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leiawritesstories · 1 year

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Lights, Camera, Yulemas!

Written for 12 Days of Rowaelin, basically every day lol @rowaelinscourt and based off this prompt from @everenvacker

Word count: 2,865

Warnings: language, innuendo, flirting, slight hints of angst. also i'm not sorry for ending it there teehee

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good afternoon, passengers, this is your captain speaking from the flight deck." The man's smooth voice cut through Aelin's concentration, and she looked up from her thick folder of notes, wincing a bit at the pinch in her neck from spending four hours bent over her work. "We have begun our final descent into Orynth. The local temperature is just about 8 degrees Fahrenheit, with clear skies and sun--though the sun isn't doing much against the chill, I'm afraid." A pause so the passengers could chuckle. "We're expecting to land in approximately twenty minutes. Flight attendants, final checks and prepare cabin for arrival." He put down the microphone.

Aelin stretched her arms above her head and closed her thick manila folder, tucking it back into her expensive tote bag--the only piece she'd ever designed exclusively for herself--which she stored in the lovely little closet space to her right. Ah, the perks of flying first class.

Directly across the aisle, a woman who appeared a few years older than Aelin gasped, clearly having caught sight of her tote. "Excuse me for my rudeness, but is that...a Galathynius?"

Aelin half-turned, offering the woman a smile. "It is! In fact, it's a custom one, something you won't see in any in-store or online collection." She winked. "Let's just say I...well, I know the designer personally."

Just her luck, the couple of sketches that had slipped her notice chose that moment to flutter onto the ground.

"Bloody hell," Aelin grumbled, leaning down to pick them up. "Pardon my rudeness."

The woman gasped, clearly having seen the sketches. "Holy gods!" Her eyes were wider than the plane windows. "Are you...you're Aelin Galathynius!"

Aelin tipped her head. "Busted." She tucked the drawings neatly into her bag. "Pleased to meet you, Ms...."

"Lyria," the woman rushed. "Lyria Frelau." She flashed Aelin a charming, sweet grin. "If it's not too personal, I actually work in the modeling industry--gods no, not as a model, that was never my path. I'm an agent at a firm in Orynth, that's all."

"Well, Lyria, let me tell you something--there's no such thing as 'just an agent.'" Aelin winked. "If I'm being honest, agents are the ones who make the world go 'round, as it were, because you help set up the people who walk in shows so little designers like me can get our work out to the world." On a whim, she handed Lyria her business card. "I'm releasing a Yulemas collection here in Orynth, actually, and if you're interested, please do give me a call." She grinned. "I'm sure I can find you a few tickets."

"Oh my--I--" Lyria accepted Aelin's card, incredulous. "Gods, thank you so much!" She beamed. "If it's not too much, I will certainly be interested in this show of yours--oh gosh, I can hardly believe it!"

Aelin grinned, settling back into her seat. "From one person in the industry to another, that's all."

In the whirlwind that swept her up almost the second she walked out of Orynth International Airport, she nearly forgot about Lyria.

Until the agent with the sweet smile turned out to be just the woman she needed to save the unexpected catastrophe that threatened to ruin her whole entire show.

"He what?" Aelin all but shrieked, her pulse spiking as high as her stress level. "Go--fucking gods, NOW?"

"I'm so sorry, Ae!" On the other end of the phone, Lysandra was trying her absolute utmost to placate her dear friend. "Shit, I didn't know until the goddamn hospital called, saying Fen was out."

"Again. Fuck!" Aelin raked her hands through her loose hair, sending the shoulder-length golden blonde strands into disarray. "Fen's my core male model, Lys, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Hold on a sec--" Somewhat muffled, Lys's voice barked orders at whoever was close by in the office, probably trying to find any of the understudies they might have. She was back a few tense minutes later, her voice tight. "Fuck, Ae, I'm so sorry."

"Just what I fucking needed," Aelin grouched. "Thank you, Lys, you're a superhero."

"I'll keep trying to find someone," Lys promised. "I just..."

"Hold on a sec, I've got a call incoming."

"K, call me back." Lys hung up.

Sighing heavily, Aelin accepted the incoming call. "Aelin Galathynius, what's your call?"

"Miss Galathynius?" Lyria's voice. "I really don't mean to intrude, not at all, but my agency just received a call from your office saying there was a last-minute gap in your model cast?"

All of a sudden, Aelin's head cleared. Or at least cleared enough to hear herself think. "Actually, yes, we do have a gap. Fenrys Moonbeam had an unexpected skiing accident yesterday and is unable to walk today."

Lyria cleared her throat. "Well, as it happens, we do have someone available here in Orynth." Rustling paper as she checked her file. "His name is...Rowan. Rowan Whitethorn."

Aelin's brows furrowed. "I'm not sure I've ever heard that name before, is he new?"

"New to major designer shows, yes," Lyria confirmed. "He's walked in smaller shows for a few years, done a lot of work for brands and magazines, mostly in menswear and cologne."

"Ah. Worlds I don't keep up with as much as I should." Aelin thought for a brief moment. What the hell, he's here and he's male and I need a male model right the hell now. "Lyria?"

"Yes?"

"Send him over. I'll give you the address; if he could be here as soon as humanly possible, that would be amazing."

"Of course!"

"Thank you so much," Aelin breathed. Then she rattled off the address and hung up, barely even noticing that Lyria was halfway through one last note.

"...Rowan's not much of a Yulemas person, though."

Chaos.

Everything was chaos.

And Aelin was very much part of the chaos, running from station to station, model to model, team to team, checking hair and makeup and the lineup and going over any last-minute notes she had. All while distracting herself from checking the door every three seconds to see if the model Lyria said she would send--Regan? Ronan? Roger? What was his damn name again?--had shown up.

She successfully distracted herself enough that an assistant had to tap her shoulder to inform her that a Rowan Whitethorn was here to fill in for Fenrys.

Rowan. Right. Aelin strode over to what would have ben Fen's dressing area, flicking through her folder of notes. "One hour to runway, people!" she called. "Whitethorn, was it?"

"That's me."

For what felt like eternity, Aelin froze, sweeping her eyes over the sight of six foot three of sheer perfection in front of her. Then she cleared her throat, extended her free hand like the businesswoman she was, and shook hands with the model. "Aelin Galathynius."

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Rowan's handshake was as firm as the defined muscles carving every inch of his body.

"Don't ma'am me, it makes me feel ancient," she laughed. "Right. Fenrys Moonbeam was supposed to walk the core male position today but is currently incapable of walking. So. How much runway experience do you have, Mr. Whitethorn?"

"Rowan, please, and not much. I've done a lot more with campaign shoots, magazines and all that fun shit. I have walked in a few Fashion Weeks, but that's about it as far as major runway shows go."

"I see." Aelin scribbled a few things on her notes. "Well, something is always better than nothing." She nodded at the stylists and dressers, who went right to work with Rowan's appearance, tousling up his silvery hair--a unique color, Aelin observed. Casually observed.

Not like she was ogling the man.

"Good news," the dresser murmured to Aelin. "He's just about the same measurements as Fen."

"Finally, some good luck," Aelin muttered, half under her breath. "Great, let's see if we need any alterations done."

When the wardrobe people wheeled in the rack of outfits, Rowan's posture stiffened, his spine solidifying into steel. Aelin's keen glance didn't miss the shift. "Are you alright, Rowan?"

"Fine," he bit out.

"Rowan." She placed herself in front of him, folded her arms, and leveled a flat stare at the man. "Truth?"

He met her stare with one of his own, a current of wrath simmering beneath his flat glare. "A Yulemas collection?"

"I thought Ms. Frelau or whoever your agent is would have informed you of that." Aelin's brows knitted. "Didn't they?"

Rowan shook his head. "Nobody did. Just told me to get here ASAP."

"Damn industry," Aelin grumbled. "Yes. A Yulemas collection. My first solo clothing line, in fact."

"Congratulations," he returned, something resembling actual warmth in his tone.

"Thank you." She arched one brow. "Nothing I have for you is ostentatious, I promise. I'm not that kind of designer."

Thank the gods," he deadpanned. "One less godawful tinsel-tree contraption to haunt the stores."

"Oh, you're a funny one," she snarked right back. "I'm sure the audience will be entirely captivated by you regardless of the clothing, Whitethorn. In fact, I'm half-tempted to send you to the runway with just your skin and your sass; you'd charm the pants right off half the crowd at least."

His lips flattened, laughter forcibly pressed back. "Funny."

"I know." She winked. "Right, let's see the outfits."

Rowan Whitethorn was completely and utterly fucked. Had been since he walked into the Yulemas explosion of the Galathynius show's backstage area to realize that he'd been called into a huge blaring show of everything he couldn't stand. Had been even more fucked when he met Aelin Galathynius, the designer, and very quickly discovered that he would have to keep a constant sad-puppy image in his mind lest he walk onto the runway standing upright, as it were.

But this was a godsdamn Yulemas show. A Yulemas collection. A whole lineup of clothing that represented everything Rowan hated about the winter season.

How the hell was he going to make it through?

He had to admit Aelin was telling the truth--none of the clothes that were rapidly pulled on and off his body were terribly ostentatious. In fact, they were really rather tasteful and beautifully designed, even if almost everything was in a color palette of greens, reds, ivory, gold, silver, and white. Holiday colors.

Colors he refused to admit were actually quite well suited to him.

Aelin, though, spoke her mind freely. "Well, sign me the hell up," she smirked, appraising him with her glance.

Gods roast him, Rowan wished that glance was her hands. Or even better, her tongue. Not that he would ever do something as completely inappropriate as fantasize about a woman he hardly knew...right?

Aelin smacked her lips. "I was right about that gorgeous ass of yours, Whitethorn. Every lady in the audience is going to be having some wonderful dreams tonight, oh yes."

"Galathynius," Rowan groaned, tipping his head back and screwing his eyes shut in discomfort. "Why?"

She chuckled. "I have a penchant for teasing people when I'm stressed, so forgive me if I've said anything wrong."

"'S'fine," he mumbled, beyond thankful for the runway makeup hiding his violent blush.

"Good." And Aelin whisked out of his dressing room, calling out that there were only five minutes to showtime.

Hell.

Just like that, the nerves exploded in Rowan's stomach. He looked at himself in the mirror, stared at the deep-red, fitted trousers, the partially unbuttoned off-white shirt, the casually festive tie hanging loose around his neck, and he felt faintly sick. That tended to happen when he had to face the flashy glamor of Yulemas.

"You'll do wonderfully." Unexpected, Aelin's voice broke into his reverie.

He whirled around. "What?"

"You'll do just fine, Rowan," she repeated. "I know you will."

"Hope so," he muttered. "Goddamn Yulemas memories."

If Aelin heard--which she most likely did--she said nothing, just adjusted the artfully tousled fabric of his shirt and patted his shoulder. "Oh! We almost forgot." She grabbed something off the table behind Rowan. "Give me your hand."

A little confused, Rowan held out his left hand. Aelin swiftly looped a small strand of multicolored lights around his wrist--a holiday decoration. "Every model is wearing one of these bracelets," she explained. "It's the little thing that's going to run through the whole show."

"Oh." He rolled his wrist around a bit, getting used to the lights. And forcing away everything those Yulemas lights brought to mind. "I like the idea, it's a nice touch."

"Us designers have to have those nice little touches." Aelin eyed him once more, obviously satisfied for how she nodded. "Queue up, Whitethorn. And don't worry, the show will be over before you know it."

Aelin was right--the show did go by in a hazy blur, and before Rowan knew it, he was standing in the wings waiting for his signal, clad in his final outfit of the show. And of course, of fucking course, this last outfit would have been the one that most made him want to crawl into the ground and hide.

The suit (should he even call it that?) wasn't awful, just...green. Festive holiday green. And the suit jacket's lapels were embellished with shimmering silvery fabric. And there was a sprig of mistletoe, of all things, tucked into the breast pocket.

Oh, and he was conveniently shirtless.

It was far, far worse than the magazine shoot he'd had to do last Yulemas, where he was dressed in fitted red velvet pants, a very tight matching jacket, and a Santa hat and been subjected to three whole hours of giggling little jokes about Santa being caught looking like a whole snack. Whatever the hell that meant.

Jaw locked, he ignored yet another snicker from his left as someone else passed by and ogled him. He really didn't know why everyone seemed so obsessed with his shirtless-ness; for the gods' sake, being physically fit was part of his job description.

"Annoying, isn't it?" Aelin's voice unexpectedly sounded near his side.

"Awful," he muttered.

She snickered quietly. "Well, you only have to wear this for about ten more minutes, and then never again."

"Thank the gods," he grumbled. "No offense to you, of course, the designs are phenomenal."

"You flatter me." She flashed him a quick, genuine smile. "Wait--before you walk, I need to fix this." Rising onto her tiptoes, she quickly smoothed out the jacket and adjusted the mistletoe in his pocket.

Which oh so conveniently required that she teasingly pass it over his head.

"Look at that," she drawled, "guess we found the mistletoe. Pucker up, Whitethorn."

He didn't have time to choke out any response before her soft lips pecked his, barely there for half a second before she replaced the mistletoe, patted his shoulder, and giggled.

"You've got this, Whitethorn! Make me proud." And with that, she gave the signal, nudging him out onto the runway.

Rowan's brain completely stalled, his body moving on autopilot down the runway and back. She kissed me! his mind screamed, the thought incredible and overwhelming all at once. As that thought finally quieted, he realized something.

He wanted to kiss her properly.

Not that...not that he would ever kiss a woman he barely knew, much less the designer who'd hired him to model her collection.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Pull it together, Whitethorn! he yelled at himself. This is work, not a goddamn crappy Hallmark Yulemas film!

Along with all the other models, he waited backstage as the lights went down and the audience broke into waves of applause, calling for the designer. The lights rose back up and Aelin, after a few nudges from a brunette woman in a headset, walked out onto the runway, beaming and waving to the crowd's cheers. She walked back smiling giddily, an almost girlish expression that made her striking turquoise eyes light with gold. The models and the teams cheered just as loudly when they were all backstage, congratulating the young designer on a wildly successful first show.

"Stop it," she laughed. "I could never have done it without all of you, and you all know it. Congratulations, everyone!"

As she passed Rowan, he shook her hand. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," she beamed. "Couldn't have done it without you, Whitethorn. I'm dead serious." Then she winked, that gleam in her eyes going wicked. "Besides, who am I to resist seeing you shirtless?"

"Gods," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're bad, Galathynius."

"Oh, you have no idea," she purred, her voice dropping to a velvety purr.

Rowan was too stunned to form a coherent retort, especially when she threw him a smirking wink and a lazy, sensual grin as she walked away. Too stunned to retort for several moments, at least.

He was decidedly not stunned, however, when he returned to his dressing room to find Aelin perched on the stool, wearing a form-fitting golden dress of her own design, the glimmering material molding to her form like a glove, save for the deep slit running all the way up one leg.

"Ho ho ho, Merry Yulemas," she hummed, brazenly appraising his form with her molten gaze. "Lock the door behind you, darling."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #12 days of rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #model and designer au #designer aelin #model rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #enjoy #hehehehehe

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parkersharthook · 3 years

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Love For All

Peter Stark-Rogers & Stark-Rogers!reader (twins)

warnings: mentions of drinking/being drunk, pretty fluffy

1.8k+ words

series masterlist

a/n: happy pride month (lol I queued this in february just so I didn’t forget to post it) anyways im bi and pls know my page is a safe space for everyone 💗💜💙

Fluffy piece where Tony and Steve are chosen as the grand marshalls for the pride parade and it becomes a family affair.

“this just in, you all officially have the coolest dads in history!” Tony bellowed as he dramatically entered the common space, Steve right behind him with a plethora of eye rolls.

Right as you were about to protest, Bucky chimed in, “neither of you are my father.”

“with the way I’ve saved your sorry ass? Might as well be.”

“saved my sorry ass? Oh Stevie, have you forgotten who pulled your ass out of every back alley fight you got into? Or have the years 1932 to 1941.”

“I did not start a fight in 1932!” Steve argued back, hands placed firmly on his hips.

“bullshit! 5 years old, playground 2 blocks over, Arthur Williams.”

Steve frowned slightly, “damn I forgot about that.”

Beside you Peter snorted, “you got into a fight when you were 5?”

“Wow darling, you came out of the womb with righteous indignation didn’t you?” Tony added with a small smirk as he moved to rest against the back of the couch.

Steve threw his hands up in defeat, “oh haha laugh it up. Yes I’m old, yes I’m stubborn. Can we please just go back to how we’re cool?”

“Wait before that, back to the ‘not my fathers thing’ does this mean you see yourselves as the team fathers? Because if you’re adopting more people, I want in!” Clint said cheerfully.

“Sorry we capped out at four.”

You stuck your tongue out at Clint with a little ‘ha ha’ because you were mature like that. “anyways… why do you think you are the coolest dads? I wanna get my rebuttal in soon.”

Tony bopped the back of your head playfully as he dropped a very rainbow piece of paper into your lap. Peter instantly leaned into your space to read it. You pushed him back with a shove to the forehead. “relax nerd I’m gonna read it out loud.”

“hurry up I’m getting antsy.” You threw an unimpressed look at Clint who had practically crawled into Bucky’s lap to get closer, not that Bucky minded.

“Chill.” You smoothed out the paper and held it up, “All hail the next Grand Marshals of NYC Pride, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. We are happy to formally announce the two superheroes and super husbands as our fearless leaders of the float parade this year.”

“That’s the public announcement they put out, turn it over to read the letter they sent us.”

“Dear Mr. Anthony and Steven Stark-Rogers, we are so excited to welcome you into our NYC Pride Parade family. As this year’s appointed Grand Marshals it is both our duty and pleasure to pass the Pride Baton over to you. Included in this letter you will find the rules and expectations of our Grand Marshals, as well as what is permitted for first floats. We would love if you extended this invitation to your entire circle of family and friends to join you in the parade and on your float.”

You put the paper down and tilted your head back to stare at your dad, “you? Grand Marshal? Really?”

“What’s so shocking about that?”

“umm…. You’re old and not cool.”

Bucky sputtered a laugh beside you as Tony bopped you on the head again.

“Was this your way of telling us to come to pride with you?” Peter asked.

Steve shook his head as he flopped into a nearby loveseat, “actually this was our way of telling you that we need your help coming up with ideas for the float and how to decorate it. But of course we want you to join us on the float, we’ll be inviting the rest of the team as well.”

“I’ll help decorate but Bi-derman is making another appearance this year.”

Tony slapped his forehead, “can you take your old suit at least? The paint was a bitch to get off last time.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “the old suit chafes.”

You grimaced, “I hate this conversation.”

“I think you should do a dog themed float, Lucky can be our mascot.”

Bucky sighed, “of course that’s your suggestion.”

“what about the history of pride? Recognizing the Stonewall Riots and the two black transgender females that started it all. Plus then we can also advocate for Black Lives Matter. Make it clear that to support one, you have to support the other. Educate and entertain.”

Tony smiled, “that’s not a bad idea y/n.”

Steve looked at you with hopeful eyes, “are you willing to help organize and coordinate?”

“can I invite friends to help?”

“yes.”

You smiled, “then yes.”

------

“when I said organize and coordinate, I didn’t mean take over the conference room we use regularly for avengers meetings.” Steve said with a deep sigh

“it’s the only one with a vending machine.” MJ helpfully pointed out, taking another large bite of her pizza slice.

“yeah it was the only way to get Clint to sit through meetings without leaving to get food.” Steve explained as he stepped into the room and took in the large array of papers everywhere. The four teenage girls that occupied the room were all busy with one thing or another, looking intense and determined.

MJ snorted, “figures.” Her hand ghosted over the page again, dragging the pencil with it and creating another addition to her sketch.

Steve’s brow furrowed for a moment and he took a step closer to get a better look, “is that me?”

MJ nodded coolly but offered no other explanation. Betty huffed a laugh, “we’re trying to design both you and Mr. Stark crown-like head pieces.”

“crowns?”

You rolled your eyes, “Pops, you really do only hear what you wanna hear. Crown-like head pieces. I know dad would go for a full ass crown but I knew you wouldn’t and we want you two to match.”

Steve studied the photos of celebrities that were projected on the wall. “and that?”

“The 2018 Met Gala. Theme: heavenly bodies. There were a bunch of great head pieces that night, we’re using it for inspiration.” Gwen supplied, “let us know if there’s any you like.”

“I wanna go in a Cardi B direction.” You stated without taking your eyes off your computer screen, you’ve obviously already committed every possible headpiece to memory.

“don’t taint his selection with bias!” Betty cried

MJ waved her off easily, “there’s no way he knows who Cardi B is.”

“thanks for the confidence MJ.” She just smiled cheekily at him.

“I think he should choose something like what Frances McDormand was wearing.” Gwen stated with a small smile

MJ laughed, “as much as I think that would look amazing, there’s no way he’s picking that.”

“who’s this?”

You barely had to glance at the photo to recognize the red and gold dress and of course the iconic headpiece, “Black Lively.”

“Okay well I like that, it’s simple.”

“what about…” Gwen drawled as she typed something and new photo, a larger one, took over the whole wall, “Something like SZA’s?”

Steve took a step back and grimaced slightly, “it’s kinda… big.”

“But if it were smaller?” Gwen pressed politely

“I suppose.” Steve glanced around at the four girls. “You guys have a lot of stuff planned.”

“Oh yeah.” You looked up with a big grin, meeting your dad’s eye. “It’s gonna be great.”

“You’re not designing us costumes too are you?”

“Well Tony specifically said not too and that he already had something planned.” MJ said before eyeing Steve up and down with the critical eye of an artist, “But we could design something if you wanted us too.”

“No, I kinda of already have a plan too.”

You rose a questioning brow, “oh yeah? Please tell me you’re not going to be wearing something boring.”

Steve rolled his eyes at you and obnoxiously bumped his hip into your side as he walked out, “I’m not clueless on how to dress for Pride. Plus, I like dressing up for it, it’s fun. And it’s not something we got to do back then. I’m planning on taking full advantage.” And with that he walked out dramatically and closed the door.

Betty laughed slightly, “ten bucks that he paints the shield.”

Gwen shook his head, “No way. I think he’s gonna wear one of the flags as a cape.”

MJ clicked her tongue, “I know for a fact he’ll be wearing his ‘trans rights are human rights’ shirt.” Pause. “and probably his rainbow pants.”

You looked at MJ with a perplexed expression, “why do you know about my dad’s rainbow pants?”

MJ smirked slightly, “he wore them to pride a few years ago. Plus, me and peter talk about things. You’re not the only Stark-Rogers twin I hang out with.”

Gwen obnoxiously nudged Betty with her elbow and a large wink, “Oh yeah… she talks to Peter.” MJ scowled at the two as you snickered behind your hand.

MJ grumbled slightly, “let’s just get back to work.” It was silent in the room until the three other girls heard MJ mumble, “I never have to deal with this at college.”

You burst into a fit of laughter.

------

Pride was without a doubt a 100% success.

The float looked great. The area had already been swept for trouble. One Grand Marshal was moderately drunk. And Everyone was dancing and partying. Perfect.

Even the float attendees looked great. Clint was the brightest of the all. With no shirt on, glitter all over his chest, a rainbow tutu around his hips, tight purple booty shorts underneath, knee high socks with the pan pride flag on them, plus his signature purple converse… he looked good.

You’ve been snickering every time you catch Bucky not so subtlety looking Clint up and down. But that being said, Clint was doing the same to Bucky because he had someone managed to get the stoic and whiney super soldier into a rainbow button down. Nothing else, as that wasn’t Bucky’s jam. He paired the shirt with simple jeans but you were sure that he would be covered with glitter later.

Peter had been swinging around the parade, his first Stark suit now painted a vibrant pink, purple, and blue. Plus there was a large, messily painted on heart over where the spider sat in the middle of his chest.

You and all your friends had taken up the dance floor on the float, and if you said so yourself, you all were killing the dance moves.

Tony was more than tipsy because Bruce was on babysitting duty tonight for Morgan, so he let himself go and lean heavily against his husband, who just grinned at him all lovingly.

In the end, it was a good day. You threw beads and candy to the crowd, joining them at times for drinks and dance parties. You laughed endlessly with your friends and your family. And yeah… it was a good day.

Plus, all your friends had been correct.

Steve wore his trans shirt in solidarity with the ongoing movements and the float.

He wore his rainbow pants because they were “super fashionable y/n” and to support everyone.

He painted his shield purple, blue, and pink to show off his own sexuality and support Peter.

And he had a pansexual flag tied around his neck to match with Tony’s pink, yellow, and blue shirt.

He looked great.

#marvel #spiderman #reader #peter stark rogers #peter parker #superfamily #reader insert #peter parker & reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #superfamily fanfiction #superfamily imagine #reader fanfiction #reader imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #stark!reader #stark-rogers!reader #emma writes

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kmelanin · 5 years

Text

Permanent Ink \\ 1 // kth

A/n: So lately, i've been feeling almost nervous to post. Because I know that what I post most people don't want. So you've missed out on like five different oneshots. Lolll. But i don't know why I was feeling like that when this is MY blog. Soooooo, the recent request for the Stoner Tae, I was tooooooooooooo excited for, soooo here is part one of who knows how many. Lol. This and Prince J are the only multipart stories i'm working on. Even though I will posting oneshots. Anyways here it issss….

Main Masterlist~

( Permanent Ink ) masterlist~

WARNING-

word count: 4k+

Request: So tattoo artist stoner tae (I want tae to be intimidating and have an intense aura, bold and blunt) (y/n) daddys girl spoiled brat that owns a fashion company (personality i want her to be confident, honest and daring) she’s brown skin with a fat butt lol that’s it, you can turn it into a series if you want but no pressure. I forgot to say I made their personalities like that so (y/n) don’t walk all over tae, i want her to find him intimidating and challenging and for tae to not be that impressed by her.

three years earlier~

“Wake up! You are so late!” A familiar voice popped into your lovely date night in paris. Your blurred face dream man slowly turned into your best friend in whole world.

“Ro?” You mumble, everything crumbling and reality setting in. Your eyes started to open, regretting it soon after since Rowan opened all of your curtains. The morning sun was seeping in and right into your face. You groan and roll over, covering your head with the closet pillow. You were happier since you black silk sheets somewhat block the sun out.

“No, no. You have a meeting in a hour. You need to get up.” She says yanking the cover off of your body. The sudden cold air made you groan again. But she was right, today was the day. In a hour you were suppose to meet with your father and explain your project to him.

About a year ago he gave you the chance to make your dream come true. To become a fashion designer. Not only did you want to design clothes, but you wanted to own your own company. Your father had quite a bit of money, and he told you if you convinced him with a layout and perfected plan then he will support you financially.

Not only did you draw out amazing sketches and clothing ideas, but you have a estimate on how much you would need.

With your father's company, it allowed us to live very well. And with the help of social media, you were pretty well know, which you hoped would help with your clothing line.

You didn't have time for a shower, and you thanked the universe you took one before you went to bed. You went to the bathroom and did your hygiene routine.

You got your hair done currently. A simple blow and press, with some extensions. You quickly went to your closet and pulled out a strapless tube dress, that went down right to your knees. You then grabbed a leather jacket and some black shin socks. You put it all on and slid on some black ankle booties. You went to your vanity and did a natural glam. You loved having a pro mua come in and glam, but only on days you really felt like looking good. You grabbed your brush and gently brushed your hair down in it's natural flowy way.

Some things you were known for was your fashion and hairstyles.

“Here, here. The car is outside, so eat this because by the time you get there you won't have time for your usual.” Rowan comes in holding a water and breakfast bar. You grabbed your purse and phone and headed out.

You pulled into the private parking ramp of your fathers building. Rowan lead you in, you nod in acknowledgement to the lady at the front desk. You made your way up and to your father's office. When you got to the door. Rowan hands you the binder of all your ideas. You take a deep breath and enter.

You see your father sitting at his desk with his hands folded in his lap with a big smile on his face that you loved to see so much.

“Hi Dad.” You smile talking a seat in front of him. You instantly start showing him everything that was in your binder. You made sure to keep your voice professional and to let him know what you want. You show him everything from the types of fabric you would be using. You let him know that they would be made towards the warmer weather and also autumn. You also let him know that you want to keep things classy with a tingle of edge and sexiness. You continue to show him other things like how many people you need on the team and the equipment you need.

You were finishing you final sentence and take a deep breath, you smile and nod you head, letting him know you were finished. You weren't really sure what he was thinking, he kept that same smile on his face.

“Already, I'm so proud of you. I'm so happy that you realize that you have to work for what you want. I would be happy to help you financially, but other than that you are all on your own. Don't disappoint me.” He stands up opening his arms. Your heart was beating in your ears, so it took you a minute to process, but when you did, your body automatically ran over to your fathers. You chant thank yous over and over again.

now~

You sat across your best friend and now PA, Rowan, at a nice dinner. In three days, part one of your clothing line is going to finally drop. After three long years, everything was perfected and a two part series will drop slowly as the year goes on. So you both say here in one pieces of the new line.

You had on high waisted, long baggy black pants that's went all the way down to the floor, causing you to have to wear heels. You also had on one of the many halter tank tops on as well. Rowan stuck with the simple rose gold slip dress and some heels.

“So I was thinking, everyone in the world right now is talking about your clothing line. I've read some articles saying how it's a luxury brand. And not trying to brag or anything but I agree.” Rowan goes on as she twists some noodles up with her fork.

“Luxury? I'm not making this brand specifically for the rich.” You say frowning. Some pieces were a little higher in price, that's only because the materials themselves are expensive. But there were pieces affordable.

“I mean come on, you are using silks and jewels.”

“There's only two pairs of diamond earrings releasing.” you laugh at her. “Come on Ro, get to the point.”

“Fine, we need to celebrate, doing something other than eating a over priced plate of noodles.” She sets her fork down and picks her phone up. She goes to a instagram account and hold it up to you. “Here look, I think we should get tattoos and by him.” she says picking her fork up again.

You look at the account and see all different types of styles in tattoos and in different places.

“How many artists are there?” You ask and hand her phone back.

“It's just him and another. His name is Kim Taehyung. He’s Korean and he owns his own shop about a mile from here. And the others name is Soobin” She shrugs. “I think both of us getting a tattoo, would be cute and help celebrate this big moment coming for you.”

“And you want to get it right now? I don't even know what to get.”

“Exactly, which is where my role as your best friend and PA come in, I know you pretty well. Soooooo…” she taps her phone a couple of times then hand back. “Swipe left.”

You first seen a rose with a cute diamond floating above it. Then the next one was a pretty jeweled out snake. Then the last one was a butterfly of some sort.

“These are pretty fucking sexy. I’ll probably do the rose and something else. I think this idea is cute.”

“Ill call the driver. Even though I know how to drive, and have my license unlike you.”

“Hey, chill. Father hired a driver for me, there’s no point.”

You and Rowan met in high school. You both went to a private school and met in english class. You sat next to her and you looked at her once and you knew you wanted to be friends.

You two did become friends, and quiet fast. You found out that she wasn't from here, she was from China. She was chinese and black. She was happy that she made a friend so fast. After meeting that day, you two were stuck to each other. Your father was so happy that you made a friend that you could trust. He gave you and Rowan the best birthdays, since her family wasn't able.

It's crazy how long and stuck still you both were. Which is why you would be willing to get tattoos with her.

“The fuck do you mean you can't pay the full amount.” Taehyung was quickly getting annoyed with the teen in front of him. “The price of that tat is $530, and we agreed. So no, I will not take only $400.” Taehyung's face wasn't moving, it was the same as any other time, emotionless and scary. The way his eyes never leave your, it makes anyone nervous. Taehyung wasn't small either, he was almost six foot, his shoulders broad, his arms thick.

The teen who just got a half a sleeve done, which took Taehyung all morning, sighs. He takes his wallet back out and gives him the rest of his money.

“If you had the money, then why lie?” Taehyung asks, his voice going lower.

“I'm a student, it's habit I guess.” The teen shrugs. His really didn't look like he was a true problem, and Taehyung knew he was telling the truth because they were talking about how ugly his student ID looked. Taehyung sighed.

“Look here, I’ll make it 500 even, stop spending money on tattoos.” Taehyung hands back thirty dollars and the teen leaves.

“Soobin, clean my station up and Ill give you my next appointment.” Taehyung yells back towards where their stations were. He smirks a little when he hears lots of noise and feet running, knowing he ran to do it.

Taehyung was checking the calendar when when the door ringed, letting him know that someone was coming in.

As you and Rowan enter the building, you could easily tell that it was a tattoo shop. Even though from the outside it was a all black brick building. You follow Rowan up to the counter, your eyes all over the paintings hung up on almost every inch of the walls.

“Hi, welcome. What can I do for ya?” A deep voice catches your attention. You turn your head towards the desk where Rowan and the man stood. When you first look at him, you felt frozen for a second. He was fucking perfect. He was taller than you, his jawline sharp, and his eyes intense. He seemed really scary, which is why you were stuck, unable to say anything.

“Um, yes. We are here to get some tattoos, I'm not really sure what she wants, but I know what I want.” Rowan says nodding. The guy behind the counter nods and leans up off the counter, he runs his hands run through his ashy brown hair. He had a long sleeve shirt on, hiding the tattoos you see peeking out on his hands and neck. God, you wanted to see what was under it.

“Soobin!” He yells behind his back, within a couple of seconds another guy comes out. He was a little taller, but also lankier. He had a short sleeve shirt, showing a full sleeve on one arm and a couple on the other. His hair was a dark brown and it was kind of in his eyes

“We have two tattoos to do.” Ashy brown hair guy says. “You can take her, and I’ll take miss quiet over there.” He says, his eyes finally landing on yours. He frowns slightly and his hand drops, he doesn't look away for a second. Soobin speaks up.

“You can come this way, and I can start sketching up.” Soobin waves Rowan over.

“Good luck.” You whisper to her as she walks by giving you a okay hand symbol. Once she was gone, you slowly look back towards him. He eyes were already on you, it was like they never left. But he was leaning against the counter, with one hand on his chin holding his head up.

“I'm YN.” You say trying to break the awkwardness you felt.

“Taehyung.” He says, his voice sent shivers down your spine, it was low and sexy. “So what were you wanting?” he asks leaning up again and walks towards the doorway that leads to the back. He waves you to follow him. You do and follow him all the way down to the last door. Once you were in, he shuts the door and he sits at a desk.

“You can sit here.” He says pointing to the tattoo chair next to his desk. You walked over and sat down trying not to expose yourself in anyway. Once you were comfortable. He pushes a button on the side that makes you sit up some.

“So, what would you like?” He asks getting out some paper and pencils.

“Um, I'm actually not really sure, but I think I want it under my boobs.” You say trying not to look into his eyes. You could feel his warmth from where he was and it made your cheeks feel warm. “I seen your instagram, so I trust your opinion.”

“And you said under your breasts? Can you lift your shirt up until it's under them?” He asks. Your eyes bugged out for a minute at the straightforwardness. But you nodded and did it anyways. You pushed them up as far as your can and leaned back. He pushed the button again making you lean back a little. He scooches up a little in his chair, he grabs the hangover light and turned it one, letting him see his clean surface. He raises one of his hand up and over your torso.

“Tell me a little about yourself.” he says. His fingers grazed over your rib cage, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Uhm, I'm releasing a clothing line in a couple of days. Rowan, the girl who came in, she's my best friend and PA. My father owns a really big company, and he helped me actually make my fashion future even possible.” You say looking up at the ceiling trying to ignore his fingers going over your skin.

‘The typical daddys girl’ Taehyung thinks as you keep talking. ‘Probably going to pay for the tats with her daddies card.’ He tried to keep a scoff in.

“Okay, I think two koi fish would look beautiful right here.” He says tracing a circle into your skin. “Like a in the shape and shaded like the yin and yang symbol, but separated.” he pushes himself away and picks his pencil up to start sketching. You went on your phone to distract yourself as he draws again.

“How long have you been tattooing?” You ask.

“I picked up the gun around age 13.” He says, as his hand was going crazy on the paper.

“Oh, nice.” You say trailing off, unsure on what to say next. Then you get a idea. You go to his Instagram page. You see that he has almost 50k followers. You smirk when you think about your couple of million. You click out and go to your camera. You take a couple of pictures of your legs and shoes in a cute position and you go back to instagram and pick the best on to post. When you chose, you captioned it with the eyes emoji and below it something about the pants being in your clothing line. Then you tagged his account and you post. You turn your phone off and wait, maybe he will notice maybe not. He had some pictures of himself on his account, so it wasn’t just his artwork. Within the next five minutes, you go back into your instagram and see that your post had a couple thousand likes, you quickly edit your post saying to follow him.

Within the next couple of minutes, he was done and he showed the picture to you. As soon as you seen it, you knew that you would love it. He explained that what ever white you see other than the background would be your skin and the rest is ink.

“God, I'm so excited for this.” You say as the chair starts to lean back. You stick your shirt into your bra so it would stay up and he starts to prep. Before he put his gloves on his takes out his phone and pushes himself over to a speaker in the corner of the room. He plugs his phone up and turns some on. You peek over trying to look over his shoulder, the only thing you notice, is he pulling his notification screen down. You smiled to yourself when you see the white rectangles going down super fast.

“Holy fuck.” You hear him mumble.

“I tagged you in my post, I hope you don't mind.” You smile. His head snaps over to you and back to his phone, he had a slight frown.

“Uh, Thanks.” He nods his head and sets his phone on the speaker and scooches over to you and continues prepping. His reaction wasn't what you were expecting, but something is better than nothing. You went to look at his account again and noticed that he had over 100k. You felt like a proud mother, but he didn't seem to be too happy about it.You sighed. You weren't sure what to do, he was so closed off. Keeping things professional. But all you could think about it how fucking beautiful he is.

Once his gloves were on he grabbed a wipe and cleaned off your skin, in the area was going to tattoo. You closed your eyes to try and control your breathing, and calm your nerves.You felt as he transferred the drawing to your torso. As soon as you heard the sound of the tattoo gun buzzed you knew you couldn't go back.

Throughout the whole process, he would hold you down when you flinch when he hits the ribs. He would whisper helpful saying like ‘it's okay, this line is almost over’, or ‘You got this, you're strong.” It wasn't even the sayings that helped, it was how he said it, and his voice was low and rough. You kept peeping down, looking at his neck tattoos, or just how his hair laid on his head.

Your mind finally calmed down when he switched the gun off.

“You did a lot better towards the end, good job.” He says taking his gloves off. He grabs some paper towel and a spray bottle. He sprays the paper and he wipes and dabs it against you. He then grabs some plastic and lays it over the tattoo with a little bit of skin tape. He then bends down and pushes the button letting you sit up. He helps you stand up and pull your shirt down. You went to go look in the full body mirror he had on the back of the door but he stops you and stands in front of you.

“No, I need you to come back tomorrow. I take pictures, so I wanted to take a picture of this with my professional camera. If that's okay?” He ran his fingers through his hair, exposing his brows a little, showing that they were frowning a little, which made his eyes look so intense when his hair cover his brows. “So I need you to keep that covered because I put this ointment on it that will help the swelling go down.”

So he wants you to come back tomorrow? You could do that.

“Okay, sure. But I can't look at it?” You ask, feeling the stiffness of the plastic.

“Nope, I like to show my clients the picture first. It will give you a different feeling when you see it then look at it on yourself.” He says looking down at you. You look back at him and nod.

“Um, time?” You ask. Your throat was suddenly dry, and he felt way to close.

“Whenever.”

“Okay, I’ll come in the morning, I have afternoon meetings.” You say nodding. You grab your purse and walk out behind him. You see Rowan getting her card back from Soobin when you come out. She smiles towards you as you walk up.

“Lemme see!” She says excitingly.

“Nope, I haven't even seen it. We can tomorrow.” You say.

“Oh, well I can show you mine.” She says and lifts her other hand up and on the inner part of her upper arm was a rose that wasn't shaded, it went across the whole space.

“That's so pretty!! I like how the stem goes into your armpit.” You joke. “You don't want a pity rose.” and you both laugh at your horrible joke. Soobin even joined. After Rowan was done, she told you that she was going to wait out in the car. Soobin leaves to the back, leaving you with Taehyung.

You take out your card. You father made sure to get you the black one. You had it to him and rings you up.

“Um, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime?” You blurt out. Your face burned at 450 when his head pops up to yours. He scoffs and looks back down to what he was doing. Once he was done he hands you back the card. But before you can get it back completely he holds it still.

“I don't know if times had change, but last time I checked, you don't try to guilt someone into hanging out with them.” He says, letting the card go.

“What? No-”

“So drooling over me, then give me over sixty thousand followers, then you wanna hang out.” He makes air quotes with his fingers.

“No, I didn't mean it like that…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I open around 8am.” He says then he nods his head and heads to the back.

The next day, in the morning, you got up around 7 in the morning and got ready for the day. Since you had two meetings to go to today, you put on some casual clothes, consisting of some leggings and a oversized sweatshirt and some sneakers. You finished getting ready around 8:30. You quickly got into your car and headed back to tattoo shop.

You quickly parked and went inside. You were so excited to finally see your tattoo, but you weren't as excited to see Taehyung. You hated how a simple glance your way made your cheeks burn and your heart race, but yet he was so blunt and rude. You didn't know why you felt like you had to, but you wanted to try a different way. Maybe not do the first thing that comes to your mind.

You just, you just really wanted to kiss him, fuck.

As you walked in, you noticed how much smokier it was in the place. The door dinged as you walked in, so Taehyung was walking out pretty quickly, spraying some febreeze. That's when it hit you, the smell.

You didn't know why, but the fact that he smokes marijuana, just makes you feel so much hotter inside. When you walk up to the counter and his eyes were so much lower than yesterday.

You’ve always wanted to smoke weed. You did in high school, but after you found out you can't always trust who you were getting it from, you were scared.

“Ah, fuck. I'm sorry.” He says laughing a little. His smile wasn't huge, but since his eyes were low, his eyes went more smiley, making your heart race.

“For?” You ask confused.

“The smell.” He says also confused, did you not smell it?

“Oh that's okay.” You smile to him. “I actually smoke myself. Well once.” You mumble the last part, kind of embarrassed.

“Only once? Why only once?” He asks tilting his head. “What? Did daddy threaten to take away your allowance if you did?” he waves his hands around and scoffs. You were shocked to say the least.

“Um, one, I don't call my father daddy. Two, he doesn't care what I do, as long as I don't end up dead or locked up.” You put all of your weight on foot.

“Ah, sure sure. Let's just get these pictures over with.” He says and turns walking back, you follow. Instead of going to room you went to before, you turn right and make your way into another room. On one side there was a white screen posted up with light in front, and on in the back.

“I have a sports bra on.” You say and pull your sweater over your head.

“You didn't have to take it all the way off.” He says quietly. You look over at him, and his eyes were on you. When you looked at him, he quickly looked down at the camera he was holding.

“Well it's hot and smoking in here Taehyung.” You say in a duh tone.”Plus, I don't feel like holding this is up.” You say, folding your sweatshirt up and setting it on the chair.

“Whatever, go stand over there.” He says pointing towards the screen. You nod, ignoring his rudeness. You stand in front and feel the make sure your bra wasn't covering anything. He sets the camera down, and he grabs a couple of items you couldn't see because of the lights in your face. When he walks in front of you, you notice three different things in his hand. A spray bottle, a towel and a tube of some sort.

He throws you off guard when he drops to his knees in front of you. He puts everything on the ground and reach up. He pulls the plastic wrap off and then he grabs the spray bottle and sprays. You didn't think it was going to be so cold, so the water made you flinch.

“Don't move.” He grumbles. You just rolled your eyes and his attitude. He then grabs the towel and dabs at tattoo. He sets that down then grab the tube and opens it, he pushes some white cream on his fingers and he rubs it between his fingers before rubbing it on you. His fingers were soft on your tattoo so it doesn't hurt. You wished he would bring his hand farther down. His fingers left, and he stood up grabbing the other stuff and he wipes his fingers off.

“I put on some non scented lotion and rubbed it in all the way.” He mumbles and brings the camera up to his face. You nodded and stood still.

Taehyung zoomed in to the tattoo, snapping a couple of pictures. As he did, he couldn't help but to look at you, really look at you.

You were actually beautiful as fuck, and he knew that the first time he looked at you. But he doesn't hate anything more then a spoiled rich girl.

Make sure you like, and reblog if you enjoyed what you just read :) 💜

#kim #taehyung #kim taehyung #v #bts #bangtan #ambw #au #ambw au #smut #angst #fluff #bts scenario #tattoo #tattoo artist au #tattoo au #stoner au #bangtan stoner #stoner

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roseonhissleeve · 6 years

Text

Have A Little Faith: Chapter Seven

"You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not."

- Jodi Picoult

Harry didn’t let go of my hand a single time on the way back to my hotel.

I was drowsy with sleep, and he gave my palm a little squeeze every once in a while as if to make sure that I was still with him. The walk was quiet, and the streets were even less busy than they were initially. There was a perfect full moon above us that we stopped to look up at, and I showed him the Big Dipper, which was really the only constellation that I knew but he seemed immensely interested. He made me feel heard. It was perfect.

Within about half an hour we were back at my hotel, and there was a twinge of disappointment in my belly upon the realization that the night was about to come to an end. He walked me to the front door of my building and stopped there, hesitant to cross that boundary.

“Harry…”

“Yes, love?”

I paused to formulate what I wanted to say. It had been so long since I’d done this, and I didn’t know if it was the drowsiness or the build-up of all I’d felt throughout the evening, but I was feeling a little bit bolder than usual.

“I…Thank you,” I said softly, looking directly into his brilliant green eyes as I spoke. “This…I wasn’t expecting this at all. I wasn’t…well, I wasn’t sure that it would be a good idea. But you proved that wrong.”

My words caused a tender smile to appear on his features for what seemed like the thousandth time this evening, and something told me that he was about to kiss me. That’s what people do on first dates, right? They kiss. Or, they’re supposed to?

My heart was racing—I was working myself up by calculating the probability that he would kiss me, and even more importantly, I was considering whether or not I wanted him to.

He lifted his free hand and set it against my cheek, and the touch alone was enough to send a delicious chill down my back. But when his face began slowing inching closer I felt a rise of panic in my chest—I wasn’t ready, I knew I wasn’t ready but I didn’t know how to communicate that to him.

My eyes widened slightly and my body tensed, and I felt him pause as a result. I was worried that he would be offended or angry, but to my relief he simply pressed his lips against the skin of my cheek instead of my lips. It lasted a few seconds before he pulled away again, his voice a whisper.

“Goodnight, Ro,” he whispered, his breath colliding against the shell of my ear.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I replied, and with a final squeeze of my hand he turned around and walked back in the direction of his own hotel.

I watched him walk down the cobble-stone road with long, slow strides, his hands tucked into his pockets. I wondered if they were still tingling like mine was. He looked stunning underneath the moonlight and the streetlamps, as if he were something out of a movie scene. Just as he was about to turn the corner he looked back at me and smiled, and I smiled in response. He lifted his hand in a wave, and I did as well, heart sinking a little bit when he finally turned the corner.

I opened the front door and made my way up the stairs, the dingy hotel welcoming me back from what was possibly the best night that I’d experienced in a very long time. As soon as I was inside the confines of my room I slipped my shoes off and walked into the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror.

Holy. Fuck.

My cheeks were still red and flushed from when he’d kissed my face a few minutes ago. My eyes were big and bright—they were the most alive they’d been in a long while. I could still feel the tingles in my hand from when he’d held it even though the physical contact had been lost now, and I was found myself wondering if it’d ever go away.

And even though I was so immensely happy, a voice crept into my mind.

This was dangerous.

If I ended this now, it would be easier. I wouldn’t get invested and neither would he.

Every logical piece of me was telling me no.

So why is it that I was feeling so…happy?

I stripped myself of my clothing and into my pair of cotton pajamas, finally crawling into bed. Even though I was half-asleep a mere ten minutes ago, I was wide awake now. I found myself wondering what Harry was doing; whether or not he’d arrived back to his room yet, if he was thinking of me, what he was seeing.

I went to bed with my rose on my bedside table, and I felt the happiest I’d been in a long time. But there was also a slight unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I knew then and there that Harry Styles could very possibly be the death of me.

***

The next morning, I woke up at ten.

It had been ages since I’d slept in. Ages.

A smile appeared on my face when I suddenly remembered everything that had happened last night, and for a split second I had to remind myself that it wasn’t a dream. It all was rushing through my mind again, and I wished deeply that I could have relived it all over again. I’d actually gone out with Harry, and we’d spent hours talking. He held my hand, and once he started he didn’t stop. It was peaceful, and romantic, and tender.

It was perfect.

And terrifying.

I got out of bed and got in the shower, singing for the first time in a long time.

When I finished I wrapped a towel wrapped around my frame, and on my way out of the small bathroom I saw something—a note that had been slipped underneath the door of my room.

I walked over and picked up the slip of paper, turning it over to read it.

Ro,

Thanks for an amazing evening last night. I loved every moment. I know we just saw each other, but I would love to see you again. Meet me for lunch?

- H

At the very bottom of the note he’d written an address. He also jotted down a time—12:00 PM.

My mind was spinning with possibilities and anxiety about how quickly this was moving along. Sure, Harry and I hadn’t done much last night since hold hands, but there was emotional attachment that was quickly developing, and not just at his end. But I couldn’t do it. I had to think logically. I had to use my head this time.

Where could this lead?

Maybe we’d get along. Maybe we’d even spend more time together and learn more about each other. Maybe, just maybe, we’d even get close to the “L” word. But what then?

He was a famous musician. Sure, I forgot that most of the time, but the rest of the world didn’t. He travelled and had a career to uphold that didn’t have room for me in it.

I’ve been single for not even a year, yet. I can’t do another relationship, I can’t commit to someone like that and I can’t give someone that power again. Not now, maybe not ever. It just isn’t logical.

Last night was beautiful, and one day it’ll be an amazing memory and I’ll look back on it and smile. But it has to end now.

The rest of the morning I spent some down time in my room. I ordered breakfast and looked through my sketches, and once that had been done I read some of book. I thought I was making the right choice by ending it there.

So why did I feel so…sad?

I used to think that every choice you make is a loss. That by picking one outcome, you’re immediately withdrawing yourself from the opposite—that there really was absolutely no way to make a right choice, because life itself guarantees that you can never see the counterpart.

But maybe that’s all that life really is. Maybe it’s just about making the choices that you think you can live with in the end. Maybe it’s about making the choices that you think are best in the moment, and learning to adjust if it turns out to be wrong.

And God knows I’ve had to do a lot of adjusting.

I wouldn’t be able to live with the regret of letting Harry go. Not now.

I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, along with the note that had been left under my door that morning. I was out the door and quickly out onto the street, eyes glued to the address as I referred to the map in my other hand.

I checked the time. 11:51 AM.

The sweat was dripping down my back as I began to lose my breath. I’d been alternating between speed-walking and jogging for about ten minutes now, and I most definitely was not a regular runner. My bag was flying all over the place and I had come close to running into someone on the street more than once. People glanced at me from every direction as I flew by, but I was too mentally preoccupied to care.

I finally saw the café and ran towards the entrance. It was small and quaint—several floral arrangements had been hung around the door and the outdoor patio, and there was a handmade sign in front of the door that had all of the specials for the day listed. It smelled of cinnamon and pastries and coffee, and it was a place that I could see myself coming back to sketch. It was a place I could see myself falling in love with.

I scanned the perimeter of the room and my heart dropped when I couldn’t see Harry—it wasn’t until then that I realized that I was still in a ratty pair of jean shorts and a plain white tank top, my hair in a messy bun from my post-shower routine. I had left in such a rush that maybe I had overdone this entire thing in my head.

My heart dropped and I walked back out onto the street, still catching my breath and feeling completely and utterly embarrassed. Life isn’t a romantic comedy, Rosie. What did you think would really happen?

Sure enough, I caught the flash of a bright red long sleeve shirt that had been pushed up to his elbows, and a flash of an ink mermaid. My heart soared, and I propelled myself towards him, taking quick steps so I could catch up.

“Harry!” I choked out in an exhausted voice, taking the final steps to close the distance between us and reaching to touch his arm.

He jumped back a little bit and turned around, causing me to release his arm. His eyes widened and he almost seemed a bit panicky, but as soon as he realized that it was me his features visibly softened.

“Hi,” He almost sighed, his brows furrowed. I could see the apprehension on his face, and it made my stomach twist nervously. “I didn’t think you were gonna show.”

“I didn’t think I was either,” I admitted guiltily. I saw what looked like a flash of pain show across his features. It was something I’d never seen on him and it made something clench in my heart, in the worst way. “Can we…sit down? And talk?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and he nodded his head before offering me a small smile. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

Ten minutes later, we had our seats in the café and had ordered. I was fidgeting with my fingers nervously. I didn’t really know what I was going to say, I didn’t know what I expected, and I didn’t know where his mindset was.

“I—”

“So—”

We paused after interrupting one another, and a moment of silence passed before he spoke.

“You first.”

I swallowed thickly, trying to formulate words in my mind. My fingers were trembling anxiously, and Harry must have noticed because he placed one of his hands over both of mine, causing me to still but also sending a wave of relief through my body.

“I…” I attempted to speak, trying to get any words out. I took a deep breath and looked into his eyes, hoping my ability to speak wouldn’t fail me. “I don’t know what…fuck. I don’t know how to do this.”

I exhaled a small sigh of exasperation and expected Harry to say something or to get impatient, but he did nothing other than wait patiently and give my hands a small squeeze. Something inside of me continued.

“I mean, I don’t know what this is. This is crazy. Did you know that? I’m in this country I’ve never been to, spending time with this guy that I’ve never met before, and for some reason I can’t get him out of my mind now. And I’m constantly torn between everything yelling at me telling me that it’s a bad idea, that he’ll hurt me, that I’ll hurt him, and that there is no positive outcome to this situation at all. And then there’s the part of me that—fuck, that can’t FOCUS when you LOOK at me like that, Harry,” I exhaled in a frustrated tone, but he just chuckled.

“You’re a high-strung little thing, aren’t you?” He asked, clearly teasing. I simply responded with a little huff, and I delivered a swift yet gentle kick to his shin under the table.

He laughed again, and he began running his thumb across the skin of my wrist.

“I don’t know that this is, either,” he reasoned, and hearing him say it lifted a weight off of my shoulders. “I know this isn’t the traditional way two people meet…but nothing in my life is very traditional. The way I see it, this has two outcomes. Either we’re together or we’re not—but that’s tomorrow’s problem. Today, I just wanna spend some time with you. Would that be okay with you?”

He lifted my hand in order to press a series of light kisses to each of my knuckles, which wasn’t really fair because it make my head spin and really didn’t let me think properly at all. His words resonated in my mind.

Today was doable. There was no harm in being with him for today.

We finished our lunch and walked around Rome together afterwards, hand in hand.

He made me laugh—so hard that I cried sometimes, and it’d been so long since I did that that I’d forgotten it was even possible.

Today was definitely doable. Today was perfect.

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