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love4thetinas · 3 months

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INKED ( Pt. 1 ) - a jake webber story

summary: jake is in need of a new tattoo artist, and he thanked his lucky stars to be blessed with such a beautiful one.

WARNINGS: slight spiciness, mentions of needles, idk just a bunch of flirting

4.4k words

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Jake was an addict.

Well, a tattoo addict. He would get at least one new tattoo pretty much every week. He loved looking at himself in the mirror after a shower, admiring the myriad of small colourful drawings along his arms. His roommate, Johnnie, even walked in on him doing this the other day and saw him flexing in the mirror - a story they both agreed would stay strictly between them.

But unfortunately, his usual artist closed up shop in the last month, and he was craving another fix of ink on his skin. So he searched around for a new one to fulfil these needs of his.

He opened up Google on his phone - ‘tattoo artists near me’ - and checked the first few results and their reviews.

The first two looked pretty decent, however, there were some mixed reviews about either the cleanliness and/or hospitality. Jake figured that if he was going to get stabbed a few thousand times, it might as well be in a nice enough place.

So he checked the third one.

It was close (only about a 10-minute drive), the photos on their website and Instagram looked awesome, and it had almost perfect reviews:

‘Brilliant work! Will definitely come back’

‘Incredibly talented artist, well done’

‘Friendly, hospitable environment 5/5’

“Hm,” he hummed to himself, going to check their prices which turned out to be reasonable as well.

DM FOR SAME DAY BOOKINGS

‘Perfect!’ He thought as he followed the link on their website to the shop’s Instagram, crafting a message to send.

Hi there, I want to get a couple of tattoos done and was wondering if you had any slots free today ?

He sat with the chat open for about a minute, crossing his fingers as he waited.

But soon he saw three dots appear by his keyboard.

Manager here, of course! We’d love to take your booking,

But just a couple of things before i put you down, can you give a rough idea of what tattoos you’d like and where you would like them?

“Yes!” Jake cheered for himself in a whisper, punching the air in front of him triumphantly before he replied.

I was thinking just some red and black stars on my lower lower stomach? Maybe like 3 on each side if that’s alright?

Jake responded hesitantly, hoping there would be enough time for him available since he didn’t want to have to come back on another day. But his fears were settled promptly,

Perfect. That’s all fine to go ahead, I actually have a slot for you myself at 3:15 this afternoon if that works for you? You’ll have to put down a small deposit and then you pay the rest in full once it’s all done :)

They sent over the transfer details.

He checked the time at the top of his screen, 11:42, he had plenty of time to get ready and he didn’t have plans for the rest of the day. Looks like he would be coming home with yet another colourful trophy on his skin to show off to all his friends and fans.

Awesome, that sounds great thanks a lot man! I’ll pay you now

He replied happily as he walked up to his room, watching as they typed on the other end.

No problem, see you later :)

He huffed a breath out of his nose at the little emoticon smiley face; who would’ve thought a tattoo artist would text so cutesy?

Later that day Jake got in his car, ready to drive over to the studio, quickly fixing his hair in the rearview mirror and chucking on one of his Spotify playlists before he set off. The address was on their website and he put it in his phone for directions.

After roughly 3 songs had finished he spotted the shop, going to park up on the curb across the street. But as he went to open his door he noticed that it was still only 3’o’clock and he had maybe been a little bit eager with the time he left the house, so he went and got himself a coffee at the Starbucks across the street and had a cig outside while he waited.

But as soon as the time on his phone ticked over to 3:15, he was up there.

He looked around the room where there were three other people he could see getting tattooed. The walls were covered in posters and graffiti, loud music playing over the noise of the tattoo guns and artist/client chatter - it was like some sort of vintage, punk hangout, except it was most likely a lot more sterile and visibly a lot cleaner.

Jake walked up to the counter where he figured he was supposed to wait for the guy he spoke to on Instagram to come meet him.

His foot tapped nervously on the ground as he waited. Tattoos didn’t usually scare him, but it was more the fact that he wasn’t used to this new environment and artist. But he was sure it would be fine, they sounded nice enough over text.

A door opened up towards the back of the space from what he assumed was one of the private rooms and a guy and a girl came out, both covered in tattoos, chatting as they made their way to the front of the store.

But to Jake’s surprise, it was the girl who came up to the desk to greet him.

“Hiya,” she said with a closed-lipped, pierced smile, “How can I help you?”

“Uh…” Jake stuttered, he was always prone to that, but especially now, talking to her. “I’m Jake? I messaged your guys’ manager earlier for an appointment at 3:15?” he confirmed as she looked up at him from over the desk.

“Oh perfect!” she exclaimed, “I’m Y/n, the manager.” she clarified.

“Now, we don’t have any more space out here so we’ll have to be in one of the private rooms towards the back, is that alright?” she asked, gesturing to where she had just come from as she started to walk back out from behind the counter, but Jake didn’t hear a word she said.

He felt bad for even thinking it, but he expected some sweaty, bearded biker-dude to be the manager of this place. He was taken back as soon as she had told him otherwise; not in a sexist way or anything, but the image he conjured up in his head beforehand could not have been more different to the woman before him.

She was quite frankly gorgeous. Dare he say it the most gorgeous girl he’d ever met. And she was so… cool, you know?

With black hair, a few piercings, and some tattoos visible on her forearms and collarbone, and as she turned around to lead him away he noticed the small one behind her ear. Not to mention her fashion sense. But it was the way she carried herself that really drew Jake in.

Not once did she break his eye contact, not once did she walk without a strut in her step. Not once did she falter in any way.

“Uh- Sorry, what did you say?” he laughed nervously, having been too distracted, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck as she turned back to face him.

She laughed as well, only for a second, but that was enough for Jake to decide that it was the prettiest laugh he had heard in his life. But he forced himself to snap out of it this time for he could not ask her to repeat herself for the second time.

“I said we’re gonna have to go in one of the private rooms at the back ‘cause there’s no space out here,” she motioned to all the occupied seats. “Are you okay with that?”

“Oh!” he managed to hear her this time and nodded. “Oh, yeah, of course,” he smiled widely.

And gosh, was Y/n just trying to stay professional.

She hoped that her client didn’t pick up on the way her eyes scanned his body when she walked up to him, or how her stomach flipped as he ran up beside her and she saw how tall he was, or hell, how good he smelt.

“So,” she started to make conversation as she led him towards the door to the private tattoo room, “how’s your day been so far?”

Jake's ears perked up at the sound of her voice once again, snapping himself out of a daydream to answer the question, “Alright. Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

His smile. Fuck, his smile.

“And you?” he returned as they got up to the door which was slightly ajar so he skipped in front of her and held it open, like a proper gentleman, waving a hand for her to go inside as if to say ‘after you.’

Y/n giggled to herself under her breath as she followed him through the door, taking over to close it behind them, turning back to face him as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. “Same old same old,” she answered his question with a shrug, “but it’s not too bad.” she smiled.

“Take a seat in my office,” she laughed and gestured towards the tattoo bed as she sat down in her own chair beside it.

“Cozy office,” he matched her energy after looking around the room and taking note of the decor, picking up the pillow that lay at the head of the bed and fluffing it a bit, then holding it on his lap.

“Thank you,” Y/n said quickly as she took the iPad from off the table next to her, along with the stylus, and opened up a drawing pad. “So, you said you wanted some stars, yeah?” she looked up at him.

He nodded as he peeked over to see her screen.

“Sick. Alright, can you show me where?” she asked while once again making the same eye contact, tilting her head to the side and resting the end of the stylus on her teeth, making Jake’s brain go blank.

“Oh- yeah sure,” he tilted his head down, flicking some hair from his fringe out of his face as he lifted up his black tank top. “Just like, three stars on each side,” he traced along his pronounced V-line, even bunching up the waistband of his jeans to reveal more skin. “I was thinking they could be bigger at the bottom and get smaller at the top? And like alternate between black and red with a black outline.” he described in detail what and where he wanted them, but all Y/n could see were his slender fingers running over the prominent trails leading to his pelvis.

All she could hear was his deep, deep voice, with that Southern twang that could lull even the most chronic insomniac into a peaceful sleep.

Of course she was still listening, in fact, it only made her pay even closer attention to what he was saying. She watched very intently as he described the size and placement of it all.

Once he was done explaining he looked back up again, “Yeah, that’s about it,” he shrugged.

However, she was still looking at where his hands had just been - it was only when he dropped his shirt back down that her head flicked back up for her to meet his gaze again, one corner of his mouth being upturned to the slightest degree, but it was enough to catch her attention.

She got to sketching on the iPad, and because it was a relatively simple design it didn’t take long. Soon the template was printed out and she brought it back to Jake who was still sitting patiently on the bed, swinging his legs off the edge but stopped as soon as she came in, leaving her no choice but to stifle her giggles.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to bunch up your shirt a bit and loosen your belt as much as you can so I have some room to work with, alright?” she asked him as she walked back to the table beside him, putting on some black latex gloves from the drawer.

“Alrighty,” he sang as he did exactly that, standing up briefly and turning around as he adjusted the tightness of his belt and the height of his underwear. “No peaking,” he teased with his back towards her.

She scoffed at his words, but she could not help thinking, ‘You think he saw me staring?’ Because where usually she didn’t care about such a thing, she felt the need to keep everything strictly business.

After he was done he sat back down in his previous spot.

“Could you lay back for me?” she asked politely as he gave her a little salute as he followed her command.

“Yes, ma’am,” he joked as he followed her orders once again. She scoffed to hide her smirk at the nickname - she knew he knew what he was doing.

She moved her chair over and placed the stencil over where he wanted it, then asked him to sit up and check if the placement was all right and he assured her that it was perfect.

So without another word, she started to print the stencil onto his lower stomach.

“Tss-” Jake hissed slightly as she rubbed the drawing onto his skin which made her head flick up to him.

“Cold?” she chuckled, assuming his noise was due to the gel used to transfer the image.

However, Jake cursed himself internally for his reaction. “Nah, it’s all good,” he replied honestly. He thanked God he managed to play it off because he truly didn’t know what caused it - perhaps it was her hands touching him so delicately…

“Okay, you ready?” she asked as she picked up the gun, dipping it in the ink and moving it closer to where she would start.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said cockily as he put his hands behind his head.

So she counted down from three and got to work. But something she noticed was that when the needle pierced his skin his breath hitched.

And he was typically good with pain, but this was something different.

“Does it hurt?” she chuckled, not stopping as she angled her head to the side to look up at him, making him deny it quickly.

As she continued tattooing she tried her best to tune out the slight huffs and groans coming from the man below her hands, and instead focussed on asking him questions.

“So, what do you do for a living?” she asked casually as she stared only at her work.

This gave him the opportunity to look at her instead, watching her skilled hands draw such perfect lines. “Oh,” he wondered how in-depth he should go with his answer, “I do YouTube, I make some music too.”

“Yo, what? Awesome!” she said excitedly, “You’ve gotta be pretty good to live out here in the Hills.”

He laughed slightly, “I’m alright,” he stayed humble as to not come off cocky. “What about you-” he started but kicked himself immediately after he said it.

She laughed this time, looking up to meet his eyes, “What do you think?” she held up the gun.

“But you’d think this would be easier by now,” she mentioned, “you chose the most awkward angle in the world for me to work with.” She was half-joking, but she also tried to readjust her arm positioning on his torso to make it easier.

“Sorry,” he chuckled as he watched her struggle, he was going to suggest something to make it easier, but he decided against it.

As she kept going he had to keep telling him to stop fidgeting because he would squirm and move practically every two seconds, but he swore it wasn’t hurting that bad.

As he kept apologising and they kept making small talk she butted in with another question, “You’re not from around here, are you?” She didn’t want to sound rude, but she could not focus on anything else but that hint of country in this alt boy’s accent.

“Nicely noticed,” he praised with a hum, “I’m from Kansas in the midwest, out in the sticks and the mud!” he put on a heavy country-boy voice as he said it, making her cough out a laugh.

“What about you?” he flipped the question back on her.

“Born and raised,” she smiled sarcastically. She’d always wished to go somewhere else but never had the chance. “I’ve lived in this same area my whole life. Still live in a house just down the road,” she shrugged and nodded in the direction she meant, returning to focus on her work.

“Oh yeah? D’ya live with your boyfriend…?” he asked slyly, slightly hesitant but he figured it could just be an innocent question. And while she wasn’t looking at his face she could practically sense the smirk on his beautifully plump lips.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she tilted her head and replied, “I don’t have a boyfriend, I live alone.” she clarified.

“Hm,” he replied simply as he laid his head back again.

“What about you then?” she started the conversation back up, “Live alone?”

“Nope,” as soon as he spoke her heart dropped, shit. Was she misreading all of this?

“I’ve got two roommates, but no girlfriend,” he said confidently, making Y/n’s heart rate go back to normal.

God, he was good.

“Hm,” she mimicked his response in him same tone and carried on.

But after a couple minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence, while they both listened to the music playing through the speakers, she piped up again. “Ugh,” she exclaimed, making Jake open his eyes and look back down at her as she moved her chair back and forth, “you really did choose the most awkward place for me to tattoo! You know that?” she complained light-heartedly with a laugh at her inability to find the right position. “It’s hard for me to reach across like this,” she demonstrated the tricky angle for him to see.

“You keep saying that,” he laughed deeply and then went quiet once more, but when she looked up at him she saw that the cogs in his brain were spinning rapidly.

“You know,” he started, making Y/n turn her attention back to him as he spoke, “you could always just sit here,” he nodded his head down to his legs and her eyes followed.

He said it. He finally said what he had been thinking for the past 30 or so minutes.

“Uh… what?” Y/n said nervously.

There was no going back now.

“You heard me,” he smiled, trying his best to stop his lips from curling up into more of a smirk so as to not intimidate her, but he definitely knew he wasn’t alone in feeling like he was. “Listen, it doesn’t have to be weird, it just might be easier for you, yeah?”

She thought about it, she really really did, but she knew she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, it would be unprofessional of me,” she said, still trying to convince herself not to just straddle his lap right there and then, having to look away from him because she knew that if he looked at her one more time with those puppy-eyes it would be a whole different story.

“I assure you it doesn’t have to be,” he persuaded. That voice of his smooth like silk - the most enchanting, compelling silk ever spun.

She bit her lip and took a deep breath in, then she looked at the camera in the corner of the room. No one else saw the footage but her, it’s not like she would lose her job.

Fuck it.

“Fuck it,” she said as she climbed on, carefully placing a knee on either side of his long legs and leaning forward to test how the new angle worked for her.

“Better?” he responded in a ‘told-you-so’ type of way - he was getting cockier by the second now he had gotten what he wanted.

She got back to work and looked up at him this time through her lashes, flicking some hair out of her face, “It is, actually.”

She noticed the way he looked down at her every now and again and recognised what went on behind his dark brown eyes - but she paid no attention. Y/n figured that the best course of action was to act as if this was a perfectly normal day and that she did this with every client.

She didn’t.

Her best efforts were put into ignoring his burning stare, and his gorgeous hair, and his perfect nose, and his sexy smile; his arms, his revealed torso that she was constantly touching; him.

But he, on the other hand, used her beauty as a way to distract from the pain of the relentless needle piercing his skin. Her face, her eyes, the expression she made when she concentrated, her body on him.

And time flew, meaning that in what felt like too soon, it was done.

Y/n wiped away the final bit of ink and admired her work, scootching back so Jake could sit up a bit and see for himself, “What do you think?” she asked nervously, as it was always a bit scary showing clients what you’ve etched into their bodies for life.

He shuffled up to have a good look at it, then at her, then back at his stomach. “It’s…” he drew it out, “Perfect!”

A wave of relief washed over Y/n as she sighed, noticing Jake’s line of sight had been aimed at her again.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he said sincerely.

She just smiled, listening to the way her name fell off his lips like it had been waiting on the edge for a lifetime. But then she looked down and realised that she was still practically sitting on his guy’s lap, so she quickly scrambled off and stood next to the bed again, going to fetch a ‘second skin’ from her drawer.

Jake could not help but feel a little disappointed when she seemed so desperate to get it all over with. The last thing he wanted was to have made her at all uncomfortable.

But she wasn’t. As soon as she came back and put the protective layer over his tattoo she looked up at him again from her chair, “You’re very welcome.”

They both made their way back into the main room, smiling and laughing with each other as they continued talking, but in the cold outside room, the burning hot rope of tension that tied them together became even more astoundingly apparent.

She tried to break the tie by going behind the till, leaving him on the other side.

His total appeared on the screen and he paid. He actually paid a lot more than he should have, not taking his eyes off her even once as he did so.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/n,” he said somewhat solemnly. He knew he was most likely going to see her again, this definitely wouldn’t be his last tattoo, but it felt akin to saying goodbye to a loved one, even though they had only been in each other's presence for less than a few hours.

“Have a good rest of your day, Jake,” she returned, a similar feeling rising within her, but she couldn’t let that through to the surface.

And just like that, he was turning around and walking out of the store, walking away from her as she watched him from the back as he left.

Both of their stomachs turned as they suddenly felt incomplete, like there was something left to do but now they’ll never have the chance to do it. It was crazy how before today they had never realised there was a hole in both of their lives to fill until it had been satisfied for the first time. Yet, their time together had been so brief in the bigger scheme of things.

Jake would not let that slide.

As he was halfway down the stairs something in his brain set off an alarm and she shot back up the stairs and back up to the desk, catching her just before she walked away.

What’s the worst that can happen?

What’s the best?

“Oh,” she turned and saw him again, slightly surprised, “did you leave something?”

“Yes,” he said very quickly. “No,” he threw in shortly after, shaking his head rather frantically, leaving her slightly confused and letting out a chuckle.

“Do you think I could…” he clenched his teeth and decided that he would regret not shooting his shot if he left now, so he told himself to just come out and say it.

“Do you think I could get your number?” he blurted out, a hopeful glint in his eyes that made her body react with a physical response.

But she couldn’t, this was her job, and she could get in a lot of trouble, even as the manager. “I-” she stuttered, not knowing what to say, and then took a breath. “I’m sorry but it would be wrong, I’m at work,” she sighed, and he could clearly see that’s not what she truly wanted either.

At least he had done it now and he wouldn’t have to live his life in wonder. “That’s alright,” he said half-heartedly, but trying his best to play it cool.

But he decided to try just once more.

“Uh,” he started again, making her gaze fix back on him. God, those eyes of hers - he had the feeling they could settle wars with just a glance if they let her. “What if I asked you after your shift?” he proposed, crossing his fingers behind his back, praying to whatever was out there that she would just say yes.

And as he asked again something within her screamed at her, ‘Just say yes!’, a doubt inside her was settled and happiness took its place, but she remained collected. She tried to stop the smile from rising on her lips, but as she spoke it was audible in her voice, “It would still be unprofessional,” she started and watched as his face dropped, so she quickly finished her sentence, “But… I get off at 7.”

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my first ever fic ! hope you guys enjoyed, comment if you wanna see part 2 i’ve already got it all planned out.

all requests taken in my bio !! xx

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#jake webber #jake webber fluff #jake webber smut #jake and johnnie #colby brock #johnnie guilbert #sam golbach #sam and colby #fanfic #fluff #tattoos #jake webbers tattoos are so sexy #jake webber is just so sexy

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moominsuki · 1 year

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✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — katsuki still hates valentine’s but he’d rather die than let you get wooed by some second rate hero.

࿄ ! warnings — none. very sweet & fluffy. suggestive if you squint. / note. part 2 to the valentine’s day drabble. my anti shindo yo agenda always comes through hehe.

when bakugou walked into his agency on the early morning of valentine’s day, he hadn’t expected to see a mop of black hair lingering around your office. your door was closed, which was uncharacteristic of you, and bakugou knew you didn’t start work today until at least 2 hours after he arrived.

“yo, what’s up, dynamight! long time no see. came here to drop some paperwork off but might as well drop a few other things while i’m here,” shouts the hero grand and bakugou thinks he’s unable to hold back a visual shiver of disgust. shindo is grazing around your desk and bakugou notices the huge bouquet of roses in a velvet box and a small pandora bag.

“what d’ya think you’re doing in y/n’s office, exactly? she doesn’t clock in ‘til 9,” bakugou says, prodding at shindo verbally. the black haired man laughs at bakugou’s accusatory tone and dismisses him with a wave of his hand.

“a little birdie told me that you hate valentine’s day, which i mean, to each your own, but what kind of man wouldn’t shower a beautiful woman with gifts on this wonderful day?” shindo practically sings and bakugou wants to punch him for even talking about you. as if you’d ever like him… right?

that would be silly, bakugou thinks. you’d have to be completely different from the girl he knew knows to ever indulge the likes of yo shindo.

“it’s a shame, really, you know, that you can’t get y/n anything. you know, cos you’re her boss and all. and she told me just how much you think it sucks. at least i’m here to save the day, right?” shindo bites and every word referencing you feels like a slap to bakugou’s face.

at this point, bakugou has had enough of the man, “think you’re forgetting you came to my agency unannounced so i suggest you just drop your shit and leave. next time, get your assistant to do your dirty work,” grumbles bakugou and shindo laughs all boisterous at the brimming anger in the blond’s tone.

“i’ll get out of your hair, dynamight. by the way, you don’t need to tell y/n to check out the gifts. i want it to be surprise, ya get me? thanks bro,” says shindo as he walks from your desk and attempts to pat down bakugou’s chest in ‘good fun’ but bakugou swerves the man and goes to your vacant desk to pick up his paperwork.

shindo chuckles breathily to himself and bakugou doesn’t grace him with a look until he hears the man’s steps fade away. bakugou finally exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding in and drops the paperwork down to scope out shindo’s gifts for you.

in bakugou’s opinion, they looked like shit. coloured roses in a box is extremely tacky and wouldn’t last even two weeks before rotting. bakugou attacks the pandora bag and opens it in a hurry to see a black ring box holding a silver, halo ring. bakugou scoffs at this: for a man who wanted so badly to prove himself as superior to him, shindo was sure blind to the tastes of a woman such as yourself. bakugou was pretty sure he’d never even see you wear a piece of silver jewellery and you once told him that halo rings were “tacky and so 2012.”

if shindo wanted to play this game, then bakugou would beat him so severely and it wouldn’t even be close. yeah, maybe you were right - maybe he did hate valentine’s day. but he’d enjoy the shitty day if it meant you’d want him over that idiot. and even though he despises fighting for someone’s affection, he hopes that maybe you’ll want him just as much as he wants you.

ᝰᝰᝰᝰᝰ

“morning, y/n! hope you had a good lie in,” chirps bakugou’s secretary gleefully and you smile at her.

“honestly, i needed this. even though i did wanna be here for the early valentine morning, i would not trade my extra sleep,” you laugh, “that reminds me: did you get anything for valentine’s?”

bakugou’s secretary giggles in delight as she stands up to show multiple bags filled to the brim with gifts and you gasp in a mixture of shock and envy.

“you know that gucci bag i wanted? he got me the bag! he really does get me,” sighs bakugou’s secretary and you have to hide a twitch in your eye as you clap your hands together and look among the bags of chocolate, flowers and cards.

“i’m so happy for you!” you exclaim and you hug when kirishima comes in earshot.

“happy valentine’s day, you guys! have anything planned, y/n?” kiri asks and you shrug, all non-committal.

“not much on the agenda for me, ‘m afraid. just gonna finish up a few assignments and swallow down the pain,” you say jokingly and both of your coworkers look at you sympathetically and you want to slap them for pitying you.

“valentine’s isn’t just about romance anyway! you’re loved by all of us,” says bakugou’s assistant and a part of you wants to argue with her for treating you like a petulant little girl.

“guys, ‘m fine, seriously! i’m just gonna head to my office and finish up some things. who knows how the day’ll turn out?” you say, with a slightly embittered tone and it sounds like you’re trying to kid not only the others but yourself too.

you wave the two goodbye and make way to head into your office. huh. that’s strange. you usually always keep your door unlocked after every shift just in case kirishima or bakugou wanted to sift through any missing paperwork.

“whatever,” you think, “maybe the cleaners locked up last night. let me just fish the keys out my bag.”

after grabbing your keys and making note of which one unlocks to your office (you remember half way through jingling your keys around that bakugou painted it orange and red), you open the door haphazardly; simultaneously trying to stuff your things back into your handbag and move in with one leg. when your bag is in good shape and your loose tissues aren’t falling out, you look up to your workspace and your eyes are so wide it’s almost comical.

a bouquet of baby’s breath, pink tulips and snapdragons sit in a bouquet of blue and white tissue paper and a gold looking chain looms the flowers together. there’s a little card situated amongst the flowers and you go to touch it when you see a box and a big, blue gift bag on your desk and chair.

you cover your mouth and gasp in attempt to hold back your shock and delight as you see the bag is labelled “Tiffany’s” and you pull out two velvet boxes: one for a gold necklace with a red heart detail and the other is a gold Tiffany heart ring.

holding almost all your gifts, you decide to take apart the box, sheathed in heart patterned wrapping paper and a box of your favourite pastries sits in them. at this point, you feel like you could cry. who was this person? why would they do all this?

at that moment, you stupidly remember the card in the bouquet and pull it to see scrawny handwriting:

“dear y/n,

happy valentine’s day. hope this will do for all the work you do for me.

love, katsuki,”

you smile and only then do the tears start brimming as you hug the bouquet close to your chest.

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when bakugou heads back from patrol, the office is rumbling with gifts and chatter. he rolls his eyes at this but he entertains the lovesick behaviour of his employees anyway - he even let denki paint his pinky nails pink to “embrace the loving spirit” as denki would put it.

“bakugou! here, come quick!” yells kirishima as he beckons his blond friend over to him by the front of his office.

“what d’ya want now? can’t you lot just celebrate this day without bothering me? ‘already let that idiot paint stupid hearts on my nails,” grumbles bakugou and kirishima shushes him.

“it’s not about that, but you didn’t have to paint your nails - ok, sorry, wait-” kirishima grabs bakugou back and practically whispers (though not discreetly by kirishima fashion), “did you see what y/n got in her office? someone just bought her a shit ton of things!” exclaims the red-head and bakugou shrugs nonchalantly.

“good for y/n. why you telling me this?” bakugou asks suspiciously and kirishima beckons him over with another wave of his hand to whisper again.

“apparently it was shindo yo who got her all that fancy stuff. who would’ve thought, right?”

bakugou’s eyes bulge out his head and his face almost turns as red as kirishima’s hair.

“what?! i mean - ‘s not like i care but where’s y/n right now?” interrogates bakugou and kirishima smiles knowingly but stops to prevent bakugou from being suspicious.

“luckily for you, she’s in her office! you should definitely go to her right now,” kirishima says, pushing his friend towards the office door and nodding at him.

bakugou takes a deep breath before knocking and opening the door, not waiting for your reply. he slams the door in kirishima’s face - you know, as insurance against his prying eyes.

“hey, y/n?” says bakugou slowly and you’re typing away at your desk. the box of pastries he bought you sat next you and were half eaten and the flowers he bought you sat prettily in a vase on the edge of your desk.

as soon as you hear bakugou’s voice, you look up and basically run over to him to throw your arms around his neck. albeit, it’s slightly difficult due to his neck piece but you make due and hug him anyway. bakugou is stiff when he feels you press into him and you pull back to see his somewhat confused expression and you move back at his lack of reciprocation.

“sorry for that - it’s just, thank you for the gifts. i loved them, really. everything was beautiful, especially the necklace,” you say, pulling the necklace out of your white collared shirt.

bakugou narrows his eyes, “you know i got these for you?”

“yeah?” you say and it’s your turn to be confused, “unless there’s another bakugou who put his name on the card and the receipts-”

the cogs turn in bakugou’s head and curses at kirishima in his head, “‘m gonna kill shitty-hair one of these days,” bakugou sighs and you raise a brow.

“why would you do that?” you ask and bakugou shakes his head.

“doesn’t matter. and you’re welcome, by the way. it’s what you deserve,” bakugou curtly nods and you smile so prettily at him and he wants to kiss you so bad. he regrets not hugging you back just now and he’s not sure how to initiate it again.

“you really shouldn’t have spent so much on me, really!”

“tsk, there’s a lot more i wanted to get you, princess,” and it slips out before bakugou could stop it from coming out of his mouth. he’s about to apologise until he sees you look at him with stars in your eyes and your bottom lip is tucked under your teeth.

“oh yeah, like what? what does a ‘princess’ like me deserve?” you entertain him and you test the waters by walking closer to him and bakugou groans and swipes a hand across his face in embarrassment and to prevent you from seeing his face from getting redder and redder.

“i would’ve gotten you the world and it still couldn’t be enough for someone like you,” he breathes out and bakugou closes the gap between you, your chin up to his chest.

“i don’t think i know what i’ve done to deserve this praise,” you whisper and you rest your hands on the planes of his widely built chest and he tenses but quickly relaxes so as to not ruin all the momentum built up at this moment.

“you deal with all my shit even though you don’t ‘ave to,” mumbles bakugou and his hand lifts at your jaw slightly so you’re only a breath away from his cupid’s bow.

“you’re right that i don’t have to. but i like dealing with all your shit. means you trust me,” you say in a hushed tone and both your bated breaths are mingling on each other’s lips.

“trust you more than anything. d’ya trust me?” bakugou asks and you nod at him, wide eyed.

however, this doesn’t satisfy the man and his thumb grazes your jaw and you sigh.

“wanna hear you say it,” bakugou contends.

“trust you with my life, katsuki,” you murmur and bakugou leans in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

his hand sits on your chin and your hands pull at his black shirt when you feel him nip at your bottom lip and suck your tongue. the kiss is way too passionate for the workplace and you can feel yourself go numb in the legs.

it’s like bakugou has a sixth sense because he swoops in to sit his large hands to your waist and you to softly pet at his face and his neck. it’s akin to a competition of who can feel the most of each other without bordering on inappropriate but you both can’t get enough. it’s only when you’re out of breath do you pull back and bakugou blinks at you, all dumbstruck like a teenage boy. you giggle a little at him and bakugou playfully pinches at the fat of your hips while you yelp.

“whatchu laughin’ at me for?” he grunts and you pull at his cheek in return.

“it’s nothing, it’s just - this whole time, i thought you hated valentine’s day. what gives?” you inquire and the man ponders a little - though he knew you both knew the answer.

bakugou knocks his head on yours and you pout and he chuckles at you, “‘s like shitty-hair said. didn’t know the right person was always in fron’ of me.”

you ‘boop’ at his nose and bakugou’s face visibly scrunches, “you thought wrong. still, thank you for putting up with my… things. even though you can say you like the decorations, i can see right through you,” you say, matter of fact and bakugou groans.

“yeah, yeah, you got me there. i hate all that extra shit. but if it makes you happy, then i’ll hate it in privacy.”

you smile warmly and pull him down to give him a few more kisses. best valentine’s day ever.

BONUS:

“and by the way, kiri told me that shindo came over by the office today but i wasn’t in. did he need something important?” you ask the blond over lunch in his office and bakugou shakes his head.

“fuck if i know, princess. dunno why he was in there but it was just some paperwork and i dealt with it for you,” mentions bakugou offhandedly and you ‘aww’ at him before kissing his cheek and feeding him some of your onigiri.

ᝰᝰᝰᝰᝰ

“are you sure this is the right place? kacchan gave us strict instructions to discard of this discreetly,” asks deku and todoroki nods.

“yeah, this is the exact coordinates… now that i’m looking at it, what kind of uncultured idiot would buy roses in a box? they go stale after a week,” chastises todoroki and deku taps his foot in agreement.

“well, let’s do it in three, okay?”

an explosion goes off in the distance and you look at bakugou confused and then disappointed.

“you’d think villains would take a day off even on valentine’s day!” you lecture, mouth full and bakugou makes a noise of consensus and pokes at your food-filled cheek with one hand and texts a thumbs up to deku and todoroki with the other.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #{katsuki}#bakugou imagine #bakugou drabble #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #sorry this took a while #but i hope u guys love it hehe #this one was a bit long oops #༝˚૮ .♡ katsuki.#✎𓂃stamped: (my hero academia)。°˖⌕

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pank0w · 2 months

Note

can you write a drew starkey x fem!reader imagine where drew has a crush on the reader and he has for a while, but he doesn't think the reader likes him back until one day he like drunk confesses or just impulsively tells her? <3

A/N : Yes I will try (I’ve never written before) I’m sorry I’m so late on this I’m just so nervous to write stuff 😭😭

I love you..

Drew starky x fem!Reader

Warnings:- drinking,use of y/n , drew being drunk most of the time, some insta posts (tell me if I’m missing anything.)

__________________________________________

having a well-known acting career and appearing in TV series such as Vampire Diaries, Stranger Things, and Ginny and Georgia, I've had my fair share of romantic relationships and crushes on coworkers.

I have had both positive and negative emotions from every person I have dated. Nonetheless I still have a lot of my partners as friends, though.

When I got casted on outerbanks, I was already working on a project which required all of my time in another state in a whole ,leading to me having to decline the role.

After finishing said project , and sulking over not excepting the offer i got a call from my agent telling me that I was getting handed a role,a really good one .No audition needed. As the love interest of a rich playboy (wonder who that is).

———//———//———//———//———//———//—

“What exactly is the show again?…” I asked annoyed that I was being disturbed from my beauty sleep.

“Firstly I never told you aaand secondly it’s for.. outerbanks!”

What.

The show I declined? The show that made me regret doing my previous project instead of it? The show where my college crush- AHEM. right where was I

“Hellooo? You there y/n?..”

“Uhhh yeah sorry. You can call back and say yes”

“I already did. I was just telling you”

“Wow oka-“

——————————————————————-

Originally I believed that when I joined the cast of the outerbanks drew starkey would forget about me, but judging off of the happy smile on his face when he saw me or how his eyes softened when I talked about something I was interested in told me otherwise. I was finally gonna tell him. Tell him I l-

Actually I just shouldn’t go! Yeah. Why face the embarrassment of drew not feeling same! Yeah that’s smar-

Ting!

Madisyn bby

Girl, we need to go shopping for

Dresses ASAP . It’s already 3

And the party IS AT 9

You

Woah woah ok I’ll

Meet you out in 5😭

Madisyn bby

That’s what I thought

You

Yeah yeah 😒

Madisyn bby

GET READY!!

Read 12:45

__________________________________________

“Ok , red or black?” I asked with hesitation on the choices i had just tried on. “Definitely black girl, you look so hot” madisyn replied “maybe match it with some green?” Elaine said “that would look so good” Maddie added with a wink towards Elaine.

“Hey hey what’s up with the winking” I asked panicked “oh you know just Drew’s favourite colour..” madisyn mumbled out. I felt my eye twitching at the three of them I felt the heat rise up to my cheeks

“god you guys” I blushed and ran into the changing room soon hearing the laughter of the 3 girls.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed girlie pop” Elaine teased “easy for you to say your already dating someone ” I whined

———————————————————————Elameeeee

Liked by y/nuser and 21,992 others

elameeeee had too much fun shopping with my girls for season wrap party

Y/nuser I will find you.

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———————————————————————————————————

As soon as I walked into the venue of the party the only that came to mind was my insecurities. Would Drew ever like someone like me? Someone who isn’t as pretty as his ex’s?

Instead of overthinking maybe I should just drink it away .yeah that sounds goo-

“Y/N!”

God what is with people and interrupting me today?! I turned around and looked around not seeing anyone who seemed to be calling my name

“Over here!” I turned a bit to the right and saw

Drew.

Oh my. No no no. I’m not ready yet I was still in the middle of overthinking.

He came running up to me with the cutest grin on his face “hey.” He said out of breath “hi Drew” I responded while looking down because I could feel the blood rushing up.

“You- uh you look beautiful ” he stuttered out after actually taking a good look at my dress. If I wasn’t blushing earlier I sure am now.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself starkey” I giggled out trying to regain my confidence.

I couldn’t help but notice the small blush spread across his face after hearing my comment. God that’s so embarrassing, why did I even say that.

“DREW MY MAN!” I hear non other than Rudy come up. Rudy was nice , I saw him as my best friend, like a brother, Rudy and I were two pods in a pea, me and him grew up together in Atlanta and only moved apart because of high school, we still often texted and chatted but it never felt the same as being with him in person

“RUDY!” I squealed

“Y/n!” He rushed into my arms and pulled me into his into his tight embrace “oh my god , I missed you so much”

He chuckled “I missed you too n/n” he pulled back “look at you, miss hell on wheels”

“You guys know eachother?” Drew asked “yeah, me and Rudy grew up together” I responded Rudy agreeing with me “oh okay..”

“So um let’s head inside?”

———————————————————————

It was currently 1:25 am and observing how everyone was almost knocked out , except for jd and me obviously, who else was going to take care of them?

“I’ll order a Uber for Rudy and Elaine , you should stay with drew,the girls and me , it’s not a problem” JD offered

“Yeah That’d be great , thank you jd” he nodded

Now , the biggest challenge of all, getting them back to the apartment. Sigh, why am I even here.

“Drew come on , let’s go”

“Ughnnn, no I don’t wanna” he wrapped his arms around my waist and stared into my eyes

“Drew-” he put his head into the crook of my neck. God I can feel his breath. It’s okay , just get him back to the apartment and done

“Y/n Come on let’s go!” JD honked from the car

“Come on drew” I practically dragged him out, but what surprised me that he didn’t let go. “Drew let go”

“Nghhhh” he somehow just cuddled in deeper to me

This is going to be a long night.

———————————————————————

Having to drag this 80kg man down a hallway into a bed is like doing bodybuilding.

“Come on Drew go to bed”

“Don’t leaveeeee” he whined

I sighed out of frustration, “okay cmon big boy let’s go to bed” I stepped into bed and stayed on my side of the bed, not wanting it to be awkward.

He tried wrapping his arms around me “heyyy, come closer”

“Drew what has gotten into you” I mumbled, as he wrapped his arms around my waist and stuffed his head into the crook of my neck like earlier today

“You know drew im so gonna make fun o-”

“Do you and Rudy have something going on” he spoke clearly for the first time that night.

WHAT?!

“What are you on about drew.” He still waited for a response “no!” He sighed like he was holding his breath and leaned back into my shoulder.

“I love you” his voice came muffled but , I knew what he said, if it wasn’t so dark , he would’ve seen how red I’d become just from that one comment

“Drew come on your drunk-”

He lifted his head “I mean it.”

Oh my god. Is the world spinning? I can’t breathe!. Okay , no calm, he’s drunk he doesn’t mean it. Your okay yea-

Suddenly I felt lips on mine, it took me a moment to realise what was happening and I kissed back. no this is wrong, I pulled away

“Drew we can’t do this.. not again”

“Y/n , I know you feel it, please.”

I paused thinking of what to say , hearing him plead with his puppy eyes under the moonlight was intoxicating

“Drew your drunk, I won’t do anything, until I know you mean it”

Drew didn’t respond, he slowly made a Noice of confirmation and understood where I was coming from and put his head back down to its original position.

I knew he wasn’t sleeping but it was peaceful knowing we were just lying there. I felt my eyes get heavy but before I let slumber take me I said

“Hey drew..”

“Hmm”

“Tell me that again tomorrow”

I felt him smile against my neck and muzzle into me more

“Ofcourse”

———————————————————————-

The next morning , i woke up with Drew still having his arms wrapped around me and a particular instagram post that made me actually realised what was happening

Rudeth

Liked by madisynBaileybabe and 286492962 others

Rudeth saves this wiles you can people , before y/n wakes up and kills me #y/drew

@y/nuser and @drewstarkey

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———————————————————————

Not proofread

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x female reader #y/n #drew starkey fluff #rafe cameron #rafecameronxreader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks

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loversipod · 1 year

Text

Shy Lover

Summary: Harry is the shy boy in school and y/n boyfriend. She gets to know him over the months and see him growing comfortable around her. So comfortable that he’s ready to make love to her for the first time.

Pairing: shy boyfriend!harry x fem!reader

Wordcount: 3,3k

Trigger warnings: soft dom, use of pet names, light teasing, begging, choking, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, mention of handjob, hair pulling, short mention of scars, protective sex, aftercare

A/N: I don’t write much smut, so it isn’t my best, but it’s soft and caring. Please give me some feedback I appreciate it s lot :) I kinda wanna write more about them

For three months she has been Harry y/n boyfriend. She loves to hang out with him. They always study together at her house or they go on walks.

Y/n noticed how shy he is. When they go out to eat dinner he asks if y/n can order for him. Of course, she says yes. She doesn’t want him to get too nervous around strangers. If he does he picks on his painted fingernails. He’s a good boyfriend, the best she ever had.

Harry hides his hands in the sleeves of his oversized sweaters. That’s one thing she loves about her lover.

Y/n liked him for over two years and finally took the courage to ask him out. She noticed over the two years how he blushed when he talked to his friends about something and often he looked at her. When she was with her ex boyfriend he looked sad and his friends tried to cheer him up all the time. He watched her a lot when she was with his ex lover. He couldn’t help it but always had his eyes on her no matter what.

Harry thought y/n is the most beautiful girl in school. She’s smart, soft, beautiful and so talented. She’s good in art class. He loves her sundresses and her big sweaters. He wants to steal one from her.

There is no reason not to have a crush on her.

"H can I braid your hair?" She asks sweetly. Her eyes scan his face and she sees how his cheeks grew red. It’s adorable to see him like this.

"Y-you want to?" He asks her back in a whisper.

"Mhm, you hide that face too often," and before he knew it his whole face was red. "May I?" She pressed her nose in his temple. He nods. She pulls his grey hood down and can’t help it, but look into his forest green eyes.

Y/n wanted to open his grey cardigan. He laid his hand on y/n. "’M only wearing a shirt, I’ll get cold." His voice comes out in a whisper.

"Okay," she kisses his hot cheek. Y/n love doing his hair. When he allows her girlfriend, she makes her boyfriend some pigtails or braids them. Sometimes she uses just some colourful hair clips. On other days he asks for buns with those colourful hair clips. Sometimes the shy boy asks her to make him some pig tails as well. Harry likes them a lot.

He’s too shy to talk to her on some days, that’s the reason why she always plays music. Y/n parents even talked to her about it and told her to have safe sex. Always use protection and that she doesn't have to do anything that makes her uncomfortable or don’t want to do.

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

After four months of being Harry’s girlfriend he opens up more. He’s still shy, but it gets better. He kiss y/n soft hair that smells like flowers. He loves smelling her hair or just watching her doing her make-up. He sometimes asks if he can curl her hair and of course she says yes. Harry loves helping her.

Harry brought his girl home one time to show her where her boyfriend lives. "Mom isn’t home don’t worry," he says walking into the kitchen. "Food?" He asks simple, still nervous.

"A yogurt, if I’m allowed to," he nods, taking the yogurt out of the fridge and a spoon with him upstairs.

She looks around watching him change out of his sweater into a long arm shirt. It’s the first time y/n sees how he’s looking under his long clothes. Y/n never really thought about how he looks under his big clothes, maybe a little belly that would be cute. But she never thought he had a trained back.

Y/n unlocked her phone and started to scroll on instagram she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable by looking. "Are ya still hungry?" Harry turns around and looks up at him and shakes her head.

In school her lover let y/n eat with his friends just for a few days in the week. It makes him really nervous. She sat there and ate with them. Harry picked again on his fingernails, "you don’t have to be nervous," she whispers in his ear before kissing him on his cheek. He gives her a simple smile and tangles their fingers.

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Harry’s hugs are big, warm and comfortable. He was so shy, but grew more comfortable around her and touched her. He wanted to share physical touch with her. Harry hugs her now, touches her arms sometimes or kisses her face. Or talks a lot more than she was used to.

Today is a day where her boyfriend wants her to stay at his house. His sister is at home and Harry had to introduce y/n to Gemma. "Hi, it’s really nice to meet you. Harry mentioned you a lot." He turns shy, again. Gemma hugged her, they talked a lot. The prince stood by the two girls and held y/n hand patiently. Waiting for y/n to come to his room.

When they went into Harry's room he put some music on and asked y/n for pigtails. She did not put two strands in the braids, because it looks cuter.

H almost dropped his phone, when she pressed her soft lips against the delicate skin of his neck. Harry never admitted it, but he loves tiny neck kisses; it was the tingles that ran down his spine. He loved the intimacy of it. A little moan escaped his soft lips.

She was bold for the first time in their relationship. "S-sorry," she whispers and hides in his neck.

Something snapped in Harry’s head. He doesn’t know she feels that way about him. "Don’t hide from me, pretty girl," he turns his body to her. Harry can see how red her cheeks are. Now she knows how he feels around her.

He puts his hand under your chin and gently till’s her head up. "Hi," she smiles.

"Hi," he kisses her forehead. It's strange for her how gentle he holds her face in his big hands. Her eyes are big and glassy. Even with his pig tails he looks dominant. He freed his hair out of the hair ties.

He wraps his fingers with his rings around her throat and squeezes her sides with light pressure. She curls her fingers around his wrist. No one ever choked her. It's new, but it sends a rush through her body. His grip around her throat gets tighter. She can see the pleasure in his eyes just from choking her.

It’s strange to see his dominant side.

"H-harry?" He loses his grip around her throat. He smirks, he grabs her face between his palms to bring her down to his lips, he kisses her softly for the first time. She’s scared to touch him at the moment. The kiss feels so good, but she’s not sure if it’s okay to touch him now.

"Love?" Harry asks.

"Mhm," he chuckles.

"Can I touch you?" His voice is confident. H’s warm hands are smoothing over her hips. She swallows hard, "it’s okay if you don’t want to," he leans in for a second kiss.

"Do you actually like me?" She asks unsure.

"I can’t stop thinking about you for more than two years. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last when I go to sleep. You’re the best that ever happened to me. You help me a lot. I can’t lose you. I need you in my life. I told my mom about you before we even dated." She hugs him tightly, her eyes are teary. He rubs her back.

"You can," she said quietly, "I‘ve done it only once." She’s insecure about it for no reason. She knows he had more girlfriends in the past so he’s more experienced then her. One of his exes is y/n old friend. She was toxic. Y/n was happy to finally leave her behind. She told her how good he is and what they did even though she knew y/n likes him a lot at that time.

"No sex until you are 100 percent sure," he kisses her temple short. But there is another reason why she feels so insecure about it. "There is still something wrong," he murmured. "What is it?"

Her eyes closed, "you were with Lana and she told me so much stuff, what you did to her." Harry softly kissed her forehead, he stroked her knuckles.

"She was my girlfriend, but I never was intimate with her." Y/n eyes open again. Before her, he wasn’t shy. Maybe she used him, there was a rumour that he has scars on his body. She did something to him. She was never really in love with him. After she left him he was shy and insecure. Her boy won’t be the same. She did something he will never be the same.

She changed him.

"Can we wait a little longer?” He nods short.

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Y/n found out after six months that her boyfriend is shy, but loves to take control in the bedroom.

He often finds an excuse why he needs to see her. Is it for homework or a project he wants to help her mostly it ends in a make out session. All he wants is to taste her lips.

He’s adorable.

H is still so shy around her, but he takes control over her, it makes her feel things. She never thought he could be like this. Not the shy boy.

She loves that about him.

Harry takes y/n out to picnic dates, in the summertime. He surprised her with a lot of dates in the past three weeks. They go book shopping or just go for a walk in the park and feed the ducks.

Harry invited y/n over, he’s alone at home for the next couple of days and he wanted to spend some time with her.

Y/n laid on his bed, he watched the pattern’s of her breathing. He tells her things she never heard before. He asked questions to the ceiling and never knew what she was thinking.

But she liked it, he liked her. He thought a lot about it. He laid his hand on her soft skin and started to stroke her inner thigh, teasingly. He saw how y/n breathing picked up. Her gaze stays on the ceiling above her. His fingers outlined her panties.

Harry loves it when it’s summer and y/n wears skirts and her pretty sundresses. Barney Stinson said it’s never too late to wear sundresses.

"Harry," she whines. His lips leave only a chuckle. It’s mean to tease her, but she looks so cute when she squirms under his touch. He can’t help it.

"Mhm, want me to touch you? Eating you out? You would like that, wouldn’t you?" She nods eagerly. "Words, bunny," he orders.

"Please touch me, need your mouth, please," a smirk grows on his lips. He hooks his fingers in her underwear and pulls her white lace panties down and puts them in his jeans pocket.

He settles his body between her legs and presses some light kisses against her skin. His fingers pull her sundress up to her belly. His plump lips suck eagerly purple bruises into her skin. Y/n reached her hand down to tangle her fingers in between his ringlet’s, "so impatient," he shakes his head and leaves a hickey on her hip bone. His tongue starts with slow board licks, y/n tugs on his hair.

"More please," she whines out. He flicks his tongue skillfully over her clit. She remembers that Harry told her to say what she wants. "C-can you maybe—" she got cut off by a moan.

He lifts his head up, "what do you want to tell me," he teased her by kissing, licking and biting her spread thigh.

"Can y-you maybe, um, suck a-and glide up," Harry nods and hums short. He brings his mouth back down to kiss her clit. The vibrations from the hum shoot through her, with the action she asked for making her eyes roll back in pleasure.

He repeated these actions using the tip of his tongue to play with her clit. All her soft whimpers and moans were music to his ears. He pulled her hips closer to his mouth. One of y/n boyfriend's hands slides down from her soft inner thigh to insert two fingers into her pulsing heat. She immediately clenched down on him. "You taste amazing," he murmurs between each stroke.

Y/n can feel how Harry brings her closer to her climax. "F-fuck…" she whimpers into the air. Her grip on his hair gets stronger, she earns a moan from him. Her legs tighten around his head. "I’m— I’m gonna—" a whiny moan comes over her dedicated lips

"Cum for me, bunny," he said out loud. Some seconds later her mouth leaves pornographic sounds. Y/n eyes are pinched and her mouth hangs open. "Good girl," Harry’s favourite sight. "You okay?" She nods. Harry kissed her hard and shoved his tongue in her mouth to let her taste herself.

“Thank you,” she pulls him down on his neck and keeps him close to her body.

“Can I– can I fuck you?” His voice comes out in a whisper.

“Please,” he opened a brown drawer from his nightstand to look for a condom. Y/n lunches inside, she sees some condoms, lube, tissues and chocolate. “Why chocolate?” She giggled.

“’M hungry after, uh, t–touching myself and too lazy to get something,” his whole face turned red and his voice broke at the end of his sentence. If she asks him, if it’s her she thinks about while doing it, he couldn’t answer her. It's too embarrassing for him. He’ll always be the shy boy around her. Obviously it gets better, but there is a part he always stays like this.

“It’s just me,” she spoke softly to him, kissing his cheeks and seeing some of her juices drip down his chin. “No reason to be nervous, you did amazing.”

“Can I stay dressed? I take off m’jeans and boxers, but not more.” He sounds really insecure, y/n don’t want to ask what it is. Why does he feel like this? She doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Of course she accepts him for who he is. She’s in love with him.

She’ll ask him what he has to hide and why he always wears big clothes at some point.

“Can I help?” He murmurs a quiet “yes” She sits up and fumbles with his belt when she finally undid it, he stands up from his bed and pulls his light blue wide jeans down. Her eyes scan his lower half. A long shirt covers his thighs a bit up. It looks out from under his sweater. “You are so pretty,” a shy smile formed on his swollen lips. H, crawled back between y/n legs.

He lets the loose straps from her dress fall down, “no bra, y’know my birthday isn’t anytime soon.” He smirks at chest. He had an obsession with her boobs. He often just grabs them or hides every bra she left at his house, so she never puts one on and Harry just stares at her chest with a shirt on. He loves them.

Y/n dress hung in her middle, Harry’s boxers lay with his jeans on the clean floor. Y/n gave him a lot of handjobs. But they are both horny teenagers. Knowing he will be inside her is intimidating for her. He’s not small.

He tugs a few times on his cock. “You sure about it?” She whispers a “yes” and takes his soft hand in hers. Y/n have seen him a few times but only a amount of times she can count it on her two hands. He opens the condom and rolls it carefully up. Y/n watched him, his pink tongue always pokes out when he concentrates. “We can stop whenever you want,” he pressed a kiss on her forehead. He grabs the bottle of lube, puts some on his hand and spreads it on the condom.

Her lover noticed how her face scrunched up in pain and he stopped. "Bunny? You alright? Do you want to stop?" He whispers in worry, stroking her cheek softly.

“No you’re just massive.”

“Oh bunny, you never had a cock this big?” She shakes her head, “’M sorry that it hurts.” He pouts and tangles their fingers. “I know you can be a good girl and take it.” His thrusts are slow and gentle. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He wraps her legs around his waist. His shirt and sweater are ridged up. She looks at his beautiful, soft and innocent skin.

The sunlight was bleeding through his curtains. Some whines and moans escaped both of their lips. He kept the pace filling her up to the brim, pleasure filled both of their systems. Harry peppers kisses around her chest, kitten licks her breast. He teasingly took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked lightly. Each time he did that she moaned. “You are so handsome,” her fingers go through his damp hair.

She wraps her legs tighter around his waist and pulls him in deeper with a soft moan. “You are doing great, angel.” His hand holding her face tilted her up with tenderness, kissing her swollen lips as he ground his hips deeper into her due the new angle.

She stroked his cheekbone, her orgasm came over her. She whines and moans into his mouth and Harry is close too. He can feel his balls tightening, heavy and waiting. Two more thrusts and he shoots his load into the condom. His head drops to y/n shoulder as he rides his orgasm out.

He stayed for a short moment inside her, “Aww, did I wear you out, love?” She nods lightly and covers her chest up, he then pulls out of her. He throws the condom into the bin and returns with a warm washcloth and wipes the mess between her legs, clean.

Harry helps her to put on some of his boxers and slides the dress down from her middle. He puts a shirt over her body, “I am officially obsessed with your body.” She hasn't seen his body completely yet but she knows it makes him feel good about himself.

“Hungry?” He asks her while pressing soft kisses against her forehead and cheeks.

“Can we eat some chicken nuggets?” She kisses all over his face, brings him down on his neck holding him close. Y/n don’t want him to leave her for bringing food. She knows it’s important for him to take proper care of her.

“I must say I’m the slightest bit offended that we just had the hottest sex ever and you’re thinking about chicken nuggets,” he chuckles and sees the biggest smile on her plump ips. He went downstairs, put some dinosaur nuggets into the oven. When he comes back he sees y/n snuggled up in his bed with his teddy in her arms. “Love, I have your nuggets,” she opens her eyes, lazily grabs the water glass and drinks it. She eats a nugget. Harry ate some as well.

She kisses his chest and murmurs, "you are the best boyfriend ever,” before drifting off to sleep in his arms.

He whispers in her hair, “I love you,” but she didn’t hear it. She’s asleep. “You’re the best that ever happened to me.” He pulls her closer to his chest and kisses her forehead one last time before he falls asleep as well.

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fab-bladesmith · 11 months

Photo

A Katzbalger, first quarter of the XVIth century. Commission work. Vastly inspired by the beautiful example kept at the Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow. Blade is spring steel, fittings are mild steel and brass, heat-coloured. All fileworked, as you can see, imitating the slash-and-puff fashion so popular with the Landskechte. Grip is horn, as are the scales on the by-knives. Scabbard has a wooden core, with intermediate linen layer, and outer made of vegetable tanned leather. Cheese glue was used, and I think I'll rely more and more on it actually. The chape is mild steel with brass rivets. Again, making this set has been quite the learning experience, if only in better estimating the time some steps take. Looking closely, you'll notice once again what could appear as imperfections to the machine-eye, but it turns out that the only way to make this piece was to go the old way, the long way, and at the end of the day the marks, bumps and other minute details are very similar to those one trained eye can spot on the original. Maybe a sign that I didn't do it that wrong, then ? The Katzbalger itself is 895 mm long, and the blade is 756 mm, with a cross-section of 40x5 mm at its base. Weight is 1170 g, point of balance 11.5 mm from the guard.

#Sword #Epee #Historical #Historique

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usernameforaboredcat · 7 months

Text

New Side

Captain of the Heart Pirates, Trafalgar Law something new about his loving and caring girlfriend while out on a much needed date night.

07:00AM

07:00AM in the morning was the captain’s favourite time of day. Early in the morning, the sun starting to rise and the crew starting to wake up to get started for the day. While the crew was all fast asleep off in dream land their captain was still awake working with one of his consistent all nighters.

Law looks up from his work, looking at the clock in his office to see the time in the morning. He can’t help but let a soft smile raise to his face, knowing that in a matter of minutes-

KNOCK

Right on time. The door slowly opens, a familiar (h/c) girl pokes her head in with her usual happy smile. “Good morning, love!”. She greets happily. “How’s the work coming along?”. She asks as she walks into the office and closes the door with her foot, walking over to his desk. “Morning”. He greets up back, watching her walk over with tired eyes. (Y/n) holds out one of the two cups of coffee, Law happily taking it from her. “Thank you, (Y/n)-ya”. He thanks as he takes a much needed sip.

(Y/n) smiles and takes a sip of her own coffee. The two having matching but colour coordinated cups, since Law takes his coffee with extra coffee and (Y/n) taking hers with extra sugar. “You knooooow there aren’t many calories in coffee, don’t you think you should take a break and I’ll make you a nice meal? And you can only eat so many rice balls to get that 2,500 average”. She explains, breaking the silence.

Law sighs as he sets his coffee down on his desk, not looking at her. “I know you’re a doctor and all but I’m just worried for you is all”. She adds, concern in her voice. He knows that she’s right and bringing attention to it because she cares for him. “I know, you’re right”. He sighs, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his forehead. “And you’ve been cooped up in here for days, it’s not healthy! The others are worried too, even making jokes that you’re dead”. She adds, more concern in her voice.

He chuckles lightly, his heart touched by how much she cared about him. “He would have loved you…”. He whispers under his break. “Pardon?”. (Y/n) asks, tilting her head to the side. “How close are we to the closest island?”. He asks her. “Oh! Uh last time I checked we should be close, maybe around 10 to 12 hours?”. She answers, not fully sure.

He sits up from his seat, leaning on his elbows on the desk. “We’ll head there. Restock on supplies and go out”. He tells her, then reaching for his coffee to take another sip. (Y/n)s face brightens, a wide close mouthed smile stretching across her face as her cheeks glow a pink tint. “Really!?”. She asks excitedly. “We can go to a bar and have some us time”. He adds.

She takes a deep breath and nods, giggling to herself. “That sounds great! I’d really love that!”. She says happily. They sit in a comfortable silence, before (Y/n) looks at the time and jolts. “I should really go get breakfast ready, I’ll come by later with breakfast”. She states, taking steps back as she does. “And try getting some sleep before we dock tonight”. She adds. “I’ll try”. He tells her, his lip turning up in the slightest.

He watches as she scurries to the door, blowing him a kiss before she leaves. He chuckles to himself and takes another sip of his coffee, enjoying its bitterness. Even if he was alone cooped up in his office for hours doing the same old boring work, he’d still think about her. His favourite was the first words she ever said to him, the first time they had ever met and laid eyes on each other. “I like your eyes, very beautiful but stern and scary!”. With a bright smile on her face.

Night had soon rolled around, the ship docking at the nearby island at the sea side village. Law was able to take a few hour nap before getting up and making his way to his shared bedroom with (Y/n). He walks into the bedroom, seeing (Y/n) checking herself out in the mirror in a nice cute dress. She makes eye contact with him in the mirror, turning around and posing with her hands behind her back.

“Soooooo, how do I look?”. She asks him, giving him a little spin. He lets out a chuckle as he walks over, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Beautiful as always, angel-ya”. He answers. She giggles as she turns away from him, cupping her own face. “Aw stop it, you’re making me blush!”. She giggles like a teenage girl. Law chuckles at her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go”.

The pirates set off into the village to gather supplies while the captain and his misses went off to the local bar. The two strolled into the bar, it wasn’t the fanciest of places for a date but time together was better than no time. Law and (Y/n) walks over and sit at the bar, sitting on the bar stools next to each other.

“Two drinks please!”. (Y/n) asks the bar tender happily with a bright smile, holding up two fingers. “Coming right up”. The bartender replies, reaching over and grabbing two bottles, placing them in front of the two. The couple grab the bottles, Law popping his open and taking a sip. A tug on his sleeve causes him to look to his right at his lover. “Can you open it for me?”. She asks with a nervous giggle.

Law lets out an amused chuckle as he takes the bottle from her, easily opening it and handing it back to her. “Thank you love!”. She thanks him, smiling up at him. “No problem, angel-ya”. He responds with a sly grin, causing her to blush and giggle. He knew that she loved that nickname, but it was more him stating what she is.

The couples moment is ruined when loud obnoxious laughter fills the room as the doors to the bar slam open. A group of rowdy pirates walk into the bar, the whole mood of the bar changing. Law glares at the group as he notices their most likely captain walk over and sit on the bar stool a couple of seats away from (Y/n)s. How had he not noticed another pirate ship docked, must have docked somewhere else. Even worse, their filthy captain sitting so close to his girlfriend.

A soft grip on his knee brings him out of his thoughts, looking down and following the arm to see the soft face of (Y/n). She doesn’t need to say a word, her eyes telling him “hey, it’s okay” where he can basically here her soft voice telling him so. Just with her eyes she successfully calms him down, him sending her a soft nod to tell her “I’m okay”.

“Well well well, what’s this pretty little thing doing here?!”. The man’s loud voice sends Law back on edge. He looks back at (Y/n), seeing her smiling still at him as she turns and takes a sip of her drink. “Aw, what’s the matter?! You shy or something?!”. The man questions, leaning closer to her. He jumps from his seat to the one closer to her, sitting right next to her. “Come on sweetheart, no need to be shy”. He flirts, getting right to her ear.

She goes unphased, taking another sip of her drink with a hum. “Hey bartender, can I get the name of this brand? It’s very good”. She asks the bartender in a sweet tone. The said bartender looking at her with a nervous look, looking between her and the man in her bubble. “U-uh yeah, it’s a fruit blend from the East Blue”. The bartender answers, then quickly going back to work. “Hey! I’m talking to you bitch!”. The man next to her yells, literally in her ear.

Law grows more angry and anxious, his whole body tensing up. He feels another soft squeeze on his leg, this time without having to look at her (Y/n) telling him “it’s okay”. “Come on! Think you’re so hot shit you can’t talk to me!? Come on bitch, no need to be such a cu-“. Like in a flash before he can finish his sentence a bottle smashes over his head.

The man shuts up as bits of glass stab into his head as blood leaks from his head. In his dazed state, (Y/n) stands up and grabs him by his collar, pulling him closer to her. “YA WANNA FINISH THAT FUCKING SENTENCE??!! CANT A WOMAN ENJOY A DRINK WITHOUT SOME UGLY FUCKTARD OF AN ABOMINATION SCREAMING IN HER FUCKING EAR??!!”. She yells, spit getting in the guys face.

She throws him to the floor, letting out a small sigh. “Great, now my dress is ruined and I had to waste a good drink”. She mumbles as she looks down at her alcohol and blood covered dress. “Especially on date night”. She whispers, pouting. She sits back down on her seat, her sweet smile back on her face. “Sorry for the mess Mister Bartender”. She apologies, clapping her hands together.

The man looks at the girl with fear, taking a large gulp. “I-it’s no problem, h-h-here! A replacement on the house!”. He says, quickly grabbing a replacement drink. “Aw thank you! You’re so kind!”. She thanks happily, taking the drink and tries to open it. Once again she can’t, so she turns to Law for help. When she does, she sees a face of pure shock on his face.

She tilts her head to the side, blinking. “Is something wrong, darling?”. She ask him. He lets out a loud breath, turning into a chuckle. “Marry me”. He mutters. “Pardon?”. She asks him, raising her eyebrow. “Why don’t we head back and spend some time together while the ships empty?”. He suggests, a very sly smirk on his face. “My my, aren’t you cheeky”. She giggles with a smirk growing on her own face.

Law gets up from his stool and grabs his drink, leaving money on the bar table and holding his hand out to her. (Y/n) smiles as she takes his hand and hops off the stool, grabbing her drink as the two start making their way out the bar. As the two walk out (Y/n) purposefully walks over the man’s body as they leave, her hugging Laws arm and resting her head on him.

Law would never admit it to her or anyone and take it to his grave, but seeing his girl like that turned him on on a whole new level.

#one piece law x reader #one piece law x yn #one piece law x you #one piece trafalgar d law x you #one piece trafalgar d law x reader #one piece trafalgar d law x yn #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d law x you #trafalgar d law x yn

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lcandothisallday · 11 months

Text

Wedding Season - Jack Harlow x f!reader

Summary: Jack is invited to an old friend’s wedding and he’s been convinced by his friends to bring the girl he hates as his plus one.

It was a rather chill summer day for Jack. He had gone to the studio earlier in the day which allowed him to have a relaxing rest of the night. So that’s where he was now, chilling in his living room of the apartment he shared with Urban while the both of them ate the takeout they ordered.

Earlier in the month, both boys were invited to an old high school friend’s wedding back in Louisville and neither one of them had the heart to say no despite their busy schedules. Now there was only a couple days until the wedding and Jack felt like an absolute loser for not having a date.

“You bringing anyone to Colton’s wedding?” Jack asked Urban before he scooped up a mouthful of mashed potato to eat.

Urban couldn't help but smile. “You know how I started talking to Nia again?” Jack nodded, showing that he was listening as he chewed. “Yeah...invited her as my plus one...gonna try to make things official with her after the wedding,” he explained.

Jack groaned, “fuck outta here, man. You letting me ride solo on this one?” he half joked in question. Urban only shrugged with a laugh. “Not my fault you ain't got anyone at the moment...or you know...you could always ask y/n to be your date,” he suggested cautiously.

Upon hearing that, Jack scoffed. “Bro--y’all gotta stop bringing her up I swear,” he muttered. “We have never and will never get along,” he persisted arrogantly.

“She’s Nia’s best friend--”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Jack asked in annoyance. “You just want to get on Nia’s good side but I’m the one that’s gonna end up suffering.”

Urban furrowed his brows before he scoffed. “You’re so fucking dramatic bro. I don't even understand what happened for you to hate her so much,” he tsked. “It’s like you were in love with her one minute during high school--wanting to ask her out for junior prom-- and the next you hated her guts. But whatever man. If you wanna be the hottest rapper out there and still not be able to cop a date then that’s up to you,” he shrugged.

Jack rolled his eyes before he let out a defeated sigh. “I’ll think about it...but no fuckin’ promises,” he mumbled.

You stood in front of the mirror, staring and picking apart your appearance in the dress you had chosen for Colton and Grace’s wedding. It was an outdoor wedding and so you dressed in a simple silk-like dress that hugged your body perfectly and the colour complementing your beautiful and glowing skin. Despite knowing you looked good, you couldn’t help but be nervous.

“You need to stop picking apart your look,” Nia spoke up matter of factly, noticing your nerves, as she applied her gloss. She looked absolutely stunning as well, her dress choice also being the most perfect look for her. Urban was going to be hella impressed to say the least.

You let out a sigh. “I’m not I’m just--I don’t understand why Jack asked me to be his plus one,” you frowned. “I feel like it’s some cruel prank,” you mumbled, smoothing down your dress anxiously.

“Well I mean people change,” Nia pointed out. “So give it a chance. Maybe this is him trying to make amends,” she offered, ever the optimist. “Now come on! We’re gonna be late!” she exclaimed, grabbing hold of your hand before the both of you stumbled out of the apartment with your heels clicking behind you.

As you arrived to the venue, you were in complete awe of the setup. It was beautiful--from the grand archway, down to the details in the flowers that stood as centrepieces on each table.

You took in a breath as you scanned the venue, noting how you were met with familiar faces from your high school days. “This...is gonna be a long ass day. I can already tell,” you whined, your friend humming in agreement.

“There’s Urban,” Nia breathed out with love struck eyes, causing you to giggle. “Ooooh your man looks good,” you teased, causing her to blush madly. “Shut up,” she mumbled while still blushing. “He’s not officially my man...yet.”

When Urban finally set eyes on you and Nia, he started approaching with Jack dragging behind him reluctantly. Truth be told he was nervous. He hadn’t seen you in quite some time and the last time he spoke to you, it was full of hostility.

Urban immediately pulled Nia aside, whispering in her ear and complimenting her in all the ways he should, leaving you and Jack standing alone.

“Hey,” he mumbled in greeting. “You uh...you look nice...I guess.”

You smile awkwardly and begin to anxiously play around with the rings on your fingers. “Thanks. So do you.”

As the night progressed, the tension between Jack and you seemed to linger in the air. Despite the polite exchanges and forced smiles, there was an underlying current of animosity that couldn't be ignored. It was as if both of you were tiptoeing around a minefield, waiting for the first explosion to occur.

After dinner, the DJ started playing a slow, romantic song, and couples began to take the dance floor. Nia and Urban shared a loving glance before swaying together, lost in their own world. Feeling a mix of discomfort and curiosity, you and Jack found yourselves standing near each other.

Jack cleared his throat. “Do you want to dance?” he asked. You shook your head. “Not really,” you responded quietly, causing Jack to audibly scoff. “God you’re such a bitch,” he muttered, running his hands through his curls. “I don’t know why I’m even trying.”

Your eyes widened as you took full offence. “I’m the bitch?! Oh I’m sorry for not wanting to dance with the guy who’s always been an asshole to me! If I remember correctly--you’re the one who blocked me out of the blue!”

“Don’t act like you don’t know why y/n.”

You scoffed. “Actually why don’t you enlighten me because I don’t remember ever doing anything to you to make you hate me so much! I liked you and I thought the feelings were mutual—”

“They were until I overheard you telling your friends you thought I was ugly and that I was stupid for trying to pursue a rap career,” he mumbled.

Hearing that made your heart sink to your stomach. “Jack,” you sighed. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” you say softly. “Because I didn’t actually mean any of that—”

“Then why did you say it?” he asked, his voice quiet and almost quivering. “I really fucking liked you and I know I always played it off like I’m a confident motherfucker but that crushed me.”

Your heart absolutely broke at hearing his confession. “Oh Jack—I only said that because Tina was a bitch and she noticed you and me getting closer and she started saying that someone as likeable and popular as you wouldn’t romantically go for someone like me. She also said that the two of you had started hooking up and it wasn’t long before you would’ve started dating so I had to back off and the only way to protect myself in front of her was to make it seem like I never cared about you from the start,” you explained softly.

“She’s a liar. I never fucked around with her like that—”

“Yeah well how was I supposed to know?! She was the blonde skinny popular white girl—and I was me—I guess it just made sense to me,” you sighed.

Jack groaned, “well that was up to me to decide don’t y’a think? God—I just wish you would’ve just told me or something.”

“Yeah well can’t change the past now,” you muttered sarcastically under your breath but loud enough for him to hear.

Jack licked his lips in thought before a small smirk started to make its way onto his lips. “You’re right…but we can definitely influence the future,” he hummed, taking your hand and pulling you onto the dance floor.

The slow romantic song was still playing so he took the opportunity to take both your hands and place them on his broad shoulders before his own rested against your hips, leading the dance with gentle sways.

Your cheeks were on fire at the entire interaction, but you welcomed it easily, thankful that he was the one that was able to take charge.

The both of you swayed in silence, you choosing to look anywhere but his eyes while he stared intently at you, loving the chance to admire you up close.

“Jack…I really am sorry. I never meant to hurt you,” you whispered, the guilt eating you alive.

“I don’t think I stressed enough earlier how beautiful you look,” he mused, looking down at you with his charming smile.

You can’t help your own smile making its way onto your lips. “Jack.”

“Y/N,” he mocked back teasingly.

“I was being serious!” you laughed.

Jack rolled his eyes playfully. “Isn’t it obvious that I forgive you already?” he asked with a raised brow, his hands giving your hips a squeeze.

You shrugged. “Just want the confirmation.”

“If you let me kiss you would that be enough confirmation?”

“Yes,” you whispered timidly, a blush overtaking your cheeks.

As the words left your lips, Jack wasted no time in closing the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. And then, his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you melted into the embrace, the animosity of the past melting away with every lingering touch. The world around you faded into the background as Jack deepened the kiss, his other hand finding its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and with flushed cheeks, Jack rested his forehead against yours, a contented smile gracing his lips. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

A genuine smile spread across your face as you looked into his eyes, seeing a mixture of vulnerability and hope. "I wish I had been honest with you from the beginning," you confessed. "But I promise, I'll make it up to you."

Jack's smile widened, and he brushed his thumb gently across your cheek. "I believe you," he said softly. "We both made mistakes, but we can start fresh--starting with a proper first date?"

“I’d like that a lot.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x you #jack harlow blurbs #jack harlow fic #jackharlow #jack harlow x y/n

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fan-goddess · 7 months

Note

I AM HERE!!!!! ugh that kinktober list made me so feral bestie, I cannot WAIT to see what masterpieces you come up with!

I would like to send my own request in (if that’s okay) 😌 you already know >>>> Aegon ii x fem!reader with the sex pollen AU (and maybe even the breeding kink + public sex) I wasn’t sure if I could request other kinks from the list, if you only want to focus on the one tho just the sex pollen please 🥹

ilysm 💋💋💋💋

- @lovelykhaleesiii xoxoxo

Authors Note: Hi bestie! Yeah you could request more than one I’m glad to take on the challenge!!! I’ll definitely enjoy encorporating them all!

Warnings: P in v sex, breeding kink, aphrodisiac, public sex, dirty talk, infertility is mentioned in for form of Aegon joking without any thinking, (if I miss any let me know),

Taglist: @humanpurposes, @lovelykhaleesiii, @valeskafics, @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @watercolorskyy, @amiraisgoingthruit , @f4ll-for-you

Your husband Aegon ii Targaryen, the eldest prince of the realm, whilst you loved him deeply yes was easily the most insufferable man you had ever met.

After the insistence of him for you to join him on one of his escapades to fleabottom, and the bribery of him getting something nice for you from one of the many stalls you two liked to visit, to your dismay you found yourself following him blindly and trusting him fully.

A mistake you’ll soon find that out to be…

“Come on my love! The stall I saw yesterday should be right around here…” He says, dragging you along with his hand gripping firmly on your wrist whilst you shake your own head in amusement. “AHA! Here it is! What do you think my love?”

Even you had to admit that this certainly made up for Aegons recent behaviour. The stall held an arrangement of flowers, varying in all shapes, colours and sizes. From where you were standing it looked as if it could barely contain its own stock. Which surprised you considering the almost exotic looking beauty of it all. Though you suppose in fleabottom, not many could afford such beauty.

“So? Which would you like to take home to display my love?” Aegon spoke as he rubbed a thumb on you wrist, effectively bringing you from your thoughts.

“I have no idea nuha zaldrīzes,” You sigh as your eyes dart across the stall. “There’s so many beautiful options I fear I may stay here all day deciding…”

“If I may princess!” A voice all of a sudden brings your attention and when you turn to it, you immediately lock eyes with a beautiful woman. “I may have an idea for the type of flower you both may need. If that is you are willing to allow me to choose for you?”

“Oh please do my lady otherwise as I said earlier, I’ll end up losing my mind choosing!”

“Very well! This my dear, is a flower from my very own home land. I think it would look marvellous in comparison to other flowers, and it would surely start a conversation in one of your lady groups?”

You didn’t dare deny the woman and say she was wrong, as it really was a thing of beauty. The petals were that of a soft purple and it deepened as it got closer to the edge.

When you tilted your head closer to it to sniff at it, you were surprised to feel a strange sort of breeze hit you when you adjust the petal to look closer, yet the thought quickly drifted away as the unique scent hits you.

It smelt like the salt of your skin after you made love to Aegon, mixed with the smell of your favourite fresh strawberries…

“Aegon my love, smell this please.” You beg. When you push the flower closer for him to smell, and he takes a small sniff, you can see his eyes widen slightly and look at the flower in confusion. If the moment wasn’t as confusing as it was to you, you probably would’ve laughed at his face.

Still, after you successfully purchase the flower for some silver coins, and begin the journey home, the sudden tightening grip of Aegons fingers on your wrist brings you from your thoughts.

“Aegon what is it?” You ask. It’s a surprise to the both of you on how breathless you sound. Yet it’s quickly pushed down to make room for the sudden feeling of arousal that enters your system, and the sudden shock you feel when Aegon pushes you into a vacant alleyway.

“A-Aegon what are you doing?!” You shout as he pushes so close to you, he’s effectively trapping you between himself and the wall. You hate to admit it, but as surprised as you are by the sudden turn of events, the ache you feel between your legs seems to take first place in regards to attention.

“You smell so fucking good…” He groans, almost animalistic in his words and his actions to reveal your somehow already sweat covered skin to him.

You should’ve been horrified by his sudden onslaught of lust. You should’ve been acting like a respected wife and begun pushing him off you and insisting this sort of behaviour should happen only in the privacy of yours and his’ chambers. Yet that all seems to wash away as you find yourself gushing more into the soaked fabric of your underclothes the more revealing you become.

All you could think about in that moment though was Aegon fucking you into oblivion, and by the looks of his eyes as they dilate to a deep purple, it was all Aegon could think about too.

“Gonna be my good little wife yes? My good little breeding whore?”

“Yes husband yes!” You whine as Aegon wastes no time in pushing his trousers down enough before sliding your damp underclothes to the side, and pushing his cock as deep as he could inside of you as you wrap your legs round his waist.

Preparation was always usually needed before Aegon fucked you, due to his larger than average size. Yet as he’s currently fucking you into oblivion, impaling you over and over again with his cock as your visible skin is roughly dragged against the wall, the dull ache from him only seemed to heighten your pleasure.

“Oh shit” You whine. Somehow, your orgasm is already steadily approaching quick and fast as Aegons cock bullies your sweet spot already.

Maybe it’s the sudden feeling of Aegon pinching your clit, or maybe it’s the sudden pain you feel of something digging into your bare shoulder? But all you know is that all of a sudden your cunt is clenching down tightly on Aegons cock, milking his cock for what all he has as you cum loudly around him.

It’s a filthy thing, you think, as you feel the conjoined liquids of yours and Aegons dripping slightly down the skin of your thigh. But it’s an even filthier thing to realise that Aegon is still somehow hard inside of you, and that your still feeling aroused than ever.

“Ready for another round dear wife? Who knows… maybe this’ll be where we finally conceive our heir… in a filthy street around the corner from the brothels.” Aegon teases as he nips the skin of your bare shoulder between his teeth, leaving small indents there to distract you whilst he thrusts slowly into your dripping heat over again with a light groan.

“Please Aegon, don’t tease me! I need more!” A wanton sound is released from your mouth as all you can think about it what Aegon said. Maybe you would become pregnant from this. In some dreary common place alley where anyone could walk past and see the both of you… it sends a thrill up your spine like no other.

“Fine! If my wife wishes to be bred like a common woman, then she’ll be bred like some common woman, with my seed dripping down her thighs!”

You don’t know how it happens, but the next thing you know Aegon is using all his energy to keep you pushed against the wall as he thrusts himself as deep as he can inside of you. Maybe it was just in the moment, but you swore you could feel Aegon practically entering your womb at that moment.

Yet the idea of the pain excites you, frightens you even at this sudden rush of arousal hits you.

It also frightens you how you and Aegons sudden thirst for each others bodies are not quenched even after that second round against the wall. Not even a third round satisfies the two you.

The first time Aegons cock finally softens inside of you, is after the fifth round of fucking.

It’s so satisfactory to feel as a whole, yet when the tender aftercare moment is over, the fatigue hits the two of you like a heavy stone over the head.

“What the fuck just happened…” You exclaim as you giggle into the depth of Aegons shoulder.

“I don’t know… but I’m not exactly complaining right now dear wife. Also, I wasn’t lying earlier.”

“Hmm? Lying about what?” You murmur halfheartedly as you attempt to make yourself look presentable as you could. The skin of your back feels raw from the rough friction of the wall, and your legs feel like they’re about to buckle under the stress.

“I wasn’t lying about conceiving our child in this alleyway. Though after that excellent yet unexplainable performance my love, I don’t think we’ll have issue with it. If we did, then one of us has to be barren I swear on the seven!” Aegons swears as he buckles up his trousers and pushes his hair back before moving to help you look presentable.

Much to your amusement though, Aegons hair didn’t look any different to how it looked before the lust took over your systems.

As you begin to giggle from what may or may not be drowsiness, your eyes look over to the discarded flower Aegon bought you that had fallen to the floor seemingly in the hassle. It’s petals still held that soft purple hue, yet the inner pistil seems to have engorged slightly as they spill from the inner part.

Much to your inner amusement though, the sight of two common rats seemingly fucking makes you realise just exactly what brought on this sudden onslaught of lust. Who knows, maybe you’ll visit the lady again sometime soon for some more flowers…

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen one shot #aegon smut #my k!nktober #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii fic #aegon targaryen x y/n #aegon the elder #my works

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bellewintersroe · 6 months

Text

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

part 10 here’s the LINK to part 9. Thank you for reading! Sorry for a bit of a boring filler chapter, I’m gonna really start building on Leni and Max’s relationship from now on, maybe throw in some more drama and complication cos I love it muahaha

Social media start to see something between Max and his team principles daughter, Leni. Max (especially after a few drinks) can no longer hide how he feels towards her.

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24@larastark3107 @maxxiemoo @crashingwavesofeuphoria @18754389

Austin, Texas October 22nd:

Max somehow felt even more out of bounds than he ever had before. I didn’t know how to act, I mean the first few days were kinda awkward. Whenever we spoke it felt like there was something else behind the eye contact we’d make, like there was that familiar tension lingering. ‘Just don’t ignore me’ his words played in my mind over and over. Whenever he was around I could feel the squeeze in my chest, the urge to just smile at him or say hello. “Hi Max.” I did a double take, breaking off from the conversation with Daniel and Heidi. “Hello, Leni.” His smile grew, I broke the eye contact, smiling to myself. When I glanced back at him, he was doing the same, a smile that made my stomach feel all fuzzy. “You excited for the race?”

“Yeah, actually-” he held is breath, bringing his hands together. I awaited his response patiently. “I need you- we need you to help with something.” My face flushed at his correction, tongue pressed to the inner side of my cheek.

“Mhm, what’s up?” I desperately hoped I wasn’t burning such a red colour right now, not as red as Max, because it was painfully obvious. Both of us knew exactly why it was happening, but it was unspoken. “There’s a piece of tare-off that’s gone inside the car, I thought you might have small enough arms to reach it.” I laughed at his response. “Oh great, I can try my best.”

The whole time I was reaching in, it was lucky my dad wasn’t there because I wasn’t bent to an angle that was rather… promiscuous? “Max- my skirt.” I breathlessly laughed, arm still inside the car trying to reach wherever the hell this tare off had gone. I could tell Max was getting a little stressed, he had to be out there soon and nobody could reach this stupid film out.

“Oh, got it.” He reached for the end of my dress, holding it firmly back down to preserve my modestly. My finger tips touched the film, leaning deeper in before retrieving it. “Ah, got it.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Everybody was treating me like the woman of the hour, I kinda loved it.

“There you go.” I handed it back to the gloved driver. Max pulled me in for a sudden hug, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “I love you, Leni.” He proudly announced. Despite the playfulness. “Yeah, don’t let Christian hear that!” One engineer called out as I rolled my eyes, watching them kick start into preparation again. “Thank you.” He rubbed my arm, before breaking apart a little awkwardly. “It’s okay, now you just have to win.” I teased, feeling his eyes lingering over my face. His plump lips were pulled into a smile, one that slightly reached his eyes as his eyelids dropped heavy. He looked beautiful, I couldn’t resist looking back up to him, despite how intimate the moment oddly felt.

“I’ll try.” He shrugged, “good luck.” I gently smiled, nodding before leaving him to get in the mindset before a race. Whatever was between us was lingering there thick. It was distracting enough for me, so I couldn’t imagine how he felt.

I’d spent the race in a mixture of the Red Bull garage, the paddock and the Mercedes garage. A traitor moment of me, I know, but my long time friend Mick, and his girlfriend Laila were here so I enjoyed some time with them, taking lots of pictures with the endless amount of cow boy hats there seemed to be lingering around this place. It felt too stereotypical to say that, but why did the grid have so many laying around?! Half of them were probably Daniels.

After another successful race from Max, the celebrations obviously began in full force. “Leni, Leni, look at this.” Lando smirked, pulling me by my sleeve to one side where I glanced down to a tik tok. “You have tik tok?” I laughed, bringing the cigarette up to my lips.

“You smoke?!” “Only when I’ve had a drink.” I muttered. “I’m telling Christian.” He tutted. “That’s right, bum your way up to a Redbull 2024 seat.” “No way- anyway. Look at this video.” He held the tik tok out to me again, I took his phone in my hand, eyes widening to see the pictures. Lando was snickering like crazy, especially when the audio began playing. “It seems Max Verstappen has been in close contact with Red Bull’s team principles daughter. Leno Horner who is 22 and stunning may I add seems to be taking over the paddock this season and it seems Max in particular has his… well.” The girl backed off to show the picture of Max’s eyes on my eyes whilst I bent over to retrieve the plastic from inside the RB earlier in the day. “-Eyes on her. Max is recently single after his split from Kelly Piquet, and Leni has been single (I believe don’t quote me on this) for some time now. Could we be seeing a new WAG entering the paddock anytime soon?!”

“Will we?” Lando glanced to me with a smirk. My jaw opened to speak. “What’re you guys looking at?” Max questioned and u physically jumped, closing Lando’s phone and shoving it back into his hand. Simultaneously I tossed the cigarette onto the floor before.

“Nothing.” I seriously answered causing Lando to crack up further. I didn’t even have time to react to the video, Max most definitely heard what was blasting and I was emotionally traumatised, embarrassed from the whole exchange.

“Sounded like nothing!” Max nodded, standing beside me and nudging his hand towards Lando’s phone. “Mate, you don’t wanna see the video.” Lando childishly laughed as I pursed my lips, preventing a nervous giggle from escaping. “Mate, I already heard it!” Max spluttered out as I cracked out a laugh. “You don’t wanna see it though.” Lando nudged me. “Why not?!” The Dutch man glanced between the pair.

“Trust me. I’m saving you from a lifetime of embarrassment.” Lando dramatically spoke. Max rolled his eyes and took the one. Lando snickered as he unlocked it for the other driver. “I’m going now-” I began.

“Wha- no Leni, what is it?” Max was dumbfounded, pulling the audio up to his ear. I cringed. “Don’t listen to it.” I swatted his hand back down. Max took my hand in his free one, holding it bay. He looked amused at the video, but I could see vividly the horror contort on his face when he glanced down to see what he’d already been looking at prior. My ass. Lando was laughing like a teenager, taking the phone back from a red faced Max. He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or hide from embarrassment. “Well hey, she has a good ass- if you don’t mind me saying.” “Yeah, I’m not denying that.”

“Max! Deny it!” I laughed, my hand slipping from his grasp. The two boys shared a look and I felt my face warming. “Oh, I’m not even- I’m going. You’re both gross.” I teased playfully nudging Max. Just as I backed off to playfully go find somebody else, Max hurried forwards. “Are you actually going?” He breathlessly spoke. “It is late, I’m kinda tired.”

“But- I didn’t upset you did I? You know with that video?” He innocently spoke. My heart melted and I found myself laughing at his worried tone.

“No, not at all. You know I don’t listen to that kinda stuff.” “Me either.” He awkwardly laughed, walking beside me. “But… stil.” He shrugged. “No it’s fine, Max. I stare at peoples bums all the time.” I shrugged, pushing my way through the double doors where I could make my way to the back entrance.

“I’ll come back with you.” Max commented, scurrying up beside me. “Are you sure? I thought you said you were getting Lando shots?”

“Yeah.” Max waved it off as I paused, standing to face him. Max’s eyes were slightly glassy from being intoxicated and he was a little wobbly.

“He’ll be fine. I’d rather leave, make sure you get back alright, you know? You are more fun than half those people, anyway…”

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x OC #Max verstappen imagine #Max Verstappen x hornerdaughter

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bbyquokka · 9 months

Note

Hi this is my first time requesting to you so hello! (I’ll send a non-anon ask to you so you can see my profile and age💜)

I was thinking about cockwarming with Hyunjin and it being pure comfort and fluff. I notice in fics that cockwarming always leads to sex but I just want to experience it as is.

Just Hyunjin and the reader being very close with each other cuddling in bed after the she has a bad day at university. He seems like the romantic type who would cherish these types of intimate and vulnerable moments where they can feel safe together. He’d even give her his jiniret plush just to make her smile

warmth

FLUFF/SUGGESTIVE THEMES BELOW CUT – MINORS, AGELESS & DEFAULT BLOGS; DNI

warning: fem bodied reader, uni au, established relationship, pet names, cock warming, reader feels insecure, fluff and comfort, semi proof read. words: 0.7k ~ (724)

dont repost. dont translate. feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

“hey darling. how did–oof!” hyunjin groans before laughing softly as you straddle his lap, forehead resting on his shoulder. he wraps his arms around your tired body gently, stroking your back. “rough lecture?”

“yeah.” you mumble against the material of his t-shirt. “i swear this professor hates me.”

“i doubt that darling.” hyunjin laughs softly.

“want cuddles.”

“here or?” you lift your head up and pout, eyes flickering below his waist. “ahhh, ok darling.”

hyunjin picks you up gently and walks to the shared bedroom. he gently places you down on the bed to strip, watching you do the same before getting under the duvet.

hyunjin slides in behind you, lips pressing gently kisses along the back of your neck. his fingers trailing along your sides, feather like touches that drive you insane.

“hyun..” you whimper impatiently. “please.”

“ok ok darling.” he laughs softly before slowly pushing his penis inside you. you both let out soft whimpers and groans, the feeling of being filled and stretched providing you with a strange sense of comfort.

his length is fully inserted, touching untouched territory. your warmth slowly drives hyunjin insane due to the fact that he is addicted to your warmth and how you feel. he presses his chest against your back to provide you with some skin on skin, arm snaking around your midriff and thumb stroking your stomach.

“better?” he softly whispers. you hum softly, giggling as hyunjin kisses your earlobe.

“stopp! that tickles!” you whine. hyunjin carries on for a few seconds before kissing your neck gently.

your walls flutter around hyunjin's length which makes him silently groan. he so badly wants to move but he knows you're not in the mood for sex of any kind. your energy screams 'hold me. i've had a shit day.'

“you're so pretty, you know that right?” hyunjin hums softly. you blush a soft pink, nuzzling into the pillow to hide the embarrassment.

“shh.”

“never. i will keep telling you that you're beautiful and pretty and gorgeous and–”

“ok ok! i–i get it.” you whine. hyunjin laughs before pecking your rose coloured cheeks gently.

“you'll be ok yn. i promise you.”

“will i? i'm starting to doubt that uni is for me..”

“why baby?”

“because everyone around me is so fucking smart and i'm just there. i'm surrounded by all this talent and smartness that it's suffocating but i also feel insufficient. maybe i'm not cut out for uni...” your voice cracks and wobbles. hyunjin furrows his brows before repositioning and reinserting himself so you're facing him.

“my darling.” he cups your cheeks gently, wiping away a few stray tears. “we all have our strengths and weaknesses. you shouldn't compare yourself to others which i know is hard to do when you feel insecure and low but, someone might feel the same way about you.”

“what do you mean?” you whisper.

“well, someone else might be comparing themselves to you. what you think is a weakness about yourself could be what they find strong about you.”

“really?”

“it's possible darling. you shouldn't compare yourself to others. which is hard, i know but you shine in other aspects of life to. you are smart and talented but being smart and talented doesn't necessarily mean what you think it means.”

“no?” you look up at him as he strokes your hair gently.

“you can be smart and talented in many other ways that don't involve solving equations and making art pieces so don't bring yourself down my love. you could hold a piece of knowledge that someone else doesn't know and they could find you smart. just because you struggle in one area doesn't make you any less of a person.”

“hyun...” you sniffle, leaning into his touch. “thank you.”

“anytime darling. do you feel better?” he traces your jawline slowly with the tip of his finger before leaning down.

“much better.” you mumble before pressing your lips against hyunjin's plump ones. the kiss is slow and passionate. his cock still nestled deep inside you, walls fluttering around his length and providing hyunjin with such warmth and comfort.

“i'll always be here for you darling. morning, noon and night and if i'm not here, you have this.” hyunjin hands you his jiniret plush to which you hold close to your chest. “i love you, yn. so so much.”

note: i do love a lil bit of cockwarming with some added fluff !! ty for sending this in, i enjoy writing cockwarming. should really write more of it tbh. don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @unh0ly-dr3am3r ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @telesvng ; @oshimee

#ꃋᗜꃋ .˳⁺ ( anon ) ♡#skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #hyunjin #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

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redahlia-writes · 6 months

Text

practical magic. | javier peña x ofc

Abstract: Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?

There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:

Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.

Words: 12k

Content: original female character (helena goode); alternative universe, magic, death, ghosts, cursing, mentions of drugs, mentions of an abusive relationship, mildly suggestive language, inspo both from the movie and the book

A/N: it's still halloween, right? i'm sorry for the late late posting but, alas, shit happens. i hope you all enjoy this nevertheless <3

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

also on AO3 - masterlist

He will hear my call a mile away. He will whistle my favorite song. He can ride a pony backwards. He can flip pancakes in the air. He'll be marvellously kind. And his favorite shape will be a star. And he’ll have eyes like chocolate, worthy of honesty.

Helena Goode often thought about the petals blowing in the air after her Amas Veritas, her true love. Years had gone by since then—she’d been just a kid, wishing on her true love, her perfect love. Thinking it could not exist—for how could it, when all those women came crying in her aunts’ kitchen in the middle of the night? She’d wished for what she thought could never come to her.

And then there had been Frankie—her love, definitely not perfect, but good, so good. And gone, gone forever, because she had loved him so much. Or so she had thought—maybe that hadn’t been real, maybe there was no such thing as real love, contrary to what her sister said. After all her aunts had played a part in her marriage, and for so long after Frankie’s death she’d tried to believe none of it had been real, so that it would hurt less. So that she would not die of a broken heart.

But, in spite of everything, in spite of her bitterness, in spite of her pain, in spite of the loss, she knew some things had been real. Like the coffee he made her in the morning before leaving for work, like the dinners she fixed before he came back, like the colour they picked to paint the walls of their house; like all the times she’d listened for his whistling as he came back from work; like his kisses, and like their two beautiful daughters; like the laughter during the day and the nights spent awake; like the normal life they’d began living, and the shop they’d dreamed of opening together that now belonged to her only.

Like the State Investigator who stood in front of her at the front door, asking after her sister’s boyfriend. A boyfriend she knew to be dead and buried right there in the backyard. Fuck, she kept thinking, looking at the man in front of her—his eyebrows arched, lips parted under a neatly trimmed moustache, eyes dark as chocolate, and—

“I’m sorry?” she asked, clearing her throat. Dry throat. Sweaty palms. Tongue-tied.

“Is your sister home?” She knew he’d asked that already, and he was being mighty patient about it. “I’d like to speak with her, ma’am,” and then, because she had not moved an inch, “nothing to worry about, really. Just routine questions.”

“Sure,” again Helena cleared her throat, and willed her legs to move. She stepped back, opening the door fully so that she could let him through. “Come on in, I’ll go get her.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, over and over as the man nodded and stepped in, walking past her into the entrance—he smelled of coffee and tobacco, of the desert he came from. Helena closed the door and wiped her hands down the front of her shirt, which she suddenly realised belonged to one of her daughters, with rhinestones adorning the front. Fuck.

“Kitchen is just on your left, I’ll be right back.”

Phoebe Goode was trying her best. Each night she dreamed about James—his eyes, old and clear, staring at her—and each morning she tried to stop carrying him with her, to forget he ever existed, even though she could still see him on her face, in the bruises around her eye, in the split lip on the point of healing—thanks to her sister salve, the one that smelled of roses. She was trying her best, ignoring the awful fact she felt him still, knowing that the deepest relationship with a man of her whole life was with a dead man.

So she wore blue for protection, and had asked Emma, her niece, to lock her cigarettes away, and tried to sit in silence to meditate and push him away, out of her mind, out of her life for good. She was even back at the house, where she’d sworn she would never go back, because it was safer, because of her sister.

Her sister, running up the stairs, out of breath, in a shirt that did not belong to her and a skirt that must’ve been older than her, so dishevelled-looking Phoebe felt her heart drop for a moment, figured the next words out of her mouth would be James, and honestly anything after that could be awful, because he was. Had been.

“There’s a cop. Agent. Someone,” Helena was gasping, her voice an alarmed whisper. “He’s looking for you. And James—but he asked for you.”

“That’s fine, we can manage,” perhaps the meditation was working, because even after hearing his name she could still think without panic closing her throat. “I’ll tell him I haven’t seen him in days, and I came here because we’re done. And if he asks, you’ll just say—” she stopped, frowning at her sister as she shook her head. “What? You’ll just say you’ve never seen him.”

“Here’s the thing,” Helena reached for her chest, still shaking her head, still out of breath. Her head was spinning, and her heart—God, her heart—felt like it was about to explode. “I don’t think I can lie to him.”

“Of course you can,” Phoebe scoffed—but her sister was still having a hard time breathing, her eyes so wide she looked like a deer spooked half to death. “Get over yourself, Lena. It’s fine. You’re just having a panic attack.”

“I don’t think it’s that. I just—the way he looks at you,” she inhaled sharply, a strangled noise scratching her throat and making her sound like a wounded animal, then exhaled, breath stuttering. “I can’t sit there and just lie to him. I know I can’t.”

“You have to, Lena,” but her sister’s eyes darted around the attic, where Phoebe was staying in. She snapped her fingers in front of her face, making her recoil. “Listen to me, you have to. We know nothing, nothing happened.”

Helena and Phoebe had grown up knowing that something was real because they believed in it. That was what gave things power—magic, words, talismans. But what happened when two people believed two different things? How did the universe cope with that? Was James dead and buried in their backyard, under lilacs that were growing wildly out of season (girls in the neighbourhood had begun to whisper that if you kissed the boy you loved beneath the Goode’s lilacs he’d be yours forever, whether he wanted to be or not), or was he back in Laredo, or off somewhere else, left behind by his girlfriend?

Javier Peña was wondering the same as he stood in the odd kitchen of an odd house, there on Magnolia Street.

There were no clocks and no mirrors, in that house, and the floors creaked anywhere but where he stepped; light came pouring in from big, wide windows, showing an even bigger garden with lilacs out of season and more flowers and plants that he could recognise or count—rosemary and lavender, roses and daisies, carrots and an apple tree that reminded him strangely of home, but all seemed like a dream through the thick glass. Each piece of furniture inside seemed dusty, but when he ran his fingertip across the dark wooden surface of this table or that cabinet, no dust came away—no need for polishing anything in there. It smelled of cherrywood. It smelled familiar.

It was a familiarity Javier had not been ready to face—he touched the pocket of his jacket, felt the paper tucked in there crinkle at the touch, and a moment later, as if summoned by thought alone, Helena Goode came back down the stairs, slightly more dishevelled looking than before.

Helena had clearly been in the kitchen when he first knocked. He knew because he could almost see it, like a ghost moving around the stove, stirring a pot that had since been turned off, its content left forgotten on the back burden. He knew because she’d called Hold on at the third rattle of his knuckles across the door, matter-of-factly, as if she’d been expecting him. The mere sound of her voice had thrown him for a loop, the patio under his feet shifting unsteadily, and he could’ve followed the sound there with his eyes closed.

He thought then he could be in trouble—and when she’d opened the door, he’d known he would. Because he’d looked into crystal clear pools of grey and begun drowning, down and down without anything he could do about it. His father had once told him that witches caught you like that: with a look. If you ever meet a woman like that, you run the other way, no matter what, for your own good. There’s no cowardice in safety. But Javier had no intention of running—he’d rather drown, over and over, if it meant she looked at him like that a little longer.

She stood at the end of the stairs, perfectly still, with that ridiculous shirt with rhinestones across her chest and her dark hair down past her shoulder, brushing the sliver of uncovered skin at her waist. She was beautiful, Javier thought, so ridiculously beautiful he got a lump in his throat just looking at her. For a moment, before her Can I help you? at the door, he’d almost forgotten the reason he was there. He almost forgot it again when he saw her shake her head at the end of the stairs, and had to touch the letter tucked next to his heart again.

“Can I get you anything?” her voice sounded different as she strode into the kitchen. “My sister will be right down. Coffee?” she wasn’t looking at him, and Javier wished she’d just stop and turn to face him, if only to forget himself again in her eyes.

But Helena wouldn’t turn. She wouldn’t look at him. She woldn’t look at his face, and his neatly trimmed moustache, and his lovely dark eyes. She wouldn’t look at the lines on his face he was way too young to have, and the loneliness embedded in each of them she knew could be found in the silver strands of her hair, too. Helena figured he was not a man who hid things, just like he was not hiding the fact he was looking at her—she could feel his eyes burning on the back of her head, and she couldn’t believe the way he was staring at her. Looking at her like that.

It was how dark his eyes were, the problem. The way he could make someone—her—feel seen from the inside out.

“Coffee’s fine,” he said, forcing his gaze away. He looked outside, where in the distance, still filtered like a dream, he could see clouds gathering, a distant storm that seemed to have followed him there. Javier’s father had taught him to predict exactly when a storm would hit just by the location of lightning, so that he could prepare the ranch in time to brace for it.

He’d never been very good at it. He thought that lightning, like love, was never ruled by logic. Accidents happened, and they always would.

He looked at Helena again, her back still to him—she was watching the coffee brew, her arms crossed, fingers tapping nervously against her elbow. Javier looked at her and thought she was familiar to him—he’d thought that ever since getting her letter, the one tucked next to his heart, but to see her there in front of him, flesh and bones and long hair and clear eyes, really settled it for him.

He’d heard about it happening to other men—his friend Steve being one of them. Going about their business one minute and suddenly they found themselves without hope. They fell in love so hard they never got up off their knees again.

He’d never thought it would happen to him. Javier was all business—he always had been. It was his need to figure out the why of things, of people. Money, love, fury—those were the motivations he found usually, in his line of work. James Hawkins fell in the money category, of that he was sure, with perhaps a sprinkle of fury in the shape of his ring marked on the bodies.

Javier had been looking for that ring at Hawkins’ place—he’d seen it in pictures, read it in descriptions, remembered it from the few times his path had trailed along Hawkins’, because Laredo wasn’t that big of a place, and faces grew familiar over time—when the letter had arrived.

Crumpled and torn in one corner, the flap already opened, Javier had looked at it and thought he should’ve taken it directly to the office. But an open letter was hard to resist, even for someone like Javier, who had resisted a whole lot in his life. But that letter was something else, something tempting, and he gave into it.

He never regretted it.

He had just sat there, on the patio of the house of the man he was looking for, and read the letter Helena Goode had written to her sister. When he was done, he’d read it again. And again. And twice more midair, and then while he had his lunch, and once more when he’d settled in his hotel room. Even when the letter was folded back into its envelope and stored in the pocket of his jacket, the words came back to haunt him—whole sentences written by Helena forming in his mind.

Javier had been close to people, and while he didn’t have that many friends he was content—he’d even almost gotten married after high school, although that’s a topic no one ever brought up, not even himself. But he’d never once felt like he’d known anyone the way he felt he knew the woman who had written that letter. It felt like someone had ripped a piece of his soul out of him and formed into words. Words he was so taken by he wouldn’t have heard, seen, or felt a thing as long as he was reading them.

I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm, or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen.

Javier wanted to tell her that he saw her. Right there in front of him, and even when she was not there, when he had not the faintest clue what she looked like, he saw her. He saw her standing, moving the coffee pot from the fire. He saw her pouring the coffee in three mismatched cups. He saw her hands shaking as she did so.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and she recoiled as if startled by his voice.

“I think I’m going to sit down,” Helena said, casually, as if she didn’t seem about to collapse.

Still she brought two of the cups over, almost spilling the contents of one, and collapsed onto the chair opposite Javi with a shuddering sigh, her cheeks flushed, her chest fluttering. She wondered if drinking coffee would be a good idea at that moment, still feeling as if her heart might explode, but needed something to keep herself busy, so she brought the cup to her mouth and gulped down the scalding drink, burning the roof of her mouth and her lips.

“Why are you here?” she asked then, bitterness coating her tongue. She was used to sugar in her coffee, most times a dash of milk. “I mean, I understood what you told me—about Phoebe’s boyfriend—but why here?”

She saw the man hesitate—he did not strike her as someone who hesitated in anything, but he was pondering her words and how to best respond to her, his lips shifting to draw in a breath, and then exhale. He reached for his jacket—he still hadn’t taken that off, and with the movement it hugged his shoulders tight, seams pulling uncomfortably—and, from one of the inner pockets, took a piece of paper that he handed to her.

“I mailed that to my sister ages ago,” Helena recognised it immediately—that letter she was so grateful had never reached Phoebe, but also wished it had a little earlier, so she wouldn’t be in that mess. There’s a halo around the moon tonight. I think trouble is coming. I wish you’d get out of there. Come back home. Alone. “You opened it,” she added then, a little baffled.

He hadn’t just opened it. He’d read it. The paper consumed from being folded over and over again, each line marked deeper where it bent, words slightly smudged as if someone had run their fingers over each and every of it.

“It was opened already,” he retorted, justifying. “It must have gotten lost at the post office.”

“But you read it,” the cup was burning her palm, the letter her other hand, her face was burning too under his gaze.

“Maybe a thousand times,” Javier admitted, his voice dropping.

“It was a very personal letter,” she whispered too, feeling the tightness inside her throat and belly and chest grow, and grow, and grow until it was choking her. That had to be what a heart attack felt like. Perhaps she was about to end up on the floor unconscious.

“I know,” the man said, and at last she looked at him.

He saw her but, Javier knew, she saw him too. She could’ve seen how Javier wasn’t sure how far he’d go to cover for someone—he’d never been in that position before, and he despised the way it felt. But he was there, sitting in her kitchen, drinking her coffee, a total stranger on a humid day, wondering if he was going to look the other way because of her. She could see all that—or at least, she hoped.

And then Phoebe came down. Noisy steps down the stairs, announcing her presence to the entire world—she always had that about her, always managed to bring the attention to her, with her lovely strawberry-blonde hair and her long lashes and full lips. Even with the bruises, even with the wounds, even with her fear embedded so deeply into her skin it was painful, Phoebe was beautiful.

Still, Javier focused on Helena, and it wasn’t until her sister stood at her side that he caught a glimpse of her. Night and day, that’s what the aunts called them. He didn’t know, but he would’ve agreed—so starkly different, yet seemingly in tune with each other.

“As I’ve said your sister, I won’t take up much of your time,” Javier cleared his throat, offered his hand to Phoebe as he stood. He missed the feeling of his letter against his body, but Helena was clutching it tight, pressing it against her stomach. “It’s just a couple of questions, routine checks.”

“Of course—agent, is it?” Phoebe’s voice was soft where Helena’s was strong. She took up space just by standing, her arms folded in front of her as she held the third cup that had been on the counter.

“Yes, ma’am—Agent Peña.” Only then did she take his hand, a delicate shake before turning his palm up towards her face, peering down with an interested hum.

“You’ve come a long way just for a couple of routine questions, Agent Peña.” Her thumb ran along one of the lines on his palm, tracing it with a feather-like touch. Her brows knitted for a moment, confusion locking on her features (eyes darting towards her sister) before she shook herself. “I see here it’ll be worth the trip,” she mused, tapping his palm.

“Right.” Again he cleared his throat, and pulled his hand back. “When was the last time you saw James Hawkins?”

“Ah, a man of action,” Phoebe scoffed lightly, then shrugged. “Couple of weeks, just before I came here. It just wasn’t working anymore.”

“Is he responsible for that?” he asked, gesturing towards her face, the bruises.

“As I’ve said, it wasn’t working anymore,” she tipped her chin up, leaned with her hip against Helena’s chair. “I have no idea where he might be. If a man hits me, he only does it once,” Helena’s breath hitched, her grip on both the cup and letter tightening.

“What about the car? The one with the Texas plate—it’s registered in his name,” Javier thought he might as well reveal all his cards from the beginning. Neither sister was stupid, but still Phoebe was lying—he knew she was. He had seen that look before, countless times: people who are guilty of something think they can hide it by not looking at you. Or looking at you too much.

Helena wasn’t looking at him anymore—again. Phoebe was staring him down. But Helena wasn’t looking at him, because she knew, she was certain, that could not lie to the man. She feared her eyes would betray her too, like her heart was doing, like she imagined her words would if she were to say anything more.

“I took it when I ran,” Phoebe said, sighing. “And I know that’s wrong, so you may take it right away—I just needed a way out. That was the fastest.”

She was good, Javier managed to think in that haze-like feeling he’d found himself in since he’d walked into the house. Since he’d seen Helena. Her eyes.

“And you have not heard from him since?” Phoebe shook her head, sipping on her coffee and grimacing—too bitter, too strong. But it helped keep her mind away from the times she had heard from James—in her dreams, nightmares, really; or when she was distracted, and his voice crept into her head; or when she looked in the mirror and his reflection stared back.

“I have not,” she smacked her lips, the taste of the coffee lingering on the tip of her tongue.

“Alright, well,” Javier picked his cup and drank most of the coffee that remained—he liked it that way, black and strong, it reminded him of his father—then went to the sink to rinse the cup. Helena watched him while his back was turned, and almost smiled at the way he let the water slosh from side to side enough to get any residue off before settling it upside down. “If anything comes to mind, I’ll be around a couple of days longer—I’m staying at the Hide-A-Way Motel.”

“Really?” was the first thing Helena said in what felt like ages. Javier turned around—he was just stalling then. He wanted to remain there, with her. He wanted to keep on looking into Helena’s eyes and drown, drown, drown for days. He saw nothing else but her eyes.

“Lady at the car rental desk suggested it—it isn’t half bad,” he shrugged, and smoothed his jacket down. He felt the absence of the letter when he ran his hand across his chest, and the paper did not crinkle under his touch. Helena curled her fingers around her words. “Nice area.”

“It is,” she should know—her shop was one street away from the motel. She’d picked the area with Frankie because of how nice it was, close enough to the park it gave the impression of being around nature, but not so far from town that nobody would walk by the shop.

Phoebe watched the agent and her sister look at each other and frowned—for a moment, what she’d seen on Peña’s palm flashed before her eyes again. A new beginning, a line cut through by something, someone he could not escape. It had been written on his skin since the beginning. Some fates were just guaranteed.

“If I happen to remember anything else, I’ll come around,” Phoebe said, cutting through the crackle of energy that passed from one to the other. It was as if she’d woken them up from a dream, a dream made of only looks and silence. “You can have the car taken away.”

“Great,” he cleared his throat, and forced himself to back away. He knew that if he lingered any longer, he’d never want to leave. It was hard enough already. “Thanks.”

Helena felt like she was losing her mind.

The night before, a ring had appeared around the moon. A halo around the moon was always a sign of disruption—but it was a double ring, all tangled up, anything could happen. Helena didn’t like the thought, and she hadn’t been able to sleep all night.

The sparrow that used to fly each midsummer’s eve into the house on Magnolia Street had come back, out of season, round and round the dining room—her daughters had counted each circle: three. Three meant trouble, it always had. She’d chased it out with her sister, both of them on edge.

And it rained. All night and through the morning, one of her daughters standing by the window looking at the lilacs being hit by drop after drop, tapping her fingers nervously. Emma was looking at the man in their backyard, who stared back at them like from a vision, a nightmare rather than a dream. She was hoping he would go away, but the bad weather did not bother him—he seemed to relish in the black skies and the wild wind, and the rain passed through him. Emma thought—she knew—it was his fault that things were going amiss in the house, even though she didn’t know the extent of it: pipes rusting and the tile floor of the basement turning to dust, nothing in the refrigerator would stay fresh.

Both sets of sisters fought, loud and mean and just like he wanted them to. Emma would’ve liked them all to stop. Helena thought of chopping the lilacs all night long, but had to go to work.

And then there was Javier. Agent Peña, who walked around town and talked to everyone and was always there when she turned around from the counter. Javier, with a cigarette hanging from his lips at every street corner. Always there, always there, always there.

“Fuck!” Helena exclaimed, when the jar she was trying to place on the shelf fell and shattered on the ground, shards of glass flying around her ankles and the contents—curled dried leaves—spilling across the clean floor. “God, give me a break.”

“Are you okay, Lena?” a voice called from the other side of the shop. Helena didn’t have many friends—it came with the Goode name, being shunned away. But Crystal was one of the few who did not shy away, besides being a good employee. “Let me help you.”

“It’s alright, I just haven’t been sleeping well,” she went to gather the glass and leaves, both crunching as she moved the broom across them. “But could you put the kettle on? Maybe some tea will do me good,” even though she craved coffee desperately.

She’d craved coffee ever since she’d met with the agent. Black and bitter. She could smell it in the air around her, no matter which room she walked in, or which street—along with tobacco and more. She’d never smoked a cigarette in her life but now felt her fingers itch as if reaching for one.

Crystal obliged without question—she’d learned early on that many things around Helena Goode just did not make sense, and there was no point in prying. It had been that way since they were children. Her mother liked the Goode aunts, said that it was not their fault for more than two hundred years their family had been blamed for everything that went wrong in town.

Some people are just different. Most people are just stupid to be afraid of it.

She remembered their classmates being terrified of the day a bunch of cats followed Helena to school—witchery, they called it. A witch and her familiars. Nasty, nasty creatures, the whole lot of them. But Crystal remembered Helena being kind and poised, she remembered her balanced lunches, and the way she always looked out for her sister. She still did. Why people would think Helena and Phoebe had any evil in them escaped her.

Goode women ignored convention; they were headstrong and willful, and meant to be that way.

“Thank you, Crystal,” Helena said from the kitchenette, throwing away the spoiled merchandise..

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go home? I can look after the shop,” but even as she asked, Helena was shaking her head, lips trembling with her deep inhale. “Lena, did something happen?”

“It’s not—” a bell. The shop’s bell. Helena looked up from her mug, the smell of lavender easing her headache a little, and then turned. “I’ll get it.”

He was everywhere, always there, always there, in her shop, too. Helena stood frozen next to the counter and looked at the agent who was looking around—a feeble attempt at not immediately turning towards her, not falling into her eyes right away.

“Yes?” she managed to ask, her throat dry once again. Just by his mere presence.

“I’m afraid I forgot to bring enough toothpaste,” Javier lied. He’d thrown an almost full tube in the bin just that morning—still wasn’t sure why. Maybe because so many people had told him about Helena’s shop, just around the corner. How the woman was the way she was, but her products were amazing.

“You could’ve gone to the market,” she said, but placed her mug down and moved to the shelf anyway. Once she wasn’t looking at him, she managed to exhale again, but still his eyes burned on the back of her head, and she suddenly felt conscious of the fact she probably had forgotten to brush her hair in the morning.

“Yes,” he retorted, and didn’t add anything else. He knew he could’ve, but he didn’t want to. And he could’ve told her it was because so many people had recommended her stuff, or because the shop was closer to his motel. But he didn’t.

“Any allergies?” she asked, moving the stool closer to the shelf.

“No, ma’am.” She paused, one foot up the step as she bit her tongue—just a moment, then she climbed and grabbed a jar, the label scribbled so hurriedly it was unreadable, the dark paste inside a stark contrast with the white paper.

“Charcoal—whitens the teeth,” she moved back down, the counter between them as she handed the product to him—her eyes flickered towards the cigarette that he’d tucked over his ear, shaking her head lightly. “Nasty habit,” she muttered, lowering her gaze.

“I’m aware,” Javier chuckled—as he took the jar, he grazed her fingers. Helena pulled back as if she’d been burned, fingertips curling into her palm and pressing harshly. “Does this stuff actually work?” he cleared his throat, turning it in his palm to glance at the label again.

He knew her handwriting. He could read it like the back of his hand. I have this dream of being whole.

“It does,” Crystal called as she walked in from the kitchenette, and Helena leaned over the counter and reached for her mug—anything to keep her hands busy. “See for yourself. On the house.”

“He can’t accept it on the house, Crystal,” she said, moving back. “There’s an investigation ongoing—isn’t that right?” it looked as if she might turn to him while she addressed him, but didn’t. Again.

“That’s right,” Javier cleared his throat, shuffling a little. He was so close to the counter he could feel the edge of it dig into his stomach, and forced himself to look at the other woman. “But are you giving me your word? That it works.”

He was a charmer. Helena knew already—Crystal was just finding out. She wanted to ask what investigation Helena was talking about, what was happening at the house on Magnolia Street that she desperately did not want to go back, and what was happening with the agent so desperately trying to meet her eyes.

“Cross my heart,” she said instead, because she knew this would be another inexplicable moment. She’d made her peace with it. “Swear to God, this woman is a magician. Let me ring you up.”

Helena hid her face with the mug, the dwindling steam turning her cheeks a soft shade of red. At the same time, Javier scoffed lightly.

“Right,” he muttered, reaching for his wallet. “Heard that one before. Thanks.”

It took a moment for Helena to register his words—she was trying so hard to not hear him, to not focus on him, that she didn’t understand what he was saying until he was out of the door, an echo of the bell ringing in her mind.

“Wait, what?” she placed the mug down, looking up at his back behind the glass. “Hold on.”

She shouldn’t have gone after him. She should’ve known better. Helena spent her whole life being vigilant, she spent her whole life relying on logic and common sense, she’d taken care of everything from the moment her parents had died, and then again when Frankie had died—she thought about everything.

She had to, because otherwise how would her kids have made it to fourteen and fifteen?

She had to, because if she stopped thinking about everything, what exactly was she left with? Her thoughts and worries are the only reason she continued to exist, of that she was certain.

Never look back, never change direction, that’s what she had to tell herself. Don’t think about being alone in the dark, or storms or lightning and thunder, or the true love you won’t ever have. Life, she knew, was brushing her teeth and making breakfast for her kids and not letting her mind wander.

But that was a lie—from the beginning Helena had been lying to herself, telling herself she could handle anything: her parents dying, her sister relying on her, her aunts’ reputation, Frankie, Frankie’s death, the spell, the year where everything went grey, her children, and now this. She’d grown tired—she didn’t want to lie anymore. One more lie and she’d be lost. One more lie and she’d never find her way back through the woods.

And it’s all because of him.

“What did you mean?” she stopped abruptly when he did, taking a step back when he turned to look at her. She tugged her cardigan close, the wind whipping the ends around along with her hair, and tipped her chin up with her arms crossed, finally, finally looking back at him. “Heard that one before?” she echoed. “Is that why you were at my shop?”

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s because I needed toothpaste, and I’m just around the corner,” she scoffed lightly, shuffling her feet. “But actually, yes, I heard a bunch of stuff that doesn’t make sense at all, so I’d like to understand.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my job,” he retorted. “Because, seriously, I have heard it all. A family of witches, a curse, your own husband—”

“Don’t,” she snapped, and for a moment Javier recoiled, saw the truth in the words of all the people who had warned him off Helena Goode. With her hair dancing in the wind, and her cheeks still red, and her eyes oh-so-clear, like a storm incoming, he understood. “Do not bring Frankie into this.”

“Hard not to, when it’s everything this town talks about,” he took a step forward, her whole body seizing up. “Do you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me? People tell me you’re here cooking up placenta bars, that you’re into devil worship.”

“You think I don’t know that?” her voice was lower, and pulled him closer. “All my life, this town—I know what they say about me, I know what everybody thinks.” She wanted to move away—she wanted to lean in. She remained still. “All my life I wanted nothing more than to be seen as normal, but that’s just not the way it is. I don’t have a ranch house or a white picket fence, I don’t have a husband that’s alive anymore, I don’t have—” she cut herself off, unsure as to why she was so ready to pour her heart out to a stranger in the middle of the street. “I don’t see how that’s my fault.”

“I never said it was,” Javier spoke softly, a gentleness that felt foreign on his tongue but rolled off easily when he looked at her.

“Then why are you here?” her chin was still up, but she was looking down at her nose, careful to avoid his gaze—it made him believe that she, too, felt that tug in the pit of her stomach. She was just better at controlling it.

Your letter, he almost said. You.

“James Hawkins,” he replied instead. “A guy like that doesn’t simply vanish.”

“And would that be such a big loss?” she scoffed, tightening her arms around herself. “A guy like that—wouldn’t it be so much better if he did just vanish?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, and felt his hands move before he could control himself. “But I made a vow, and I have a job—” his fingertips grazed her arm, and at that she pulled back.

“As do I,” one hand moved to the point he’d brushed, holding the spot as if it hurt, tight against her chest. “So unless you have something you want to ask me, Agent Peña, I’d rather get back to it.”

“Are you or your sister hiding James Hawkins?”

“He’s not here, no.”

“Did you or your sister kill James Hawkins?” he asked, and her eyebrows arched.

“Oh, yeah. Couple of times,” Javier sighed, and forced himself back, his hand now itching for his cigarette. “Is that all?” he put it between his lips, ignoring the frown forming on her brow.

“Yeah, sure,” he didn’t light it up just yet, but reached for the lighter nevertheless—he missed the letter in his pocket whenever he touched it. “Bye, Helena.”

He watched her go back inside the shop with her shoulders pulled back tight, steps unsteady, and only when the door was closed, the echo of the bell ringing in his ears, did he light up the cigarette.

She watched him go away from inside the shop, with his steps matching the thundering of her heart.

“What is wrong with you?” Phoebe watched her sister kneel on the ground, pruning shears in hand and purple flowers all around her, on her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m tired of seeing these every time I look out of the window,” her breath was short—the flowers seemed endless, she cut and cut and cut and still they were there. “And the smell—I hate it. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Lena—Lena! It’s just flowers!” although Phoebe knew it was not entirely true. Mostly, she ignored the lilacs, and everything that was underneath it. Especially what was underneath it. “Stop it, before you hurt yourself.”

“Oh, now you’re thinking about that?” Helena dropped the shears and stood, the soil on her jeans already a stain she wouldn’t manage to remove. “Now that there’s a cop after us? Now you think I might hurt myself?”

“So what? We stick to our story. No body, no crime,” she gestured towards the lilacs. “There is not a single reason why he should think we’ve done something, unless you give him one.”

“But we did, Phoebe. You understand that, don’t you?” she hissed, walking up to her sister. “We fucked up, and somehow I’m still the one who’s cleaning up your messes,” Phoebe’s eyes widened, mouth set in a thin line. “I’m sick of this.”

“I never asked you to, I never—”

“Enough lies, Pheebs. Aren’t you tired?” Helena smelled like the lilacs, and her headache was back, stronger and stronger as the storm approached from the horizon. “I know I am. I’m so tired of lying.”

“What are you talking about?” Phoebe had lowered her voice, and was looking at her sister as if she could not recognise her. “Lena—you can’t do that,” even as she said it, Helena walked past her, brushing her hands down the front of her jeans. “You can’t go to him,” she said, following her. “We’ll both be sitting in jail if you do. What about the girls? Why are you even thinking about it now?”

Helena wasn’t sure why. She knew she’d woken up smelling cigarettes and coffee again, and the lilacs, and the nightmare still clinging to her eyelids, making her feel unrested as she had for the past days. Weeks. She wasn’t sure anymore. All she knew is that her throat hurt from all the lies she’d told Javier, and she wanted to come clean, to tell all—she wanted someone to listen to what she had to say and really hear her, the way no one ever had before. So she’d gone to work, and back home to cut the flowers, and as sundown approached she would go out for Javier.

“Don’t tell me about the girls now, when I spent half my life thinking only about them,” she said loudly, marching in and out of room after room of the house, grabbing things she wasn’t even sure she needed. “And you? You only ever thought about yourself. You left me here. You lived your life. And you dragged me back in just to save your ass.”

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” Phoebe screamed too, from the middle of the house, following the noises of her sister as she stomped around. “I lived my life and you hate me for it!”

“I don’t hate you, Phoebe.”

“No, no, sure—you’re unbelievable. You spent all your life trying to be normal and fit in, but you never will! You know we’re different, and so are your girls,” Helena stopped abruptly to look at her.

“That’s twice now—you leave them out of this,” she said with a scowl so similar to that of their mother’s, if only either of them could remember her.

“All my life I’ve wished I had half your talent—you’re wasting yourself, Lena,” Phoebe cried, and for a moment she sounded just like the little girl who had just gotten to the aunts’ house. “And now you—what? You’re gonna turn yourself in? Or get down on your knees and beg for mercy?”

“If I’ll have to, yes,” Helena said without a second thought, fixing her sister with a look. “I’m done.”

They both measured themselves harshly, always had, as if they had never been anything but those two plain little girls, waiting at the airport for someone to claim them.

If you go against what you believe in, you’re nothing. That was another thing his father liked to say—and Javier knew he was right. So he was going to stick to his plan: fly back home and give up the case to the poor bastard who was supposed to get it from the beginning, had it not been for the letter. He was going to go back to work as usual, forget about the whole ordeal, forget about grey eyes and dark hair and his own heart.

Heart, heart, heart beating to the sound of the knocking on his door, that for a moment he’d thought to be rain pattering on the ground and the roof, such the strength of the storm was. But he heard it, and when he opened the door, Helena was there, shivering and looking up at him.

“You want a confession?”

In his line of work, Javier had been trained to notice things, but he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Part of the reason was that he’d been imagining Helena everywhere he went. So maybe it was just an illusion, a desire of his heart turned into a vision.

“What?” he stepped aside and, water falling from her hair, Helena walked in, trailing mud behind.

“You want a confession, don’t you? It’s why you’re still here,” she was shaking, arms crossed over her chest with wet clothes clinging to her. “We killed James. Technically, I killed James. I used belladonna.”

“I know,” Helena frowned, moved the hair out of her face with trembling hands.

“You know?” she sniffled, part from the cold part from the smell attacking her nostrils—coffee and tobacco and, surprisingly, food.

“I found some in the car—saw the same thing in your shop and had it analyzed,” he closed the door, careful to not turn the lock, leaving her a way out as he moved back towards the kitchenette. “His ring was in there, too. There was blood on it. Have you had any dinner?”

“I—what is this, some sort of joke?” she asked, slightly out of breath, and stepped in his direction. Javier scoffed, his back to her as he shook his head a little.

“Far from it,” he muttered, turning the stove off. Still, he didn’t move to look at her—if he did, he wouldn’t be able to say what he had to. He could feel her shiver, just a few steps from him, and it took everything in him to not reach over and grab her and hold her close. “But I have no idea what to do from here. I can’t say that I’m sorry Hawkins is gone, and I can’t—”

“Javier—” he exhaled—it was the first time she said his name, and he gripped the counter with both hands as he closed his eyes. Through the rain, and the soil, and the smoke in his room, he could smell lilacs and that same scent that had clung to the letter, which had bled onto his fingers each time he reread it.

“I was gonna turn over the case,” she held her breath at his words—he heard the light hiccup as her lips sealed, and slowly turned, though his gaze remained lowered. “I can’t say I’m impartial anymore—I can pretend, but I’m not. I no longer can tell what’s right and what’s wrong and you—you came here, and what did you think would happen?”

“I don’t know,” her voice was small, and Javier knew she was looking at him—the roles had switched, he could feel her gaze burning across his skin. “That’s the thing, I don’t know. I’m tired—of lying, of hiding, of those fucking flowers,” she sniffled, and from the corner of his eyes he could see her rubbing her arms. “The thing is, I’m pretty sure it’s because of you, and I can’t stand it—because I know I’ll get hurt, and my sister will get hurt, and my children, too.”

“Then why,” his voice had dropped slightly, and he took one more step forward, looking up at last—they were standing so close now, heat radiating off of him and clinging to her chilling bones, “are you here, Helena?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her hands seeking him before she could even realise. “Maybe this,” her letter was almost destroyed, wet and crumpled as she held it between them.

Fear or loneliness—she wasn’t sure she could distinguish them anymore. When the deathwatch beetle had started ticking for Frankie, then she’d been afraid. When she’d stopped speaking and seeing colours for a year, and her children had been by themselves, then she’d been afraid. When she was young, and she sneaked down the stairs with her sister to see what the aunts where up to, then she’d been afraid. In that moment, she was terrified.

And lonely. She’d never felt more alone or lonely before in her life. She wished she could’ve believed in love’s salvation, but truth was desire had been ruined for her. She wished she’d never spied on the aunts’ and seen their customers crying and begging and making fools of themselves. She’d become love-resistant because of that and, with her sister, sitting on the roof of the house, they’d wished to look up at the stars and not be afraid of it.

But, just like trouble, love came in unannounced and took over before she’d had a chance to reconsider or even think about it—Frankie first, and now—

Amas Veritas—she thought about it again, looking into Javier’s dark eyes. He will hear my call a mile away—she’d been just a child, so stupid, thinking that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, to play with. But real love, she’d learned, she was learning, was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didn’t let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.

She’d learned that with Frankie, and now—

“Oh, don’t,” she whispered when Javier’s hand brushed along her arms, foregoing the letter—and moved closer to him, pulled by gravity, by forces she couldn’t begin to control. “Javi—”

He believed he was going to cry—because she was saying his name again, soft and gentle and like she’d known it all her life, and his hands were tracing a path up her arms like he knew exactly the shape of her, and trying to learn it by memory all over again.

He wasn’t even sure that was not the case. Perhaps a part of him knew her already, always had.

He had stumbled into love, of that he was certain, and was stuck there. Javier was used to not getting what he wanted, he’d learned to deal with it, but with Helena in front of him he couldn’t help but wonder if that had only been because he’d never wanted anything too badly. He did now.

“I just do this,” he said, voice sad and deep and causing the hair at the nape of her neck to stand on edge as he leaned closer, towards the hand she was offering to him like in prayer, and she brushed his cheek as he sighed. “Pay no attention,” he said, but she did. How could she not?

He was there, and she shifted toward him as if to brush her hand along his face, but instead ended up with her arms looped around his neck, his own wrapped around her, holding her closer.

And Helena was terrified, because suddenly she wanted whatever he was promising her, with his lips so close and words so soft she told herself don’t listen, but she couldn’t, because whispers of I’ve been looking for you forever inched their way underneath her skin, warmed by his hands. She wanted to get lost—she, who couldn’t function without directions, needed it. Him.

Everything she did those days was so unlike her usual self that when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window behind Javier’s shoulder, she couldn’t recognise herself. Looking back at her was a woman who could’ve fallen in love if she’d let herself, a woman who didn’t stop, not even when Javier moved her hair from her neck, the wet locks sending a shiver down her spine that only intensified as the man bowed his head a pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat.

What good would it do her to get involved with someone like him? She wondered—because the last time she did, she loved so much she got hurt to the point a part of her had forever vanished. Or so she had thought, because with Javier’s lips brushing her skin, the light tickle from his moustache making her eyelids droop, she could’ve believed something had come back alive behind her ribs. She suddenly felt like she had to press a hand down against her chest to make sure her heart wouldn’t escape her body.

“Helena—” he whispered, his arms tight around her—the droplets of rain clung to his lips, the taste of her flooding his senses, overpowering everything else. She sighed again, a shudder running down her spine, unsure if it was from his voice or the cold settling in her bones.

Although, if she were to be honest with herself, she’d say she wasn’t cold. She was burning, really, Javier’s body so close she could memorise it by touch alone.

“Maybe I’m letting you do this so you’ll stop the investigation, even with my confession,” she said, his head straightening—his nose brushed along her jaw, her cheek, and her eyes remained closed. “Have you thought about that? Maybe I’m so desperate I’d fuck anyone, including you.”

There was a sour taste in her mouth with each cruel word, but she didn’t care—she forced herself to open her eyes, she knew she needed to see the wounded look on his face with each bitter word. She needed to stop it—whatever it was—before she no longer had the option to. Before the freedom she had longed for forever slipped through her fingers, and she was trapped again in pain, just like the women who used to come at the aunts’ back door.

“Helena,” Javier said again, mournful, and she could almost taste her own name falling from his lips. The tobacco, too. Her mouth parted on instinct, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw down towards her chin, brushing her bottom lip. “You’re not like that.”

“Really?” she scoffed lightly, the noise remaining trapped in her throat when she lifted her gaze to his eyes. “You don’t know me. You just think you do.”

“That’s right,” he nodded, and the tip of his nose brushed hers—one tilt of his chin, one tip of her head, and the agony would be over for both of them. But for the moment they were just suspended in time. “I think I do. I do.”

“Let go,” she told Javier, and it sounded almost like a plea. “Let go of me.”

He did. He would’ve done anything she asked of him. Let go, hold tighter, kneel, jump into a fire. All of it. So he let go of her, even if it hurt, both of them taking one step back—her arms immediately wrapped around her middle (an attempt to trap his warmth close to her skin), his hands tingling with the loss of her.

“Helena—” he said once more, her name more and more familiar on his tongue.

“You have your confession, and you have your proof,” each word felt like shreds of glass in her throat, while she looked away forcefully—in the window, her reflection was almost familiar again, still a little wild, but recognisable. “It’s up to you. You know where to find me, once you make a decision.”

“I do,” he repeated, somewhat stunned, his mind reeling. She took one step to the side, heading for the door. “It’s still pouring outside.”

“I know,” she only said, and went nevertheless.

For hours her perfume remained in the room, clinging to him for so long he didn’t even notice the smell of his burned dinner. So long the letter had dried on the floor where it had slipped, enough for him to reread it, again and again until he’d managed to fall asleep.

Helena couldn’t stop thinking about Javier. From the moment she’d walked out of the motel room, he had been all she could think about—on the drive home through the storm, in the warm bath to wash the cold away, doing the dishes, in bed, unable to sleep, dreaming about him while wide awake and in the few hours she’d managed to close her eyes, too. Haunted, just like her sister.

She dreamed of the desert, an apple tree in a yard that wasn’t hers and bloomed without water, and horses that ate apples from that tree and ran faster than all the others, and a man who was taking a bite from a pie she’d made, bound to be hers for life. She’d woken up smelling apple pie and cinnamon, coffee and tobacco.

So it was no surprise when Javier showed up that same morning. She almost heard him coming. Yet she couldn’t face him right away, so she hid inside, behind her sister, still skittish, behind her daughters, still confused, behind the pretence of making breakfast.

“He’s staying!” Sophia, the eldest of her daughters, announced, running from the garden to somewhere past the living room—Helena sighed, eyes closing. “Aunt Pheebs! He says he’s staying!”

Helena wondered if, without the feeling of Javier’s hands still on her, she would’ve wondered why Phoebe would care whether or not the man investigating them was staying at their place for breakfast. She wasn’t even sure whether she was glad he was staying or just nauseated.

“Can I help?” Emma, much quieter than her sister, stepped at her mother’s side and pointed at the stove, a half-burned pancake smoking on the pan. Helena threw the failed attempt away and nodded, forcing a smile onto her face—she knew the man was in the room with them, she could feel him watching the two of them from the entrance, could see him in her mind as he leaned against the doorway.

“Be careful,” she murmured, taking one step aside, then another, and more, her own steps echoed by Javier’s. They met halfway across the kitchen, her still not looking at him while his eyes never once left her.

“’Morning,” he hummed, shoulders brushing—Helena moved aside, ignoring the sharp pain in her hip when she bumped into the table.

“Good morning,” she cleared her throat, brushing her hands down the front of her shirt—and then lowered her voice. “Why are you here?”

“You told me I knew where to find you once I’d made my decision,” he replied, matching her tone.

“And have you?” her hands began going numb as she clenched them in fists at her sides. She could still feel Javier looking at her.

“I’m going back to Laredo,” her gaze snapped in his direction, so fast the whole room spun as she inhaled sharply, holding her breath. “I thought you should have this. After all, it belongs to you.”

It took her a moment to manage to focus on the paper he was handing her—her letter, now ruined, a half-destroyed piece of paper she’d poured her heart over, more than once. When she picked it up, their fingers brushed just like the first time, and Helena almost cried out in pain.

“Now, something smells like it’s burning,” she could see the strain in his neck as he turned away from her, looking at Emma. One more moment and then he walked ahead. “Need a hand?”

“I was trying to flip it,” Emma mumbled, a pout forming on her lips that made her look more like her mother. Javier chuckled, settling at her side. “Do you know how?” she asked suddenly, a hopeful note in her voice Helena hadn’t heard in a while. Her chest constricted, watching the man smirk and roll up his sleeves.

“I absolutely know how to,” he nodded with a theatrical gesture. “Step aside and observe.”

Amas Veritas, dancing in Helena’s head as she watched Javier, fitting so well in her kitchen, flip pancakes in the air and making the young girl laugh. It had been a while since Emma had laughed like that, and for a moment she was her soft-voiced and shy 14-year-old again, who liked to look at the stars and sleep with her head on Helena’s lap.

But then her shoulders tensed, her whole position shifting, taking one step away from Javier to turn towards her mother, even though her eyes went past her. Helena knew, without having to turn right away, that something was terribly wrong.

“Mom,” Sophia came running in, breathless, and immediately clung to her arm, tugging harshly. “Something’s wrong, mom,” the panic in her voice settled in Helena’s bones, mixing with her own, and she was quick to push her daughter behind her back, stepping away from the door. “It’s aunt Pheebs, she—”

“It’s not her,” Emma’s voice was grave, so unfitting for a young woman, and she inched closer to her mother, too. Which left Javier at the stove, looking at the three of them with confusion and alarm. “It’s him, it’s the man of the lilacs.”

“What?” perplexed, Javier took a step forward, only to be stopped by Helena’s extended arm, while she pushed all three of them behind her just as Phoebe walked into the kitchen. Accompanied. “What the hell—” Javier exhaled, reaching for his belt.

“Agent Peña!” James exclaimed, translucent as he came into the light. Javier’s head started spinning as he stared at him, then at Phoebe Goode, her arm trapped in his vice grip made of fingers of smoke, then back at him. “Long time no see. How’s Laredo? I think I’m starting to feel homesick.”

As James spoke, Helena had started stepping backwards, her gaze never leaving Phoebe—the two sisters were looking at each other, guilt and fear and resolution in their gazes that no one but the younger girls could notice, the familiarity an ache on the palms of their hands as they held each others’, keeping close, keeping behind their mother.

“Helena,” Javier called, his gaze unwavering as he took hold of his gun. “You said he was dead.”

“Yes,” she nodded, and for a split second, Phoebe’s eyes showed surprise.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he retorted, and James scoffed.

“You’ve all spent weeks pretending I’m not here—well, almost all,” he tilted his head, gaze settling onto Emma, and smiled. Helena pushed her daughter into her back, the girl hiding her face against her shoulder, clinging tighter onto her sister’s hand—Sophia held her chin high, squeezing back. “It’s gotten boring.”

“Then leave,” in Phoebe’s voice there was all the rage of the Goode women before her. But then James turned, his grip tighter on her arm, and Helena watched her sister’s legs tremble. “Just leave us alone,” she pleaded, eyes widening.

“No,” James chuckled, pulling her closer—Javier could see the strain in the woman’s shoulder, her face contorting in pain, and could not wrap his head around it. James Hawkins did not look real, or at least not real enough to hurt them. Still, he felt uneasy, even more so when he spoke again, his head lowered next to Phoebe’s. “I’m feeling very into sisters right now,” his gaze flickered towards Helena, too, a grin taking over his pale face.

Javier wasn’t looking at her, but he felt Helena straighten her back, look at him, and then turn. He heard her whisper to her daughters, possibly holding them closer, to run into their aunts’ room and be mindful of the salt. He heard two sets of steps backtrack, and watched James’ face shift into disappointment.

“Oh, Lena, Lena, Lena—you really do take the fun out of anything, don’t you?” he took one step forward, dragging Phoebe with him—the woman cried weakly, trying and failing to escape his hold.

“Hey,” only now that the kids weren’t in the room did Javier lift his gun—although he was sure it would do nothing to stop the man, and his widened grin only confirmed it. “Let go of her.”

“And you,” James groaned, even as Javier placed himself between him and Helena, “you never, ever learned when to just give up,” the two men looked at each other—Javier’s gun lifting, James’ hand reaching out for him. “You should let the adults—”

Before the sentence was over, James screamed, letting go of Phoebe. Helena ignored Javier’s surprised gasp in favour of her sister tumbling to the side, quick to reach her before she could even touch the floor.

The same floor where a star shimmered, catching the sunlight. Javier carried it with him everywhere he went, in remembrance of his father, the star-shaped badge he’d lived by for ages before retiring. Javier did not believe in luck, good or bad that it was, but he did believe in reminders: of doing the right thing, always. Of never losing sight of who he was.

He picked it up right as James straightened, a hole in his near-invisible hand that echoed its shape. Without thinking, without considering, Javier held it up right as the other man—or whatever was left of him—screamed in his direction, unintelligible words that probably would’ve resounded like threats, had Javier been able to hear a single one.

Instead, he stared as the figure vanished, with one longer scream and a curse, the air darkening in front of his eyes and then dissipated into nothing, leaving him to look at the corridor that brought to the stairs, a ringing in his ears.

“It’s okay, Pheebs,” Helena’s voice slowly brought him back, words repeated soothingly as she still held her sister. “It’s okay, it’s alright,” reassuring, in spite of her trembling voice. “I need you to call the aunts, Phoebe. I need you to tell them what happened. Can you do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Phoebe was still saying, her eyes unfocused though she looked up to Helena.

“I know, I know—but can you?” Javier could almost see it—nights spent with Helena reassuring her sister, hidden under thick blankets or on the rooftop of the house beneath a sky full of stars. “Please, I need to go to the girls.”

“Oh, the girls,” Phoebe exhaled, and released the grip on her arm. “Of course. Of course. I’m sorry.”

Helena didn’t wait, though she lingered enough to rest a kiss to Phoebe’s temple, before standing and walking out of the kitchen. It took Javier a moment to come to his senses, and then he went straight after her.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, his mind still reeling, forgetting for a moment the effect he had on her. “Was that him? Did I kill him?”

“Yes, and no—technically,” Helena didn’t stop, heading for the stairs she used to sit on when she was a kid to spy on the aunts. “It was his spirit, which you banished. But I told you, I killed him. And you can do whatever with this information after, but right now—”

“Hold on just a goddamn second, all right?” Javier grabbed her arm, pulling her right back against him. A split second in which they looked each other in the eyes, and all that had happened the night before came back, all that had been left unsaid before hit them square in the chest, and in that split second, they could’ve almost forgotten all else. “What are you talking about? His spirit? I came here to bring in the bad guy—generally, that’s what I do, and now you’re telling me about spirits?”

“Is that why you came here, Javier?” she stood her ground, her arm still in his hold. “Be honest.”

“Honesty,” he scoffed. “I thought I did—and then you were here, and your letter—maybe that’s what brought me here. Maybe it was you. And I’m all mixed-up about that.”

Helena was looking at him with that storm still brewing in her eyes, and Javier felt his knees threaten to give out underneath him. His hand fell from her upper arm, down her elbow and wrist, brushing the palm of her hand. She took a slow breath in, lips trembling.

“The reason you’re here and you don’t know why is because I sent for you,” she said, quietly.

“I know why—”

“You don’t,” she interrupted him. “When I was a little girl, I worked a spell so I would never fall in love. I asked for qualities in a man that I knew couldn’t possibly exist,” she shook her head, while his fingers wrapped around her limp hand. “But you do.”

“So,” he scoffed, “you’re saying that what I’m feeling is just one of your spells?”

“Yes, it’s not real,” it sounded like it pained her to say, even though Javier knew she was telling the truth. Or at least thought she was. “And if you stay, I wouldn’t know if it was because of the spell, and you wouldn’t know if it was because I don’t want to go to prison.”

“All relationships have problems,” he muttered, and she gave a small, unamused laugh.

“I thought I loved Frankie, but that was another spell too,” for a split second, she held his hand back, squeezing her fingers around his to the point it hurt. “Still, you don’t want to know what happens if you stay. We’re all cursed. You saw that,” and just like that, she let go of him.

“Curses only have power when you believe in them, Helena, and I don’t,” clenching his fists, Javier stepped back from her. “You know what? I wished for you too.”

Helena knew. He’d told her the night before, his lips etching each word onto her skin.

But she watched him go nevertheless, glad he managed to take the steps she couldn’t.

Helena was tired. She had been tired since lying on the floor next to her sister, watching as she was being consumed from inside. But all of that was over. She’d stared at the letter from Laredo for days after that, keeping it stored with the other one written in her own hand that carried the mark of both her touch and his.

She did her best to not think of him. It was near impossible.

James Hawkins’ cause of death was accidental, read the letter. His body was identified by jewellery in the ashes of a body found in Laredo, right by his property. The same ring he’d told her was in his car, the car she’d driven, the car she’d spilt belladonna in.

Sincerely, Javier Peña, special investigator.

“I don’t think you’ll find him there, Lena,” Phoebe said softly, when she caught her reading the letter once more. “But somewhere else, perhaps.”

For days, she let the words linger. Days turned into weeks turned into months, his absence like an emptiness into her chest. She’d almost convinced herself it would pass. That, with time, that too would pass—just another pain, just another absence. She could deal with it. She could.

And then Javier was there, in her backyard, or at least that was what she thought she was seeing, because it couldn’t be. How could he be there, when he was in her dreams just that night?

“What would you do, Pheebs?” she whispered, her heart beating so loud she wouldn’t be surprised if everybody else could hear.

“What wouldn’t I do, for the right man?” Phoebe whispered in return, gently pushing her forward with a wide smile. “This is not the aunts’, this is the two of you.”

All the while, Javier looked at them, standing perfectly still like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do, one of his hands half-raised as if in greeting but without waving, the other buried deep within his pocket. He looked at them, and watched Phoebe quickly lead the girls away even when they tried to run to him, and then Helena walk in his direction.

“A love that even time will lie down and be still for,” he said as a way of greeting, once they were standing one in front of the other. “Ever since I went back, time hasn’t felt real, because you weren’t there. And maybe you still believe it’s for a spell you did as a child, or your aunts’ fault—”

“How do you know about the aunts?” it was hard not to smile when he fidgeted like that.

“Your sister told me,” he returned, softly. “Your sister called.”

“And you’re here,” she said, a half-step forward in his direction.

“I’m here,” he nodded, moving the hand out of his pocket and reaching for her tentatively. “I’m here because I know this is real. No gimmick, just—”

“Love?” she suggested, and the glint in her eyes reminded him of the moon itself.

“Love,” he repeated, their fingers interlocking. “Helena, I mean all of it. I’ll even quit smokin’ if—”

She kissed him, plain and simple. Pulled his hands so that he was stumbling forward and caught his lips with hers, gentle, slow. She kissed him, and as Javier held her, he felt like he’d finally gone home. She kissed him, and felt that empty space in her chest filling with the taste of coffee and tobacco.

Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?

There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:

Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.

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