#she also spent like 15 minutes choosing a wine for the table. like it even matters.

[jellybeansmud]

after 3 hours of walking i realized my grandma took me out to look for a birthday gift for me

horrible pain and desperate to go home

lead her to the toaster isle of the electronics store we're in

she said :/

ma'am you know full well if you dont know what to get me you can just buy a bag of tea and ill be happy why did you have to make me walk so much if youre just gonna think that what i want is stupid

[novamirmirsblog]

Favourite crime pt 2

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word Count: 2936

Genre: angsty fluff? or fluffy angst 👀

Request: yes

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, slight coercion into sex (it doesn't happen tho)

Part 1 is here

A/n: The long awaited part two is officially here. I had lots of people who wanted the reader to move on, people who wanted them to get back together and people who wanted both. Thank you everyone for your INDECISIVENESS (kidding. ily). Also Emma was a randomly generated name - I'm sorry :3

Did I write this fic instead of sleeping? Yes. I have no regrets.

It had been a year since you moved back home. The seasons had come and gone and with that, so had your thoughts of Natasha. The same could not be said for the assassin. She had spent a blissful 3 months with Bruce before he had dropped off the face of the Earth and she was missing you. By the 5th month, she had stopped moping about and tried to find you. She searched everywhere but your town was large and unfamiliar and you didn’t want to be found.

Natasha both regretted what she had said and didn't. She regretted it because she realised just how much she adored you once she saw all the areas Bruce fell short in. You knew her better than she sometimes knew herself. You knew when to back off and when to put pressure on. You knew when she needed control and when you needed to take control. You knew when she wanted ice cream or when she wanted brownies. Bruce didn't. However, a part of her didn't regret those nasty things she said because she really didn't deserve you. You were everything she wasn’t, and she didn't know how to measure up to you.

She never voiced these concerns and so they festered and grew until she believed the only way out was to cheat. She knew that was the only thing that could drive you away. Natasha had told you all about her past, how she believed the Red Room had stripped her of her humanity – of her choice whether to become a mother. She knew there were other ways to have children - of course there were, but she hated the fact they had taken that option from her.

You were not like Natasha. You voiced your concerns which is why she knew exactly what to say and do to get you to hate her. Your previous boyfriend had cheated on you with your once best friend. You had watched as your father cheated on your mother and how that made her a hollow shell for a while, her never understanding why the man she loved could hurt her in that way. Supposedly, everyone models their future relationships on what their parents’ relationship looked like. Perhaps that’s why you kept choosing the cheaters. You were content with where you were. You had a forest, a busy town, and a beach all within a 15-mile radius of your house. You were far enough from civilisation that you could forget about reality for a while but close enough to occasionally dip back in whenever you wanted to.

You had kept in contact with Tony and Pepper, congratulating them on the arrival of Morgan and insisting that they should visit. You also continued to occasionally talk to Wanda when Carol was off world. Carol was overjoyed when she found out you had started dating someone new.

You had met Emma when you were taking a dip back into reality at the local supermarket. Her blonde hair vaguely reminded you of a woman you used to know, and you guessed that’s why you felt drawn to her. It wasn’t the electrical crackle that stole your breath away like your first meeting with Natasha, but it was something. Emma could occasionally be a little controlling, but you guessed that’s what normal relationships were like. She didn’t like you going to bars or pubs anymore and you certainly weren’t allowed in any clubs. You didn’t mind it too much as you hardly minded giving up a few nights out if it meant you could have something that resembled normalcy.

“Who’s that?” Emma asked, your face illuminated from your phone as the ding rang out.

“A friend. He’s bringing his wife and new baby over tomorrow and was reminding me to baby-proof the house.” You smiled lightly as you texted Tony back. You hadn’t mentioned to Emma that you were an ex-avenger, but it just kept slipping your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who is he? Where will he be staying?”

“I just forgot. Sorry. He’ll be staying here.”

“But you only have a single bed.”

“Yeah. I was planning to sleep on that and Tony, Pepper and the baby can stay in my room.”

“You mean our room.”

You said nothing, too engrossed in arguing with Tony about how under no circumstances will there be any celery in your house. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do.

“Our room, right Y/n?”

“Um yeah.” You wave her off was apparently your second mistake, but you didn’t multi-task too well and so half answers were all you were good for while texting.

“I have been your girlfriend for 3 months Y/n. The least you could do is answer me properly and tell me what’s going on in your life.” She huffed, pushing your feet from her lap, and turning to face away from you, all of which you missed. You really weren’t having that evil green vegetable in your house.

“Seriously, what is even so important that you’re ignoring me right now!” Emma’s voice cut through the fog, and you looked at her with a blank expression. It was times like these that you really missed Na- No. You refused to go there. You didn’t miss her. You were over her.

“No celery.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air. “You seriously don’t see what’s wrong, do you?”

“No.” You tilted your head, confused at what your girlfriend was talking about.

“Well, I’m not just going to tell you! Jesus. You should know. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emma stood up in a huff, making a lot of noise while getting ready to leave.

“Okay – bye” Your attention was bought back to the phone when Tony sent you a cute video of Morgan crawling about, probably as a bribe to get you to buy celery. You stood, watching the video a few times before you shut off your phone, finally getting around to babyproofing your house.

~~~~~

Babyproofing a house was a lot more work than you originally thought. You had spent most the night picking sharp objects up from baby-height areas and making sure you hadn’t left any weapons about. All the guns taped under tables had to be relocated and you found enough change to set you up for retirement. You just hoped and prayed there were no small beads for Morgan to choke on. You didn’t even get around to putting soft corners on the edges of tables and counter tops, but you told yourself that it was survival of the fittest at that point. The whole endeavour had taken most the night which is how you found yourself with only an hour till Tony, Pepper and Morgan arrived.

There was a knock on the door, and you saw that you were 15 minutes late. Luckily your girlfriend had arrived half an hour before so you figured she could let them in. You shouted down, telling her to get the door as you finished putting on your socks.

“Hiya baby!” You cooed at Morgan babbling in Pepper’s arms, watching as her chubby hands reached for your hair, grabbing on with a crazy amount of strength. “Oh my god you’re strong. Pep, are you sure she’s Tony’s? I’m pretty sure she’s as strong as Thor.” You laughed, looking over at Tony. Your face dropped into careful neutrality as you saw the redhead standing behind him.

“Of course she’s mine doofus. We had multiple paternity tests.” Tony winked.

You didn’t know what to do. You weren’t ready. Your throat went dry as you asked if anyone wanted any drinks, your girlfriend waving them into the living room. You prepared the drinks, and you felt a presence behind you, wrapping their arms around your waist, their head resting on your back. You hated it. You felt suffocated. You took a breath and handed half the drinks to Emma, opting to grab a wine glass and fill it with the wine you had been saving for a special occasion. It might not have been a special occasion, but you needed something strong to get though the next few hours and you knew this would do the job.

You made your way back into the living room and Tony gestured to Emma “I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“I’m Emma.”

“Tony. This is Pepper, Morgan and Natasha.” Your heart dropped at the mention of her name, realising that she wasn’t some cruel hallucination but was in fact standing in your living room.

“Sorry. I forgot to introduce you all.” You smiled and took another large swig from your glass.

“Hey how come you’re the only one with alcohol?”

“Because you’re a parent now.” You rolled your eyes at Tony, feeling Natasha stare holes into your face.

“So I need it even more!” Pepper hit Tony as he said that, causing Morgan to laugh.

“Don’t worry about Y/n getting drunk, she can handle her alcohol pretty well.”

“We know.” Natasha finally spoke. Her voice bought back floods of memories and you realised you missed her voice – just the tiniest amount. “Who exactly are you to Y/n?” To anyone else, the question was flippant, like asking about the weather but you, Tony and Pepper could all hear the carefully laced venom within her words and while the question sounded like it was aimed at your girlfriend, you could tell she was speaking to you.

“Where’s Bruce this fine day?” You shot back, not letting Emma speak.

“My question first.” Natasha finally turned her gaze to focus on you.

“Why are you here?” You felt Emma’s arm slither possessively around your waist. Perhaps if it had been another day, you would have appreciated it but right now, you felt like you were drowning. She held you too tight, you couldn’t move.

“Ah.” Natasha wore a smug look on her face and yet her eyes flashed with hurt. You hated that she had found out information you weren’t willing to give.

“Why are you here Agent Romanoff.” You wanted- no needed her to answer you. You needed to know why she came to you. Then you looked at Tony. “Why would you bring her here?” Your voice was level, Morgan was pulling at your leg to get you to pick her up. You used that as an excuse to escape your girlfriend’s grip.

“We need you back.”

“So you bring your baby to try and bribe me back?” You ran a hand through your hair, lightly bouncing Morgan. “That I can understand but why bring her?” You waved at Natasha, feeling both her and Emma’s eyes bore into you.

“She’s part of the team too and you both need to get on.” Pepper said.

“You were in on this too?” Your throat felt tight. You couldn’t breathe properly.

“I’m sorry but who exactly are you?” Emma asked. Natasha scoffed at her, folding her arms, and rolling her eyes.

Everything was a little too loud and muffled. It felt as if you were underwater. The sun was too bright, and it made everything a little too hard to look at. You could see your furniture, but it wouldn’t stay in your brain long enough for you to fully register it. You placed Morgan on the sofa and took a deep breath, closing your eyes to focus. When you opened them again you looked straight at Natasha.

“I am not going to play nice with you. You broke me and now that I’m moving on you suddenly decide to show up? No. I don’t believe it. Why can’t you just let me be happy? Leave me alone. Besides, I thought I was a ‘fun little distraction’.” You spat at Natasha. You were tired of being the bigger person. She had hurt you and you wanted to watch her bleed. It’s why you leant over and kissed Emma harshly, why you let out a slight moan so Natasha could hear. It didn’t matter that it was completely fake because even though you knew you should feel satisfaction at Natasha’s hurt face, the twinge of sadness upset you more than you would have liked.

Natasha knew the kiss was forced. She knew it was, but it didn’t stop the knife digging deeper into her heart. You had moved on and she had to respect that. She had said some awful things to you, and you really did deserve someone much better than her. You stormed out of the house, saying that you were going for a walk, leaving your girlfriend to entertain your guests.

~~~~~

It was dark by the time you got back. You saw Natasha on the sofa and ignored her as you walked straight to the guest bedroom. All you wanted to do was curl up and sleep this horrible day into the past but unfortunately for you, you had a girlfriend sitting on the bed.

“This bed isn’t big enough for-” Emma cut you off with a rough kiss. “Emma not now-”

“Yes now. I want to remind your ex what she’s missing.” Emma went back to kissing you and you wanted to cry. You didn’t like her possessiveness, didn’t like her jealousy. With Natasha that had been fun but with Emma, it made you feel afraid.

“Emma seriously.” You grabbed her wrist, not letting her reach into your underwear.

Emma huffed and stepped back. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m really tired. Can’t we just sleep?”

“It’s your ex, isn’t it? Why is she even here? I can’t believe you were going to just let her stay here and not tell me!”

“I didn’t know she was coming!” You were both stage whispering, conscious of the fact there was a baby that most likely didn’t sleep all that often.

“Then kick her out!”

You said nothing. You couldn’t just kick her out. That wouldn’t be fair.

“Oh my god you still love her. You still love her and she’s in love with someone else. Or she was. Ha.” Emma let out a bark of laughter. “That’s so fucking rich. You know what, crawl back to her but don’t come crying to me when she fucks you over again do you hear me?”

“Emma that’s not- I don’t love her anymore. I hate her. She ruined my life.”

“You truly hate her?” You nodded at her. “Supposedly, you can only truly hate someone if you loved them first. We’re done Y/n”

“Seriously?! What? Because I used to love Natasha? Because I don’t want to have sex with you? Grow up Emma. I’ve loved people before you and at this rate, I’ll love people after you too. I’m tired. I don’t have to have sex with you. You can’t make me.”

“I’m your girlfriend! You’re supposed to want to have sex with me!”

“Well not when I’ve had a long ass day!”

“Guys, I think you might wake Morgan.” You winced a little at the addition of Natasha. You knew this was going to end badly.

“This is my fucking house!” Emma said, not lowering her tone.

“Actually, it’s Y/n’s.” Natasha calmly stated. She really wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

Your girl- sorry- ex-girlfriend, fumed next to you. “You know what? Have her. She’s so screwed over from whatever you pulled that I don’t think she can love anyone ever again anyway.” Emma seethed, grabbing her shoes, and slamming the door on the way out. The sound of baby Morgan crying echoed through the house.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You ran your hand over your face, the exhaustion of the whole day catching up with you.

“No, it’s not. I betrayed your trust over the one thing I knew you couldn’t tolerate. I knew how hurtful cheating is to you and I did it anyway. I know it’s not an excuse, but I guess I just felt like you deserved someone more than me. Someone better.”

You said nothing. You were so so tired. You missed her and it ached, but you couldn’t forget what she had done. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

“I know but please let me try again. Bruce wasn’t worth it. He only made me realise how much I love you.” Tears were filling up Natasha’s beautiful eyes and you could see just how tired she looked.

“I missed you.” You whispered out, not wanting to break whatever was being formed

“I missed you too. So so much.”

“I can’t forgive you. Not yet, but…you can have one more chance Natasha. That’s it. You get one chance at my forgiveness.”

“Okay!” Natasha sniffled slightly “I promise I won’t mess this up.”

“I’m serious Natasha. One chance. I don’t play baseball. There are no three strikes.”

Natasha gingerly reached up to cup your face. “I won’t waste this.”

“Good because I never really stopped loving you and I’d hate to be a simp.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that dove.” Natasha let out a watery laugh.

“Excuse me?” You let out a fake gasp and wiped some of the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you a secret.” Natasha ushered you to lean closer and you did, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and whispered, “I’ve been whipped for you for as long as I can remember.”

You were looking forward to all the ways Natasha was going to make it up to you and hopefully, you’d get to give Bruce a good punch too. You both knew it was going to be a long road ahead but you both felt a little more ready for what lies next.

[whisperlullaby]

Friendly Neighbors

Pairing: Frank Adler x Reader

Words: 2025

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY) Oral (f receiving), choking (kind of), face riding. 

Summary: Your neighbors with Frank Adler and can’t seem to think straight around him. His niece Mary likes you and wants you and Frank to hang out so she can see you more.

A/N: This was inspired by a thot given to me by @fluffycutecevans​ I hope you like it! Thank you to @river-soul​ for being an amazing beta and friend and for helping me with the ending. All mistakes are my own and as always Minors DNI

You looked out your window and saw your neighbor, Frank, putting his niece Mary on the bus. He was always so gentle with her and you couldn’t help but let out a wistful sigh whenever you saw them interact. Even his reprimands came out more like guidance than punishment. Mary saw you watching and gave you a small wave which you returned. Noticing the exchange, Frank looked over at you and smiled, causing you to drop your hand and offer a tight smile embarrassed at the effect such a simple gesture had on you. 

You'd never actually spoken with Frank, you always got tongue-tied around him. You have, however, run into Mary on more than one occasion when she was with Roberta. That girl was smart as a whip and took a liking to you almost immediately. She would invite you over for dinner weekly, which you always politely declined. You didn't know what you would do if you were alone with Frank for that long. The thought brought butterflies to your stomach and a deep want between your thighs. 

Friday night rolled around and you took your glass of wine to your front stoop, waiting for Frank to drop Mary off at Roberta's so you could hear about her week. You saw Mary jump down the stairs and giggle as Frank started walking towards Roberta's house. Mary, however, had different plans and doubled back to sit with you on your stoop.

"Hey, can you come over for dinner tomorrow night? Franks making burgers. He makes good burgers and you said they were your favorite so I asked him to make them."

You stared at Mary wide-eyed. "Thank you for the offer sweetheart, but I don't want to impose. Besides I have a drawer full of takeout menus to choose from." You chuckled.

Mary looked past you. "Frank can you tell her that she wouldn't be imposing."

You stiffened and slowly turned around to catch Frank's sly smirk.

"Mary what did I say about bothering the pretty neighbor? Come on we have to get you to Roberta's."

"I have a great idea, Frank. Instead of going out tonight why don't you stay in with," Mary paused to look at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "The pretty neighbor."

Your whole body heated up at her statement. For a kid, she was as sly as a fox and too observant. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was to prove to Mary that women should be strong and confident, whatever the reason you decided to double down on Mary's suggestion. Although if you were being honest with yourself you knew the real reason you wanted to spend time with Frank.

"I would love the company. I have more wine inside and beer in the fridge. I also may have ordered enough takeout for a small army." You bit your lip in anticipation of what Frank would say.

Frank looked over at Mary and then back to you, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. 

"We have to get you to Roberta's first." Frank motioned for Mary to come with him. "I'll be back in 10 minutes if you wanna have one of those beers ready for me."

You smiled and nodded. As they headed toward Roberta's house, Mary turned around and gave you a not-so-subtle thumbs up that had you laughing.

You got up and went to refill your glass and grabbed a beer from the fridge. After you set them both on the kitchen table, you went back to the front door to prop it open for Frank. You ran to the bathroom to straighten out your hair and make-up when you heard heavy footfalls coming down the hallway.

“Hello? The door was open so I just let myself in,” Frank shouted through the house.

You reappeared in the kitchen and gave Frank a shy smile.

“Hey, your beer’s on the table. Food should be here in 15 minutes give or take, make yourself comfortable,” you rambled nervously.

Frank chuckled as he made his way over to the table and picked up his beer.

“You’ve made quite the impression on Mary,” Franks stated fondly. “She always talks about the pretty neighbor who teaches her about the stars.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Well, when I was her age I was fascinated by the constellations.”

“Yeah? Tell me more about yourself, sunshine.”

You bit your lip at the nickname Frank gave you. The next 15 minutes were spent talking about your childhood and where you grew up. You learned that Frank used to be a professor of philosophy and after his sister’s passing he gave that up to move here in order to make sure Mary had a normal childhood. As the conversation went on you and Frank seemed to be pulled closer together.

“I don’t know if you noticed. Mary is a bit of a genius,” Frank joked as he finished off his beer, brushing his arm against your thigh.

Flustered, you stood up to go to the fridge and get him another beer. “Yeah, I noticed. She’s a good kid, makes me think about things in a whole new way. I like her.”

Frank smiled as you handed him his beer. His fingers brushed against yours and your breath caught in your throat.

“Why is it this is the first time we’re enjoying each other’s company?” Frank wondered as he opened the beer. 

“Oh come on Frank. Have you seen yourself? I’ve seen the Saturday morning walks of shame leave your house. They don’t exactly look like me,” you reasoned, surprised at your boldness.

He considered you for a moment. “You know Mary didn’t give you the nickname ‘pretty neighbor’ I did,” Frank admitted easily.

You looked up at Frank shocked and saw his eyes blown black with lust. There was a knock on the door and you cleared your throat, getting up to answer it. Frank was right behind you, handing the delivery person money for the food before quickly shutting the door.

“You didn’t have to do that. I was the one who ordered the food.” 

He grabbed the bags from you and walked over to set them on the table.

“Wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I didn’t pay for the food, now would I?” He offered.

“Can I ask you a question?” You rushed out, feeling the wine course through your veins giving you a sense of confidence.

He raised an eyebrow at you, signaling you to continue.

“Did you and Mary plan this?”

Frank smiled at you. “I may have suggested to Mary that I didn’t feel like going to the bar tonight, but that she was still spending the night with Roberta. She’s a smart kid, she came up with the plan all on her own. I just didn’t stop her.”

You considered his answer for a moment before you pulled him into a kiss that was filled with urgency and desperation. His hands gripped your waist and pushed you back into the wall, his grip tightening as the kiss grew deeper.

“Bedroom?” Frank asked huskily.

“Down the hall, second door on the left.”

Frank grabbed your hand and led you to the room, pausing every few steps to give you kisses and nips along your neck. By the time he laid you on the bed you were a whimpering mess, and you were sure you were soaked. He unzipped your dress and pulled down the straps with gentle ease. A perfect contrast to the urgency he was just kissing you with.

“No bra sweetheart?” Frank asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“It’s 100 degrees and humid Frank. I barely wanted to wear the dress,” you said breathlessly.

“Oh sunshine, I barely want you to wear this dress too.” Frank pulled the rest of your dress off your body. 

You grabbed at his shirt and ripped it over his head. You threw it across the room and licked your lips at the sight of his tanned and toned chest. He bent down and placed kisses across your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth flicking the peak with his tongue while rolling the other between his fingers. You arched your back at the sensation and wrapped your legs around his waist. You rocked your hips against his growing erection, trying to provide some relief to the ache in your cunt. 

“Relax, sunshine. I’ll make you feel real good,” Frank murmured into your chest as his fingers hooked around the hem of your underwear.

He pulled them down your legs and pressed kisses into your thighs.

“You’re absolutely soaked.” He spread your slick around before taking his fingers into his mouth with a satisfied hum. “Delicious.”

Frank climbed up the bed and pulled you onto his chest.

“I want you to ride my face honey.”

You looked up at him shocked. “I’ve never done that before what if,” you bit your lip. “What if you can’t breathe?”

Frank let out a short laugh. “If being suffocated by this pussy is what kills me then that’s how I go.”

He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up towards his face. 

“Go on sweetheart, get comfortable. I’m going to make you come on my tongue then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t see straight.”

You settled your knees on each side of his face and slowly lowered yourself, still hovering.

“Is this okay?” You asked hesitantly. 

Frank gripped your thighs and pulled you down until you felt his nose nudged your clit, causing you to mewl. 

“Just like that, now ride my face baby.” 

You tentatively rocked your hips against his face as his hands held your thighs in place. His tongue was delving into your wet folds and flicking your clit. You picked up the pace as his tongue moved faster. Soon you found yourself circling your hips as he latched onto your clit humming and sucking, bringing you higher until your orgasm buzzed through your body. Frank’s tongue relentlessly fucked into your core as you rode out your high, and with one final, hard suck on your clit that caused you to whine, he sat up and pushed you on the bed.

“Now, gorgeous, I need to be inside of you.” Frank made quick work of his pants and kicked them into the pile of clothes. 

“Condoms are in the drawer,” you panted.

Frank reached into the drawer and pulled out a condom, rolling it down his hardened length. He climbed back over you and lined himself up, slowly pushing in as you arched your back reveling in the stretch.

“Fuck, Frank you feel amazing,” you moaned.

“Nowhere near as good as you sweetheart. You’re so tight, fucking made for me,” Frank grunted.

He started slowly sliding through your warmth until you wrapped your legs around his waist urging him to move faster. As he moved you grabbed his wrist to place his hand around your neck. He gently squeezed the sides of your throat and your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Oh, sunshine you look so good under me with my hand around your neck. I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You moaned as his thrusts became harder and more erratic. He removed his hand from your neck and pressed circles on your clit, making you clench around him as your orgasm washed through you. Frank followed closely behind you, stilling as he spilled into the condom. After a moment he pulled out causing you to whimper at the sensation. He tossed the condom in the trash before laying back on the bed and pulling you onto his chest. 

“So, do you think you’ll come over for dinner tomorrow night?” Frank asked as he placed a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I think we can make that happen. I hear burgers are on the menu and they are my favorite,” you stated shyly.

“Well my favorite thing to eat is right here,” Frank said as he moved his fingers in between your thighs. “Might just make this my dessert tomorrow night after Mary goes to bed.”

[atc74]

Eye of the Beholder

Warnings: Poor body image (?), slight angst, a little envy, a lot of fluff, and implied sexy times

Summary: Jensen is feeling less confident in himself lately and you think you know why. He has always been there for you, now you just need to show your husband he has no reason to be. 

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1470

Written for: @breakthezone​ first quarter challenge, which was to choose one of two prompts. Mine is bolded below. 

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches​, cause she is the best

A/N: So you know the pictures, the spread, the article in THAT magazine, featuring that beautiful soul, and that would cause any man to think less of himself, but I thought, what would go through Jensen’s head and how would I help him through it. 

Like Jensen’s Warmth? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

The cold snowy mountains were a stark contrast to the warm flatland of their home state, but Y/N was loving the quietness and solace of the northeast. Y/N pulled into the snow-covered driveway and started unloading the groceries. She planned accordingly and for weeks at a time; they didn’t have many delivery options out there. 

“Honey, I’m home! What do you say you come help me carry in and put away all this food and I make you a nice, juicy porterhouse for dinner?” Y/N called from the kitchen as she dropped the load on the counter. “Honey? Jay?” The house was mostly silent but then she heard it. The distinct smack of fists and feet hitting the heavy bag Jensen installed in the home gym. She sighed knowing this was the third day in a row Jensen had spent hours in the gym, working out until he was ready to drop. 

Y/N brought in the rest of the bags, stored the food, and changed her clothes. If she was going to join him in the gym, at least she could participate. It wasn’t like it was a hardship watching her husband in only a pair of shorts, his freckled skin dripping with sweat. 

She brought fresh water with her, setting it on the weight bench. He was breathing heavy, sweating, and red-faced. Jensen was not out of shape by any means, but he somehow had gotten it in his head that he needed to get into better shape. Maybe it was the pressure of becoming Soldier Boy, maybe it was that he was approaching his “mid-forties”, it could have been a few things, but Y/N thought she knew exactly what had prompted this new obsession. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, babe,” he rasped, his breaths heavy with exertion, his hair soaking. “Just a few more minutes.” He landed another two punch kick combo. 

“Jay, you have got to take a break. You can’t keep going like this, hours a day, day after day,” Y/N pleaded with him. “This is enough for today.” 

“Yeah, okay. Maybe you’re right.” He stopped, hugging the bag tightly, holding on as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Go shower, I’ll get dinner started, okay?” Y/N smiled, kissing him softly. 

“You got it. I’m pretty sure I reek anyway.” 

Leafy greens and brightly colored vegetables covered the kitchen island as Y/N chopped and sliced away. The cuts of meat were sitting out to warm up before grilling, and a nice bottle of a full-bodied red was breathing on the table. Jensen emerged from the hallway leading from their bedroom about thirty minutes later, looking a little worse for the wear. He pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek, swiping a handful of peppers, too. 

“I saw that mister,” she smiled, leaning into his touch. “But I’m gonna let it slide just ‘cause you smell nice.” 

“Better than before?” 

“Oh, way better,” she laughed, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” 

“Nothing, babe. Just trying to stay in shape. I gotta get in that custom suit in a couple of weeks, and I ain’t getting any younger.” Jensen looked down, running a hand over his face, scratching at his beard. 

“That’s all, huh?”

“Yeah, just running isn’t gonna cut anymore. I have to keep up.” 

“Keep up with…?”

Jensen pretended he didn’t hear Y/N as he started helping with the salad. If he ignored the question, maybe she would let it go. It seemed to be working, for now, so he went with it, and continued to help her with dinner. 

“Jay, these look perfect!” Y/N gushed as she cut into the steak. She placed the bite in her mouth, the flavor exploding, and she moaned around it. “Oh my god, it's practically melting in my mouth!” 

“You made it easy with a superb cut of meat, babe,” Jensen shrugged, digging into his salad and grilled vegetables. 

All through dinner, Y/N noticed how he barely touched his meat or wine, but took extra helpings of the healthy stuff. She decided she would let it go, wanting to enjoy their meal, but soon enough, the dishes were cleared and leftovers stored. 

“Jay?” Y/N asked, rinsing the plate in her hand before handing it to her husband. “Can I ask you something?”

“Babe, you can ask me anything, you know that.” 

“And promise me you won’t get mad?” 

“I won’t get mad, but now I am a little suspicious,” Jensen raised one eyebrow, looking over at his wife. 

“Does your new workout regimen have anything to do with Jared’s spread in Men’s Health?” 

“No.” Jensen protested immediately. 

“Jay…” 

“Maybe,” he sighed, throwing the towel on the counter, then he turned, leaning against it. “Am I...soft?”

“Soft? I think you are the kindest, most generous, loving man I’ve ever known,” Y/N replied honestly. “I am lucky I found you and even luckier that you love me.” 

“Well, thank you for that, babe, but I was asking about my physical appearance,” Jensen hung his head, his voice getting quieter as he talked. “Do I have a ‘dad bod’?” 

“Jensen Ross Ackles, you listen to me right now. You have never looked better and you are in the best shape of your life. You just completed a 15 year run on the most successful sci-fi television show in history, you are stepping into an iconic role that you were hand-picked for, and if a ‘dad bod’ looks like this, then yes!” Y/N gestured to her husband while rambling on trying to make her point. “No, you know what? Come here, come sit down with me. Bring the wine.” 

Y/N sat down with her laptop, intent on showing her husband the proof he needed to believe her and believe in himself. Jensen sat down next to her, handing her a fresh glass, as she pulled up photo after photo on the screen. 

“Do you see what I see?”

“No, I see a skinny kid from Texas with no hair on his chest and barely-there abs,” he scoffed. 

“Okay, you still don’t have chest hair, but what else do you see?” She prompted him again. 

“A pudgy mid-section and that was before I turned 40!” 

“Do you want to know what I see?” 

“You’re biased.” 

“You’re damn right I am, but I do know that your fans, the Dean-girls, well, they’re not wrong. Did you know that according to several fan sites, you and Dean have way more fans than Jared and Sam? And are you telling me that millions of people are wrong?”

“Millions?” he asked skeptically. 

“Okay, well, maybe not millions, but a lot! But I see a man that is in better shape than he was twenty years ago. I see a skinny kid from Texas too. But I also see a man who now is in the best shape of his life and way sexier than that skinny kid.. What is it that you’re always telling me when I complain about my baby muffin top or my thunder thighs?”

“That bodies come in all shapes and sizes, and beauty isn’t defined by your body shape; it’s defined by your soul and you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.” 

“Okay, and I usually argue with you when you do, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. We are our own worst critics, you know that. But I see a healthy body and strong arms. Arms that hold me better than any others on the planet. Arms that hold our children and comfort them when they are hurt. I see a sexy mind and a stunning soul, one that was made for me.” 

“Okay, I think that is enough wine for you,” Jensen reached for the glass, but you moved it out of his reach. 

"Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

“Fine, it could have been a smile.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, my exceptionally sexy wife made a pretty good point.” 

“Oh? Tell me more.”

“Well, she may also be the smartest person I know. She always knows just what to say when my dumbass is being, well a dumbass.” 

“Yeah, I am pretty damn smart. Because you know what else I did? I made arrangements for your visiting parents to keep the children overnight so they can swim until they pass out.”

“Wow, that is pretty smart. You know, I’ve been working out and I bet I could carry you all the way upstairs without breaking a sweat.”

“Oh, you’re on Ackles, but you are wrong about one thing.”

“What’s that?” 

“We will definitely be working up a sweat!”

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @flamencodiva​ @blacktithe7​  @amanda-teaches​ @hannahindie​  @kickingitwithkirk​  @wi-deangirl77​ @hobby27​​ @gh0stgurl​ @alleiradayne​ @idreamofplaid​ @manawhaat​ @crashdevlin​  @fangirlxwritesx67​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @waywardbeanie​ @jensengirl83​ @anathewierdo3467​  @winchest09​ @michellethetvaddict @magssteenkamp @waywardbaby  thewinchesterandreidwhore @anathewierdo

The Jensen’s Jamboree: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-jackles​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @akshi8278​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @deanwanddamons​ @rockhoochie​

[syuga-s]

The Last Time

w.c 4.3k

pairing. Jooheon x gn!reader

genre. angst, a little fluff maybe, idk how to classify it but it's my take on relationships in real life(?)

a/n. (warnings) I throw some curses here and there, mention of the word "sex" once, tried to make it as gender-neutral as possible, I could really use some help about t/w, feedback is more than welcome, hope you like the fic 🧍‍♀️

Once again you were at the same bar. With the same friends. Same music. Same drinks. It's safe to say that nothing's changed in here but you.

For some reason, you were awfully quiet tonight. Everyone was away from the table by now. All of them talking and dancing in groups.

You were regretting saying yes to going out the very moment Jasmine was at your front door. But your best friend really wanted to get you out of your house.

The thing is you weren’t going to be alone, all of your friends were tagging along. I guess I need to suck it up, maybe I could have fun, despite him.

And you really tried, there was no need to make a scene anymore. All of your friends have had their fair share of nights seeing you 'talk' with him and making things awkward for everyone. It's been a while, though. You haven't seen him in exactly 2 years.

How do I explain this? There's no resentment anymore, no hate for what happened between you. But when there's a choice between spending your Friday night at the same place as him or staying at home? Well...

But tonight was clearly different. Something (Jasmine) had dragged you here and to be quite honest, it hasn’t been half bad yet. Jasmine kept waiting for you to get up from your chair to come and chat with Jackson and Changkyun. Her all-time crush and his best friend.

"In a sec!! Just let me finish this drink!" You said while you showed her your glass. She quickly nodded and turned to keep talking with those two. You have to remember to thank them later for keeping her entertained because if it weren't for them cracking jokes every single second, she wouldn't have let you off the hook that easily.

Meanwhile, you decided to get a little lost in your head. Laughing to yourself because you were feeling like having a main character moment. Being the only one sat down in a place full of people. The mysterious persona drinking by themselves.

But that didn't last long.

"Mind if I sit here?" You shook your head. He put his drink next to yours and asked, "How are you?" And it somehow felt like you couldn’t have avoided this exact situation.

You released a breath that you didn't even know you were holding. "I'm sitting Jooheon, drinking… existing, you?" He forced himself to smile. Trying to hide the fact that he was still feeling uneasy around you. Nonetheless, showing you the dimples that you used to love so much.

“I can see that”, he paused, "it's been a lot since I last saw you, you look different".

You hummed softly, finally making eye contact with him. "So you expected for me to look the same?" You surely weren't going to pass up the opportunity to be passive-aggressive to him.

It still makes you happy to know that he has never minded this side of you.

"I'm teasing, I guess we both look different, it's been what? Two years?"

"I'm not sure, but it feels like a lot" He took a sip of his drink and started to fidget with the glass. Maybe you're not the only one that's changed after all.

In the two years, you were together, you never saw him like this. But let's remember the fact that you never fully knew him back then. It just feels weird to see him this anxious. Especially with you.

"I've wanted to reach out to you for a while now," You frowned at his words. "Guess I lacked a little courage" He let out an airy laugh. "I really want to talk to you".

Now it was your turn to feel tense. What is this supposed to mean? How long has he been wanting to talk? And talk about what?

You tilted your head and opened your mouth to ask him all this, but he didn't give you the chance to get the words out.

"Before you say something, please believe me I just wanna talk", "but not in here”.

"Alright then, where do you suggest we ‘talk’ Jooheon?” He took his phone out to check the time. 10:44 p.m. He pursed his lips and said, more like hesitating, "I could walk you home?"

You stared off into your group of friends. This was going to make their night interesting. Seeing you two go together again, just like all those times before.

Jooheon's been waiting for this since he saw on your social media that you were leaving the city. And Jasmine took care of letting him know that you would be coming back in about 6 months.

That was a year ago. More than 365 days waiting to be in the same room with you. Praying that you would let him talk to you. Not that you would reject him. But he was scared, he was perfectly aware he messed up everything.

As you were both saying goodbyes to your friends, you started to think about how everything had ended between you two.

You know what? Yes, maybe I was wrong in ghosting him but after all, I don't owe him anything. Just like he threw me out of his life two years ago. We didn't work out, he never communicated with me. He didn't choose me back. I just had to watch him get rid of me, no explanations, no nothing. And I find it really hard to believe that he's been dying to talk to me. What could be so important that he wants to have a proper conversation? How will I explain to him that I stopped replying for no particular reason? That I just realized that we weren't good together, and I had to let go of him? Should I tell him that no matter my hard feelings, I still thought about him constantly?

You had left each other in the cold back then.

He called your name, and you snapped back to reality. Didn't even realize you were already outside of the bar when he softly asked you, "aren't you cold?"

You smirked and told him "Well yeah, walking back home in this weather wasn't in my plans dummy, but I didn't bring a jacket though".

He used to be so attentive to you. One of the other things you used to love about him. Always concerned about you.

He simply put his jacket around you and started walking before you could complain about something as simple as this. Like you always did.

It feels nice to know that someone in this world knows you to this extent. The way you’ll react to simple things. How can you still love someone despite knowing that you don’t work together?

You realized he still has this jacket. It's the same one he gave me the first night we spent together. Why do I have to remember this now? Not fair. Maybe he wore it on purpose.

You gave a little run to catch him. Now that you were by his side, you were getting impatient, "Can you please start talking? I'm intrigued by all your seriousness".

You were kind of hating this feeling. Everything about him felt familiar. Suddenly, you wanted to cling your arm to his but thought twice about it.

He chuckled. "Well it's not super serious, I want us to have a nice conversation, you know?" You snorted at this, what does a nice talk mean?

"I can be nice, as long as you tell me WHAT you wanna talk about…", "come on Jooheon, just get to the point".

"Okay!! OKAY… I-" he took a deep breath and continued, "First of all, I want to apologize to you for everything, then I want us to talk about what happened between us if that's okay with you?"

You'd be lying if you didn't say that you wanted this to happen since you drew apart the first time. You always dreamt of having an adult conversation with him.

But the dream left your mind bit by bit. Just like your heart got itself back together after he left you, piece by piece.

Overwhelmed, you could only stare straight ahead into the street. He called your name again. Now your eyes were on his, and you could see his concerns. How his mind was going miles per hour, just like yours.

"I want to apologize too,” you smiled and finally let yourself link arms with him. “It’s gonna take us a while, isn’t it?”.

The walk to your apartment took around 15 minutes. The words you exchanged with Jooheon were kept to a minimum. You weren’t gonna get into the heavy stuff right there in the street.

When you finally arrived, you gave him back his jacket. It was gonna get uncomfortable to talk with him with a piece of clothing that made you remember too much.

“Want something to drink? I have a beer, wine, you name it”. He sat on your couch while you searched for something non-alcoholic in your little fridge. “A beer would be okay”.

You got yourself some water. Otherwise, your head would be fuzzy, and wouldn’t be able to tell him all you’ve had on your mind for years.

You handed him the bottle, and you took your seat on the carpet. Your mind wandered off to the last time he was in here.

When he told you goodnight and planted a soft kiss on your lips like he always did. You knew it wasn’t a simple ‘good night’, for you.

You remembered how your eyes followed him until he closed the door of your apartment.

He took a swig of his drink and by the time he put the bottle on your little coffee table, it made you realize he was sitting right there, in front of you.

Finally, gathering the courage to start telling you what was on his mind. “I never thought I’d get the chance to talk to you again”.

I didn’t think so, either. We both fucked up multiple times.

──────────────────────

You were never a couple. After 5 years, you never understood what had lacked between you. The desire was there. Now and then you had your moments of happiness. Usually on the weekends.

When you met, you weren’t looking for love or a serious relationship. At least one of you.

Jooheon was free, like the wind or like a bird. He flew back and forth and once in a while he needed to land somewhere for a while. Every so often he sought another fire, another bed, other arms that weren’t yours.

The time came when he made you feel a million things inside. Overwhelmed with words and emotions, mostly love. But also turmoil and maybe desperation.

It made you happy that he made you feel so much after being empty for months. You felt different with him. It was the kind of love you didn’t know you had in you. Didn’t even think it was possible to express about someone like this. Until him.

You didn’t need anyone else. You just needed Jooheon. Not only that, but you didn’t care for how long your love would last because you believed that the meaning of the word love was what you had built together.

A few hours together. Every so often the whole night.

But when the morning came, the nightmare started to take form. Texts at inappropriate hours, and even unanswered messages.

You started thinking that you didn’t know better. You started feeling insecure. Replaceable. Maybe he knows better than to be with me.

Desperate to know what you had. But afraid that you would ruin everything with the words “What are we?”.

Tried to convince yourself that all of this was okay. That it was a good thing that you were going slow, giving him the chance to open up to you.

Months kept passing and your trust in him was running thin. He made you feel weird on the daily. Wondering if he was seeing someone else. If he danced with someone tonight. Had they kissed? Is he having sex with someone who isn’t me? What if he’s tired of me?

You wanted to be with him, but It was starting to hurt.

I hate that when I try to get myself to think that I don’t like you anymore… you do these little things that make me love you.

When you were together, he treated you like there was no one else for him. His hand was always wrapped up in yours. Talking until dawn, about college, his family, and your relationship. Those times, you couldn’t lie to yourself about your feelings.

He was the only face you could see in the world. The only guy you’ve ever wanted to keep around. But how did we get to this point?

The day you told him you were starting to fall in love with him, all he could reply was, “I don’t know what to say, I never thought you would be in love with me”.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Well what do you want me to say? You took me by surprise”.

“You could tell me how you feel. I’m not expecting for you to tell me you love me back, I-“

There’s no return now, you have to keep talking.

“I’m just tired of not knowing what’s in your head, I’m not sure if you want to have something with me anymore, it’s okay if you don’t so, just be honest with me”.

“I like you”. You stayed quiet after hearing this, urging him to tell you more than just three words.

“I mean, of course, I’m attracted to you”.

At that moment, you liked what you heard. But the more you thought about it, you realized that he didn’t actually care for you, or loved you. Maybe that was a greedy thought from you. Maybe you expected too much.

You were angry but mostly angry at yourself.

Why are you still waiting for him? It's been years and nothing has happened between you. Nothing ever will at this point.

You ended up telling him not to bother you again, that if this was his way of ‘loving’ you, you were better off without it.

But that was a lie, you longed for your phone to show his name, even if it was at 5 A.M. Still thinking that there was no other way to love someone.

Unable to put an end to it, months kept passing and nothing changed between you. Jooheon had many others, and you only had him.

You loved spending nights like this by his side, watching him sleep, wondering for hours about you two. Unable to explain how you could love him this much.

Maybe he did love you, but you can’t handle this kind of love anymore. It’s better for both of you to end this, whatever it was because it's driving you crazy. And you meant it this time.

Jooheon told you goodnight and planted a soft kiss on your lips like he always did.

You knew it wasn’t a simple ‘good night’ for you, this was the last time you were gonna let him in. Your eyes followed him until he closed the door of your apartment. Fighting back your tears while softly saying to yourself, “I’m always going to love you…”.

The texts at 5 A.M. came again, but this time there was no answer. Jooheon started calling and sending texts for days, but you didn’t reply. All your efforts in disappearing from him on social media weren’t stopping him.

He met someone else, yet the texts wouldn’t stop. Until one day they did.

Now and then your curiosity would get the best of you and you would see his Instagram stories with her. An older girl you had met once. They were supposed to be friends.

You wanted to avoid comparing yourself to her but, he never posted something with you. It’s a dumb thing to worry about, but it’s one of those things that sometimes matter.

You tried to understand the whole situation. Accept the fact that you two weren’t meant to be. That he didn’t see a future with you.

Your days stopped revolving around him. You focused your time on getting your degree, learning another language, going out with your friends. Even tried meeting new people.

There were a few here and there. No one was enough for you.

Your ideas of love and relationships were different now. You gave another meaning to the word love. You wanted to find someone who would love you and take care of you. A quiet kind of love, real love.

What you had with Jooheon, was something you never wanted to experience again. Days went by, even months until you saw each other once more; for the first time in Jooheon’s life, he felt a knot in his stomach, he knew he lost you, for good this time.

Months passed and Jooheon left his girlfriend. He now felt different because he looked for you in everyone, yet he couldn’t find you, and he felt empty.

He cursed himself a thousand times for not knowing how to appreciate you and the love you gave him for two whole years. Tears finally fell from his eyes, he couldn’t believe he was crying for someone, crying for love, crying for you.

He took his phone out, swallowed hard, and started typing another text.

“I miss you, and I need you with me now and always, I never thought I would say this, but I’m not happy without you. Maybe I should’ve loved you less and loved you better, I just want you to know that I’ll always be waiting for you my sweet y/n…”

But the message was never delivered. You had changed your number.

It made sense that you would do that someday. It’s been too long, but this didn’t stop him from sending you texts in the middle of the night. When he felt the overwhelming need to have his arms wrapped around you.

──────────────────────

I still love you

(9:05 p.m.)

no, I don’t

(9:06 p.m.)

I’m confused why did this happen

(2:26 a.m.)

I want you to be happy, if this is what it takes then I’m okay with it. be happy. for me. please.

(10:45 a.m.)

I kind of hate you for changing your number

(8:57 p.m.)

I’m sorry

(1:43 a.m.)

maybe if I wasn’t so fucked up this wouldn’t have happened

(3:37 a.m.)

why can’t things be like they were before

(10:13 a.m.)

please come back to me. I need you. You need me

(1:58 a.m.)

I still want you

(4:06 a.m.)

──────────────────────

The day you left town was the day he swore to himself to try his best to get another chance to talk to you, just once more. To make things right, not caring anymore about his pride. He just wanted to let you know everything he didn’t say when you were by his side.

That he was sorry that it took him too long to acknowledge he was wrong. That he knew he was a little too late and wishes that he could say something more meaningful than a simple “I want you back”.

──────────────────────

“I wonder why” You smirked at him.

The more you kept making eye contact, the more you realized you didn’t feel any kind of resentment anymore. You both had grown, and while you didn’t actually need this kind of closure, you figured this was the healthiest moment to do so.

His eyes were avoiding you now, his smile was still there, but you could tell he lost a bit of his confidence. “Okay, so I’m gonna talk first, please just hear me out. I want to rip the band-aid,” He said with a forced laugh.

“I don’t know why I could never tell you that love scares me. That it scares me to be attached to someone”. His tone was soft now.

“I still play in my head the day you told me you were falling in love with me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you not to tell me those things because you could have changed your mind any moment”.

“I never told you how I felt one of the many nights you spent with me. You were stroking my hair and I seriously felt like crying because I was fucking scared”.

“I was scared to lose you”.

“I’m sorry because I know I made you think I didn’t want you for something serious. I’m sorry for being immature”.

“I look at you now, and I’m happy to get to see you like this. You’re still everything I’ve ever wished for and more. You need to know that nothing compares to you”.

“And believe me, I don’t expect you to take my words as a way of asking you for another chance, I know I don’t deserve it… but I would really love it if you could let me show you I could love you better this time”.

You never imagined these words coming out of his mouth. Couldn’t believe how he was looking at you. Hopeful but understanding at your loss for words.

“Can I ask you one last thing?” His voice was barely audible, but you nodded at him.

“Well, maybe it’s not an actual question, but I’d like to know why you stopped talking to me”.

“Look Jooheon, I don’t know how everything I wanna say will come out, so please bear with me”.

You didn’t know where to start, either.

There were so many things to be said that you were getting nervous to start talking. Because once you opened your mouth, you didn’t know if you would be able to piece everything together.

“When everything ended I really wanted to hate you, everyone around me hated you,” you admitted to him, “except for me and I hated that”.

“I knew that all I could be able to do was cut you from my life, so I just decided to stop talking to you”.

It may sound harsh, but it’s the truth. “I admit it was a poor way of handling things, and I’m sorry for that”.

You’ve always been scared of having this type of conversation.

You let out a sigh because you never thought that the following words were gonna come out of your mouth, ever.

“I’ve only been in love once in my life, and that was when I was with you”.

“It used to frustrate me that I wasn’t able to make it work with anyone after you. I couldn’t help but compare everyone to you”.

“I swore to myself that I never wanted to go through the same thing we had, maybe because those memories are yours and I don't want anyone else messing that up, you made me feel so safe, I felt alive with you, nothing could stop me when I had you”. 

“You've been the only one I've ever wanted to see every day, no matter the hour or how busy I was, I truly wanted everything with you”.

You hadn’t noticed how he had been looking at you this entire time. He couldn’t believe that you used to feel that way about him. Still couldn’t wrap his head around hearing you say how you loved him.

You quickly wiped a tiny little tear that escaped your eye, hoping we wouldn’t notice. But he did.

You let out a nervous laugh and said, “I’m not sad, I swear, It’s just that I never thought I would say all this out loud, especially to you”.

“You don't know how many times I wanted to call you, run to you”.

“Last year before I left I wanted to see you, I kept trying to convince myself that It didn't have to mean anything, that I was just desperate for any physical touch, but from time to time, I wonder if what I really needed was just you”.

He didn’t say anything. So you just said his name out loud. “Jooheon…” Followed by a long pause.

“I feel so different now”.

“When I was far away from you, I realized that I need someone who isn’t absent when it comes to me, someone that isn’t a ghost in my life”.

While you were talking, you were watching his every move and how he couldn’t stop playing with his rings. You’re still not used to seeing him act like this.

“At this point, I want someone who will take care of me, that makes me feel safe. Someone who wants to be with me because they love me, and they love to have me next to them. I’m beyond only spending the night over, I want whole days”.

You finally got up from the floor and sat next to Jooheon. Facing him, making him do the same. He kept looking at you for a whole minute but it felt like hours.

You didn’t know what to do after his following words.

“What I realized with being away from you is that I was pushing away what I’ve always wanted. I wasn’t confident that I could meet you where you were. I felt it would be better not to waste your time back then, but that was then, and this is now…”

You kept looking at each other a little too long. Both realizing you didn't need words anymore. The love was still there.

[awesomerextyphoon]

Charred Briar Roses - 3

Curse’s Broken, Now What?

Summary: The title speaks for itself. 

Parings: Orc!Bucky x Black!Reader, Orc!Steve x Black!OFC, Orc!Sam x Black!OFC

Word Count: 4,136

Warnings: Implied Smut and Some Violence

A/N: This was longer than I anticipated. Also, the princesses would be a US size 14/15. I totally forgot to mention that earlier. Sorry about that. Enjoy!

Back to Masterlist

Instead of spending 600 years in total darkness, you communicated with your sisters in a pretty well constructed dream version of the palace. You thought of new inventions and fighting moves, reconciled with Ghada about your fight the day of the curse, and kept analyzing what happened in the north west tower.

If felt like you were in the dream world for about a month.

You were talking with your sisters about trivial childhood memories when all of you felt arms around your bodies. Your surroundings started to fade and so did your sisters.

You felt chapped yet soft lips kiss your neck and lips. It was surprisingly nice, like a dream.

You opened your eyes and realized three things: Someone was actually kissing you, you weren’t in the tower, and the person kissing you wasn’t the prince that your mother had all but assured you but an admittedly hot (albeit ruggedly, your core notes) orc-human hybrid.

You and your sisters screamed.

You immediately try to push him away but he wouldn’t budge. That scared you because both you and your sisters could bench about five tons thanks to Doireann, the war fairy who blessed and trained you in combat since the age of three.

You punched him with a right jab once he broke for air. Couldn’t even get him off the bed.

He chuckled and rubbed his strong jaw and said what seemed to be a compliment in Orcish as you nursed your knuckles.

“I said that you’re quite feisty for a human princess.” He repeated in Common Tongue.

You saw that your sisters had similar reactions to their kissers. Fumnanya even threw a shoe at the one that would be later called Sam. The others got a laugh out of it.

After everyone settled down, we shared our names while you were trying not jump Bucky, the warrior who kissed you.

“So, I was wondering, do you know what year it is?” Fumnanya inquired in a mousy tone that she uses with strangers.

Steve was it, yeah Steve rubbed the back of his head, “How to put this. You’ve been asleep for 600 years. Just about everyone thinks you’re a myth. Hell, we wouldn’t have believed it if we weren’t right in front of you.”

He then provided updates on what happed after your birthdays, but you were only half listening. Your dumb fight with Ghada and your damn curiosity cost you and your sisters your friends, family, and life.

You wanted to cry, but Ghada motioned you to join her and Fumnanya in a huddle. You spoke in Nephrashim as to not alert the warriors.

The three of you knew that Sophronius was up to no good and it was odd that he was still alive since the average lifespan was 300 years due to the Nephrashim Crystal.

“We need to convince them to take us outside of the city since I’m guessing the spell Etna put on us to keep Y/N from skipping class is still in place.”

You rolled your eyes at Ghada snide comment.

“We take what need in whatever storage device Y/N has in her ‘secret workshop’!” Fumnanya chimed in.

“Hey-“

“We all knew where it is, sis. You’re not fooling anyone.” Ghada deadpanned while you huffed in frustration.

With that, the three of you rejoined the group and offered to show them around after you changed your clothes.

–––––––––––––––––––––

The warrior trio was waiting outside the room for 20 minutes when you and sisters finally emerged from behind the doors. The three of you wore much more comfortable clothing than the extravagant kaftans you wore in your sleep. The clothes also showcased more of your curves and sleek muscles they noted.

“What would you like to do first?” You asked. No sooner had you finished the question that the warrior trio’s stomachs growled like a lion’s roar.

Ghada giggled and together, you led the trio to the main banquet hall.

You and your sisters had a hunch that the food from your 18th birthday celebration was still good. Your hunch was right.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––

The hall was filled with food for 900 people. The tables were packed with: huge slabs of Gararagator Steak, roast beef and pork, fried chicken, smoked turkey, grilled and baked fish in sweet brown sauces, curries, pastas, thick stews, enticing side dishes, rich pastries/desserts, and caskets of mead and wine.

The warriors were drooling at the sight and aromas of the feast. So, when Ghada casually said to dig in, they devoured ALL of the food in record time.

You and your sisters managed to get some of the food before it was gone. None of you would admit it, but the three of you were turned on by the ferocity at which they ate and drank.

Once they finished the food and drink, the warrior trio leaned back in their chairs and sighed while they rubbed and patted their bellies followed by a couple of loud, brassy burps and belches.

Fumnanya asked them some trivial questions about life since the curse was activated which they answered in kind, but they got tense when she asked about their mothers.

Ghada, ever the politician, quickly changed the subject by asking if they would like a bath and one of the guest rooms to sleep in for the night.

Bucky was about to respond when you suddenly challenged him to a duel.

A couple of things happened: Fumnanya put her head in her hands, Ghada groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, Sam and Steve burst into laughter, and Bucky accepted with a chuckle.

You led the group to the sparring grounds on the western end of the palace grounds.

Ghada set the ground rules: each combatant may choose a weapon from the low-level, non-lethal weapons closet and the fight could last no longer than 30 minutes.

You both chose Bo Staffs and bowed to start the spar. It took a few minutes of sizing each other up before making the first move. The duel consisted a flurry of punches, kicks, precision strikes with your Bo Staffs, and near hits/misses.

It ended when Bucky spotted a weakness in your left mid-section and landed a hit right above left hip causing you to fall. He then pinned you down before you could grab your weapon with his face two inches above yours.

The two of you were so engrossed in your own little world that Steve had to clear his throat a few times to get your attention.

–––––––––––––––––––

Sensing the, ahem, tension in the area, Ghada suggested that you all finally head over to the baths.

Except for you and Bucky, you took him to your ‘secret workshop’. Something about the way he examined some of the weapons fascinated you and you wanted to explore that.

Bucky was quite dazzled by your variety of inventions like your solar battery, your new hover bike engine, and your 5th attempt at your waning swan (a cross between a scythe and a machine gun). He was examining a pair of your laser blasting gauntlets when you asked if he’d seen some of them before.

“Is there something you like?” you asked while he picked up an old prototype for a flash grenade.

Bucky chuckled, “It’s just that I’ve never seen so many inventions in one place before. When I was an orcling, there was these traveling ‘magician’ who performed feats of wonder for the kids in the village near our settlement. In reality, he was a con artist, but we didn’t care. He would always make our lives seem a little bit brighter. One day, the three of us went behind his tent and found all these contraptions in boxes or on the ground. Tuns out, they were relics of the long gone Nephrashim people. Well, maybe not so long gone now.”

He chuckled to himself again almost bitterly. “I was always entranced by what he would show us and, when he finally fessed up to using relics instead of magic, the contraptions he would use to perform such acts. Sometimes I would wonder what it would’ve been like to live a different life; one where I could’ve been a tinkerer instead of a warrior. Don’t get me wrong, I like being one. It’s just that-”

“You wished you had more options.” You finished noticing how delicately he was holding one of your mithril tools. He held it in a deftness that most of the artisans you’ve met couldn’t match.

His confession of sorts gave you pause.

You always hated how almost everyone gave your sisters praise for their interests and demeanor while you were usually belittled when your parents and Fae tutors weren’t around. They always complained about you not being as sociable as Ghada or as ‘sweet’ (quiet, but not really) as Fumnanya. You were always seen as causing trouble, but you just saw the world differently.

Some days you actually hated being a princess and wished you had a different lot in life.

Maybe this warrior understood you.

Taking another look at him, you realize that underneath this ruggedly delicious beef cake was someone who might’ve been something else altogether. Sure, he seemed proud of his accomplishments when you both were in the dining hall, but part of you wondered what could’ve been his path if he had someone who would’ve taken the time and maybe given him an apprenticeship or something.

You bit your lower lip as you mustered up the strength to ask, “I was wondering, I think I have something I was working on before the curse was cast. Would you like to help with it? I mean, you don’t have to-”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The two of you spent the next two hours working on a few prototypes. Bucky asked you questions about engineering and mechanics especially and you were more than happy to answer. It was nice to have someone outside your sisters, parents, and Fae tutors actually give a crap about what you liked. Neither you nor Bucky realized the distance shrinking in between the two of you until all you could think about was how inviting his lips and neck looked.

Unfortunately, your slowly intimate moment was dashed when Ghada interrupted them via communication mirror telling them to take a bath and go to bed already.

With an annoyed tsk, you took off your work apron, your goggles, and your gloves and motioned Bucky to do the same.

You led him to the baths, a wide yet indoor place with vast pools, man-made hot springs, and an indoor waterfall.

Looking at Bucky your feelings of embarrassment and shame arose once again. Did your ancestors really had to be this obnoxious in flaunting their wealth?

You offered to assist Bucky in washing his hair, but really you wanted to run your hands over his exposed skin.

With his nod of acceptance, you took him to changing rooms and you changed into a Soft Wrap Halter Bikini Top and Rene Fold Bikini Bottom in pale gold, the one that caused a prominent lord to walk into a compost cart due to how well it showcased your curves. Hopefully, it would work on Bucky.

You felt bad using your looks to get Bucky to make a move, but you were so sure that it would be a disaster if you moved first.

The slight shame you felt with your bathing suit quickly faded when you saw Bucky emerge from his changing room.

You cursed yourself because he was only in a loincloth, and DAMN he looked fine! Part of his long hair was pulled back in a high man bun, his shin was a beautiful smooth muted yellow-green with aqua undertones, he was powerfully built with massive shoulders (you thought the lightweight armor did most of the heavy lifting), chiseled pecs, abs, and thighs that you could’ve sworn the finest of Fae craftsmen had a hand in creating all wrapped in someone that actually engaged you both intellectually and emotionally.

You know your mother said that you and your sisters would most likely married princes, but you were glad that she wasn’t here to see you shamelessly lust over an orc. You still missed her, but both she and half of your tutors would have a conniption if they saw what you were doing right now.

It would seem that Bucky was sizing you up as well judging by the way his eyes were beginning to blow out with lust.

He must have pushed his naughty thoughts aside. “Are you still gonna wash my hair?” he queried with a smirk that showed off his tusks. They would’ve been intimidating, but now they look endearing and sexy.

You let out an uncharacteristic giggle and told him to wait right there while you went to the closet where the servants kept the washing items and got him silver spruce, lemongrass, rosemary, and orange scented shampoos and oils.

You returned to find Bucky trying and failing to put a towel tower that one of maids used to construct. Stifling a laugh, you took his hand and guided him to one of the hot springs.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Bucky groaned upon sinking into the refreshing warm spring, glad to not have to was in a stream or river for a change (the tubs back home were nice, but they’re nothing compared to this). The water eased his tense muscles and joints in all the right places. Plus it didn’t hurt that the spring was deep enough for him to completely submerge himself which, at 8’ 3”, is no easy feat.

The engineering princess was getting ready to wash his hair like she offered and Bucky couldn’t wait. She had to know what she was doing to him. Lesser men would’ve jumped her on sight, but not him. His stepmother and sisters made sure of that.

She poured some of the argan and peppermint shampoos into a bowl and grabbed a towel to rest her shins.

“Lay your head on top of this bowl while I wash your head. Okay?”

Bucky did as directed and she started to work her magic on him. She started slow,  working front to back, appreciating the way she gently massaged his scalp. At times he would let out low groans of pleasure at her ministrations, craving more from her.

Once she was done with the shampoo, she carefully lifted his head, emptied and refilled the water basin, and steadily poured the warm water over his head while trying not to get water up his nose.

Bucky turned around to see her beaming at her work. He smiled coyly at her pride, “Aren’t you coming?”, while motioning his right hand in a ‘come hither’ gesture.

She shook her head while biting her lower lip, probably not wanting to hair wet or some other prissy princess thing that was engrained into her.

Bucky decided to help ‘break’ her of that mindset by quickly grabbing her arm and gently tossed her into the spring in front of him. She jumped out of the water with a gasp and playfully punched his left shoulder.

“What was that for?!”

“You were too prideful and uptight!” Bucky chortled while she looked away failing to hide her embarrassment. He stopped laughing when he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

He then reached out and softly lifted her head with his fore and middle fingers. She looked a bit anxious when he closed the distance between them.

“May I?” he pleaded, desperate for her to say yes.

“Please,” she whispered.

That was all Bucky needed to hear.

He started slow as to make up for this afternoon, but he almost lost it when she grasped his hair and licked his canines/tusks. He growled as her petite tongue entered his near monstrous mouth, her light moans and whimpers goading something that Bucky thought he would never feel: love, lust, and passion.

Ever since he and his best friends achieved their goal, Bucky felt like he was missing something. None of the women in their community really excited him or really engaged him beyond his physical needs. Sure, there were plenty orc, human, and even elf females who would warm his bed, but none of them cared to stay and listen…except for you, the woman who was now struggling to take off her bikini top after talking machines and engineering with him without getting annoyed by his antics.

You were so eager — and so was he — but he didn’t want to have sex and then have you disappear on him like the others, not when he was finally making a connection. No, he would make this last a little longer, even if this meant disappointing you.

“We should go sleep.” He mumbled as his hand halted your efforts.

——————

With a heavy sigh, you relented, got dressed, and waited for him to get his things. Your eyes were downcast as you escorted him to the chambers he would be sharing with his kin.

Bucky tried to give you a goodnight kiss, but you rebuffed him with a curt “good night” and returned to you and your sister’s shared room.

You were greeted to Fumnanya gushing about Sam and his interest in the library. Part of you was happy for her. Fumnanya rarely got out of her shell and getting with a guy that was even remotely interested in books as much as she was exceedingly rare.

You wanted to say that you were excited for her, you really did, but you were still a little sullen and bitter about what happed with Bucky at the baths.

“So, you and Bucky sure took your time.” Ghada remarked as you were putting on your night clothes (a short tunic and mid-calf pants).

“You’re one to talk! Sam and I caught you and Steve making out in the changing rooms at the baths!” Fumnanya snapped. Great, even Ghada was getting more in the romance department than you were.

You gave Fumnanya a grateful smile while you settled into bed hoping that tomorrow would bring better fortunes.

——————-

You awoke with a slight start and a knock at the door. Grabbing your robe, you raced towards the door thinking it was Bucky only to find a letter floating in a glowing rosy pink sphere. As soon as you reached out to touch the sphere, it disappeared leaving the letter to slowly descend into your hands.

By this time, your sisters joined you in reading the letter. It was written by one of your favorite tutors, Aoife.

It read:

Dearest children,

If you are reading this, then this means that I am either dead or completely unable to reach you. I hope you weren’t asleep for too long, but something tells me you have. For that, I am sorry.

I wish I could be there to hug you and your matches, but I’m guessing you know of your uncle by now. He has been after you for years now. My wards were successful in keeping him at bay, but now, I’m afraid you’re on your own.

The mist surrounding the capital will fade in three days time. By then, you will need to go into hiding in order to not fall into Sophronius’ clutches.

Have faith, be brave, trust in yourselves, and be kind my dears. Also, trust in your matches, okay?

Warm Regards,

Aoife

Aoife was one of the few people who actually liked all three of you the way you were. Finding out that she could be dead was the straw that broke the camel’s back for the three of you.

When the orc hybrid trio found you, you were huddled on Ghada’s bed with the letter on the floor in front of you.

Steve gently coaxed the three of you out of your beds with the suggestion of showing them around the capital. It didn’t get you or your sisters completely happy, but it was a start.

The tour consisted of you and Ghada butting heads over where to take the guys (the theatre district is NOT better than the artisan market), Fumnanya pointing out prominent buildings and statues.

You could’ve sworn that the guys sneered at one of the monuments to one of your ancestors, but you let it slide.

But then, Bucky made an offhand comment about what was must have went into making this place and the sacrifices that was probably made.

You have thought about what must’ve went into making the capital, but never in a negative light. No one in the capital or in the surrounding cities, towns or villages were poor on dire straits. You made sure to get the truth through your little excursions out of the palace before Etna cast that infernal spell on you.

The thought was pushed aside when you and your sisters returned to your room that night. You needed to think of a plan and quickly because Aoife’s spell was going to fade in two days and Sophronius was hot on your tails.

“Perhaps the guys would let us stay with their community for a while.” Ghada put forth as you were getting ready for bed.

“That’s a possibility, but what do we have to offer? I doubt that a semi-nomadic community of mostly orcs would take on three enhanced human princesses for free” Ghada countered as she put on her nightgown.

“Are you serious?!” you exclaimed. “We have tons to offer! Look, Fumnanya is a great medic, you’re awesome diplomat and negotiator, and I’m good with machinery. Plus we can cook and take care of ourselves, so I doubt we would be a huge burden.”

“Also, we can give them some of the treasure that’s laying around the palace for them to use.” Fumnanya chirped.

“Exactly. We’ve got this!” You declared not realizing that the guys were having a similar conversation.

——————

“So, what should we do about the girls? I mean, they’re great and all, but can we bring them back with us?” Sam inquired as stripped down to his loincloth.

“I don’t see why not. They’ve actually got skills the group could use, unlike a lot of the females that first become part of our tribe.” Steve stated as he gnawed on the turkey leg from dinner.

“Maybe we could bring the tribe here! The city is completely deserted except for the girls and they certainly won’t mind us living here.” Sam offered.

“I don’t think that would be the wisest course of action. Like the girls said, the spell that keeps the mist in place will fade in two days. It won’t be long before Sophronius’ horde will crawling all over the place.” Bucky voiced thinking about last night’s interaction.

“Alright, we’ll see what the girls think tomorrow and go from there.” Steve concluded and the three went to sleep.

———————

Both parties began packing for their journey the next day once the guys agreed to take the three of you back with them.

You gave everyone three travel sized storage units. Ghada packed all of her notes on trade, language books, and art supplies. Fumnanya packed all of the medical supplies she could fit into her storage unit, her language, history, science, and geography books. You packed most of your tools, a couple of your inventions (including waning swan), and any materials you might need.

All three of you made sure to pack clothes, cooking supplies (especially spices since the guys were surprised at the variety), personal hygiene supplies, and some of the treasure/objects that would most likely fetch a good price without leading anyone back to them.

The time to leave came soon enough.

“You three ready?” Sam asked as you were making the final adjustments to your traveling clothes.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Fumnanya replied as she gave Sam a hug. It surprised you how quickly she warmed up to him.

“Perhaps you should give Bucky another chance.” Ghada advised.

Maybe, but not now.

You made your way to the courtyard taking in everything. The dire wolves nuzzled your cheeks as you made your way to mount them.

Steve gave both Sam and Bucky a nod and you began your journey out of the only home you three knew.

Perhaps this new chapter will be a good one.

—————

If you had looked up at the third tree closest to the thorn bushes, you would’ve seen a solitary raven, a raven with four red eyes. The raven was a scout for Sophronius and it was recording you.

Video of your departure was being transmitted to a crystal ball in the throne room of Sophronius’ main headquarters.

“It seems the bitch Aoife was able to keep them young after all.” Sophronius remarked, taking in the princesses’ features.

“Alert the princes. We have work to do.”

Taglist:

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[aurelie-celine]

Mi Alma - Part One

A few years ago, Miguel, Lina, Nestor, and you were laughing together in a restaurant in Florence, Italy. Back then, you thought you would have many other happy moments with them. But then everything changed - was it for the worse, or for the best? 

Love, Murder, Friendship, and Trust. 

Mi Alma, a story with Miguel Galindo, Nestor Oceteva, Lina Brayer (OC) and Aurélie „Elie“ Gaillard (OC)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Warning: quick mentions of someone on her knees and someone carrying guns 

Words: 1558

London, UK – Present

"Miguel?"

He was definitely the last person you were expecting to see in the lobby area of your apartment building.

"Hey," he says, standing from the sofa he was sitting on and walking to you.

"What are you doing here?" You ask him before giving him a quick hug. "I didn't even know you were in London!"

"I had some business meetings."  

He looks exhausted, and you offer him to come with you to your apartment. "I can cook a nice dinner, and you know I always have a few bottles of French wine. "

He smiles and nods his head in agreement. You cook dinner, share a bottle of wine and spend the evening speaking about your work and this new rooftop bar you've been to last Saturday. You usually don't like talking so much about yourself, but you can feel he start to relax, so you keep going. And it’s not like if we will speak to you about his work anyway.

You are now both sitting on your sofa, facing each other. His hand is softly caressing your shoulder as he is now listening to you explaining your recent adventure in Florence, Italy.

"And we end up going to the restaurant we went to. Their Risotto is still absolutely amazing!"

"How can you tell? You put so much Parmigiano on it that I’m sure it wasn't tasting like Risotto anymore."

You both laugh at that comment. Wine and cheese – yeah, you were a pure French cliche.

Looking at each other; his hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek.

I should go now. Before you had the time to reply, Miguel grabs his jacket and starts to walk to your front door. You follow him, and when he's about to open the door, he stops for a moment before turning to face you. He kisses your forehead and whisper, "I missed you. Good night, Elie.“

"Good night Miguel." You replied, rubbing his back softly.

You wait for him to reach your lift before closing your door and heading to the kitchen to start the dishes. You were rethinking about this trip to Florence with Miguel 20 months ago. Everything was different then.

Florence, Italy – Past

You were sitting in another meeting regarding the event you will have to organize next week to celebrate your company's successful implementation in Italy. You were almost done when you saw a Skype notification on your laptop.

From Lina: Only 30 mins left ;)

To Lina: I can't wait! Where do we meet them?

From Lina: At the hotel's bar

At 17:00, you finally leave the office and head back to your hotel with Lina. You both go to your room to get ready for the evening before going down to the reception area.

"Élie! "Lina calls you from the bar area. You smile and go to meet them.

"Hi Miguel, "You said, smiling at him before kissing him on both cheeks.

"Hi Aurélie, how are you? "

I'm good, thank you. And you? "

"A lot better now, "he replies, looking at Lina before leaning to kiss her on the lips. You look away to give some privacy even if none of them care and see Nestor walking toward you.

"Hey"

"Hey" he replies before giving you a quick hug, his hand softly and discretely brushing your waist.

You spend the next few hours drinking at the hotel bar, laughing with each other. You stop counting how many glasses you had, but you could definitely tell that you were getting really drunk. Looking around, you noticed that Lina and Miguel were not better. Even Nestor seems to be a bit tipsy.

"Ok, let get some diner, "announce Miguel before standing and offering his hand to Lina.

"Or maybe we can skip diner," she replies, "I have another idea in mind which include me on my knees and... "

"I really don't need to know that ... "You groans while starting to walk toward the hotel's entrance, Lina and Miguel laughing behind you.

Walking outside of the hotel, you are heading to a nice restaurant a few minutes walking away. Lina and Miguel are leading the way, holding each other so closely that you are actually wondering how they manage to walk. You and Nestor are behind. Your hands come in content a few times, but none of you say or do anything. You sit next to him at the restaurant and facing Miguel.

Once your Risotto arrives in front of you, you start stray away to put a fair amount of Parmigiano on top.

"You sure you don't want a bit more of Risotto with your cheese? "Miguel asks you with a small on his lips.

You stick out your tongue to him before you all start to laugh.

 London, UK – Present

You were now drying your hands after finishing all the dishing and releasing a breath. That was one of the best evenings you spent the of 4 you together. It was also the last, before everything change. You could feel some tears starting to come, but you push them back and get ready for bed.

A few weeks pass, and you don't hear back from Miguel. And it's not like if you could text him ever. You decided many months ago not to leave any trace of your relationship, including phone calls, emails, and messages. Work has been busy, but you finally received the promotion you were hoping for since months. You celebrate with some colleagues before going back home. A bouquet of white Lilies is waiting next to your front door with a note: Be ready tomorrow at 15:00, N.

You can't stop smiling and thinking about him for the rest of the evening. You haven't spoken with him or even saw him for months, and every time Miguel was here. Not that anything actually happens between you, despite the fact that you wanted too.  

You spend the following morning just relaxing at home and getting ready. Unsure of what he has planned to do, you choose a dress that you can wear with trainers or heels according to what he will say.

When you hear the knock on your door on you almost run to open it. Here he is, with his traditional suit and braids. After greeting each other, you ask him for shoes.

"Trainers, "he says with a smile, "I'm not sure you will be able to walk with heels were we are going "

Now you are more than integrate as there is not a lot of places in London where heels are not an option. It's when he directs you toward his car that you understand: he is bringing you outside of the city.

You spend some time walking around in a forest before heading to a nice little cottage for diner. Once at the table with your drinks, he softly touches your hand before saying:

"Congratulation for your promotion. You deserved it"

"How can you already be aware? "you asked him, a bit surprised. You got it less than 24 hours ago.

"I told you. I always keep an eye on you to make sure that nothing is happening to you. "

Yeah, he did say that, at several occasion. The last time was 14 months ago. Thinking about that moment make you want to cry. He can feel it and press your hand before whispering a sorry

"Don't worry, I'm fine." You reply with your smile back on your lips. The rest of dinner pass alternating between some conversation and some moment of silence. It was never awkward with him, you simple just both enjoying each other presence.

After he insisted on paying, you walk back to his car. You were both standing next to it, looking at the nice and peaceful area where you seem to be alone.

"We can come back one day" he says softly.

"I will love that "

"Are you scared of me? "he suddenly asks you. You turn to face him and take a moment to look at him before answering.

"I know I should." You replies while touching where you know he carries his guns. "But no, I'm not scared of you Nes "

He touch your cheek lightly before cupping it. You lean your head in it and close your eyes. His hand is so big and warm, and surprisingly really soft. You can feel him getting closer to you

"Mi Alma "he whispers.

You were about to ask him what it means as you can't speak Spanish and it doesn't sound similar to a French word when his phone ring.

He groans, and you can‘t help yourself to laugh lightly when he checks who is it.

"We need to leave?" You ask him even if you already know the answer.

"Yes ... Sorry Aurélie. I was hopping to ...." You cut him and reassure him. He didn’t have to be sorry at all after the day the two of you just had. You know is work is demanding and he needs to be available 24/7.

The drive back is silent. You were lost in your thoughts when you notice that he just parks in front of your building. Before leaving his car, you thanks him for the day and kiss him on the cheek.

Part Two

It's my first story, and I would love to receive your feedback!

[blackssuunn-mandoandyodito]

Big dreams, expensive taste

Part three: The king of the concrete jungle

Maxwell Lord x f!reader

You can find the other parts in my Masterlist.

Rating: M

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), anger, swear words, mild sexual harrasment, sex, no condom (PLEASE USE ONE, SAFE SEX IS HAPPY SEX), maybe power kink?. Let me know if you think I should add something.

A/N: I am once again asking you to picture this gif as Maxwell, bc there is little to no content of him and I gotta work with what we do have. Enjoy this bc I fucking loved it.

Summary: your dynamic with Maxwell changes as the weeks pass, coming to a point you both had seen coming. And it goes even better than you expected.

You turned out to be even more efficient than Maxwell thought you would be.

Every time he asked for something, you already had it available. If he wanted something to be done, it had been done already. You answered his questions even before he asked, knowing what he would say just by looking at his face. You were punctual. You were organized. You were perfect.

He kept on wondering if you were always like that or if it was only while you worked for him. He's been so efficient these last days he wishes you had stopped him from entering his own building months ago. 

He rolls the golden ring on his index finger as he looks at you, moving around the board room table with stacks of paper in your arms. There's a crease between your eyebrows that he has noticed appears only when you're concentrated or nervous. This time, you're most likely both.

He ordered you to schedule a meeting with the soon to be associates in London, to arrange a partnership he had the second he met them, but they've been playing hard to get. It's been bothering him so much he's been tenser and more snappy, and he doesn't know how to let it all out, it's just getting worse with every second that goes. But if he's being honest with himself, he has never snapped at you for fear of you resigning. You don't handle bullshit from anyone, he knew that the second he saw you. 

And if he's honest with himself again, he'd love to take the stress out with you.

He has been wanting to take you so bad for weeks, walking on to his office and getting a hard-on almost instantly when he looks at you is getting old now, having to stay in his chair until some gross thought he conjures scares it away. It's painful, seeing you walk around his office and go back to yours without being able to do anything. The way you move as if you own the place, knowing how every single thing works and understanding everything so easily. It makes him burn, how in control you seem to be.

He wants to see you lose it, that's mainly what's killing him. 

You walk towards him and stand in front of his desk, gripping your black leather portfolio with stretched knuckles. "Everything is ready, sir"

He nods, smirking at you with his head tilted to one side. "You need to relax," your face breaks out of the calm demeanor for a second, annoyed with his words. He can see you want to say something, but you purse your lips and nod. It sends something running down his spine, seeing you break for a second. It just increases his desire.

"15 minutes," he mutters, checking his F. P. Journe watch and stands up, smoothing his black suit and crossing his arms. You nod again, walking outside and talking with Amanda one last time to check everything is right. He has no doubt you have everything perfectly sorted out, with no room for mistake. And he also knows he will be able to close the deal, but these men can be hard to handle. They're little old money pricks. He hates old money.

You come back and he moves to his chair on the board room table, quickly giving everything a last look over. He's pleased to see all is where it's supposed to be. Content with your work, he leans against his chair and waits. 

He can hear his watch ticking in the silence of the room. You come to stand beside him, both of you looking straight to the door, waiting. He breathes deeply, feeling how the nervousness comes off of you in waves. But it doesn't show on your face, nor your posture. How you manage, he doesn't know. 

Multiple footsteps sound outside the office, with formal greetings to Amanda as she lets them inside.

Maxwell straightens, putting the businessman face mask on. His face turns serious, with square shoulders and hard eyes that pierce through the 5 men that enter the room. Their posture is too proper, high on their golden breed, and thinking that everything they touch has a blessing seems to be the way they act. 

Two of them are blonde, with cocky smiles and blue eyes that seem almost fake. They're taller than Max, but it doesn't intimidate him. If anything, he raises an eyebrow and scoffs quietly, turning to look at you. Now you can also see amusement in his eyes. He's going to handle them just fine.

The other three are brunette, with tanned skin possibly caused by holidays spent in the summer of some Mediterranean land, and green eyes that seem to shine with malice. They look like siblings, but one of them towers over the others. He seems as conceited as the other ones, looking older and more experienced just by how serious he tries to act, and it does a bad job at hiding how spoiled he must have grown up. You see right through his facade and would bet anything on Maxwell being able to do so too. 

The shorter one, with cutting cheekbones and sharp nose, looks at you and smirks, winking. You stop yourself from rolling your eyes and don't make anything to return the attention. 

"Good evening, Mr. Lord", the one that seems older gets closer, extending his arm and gripping him in a handshake. Max nods, looking him straight in the eye. The other four go silent when the room gets stuffy, tension seeping from their pores. You stay by his side.

"Good evening, Mr. Reuben." Maxwell turns to look at the table, gesturing for them to sit. They comply, walking to take a seat. He notices how they try to choose a chair that isn't close to the glass window, and both of you have to repress a smirk.

The meeting starts, with Maxwell quickly wrapping them in an engaging talk about gains and expansion. Your cheeks get hot and your insides heat up at seeing Maxwell's power take over five grown men, handling them in whichever way he desires. Knowing you have helped him this time makes you feel like flying. You feel like a queen next to a king taking over a kingdom, using only words as a weapon.

  He looks at you every time he needs you to do something, without saying anything and silently communicating his wishes. All men look at each other and seem quietly amazed by your interactions, how he doesn't seem to order you but rather ask you for things. It is never condescending or disrespectful, so fluid and easy it takes their breath away. You work together, even though it may seem you work for him.

You see the exact second Maxwell has them wrapped around his finger. They are absolutely engrossed by him, listening to everything he says and not looking away, following him around the room. They all look like children looking for the first time at a magic trick. He turns to you and smirks with a predatory smile, absolutely convinced that he has already won the deal. Judging by the state of all five of them, he surely has. 

For the first time since they appeared, you show something other than seriousness and smile back at him, something like pride and satisfaction showing in your eyes. It makes his heart jump.

The contract passes through their hands as they sign, not hesitating and trusting completely on Max to take care of what they are signing into. You don't understand how, and it scares you slightly how easy it is for him to entangle people. You wonder if he has ever done something like that to you, if he ever would.

Amanda comes inside right on time to pour some expensive wine in glasses you don't even know where they came from, making a toast and drinking happily. Max exudes satisfaction, grinning behind the glass. 

They all stand up and shake hands one last time before they leave again. All stress and tension leave your body slowly, knowing that no matter what happens now, Maxwell has his deal secured.

But as they start walking outside, the one that winked at you turns and gets uncomfortably close to your body.

"Miss" his voice is so high pitched it nearly hurts your ears, "would you be interested in going out with me?"

His hand creeps up your arm and ends up next to your neck, barely stopping from touching your face. 

You have to stop yourself from recoiling, instead shaking your head and smiling politely.

"Thank you, but I'm not interested."

The man chuckles, rolling his eyes and turning to leave.

"I should have guessed," he mutters, fixing his tie. "You're just another cheap bitch"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Max's blood boils in his veins, fury making his skin crawl and his eyes burn. For a moment, his vision turns red. 

When he moves to pull him back and beat him up, your hand firmly but softly stops him.

"If you want to think that, you may," your voice is so steady and cold Max looks at you, stunned. " It does not mean it's true, and even if it were it would not make you any less of a spoiled brat who can't get anything without forcing someone into it. You disgust me."

Without another word, you let go of Maxwell's hand and turn to walk to your office. Both of them look at you, open-mouthed. 

Fury still pumps in Max's veins, but he takes a deep breath and tries to repress the violence that threatens to show. Even if he decided to take that path, he won't get his hands dirty.

He turns to look at the man, with a hurricane inside his heart and what could be lava shining in his eyes.

"I hope you have enough of the old money you grew with," he threatens, whispering so low the other four go completely unaware. "because I assure you you won't be making any in this life"

It scares him back against the door, nodding without being able to speak. He's gone pale, and his hands look like they're shaking.

Good, Maxwell thinks.

He looks at him practically run away from his office, shutting the door behind him. He can feel how his body is tense, but he urges it to relax. 

He feels hot, burning. Rage is not something he feels often, used to have everything working the way he wants. And usually, not a single person is stupid enough to mess with something or someone that matters to him. 

He turns to look at your office, and there's no sound coming from inside. He doubts you're affected by everything that just happened, but he definitely is. 

His hand goes over his face, angry. His rings feel cold against his skin, grounding him more. 

With a deep breath, he walks slowly to your office and knocks, saying your name.

"Can I come in?" he brings his hand to his pocket, waiting for your answer almost nervous. He's not used to feeling like this, but you do something to him. He fears it will be one false move and you're gone. He doesn't want you to go.

Your door opens, and you appear very serious but for him, that's nothing new. What surprises him is how your hands seem to be shaking slightly.

Without a word, you move to the side and let him in, leaving the door open. He walks inside and stands there, awkward, and not knowing what to say. If he asks you if you're okay he's sure you won't like it, so after a few seconds of searching what to say and not finding any good options, he stays quiet and waits for you to speak first. 

"I'm okay, in case you're wondering." It startles him how well you can read him. "And thank you for defending me."

It takes him a moment to remember you can see outside through the glass but he can't. Weirdly, the thought sounds similar to the way you two seem to work. 

He nods. "You don't have to thank me, it's the least I could do."

He sees surprise in your eyes, but it doesn't show anywhere else on your face. 

The air is thick, heavy. There is something that is pushing him to get closer to you, to physically check if you're really okay. He knows the man didn't touch you and he's sure he would have made him bleed if he had dared to, but there are other ways to shake someone other than physical.

You cross your arms and turn away from him, looking down at the city. He admires your body, your posture. How strong you seem to stand, how unreachable you look. And he's used to fighting for what he wants if that's what it takes, but he doesn't want to fight for you. He wants you to want him back, to really want him. 

Judging by the signals he has seen the last weeks, you most likely do. But he's not gonna take anything for granted.

Slowly, he moves closer to you until his body is perfectly aligned with yours but without touching. His breath hits hard against the back of your head, sending shivers down your spine. You close your eyes, subconsciously moving your head to one side and letting him see more of your soft skin. You uncross your arms, letting them hang by your sides. 

One of his hands moves up and hovers over your shoulders while the other gets close to your hand, so close you can almost feel his touch. It's an illusion, you know it.

He whispers beside your ear. "Is this okay?"

You gulp, not daring to open your eyes when you nod.

"Say it." His voice sounds commanding.

"You can touch me." You finally mutter. A shaky breath leaves your lips when he laces his fingers with yours, pressing your shoulder and pulling you back against him. You're flush against him now, feeling his chest rise and fall against your back. 

His fingers move to your neck, caressing at the pace his mouth kisses the beginning of your spine. He can feel you fall back into him slightly, relaxing and letting him take control.

A mischievous smile graces his lips.

He turns you around to face him. His hands move to your back, down until they come to cup your butt. It makes you gasp, opening your eyes to look at his blown brown ones. 

He's torn between being rough, wrecking you completely, or listening to something inside his mind that tells him he should be good to you first, make you see stars just from his touch.

He decides to listen to it.

"I want to show you how you should be taken care of," he whispers, "can I?"

You're speechless, only able to look at him and nod. He doesn't seem to like it, pulling you harder against his body and digging his fingers in your skin.

"Speak" he orders. "I won't do anything if you don't."

You take in a harsh breath, feeling the air burn your lungs. "Show me."

Pleased with your answer, he grabs your jaw and presses his lips against yours at the same time you move your hands to his chest. The fabric  of his suit crumples under your fingers as he licks your lips and takes over your mouth, your heart soaring inside your body.

His hands move to push you back until you hit your desk, making you fall into it slightly. Your kiss breaks, leaving you breathless.

His knees hit the floor with a dull sound. If someone had told you before that you would have Maxwell Lord kneeling for you, you would have laughed to tears.

His hands move frantically up your legs until he touches the edge of your dress and rips it open, pulling it until it's completely in half and falls over your shoulders like a jacket, leaving your body exposed. 

If you weren't so turned on, you would probably complain. Your mind is in a completely different space though.

His fingers search until they find the elastic of your underwear and he's greeted by lace that matches your bra covering your skin. He rips them open too.

He nudges you to sit on the desk. You comply, and he pushes your feet up on it, with your legs spread open for him and your knees bent. Your heels fall off from your feet.

He caresses your legs, your thighs, sending goosebumps over your skin.

"You're so beautiful," he mouths against your body, trailing up to your core. You look down at him, threading your fingers through his hair.

You shudder as he kisses the skin around your mound, licking at everything. You get wetter by the second, aching for his touch 

"Take care of me," you moan, thrusting into his mouth. It makes him chuckle, and he finally moves to lick with his tongue flat against your clit.

You throw your head back, moaning and squeezing your eyes shut. His tongue thrusts inside you with vigor, pulling you closer by your legs. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard, making you give a short yell that echoes around the room. 

"You like it?" He asks, with a rough voice that makes the arousal go even higher. 

"Y-yes," you manage to stutter out, afraid that he will stop if you don't answer.

His thumb moves your bundle of nerves in circles, making your hips rise. He quickly slaps the side of your leg, stilling you.

You gasp, feeling your body tingle with everything he does. The position you are in leaves you exposed to him, and you can see out your window to the city. If the building was less high, you know anyone could look and see how Maxwell Lord is kneeling to pleasure you. The thought sends a shot of power and excitement through your system.

He laps at your soft skin, sucking up at your wetness and enjoying every second of it. Your hand pulls at his hair, pulling a moan out of his mouth.

His lips are red when he moves to suck at your swollen clit again, groaning and sending the vibration all over your body. 

You grind against his face desperately when the hotness spreads down your belly, making you feel near the edge. He increases his movements for a second, moving one finger up your slit before pulling away and stopping.

You whimper at the loss of contact, but he stands up to stay between your legs and moves his hands up to cup your breasts through the material. You bite your lip, your eyes rolling back into your head as his fingers get behind and open your bra. He quickly grabs one of your nipples and pinches it, kneading your skin with his palm.

His mouth wraps around the other one and sucks with force, sending electric shots over your breast. He rolls your nipple around with his tongue, getting it hard.

You can feel his erection through his pants and decide you've neglected him enough, fumbling with his belt and popping it open easily.

He moans against your skin when your hand moves inside to grip at his dick, moving your thumb over the head covered with pre come. He's hard enough to cut diamonds.

"Please," you moan. 

He breaks away from your breast with a wet pop, his lips glistening with spit. 

"Please what?" His voice sounds even rougher than before, with full blown pupils almost to the point that you can't see the brown of his eyes anymore.

He can see something take over you just as your hand tightens around his shaft, making him give a choked off moan.

"Fuck me." you say. It almost sounds like an order, and if it were he wouldn't mind.

He gulps, not trusting his voice to keep steady. He pushes his pants down and they fall to the floor to pool around his ankles.

He aligns his cock with your entrance, pushing the head in only slightly before he pulls away and then does it again.

A needy sound leaves your lips, and he aches to hear more. But he said he would take care of you, and that's what he's gonna do.

He pushes his throbbing length inside you, making you feel every inch with how slow he's going. You grip his shoulders, digging your nails on his skin and most likely leaving marks. 

He's stretching you so good and feels so deep inside you in this position you can't help but whimper, burying your face against his neck. His hands move to cup your ass again, pulling your hips closer to him. 

Your legs burn from the stretch, but you could not move even if you wanted.

He lets his whole body take over you, making you feel so protected and full it is nearly overwhelming.

His hands dig against your skin with a bruising force as he starts to move inside you, making you feel high on something you don't think you've ever experienced before.

"You're so fucking tight." He gritts out next to your ear. It makes you smile, how much he seems to be struggling to control himself.

You rise your face to look at him, holding his face and pulling him close to kiss him.

His pace quickens, slapping sounds filling the office along with grunts and moans that leave both your lips. 

You scream again when he hits an specific spot inside you, and something close to a growl leaves his chest. 

He moves to bite a mark in your neck, leaving his teeth printed there. 

Every thrust sends you closer to paradise, pushing and pulling and making everything feel bigger, better. 

He's hot against you, sweating and making little sounds that make your arousal grow.

You wish you could return his passion, thrust back and make him feel how good everything he's doing is. But you can't, you can barely stay upright with how much force he's putting into every thrust.

Something primal burns inside him at seeing how you submit to him, to how he treats you. 

His movements become harder, shorter. He starts losing his pace and you know he's close too.  His hand moves to circle your clit with his fingers, making you open your mouth in a silent scream.

"Come for me," Maxwell's voice comes with lighting passion that leaves you no option but listen to him.

You scream, pulling at his jacket with shaking legs as he keeps fucking you, and his ragged breath lets you know he's not too far behind. 

A deep yell leaves his lips as he comes inside you, burying himself deep until the waves of hot white pleasure start to subside.

When your body stops shaking, he pulls out and moves to grab tissues to clean himself up.

You don't move, trying to catch your breath. He doesn't say anything, just pulls his pants up and kneels down to lick you clean.

You're still sensitive, so your body tries to get away from the attention but he stops you, holding you by your feet. Little whines leave your mouth as he keeps going until you're clean, sending a new wave of arousal at the thought of Max tasting himself in you.

He stands up, buttoning his jacket closed and looking far more composed than you.

His voice betrays him. "Do you have clean clothes here?"

It sounds so soft and caring it makes you feel weird, but you nod. 

"Good," he says, moving to the door and stepping outside to leave you to dress alone, closing the door behind him. You see a satisfied smile show at his face as he sits down on his throne, spreading his legs open.

Your brain is still fuzzy from pleasure and there's a loopy smile on your face, but as you take out the dress and put it on you hear Amanda come inside and get close to his desk with an anxious expression.

"Sir, you have to go pick up Alex," her voice sounds too stressed. You frown, not recognizing the name.

A somber expression takes over Maxwell's features and he stands up immediately, not saying anything as he picks up his phone and rushes out of the office.

You stay standing there paralized in the middle of your office, confused by how things happened so fast in the last two minutes.

What could be so important for Max to run away without saying anything and just after giving you the best orgasm in your life?

Big Dreams taglist: @evidenceofzoe @the-feckless-wonder @aeryntheofficial @cryptkeepersoul @cable-kenobi @fruitsaladtrees @poenariuniverse @a-killvr-queen

[outerspaceisbetterthannothing]

Truth To Be Told [Ashton One Shot]

Warnings: slight cursing

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Reader

A/N: this was supposed to be Anne’s @bringmethehorizonandpizza​ birthday present, but i’m the most awful friend, so i’ve finished it only now, hope Anne doesn’t hate me as much as i deserve to be hatedfor that  🙈 i also hope you’ll enjoy this cliche bff to lovers story. My prompt was “I wanna eat you up like a candy” 😈 Feedback is extremelly appreciated, as always! Happy reading!

You were rushing through the rain in the busy downtown, being awfully late to your date. You looked at your watch and cursed under you breath. You just couldn’t get how it all happened.

And what happened was you simply forgetting about the date in the first place. Unbelievable, but you did. It wasn’t like you didn’t like the guy, completely opposite for that matter. You and Nate had been seeing each other for almost three months now and everything was going great. He was smart, but not a snob, had nice sense of humor, normal job and usual interests. He was absolutely normal and you often thought you liked that most about him. And it definitely wasn’t like you didn’t wanna go on this date. Nate booked a table in that Greek restaurant you wanted to visit and you anticipated that evening. You just… forgot. 

It happens, right? Sometimes people forget things and there is nothing criminal in that. To be honest, it wasn’t even your fault. You had woken up with mild headache that morning and it really distracted you. You also had a really tough time at work, and by the time you actually realised it wasn’t just Friday but also that Friday, the Friday you had a date, you were already late. And yes, you felt awful. Because you liked Nate. You liked him enough to really wish for things to work between the two of you. So you were almost running. Cause you cared. You really did.

The restaurant was full, which didn’t surprise you as it was Friday night, but the waiter didn’t make you wait any extra minute. Nate smiled when he saw you and you felt the anxiety knot in your belly weaken. He wasn’t angry, he understood. He kissed you and helped with your chair and joked how he had some extra time to choose wine, so it was even better that you came late. He was a perfect gentleman, you wondered how you could even wish for anything more. And even though the annoying voice in the back of your head was nagging you about that ‘more’ you were wishing for, providing you with images and memories, you pushed it all back and focused on Nate. You didn’t quite know what was about to happen, but you had the feeling that tonight was somehow important for your boyfriend. 

The waiter brought you wine and you felt that was the moment. Nate coughed and fixed his watch, he was always doing it if being nervous. You tried to guess what it was he was about to say. You’ve met his friends already, but it was too early to meet his family yet. You never had the exclusivity talk, but from the beginning of your relationship you both understood it was implied. Was he about to hand you the key to his apartment? Or was it also too soon? Or maybe he wanted to suggest going on holiday together? You felt your insides tremble in anticipation.

Nate cleared his throat again and started, “Y/n, you look wonderful today.” You smiled. He lied. You looked usual, but you were thankful to him for this little lie.

“And you always look wonderful, I have no idea, how you manage to do that, but you do. And I just wanted to take this opportunity to express my feelings to you,” he took a pause and you felt ice cover your still slightly trembling insides. Good God, was he about to say the L word? But you sure as hell wasn’t ready for the L word, no no no, how could you stop this? “You’re beautiful, and incredibly funny, and you’re smart, and kind, and caring. Honestly, you’re picture perfect. And I’m even not going to say how you’re the most sensible woman I’ve met in my entire life,” he paused again. You were just looking at him, feeling flattered and scared at the same time. And then he said it. “And all of that only leaves me utterly surprised why we don’t work.”

You felt the air leave your lungs. You even thought about asking him to repeat, but there was no need, as he continued. “I mean, please, tell me if I’m mistaking, but there’s just no spark between the two of us, is there?”

You looked away from him, moving your sight to your slightly shaking hand on the table. He covered your hand with his and, suddenly, you calmed down. You looked back at Nate and shook your head. 

“No, there is no spark,” you admitted with a smile. “We’re more like a quiet couple with 15 years of marriage experience.”

Nate giggled. You liked his giggles, the sound fresh and light. But not as wonderful as your favourite giggles.

“This is unbelievably cruel,” he said. “I mean, we should be perfect together! We fit wonderfully and you’re gorgeous! What’s wrong with us?”

You shrugged, sipping on your wine. “No idea, Nate. To be honest, I haven’t felt so comfortable with a guy for a long time. So I’m just as confused as you are. And a little disappointed,” you admitted to your wine glass.

“Hey, don’t be, please,” he asked you, squeezing your hand. “If you think we need more time-”

“No, Nate, you’re right. I don’t think time will help here,” you forced yourself to smile again. Nate didn’t deserve your sad face, it wasn’t his fault after all. “What are we gonna do now?”

Nate laughed. “To be honest, I have no idea. That’s like, the most civilized break up in my life. Usually it’s scandals and tears and friends picking up your stuff from your ex.”

You laughed too, it was sincere this time, cause you knew that pattern just as well. 

“What people do when they just stop dating without all the drama?” he asked. 

“Well, I still have your sweater,” you reminded. “And you have my book.”

“Which I hope to finish by the next weekend.”

“So,” you started timidly, “maybe I could step by around the weekend and exchange your sweater for my book?”

“And we could then go and drink some coffee,” Nate nodded in agreement. He probably saw the slight hesitation in your eyes, as he added, “Don’t get me wrong, I just don’t wanna lose you completely. As I said, you’re one of the best people I know. Do you think we could still be friends?”

Of course, you could be friends. Obviously, you were a wonderful friend. And never a girlfriend. But, Nate didn’t need to hear that from you. So you agreed and smiled and you just spent a great evening enjoying the food and chatting about everything and nothing at the same time. When the night was over and Nate was paying the check (he insisted on doing it himself, as, technically, you were still dating while ordering) you thought, that the dinner went just as smooth and enjoyable, as you could expect. Only you weren’t a couple anymore. But it didn’t change anything, nor in the mood, neither in your feelings. And if what Nate said didn’t persuade you that breaking up was the best decision, that indifference you had now inside finally did. 

Nate waited for your uber with you. He hugged you and wished you good night and promised to text next week. And just like that another unremarkable relationship in your life has ended. 

***

Ashton started talking before he came up to their place at the counter.

“I do think we need to add more guitars to that song.”

Calum rolled his eyes. This conversation had been going all day long. And even now, late in the evening in a bar, where they decided to spend the night just to relax a little, Ashton couldn't let it go.

“You know what? You’ll tell that Mike and Luke on Monday. And now you’ll finish your drink and we’ll go home.”

“If you disagree, mate, you should just say so,” Ashton frowned. “No need to be passive aggressive.”

Calum chuckled, taking a look around the bar. He had no agenda, they weren’t expecting any friends, he just took a meaningless look around. And he wished he didn’t.

“Hey, Ash, isn’t it-” Calum started, but just as abruptly stopped. What reaction would Ash have? Calum knew about his feelings and wasn’t sure if it was so smart of him to show this to Ashton.

“What?” Ash looked at him quizzically. 

“Nothing,” Calum shook his head and downed his drink. “You ready to go?”

Ashton chuckled nervously and looked at his best mate. “No, I’m not ready. And what did you want to say?”

“Nothing. Just thought I saw a familiar face, but obviously I’ve mistaken.”

But that was enough for Ashton to start looking around.

“You haven’t,” he informed Calum, his voice dropped. He turned back and looked into his glass.”

“So it is Y/N’s boyfriend?” Calum stated, confirming his earlier suspicions. They both looked on their right to the further part of the bar, where the guy they’ve met only several weeks ago as Y/N’s new love interest, was sucking on some girl’s face who was definitely not Y/N.

Ashton nodded and finished his whiskey. 

“Come on, man, we should go,” Calum tried and patted his friends shoulder. But Ashton changed plans already. He beckoned the bartender and ordered one more round for him and Calum. 

“Ash, don’t think it’s a good idea,” Calum frowned. “We better go, mate.”

“Hey, we’re just spending an evening. Promise, I won’t do anything, just let’s stay for a while.”

Calum sighed and let his friend pay for his drink. He knew it was a bad idea. But he also knew he’d rather die than leave his friend in a state like that. They were stuck together even through the worst ideas ever. So he stayed. But no matter how hard he tried to discuss new songs or studio work or his sister’s life (for the lack of topics), Ashton kept staring at Y/N’s boyfriend.

“I mean, how does she manage to do that?” Ashton finally muttered halfway through his glass. 

“What?” Calum scrunched his face, looking away from his instagram feed.

“How does she manage to always choose such losers?” Aston turned to his friend. His gaze was already a little fogged by the alcohol.

“He didn’t seem a loser when we met him,” Calum shrugged. It wasn’t like he didn’t feel bad for Y/N, he just learnt long ago not to get into other people’s relationships. But Ashton was different, of course. They were much closer friends with Y/N and there were some other, well, pretty obvious reasons.

“He’s dating one of the most wonderful girls in the world,” Ashton started, looking at his friend like he was a complete idiot, “but instead of being with her and loving her, like she deserves, he’s in a bar cheating on her.”

“You don’t know everything, Ash,” Calum shook his head, while trying his hardest not to get into this argument. And pretty much failing.

“Like what? You think she deserves that?”

“Jesus, Ash, of course no!” Calum huffed in his glass. “No one deserves this. I just-” he threw another glance at the guy. “Maybe he has a twin brother.”

Ashton laughed, loudly and quite sad. He looked at Y/N’s guy again and his face fell.

“How am I gonna tell her that?” he asked.

Calum looked at his friend, thinking of a better answer. “You can keep it to yourself,” he finally said what he really believed in. Calum knew Ash would never agree on that, but honesty was one of the main principles of their friendship, and Cal wasn’t ready to break it, even for the sake of a girl his brother was in love with. 

Ashton gave him a long heavy stare. “Are you even serious right now?” “Dude, not all the people wanna hear such things, you know,” Calum tried to explain. “Have you had a talk with her about that? Are you sure she would like to know and to know from you? You won’t believe how many people would choose to live in ignorance.”

“No, you don’t know what you’re talking about, mate,” Ashton was fast to dismiss all his arguments. “I know her, okay? I know Y/N, she would like to know. I just need to figure out how to break it on her,” he sighed. Then he downed his whiskey and ordered one more.

“Hey, buddy, that’s not the best idea,” Calum tried to stop him, but it seemed like Ashton didn’t even hear him.

“I just don’t get it,” the drummer huffed and went on drinking. “She’s smart and funny and it’s so easy to talk to her. I can literally talk to her about everything. And she’s the kindest person ever, so supportive and thoughtful. How can they keep doing this to her?”

Calum sighed. He knew for sure what was gonna happen next. “She’s your friend, Ash, obviously for you she’s one of the best-”

“No, you don’t get it. She’s not one of the best. She is the best,” he stated passionately. “She’s the most beautiful woman in the whole world. And, god, I shouldn’t think this way about her, but she’s so sexy, Cal! It’s like-” he took another gulp of his drink. “It’s the hardest part of being her friend. She’s unbelievably hot. And he can have her, but chooses to have that,” he motioned to Y/N’s boyfriend. “Seriously, man, what’s your problem?” he exclaimed loudly enough. 

“Okay, buddy, let’s keep it low, shall we?” Calum cooed, patting his shoulder and turning him back to the bar counter. “We don’t need a scene.”

“I’m alright, I just-” Ashton stumbled.

“You just what, buddy?”

Ashton sighed and looked at his best friend, his eyes full of sorrow. “I just love her so much, Cal, how can I break her heart like that?”

Calum smile softly and answered, “Here’s a revolutionary idea, Ash. How about telling her all that?”

“Of course, I’m gonna tell her, did you even listen to me?” Ash rolled his eyes.

“No no no, not about her douchebag of a boyfriend,” Calum shook his head, smile still on his face. “About how you love her. And all the things you’ve said about her, how she’s the best, you know?”

Ashton sent his way another heavy look and indulged in his drink. 

“You know I can’t do that,” he mumbled couple minutes later. “She deserves someone better than me.”

***

You were sitting on your couch with a glass of wine in the shittiest mood ever. 

And what was not to be angry and upset about. You’d just been dumped after all. You huffed in your wine glass, recollecting on your most civilized break up. The worst thing was that you couldn’t even blame Nate. No, he didn’t do anything wrong. The only fault he had was not being the man you truly wanted to be with. 

You rolled eyes on yourself. How pathetic you were in this longing after your own friend. Each time you were starting a new relationship, you did everything to finish them as soon as possible. Of course, not intentionally. You truly wanted to be with someone, to love someone who could love you back. But each time you were too restrained, too closed off. And naturally your partners felt it. No matter how much you wanted your relationship to work, you just couldn’t devote to them fully. Cause deep down inside, in your subconscious, hidden from the light, there was a question. The question you’ve kept asking those long sleepless nights. If you ever had a chance with Ashton, how would it be? Would it be different? Would you feel different? Would he make you feel like you, real you, and not like you were playing a role you’d never bothered to learn properly? Whatever the answer was, one thing you always knew. If Ashton showed up on your threshold asking for a chance with him, you’d break any relationship in an instance. 

So every your breakup was your doing. It was your fault. And what was even worse, you wasted your partner’s time shamelessly. You wasted Nate’s time. And Nate didn’t deserve that. He was kind and caring. And he was always honest with you. You treated him ill, you knew it. 

You poured yourself more wine. Maybe you should have stopped dating for some time? At least till you could look at Ashton without lusting after him. You emotional status wasn’t healthy, obviously, so it was better to wait till Ash would be out of your system. You just needed a break. Just for now. 

Harsh knock on your front door startled you. You looked at the door, not fully getting what you had to do. But when the knock repeated, followed by muffled “Oh, fuck, don’t tell me you’re not home!”, you realized you had to open. 

“You’re home, great,” Ashton mumbled, basically falling into your apartment, as you opened the door for him. 

You fixed the bathrobe you were in and looked at the drummer, who managed to stumble twice on the way to your couch. 

“Are you drunk?” you asked wearily. Drunk Ashton always scared you a little. He was either super sad or super angry, and you weren’t sure yet which one you got tonight.

“Nah, just had a couple with Cal,” he answered and by how slowly he was speaking, you understood he had more than couple glasses.

“And where’s Cal?”

“He dropped me off here and went home,” Ashton yawned, slowly slouching down on the couch. “He’s been saying I should go home all night. But I needed to see you.”

You came closer, thought for a minute and sat on the coffee table in front of him. Ashton  smiled to you drunkenly and fully lied down, fixing a cushion under his head. 

“Need to tell you shit,” he went on explaining. “Bad shit. Really, really bad shit. You’ll hate me for it,” he added, his voice sad and low.

You looked at him with a smile. “I could never hate you, Ash,” you answered quietly, thinking he was already asleep. 

But then he opened his eyes and looked at you, confusion on his face. It looked so funny, drunk and confused Ashton lying on your couch, you even wished you had your phone with you to take a picture. 

“How can you be so sure? You don’t even know what I’m about to tell you.”

“Whatever you tell me, it won’t be enough to make me hate you.” 

It was almost sad how true those words were. You’ve loved him for years, let him call you his friend, saw his half naked one night stands leave his bedroom in the mornings. You were positive, nothing in this world could make you hate him, if even your broken bleeding heart couldn’t force you to do it.

“I was in a bar with Cal,” Ashton stated.

“Yeah, you told me already.”

“No no no, you don’t get it,” Ashton scrunched his face. “I was in a bar with Cal. And there was that wanker you’re dating, what’s his name again?”

“Nate?” your insides froze. Was it possible, that Nate actually knew about your feelings to Ashton. Did he say anything to him?

“Yeah, that wanker. How do you manage to choose such losers, doll?” Ashton asked you, but before you could come up with at least some answer, he already continued. “So he was there and he was kissing some other girl.”

You kept gaping at Ashton.

“There, you can hate me now,” he finished, yawned again and closed his eyes.

You stroke his hair and smiled again.

“I don't hate you.”

“But I just told you your guy is cheating on you!” Ash exclaimed.

“He was not cheating on me, we’ve broken up.”

“What?” Ashton opened his eyes again. You nodded in confirmation of your words. “That doesn’t matter, he could wait, show you some respect. Why do you always choose such losers?” he repeated his question. 

You sighed, not really knowing what to answer to that. Were they really losers? Or was it you, a loser in love with your own friend?

“You deserve so much better,” Ashton muttered, while you were thinking about your answer. His speech was getting quieter and slower, he was slowly drifting off to sleep. But then he added with sorrow, “If only I could love you, I’d treated you like a queen you are.”

“You wanna love me?” you shot back before you could think what you were saying.

“Of fucking course I wanna love you, doll,” he frowned, his eyes are still closed. “I wanna love you and care for you. I wanna come back home to you every night and call you seven times a day from the tour like Mike does to Crystal. And I wanna touch you and kiss you, wanna kiss every inch of your body. Hell, I wanna eat you up like a candy. But oh well, you’ll never know anyway, so what’s the point.”

He tugged himself further in you couch, let out the final yawn and fell asleep. Leaving you stare at him mindlessly. You felt like some part of your world, really important part of it, had just crashed down, but you had no idea what it meant for you or what you felt about it. 

You stood up, your limbs hardly moving. Looked at a six foot tall giant, crouched on your too short for him couch, and thought how he’ll be sore in the morning. You covered him with a blanket, which was thrown over an armchair, and went to your bedroom to spend yet another sleepless night because of Ashton fucking Irwin.

***

Long moan, full of pain and regret, was the first thing you heard from Ashton in the morning. You were surprised he woke up so early, it wasn’t even seven yet, but you were also extremely happy about this fact, as you didn’t manage to find your rest last night. You spent several hours staring at your ceiling and guessing if he really had said all those things, or you just imagined them. And trying to predict what it would mean for your friendship. You were angry and confused. You felt a newborn hope inside, starting to bloom from his drunk confessions, but were so scared to let it grow. He did keep all those things from you, obviously he had a reason. Judging by that, he didn’t want to be with you. But still he said he wanted to love you. So did he? Or didn’t he?

God, you were tired. Not only from the last night, full of discoveries and doubts. Standing in your kitchen and listening to his moans and curses, you realized you were tired of Ashton, of all the sadness and distress he brought in your life. 

Ashton appeared in the door frame. His shirt was crumpled, just as his face. He was rubbing his eyes, messy curls falling on different sides of his face. He stumbled over to the chair and gave you a hard look.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“Hey,” you echoed. 

You felt a change in your feelings. You had no idea how much of last night he remembered. And it wasn’t like seeing him made you less angry. If anything, your annoyance only got stronger. But at the same time you felt nervous, you were almost scared of everything that was about to happen. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad I woke up on your couch and not on the pavement somewhere,” Ashton said, distracting you from your worries, “but how did I get here?”

So he didn’t remember. Or was he just acting he didn’t remember not to discuss it? You shook your head lightly. The questions were endless, fueled by your fear of losing something you’d spent years dreaming about. You just had to shut your subconscious up and go with the floow.

“You came,” you shrugged, rushing to answer his question. “Said Calum dropped you off.” 

“Can’t remember a thing,” he mused out loud, hiding his face in his hands.

“So, why did you get so drunk?” you asked, your slightly shaking hands clenched in fists. 

Ashton put his hands away from his face and frowned, remembering what he could from the previous night. 

“You know, the day was hard, and the week even harder.”

“So it wasn’t because you saw Nate kissing some other girl in the bar you were with Cal at?”

He closed his eyes and let out under his breath, “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have found out like that.”

“Old news,” you dropped, examining his reaction. You’d know Ashton for several years already. Hell, you’d loved him almost all this time. You knew he wasn’t lying or acting. He didn’t remember last night. 

“How is that old news?” Ashton frowned, more surprised by your tone, than your actual words.

“We broke up, so he can basically kiss whoever he wants,” you explained and crossed your arms, feeling insecure under his stare all of the sudden.

“Okay,” Ash said, his eyes not leaving your face. “What else did I say?”

You chuckled, anger spreading over your face. “Well, after informing me about Nate’s dissolute behaviour, you went on how I always choose losers-”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Ashton interrupted you, “I swear, I’m never drinking again. I-”

“But I think the highlight of the evening,” you kept telling him, not paying any attention to his apology, “was definitely the moment you stated you want to eat me up like a candy.” 

Ashton choke on his own breath. He looked up on you, eyes full of pure terror. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you.

“You-” he started in whisper, but hesitated. 

“Is that true?” you rushed him.

“What exactly?”

“That you want to eat me up like a candy!”

He winced. “You don’t have to repeat that.”

“Well I’m sorry. I kinda spent the whole night playing on repeat my best friend telling me he wanted to eat me up like a candy! Can’t get it out of my mind now!”

“You weren’t supposed to know. Especially not like this.”

His words were full of regret and that was what hurt you the most.

“Obviously, that was the only possible way for me to find out,” you shrugged. “Why?”

Your sudden question took him by surprise. Ashton looked at you, confusion on his face.

“Why wasn’t I suppose to know?” 

He sighed, and looked down on his hands. You waited. A minute passed, but he kept sitting there in silence, the lack of answers playing on your nerves.

“Why, Ashton?” you almost yelled at him.

“Because I’m not the one you need!” he threw back.

You gaped at him as he went on. “I’m out of the city seven months a year. You deserve someone who’d be there for you. Not the guy for whom late night calls and occasional facetimes are the only option. I have no idea what other shit I told you yesterday, Y/N, but I guess you could read between the lines, if I didn’t say this,” he took a deep breath and admitted, “I love you. I’m in love with you. And I know better than anyone, I don’t deserve you a bit.”

You nodded, looking at him. Then looked at the kitchen island, separating the two of you, picked up a mug you’d taken out of the cupboard earlier and threw it right in Ashton’s head.

He dodged by some miracle, not less, his reactions are naturally slowed down by his hangover. 

“What are you-” he tried to question you, looking back at the pieces of ceramics on the floor behind him, but had to stop, as the next mug flew in his direction.

He stepped aside, dodging from this one, and looked at you. You opened the cupboard, took the first piece you could find and prepared to the next throw, when he yelled, “Not this one, that’s your grandma’s set!”

You looked at the old china cup, put it down on the counter carefully and turned to the pile of IKEA plates.

“Jesus Christ, can you stop? What is-”

But you threw the plate, making him hide behind the island.

“You don’t deserve me?” you yelled at him. 

Ashton peeked from under the kitchen island, but instantly hid back as you send another plate his way. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Stand up and face me like a man, Ashton!” 

He stood up carefully, took a step to the side of the island. “I would love to face you, if you weren’t about to tear my head down, doll,” he chuckled cautiously while keeping moving.

“Well you fully deserve that, asshole!” another plate was smashed on the wall behind him. You were getting better at aiming with every other throw, and that was making Ashton nervous.

“Can you, please stop trying to kill me?”

“How dare you say things like that to me?” you shouted back, not even getting what he was talking about, your full attention on your own pain and fury. “I’ve been going crazy for years, Ashton!” you threw another one. “Feeling guilty for falling for my best friend! Getting insecure cause you’ve never even looked my way, brining all those models and groupies at my parties. Breaking up with normal guys cause I couldn’t get you out of my head!” you threw the last plate you had in your hands and looked around in search for the next shell.

“And all of these for you to spill your drunk guts one night? For me to learn that you actually had feeling for me accidentally?” you picked up a small pan from your stove and threw it. “Fuck you, Ashton!”

“Okay, this is too much!” Ashton muttered, looking at the pan flying past him. “Do you- Do you love me?” he asked, turning to you, realization creeping up him slowly. 

You stopped, breathing hard and met his eyes. “I don’t. I hate you. I can’t put into words how much I hate! Why haven’t you ever told me? Not even given a hint?”

“And why haven’t you?”

You felt a hole left in your heart by this question. You were standing in your kitchen surrounded by shattered dishes, both wide-eyed, breathless and shocked. You couldn’t believe the words he’d just said. He was afraid of the reaction they may cause.

“Get out, Ashton,” you whispered, feeling the lump in your throat. Your eyes burnt with tears about fall.

He took a step towards you.

“Get the fuck out,” you repeated.

He smirked, covered the distance between you two in couple more steps and pulled you into him. What he didn’t envisaged was that you had just enough time to grab a spatula and start hitting him with it.

“Can you- just- not-” he stumbled through his words, one hand grabbing yours with the spatula, and another trying to keep you close to him. You two struggled for some time before he bent down to you and covered your mouth with his. 

Even the kiss was a struggle. Your knees were shaking from the feeling, but you kept trying to bite him. Ashton huffed, let go of your lips and looked at you, his sight heavy, but you recognized little devils dancing deep inside his eyes. 

“Try to bite me or hit me again, and I won’t eat you up,” he threatened.

You froze. You were still furious with him, you really were. But not to the point of risking the prospect of being eaten up by this man. After everything that asshole put you through, you were positive you deserved some special treatment.

He looked you in the eyes and smirked, taking in your obedience. 

“Good girl,” he mused and kissed you again, this time deeper, with more passion and lust. “Now, how about moving this argument to the bedroom?” he asked, picking you up from the floor and turning around. “What do you say, my little candy?”

“Oh, gosh,” you chuckled into his neck, you face turning bright red. You knew the nickname would stick, but right now, in the arms of the man you’d been dreaming about for so long, you had nothing against it.

***

Taglist: @myloverboyash​, @bringmethehorizonandpizza​, @calumamongmen​, @lfwallscouldtalk​, @empathycth​, @calpops​, @talkfastang​, @cthoodsthetic​, @ariannawoodxoxo, @dreamer-loves-lyrics​, @fluffsshawn​, @cals-cigarette​, @easierfor5sos​, @outlandishnerd

[ververa]

‘Better Love’

‘Sucker for her’ --> ‘Dare’

Xandra x fem!reader

Words: 2.620

“Cause there's no better love That beckons above me, there's no better love That ever has loved me, there's no better love So darling, feel better love 'Cause there's no better love That's laid beside me, there's no better love That justifies me, there's no better love So darling, darling, feel better love Feel better love”  - Better Love, Hozier 

Xandra was sitting in the first row – right in front of a group of young boys. They were all watching a football game or more precisely the cheerleaders' performance. There were about 15 girls in short, pretty revealing costumes, but the woman was looking only at you.

It seemed that she wasn't the only one interested in you, as the boys behind were making comments about you during the whole performance.

"Look at her. Those legs... Man!" one of them said

"I bet that's not the last time her legs would spread like this" another laughed "Our team captain will definitely take advantage of this"

"Oh, right. That's probably one of the reasons for the party to be at his house"

Xandra's knuckles turned white, as she was clenching her fists. Her manicured nails digging into her thenar leaving red marks, but she was too furious to care.

They weren't allowed to look at you in such a way. They weren't allowed to talk like that. And most importantly none of them was allowed to touch you. You were hers and only hers. And if you were going to spread your legs it was only for Xandra and no one else.

She managed not to snap at them – thanks to you, who distracted her attention. You waved to her as soon as the performance ended. Xandra waved back – at which you smiled. The older woman had never admitted it, but that smile... Seeing it she was ready to do literally everything.

The last few months were absolutely amazing. Xandra was amazing. She might be short with others, selfish for most of the time, but never with you. You became her precious little girl, who needed to be taken care of. And she was the one willing to do it. She wanted to take care of you, for exchange expecting you to be her obedient little baby.

Since your sister had left a lot changed. People began to notice you and see that you're actually better than your sibling. It was your time to shine and you did. It wouldn't happen without Xandra. She was the one who worked on improving your self confidence. She was the one who made you believe you're worth far more than you thought. And as she had promised she shown you a completely different world. Xandra kind of introduced you to another way of living. And you liked that a lot.

You had a bad day at school? Xandra was there to make everything better. Taking you shopping or watching films together always made you feel better. She missed you too much when you're at school? She was right there picking you up earlier. You didn't want to go to your lectures, but wanted to avoid troubles? Xandra was there calling your teachers to excuse you. You got into troubles (which happened rarely) she was ready to go to your college and talk to the headmaster. And sex... Sex with Xandra was always intense. She could be rough at times, but even then afterwards she always made sure you're okay. You loved every minute that you spent with her. For you it wasn't just a crush any more. You're head over heels in love with her.

You were more than confused when you entered the locker room and were suddenly pinned to the wall. A mix of whine and whimper left your mouth. You swallowed hard, but sighed with relief as your eyes met Xandra's brown ones. "Xandra? What the fuck?" you tried to squirm and pull away from the woman's hold "Watch your language, baby girl" she warned "Or Mommy will have to punish you" "Stop. Someone can see us..." you tried to sound confident, but you wanted nothing more than to kiss her "Do you really care about it?" Xandra used her feet to part your legs and slipped her thigh between them You bit your lower lip holding back whatever sound you're about to make. "Thought so" the older woman chuckled "Change your suit. Mommy is going to wait in the car" she quickly pecked your lips and pulled away You gasped at the sudden lose of a pleasant friction between your legs, which Xandra noticed immediately and smirked. The felling of satisfaction - at the fact that she was the one to make you drenched – filled her body. "You'll get that at home" she winked at you "Don't take too long" As soon as you got into the car Xandra's hands were on you again. "Xandra! What are you doing? Are you out of your mind? We're in public..." "The car has darkened windows" she smirked "But okay. I'll wait until we get home" It wasn't normal for the older woman to act like that in such places - where you could be seen by somebody. You could say that something was going on, but didn't ask. You wanted her to start the conversation for once. Instead you're looking at her hand that was resting on the gearbox. That soft skin and manicured nails... You wanted nothing more, but to take her hand and intertwine your fingers together. But it wasn't such kind of relationship, where two people could hold each other's hands just like that. It was only a desire thing. It was only sex. That was the only connection you could, but shouldn't, have. You did realise what you were doing was bad, but still it felt so good that you couldn't, did not want to stop. "I love when you wear those knee socks" Xandra whispered into your ear as soon as she pinned you to the door that she had just closed You knew it very well, but weren't going to admit you always wore them, deliberately, for her. "Tell me, doll, do you want Mommy to fuck you?" she asked sliding her thumb across your lower lip "Y-yes" "Hmmm?" she arched her eyebrow "Yes, Mommy" you corrected yourself quickly "Good girl" she pecked your lips "You know I really like that cheerleader thing. I mean your performances or trainings. I like watching you, but I hate when someone else does it" "W-what do you mean?" you asked confused "Those boys..." That's when you understood. Xandra was jealous. She was not only jealous, but furious. "What boys?" you asked "Your schoolmates. I swear I wanted to bite their heads off the moment their started commenting on how good you look" "Wait. What? They think I look good?" "Don't play with me. You're mine, Y/N. And if you're to spread your beautiful legs it's only for me and nobody else. Don't ever forget that" "I won't, Mommy" you kissed her "You look cute when you're jealous" you smiled against her lips "But you don't need to be. I'm all yours" "Good. You'll get your reward as soon as your father goes to sleep" she kissed you once again "For now go, take a shower" It was a long evening. You had a dinner together, but you couldn't stop thinking what Xandra's going to do to you after that. You're sitting across each other and it was hard not to notice how lustfully she was starring at you. The feeling of her eyes on you only made you wet. And that damn sly smile, she had on her face every time your eyes meet, made you melt inside. The evening seemed to be perfect, until your father began his speech. "Xandra, darling, it's been some time. A lot has happened..." You stopped any kind of motion. You froze with a fork in your hand, while Xandra slowly placed her glass of wine on the table. "Maybe it's too soon. Maybe it's not the right moment, but I just need... Will you marry me?" You dropped the fork at the question causing them both to look at you. A sign of worry painting on Xandra's face, as she saw yours almost completely white. The happiness that had been filling your body a few minutes earlier disappeared in a mere second. It felt as if something inside you faded. "We've talked about it already, haven't we?" Xandra's voice was cold "But you still didn't say yes" The woman looked at you and if you hadn't lowered your gaze you would see how much love there was in her eyes. But you didn't. You're staring blankly at almost empty plate in front of you. What now? You asked yourself

You left the dining room not being able to stay calm. You locked yourself in your room and started to pace the floor. You're too nervous, too anxious to sit down. "Y/N?" Xandra entered without knocking "Are you okay?" You shook your head no. You weren't okay. You're far from that. You couldn't focus on anything, but that one question your father had popped out with. "Baby, sit down. Look at me. Y/N, talk to me" she wanted to hug you, but you pushed her away "You need to choose" you said surprising not only Xandra, but also yourself "What?" "You need to decide who you want... You need to choose either him or me" "Y/N... That's not fair" "Not fair? You know what isn't fair?! Not fair is what you have done to me!" "What have I done to you?" "You... You uhh!" For that whole time you were always obedient. You did whatever she may want you to and you're happy to do it. But at that moment it's too much. All your pent up feelings were too much to handle and you couldn't hold it back any more. "You're just like the rest. You don't care about me. You only take advantages of me, but when a new opportunity appears you don't need me any more" Xandra looked at you. Her face was still, unreadable and it was even worse, because she remained silent. "I fell in love with you! I want you and nothing more. I want to spend time with you. Sleep in one bed with you or hug you whenever I want to. Or just hold your hand. But you chose him... For fuck's sake you're going to be my stepmother now..." you sat down on the floor "And most importantly you'll never be able to give me the kind of love that I want. I mean... I understand. I'm nothing special. But please, just don't make it harder..." the tears began to escape your eyes "Are you done?" she asked dryly You looked at her and nodded wiping your cheek. "Don't you ever say you're nothing special! You are. You have no idea how amazing you are. And I chose nobody. I didn't say yes. I didn't agree to be his wife. I don't want to be his wife..." "Let's leave!" you cut her off "What?" "Let's leave together" you stood up "We can move in together. My brother will help me to find a job. We can..." you're speaking excitedly "Y/N, hold your horses!" she interrupted you "We're not leaving. You're not leaving. You have your college. You need to graduate..." "Fuck it. I don't..." "No! I said no. And I mean it Y/N. You're not going to quit school, because of your father's airs. You're not competing with him. It's not a competition. You're not competing with anyone..." she came closer to you "Look, I don't think I'm the right person to settle down with, okay? I don't say I don't want you. I'm only saying that you can't just like that give up on your plans, on your future. I'm really not worth it" she cupped your cheeks "Don't cry. There's no need to cry, baby girl. Just give yourself time to figure everything out. You'll find a better love" Figure everything out... With that she was more referring to herself rather than you, because you already knew what you wanted. Your father left the next day, as he had to go back to work. And you're both alone in the house again. Though it was all too awkward. It felt as if she distanced herself from you. You knew it was all because of your confession and wished you could have stopped yourself before all that came out of your mouth. It felt weird to be around her, but you went to check on her anyway. There she was sitting in an armchair at the balcony. She had a cigarette in her hand, but instead of smoking she was only sitting and looking at the black sky.

"You okay?" you asked stopping at the door

Xandra looked at you. Her eyes were full of something that you had never seen before.

"Come here" she said stubbing out her cigarette

You moved slowly. Her eyes not leaving yours even for a second.

"I want you to ride my thigh" she said

"W-what?" you asked surprised

"Come on. Ride me" she said rolling up the thin material of her robe

"What?" you asked again as your eyes widened

"You heard me"

"B-but here?"

"Yes here. Don't make me repeat myself" she said impatiently "Take off your panties and sit on my thigh"

"B-but..."

"Are you questioning my order?"

"I... No. No... It's just we're at the balcony"

"So what?"

"What if someone will see us?"

"You wanted to leave with me and now you're afraid that someone can see us?" she arched her eyebrow "They're already asleep, honey. Besides there's no fun without the risk" she smirked

“Right. Yeah… Okay”

"Now, go on"

So you took off your panties and sat on her thigh as she asked.

"Now baby girl you need to be quite, unless you want everyone to know what a slut you are"

You nodded obediently

"Use your words. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mommy"

"Good girl" she kissed you deeply placing her hands on your hips

She wasn't going to let you be in control. How could she? She loved having you on her mercy. She loved being able to make you feel good. And last but not least she pride herself on being the one who could do that for you.

"Just like that, baby" she praised guiding your moves "You're doing great" she continue moving her hands to remove your T-shirt

You didn't protest and soon the material was thrown on a nearby chair. Chill air hit your naked body, making your nipples erect. And before you knew Xandra's lips were on them. You couldn't help, but moaned at the feeling.

"You like that, don't you?" she said proudly "And who's able to make you feel so good?"

"Y-you" you answered placing your hands on her shoulders, as you needed something to support on Xandra remained silent. She was only watching you in awe as you're coming down from your high. You cum harder than ever before and when your body sloped into her arms she smiled proudly. "Good girl" she kissed your temple

Xandra let you lean against her completely waiting for you to even your breath. She embraced you and partially covered your naked body with the robe she had on.

"Y/N..." she began after a while

"Hmm?" you hummed in response

"You are the one, who got all my love" she said

You pulled away to look at her and she kissed you before lifting you up and carrying you inside. No words needed to be said when she laid you on the bed that she was supposed to share with your father. It was only you and her. And when she kept on kissing you nothing else matter. You didn't know what the future held for you two. You had no plan, but you knew for sure that you would never know a better love.

@cordwliagoode

@lummaland

@sarahpaulsonisgod

@misssmephisto

[sapphicscholar]

Pride Month Prompts Day 15: Sleepover (Grace/Frankie)

From this Pride Month Prompts post! I’m taking the opportunity to write some short fics for a variety of pairings that I haven’t written for as much, maybe at all. They won’t be going on AO3, so I’ll be sure to tag them all with #pride month prompts so you can find them later if you want.

 Day 15: Sleepover

Pairing: Grace/Frankie

A/N: Set post-S5, so some spoilers as a heads up

Grace’s second sleepover is just as unexpected as her first one had been. Her first, a night of squatting in a home that had, until so recently, been hers, was filled with floor mattresses and squealing pigs and lukewarm vodka and secret sharing that Frankie had insisted was part of the quintessential sleepover experience. Her second comes after a teary beach confession. Her knees ache from the attempt at running across the sand to a woman she’d once sworn she’d never voluntarily spend a single minute with; a sense of betrayal and loss still hang heavy in the air between them; and the night is filled with chilled vodka and apologies and explanations Grace feels compelled to provide even though she’s made it a policy ever since starting her own business never to justify her personal choices to anyone but herself—and sometimes she doesn’t even like to think too hard on her own about her life choices.

The third sleepover doesn’t arrive until the night the divorce is finalized, even though Grace has slept in the beach house plenty of times since then. But on the day everything goes through, Frankie meets her with a joint and a pile of Brat Pack movies that neither of them really want to see but Frankie insists are slumber party classics. The mattresses are already set up in the living room, though this time there’s an extra pillow for Grace’s knee, and there’s enough electricity to go around without siphoning it off the neighbors’ grid. Frankie is considerate enough to pretend not to notice the small sob quickly stifled in Grace’s sleeve as they’re both falling asleep.

From then on, the sleepovers become a semi-regular occurrence almost every month, with Frankie insisting that Grace was deprived of a very important adolescent ritual. Grace finds herself becoming accustomed to a whole host of party games that she can sometimes admit are fun, particularly when they’re played with a martini in hand.

During the fourth sleepover, after vetoing Twister by reminding Frankie about their afternoon spent as floor people together, Grace plays Truth or Dare for the first time (everyone in college had insisted they were much too mature for it by then). Among other dares, Grace ends up drinking an awful concoction of the first three things Frankie puts her hands on in the fridge while blindfolded, and Frankie, in turn, experiences the joys of one of her first martinis, though she insists the olives are the only decent part of the whole thing. Grace talks more about her first kiss with a girl, while Frankie regales Grace with tales of her first time getting stoned. The game skids to an abrupt end when a rather tipsy Frankie—“How do you drink more than one of these? The whole world’s staring backwards at me, Grace!”—asks Grace to talk about her best sexual experience for a truth.

At sleepover number five, Frankie introduces Grace to the joys of prank phone calls. Frankie goes first to show her how it’s done, calling Bud and asking in a lower voice if his refrigerator is running. Only, while she’s giggling, he lets out a loud sigh: “We’ve all got caller ID these days, Mom. I’m going, alright?” After that, a google search reveals the magic of *67, then a long rabbit hole of all the other * extensions, and Grace, several martinis in, rolls her eyes but still gives in to Frankie’s pleading and manages a whole phone call to a San Diego bar asking if a Seymour Butts is there. Frankie tries Bud again when Coyote doesn’t answer, but Grace draws the line at her own daughters. She hasn’t told them about the sleepovers yet. She isn’t sure why, but she doesn’t want to share this…thing just yet. Like the handful of Say Yes nights, the sleepovers are something private. Something fun in a genuine way that stands so at odds with the kind of person Grace Hanson presents herself as to the rest of society. Something reserved for her and Frankie and no one else—them against the world.

Sleepover six is postponed by a week thanks to a family gathering, but Frankie makes up for lost time by coming down wholly prepared with tiny books and a handful of pens Grace recognizes as having gone missing from her purse and desk and bedside table over the past few weeks. They spend the night playing Mad Libs that Frankie delights in making as filthy as she can, cackling as Grace reads each half-nonsensical story back to her. She saves a particularly explicit one where scissoring had been her verb of choice because it had actually gotten a reaction out of Grace other than an eye roll or a deep sigh—though both of those had happened too. Grace is too distracted by Frankie’s cries of excitement to notice that Frankie cuts her off after two martinis. The night doesn’t seem any less fun for the loss.

It’s at their seventh sleepover that Grace learns the joys of MASH and homemade fortune tellers. She’s quite pleased to learn that George Clooney will be her next husband and listens patiently as Frankie explains that they’ll live in a mansion and drive a Jeep—“You’re gonna have to use a whole can of hairspray every ride. I’ll light a candle for the poor Earth.”—and somehow manage to have another two children. Grace furrows her brow in confusion when Frankie appears just as delighted to learn that Grace will be her wife, even though they’ll be living in a shack with a pet snake and no car. Frankie had shrugged off Grace’s confusion, ready with an answer for every question. “We’re basically married now.” (Grace doesn’t question why the thought makes her stomach swoop, not unlike the sensation of cresting up and over a steep hill too fast in her car.) “Can’t be worse than Walden Villas, and we got through that together.” “Better than those wild fuckers in Santa Fe. Everywhere you went: surprise snakes!” “Cars are bad for the Earth. I need to make up for all your hairspray, Grace!”

One night, Grace arrives home after dinner with Brianna and Mallory to find a note waiting on the kitchen table that says nothing more than: “In the studio. Come over when home.”

There’s also a text waiting for her: “Plz bring cheese curls. Thnx!”

When she gets out to the studio, a bag of cheese curls tucked under her arm and her phone clutched in her hand, she finds that the whole space has been taken over by pillows and mattresses and colorful, draped sheets and swaths of fabric that she’d only vaguely registered Frankie bringing home over the past few months. Some of them shimmer with gold and silver threads embedded in the fabric, and the smell of incense wafts through the air.

“It looks like an opium den in here,” Grace mutters to herself.

A moment later, Frankie’s head pops out from a side entrance. “Really? Oh good, I was worried I might have gone too mainstream and hit hipster coffee shop.”

“No, no, solidly opium den.”

“Come in?”

And it’s going to hurt her knees and probably muss her hair, and she’d only voluntarily done this for her own grandchildren one time before deciding it was enough for a lifetime, but Frankie has done this for her, Frankie is waiting in there for her, so Grace will go.

Inside, Frankie waits with two glasses of wine, only half-filled, and a small plate of snacks that are a step up from the typical junk food fare on these nights that Grace refuses to touch until she’s too distracted to keep all of her attention focused on calories and sugar and fat.

“Have extra time today?” Grace asks, casting a glance around at the ornate decorations.

“You don’t just miss the one-year anniversary of your first ever intentional, non-squatting slumber party, now do you?” It’s said in that tone of voice that suggests everything is fine and light and breezy, that nothing matters more or less than anything else, which so easily slides into the idea that nothing matters to Frankie at all, but Grace catches the sense of sincerity lurking in the background. Some old memory pulls at the back of her mind—something about grand gestures and how important they were, something about their uses…

After a few minutes and a few false starts with Frankie attempting to ask something only to trail down on those long, winding tangents that lead her back to where she began only about half of the time, Frankie finally proposes that they play a good game of Truth or Dare.

It takes three rounds for Grace to choose dare, and Frankie takes a deep breath when she does. “I dare you to dare me to ask you something important next round.”

Grace may not have ever played the game before Frankie, but she’s fairly certain that isn’t how the rules work. Still, she nods anyway. It’s better not to disagree with Frankie, even when she does things like insisting that the entire phrase, “got to scissoring,” should count as a past tense verb for Mad Libs. So she asks Frankie, “Truth or dare?” and isn’t the least bit surprised when Frankie answers, “Dare.”

Frankie sits in silence, looking expectantly back at Grace.

“What?”

“Don’t you have something to dare me?”

Grace fixes Frankie with a disbelieving look, one eyebrow arched and her lips slightly pursed. “You already know what it is.”

“You have to dare me, though. Otherwise we might as well be playing the mind-reading game, and you know I’m always up to try it, but you never seem to be thinking about any of the things that I can see.”

“That’s because you always guess Del Taco burritos, martinis, and vibrators!” Just because two of those are true more often than she’d like them to be doesn’t make it a great guess.

“Grace,” Frankie nearly whines. “Are you going to dare me?”

“Fine.” Grace holds up her hands, trying to preempt an explanation about the ethics of accepting a dare and then reneging on the dared action. “I dare you to ask me something important.”

Frankie clasps her hands together in her lap, twisting at a chunky ring adorning her middle finger. “We’ve gone through a lot of shit together these past few years. And at our first ever sleepover, you asked me if I wanted to do something. I said no because, you know, we’re Grace and Frankie!” Grace nods along because she thinks she gets it, gets what it means to go from being Grace and Robert, and Frankie and Sol, to Grace and Frankie, and fuck Robert and Sol. “I squatted you until we were best friends, and now we have our thing. That thing where we get our house back and fight the bureaucratic machine that is the post office and make vibrators for people like us.”

“Okay.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about…that other thing. That thing that might make Grace and Frankie a different kind of thing. Well, we could still be amateur sleuths and fight the system and sell vibrators because how could we give any of that up when there are still so many Harriets out there that need us? Did you know—”

“Frankie!”

“Right. Anyway, if you don’t believe me that I’ve been thinking about it, I’ve got a whole bunch of paintings that aren’t as abstract as they should have been for Coyote’s last visit.” She gestures with her thumb somewhere behind her, which Grace has learned over years spent looking for ringing phones and TV remotes and bags of cheese curls doesn’t actually mean directly behind her but instead anywhere that isn’t directly in front of her. “So I thought maybe I could try asking myself. Eh, well, not quite, but Grace Hanson, do you want to kiss me? No joking or pranks or take-backsies. Just…just me asking.”

Grace blinks. Pauses. Doesn’t wait long enough to parse through why it was that her heart and body screamed yes before her head had registered the implications of the question. For once, she lets herself act on an impulse that she suspects won’t be anything like the destructive ones born of too many drinks and not enough food. She leans forward, finds Frankie meeting her halfway. Her lips are a little chapped, though her mouth blessedly does not yet taste like cheese curl dust, and the first few seconds are clumsy as they try to figure out angles and noses and long hair that seems to find its way between their lips again and again. But even still, before they’ve found their rhythm, Grace knows without a doubt that it’s the best first kiss she’s ever had. She doesn’t pull back until they’ve gotten the hang of things well enough that her breathing is shallow and fast.

Frankie beams up at her—wide and unconcerned and exultant. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t thrilled about the snake on that last MASH game, but maybe—and hear me out on this one—have you considered chickens?”

[gideonaceleigh]

Camp NaNoWriMo Week 3

Weekly Round Up!!

Word Count: 53,864/10,000 broke 50k what’s upppp

Average Words per Day:  2,564

That’s nearly 30k this week?? I’m mostly building off of what was already written but it still counts okay??

I have also come up with a working title! PROTOTYPE (I’m not completely sold but it’s definitely something to build off of)

~Day 15 ~ Day 16 ~ Day 17 ~ Day 18 ~ Day 19 ~ Day 20 ~ Day 21~

Tag List: @oscarfuckingwilde @minnowf @dove-actually @dahladahlabills

I’m posting a (much) longer excerpt of a chapter I worked on because #fakegirlfriends Caris (approx. 5,300 words)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“This is insane,” hisses Talis, for the fifth time that day.

“I know,” says Iris, also for the fifth time that day.

“By insane I mean suicidal.”

“I appreciate the good vibes you’re sending my way.”

“You know I’m always here for you,” Talis nods sagely.

The tablet is propped back up on its stand on the table under the window so Talis can see the whole room and be a part of the group as Iris and Cat prepare for the gala. They aren’t going to be able to bring much with them. Cat bought a, very tiny, purse while they were hunting for appropriate black-tie attire, but it’s built more for fashion than practicality and therefore barely large enough for them to stuff their ID’s and forged invitation to Claire Bennet plus one, in.

M’Lell didn’t send Iris many documents, but what little they did is chock full of relevant information. Iris spent the morning memorizing the positions of the events security detail and planned watch routes while transferring the documents that sketch out the floor plan of the building to the chip in her arm for ease of access. She feels as prepared for this job as one can be, considering the circumstances, and counts herself lucky not to be going in entirely blind.

While waiting for the taxi Iris gives herself a final look over in the mirror, gently dabbing at her shimmering eyeshadow and lipstick.

Pleased with the outcome she turns to Talis. “What do you think?”

“Very classy. And inconspicuous.”

“Just what I was going for.”

“I know.”

Iris glares at her. “If you know so much then tell me this: where exactly will Ahn have the device?”

Talis disappears from the screen to be replaced by swirling purple mist and black letters slowly pushing through. ‘Try again later’ it reads.

Iris doesn’t bother replying, simply slams the tablet screen down, waits for Talis’ muffled cursing, and shoves it in her purse.

“We ready to go then?” says Cat, emerging from the bathroom. She’s gone with a similar color scheme to Iris’ dress, black with silver accents, though she’s chosen a pair of slacks and suit jacket over a silver button up shirt. Her makeup is more involved than Iris’ however, choosing a bolder red lipstick and dramatic winged eyeliner.

“Whenever you are,” says Iris, admiring her style.

The taxi is waiting for them outside the hotel and whisks them away through the night, passing twinkling streetlamps and bright shop windows. With proper rest the trip through town goes significantly smoother for Iris and she’s able to step out of the cab without the same feeling of nausea. She readjusts the hem of her dress that comes to rest halfway down her thigh, while Cat steps out beside her and takes a minute to process their surroundings.

Ambassador Ahn’s gala is being host at the Galactic Institute of Art and Science, and it is huge. Not big, not large, not giant, but monumentally huge. It takes up an entire block at the center of the city and containes nearly 400 floors. The first ten or so levels are dedicated to hospitality: restaurants, café’s, ballrooms, meetings rooms, etc.; all decorated welcomingly and designed for comfort.

The rest of the floors are split by subject, with art centered rooms on the lower levels, and science higher up. The floors are designed for efficiency and to keep visitor’s attention on the displays. The displays are brought in from planets all over the galaxy and represents the creativity, ingenuity, and genius of a hundred-separate species. Nothing in the known universe could ever come close to comparing to the sheer size and quality of these exhibits.

Not that Iris is going to get much of a chance to look around. In fact, if she’s lucky, she won’t have to look far at all. She’s hoping for a fast entrance and an even faster exit, as long as the universe decides to work in her favor for once.

The night is warm, it’s early summer, but she can’t help a shiver and the goose bumps that form along her arms as she passes between the rose gardens lining the path in front of the museum. She and Cat join the small throng of people making their way up the bone white, marble steps.

They fall into line together and Iris feels Cat jump in surprise when she takes her hand with no warning. Cat looks from their now linked hands, and back at Iris who looks determinedly ahead.

“What?” she starts to ask, but Iris interrupts her.

“We’ll be less obvious like this.”

“Oh,” says Cat. “That’s fair. I usually work alone, and I have to say having a so called partner in crime is a completely different ballpark.”

Iris spares her a smile. “You’ll get used to it in no time. You might even find you like having a partner to help you out,” she says and winks at Cat.

Iris turns her focus on the security guard they’re now in front of. Cat presents the invitation, and both of their ID’s are scrutinized in great detail, but they’re waved through with no problems. A second guard checks Cat’s bags and scans them, taking an extra close look at Iris’ tablet. The machine beeps at Cat and she’s called out of the line, but the harried looking guard waves her through almost before a feeble excuse about jewelry passes her lips.

Annoyance flirts through Iris’ brain. Cat is obviously hiding something in her jacket she didn’t warn Iris about. Cat refuses to meet her eye as they walk the final few feet and into the main foyer. Iris shakes off her annoyance, it isn’t fair of her to expect Cat to tell her everything when they barely know each other and chooses to focus on the room in front of her.

During normal day to day operations the lobby is an impressive site. There’s a mural of the galaxy with every star and planet painted in excruciating detail. On the floor is a mosaic of the more immediate solar system done with the same unbelievable attention to detail. There are shades of green and blue Iris has never seen artificially replicated so perfectly before.

The lobby is divided into twelve sections marked off by pillars made with the same marble as the stairs outside. The room is bathed in a soft yellow light that mimics the tone and movement of thousands of candles everywhere. There are a hundred tables arranged orderly around the room with white tablecloths and silver center pieces. The overall effect is ethereal and mystical. Talis would have loved it if she could see it, but Iris can’t risk being found out, not this early in the night.

“Wow,” says Iris.

“I know,” says Cat.

“Ma’am?” An attendant grabs her attention. “What is your name?”

“Claire Bennet,” she says after a short pause. She’s been caught off guard and hopes he doesn’t notice the hesitation.

Like a professional he ignores her near fatal blunder with nothing more than a quirked eyebrow and checks their logs. “If you’ll follow me, ladies, I’ll escort you to your table.”

“Thank you,” says Iris. She smiles and rests her hand in the crook of Cat’s elbow.  

He leads them across the hall to one of the back tables half hidden in shadow. The positioning suits Iris just fine, she has full view of the hall, is seated next to the less important guests that don’t draw much attention and is partially hidden herself.

She sits back in her seat, sips at the wine the attendant pours for her, and watches as the rest of the guests mingle and get settled. Species of every shape, size, and color wander around the lobby oh-ing and ah-ing over the decorations. Their table gradually fills but they are ignored, and they neglect their neighbors.

Cat sits in the seat next to her, but she leaves her drink untouched. While Iris scouts out their surroundings, she scours through the program the attendant leaves them.

“No mention of the prototype here,” she says, too low for any of their neighbors to hear.

“Not much of a surprise there. We’ll stay here until everything gets going. Just follow my lead.”

“You got it, boss.”

Iris rolls her eyes at the over exaggerated deference.

Soon enough the lights dim, and an expectant hush falls over the crowd. A stage lifts from the floor near the opposite side of the hall and a spotlight illuminates a polished wood podium. Ambassador Kimiko Ahn is known the galaxy over as a woman who likes to put on a show, and tonight she doesn’t disappoint.

Anticipation begins to mount to a soundtrack of classical music gradually growing louder and more urgent until the audience is on their feet. It isn’t until the song hits the pinnacle of its score and the crowd, as a collective, feels about to burst that Ahn steps gravely under the light.

Immediately a thunderous round of applause erupts. Iris clamps her hands over her ears in a fruitless attempt to muffle the overwhelming noise and notices Cat follow her lead out of the corner of her eye. Ahn, on the other hand, preens under the concentrated attention of so many people and seems to absorb some of that energy into herself.

“Thank you. Thank you, everybody,” she says after a few minutes and gestures for the audience to quiet down. They follow her direction and settle down, eager for the speech she’ll open the gala with.

“I appreciate you taking time out of your busy lives to come to my little get together here tonight.” She pauses in a very obviously rehearsed manner for the bit of laughter that receives to pass. Two screens are lowered next to her, one on either side of the stage for those in the very back, like Iris and Cat, to get the full Ambassador Kimiko Ahn charm effect. This means that Iris can see the nauseatingly self-congratulatory smile Ahn flashes the audience while she magnanimously waits for the laughter to die down.

“Now, I won’t take up much of your time. I’m sure you’re all eager to get through dinner and start exploring my personal collection. Just a few announcements. This floor is free for you to roam, there are over a dozen different displays for you to peruse through and I hope you enjoy them all.

You will have limited access to the second floor where I have a few more interactive activities for you all to play around with, including a rediscovered holographic game we found in the ruins of Allorn. If you don’t mind me say it is very retro, and much fun. And of course, the bar will be open for the duration of the night.

I won’t monopolize your time further tonight, but please feel free to ask me any questions you may have throughout the night. I could talk for an eternity about everything you will see on display tonight. Again, thank you so much for coming out tonight and I hope you enjoy yourself.”

The stage goes dark and Ambassador Ahn is lost to shadow. A miniature army of waiters come swarming from the edges of the room and descend on the guests with trays of food. The attentive mood that had overtaken the crowd snaps, and is replaced by the sounds of conversation, laughter, and clinking cutlery that now ring out across the room.

While everyone else relaxes and turns their attention to dinner Iris goes on full alert and prepares to make her escape to somewhere a little less populated, but with a lot more security.

There’s a dark hall practically directly behind her. A quick glance around her shows everyone in the immediate vicinity preoccupied with food and conversation. She taps Cat on the arm who in turn grasps her purse close to her person. They slip down the shadowy hall and hide around the first corner.

Iris pulls out her tablet from one of the roomy pockets in her dress and thumbs on the flashlight. She lights up her left forearm and touches the swirly, flower tattoo. She watches as the ink swirls against her skin and forms into the rough outline of the buildings floor plans.

The map shows them on the east side of the facility and in the hall leading to an area generally reserved for employee use, which means it will be largely abandoned during a private function, and has halls leading to all sections of the first floor while avoiding the main floors. She’s reasonably certain she knows where Ahn would stash the device, at least generally, if she brought it with her. The problem being it’s on the complete opposite side of the museum and she’ll have to sneak past the kitchens to get there.

Iris flicks the light off and presses herself against the wall, pulling Cat along with her, when she hears the low murmur of voices and hurried footsteps coming towards her. Iris watches a light bob up and down as the intruders make their way towards them. There’s no way they won’t be noticed. They’re still close enough to the banquet they can easily feign ignorance and claim they got lost on their way to find a restroom.

But if they do that, they’ll probably insist of walking them back to the main room. They need another guise, another reason why they need to be here. Some excuse of privacy they’re likely to empathize with and be willing to overlook their voyeur into a restricted area.

They grow closer, Iris is able to pick out a few words from their conversation such as ‘happy’ and ‘dessert’ and figure they’re part of the serving staff. That doesn’t stop her heart from racing at the idea of being caught.

The glow of the intruder’s light is about to hit them and Iris panics, jumping on the first idea that pops in her stressed mind.

She grabs Cat by her jacket lapels, pushes her up against the wall, stands on her very tippy toes, and presses her lips against hers.

Iris can feel Cat, understandably tense up at first. She is surprised, however, by how quickly she relaxes under Iris’ grip and begins to return the kiss, bending her knees to make them more level with one another.

It almost makes Iris forget why they started this in the first point. It doesn’t last long.

“What have we got here?” asks a voice behind them.

Iris whips around, immediately covering her eyes with a hand to protect them from the bright light shining right at them.

“The parties back that way you know,” says the second party, obviously struggling to push back her giggles.

“I didn’t think anyone was down here,” Iris says, not having to fake the shaking in her voice. “We,” she pauses to look at Cat and grab her hand, “were just looking for a bit of privacy.”

“We can see that,” says the first person. “We’ll pretend we didn’t see you if you promise to rejoin the gala soon. And under no circumstances go further down the hallway. We got a deal?” he asks.

“Of course, thank you so much. I appreciate your discretion here.”

“Don’t mention it,” says the woman. “And don’t have too much fun.” She winks at them.

Iris sighs in relief as they disappeared down the hall. She taps the light back on, this time on a lower setting, and sets off down the hall with Cat in tow.

“What? You’re just going to do that and act like nothing happened?” accuses Cat, tension clear in her voice.

“I told you, acting like a couple makes us a lot less conspicuous.”

“You’re a lot wilder than anyone ever gives you credit for, Iris.” Something close to admiration lacing her tone and replacing the tension.

“I ran off with the son of my families arch-nemesis for two years. What part of that doesn’t scream ‘wild’ to you?”

“Fair enough. Where are we going anyways?” asks Cat.

“We need to get to the other side of the buildings. Unfortunately, is seems the best route there is going to take us straight passed the kitchen.”

“That doesn’t seem like the best plan.”

“It’ll be fine. Like I said, just follow my lead and be quiet,” says Iris. They come to an intersection and she carefully pokes her head out and check that there’s no one there.

“I don’t think being quiet is going to get us passed the kitchen.” Cat rushes after Iris as she jogs through the intersection.

“Thanks, Cat. I’ll figure out a way passed it once I get a look at it.”

“Planning on the fly. I love it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re mocking me or not. I’m going to go with you’re being sincere and ignore any evidence to the contrary.”

Iris pretends she doesn’t hear Cat’s responding chuckle as they resume their trek to the west side of the building. The hallways are pleasantly deserted, it seems almost too easy and she can’t help but feel like they’re walking straight into a trap. Even if they are there’s not much more for her to do but march into the lion’s den, head held high.

Iris and Cat are a few halls down from the kitchens before she starts to notice any signs of life in these side paths. Iris can hear the busy sounds of clinking pots and escaping steam, along with the scent of spices wafting over her.

She waves Cat closer to the wall and inches forward a few more inches until she hovers around a corner where she can observe the kitchen without being seen for a few minutes while she tries to come up with a plan to get passed.

There isn’t much going on this side of the kitchen as there is at the second door closer to the lobby, but every once in a while one of the cooking assistances bustles around fetching some pot or other for the chef. Iris begins to brace herself to grab Cat and make a mad dash by the kitchen door when one of the event’s security guards decides to make a grand appearance.

This guard isn’t from the same group keeping keen eyes on the guests. This one comes from Ahn’s personal contingent composed largely of Walyer’s. A species of large, green specimens with thick, scale like skin, and anything from two to six horns framing their faces making their large eyes, which already take up nearly half of their faces as is, seem even larger.

The bottom half of their face is occupied by a small mouth with lips that are eternally held open by large, yellowing fangs. Walyer’s often find themselves employed as personal security and prison transports due to their intimidating features and ability to exert brute force. Iris has never met a Wayler who stands less that nine feet tall and isn’t too broad to fit through standard doorways.

This Wayler is particularly intimidating. They’re nearly eleven feet tall with two giant guns strapped to its back, a belt of vicious looking knives around its waist, and a vest of grenades and other explosive weapons attached.

Iris swore she felt her heart seize and a wave of dizziness wash over, she feels herself start to hyperventilate.

“Well fuck,” she says, and immediately clamps a hand over her mouth as she inches back to where she left Cat. Luckily the Wayler doesn’t seem to hear her. She grabs Cat and scurries down the hall to hide behind a large potted plant, crouching down as low as she can. A few seconds of clearing her mind and taking deep, calming breathes and she is back in the moment. She slowly loosens her death grip on Cat’s arm and cautiously peeks around the plant back the way she’s come.

“What the hell, Iris?” Cat finally asks, now that Iris doesn’t appear on the verge of bolting out of this galaxy.

Iris peeks around the plant and finds there’s no sign of the Wayler so she relaxes, slumping with her back against the wall, and rests her head in her hands.

“Wayler,” she says.

Cat swears. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“I very much wish that were so,” says Iris, not lifting her head.

“Okay,” says Cat. She sits down next to Iris and thrums her fingers against her leg. “Okay, we need to leave. We can go back to the hotel and work on a new plan. We have time, and this is officially too dangerous.”

“I thought I was the one in charge here? Can’t you just,” Iris waves her hands around, “just siren it or whatever?”

“Oh, come on. First of all, that is so not how that works. And secondly, you don’t actually plan on going through with this?”

Iris raises an eyebrow at her and shrugs her shoulders, already inching forward again.

“Wow. I didn’t believe them, but you really are full hardy aren’t you?”

Iris ignores this as she resumes her earlier spot at the corner peeking into the kitchen, Cat sliding along behind her trying to stick close.

“You know there’s another reason Zerich chose me to come with you. It’s because no one else wanted to be dragged along on your desperate bid for freedom. Your reputation precedes you,” says Cat, hissing the last part under her breath.

Iris rolls her eyes. “You’re exaggerating. There’s nothing desperate about this. I’m just eager for it to be over.”

“Either way, you’re willing to get us killed.”

“You don’t have to babysit me you know. You are free to go back to the hotel. I know you can track my tablet so it’s not like I’m going to disappear if I get back out,” says Iris. She’s growing increasingly annoyed at the delay, she could have gotten passed the kitchen and on her way in the amount of time they’ve spent bickering.

“And miss the fun?” Iris is surprised by the sudden smile on her face. “Not for anything. I’m ready for an Iris brand adventure.” Cat pulls a compact pistol from her inside jacket pocket and gestures to the kitchen with it. “Lead the way, I’m right behind you.”

“I don’t understand you.” Iris shakes her head, happy in the fact that even though Cat kept its existence from her it’s coming in handy now.

“Good.”

“Right.” She motions for Cat to be quiet and strains her ears, searching for any sound or sign of movement. Hearing nothing, she ducks her head out for a quick look. Seeing nothing, she takes a deep breath and looks to Cat.

“It’s not that far,” whispers Iris.

“Make a run for it?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Iris rolls her shoulders, sends out a plea for success to the universe, and nods to Cat. Cat nods back, and they throw themselves down the hall. They bound passed the kitchen door in a few, sprawling strides, until they reach the shadows of the next hall where they can’t be seen.

Iris slips at the last minutes and ends up scrapping her knee and ripping her leggings in the process. Cat partially catches her and pushes her up against the wall and they freeze, breathing heavily and listening again for any indication they’ve been discovered. Hearing nothing again, they relax, and take stock of the position they’ve found themselves in. Eye to eye, face to face, so close they can feel each other breath and uncomfortably reminiscent of their earlier farce.

The two quickly push apart, breaking eye contact, and take a moment to compose themselves and catch their breath.

There’s no sign of the Wayler. While they’re large, they’re deceptively quiet. Iris can only hope it went through the kitchen and out the other side.

Taking advantage of this quiet moment Iris studies the map on her arm. She waits for it to update and reorient itself to her new position. The situation is getting too nerve wracking for her taste and she’s hoping to find a new route to their destination.

Preferably one unreachable by Wayler’s.

There’s a room in the west wing where the museum catalogs and cleans their items. Some of these items get left in the room for days, so the room is heavily protected and seems the best place to keep something valuable holed up for a night.

She moves the map around, trying to find a new angle, as if that will make a secret route magically appear. Which is exactly what happens. She zooms in to try and get a closer look at their current location and a hidden lower layer of the map appears, revealing a series of vents she didn’t notice before traveling right over where she needs to be. She dances in place as a silent victory cheer.

“What did you find?” asks Cat.

Iris looks up and flashes her light along the hall looking for the entrance to the vent and there, just a few feet to her left on the ceiling, is a grill just big enough for her to squeeze through. Though that assumes she’ll be able to reach that high and force it open in the first place.

She smiles.

“Slight change of plans. I hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

“Not particularly.”

“Good, because I am,” says Iris.

Before she’s able to psych herself up and find a way to get into the vent she hears footsteps. She hurriedly turns off her light and contorts herself into a small, formless blob against the wall until they pass. They have the good fortune of being in a hall that has the lights turned off and easily go unseen.

Light back on she places herself under the vent and slides her hand as far up the wall as she can and finds that, even on her tiptoes, her fingertips are barely able to graze the bottom of the grate guarding the vent.

“Oh, that is cute,” says Cat with a giggle.

“Shut up,” says Iris. “If you don’t have anything productive to add to the conversation then leave me alone. It’s not like you’re much better off.”

“No. But this might help,” she says hauling over a bench Iris overlooked.

Iris stares at it for a few minutes, annoyed at herself for not seeing it first.

“Be my guest.” She moves to the side to give Cat room to position the bench and step up on it.

It’s only about knee high, and doesn’t seem particularly sturdy, but it gives her the extra boost needed making it the best, if only, option she has.

Iris lifts the tablet up until it lights up the entrance to the vent, so Cat is able to get a better look at it as she clambers onto the table. She takes a moment to find her center of gravity, then digs her fingernails between the metal grate and the wall and yanks.

A shower of plaster pours down, sounding like raindrops hitting the ground as they fall to the floor. Covered in a smattering of dust Cat muffles a cough in the crook of her elbow. She crouches down on the table and passes the grate to Iris, who in turn hands her the tablet-turned-flashlight, and gently leans the grate against the legs of the bench on the floor.

This finished, Cat squints up into the dark vent with reluctance.

“It’s disgusting,” she says.

“Would you rather risk running into the Waylor again?”

Cat sighs but doesn’t respond. Iris watches as she grasps the edges of the vent opening, experimentally jumps up and down testing the vents durability, and heaves herself up and in. She wedges her elbows in, hooks a knee over the edge, and pulls herself forwards. The vent’s only a few inches wider than her shoulders and it takes her a few seconds of calculated wiggling to get fully inside.

Iris leaves her alone as she lays on her stomach, gasping for breath, and feels grateful that she wasn’t the one to go in first. She’s also grateful she’s had the foresight to wear a dress with a flexible skirt and practical flats.

“You doing okay in there?” she asks after what seems like an appropriate amount of time passed.

“I am absolutely fantastic. I love having spiders for dinner,” Cat says. Her voice is muffled and has an odd echo to it, like she’s speaking into a tin can. Which she essentially is, all things considered.

“Your sacrifice for the greater good has been noted. You about ready to keep going?”

“Why did I go first when you’re the one with the map anyways?”

Iris rolls her eyes. “I loaded the map on the tablet too. Just follow the purple line I laid out; it’ll be fine.”

“You say that now, but I’m not certain you’re going to be feeling that way once you’re in here, Miss Claustrophobic.”

“Yes, thank you. I’m trying not to think about it so how about you scoot up a bit and let me get this over with already?”

Cat moves forward another foot, giving Iris just enough room to haul herself in. She places her hands on the vent and pushes herself up until the top half of her is lying down. Her feet scramble under her, trying to find something to gain purchase on. She should have made an actual plan here before jumping in. She doesn’t find anything to brace her feet against, but there are a few crevices along the wall she’s able to dig her fingers into and pull herself the rest of the way in with.

She stays where she is, resting her head on her arms for a few minutes trying to steady her breathing. She can feel her heart beginning to race and just the thought of looking up and seeing nothing, but grey walls makes her nauseous.

“Oh my god,” she says. She can feel her chest begin to constrict as panic sets in.

“Don’t worry, it gets better.” Iris can feel the vibrations of her voice through the vent.

“What, are there scorpions up ahead or something?”

“No, I actually mean it. It opens up quite a bit just up ahead.”

“If you’re fucking with me, I will cry. Forewarning.”

“Get up here, Iris.”

Iris groans, but she finally lifts her head, doing everything in her power to focus solely on Cat ahead of her.

Cat is right, the vent opens up considerably just a short distance away. Iris crawls her way forward until she’s able to sit up next to Cat.

“This map is stupid,” says Cat.

“Be nice to my map.”

“I’m sorry map,” says Cat.

“Thank you. What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s rather bare bones don’t you think? How am I supposed to figure out where the hell we are?”

“Let me see it,” says Iris, yanking it from Cat’s grasp when she holds it out behind her.

“Rude, but okay.”

Iris reorients the map until it’s zoomed in on their location and a purple line tracing their path through the maze of vents appears.

“Do you want it back, or do you want me to navigate for you?” Iris holds the tablet out to Cat.

“I think I can handle from here. It’s not like there are a lot of actual direction changes or something,” says Cat. “You ready to go again?”

Iris rubs at her face, trying to pull all the cobwebs from her face. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She hopes the map M’Lell gave her is accurate, it has been up to now, because the idea of being trapped up here makes her breath catch in her throat. She forces that train of thought out of her mind and focuses on the task at hand. Namely not dying.

[melacka]

A Blacklist Secret Santa!

Well hello there, @elizabethkween! A very merry Christmas from your Blacklist Secret Santa! Sending good wishes and holiday cheer to you and yours! (And also apologies for being a little late. My bad.)

So, I went looking through your blog and found some posts mentioning your love of AUs, so I have written you a Lizzington AU fic. I hope it meets with your approval!

Title: Chance

Summary: When Liz is stood up for a blind date she didn't even want to have, a passing stranger comes to her rescue.

You can find it here on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17154818

Or keep reading below...

Liz glanced at her watch furtively and sighed. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait it out. It was already getting to Desperate Loser levels on the pathetic scale, and she had been avoiding the waiter’s eye for the last 15 minutes. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d finally caved to the pressure of her colleague and agreed to this blind date. Meera had assured her that she’d known this guy for years and was absolutely convinced that they’d hit it off. She’d told Liz that he was cute, charming, funny. That he was a school teacher with no known criminal record, good credit rating, fantastic with kids, blah blah blah. It was just a pity that punctual couldn’t be added to that list. He was now nearly half an hour late. Liz had been through some pretty bad experiences in her recent romantic life, sure, but being publicly stood up by a blind date that she hadn’t even wanted to go on was a new low for her.

She accidentally caught the waiter’s eye and smiled confidently at him, groaning internally when he took this as an invitation to come over.

“Ma’am, are you expecting the rest of your party soon?” he said in a low, sympathetic tone that instantly enraged her. “It’s just that we’re rather busy and—”

“I’m so sorry I’m late!”

Liz looked up in shock at the man taking the seat opposite her. It definitely wasn’t her date. Liz had never met this Tom guy, but she’d seen pictures before and this man looked nothing like him. He smiled apologetically at her as the waiter made polite apologies and backed away.

“Traffic was murder and I believe I went to the wrong address,” he continued blithely. “I mean, what are the chances that there is a restaurant with almost the exact same name two streets over? Of all the luck!”

“Uh—” Liz said blankly.

“Just play along,” he said, leaning forward and dropping his voice to a whisper. “We can both leave in five minutes if you like. Let’s just make a decent showing of it for now, hmm?”

Liz made an effort to smooth her face into an expression of polite interest and leaned forward as well.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the theatrics and misdirection,” she whispered hurriedly, “and I am grateful for the intervention with the waiter, believe me. So, I hope you don’t think I’m being rude or anything, but who the hell are you?”

“I’m Raymond, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you?” Liz said incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“Well, I haven’t spent enough time with you yet to know if it will actually turn out nice, but I am an optimist by nature.”

“I don’t understand—”

“I passed by this restaurant approximately half an hour ago and happened to notice you sitting alone. And then when I walked by again just now, I saw you still alone and, if you will forgive me for saying so, looking quite miserable.”

“What?”

“Oh yes, quite miserable. I thought that I would come in and help you find your way through. Whoever was meant to be coming tonight probably wasn’t worth your time anyway.”

Liz glanced down at the table and bit her lip, deep in thought. She couldn’t decide if the man had been incredibly sweet or incredibly creepy by doing that. Who crashes someone else’s blind date, for god’s sake? On the other hand, he had turned up just in time to prevent her from having to slink away and never come back to this restaurant again. She quite liked this restaurant, she hadn’t wanted to follow through on that particular self-imposed ban.

“So,” the waiter said, having returned while Liz contemplated her life choices, “are we ready to order?”

“Just give us one moment, please,” Liz said, glancing up and meeting Raymond’s eyes. “I think we’d like to choose something from the wine list first.”

“Very good, ma’am,” the waiter said, producing one from behind his back and trying to hand it to her.

“Oh no, please give it to him,” she said airily, gesturing across the table. “I’m just going to have to trust you to make the right decision.” After the waiter had disappeared again, she held her hand out across the table and waited for him to take it. “I’m Elizabeth. It’s very nice to meet you.”

* * * * *

Liz had never had a more enjoyable date in her life. She couldn’t quite believe how her evening had turned out. She’d spent the whole day dreading this experience, with good reason, as it turned out. But now, she was sitting with a charming man, doing his best to be as unobtrusively entertaining as he could be. He was handsome, articulate, witty and well-travelled. Liz still felt the faintest stirrings of suspicion in her mind at just what had caused him to come to her rescue, but she waited until they were just finishing their dessert before asking.

“What really made you come in here tonight?”

He looked surprised. Granted, he had been in the middle of a story about the Galapagos Islands when she blurted her question out, but he regained his composure quickly.

“I told you, I saw you as I passed—”

“Yes, but why did you even notice me? Why come in?”

He laughed softly at that and gestured towards her dress. She looked down at herself, confused.

“The colour of your dress caught my eye as I passed the first time,” he explained with a chuckle. “Red looks marvellous on you, did you know?”

Liz gaped at him, a little stunned.

“And as I said before, when I saw you looking so absolutely devastated as I came back again, though clearly trying to hide it, I thought that I should take a chance.”

“Take a chance? With a complete stranger?”

“Isn’t that what you were doing tonight? You hadn’t met the gentleman you were supposed to have a date with before, had you? Weren’t you taking a chance?”

“Well, I—” she stammered. “That’s different.”

“Yes, but only by a matter of degrees. I saw you and was intrigued by you. A beautiful woman like yourself is bound to draw notice, but I happened to notice—”

“That I looked miserable, I remember.”

“No, that’s not what I was going to say. I noticed that you were still here. Still willing to take a chance, even in spite of the difficulty.”

“You realised all of that as you passed by the restaurant?” Liz scoffed incredulously. “Just how long were you lurking about out there? My date could have been in the bathroom for all you know.”

He laughed again and shook his head, looking at her in a way that she could only describe as warm.

“And that was a chance I was willing to take.”

* * * * *

After a brief verbal tussle over who was paying the bill, during which Liz tried to concede graciously when she realised it was an impossible fight, they stood on the street outside of the restaurant, looking expectantly at each other.

“So—” Liz said awkwardly. “Thanks for dinner.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Liz didn’t know how to proceed at this point. She’d never been in this position before and hoped it wasn’t going to become a regular feature of her dating life. She was also starting to feel the cold, having neglected to bring a coat with her tonight.

“Let me see if I can make this easier for you, Elizabeth,” he said gently. “Thank you for a lovely evening. It has been an honour to spend time with you.” And with that, he lifted her hand gently to his lips and pressed a featherlight kiss to her knuckles. “Good night.”

He was walking away before she could react. She stared after him in shock, watching until he turned a corner and was gone. Then she sprang into action, darting after him awkwardly in her heels.

“Raymond!” Liz called out, puffing a little in the cold and she walked quickly towards him. “Wait!”

“Elizabeth? What are you doing?” His eyes widened as she got closer and he realised that she was without a coat. He immediately pulled his coat off and moved to drape it around her shoulders. “It is freezing, Elizabeth. What can have possessed you—”

Liz passively submitted to his fussing and smiled in relief when he put his coat around her, pulling it closed and doing up the buttons as he continued to scold her.

“What can have been so urgent that you needed to rush out here in the middle of winter without a coat on?”

She didn’t reply, just continued to smile at him.

“Well?” he said impatiently. “If you’ve just come to smile at me, we could have done that in the restaurant.”

“I just wanted to thank you,” Liz said in a rush. “I was in a really bad way when you came in—”

“You’re welcome,” he said distractedly, rubbing his hands up and down her arms vigorously, still trying to warm her.

“No, I mean it!”

“So do I.”

“Raymond, please,” she said desperately. “Will you let me—”

“What?”

His hands rested gently on her arms and she decided to throw caution to the wind. Taking a step closer to him, she tilted her face up to his. She hesitated and met his eyes nervously. His eyes were wide in shock and she quirked an eyebrow in question before moving in the rest of the way. She pressed her lips gently to his for a moment before pulling back to check his reaction. He hadn’t moved at all and she felt her heart sink a little. Preparing to pull away again, he clenched his hands almost painfully on her arms to arrest her movement.

“Elizabeth,” he gasped. “What—”

Emboldened somewhat, she leaned forward again. Liz pressed her lips directly to his for a teasing moment, before parting them slightly and sucking on his bottom lip gently for a second. His lips parted and a pleased little noise slipped out. Liz felt a rush of satisfaction at the sound. She wanted to hear it again. As she pulled back again to look at him and saw that his eyes had drifted closed, she felt her heartbeat speed up a little. Seeing him looking almost vulnerable like that was a surprisingly pleasant sensation. This close to him she could smell his cologne clearly and the faintest trace of alcohol on his breath. She also noticed the fine pinstripe of his shirt and the high quality of his clothes. She hadn’t even thought to look when they were inside but now, she was fascinated by everything about this man. He let out a sigh and leaned his forehead against hers, eyes still closed. She closed her eyes too and pulled her body in closer to his, pressing against his torso slightly.

“Elizabeth?” he questioned, still not moving.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Raymond,” Liz whispered, opening her eyes and tilting her head back so she could watch his face. He opened his eyes and stared curiously at her. “And I wanted to thank you.”

“Is this how you thank all of your dates?” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against hers lightly.

“No, not really. This was more a declaration of intent.”

“Oh? And just what are your intentions with me?” he asked, a smile spreading across his face irresistibly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Liz said carelessly. “Maybe dinner, or a movie, or coffee. I just really want to kiss you again.”

“Then kiss me again,” he said quickly, leaning in closer.

Liz just shook her head and stood back, gently removing his now very cold hands from her arms.

“Why not?” he said, sounding almost pleading.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Raymond, but I haven’t had the best luck with men lately.”

“You’re going to compare me—” he began indignantly.

“And I fully intend to kiss you again someday,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “But I’ve just had the best date of my life with you, and I wasn’t even able to enjoy it.” She traced her hand down the line of his tie thoughtfully. “The build-up was all wrong. I didn’t get to feel that expectation. The butterflies in my stomach at the thought of seeing you. The delicious anticipation of when you’ll kiss me. Or wondering if I’ll get up the courage to kiss you.”

“You got up the courage tonight,” he reminded her, sounding a little flustered.

“Yes,” Liz agreed solemnly. “And I look forward to the many hours I will spend thinking about it in the future. Hence my declaration of intent.”

“You still haven’t told me what you intend,” he reminded her.

“I intend to go on another date with you, Raymond, if you are willing.”

“Willing?”

“To take a chance on me.”

He grinned at her and she felt an answering grin on her face. She pulled out the lipstick from her purse and took hold of his hand confidently. Very slowly, she traced her phone number in big red digits on his hand.

“Call me,” she said when she was done. “And we can talk more about my intentions.”

He glanced down at his hand and then back up at her, quirking an eyebrow flirtatiously.

“Besides,” she said, starting to walk away, “you’ll be wanting your coat back someday.”

[aftertheworldends-blog1]

An Endless Story Of Being A Balkan Immigrant

Bulgarians: Have dishes similar to Southeast Asians, have words in common with Middle Eastern languages, share genes with Persian and Turkic peoples, genetically related to Mediterraneans and Middle Easterners, suspected common ancestor with Tatar peoples.

Also Bulgarians: Wow, we hate foreigners. We are so European. Middle Eastern people are evil. We are not all Roma. Go the EU! Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir ?

 Me, a Bulgarian and an intellectual: *major facepalm*

So, I almost got attacked recently.

 A late evening, at one of the last trains from the capital to the place I live:

It’s a fairly popular stop, so there are some people at the doors as we wait for the train to come to a holt. I am at one side with a pair of men and one woman; the other door across the busy car has a small crowd in front of it too.

I am listening to music with one ear, the other free just in case somebody needs to approach me. A girl comes down the stairs to join our bunch and she is on the phone. The language sounds like Turkish to me, although I cannot be certain.

One of the men – a Finn no doubt, by his features – looks at the girl with obvious condescension, puffs dismissively, and walks across to the other door.

I stare, the complete awe on my face making the other Finnish man as uncomfortable as he should be.

“Asshole,” I murmur after the Original Finn.

He hears me.

Unconcerned with that, I step off the train and head home. He’s ahead if me; when he notices me – unmistakable in my bright red Uni hoodie – he stops in his tracks and waits me out.

I’m thinking, he’s about to say something. Is he planning on giving me a speech about foreigners in Finland, or the necessity of Finnish language when you are around a sensitive Finnish ear.

I don’t know.

But he says nothing as I pass him by. I walk away, casting glances over my shoulder. It’s how I notice him resuming his stride, following me, adjusting his scarf to cover his face as he hurries not to lose me.

There and then, I was terrified. Three full seconds of knowing I was about to experience a hate-crime motivated ass-whooping, and then I was done cowering. Not for him – he was hardly worth it.

Instead, I get prepared.

I walk faster, knowing I will reach a populated area soon, all the while planning where to put my glasses so he wouldn’t be able to break them into my eyes. I flex my fingers and wait for…

 But I make it to the busy area before he makes it to me. The people outside the fast food joint chat with me until he’s passed. He gives me an unmistakable silent threat as he walks by me, and I wonder whether I could safely walk the 15 minutes it takes me to reach home. My teeth hurt from clenching but I am sure I would have taken that beating, because I was not wrong.

 Because he thought it was his right to be surrounded – without failure, hour after hour – by exclusively Finnish speakers. Anything less offended his sensibilities. Because a special, nationalist, bigoted snowflake couldn’t take to be called out on his xenophobia.

 I was right. Even if I almost got my nose punched in.

Or perhaps, that was a symptom of my rightness.

  The current number of times a native speaker has looked at me with condescension and said, “Well, you speak quite good English,” is in the double digits.

*waves Certificate in Advanced English, a Specialised Language School diploma, and my middle finger*

  I was so god damn pregnant and I didn’t care about it when it came to dates. My husband and I would go to concerts, festivals, and parties, regardless of how big I got. In restaurants, we’d order something fancy to eat, he’d order a wine to match, and I’ll sniff it before sipping my juice. Fun times.

 So, there we were, at an Australian pub – him hoping to have an exciting Aussie brew and myself hoping to sniff it like a junkie with a glue problem.

But before we could get to that particularly exciting experience, we must order. The bartender practically gives my husband his own place at the bar. They like each other instantly and I am so proud of my charming, lovely sweetheart, who is not at all a Finnish stereotype and cannot wait to meet new people, engage with them, make them laugh. I adore it.

My husband decides on a beer and it’s my turn.

The bartender looks at me, his smile falters, and then dies. The temperature in the bar drops several degrees.

At this point, I am unsure what has happened. I wasn’t at the time aware Australians had any particular attitude towards Balkan people.

So, there I was, trying to order a juice for my pregnant ass and the bartender wouldn’t look me in the eye. He wouldn’t tell me what juices they have. He’d just spent five minutes combing through cupboards and fridges to make sure he’d offered the most suitable brew for my husband, but he wouldn’t bother to peek at the juice section for me.

My sweetheart ends up ordering for me. I know something had happened – something which involves bigotry and ugly thoughts – but I am unsure exactly what.

 Today, I know. Today, if you ignore me, I just know to be louder.

  There were fliers coming regularly to the box at my address, with calls to ‘DRIVE THE FOREIGNERS OUT OF BRITAIN AND TAKE BACK OUR COUNTRY’ written in big bright letters.

One weekend, I couldn’t go out because a nationalist group was organising a protest against Slavic and Middle Eastern immigrants at the city centre. I couldn’t do my shopping for the week. I was reduced to hiding in my room, alongside numerous friends and neighbours just like me.

  “Oh, you are BUL-geeeeh-rian. I see.”

What? What is it you see?

  Here’s a story you wouldn’t expect happened.

 My in-laws have always kept close ties to old friends. They were the type of people whose jolly attitude had many from our small town running up to us at random places just to say hello. That very same friendly and open-hearted approach had me falling in love with my (then) boyfriend’s parents in no time.

 So here we are, this one time, in the middle of their old friends’ and long-time colleagues’ house. It’s a lovely home and the fact the hosts had two children just a bit younger than myself was a great bonus.

We had a great conversation for the most part, even if I was excluded from the main topics due to a language barrier. I have since learned not to mind it so much, but at the time I relied heavily on my loved one translating.

Now, at the time, I was a student in the UK; there were no certain plans about where we’d be settling, if we’d be settling anywhere together at all. So, my grasp on the Finnish language remained basic, and I had no reason or desire to change that.

My hostess, to my endless surprise, had other plans for me.

She of course insisted I attempt speaking Finnish (an impossible task since I knew none of the grammatic rules), and was too excited about telling us all how the exchange student they hosted had been quick to pick up the language. I was of course already weary, but new to this “being an immigrant” thing. Coming from a poor place had not done much for my self-esteem anyway, and I was among people who had – due to their country’s social system – never had to worry about choosing between food and new clothes to replace the broken ones.

 So, I accepted the only thing interesting about me is my potential to speak a language I wasn’t interested in. I accepted it while she probed and questioned and kept insisting people who “let me try” the language. I accepted it until the last drop of my patience had been drained.

And then she pushed further.

Engaging the rest of the party in her game, our hostess endeavoured to turn me into an experiment. She demanded nobody translate her words to me; she was to address me without saying my name, so they’d find out whether I understood she was talking to me.

The thing with Finnish is, you’re bound the understand more than you talk, at first. It’s a tough language but I had been exposed to it enough to know what she’d said. Or understand enough.

When she spoke and the entire table remained silent, engaged in her experiment—in her treatment of me as a science rat, a sub-human, a person not worthy of consideration but rather just there for her eternal amusement—I could not stop myself from tearing up.

 I was utterly alone, surrounded by people who were unaware they were doing something wrong, and one person who was so deliberate in her actions, she surely understood way-too-well exactly what she was doing.

 She invited us to her wedding years later and I spoke English to her with a polite smile.

  The cold shivers down my spine when I found out the person who was going to wed us is running for a position in the government with the Finnish far-right party.

  I gave birth in the middle of 2015. It was warm and nice and beautiful. The first hours of contractions were painful, annoying, and long, but I felt safe and happy with my husband next to me and an attentive midwife making sure everything was going smoothly.

The shift changed the moment labour began.

The midwife began the entire ordeal by proclaiming she had not come to work today with the intention to speak English. She admitted she understood it well, although she ignored every word I spoke in it.

She ignored me when I said I could not breathe.

Again.

And again.

And again.

I lost consciousness for a few seconds due to lack of oxygen. Sheer willpower kept me afloat through the last moments of labour. I had to somehow gather strength to yell “I CANNOT BREATHE” for her to offer me an oxygen mask. She also called another midwife though, to help her handle the rowdy foreigner.

Suffice to say, I did not trust her with my new-born, breakable daughter. Suffice to say, I had no choice in the matter.

 I only prayed – atheist as I am – that she would not be that great of a monster.

  “What is this Bulgarian gibberish? I speak three languages but in this country, I speak its language, as one should”

– A person sitting at my table, in my home, listening to me speaking my language to my daughter.

  Nobody knows anything about Bulgaria, much beyond the fact they must hate us for being poor. Of those who do not hate us, they still are unaware of who we are.

 Our country was established in 681 according to official accounts, although a Great Bulgaria existed already during 635. Our country was formed through the alliance of (what is estimated to have been) over a thousand Bulgar nomads and the resident Balkan Slavic tribes. Over the course of the following centuries, Bulgarians spread out to include other Slavic, including some Mid-European. Our lands – although in a constant state of change due to never-ending wars with Byzantine – reached on occasions three seas: Adriatic, Aegean, and Black.

 We spent altogether six centuries as an independent empire. Our first universal law extended beyond the limits of status or nobility, threatening all criminals (even those living in our castles) with serious punishment. We were by recent accounts among the first countries in Europe (long before the middle Ages) to bring canalisation and fresh water supply systems to our big cities; the architectural collaboration with Middle Eastern societies is an interesting archaeological discovery: a lot of knowledge was lost to us during the destruction brought upon us by the Ottoman empire. We were also the ones to spread the Cyrillic alphabet among Slavic-speaking peoples, and the first to use it in our churches in the form of Old Slavonic.

 We spent five centuries under Ottoman Yoke.

I will be the first one to tell you we must never bring the pain of our past into our present, let alone our future. I will be the first one to tell you we must not blame Turkish people for the crimes of their ancestors. Unless we are met with that maddening, infamous reminder that we have been their “cattle”, it wins us nothing to point our fingers at them. Especially at those who say proudly they are Bulgarians by birth but do not deny their ethnic Turkish roots.

 But we must never forget – for our sakes and not for the sake of hatred – that we were denied the right to move freely, denied the right to live under the protection of a law, denied practicing a religion which defined us, denied spreading language or education which humanised us, denied access to a script we’ve developed and popularized. We were denied the right to be people; denied the right to be free.

We were owned, and shipped, and stripped, and slaughtered, and bullied, and managed exactly like—cattle. Our women were taken for unwilling concubines. Our churches and towns and schools and educational centres were burned. Our boys were taken to be owned by the army. Our blood ran as rivers along the lands of our ancestors and although the people who have committed those heinous crimes are long-dead… the pain remains.

 We must never forget that if we kicked the Ottoman Master’s dog even though it was nibbling on our leg, we were shot and killed. We must not forget that if we didn’t let the Ottoman militia rape as they pleased, an entire household was slaughtered.

We must not forget we lived in peace with common Muslim folk. But we must not forget that we were indeed once cattle.

 And even though our suffering was quantifiably different to the pain endured by the Black British and American communities, we must not forget we were slaves too.

It’s because we must never allow ourselves to be slaves again.

  We have a story, Bulgarians.

 That when the Ottomans first came, they pillaged and raped and destroyed, but if they’d left any survivors, they’d ask them always a simple question: “Do you convert to the Muslim faith?”

We have no certain way of knowing whether this is a story of pride, an anecdote to signify the overall resistance of the people, or an actual account of the events during the conquering of our lands.

But according to what we’ve been told, a Bulgarian who accepted the Muslim faith would shake their head and stand as they are.

 A Bulgarian who would deny the offer, would bow their head – in preparation for their execution.

 It is, according to this anecdote, the reason why in our culture, we bow our heads for “no” and shake them for “yes” – in contrast with the rest of Europe and the Western world.

   Above is one of the reasons I never bow my head or accept a faith offered to me by a bigot.

 It’s in my blood to stand my ground, even if it means my downfall. It’s in my blood to be considered cattle but to persevere regardless. It’s in my blood to be ignored, shunned, forgotten, stepped on… and to still bloom beneath the piles of dirt and cheap concrete blocks.

It’s in my blood to be regarded as sub-human; and it is in my blood to shed every tear, every drop of blood, to be better than that. To survive despite it.

 It’s why I was ready for a fight the night I was almost beaten up. It’s why I still speak the language I want whenever I want. It’s why I still call people out on their bigotry.

 And it’s why I am a proud Balkan immigrant.

Because I’m stronger than they are.

 Stay strong, stay true, stay readin’,

Ro-ri

[lonelyandgone]

Disclaimer 1 - This is totally ooey gooey cheese.  If you don’t like cheesy fics, do yourself a favor and not read it.  Disclaimer 2 - I wrote it super fast so it may not only be ooey gooey cheese but full of errors.  Read at your own risk.  

Ironic – A Joe and Taylor Drabble

 She can remember their first discussion about this.  Fifteen years old.  Sitting against the pastel painted bed in her room.  Abi had been picking at the hole in the knee of her jeans, rambling on about how much she hated Algebra but that she couldn’t hate it too much because Ben Henson was sitting diagonal and two seats up from her.   She had been writing a song that could really be a poem or maybe a story, she wasn’t positively sure at that point in time.  And when Abi had realized her lack of attention, she had grabbed the notepad from her hand and flung it across the room.  

“Let’s plan our weddings,” Abi had said enthusiastically, her red hair bouncing in waves like it was trying to match, or at least keep up with, her energy.    

Her heart had leapt a bit at the idea because, well the idea of everlasting love made her starry-eyed and planning the wedding she knew she would eventually have made her whole body shiver with excitement.  But showing Abi that wasn’t something she really wanted to do, not after her best friend had warned her to stop living in a fairytale just the day before when she had been whimsically forecasting her future romance with Chad Michael Murray.

So instead of outwardly showing the immense amount of glee coursing through her body, she had looked at her increduously.  “I’m not getting married,” she had stated, choosing to err on the side of ridiculous rather than be honest, the 15 year old in her wildly shining through.  

“C’mon,” Abi had virtually yelled before providing her best belly laugh and throwing her head back dramatically against the bed, “Taylor I’m in love with love Swift isn’t getting married?  What planet do you think I’m from?”

It was then that she wished she hadn’t had her head in the clouds so much before when spewing about boys and crushes to her best friend.   Because as much as she was going to deny Abi’s words, she knew it wouldn’t work.  It didn’t stop her from trying though.  Not in the slightest.

She had raised her chin up high, now completely determined to make her friend see some form of fake truth in the utter nonsense she was saying.  “I’m not.  I’m going to be a successful and completely independent woman who doesn’t need some man hanging off of me.  What good are they for anyway?”

Abi’s laughter had only intensified tenfold then.  “Obviously good enough for you to write songs about and pine over every single day,” Abi had howled, placing her hand on her stomach as she continued to bellow.

“Well that’s the only thing they are good for,” she contended, locking in her jaw and focusing her eyes like lasers on Abi, “and don’t act like you don’t pine too.  You were pining for Ben Henson five minutes ago.”

“Whatever,” Abi had giggled as she swatted at her arm, then turning to push herself off of the floor in the direction of the notepad she had just flung away.  “Well if you’re gonna continue to lie . . . . we can just plan mine.”

She had tried to ignore her for the first ten minutes, closing her eyes and folding her arms across her chest in some weird act of teenage friend defiance.   She had refused comment when Abi asked if she preferred sleeveless or capped sleeves and when she asked if the best time for a wedding would be summer or fall.  It was when Abi had started talking about wedding music, and specifically her question of the traditional wedding march versus Pachelbel’s Canon, that she finally caved and joined in.

They had spent the next two hours talking about catering and decorations, dress length and first dances, wedding cakes and throwing of garters.  They imagined the looks on their future spouse’s faces as they walked down the aisle and how their dads would cry during the father daughter dance. They made promises to be each other’s maid or maiden of honor, regardless of far away from each other they lived then along with another promise that they would be each other’s first call once the big question got popped.  

No detail had been missed by the time they fell back against the bed, both with notepads in hand, both gloriously living out their future weddings in their imaginations.  

And now, twelve years later, one of those plans is coming to fruition.  

She can feel the pull in her cheeks as she runs her finger along the edge of her wine glass, a day full of smiles and jubilation to blame.  The thought alone causing her to smile even more.  

Her best friend, her ride or die, her person was now Matt’s wife.  She had taken those wishes and dreams of a daydreaming teenager and tweaked and edited them to turn them into the utter elegance and magnificence of this day.

It had been flawless and perfect and impeccable.  It had been beautiful, romantic and touching.  It had been everything that it should have been.  Everything that Abi deserved.  

It had been years and years in the making and she knows there is no way she could have ever written a better day for her nor would she ever even try.  This was Abi’s vision and she considers herself lucky to simply have been part of it.

She’s sipping the last bit of Chardonnay from her glass when Abi slides into the seat beside of her, laying her head on her shoulder the way she’s done thousands of times through the years. The way she’s certain she will do thousands more through their remaining years.  

“I’m married Tay,” her friend says, pulling her smile higher and her heart warmer, “I’m not even sure if I believe it yet.”

“You’ll believe it in a couple hours when Matt makes you call him husband over and over again in bed and then tells you to go and get him a beer afterward.”  They share a laugh as Abi raises her head.

She nods emphatically. “Probably.  But it’s still feels so strange.  Absolutely amazingly right but so strange.”

Taylor winks, giggling, “That’s because you and Matt are weird.  Obviously perfect for each other but weird.”

Abi tilts her head to the side, raising her eyes to let Taylor know she is right.  “We gotta stop talking like each other.  There are times I feel like we are the same person.”

“Matt would disagree with that,” she laughs, dipping her head to the new groom dancing on the floor.

With a wink, Abi adds, “Oh darling Joe Alwyn would disagree with that too.  Because he’s not going to give a second glance to me but you . . . . . he’s got plenty of glances for you.”

Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head, completely aware of the validity of her friend’s words but also completely aware that she won’t admit them.  “Whatever,” she says, prompting a loud howl from her friend.  

They watch the party going on around them for a few seconds, Abi making a remark about how Matt’s friend is dancing like Patrick Dempsey in Can’t Buy Me Love and Taylor waving the waiter over for glasses of wine.  

“Thank you for being here,” Abi says after her second sip, her eyes moving to Taylor, “for doing everything you’ve done for this wedding.  And for me.  That you’ve always done for me.  I don’t know what I’d do without you, Taylor.”

She can feel her cheeks pulling once again, her smile becoming even more permanent on her face. “Well you’ll never have to worry about that.  I’ve already told you that my weird heart loves your weird heart so you aren’t going to be able to get rid of me easily.  You’re my sister from another mister.”

“That’s so bad, Taylor,” Abi cackles, “I remember us having that airbrushed on a t-shirt when we were fifteen.”

Taylor nods her head, “Yes we did.  And it was bad.  We sure did some strange stuff at that age.”  

Abi’s eyes twinkle, a light triggering in her mind.  “Awww let’s not forget the wedding extravaganza,” she bellows and Taylor nods again.

“Oh I haven’t.  I was just thinking about it earlier.”

“Want to know something funny,” Abi snickers, “My mom found my list a couple months ago, complete with heart stickers and glitter ink, and she scanned and emailed it to me.  I laughed so much reading through it but the scary part is that I must have subconsciously remembered those plans while I was working on this wedding because there was a pretty good bit that matched up.”

Taylor laughs for a few seconds, watching the joy spread so evidently across her friends face.  “You want to know another secret,” she whispers, leaning into Abi, “I still have mine too.”

Abi’s mouth falls open, her eyes wide, “Well you best be digging that thing out because I’m fairly certain you’re gonna be needing it soon.”

She shakes her head softly, lowering her chin as a gentle laugh escapes her lips.  “I hope,” is all she says, glancing at her friend once more before she pulls her gaze away.

Abi’s head tilts against hers again and this time she slips her hand into Taylors, holding it.  “I know so, Tay.  Trust me.  I see it all over your face.  I see it all over his.  It’s time.”

She doesn’t say anymore, neither of them does.  They don’t have to.  This is the bond they share.  One unlike any bond she shares with anyone else.  And this is the first time Abi has ever said those words to her so she knows how much she means them.  

She also knows how absolutely true they are, at least where she is concerned.

Because settling down with Joe Alwyn is the plan she holds close to her heart, somewhat scared to whisper it aloud in fear that it won’t come true, but knowing in reality how much she trusts that it will.

Abi gets up when Matt arrives at the table a few minutes later, a wide smile on his face and his hand held out to her.  She squeezes Taylor’s hand before she goes, leaning down to whisper one parting statement before her groom slips her away.  “Remember that you promised to call me first.” Taylor laughs, her mind instantly going back to their pact at 15.  

She gives her speech a half hour later, toasts her best friend and the man she’s entrusted with taking care of her, and then slips out of the reception behind a veil in an attempt to keep the focus on the bride and not on herself.  

She thinks of Joe the entire trip back to Nashville, wondering what he’s doing, how his filming is going and if he misses her a fraction of as much as she misses him. She thinks about seeing him next, about how she feels when she’s with him, about how he makes her feel when she’s with him.

About how madly in love with him she is.  

Her apartment is dark and quiet when she arrives there and her heels make a loud thud when she kicks them across the room.  She’s laughing at the noise and pulling her earrings off when she sees him.  His long frame leaning against the wall, his lips spread in the most perfect smile she’s ever seen.  

“Joe,” she whispers, her surprise cascading down in her voice.    

He’s wearing a suit and tie, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a small box in the other.  It doesn’t hit her at first but when it does she freezes.  “Are you going to propose to me,” she squeaks out after a few seconds, her voice sounding as rushed as the heartbeat in her chest.  

He smiles, his brilliant blues gleaming, and then pushes himself off of the wall, taking one step toward her before he tosses the flowers on a table and then opens the box, slipping its contents out and into his hand without her seeing it.  “Do you want me to propose to you,” he asks, his eyebrows raised, his gaze fully on her.

“Yes,” she says instantly, “I mean if you want to,” she adds with a nervous laugh.  

Taking a few more steps toward her, he falls to one knee on the floor.  “Well then let’s do this then, shall we?”  He reaches for her hand, pulling it to his heart when he looks up to her.  “What do you say Taylor, can I keep you forever?”

He pulls her hand back then, holding it in front of him as he carefully slides the ring from his finger to hers, the diamonds catching in the light and making them sparkle.  

“Oh my god,” she whispers slowly through glazed eyes, springing them quickly back to him.  

“Is that a yes,” he laughs, his eyebrows raised once more.  

“Yes,” she exclaims, her word echoing through the house, bouncing off of walls and ringing in her ears over and over again.  It’s the most beautiful word she’s ever said, she thinks.  

Her arms are around him within seconds, her body clinging to his as he lifts to his feet and slides his arms around her waist, molding her even closer to him.  “You’re here and you’re doing this,” she says into his lips.

“Yes.  I’m here and I’m doing this.  And you, my love, are definitely going to be my wife.”

He’s pulling at her dress now, his hand feeling like fire as he slowly unzips the back and tugs at the fabric there.  And when his lips find her neck, she struggles to find any ounce of clarity, any ounce of thought that isn’t drunk on the sensations he is eliciting.  

She’s naked, her legs wrapped around his torso as he carries her toward the bedroom when a coherent thought finally forces itself into her head, jabbing there repeatedly in an attempt to bring her back to her senses.  

“Wait,” she says as he bites at her earlobe.  He doesn’t stop and she’s just about lost in him when she says the word again.

This time, he sits her down carefully, his gaze grazing over her.  “Is something wrong,” he asks with concern.

“No,” she laughs, “no. Everything is perfect.”  She kisses him and he slides his hands around her waist to try to wrap her back in but she laughs again, pushing him back lightly. “One second baby.  There’s something I have to do and then after, I promise you get me all night . . . and then forever.”

He groans through his laugh when she pulls away and she turns around just long enough to blow him a kiss before bounding quickly out of the bedroom.  She grabs her phone and returns to the bedroom, allowing him to pull her naked body back to him on the bed, her legs straddled over him.  She clutches the phone to her ear when he goes to work with his mouth again.

Abi answers breathlessly on the eighth ring, no doubt enjoying her night as a newlywed.  Taylor laughs when she hears her.  

“As promised.  First call.”  Joe’s mouth finds her neck again as her words get spouted out.  

It’s all she says before she turns the phone off and tosses it on the floor.  Her attention now fully on the man she knew from day one that she would keep forever.

When she wakes up the next morning, she finds 17 new text messages from her best friend, ranging from I can’t believe you interrupted my wedding night sex with a smiley face to I totally knew it! to I’m so giddy with happiness and Matt thinks it’s because of him.

She glances back at Joe’s sleeping figure as she reads the last one.  She’s never in her life felt her heart this full, her life this complete, everything so amazingly perfect.  

Leaning in, she kisses his temple before she slips into a robe and out of the room.  

She looks for it then. In desk drawers and bookcases, finally finding it tucked inside a yearbook from her Freshman year of high school.

She smiles when she unfolds it and then raises her phone to snap a picture, sending it to Abi.  

Her eyes scan over the words written at the top of the torn and tattered paper in her hands. “Taylor’s dream wedding,” she whispers to herself, laughing.  And then she notices something written in the bottom right corner.  

It’s a heart just beside of the initials JA

She closes her eyes and shakes her head.  Jeremy Austin had been her crush when she wrote that list at 15.  She hadn’t even remembered that until this very moment.  Jeremy Austin.  

JA, she smiles.

A text arrives seconds later.  Thirteen hearts followed by Abi’s message.  OMG JA!

She rubs her thumb across the scribbles she made years before.  “JA,” she whispers to herself, “how perfect.”

How absolutely ironically perfect.  

Her Joe Alwyn.  Her real JA.  Yeah, she’ll keep him forever, she smiles.  

[morgantakestinder]

San Frantastic (or the Longest Date Ever)

This stunning photo of me and Alcatraz is courtesy of Prost and our whirlwind long weekend together in San Francisco. Despite only having known him for a month, I managed to enjoy some of my favourite things with him including Halloween, wine, warm gooey cookies, hotel rooms, Marvel movies, and finally the stunning west coast paradise of San Francisco. Considering that this blog was reignited in this crazy city, I was psyched to come back not too long after, although I can honestly say that until I pulled up to our airbnb I couldn’t believe that I was actually taking this trip with a Tinder date!

Unlike a regular date I’m not exactly sure how to write about this one as I don’t want to bog readers down with the inane details of every uber ride, drink, or sight that we experienced together over 4 days. That sounds terribly boring. So I think I’ll break it down into categories, maybe? An odd way to explain a date/trip but this is uncharted territory for me...

 Sights & Adventures

In only a few short days I felt like we covered a lot of ground. Prost booked us Alcatraz tickets before we got there ensuring that I got to see another creepy prison (I’ve got a thing for desolate places...) that I missed out on last trip. This was fantastic and we spent a large chunk of the afternoon wandering the island while I made more than too many Aussie convict jokes. We also did a fair bit of wandering back on the mainland and watched the city get dark on the pier. Also a new adventure for me, is we checked out the Exploratorium which is basically a kickass science museum and I was science fangirling hard. I found it really sweet that Prost was willing to spend $30 to indulge my science teacher desires. (Also, there is a really great observation deck that made for a pretty cute photo of the two of us...) Back out and about we hiked up Lombard St, which has great views if you don’t care about being able to feel your calves the next day - should have known better than to go to a hilly city with a guy who circumnavigated Manhattan on foot. Many of our other moments together I took right out of my playbook from my not-dates with Wino from my last weekend in SF. I know it sounds a bit like cheating, but if I had all these cute, almost romantic moments then, why not have actual cute romantic moments now that I was properly available. So we did sunset at Baker Beach and stayed until well past dark. And we walked across the Golden Gate Bridge and all the way to Sausalito until we got the ferry back across the windy but stunning bay. I wouldn’t say it was 100% Hollywood movie material but the whole thing was pretty darn cute.

Noms & Bevvies 

Prost and I went for dinner together right before leaving the east coast and he mentioned that he not only was not a picky eater, but also was quite adventurous with food and loved good food so I was pleased when this was 100% accurate. Nothing to ruin a good trip like someone who can’t find anything on the menu or has bizarre dietary requirements. While my last trip to SF was all about wine, this one was all cocktails! We had lovely drinks on a cool outdoor terrace (recommended to me by none other than Ted Mosby from last trip) but the best drink moment was at this piratey, cramped, dark bar that made dozens of cool and delicious rum drinks. I was in rum heaven and we stayed there for hours looking over all the exciting options, including ones with edible flowers. Vibes 10/10. Drinks 10/10. But the indulging didn’t stop there! We also managed to eat wayyy too much ice cream, empanadas, tim tams, chocolate (for breakfast I might add), pastries, fried chicken and waffles, noodles, toast, fried fish, calamari, and prawns, and really not a whole lot of veg... oops, bye diet. We ate a lot of really scrumptious things but a few stood out to me the most. One was breakfast at Bluestone Lane, an Aussie coffee place, that just opened their first west coast location. And when I say just opened, literally we walked in on opening day! It’s one of my locals back home so I was delighted to get a spot on cup of coffee and just chill out of the rain. Prost doesn’t like coffee, but per usual, he indulged my whim with zero complaints. He does however like hot chocolate so at least he’s not anti hot beverage. His coffee behaviour though is really quite odd for a Melburnian though! Our last day we had another breakfast meal at a Southern inspired joint in the Mission and we both were in full brunch mode: drinks, beignets, and full plates of chicken and waffles. Honestly, I know it gets a lot of hype but brunch is clearly the best meal of the day and I also really just enjoyed being able to spend my last meal looking over the table at this really cute bloke I’d been lucky to spend so much time with.  But by far the best meal was at a tiny little fish and chips shop in Sausalito, up the high street, where we sat casually eating fish and chips out of takeaway boxes and drinking beers. I’m not always the “cool girl” but I sure felt like it then and such a low key moment is exactly the kind of date I’m all about.

Moments (The Cute, The Sexy, and The Awkward)

So I’ve talked about the food and the sights and all the lovely things about San Francisco, and that would be enough if this was some kind of mediocre travel blog, but alas instead you’ve ended up reading a shitty blog about a hopelessly romantic pessimist so you get some other weird details added in too. Now one of the best things about meeting someone new is that you get to have sex all the time. You’re both excited, always in the mood, and want to get to know the other person intimately. Prost and I were no exception to this and despite it being a quick trip, managed to push our number into double digits. (This is mainly due to the fact that he was literally waking me up in the middle of the night to fuck, which I had absolutely zero complaints about.) But besides the frequent sex, there was also heaps of hand holding to warm up his absolutely frigid hands, endearing compliments passed back and forth, and those very sweet kisses that tall guys give you on the top of your forehead when you’re wrapped into their arms and flood your brain with dopamine.

Also the first night we got there, Prost arrived in SF before I did and got all checked into our Airbnb. I had wi-fi on the flight so we kept in contact for most of my journey. Knowing that my flight was delayed and I’d be getting in late and exhausted (having been up since 5 am EST that day) he asked me if I’d want to get dinner or if instead there was anything he could go out and pick up so I’d have something to snack on when I arrived. I know it sounds so basic but I was floored by this - what an incredibly thoughtful gesture. Ignoring anything else that happened all weekend, that moment alone reminded me why I’ve been spending all this time with Prost: he’s a really thoughtful, genuine person. 

We also had this totally nerdy night in moment on our last evening. It was freezing out and I wasn’t super feeling like staying out and drinking so instead we headed back to our humble abode and had a bit of friendly competition. We both are big Sporcle players (for the uninitiated it’s a trivia website that has every thing!) and as big travellers we’re both well versed in countries of the world. So we went old school version and set a timer for 15 minutes and tried to name as many countries as possible. Now I’d been talking a big game about this all weekend so you can imagine I had to eat a huge slice of humble pie afterwards when I lost... by two countries, at 168 and 166. To be fair I think that’s still pretty impressive on both of our parts. Prost and I also talked about other trivia bits - US state capitals, European capitals, periodic table elements that have symbols that don’t match their names... I found myself laughing wholeheartedly over silly things, happier than many moments I’ve had in recent months.

That carefree relaxed laughter was a stark contrast so some of the revelations that came up during the weekend, starting with Prost admitting that he’d read some of my other blog entries - like my first moment post Not The One where I lament my heartbreak and then meet the Tradie. This would have been all well and good, I’m not shy about the fact that I choose to share my intimate details with the world, but it was how he followed it up: telling me that he too had fallen victim to a recent heartbreak. It certainly broke my notion of this “by chance traveller.” I didn’t push it in the moment but a day or so later followed up and discovered that rather than coming to America to visit his brother and explore as I’d been led to believe, his original intention was to spend the trip with a Midwestern girl he’d met in Berlin. Unfortunately, this went less than spectacularly and once there it didn’t work out and he found himself rocking up to NYC instead. I was (still am) not exactly sure how I was supposed to react to this confession but I know my first instinct was to hug him as tight as possible and not let go. I certainly can’t understand what this flyover-state gal was thinking, but I know that Prost is incredible and the loss in this situation is hers, whether she knows it now or not. Beyond my true empathy for his situation I’ll admit I found myself a bit blindsided and instantly on guard. Am I just a rebound for Prost? Have I simply been serving as a time/bed filler while he nurses his own broken heart? I’d like to think not but I wouldn’t blame him if it was the case, and in the scheme of things it doesn’t really matter.

I had a San Frantastic weekend and for a change I got to share my travels, with someone I found particularly endearing! And like every other time I’ve found myself at the airport with someone, I was once again terrible at saying good-bye.