#she will probably ask the person that help them move here he can talk french he talk to us from time to time !

[yoohyeontual]

My neighbour just knocked on my door and asked me for help, but she can’t speak French or English and I can’t speak Spanish, so we are using Google translate to communicate, but what she asked was too complicated for me to help 🥲

#she wanted help cause she got a credit card and the letter is in French #it says that she need to go on the site or call to activate it but she’ll need to answer questions #the only way I could help is doing it for her but I would need to know to many personal information I shouldn’t have #not that I would use them but idk my moral is telling me know :’) #she will probably ask the person that help them move here he can talk french he talk to us from time to time ! #i Hope she can figure something out I feel so bad 🥲 #I’m glad Google translate exist tho omg 😭 #we were able to give my other neighbours a kitchen table by communicating like this we were so happy ! #my dad already wanted to learn Spanish cause he like latin music and cause he travel for vacation in country that speaks it with my mom #but now he wants to learn it even more so he can communicate with them and help if they need something #alex.txt

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

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Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling. 

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life. 

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same. 

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?”   Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

 Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

 Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?”  “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

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It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

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The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute. 

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to. 

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties. 

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it. 

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does. 

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much.  Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and..  Shit. You’re looking back.

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Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose  you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in. 

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear. 

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations. 

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away. 

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point. 

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

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side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

click 4 more!

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #lesbian #ᝰ like a french girl

[thezombieprostitute]

Sparks Fly - Part 4

Summary: After working as an engineer for Wilford & Gilliam Trust for several years you find evidence of seedy dealings and burned books. After turning in the evidence you find yourself in danger and seek help. You're taken into the protection of a mob family where you run into your high school best friend, Mace.

Word Count: ~1200

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

“DC,” Mace whispers between kisses. “DC, we gotta stop.”

“What? Why,” you whine as he gently pushes you away.

“You’ve had a roller coaster of a week,” he explains. “Your emotions have been, understandably, all over the place. I want to make sure you’re in the right state of mind, that I’m not taking advantage of you.”

You can see the pain in his face as he says this. It’s clear he wants to keep going but he’s putting your emotional needs first and it makes you want him more. But you know he’s right. You hug him tight and ask, “can we still cuddle on the couch? Make out some more?”

“Absolutely,” he breathes, making you giggle. “Want to do that now,” he asks.

“Gotta finish the fries first,” you tell him, moving back to your seat. He chuckles and nods, “okay. I submit to french fry superiority.” You giggle and he continues, “we probably should use this time to talk about what’s going to happen during and after your testimony.” You sigh but nod in agreement. “I’m currently waiting to hear back if I can be with you at the courthouse but I’m hopeful. Between GBH, Barton and maybe Fowler we’ll have at least one person outside the courtroom and one inside. The third would most likely be outside the courthouse."

“And you trust them,” you say more than ask. 

He nods in affirmation, “absolutely. They’re really good at keeping people alive.” You pause your eating and he thinks, “there’s probably a better way I could’ve worded that. Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I know what you’re trying to say.” You resume eating your meal so he continues. 

“As for after your testimony, I know from previous experiences that you’ll have a few options. One of them is your standard Witness Protection. We’ve got some connections with the Federal Marshalls and we can get you to them. New name, new city, and some protection. The other version of that is we set you up with a new name and enough money to start a new life in a new city. One of the primary differences being we could get you set up in another country all together.”

“What if I don’t want to leave?” 

“What?”

“I worked so hard to get where I am, I don’t want to just drop everything and leave.”

“DC, these people are trying to kill you. What’s the point of holding onto everything if it just leaves you dead?”

“I’m going to die eventually, regardless of whichever option I choose. I might as well choose the option that makes me happy. What makes me happy is living here, being with you again.”

“I…I don’t know,” Mace admits. “I’m not sure how much protection we can actually offer if you’re not working for us. You’re doing everyone a huge favor by testifying, of course, but…”

“Will you at least look into it as an option, AC?”

He thinks for a minute, eyes never leaving yours. “Let me call Teach,” he finally says. “If there’s a way, she can find it.”

“Thank you, Mace. I really appreciate it.”

“Mace,” Teach says over the phone, “I’m gonna need you to put me on speaker for this.”

He quickly pulls the phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker so you can hear as well. “Done,” he tells her.

“Ms. Y/L/N, can you hear me?” Teach’s tone is very serious. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” you’re quick to reply. 

“I’m going to ask you some questions and I need you to be completely honest with me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you nod, even though she can’t see you.

“What is your primary reason for wanting to risk your life by staying in this city?”

You pause. She’s not beating around the bush at all. “My life is going to be at risk in any of the scenarios I was presented with. It’s just a matter of to what degree. The relocation options would certainly make it difficult for me to be found, especially the international one. However, the people who might occasionally check in on my safety have no investment to do so other than pay obligations. Additionally, I’d never know if I could actually trust anyone. I wouldn’t be living beyond going through the motions. I’d spend my life looking over my shoulder with minimal support.”

Looking at Mace, you continue, “whereas if I stay here, I have people I can trust. People who are invested in my safety."

“Will you accept one of the other options if we are unable to provide you the protection and means to stay?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“One last question,” Teach says. “Is your primary interest in staying because of Mace?”

You hold Mace’s free hand, fingers interlacing with his, “I’ll admit he is a major factor. But, as he pointed out recently, we’ve only been back in each other’s lives for a couple of days. I have a life here that I’m not willing to just give up without a fight. Or at least exploring all of the options. I understand your organization may not be able to offer more than this one time protection and one clean slate and I accept that. But I have to try.”

Teach is quiet for a moment, “okay. I’m gonna need a copy of your resume. Mace will know how to get it to me. In the meantime, please make sure to take care of yourself. You’ve got your testimony in just a couple of days. Which reminds me, Mace?”

“Yeah, Teach?” Mace moves closer to the phone.

“You’ve gotten approval to be in the courtroom but you are not allowed to actually be in proximity. Huffman needs to make sure none of our people are seen too close to her or the Defendant might be able to claim witness tampering.” 

“Okay,” Mace nods. “That makes sense. Just so long as someone tells me what room to be in and when I can go in on my own.”

“And Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Yes, Teach?”

“You’ll have to be careful to not make too much eye contact with Mace. I understand you want some emotional support for this, but we have to be careful to make sure your testimony isn’t dismissed.”

“I understand, Ma’am.”

Teach hangs up and you curl up against Mace. You work with him to get a copy of your resume to her quickly.

“Do you think she’ll be able to find something,” you ask Mace after he sends the file.

“If anyone can, it’s her,” he assures you. “She’s quite the fighter, especially when she thinks it’s for something that’s right.”

“I hope she finds something,” you whisper.

Mace nods, “in the meantime, we should make sure to get you ready for your testimony. Like she said, I won’t be able to be with you but you’ll see me. I promise.”

“Thanks, AC. I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

Tagging:

@chibijusstuff

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@rebekahdawkins

@texmexdarling

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#mafia!james mace #mob!james mace #james mace x reader #mace x reader #mafia au #mafia!mace #mob!mace

[autumnwritcs]

for @thedevilsbckbone ;; moving our previous andy & matthias thread

“Thanks,” Matthias said with an amused chuckle when she complimented how good his English was. “Yeah, I’ve had a bit of time to perfect it. My family used to visit a lot too when I was a kid so we spoke English quite a lot. So it wasn’t too bad once I moved here.” He said with a small shrug. She wasn’t the first person surprised by his English and knew she probably won’t be the last. Of course, she was the only one so far where this little detail about himself almost got her to not like him. It was a bit comical now that he thought back on it. 

He remained where he was standing, leaning more comfortably against the island as he watched her move about her kitchen as she worked to make them both coffee. He couldn’t help himself as he let his eyes trail down her figure when she turned to put water to boil. Though he only allowed himself a quick glance before lifting his gaze again as she turned to grab mugs. All the while he listened as she spoke about her own upbringing in a different country. He smiled when he’d learned she was Brazilian. “Você fala português?” He asked, spouting off one of the few sentences he’d remembered learning from one of his old buddies back in university that was also from there. 

As the conversation turned back towards him, Mats offered Andressa another smile. “Yeah, it’s a tattoo studio. I’m a private tattoo artist — Shocking right? I bet you never would have guessed it.” He said with a chuckle as he raised up his hands, obviously playing around since his arms that were exposed in the button up shirt he wore were covered in tattoos, both good and bad ones alike. “What about you? What is it that you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A lot of immersion.” Andy liked to understand things, how they worked and it wasn’t until alter in life that she read all about situations like hers, got acquainted with what she unknowingly went through when she was younger and came to live in the US. She would have chased a degree on the subject but her mom, sister and herself had decided that the enrollment and tuition money they had saved better went for her sister.  As she told him about her own experience moving to the country she tried not to think too much about the fact he was standing at her back and she wasn’t sure whether she was imagining or not the gaze she felt on her back. And even if it was happening, it should be a normal thing, they were chatting and she was moving around so Matthias might only be following her steps. She turn with a grin at his question, head titled. “Sim, é outro idioma que você também fala?” She asked teasingly. Chuckling at his sarcasm, Andy’s eyes went to his uncovered arms, uncovered from fabric sleeves at least, because ink did cover them. “It might have been my fifth choice.” She joked. Turning when the kettle whistled as the water was close to boiling, Andy kept talking. "All those in your arms are yours? I didn't get to see all but I spotted some good ones." She complimented, grabbing her French press for the last step. "Not at all. I'm bartender in a club. And waitress in a diner. If I can get anymore odd jobs in the middle of that, then I'm that, too" Andy explained as she poured the coffee on the mugs. "Here's yours." She brought the trade with the mugs, spoon and sugar to the isle. "Anyway, my schedule is too packed as it so I can't get other things in between. But I've walked dogs, I've made clothes, I've been a housekeeper." She shrugged with a smile. "A bit of everything. How long you've had your studio?"

#andressa ft #andressa ft matthias #ft thedevilsbckbone #had to move it to beta!

[mindninjax]

To Shape a Home (4)

Summer- Chapter 4

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Bakugo x fem!reader

Warnings: Masturbation

WC: 5.1k

a/n: Who would I be if I didn't include a jacking it scene?? I certainly wouldn't be Marquie if it wasn't included bahahah anywhoo please enjoy the World's Best Jacker back at it again doing the damn thang.

Featured song in this part is Big Rock Candy Mountain by Harry McClintock

“Shit!”

Your paintbrush tumbles to the floor as your phone vibrates loudly next to you for the fourth time today. The paint splatters on the wood and rolls right to the edge of the rug in front of the fireplace.

It makes a path of yellow and you huff out an annoyed breath as your phone stops vibrating and it dings with a new message. You wipe your hands on your paint stained overalls and get up from your little art corner to grab a towel from the kitchen.

Last night was...something.

It was a good time before you talked to Willy. You shouldn’t have freaked out like that but just the mention of Gramp’s favorite spot brought the crushing fear and guilt of your nightmare back to you.

Losing your temper with that asshole probably didn’t help either but it at least felt good to unleash some of the pent up feelings you’d been hiding. Still, it’ll probably be better to apologize to him...at some point.

You wet a rag in the kitchen sink and tiptoe back to the paint stain. French Fry naps on the rug in front of you. He doesn’t move when you clean up the paint streak or when you grab the paint brush and plop back down in your chair in front of your easel.

You sigh and pick up your phone, reading the “4 missed calls” notification. They're all from the same person, Nejire Hado, your agent and owner of the gallery where some of your pieces have sold successfully. You swipe the screen up to read the text she sent.

Nejire (1:14PM): Really wish you had better service in that country bumpkin town you’re in. Call me back when you can it’s URGENT

You roll your eyes and groan. It’s not urgent. You know what she's going to ask you and the answer is still no. You’ve decided you’re not doing the art show. You’re going to pull your paintings from the gallery.

Maybe selling the remaining pieces online so some of the commission will go to Nejire would be a good idea. But as far as showing up, mingling with people who will gush over your art and scribble large numbers On a check to buy it, you’re over it. You’re done, and it’s a part of your life you want to leave behind.

Achieving your dream as a well-known artist wasn’t as amazing as you thought it would be. It came with fake friends and seasonal depression that became present in every season. You’d shocked everyone on your PR Team when you announced you were done with all of it and moving into your grandfather’s old farmhouse.

You’re thankful that no one here uses your real name. It might’ve caught on, someone might’ve recognized it, though you highly doubt that they would.

The townsfolk are so far removed from the media here it’s refreshing. Still, the chances of them finding out how big you were in the art world is something that stays on your consciousness daily.

You look down at French Fry who’s curled up on the multi-colored rug in front of you, dip your brush into the murky gray water to clean it, then dry it on your towel. He opens one sleepy eye at you and you sigh.

“Why can’t she take the hint, Frenchie? ‘I’ll think about it’ obviously means no, right?” you ask him.

He lifts his head and yawns big before nestling back down on the rug and falling asleep again.

“Glad you agree,” you say to him. You’re about to turn back to the painting you’re working on when a knock on your door garners your attention.

Eijirou is standing in your doorway, holding a small bouquet of flowers in his tight fist and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Eijirou? What’s this for?” you ask, looking at the flowers. He shoves them into your hands quickly.

“I wanted to apologize for last night.” He steps toward you.

For a second you’re confused but then you remember how he apologized to you the first time Bakugo came to your house. He’d told you he felt responsible for him and despite Bakugo being a good guy deep down, he’s got some issues he doesn't know how to properly deal with.

You sigh. “You don’t have to apologize for someone else’s behavior, Eiji. It’s ok,” you say holding the flowers and idly running a finger over one of the petals.

The flowers are lovely but they look like they were picked in haste and it makes you laugh. You'll never get over how good of a person he is. You gesture for him to step inside and close the door behind him.

He pouts, “It’s not ok! He shouldn’t be such a dick to you and I’m gonna chew him out somethin’ fierce don’t you worry. But I was actually apologizin’ for bringin’ up something painful yesterday.”

“Oh. You… saw that?” you say wincing again. So much for trying to keep your panic attacks on the down low. You’ve got to get better at that.

Eiji reaches out to rub your shoulder but at the last minute decides it’s not a good idea and drops his hand back down to his side. He interlocks his fingers in front of him and stares at his boots when he speaks.

“I uhh didn’t know it was a sore spot for you to talk about your grandpa and we don’t have to talk about it now either ! I just—ah hell,” he stammers, bumping his own forehead with the butt of his palm.

This time you reach out to him. His skin is warm when you touch his arm but he relaxes under your grasp and finally looks in your eyes. Was he really beating himself up over this?

“No Eiji please. It’s… it’s alright really. Gramps and I used to spend a lot of time at the lake. It was like our place, yannow? So I guess thinking about it made me remember that…I can’t go there with him anymore and that thought… kind of sent me spiraling,” you explain as you saunter into the living room to find a vase for the flowers.

It’s strange, talking about it now doesn’t seem to affect you as much as it did last night. You wonder why. Sure, it still stings but your breathing is still even and calm as you speak. It’s like getting rid of the pus from a festering wound and now you’re left with the cut. You even think about possibly taking a trip out to his favorite fishing spot to honor him. It’s nearing mid- Summer, so it would be the perfect time for it.

Eijirou looks around your home as you grab a glass vase and move to the kitchen to fill it with water. When you set the vase of flowers on the big open window sill in the living room, your cheeks burn bashfully.

“Sorry to have been stupid about it and I’m sorry I worried you. But I’m ok I promise,” you say, giving him a thumbs up.

He shakes his head and chuckles and you know he’s thankfully feeling better.

“Yer not stupid. Yer one of the smartest people I know. And the most creative apparently!” He gestures to your half finished painting sitting on the easel.

Shit, you weren’t ready to let people here know about your hobby. It’s too late to pretend like it’s not so you laugh it off.

“Oh, this is nothin’ haha. I paint when I’m stressed,” you say, waving a hand nonchalantly.

“Yer a painter?” he inquires, raising an eyebrow. He studies your paint stained overalls closely.

You should say no, but then he’ll think you’re really being weird about it. “Ha I suppose, yeah.”

“Mind if I have a look?” he asks, pointing at the painting on your easel.

“Oh uhh sure.”

“It’s Frenchie!” he exclaims pointing to the painting and laughing. At the sound of his name, Frenchie gets up and bounds over to Eiji happily. He jumps up on his hind legs to attempt to lick his face. He scratches behind Frenchie’s droopy ears. “Oops sorry I ruined your model.”

You giggle. The way people react to Frenchie never ceases to make your day. “Haha it’s alright, he’s not that good at staying still anyway.”

When Eijirou is done petting Frenchie and the dog trots over to his food bowl, Eiji glances around and notices more of your finished work sitting against the wall. They’re all depictions of your quiet life in Pelican Town.

“Wait, you painted all of these too?” The amazement in his tone can’t be faked and it makes your cheeks heat as you nod, tuck your head close to your body, and raise your shoulders timidly.

You don’t know why you’re nervous. It’s not like Eiji is a connoisseur of art. But you’re more nervous about what he will think of it. Maybe it’s because the paintings are all depictions of Pelican Town. With Eiji being a proud resident, it means something if he likes them. You bite your lip and tap your hands on your thighs anxiously.

“These are amazing. They’re all like little snapshots of the town. Peaceful but a little mysterious. It’s gorgeous,” he breathes.

Then his face lights up with an idea and he hurries over to grab your paint stained hands. “You should start a painting class at the community center!”

You quickly pull your hands from his and step back in shock. “What? No, no I’m not that good. Plus, who would want to take a painting class with me? I’m a new face here and–”

“Are you kiddin’ me? One look at these here paintings and they would be dumber than a box o’ rocks not to sign up!” He’s grinning that big bright winning smile again, the one that always makes you think everything will be ok so long as he keeps smiling like that.

“I mean, I’d sign up in a heartbeat if it meant bein’ taught by you,” he remarks gently, moving closer and grabbing your hand again. This time the burning in your cheeks coats your entire face. The way he’s looking at you would make anyone’s heart falter.

You blush. “Eiji I—”

“Seriously, it could really help the town out. It’ll take a few weeks to get everything together to start up a class like that but it would bring people together. Especially since a bunch of the shops have been closing because of Joja Mart. And I'm sure you’d get paid compensation for your time.” He interrupts you, squeezing your hand to encourage you.

It’s not a bad idea, especially considering he’s right about Joja Mart closing down a bunch of shops in town. Even for the month you’ve been here, two shops have gone out of business. It doesn’t hurt to try helping, and maybe this is a good way to combine the two things you love the most, painting and your hometown. This is your chance to cement your place here and stop feeling like an outsider.

You look up into Eiji's eyes, a determined grin on your face. You take a deep breath and then nod with confidence.

“Okay. I'll do it.”

It’s a nice fishing day. Mid Summer is always the best time to fish on the lake and Katsuki knows the perfect place. He deserves a nice relaxing day, especially after the stupid scolding from Ei a few weeks ago.

It's been weeks since the incident at Toshi’s and Katsuki hasn’t seen you or Eijirou around as much. The argument is still fresh in his mind and truthfully he hopes this fishing trip will help get it out.

Why is it bothering him so much? Did Ei have a point? There wasn’t really a reason for him to be that mean to you. He was just fired up from the Joja mart thing. He hadn’t planned on you firing back at him though.

It was...interesting to say the least. The other times he’d seen you, you were timid and soft spoken, smiling and hiding your giggles behind your fingers. It was weird, you are weird. Your eyes always had that unknown thing, the one thing Katsuki couldn’t figure out when he first saw you.

But that night he saw something different. He saw that thing disappear and be replaced with fire. He can’t get the pristine picture out of his head. Some days when he’s working out in the field or cleaning the grill at Toshi’s he thinks about your face.

He remembers the way your plump lips curled over your teeth when you growled insults at him. The way the tip of your tongue flicked over your top lip before you told him to go to hell—

No.

No. He’s not going to go down that path. You are trouble. Big trouble. No matter how attractive you are. Fuck, what’s going on with him? He’s not some horny teenager. Though it has been a while since he’s got some.

He doesn’t need it though. It’s fine. It must be something in the air. The changing of the seasons is coming up, which could explain why the girls were so fidgety this morning.

A shower should help clear his mind. Relaxing at the lake with the new lure he’d just made is a great plan and fuck, he deserves it. Summer was good to him, his crops were growing beautifully. Soon they’ll be ready to harvest. He’ll have to remember to take some tomatoes to Jodi before he takes the bulk of them to the market.

Katsuki is lost in thought when he steps under the hot stream of the shower. The dirt and grime from the cow pen washes down the drain and he massages his shoulder under the water. He groans in pleasure as he kneads the sore muscles, carrying the extra hay today was a struggle. He hadn’t slept well last night, Eiji’s nagging voice constant in his mind.

He hears it again as he continues to lather soap over his chest and with it comes your angry face drifting back into his mind. Your lips, why hadn’t he paid closer attention to them before? They have a perfect little curve, especially when you pout in anger. His hand idly moves down to his cock, slowly swelling under the pulsing flow of the shower.

It’s been a while. Maybe too long?

Grabbing his cock, he allows himself a five minute fantasy. Only five minutes of wondering what your face would look like upturned in pleasure. It’s natural to let off steam, plus he hasn’t done it since she left. He hadn’t really felt the urge to, until now. Guys jack it to women they don’t know all the fucking time. The sooner he takes care of it, the sooner he can stop thinking about it.

He slowly works his soapy hand up his shaft, throwing his head back as he tightens his grip when he reaches the head of his dick. Gnawing his bottom lip, he remembers your tits in that sheer shirt and bra you wore under it.

He can clearly picture the way your waist and hips curve, the way the tight black jeans you wore hugged them tightly. Your ass in overalls that hung loosely off of you is still plump enough to see a shape that satiates the sensual hunger in Katsuki’s mind.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. Water droplets cascade down his abs as he pumps himself, grunting when he rocks his hips into his own fist. His balls slap against his hand as his pace increases.

This doesn’t mean he wants to fuck you. This doesn’t even mean he likes you. He just needs to get it out of his system. Plus, it’s a fact. You’re attractive, anyone with eyes can see it.

He fantasizes about your tits bouncing, your ass slapping against his hips—NO just hips in general—and the sweet sounds that would come from you. He hopes when you fuck you’re not as quiet and timid as you usually are when you speak. He hopes you’re loud and whiny and mumbling his name while he pounds into your tight cunt.

“Oh shit,” he closes his eyes and grunts as his fist tightens around his cock. He’s on the cusp, thrusting so quickly into his own hand the soap and water slipping down his sack splashes up in his face.

He moans, slapping a sudsy hand on the tiled wall of the shower as cum shoots up his chest and dribbles from his spent cock down into the drain. He regains his breath, shoulders heaving from the load he’s just released.

It isn’t until he’s finished rewashing the coily tangled blonde hairs at his crotch and running cold water over himself that he realizes he may be a little fucked.

“Fuck…”

He should’ve known. He should’ve fucking recognized the stupid red truck with the Bob Ross keychain hanging from the rearview mirror parked up by the start of the trail. Should’ve paid closer attention to the small footprints in the mud leading down to the banks of the lake. He should’ve recognized the tiny ringing voice singing:

So come with me

We’ll go and see

The Big Rock Candy Mountain.

And what kind of dumb ass song is that? What young person—ignoring the fact that Katsuki also knows the song you’re singing—idly sings this song to themselves? He doesn’t realize he cursed aloud until he sees your shocked face as you whip around and drop your shoulders sadly at the sight of him.

That…doesn’t feel good. Why does he suddenly care what you think of him? Why does a pit form in his stomach at the thought of you sighing in disappointment when you see him?

He smacks his lips, “If this is your spot, I’ll go. I can come back another day.”

He watches your face twist into too many different expressions for him to properly analyze before it settles on a frown of surrender. You take a deep breath and then force a friendly smile. You look like one of those dolls who has their mouths sewn up into a happy face. It pisses him off.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind sharing the area,“ you say in a small voice.

Again the friendliness sounds forced. He raises an eyebrow at you. You’re clearly uncomfortable. It’s clear you don’t want him here. And he should leave anyway considering he just thought about railing you while fucking his fist in the shower.

“Oh come on. They’re biting a lot today. It’d be a shame to miss out on the haul.”

He analyzes every lilt in your cadence. This time you sound more genuine, like you actually do want him to stay. It couldn’t hurt, plus he really did want to fish today. This is a great spot, the fish always bite more here and the view is…not terrible.

“Fine,” he grunts.

He sets his bait box down and sets up the folding chair tucked under his arm. He makes sure to set it a ways away from you, but it’s still close enough for him to see and hear you.

Then he assembles his fishing pole, trying to stop his wandering eye. Out of his peripherals he can see your pole, tied neatly to the chair you're sitting in. The line is cast out into the lake.

The sun beats down, illuminating you like a spotlight. You don’t look up or in his direction, just continue reading the book nestled in your lap. Katsuki tilts his head just a bit to see what it is you’re reading and he swears you angle it toward him so he can see it easier.

He figures out you’re reading The Wizard of Oz when he’s finally casting his line and sitting in his chair comfortably. It’s quiet for a bit, nothing but the sounds of teeming lake life. Cicadas, bull frogs, ducks quacking near the edge of the pond, and the occasional sound of turning pages.

Usually when Katsuki goes fishing, he takes in the quiet, sits and basks in the natural sounds but now his heart won’t quiet the hell down. It’s thumping loud in his chest and he can’t stop himself from taking quick glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“Want one?”

Your voice breaks through the silence. He looks over at you holding a water bottle out to him. You’re leaning toward him and one of the buttons on your plaid blouse is open. From this angle he can almost see your cleavage. He tries to look at anything but you and his eyes fall on the can of beer next to your feet.

“What, you on your last beer and wanna keep it to yerself or somethin’?” he teases. He tries to make it sound playful, but it comes out the exact opposite.

Your eyes flick down to the beer can at your feet then back up to him with a confused look. “Sorry, I was just under the impression that you didn't drink. You can have one if ya want. There are plenty.”

He winces, and turns away in shame. “Nah, I’m good.”

Did Ei tell you about his past with drinking? No, he wouldn’t have. You just notice shit. You read him like he’s an open book and it makes him uncomfortable. It’s annoying. This whole situation is annoying. You’re annoying and why are you bein’ so goddamn nice?

“Thanks,” he mutters under his breath.

He watches you from the corner of his eye again, but you don’t even raise your head from your book. You just nod a bit and reply. “No problem.”

It's quiet again and Katsuki feels out of place. Should he leave? This is awkward. Though, this is the longest conversation he’s had with you and you aren’t screaming at each other.

You look calm, peaceful and he wonders what it was about talking about fishin’ with Willy that set you off that night. You seem fine now. You seem better than fine. Your shoulders aren’t hunched as much as they were that night.

A rustling in the woods behind the two of you derails his train of thought. Soon there’s a slobbering wet dog that seems to appear out of nowhere dropping a damp stick on his lap and shaking itself dry. Muddy droplets of water cover Katsuki and he frowns, throws the stick to the ground, and groans at the dog. “Ahh come on mutt. You’re getting me wet!”

You quickly close your book and race over to grab the dog by his collar and pull him back toward you. “Sorry! He’s a sharer,” you say apologetically. You’re petting between the dog’s ears as it pants happily.

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, “He yours?”

You give him a weird look, like you’re surprised he’s asking something about your life.

“Uhh yeah. I guess I kinda adopted him, or rather he adopted me. His name’s French Fry. Frenchie for short.”

Katsuki snorts, what a stupid name. “That’s—“

His sentence is cut off when the dog growls at him and he blinks in amazement.

“Don’t make fun of his name. He’s sensitive about it,” you say seriously. You’re still petting his ears, but now you’re bent down on your knees to be on the same level as the dog.

“The dog… is sensitive about his name?” Katsuki asks in a hesitant voice like you’re unstable.

“Yeah. He’s really smart. Sometimes when I’m talking to him, it’s like he understands everything I’m saying. Like a little old man in a dog's body.” You boop his wet nose softly and mock Frenchie’s goofy grin. It’s the first time Katsuki realizes you have dimples.

He snorts and rolls his eyes as he dabs a towel he brought with him over his wet clothes. “You only get weirder the more I talk to you,” he teases, turning away from you.

You stand and pull Frenchie back toward your chair. You reach into your bag, pull out a bone and toss it into the woods for the dog to run off and find.

“Well you could just fuck off. If I’m so weird then.”

Katsuki is thrown off by your statement. Again there’s that edge to your words, a bite, no, a nip hidden behind your pleasant little tone. Fucking hell, why does that get him goin’ so much? He rubs his thigh and shimmies his leg to ignore the twitch in his jeans.

“Sorry… that was rude of me,” you sigh, opening your book back to your page.

And now your polite tone is back. It’s like you're holding a portion of yourself back. Like you’re hiding behind something. A wall begging to be broken. Not by him of course, because you are not his problem, nor are you a puzzle for him to solve.

Still it doesn’t hurt to observe. You’ve been observing him too so it’s only fair.

He clears his throat. “S’fine. Sorry for sayin’ yer weird.”

He mutters it under his breath, hoping that you don’t hear it. He can feel heat in the tips of his ears. It’s a big step for him to apologize at all and of course you fucking notice that. You turn to look at him incredulously, then quickly turn away when you realize he’s embarrassed.

How the fuck do you adjust to shit like that so quickly?

“Don’t you have animals or pets you talk to?” you ask and he quietly appreciates the way you keep the conversation going.

“Not like that,” he replies simply.

“Maybe you should.”

“What?”

“Maybe you should talk to them. It’d help you feel less lonely.”

He immediately goes on the defensive, building his wall again and shutting you out. He remembers you calling him miserable and lonely and he swallows the anger he feels bubbling in his stomach. This was going well, he just needed to calm down.

“I ain’t lonely,” he finally replies after he’s calmed himself. Still it comes out harsh and finite, like he’s ending the conversation here.

Whatever hint he tries to give you that he doesn’t want to talk about this, you don’t get. Instead, you keep flipping the pages of your book and not looking at him while you speak.

“Well you’ve got the lonely look,” you say shrugging.

Katsuki squints and slaps his palms on his thighs loudly. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You gaze at him in earnest, your eyes are wide and serious, like you’re looking inside him and it gives him pause. His heart races and he blinks in astonishment.

You stare for a minute too long and then you shrug again and look away before saying, “Just a look. That’s all.”

His heart stutters and he stares as you quietly read your book again before he turns away with heated cheeks and mumbles, “Mind your business.”

“Ok.”

Frenchie comes back up to him now, carrying the bone you threw in the forest. He drops it into Katsuki’s lap again and right as you’re about to scold the dog , Katsuki picks it up and stands.

He turns toward the forest, “Alright mutt, see if ya can find it when I throw it.” Then he reels back and tosses it into the woods.

Frenchie barks happily and sprints toward where the bone fell in the forest. Katsuki watches for a while as the dog disappears into the greenery and he can’t help but smirk when he comes trotting back with the bone in his jaws.

He tries not to pay any attention to you watching him play with the dog as he dumps the bone at his feet and he picks it up and throws it again.

He sneaks a glance at you out of the corner of his eye and sees that you’ve gone back to reading but your dimples give away the amusement on your face. Katsuki smirks, then shakes his head to regain his head. He’s just playing with the dog. It’s nothing serious.

Soon it’s about time for you to start packing up your things. Katsuki knows he caught you off guard when he grunts, “Thanks for sharin’ the spot,'' because it takes you a while to respond.

He gazes at you, brows furrowed in his normal frown. His heart skips a beat when you smile at him, a genuine smile, the first he thinks he’s seen from you since you moved in.

“No problem. Thanks for keeping Frenchie company. He seems to like you a lot,” you say motioning to the dog as he sits panting happily at Katsuki’s feet.

He bends down to pat his head and shrugs, “Meh. He’s just an energetic furball. He’d play with anyone who gave him attention. Just so happened to be me this time.”

You give him that look again, the one that made his heart stutter, the one that looks like you’re looking into him and he holds his breath.

“I don’t think so. I think he’s a great judge of character. He’s my best friend. Maybe one day he could be yours too. I don’t mind sharing him,” you reply, a hopeful lilt in your voice. Are you saying you want to talk to him again? He doesn’t get it.

Again he tries to play off the way you fluster him. “Tsk, whatever.”

You pat your thigh and gesture for Frenchie to come to you. Then you hook his leash unto his collar and gather all of your supplies under your armpits. You turn toward the trail through the woods to hike back to your car, but right before you leave you wink at him over your shoulder.

“Have a good evening Mr. Bakugo.”

Katsuki clears his throat as he’s left by himself. Your words repeat in his head as his fishing pole tugs with the presence of a fish.

I think he’s a great judge of character. He’s my best friend. Maybe one day he could be yours too. I don’t mind sharing him.

Katsuki tries to reel in the fish but it escapes as he stares at the ripples in the water. Your words are like a phantom in his mind and the way you winked at him before you left is playing on loop behind his eyes when he closes them. He groans loud and it echoes in the expanse of the grassy banks of the lake.

He’s officially fucked.

--

SUMMER END

Thanks for reading!

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #stardew valley au #marquie writes #to shape a home

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

Welcome to the Family, Boy (Alcina x Fem!Reader Fanfic)

First thank you all for your support for my first Dimitrescu fanfic. I truly appreciate it and all the support this community has given me on. Let's go on to the next one, shall we?

Premise: After a long and stressful week, your wife Alcina wants to help you let off some steam. However, your amorous activities are cut short by an unexpected surprise.

Warning: blood. There are some steamy scenes in here but nothing explicit, so it's mostly safe for work.

As you climb the stairs to your bedroom, you heave a great sigh. It’s been a long and stressful week. Daniela had caused a small fire in the wine cellar basement by knocking over a lantern when she had gotten a little too eager for a feeding. It was eventually put out, but the corpse was burned in the process. Alcina had been furious at the waste of resources. It had taken a full day to get rid of the ash, but the basement was clean. Well, as clean as it could be. Aside from the wine cellar, Alcina didn’t seem to care much about cleaning up the basement. Well, it was over now. Now you just couldn’t wait to curl up next to your wife and get a good sleep.

You arrive at your doorway and hear Maria Callas singing “Casta Diva” from within. You smile. Your mutual love for opera was one of the first things you discussed as you were courting. Before you reach your hand to knock at the door, you hear Alcina call, “Is that you iubirea mea?”

“Yes, dear,” you reply. You stretch your arms behind your head. “Oh, I just can’t wait to get into bed-” Your voice cuts off as you see what your wife is wearing. She is wearing a black peignoir and as she stands up, she casts it off to reveal a black and red lingerie set.

She smiles wickedly. “I can’t wait to get into bed with you either.”

You don’t move. You can only stare. Her scarlet lips match the exact shade of the lingerie. Without any sleeves, you see her muscular arms and you blush as you recall what those arms feel like wrapped around you. Her legs are on full display as well with a red stocking clipped to a garter. They reach up to your shoulders and you have spent many a time nestled in them with your head on her lap. You open your mouth to reply but find nothing coming out.

Alcina pouts and puts one hand behind her on the bed. “Come, pet,” she purrs, beckoning you with a red fingernail. “You’re not going to stand there all day, are you?”

You don’t say anything. You cross the space between you and your wife in three steps and launch yourself over into her waiting arms. The scent of her perfume is overwhelming and you breathe it in. You close your eyes and kiss her chin, her laugh lines and finally her lips. She laughs through the kiss and holds your head between her hands. “Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Don’t talk,” you rasp, your voice full of desire.

She smiles. “All right, draga mea. No talking then.” She kisses you deeply and you weave your hands through her locks.

She picks you up and carries you across the room, kissing all the while until you reach the wall. You lean your head on the wall behind you and wrap your legs around her waist. “I’ve needed this, my love,” you whisper against her lips.

Ding dong!

You hear the doorbell resound through the castle. You break the kiss and fix her with a quizzical expression. “Were you expecting anyone?” you ask.

She shakes her head quickly. “No. Could be a solicitor. Could be a vampire hunter coming to put a stake in all our hearts.” Her golden eyes are glazed over with desire. “Right now I couldn’t care less at the moment.” She nuzzles your neck and you sigh. She breaks away and looks at you, an unasked question in her eyes. She’s hungry. You nod your consent and she pulls away your nightgown to bear your neck and shoulders. She pulls you close and bites your neck and feeds on the blood pooling around your neck. You feel her neck working against your chest as she drinks. You take pleasure in every gasp and moan she makes. You feel pleasantly light-headed by the time she pulls away with a satisfied sigh.

Ding dong!

Alcina groans and bares her teeth in anger. “It’s getting too late for this!”

You caress her jaw. “Dear, maybe we should answer it. It could be an emergency.”

She shakes her head impatiently. “It’s probably some snot-nosed kid playing a prank.” She lifts your chin with a finger and gives you a seductive grin. “Don’t focus on it right now, pet. Right now is about you and me.”

“You’re probably right-” She stops the rest of your sentence with a rough kiss, opening your mouth with her tongue. Her hand travels up your leg and her hand making contact against your bare leg gives you a pleasant chill. Her hand rests on your thigh and she pushes you up against the wall again while using her nimble fingers to unhook your garter.

Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!

Alcina gives a frustrated growl. “Damn it to hell!”

“Darling,” you say gently petting her arm as a signal to set you down. “If it were kids, they’d be bored and have gone home by now. I’m going to check who it is.”

Your wife crosses her arms and gives an adorable pout. “Fine. Do what you want.”

You adjust your nightgown and wipe any leftover blood and lipstick off your neck. As you walk to the door, Alcina gently puts your dressing gown around your shoulders. You catch her hand and give it a kiss. “I’ll be with you shortly. I just need to get dressed.”

You smile at her. “Very well, darling.” As you turn to leave the door, Alcina catches your shoulder and whispers huskily, “And after we get back, we will most certainly get back the lost time that nuisance has stolen from us.”

You blush furiously and kiss her goodbye. As you walk down the stairs, you hear the doorbell ring again. Once, twice, three times. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming. I’m coming.” You grasp the brass handles and with a great effort manage to open the doors wide. You’re jealous of Alcina in moments like these. She could open the doors with such ease that you forget that each door weighed hundreds of pounds.

You are surprised to see Heisenberg holding something wrapped in cloth. You can’t help but smile when you see Heisenberg. Heisenberg and Alcina may be like oil and water, but the two of you liked each other almost instantly. He told you once that “anyone who could put up with that bitch for more than 20 seconds must be a good person. And you have to put up with her for life!”

Heisenberg returns your smile. “Hi, hon.”

“Hi Karl. How about you come in and warm up with a nice cup of tea?” You stand aside to allow him in. “Come on. It’s freezing out there.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, honey, but I really can’t stay long. Is your ball and chain around? This question concerns her too.”

“Heisenberg,” you hear your wife’s drawl. You both look to see her descending the stairs. There is no evidence of your amorous activities as she has on a fresh coat of lipstick, is fully dressed and her hair is pinned perfectly in place under her hat. “To what do I owe this rather unpleasant surprise?”

Heisenberg clenches his teeth. “Believe me, I wouldn’t come here unless it was an emergency.”

“Then what is it?” Alcina asks as she puts her left hand on your shoulder. You reach up to cover it with your own. “Out with it, and be on your way. Some of us would rather be in bed right now.”

Heisenberg notes your kiss-swollen lips and a hickey already starting to form on your neck. “Yes, I suppose some of us rather would.”

Alcina’s eyes flash and she grits her teeth. “Heisenberg, I swear-”

Heisenberg puts up a placating hand while he holds the bundle with his other. “Ok, ok. I’ll cut to the chase then. Sheesh, do you have any sense of humor?” He unwraps the bundle to reveal a mewling French bulldog. It can’t be more than a couple weeks old.

As you place your hand on your heart Heisenberg continues. “I found him outside of his house. Whole damned family was slaughtered. He needs a place to stay. I thought this might be the best place for him.”

You look at your wife with pleading eyes, but she gives a sharp, “No.”

“Darling-”

“No.” She glares at Heisenberg. “Why can’t you take him in? Maybe it would be an opportunity for you to learn some responsibility for once in your cursed existence.”

You see Heisenberg roll his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Yes, and I’d be responsible for him being torn apart by Lycans. I’m not taking him in. It’s not safe for him there.”

You take your wife’s hand in yours. “Darling, please reconsider. We can’t turn the poor thing away. Besides, our daughters would love having a d-”

She immediately puts a hand over your mouth. “Don’t say it,” she warns, looking furtively around the foyer.

“What?” you ask against her hand. “Dog?”

Almost immediately your daughters, Bela, Cassandra and Daniela materialize from their fly shrouds. They zero in on the dog and Cassandra takes him out of Heisenberg’s hands and the other two crowd around her and begin cooing to it, and letting it sniff and lick their fingers.

Alcina covers her face with her hands. “Now you’ve done it, love.”

The girls look up from their ministrations to the dog and as one rush over to your wife, carrying the dog over with them. They begin speaking up all at once. “Mother, please can we keep him?” “Mother, look how cute he is!” “Mother, Cassandra’s been hogging the dog all this time and it’s my turn to hold him!”

“Enough!” Alcina’s voice booms around the foyer. She puts two fingers in the space between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. She sighs aloud. “God, I need a smoke.” She turns to her daughters and with a long suffering sigh says, “Fine. We’ll keep the little mongrel.”

All three daughters erupt into cheers and you can’t help but smile indulgently at them. Daniela runs over and throws her arms around your neck in jubilation. “Maman, did you hear that? We get to have a dog finally!”

“Yes, dearest, I did hear that.” You drop a kiss on her head and she scampers over to take the dog which Cassandra begrudgingly hands to her.

Heisenberg grins and reaches in his pocket. “I have some food and a water bottle for him,” he says, handing you the aforementioned items. “The Duke should have some more, but that’s all I have right now.”

“Thank you Karl,” you say, reaching over to scratch the dog behind his ears. “We’ll take good care of it, won’t we girls?”

“Yes, Maman!” they all answer in unison.

“I’ll be off then!” Heisenberg turns to leave but not before shouting over his shoulder, “And I think he should fit in pretty nicely around here, especially since the Lady of the House is such a bi-”

In an instant, Alcina has him off the ground and has her claws extended only a few inches from his neck. “Heisenberg, did you want to finish that sentence?” she asks sweetly.

You can’t help but laugh. “Let him down, my love. It’s not worth getting so riled up this late at night”

“Fine,” she says and sets him down not too gently. He brushes himself off and glares at Alcina for the rough landing. She just flashes a smile and you notice that only her middle finger is extended in claw form. You look at your daughters, but they are too busy with the dog to notice the obscene hand gesture.

“All right, this time I’m really off.” he says, turning around and walking towards the castle gates.

“Girls, what do you say?” you prompt.

“Thank you, Uncle Karl!” they chorus. Bela snatches the dog and runs upstairs, vanishing in her bug shroud. The girls run after her, Daniela yelling down the hall, “No fair! I wasn’t finished with him yet!”

Alcina closes the doors and leans against them, sighing. “I just hope this wasn’t a mistake.”

You take her hand and kiss it. “Nothing we can do about it now, my love. Come on, let’s go to bed. It’s getting late.” The two of you hold hands and once you arrive at your shared bedroom, Alcina immediately locks the door, pulls you close and fixes you with a wolfish grin. “Now where were we, draga mea?”

“I thought you said you wanted to smoke first?” You laugh and wrap your arms around her neck.

“Ah, iubirea mea,” she say picking you up again and giving you a sloppy kiss. “Cigarettes always taste better after sex.”

You kiss her as you unbutton her dress and she puts her hand in the same spot on your thigh as before, this time successfully unhooking your garter. You bite her lip playfully and she gives a little growl of pleasure.

The moment is interrupted by a knock on the door and you hear Daniela’s voice, “Mother? Maman? The dog peed all over the carpet in Bela’s room!”

“Only because you led him there!” you hear Bela retort.

Alcina leans her forehead against yours and starts swearing in Romanian. You give her a kiss and pat her hand before you see to your daughters.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #re8 village #re8 fanfiction #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina x maiden #lady dimitrescu x female reader #bela dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

[queen-of-the-vampires]

Don’t Mess With The Queen

Characters: Klaus Mikaelson x Hybrid!Reader

Word count: ~1.7k

Warnings: none

Request by anonymous: Could u do a imagine where the reader is friends with the mystic falls gang and is a werewolf and finds out that she and klaus r mates?

Summary: People who you want to call your friends are planning on killing the love of your life. It’s your job to show them who’s really the boss.

Author’s Note: This is a female!reader. I did change this request a tad, but I hope you like it! I haven’t written for TVD in a while now, so please bear with me on this. After asking a few people, I have decided to end this on a fluffy note. I did write an angsty alternate ending, but I don’t know if the anon who requested wanted that or not.

No one knows why you’re really here. They all think you’re their friend, so they feel comfortable disclosing their plan right in front of you. You want to be friends with them because they seem like genuinely nice people, but they are so fueled by rage and revenge that they’ll do anything to get it… even plotting against your mate, your sire, the love of your life.

Stefan and Damon have spent their entire life fighting each other and putting their noses in places where it doesn’t belong. Elena and Caroline have always been the people who want to fix others, to make them better even if there is nothing wrong with them. Bonnie is always stuck in the middle of everyone’s problems, putting herself and others in danger for no reason.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Elena asks, taking out the last bit of weapons she has stashed in the Boarding House.

“First thing we need to do is pick a location. When is Klaus most vulnerable?” Stefan asks.

“Yeah, the last time we did that, Elijah betrayed us. That moonrock or whatever was our only chance to get him at his weakest.”

“You were one of Klaus’ bitches. What do you think?” Damon asks and turns to you.

“What?” you ask, pulling back from your own thoughts.

“You spent over two years sired to him before Tyler saved you. You must know things that can help here,” Elena says.

What she says is true. You were sired to Klaus for two years, but not in the way they believe. You were sired to him in the beginning when you were first turned by Klaus’ mother. You were a werewolf that was in the same village as Klaus and his family. You two became fast friends, always leaning on each other whenever his abusive father and your abusive mother decided to make you two their toys.

Everything was going fine until one of your own decided to kill the youngest member of the Mikaelson family. There was a family friend of Esther, Tatia, that she used her blood in a spell that would make them the Original vampires. Klaus wanted you to have the same thing, so without his parents knowing, he gave you some of that wine. You were the first-ever turned hybrid that came from a spell.

You and Klaus have spent every moment together ever since. What the gang of Mystic Falls doesn’t know is just how old you are. They think you were just another hybrid that he made with Elena’s blood, stuck with him against your will. Tyler found your pack in the mountains and proceeded to unsire every single one of Klaus’ hybrids. When Tyler got to you, that’s when you started to catch onto what he was doing.

If Tyler wanted to desperately to save you, then you were going to act like you wanted to be saved. You came to Mystic Falls and befriended the vampires in the town. Now, they all think that you hate Klaus as much as they do when really, you’re just as in love with him as you were when you first met him.

“He really liked hiding out in the woods, though, they’re usually on werewolf territory, so good luck trying to get there. It’s probably why you can never find him. The werewolves will get to you before he does. He hears chatter in the wind and he moves to another pack site.”

“That’s smart,” Caroline comments.

“Yeah, so you’re not going to find him there.”

“Guys, we need to figure out something, or else more people are going to get hurt,” Elena says. Sometimes, you really want to kill her so you don’t have to hear her speak. “Klaus needs to die.”

Hearing them talk about killing the love of your life enrages you a little bit. You could take every single person in here without breaking a sweat, but you don’t turn to violence just yet. You take out your phone to let Klaus know exactly what they’re planning. You’d be a bad girlfriend if you let them attack without warning him.

They’re planning on killing you, my love.

It’s cute if they think they can.

They seem hell-bent on figuring it out.

I’m not afraid of them if that’s what you’re worried about. They can’t hurt me even with their best player.

I’m worried someone is going to get very hurt. What should I tell them?

Tell them where I am. Let them come. If it’s a war they want, I’m only happy to provide.

Are you sure?

I’m always sure, love.

You put your phone away and look at the small group, getting up to join the elite circle.

“I do know where Klaus lives.”

“That would have been nice to know a little earlier, don’t you think?” Damon sneers.

“Damon, don’t,” Stefan butts in. “Where is he?”

“New Orleans. That place is crawling with witches and vampires, but he and his family are stationed there.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because he took me there once. The witches will know once you arrive, but most of them are scared of Klaus anyway that they’ll help you blend in. Everyone from that town knows the Mikaelsons are royalty, but their castle doesn’t have a lot of guards protecting it. If you want to get to him, that’s where you want to do it.”

“How do you know all of this? This seems awfully suspicious for someone who isn’t sired to him anymore.”

“He still thinks I am. He’ll call me every day and ask for something. He figures if he has a hybrid in another state that I can do his dirty work for him elsewhere. You want to get Klaus? That’s how you’re going to do it.”

“She does have a point. Better to take this fight to his turf than ours. He’s more comfortable there,” Stefan points out.

Now that they know a location, it didn’t take long for them to come up with a plan of attack. Of course, you told everything to Klaus as soon as you were on the plane to get to New Orleans. He told you not to worry about a thing because he’ll plan a little something for their arrival.

No one messes with the King and his Queen.

When you land in New Orleans, the gang is eager to carry out their plan of attack. Just like you said, the town is crawling with witches who sense you the minute you landed. Every single witch knows you by heart, so they’re confused why you’re with them and not with Klaus. Your love must have only told them the basic information instead of what was really going on.

“Okay, where is this son of a bitch?” Damon asks.

“The French Quarter is where he likes to hang out. You’ll want to start there. Caroline and Elena will blend in more since they’ve never been here, but you two might stick out like a sore thumb. Just be prepared. If anything, I know these guys so let me do the talking.” You pause right in front of the group and turn to Bonnie. “And Bonnie? These guys know you’re a Bennett witch. Try not to do magic unless absolutely necessary. Klaus has a thing with witches.”

You lead the group into the French Quarter while keeping your head down to avoid conflict. The group follows your lead until you reach the middle of the place you call home.

“Stay here,” you say and leave the group on your own.

You approach the small bar within the Quarter, and lean over the counter a tad, looking at the bartender.

“Is Klaus here?”

“I’m right here,” you hear your lover’s voice. You and the Mystic Falls gang turn to see him standing in one of the many doorways that enter the French Quarter. “I hear you’re looking for me?”

“Where in the world did you hear that?” Damon asks, giving you a side glare. You step away from the group and speed over to Klaus, standing just a tad behind him. He smirks and doesn’t break eye contact with the older brother. “Traitor.”

“It isn’t a betrayal if I was never on your side to begin with,” you state.

“What are you doing? You’re not sired to him anymore,” Stefan tries to appeal to you.

“My sire bond wore off in the tenth century. I’m a lot older than you think I am. I really did want to be your friend, but you’re all so driven by rage and revenge that you can’t leave us alone until we’re fixed to the standards set by you. Next time you plan to kill someone, you should think twice about who you let into your home.”

“We should get going,” Elena whispers.

“Always the level-headed one, Elena. Too bad you can’t,” Klaus grins.

Stefan and Damon try to leave using their vampire speed, but they are blocked by the spell put there from the witches in this town. It’s like a big spell to trap the four vampires and the one witch inside. Caroline steps into the sun and immediately screams in pain, seeking the shade to calm her burning skin.

“My daylight ring isn’t working.”

“Yes, you’re all trapped here. For how long is still yet to be determined. Welcome to the French Quarter ladies and gentlemen,” Klaus chuckles.

“I can’t use my magic,” Bonnie panics.

“The next time you even think about going after Klaus, I won’t be so nice,” you say.

Klaus wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, whispering something into your ear.

“Pardon us, we have other business to tend to.”

Klaus leads you away from the group, and only when you two are alone, does he turn you so that you’re facing him.

“You can relax, Klaus, no one is going to hurt you. Not as long as I am alive.”

“I can take care of myself, love,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, but isn’t it better when I do it?”

“Tenfold.”

“Always and forever, my love,” you whisper.

You lean in and press your lips to his, showing him just how much you love him.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why! (not sure how much i will write for this fandom, but add yourself if you want!)

@essie1876​ @choosemyname​ @cuddlyklaus​ @sotmperrie​ @akshi8278​ @chynarosep101​ @gh0stgurl​ @littlemissslytherinprincess​ @honeybums-blog​ @kendall-michele​ @tdntu0​ @miraclesoflove​ @nasatonie​ @thelazywitchphotographer​

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson fic #klaus mikaelson fanfic #klaus mikaelson fiction #klaus mikaelson fan fic #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson angst #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries fic #the vampire diaries fanfic #tvd #tvd fic #tvd fanfiction #tvd fanfic

[parkersroses]

mother’s day. | harry styles.

summary: it’s mother’s day and harry makes you breakfast in bed, no thanks to your little baby’s help.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k words

warning(s): all fluffy like cotton candy <3

a/n: (disclaimer: gif belongs to @harrysimpact​) happy mother’s day everyone! enjoy this fic about husband/dad!harry !! make sure to reblog and comment if you like it, consider donating to my ko-fi too if you like this or any of my other writings. all the love <3

The sun is just rising when Harry wakes up; even for him it’s very early and he’s usually a morning person. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and stretches, feeling a pop between the muscles as he does so. He makes sure to switch off any alarms to ensure his wife doesn’t wake up soon. He even switches off the baby monitor next to her bedside table too, hoping their baby doesn't wake up so soon either, though it would be inevitable knowing she’ll cry for milk. 

It’s mother’s day. What’s more exciting is that it is your first mother’s day as a mother. 

Over the last year, you have found motherhood to be as challenging as you expected. It started off with the morning sickness and strange feeling of not bearing a certain smell. At that point, both you and Harry had already discussed having children. It’s something the both of you always wanted and you knew yourself that Harry would be an amazing father to your children. The thought of having a little human that was half of you and half of the person you love and adore, running and playing around the house as your husband playfully chases after them in your backyard while you watch with awe. It was a cute little dream in your heads that soon became a reality.

You both cried when you found out about your pregnancy. It was a momentous and exciting moment for you. Over the several months during your pregnancy, Harry had grown a bit overprotective about you and your little bub, yet you don’t really blame him for it and assumed it’s just his pre-fatherly instincts kicking in. Harry had always made sure to accommodate to your (weird and odd) needs and cravings. He’d happily wake up in the middle of the night and get you both some snacks, despite being tired himself. 

Your favourite part though, is whenever Harry would talk to little bub. Even when you weren’t showing yet, he’d always talk to the baby girl in your belly, occasionally singing to her, telling her how much daddy and mommy loves her and that he’ll always be around to look after her. That makes you cry sometimes, because you knew already that he is the best dad to your baby. 

Little Amy was soon born before you both know it. You still remember holding the little human of your own in your arms, all swaddled up in a fluffy blanket, her eyes wide open as she was introduced into this whole new world. She had captured both of your hearts and you both knew it. She was the most precious person you’ve laid your eyes on and you both love her immensely. 

Harry for one could not believe that he was finally a father, considering he’s always dreamt of having a little family of his own. It was up until the delivery that he remembers how much you’ve given to carry Amy and how amazing you are to have carried and nurtured her for so long. He’s never loved anyone even more than he loves you and now with Amy. 

Harry intentionally wakes up earlier than you today, despite his schedule begging for him to sleep again. He looks over you next to him, seeing that you’re still huddled up under your thick blankets and your face pressed against your pillow. He takes notice of your chest rising and falling from every breath you take and how pretty you look on this morning. 

He leans over and plants a small kiss on your head, careful to not wake you as he gets out of bed. He pulls on a pair of sweatpants and walks out of your room, gently closing the door behind him. 

He makes his way across the hall to where little Amy is sleeping in her nursery. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already up at this hour, probably so she could cry out for some food or comfort from her parents. Harry slowly opens the door, he can already hear the soft sounds of Amy moving around in her crib. 

It’s almost as if she’s been waiting for him to come because her head perks as he leans over her crib. “Good morning, my little bub,” he says gently to her, already smiling so bright at the adorable little human looking up at him. Amy looks up at him with the same bright smile, her limbs flailing around in excitement as she sees her father. 

“Da,” she says, giggling as he caresses her head lovingly. Her arms reach up, signalling that she wants to be carried like the little princess Harry says she is. He gladly picks her up, letting their noses nuzzle against each other before he kisses her head. 

“Y’know what today is, bub?” Harry asks Amy. Amy merely stares at him, not understanding a single word, with the same green eyes she inherited from him. It still makes him choke up just thinking about it. Amy coos as her little hands trace over the swallow tattoos. “Today’s Mother’s Day,” he says in an excited voice, and he chuckles at the way her head perks up. 

“Mama?” She asks, her green eyes staring innocently and adorably at him. He nods, bouncing her lightly in his arms as he carries her out from the room. 

“That’s right, bubba. It’s mama’s day, and you’re gonna help me make her breakfast. Except you won’t really be doing anything but watching me and keeping me company. Let’s be honest, your cooking skills aren’t the most helpful yet, bubs,” he tells her as they enter the kitchen, setting Amy down in her high chair. 

Amy giggles, seemingly finding whatever Harry said funny. He grins at his adorable little baby, sometimes all he wants to do is cuddle with her and smother her with all the love he has for her. “Yeah bubs? Gonna help me or sit here lookin’ cute and adorable while daddy cooks?” He asks as he leans down so his face is levelled with hers. Amy simply giggles and nods at his father, even though she tends to nod at nearly everything they both say to her. 

Harry laughs and kisses her chubby cheeks. “Love you, my little bub,” he tells her. She babbles at him as her hands reach for his face. “Yeah, love me too? I think you do,” he says, kissing her little nose which makes her giggle again. 

Harry begins to make breakfast as Amy sits and watches him, babbling and cooing at him as he does. He nods and talks back to her like they are having a simple conversation, him simply agreeing with whatever she says. 

“Want a bite, bub?” He holds up a piece of strawberry in front of Amy and he grins widely as she tries to reach out for the red fruit. “Taking that as a ‘yes, please’,” he jokes as he bites off a tiny piece of the fruit for her to take. Amy hums in delight as she munches. He watches in awe of the little baby as he eats the rest of the fruit. 

At one point, he heats up some milk as Amy starts to get fussy. 

Harry doesn’t make much for breakfast, simply making some half boiled eggs, french toasts, some cut up fruits and coffee. He hums in the tune of one of his songs, Amy bobbing her head as she drinks her milk, enjoying this quality time with her father as he hums and sings to her. It is no doubt that she has grown familiar with the songs he sings to her. Harry’s convinced that she must’ve heard him even when she was still in your belly. 

As he watches the oil sizzling around the bread, he feels two arms wrapped around his waist and a head on his shoulder. He grins at the familiar touch of his wife. It’s amazing how the both of you have grown familiar to each other’s touch through all the years. 

He turns around, keeping a hand on the handle of the pan and the other arm wrapped around you, kissing your head. “Morning, my love,” he says, laying his head on hers. “Morning, baby,” you mumble out in a tired voice. “Bed was cold,” you pout as you stifle a yawn from your mouth. 

He chuckles at your tired state, knowing how much you enjoy waking up next to him instead of an empty bed space. “Happy Mother’s day, lovie,” he tells you, smiling as he sees how your face lights up at his words. You couldn’t believe it yourself that you’re able to spend this special with your little family. “Thank you, bubs,” you beam at him, leaning up to kiss him. Harry hums into the kiss, his lips moving slowly against yours. 

A baby’s babbling snaps you both from the kiss you shared, you could see your baby girl whining as she reaches out for you. You both laugh at this, breaking away as you walk over to her. “Hello, my little baby love,” you say as you kisses all over her face, eliciting giggles from Amy. “Mama,” she says, nuzzling her face into your neck. 

“Have you been helping daddy cook?” You ask her as you brush through her soft curls. You hear Harry scoff behind you as you say this. “She hasn’t been helping at all, just bossing around in her little high chair,” he says jokingly, Amy laughs at his fake pouty expression directed at her. 

“And you,” he says as he turns off the stove, walking over to you. “Should be in bed. Was gonna bring ya breakfast in bed as a surprise. All romantic and shit.” You slap a hand on his shoulder as he curses. Harry laughs at this as he wraps his arms around you. “Don’t swear around her,” you tell him with a fake angry tone. 

Amy pays no attention to them, busying herself by finishing her little bottle of milk. You turn around to face him, hanging her arms around his shoulders. “Now, I feel bad. I could just run back up, pretend to be asleep until you come in,” you suggest, running your fingers through his curls. He sighs at the comforting feeling. 

“Mmm. The surprise is kind of ruined now, so,” he shrugs as he says in a matter of fact. You roll your eyes at him. “Well, I still would love to have breakfast in bed with my baby and my handsome and loving, made by said husband,” you say cheekily at him. 

Harry grins at you, resting his forehead on yours. “Handsome and loving husband, huh? Gotta be one lucky bloke to have married an amazing woman,” he teases, making you throw your head back laughing. “Alright then,” he says, patting your bum. “Go on then. Pretend you’re sleeping, give me an award-winning performance when I come up.”

You hum as you give him a quick peck on the lips. “See you in bed, my handsome husband!” You call out behind you as you make your way out of the kitchen. Amy puts down her finished bottle and frowns as her mother goes off. “Mama?” She pouts at her father. 

Harry comforts her as he kisses her head. “We’ll join her in a bit, Amy. Gotta get breakfast ready.” She coos in response as she traces over the butterfly tattoo on his stomach. 

Harry puts Amy in the baby sling they bought for her as he prepares the food on a tray. He coos at her as she cuddles up on his chest, loving the warmth he radiates. He slowly balances the food tray as they ascend up the stairs to your bedroom. 

When he pushes the door open, he sees you in bed, seemingly asleep, although the hint of smile on your face would say otherwise. He gently sets the tray down on your bed. Amy is already reaching out for you as he sits next to you. 

He shakes you gently. “Wake up, lovie.” Your eyes flutter open, smiling sweetly at your two loves. “Hello, my loves,” you say to them. You both laugh at the silliness as you lean up to kiss his lips. You take Amy out of the sling and set her on your lap. 

“So, was my performance worthy of an award?” You tease him as you kiss all over Amy’s face, making her giggle.

“Oh yeah, definitely. Couldn’t tell you were acting,” he plays along. 

You sniff in the delicious scent of food laid out in front of you. You moan in delight as you lay your head on his shoulder. “I love you. Thank you.” 

“I love you too, honey.” He kisses your head. He kisses you again, long enough for the feel of his lips to linger on yours. “Happy Mother’s day,” he says lovingly, taking a piece of the french toast he made. 

You beam at him as he entertains with Amy’s babbling. And you think to yourself, you would much rather just stay at home, order in food and watch movies in bed with them today. Perhaps Harry might be up to take a nice bubble bath when Amy has her usual afternoon naps.

Truthfully, you couldn’t wait to spend more Mother’s Days, as long as you are with your two loves. And hopefully, with more little ones in the future. 

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #dad!harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #parkersroses writing #harry styles x reader

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal (4)

Am I doing this right? I mostly do write this when I am between the state of sleep and awareness. Hope you enjoy this.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1) (Part 3)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART 4

Marinette came to a dungeon cell with two other prisoners. One of them was awake and he looked vaguely familiar. The other had an ugly red helmet that didn’t help with the headache she had.

“Do you know where we are?” She asked the handsome stranger with beautiful green eyes, her throat a little dry.

Wait. Handsome?

No bad Marinette. Don’t fall for fellow prisoners, no matter how cute he looks. Oh Kwamis, she was already screwed.

He still hadn’t replied. Maybe he didn’t understand French. She tried to ask again in another language before her enhanced hearing picked up the sound of footsteps. She faked unconsciousness. Later, she heard the iron door open. She looked through the tiniest slits of her eyes she could muster while the two held a staring/glaring match. Oh shit, that’s the fame Talia Al Ghul, daughter of Ra’s, head of the League of Shadows, and the boy she was glaring at had some resemblance to her, so he must be her son, Dennis? Daniel? Damon?

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

Ohh..Damian. Where had she heard that name before?

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Ouch, that hurts. Well, Damian, just because I forgot your name does not mean you can call me a little girl. I can also kill you very easily and painfully.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Red Helmet, Jason, is officially not going on her hit list for his atrocious fashion choices. But that red monstrosity still needs to go.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Marinette felt her hair being yanked. A little pain was expected but the really sharp claws digging into her scalp was not. Making her cry and tear up.

”I am so sorry, kit.” Plagg whispered in the kwami language, loosening his claws.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Damian growled out.

Geez, thanks for the compliment, it’s not like you ever had a tiny cat dig its claws into your scalp out of surprise. (Damian once had a kitten thrown at his head and if he knew about Plagg, he would have been sympathetic.) Marinette started begging for mercy, hoping they would buy the helpless girl out of the suit that is ill-suited for the job she had been chosen for and had no idea on how to escape.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.”

Oh kwamis, what did she ever do to have such a picky groom? The more he insults her, the less she wants to be married to him.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection."

Great, another reason to stop her mother from killing a senile old man.

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

So that’s where she heard it from. The boy was the son of the daughter of a guy who leads a secret order of assassins and a man that owns a multi-million business. How even did a billionaire meet an assassin, ends up in bed with her and lives? Something to think about for later. She quieted down her sobs, (beat that acting, Rossi) kept her voice low to hatch out a plan with Plagg in the kwami language while the mother-son duo bickered.

“Hey, Plagg before you go, you think I can do that thing, the one which your one of your past holders from Japan can do.”

“You have a lot of potential for destruction but you have not used the ring for a long time yet so I am not sure.”

“I will give it a go anyways. Nothing to lose after all. See you later, Plagg.” Marinette smiled, one that drove fear into the hearts of even the bravest of people. Plagg returned it, already loving the new Guardian before zipping out of the cell to do some scouting. Using the enhanced strength the French superheroine got from prolonged use of the Miraculous, she yanked the chains of the walls and wrapped them around Talia’s neck, cutting off her air supply.

The League of Assassins thought that they could kidnap her and get away with it. But they were no match for the daughter of Sabine Cheng, the deadly Blue Reaper. A high ranking member from the group of assassins and mercenaries called the Guild of Night, who had semi-retired. Kidnapping her was a bad move to make as it meant they had declared war on the Guild, despite the reason behind her abduction having a completely different intention.

She whispered as such to the older woman in her tight grip, making sure the League would know how much they had fucked up. After dropping the limp body, she took a deep breath and tried channeling some of her energy for what she was about to do.

Well, here goes nothing.

She breathed out on the shackles, turning it to rust.

Success!

She introduced herself as Lady and concentrated the energy from before into her hand, forming inky black orbs of destruction in order to free her fellow captives. She felt a little drained from doing magic out of the suit and tried not to show it. Plagg returned, informing her of where the Ra’s and the Pits were. She grinned at the thought of showing old Ra’s who the boss is and made sure he regretted ever messing with her. She explained about Plagg as vaguely as she can, no need to let anyone know about the miraculous than necessary. Sure her plan sounds insane but the boys don’t know who they were with.

She would worry about that curse after she got out of Nanda Parbat. Although she could probably find something in the grimoire to reverse it, she was still an amateur at magic so it was best to have a professional to take care of it. Marinette didn’t want to be with such an asshole, no matter how striking he looks in those regal robes.

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Picking off the League assassins, one by one was easy especially in her transformed state. She hadn’t appraised her suit properly but from what she had seen, it wasn’t like Chat Noir’s leather get-up. She was armoured in vital areas and her colour scheme was mainly black with green accents. There were vials that were probably poisons and pouches which she decided to look at later. She still had a long braid as a tail from her brief stint as Lady Noire and she wondered why her suit was different. While hiding in a niche she found, she called the bakery via the comm in one of her various pouches.

“Hello?”

“Papa, it’s me, Marinette. Do you know where Maman is?”

“She went out of Paris, talking about how this League must pay. I think she is meeting up with several of her old friends. Are you alright, my little blossom? I know you can take care of yourself but I worry.” The relief in Tom’s voice was palpable. However, she was right and the Guild was going to war against the League. Marinette was adored by nearly everyone in the Guild due to her strangely bubbly and cheery personality in the harsh and brutal lifestyle.

“I am fine, Papa. Did Maman use the Horse to leave? And how are my friends?” She knew they might be in a panic after her disappearance.

“I think she did. I didn’t see Kalki when I went to feed the kwamis. Your friends panicked when they found out you were kidnapped. But they are fine now, mostly worried about you. Took care of some akumas and senti monsters by themselves. I think your fencer friend, Kagami, knows more about the League than she lets on.” Of course, she does. Her mother was a member of the Guild before being blinded due to a mission. Kagami and her actually first met during a reunion party of sorts.

“Thank you, Papa. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up and dialed the personal phone number her mother uses that only Marinette and her father knows about. She waited for the call to connect, trying to think of ways to stop her mother from storming into the League’s base of operation.

“Maman, it’s me. I know you want to attack the League right this minute. But I have a better plan. Can you get Tikki’s earrings from Alix? We can use them and the ring to destroy the Lazarus Pits. Make them really angry.” She peeked out of the niche she was hiding in. She had been there for a while and needed to move to gain some grounds.

“Where are you? And are you okay?” Panic and worry filled her usually composed mother’s voice.

“I am somewhere in Nanda Parbat and I am fine. I was nearly married off to Talia’s son but I am not now. I think.” Marinette replied. Better to rip that band-aid off before she showed up with her would-have-been-husband. She jumped out of the niche and looked

“Kalki, Full Gallop. Okay, we will talk about the ‘nearly married’ part later. What was this plan to destroy the Lazarus Pits?” Sabine thought she was already used to Marinette’s brand of craziness that was her normal but apparently, not.

“I am currently on my way there. Plagg said we need Tikki to get rid of them. Since the League pissed me off and by extension you and the rest of the Guild, I thought our first move against them is to destroy the Pits and a trail of bodies. By the way, can you get some cheese for Plagg?” Marinette ran through the halls, knocking out some poor sod with a whack on the head.

Silence. She thought Sabine had hung up when-

“Voyage. Alix, where are you? We need Tikki for one of Marinette’s insane plans. And Marinette, stay safe, sweety, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“Bye, Maman. See you there.”

Marinette turned another corner, the last one before the path that leads to the entrance where the Lazarus Pits were. She only managed to find it with Plagg’s voice in her head, whispering directions and Tikki’s luck. Unfortunately, the luck ran out because the entrance had a lot of guards who had spotted her.

Crap.

She hoped her mother would get here soon. Thankfully, being transformed gave her a boost and would help her to hold her ground for a while.

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Damian and Red Hood followed the trail of unconscious bodies and sounds of fights, trying to find Lady. Damian was impressed at the level of her skills to defeat many of the League’s assassins although he could probably do better. They relied on his memory to find the Lazarus Pits which was their best bet to finding her as she claimed to be able to destroy them. If Lady possessed such powers, they must find out whether she is a threat to the world or not. And also break the infernal curse they have.

Red Hood was silent mostly. He made a few jabs about how kick ass his ‘bride’ was and how the current Robin should not let her get away. Damian tried really hard not to just maim his adopted brother and also ignore that little fluttering in his chest that happened every time they saw an unconscious assassin left behind by Lady. The sounds of fighting got louder as they got nearer to the entrance. They turned the final corner to see Lady fighting against the guards who outnumbered her. But she seemed to be doing fine against them. Mostly.

One had slipped through her defenses and nearly stabbed her in the back if it weren’t for Damian grabbing one of Red Hood’s guns and shooting a rubber bullet to the neck. He jumped into the fight, grabbing the fallen assassin’s sword and taking out the knife he got from his mother. Jason joined in too, not going to let the two teens have all the fun.

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“Thanks for the save, Al Ghul but I don’t know why you bothered when me being dead would solve your curse problem.” Lady said as the guards laid around them and they tried to catch their breath.

“It’s Wayne. I go by Wayne these days. Being an Al Ghul is not something I learned to be proud of. And as much as I don’t want this curse, your death is not worth that price.” he replied, “Although, I have to wonder why you would choose to die rather than live.”

She chuckled, “Okay, Wayne, to answer your question. Petty teenage drama makes death much more preferable. On top of that, I have responsibilities that I was practically forced into for doing one little act of kindness.” Her tone was joking but there was a touch of bitterness in it. It made Damian want to find out what caused it. Red Hood looked at her in concern. Lady went down the stairs, ignoring their reactions to her words. They followed her, not wanting to lose sight of her again.

The Lazarus Pits emitted a green glow that lit up the cave and cast strange shadows on the walls. At the edge of the glowing toxic green waters was a woman in dark blue clothing and strangely enough wearing sunglasses. Strapped to her sides were two Dao, ancient Chinese swords. She wore a vindictive expression on her face as she stood staring at the green lake, likely to kill anyone who gets in her way. Damian didn’t recognize the woman as part of the League but taking no chances, he got into a fighting stance and Hood did the same. Lady calmly approached the woman. He reached out to grab her to stop her suicidal nature when she shocked him by speaking to the blue-clad assassin in French,

“Hey, Maman, sorry I am late. I had a little trouble with the guards upstairs. You have Tikki?”

Lady’s mother rushed to hug her, “灵儿 (líng er), I am just glad you are alright. I knew you could handle yourself.”

How the hell did Lady’s mother get to the Lazarus Pits faster than them and snuck past several vigilant guards? Before Damian could question further, a red blur appeared and went to Lady’s face, hugging her cheek. It appeared to be the same size as Plagg but was red, looked like a bug and had a black dot on its forehead.

“Oh, Marinette, you are alright. I was so worried when your mother showed up, saying you were kidnapped and needed my earrings to escape.” Unlike Plagg’s nasally voice, her voice was sweet and shrill.

So, my bride’s name is Marinette. Such a unique name for an intriguing girl.

Wait what?

Wayne, stop thinking such ridiculous notions. That is probably the curse working. Resist against it. He will not be ensnared in the traps of such magic. He hoped that the curse will be reversed before he turns and act like those fools in Grayson’s idiotic shows or Todd’s ‘secret’ romance novels.

“I am fine now. See,” reassured Lady, “We actually need you and Plagg to reverse the Lazarus Pits to what it was before someone made the wish that resulted in them in the first place. Oh, I almost forgot. Plagg, claws in.”

Green light flashed, leaving Lady in her wedding robes (which actually flatter her body. Shit. Think of something else. Drake with a smug superior smile that needs to be wiped off his face. Grayson and his plans for ‘family bonding’) and Plagg to reappear.

“Cheese.” whined the cat-like kwami(?) to which the older woman held out a brown bag that smelled and made Plagg perk up in delight. He proceeded to open the bag, taking out a slice of stinky cheese, muttering about the greatness of camembert.

Todd cleared his throat and asked in English, “Umm...Pixie as much as your reunion is touching. Who’s the new lady?”

“Oh Right, sorry. Well, Red Hood, this is my mother, the Blue Reaper of the Guild of Night. Maman, this is Red Hood and the one next to him is my husband-to-be and Talia’s Spawn, Damian Wayne.”

Lady introduced them, also in English. Damian stilled in fear, recognizing the name. The Blue Reaper nearly became his mother-in-law. She was famous for her efficiency and ruthlessness. And gained her nickname from the blue clothing she often wore as she killed her targets. His eyes also widened at how his grandfather had gone a little too far now by kidnapping the Reaper’s daughter. There were other organizations that could possibly take down the League if it weren’t for the somewhat truce between Ra’s and the other leaders. The Guild was one of them and having the Lazarus Pits to revive their soldiers made the League a little more powerful. But if what the mother-daughter duo were planning succeeded, then the League was going to have one of its most deadly wars in its history and would probably never recover from.

“Tikki, Plagg, you guys ready?” asked Lady.

“Yes, Guardian.” They both replied and emitted a blinding red and green light which Damian shielded his eyes from. When it died down, the Lazarus Pits no longer glowed a toxic green and looked… like normal hot spring water.

“Oh. I wished I could see Ra’s face when he finds out.” Lady laughed. Plagg and Todd joined in.

“Pixie, I am beginning to like you.”

“Voyage. That being said, it’s time to go home, Marinette. Your father must be worried sick about us by now. I hope you boys can find your own way back.” A portal opened up, showing a cozy living room. Damian grabbed Lady’s wrist as she moved towards it.

“Wait, let us come with you. We need to contact someone to get rid of the curse on both of us. And we can also call our father to send us tickets for a ride home wherever you live.”

“Curse? Marinette, you never mentioned a curse in your call.” Blue Reaper said, raising her eyebrow.

“I will explain later. They can come with us and I am pretty sure Ra’s knows that we have escaped by now.” Lady grabbed the two brothers and dragged them through the portal.

She then threw herself onto the couch after releasing her hold on them and the two pocket gods went to comfort her after her ordeal. The Blue Reaper stood where the other portal was and fed a floating tiny gray horse, that must be the same species as Tikki or Plagg, some sugarcubes.

“You boys must be tired but the showers are upstairs and we might have some clothes your size. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You can stay the night if you want. Welcome to Paris.”

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Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop, @all-mights-asscheeks, @idk-j-go-with-it , @loysydark, @thenillabean, @lolieg, @zalladane, @silvergold-swirl

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(Part 5)

#damian x marinette #mlb x dc #daminette #maribat #Betrothal AU: take 2 #A Failed Betrothal #assassin marinette #sort of #assassin sabine cheng #definitely #Jason is just here for a ride #marinette is a little petty

[chelleztjs18]

Lost in Assistance - Ch. 8

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n is a professional celebrity's personal assistant in Hollywood got hired with two years contract to be the assistant of the famous and talented Elizabeth Olsen / Lizzie by her manager. Both Y/n and Lizzie hate each other since day one, and they have mutual friend. One is as stubborn as the other, will Y/n stay when Lizzie gives attitudes and tries her best to make her quit before the contract ends?

Warning: fluff, angst, smut (in future chapters), swearing words ( +18 only)

I do not own any pictures, name, brand, song titles or anything that I used in this story.

All chapters

The flight is finally over. After eleven hours, three of you finally arrived at Charles De Gaulle airport. A driver picked up all of you and then took you to the hotel. You have requested the hotel to set up a specific amount of aromatherapy candles in every room in Lizzie's Victorian style suite room along with an aromatherapy oil diffuser in her room with a room set up to 70 degrees just like she always requests wherever she travels. The girls will stay in the same suite room and you have your own.

The suite is a very large room with Eiffel Tower view through a large window with elegant curtains. It has its own living room with two large bathrooms. It has a high ceiling with some gorgeous paintings.

The girls plan to go around since they have almost two full free days before the photoshoot. Lizzie asked the hotel suite butler where to go shopping both for designer products and traditional markets, also for some tourist attraction. The butler explains in English but with a very thick French accent, you can see both girls nodding as if they understand everything he said but you know they don't really understand everything.

After the butler left, you made sure if they understood what he said and if they needed anything else. "Did you guys understand everything he said just now? I could help you guys go around checking stuff out and be your guide too." You offered while you were moving all the luggage to the room and made sure everything was okay. Before Aubrey would happily accept your offer, Lizzie's pride pushed her to refuse it quickly. "Of course we understand everything he said. I have been here before, so has Aubrey. We don't need your help."

"Are you sure? I can help you both, I don't mind. Just let me do my job will you?" Despite Lizzie's rejection for your help, you offered once again. You used to live here for work for a little over a year, you know Paris pretty well but as stubborn as Lizzie is, yet again she refused it.

"Liz, It wouldn't hurt if she is coming with us, we might need her help. We never know." Aubrey tries to talk Lizzie some sense. "I can help you girls with your shopping bags at least." Normally, you would be already annoyed but since your friend is here as well, it was a friendly offer and try to keep it professional as well.

Lizzie sighed in annoyance and finally gave in. "Fine, then come but I don't want you to talk too much or say anything unless we need your help. Happy now?" She pouted and walked away. Aubrey rolled her eyes jokingly at you about Lizzie. "Okay cool, I'm gonna head to my room and I'll see you two again in like an hour?" Both of them agreed and you headed to your room.

You get into your room, try to take a little break before you take a shower and get ready again. You heard your phone notify you of a text, it's from Aubrey.

"Hey, I'm sorry for how Lizzie acts towards you. She probably has something bothering her mind. She is very stubborn but she is actually a nice and sweet person, I promise. You'll see what I meant someday. It just takes a little time."

Aubrey's short nice text actually makes you smile and feel better. For you, it's like an appreciation to your work that you think probably you will never get from Lizzie and it helps motivate you not to quit no matter how hard she tries to make you quit.

"Thanks Aubrey. It's not easy but I'll do my best doing my job. :) " You replied and continued to get ready.

You knocked on Lizzie's door. She opened the door and you got caught off guard with how she looks. You notice that now her dirty blonde mixed with brunette natural hair color is straightened this time with simple make up. You cleared your throat to say hi but she already walked away.

"Hi Y/n!" Aubrey greeted you nicely like usual. "Hey. Are you both ready to go?" You asked. "I am. Hey Liz, are you ready?" She asked her. "Uh huh. Let's go." Lizzie answered as she walked past you. She already looks a little upset. You gave a confused look at Aubrey and she shrugged her shoulders.

Three of you went to some designer stores. It was easy and no problem since it's designer stores and tourist places so mostly people speak English there. You just follow them around helping them with their shopping bags, and don't say a word just like you were asked to. You don't want to talk too much anyway since you consider you are at work right now.

The problem starts when the girls want to go to a place where more locals go shopping. Smaller shopping centers or some markets. You do just what they asked and take them to where they want to go. It was fun at first until Lizzie got irritated since not too many people or sellers can speak English. Every time she found something she liked and wanted to buy it she couldn't because of the language barrier, no matter how many times you offered to help, yet again Lizzie refused your help right away. So you just follow them and watch them.

It's almost too funny for you to watch but then you enjoy it a little and think how she can be so stubborn and has a very big ego that she lets herself get stuck in a loop of a situation like this. You feel bad for them. "Let me help you." You offered for the last time and the frustrated Lizzie couldn't help but raise her voice a little when she answered you. "Oh my god y/n I don't need your help. What can you do to help anyway?! Let's just go back to the hotel. I'm done."

You shake your head in disbelief and you can't stay silent anymore so you step up to talk to the seller, you start from the truffle store where the three of you are. "Monsieur, nous voulons acheter un paquet de truffe blanche française et de truffe noire s'il vous plaît." Both Lizzie and Aubrey were astonished with what just happened. You gave Lizzie the truffle that she wanted to buy and helped her finish the transaction.

"Wow y/n! I didn't know you speak French. That's so awesome and sexy as well." Aubrey said it jokingly as she nudged Lizzie's arm to tease her. "Aw thanks Aubrey." They follow you walk back to the store where Lizzie wants a set of French baguette accessories. "Excusez-moi mademoiselle, nous voulons acheter un ensemble d'accessoires de baguette française s'il vous plaît." Again, you came back with the things Lizzie wanted to buy and hand it to her then finish the purchase.

Lizzie was embarrassed with what just happened. She actually felt stupid but with the big pride and ego she has, she covered her embarrassment in a most wrong way as possible instead of admitting that she needs your help.

"You can speak French and you didn't tell us? Did you enjoy watching me in frustration walk around trying to buy stuff that I can't just because I can't speak French and just stand there? Are you happy after making me look like a fool?" Lizzie talked in frustration and embarrassment.

Your mouth slightly opened in disbelief. "You kidding right? Do you have short term memory lost or something?! Do you not remember that you keep refusing my help? Yeah, MY help. I told you many times I can help! A thank you would be nice by the way!" Aubrey got caught in the middle and couldn't do anything but pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yeah but you didn't say you can speak French. You need to be more specific." Lizzie clenched her jaw and still refuses to admit it.

"Oh I'm sorry Ms. Olsen if I wasn't too "SPECIFIC" when I offered you help!" You argued back sarcastically while doing air quote hand signal. "This is bullshit! I wouldn't think any less of you even if you admit that you need my help because it's my fucking job. Unbelievable!" Anger evident in your face.

Aubrey tried to talk to her " Liz, I think -" Lizzie answered right away "Aubrey, please, just don't." You walked away to calm down. Three of you went back to the hotel with another unresolved argument. On the way back none of you said anything then get back to your own rooms. Aubrey knows Lizzie very well to not to talk to her at this moment and it's better to wait until she calms down.

After the argument you both had earlier, Lizzie is not talking with you but luckily Aubrey is willing to help you to be the messenger between you two which gives you the advantage to figure out where she wants to have dinner. You reserved a driver and a restaurant where the girls decided to eat. You are waiting for them at the lobby to make sure everything is ready for them. Soft music plays in the background with soft yellow light from the chandelier lid the lobby to make the guests feel comfortable and relax in a fancy five star hotel atmosphere.

You waved as soon as you spotted them. Aubrey plastered a smile on her face while Lizzie showed the opposite of it. Her expression dulled.

"Hi. Are you both ready to go?" You greeted them. "Hi y/n! Thank you for waiting for us." Aubrey showed her appreciation towards you. "Hey." Lizzie greeted half heartedly as she sighed and tried her best to avoid eye contact with you. You slightly raise your eyebrow in surprise as you didn't expect she would talk to you.

"The driver is ready, I already made a reservation for both of you under Olsen's name and the driver will take both of you back. Don't worry, it's a big restaurant, the staff there speaks English so both of you won't need my help. Well, enjoy your dinner." Your hand points where the driver is as you talk to them, you still feel uneasy after the argument earlier.

"You are not coming with us? Why don't you come have dinner with us?" Aubrey offered. You can see from the corner of your eyes that Lizzie seems like waiting for what response will come out from you but you don't know what response she expects from you as she is wearing a poker face.

"Unfortunately, I'm not. My help won't be needed there and I have to prepare everything for Lizzie's photoshoot tomorrow, but thank you for the kind offer. I appreciate it." You gave Aubrey a nod of gratitude. "All right then. I'll see you tomorrow." Aubrey shrugged her shoulders.

"Ms. Olsen, I will come pick you up at your door by 11 AM tomorrow so we can be at the location before the session starts at 12.30. PM. I'll see you tomorrow." You turn your face to Lizzie and see her nodded in agreement. "Okay."

The girls walked out of the car and you went back to your room to spend the rest of the night.

Ch. 9

Taglist : @madamevirgo​

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #lizzie olsen #lizzie olsen x reader #lizzie olsen x you #lizzie olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen fanfic #lizzie olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fluff #enemies to lovers #enemies to soulmates #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn

[lavenderbexlatte]

holding you like this

stray kids  13.4k words female reader insert Reader x DILF!Hwang Hyunjin  EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: original characters (adult f and child f), single father, unhealthy family dynamics, relationship insecurity, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, breeding/impregnation kink 🖤

🚨🚨 the unhealthy family dynamic warning applies to hyunjin and his parents, NOT hyunjin and his child! there are elements of emotional manipulation and emotional neglect of an adult child by his parents. please don’t read if you would find this content triggering!

connect with me! / masterlist

You prepare yourself for a lot of social what-ifs when you go to the grocery store, but a three-year-old almost taking you out with a headbutt to the knee isn’t usually one of them.

On this particular day, you’re standing in the coffee aisle, scanning the rows of beans, trying to pick between a new roast for your French press, or a new flavor for the automatic drip. You’re not having an easy time of it, either. They all look the same to you. And really, is a French vanilla that different from a caramel swirl? Why are some of these so expensive? They’re all just beans, aren’t they?

The coffee dilemma is taking up all of your conscious focus, so you don’t even hear the tiny footsteps clicking against the industrial tile floor. You don’t see the head of bouncing dark hair, barreling toward you. You don’t notice anything until a tiny body slams right into your leg, and little arms wrap around your knees.

You look down in shock, rocking back to steady yourself so that you don’t topple right over. Your phone nearly slips out of your hand, right onto the head of the very small human peering up at you with big round eyes.

It’s a little girl.

She has glitter extensions and a floor-brushing gown, looking royal and in control right down to the tiny Mary Janes on her feet. She doesn’t look confused or perturbed at all, not even bothered by clinging to a stranger like this. Well, that makes one of you.

“Hello,” the little girl says, her voice high but confident. “What’s your name?”

You tell her, and she nods wisely, in a way that looks incredibly bizarre for someone so young.

“Okay. I’m Minnie,” she says.

“Minnie,” your repeat.

The girl nods, her arms still clamped around your knees. “Like the mouse.”

She points at one of the barrettes clipped into her meticulously styled hair. It’s a flat metal cameo pin of Minnie Mouse, smudged with tiny fingerprints as if she touches it often.

“Cool,” you say awkwardly.

You reach down and gently unwind her arm from around you, freeing yourself, and you kneel down so that you’re at her height. She just looks directly at you, and you can feel the judgmental intelligence behind her gaze. It’s kind of scary.

“I’m three and three-quarters,” she tells you proudly.

“Where’s your grown up?” you ask her.

You don’t really think you’d be much help to this child. You certainly don’t want to have to be responsible for her for too long. Where are her parents, or whoever she came here with?

“My grown up?” she mulls it over, “You mean Daddy. He’s lookin’ at juice.”

“Why aren’t you with him?” you ask.

“Ran away,” she shrugs, “If I run, Daddy chases me.”

“Do you think Daddy likes chasing you?” you ask.

You immediately curse yourself inwardly for asking a preschooler a half-sarcastic question like that. You don’t know this kid from Eden, you can’t just mouth off at her. But Minnie is sharp, and she just smiles at you winningly.

“I dunno. Prob’ly not,” she shrugs again, and you marvel at the big attitude in this small person.

“What if he’s worried about you?”

“Then he should find me,” she answers.

And with that, the kid sits down cross-legged on top of your feet, settling her gown neatly around herself. You’re floored. Apparently, you’ve become the shade tree that this kid is gonna sit under until her poor father finds her. Are all little kids this weird?

You’re not sure what to do. If you move, if you take her and go searching, you could spend all day missing her father at every turn. That means you should probably just stay here and wait for her dad to come to you. At least this way you know the kid’s safe and not running around to meet strangers more dangerous than you.

You get back to your coffee dilemma, as Minnie just sits primly on your feet. It’s not like you could walk away without dislodging her, anyway. And as you pick out a package of coarse-ground beans for your French press, you hear it.

“Minnie!”

An exasperated voice, from the end of the aisle. You turn toward the sound, and the person that you see takes your breath away.

It’s a man, tall and slim, long legs in wide-legged denim. His hair is shoulder-length and blonde, the top half of it held back in a small ponytail at the crown of his head. His face is equal parts angry and relieved, dark thick brows furrowing. The guy is incredibly, distractingly beautiful. You kind of can’t believe it.

“Daddy,” Minnie pipes up, as if confirming it to you.

She leans back against your shins like you’re her personal throne. You look down at her, and then back up at the man as he approaches, dragging a half-full shopping cart behind him.

“I am so sorry,” the man is saying, “She has a mind of her own and sometimes-”

“I made a friend!” Minnie interrupts her father.

The man leans down and scoops his daughter off your feet, plunking her into the basket of his shopping cart.

“You’re in jail, princess,” he tells her curtly.

“I’ll get out,” she replies.

You’re sure that your jaw is actually hanging open several inches as the man turns back to you to continue his rambling apology.

“I really am sorry, um…” he pauses.

“(Y/N),” you fill in for him.

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you dismiss, “She just wanted to talk. And I wanted to make sure she didn’t get lost. More lost.”

The man grins at you sheepishly. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

“I like her,” Minnie calls from her shopping-cart jail cell, “She’s funny.”

“That’s a high honor,” Hyunjin tells you soberly.

“I’m glad to finally hear that someone thinks I’m funny,” you say.

Hyunjin laughs. He has a nice laugh, sharper and shriller than you would have thought, but full and honest. He looks just like Minnie when he smiles. You’re thoroughly charmed.

“Well,” you say, tugging yourself back to reality, “I have some more shopping to do, so…”

“We’re friends now!” Minnie announces.

Hyunjin glances at his daughter. “You two are friends now?”

“Yes!” the girl insists.

Hyunjin returns his gaze to you. “I guess you’re friends now. Any chance you’re up to see us again sometime?”

“See you again?” you repeat, nonplussed.

“Just for coffee, maybe. A playdate?” Hyunjin’s grin is teasing.

“Doesn’t she have other friends?” you ask, “Friends who are more…three years old?”

“Oh, sure. but Min is an equal-opportunity befriender,” Hyunjin says, “She likes everyone.”

You really don’t know what to make of this precocious little girl who’s just declared you her new friend and her very indulgent but admittedly very attractive father. You might consider that he was hitting on you, except that he’s clearly just bending to the will of his very willful child, and that he’s way, way, way out of your league.

“Sure,” you say, finally.

“Cool.”

Hyunjin pulls out his phone and offers it to you with the keypad open. You enter your number and call yourself, and you save each other’s data into your phones. ‘Hyunjin (Minnie’s Dad)’ goes in as your newest contact.

“We’ll text you to make plans!” Hyunjin promises, as he wheels his cart away.

“See you later!” Minnie calls.

She waves furiously at you until the two of them round the corner to the left, toward the checkout counters. You’re left standing there with your package of coffee and butterflies in your stomach.

Just like that, you have a new friend.

---------------

When you do eventually get a text from the number saved as ‘Hyunjin (Minnie’s Dad),’ it’s abundantly clear which of the two is doing the texting.

‘hello!!!!!!’ ‘yo u have to wear’ ‘princess dress!!!!!’

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and you’re at work, sat at your desk overlooking the production floor. Your lunch is just about to end, the boys in assembly below are already getting back to it, and you need to make this quick before your next meeting.

Hyunjin must have helped with the spelling, but that is definitely a message direct from Minnie. You’re debating how exactly to respond to this message, when a call comes in, instead. You answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” The voice on the other end is unmistakable.

“Hi, Minnie,” you say patiently.

“Did you get my text?”

“Of course,” you answer.

“Good. Wear your princess dress,” she says decisively. “Talk to Daddy now.”

The phone clatters loudly like it’s been dropped right on the floor, and you hear a shout in the background. You wince at the noise, but keep the phone pressed to your ear until Hyunjin’s voice replaces his daughter’s.

“Hey, sorry,” he says, “She decided that PJ Masks are more important than this phone call that she DEMANDED I make to invite you for coffee on Saturday.”  

“Coffee, huh?” you repeat.

“Yeah, if that’s okay,” Hyunjin says.

You can hear real hesitation in his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him, “No, no, I think it’s cute. It’s okay.”

“She just never takes to strangers this fast,” Hyunjin explains, and you can’t quite fathom why that piece of knowledge makes your stomach swoop. “I wanna encourage her to see the world as kind of…safe and fun, y’know? Is that stupid? Like, she shouldn’t just run around with strangers, but she shouldn’t be afraid of the world, either.”

“That makes sense,” you assure him.

“We had a talk about it, I think she understands the difference.”

He’s kind of rambling at you. You wonder how often Hyunjin gets a chance to talk parenting with someone.

“No, really, I understand,” you say, “I’d love to do coffee.”

“Great,” he says, “You can meet us at this café…I’ll send you the address. It’s called Mama Dining.”

You’ve never heard of it, but you trust Minnie’s taste. Hyunjin, you can’t say for sure. But you trust that little girl with more blind conviction than is probably necessary.

“Okay, see you then,” you say.

“Cool.” You can hear Hyunjin’s smile in his voice. “Bye, (Y/N).”

“Bye!” comes Minnie’s voice, far away but loud, and you know that she must be screaming as loud as she can.

You laugh, and you hang up.

--------------- Mama Dining is a small glass-front piece of realty across from a folk medicine shop and underneath a square brick apartment building, a few metro stops away from the area where you live. It’s so stuffed full of potted plants and flowers in vases that there’s barely any surface area for anything else, but it’s clean and bright inside. The tables are mismatched with their chairs, and the whole place smells like coffee and sharp herbs and fresh bread.

It’s homey, that’s the word for it. Cozy, and homey.

You’d taken your pint-sized new friend’s advice to the letter, busting out one of the nice dresses that you save for special occasions. The last time you wore it was to a coworker’s wedding; it’s light and floaty and floral, a long floor-length skirt over a tighter inner slip. It’s the closest thing you have to a princess dress. But it’ll have to do.

You check your reflection in the glass as you pull the door open, bells tinkling above your head. As soon as you step into the café, a little voice shrieks at you.

“YES!”

Minnie is sitting at a table in the corner, in a different gown, her hair in an elaborate braided style, half-up and half-down. She’s looking at you with the utmost approval, and even though she’s a three-year-old, you still feel proud that you’re passing her test.

“A princess dress,” she says, satisfied.

“I tried my best,” you say.

You give a silly little spin on the spot, so that your skirt stands out for her, and behind you, someone laughs. You freeze, cheeks heating up.

“You look nice.”

It’s Hyunjin, because of course it is. You turn around to see him in casual jeans and a long sleeve tee, an apron tied around his waist. His hair is pulled back again, off his face. He’s gorgeous. But it kind of looks like…

“Do you work here?” you ask.

Hyunjin nods. “Easiest place to meet up is here, while I’m on shift. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him.

“I’ll get you a coffee,” he says, “What do you like?”

You tell him your regular order, and he heads to the espresso machine to start it up.

“Oh,” he calls, over the sound of the grinder, “And if Judy comes in while you’re here, I’m sorry in advance.”

Judy? Your stomach does an awkward flip at the idea of him inviting you here if he has a girlfriend, or a wife. You don’t think you’ve seen a wedding ring on him, but…

Oh, well. Nothing you can do, at this point. You’re here for the kid, anyway, aren’t you?

You go over to the table where Minnie has set up camp, propped in a booster seat to reach the tabletop. She has a coloring book and a pack of glitter crayons in front of her, and you pull up the second chair to join her. Minnie stares at you for second, her cute upturned eyes so much like her father’s, and then she opens up her coloring book, flipping the pages as carefully as she can.

When she finds what she wants, she sets the book down and rips the page out. It’s a picture of a teacup and saucer on a table, with a pitcher of flowers behind it.

“This is yours,” she says, with the utmost seriousness.

“Okay,” you say, matching her tone, “Can I use your crayons? I didn’t bring mine.”

You kind of expect a kid as serious and assertive as her to be careful about her possessions, but Minnie just upends the crayon box onto the table.

“Yep,” she says.

She grabs a lilac color and dives right into her own coloring page: a dressing table covered in cosmetics and trinkets. You select a red crayon from the pile and join her, filling in the delicate pattern on your teacup.

You can’t explain why it doesn’t feel like babysitting, but it doesn’t. It feels more like…coexisting. Like this preschooler really is just happy to have your company.

What a weird kid.

Hyunjin comes over after a moment with your coffee. The café is empty aside from you three, so he sits down at the table with you, placing the cup with your drink down beside the precarious pile of crayons.

“Daddy can’t color,” the kid tells you.

“Really?” you ask, looking up at Hyunjin wryly.

Hyunjin raises his hands as if in defeat, “My talents lie in performing arts, not studio arts. Unlike this renaissance child, who can do it all.”

It’s obvious that Hyunjin adores his daughter. You can see it in his eyes as he watches her scrub her crayons across the picture, in the way he talks about her. You’re not around kids a lot, but you can tell that this little girl has a lot of love in her life. That’s probably why she’s so bold; outgoing, kind, and well-adjusted kids are usually well-loved kids.

You smile to yourself as you keep coloring, switching the red for a grey. And after a while, you’re aware of Hyunjin’s watching gaze focused not on his daughter, but on you.

Embarrassed by the attention, you look up and meet his eye. He’s just watching you, with a lopsided smile that shows all of his teeth and crinkly smiling eyes that emphasize the little mole under his bottom eyelid on one side.

“What?” you ask.

He gives himself a little shake.

“Sorry,” he says.

It seems like all he does is apologize to you when he’s done nothing wrong at all.

“I was just thinking, it’s really sweet that you’re here,” he admits.

“Sweet?” you ask.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. How many people do you know who would come across town just to hang out with a little kid?”

You take a sip of the coffee. It’s perfect. Maybe the best you’ve ever had. Is he even real?

“Well, she’s like the coolest person I’ve ever met,” you say, “Regardless of age.”

“Yeah, she is,” Hyunjin says fondly.

“I’m cool,” Minnie agrees.

The doors of the café open softly, and you and Hyunjin turn around simultaneously to see a young couple, maybe college students, seating themselves and talking softly. Hyunjin excuses himself to go help them, and you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

What are you even doing here?

Did you agree to come on this very strange playdate because you were so taken by a strange child that you felt the need to keep a promise you made to her? Or, on some level, did you just want to see Hyunjin again? Neither answer is particularly good. Or sane.

“You and Daddy can be friends, too.”

Your head snaps up when you realize you’d being addressed, and you regard Minnie. “What?”

“You and Daddy can be friends. You’re my friend, but Daddy, too.”

You hum, as if you’re really puzzling it over, when in reality you’re about to collapse from the embarrassment of this child inadvertently setting you up with her dad. Or maybe advertently. You have no idea how smart she actually is.

“How does it look?” you ask instead, holding up your drawing.

Minnie puts down her crayon and scrutinizes your picture as if she’s a museum collections pro scouting for art.

“Do pink flowers,” she says eventually, and she returns to her own drawing with the same intensity.

“Good idea,” you say.

You pick out a rosy pink color and try to will all your nerves about Hyunjin away. He’s just a new friend. The father of you new littlest friend. You can’t make this weird just because he’s good-looking. Hyunjin himself has vanished into the back kitchen, tucked away to prepare something. You can hear a stove going, cutlery clattering.

The café door opens again as you’re idly listening to the sounds of the kitchen. This time, it’s a middle-aged woman with a long black ponytail and a practical, motherly outfit. She greets the young couple cheerfully, and then she sets her eyes on you.

“My Min!” the lady coos, and Minnie looks up from her drawing.

“Hi. I’m coloring.”

“I can see that,” the lady says, coming up closer to lean on the table next to your casually, “And who is this?”

“(Y/N),” Minnie answers.

“I see.”

The woman is smiling, but her eyes are regarding you coolly, as if she’s sizing you up. You just offer her a nervous smile, unsure who this is or why she knows the kid.

Hyunjin emerges from the kitchen then, timing perfect, a plate holding a large grilled sandwich in hand.

“Oh, hey, Judy,” he says, on his way past to give the couple their lunch.

Judy? This is the Judy that he mentioned earlier? Not to be ageist, you think, but she seems too old to be Hyunjin’s partner. But romantic relationship or not, you can understand why he apologized on her behalf; she’s already giving you incredibly intense vibes.

“(Y/N)’s picture goes on the wall with mine, okay, Judy?” Minnie says suddenly.

“Sounds like a plan,” Judy agrees, “Now, is someone going to tell me who this young lady is?”

Moving very quickly and pretending that he’s not, Hyunjin rejoins the three of you over in your corner, setting a comforting hand on Judy’s shoulder. You can’t help but wonder if he’s doing it as a means of subtly holding her back.

“Min made friends with her at the store the other day after one of her famous mad dashes,” Hyunjin says. “And we figured the polite thing to do after that would be to invite her for a cup of coffee.”

“I see,” Judy says.

Her face softens at Hyunjin’s words, even though she’s still looking you over quizzically, like she can’t decide how to feel about you being there.

“Well, welcome,” she says, finally, “I’m Judy. This is my café.”

She extends her hand to shake, and you take it. Her hand is slim and pretty, heavy with a few jeweled rings and slightly roughened on the fingertips from hard work.

“She takes care of us,” Minnie pipes up.

“I try to,” Judy agrees. “They need all the help they can get.”

“I resent that!” Hyunjin says.

“But really, I just use this pretty face to attract customers,” Judy continues, waving a hand at Hyunjin.

He squawks his outrage, and you can’t help the smile that creeps over your face.

“The teens see this face and they come right in. It’s like magic,” Judy says, as if she’s being purposefully oblivious to how much she’s embarrassing him.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” you say.

And you mean it, too. Hyunjin obviously has an unconventional support system going on, with this woman who he introduced by her first name and not by her relation to him. It leads you to believe they’re not blood-related or anything. It doesn’t really matter, though. She seems nice, if not a little protective.  

“Nice to meet you, too,” Judy says, with such heavy finality that you feel as though you’ve just cleared a hurdle.

And from the way Hyunjin’s whole body perks up at her words, maybe you have. Why do you get the feeling that this was the equivalent of a meeting-the-parents moment?

As quickly as the atmosphere had heightened, it settles back to the lazy calm it was before. Judy pats Minnie’s head fondly and disappears into the back of the café, not to reappear. Hyunjin returns to his work, and you take back up the task of neatly filling in the coloring page, careful not to upstage your tiny host and her not-quite-developed motor skills.

It’s a slow afternoon.

The young couple eats their lunch across the room, adding only a quiet hum of activity to your surroundings. Minnie tells you stories while you work, regaling you with the deep inner workings of preschooler life.

“Their names are Sage and Ginger!” she’s saying happily.

You haven’t been listening closely enough, clearly, because you’re stumped. “Whose names?”

“The babies!”

“What babies?”

“From Blue’s Clues & You,” she huffs.

Oh. You vaguely remember the original Blue’s Clues show, but you can’t say you know exactly what she’s talking about. Is she talking about…the sentient salt and pepper shakers? Do they have babies? Why do they have babies?!

“That’s cool,” you say, with level enthusiasm.

Minnie looks at you flatly, but accepts your words with a nod. “They’re cute. So little!”

It goes on like that, bits of kids’ programming trivia and input on your crayon color choices. The couple leaves, and you can see Hyunjin zeroing back in on you as he lets them out with a wave and a call to come back soon.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

You pick up your drawing, for him to see. You’ve been finished with it for a while now (it’s a children’s coloring book, so it’s not all that intricate) but you don’t want to appear unengaged, so you’ve been going over your lines and blurring out the crayon marks. His eyes crinkle up with joy at the sight of it.

“Done!” Minnie announces.

She brandishes her own drawing, too, and Hyunjin beams at the two of you with equal pride.

“Can I put these up?” he asks.

“Together,” says Minnie.

“You got it.”

He takes both rough-edged pages and whisks them away to the counter. Behind the register, on an expanse of wall, there’s a collection of doodles and coloring pages that you hadn’t noticed when you walked in. They must all be Minnie’s; the bold coloring strokes are all the same, her heavy hand immortalized in wax and marker and glitter pen.

Hyunjin tacks up the pictures side by side on the wall.

It’s the tiniest gesture in the world, really. You can’t even count how many scraps of paper, how many school notebooks and work memos that you’ve scribbled on over the course of your life. You’ve colored kids’ menus at restaurants, done detailed adult coloring books at mixers. Somehow, this one ragged coloring page tacked to the wall of a café seems like a turning point in your life.

You wonder when you got so sentimental. It’s silly, but it’s there; warm happiness in your chest.

When Minnie begins to wilt, saying in not so many words that she’s getting tired, you know that your playdate time is coming to an end. It’s only been an hour and a half, maybe two, but that’s an awful long time to keep such a young kid occupied on one activity. You’re proud of yourself, honestly.

“She’ll go down for a nap soon, before dinner,” Hyunjin tells you softly, “You can head out if you want. I don’t wanna monopolize your day.”

“I think I will,” you agree.

It’s been a nice time, but you’re not one to overstay your welcome.

You say goodbye to Minnie, who insists on giving you another crushing full-body hug, and you make it all the way to the door before you realize Hyunjin is following you.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Walking you out,” he replies.

“I’m just going to my subway stop.”

“Then let me walk you to it,” he says.

You struggle to hold back your smile at his easy grace. “Okay, sure.”

The two of you set out into the afternoon, side by side, for the short walk from this inner part of the neighborhood to the metro stop that will take you back home. The breeze tugs at your skirt and ruffles Hyunjin’s apron, and you can’t help but sneak sidelong peeks at him as you walk.

“I hope Judy didn’t scare you too much,” he says.

“She’s intense. But I can tell that it’s out of love,” you reply.

He laughs at that, and you continue your slow meander down the unlined streets.

“She’s like an adoptive mom to me,” Hyunjin tells you. “I’m lucky to have her.”

“Oh,” you say, curious but knowing that you shouldn’t ask.

The two of you walk a while longer in your quiet bubble, but eventually, Hyunjin sighs.

“I don’t talk to my parents,” he says, “It’s not that crazy. Just how it is.”

“You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want, I understand.”

“And now I’m oversharing. Sorry,” he winces.

You shake your head, “It’s not a bother, I just won’t pry.”

Hyunjin considers this, and nods. “It’s just me and Min, so Judy’s been a livesaver. Mom and auntie and grandma all in one.”

Just him and Min, which means no wife and no serious girlfriend. That makes you feel a bit better. You’d hate to get in the way of a serious relationship, even indirectly. Minnie is a nice kid, and you like her, but you’re not her nanny or her babysitter or anything. You’d hate to be that kind of person, shoving yourself into a family where you have no business being.

“But…I wanted to know…would you wanna hang out again?” Hyunjin asks.

You laugh gently. “For Min? I’d walk into traffic. Yes, I’ll hang out again.”

“Not with Min,” Hyunjin says, voice soft and hesitant. “With me.”

The word that falls out of your mouth before you can stop it is, “Why?”

Hyunjin snorts, and then breaks out laughing, harder than you’ve ever heard him laugh.

“Because I think you’re cool?” he says eventually. “You’re cute and you like my kid, which is more than I can say about ninety percent of the people I meet.”

This was not part of the plan. Not that you had a plan, but come on. You were here to hang out with a super weird toddler, to entertain a precocious little girl because it’s cute and fun, not to be asked out by her dad. Her gorgeous dad, who’s so out of your league that it makes your head spin.

You spare a thought to wonder if he’s playing a prank on you.

“Unless…” Hyunjin draws away from you (when did he get so close?), “Unless you’re already seeing someone? God, I didn’t even think – I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, you cut in quickly, “No, I’m not-”

“Am I being weird? I’m being weird,” he laughs, and he almost sounds…nervous?

“You’re not being weird,” you assure him, “You just surprised me. I didn’t think…” 

“Then you’ll go out with me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, surprising yourself, “Yeah. I will.”

Hyunjin’s smile is the fucking sun coming up. It warms you right down to your toes.  

“I’ll call you,” he promises, “I’ll call and we can make plans.”

“Okay,” you agree.

The dimly-glowing sign marking the subway entrance looms ahead, and Hyunjin falls back, as you approach the down escalator.

“I’ll call you!” he says, again.

You wave as you go down the escalator, and once he’s out of sight, you practically melt. You have no idea why life is throwing you this curveball, but you’re not complaining.

---------------

True to form, it’s Minnie who calls you some days later. Not Hyunjin, the adult who presumably has control over the phone and has to dial the call. No, it’s the toddler whose voice filters over the line, the toddler who is undeniably and ultimately in control of her father’s whole world.

“Hi, (Y/N)!”

“Are you supposed to be making calls?” you tease.

“It’s okay, I have a mission,” she tells you.

“A secret mission?”

“Maybe…” Minnie’s voice pulls away from the phone, and you can hear her shout, “Daddy! Is it a secret mission?!”

Hyunjin’s voice calls something in reply, and then Minnie returns.

“Yeah, a secret mission,” she says.

“What’s your mission?”

“We gotta know, do you like Japan food or Italy food better?”

“Hmmm,” you think out loud, “I think I just like food.”

“Me too,” Minnie agrees, “I just like food.”

There’s another shout from Hyunjin that you can’t make out.

“Daddy says it’s gonna be a s’prise, then,” Minnie reports.

“Surprises are fun,” you say.

“It’s okay?” she asks.

“It’s okay,” you confirm.

“Okay! I gotta go. Talk to you later!”

Minnie hangs up, and you burst out laughing so hard that tears pool at the corners of your eyes. She manages to make it sound like she has a high-powered meeting that you’re keeping her from. How does she hide all of that thirty-five-year-old boss energy in her cute little self?

But more important than the absurd circumstance of the call is the outcome. You’re going on a real date. With Hyunjin. You try to pretend that a whole swarm of butterflies haven’t hatched in your gut.

You have a date with Hyunjin.

---------------

The date goes well.

It goes incredibly well, in fact. If you thought Hyunjin was pretty and charming when he was in more domestic setting, with his kid and at his job, that was nothing compared to fully-focused-grownup Hyunjin on a date.

He dresses well, he’s funny and he’s gentle, he nearly cries because the dish you order to share is too spicy for him. He’s got all the puppylike charm of the young man that he is, and this underlying tired seriousness of the doting single father that he is.

You argue with him until he lets you split the bill for the meal, and he gives you a gentle kiss on the lips when he leaves you at your subway stop. It’s like a fairytale.

So you go out again, and again, and again, still. Sometimes it’s barbeque in your neighborhood, at an outdoor restaurant with great side dishes handmade by the older couple who own the place. Sometimes it’s just coffee and a long chat at a 24-hour café. You haven’t been to his home, yet, and he hasn’t been to yours, but it’s refreshing to just take things slowly with him, when the rest of life moves so fast.

Underneath the fun of being with Hyunjin, though, is the doubt.

Everything you see makes you more and more certain that he’s not a real person. He’s a dating sim come to life. He’s so good-looking that teenage girls stop to whisper and giggle about him, and passing aunties give him bold compliments. Dogs like him, service staff like him, little kids like him. And you understand it; you like him tremendously.

You’re not entirely sure why he likes you, though. Compared to him, you’re kind of reserved, kind of plain. It’s not that you don’t like yourself, but you’re a cottage to Hyunjin’s skyscraper, a woodwick candle to his disco ball. Just different realms entirely.

It doesn’t matter, you suppose, because regardless of his motivation or your understanding, you’re spending more and more time with Hyunjin, and Minnie.

You learn that it’s Hyunjin who does her hair every day, creating looks with pins and braids and tiny ponytails. He grew out his own hair to the length it is now to practice on, he tells you one day. You learn that Minnie only likes crunchy vegetables, raw carrots and the stems of lettuce, and that she can inexplicably eat much spicier food that her father can.

You’re comfortable being part of the mundane. But Hyunjin seems to have different aspirations for the two of you, in your casual and fluid relationship, still without titles or formalities.

“I want to take you somewhere nice.”

You glance up from your laptop, blinking to get the fuzziness out of your vision at you look at Hyunjin where he leans over the prep counter. It’s a weekend, but you have a pile of leftover work to get through before Monday, so you’ve set up camp at the café for the afternoon. Hyunjin is on shift, and he’s been slinging you snacks and coffees between customers. It’s been just the two of you, work obligations notwithstanding, and it’s been…domestic.

“This isn’t nice enough?” you quip.

“You know what I mean,” he rolls his eyes, “Like a real date.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying the first half dozen dates weren’t real?”

Hyunjin sticks out his thick lower lip in a pout. “What happened to the shy awkward person I met at the store? Bring her back, please, this (Y/N) is mean to me!”

You laugh. “Where did you want to go?”

“There’s this place I haven’t been to in years. It’s really nice, my aunt used to take us back when family outings were more my thing,” he says.

“Sounds okay,” you decide.

“You’d have to dress up,” he warns, “Like, for real. I’ll have to dig out a suit.”

“That’s fine.”

You turn your attention back to your laptop, trying to hide your flustered face at the idea of Hyunjin cleaning up extra nice for you, Hyunjin in a fitted suit and shined shoes. He might notice it anyway, though, if the smile that lights up his face as he turns back to the kitchen is any hint.

---------------

It’s decided that Hyunjin will pick you up from work and drive the two of you to your first fancy date. So that morning, you hitched a ride with a coworker so as not to strand your car at the office overnight, carrying your change of clothes in a bag. The downside of that was having to explain to your coworker what necessitated the change, and your team quickly found out that you have a date. The teasing hasn’t stopped all day, good-natured ribbing all during your shift, about stoic, shy supervisor (Y/N) going on a hot date with a mystery man.

You stand in front of the full-length mirror in your office’s nice bathroom, the one reserved for visitors who can’t pee with the staff. The one with potpourri on the counters and immaculate tile floors. You’ve gone for a menswear look yourself, wide-legged slacks and a silky blouse, and heels. Hyunjin’s already seen you in a nice dress, you figure, and besides, clinging to the businesswear that you already don at work gives you just a bit more nerve.

Somehow, a date at a nice restaurant that holds some sentimental value for him is more serious than anything you’ve ever done, more intimate than splitting cakes at the café and watching Minnie force the other kids to take turns on the slide at the playground.

You adjust your French tuck just a bit, make sure that your necklace hangs neatly, and deem yourself as good as you’re gonna get. You walk out of the bathroom, bag now holding your work clothes tucked under your arm, only to see a whole group of your production team boys waiting for you.

The company where you work is a decently large tech manufacturing plant, and as a production manager, you oversee a team of techs and assembly workers who tend to be on the younger side, and much more often are young men close to your age. They’re all nice boys who you’re quite close to, but they’ve already been on your case all day. Several of them are right here in the hall, now, ready to make fun of you the way that annoying little brothers are meant to do.

“Jeez, (Y/N), out for blood,” says Taehyun, his silica filter mask hanging off one ear.

“Don’t be gross,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“It’s true, you’re really going all out for this date, huh?” adds Jeongin.

“Quit it before I vom and then report you all to HR,” you say.

“Oh, come on,” says Taehyun, “I’ve worked for you for like two years and I’ve never seen you have fun on purpose before.”

“That can’t be true,” you argue, walking toward the front of the building with your little line of assembly-boy ducklings following behind.

“On your birthday, you asked us to get you a firm handshake and a new set of pages for your planner,” Jeongin deadpans.

“You’re Ron Swanson with tits,” Jaemin says.

“Charming,” you glance at him, and he shrugs.

“It’s true.”

Car headlights shine in the picture windows that span the front of your building, and you can make out a small red car sitting in the visitor’s parking right by the door.

“Please don’t embarrass me,” you implore the boys, as you haul open the heavy glass door to let yourself out.

“We would never do that,” Jeongin says, defensive.

“Maybe we should talk to your date, though,” Jaemin suggests, “Rough him up a little.”

“Yeah, please don’t ever do that,” you say, “I’m leaving now.”

The driver’s side window is rolled down, and you can see Hyunjin leaning out, waving to you. You walk around to the passenger’s side of the car as fast as you can, giving your stupid underlings as little time as possible to ruin things.

You slide into the seat and slam the door behind you right as you hear one of the boys yell, “GET HER HOME SAFE. BY TEN.”

“Oh my God, go, drive away,” you groan.

“Who are they?” Hyunjin asks, amused, as he backs out of the parking spot.

“They work for me,” you say. “They wanna intimidate you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“They must really like you,” he says.

“No, they just really like being annoying.”

Hyunjin laughs, glancing at you as he maneuvers onto the main road.

“You look really great,” he says, sounding a little bit shy.

“Thanks.”

“The restaurant isn’t far,” Hyunjin says, “But I wanted to look cool and drive you.”

“I already think you’re cool,” you tease.

“Well if you’d told me that before, we could have called a cab,” he says.

“Nah, I wanted to see your car,” you say, turning around in your seat to get a full view of the interior, “Big pink carseat and all.”

“Min’s constantly telling me to just get a pink car to match,” Hyunjin says, “I don’t know if I could pull that off, though.”

“With your good looks and princess hair? I think you could.”

“Good to know. Next car, pink,” he says.

Hyunjin wasn’t lying about the restaurant being close by, because the whole drive is less than fifteen minutes. You’ve barely relaxed when he pulls up to the street parking outside a modest building with a pretty marquee and rough brick siding.

“This is it?” you ask, peeking out at the building.

“Yep.”

You scrutinize the restaurant as two of you get out of the car, and you can tell instantly that it’s an upscale place. Everything from the valet in front to the fabric of the curtains reeks of steaks that cost a paycheck and truffles in every possible dish. You’re kind of excited for it.

The maître-d greets you warmly, and brings you to a table against the window, with a view into a small back garden full of lanterns and lit trellises. The table itself is a delicate wooden thing, with full-course silverware and origami napkins. Candles dance on the tabletop, a single red rose in a vase brightening the whites and silvers of it all.

Hyunjin must know a thing or two about romance, because you’re properly wowed. It’s so stereotypically wonderful, it makes for a great sixth-or-seventh date. You’ve known him long enough that you know he’s not trying to blindly impress you, but just to treat you.

You wonder what kind of family he has, that they would bring him to a place like this as a kid or a teenager.

When the waitress, a pretty young woman in server’s blacks, comes over, the two of you order from the set menu and argue only a little about what dishes to taste and what wine to have.

“They’re barely Brussels sprouts,” you’re saying, “They’re covered in oil and bacon and shit.”

“They’re green vegetables,” he counters.

“They’re gourmet, don’t be a baby.”

Starters come and quickly disappear.

The main course comes, and by this point, you’re a glass or so of wine deep, and Hyunjin is only looking more and more handsome, as your stomach starts to be comfortably filled and the drinks warm you up from the inside.

Hyunjin’s gazing at you between bites of his dinner, expression so soft that you wonder if he’s gonna lean right across the table to kiss you. It’s tender, it’s lovely, and it’s unlike any other date you’ve ever had.

But a woman’s shrill, furious voice shatters the entire atmosphere with a single sharpened word.

“Hyunjin?!”

It’s almost comical, the way Hyunjin freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth, eyes wide and startled. It’s only almost comical, because this emotion seems to be very real fear on his part. He keeps his eyes on his plate, but you look toward the sound.

There’s a woman approaching your table, thin and elegant and beautiful. She’s got only the faintest age lines on her perfectly made-up face, and her clothes are designer, a plum-colored dress that brushes her knees and a handbag worth more than your whole closet. She doesn’t even spare you a glance, zeroing in on Hyunjin as she comes to stand right beside the table, puffed up in self-righteous anger like a provoked bird.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” she barks.

Hyunjin turns his head so slowly that you wonder if he’s even moving at all, until finally he’s looking at her.

“Of all the places – what on EARTH are you doing?!” she asks him, tone stiff and angry.

It’s the kind of tone that you can imagine her using to yell at waitstaff, or berate the hotel bellhop.  She’s that kind of wealthy, you can just tell. You’ve been dodging people like this your whole adult life, working your way up in the tech field, littered with its new and old money. You glance at Hyunjin, but the urgency in his face tells you to hold your tongue.

“I’m eating,” he says finally.

“Your aunt told me you were still in the city,” she says, “I can’t IMAGINE what you’ve been up to that you haven’t had time to even call, the nerve-”

“Mother,” Hyunjin says evenly, “You’re interrupting a nice time.

Mother. This is Hyunjin’s mother?

As if she’s just noticed that you’re there, she rounds on you. “And who is this?”

The disgust in her voice makes your stomach twist unpleasantly. It’s been a long while since someone has been so openly dismissive of you. Not since you were a student, you think, but God does it hurt.

“This is my date,” Hyunjin answers.

His words are clipped, like he really doesn’t want to say more.

“Well, obviously,” his mother sniffs, condescending, “What is her NAME?”

“You don’t get to know that,” Hyunjin says.

You know that Hyunjin is distant with his parents. He’s mentioned that they don’t talk anymore, and that they don’t really know his daughter at all. But it speaks volumes that he doesn’t even want his mother to know your name.

“And where did you meet this shining example of gilt wood pretending to be gold?” she asks, “The community center? The food bank?”

“There’s no need to be mean,” Hyunjin says, much more calmly than you would be able to, “We’re trying to have dinner. You should leave.”

“I’ve finished my meal. I’m on my way out,” his mother says haughtily, “But I saw you and I needed to come say something.

“No, don’t let us keep you,” Hyunjin says, gesturing toward the exit with his still-full fork.

“Hyunjin, when are you going to give up this ridiculous act and come back to make things right?” she asks, and though the tone is sincere, there’s no warmth behind it.

“Never,” he replies, “Things are just the way I want them.”

This woman, in her all finery and dignified air, stamps her foot on the ground like a child having a tantrum.

“You’re making a mockery of our family, you know that, yes?” she asks.

“You’re the one yelling at me and embarrassing yourself in a restaurant full of people,” Hyunjin points out.

“You are an aggravating and ungrateful child,” his mother hisses.

“Maybe,” Hyunjin agrees, “But I’m happy.”

Perhaps sensing that she’s starting to make a scene, his mother glances around at the other patrons, who are trying to hide the way they’re listening in with varying levels of success. Your waitress is lingering by the edge of the service floor, eyes glued on the scene.

“You’ll come to your senses,” she promises darkly. “And you’ll come begging for my help. We’ll see if I take pity on you then.”

And with that, she turns around and stalks toward the exit, not even pausing as she barks at the valet to bring her ride around. You watch until she’s outside and out of sight, and then you focus on Hyunjin.

His hands are shaking so badly that his fork clatters against his plate. You reach out and cover his hand with yours, easing the fork out of his grip and laying it down. You feel horrible, and kind of sick, but you know that between the two of you, Hyunjin is worse, so you have to push that discomfort down, just for a while.

“Let’s finish our dinner, okay?” you say, “And then we can talk about this.”

---------------

The rest of the date isn’t agonizing, but it is uncomfortable. You chat, and joke, albeit without the same easy grace as before. Seeing his mother, and having her speak to both of you that way has really seemed to rattle Hyunjin more than a confrontation usually would.

You settle the tab, splitting it like you always do, and then you find yourselves on a bench outside the restaurant, set away from the main road. It’s dark, and it’s chilly, but it’s comfortable with the gentle atmospheric music from the restaurant marquee and the sounds of traffic.

“Min’s mom wasn’t ready for a baby.”

You glance at Hyunjin at the sound of his voice. He’s fiddling with the cuffs of his blazer, still looking distinctly unsettled.

“Neither of us were,” he amends.

“Was she a hookup?” you ask.

“A girlfriend,” he says, “But not…she was just a girl from a good family. Someone my parents thought would be a good match, so we dated for a long time.”

“A good match,” you repeat, “A good match for you?”

“A good match for the family,” he says bitterly.

“What does that matter?”

“Oh, it matters. Way more than what I want,” he says.

“They’re really rich, aren’t they?” you ask, thinking about his mother’s clothes, and her attitude, and pretty much everything about her, “Your parents, I mean.”

“Disgustingly rich.”

“Oh.”

“She’s a really nice girl, a good person. But she really didn’t want to be with me forever, and she certainly didn’t want a kid,” Hyunjin says.

“So what happened?” you ask.

“She broke things off when she got pregnant, which made both of our families pissed beyond belief. The proper thing to do would have been to get married, right? But instead she ended the relationship, and moved home,” Hyunjin says, “They took care of Min for like a year and a half, her parents and a nanny.”

“Not the mom?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “She just didn’t want a kid. Which is okay, more than okay. Our parents were the ones who wanted to keep the pregnancy, not her. I just wanted everyone to stop fighting.”

You just nod. Hyunjin is keeping this story so purposefully vague, not dropping names or placing blame or really showing any anger. You wonder how much time he’s spent thinking about this story, or telling it in different ways. He seems almost desensitized to it all.

“When Min was almost two, her mom asked if I would take on full custody so she could sign away her parental rights and be out of the picture for good. And I figured,” Hyunjin laughs bitterly, “I figured, better to have one parent that loves you the most than two while one is half-assing it.”

“No, I can see that,” you say.

“Minnie lived with me at my parents’ house until they realized that my ex was never coming back. They always figured we’d get back together.”

“Why?!” you ask, incredulous.

Hyunjin looks at you. “Because that would be the dutiful thing to do. Get married, stay together for the kid, avoid any embarrassing attention on the families.”

“Even if that meant you were both miserable forever?”

Hyunjin turns his gaze back at the ground, sighing. “My parents said they wouldn’t support me if I couldn’t even do that one thing right and convince my ex to do right by the families and marry me. But I wasn’t gonna force her. She’s a good person. just in over her head, and scared. And I can’t blame her for that. I can’t forgive her. But I understand.”

“So, what, they kicked you out?”

“Kicked me out, cut me off,” Hyunjin nods. “I used to be set for life, with their money to back me up. I could have fucked around forever, lived comfy. They took it all away because I wouldn’t marry a girl who didn’t love me and just wanted to live her own life.”

“You’re a good person,” you say.

“It was an easy choice,” he quips, some of his usual humor returning now that he’s gotten the stress of his story out of his mind, “Either my parents, who only love me conditionally, or my daughter, who loves the biggest and best out of anyone ever.”

You laugh, but you can’t shake the new strange feeling that has settled over you, now that you know all of this about him. Knowing that Hyunjin is the rejected son of a wealthy family, a silver-spoon kid with a heart of gold. It only validates some of those nagging feelings that in some unavoidable way, Hyunjin is far, far too good for you.

He’s given up a life of luxury and security for his daughter, and his freedom. You’re not about to make him compromise on anything else, ever. At all.

“Min doesn’t even miss any of them,” Hyunjin says thoughtfully, “Doesn’t even ask.”

“That’s good, I guess,” you say.

He shrugs. “Means that she’s not too fucked up from bouncing around like that as a baby, which is a fuckin’ blessing.”

“She’s safe and happy with you now, though,” you say.

Hyunjin grins at you. “But you know who’s been a great parent influence on her?”

“Who?”

“You.”

You laugh. “I’m no parent, trust me.”

“I dunno, you’re pretty great with her,” he says airily, “I don’t trust my kid with just anyone.”

“You gotta stop being so nice to me,” you say. “You’re gonna give me ideas.”

“Ideas like what? Afraid I’ll wanna take you out on a date? Introduce you to my kid? Oh wait-”

“Shut up!” you whine, nudging him. “I just…can’t believe you like me, sometimes. Like, that you really like me, like this.”

“Of course, I like you,” Hyunjin says, dumbfounded, “We’ve been going out for weeks.”

“Yeah, and that only started because Min told you that she wanted to be friends with me.”

“Did you really think that I got your number that day because I wanted you to be friends with my three-year-old?” Hyunjin asks.

“Yes!” you answer, totally honest, “Yes, I did. I think that you would do anything in the world for that kid, even something stupid like inviting me out.”

You stand up, suddenly needing some space, some air that isn’t warm from Hyunjin’s presence by your side or scented with his soft cologne. He just watches as you pace a few short steps away from the bench.

“It was maybe twenty percent because she was being so cute with you,” he says desperately, “But the other eighty percent was for me.”

You can’t believe that. Sure, part of you hoped for it, because it’s truly so insane to just let your preschooler make friends with random women in public. It makes sense for him to have an ulterior motive. You’d hoped that it was really him who was interested, even if he just intended to hook up with you and then cut it off.

It’s beyond obvious to you that you’ve fallen hard for Hyunjin, even in just this short time. The idea of him feeling anything like that for you is much harder to fathom.

“I know you care about me, at least a little,” Hyunjin says, standing up to join you, “At least, I hope you do. Something, some chance that you like me as more than a friend, or a casual date…”

“I do,” you say, voice strangled and tiny, “But you…you’re-”

“I’m what? I’m a father already? I have too much baggage for you?”

Your heart breaks a little bit more as he says that, as you imagine other people in the past dumping him with those exact words. The conviction in his voice is all that you need to picture it; a different person, a different night, the same outcome.

“No!” you insist.

“Then what?”

You bite the bullet, and you say it. “Because you’re beautiful, Hyunjin. You’re perfect. You have a wonderful kid and a nice life that you’ve built for her and yourself after all of that shit you went through. You…you’re too good for me.”

Hyunjin recoils like he’s been slapped. “How can you think that?”

“I just look at your life, and I can’t possibly picture you moving things around just to fit me in,” you say.

“How can you think that there’s not already space for you?! Can’t you see that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time?” he asks.

“Because I’m…” you struggle, “I’m boring, Hyunjin, I don’t know! I’m not worth changing for.”

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffs. “You’re letting my mother get to you, which is just what she wants.”

“Then I’m just not right for you,” you say, trying to ignore his comment about his mother and how absolutely right it is. “You have this cute little picturesque life, and I have my normal job and my hobbies and my family and friends and I would just…be in the way.”

“You’re not in the way now,” Hyunjin says.

“We’re not a serious couple now!”

“Why can’t you just let me like you?!”

He’s practically yelling now, keeping his distance and nearly folding in on himself as he looks at you with eyes that are far too shiny. It’s not the yelling that gets to you, but what he’s saying.

“Because it’s scary!” you yell back. “I don’t want to lose you, or your kid, but I know that-”

“I can show you,” he pleads.

He draws in a little closer, like he’s afraid he’s going to spook you. Against your stubborn brain’s protests, you reach out to thread your fingers with his.

You don’t want to lose him.

But as disgusting and cliché and self-deprecating as it is, you just can’t fathom someone like him wanting to be with someone like you.

Hyunjin leans more fully into your gentle grasp, pulls you right up close to him so that the two of you are toe to toe, there on the street outside the restaurant, as cars pass by and streetlights cast their dim yellow light over it all. He’s looking right into your eyes, expression firm and warm and so, so Hyunjin. You can feel your heart fluttering in your chest as you scan his face for nervousness or insincerity, and find none.

He’s looking at you the way he looks at Minnie when she falls asleep on the couch watching Frozen 2 for the millionth time. The way he looks at Judy when her back is turned in the café.

“I’ll show you that I mean it,” he says again, “I’ll be here for you. I’ll support you the way that you’ve supported us. I’ll love-”

He can’t get to the end of that sentence, because you wrench your free arm around his neck and pull him down to kiss you. He startles, lets go of your hand, and you freeze, thinking you’ve miscalculated the situation and gone too far. But he recovers quickly, wrapping both arms around your waist. He adjusts you so that you’re flush against him, and kisses back, harder.

His plush lips are wine-sour and soft, and he molds them against yours like he’s starving for it.

“My place,” he says, pulling back just the slightest bit so he can speak, “My place.”

“But-”

“Min is at Judy’s for the night,” he says, “Please.”

You want to. You want to so badly that your head is spinning, that your heart is beating out a rhythm against your ribcage. He’s here in front of you, wrapped up in you, so handsome and so unattainable…

Well. You think that Hyunjin is making a mistake. But if he’s gonna make it, you’re gonna enjoy every minute of it.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Okay, or yes?” Hyunjin says, “I need a real yes.”

You hesitate. You decide. You say it.

“Yes.”

Just like that, he’s pulling you down the road to his car and opening the passenger’s side door for you. His place is across the city from here, so you settle in for what’s sure to be the most impatient car ride of your life. Anticipation drags out the minutes, as the energy between you grows so tense that you’re sure one of you is going to snap and start things up before you even get there.

But you’re spilling out onto the sidewalk in front of his building before you know it, Hyunjin’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you.

You’ve been to his place before, to meet him outside for dates, but you’ve never gone inside before. It’s a regular villa building, boxy and painted a demure white, and he leads you up the metal stairs to the third floor.

“I’m not trying to pressure you into anything,” Hyunjin says uncertainly, as he unlocks the door.

“I know,” you say, “I wouldn’t have come up if I didn’t want…well…”

Hyunjin grins his understanding, and you follow him into the apartment, taking his lead as he kicks off his shoes. You peek around when he flips on the lights.

His home looks about the way you’d expect: modest-sized and full of plain, sturdy furniture that looks like it could take a few hits. The décor is understated, intending to be an atmosphere of minimalist modernism, except that a girly, demanding preschooler definitely lives here. Drawings cover the fridge, the corkboard on the wall, the dining table with its one normal chair and one pink booster seat. Toys, hair accessories, and art supplies sit on shelves, in baskets, on end tables.

“It’s cute,” you say.

“Hm?”

Hyunjin pops his head out of the kitchen, now sans blazer, where he’s switching on more lights. He obviously has a just-gotten-home routine, and he’s not about to abandon it just because you’re here.

“This place. It’s cute,” you repeat. “It suits you.”

“It’s small,” he says with a shrug, tossing his blazer onto the back of the couch, “But we each have a bedroom and that’s really all that I can ask for. You ever shared a bedroom with a toddler? Not cool.”

“I’d like to see your room,” you tease, cringing at yourself instantly for making the dumbest of the dumb jokes.

But Hyunjin’s expression is just dangerously joyful, like he’s really taking it to heart.

“I’ll give you the grand tour,” he says.

“Sounds like you’re plotting.”

“I did tell you that I would prove it to you,” he says, drawing in close to you again, “How much I care about you.”

“The only way you know how to do that is with sex?” you ask playfully, “That’s sad. Maybe expand your vocabulary, first.”

He looks down at you, amused and just slightly frustrated. “Why can’t you make this easy for me?”

“Nothing with me is easy,” you say, “You should get used to that.”

“I dunno. You’re kind of easy to love.”

There he goes again, with that word. You can feel your cheeks burning, unable to process such casual affection from someone you like so much.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“As much as you want,” he promises.

You slot yourself comfortably into his arms and lean up to kiss him. He’s got such ridiculous plush lips, soft and sliding against yours, and he holds you like you’re something precious. It’s an overwhelming amount of attention, but you let yourself bask in it.

“C’mon,” he says, “I’ll give you that tour.”

He winks, and then he releases you, walking across the small living space toward the doors on the far wall. Following him is second nature, at this point, and you pad after him.

“This is Min’s room,” he tells you.

He cracks the door on the right, so that you can see a peek of the pink explosion on the other side.

“She picked all her own décor,” he says.

“I’m starting to think that pink is just your favorite color, and you’re using the kid as an excuse,” you say.

“You’ll never get me to admit it,” he grins.

He opens the door on the left, and this room is soft woods and earth tones. Definitely an adult’s room, almost stark in its lack of personal effects. It’s dark except for city lights filtering between the open curtains, casting the room into a seductive kind of shadow. You follow him into the room, grinning to yourself.

“Bed looks comfy,” you say.

Hyunjin sits down on the edge of the bed, strong thighs in dress pants drawing your eye shamefully quickly, and fixes you with a look.

“Come find out,” he offers.

You can’t keep being so self-conscious about this. It’s Hyunjin, it’s only Hyunjin, your friend. One of your dearest friends. With his supermodel face, and his long blonde hair falling out of its ponytail in wisps around his cheekbones, and the outline of his cock against his thigh-

Fuck.

Something in you snaps. You climb into his lap, settling yours knees on either side of his hips, winding your arms around his neck to pull his mouth back against yours. He laughs into the kiss, his hands landing on your hips and pulling you down harder into him.

“See?” he says, voice low, “It’s not so hard to open up to me, is it?”

“I think you’re making a mistake,” you mutter.

“You’re so mean to yourself,” Hyunjin chides.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “I can be mean to you instead.”

He just laughs again, grinding his hips up into you briefly. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, distinct even through the layers of clothes that separate the two of you.

“Can this come off?” he asks, plucking at the collar of your nice silky blouse.

“Yeah.”

His answering smile is dark and satisfied, conniving in a way that makes your pulse jump. Hyunjin is so calm and sweet most of the time, cheerful in a way that suggests naivety. You almost worry about him, sometimes, worry that to other he’ll come across as just pretty and dim. Why are you getting the feeling that you’ve stumbled across a very different part of him, tonight?

“D’you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he asks, against your collarbone, as he unbuttons your blouse down your chest, down your stomach.

“How long?”

“Too long. Way too long.

He’s pushing your shirt off your shoulders before you know it, reaching around to unhook your bra. His hands are firm and certain, the stumbling hesitation that he’d shown while asking you out nowhere to be found. Here, apparently, he’s absolutely comfortable.

Your shirt and bra are discarded carelessly, and you’re surprised that you feel no shyness at all when Hyunjin cups your breasts in his hands and thumbs over your nipples.

“Knew you’d be pretty,” he says.

“Shut up,” you mumble.

He gives you another one of those feline grins.

“Watch it,” he warns.

Hyunjin hooks one arm around your back and flips the two of you over so that he’s on top, all but dragging you up to the middle of the bed. You’re sprawled on your back under him now, bouncing gently on the mattress with the force that he’d used to move you.

“You’re even prettier like this,” he smirks, “I like the slacks, by the way, very professional. I didn’t tell you that earlier.”

“Thanks,” you reply, breathing heavy, unsure how to handle this new Hyunjin and his blinding confidence.

“Can those come off, too?”

“What about your clothes?” you whine.

“We’ll get to that,” he promises.

He only needs one hand to unbutton, unzip, and tug your slacks down to your knees in one fluid motion, and he move aside so you can kick them off all the way.

“These are so you,” Hyunjin says.

You’re confused, until you look down yourself to see the panties you’d put on that morning: light blue with a pattern of tiny white running llamas. They’re not all that sexy, but they’re comfy, and it’s not like you’d explicitly planned on anyone seeing them, date or no date.

“I wasn’t expecting to get fucked tonight,” you say bluntly, “Give me a break.”

“Should have at least hoped for it,” he grins.

“I try to keep my expectations realistic.”

“You need to give yourself more credit,” Hyunjin says.

To punctuate it, he leans down over you fully, caging you in, and kisses you breathless again. He trails his mouth and hands down your front lazily, scraping his teeth against your hipbone where it peeks from the waistband of your underwear. He lets one long finger trace over your panties, across your covered pussy, and you can’t help how you twitch.

“Bet you’re fuckin’ delicious, too. Am I gonna get to taste?” he asks.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan.

The mouth on him…you’ve never had someone talk to you like this before, so tender and affectionate but also so obscene. It sends arousal pealing through you, the idea that he can be so into this, into you.

“Use your words,” he says, “Come on, can I taste you?”

“Yes,” you say, “God, Hyunjin…”

“Oh, I like how my name sounds, like that, listen to you,” he purrs.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and pulls your panties off smoothly. Those are abandoned over the edge of the bed, too, and Hyunjin has his face between your legs seemingly as fast as he can.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he says, warm breath fanning over your inner thighs.

“I will,” you say, “Don’t worry.”

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters, and he licks into you indulgently.

He’s got one hand bracing himself against your leg, one hand holding your folds open for him so he can dip his tongue into your opening, drag it slow across your clit.

“Fuck,” he says, and you swear you can feel the word against you, “Can’t wait to feel this sweet pussy around my dick.”

You moan. You can’t help it, can’t help the way you’re leaking your arousal against his tongue, the way his words and his gorgeous mouth are working you over. He pulls away from your core much too quickly, and he smiles when you whine.

“Just a taste, I said,” he placates.

He sits back on his heels between your legs to strip off his own clothes, but you haul yourself up to meet him.

“Let me do it,” you say.

“Be my guest.”

So it’s your turn to undo his buttons and give yourself an unencumbered look at his body for the first time. He’s slim, working muscle like a dancer, gorgeous skin under your hands. You kind of want to take your time, leave marks all over him and get to know every inch. But it does seem like he has an agenda tonight, as he impatiently shrugs off his shirt and undoes his own belt.

He rids himself of his pants and underwear quickly, and you really should have expected him to have a cock like THAT. He’s tall, and pretty, and of course, this part of him matches perfectly, long and thick and beautifully flushed.

“I’m clean,” you find yourself saying, “And on birth control, so if you want…we can…”

Hyunjin grins at you. “You just want me to fuck you raw.”

“I do,” you agree, “Fuck, I do.”

“I’m clean, too,” he tells you.

He nudges your legs apart to make room for him as he crawls back up your body, giving you a gentle playful shove so that you lay flat on your back for him again.

“Is that what you want? Want me to fill you up, just like this?”

He’s looming over you, propping himself up with his hands planted on either side of your head. You can feel the tip of his cock nudging between your folds.

“That’s what I want,” you agree desperately. “Please.”

You don’t know why you’re begging him like this. Are you that easy to break?

But you can’t bring yourself to care how ridiculous you sound, because Hyunjin rocks his hips forward to dip the head of his cock into you, and you keen.

“What do you want?” he asks, with a knowing smirk.

“You know exactly what!”

“I can’t give you anything unless you tell me,” he says.

“I want,” you struggle, “I want you to fill me up. Please.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praises gently.

He rewards you with another thrust, a little deeper, sending a fantastic thrill through your body but still nowhere near enough. He works himself into you slowly, just a bit at a time, pulling completely out in between just to be able to sink all the way back in.

After what seems like an eternity, he slides in completely, hips flush against yours. You squirm, needing him to do SOMETHING, after taking his sweet time to get to this point, but Hyunjin seems content to just sit like this for a moment.

“I was right,” he tells you, “Feels fuckin’ heavenly.”

“Move, please,” you beg.

“Be patient. Maybe I just want you to cockwarm me for the rest of the night,” he teases.

“I would go home,” you say.

He laughs. “Okay, okay, you got me, that’s not what I want.”

So slowly that you know he’s doing it on purpose to torture you, Hyunjin draws back and fucks into you, hard and deep. It coaxes a punched-out moan from your throat, already so strung out though you’ve just begun.

He’s stronger than you would have imagined, driving into you with those narrow dancer’s hips and leaning down to press kisses to your cheeks, your mouth, the sides of your throat. His hands roam like he wants to be touching all of you at once: kneading into your breast, smoothing back your hair, bending your legs up farther so he can fuck you deeper, better.

“Look how well you take me,” he says.

You do look. You crane your neck up to look down the narrow space between you, as Hyunjin props up his body above you, and you can just barely see his thick cock working into you, disappearing with an obscene squelch that leaves no question about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

“So messy,” he teases.

“’m not messy,” you mumble, feeling sex-stupid but indignant.

“No?” he grins, “Not dripping wet for me?”

You want to argue, but he’s right; you can feel exactly how wet you are for him. You can’t remember the last time someone had you so desperate, so ready and eager to take what you’re given. Hyunjin falls forward to let your bodies press together, covering you and pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Sweet girl,” Hyunjin murmurs, voice soft and fond and dangerous, “So good for me. So good with my kid. We could give her a sibling, you know.”

It sounds like something that just slipped out, the way that it’s so honest and the way that Hyunjin nearly gasps at himself. But your mind has gone one hundred percent completely blank. You let out a moan that’s mostly silent, as you let the implication of that wash over you.

You didn’t think you had a thing for, well…this.

But Hyunjin, looking at you like this, talking like this, honest and filthy, right in your ear. You know that it’s just dirty talk, that he doesn’t mean it, not right this instant. You both know that you’re on birth control. But the game of it, the idea of it…

“Yes,” you gasp, “Oh my God-”

“Oh, you REALLY like that,” he purrs, “I can feel you squeezing around me.”

“Hyunjin!” you moan.

“Is that what you want, baby? You just wanna be filled up with my cum, is that it?”

You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, and you doubly can’t believe how much you fucking love them, how you’re nodding and clawing your fingernails down his back at the picture he’s painting for you.

“Please,” you gasp, “I want – I want-”

Hyunjin draws up so that he can look into your eyes. “Baby wants me to give her a baby. Hm.”

Never in your life have you been brought right to the point of cumming just from someone’s words, but that’s exactly what’s happening. You can feel that perfect fuzzy electricity in your toes, building up. If you cum untouched, just from this, you’re gonna have some real soul-searching to do.

He seems to be at a similar place, fucking into you at a breakneck pace, still murmuring at you mindlessly.

“Want to fill up this sweet pussy, put a baby in you…Jesus fucking Christ, so good,” Hyunjin moans.

“Inside,” you agree, “Please – I need you, I just-”

As if he couldn’t be more perfect, Hyunjin slips his hand between you, presumably to bring you over the peak with him. The instant his finger presses against your clit, starts to rub a messy circle in the wetness spreading across your folds and your inner thighs, you cum.

You feel like screaming, but your voice is strangled, constricted with arousal, “Oh-”

“Fuck!” Hyunjin moans, like he’s agreeing with you.

One, two, three, four deep strokes, and Hyunjin bottoms out, pressing into you as he cums. Your hips buck into him on their own accord as he paints your walls with his cum, and you can’t help the newly-awakened corner of your mind that thinks about what could happen, if you weren’t on your birth control, if you did this again…

Goddamn. You really have some journaling to do later, or something.

“So perfect,” Hyunjin mutters, letting his head fall, burying his face in your shoulder, “So fucking perfect, how did I get so lucky?”

You’re the lucky one, you think to yourself. Your brain is simultaneously too full and too empty to say anything coherent, so you just lay there, wrap your limbs around Hyunjin as well as you can. He gets the message, you think, because he snuggles more firmly into you and turns his head to press a kiss to your jaw.

He’s warm, and kind of heavy, but you don’t want him to move, or to pull out of you. Just let this minute last a little longer, you think. Just a little longer, before you have to talk about what all of this means.

---------------

You only know you’ve fallen asleep when you wake up.

There’s a weight on your chest, pressing you into the mattress. For a second you think you have sleep paralysis, until you get a face-full of blonde hair and realize that it’s just Hyunjin, fast asleep on top of you.

“Get up,” you say, pushing on him gently, “And, ew, let me clean up.”

You can feel his cum drying on the inside of your thighs, where it trickled out around his softened cock while you slept. It’s kind of nasty, but the memory of all the hazy lust-filled things you said to each other makes you not mind so much.

Hyunjin yawns audibly, right next to your head, and then he peels himself off you.

“Sorry,” he grins. “Are your arms asleep?”

“No. Doesn’t your neck hurt from laying like that?”

He presses a smacking kiss to your forehead. “No. You’re a good pillow.”

Hyunjin pulls out of you and climbs gingerly off the bed. You squint around the room until your eyes find a glowing digital clock on his bedside; it’s only just past midnight.

“Shower and then sleep?” Hyunjin offers.

“Sounds good.”

He helps you to your feet, laughing as your knees threaten to buckle despite the cooldown period you’ve had.

“I hope I didn’t cross any lines,” he says tentatively, “I took a risk with all that baby talk and-”

“I liked it,” you admit, shy.

“Really?”

You nod. “I mean, we shouldn’t do anything stupid. Not right now. But just to play with, in the bedroom…”

Grinning, you fan yourself dramatically with your hand, like you’re a proper lady being overwhelmed with the saucy behavior of your male paramour.

Hyunjin laughs again. “Good to know.”

He shows you across the hall to the bathroom, men’s hair and skin and shaving products lined up next to rainbow-packaged kiddie shampoo and a small bin full of bath toys. As the shower is warming up, steam and the sound of rushing water filling the bathroom, he nudges you with his elbow.

“I knew all along that you were just into me because I have a kid,” he says.

You consider it, as you pull back the shower curtain and test the water. It’s warm, so you draw the curtain fully back and step under the spray. Peeking out at him, water starting to run down your back and warm your skin the way that Hyunjin’s presence warms you on the inside, you smile.

“Guess you’re just a DILF.” 

💕💕💕💕

#hwang hyunjin #stray kids #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin fics #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin smut #dilf series #kpop #kpop fanfic #tw emotional manipulation #tw emotional neglect #tw unhealthy relationship

[secretsandwriting]

So I’m testing some new things out with this so you guys will have to tell me what you think!

I’ve also come to the conclusion that while Timothee isn’t my favorte celebrity I like writing for him.

Also, I have no idea how movie premieres work so this is really just a guess and could be completely wrong.

Word Count - 1609

Beta Read - by google docs

Navigating through the crowded streets of New York was getting to be something you were good at. Moving there had definitely been a culture shock but after getting used to it, it was pretty nice. But now, you needed to get coffee and work on your French for one of your classes.

Ordering and setting yourself up, you started the assigned video and prayed it would make sense and you wouldn’t have to add another hour or two of study to your already full schedule. But as fate would have it, it sounded like gibberish.

Restarting the video to try again, you were pulled out of your studies by a burning sensation going down your arm. Pulling out your headphones you looked down at your arm to brown soaking into the sleeve.

“I’m so sorry!” The guy in front of you looked familiar but due to his mask it took a moment for it to sink in. Timothee Chalamet. He was an actor, but that wasn’t important. What was important? He knew french.

“That’s not important. Do you have any free time right now? I know you know french and I need to learn it and this makes no sense and it’s due in two hours.” You definitely caught him off guard, but he checked his phone.

“I have an hour.” He pulled a chair over and you handed him one of your earbuds. For the next hour he helped you, he was a lot better than the video your teacher had given you.

“Here,” he handed you a slip of paper. “If you need more help just text me and I’ll help when I can.”

“Thank you! With your help, I’ll at least pass.” He laughed and you said your goodbyes before he went on his way and you worked on finishing the rest of your homework.

While you worked, you didn’t notice the girls in the corner watching you with their phones out and slightly pointed at you.

The next day, you almost regretted asking Timothee for help when you woke up to your phone being blown up by friends and social media. There were multiple pictures of you and Timothee as well as multiple dating theories. One of the notifications stood out, Timothee had messaged you on Instagram.

You didn’t really talk until your next assignment came and you texted him about it. Together you decided to meet at one of the libraries. This time you knew that you would be spending time with a celebrity and people would notice so you made sure you at least looked alive. That way if there were pictures posted online at least you wouldn’t look like too much of a mess. Apparently Timothee noticed.

“You look nice.”

“Well, the chances of pictures being taken are pretty big so I at least want to look alive and not like I just rolled out of bed.” He snorted and you chatted for a few minutes before getting to work.

This time it was a bigger assignment so it took a few hours instead of one. But it didn’t seem to be so long, it felt like time had flown by and it was finished immediately. Timothee was interesting, you two could have fun but when needed it could be serious.

So when you split ways and Timothee started texting you an hour later, you didn’t feel like he was trying anything. It just felt like you were talking to a friend you had known for years. Then, you had plans to hang out two days later when he was free. The plan was to got to a park and play with kids and act like a kid, simply to feel like you didn’t have so much on your plate and could just have fun for an afternoon.

The interview he asked you about, was before you were meeting to go to a park and act like you were children, not adults who had jobs and college. But that was the plan, and exactly what you did.

The two of you ended up chasing each other until all the other kids at the park wanted to play with the two of you. The parents watched the two of you close when you played with them but that was to be expected.

Timothee was good with kids. Not just good, amazing. All the little girls were absolutely in love with him while all the boys were amazed by how strong he was.

However, as most people know. Kids have no filter, therefore they ask any question that comes to their brain. Hence the 30 different times you had to tell them that you weren’t dating and you were just friends having fun. Some of the parents seemed to think so too, one of them basically told you.

“Thank you for playing with Maggie, she had a blast and she’ll probably sleep well tonight.” The lady looked relieved at the thought. “You and your boyfriend would be good with kids if you decide to have them.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We just met a month ago and we just came here to have some fun.” She nodded but you could tell she didn’t believe you. Trying to ignore what she said you turned and went back to playing with the kids.

It was after two hours of playing different games, the two of you decided that you were out of energy. Timothee offered getting a meal and you agreed. And that’s how you ended up in a Mcdonalds.

For the next few months, you would meet up for assignments or just to hang out. The press had a hayday with it but after a while it was easy to ignore and then it became more fun to do funny poses every once in a while.

Then he had to go work on a movie so your contact was left to text, phone calls, and facetime. It worked but it wasn’t as good as meeting in person. He still helped with your french until the semester was over part way through his movie.

“Timmy!!! I passed!!!” You held up your phone to the camera on your computer so he could see through his screen. It was amazing and you owed it all to him. Last semester you had barely passed and that had been with 4 times the amount of studying then you had done today. Timothee was godsent.

“Yes! You did it!” You celebrated for a little bit before he got serious. “Y/n, since you passed I know what we can do to celebrate. When this is over, you should come as my plus one to the movie premiere.”

“The movie premiere?!” He nodded, you could see how nervous he was in his eyes. “I have one question.” He nodded, waiting for you to ask. “What am I supposed to wear.” He snorted.

“I’ll talk with my manager and see what he says.” So that was the plan. You kept talking with him, but now it was less about school and more for the fun of it.

When the movie premiere came close Timothee got an answer to your question. Though he almost seemed hesitant to tell you.

“You just have to go get measured and go to a few fittings. The brand making my suit is making you a matching dress.” You would be matching with Timothee sure, you were going as his plus one, or date depending on who you ask. But brand? This dress sounded like it was going to cost more than your college tuition.

“Ok, when and where do I need to go?” He gave you his manager’s private number so you talk straight with him and get all the details. Little did you know, that that was the beginning of the storm.

Somehow it got out that you were going with Timothee and even getting matching outfits. Soon, your phone was being blown up by people trying to get details and even shows asking you to come on and talk about it. Timothee’s manager called you and offered to be your manager until this all calmed down, mostly because this affected Timothee but the offer was still appreciated and accepted.

He texted you a link and told you to post it in all of your public social media bios titled ‘Manager’s contact’. While it wasn’t something most celebrities did, you had just been dragged into this. It would start as a base line until things were figured out.

Through this mess, Timothee kept apologizing even when you said it was ok and it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. You thought the manager would be enough but then you ended up sharing Timothee’s booking agent too. Apparently everyone wanted to talk with you.

A few days after agreeing, you learned that the episode would be realised a week before the premiere, but hopefully it would go well. You were also told that Timothee would be doing the interview with you which made you feel a lot better.

Timothee came back the day before you had to fly to California so you were going to let him take the day to rest because frankly it was a lot, but he showed up at your door with his suitcase. He hadn’t even gone home.

“Timmy! What are you doing he-” He cut you off.

“Can I kiss you?” What? That wasn’t what you expected. While you stood there staring at him completely confused, he started shifting around a little bit and playing with his hands.

“Yeah.” That’s all it took for him to get his confidence back.

Request:

Hey, I really love your writing.

Can I request something with Thimothée Chalamet? Maybe like they meet at a coffee shop and he accidentally spills his coffee on her and then they become friends and they progressively fall in love with each other? If you can’t I understand.

Thank you 🤍

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | Drabble 5

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Another little drabble! It's hard to give this couple up 🥺 this is also a scene that was basically deleted from the main series, so it's been given a time jump! I didn't want people to think it was a cliche moment (it kinda is) but...I think this gives some good clarity on how the MC has grown! Unedited as on mobile.

-

"Do you think your mom will like this?" You query, brows farrowing together as you turn the elegantly decorated plant pot around in your hands. It would match her current living room decor and she loved gardening.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah...why?" Hoseok asks with a distracted tone, his attention grabbed with the collection of fake plants. The two of you had come to a home decoration store as you wanted to redecorate your bedroom. He wasn't hugely interested in how it was done and you were pretty sure that he was here just to spend time with you.

Which was sweet and you loved that he was content to just be with you, but he wasn't being very helpful right now.

"...her birthday? It's next week, we're taking her out for dinner, remember?" He pauses for a moment before his lips turn into a circle.

"Oh yeah, shit. I need to book the table for that." Before you can say anything else, he's pulling out his phone and tapping away on it.

Sighing, you place the pot into the cart and begin to look with an eye for your bedroom. You wanted to inject more plants into the house but Kasumi just tried to eat real ones, so you were stuck with fake plants.

"How about C'est Bonne? Wait no, she doesn't like French food. Hmmm, Italian feels boring though. Do you think she'd like Thai, I think that'd be alright." Hoseok is muttering to himself as he scrolls and you smile affectionately.

To say he'd completely forgotten, you weren't surprised that he was throwing himself into it now.

"Hoseok?" For a moment, neither of you respond. You, because it wasn't your name and so you weren't conditioned to respond to it, and Hoseok because it wasn't your voice.

His head jerked up in confusion, gaze going to you first before looking around. The voice calls again from your left and you turn to see who it is, wondering who was calling out your husband's name.

What you didn't expect is for Hoseok's face to open in surprise, shocked recognition taking over his expression. Like, real shock and you're even more confused and intrigued.

"Yoona?" He asks, his tone slightly unsure and you realise it's obviously someone he once knew. You've heard him mention the name at some point, but you can't remember why you know it.

"It is you! Oh my god, it's so good to see you. How long has it been?" The woman in question, Yoona, smiles brightly and you observe that she's pretty. Very pretty with the kind of hair you see in commercials.

She's wearing plain black jeans that conform to her legs alongside a subtly flowered shirt. Her black pea coat tops it off with a matching deep purple scarf and beanie to cope with the colder weather.

"Err...a while." Hoseok laughs, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck and you recognise the awkward movement. He's a little uncomfortable and your stomach turns as you wonder if this is one of his hook ups.

Surprisingly, you'd never met one of them given how prolific he'd been. Though you did wonder how many of them had also been drunk and probably didn't remember him at all.

Still, you feel the urge to comfort him and move closer, resting your hand on his back in assurance. He straightens a little at the touch before relaxing into you, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulder and hugging you into him a little more strongly than you'd anticipated.

"Oh, Meeps this is Yoona, the girl in college who got me to sort my shit out?" Hoseok's brows rise as his voice turns dry before he looks back at Yoona. "This is Y/N, my wife."

Her eyes flick over to you and surprisingly enough, she doesn't give you a once over. You almost expected her to view you as some kind of threat or rival, but the reassuring smile she gives makes you realise how silly that would be.

"Really? Oh my god, Hoseok! I'm so happy for you, and for you, Y/N! I always knew he had the makings of a good partner, even if he couldn't see it. I'm glad you finally took my advice." Yoona says before reaching out to shake your hand politely.

Surprisingly, it's not nearly as awkward as you'd think to meet one of your husband's ex-flings. Especially one who'd had such an influence on his life.

"Erm, thank you. Hoseok's talk about you sometimes, thank you for helping him back then." You say shyly, feeling your stomach twist uncertainly as you take your hand back and play with your fingers.

Just like he always has, Hoseok instinctively knows when you're not comfortable and he reaches for one of your hands. 

"I've told her lots of things over the years," He grins before kissing your forehead. "My therapy was very good, I promise."

That's directed to Yoona who laughs sweetly and nods in appreciation.

"Good, good, I'm glad. Anyway, I've got to be going but...it was nice to see you! And I'm really happy that you've found someone. I'd love to get to know you better but I'm sure you're amazing. Gotta be to have captured this guy's attention." She smiles and gestures towards you, causing you to feel hot with embarrassment.

"Erm, thank you." You mutter, unsure of how to react. But you're surprisingly okay with her and don't feel any form of threat, even with her important history with Hoseok. It was clear there were no feelings between either of them and you genuinely felt that she was a good person.

Before either of you could say anything else, she said her goodbyes and headed towards the cashiers at the front of the store. There was a brief moment of silence as you both tried to compute what had happened and Hoseok recovered quicker than you did.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, his words laced with concern that matched the worry in his eyes. You knew why he was feeling like that - Yoona was beautiful, once upon a time he'd slept with her and she'd helped him realise how to move forward. Or at least take the steps there.

If this had happened in the first year of your relationship then you probably would feel disconcerted, unsure what to think about this blast from his past. But you weren't that girl anymore, and whilst you still had your anxieties, you had full and complete faith in Hoseok.

Plus, he'd been as blindsided by her as you were. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was nice to finally meet the famous Yoona, she seemed nice." You comment, slipping your arm through his and leaning against him as you both walked towards the bedroom section. Bring so close to him meant that you could practically feel him relax at your words.

"Good, good. I didn't...well I didn't know what to think, really. I was worried you'd be upset or something." Hoseok admits, trailing his hand down your coat sleeve until he can grasp your fingers between his own.

"No, I know all about your history and it was only a matter of time before we met someone. And like I said, she was sweet." There's still some uneasiness in his demeanour though and you squeeze his hand before gently poking the back of it with a finger.

The movement makes him smile and you feel relief at him looking a little happier.

"Seriously, I'm okay. Are you okay?" It was probably a big thing to accidentally meet up with such an important fling, but but could understand why he wasn't comfortable with it all.

That was a part of his past that he wasn't entirely happy with colliding with his very happy present. So you just held on to him as he worked through his feelings.

"Yeah...yeah I am. It was just weird to see her, you know? Never expected that." He let's his free hand trail over a soft, velvet cushion idly and you hum in contemplation.

"I get it. But don't fret over it, okay? I'm fine with it all and...well, it was nice to meet the woman who helped to bring the Hoseok I know to life. Or at least, started the process. Without her, we wouldn't be here."

Hoseok is silent as he considers that, his lips twisting before he licks at his lip ring and nods.

"Yeah, you're right. She's the one part of my past that I'm okay with you seeing in person. I should've thanked her…" Muttering, he sighs before shrugging with a lopsided smile.

"Oh well, let's carry on shopping. Your decorations await! And I need to finish booking that table...I'm actually thinking of maybe trying that Lebanese place…"

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok drabble #hoseok fluff #hoseok fic #bts drabble #bts fluff

[quindolyn]

Better Kisser || Lily Evans

Word Count: 2228

Note: little bit of James x Reader, but I think it’s mostly focused on Lily, idfk at this point. I questioned my whole ass sexuality today because girls are pretty and we got this. I have come to the conclusion that I would let Lily absolutely rail me and then hold me afterwards.

Warnings: Kissing, alcohol, Lily is hot as shit, sue me, barely edited

Part 2

Masterlist

One thing was for sure, Sirius Black was an upright prick.

And there he was all cuddled up in his boyfriend’s arms, having lost his shirt to Marlene many rounds ago.

“You’re really daring me to kiss your best mate’s girlfriend?” You asked incredulously, hoping you had misheard him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to kiss Lily. No, on the contrary. You were just afraid that it would make things awkward with both her and James, whom you’d known since the both of you were in diapers.

‘Why (L/N)? You scared?” He taunted, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“No, course not.” You denied, leaning forward to scoop your glass of water off the floor, you didn’t want to taste like firewhiskey when you kissed Lily. “Are you okay with it Lils?” You turned to her, if she didn’t want to then that was a non starter, James could be persuaded. But Lily’s consent was 100% necessary.

“Sure (Y/N/N), s’not like I’m kissing Sirius,” She jokingly sneered at him, straightening her skirt as she composed herself.

“You okay with it Jamsie?” She crooned at him like he was a child, and sometimes he was, his eyes never leaving her lips, but you could only sympathize because you too weren’t able to pry your eyes off of them. They were plump and red and swollen from alcohol consumption, you wouldn’t really care if she tasted like alcohol. 

“Mhmm,” He hummed, his eyes never quite meeting hers, “You do whatever you want baby, you wanna kiss (Y/N)?” He shrugged, she nodded, “Then go ahead and kiss her, s’not my place to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do.”

“Kiss!” Sirius heckled, taking another swig of firewhiskey before Remus pried it from his hands, kissing his cupid’s bow in attempts to calm him down.

“You ready love?” Lily asked, taking a puff from the blunt Marlene passed her, inhaling sharply before letting the smoke billow out her nose, a lazy smile taking over her face.

You nodded meekly before crawling over Dorcas who sat between you and James, where Lily was perched on his lap.

“Come here doll,” She beckoned with the crook of her finger, you hesitantly settled yourself next to her, your side pressed into James’ arm which was wrapped around Lily’s waist. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked her, you faces inches from each other, noses prodding each other’s, you had been right, her breath reeked of alcohol and instead of repulsing you it just dragged you in further. Her eyes flitted down to your lips staying there as James had to hers. You wondered if yours were half as pretty as hers were right now?

Her response came as she leaned forward pressing her lips to yours, they were incredibly soft, her lip gloss tasted like strawberries as you licked it from her lips, the tip of your tongue grazing her bottom lip. Feeling her smirk into the kiss at your boldness, leaning in towards her more you cupped the right side of her face in your hand, savoring how the soft skin felt under your hands. Pushing her tongue into your mouth she grabbed your waist with one of her hands, working her way under your shirt to access your bare skin. 

It felt like an electric current surged through your body as your tongues fought for dominance, both of you mounting a fierce campaign, but ultimately you gave into her, letting her tongue explore your mouth at will.

After what felt like a ridiculously short amount of time she pulled away from you, the both of you gasping for air. You were distantly aware of the small whimper you emitted as she broke contact, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to give a damn, you were high off Lily Evans, and you needed more.

“I didn’t think you would actually do it,” Sirius spoke from Remus’s arms which were now rubbing up and down the smaller man’s arms, “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” You smirked, quickly regaining your composure.

“You’re an excellent kisser (Y/N),” Lily lilted, brushing a piece of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail, behind your ear.

And just as quickly as you had regained it you lost all sense of what you were doing and quickly fumbled out an awkward thank you to her compliment, you were sure your face was 30 varying shades of scarlet and was quick to hide it from the view of the others in the room. Settling back into your seat on the other side of Dorcas you failed to notice the intense gaze of a certain bespectacled brunette upon you that stayed there for the rest of the night.

The next morning, sitting down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, the last thing you expected was to be immediately ambushed by James. He flew into the seat beside you, straddling the bench before scooping scrambled eggs and french toast onto your plate for you.

Before you could thank him, he opened his mouth and ruined his perfectly pleasant behavior, “I need you to kiss me!”

“I’m sorry what?” You spat out, somehow managing not to choke on the orange juice you had just taken a gulp of.

“I need you to kiss me.” He repeated plainly.

“No, I heard what you said, my bad. I probably would’ve clarified,” You cleared your throat, setting the glass of juice down onto the table, “What the actual fuck Potter? You have a girlfriend.” You swatted his arm turning in your seat so your body was completely facing the table, James was only able to view your side profile.

“And she has a boyfriend but you still kissed her,” He pointed out, you hated when he was right.

Before you could apologize for stepping over the line he continued, his words soothing your woes, “Last night after we all went to bed,” He started quickly, gesturing with his hands as he always did when he was trying to make his case, whether that was to McGonagall about how it most certainly wasn’t him who was hexing Slytherins in the corridors, or trying to convince Sirius and Remus about his idea for a prank, the boy was always moving his hands about like he was trying to direct air traffic, not that he’d know what that was. “Lily was bragging to me about how good of a kisser you are and how much she enjoyed kissing you.”

You blushed at that, moving your hair so that it would hide your face from him, but the boy wasn’t having it and moved it from curtaining in front of your face so he could once again view your side profile. “And that piqued my interest, because watching you guys kiss was,” He paused for a second, looking for the correct word, “Was euphoric.”

“Big word there Potter, Lupin teach you that one?” You tried in attempts to derail where this conversation was heading but he wasn’t having that.

“That was all fine,” He continued as though you had never spoken in the first place, “But then she started talking about how she was sure you wouldn’t have kissed me like that because she’s such a better kisser than me.” You did not like where this was going, “The problem here is that we’ve never kissed the same person, Lily was my first kiss,”

Though he raced over it quickly you couldn’t stop the small smile that bloomed across your face, there was no denying that James Potter loved Lily Evans. Unless you were Severus and couldn’t pull your head out of your ass that is.

“So we need you to help us settle this little disagreement.” He explained as though it were the most logical answer to his conundrum.

“Does Lily know about your little idea?” You finally turned towards him, one leg bent up on the bench.

He hummed, looking down to his hands where he was tugging at his fingers, “Well, no, not yet, I wanted to see if you would be interested in it before I asked her.”

Risking another glance at the boy you were met with his hopeful gaze which quickly morphed into a cocky grin as you nodded your head, “Fine I’ll kiss you, but only if Lily’s in too.”

“Great!” James exclaimed, pulling you up from your seat at the table and dragging you out of the Great Hall as he excitedly jogged towards the library where he knew Lily to be. 

“Oi, Potter, slow down my legs are shorter than yours!” You complained attempting to keep up with his long strides.

“Sorry Love,” Though he made no move to slow down for you, if anything he picked up speed. 

“Lily!” He announced your entrance when the two of you finally came to the library, earning him a sharp look from Pince. You tried not to look around at everyone in the library not wanting to see the looks they were undoubtedly flashing you, instead burying your head into the back of James’ shoulder, allowing him to guide you through the maze of tables and bookshelves until he finally found the coveted redhead pouring over her potions book.

“What do you want Ja-” She looked up catching sight of you as you tried to hide behind James, suddenly very nervous about what you had previously agreed to. “Oh, hi (Y/N). What’s going on?”

“I was thinking about last night, after we all went to bed,” He moved into the chair next to her, propping his head up in his hand which rested on the table top, “And I love you Flower, I really do but you’re just not the better kisser here, I am. But since you refuse to see that and we’ve never kissed the same person before we can’t really come to a conclusion. Until now that is, because (Y/N) here has agreed to kiss me and then she can tell us who is better.” He motioned to you with a wave of his arm and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks, the way Lily was looking at you, as though she was appraising you, made your legs tremble.

“You sure about this darling?” The question was directed towards you.

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice at this moment.

She sat in her chair a minute longer drinking you in before nodding, turning to her boyfriend who was smiling like an absolute idiot. “Not here though,” She commanded with a flick of her wand that had all of her supplies flying back into her bag, “Our dorm,” She looked at you as she grabbed James’ hand, then yours leading you out of the library.

James was sprawled out on Lily’s bed, the three of you had come to an unspoken agreement that that was where this would take place, it only seemed appropriate. Lying back, James propped himself up on his forearms, his eyes raking over Lily’s figure as she shrugged off her outer robe, leaving her in her tight fitting button down and plaid skirt. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna love,” She murmured in your ear, brushing her lips against your skin, “Jamsie’s just being a dick wad.”

A gentle laugh escaped you at your joke but you shook your head, “No, it's okay, I want to.”

“Alright then bub,” She hummed, “Get on J’s lap.”

You scrambled to comply, easily settling into the grooves of his thighs, “Are you gonna sit up?” You asked him glaring down at where he laid splayed out on the bed.

“No was thinking you’d come down here since I’m gonna be doing most of the work anyway,” He smirked smugly up at you as you leaned down to connect your lips thinking, it's only gonna cost you points Potter, go ahead, you’re just hurting yourself here.

You brushed the hair off his forehead as your lips met each other, he tasted like mint and citrus, it left you wondering what Lily usually tasted like when she didn’t have alcohol on her breath. He wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you closer to him as his hands ran up and down your back, soothing you into his touch. His lips were rougher than Lily’s had been, though you suspected they would be, you weren’t sure if you’d actually seen him ever apply anything to his lips aside from Lily’s.

His tongue gently pressed against the seal of your lips before pushing past it into the velvety expanse of your mouth. James let out a moan, you didn’t realize what had caused it until you felt Lily’s delicate fingers slide up from his scalp to caress your face. 

You stayed there, in their shared embrace letting James’ tongue have its way with your mouth until your lungs couldn’t take it anymore and you were forced to push away, inhaling deep gulps of air.

James barely let you catch your breath before asking his question, running his hands up and down your arms which were the only things keeping you up. 

In all honesty they were both phenomenal kissers and they were lucky to get to kiss the other every day but there was a correct answer to this question, and James wasn’t going to like it.

tagging: @randomoutsiders​

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #marauders era fanfiction #lily evans x y/n #lily evans x reader #lily evans x you #jily #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you

[babymetaldoll]

I just want you (Chip Taylor / Reader)

Requested: Yes

Word counting: 3.5K

Summary: What would it be like to be married to Chip Taylor? Would it include a lot of women trying to hit on him?

Warnings: Cursing, spoilers of 68 Kill.

A/N: Hello, beautiful people! sorry, I've been a little absent here, but writing my series has taken most of my time! Also, I feel a little blocked, and my personal life has been a mess. But, here it is: my first Chip Taylor fic. Have you guys seen 68 Kill? I love that movie, and I love Chip so much. He deserves the world. I hope you guys like this little story!

Masterlist

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It wasn’t like I didn’t know my husband was handsome, ‘cos you had to be blind not to see his face was made by the gods, and all of his features were simply perfect. I just didn’t know every woman would flirt with him everywhere we were all the time.

And they weren’t even subtle about it. No. They made it very obvious when they looked at Chip each time they stopped by his work. They wanted him.

After all those years together, a part of me had made peace with that. I couldn’t stop them. He was hot, he didn’t want their attention, but he wasn’t rude or anything like it. Chip Taylor was a very polite man who was also very blind to the attention his looks gave him.

Chip owned a small pet sitting business that had started to really take off in the last few months. He had some savings that he used to buy a house when we first started dating. He lived there until we got married, and then we bought a bigger place outside the town. That’s when he decided to turn his old home into his own pet sitting business. And it was a hit. Chip is fantastic with animals. He is great with everybody, but pets just… melt with him. I think they can see the kindness of his soul.

Chip Taylor deserves the best things in life ‘cos he is the best man I’ve ever met. I’ve loved him since the day it took him almost half an hour to walk over and talk to me in the bar we met.

- “Every time a pretty face pops up, my brain turns into a potato- he explained, flustered ‘cos he kept stuttering as he asked for my number.

He was too sweet. Too cute. And he loved me. He had a ring that said so. But again, that didn’t stop most women who met him from flirting with him.

- “Here he is. Little Rascal had a great day today”- Chip walked to the front yard with a french bulldog, who kept barking, trying to get an extra treat from him. I smiled from a safe distance, reading a book sitting on a porch while Chip met with the dog owner. And she was as excited as Rascal was.

- “Hi baby! Did you have a good day today?”- the lady held the leash and caressed her dog’s head a few times before returning her attention fully to my husband.

- “Thank you for taking care of him.”

- “You are very welcome, Kim. It’s my job.”

- “No, it’s more than that. Rascal hates strangers, and he has been an angel with you since day one. I tell you, Chip, you are someone special.”

I know my husband blushed, ‘cos he is terrible with compliments. So he just shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. His shirt raised, showing his very toned midsection. And I swear, I had to force myself to stay put on that chair, ‘cos the way that woman looked at my husband was enough to make my blood boil. I wanted to run over and push her away from him. I wished I could tell her to get her dog and get the fuck out of our property.

But no. I didn’t. Instead, I tried to keep on reading, which was honestly impossible. But at least I didn’t move from my chair. I just stared at that scene, trying to control the urges of smashing that woman’s head against her car.

- “So, do you have plans for the weekend?”- the woman asked him, smiling flirtatiously

- “Not really.”- not the smartest answer, I’ll give you that.

- “Great! that means you can’t say no! I am having a small get-together at my place this Friday. You should totally come.”

- “Thank you, Kim, but...”

- “I’ll text you my address. I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Chip was awkward, he felt pushed to say he’d go, but I knew he didn’t want to. If he did, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Besides, he wouldn’t usually make plans without asking me first. A part of me wanted to run and help him out of that awkward situation, but I knew he had to do it on his own. Yes, he was a grown-up, but after knowing everything he had gone through before we met, a big part of me wanted to take care of him constantly. I didn’t want anything wrong ever to happen to Chip. He didn’t deserve anything bad.

- “Thanks, Kim, really, but… I think I should ask my wife first”- he whispered and smiled kindly at the woman, who didn’t hide the disappointment from her face. I have the feeling she never actually saw the ring on my husband’s finger.

- “Wife? I had no idea you were married, Chip”- he chuckled and nodded as the woman tried to act normal again. But she couldn’t.

- “Yes, I’ve been married for the last ten months.”

- “Just ten months? Well, she is a lucky woman…”

- “Thank you”- Chip petted Rascal’s head and added- “But I am sure I am the lucky one to have her. I still can’t believe she actually married me.”

- “Come on, Chip! Any woman would be happy with a man like you.”

And that was when that woman crossed the line and rubbed my husband’s arm for longer than necessary. He froze and looked at her, not knowing how to get out of that situation. Chip is a sweet soul who still has some significant issues when it comes to setting boundaries.

I jumped from my chair and walked over quickly, with a big smile on my face. The woman turned to me and raised an eyebrow, clearly not knowing who I was.

- “Hello, sorry to interrupt you, boo, but it’s getting late for our date.”

We didn’t have a date that night. But well, now we did.

Chip frowned, confused, and waited for me to explain a little more what I was saying. But, instead, I just smiled and held his hand, making sure that the woman’s hand was as far from him as possible.

- “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N), Chip’s wife.”- I said and waved.

- “Kimberly, nice to meet you.”

- “So you are Rascal’s mom. He is a sweetheart”- I kneeled and petted Rascal’s head behind his ears, right where I knew he liked it. Kim just nodded and smiled.

- “Ok, we should go, it’s getting late. Bye Chip”- she waved quickly, walking to her car. My husband said goodbye and wrapped an arm around my waist as I stood by his side and rested my head on his shoulder.

- “We are not going to her “little get-together,” by the way”- I whispered, and he chuckled.

- “Good, ’cause I didn’t want to go either. I actually had plans for the weekend, but I didn’t want to discuss them with her.”- I looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and felt his big hands caressing the lower part of my back.

- “Which plans?”

- “I’m planning to stay in bed with my wife the whole weekend, watch movies, kiss her a lot, and maybe asking for pizza.”

- “You had me at ˝stay in bed,” Chip Taylor”- I giggled and kissed his cheek- “She was flirting with you, by the way.”

- “I don’t care if she tried to flirt. I only have eyes for you, moonbeam”- I chuckled at the cheesy nickname and felt his lips on mine. They felt warm and soft and filled with love.

But it wasn’t always so easy to shake off the thoughts of a woman flirting with Chip. Unfortunately, sometimes it was harder to remain calm. Some women were more aggressive with their flirting. Some were actually way hotter than me, and sometimes that makes you doubt yourself.

I didn’t know Liza or Violet, so I never knew if they were prettier, more intelligent, or sexier than me. I couldn’t compare or compete with them either, ‘cos they were dead. But some random women made my life a little more challenging from time to time.

- “Chip? Chip Taylor?”- a soft woman’s voice interrupted our conversation and forced my husband to turn around, feeling now also her hand on his shoulder. We were at our favorite bar, having a drink, celebrating the end of the week and another successful month of Chip’s small business. We were chatting about our days, sitting at our usual table, when interrupted.

- “Anna Davis? Hi! How are you?! Long time no see!”- my husband stood up and hugged the stranger like long-lost friends reunited. I had never heard of any “Anna” before. I was trying to remember if I did.

- “I haven’t seen you in ages! What are you doing here?”- Anna said and laughed- “I can’t believe it’s really you!”- and so, they hugged again.

- “Hi”- I waved from the table and smiled at the two of them as they moved apart.

- “I’m so sorry, babe. (Y/N), this is Anna, my neighbor when I was in middle school. Anna, this is (Y/N), my wife.”

- “Hi, nice to meet you”- she shook my hand and smiled at me for a second, and then turned to my husband again and continued catching up.

Chip looked happy and excited to see her. He didn’t have many friends, he still didn’t know how to trust most people, probably why he decided to work with animals instead. He had a good relationship with Jim, the boy who helped him clean, and with a few classmates from the community college. But that was it.

- “I can’t believe you are here!”- Chip was beaming- “Are you with someone?”

- “My friends were leaving. I’m visiting one of my best friends, who moved here a few years ago. But she has to work tomorrow morning, so she wanted to go home.”

- “Do you wanna sit with us for a while?”- Chip asked her and turned to me smiling. Of course, I couldn’t say no. Well, he didn’t actually ask; he just looked at me, and I moved my chair to make room for one more on the table.

- “I would love to! Thank you!.”

I loved the idea of meeting Anna, at first. I didn’t know many people from my husband’s past, basically just his parents. The fact she was his friend growing up sounded amazing, and it meant I could finally talk with someone who knew him when he was a kid and could tell me more stories about my husband.

But Anna had other plans. My husband blinded Anna. She basically ignored me, and he was so excited to see her and talk to her, he didn’t even notice I was being left out of the whole conversation.

At first, it was ok. Chip wanted to catch up with Anna, know what she was doing with her life, and all that. So he asked for her parents and family. Apparently, they were pretty close growing up.

- “Remember each Friday we had a secret sleepover?”- she asked and laughed. My husband nodded and sipped his drink.

- “Yeah! I would sneak into your house and watch a movie.”

- “You know, my parents knew you were coming to hang out after curfew. They just didn’t think it was wrong”- she added and laughed- “I’m just glad they didn’t know about the day we tried smoking for the first time!”

Chip burst into laughter, and so did Anna. I just stared at them and sighed. Neither of them explained the story. They were just too caught up in each other to even notice I was there.

Yes, I was feeling jealous of Chip’s long-lost childhood friend. I knew it made no sense, but somehow, he completely forgot I existed when she was there. Yes, it was probably ‘cos he was surprised to bump into her at a bar on a random night after so many years.

But the more I looked at her, the more I realized she was gorgeous. She had long legs, beautiful golden hair, green eyes. The girl could go to a freaking beauty pageant and win it. Besides, Anna wasn’t acting friendly, if you ask me. She kept rubbing my husband’s arm, repeating how excited she was to see him, and saying over and over again how good he looked… it was a little too much.

- “I tell you, Chip, you haven’t changed a bit!”- Anna smiled and looked into his chocolate eyes, and I swear she nearly sighed. I couldn’t blame her. He is dreamy. But he is my husband, and it felt wrong.

- “Neither have you,”- he added and turned to me for a second. I looked kindly into his eyes, knowing he was happy, and that was enough to make me feel happy too.

- “Can I get you another drink, moonbeam?”- he asked me and stood up.

- “Yes, penguin, please”- Chip nodded and blushed as I called him by his favorite nickname and then turned to Anna.

- “Another?”

- “Sure!”

And suddenly, we were on our own.

- “So, how long have you been married?”- Anna asked me and looked at me innocently.

- “A little over ten months.”

- “Just married! Congratulations. You must still be living the honeymoon!”

- “Yes, we are.”- I giggled and turned to look at Chip, waiting for our drink at the bar. It wasn’t hard being stuck at the honeymoon phase with him. Every day, he made every day feel like the first day we were together, even after three years of dating and ten months married.

- “We used to date when we were kids,”- Anna simply said and chuckled - “It was very childish, but I was his first kiss.”

- “Really?”- I smiled at her, making my best not to look jealous at all. “That’s so cute!”

- “He is adorable. He was the sweetest boy growing up.”- Anna added and kept her eyes on Chip. But for a few seconds, I could see the longing in them, and my struggle not to show how jealous I was got a little harder.

- “So when was the last time you saw Chip?”- I asked and kept my eyes on her, reading her expressions. It took her a few extra seconds to stop staring at him to turn and look at me.

- “When I moved out of town when I was fifteen.”- she sighed and chuckled- “Seems it was a lifetime ago.”

- “Ok, here are your drinks,”- Chip appeared and smiled- “Plus, I ordered some more nachos, ‘cos I’m getting hungry.”- I chuckled and held his hand upon the table, playing with his fingers between mine. Chip looked at me and opened his mouth to say something when Anna interrupted him.

- “Remember that summer you broke your arm ‘cos you fell from the tree in Shawn’s backyard?”

And my husband laughed, forgetting what he was going to tell me.

I stood in front of the mirror and tried to fix my makeup. I looked tired. I was tired. It was Friday night, and I wasn’t twenty-three anymore. I was weary, and all I could think of was getting into my bed with my husband and getting good twelve-hour sleep.

But he and Anna were still talking and having a blast together, remembering the good old times. Now, if you ask me, I had the feeling Anna wanted to do more than just talking to my husband, but he was oblivious to any of her intentions. That was until I walked out of the bathroom and saw Anna’s arm wrapped around Chip as they were dancing.

She was dancing with my husband, and he was laughing. Ok, that hurt. It hurt a lot.

I sat at our table and drank what was left of my drink. I stared at them for a moment and evaluated my options. I could storm out of that place, maybe make a scene and yell. But no, I trusted my husband. I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me or even cheat on me with her. No. He was naive and a little awkward. But by the way Anna’s hands moved on his body, clearly, she wasn’t naive at all.

- “Oh! I’m sorry!”- Anna said laughing when they reached back our table- “I just asked Chip to dance with me ‘cos I love that song.”

- “That’s ok”- I smiled at her and held my husband’s hand tight upon the table.

- “But Chip is such a great dancer! He really knows how to move!”- Anna was asking for it. She wanted to be smacked. But I behaved.

- “He really does,”- I answered and smiled

- “I hope you are not jealous!”- I turned to her and frowned, pretending to be confused

- “Of course not! Why would I?”

- “I don’t know! It’s just that… he was mine way before he was yours and…”

- “He isn’t mine”- I cut her off, and for once, my voice stopped being nice and friendly- “And he is definitely not yours. He is not a dog, Anna, he is a person, and the only owner of his soul is himself.”

Anna stared at me in silence, and Chip wide opened his eyes, surprised by my tone of voice.

- “What I’m trying to say is that… I met him when…”

- “I know what you are trying to imply Anna, you’ve been trying to do it ever since you sat at our table. You feel like you need to prove something, but you don’t. Really.”

Chip held my hand tight and kissed it sweetly. He didn’t say anything to me. He just looked at me with apologetic eyes as I cut him a short smile.

- “Ok, I think I better go now”- Anna stood up and just waved- “It was great seeing you again, Chip.”

My husband smiled and waved as Anna walked away. Then, when he was sure she had left the place, he turned to me. I sipped what was left of my drink and sighed.

- “Sorry if I was rude”- my words were a whisper only Chip could hear.

- “No, moonbeam. You weren’t rude at all. I’m sorry.”

- “Chip Taylor, you didn’t do anything wrong”- I leaned and kissed his lips softly, cupping his face with both hands.

- “I feel like I did.”

- “No, boo, really. She was… clearly trying to get under your belt.”

- “I shouldn’t have danced with her, but she pushed me...”- Chip excused himself and kissed my hand again, as I still held his face and caressed her cheeks with my thumbs.

- “Yeah, you should work on that “No” thing a little harder,”- I whispered and chuckled.

- “Sorry if she made you feel jealous. I had a huge crush on her when we were kids.”

- “She said she was your first kiss”- Chip opened my mouth, but no word came from it for a few seconds.

- “Funny, I told her that just ‘cos she said I was her first kiss, but actually my first kiss was with her cousin Alice.”

I couldn’t hold back the laughter as Chip looked at me with guilty eyes as if that was the biggest secret he had about his past.

- “Well, I bet if I run, I can still catch her!! I need to tell her the news!!”- I said and stood up, just to feel Chip’s arms around me, protectively.

- “Let her think that. We all know who all my kisses belong to now.”

Chip held me tight and close to him as his lips rubbed mine slowly. I felt my head spin as his tongue slowly touched mine, deepening the kiss. I couldn’t help but moan at the sensation of Chip’s sweet and passionate kiss. He made sure to make me feel how much he loved him every time he kissed me. In a weird way, Chip’s kisses always felt like our first and last. I think he was always trying to show me his feelings, ‘cos his previous trauma taught him he didn’t know when a kiss could be the last.

- “I love you so much, Mrs. Taylor,”- he whispered, and the title made my knees feel weak- “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

- “I love you more, Mr. Taylor,”- I replied and kissed his lips sweetly one more time- “And just between you and me, I am completely yours.”- I confessed and giggled nervously.

- “I am yours too, moonbeam. You own my heart, and I only want you.”- he whispered and kissed me one more time.

- “You just want me?”- I repeated, and he nodded, looking into my eyes filled with love- “Of all those women who wanna do you, you just want me?”

- “Which women?”- he asked me, clearly confused

- “A lot of women out there keep giving you the fuck eyes.”

- “What?! No way”

- “Do you think Kim invited you to her house for a small get-together? She wanted to get under your belt, penguin.”

- “But I am your penguin, that means I am not looking for any other woman. I just want you.”

- “Just me,”- I repeated again, and he nodded.

- “Just you, Mrs. Taylor”- I sighed, pleased, and closed my eyes for a second “Wanna go home?”

- “You still have to dance with me,”- I pouted, and he held my hand.

- “Whatever my wife wants.”

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#Chip Taylor #Matthew Gray Gubler #68 kill #chip taylor x reader #chip taylor x fem!reader #Matthew Gray Gubler Fluff #fluff #matthew Gray Gubler fanfiction #fanfiction #68 kill fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes