• If the League had Switches, you bet your ass they play Animal Crossing on them.

Toga would go for a ‘Aika Village’ aesthetic, all gloomy and creepy but with an undeniably cute element to it. Definitely wears pastels and gothic-themed clothing.

Shigaraki models his after his favorite RPG and hunts down NPCs that fit the personalities of the various characters. His favorite characters tend to be dogs. Will not hesitate to kick out any animal who fails his ‘vibe check’. Surprisingly, this game can calm him down almost as well as an RPG. Joycon drift is the bane of his existence.

Compress uses only the most glamorous, expensive items on his island. Outright refuses to use dirt paths. Uses only Snooty villagers.

Dabi wants his island to look the best and is uncharacteristically stern about how his island looks. Everything is very neat and streamlined (and he has an outdoor gym near his player’s home). Will physically fight anyone who tries to ruin it by littering or messing around on it. He has a rivalry with Compress about whose island looks the best.

Spinner doesn’t really care about how his island looks. He just wants to max out his encyclopedias. Shigaraki once caught him up at 3 AM because he was trying to catch a spider crab.

Kurogiri doesn’t play it that often, so his island is fairly undeveloped. Doesn’t really care about it, considering his responsibilities to the League overpower a video game.

Muscular doesn’t care about it at all and doesn’t play.

Mustard made his island look like something out of Harvest Moon or Stardew Valley; a town area, a forest, and even a beach.

[rhysismydaddy]

Naughty Neighbors pt. 1 (Elriel)

Synopsis: Elain’s stuck in a dead end relationship, bored beyond belief with her life. When she befriends her brand new neighbor, it’s like taking a breath of fresh air. But with each day of friendship, she grows more and more drawn to him and the past he’s desperate to escape. His smile is all she thinks about, invading her head at the most inconvenient moments. He’s made his intentions with her perfectly clear, but she’s determined to resist his charms. She won’t allow him to turn her calm, quiet life upside down. Right?

I’M SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG. Moving did NOT go smoothly, and my professors are taking online classes a little ~seriously~ even though they haven’t started yet lol. 

Part 2 should be out by Wednesday, and it’s in Azriel’s POV :))))) This one’s a slow burn ladies and gentlemen, so get ready for some pent up desire 

______________________________________________________________

Elain rolled over in bed, somehow too hot and cold at the same time. Gods, she was miserable. Her boyfriend was next to her, snoring loudly, and the sound did nothing to help her worsening mood. 

She was so exhausted-- when you owned a flower shop, wedding season was always hectic--but sleep had been refusing to find her for the past hour. 

It didn’t help that she had a moose-sounding man in the room. 

Reminding herself that she loved him and definitely didn’t want to strangle him in his loud ass sleep, she rolled over and pulled a pillow on her head. 

Somehow, after two years of dating, she hadn’t gotten used to how loudly Lucien snored. 

Thank the gods we don’t live together, she thought, then admonished herself for it. 

They would eventually. 

She just had to get used to it. 

The pillow over her head became suffocating, only adding to the over-heating problem, so she threw the covers off, grabbed a robe, and walked out. After going up a few flights of stairs, she found herself on the roof. 

It was the place she always went when she was stressed or sad or just needed to see the night sky. She’d even started a garden a few months ago, so she started to head over to check on it. 

But then she saw who was sitting on the bench in front of her rose bushes and paused. 

Paused and stared, because the man sitting in front of her wearing dark clothes and a smirk was both classically beautiful and dangerous. 

He was the kind of man most men would do anything not to fight and women would do anything to bed. 

Smoke curled around him, and the shadows somehow seemed to cling to his tall frame. The stranger dwarfed the small bench, large frame taking up enough space for two. Even though he was sitting, she could tell he was well over six feet. And built like a Greek god, if the way his black, long sleeve t-shirt clung to his chest was any indication.  

He was the most attractive man she’d ever seen, and that was without taking in the strong, clean shaven jaw, hazel eyes, and hair the color of spilled ink. 

And oh fuck, he was studying her, too. A shiver ran over her as she realized she was covered in just her robe. 

Her body begged her to both run far away and draw closer, and for some reason, she listened to the urge to do the latter. 

“Who are you?” she asked as she walked through the maze of flowers. 

“Who are you?” he shot back, not answering her question. Her body reacted to his voice alone, goosebumps raising at the cold but somehow soothing tone. 

A breeze caused her hair to swirl around her as she replied, “I’m Elain. What are you doing here?”

He jerked his chin at the cigarette dangling from his fingertips, but that wasn’t exactly what she’d been asking. “No, I mean what are you doing here?”

“I live here, Elain.”

She realized she shouldn’t have told him her name, because now he could say it in that sexy, very manly voice of his and it would do strange things to her sanity. 

He said her name like a lover would, soft and sensual, but also coldly amused. He sounded like he knew her, like he’d known her for years. 

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes are laughing at her now, but he didn’t sound mean. 

"Which apartment?”

“4B.”

Elain’s eyebrows pinched together at that news. She lived in 4A and hadn’t even noticed she’d gotten a new neighbor. Then again, she’d been at work all day. “Oh. I guess we’re neighbors then.”

A small smile graced his full lips, and she studied it before forcing her eyes back to his. “Lucky me.”

Oh, gods. Was he... flirting with her? 

She didn’t even know. It had been so long since someone had that she’d forgotten what it sounded like. 

So she rolled her eyes good naturedly, leaning against the brick railing encasing the roof. 

“Sneaking out for a smoke?” His voice was like gravel and smoke, and his hazel eyes raked over her body in a way that made her shiver. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded, then extended the cigarette to her in question. She smiled but shook her head and said, “I don’t smoke.”

“A good girl, then.” He didn’t sound at all bothered by that statement. And once again, his hazel eyes skirted down her body. “Do you want to sit down?”

There was almost no room on the bench, but it beat standing on the edge of the roof on such a breezy night, so she walked over and sat as far away from him as possible. 

It was still way too close. 

Her arm was pressed against hers, allowing her to feel the dense muscle covering it. She doubted she could wrap both hands around it completely, but she shut down the urge to try as she crossed her legs casually.

The warmth from his body seeped into her, goosebumps raising where they touched. “You’re warm,” she commented stupidly. 

“Are you cold?” he asked, hazel eyes scanning her face, then dropping slightly. 

No small amount of horror grew when she realized what he’d glanced at. She crossed her arms over her chest, then scowled when he grinned. 

Her eyebrows flew up, though, when a heavy arm landed across her shoulders and tucked her into a warm, firm side. 

Oh, gods above every place they connected was tingling. Heat rushed into her--both between her legs and from his side.

She needed a heat CT. 

“Is this your garden?” he asked, taking a puff of his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from her. 

She nodded, then realized her head was pressed against his chest. Elain pulled away slightly, then asked, “Will you tell me your name?”

His hazel eyes were dark, like molten caramel. She felt lost in him. “What will you give me in return?”

Every inch of her body went taut and loose at the same time. Her thigh was suddenly warm, and she looked down to see his hand resting on her skin. The back of his hand was covered in scars and tattoos and his palm was covered in callouses, but it was nothing but gentle and warm on her thigh. 

Her maybe-neighbor was perfectly still, his face cool and composed while he waited for her to react. But his eyes told her exactly what would happen if she leaned into him just a tiny amount. 

And gods, she wanted to. 

Something was holding her back though. A small voice was screaming at her, and a disgusting amount of guilt crept up her shoulders. Almost jumping out of her skin, she remembered whose existence she’d forgotten completely. 

Lucien.

Her boyfriend. 

The man she’d been attempting to sleep next to not an hour ago.

She pulled away, instantly missing his warmth. “I have a boyfriend,” she said unceremoniously and with about as much enthusiasm as someone declaring grandma was dead. 

His eyes went a little darker, even as the corner of his lips twitched. “Hm.”

“I should go.” That was beyond true. 

Lucien was trusting, and their relationship was relaxed, but practically snuggling with another man wasn’t right. Even if it was all she wanted to do at the moment. 

“Okay.”

“I hope we can be friends in the future,” she said, trying to maintain polite normalcy. “But only if you tell me your name.”

Once again, those amber eyes slid over her, and she was very, very grateful she’d crossed her arms. “We’re never going to be friends, Elain.”

The way he said it didn’t feel like a rejection; it felt like a challenge. Her body thrummed, even as she shook her head slightly and started back down the stairs. 

The picture of his face followed her all the way into her apartment, sticking in her head until she fell asleep with a soft smile on her face. 

~

The next morning, she woke up and had breakfast with Lucien, who hardly glanced up from his eggs as he asked, “Where’d you go last night? I heard you get up.”

Her heart started to race even though she’d done nothing wrong. Technically. Calming her voice, she said, “I went to the roof to check on the garden. Couldn’t sleep.”

Lucien just shrugged, knowing this was pretty typical for her. 

She knew she should tell him she’d met their new neighbor, but for some reason, her mouth stayed shut. Probably because she didn’t even know his name. 

It definitely wasn’t because she’d almost kissed him. 

“I have to go; I have an early meeting.” He worked at a corporate finance place downtown, so this wasn’t exactly groundbreaking. He got up from the table, navy suit slightly wrinkled, and kissed her brow. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll come back Friday, okay?”

This also wasn’t news. He stayed at her place a few nights a week, most of the time Sunday and Friday. She didn’t go to his that often because she didn’t have a car and liked to walk to work. 

Elain nodded and smiled, then went to get ready once he’d left. 

Were twenty-four year-olds supposed to feel like this? Like they were stuck on a conveyor belt, destined to do the same thing for the rest of her life?

It sometimes felt like she’d gone to sleep and woken up in the life of a fifty-year old housewife. 

Whenever he stayed over, he liked coming home to a clean house and meal, so she cooked for him, pretending to love it, when in reality, she’d be just as happy eating takeout on the sofa. 

She greeted him with a smile, and they talked and watched TV together, then went to bed at the same time every night. 

And gods, it was starting to get boring. 

Even the sex was starting to follow a routine. It wasn’t written down, but Elain had noticed they slept together at the beginning of the month, then not at all for a few weeks. 

She missed the beginning of the relationship, when they were so in love and crazy about each other they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.  

She didn’t expect fireworks after being together for so long, but... it had only been two years. And despite never mentioning it, Lucien was bound to propose at some point. 

Could she do this for the rest of her life? Go to work, come home, cook, go to bed? Did she love him enough for fifty years of the same routine?

That thought shocked her. Of course she did. 

He was perfect for her. He didn’t keep secrets, had a good job, and treated her with kindness and respect. So what if the fizzle had worn off? 

So what if she got more turned on sitting on a cold bench next to a complete stranger than after actual foreplay with her boyfriend?

It meant nothing. 

At least, that’s what she told herself as she put on a light blue dress and sandals and fixed her hair. 

Once she was ready, she walked outside and started down the street to her store. It was only a five minute walk, one of her favorite things about her apartment’s location. 

“Elain,” came a low voice from right next to her. 

Surprised, she turned to see her brand new neighbor walking next to her. Just like last night, he was dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt. But with the light she could make out his features better, and it did nothing to sway her of how attractive she found him. 

“Good morning.”

He smiled, and she found herself mimicking the expression. 

I mean, when someone who looked like a villainous Prince Charming smiled at you, you smiled back. 

“Better now,” he told her in a low tone, still smirking. 

“You’re a horrible flirt,” she laughed, brushing off how the comment made her skin tingle. 

“Horrible?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting one as they walked. “I’ll have to step up my game then. You look beautiful today.”

“I amend my statement. You’re a mediocre flirt.”

He blew a cloud of smoke around him and rolled his eyes, and she grinned agian. She did that a lot around him, she realized. It was easy to. 

There was just something alluring about him. He was dark and cold and beyond mysterious, but also sensual in a way she’d never seen before. It both threw her off guard and made her want to be reckless for once in her life. 

“Where are you going?”

“Work. I own the flower shop down on third street,” she told him proudly. The shop was her life’s work, and it made her insanely happy to tell people about it. 

“The Archeron?” he asked, and her brows shot up in surprise. “I work across the street. Start today, actually.”

“Oh, at the tattoo place?” 

The idea of getting a needle stabbed into her skin over and over again made her nauseous. 

Azriel noticed her expression. “You ever come in, I’ll give you a discount.”

“I’ll absolutely never take you up on the offer, but thank you. If you ever want a lovely bouquet, feel free to come on in.”

His hazel eyes met hers. “And what if I just want to see you? Do I still have to buy flowers?” There was a blush on her cheeks, and his eyes darkened when he saw it. “I like making you blush.”

Gods above, the man wasn’t giving up. 

She was surprised to find she didn’t want him to. 

She deflected anyway. “Fine. You’re an average flirt.” 

“Oh, baby girl, you have no idea.” They were somehow already in front of her shop, and he looked through the window and grimaced. “On second thought, if I want to see you, I’ll just knock on your door. Lot of flowers in there.”

“That’s kind of the point,” she reminded him, blocking out the picture of Azriel coming over to her apartment. “If I want to see you, who should I ask for?”

Humor flickered across his hard features, but he still shot down the request. 

“If you need me, I’ll be across the street encouraging people to make horrible decisions.”

Laughing, she unlocked the store and watched him walk away. Somehow, even though it was broad daylight, he was a spot of darkness on the street. 

She didn’t even know his name, but she was tempted to follow him, just to see his smile again. If seeing him smile made her feel that happy, how would it be to hear his laugh? 

More than anything, she wanted to find out.

And Elain knew right there that he’d been completely right: they would never be friends. 

______________________________________________________________

Part 2

@cursebreaker29 @sjmships @starrynightsbooks @lovemollywho @januarystears @astreia-oniria @wineywitch202 @captainthefangirlofhp @perseusannabeth @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @poisonous00

[obxcunt]

Love bites || (6)

pairing: jj maybank x reader [eventually] || rafe cameron x reader [currently]

warnings: violence, angst, typos, cursing.

summary: it was supposed to be a good summer for you, the last one in the obx before going to college, the last one with your friends and family. Unfortunately, a sudden and mysterious death is about to completely change your life, pushing you directly into a brand new world and into a very sexy vampire’s arms.

A/N: I just finished the part 6 and decided to give it to all, happy? Not my favorite part to be honest, not very confident about this one but i hope y’all are going to enjoy it!

part five || masterlist || part seven

The sun disappeared, the darkness was now surrounding the island as you entered Kiara’s bedroom to look at yourself in the mirror: examining your outfit. The witch glanced at you from her bed, where she was sitting.

“You’re beautiful.” She complimented. “You’re okay? You seem a bit nervous, Y/N.” You sighed, glancing at the brunette’s reflection through the mirror.

“I don’t know.” You turned around. “I don’t like lying to my friends, hiding things from them.” You laughed nervously. “And tonight, i’m going to steal from them and violate their privacy.” You sighed again, moving closer to the bed through the monologue. “So much happened to me last week, it’s still hard to accept it. Waking up everyday feels strange, because nothing makes sense anymore, it feels like a constant daydream or nightmare. This isn’t supposed to be real, it can’t be real—” You whined, rubbing your face. “It is real, this is my life.” You paused, licking your lips and looking away. “I’ve been complaining a lot recently. I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, look at me.” She said and you did. “It’s understandable, you’ve been through a lot. It’s not easy at first but trust me, you’re gonna get used to it.” You nodded, crossing your arms. “And, you’re not alone!” She added with a smile. “I’m here, we are here.”

Last week has been tough, exhausting, interesting and exciting. You wanted, needed to learn more about this brand new world who intrigued and scared you at the same time. Which means you started hanging out with the Pogues: especially Kiara & JJ. You became friends with the whole crew, the brunette already having a special place in your heart after only a few days.

“Alright, Y/N!” JJ shouted from the hallway, walking towards the bedroom with determination. “The party already started, we should probably—” He paused, getting lost in your eyes as soon as he entered his friend’s bedroom. “I—” He swallowed hard, looking down at your outfit, admiring the makeup and hair on his way back to your eyes.

Kiara smirked. “Isn’t she beautiful?” She asked him, glancing back and forth between the two of you. “JJ?”

“I— Yeah.” He murmured. “Beautiful.” He confirmed, looking straight at you with adoration. Kiara chuckled lightly, bringing him back to earth. “I— We need to go.” He shook his head, looking down. “You’re ready?” You nodded. “Good, good, good.” He sighed, looking back at the brunette. “I need to talk with Kie about something. Wait for me downstairs.”

“Okay…” You said, frowning.

You were clearly confused on the way out, the blond boy looking at you as you walked to the stairs, waiting for you to be downstairs before turning back to his best friend: who couldn’t stop smiling.

“You need to stop doing this!” He whisper-yelled at the witch. “I’m serious, Kie.” He sighed, looking back at the hallway with worry. “We are friends, nothing more and—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She said innocently. “I was complimenting her, nothing else.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think she looks beautiful tonight?”

“I do! Fuck—” He said frustrated, running a hand through his messy hair. “Of fucking course. She looks beautiful all the time.” Kiara laughed at him, enjoying the sudden vulnerability. “Shut up!” It was new.

“You need to tell her the truth, JJ.” She suggested. “Come on, it’s been so long—” JJ groaned, walking out of the room. “Okay… Be careful!” Kiara yelled, rolling her eyes. “But this conversation isn’t over!”

———————————————————————

“...It’s okay.” You reassured him. “You don’t have to come with me, JJ.” You were both walking towards the mansion, passing the cars on the driveway. “It’s too dangerous for you to be here.”

He scoffed, clearly not impressed. “I’m coming.” He said, looking at the house with disgust: the music a bit audible from the outside. “I won’t come inside, obviously. I’m going to stay outside, look and listen, to make sure everything—”

“What about Ward?” You asked, stopping. He turned around to look at you, both hands hidden in his pockets as he shrugged his shoulders. “I think it’s a bit suspicious to walk around his house while everyone is inside—”

“Relax, Y/N.” He said, walking up to you. “I’m staying to make sure nothing happens to anyone, especially you.” You smirked. “If i see anything weird, or Ward’s car coming or Rafe—”

You frowned. “What about him?” You asked. “He’s not the problem, he’s not gonna do anything to me or anyone, JJ. We just have to make sure he doesn’t see me in there.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” He sighed. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I won’t touch your precious boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Be careful, don’t get caught.”

“I’ll try.” You said, turning around and walking towards the front door, the blond boy following your steps. “Or i’ll have to fuck with him again.” You teased, laughing. “I’m just ki—” You paused, glancing at him, noticing his annoyed expression. “I— Nevermind. Don’t do anything stupid, JJ.”

Finally: you entered the house discreetly. You looked for someone, a familiar face through the crowd: Rafe or Topper. After five minutes, you moved to the living room, ignoring the dancers and smokers around on the way.

“Fuck!” Rafe screamed with enthusiasm. “Hey, Y/N! Look everyone, it’s the Kook Princess!” He added with a smile.

Something’s up, you thought. You walked towards him, looking at the tall boy on the couch. Rafe was talking with some women and men: mostly strangers. You sighed, looking down at the coffee table: noticing the cocaine all over it.

“Hey, Rafe.” You said. “What’s going on here? I thought you weren’t doing or selling drugs anymore.” Everyone looked at you weirdly, the Kook boy standing up to talk. “What is—”

“Do you know where—” He wiped his nose. “Have you seen Topper?” He asked, ignoring your last sentence. “Hey, hey, hey.” He wrapped one arm around your shoulder. “Where have you been? It’s been a week!” He laughed nervously, forehead covered with sweat and pupils going crazy. “Hanging out with Pogues, huh?”

“Rafe…” You whined, not in the mood for this conversation. “I— I don’t know where Topper is.” You looked around, searching for the blond Kook through the crowd. “I’m gonna look for him.”

You moved away from him. “Wait!” He shouted, following you in the living room. “We— We need to talk about something.” He sighed, licking his lips. “I— What happened last week? Why are you doing this?”

You frowned. “What are you talking about?” He rolled his eyes. “Rafe— I need to use the bathroom, we’ll talk later.”

You left him alone: going straight to the office. You wanted to leave this party, which means you had to deal with this right now and people were too busy doing their own thing to notice anything: thankfully. You entered the room, locking the door behind you. You walked straight to the painting, moving it carefully and sighing at the sight of the box.

“Shit.” You whispered. “What’s the fucking code?” You asked yourself. “Rafe’s birthday? Sarah’s birthday? Rose—” You paused, searching for the answer. “Their mom’s birthday.” You remembered the date: after learning it from Rafe in the past. “Yes!” You shouted, opening it.

You weren't expecting this: weapons, books, money, papers and old pictures. This looked insane. You took your phone out: taking pictures of the inside, texting them to JJ. You sighed, grabbing something off the box: Ward’s journal, bingo. You opened it, going through the pages.

“What the fuck.” You murmured, noticing familiar names: such as your father, mother and JJ Maybank. “Shit, not him—” You noticed the word suspicious next to it.

You looked at the pages attentively, taking pictures and sending them to the blond vampire right away. You needed to leave: stress washing you over. You turned around, glancing at the weapons and other things inside before standing up: throwing the journal back in. You examined the photos, noticing a few familiar faces: Rafe’s grandparents, there were a part of this, obviously.

Someone knocked on the door. “Y/N?” Rafe called. “What the fuck are you doing in my dad’s office?” You groaned: someone probably saw you, after all. “Let me in!”

You turned around, closing the box and cleaning the mess before walking to the door: unlocking it. “Hey, calm down!” You said, the Kook boy pushing you while walking in. “I just— I needed some alone time.”

Rafe scoffed, frustrated. “In Ward’s office, Y/N? Really?” You hummed, closing the door and leaning against it. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting so weird lately!”

You laughed nervously. “Says the man on cocaine.” He grimaced. “I’m disappointed. I can’t leave you alone for more than two seconds—” He laughed too. “That’s not funny, Rafe!”

“You’re overreacting!” He shouted. “You’re not my mother. I take care of myself!” You snorted, rolling your eyes. “I’m not joking with you!” He yelled, the aggressive tone making you tremble. “You don’t care about anyone, but yourself.”

“Wait, what?” You asked, hurt. “I’ve always been there for you, Rafe! We’ve been friends for years! I had to take care of you so many times, without complaining or anything—”

“You don’t have time for your friends anymore, Y/N!” He cut off. “You’re too busy hanging out with Pogues!” You sighed, head falling against the wooden door. “You don’t call or text, it’s like we never existed.”

“I’m not allowed to have other friends?” You asked, raising your voice as well. “I wanted to leave the Kook life for a few days, try new things, meet new people! I needed this! They are really nice people, JJ—” He clenched his jaw at the mention of the blond vampire, grabbing yours firmly before slamming your head against the door. “Rafe, stop—” You cried, the sudden pain making you whine, both hands moving directly to his wrist. “You’re hurting me.”

“Don’t even talk about him!” He said. “I can’t believe it, you’re fucking with Maybank, a dirty Pogue.” You frowned, struggling under his grip. “I knew something was wrong at the country club the other day.” He chuckled, ignoring the fear in your eyes. “You’re such a—” He paused, getting interrupted by an object breaking the window next to the two of you, the impact and sound making him jump back.

“Fuck.” You murmured, touching your jaw. “Don’t even—“ He walked closer. “Stay away from me, Rafe!” You yelled glancing at the Kook boy, who was slowly realizing what he just did. “Leave me alone!” You added as he tried to approach you again. “Don’t touch me!”

“Y/N…” He said, raising his hands in panic. He never meant to hurt you, he was losing control. “Listen—” You opened the door, running away from him. “Y/N!” He called again, again and again. “Come back!”

You ran to the front door: pushing people on your way out, not caring about anything anymore: besides leaving this place. You flipped someone off as they were complaining, opening the door and going out in a rush. You wiped the tears rolling down your cheeks, sniffing and looking around: searching for JJ.

The blond boy appeared next to you. “We need to leave!” You said, sniffing again. “I— Please.” He looked angry, jaw and both fits clenched. “Ward knows something, we really need to leave.” You said, using the journal as an excuse.

“He touched you.” He murmured, glancing at the door and face. “This motherfucker touched you!” He yelled, moving towards it, getting pushed back as you stopped him. “I— I heard everything and—” He paused, huffing. “I couldn’t do anything else!”

“Wait.” You sighed. “The window, it was you? You didn’t had to—“ You paused, breathed in and out. “I’m not feeling well, can we please go home?”

“I had to do something!” He shouted, veins popping out on his neck. “I— I’m gonna kill him.” Your eyes widened. “You can’t let him—”

“He’s drunk and high!” You shouted back, increasing his anger, you shouldn’t be defending him but he’s still your best friend. “I know it’s not an excuse but—” You sniffed and looked down. “Please, take me home, JJ.” You begged, looking at him with tears in your eyes.

JJ remained silent, pulling you against his chest: both arms wrapping themselves around your waist. You started crying against his t-shirt, the sobs making him sigh.

“This— I’ll never let him touch you ever again.” He murmured against your hair, holding you tight. “Never, Y/N.”

Rafe Cameron just lost the only person he truly loved.

———————————————————————

tag-list: @prejudic3-deactivated20201112 @starkeyrafe @thestorysofargone @ifilwtmfc @callmeimpetuous @katiaw2 @your-local-candle-addict @iccyyyybitch @agirlwholovescoffee @hvrcruxes @mayybankz @magicwithaknife @obxmxybxnk @lus-shh @bibliophilewednesday @k-k0129

[djarinispunk]

Beautiful, Dirty, Rich - Loki Laufeyson Mafia AU

Chapter Two - The Meeting Place

After your brunch with your father (which also constituted as a verbal beating) you were seriously doubting your prior statement about not drinking. Sure, it would just give your dad more ammunition if you made a fool of yourself, but you were so far past the point of caring that the threat didn't bother you.

You closed the door to your apartment, resisting the urge to slide down against it and wallow in your sadness. However, the sight of Sophia's head sticking out from behind your fridge made you second guess your options.

Noticing your dejected expression, Sophia gave you a sympathetic pout, "That bad huh?"

You sighed, shrugging your coat off, taking a spot on your sofa, Sophia hot on your tail. "I don't know what was worse, when we were silent or when we were having a verbal sparring match." You rubbed your temples, "Oh! And he didn't ask about Paris once."

"I wish I could say I'm surprised, but we are talking about the same man who literally never remembers your birthday," Sophia smirked slightly, however it contorted to a grimace when she saw you narrowing your eyes at her. "Not helping, noted."

You made a noise which was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, "I hate him." you let the statement hang in the air, Sophia was used to your rants about your father at this point. Her father was in a similar position to your own, albeit further down the mafia ladder, so she understood.

"Tonight, we are going to look hot, we are going to get drunk, and we are going to get fucked. Seriously."

Sophia smiled at your words, "I like the sound of that." she paused for a second, "Is that a really a good idea though?"

"Probably not" You huffed, "I mean there's a sick part of me that wants to embarrass my father just for fun, but that means I also make an ass of myself just by association."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Sophia added, to which you gave her a side a thump with your leg.

I mean you try and steal a Basquiat painting from a Mafia wedding when your high one time.

"Whatever, I'll just have to see how it goes." you shrugged checking your phone quickly, "It's already five now.

"In that case, I'll get the wine."

By the time seven rolled around you were fairly tipsy, and you and Sophia were staring intently at yourselves in your hallway mirror. You turned in your gown, admiring the way it clung to your curves and hugged your cleavage nicely — you felt good, and looked even better.

"If there aren't any hot people there tonight, I will be taking you home." Sophia joked as she lay her head on your shoulder. You laughed, looking at the two of you in your reflection.

"I'm sure Charlie will be there, wouldn't be the first time this week you've slid into his bed."

Sophia's mouth gaped in shock before she slapped your arm, "You're a bitch. And I hate you." Her face contradicted her words as she fought back a laugh. Your laughter died when you heard your phone buzz from your clutch.

"Driver's here."

As far as Mafia's went, Asgard Industries was the one in New York with the most notoriety by far. The chain itself branched off all across America and as top secret as it was, more often than not your lifestyle would be branded across the Media as one of the most dangerous organisations in the world.

At times however, it didn't even feel like you were part of one of the most illegal chains in the world, purely due to the sheer elegance of it all.

The ballroom for tonight was no exception, high ceilings decked out in the finest decor. In your tipsy state, you kept your head facing up, staring as the dazzling light projections burst into kaleidoscopes of colour. Your mouth was agape in awe. Did it make you a bad person to love this side of the Mafia?

Probably.

You and Sophia had separated only ten minutes ago. She insisted she wanted to find her father but soon, whilst on your wander, you caught her and Charlie hand in hand, walking towards the bathroom. You fought the urge to cheer at her, but knowing it would dampen their moment you bit your tongue.

Now you were left to your own devices. You hadn't seen your father yet, thank god. You were trying to prolong that meeting for as long as possible.

You were now roaming one of the buildings corridors — flask in hand. You tried to ignore the creeping feeling of loneliness as you patrolled the marble floors. You could hear the party in the next room. You knew if you wanted you could be in there, socialising and whatnot.

So why was it that you were here, sinking to the floor in defeat as you guzzled the remainder of your vodka?

You cursed yourself for being so pathetic, you could have everything you wanted at your finger tips, so why did you feel so hollow?

Of course, it was at this point in your little pity party that you heard footsteps coming from around the corner. Despite how unladylike you appeared, you couldn't bring yourself to care, remaining slumped down against the wall like a drunk.

You didn't even open your eyes when you heard the footsteps stop in front of you.

"Do I need to call security?"

The voice, deep and clear rang in your ears. Slowly you opened your eyes. The man before you was nothing short of a Greek God; thick black hair falling in waves around his shoulder like Hades. His hair sat on a hardened face, chiselled in a way that would make even Prometheus envious.

And his eyes, you couldn't even tell what shade they're were from your position on the floor. From what you could see however, his eyes were swirls of deep emerald embedded in a lake of blue.

He was beautiful.

And you were...on the floor.

His face only hardened at your words, looking down at you he spoke, "Do you have no respect for your superiors?"

Your mouth dropped momentarily at the sheer audacity of the man. You weren't sure who he thought he was, but he sure as hell wasn't gaining any of your respect.

Pushing yourself from the floor, you stood toe to toe with the man, his steely expression never changing as you looked up at him.

"Excuse me?" you asked, bewildered at his statement.

He offered no explanation, only moved slightly to the right, separating the two of you.

He smirked briefly, the expression quickly morphing into a more unfriendly one. "You're excused."

You were left to watch as the man walked away from you, his shoes tapping against the marble as he left. You were speechless, what an asshole.

After having a few minutes to collect yourself and the shock of being talked to like dirt, you decided to try and find Sophia. That was, if her and Charlie were done with their bathroom rendezvous.

You entered the ballroom once again, eyes darting around the room in search of Sophia. It was useless, the room was packed. Defeated, you decided to cut your losses, you’d find her eventually.

“Drink, Miss?” a bartender holding a tray of champagne approached you. You nodded with a small smile, downing one flute and setting it down, before reaching for a second.

“Thank you.” you smiled, the alcohol leaving a warmth to you. The bartender, slightly unnerved by your display gave you a tight smile as they walked away.

Drink in hand, you crossed the room, sighing relief when you caught sight of Sophia and Charlie bickering at each other. Alas, some normalcy amongst the weirdness of the night. You began to make your way over to the pair when you heard your name being called form behind you. Groaning, you span on your heels.

“Dad.” you put on your fakest smile as you approached him. The two of you had unknowingly practiced this facade for years now. Act like a loving father in public, then treat you like a ghost the moment the two of you were alone.

“Hello darling” he gave you a forced smile as he embraced you in a hug, pecking your cheeks.

The man to his left said your name in greeting, holding a hand to you, “I’ve heard a lot about you dear. You’ve just come back from Paris, is that correct?”

It was rare to see him at a function, usually the higher the authority in the Mafia meant it would be too dangerous to be seen in public. Although, due to the party being for his son, you guessed he made an exception.

“Correct.” you chose to keep your answers short, you knew your place.

As old-fashioned as it was, the women of the Mafia were treated as property; you were either a trophy wife or a trophy wife in the making.

“Business or pleasure?” he asked with a snide grin, sending chills up your spine.

“Business, I was studying abroad.”

“How interesting.” all his words were slimy, the words slipping from his tongue with a certain element of venom, regardless of how mundane the conversation was. “My son has also been travelling, I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet you.”

He didn’t give you chance to respond before you saw him turn to something, beckoning them over with his hand.

And low and fucking behold. You saw who starts to walk towards him. The guy from earlier — no, the asshole from earlier.

“This is my son, Loki.”

[thatringboy]

The Way A Soul Lives (Part Two) - TWST

Requested by @yoruzumy0 that I continue This Story, so I hope you all enjoy! Angst is not something I’m very good at, but I got a lot of positive feedback from part one and it made me want to keep trying!

Word Count: 1,633

Warnings: Cursing, magic, blood mention, Character death, mentioned character death and the angst associated with that, implied relationships between characters

Silver sat on the stone pavement with his head in his hands while Lilia hugged him tight, his eyes widened and unmoving from shock. Malleus burst out of the castle with his large staff in hand and reached his companions. The prince stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the body on the ground and his eyes immediately went up to the stars, searching and scanning like the universe held the answers.

And for once, it did. Malleus had been looking at the wings of the dragon constellation for his fallen friend, but instead found the small star sitting peacefully next to his grandmother in the heavens, now protecting the Draconia family for the rest of eternity.

Despite the morbid situation, the comfort of knowing where Sebek’s final resting place was brought a small smile to his face. After all, what was death to the immortal?

~~~

Yuu had expected a mirror to gate them back to Night Raven College, not a singular Black Carriage to fit themself, Grim, Jack, Cater and Vil all into. Needless to say, they did not all fit.

Yuu wondered if this was some sort of punishment from Crowley for leaving and questioned if it was related to the feeling of dread still welling up inside of them. Magic had transported all of their luggage back to the school, but couldn’t transport them individually as well? The nerve that headmaster had!

Yuu would have complained if they could be heard over the complaining of their companions.

“You are sitting on my coat!”

“Well, you’re on my tail!”

“Guys move, I need a selfie to show my followers that I’m stuck here with you!”

“The Great Grim demands that you stop squishing me against the window!”

Yuu rolled their eyes and moved closer to the window to get away from Cater’s obsessive photo taking. They watched the Pyroxene countryside roll past the window and was taken aback about how snow could still be seen under evergreen trees despite it currently being the middle of Spring.

But the trip was not without faults. Every bump in the road jostled the Prefect and made them wonder if the bad feeling in their gut was about to become everyone else’s problem too. Thankfully, the Carriage passed through a gateway and was soon outside the front gates of Night Raven College.

The sight of the grand castle never ceased to take Yuu’s breath away and the view got their friends to momentarily stop complaining. Cater maneuvered himself in the carriage to snap a selfie that had a blurred image of Jack in the background, which got the sweet silence to break into arguing again.

When the carriage finally stopped and the doors opened, Yuu fell out and crashed into someone. They apologized profusely and felt someone stroke their head.

“Non non, forgive me for not being more careful.” Rook smiled down at them and helped them regain their balance.

Yuu stepped away from the third year and watched as he extended a hand to help Vil out of the carriage. The motion was graceful and Yuu wondered how Vil still looked so magnificent despite the commute. Jack ended up falling out of the carriage with Cater and Grim and the sight reminded Yuu of a clown car.

As their friends got to their feet, Yuu noticed that Rook was already in his uniform. “When did you get here, Rook-Senpai?”

The blonde spun around and tipped his hat. “I simply mirrored back to campus an hour ago.”

“Of course you did.” Yuu frowned and held out an arm for Grim to climb up on.

~~~

For someone with a slight case of narcolepsy, Silver didn’t sleep a minute. If anything, he purposefully made himself busy around the castle.

The image kept replaying in his mind as he cleaned Malleus’ room from the damage caused by the demon. The blood soaked stones, Lilia’s screams and the sound of Sebek slumping to the ground. It replayed in real time, slow motion and sped up. The scene was a bad record set on loop and every time he closed his eyes to try to silence the pounding of his head, the images became more pronounced and more intense.

It got so bad that he had to stop and sit down on Malleus’ half-burnt bed to keep himself from hyperventilating. He knew that Fae usually moved on quickly from death and didn’t typically mourn for long, but Sebek’s death was only a few hours ago and his caretakers had made themselves sparse almost immediately.

The sun coming up through the broken glass of the window made little refracted rainbows dance around the destroyed room. Silver saw the pleasant sight and thought of how the universe mocked him. Of course the sunrise after loosing his comrade would be beautiful, what else would it be? Sebek wasn’t a friend of his by any means - if anything they were bitter rivals - but the thought of going back to Night Raven College without the loud cabbage man made his heart sink further. Silver felt tears welling up in his eyes and moved to wipe them away.

“Glad to see you’re still as human as ever.” Malleus stood in the doorway with an exhausted face. Silver’s first instinct would have been to jump to attention, but his body didn’t move. Malleus came and sat next to him, glancing around the room as the sun came up more.

“Your father has been in the library all night trying to find the origin of that beast. I thought I told you to get some sleep, you need it more than us.”

Silver remained silent. What was he to say? He had left Sebek alone to defend the prince and took too long in fetching Lilia. The image of Sebek’s face before he plummeted out the window still burned in his mind. It was a face of determination and fierce loyalty only the Zigvolt boy could pull off. Malleus reached around the human and hugged him close. “Don’t over think this, none of this is remotely your fault.”

“But I could have--”

“We all could have done something differently. I could have stayed and fought instead of follow protocol. None of that matters now.” Malleus’ voice was barely audible. “What matters is how we move on.”

Silver pulled away. “Move on?! That was only five hours ago and you want to move on?!”

Malleus looked hurt. “No I--”

“I know that life isn’t such a big deal to fairies, but can we at least take a few days to mourn him?” he got up on his feet. “Sebek was by far your most loyal guard and you want to move on already? No, we will not stop mourning and we will not stop searching for who did this until I plunge my sword into their chest! I--”

Malleus was up and hugged Silver close. “I don’t want you to stop, I want you to slow down before you hurt yourself in the process. Revenge is a fickle thing; you think you want it, but what you really need is healing. And where does revenge stop? None of it will fill the hole inside of you.”

The soft voice of the prince made Silver tear up again as he hugged Malleus back.

“Alright, I’ll slow down, but only because you asked me to.”

“That is all I want of you now.”

~~~

Yuu braced themself for the running tackle from Epel and Ace and collapsed to the ground under their short friends, to the entertainment of Grim who just floated above the first years.

“Epel, Ace, I can’t breathe!” Yuu laughed.

“If you can talk, you can breathe.” Epel got up and helped Yuu to their feet. “So, how was the break?”

Yuu’s eyes widened and they began to retell their adventures in Pyroxene, the bad feeling in their gut subsiding for now. When they mentioned spending the week with the Howls, Epel’s mouth dropped open.

“So, what are they like? Jack’s parents?”

Ace elbowed the purple haired boy in the ribs. “Why do you need to know, lover boy?”

Epel turned red and crossed his arms. “Just curious, that’s all.”

Ace and Yuu snickered when Jack joined the small group and Epel flushed even more red. The five - including Grim - made their way inside the school and to the mirror hall where the other members of Heartslabyul that Yuu considered friends loitered. Deuce noticed his friend group and bowed to the dorm heads before making his way over.

“Ace, you shouldn’t just run off like that!”

Ace brushed him off. “Pssh, I was collecting the trash!��

“Trash? What trash?”

Yuu facepalmed and rolled their eyes. More mirrors lit up as more students returned from their breaks. A group from Scarabia chatted away about a new dance they learned, some Savanaclaw boys compared their fitness regimes from the break and Yuu swore they saw a few Ignihyde students slinging around brand new motorcycle licenses. Everyone was so happy to see each other and in that moment, Yuu forgot all about their sick feeling.

That is, until Jack tapped their shoulder and cleared his throat. “So, did any of you see the stars last night? I swore that a new one got added to the Draconia line.”

Deuce crossed his arms and nodded. “Yeah, I saw that.”

Yuu’s sick feeling hit them like a truck and they frowned. “Do you think it was someone we knew?”

Epel shook his head. “The chances of that are too slim, probably some distant cousin of someone we vaguely know.”

His certainty made Yuu feel better. The group continued to talk about something as Ortho approached them with a happy expression. He made the first years shriek when he removed his metal face plate and showed them his real mouth underneath.

Yuu’s attention was immediately drawn to a mirror in the corner of the room. They excused themself from the group and walked over to where Malleus, Silver and Lilia had appeared.

They looked dreadful. Lilia didn’t even bother to use his legs to lazily float around and his uniform was unkept, Silver’s eyes and cheeks were red from crying and Malleus’ had a distant look to him, like he wasn’t even there and his body was functioning on its own. Yuu smiled warmly at them. “Nice to see you three, how was your break?”

They clearly didn’t expect anyone to approach them as the three of them seemed to snap out of a trance. Lilia excused himself quickly and disappeared. Meanwhile, Silver remained glued to Malleus side. The prince looked down at Yuu with a sad smile. “It was... eventful.”

“I, uh, I saw the stars last night....” Yuu trailed off, seeing Silver’s face perk up sorrowfully.

“You did?” Malleus placed a hand on their shoulder. Yuu nodded.

“Then you know that tragedy has struck us.” Silver stood up straight.

Yuu looked around, noticing the unusual absence of the second guard. “Where’s Sebek?”

The single tear that rolled down Malleus’ face made Yuu want to throw up. They looked to Silver, but their eyes didn’t meet.

“You can’t be serious...” They whispered. Malleus suddenly hugged Yuu tightly and the Ramshackle student could hear his heart thumping loudly.

Yuu hugged back, feeling hot tears streak down their own cheeks. “W-What happened?!“

Silver opened his mouth to answer, but his voice became lost in his throat. By this time, Yuu’s other friends had noticed their disappearance and cautiously approached the Diasomnia students. Epel overcame his fear of the large Fae hugging his friend and spoke up. “Hey, where’s Sebek? Isn’t he glued to your hip or something?”

Silver glared at Epel, making him shrink away. Malleus let go and looked at the Pomfiore student with an apologetic face. “I am sorry, little one.”

Epel’s voice fell quiet and his eyes widened. “What?”

Yuu turned to their friends and saw the wave of realization hit them all at once. They wanted to curl up into a ball and cry and scream and wake up from this terrible dream, but all Yuu managed to do was look down at the ground. Their only comfort was the hand still on their shoulder.

~~~

“No... no, no, no no no no no...” Ace grabbed his forehead in disbelief.

“By the time I arrived on scene, both Sebek and the monster were already dead.” Silver crossed his arms and looked at his feet. Deuce cursed under his breath and kicked the ground.

“We’re still looking into how the demon could have been created and--”

“That’s not good enough!” Ace snapped at Silver. “You’ve got a killer out there and you’ve spent the first few hours looking at old books?!”

“Ace!” Jack looked appalled by his behaviour. Silver smiled weakly. “That’s what I said, too, but then I realized that we get no work done running on revenge as fuel.”

“You know, I’m getting tired of this philosophical bullshit.” Ace looked Malleus up and down. “You’re all powerful, get a tracking spell up and slap it on part of the monster’s magic that was left behind from the fight!”

Deuce punched him in the arm. “Please, just shut up!”

Malleus thought for a second. “You may be onto something....”

Ortho, who had stood in stunned silence the whole time, touched his chin. “Maybe you’re looking at the puzzle all wrong. When does anyone try to solve a maze puzzle by starting at the front? (Deuce, put your hand down, this isn’t the time) We find who made the demon and work our way backwards, like solving a riddle!”

“That’s how we deal with infestations at home. You find one bug and trace it back to the hive to eliminate them all.” Jack looked around.

Silver and Malleus stood there taken aback. They had spent every last possible minute until they needed to return to the campus pouring over books and contacting mages all over Twisted Wonderland and not one of them had thought of that.

The guard thought the idea over in his head and raised his eyebrows. “That would take several powerful users of magic to cast, but it could be done.”

Epel’s eyes perked up. “Well, we’ve got some of the most powerful wizards at this school, so let’s do it! For Sebek!”

Malleus let another tear roll down his cheek. Sebek had some truly amazing friends despite what the late guard would say about them. He chuckled, getting the attention of the first years. “Alright then, I’ll see what I can do.”

Jack scoffed. “Seriously? This isn’t all on you. C’mon guys, let’s see if we can find anything in the library! He wouldn’t want us to sit by and let Malleus-Senpai do all the work!”

“Yeah!” Deuce, Epel and Ortho agreed. Silver led the first years to the library with newfound energy, but Yuu and Ace hung back with Malleus.

The prefect looked between the young men. “You know, Sebek wouldn’t want anything but this. He’d be proud of their enthusiasm.”

Ace’s hands turned to tightly wrapped fists. “Yeah... it just hurts. A lot. He hasn’t even been gone a day and I already miss him.”

Malleus sighed. “That’s completely understandable. I suppose Faes don’t hold as much sentimental value over the death of our kin since we know we’ll see them again, but even so my heart aches with yours.”

Ace laughed, some tears spilling out of his eyes. “What did I just say about the philosophical crap?”

Malleus chuckled a bit. “I need to go to the headmaster’s office to inform him of the events of last night. Would you two care to join me?”

Ace and Yuu looked at one another. The prefect slipped their arm in the prince’s. “You need a new bodyguard anyways, so why not?”

The three left the mirror hall together, earning some shocked expressions from their classmates, but not really caring. Now wasn’t time for mourning over their lost friend, now was the time to take action and build each other up. Yuu was sure that the news of Sebek’s passing would be a shock to the student body, but deep down they knew that Sebek was still with them. Even if his spirit was in the stars.

After all, in the minds and hearts of others is the way a soul lives.

~~~

Cold...

I feel cold...

I can’t move...

I don’t remember anything...

What am I trying to remember?

His eyes opened in total darkness. He spun his head around frantically, trying to get a bearing of his surroundings, but discovered that he was simply floating in some sort of abyss.

“Well, you certainly slept like the dead.” A deep voice chuckled in his mind. His throat was dry and no sound came when he opened his mouth. Clammy hands seemed to take hold of his mind and hold his head still, looking forward at nothing.

“I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did, young man. It’s not every day someone of your age has the skills that you do.” The voice continued. “Seeing that you were not the original target, but still worth the effort we put into the operation, I’m sure we can make use of you here.”

“After all, service is in your nature. Isn’t it, Mr. Zigvolt?”

[starkeristheendgame]

I would love to read something about peter accidentally stealing a piece of Tony’s clothing without either of them noticing, but it’s something extremely valuable and everyone else (like maybe peters friends from collage or something) notice and are very confused. Would you write something like this? (It’s totally fine if not)

This was the actual cutest idea, and I loved writing this! I hope this is the kind of cute-awkward you were going for. Thank you sm for sending me this, honey! I’m an absolute sucker for clothes sharing. This begins as unest and is AU from AOU+. Peter is 18+

The first time it happened, it was a slate grey shirt with silver-leaf decor, the front brazenly depicting a boy with a wolf’s muzzle face. There was an oil stain on the right sleeve where it fluttered about his bicep, and a charred hole on the hem where Tony had skewered it with a soldering iron. Peter had just lost his own shirt to a grinding machine, and had accepted the shirt that Tony had offered him thoughtlessly, promising to bring it back on his next visit. 

Tony had waved him off and told him not to worry - The shirt was old and he had plenty others. Peter had thought nothing of it, not bothering to change as he collapsed into his bed. He had an early lecture in the coming morning, and he’d overstayed at Tony’s. Again.

He still lacked any thought on it when he awoke to his final alarm shrieking at him insistently, and he scrambled out of bed, nearly swallowing his toothbrush as he floundered to get ready. He skid to a halt in front of his bedroom mirror, eyed what he’d gone to sleep in, and deemed it acceptable. The shirt was clean - He’d only worn it to bed that night, and his jeans surprisingly matched it well. 

It was like any other morning, until he’d been in line at the lunch hall for a coffee, and the girl walking past had stuttered to a halt, eyes wide. “Oh, my, God. Is that a Yohji Yamamoto?!” She’d squealed, eyes wide and round, and Peter had blinked across at her, sleep-dead and at a loss. “That thing is like, a thousand dollars! Its limited edition!” She continued, and Peter glanced down, ready to defend his piece of shit shirt. 

Except. 

It wasn’t just a piece of shit, ratty old shirt, was it? No, because it had come from billionaire Tony Stark’s closet. He cringed, lip curling as he stared at the shimmering silver pattern. Ah, fuck. How could he explain this? Several people had noticed her loud speech and were staring, curiosity piqued. And, why wouldn’t they? Scruffy Peter Parker in a thousand dollar shirt. 

“I don’t think so” he barked nervously, before his brain had even come up with a plausible explanation. “I got this at a thrift store! Yeah. A thrift store, so. I mean, if it looks like some fancy shirt, its definitely a knock off” he laughed nervously, clamouring desperately for his coffee before he cast her an awkward smile and shuffled off, fleeing the lunch hall. 

Luckily, he had an old zip-up in his bag, and he tugged it on over the shirt. It meant he boiled in his last classes, but nobody else asked him about his thousand dollar shirt. He drove home with the windows down and the AC on, and when he pulled up outside his apartment, he paused, and rummaged for his phone. It took almost ten minutes to find the shirt he was wearing, but when he did, he sucked in air through his teeth and shoved his phone away. Yikes. A thousand? Closer to two thousand. 

The second time it happened, Peter had been to breakfast with Tony before classes. The older man had presented him with a beautiful custom Rolex, complete with deep, red rubies and rich blue kyanite. An early birthday present Tony had said, clasping it around his wrist with a warm, satisfied smirk. Peter’s birthday was months away, but Tony wouldn’t hear anything of it. 

He’d grown so used to the weight of it in between eating and talking that he’d completely forgotten about it by the time he arrived at his morning study session, sinking down at the library table and pulling out his books. MJ was already there, and Peter offered her a shy smile as he kicked his bag under the table. They were tentative friends after getting to know each other near the end of their final year, and though Peter had outgrown his initial crush, he was still glad she’d gone to the same college as him and Ned. 

He was just pulling out a pen from his case when MJ shifted. “Hey, nerd. What’s on your wrist?” And Peter’s heart seized then skipped when he cast a careless glance aside and watched the sharp halogen lights glint off the brand new gold and precious stones. His first thought was ‘aw, fuck. Not again’ and then his second was ‘how the fuck can I explain a Rolex that costs more than this building?’ 

“Fake!” He yelped, and ducked his head when a sprightly girl two tables across leaned forwards to glare at him. “I mean, y’know. My Aunt...Bought it for me. Thought she’d found a real Rolex on Ebay for $40, y’know? Ha. Some people” he coughed to clear his throat and to hide the fact that his voice had risen several pitches before he reached for his wrist, tugging his sleeve down over it. 

When he looked up, she levelled him with a flat, unimpressed look that clearly stated she thought he was a few marbles short. He spent the rest of the study session twitchy and tense, and she spent the rest of it reading and glancing at him now and then like she was afraid he might start frothing at the mouth. When the hour was finally over, Peter ran back to his car, wrapped the watch in several soft tissues from the restroom and hid it in the glove compartment. 

MJ didn’t mention the lack of watch, but she did pointedly stare at his arm for the rest of the day. It made him prickly and jumpy; a thousand worst-case scenarios running through his mind. Nobody knew he was Spiderman, and since joining college he’d done his best to keep the ‘Stark Industries Internship’ thing on the down-low. That was relatively easy, since most people hadn’t believed it in the first place. As for Spiderman - The only people who knew were May and Ned. He kind of intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. 

He was vigilant then, for the next few weeks. He inspected himself carefully before getting out of his car at college, and he always made sure to remind Ned to remind him any time he wore anything that a struggling college student wouldn’t. All in all, after three months had passed with only a few close calls, he felt pretty secure. 

That was, naturally, his doom. 

But! In his defence, Tony Stark had kissed him. On the mouth. And not by accident, either. One moment Peter was talking about his Chemistry class and how the next Tony Stark was kissing him, lips warm and a little chapped, stubble pricking at the corners of his mouth. 

They'd kissed for almost an hour after that, gripping onto each other, learning what made the other twitch and moan. Tony liked his lip sucked and Peter liked his hair pulled and it had led to eager grinding and groping. Peter had never been more loathe to leave, but he had dinner plans with Aunt May that night. 

Their first kiss had evolved into kissing every time they were together, chaste and shy or filthy and wet like teenagers. Groping turned into Mr. Stark jacking him off and sucking him down, to Peter sucking him in return and to slowly working their way towards Peter getting done up the ass for the first time (four times, actually. Peter was insatiable and Tony had been more than happy to oblige). 

It had been a Thursday night, though, and Peter had a mid-day lecture on Friday. His own shirt had been used as a rag from the first and third rounds, so he shyly accepted when Tony offered him an old, soft black one. It was ratty and stained and he thought nothing of wearing it to his lecture, scribbling notes furiously and paying attention because they had a test in two weeks time. 

Towards the end of the lecture, he felt something brush at itch at the back of his neck, and he twisted to find the girl from the lunch hall sat directly behind him, her arm retreating. He blinked in surprise; he hadn't even recognised that she was in his class at the time. 

"You had fluff caught on your shirt" she noted casually, though her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. Peter gave her a weak smile, mouthed 'thanks' and turned back around. 

It was relatively forgotten until he was done for the day, paused near the doors to try and find his power bank. Footsteps echoed through the hall, and he looked up they stopped near him. Standing there was the girl from his class, and he offered her a warm but puzzled smile. "Hi?" He asked after a pause where she simply stared at him with folded arms. 

"I know your secret" she announced, and he nearly dropped his bag, grumbling to catch it as his heart ticked up. That could mean anything - Tony? Spiderman? Even just the spider bite could be disastrous. He'd have scientists experimenting on him and then they'd know and- 

"Secret?" He barked out a little hysterically, straightening. "What secret? I don't have any. Not any worth exploiting, anyway. I mean, I peed in the pool once, but I was six and I-" 

"I know how you're getting such expensive clothes" she interrupted, arching a brow at him, though the corner of her mouth had ticked up into a smile. 

"What? Oh, the shirt the other month? I told you, it was a knockoff" Peter stuttered nervously, and she gestured. 

"You're wearing a Gucci shirt right now". 

"What? No I'm not. Have you seen this thing?" He asked, plucking at the hem, even as he died a little inside. Was it too much to ask for Tony to shop at Target once in a while? 

"Well, it's in horrible condition, but I looked at the tag in class. I know how you're getting all this expensive stuff" she repeated, and Peter twitched a little, glancing around the hall before shuffling out of the way a little. 

"I want in" she added, following him, and he paused, blinking across at her while his coherent thoughts stuttered to a stop. 

"Uh."

"I want you to teach me". 

"...Uh…"

She rolled her eyes at him and stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I know you're a Sugar Baby, Parker. There's no other way you could afford all this stuff, and nobody puts Gucci in a thrift store. I want you to teach me how to do it. Show me what website you used or whatever". 

Peter stared at the wall over her shoulder, his thoughts effectively flat-lined. Sugar Baby? Website? Teach her? 

"Listen, I don't know who your guy is or how you did it, but clearly, he's minted. And sharing. I'm only able to work part-time around my studies, and I want in. I'm not gonna tell anyone, I'm not a bitch, I just want to be able to afford stuff" her voice softened at the end, and Peter shuffled uncomfortably, trying to kick his brain into gear. 

On one hand, she thought he was fucking an old guy for ratty Gucci shirts. On the other, this was the perfect out for all his mishaps. He considered it, head tilting as the corners of his mouth dipped down, and then he nodded. 

"Sure, why not".

[robinrunsfiction]

Baby, You’re A Haunted House

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader Rating: General (TW for blood, mentions of a suicide) Requested By: None Word Count: 6,330 Author’s Note: Here is my first story for spooky season! I had hoped to have it up sooner, but life has been busy. This story has been in my mind since this spring. I intend on writing a little bit about the location it’s set in because it’s real! It really is a seminary that was converted into apartments in my hometown. I’ll link to the post here when it’s written. And yes, that is a picture of it below!  Also!!! There is a reference to another one of my favorite bands and one of their albums, first person who can correctly point it out wins... a prize? My admiration? Not sure yet, but shout it out if you know it!

It all seemed too good to be true.

(YN)’s roommate had let her know that she was going to be moving out of town for a new job and the thought of looking for a new apartment or roommate was overwhelming. She was dreading the process, but the next day while eating her lunch at work, she spotted an ad in the paper for Holy Name Heights. The description stated the apartments were newly renovated and located in a historic building on the edge of town, so she called right away to set up a tour.

Later that week she was touring the building that had previously been a seminary for many years. The diocese had sold the second and third floors of the sprawling building to a developer who converted the rooms into apartments, while leaving the first floor as office spaces for the diocese, a Catholic charity organization, and a small museum about the history of the church’s presence in the area.

“This place is beautiful,” (YN) marveled at the space. While being only one bedroom, it was spacious, had a washer and dryer so she wouldn't need to haul her laundry anywhere, assigned parking, not to mention a beautiful view, but a question nagged at the back of her mind. “How much is it per month?”

“$850 per month including utilities,” the agent replied with a smile.

“Oh! Ok, yes, I’d love to apply!”

A few weeks later as (YN) was moving her things into her brand new third floor apartment, she realized how quiet the building was. She paused briefly at each door as she walked by, straining to hear if anyone else was there. As she arrived at her own door with another armload of boxes, the door next to hers opened and a dark haired man stepped out. She shot him a quick smile as she fumbled for her keys. 

“Do you need some help?” He asked.

“That’d be great,” she laughed and he took the box from her so she could get her keys straightened out. “I’m (YN).”

“Gerard,” he replied as she got the door open and took the box back from him.

“Have you lived here long?”

“Just moved in last weekend. I’m glad I’m not the only one up here anymore.”

“Wait, seriously? None of these other apartments are occupied?”

“I don’t think so, I haven’t seen many people around. I guess an old seminary might be kind of a hard sell.”

“Yea, I’m not sure I would have considered it either if I wasn’t in a bind. Thanks for the help with the box,” (YN) smiled as she shifted it in her arms.

“No problem, I’ll see ya around,” he smiled before continuing down the hall.

“See ya,” she called after him. (YN) closed the door behind her and shook her head. Cool apartment, good price, cute neighbor. It all seemed too good to be true.

~

The next day (YN) got up, made a pot of coffee and set about unloading the box that held her mug collection. The fact that she didn’t have to share cupboards with a roommate delighted her, as she didn’t have to worry about any of her favorites getting damaged. She put on some music and made her way over to the living room window as the smell of brewing coffee filled the room. 

Her view was of the front of the building. Trees with bare branches lined the hillside that the building sat upon and a long driveway led up to the front of the building. She loved knowing that the leaves would soon be filling those branches, and then in the fall they’d turn beautiful shades of gold, red and orange. She also liked the idea of being able to see who was coming and going up the driveway. 

After enjoying her coffee, she got back to work unpacking her apartment. The hours flew by as the pile of broken down cardboard boxes piled up near her door. As she wiped her sweaty brow, she realized she had no idea what to do with the boxes and trash that had accumulated. Had the agent even shown her where the dumpsters were? Then she had an idea. Gerard.

Should she bother him? She didn’t even know for sure if he was in. She took a deep breath as she approached his door and knocked. She wondered how long she should wait if he wasn’t there, or didn’t want to answer. She’d never interacted much with the neighbors at her old apartment building, so maybe she was being totally obnoxious. (YN) was so deep in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t notice that the door was opening.

“Hey (YN), what’s up?”

“Hi, umm this is probably super dumb, but I don’t know where the recycling bins and dumpsters are. The agent never pointed them out, and I didn’t think to ask until I realized I was knee deep in broken down boxes,” she laughed nervously.

“I can help you carry boxes down,” Gerard offered with a smile.

“You don’t have to do that,” (YN) could feel herself blushing.

“It’s no problem.”

“I mean, if you insist!” (YN) laughed and he followed her back to her door. They each took an armload of boxes and Gerard led the way to the staircase that was at the end of the hallway next to his apartment. (YN) glanced over her shoulder at the dark portion of the staircase that led up to a door, most likely the attic. She quirked an eyebrow in curiosity but continued after Gerard.

“So what do you do?” (YN) asked, breaking the silence that hung between them as they headed down the stairs.

“I’m a comic book writer,” he replied almost sheepishly.

“Oh wow, that’s really cool,” (YN) replied genuinely and Gerard lit up.

“Thanks! A lot of people think it’s kinda lame, but it’s just a different type of writing, ya know?” (YN) nodded in agreement. “What do you do?”

“Boring office work,” she said shaking her head. “I wish I had time to do creative stuff like write or draw.”

“You should try, even if it’s just a little bit at a time,” he said as he opened the door leading out into the bright sunshine. “The dumpsters are back here.”

“Thanks,” (YN) smiled as she dropped her share into the recycling bin. "And maybe I'll try to find some time to write, if inspiration strikes."

"You'd be surprised how ideas can pop up when you least expect them," Gerard replied as they made their way back to their floor.

~

Winter started to melt into spring, and (YN) had settled into the routine of her new apartment life. Or at least she thought she was. 

It quickly became clear that she must have been a lot more absentminded than she realized, and her old roommate must have been picking up her slack. She could have sworn she had more milk left when she put the carton back in the fridge, but when she grabbed it the next morning for her cereal there was almost none left. And then there were all the things that just seemed to disappear for no reason that never reappeared, no matter how hard she looked.

One thing that didn’t seem to disappear was her crush on her neighbor Gerard. Interacting with him also became part of her routine, as it always seemed they were running into each other walking into the building or by the mailboxes.

It just happened that it was one of those lucky days, as (YN) had just walked in with her bags from grocery shopping when Gerard walked by. 

“Hey (YN),” he smiled. 

“Gerard,” (YN) started, trying to stifle a laugh. “ I’m not trying to be mean, but do you know how to cook? I feel like I’ve only ever seen you with take out, but never groceries,” she said nodding to her own bags.

“I know how to cook! I am a functional adult,” he replied with feigned offense.

“If you say so, enjoy your dinner,” (YN) replied as she entered her apartment.

“I’ll prove it to you,” he called just as she was about to shut the door.

She poked her head out the door, eyebrows raised. “Oh really?”

“Tomorrow night? 7 o’clock?”

“I’ll be there,” she replied with a smile. When the door was shut behind her, she couldn’t help but let out a squeal of delight.

The next evening (YN) was digging through her drawers looking for the sweater she wanted to wear to dinner with Gerard, but she absolutely could not find it. 

“This is crazy, I know I saw it when I was putting away laundry,” she muttered to herself. She got up and went over to the closet housing the washer and dryer, in hopes it had just fallen between the machines, or maybe was still in the dryer. She looked all around but found nothing, and trudged back to her room.

‘Wait, I didn’t turn the light off,’ she said, flipping the switch back on with a shake of her head. “I need to get more sleep.”

Giving up the search, she threw on a different top and checked the time. It was a few minutes past 7 and she hurried out the door.

“Welcome to my humble home,” Gerard said with a smile as he let (YN) in.

“Hmm, seems familiar,” (YN) giggled. “Oh dinner smells great!”

“Thank you,” Gerard smiled proudly. “We’ll be having spaghetti and meatballs. Umm, I don’t drink, so I have soda or water,” Gerard offered.

“Water is fine,” (YN) replied as she sat down at the table. “How’d you day go?”

“Good, I think I have a new story I wanna work on,” he answered as he placed plates on the table and sat down himself. “How about you.”

“Pretty boring actually. I’ll have to admit, knowing that we’re gonna be having dinner got me through my day.”

Gerard smiled and (YN) could have sworn she saw a blush creeping across his cheeks as he glanced down. "I'm glad I could help."

Conversation lulled as they dug into their meals, and The Smashing Pumpkins played softly in the background.

"Ok, I have to apologize for that dig yesterday about you not cooking, this is very good,” (YN) smiled.

"I have to admit, I bought the sauce, and the meatballs were frozen," Gerard winced.

“That’s fine! I do the same,” she laughed and Gerard looked relieved.

(YN) was having a wonderful time hanging out with Gerard and she felt like she could listen to him talk forever. He spoke with such passion and enthusiasm, it drew her in and she hung on his words. They laughed and joked and the time flew by until (YN) found herself stifling a yawn and she glanced down at her watch.

"Oh, it's late! I should get outta your hair."

“Well m’lady,” he said, affecting the same posh accent they had been joking around in earlier and bowing before her, “I do hope this evening has lived up to all your expectations.”

“It most certainly has,” she said with a laugh as she curtseyed holding out an imaginary skirt. 

Gerard reached out and took her hand in his and placed a kiss to the back of it, catching her off guard as he looked up at her from behind his lashes. "I hope we can do it again sometime soon."

(YN) nodded. "Yea," she said almost breathlessly. "I'd love that."

Gerard walked her to the door and when she glanced back at him when she reached her own door, he was leaning against his door frame.

"Night," she waved before walking into her apartment and he smiled and waved back.

(YN) could hardly sleep that night, as she was absolutely buzzing.

~

Weekly dinners soon became a tradition between (YN) and Gerard, with both of them taking turns hosting the other. (YN) knew she was terrible at both flirting and picking up when others were flirting with her, but she couldn't help but feel like Gerard might just like her too.There was something about the way his friendly hugs and touches started to linger longer and longer.

One night when they had been hanging out Gerard had casually mentioned going to hang out with his brother on his birthday, so (YN) took it upon herself to bring him his present before he left that day. As she stood at his door, she felt just as nervous as the first time she was at his door asking for help with her boxes. Once again she was totally lost in thought when Gerard opened the door.

"Hey (YN)!" He greeted her.

"Hi! Happy birthday!" She smiled, holding out the plate of chocolate chip cookies and the card she picked out just for him. 

"You remembered my birthday?" He asked, his eyes going wide and pink dusting his cheeks.

"Of course I did!" She laughed. “How could I forget?” She added a little more softly.

The smile grew on Gerard’s face and (YN)’s heart fluttered. “Thanks,” he finally replied, shaking his head. “Hey (YN), I was wondering, if umm, you’d like to maybe like go out on a date, like a real date some time? Don’t feel like you have to say yes just because it’s my birthday.”

(YN) laughed again, and she could feel herself blushing. “Yea, that would be really nice,” she nodded. “And I definitely would have said yes, even if it wasn’t your birthday.”

“Great!” Gerard grinned, but the buzzing of his phone grabbed his attention. "Oh, Mikey's here."

"Have fun with him," (YN) smiled and waved as she turned to go while Gerard grabbed his jacket and keys.

"Wait," Gerard said as he locked the door and jogged over to her, just as she was reaching her door. She looked up at him expectantly and he seemed nervous again before leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Thanks again for the card."

"No problem," (YN) smiled before ducking into her own apartment to swoon.

~

A few days later, it was finally the day of their first date. Gerard suggested they go to the art museum and grab coffee. Even though they hung out all the time, the fact that this was actually a date made things ever so slightly awkward. As they walked into the museum, their hands brushed a few times before Gerard took her hand in his. She glanced over and smiled up at him and he seemed relieved. They chatted and joked happily as they walked through the exhibits before they went down the street to the cafe.

Finding a table tucked away from the others, they settled in with their coffees. The sun that had been shining when they walked in was soon covered in dark heavy clouds, and big heavy raindrops began to beat at the windows. Something about it made a shiver run down (YN)'s spine, a feeling she’d almost grown accustomed to.

"Gerard, can I ask you something kinda weird?" She asked when there was a lull in the conversation.

"Sure," he nodded.

(YN) sighed and looked down. "This is gonna sound crazy, and maybe I'm going crazy, but sometimes things get moved in my apartment, or I feel like someone or something is watching me. I've checked every inch of it and there's nothing there, but I dunno. Have you ever felt that in your apartment?" She finally looked up and was startled by Gerard's expression.

"Yea," he said softly, a look of unease on his face. "I totally know what you mean. I notice it when I’m at your place mostly, but sometimes when you come around," he trailed off.

"But, I mean, ghosts and stuff aren’t real though, right? Like It’s probably just the vibe of it being an old building.”

“Yea,” Gerard nodded with a tight smile. “Ghosts aren’t real, vampires aren’t gonna hurt you, zombies aren’t gonna eat your brain while you’re at the mall.”

“Right! You are right. I’m sure it will pass.”

After the rain stopped, they headed back to their building and headed up to the third floor, stopping in front of her door.

“I had a lot of fun today,” (YN) smiled.

“Me too,” Gerard nodded. “I, I really like you (YN). I hope we can do this again.”

(YN) grinned and nodded. “I really like you too Gee, and yes I’d really love to go out again as well.”

Gerard’s face lit up, any nervousness alleviated. He reached up, cupping her cheek gently, as her eyelids fluttered closed. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers softly, before pulling back just as quick.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” Gerard whispered.

“Then do it again,” she replied.

Gerard didn’t hesitate for a second longer, leaning back in and kissing her deeply as she kissed back. His hand found her waist as she clutched his jacket. When they finally pulled back, they were both breathless and smiling.

(YN) knew that it was the start of something special.

~

Summer arrived with warm weather and abundant sunshine, but that didn’t stop the cold drafts that would breeze through (YN)’s apartment, even when the air conditioning was off. But then the noises started. Thumps and knocks in the middle of the night, jolting her awake. Once she was convinced someone was hammering frantically on her door. In the middle of the night. She jumped out of bed and rushed to the door, checking through the peephole to see who was there. But there was no one. 

The solution that seemed to be working best was spending as much time away from the apartment, specifically out with Gerard. From picnics in the park, to going to movies, cafes, wandering around book stores or comic book shops for hours, (YN) loved every moment of it.

One evening they were watching a movie in her apartment, happily curled up on the couch together when the thumps in the wall began behind them.

“What was that?” Gerard asked, startled.

(YN) sighed. “No idea. It’s been like this for a while now. I called the maintenance guy, but he doesn't think anything is in the walls. It’s why I’ve been so tired lately, I haven’t been sleeping, like at all.”

“Do you wanna come stay over at my place tonight? Maybe you’ll sleep better,” he offered.

(YN) smiled back at him. “Ok sure,” she nodded. When the movie was over, she changed into pajamas and they made their way back over to his apartment for the night. The next morning when she woke up, she stretched and sighed happily as Gerard held her close.

“Sleep well?” Gerard asked sleepily.

“Mmhmm,” she replied, looking up at him. She reached up and brushed away the hair that was falling across his face. “Best I have in a long time.”

“You’re welcome here anytime you want, sugar,” he said leaning in and kissing her sweetly.

"I worry that I'll overstay my welcome if I’m over here that often," (YN) laughed.

"Not possible, sugar," he said with a smile. "I love getting to spend my nights with you. Days too. I guess what I’m trying to say is I love you, (YN)."

“I love you too Gerard,” she replied before leaning in and kissing him deeply.

~

September arrived and Gerard was going to be gone for the weekend with a few of his friends on a guy’s trip for his brother Mikey’s birthday. (YN) was a little nervous at first about being alone at night, to the point where she was considering going to visit her parents for the weekend. Surprisingly, she was able to sleep through the night without any noises or strange occurrences waking her up.

The next morning she got up and went to retrieve a mug from the cupboard for her morning coffee. Without warning, a glass flew down from the top shelf, smashing into her forehead. (YN) yelped in surprise and stumbled back, glass shards littering the floor. Tentatively she reached up and touched just above her brow and when she pulled back, her fingers were covered in blood.

"Shiiiiit," she groaned as she carefully stepped over the broken glass on the floor and made her way to the bathroom. Flipping on the light, she felt nauseous at the sight. Blood dripping from the gash landed and streaked down her cheek like tears, accenting the dark circles under her eyes that she just couldn't shake after so many nights of interrupted sleep. She looked like death.

"Gee must really love me if this is what he's looking at every day," she muttered as she dabbed away at the blood with a washcloth.

A few hours later while walking out the emergency department with a fresh set of stitches, she decided she may as well fill in Gerard.

Happy friday! guess where i just left!

From Gerard 💖: Work let you take a half day?

Hospital 😬 

She dropped her phone back into her purse as she made her way across the parking lot, but by the time she got the door unlocked, Gerard was calling her.

"What happened?!" He asked frantically as soon as she picked up.

(YN) sighed. "A glass fell out of my cupboard and I got a cut above my eyebrow. Just a couple stitches and I wanted to make sure they got all the glass out," she replied, downplaying the accident. She knew he'd be back in a few days and he'd know she wasn't telling the whole truth about the cut, but she didn't want him to worry or end his trip early.

"But you're ok? Do you want me to come back?"

"Yes, I'm ok. But no, don't cut your trip short, I'm gonna go straight over to my parents for the rest of the weekendI think. It's one thing when we're losing sleep with weird noises, it's another to be attacked like this."

"You… you think," he sighed, seeming to be choosing his words carefully. "That a ghost did it?" Gerard asked in a hushed tone.

"If the glass was off balance and simply fell out of the cupboard it would have gone straight down. This was thrown at me, Gee. There was force behind it."

"Fuck," Gerard muttered. "I'm sorry sugar."

"Don't worry, I'm ok, I promise."

~

(YN) was grateful that Gerard believed what she told him about the haunting of her apartment. He could have easily dismissed her or her fears as crazy and ghost her, but he didn't. He was just as concerned about the situation and her wellbeing. After that weekend they began talking about moving out as soon as their leases were up. 

It had been a couple weeks when Gerard had a meeting in the city that was going to run late into the evening, so (YN) was stuck spending the night alone in her own apartment for the first time since the attack.

As she got in bed, she wondered how long it would be before she would be woken up at night. The noises always managed to cut right through her slumber to wake her, no matter how exhausted she was when she fell asleep. And exhausted she was as her eyelids were heavy as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She wasn't sure what time it was when the noise woke her up, but she sat up in bed and looked at the ceiling. It sounded like skittering, and she wondered if it might be something as innocent as an animal stuck in the attic. 'Wouldn't it be something if it was some animal all along,' she thought as she laid back down and closed her eyes again.

What felt like only moments later she opened them again, but she was not in her room. She wasn’t even in her apartment.

“Gerard?”

He looked up from where he was sitting on the floor in front of his couch with a look of concern and fear on his face unlike any she had seen before. “(YN), are you ok?”

“No, I’m- why am I in your apartment?”

“I was asleep and some noise up in the attic woke me up, but before I could fall back asleep there was this loud bang and I went up to check what was going on because it sounded different from anything before, and you were up there on the floor like you fainted. You didn't even stir until just now when you woke up.”

(YN) shook her head. “I heard the noise too, but I went back to sleep, I didn’t even get out of bed, I went right back to sleep until I just woke up here. What could have made me faint if I wasn't even awake and can’t remember what I saw?”

Gerard ran his hand through his hair, considering her question and when he spoke, his voice shook slightly. “I… I dunno (YN). After I brought you down from the attic, I went back to your apartment so I could put you in your own bed and your door was locked.”

“But that’s not possible unless I took my keys and locked it behind me. Should we go up and look for them upstairs?”

“No!” Gerard said quickly. “I mean, I don’t want to make you stay here if you don’t want, we can call the maintenance line to let you in, but I don’t wanna go up there again. Tonight, I mean.”

(YN) climbed off the couch and sat next to him on the floor. “I’ll stay here, you know that's fine but,” she paused, taking a deep breath. “What did you see up there Gee?”

He shook his head, looking down at his hands. “We can talk about it in the morning? It’s late.”

(YN) swallowed hard and nodded. "Yea, that's a good idea."

Gerard got up, offered her a hand, helping her up. He placed a kiss to the back of her hand before leading the way to his room.

(YN) always felt safe with Gerard's arms wrapped around her holding her tight, but it was still a very poor night of sleep for both of them. The next morning (YN) and Gerard were sitting in his living room, sipping coffee in silence before (YN)'s curiosity got the best of her.

"Can you tell me what you saw up there now?" (YN) asked suddenly. 

Gerard looked up at her, the dark circles under his eyes matching hers. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Do you really wanna know?"

(YN) nodded. "I wanna understand what happened last night. Well as much of it as I can."

Gerard drew a deep breath. "Ok. I went up there when I heard the second bang. I was kinda surprised the door was open. And then I was shining my flashlight around and," he drew in a breath and shook his head. "I thought I saw someone at the far end of the attic, but my flashlight went through him. I started to panic and that's when I realized you were on the floor. I grabbed you and carried you back down here and, well you know the rest."

"You saw the ghost?" (YN) asked, her voice cracking with fear.

Gerard nodded solemnly. "I think so."

~

Gerard's words kept ringing through (YN)'s mind. There was no denying it now, she was being haunted by a ghost. She was, generally speaking, freaked out about the whole situation, but also a little curious. That's when she remembered the museum on the first floor.

The space was small, no larger than an office. Shelves were filled with books and bibles, and old black and white photos lined the walls, but one picture stood out as different from the rest. An elderly woman stood before it, gazing up at the portrait of the young man.

"Excuse me, do you know any of the history of this building?"

The elderly woman tore her eyes off the photo and looked back at (YN). "Well, I should say I do. What can I help you with?"

"I don't know how to ask this delicately, but, umm, is there any reason to believe that it might be haunted?"

The elderly woman nodded slowly. "Well, yes, I suppose there would be," she replied before glancing back at the portrait. "This was my brother, Joshua. He was in the seminary and was going to become a priest when he met her."

"Her?"

"Elenora. She was beautiful," she paused, studying (YN) for a moment, "actually you remind me of her. But he was so conflicted, he wanted to be a priest, but he was so enchanted by her. He convinced himself, and her, that the only way they could be together was in death."

"Oh no," (YN) gasped.

She nodded. "They were to jump together from the roof. He went first, she never went."

"I'm so sorry," she replied softly.

"It was 60 years ago. I had known Elenora my whole life, so I blamed myself for introducing her into his life, but I didn't blame her! I still don't. I don't admit this to many people, but we're still friends."

"You have a very forgiving heart," (YN) smiled. "Thank you for telling me all that."

She nodded. "That is what I am here for," she replied as she walked around to a small desk and picked up a dust rag before turning back to one of the shelves.

(YN) made her way back to her apartment and shut the door. "Joshua, if that's you, please leave me alone," she said. 

Nothing happened and (YN) shrugged.

~

The cool fall weather settled in and October was filled with the warm glow of red, yellow, and orange leaves on the trees outside, but by Halloween, the branches were blown bare, leaving dark, imposing branches reaching toward the sky.

Gerard's friend Frank invited them to his house for a Halloween party, and to celebrate his birthday.

A night out, dressed as Bonnie and Clyde, was exactly what they both needed after all the time they spent living in a real life haunted house for almost a year now. (YN) also loved spending time with Gerard's friends. They quickly made her feel welcome and made her future with Gerard seem even better.

It wasn't too terribly late when they decided to call it a night and headed home. "I'm gonna go change and I'll be over," (YN) said before heading into her apartment. Gerard nodded and headed to his own door.

She kicked off her shoes and dropped her jacket over the back of the chair when she felt a cold rush of air blow past her. She closed her eyes as a shiver ran through her whole body. When she opened them, again the cold air was surrounding her, wind blowing her skirt around as a freezing rain started to pelt her arms and face. Frantically she looked around, realizing she was on a rooftop. Before she could get her bearings, phantom hands were on her, pushing and pulling her toward the edge.

"No! No! Get off of me! Let go!" She screamed, flailing her arms, trying to shake off the attack. She seemed to break free and started to run toward the hatch to the attic.

The hands grabbed her ankle and sent her tumbling to the rough surface of the roof. When she looked over her shoulder, a figure made of a shadowy mist was pulling her by the leg toward the edge.

"No! Stop it! No!" She screamed again, her hands scratching at the roof, trying to make purchase.

From behind her she heard a bang. She looked up and saw Gerard at the opening to the attic. "(YN)!"

"Gee! Help!"

"Let her go!" Gerard commanded as he ran to (YN), pulling her off the ground and wrapping her in his arms protectively. She buried her face against his shoulder as she clutched his shirt. "Are you ok? I got you sugar, you’re safe now."

"No, no I'm not ok," she sobbed.

"Come on, let's get inside."

Gerard helped her down the ladder and carried her down the stairs to his apartment. He set her down in the bathroom and set to work cleaning the cuts across her hands, legs, and feet.

"Gee, I don't wanna stay here tonight, I can’t stay here anymore, I have to move or I’m gonna end up dead!" (YN) cried as Gerard wiped the blood away from her palm.

"I know sugar, I'll get you cleaned up and we'll go find a hotel room tonight, ok?" (YN) sniffled and nodded in agreement. “And then in the morning we’re gonna find a new place to live, you and me.”

(YN) had been watching as he worked, but hearing him say that she looked up at him. “Together? Even after all this? What if it follows me?!"

He reached up and wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheek. “Together. Nothing's gonna come between us, not even a ghost."

A smile finally broke across her face as he placed bandages on the worst cuts. Then she finally changed out of her soaked and bloodied Halloween costume and into a pair of Gerard's sweatpants and an old hoodie. She didn't have shoes, but she didn't care. She wasn't going back into her apartment until the day she was going back to pack it up and move out. And even then, she was considering hiring someone to do it for her.

"Ready to go?" He asked when she walked out of his room.

"Let’s get away from here," she nodded and he took her hand. They hurried through the cold rain to his car and she sighed as she sunk into the passenger seat. She finally felt free.

Gerard started down the long tree-lined drive when suddenly a large tree limb came crashing down in front of them. (YN) screamed as Gerard slammed on the breaks.

"Shit! Are you ok?" He asked breathlessly.

"Look!" She whimpered, pointing a shaking finger out the window. Gerard looked as well at the ghastly figure on the other side of the branch. Gerard put the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Gee, what are you doing? Gee? Gerard! Stop it, get back in here!" She cried frantically as he got out of the car. Not knowing what else to do, she scrambled out as well.

"Give her to me!" The phantom wailed, striking cold terror through her. "I gave my life for my love, she belongs to me!"

"This is not your love!" Gerard shouted back.

She moved to stand next to Gerard, interlacing her fingers with his. "I'm not Elenora! I've never done you wrong!" She pleaded. "Gerard is my true love! Let us pass!"

The phantom's face contorted, snarling, teeth growing long, fingers becoming claw-like. (YN) screamed in fright as Gerard stepped in front of her. As the ghost launched at them, headlights came up the drive, shining bright in their eyes, and the phantom faded into nothing.

The other car stopped and the driver got out. "Need help moving that branch outta the way? Woah, you two look like you've seen a ghost," the man laughed.

Gerard shook his head and looked back at (YN) sympathetically. "Well, it is Halloween."

~

A few months later (YN) and Gerard had settled into their new place. There was nothing in the new place that (YN) would describe as too good to be true. Their commutes were longer, they had to go to the laundromat to do laundry, and they were paying more in rent, but they were together and they finally had peace. And that was worth every penny.

“Hey Gee,” (YN) said as she padded into the living room one Saturday afternoon, holding something behind her back.

“Yea sugar?”

“So I’ve been working on something. I’m not sure it’s any good, but I think it’s finally ready for you to look at.”

Gerard sat up and looked up at her curiously. “What is it?” (YN) handed him a binder. “The Haunting on Holy Name Hill."

“A long time ago, back when we first met, you said I should try writing or drawing if I’m interested in it because you never know when inspiration will strike, and since moving out of that awful place I’ve been trying to wrap my head around everything that happened. So I started writing about it," she shrugged. "I fictionalized some of the events and changed our names, but can you read it and tell me if it’s any good?”

“(YN) I’m so proud of you,” he said with a smile as he got up and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m gonna read it right now.”

“If you insist. I’m gonna go to the laundromat.”

A while later when (YN) came back, Gerard wasn’t on the couch where she’d left him. “Hey Gee, did you finish reading it yet?”

“Yep,” she heard him reply as he came back from the second bedroom they’d set up as his office. “And I have something to show you too.”

“What’s that?”

“First of all, wow, the story is so well written!” he grinned.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, you’re a natural! And second, look,” he said handing her a stack of drawings.

“What are these?”

“I was thinking, if you want, we could pitch your story as a graphic novel and these are some drawings I did when I was reading it. This is your character, this one is me.”

“Gee, these are amazing! And you really think that it’s publishable?”

“I really do,” he nodded.

“Ok yea, let’s do it. Other than being the place where we met, there should be some kind of good that comes from that awful place. And maybe serve as a warning to everyone else about things that seem too good to be true."

[trudy-shams]

What we become - Part 8

Time is a difficult concept to understand.

Sometimes a night or a day may feel too long and at the same time, years pass you by in a blink.

Making your way through the baggage claim, looking for Nat, it felt like it was just yesterday when you were picking her up, seconds away from that dreadful moment when everything shattered. Your heart bled out right at the airport. Like always, your mind wandered to the sweeter memory you had of the airport, the kiss - a pair of lips you could still feel on yours. Sometimes, when you couldn't sleep at night, you revisited that memory, strangely able to detach it from the harsh truth. It felt like yesterday when those soft lips pressed against yours and at the same time, you felt like you were that girl eons ago. Maybe if your past self walked next to you, you wouldn't even recognize her. You had changed so much, you had grown so much.

Time is indeed a difficult concept to understand.

But looking at the girl, who was barreling towards you at full speed, you knew it had been a really long time.

She smashed into you and crushed you in a bear hug and all you could manage was a muffled 'oof'.

"I missed you peanut" Nat's voice held so much emotion you had a hard time keeping your tears at bay.

"Not as much as I missed you" You leaned back after a deep breath and beamed at her.

Nat was wearing a muted grey sweatshirt and sweats with large sunglasses and a really stupid looking that covering most of her face. Nobody was paying any attention to her and you were really glad about that.

"It's my favourite disguise, works like a charm every time" She said as she hauled your bags up and handed it to a man who appeared out of nowhere and disappeared in the crowd again with your bags.

"This is so weird, you have people picking bags for you" you shook your head and spotted Nat's face in a huge billboard as you existed the airport "Seriously, this is why I have missed you more, your face was plastered everywhere!"

You both got into a waiting SUV and spent the entire ride falling back into the easy rhythm you two shared. Nat and you spoke very frequently on the phone but you both were busy. She was one of the most successful models in the country now and you had made great advancements in your career. She filled you in on the lastest news and gossip about your family and friends.

You were lounging by the pool in your suite, when Nat came back after speaking to her manager who had dropped by.

"You remember Sam Wilson?" Nat asked and you nodded, of course you remembered, he was Steve's friend "I have to attend a launch party for one of his product lines today since I am their brand ambassador and all, we need your dress size"

You quirked an eyebrow " Why do you need my size? I am not wasting my precious vacation hours making small talk with complete strangers"

"Well, you have to come because this has been planned for ages and well... I want you to meet someone"

That got your attention "Natasha..do you mean I finally get to meet your super secret boyfriend mr."pea" that I had to pretend doesn't exist?"

"Yes tha... what?" Nat was surprised. No one knew about it, no one even suspected anything. The paparazzi had nothing on her.

"You can't hide stuff from me babe, we are sisters and well...I still remember your personal email and social media password, you really need to change those '' You squealed as Nat ran after you.

"You little shit, come here"

You spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and drinking expensive liquor.

Both of you were dressed to the nines in glamorous dresses, perfect hair and makeup - thanks to Nat's team of professionals, you didn't even have to lift a finger.

When you looked into the mirror after they were done, you couldn't even recognize yourself. Was that really you? This momentarily distracted you from the bigger worry festering in your heart since Nat announced you were going to the launch party. You knew Sam was friends with James and Steve. There was a high probability you would run into them tonight.

You were sure you had it under control, it had been 5 years since that fateful day, You were not that person anymore. Nat was not that person anymore - she appeared to be unbothered but you knew something had her worried. You didn't bring it up but you felt like it was probably the prospect of seeing James again but being in the same city, you didn't know if Nat had run into him before today. You tried to tamp down your nerves and give yourself some internal pep talk.

You were not a young girl working at the bar anymore, you were so much more.

Steve probably didn't even remember you.

Both statements were proven wrong the moment your eyes met a pair of cerulean blues that you had never truly forgotten.

Steve definitely remembered you if his wide eyes and open mouth were anything to go by.

And you were still that girl, who couldn't look away from the prison of his eyes.

You broke out of your trance when a loud voice greeted Nat.

"There is my sweet pea" the masculine accented voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Here I am Mr. pea"

PETRO!

MAXIMOFF!

What the hell? Peitro Maximoff is Mr. Pea - or Mr. P now that you think of it.

"Well he is" Peitro was sheepishly smiling at you now and you realized you said the last statement out loud. "Although,your sister has plenty of other names for me but those are usually reserved for a more private setting" he added with an exaggerated wink while Nat smacked him on the chest with a roll of her eyes.

You didn't know how to react to THIS? How could she not tell you? This guy was a douche. He always was. He was only with Nat for publicity. You wanted to drag Nat to a room to scream at her for hours.

But at that very moment, a smiling Wanda along with a happy Sam Wilson and a grumpy James Barnes made their appearance.

"There is my beautiful future sister in law" Wanda was smiling a toothy fake grin at Nat. "Not again Wanda" Pietro and Nat said at the same time and laughed. You eyed her fingers there was no ring. You would have murdered her if she got engaged without telling you. Was this your life? Your sister going from one douche to another?

You looked at James's grumpy face.

And suddenly, everything made sense.

Nat could not have found a better man for herself. What better way to rub it into James face then date his own brother in law? This was epic! You never thought Nat could come up with such a scheme.

You were surprised but also kinda proud.

You tried your best to hide your smirk at James's scowl and glanced at Nat. God! She was playing the part so well, even you were surprised by her skills, she was gazing so lovingly at Peitro who now had his hands in the small of her back and talking animatedly with Wanda.

Nat introduced you to everyone and Pietro gushed about how much your sister loved you and mentioned you all the time.

You smiled politely and kept up the small talk.

Just then, you got a whiff of a cologne which spiked your heartbeat and a second later a throat cleared and the deep voice you were longing to hear rang out.

"Hey guys"

Followed by another voice which your nightmares were made of.

"You looked so beautiful up there Nat" Sharon, still attached to Steve's hip.

"It's Natasha actually" Nat spoke airily. She did not like Sharon, you wondered why.

"Oh my sweetpea really likes her name" Petro was whipped. This was going to be so good.

You were never the bitter kind but being around these people,with all the memories,it just..changed you.

You didn't know if it was a natural pull or your instinct but you made the mistake of looking at Steve again.

You willed your heart to quiet down. He was looking at you as if you were a ghost. He barely blinked and you could hear his broken breaths as his eyes captivated you.

Why was he doing this? He was with Sharon still and he was looking at you like.. that.

A nudge on your elbow from Nat gave you the push you needed. You excused yourself and rushed to find the ladies room.

You needed to get your heartbeat and breathing under control. What was wrong with you? This guy straight up lied to you, on your face, for so long, led you on and here you were falling apart just because he looked at you a certain way.

You really needed to talk to someone. Keeping this all in was definitely driving you nuts.

You decide to come clean to Nat. Maybe it will give you the closure you needed, letting it all out.

You patted your cheeks a few times and turned to open the door of the ladies to go back out when you bumped into Nat.

"You ok?" Nat put a hand on your shoulder and ducked her head a little, forcing you to meet her eyes.

Nope! You couldn't tell her anything. This wasn't important. She and you both had better things to discuss.

"Yea, I just needed to use the ladies for a bit" you tried to sound extra cheery but one look from Nat was enough to tell you that it wasn't working.

"You can tell me if something is bothering you you know" you wanted to squirm under Nat's gaze.

"Pfft.. me? Why would anything bother me? I am great. You know what we should have drinks, I think I saw an open bar" You clasped her hand and dragged her behind you. --------------------------- "Ugh..I think I am dead" you opened your eyes with a groan "Did you let a car drive over me Nat?"

"You know, on several occasions last night, I almost wanted to do exactly that but... well Pietro stopped me" Nat pulled you into a sitting position and pressed 2 pills in your palm and a bottle of water "I didn't know you were such a lightweight"

"Well I usually don't drink so much" you ingested the pills and gulped down the water.

"So why last night? Something is bothering you?" Nat was eying you like THAT again.

You squinted at her and shook your head getting up to go to the bathroom. Did she know anything? Why did she keep saying that?

Nat opened her mouth to say something when her phone went off. She smiled looking at the screen and you slinked away to the bathroom quietly.

Nat was slumped on the bed when you came out of the bathroom

"Pietro has invited us for dinner at his place tonight. Are you ok with that?"

You nodded your head "But no alcohol for me. I have had enough for a week"

Nat hummed "It will be just a small circle of us. I would like for you and Pietro to get to know each other better"

"yeah yeah sure since you will be the future Mrs Maximoff '' you said mockingly and laughed at your own joke and tried to get some more sleep.

In your hungover state, you missed to notice the lack of matching laughter and quizzical expression on Nat's face.

[spirit-of-vengeance]

@spxcemuses @mr-mansnoozie @xxstar-bluesxx

Guess who gathered enough mind to finally write her full backstory of Western Verse. Her being a bounty hunter is set in the Wild West time period (1865-1895), there is no current year(s) to set her story in mainly because I don't want to make a mistake messing up the timeline.

Calm before the storm

Her father, Attila a lesser Hungarian noble whom supported the 1848-1849 revolutionary war but after the failure of it he escaped emigrated to America to avoid the Habsburg revenge, soon followed by his brother Gábor. He could save a small amount of his fortune along with his two most important horses: a purebred Lipizzan stallion and an extremely rare Akhal Teke mare. He had settled near a small town, due to his financial situation and education as a noble he established a school with the support and approval of the local church. To quieten his guilt for abandoning his country in its peril, he poured all of his heart into educating children; at least he is still useful in some way.

One day, a group of artists traveling artists, acrobats traveled through the town and the aristocrat fell in love at first sight. She was like the queen of fairy from the folk tales he'd heard in his childhood, she was tall, blue eyes sparkled like light sapphire, long golden brown hair floated ethereally with every twirl. The smitten lord shamelessly courted the the graceful acrobat, determined to know at least the name.

The group had stayed in the town for a few weeks, allowing Attila's and Myra's romance to blossom; after a month she ended up staying with him, just like in true fairytales.

My obsession with angst backstory strikes again

The lord was in love, deeper than poets could express it. Since the loss of his home and country he had found his place in the universe along with the perfect companion by his side. He paid less attention to the school, the church and other public affairs; it wasn't like he abandoned them but became more withdrawn to spend time with the love of his life, especially after the birth of their daughter. She was almost the perfect miniature of her mother, same beautiful hair glinting gold in the sunlight, only her eyes were the brightest emerald green he'd ever seen.

While Myra's heart and aura was as pure as a fairy's; the local church was beyond distressed. They claimed that Attila had completely abandoned helping those in need because of her wicked seduction. When they witnessed her performing for the amusement of the crowd, the 'temptress witch' brand couldn't be lifted. They gathered a few enthusiastic townsfolk whom shared their views and a few morally questionable men whom only wanted a piece of the lord's fortune.

10 year old Karma was awakened from her deep slumber by her frantic father; smoke and yelling blinding her senses as he carried her out of the burning house into the nearby forest so the mob won't find her. He promised her he will be back but he had to return into their home for Myra; he couldn't leave her inside. Karma watched her dad disappear into the flames, the air filled with suffocating smoke and religious shouts for god to smite the sinners. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the spot where her father was gone, waiting for her parents to stumble out of the half collapsed building; but that never had happened. She sat unmoving from her spot, struck staring into the flames then into the ashes as the sun has risen.

Birth of the marksman

Attila's brother, Gábor arrived the next day after hearing the news, he was the one whom found Karma still staring at the ruins in a catatonic state. He couldn't avenge his sibling as it meant endangering his niece and she has lost more than enough.

Gábor expected her to become a soft spoken, reserved lady once she overcame her trauma; that theory was soon abandoned when once he had awoken to his niece practicing with his rifle outside with frighteningly great accuracy. The young girl naturally had an extraordinary aim and after a few long talks, he'd seen the determination burning in her to avenge the murder of her parents. Given by her mother's dance lessons, she was also flexible and capable of many different acrobatic moves; this combined with her aim proven to be a very dangerous combination.

To not awaken suspicion he told his friends Karma was an orphan whose parents were killed by bandits and he had adopted her to give her a family and education. Karma was fascinated chasing greater heights of her skills, this involved reading every possible book about anatomy, marking, engraving the useful spots of the body. Karma knows where to shoot to disarm, to cause a slow death, to paralyze, to disable for life and when it is only a warning: an injury which will heal with time. Along with her accuracy, her drawing speed only can be compared to lightning. Although she prefers/most comfortable with her dual revolvers (model undecided yet), she is still a menace with shotguns, rifles, flintlocks and even bows due to Gàbor's 'A Hungarian is not a Hungarian if they can't use a bow' mindset.

The bounty hunter quicker than death

Karma had her first official gunfight at the age of 18 on the auction. for Vihar (Storm), the filly of her father's horses.

Detailed post about Vihar

She officially entered the bounty hunter business when she was 20 and Vihar was 2, aiming for the most dangerous criminals whom committed the worst acts possible. In her early years after the kill she slit open corpses she trying to find the bullet, surverying the damage it caused and adding filler information to her anatomy knowledge. Of course she didn’t bother burying the bodies, she knew as a woman she has to be extremely vicious above talented to be hired and mutilated dead bodies did send a great message & served as cement for building her reputation. The name Karma wasn't entirely her idea, many thankful family members claimed that karma has came for their loved ones' murderers. Her talent spread like wildfire among the men of law, glad to be rid of the dangerous scum; with careful planning, use of environment and Vihar as backup she had wiped out gangs, not solely focused on individuals.

Unfortunately her reputation summoned an unofficial grand price on her head as well in certain circles; they had tracked her back to her uncle's house. The battle claimed Gábor's life and nearly her sight as her right eye was almost slashed out. The new loss opened old wounds: her not being able to protect her loved ones. She couldn't look into a mirror, the scar a reminder how despite all years of training she wasn't untouchable; after burying her uncle plan to gain control over her psyche already formed.

She took a knife and carefully carved four half circles around her eye to form a crosshair with her pupil being the middle of it. She made sure she kept the wounds open for enough time to scar as visibly as the vertical cut; she wanted a symbol to add to her legend. Excuse my pathetic excuse of an edit, I'm not good in this, nor I can draw.

Now Karma is 25, Vihar is 6, both of them in their peak physical prime; the name Vihar is also symbolic a little, Karma is the lightning to her horse. She is dancing on the thin edge of bounty hunting and being an outlaw as she often takes...side jobs to help people who deserve it and usually that person doesn't have a bounty on their head, therefore it is technically murder.

Local antisocial feral monk & cocky gunslinger feral lady / addition of the AU with the amazing @mr-mansnoozie

Near her uncle's house, Karma had discovered a cave and a grumpy mute monk living in it along with his pet bear. The monk, Sandy eventually became a second uncle to the traumatized angry orphan, he taught her how to move & creep upon someone soundlessly, disappear without a trace, cover her stances and behavior patterns of various animals. Before and after returning from a job she always visits her uncle of choice for a chat; a silent way to prepare him to the possibility of her not coming back. But she always do. She considers Sandy as part of her tiny family, although his...copying mechanisms with his own traumas were a bit strange to get used to; she adapted quite fast, after all who is she to judge with a past like that?

I'm a dead man walking, Hell's at my door.

aka collection of small headcanons

🎯 Her dual revolvers are called Salvation and Damnation because she's dramatic

🎯 Karma has a small sketchbook filled with anatomy drawings for further practice.

🎯 She actually can sing, but rarely does, only to Vihar since she never received positive feedback on it. Her voice is gritty, rugged and deep; definitely not the usual and desired sounding from a woman.

🎯 If her target was an outstandingly cruel bastard and/or one of those whom killed her parents she uses a little psychological torture. After fatally wounding them she starts whistling (for the most terrifying experience wear headphones & close your eyes while listening) as they try to crawl away or beg for mercy. The first time the whistle gets shrill & more intense is when she lazily reloads, knowing she has both the time and the upper hand. The second pace shift is when she aims; she shoots during the last, long drawn out high note.

🎯 This is her only verse where Cindy is afraid, no terrified of fire; during her....26 AU's she's always been associated with fire despite dying in or being wounded by it. In this verse she is more tied to lightning, the scent of smoke is enough to send her into a silent panic attack and despite loathing the cold she will never sit close to the fireplace. Her other deep fears include injuring her hands & sight and losing Vihar. Her horse is the only remaining family member of hers, she can't fail her too.

🎯 Most of Karma's scars, injuries are a result of her standing between Vihar and a knife/bullet/ even a bullwhip when a criminal was smart enough to catch on their deep emotional bond.

🎯 She has recurring night terrors about the night her parents died, she always wakes up in cold sweat; she's sort of used to them. Though, sometimes she still cries but thankfully Vihar is there to comfort her.

🎯 Karma has a special morning stretch routine to keep her flexibility and warm up her hands & keep them steady and fast.

🎯 Due to her dad and uncle she received high quality education

🎯 For the untrained eye, the belt of her hat are simple crosses while in reality, they are inverted crosses to symbolize her stance with Christianity

🎯 Karma's middle name is Emerald, given by her father due to her eye color.

🎯 Karma was first inspired by League of Legends Miss Fortune because that name alone is great but unfortunately she is too pirate coded for a western so I abandoned the relation. Though when Karma is not being the 'Call me a slow reader but I only made it to the Dead part, the or Alive didn't register.' ; her personality is similar to hers.

🎯 Due to her dad, Karma is actually half aristocrat. Not like she cares about it the slightest; the only indication of noble blood is her idle stance. It is an unconscious mirror of how her father used to hold himself: back straightened to almost impossible point, left arm behind it, right hand resting on the grip of in her case, revolver instead of hilt of a sword.

🎯 If given the chance to live a normal life, she would've grown into a captivating, lively young woman, much like her mother but with the aristocrat elegance of her father; finding a suitor who lives up to her parents' and her standards would've been the challenge of the century.

🎯 Her special move is called Dance of Death. This is used as last resort when she's facing more opponents up to 12, as with her dual revolvers she has 12 bullets without reloading. She mentally marks the stances of all opponents, predicts their movement, firing order and possible way of their bullets before whirling out of her hiding place. Each pose minimizes the chance of getting shot, and with each change of movement two bullets are fired, two men drop dead.

🎯 Her accuracy isn't just 'gun goes boom >:D' but a combination of natural talent, endless practice, movement prediction, sharp, quick thinking & analytical skills and different techniques molten together to utilize them all at once

🎯 Her hair is now as long as her mother's, she always keeps it in a single tight braid to keep it out of the way; without her hat and hair down she actually loses some of her dangerous edge.

🎯 The only physical memory Karma has of her parents is her dad's hussar sword she found underneath the ruins of the house, it was protected by a very thick wooden box & a lock of her mother's hair is tied to the grip. She has hidden it in the nearby forest, her thoughts often wander to it along with the wish to wield it.

[sinner-as-saint]

Ardor.

Artist! Seb AU.

Requested.

 Run-through: You’re a struggling model who is ready to accept any work. In your time of need, an unusual offer comes your way. You accept it without giving it a second thought; and you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

Themes: SMUT, fluff, artist! Seb

AN: This is a long fic, grab your food, drinks and blankets.

You were sure that if you weren’t ready and out of the door in less than a minute, Natasha – your agent, was going to murder you in cold blood.

 “Y/N, I swear to God if you’re not ready and out of this door in a minute I will-,”

 “Jesus! Calm down, I’m ready Nat. Let’s go,” you opened the door to your apartment, cutting her off and giving her the brightest smile you could.

Nat was standing outside, wearing a dark red dress. Her face showed her annoyance and you knew you were the cause for it.

 “We were supposed to be there already, what took you so long?” she chided as she dragged you all the way down the hallway to the elevator.

You sighed.

 “The people from earlier did a horrible job on my hair, so I needed to wash it. Sorry, Nat I know I’m not doing good right now, but I’m gonna do my best at the casting tomorrow. I won’t let you down,” you spoke sheepishly as the elevator descended.

It was true, you had hit rock bottom recently. You barely had enough money in your bank account for this month’s rent, and nothing was working out recently.

All the casting directors were turning you down, telling you that you should try your luck elsewhere. You had left your parent’s home 2 years ago, in rage – because they didn’t support your dream of being a model. According to them, it’s not a real job. And that exposing your body for money didn’t make you any different than the women in the streets.

You were on your own, until you met Natasha. She was your agent, manager of your life, friend, big sister; everything.

She had put in a word for you and you had a few shoots with a couple of well-known brands during the past year, but as of right now – nothing was working out, and you could tell it was stressing her out.

 Nat looked up at you and smiled.

 “I know you won’t, I believe in you, Y/N. However, if tonight works out like I want it to, you might not even need to go to that casting tomorrow,” she finished with a wink, and a smirk.

Oh boy. You knew that look.

 “What does that mean? And why are we even going to that stupid art exhibition anyways?” you asked as the two of you stepped out of the elevator and walked out of the apartment building.

You tried your best not to trip on the fabric of your burgundy dress. It was a lovely evening gown, flowy and light; a satin so smooth that you could help but touch the fabric occasionally. It was definitely the kind of dress you couldn’t afford if it weren’t for Nat.

She knew designers who set you up with the outfit, and the jewelry.

 Catching a quick glimpse at yourself in the glass door of the building, you got in the passenger seat of Nat’s car.

 “It’s not just any art exhibition, its Sebastian Stan’s latest pieces. And rumor has it, he’s looking for an art model for his next project. And if you’re lucky enough, he might choose you,” Nat explained and you nodded.

“Where did you hear that rumor? Dude’s a millionaire, why would he need me? I’m sure he’ll go after one of the famous faces,” you spoke in a dull tone, your tiredness getting the best of you.

You had barely slept the night before.

 Nat took a sharp turn which startled you, causing you to glare at her playfully.

“He’s looking for a fresh face, someone who’s not all over the city. You might have a chance, just look interested and compliment his work if you ever see him,” Nat spoke, glancing over at you.

 You gave her a puzzled look.

You had heard about how good if an artist Sebastian Stan was, and you had heard the prices at which his pieces sold. But you had never seen him. There were no pictures of him anywhere, and you weren’t famous enough to personally mingle with a man of his caliber.

 “How would I recognize him? I’ve never seen him before, have you?”

 “Nope, but they say he’s very handsome, and charming,” Nat replied.

 You nodded and the rest of the car ride was silent. You got busy on your phone, or pretended to be busy rather. This industry was ruthless, everyone was fake. Natasha was your only friend at the moment.

 Minutes later, Nat parked outside a grandiose gallery and handed the key to the valet outside as the two of you made your way inside.

Nat held the two invites close to her and finally handed it over at the reception. The lady smiled and pointed you towards the entrance of the hall.

 “Everything and everyone here are so…expensive. How did you even get the invite?” you questioned, looking around, yet avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Your heels clicked against the marble floor as you walked behind Nat. She turned around and smirked at you.

 “I have connections, baby,” she winked again and paused in her tracks.

You stopped as well, and looked around, suddenly feeling very out of place.

 “Okay, I’m gonna to put a word in for you with a few people. I’m gonna need you to cooperate, alright? Straighten those shoulders, chin up, grab a wine, look pretty and talk to people, okay? Text me if there’s anything and remember, men like to be praised. If you run into Stan, work your magic,”

 Nat walked away quickly, swaying her hips on purpose and making every men, and women, in the room stare after her. You chuckled at her words and followed her instructions.

You grabbed a glass of white, sparkling wine, and walked around lazily, earning a few looks and smiles from men. You wondered if anyone of them was Sebastian Stan.

You looked at the art pieces and found that you actually enjoyed them. They were all painting of flowers, some were abstract even and the mess of colors were comforting in a sense. Chaos could be beautiful, right?

 You noticed that all of them were colored, except for the largest painting in the room. A rather large black and white sunflower in the furthest corner of the room; almost as if placed there so that no one would pay attention to it.

Colorless, but it was beautiful. Surprisingly, no one paid much attention to it, except for one man. You noticed a tall man, with his hand in his pocket and a wine glass in the other, just staring up at the canvas. He was standing there alone while everyone else was socializing.

Must be a fan, you thought.

 You felt naturally gravitated towards the man. You hadn’t seen his face yet, but his stance gave away a lot. As you walked over to him, you noticed the very expensive watch on his wrist as he raised his glass to his lips. His well-tailored, light grey suit added to his valor.

Just for a moment, you felt inferior. But Natasha’s words echoed in your head and it pushed you forward.

You walked up to him and stood right a few feet away, and noticed that his gaze were fixated on the painting.

 “Pretty, isn’t it?” you spoke, trying to incite a conversation.

The man finally turned his head to look at you, and just for a moment, he looked at you as if he had found the answer to each and every question he ever had. Wide-eyed and he looked as though he had been dreaming of this moment.  

You were immediately captivated by his dreamy, blue eyes. He was indeed, dreamy. His hair was messy, yet well groomed at the same time. A well-kept beard, he looked like your typical ladies’ man.

He broke out of whatever reverie he was caught up in and blinked, smiled and nodded.

 “You think?” he asked, and you gave him a confused look. What a weird response.

 “Yeah, I mean I don’t understand art that much, but I think it stands out. I think it’s beautiful. Don’t you, I mean you’ve been admiring it for quite a while,” you spoke and smiled at him.

You didn’t miss the way he shamelessly eyed your body, his eyes lingering around the risqué slit of your gown which showed your legs. You looked down for a moment and then looked back at him as soon as he spoke up again.

 “An artist never admires his own work, doll. He looks for the flaws no one else can see,” as soon as those words left his mouth, you froze.

Fuck.

 “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were- I don’t -,”

He cut off your rambling by taking a couple of steps towards you.

 “It’s okay. What’s your name, doll?” he asked, his words carried a playful tone. His blue eyes bore into yours, making it very difficult for you to focus on anything else.

 “I… I’m-,”

 “Sebastian Stan, it’s lovely to meet you finally. I see you’ve met Y/N already,” Natasha spoke up from behind you and you mentally thanked God she was here.

 “Miss Romanoff, it’s a pleasure. Y/N is delightful,” he spoke, taking Nat’s hand and shaking it gently.

Natasha gave you a sly smirk which spoke volumes.

 “I’m sure you will consider her while making a choice for your next project, correct? Y/N will be in town, contact us whenever,” Nat, always so confident, spoke and gave Sebastian one of her very business-y smiles.

 Sebastian smiled back and glanced at you.

 “I assure you, I won’t forget her,” he said, his voice was velvety and soothing.

Those words repeated themselves in your mind all night.

After your brief interaction with the man of the hour, you and Nat walked around and talked to a few more people and she introduced you to people whose names you forgot almost instantly.

All night, you could shake off the fact that you felt as though you were being watched. A burning stare on your face or your back. And each time you turned around, you would find Sebastian eyeing you.

 You were okay with being watched, it formed part of your job to catch one’s attention, but there was something different about the way he was looking at you.

He wasn’t just looking, he was… studying almost; memorizing each curve and each feature. You wondered why.

 However, you very quickly got your answer.

  “Oh my god!��� Nat exclaimed as soon as the two of you stepped into your apartment.

You sighed and took your heels off, throwing them carelessly onto the floor.

 “What now? Which lousy photographer needs a lingerie model right now?” you spoke from past experience. You had been there, and done that. And it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

 “It’s not- fuck! It’s Stan’s people! He wants to meet up with you tomorrow! Y/N, do you have any idea how big this is? This is amazing!” Nat was genuinely happy for you.

You were too, as this was probably the big break you needed.

 Nat went on and on about how this was good for your career and how lucky you are. She gave you all the details; time, address, along with some advice and left at around 2 a.m. As you laid in bed that night, you found yourself unable to fall asleep as the image of a certain blue-eyed handsome man kept resurfacing in your head.

  ---

  The next morning, Nat was at your door at 9 a.m. sharp. After a quick breakfast, the two of you set out.

She dropped you at Sebastian’s place an hour later, and you were a nervous wreck by the time you got there.

 “What if he makes me sit naked in front of him for hours? What if-,”

 “Y/N, don’t over think, please. Artists employ models privately all the time. He’s a decent man, don’t worry. Now go,” she urged you to step out of the car.

 “He could’ve asked for pictures, I- Nat, I’m scared, what if-,”

 “He’s an old soul, Y/N. The guy’s old-fashioned, you’ll be fine honey. Now get the fuck out, walk in there and everything will be fine, babe. Call me if there’s anything,”

You clutched your bag close to you and reluctantly stepped out of the car.

 Nat drove away as soon as you were out of the car, and it was just little you facing the lavish apartment building. Nat told you that he owned the penthouse on top. And that’s where you found yourself just minutes later.

Your heart pounded for some weird reasons, as you knocked on the wooden door. You heard footsteps approaching and you immediately started channeling your alter ego; the more confident, bubbly one.

 The door flew open, revealing a very handsome, blue eyed man.

Sebastian Stan.

Dressed in a simple white t-shirt, and black sweatpants, he looked much different than the night before. A bit more relaxed and casual if you will, but just as handsome.

 “Hi,” you chirped, smiling as bright as you could. He returned the smile.

 “Y/N, come on in. Oh and, excuse the mess,” he warned as he let you in. You chuckled as you walked in. Being who he is, the place was a true mess.

He had very minimal furniture, a couple of couches maybe and that was it. The walls looked like a child was given the freedom to do whatever he willed with it; paint and sketches adorned the cream walls.

The floor was tainted as well; stained with spilled paint. Crumbled newspapers, broken canvas, and paint brushes littered the entirety of the room.

He laughed nervously as you took in the room more and more.

 “I don’t live here by the way, I’m not an animal I promise. This is more like a workshop,” he explained, standing right behind you as you stopped briefly and stared at one of the unfinished painting on a canvas on the floor.

 “Why didn’t you complete that one?” you asked, curious as to why he left the artwork unfinished.

 He chuckled.

 “Couldn’t find the right inspiration, that’s been happening a lot lately,” he spoke, and you caught the despair in his voice.

 “Oh, I’m sorry,” you involuntarily took a step towards him. He stayed put and allowed you to approach him.

 “It’s alright, doll. That’s why you’re here today. If you’re good, can we start?” he asked, with excitement in his eyes.

 You smiled and nodded. He immediately rushed to grab his stuff; an easel, a blank canvas and he picked up a few brushes along the way. He was such a mess it was adorable. And you had to refrain yourself from laughing as you watched him avoid the empty paint cans and broken canvas on the floor.

He set everything up in front of a couch and grabbed a stool.

 “Come here, doll,” he called out to you, grabbing a couple of pencils off the ground. The endearing nickname he gave you made you feel a certain ways. And the way he said it, the way his voice got softer and how his eyes sparkled had you feeling tingly everywhere.

 You walked over to where he was and stood on front of his canvas. You dropped your bag and waited for his instructions.

He eyed you and the corners of his mouth lifted again; smiling softly at you.

 “Take your clothes off,” he spoke softly. His voice was smooth, and velvety, yet – something changed in him.

He seemed more observant, and more focused once you took your white top off; revealing your lacy, nude bra.

Nat had chosen it, and you couldn’t tell whether it was a preference or a requirement which came from Sebastian.

Either way, it seemed to work as he had a pleasant smile on his face as you stripped.

 Next were your pants, taking them off revealed your nude thong and your bare legs.

 “Perfect,” he spoke, standing up and walking towards you. You were fine with being in very little clothing, but there was something about the way he looked at you which made you feel a certain way.

 He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the black couch. He sat you down and eyed your body again; observing, studying, and thinking – all while twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers.

You looked up at him; and he was majestic. There was an innocence in his eyes, yet, a mischief.

 “Lose the bra,” he spoke and your face burned red as soon as the words escaped his mouth.

 “Pardon?” you asked, almost out of instinct. Well, it wasn’t everyday a famous painter had you in his place, sat you down on his couch and asked you to strip.

 “It’s alright, doll. We’re gonna do some sketches today, we’ll try different poses and props and then you can be back tomorrow so we can work some more. Sound good?” his voice was calming, and comforting.

Honestly, if felt as though he had you under his spell. You would follow him anywhere if he simply asked you to.

 “Okay,” you whispered and he smiled and left temporarily.

 You stood up and unhooked your bra, allowing it to fall down carelessly. Right as it did, you felt a presence behind you.

Keeping your shyness under control, you lifted your chin up and faced him with fake confidence. He eyed you for a second and then looked down at the bunch of flowers in his hands.

Sunflowers.

 You smiled at the irony, temporarily forgetting that you were standing in front of him in nothing but a nude colored thong.

 “I couldn’t color the sunflower last time. I have a feeling I will this time, because I have my muse now. Here you go, doll,” he smiled and handed you the flowers, and you understood that that would be your first prop.

 Sebastian sat on his stool and observed you for another minute while you settled among the pillows of the couch, bending your leg under you.

You held the sunflowers in front of you as a means to hide your chest but also showing enough to keep someone guessing.

Sebastian gave you a smile, and began working on the canvas. You heard his grunts, and sighs and the strokes of his pencil against the canvas. You had to stay still, so you admired the flowers in your hand.

He worked quickly, and made rough sketches as much as he could, and then gave you another prop. Next was a clean, white bed sheet; which you wrapped sensually around you – barely covering anything as you looked directly at him.

You watched how he chewed on the top of a pencil while another one was in his hand, making rapid movements against the canvas. He had nothing but determination in his eyes each time he looked at you and then back at the canvas.

 2 hours later, you were done for the day. He showed you the canvas he used and laughed when you told him all you saw was a mess of lines and curves.

“It’ll make more sense when it’s done. You were so good today, doll. Thank you,” he smiled as you got dressed.

 You were having trouble putting on your bra again so he hooked it for you. The two of you seemed much more comfortable with one another, and nudity was no longer a problem on your part. You trusted him, and he made you feel safe, in some ways you couldn’t explain.

His warm fingers brushed against your back as he adjusted the straps of your bra and allowed his fingers to linger around the back of your neck; making you shiver.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered under his breath and you turned around to face him. He was standing so close that your faces were merely inches away from one another.

 “Thank you, Sebastian,” you whispered, and for a very brief moment, your eyes flicked to his lips. Parted, pink and sinful – they were tempting. He was tempting.

It felt as though he inched forward for a quick second, but he caught himself before he did something unexpected.

He cleared his throat as he backed away and gave you space to put your shirt back on.

 “I texted Miss Romanoff, she’s waiting for you downstairs,” he spoke, as he had to force himself to keep his hands from touching you.

He was utterly under your spell. He felt as though he would take any leap of faith if you just asked him too. He was whipped ever since he first saw you that night at his exhibition.

 You exchanged a brief goodbye and he watched you as you left. He mentally cursed at how gracefully you walked out of his messy penthouse.

Your hips swaying; teasing the living shit out of him.

 The past few hours with you had been a blessing and a curse. He knew he did many double takes while drawing because he was so easily distracted by you. As if your face wasn’t pretty enough, you absolutely had to have a body which could make a man lose his mind. And your eyes… oh your eyes.

They had a playfulness in them, but they also held a mischievous promise.

Sebastian was never one who would get so attached to someone so fast, but damn did he feel all the butterflies in the world whenever he thought about you.

Earlier, he had to refrain himself from walking over to where you were and have his way with way with you on the couch itself. But he knew he couldn’t. You trusted him, and he had to be careful.

What he could do though, is elongate the process. He could stretch it so you spend more time with him than needed. It was selfish and unprofessional, but he had to.

 Sebastian stood in the middle of his messy room and took his phone out, naming the amount he needed to pay you to his people. His assistant was shocked for a moment, and asked him to confirm. He repeated it.

Five grands. He thought you deserved it.

 ---

 When Nat called you later that night to tell you about the payment, you were shocked.

“Nat, something must be wrong. Most art models make under a hundred dollars an hour! Five fucking thousand, are you sure?” you asked, yelling into the phone.

Nat was sure.

Good God.

 -

  You were to meet up with him the next day as well, and you thought you should bring it up.

 For today’s session he had you in a very expensive looking, red gown made of pure silk. You had a deep, deep cleavage, and the back of the dress was practically non-existent. But it was beautiful. And looked like it cost a fortune.

 Sebastian drew you at a different location, and a different angle. He was closer now, and you were on the floor, amongst the crumpled newspapers and paint brushes and broken canvas; sat on a pillow.

You pointed out the evident mess and Sebastian called it his organized chaos.

You laughed.

A few moments of silence later, you believed you should bring up the payment.

 “So, um, Sebastian?”

 “Yes, doll?” he replied from behind the canvas, which was so large that it hide his body entirely.

 “About yesterday’s payment… uh, I think there might’ve been a mistake while they were writing the check given to Nat,” you spoke, trying your best not to move while you spoke.

He lowered his hand and moved aside to face you; a puzzled look on his face.

“Why would you say that?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

 You shrugged.

 “I don’t – its just, that’s a lot more money than I was expecting and-,”

 Sebastian stood up, and started walking over to where you sat. Your words cut short. You watched him as he carefully avoided the mess on the floor and squatted down in front of you.

His hand reached out and touched your face. He was silent, as his fingers caressed your cheek, and you had to resist the urge to lean into the warmth of his hand.

 “You’re not just any art model, doll. You’re my muse. You’re what I need, okay? You deserve it,” he spoke and leaned forward again, but quickly stood up.

 Sebastian suggested you should take a break.

 Minutes later, you finished that day’s session.

   ---

 A week had passed, and you had visited Sebastian every day, and spent hours with him. It might sound boring, but he was an amazing company. He had travelled the world, so he often told you stories which made you laugh.

You told him the story of your life, and how your parents did not support your dreams. And how it sucked.

And he told you about how he came from a modest family, and how he initially started painting to earn extra money to contribute to his family’s income; and how he fell in love with art and made a successful career out of it.

He was an interesting man, a little old fashioned like Nat had pointed out; but interesting nonetheless. You learned that he was much older than you were, and he pretended he was 70 and had funny ‘opinions’ on today’s youth.

He was a good company.

 Yet, you were still shocked with each check he sent with Nat, they were hefty.

 On Sunday, he had something urgent to attend to, so your session was at night. He had contacted Nat and had asked her to let you know that he would be waiting for you at around 8 30 p.m.

And there you were, always punctual whenever he called.

When you reached his door however, something was different. There was a scent which lingered around. It smelt like peaches and vanilla. Smelt like summer, and happiness.

 You frowned and knocked on the door. Sebastian was at the door almost immediately; smiling and looking good as ever in his grey t-shirt and black sweatpants – covered in spots of paint.

You smiled back, and noticed that the room behind him was darker. Much darker than normal.

 He invited you in and the scene did surprise you a bit. The lights were off, and there were at least a hundred candles lit – everywhere.

And it all smelt divine. You smiled as you looked around, and Sebastian watched you intently.

 “I wanted to change things up a little. I hope that’s okay,” he asked, biting his lower lip.

Oh fuck.

 “Oh- yeah, I- I mean, it’s so beautiful. I guess I didn’t know artists paint at night, in dimmed lights but oh well,” you added, making him chuckled.

 He stared into your eyes for a while, and you did the same.

 You wondered if he was silently trying to convey something, or was he just doing his job and studying you in this light.

While he wondered what Sunday nights would be like if you were his. Would it be like this? Would there be scented candles, and wine maybe?

Maybe he’d have you in his lap, both of you wearing nothing while he painted, or teach you how to draw and watch you fail because you simply cannot do it.

Perhaps you’d fuck on the couch, or the floor. Or maybe you’d like his real home better than the workshop.

 He broke out of the reverie and cleared his throat.

 You lowered your gaze as well. You didn’t know how else to describe, but there was this pull. This invisible thread which connected the two of you. None of you saw it, but both of you felt it.

 “We should get to work, yeah?” he spoke, avoided eye contact and walked past you.

 You sighed, trying you best to ignore the sudden tension in the room.

 “Yeah, what do you want me to wear today?” you asked, smiling; just like you did every other day. Some days he had gowns, other days he had other props, or even flowers.

 He picked up a pencil from the ground, a few feet away from you and stood up straight to meet your eyes again.

 “Nothing,” he replied, his eyes soft and shiny in the candle light. The blue in his eyes were enchanting.

 You didn’t question his decision, Nat had told you not to. And given he paid you way more than he needed to, you agreed immediately.

Sebastian smirked initially, but his smirk disappeared as soon as you took your top off, then your skirt. You wore a matching set of red underwear that day, and you took that off as well; letting it fall soundlessly on the floor.

Shoulders straight, chin up, you faced him with confidence, and a polite smile. After all, you were only doing your job.

 It was your turn to smirk as he allowed his eyes to shamelessly take in your bare appearance. His soft, pink lips parted as you took a step forward.

 “Where do you want me?” you asked, in your ‘I-mean-business’ voice. You could tell that the question took him off guard, perhaps it was the way you had phrased it. Both of you caught the subtle naughtiness in your words.

 “I- yeah… the couch. The couch, first,” he stuttered. And your smirk grew wider as you walked past him, avoiding the candles and making your way towards the brown couch.

As you walked by him, you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter ‘Holy fucking shit’ under his breath. Whatever, you looked good and you knew it.

  Making your way on the couch, you settled down and waited for his instructions. He handed you a red, silky fabric, which you carelessly threw around your waist; hiding your private parts even though he had already seen every inch of your skin.

Sebastian settled behind the canvas which he already had set up and picked up his pencils. He looked back at you and started drawing and the lines on his forehead appeared again. He looked so adorable when he was focused on something.

Then you noticed things about him which you didn’t before; the bags under his eyes, the little grey patch in his full beard, the way he raised his eyebrow occasionally, and the little smirk after he did something right, or the little frown when he messed up.

You admired him.

 He did too.

He knew your body by heart, each curve and each feature. He knew the exact color he would use to paint your lips, and your eyes.

He knew exactly how to draw your hair, on some days it was messy, some days it was pin straight, and his personal favorite was when you let it down in soft curls.

He found himself fantasizing about you right in front of you. Whenever you left, he often laid on the couch and dreamed about what it would be like to have you on top of him.

He felt the tension in between you too, and he didn’t know what to do about it. All he could focus on was the canvas; luckily it hid the hard on in his pants.

 “Are you alright, Sebastian?” you asked out of nowhere. Hidden behind the canvas, Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment. Your voice did things to him.

 “Yeah, I’m fine, doll. Why?”

 “It’s just, you’ve been very silent,” you replied. He smirked, loving how well you observed him.

 He peeked from behind the canvas, the smirk still very visible on his face. His eyes momentarily flicked to your exposed breasts and then back to your face.

You had red lipstick on today, he liked it. And desperately wanted to ruin it with his own lips.

 Mindlessly, he stood up and approached you. You thought it was time to change the location or grab another prop but instead, he knelt in front of you.

His eyes sparkled in the dimmed lights; soft yet hungry. His hair was messy, and his shirt was covered in paint still, he looked good.

You leaned forward and looked down at him, neither of you minding that your breasts were right in his face.

His eyes never left yours as his hand reached out and cupped your face. You let him.

His thumb caressed your cheek, and this time, you did lean into his touch and felt the warmth of his hand against your skin.

 Nothing had to be said, you both knew what the other wanted. Like earlier, you felt the pull again.

 Sebastian pulled you towards him and connected his lips to yours in no time. His soft lips moved perfectly along with yours.

Your hands left the satin sheet and cupped his face, his beard soft against the palm of your hands.

His hunger could be felt through the kiss; tongue slipping into your mouth without any warning. And you returned the ardor he felt for you.

He kissed you feverishly, scared to let go of you just yet. He wanted more, and so did you.

 He pulled away for a moment, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. He panted against your lips, and so did you.

 “I want you, so fucking bad,” he whispered, blue eyes scanning your face for any objection. And when he didn’t find any, he smirked again.

 “I want you too,” you whispered, looking into his clear, blue eyes which you loved so much.

 He pecked your lips again and pushed you back into the couch, your back against the messily thrown cushions.

You sighed as he slowly removed the satin sheet off your body, and placed it side carefully. His hands ran down your thighs and reached your knees. His eyes remained focused on your face as he parted your legs; inching forward and settling in between them.

His hand ran down your legs and your skin felt tingly at his touch. He bit his lip as he noticed that your folds were damp already.

His hand reached out and he ran his knuckles along your wet folds, making you shudder at his mere touch.

 “All that for me?” he teased, and you nodded, giggling at how the two of you were casually getting cozy in the middle of a messy workshop.

Sebastian placed an innocent kiss on your inner thigh and you gasped.

 “I deserve to get a taste then,” he whispered, face dangerously close to your core. You bit your lip and nodded, anticipating what he had in store for you.

 He placed his hands on your thighs and spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core without a second thought; the lower half of his face completely submerged into your dripping core.

You moaned out loud involuntarily as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your sensitive bud mercilessly.

 Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. Wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, and the sight was just as sinful.

 A man of his caliber, on his knees in front of you, his head in between your legs and his mouth touching your body in the most intimate way possible. Pleasure and an unusual power washed over you.

You whimpered under his touch, feeling his beard rubbing against your soft skin; it burned a little, but you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more.

 Sebastian’s beard glistened in the candlelight; your arousal drenching the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming on the couch.

“Fuck…” you moaned out loud as your back arched off the couch for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you.

 “Fuck! Come on, baby, come for me,” he whispered and got back to assault your sensitive spot with his warm and wet tongue; relishing your taste.

You didn’t have to be told twice, and the pressure was building up nicely as well. So with a few more strokes of his skilled tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face.

He didn’t stop even then, he kept at it while your orgasm washed over you; lapping up whatever you gave him. He couldn’t get enough of you.

 You chanted his name, moaning at how good he made you feel. That boosted his pride immensely.

 He licked you clean and kissed your thighs a few more times before finally standing up, admiring how much of a mess you were; panting, and trembling just with his tongue.

 “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, looking down at you.

 You opened your eyes at the sound of his voice, and sat up on your knees. Your heels pressing on your ass cheeks and you pulled him closer by the waistband of his sweats.

He smirked, and let you, stepping closer to your face.

You lowered down his pants, and bit your lip when you saw that he wore nothing underneath. You looked up at him and wondered if he had this all planned. Either way, you were in way too deep now. And you wanted him so bad it actually hurts.

You ignored your throbbing clit as you held his member gently in your hand. Feeling the velvety skin which made your mouth water.

You gently stroked his cock, and noticed that his tip was leaking already. You brushed your thumb across his tip and heard him groan.

 “May I?” you asked, looking up at him; knowing perfectly well that he wouldn’t even dream about refusing you.

 “I’m all yours, doll. Do with me as you please,” he whispered, his hand cupping your face as the other one brushed your hair gently. His voice was deeper than usual and it sent a shiver along your spine.

 Without wasting a second, you took him into your mouth; pushing him in further inch by inch while he groaned about how good you felt.

Your hand reached down and toyed with his balls while you slowly took him out and pushed him back into your mouth again, bobbing your head around his tip.

He gripped your hair gently and told you how much of a good girl you were.

 His taste and scent was all you could focus on; his strong body wash and his raw taste, the occasional saltiness of his cum and the feeling of his smooth skin against your tongue and the top of your mouth. You felt the veins, and his firm cock ramming in and out of your mouth.

He bucked his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. You looked magnificent on your knees, taking him perfectly.

 You felt his muscles tightened under your touch, and you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. So you quickened your pace, and he moaned your name over and over again as he reached his high.

With one rough push into your mouth, you felt him come undone. His cum trickled down your throat and you swallowed him obediently.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of your mouth and bent down to look at you from up close. You lips were swollen, and spit ran down your chin along with his cum. You were panting; an overall mess. Yet, he believed you were beautiful. Magnificent.

 His eyes were darker, and he was silent again; just observing you while you caught your breath. He pressed his lips to yours and slipped his tongue back into your mouth, eagerly.

You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goose bumps wherever his fingers touched your skin.

 Removing his mouth from yours, he stood up again and took his shirt off, and his pants; leaving him just as bare as you were.

And God, he was beautiful. Perfect.

 He climbed onto the couch and lowered his body until he hovered just inches above you. His strong arms supported him above you and your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders.

 He looked into your eyes for a brief moment then his head dipped into the crook of your neck; biting your skin and making you squirm and giggle under him.

You felt his body heat around you, and everything was right in the world.

 “Fuck… do you have any fucking idea what you do to me? Do you know how hard it was getting through this week? With you sat there naked in front of me the whole time, doll, I was losing my fucking mind,” he whispered along your skin. His hair tickled your skin and you smiled, closing your eyes and relishing his touch.

The tip of his nose ran along your throat and right to your ear, where he whispered all his obscene thoughts, making you blush.

While he did so, you felt something firm press against your thigh, and you smirked at the effect you had on him.

 “Well, I’m here now. I’ll be good to you, I promise,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair and he lifted his head and stared into your eyes again.

Fuck, he was beautiful from up close.

 Without another word said, he pressed his lips to yours and lifted his hips to align his cock to your entrance. You spread your legs apart to give him more room.

His hand reached down and he pumped his cock, rubbing it all over your dripping core in the process.

 “I know you will, doll. I’m gonna fuck you until you’re shaking under me,” he whispered a promise in your ear; one which caused the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. A promise you hoped he’d keep.

 With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him, his beard tickled your skin as he kissed your lips repeatedly and told you how good you were.

You heard his ragged breaths right by your ear as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

You moaned out loud, unable to hold back the sound which escaped your lips. You blushed right after, and he noticed.

 “No one’s up here, babe. Let me hear you,” he whispered into your ear and kissed the skin beneath your jaw.

You let out a moan as he found your sweet spot, and felt him smirk against your skin.

 You moaned again and again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

Your nails sank into his skin as you felt a pressure forming around your lower region. Sebastian quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the empty room.

The candlelight made his skin seem golden and you mentally admitted that he was more beautiful than any artwork ever made.

He thought the same about you.

 Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. The new position was much more pleasurable for the two of you; the tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off the couch – your chest pressing against his.

 “Fuck…” his voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. He somehow sounded vulnerable and dominant at the same time, and it messed you up in a good way.

 You felt your walls clench around him, and tightening around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

 “Shit! I’m gonna need you to come for me, doll. Come on,” he panted in your ear, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand.

 He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came – hard.

You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core.

Sebastian fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping even for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and wished for this moment to last forever.

 Unable to form coherent sentences, you moaned as you felt your second release approaching. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his like a rag doll; yet, you wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him.

A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again.

 A series of cuss words left your lips as you came for the second time in a row, walls tightening around his length.

He bit down on your shoulder as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded into you. This man had a stamina you weren’t sure you could match.

 “Fuck! You okay, doll?” he asked, worry all over his face as he looked down at you; his cock still buried deep in you.

You nodded, and focused on calming down your breathing while your heartbeats rang in your ear. His blue eyes made you feel safe.

You knew he hadn’t cum yet, and the look in his eyes gave away that he was far from being done.

 “That was… amazing,” you panted and he bent down to kiss your forehead, chuckling.

 “Sure was, doll. But I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning your face.

You noticed the thin layer of sweat which formed on his skin, and how he slowly removed his still erected cock out of you.

You whimpered as you felt a void where he had been, snug into you just moments before. He was right there, and yet, you missed him.

 He sat back on his heels, and pulled you up along with him. Trembling, you sat up in front of him and he smiled softly down at you.

His hand reached out and tugged on your swollen lower lip.

 “You’re fucking beautiful,” he spoke as he got off the couch and asked you to turn around and grip the back of the couch.

You knelt in front of him on the couch, legs spread apart, hands gripping the back of the couch while your back faced him. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was there – right behind you.

His hand gripped your hair gently, and pulled back just enough so you saw part of him.

 His lips hovered over the side of your throat and his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously rubbed the skin around your clit and making you tremble.

You were worn out, and you weren’t sure you would last very long. But he was seductively persuasive.

“Just one more time, baby. One more,” his voice was deep and gravelly when he spoke in your ear, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds.

 His hand gripped your hair and tugged on it, harsher than earlier and his action elicited an involuntary moan out of you.

 Once you nodded, frowning at how you wanted him to completely ruin you.

He pulled back from your neck and kissed along your shoulders. He pushed you forward, making your ass stick out against him.

His hand left your hair and he gripped each side of your hips, tightly. He pushed into you without a word said; earning a sinful moan out of you.

He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he pounded into you – this time chasing his own release along with yours.

Your knuckles gripped the back of the couch tightly, and your head lowered as your felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so sensitive from before.

You were barely able to keep yourself up, and if it weren’t for his tight grip on you, you would’ve collapsed on the couch long ago.

 “So fucking good to me, so fucking good…” Sebastian spoke in a haze, and you barely heard him as the only thing you focused on was the sounds your bodies made when in contact with one another; along with your whimpers and his incoherent words.

The air around you smelt of sex, sweat, the scent of the candles and Sebastian’s cologne.

 You moaned, worn-out and still craving more and more of him.

You could feel the soreness his touch would leave behind, and the bite on your neck, and all of the other marks he left on your skin. You knew you would wear them all proudly.

 With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls.

You tightened around him, and he groaned and whispered your name quite a few times before coming undone; buried deep within you. His warm cum shoot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance.

He panted as he threw himself on the couch and pulled you into his lap. His body was damp and warm, and you loved the feeling of his strong arms around you.

You felt his cum flowing out of you and onto the couch, but none of you minded it in the least. Sebastian was happy with you in his arms; messy, and covered with marks he left behind on your skin – you were the most beautiful thing he had seen.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, and smiled. You had met him just over a week ago, yet it seemed like your heart knew him since forever.

He traced imaginary shapes on your skin, and when you looked down, you noticed that his fingers ran along the stretch marks on your waist and your thighs. You smiled up at him and he gave you the most charming smile you had ever seen.

 “Be mine,” he simply whispered, kissing your damp forehead.

You giggled and kissed his cheek.

 “Sorry, I don’t date messy men,” you joked, your hand reaching out to caress his face, and he leaned into your touch.

He chuckled and looked around. The place was a mess, most candles were melted, paint was everywhere, and he had countless of unfinished work. Yet, even the chaos made sense when you were in his arms.

 “I adore you, doll. And I’ll do anything for you. Just, be mine. I really love having you around,” he picked your hand and brought your knuckles up to his lips, peppering your fingertips with kisses.

 You smiled at the sweet gesture. You were already his the moment he touched you.

 “Think about it, I won’t roam around naked all the time,” you joked again, and sat up straighter in his arms; placing your trembling legs on either side of his lap and straddling his thighs. While you faced him, his hands grabbed your ass and pushed you against him even more.

 “I’m totally fine with that, doll. Just fucking say yes already!” he pushed his face into the crook of your neck and kissed your skin repeatedly, making you giggle again.

 You said yes.

And he made love to you again that night; in the shower, against your front door when he went to drop you home, in your bed where he stayed until the morning.

Eventually, Sebastian showed you the pieces he made, and you were in awe. All of them were black and white, yet all the props were in color. The red gown was painted, and the sunflowers were as well. And he ended up using the one with the sunflowers as his main piece at his next exhibition.

Surprisingly, none of the pieces which involved you were up for sale, as he said he didn’t want people gawking at ‘his girl’.

He kept all of it as a private collection after the exhibition.

 Life with him was blissful, and you loved all of it. The highs and the lows, and laughter and tears, the fights and the make-up – all of it.

 ---

A/N: A happy ending?! OMG who is she?

-

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[ariparri]

Christmas Sweater

Here's another story written by cursedautum on Instagram! This was her part of our little story/art trade we've been doing since October. I'll be sharing my part later. She has given me permission again to share the story.

I'm very happy with how it turned out, I just love how cute they are 😭💖 I plan on drawing something for this. But I don't know if I'll have the time due to my busy schedule!!

There are such winter days when you wake up and understand: today you will find something new and very good. It feels like Christmas morning is coming, even if it's just an ordinary winter day outside the apartment door, and nothing special is going to happen. But, as his mother had said to Diego a few years ago, the heart is not ordered, and this applies not only to love. And she was right, as always. 

That morning, Diego and Veruca were walking through the park. It was Saturday, the lazy, restful city was slowly waking up, the pale golden sun streaming down on the ground, drenching the smooth snow with a mother-of-pearl sheen. The sky was so bright and blue, so clear, as if it was a freshly washed window. Icy drops hung from the trees, snow-covered branches intertwined in intricate patterns; somewhere between them, bullfinches hopped about.

Veruca warmed her hands on her cup of hot chocolate and thought about something. Diego looked at her sideways. He rarely understood what she was thinking, but he just liked to look at her. Veruca was beautiful. And not just beautiful, but her own kind of beautiful, different from others. Diego especially liked her eyes — pale green, with thick lashes, serious and a little sly. Only special people have eyes like that.

"What are you thinking?" Diego asked, putting his arm around Veruca. A little girl ran past them, followed by a laughing man and a woman, presumably her parents. Veruca shook her head. "You will be surprised."

"Oh, come on."

"Seriously," Veruca smiled. "I'm not really thinking about anything that special. It's just... you know, I'm thinking about a sweater." and she laughed. Diego's brows went up: "About a sweater? Very thoughtful, Lady McQuaid. What led you to such an unusual thought that not every creature of our mortal world thinks about, may I ask?"

Veruca laughed and poked him in the shoulder, nearly spilling her cocoa. They walked on, hugging each other, and looked at the happy people, well-fed, rested, looking forward to the approaching Christmas, whose spirit crept like an invisible haze through Bristol, hiding behind the twinkling garlands, in the fluffy  tree branches, in the aroma of fresh pastries from the street cafe around the corner. Diego felt happy: he was home, safe, surrounded by friends and the girl he loved. R is no longer there. What else does a peaceful person need for complete happiness? Nothing for him.

Veruca, on the other hand, didn't seem to agree with him.

From that day on, Veruca was not herself. The very next morning, after spending the night with him, she began to search through all the remaining Burberry and I-Wardrobe catalogues in the house with obsessive zeal, looking for something on the glossy pages. These magazines were left in Diego's apartment from the previous owner, and he was not very interested in them, but they added a certain charm to the atmosphere of a creatively bright and cozy apartment.

Veruca had never paid much attention to them before, preferring to chat with him at breakfast or read one of her favorite books, but that morning, after making coffee and cheese toast, Diego noticed that his girlfriend was quickly flipping through the pages of magazines, swallowing their contents along with toasted bread and stringy cheese. It was a surprise to him.

"Hey, Ruca?" Diego laughed nervously. She was so familiar, in his shirt, sitting cross-legged on a chair and chewing on her toast. They liked to eat something unhealthy for breakfast, and for lunch they were content with soup or salad. "Did you want a sweater for Christmas? I was planning on giving you something more interesting."

Veruca looked up at him thoughtfully. "Nah," she smiled a little distantly, as if her thoughts were somewhere out there, far away from the apartment. "It's not for me. It doesn't matter," she put down her magazine and began to talk about how it would be nice to go and visit Coby before Christmas, but the wistful look in her eyes, which still clouded Veruca's gaze, did not disappear.

Sweaters seem to have become Veruca's favorite theme. Now not only Diego, but also Carson, and Tulip, and Penny, and in general absolutely everyone heard some strange questions like: "What style of sweater do you like the most?" or "What color sweater would you wear for the Christmas holiday?"

Penny rightly pointed out that she wouldn't have worn a sweater at all, but would have chosen a dress, and Veruca didn't talk to her for the rest of the day. Once, Talbott glanced sideways at Veruca, who had gotten to Chiara with questions about the warmest sweaters, and pinched his temple in annoyance. On any other day, Diego would have just shut him up — this guy and his girlfriend often annoyed him, but now he just shrugged. Talbott sighed and shook his head in understanding.

Sweaters. Sweaters. Sweaters. Diego didn't understand why Veruca wanted to do this, but in the end he thought that maybe she was looking for a Christmas present for him, her boyfriend. He didn't get a very clear answer from Veruca, but the realization that she was so determined to find him a suitable gift was very flattering to Diego. So maybe he should just wait a little while, and at Christmas Veruca would explain everything to him and give him the best sweater he could get for Christmas.

And he should just wait patiently.

Christmas morning greeted Diego with the smell of pancakes and syrup, the scent of a wreath of mistletoe hanging on the door, and the pale sun flooding the spacious room with a timid light. Diego stretched in bed, remembered it was Christmas, opened his eyes, and heard Veruca singing softly from the kitchen. He almost fell out of bed as he pulled out the box of perfume and the Katrina Richmoney pendant he'd bought just two days ago, knowing that Veruca wanted it so badly, and prepared to give it to her as soon as she came in. But Veruca still didn't come back from the kitchen, and Diego fought down his reluctance to get out of the warm bed, but he got up and went to the kitchen.

Veruca danced by the stove to Dancing Queen, dressed in her favorite niffler pajamas, her hair pulled back in a messy braid, surprisingly deftly turning over thin, crispy, fried pancakes that smelled so good that Diego's stomach rumbled. He came up behind her and purred in a catlike voice, "Good morning, my Christmas fairy."

"Oh!" Veruca jumped, and the pancake fell back into the pan. "Good morning, pretty boy." She quickly turned off the stove, turned to Diego, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Diego broke into a satisfied smile. "What are you... oh!"

He pulled from behind his back a cream-colored rectangular box tied with a thin lemon ribbon, with an ornate inscription that read: 'Katrina Richmoney: J&P.' Veruca stared at him blankly for a few seconds, as if seeing him for the first time, and her eyes flashed with an emotional swirl of shock, joy, disbelief and gratitude, she then threw her arms around his neck in joyful delight: "Diego, thank you! Oh thank you, thank you-" she took the box from him, untied the ribbon with a few deft movements, opened the lid, and sighed with delight when she saw a pendant with a shimmering light green stone in the shape of a letter V and a bottle in the shape of a seashell filled with a pleasant-smelling liquid. 

"Oh, that's so sweet!" she smiled slyly. "Will you put it on for me?"

Diego obeyed without question. The pendant fit perfectly around her neck and shaded her eyes beautifully. Veruca immediately tried out the perfume that smelled of cloves, and was completely delighted. 

Diego liked to see her smile. Because of Coby, R, Rakepick, and the Cursed Vaults, she'd forgotten about the emotion of joy for a while, and she didn't smile, so he was acutely aware of her every joy as his own. Diego just wanted Veruca to be happy. Maybe that was why she smiled and laughed and just enjoyed life more because it mattered to him how she felt.

"Where's my present?" Diego moved closer to Veruca and almost pressed her against the countertop. She smelled of syrup and pancake batter. He wanted to surprise her by telling her that he already knew all about the sweater, because even a blind man would have noticed her obsession, but he decided to tell her after she handed him her present. No need to spoil the surprise.

"Do you want it?" Veruca asked playfully.

"Well, can you be my present, hmm? I was just dreaming that I got something sweet for Christmas. I think it's you. Or pancakes."

"Silly cute boy," Veruca laughed softly. Then she twisted around with a grin. "I'll go get your present."

"Of course, my love," Diego gave her his most charming grin, and she went into the other room while he started on the pancakes. Although Veruca had never been much of a cook, today's breakfast was so delicious that when she returned, Diego had eaten almost half of the pancakes and washed them down with a glass of milk.

Veruca returned with a surprisingly small box, and Diego was surprised to see that it was not the sweater she had been raving about for the past two weeks, but a white box with the inscription WizWatch — one of the most popular and expensive brands of wristwatches. The latest model.

Diego had often seen it in shop windows, but he never thought he'd get one from his girlfriend. It was, perhaps, very pleasant, and he could not even find the words to look at the gift that Veruca handed him with an expectant smile, but there was one question that still haunted him, despite the fact that the watch was his long-standing wish.

"Oh, that's just awesome!" he quickly opened the box. The watch glittered like a brand-new galleon with its smooth black dial and almost begged to be worn on his wrist. "Damn, babe, I've been dreaming about this watch since summer!"

"I know," Veruca said, smiling contentedly as they headed back to their room. Diego stared at the clock for a long time, and Veruca kept turning in front of the mirror, watching the pale green pendant shimmer in the timid sunlight. Diego stared at her, homely and comfortable, and finally decided to ask a question that might break their morning idyll, but the answer was too important. He cleared his throat, walked over to Veruca, wrapped his fingers around her shoulders, and murmured, "And that famous sweater you were obsessed with? Was it for me?"

Veruca looked up at him. For a few seconds, she looked as if the mirror reflected not her boyfriend, but some strange person, and an idiot. Then she burst out laughing.

Diego, not understanding, even stepped back. Veruca laughed, she laughed so hard that tears came out of her eyes, and he stood there, not understanding what was happening, and he felt like a complete idiot: why the hell was she laughing? Veruca, on the other hand, could not calm down her burst into such infectious laughter that in the end Diego himself began to laugh nervously, still not fully aware of what he was laughing at. More precisely, without even realizing what he was laughing at. But his girlfriend clearly understood everything and finally just fell on the bed, bending over with laughter. When she stopped, she looked at Diego and groaned: "The sweater... wasn't... for you."

"I've already guessed," he said, still smiling, but now in a jealous tone. Not him. Then who? Coby, one of their mutual friends? "Who then?" Veruca gave another stifled laugh, wiped away a tear, "Gambat."

Diego just stared at her for a few seconds  with the most stony expression on his face. "What?" he asked. Really, what?

"Gambat," said Veruca. "You know, my bat. Here, take a look." she pointed to the ceiling. Diego looked up and saw Gambat, Veruca's pet. He was hanging from the ceiling in a tiny green sweater with white Christmas trees and a red deer. Suddenly, two emotions seized him by the throat: amusement at his own stupidity and jealousy. Of course, it's strange to be jealous of your girlfriend's pet, but... yes, he was. Veruca must have sensed it, because she held out her hand to him and said: "You're offended."

"Nothing like that," Diego said. Veruca got up, walked over to him, stood on her tiptoes, and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him. The world swayed and seemed to be rapidly slipping away from under his feet. "I love you," Veruca said, smiling slyly. "You're a jealous fool, Diego Caplan, but I still love you. Merry Christmas."

"And you're crazy and incomprehensible, Veruca McQuaid, but I still love you, too," Diego grinned. "Merry Christmas," he said, and pulled her into a giddy kiss as they both giggled. 

Gambat, who was watching them from the ceiling, gave a barely audible snort and covered himself with his wings for show, but continued to watch the couple from his hiding place and cheerfully glittered with black transparent, cunning, beadlike eyes.

Merry Christmas, sweet couple!