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tonyspank · 6 months

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SHE 2

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

In a brand-new city, you're experiencing a new lifestyle. Jenna Ortega, your soon-to-be wife, must navigate your mixed emotions towards each other while raising your daughter. What happens when you start imagining a new life with someone else's wife?

This one shot includes mature themes such as foul language, sexual activity, acts of violence and etc.

Jenna and any other celebrities in this book are not famous unless said otherwise.

I hate this ending and possibly the entire thing but I hope you guys enjoy. Based off You S3!

You believed in love at first sight, and when you saw Jenna for the first time, everything clicked into place. The way she smiled, the way she carried herself—it was as if she were made for you.

Yes, you might've met others on the way, but no one made your heart race like Jenna. Bonding over cheesecake, strawberry jam, and most importantly, your mother. Jenna seemed to understand you on a deeper level than no one else had before.

But you wished things were different. None of that felt real anymore. You were wrong about Jenna, she wasn't the person you thought she was. The truth had shattered the image you had of her—that one beautiful woman you met on a late grocery-night run had turned out to be a stalking and murdering psychopath.

And when you realized who she truly was, it was too late. This murdering psychopath was the mother of your child.

You couldn't allow your daughter to be raised alone by such an evil person. You'd pretend to love Jenna, pretend to enjoy the suburbs, and move yourself away from the city you were beginning to love.

The young adult you once were, attempting to grasp the handles of adult life, has now become a master of disguise, faking happiness in your relationship. Every day, you put on a mask and play the role of a loving partner, protecting your child from the dark truth that lies within her mother.

Regardless...there's still a part of you that believes in love at first sight.

Marde Linda is the type of neighborhood you'd see in a television show, with picket white fences, beautifully manicured lawns, and slightly friendly neighbors who wave as they pass by. You don't have to get started on the schools, which are top-rated in the state, by the way.

Being a mother? Hard. Extremely hard. You don't know how your own did it, but you're happy she was there. Which is exactly why you're happy to be with your own daughter, despite the crying at 3 AM, the endless diaper changes...or the fact that she hates her vegetables.

"You are going to love this, trust me." You smile at your daughter, who dazly stares back at you in her highchair. "I mean, even I would eat this...I think?" You chuckle as you spoon-feed her the mashed carrots, hoping she'll give it a chance.

For a second, you start to believe she enjoys the taste, her little mouth opening wide for each spoonful. But then she scrunches up her face and spits out the carrots, turning her head every time you try to feed her again.

Just in time, Jenna walks into the kitchen with messy hair and a tired expression on her face. "What's going on here?" she asks, glancing at the mashed carrots smeared all over the highchair. You sigh and explain, "I was trying to get her to eat some carrots, but it seems like she's not a fan."

Jenna hums, slightly nodding her head. "Well, uh...do you want me to try feeding her?" You hesitate for a moment, unsure if Jenna will have any better luck. But you appreciate her offer and hand her the spoon. "Sure, why not?" you say with a hopeful smile.

Jenna smiles at you before taking a seat next to the highchair and starting to coax your daughter into taking another bite of the mashed carrots.

This sight reminds you of the old Jenna, the Jenna you fell for. The way she interacts with your daughter brings back memories of when you first started seeing each other, when everything was easy and carefree.

You're knocked out of your nostalgic reverie when the bell rings. Hm, you weren't expecting anyone.

You look at Jenna in confusion before heading to the front door, only to be met with a beautiful brunette, with a smile on her face, and a pie in her hand. "Hi, I'm Love. I live next door, and I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. I thought I'd bring over a homemade pie...it's gluten-free."

You raise your eyebrows, surprised by the unexpected gesture. "Wow, that's really kind of you," you say, genuinely touched. "Thank you so much, Love. I'm Y/N, and my fiance, Jenna, is a bit busy trying to feed our daughter. We just moved in a few days ago."

Love's smile widens as she listens to your introduction. "Of course, I know it's always nice to have a warm welcome when you move into a new place. And I know how that is. My husband, Joe, and I have a son, Henry, so I understand how hectic things can get. If you ever need any help with anything, just let us know."

"Likewise, Love." The woman gives you one last smile before returning her attention to her own home, she was really pretty.

"Who was it?" Jenna calls out from the kitchen. "It was our neighbor, Love. She came by to welcome us and offered her help if we ever needed anything. She seems like a friendly person." You answer back, closing the door and making your way back to the kitchen.

Jenna looks up from Luna and says, "That's nice." You hum in response, placing down the pie. "Did she eat the carrots?"

Your fiance thins out her lips, "Nope." You chuckle and shake your head.

It's wrong, but your neighbor is already stuck in your head, leaving you curious about her.

"How's mothering going?" Ross asks you over the phone, his face apparent on your phone screen. You sigh out, laying your head against the armrest of the couch. "As best as it can go." You pause for a moment, contemplating whether or not to mention your neighbor. Deciding against it, you simply add, "Luna is a handful, but we're managing."

"When are you gonna let me see my goddaughter?" You laugh softly at Ross's question, "Uhhh, I don't know. I guess come by whenever you're free." You can hear the excitement in Ross's voice as he responds, "Great! I'll make sure to schedule a visit soon."

You smile, a small silence falling over. Ross narrows out his eyebrows, trying to read you. "You look like you want to say something. What is it?" He mumbles.

"My neighbor Love... she seems really nice. And she's really pretty, she even has the most beautiful smile," you say, moving your face out of the screen so your best friend doesn't see your wide smile.

Ross raises an eyebrow and chuckles. "Sounds like you've got a crush on her already. Make sure Jenna doesn't find out, you'd be in the doghouse forever."

Ross knows about your problems with Jenna. He doesn't know why they formed, but he knows you're not exactly your happiest when it comes to your relationship with Jenna.

"I know, I know...but am I wrong for wanting to get to know her? I just...I don't know, I wanna see her again." You ponder, unsure of how to navigate your feelings for this new person while still being in a "relationship" with Jenna.

Ross leans back, contemplating your words before responding, "I think it's natural to be curious about others, especially when things are rocky with Jenna. Just be careful not to rush into anything without figuring out what or who you truly want."

You nod, and Ross continues, "Is this Love girl a single mother or something? What's got you so hooked?" You pause for a moment, considering Ross's question. "No, she's not a single mother," you reply. "She's married, but she's gorgeous, and she just has that aura, you know? She gave me a pie, Ross! What more could I ask for?"

Ross raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "I get that she's attractive and all, but you're both married and you both have children, so getting involved with her could definitely complicate things for both of you. Have you thought about the consequences like....at all?"

"No, I didn't. I haven't gotten that far, we just met two weeks ago. But there's just something about her that draws me in. I can't explain it, but I feel it."

Ross sighs and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Look, I understand that you're drawn to her—" You hear the front door opening, interrupting your conversation.

You quickly sit up, realizing that Jenna has arrived home. Ross gives you a knowing look before hanging up.

Jenna smiles at you, unaware of the conversation you were having. "Hey. Where were you?" You ask, putting on a smile. Jenna crawls on the couch, snuggling up next to you.

"I ran into Love and her group of friends. You know she owns a bakery, she told me to stop by sometime and try her pastries. I think it would be fun if we went together," Jenna suggests, her eyes beaming up with excitement.

You feel a pang of guilt as you remember the conversation you were just having with Ross about Love. But you push it aside, not wanting to ruin the moment with Jenna. "That sounds like a great idea," you reply, attempting to sound enthusiastic.

You didn't hate your fiancé; you couldn't bring yourself to. She was the mother of your child, and for a while, she was the love of your life, she was captivating, caring, and always there for you. But every time you try to remember the goods, the bads come out—memories of her locking you inside a cage, revealing that she killed your ex-flings, and that look she gave when you asked about Zoe.

"Is Luna asleep?" Jenna asks, breaking the silence. You nod, a tiny smile peeking its way onto your lips. "Out like a light. Might even start snoring," you reply in a joking tone.

Jenna smiles, leaning in closer to you. "I'm glad you're here with me," she says softly. "I love you."

You can't. You can't say those words, not after everything you've discovered about her. The memories and fears weigh heavily on your heart, making it nearly impossible to reciprocate Jenna's love. You give her a reassuring smile, hoping she doesn't notice the hesitation in your eyes.

Thankfully, she doesn't, placing her lips on yours for a short and sweet kiss. Her hand snakes its way to lay against your cheek, bringing you into a more heated kiss, leaving you momentarily breathless.

You're trying. For Luna, for yourself, and for Jenna. You want to be a happy and perfect partner and mother, but you've been through a lot.

Jenna notices the subtle changes in your demeanor and gently asks if everything is alright. You take a deep breath, quickly nodding.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Jenna stares into your eyes, searching for any signs of deception. She knows you too well to believe your quick reassurance. Pulling away from you as if you're a burning hot stove, she insists, "No, you're not. Why don't you talk to me anymore?"

Her voice trembles with concern, and you can sense the ache behind her words. You run a hand through your hair. "We do talk."

"But it's not the same," Jenna interrupts, annoyance in her tone. "It feels like you're holding back, like there's something you're not telling me."

"You're always distracted. Something's going on," Jenna adds, her eyes searching yours for answers.

Saved by the cry, Luna's whines are heard from the baby monitor that rests on your coffee table. You quickly excuse yourself to tend to Luna, grateful for the interruption.

A bell jingles as you make your way through the door, alerting the owner of the shop to your presence. "You're not closed, are you?" you ask, hoping to still be able to browse the selection of treats.

Love smiles, waving you off. "For you? We're open 24/7," she chuckles. "Feel free to take your time and explore." You thank Love and begin glancing over the array of delectable pastries and desserts on display.

"Which one catches your eye?" Love asks, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. Other than you? I don't know, you think. You take a moment to survey the mouthwatering options, each one more tempting than the last. Finally, your gaze settles on a beautifully decorated muffin that seems to be calling your name.

You point at the muffin and say, "I think I'll go with that one. It looks absolutely divine." Love nods approvingly and retrieves the muffin for you, placing it in a small box with a smile. "Excellent choice," she says. "I'm sure you'll enjoy every bite."

Your upper lip curves upward into a satisfied smile as you eagerly anticipate the first bite of the delectable muffin. "Mmm," you groan out, missing the way Love bites her lip in response to your reaction. She watches you with a twinkle in her eye, clearly pleased with your enjoyment of the muffin.

The muffin is soft and moist, with just the right amount of sweetness. It melts in your mouth, leaving behind a burst of flavors that dance on your taste buds.

"This is fantastic." You exclaim, savoring every bite as the flavors continue to unfold. Love's smile widens, and she leans in closer, whispering, "I'm glad you like it."

Placing down the half-eaten muffin, you smile at the brunette. "You know, I actually cook and bake myself, but never have I made something as delicious as this. Your muffin is truly a masterpiece."

Love blushes, clearly flattered by your compliment. "Well, I'd love to try your cooking sometime," she says, smiling even wider at you.

"I'd be honored to cook for you. It'll be our own little culinary adventure, you know what I'm talking about?" Love chuckles, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, we can be the dynamic duo in the kitchen."

You and your next-door neighbor continue to talk, sharing recipes and exchanging cooking tips—and maybe even glances. You begin to open up about your feelings about parenting, even sharing some stories about your own mother, whom you love and miss dearly.

"I don't know; I just...my mom was the best in my eyes. I just want my daughter to look at me the same." Love listens attentively, nodding her head. "Don't we all?"

She pauses for a moment, reflecting on her own new experiences as a mother. "It's a universal desire—wanting to be the best parent we can be for our children. My mother isn't really the best, so I'm trying to learn from her mistakes and do things differently with Henry."

You smile at the mention of Henry. "He's lucky to have a mom like you who is willing to learn and grow. I'm sure you and Joe will do an amazing job."

You see Love's smile flicker at the sound of her husband's name, but she quickly regains her composure. "Thank you... I'm also glad I got to you before Sherry and her mean girls squad did." Love quickly changes the topic, smiling widely again.

"Yeah, I saw her blog...don't know how to feel about it yet." You say, tilting your head and raising your eyebrows. Love chuckles, shaking her head. "I know what you mean. I remember our second time meeting each other. She asked me about Joe and I's sex lives, saying, "Oh, having orgasms helps you produce better breast milk for your baby!"

Your mouth opens in disbelief. "Wow, that's quite a personal question to ask someone you barely know," you comment, slightly taken aback. Love nods in agreement, her smile fading slightly. "Yeah, it was definitely uncomfortable."

"So, how did you respond to that?" you ask, curious about Love's reaction. Love lets out a small sigh before answering, "I lied. The best thing you can do to Sherry."

You let out a small laugh. "I'll take note of that." You open your mouth to speak, but hesitate, unsure if you should even ask the question on your mind.

But curiosity gets the better of you, and you finally ask, "Have things ever felt weird with you and Joe during the first few months of bringing in Henry? It's just... I don't feel like I'm engaged with Jenna, it's almost as if we're just two strangers taking care of a baby together."

It's like a black cloud has appeared above Love's head, casting a shadow over her face. And for the first time, she's not putting on the usual happy facade to fool her neighbors into thinking she fits into Marde Linda; instead, she looks vulnerable and honest.

Love pauses for a moment, collecting her thoughts, before responding, "I totally get where you're coming from. It actually feels like that a bit now, you know? It's good to know I'm not the only one who feels this way."

"Joe and I have been together for so long, and it's been great for the most part. But lately, I've been feeling like something is missing. We used to have such a strong connection, but now it feels like we're drifting apart. I've tried talking to him about it, but he just brushes it off and says everything is fine. It's frustrating because I want us to be happy together, but I can't get through with him."

Love lets out a fake chuckle, trying her best to keep the tears from building in her eyes.

She takes a deep breath and continues, "I know relationships have their ups and downs, but this seems different. It's like we're living in two separate worlds, with little overlap or understanding of each other's lives. I miss feeling connected to someone... I miss smiling so much that my cheeks hurt. I miss...the feeling of feeling wanted and cherished."

You feel the same way, completed. You long for the days when you both were inseparable, when every moment spent together felt like a precious gift. The distance between you and Jenna now feels unbearable, and you yearn for that deep connection and intimacy that seems to have faded away.

"Yeah... I know what you mean. I remember the first night I met Jenna, my heart was racing, like badly, almost as if it was going to burst out of my chest. I wanted to impress her so damn badly that I started showing her photos of me with the president. I just couldn't take my eyes off her, and the way she laughed at how I had continued to completely make a fool out of myself. We had this instant chemistry that I'd never felt with anyone else before. It's like we were made to be for each other, but after a while, it seemed...fake, I guess. The more I got to know her, the more I realized that our connection wasn't as genuine as I initially thought."

You run a hand down your face, your face flushing with embarrassment. "Shit, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to just pour my heart out like that." Love waves you off, "No, no! It's only fair; I kind of did the same thing earlier. It feels good to be able to open up and share my feelings with someone who won't go gossip about it."

You take a deep breath, feeling relieved that Love understands and appreciates your honesty. "Thank you for being so understanding. It's just been weighing on me, and it feels good to finally talk about it."

When the silence falls, you feel it. You both want the same thing—to start fresh—but neither of you has the guts to say so. You'd both look like bad spouses, wanting a new life while your old one was just getting started.

Your mind begins to wonder: What if Love was your new start? The shared laughter, looks, feelings, and smiles were a creation of a bond that goes beyond being neighbors.

You were so in your mind that you didn't even realize that Love had moved right beside you, placing a soft hand on your arm. Startled, you turn to see Love sitting there with a gentle smile on her face.

Her intentions were to comfort you, but her heart betrayed her. You looked even better up close.

You and Love meet in a slow kiss, both of you unsure what you're exactly doing in the moment, but sure, it's what you want in that moment. You were drawn to her, her gentle nature, and the way she effortlessly made you feel at ease.

Wait. No, wait.

You're engaged, you can't. You're not supposed to be doing this, but you want—no. You can't.

You quickly pull away, "I'm...so sorry, fuck." You rush out, your mouth slightly agape. Love stares at you, she understands the conflict raging within you and the responsibilities that bind you. So she doesn't fight against your decision, allowing you to walk away, leaving her in an empty bakery with a half-eaten muffin.

You make it home, but your mind is still consumed by Love's presence. You don't know how long you've been standing in silence, lost in thought. Jenna could never find out you shared a kiss with your neighbor, not only would you be in trouble, but Love would find herself like your old flings.

But Jenna's home, meaning Luna successfully made it to Ross's apartment.

You snap out of your reverie and greet Jenna. You have to try harder. Jenna's trying her hardest to make things work between you two, and it's important for you to reciprocate that effort. You smile as she rants about the traffic on the way back home from Ross's place, taking her hair out of her messy bun.

You walk up to your fiance, wrapping your arms around her and kissing her intensely but softly. Jenna gasps in surprise but immediately melts into the kiss, her hands finding their way to your back. This was probably the first time you've insinuated such a passionate display of affection, and it fills Jenna with a sense of reassurance and love.

As you pull away from the kiss, Jenna looks into your eyes, her own filled with a mixture of adoration and curiosity. She whispers, "What brought this on?" You smile and reply, "I was just thinking about when you approached me in the grocery store...and you asked if I was going to stay in the same aisle until you left."

Jenna's eyes widen with surprise as she recalls that moment. She blushes and playfully nudges you, saying, "I can't believe you remembered that!"

"Of course I do," you mumble against her lips, feeling a surge of affection. "I missed you, Jenna." She smiles, her cheeks turning even redder, and pulls you in for another kiss, which grows wilder by the second.

"Bedroom, please...Y/N." Jenna whimpers out, jumping into your arms as you walk toward your bedroom. Jenna's heart is pounding in her chest, but at the same time, her mind is racing. She can't help but wonder what has gotten you this way?

Was it really your first time meeting, or is there something else on your mind? Someone else—maybe she doesn't know.

You undress yourself completely, revealing your naked body to Jenna's eager eyes. Jenna's thoughts continue to swirl. She tries to push aside her doubts and insecurities and focus on you. But deep down, a nagging feeling lingers, leaving her curious about your hidden secrets or unspoken desires.

You stand at the edge of the bed while Jenna removes her own clothes in bed, her lip trapped between her teeth as she meets your gaze. You smile, pulling your fiance by her legs to the edge of the bed and lowering yourself to your knees.

As you trail kisses along Jenna's inner thighs, her hunger grows, her breath hitching with each gentle touch. She arches her back, yearning for more, as you tease her with your lips and tongue.

"I missed this...I missed you." You mutter against her core, going back to your effective but gentle techniques. Jenna loses herself in your words and the intoxicating sensations coursing through her body. Her fingers slip into your hair, and her hips move wildly against your mouth.

You place your hands on her hips, holding her down against the bed. Your fiance whines in response, throwing her head back in frustration.

With a smirk, you continue to maintain your firm grip, knowing that it drives her wild. "I'm so close, baby...please." Jenna pleads, her voice barely audible as she gasps for breath.

You keep up the relentless stimulation, teasing her just enough to push her further to the edge. Her body tenses, and with a loud cry, she finally reaches her climax, her hips bucking against your touch.

Whilst her body slowly relaxes, you release your grip, allowing her to catch her breath. Jenna looks up at you with a small smile, her eyes sparkling with post-orgasmic bliss.

You crawl onto the bed, hovering over your fiance with a mischievous smile.

"You're so beautiful, Jen." You whisper, aligning yourself with her core, watching her gasp and arch her back as you enter her. Jenna pulls you down into a kiss, her mind clearing as you reassure her in the best way possible.

"Y/N..." Jenna breathes out, clinging onto your back as you begin to move with gentle, rhythmic thrusts. Her nails dig into your skin, leaving behind small red trails as she desperately holds onto you, almost as if she's scared you'll slip away.

You drop your head on Jenna's shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent as you continue to move inside her. Gosh, she was something else. Her smell—the vanilla smell mingled with a hint of lavender—filled your senses, intoxicating you further. And the way she softly bit your ear before attacking your neck, sent shivers down your spine, making it impossible to resist her.

"Yes...yes! Fuck, right there, Y/N." Jenna mutters in your ear, wrapping her legs around your waist, and pulling you in deeper.

"I thought Ross was supposed to have Luna for longer?" You ask Jenna, referring to the doorbell. Jenna shrugs, placing a kiss on your lips before sitting up from the couch and reaching for her robe.

"It's probably my package, baby. Just go answer it for me, will you?" Jenna says, giving you one last peck.

With a sigh, you walk toward the front door. Jenna stops you. "Don't you think you should put some clothes on first?" she teases, her eyes lingering on your attire—just your boxers and sports bra.

You open up the coat closet nearby, putting on a zip-up hoodie to cover yourself up. Jenna chuckles and playfully swats your arm, reminding you to grab a pair of pants as well. "By the time I do that, they'll be gone!" you mutter. Jenna gives you a look, which you ignore, hurrying up to answer the door.

"Love—hey!" You rush out. You weren't expecting to see love so soon, especially after your kiss. You quickly compose yourself, trying to hide any lingering awkwardness from the kiss.

Love smiles, "Hi, I'm sorry for just...showing up, I just wanted to see if we were okay." You open your mouth before you even know what you're going to say, "Uhh...yeah! I uh, I'm sorry, it's just..." you motion your hands around, feeling flustered and searching for the right words.

"I..." You glance behind you to make sure Jenna isn't eavesdropping on the conversation. "I really enjoyed our....talk. It got a lot of stuff off of my chest and about our k—"

Love's eyes leave yours, moving to something behind you. Love's eyes leave yours, moving to something behind you. Their expression changes, and you turn around to see Jenna standing there, an unreadable expression on her face.

Jenna's unexpected presence interrupts your train of thought, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your fiance glances between the two of you, clearly caught off guard by Love's sudden appearance.

Love quickly recovers, breaking the silence with a forced smile. "Hi! I was just inviting you both to dinner tonight. I thought it would be a great opportunity for us to all get to know each other better." Love says, attempting to regain composure.

Jenna's eyes briefly meet yours before turning back to Love. That sounds like a lovely idea," she says, her voice calm but with a hint of curiosity.

You can't help but wonder what Jenna's true feelings are about Love's unexpected invitation. Fuck. Could she tell something happened between the two of you?

You try to shake off the thought, reminding yourself that it's just your own paranoia. Love gives you a smile before walking off. Perhaps she is genuinely interested in Love's invitation, and there is nothing to worry about.

"We could've just said no," you mutter, closing the door. Jenna hears you, raising an eyebrow. "Why would we do that?" You pause for a moment, walking to Jenna and wrapping your arms around her. "I mean, it's just...unexpected. And we don't really know Love that well. It might be better to play it safe, you know?"

Jenna stares into your eyes, her expression softening. "You're so cute," she says, planting a gentle kiss on your nose. You furrow your eyebrows, confused by the compliment and how she completely dodged your concern.

"It's so great to finally meet you." Joe smiles, extending his hand for a handshake. You shake his hand, "Likewise, Joe. It's nice to have some...normal neighbors." You chuckle nervously, hoping that your comment about normalcy didn't come off as rude.

Joe chuckles. "Well, thank you. I'm glad I didn't get grouped in with Sherry and Cary." You let out a small laugh, relieved that Joe understood your attempt at humor. "Oh, I've heard some interesting stories about them. They definitely bring some excitement to the neighborhood."

Love pulls away from her hug with Jenna, leading you both to the dining room, a bright and inviting space with a large wooden table. As you take a seat, Love gestures towards the beautifully set table and says, "I hope you're hungry! I've prepared a special homemade meal just for the occasion."

"Thank you so much, Love. Everything looks and smells amazing," you say sincerely, feeling grateful for her hospitality.

Love smiles warmly at you, and Jenna takes notice of this, her eyes boring into Love's skull. Jenna's gaze lingers on Love for a moment before she blinks, putting on a fake smile as she starts a conversation with Joe.

"Shit, I forgot the drinks, I'll be right back." You get up from your seat and say, "I can help." Love quickly interjects, "No need to worry, I'll take care of it." You wave her off, "It's okay! I don't mind helping out."

You follow Love to the kitchen, fixing your dress shirt and straightening your tie as you go. Love glances at you with a grateful smile, appreciating your willingness to assist.

"I'm sorry, Love." You apologize sincerely, referring to your shared kiss that shouldn't have happened between two married individuals. Love's smile fades slightly as she looks down at the ground, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "No need to apologize," she says softly, avoiding eye contact.

"No, really. I shouldn't have done that." You continue, walking closer to the blue-eyed woman. Love's gaze remains fixed on the ground, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was a moment of weakness for both of us," she admits, her words tinged with regret.

"At least...I know that it was for you." Love adds, her voice trailing off as she finally meets your gaze. "Because...one second you're complaining about not being happy, but you seemed pretty happy this morning after."

"What?"

"The fucking hickeys, Y/N. You opening the door in your boxers? Could you be any more fucking obvious?" You look away, your cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"Love..." you stammer, struggling to find the right words. "You're married...I'm married...we couldn't...I couldn't..." Love shakes her head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I guess I'm blind for thinking that kiss meant anything. It's just finally talking about it that I started imagining what if...you know? Like, with him... the first time I saw him, I wanted to get to know everything about him. And I felt that again, but with you. I wanted to explore a connection that I hadn't felt in a long time. It's stupid..."

Love's eyes glisten with unshed tears as she takes a step back, creating a distance between you two. "I don't even know why I'm acting like this. We should get back." She quickly wipes her eyes, handing you two glasses and picking up the rest before walking back toward the dining room.

"Hey, you're back! I missed you," Jenna exclaims as she sees Love and you return to the dining room. She gives you both a warm smile, unaware of the emotional moment that just took place.

You send Jenna a smile, sitting back down beside her. Love joins the table, her eyes still slightly red but her smile genuine. "Jenna was just telling me about how she cooks too," Joe tells his wife, his eyes glancing between her and Jenna.

But Jenna doesn't pay any mind to the man; her eyes are staring into yours. She leans in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "What took you so long?" Anyone else would've missed her accusatory tone.

"We were just talking about our favorite recipes," you reply, trying to deflect the question. Jenna's eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn't press further. Instead, she smiles at Joe, nodding. "Yes! I love trying out new recipes. I'm more of a cook than a baker, though; I'm really good at using knives and stuff."

That surely meant something else, you think.

Love chuckles nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the mention of knives. "Oh, uh, I'm more of a baker...as you know already." Jenna's smile widens. "Well, I also bake too! Don't mind getting my hands dirty." Joe's eyes widen slightly, sensing a hidden meaning behind Jenna's words.

Joe clears his throat. "Let's get eating, shall we?"

You're now home in your bedroom; the rest of dinner went well for the most part. You begin taking off your button shirt while Jenna removes her makeup in your shared bathroom.

"I think you should stop talking to Love." Jenna blurts out, catching you off guard. You pause, unsure of how to respond. "What do you mean?" you ask, continuing to unbutton your shirt.

Jenna turns around to face you, her expression serious. "Is there a problem with that?" Jenna's words hang in the air, causing a knot of unease to form in your stomach.

"I don't see why there would be a problem," you say cautiously, "but can you explain why you feel that way?"

Jenna takes a deep breath before speaking. "Why can't you just do this one thing for me without asking so many questions?" Her tone is tinged with frustration, and you take this as a sign to drop it. With a hum and nod, you agree, throwing your shirt somewhere in the room and sitting down on your bed.

Jenna leaves the bathroom, walking towards you with a small smile. "Thank you, baby." You smile back at Jenna, and she begins undoing her robe.

She lets the silky fabric slip off her shoulders; you can't help but admire the way it accentuates her curves. Jenna parts your legs, standing in between them, and without a second thought, your hands move to explore, caressing her soft skin.

Jenna leans in, her lips brushing against your earlobe as she whispers, "You know, sometimes I just need a little space to breathe." You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of her breath against your skin. Taking a deep breath and gently pulling her closer, you respond, "I think you just wanna show off."

She smiles, leaning back to look into your eyes. Her gaze is filled with a mix of playfulness and affection as she replies, "Maybe I do enjoy being the center of attention sometimes."

You open your eyes again, only to look out of your window and see your neighbor looking in your direction. You quickly let go of Jenna and rush toward your window, shutting the curtains.

"I can't believe he was spying on us," you mutter. Jenna chuckles softly and pulls you into a reassuring embrace, reminding you that it's just a harmless moment and not worth worrying about.

"Yeah, but that's weird. He's married with a son, and we literally just met him for dinner." Jenna places a kiss on your lips, "I'm all yours; no need to get worked up, my love."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. Despite Jenna's reassurance, you can't help but feel a twinge of unease about your neighbor's behavior. Maybe it's best to keep a closer eye on him in the future, just to be safe.

It's late, really late. Luna is back home, but thankfully she's asleep. You've been up waiting for Jenna since she left in the afternoon, but it's already well past midnight.

You open up your phone to try to ring Jenna's phone again, but these past few hours have been filled with unanswered calls and messages. Your mind starts to wander, imagining all sorts of worst-case scenarios. Maybe she got into an accident or lost her phone. You don't fucking know, but you're scared.

On cue, your fiance makes it through the door with messy hair and a tired expression on her face. She apologizes for being late, explaining that she lost track of time while catching up with Joe, your creepy, stalky neighbor.

You get up from the couch with an angry expression on your face. "Why's your hair all messy?" You demand, frustration evident in your voice. She begins to explain, "I put my head out the window after I finished my burger—a very good vegan burger, by the way. Why are burgers so tasty?" she asks, trying to lighten the mood.

You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy towards Joe, wondering why she would spend so much time with him, especially after she knows how you feel about him. Going on late-night burger runs and sharing inside jokes with him. It's hard not to feel like you're being replaced, and her nonchalant attitude only adds to your frustration.

"I have to stop hanging out with my friends, but you get to go on all-day dates with Joe?" You sarcastically question, furrowing your eyebrows.

Jenna shakes her head, "Please. Not tonight." You feel yourself getting angrier by the second, your voice rising as you continue, "Do you see the way he looks at you? We literally caught him staring at you through his window?"

Jenna clenches her jaw, her eyes narrowing with annoyance and anger. "Why do you even care? It's not like you love me anymore." You pause, taken aback by Jenna's words. "What? Jenna, that's not true. I do love you."

Jenna lets out a fake laugh, rolling her eyes. "You know...you might think you're protecting my feelings, but it hurts ten times harder when you lie."

"I'm not an idiot, Y/N. I know you fucking kissed her that night." You feel a lump form in your throat as Jenna's accusation hangs in the air. Your mind races, searching for the right words to defend yourself. "Jenna..."

Jenna laughs, a bitter sound that cuts through the tension. "So sorry if I like spending time with someone who actually might be interested in me!" Her voice cracks, betraying herself.

"You're not being fair, Jenna! You can't blame me for being confused! You don't get to be conflicted! I'm...fucking lost! I don't know if I love you, there! I said it! I don't know if what we have is genuine because my soon-to-be wife fucking stalked me for years and killed anyone I tried to get close to. I've been living in fear, constantly looking over my shoulder." You yell, the veins in your neck coming out as you release your pent-up anger.

"I'm so fucking scared of you, Jenna. I don't know if you're going to hurt me...for not being 100% into you all the time, hurt someone for attempting to get close to me, or...hurt our daughter. So excuse me for even trying to find a safe haven."

Your words hang heavy in the air as you struggle to catch your breath. Jenna is at a loss for words, unsure what to say or how to respond to your raw and honest outburst. You watch her lips tremble slightly as she tries to form a response, but no words escape.

"...Fuck you, Y/N." She finally replies, pushing past you to leave the room.

"Y/N, hey!" You turn around to see Joe. You put on a fake smile; you're pissed off at this guy, and not only that, but he's interrupting your walk to clear your mind.

"Hey Joe, what's up?" you respond, trying to maintain your composure despite your frustration.

"I just wanted to see if you were doing okay." Joe's concern catches you off guard, and you can't help but soften your expression slightly. "Thanks; I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Joe hesitates for a moment before answering, "Well, Jenna told me earlier that you two were planning on calling off the engagement."

Your heart skips a beat at Joe's words. Why the hell would she want to call off the engagement and not you? "Jenna must have misunderstood," you say, trying to hide your unease.

"We're not calling off the engagement. Everything is fine between us." Joe looks relieved but still seems skeptical. "Are you sure? Jenna seemed pretty convinced. Maybe you should talk to her and clear things up."

Yes, of course. You'll talk to your fiancé. You nod, turning back around to continue walking. "Oh, and Y/N," Joe calls out as you start to walk away, causing you to turn back around.

You feel something heavy hit your head, and your world turns black as you collapse to the ground.

When you regain consciousness, you find yourself in the same situation you were in years ago. Except this time, Jenna isn't present, but Joe, your neighbor, is.

"Fuck...not this shit again." You mutter, using the class cage to help lift yourself from the ground.

Joe tilts his head, confused. "Again. You're telling me you've been put in this situation before?" You touch your head, looking for any signs of injury. "Yeah," you reply, wincing at the pain. "I already know not to freak out and bang against the glass this time."

"Jenna must really like you," Joe says, raising an eyebrow. "She's the one who put you in something like this, right?" You nod, frustration evident on your face.

"I guess she learned from my old tricks." You chuckle bitterly, asking. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Joe smirks, standing up from his chair. "Well, let's just say Jenna isn't the first person to trap someone inside of a glass box; neither was I, but I think...I might've been the one to inspire her."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by Joe's cryptic statement. "What do you mean?" you inquire, wanting to know more about the origins of this bizarre, fucked-up situation.

Joe's smirk widens as he walks towards the glass box. "I guess you can say I was Jenna's first love, her muse, the one who possibly ignited her twisted creativity."

"I knew Jenna before everything." Joe continues, "I'd become a bit obsessed with her; she was the first person I loved after my ex-girlfriend broke my heart. Jenna had this magnetic energy that drew me in, and I couldn't help but be captivated by her. One day, she told me she was leaving New York to move to California, and I...snapped. I became possessive, desperate to keep her close to me. I put her inside the glass box my...mentor built so she wouldn't leave before I got the chance to talk to her about it."

You chuckle bitterly, not even surprised by the situation. After Jenna, you've become used to the fucked-up shit people can do. But Joe, he just seemed 10x worse. He practically made Jenna look like an angel."You guys are some truly fucked up people, man, I swear."

"Can you not? I'm pouring my heart out here." Joe sarcastically jokes, rolling his eyes. "But yeah, I guess you could say I went a little crazy. I just couldn't bear the thought of her leaving without giving me a chance to explain how much she meant to me. And seeing her again after all those years only intensified those feelings. I knew I had to do something, even if it meant risking everything."

You fake yawn, "So...you did all of this because, supposedly, my fiance is "the one who got away" for you?" Joe smiles, "Ding, ding, ding!"

"And what about Love? Your wife?" Joe's smile fades slightly as he looks down at his hands. "Love... Love and I—we've been drifting apart for a while now. We've tried to make it work, but sometimes people just grow in different directions. And I'm sure Jenna's dealing with her right now...for you."

Your ears perk up. "Dealing with her? What do you mean dealing with her for me?"

Joe looks up. "Killing her."

Your eyes widen in shock as you process Joe's words. "Wait, you can't be serious. Killing her? What about Henry?!"

Joe's expression turns grave as he responds, "I know it sounds extreme, but Love and I have exhausted all other options. We've tried therapy, communication, everything. Henry will be fine; I've already planned that out."

Joe's words send a chill down your spine. "Are you serious, this is fucking insane? You have to stop, Jenna! Joe, Love was your wife, and I know at one point you loved her. You can't let Jenna go through with this. There has to be another way to go about whatever the fuck you're doing, for Henry's sake and for your own sanity."

Joe walks away, not even bothering to acknowledge your plea. "Joe!" You shout, banging on the glass, desperate to get through to him. But he continues to walk away, his footsteps fading into the distance.

The door opens again, and you rise from the ground, rushing to the glass. But it's not Joe who appears; it's Jenna. "Jenna? Jenna, what happened?"

Jenna looks at you with tears in her eyes, her palm resting against the glass. "I love you, Y/N. I love our daughter, and I love our life together. But I just want to know if you love it too, and please, just be honest with me."

You feel a knot forming in your stomach as Jenna's words sink in. Her vulnerability and plea for honesty leave you speechless for a moment.

You realize that your answer will shape the future of your relationship and maybe even your life.

"I love you too, Jen. I swear. I—I won't let anything come between us again. Our life together means everything to me, and I can't imagine a future without you and our daughter. I promise to always be honest with you, no matter what."

Jenna's tears begin to subside as a sense of relief washes over her face. She takes a deep breath and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a silver key. With trembling hands, she opens the glass cage, and you fall into her arm, your own eyes filling with tears.

Jenna holds you tightly, whispering words of love and forgiveness. In that moment, you realize that your relationship has been given a second chance, and you vow to never take it for granted again.

"I couldn't do it. I thought about it. Fuck, Y/N. I was about to hurt Love and take Henry's mother away from him forever. But I thought about how I could never forgive myself, not even a little." Jenna's voice trembles with emotion as she continues, "I want to break free from that fucked-up pattern and create a better future for all of us."

You nod, pressing a kiss to Jenna's forehead. "I believe in us, Jenna," you say softly.

"Let's go, Y/N." You nod again, rushing out of the room together, determined to leave the past behind and start fresh. You make it to your car, Luna in her carseat carrier, ready for the journey ahead. Jenna starts the engine, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Your fiance speeds out of Marde Linda, and you turn to see smoke billowing from the town behind you, along with the sounds of sirens blaring in the distance.

"Where are we going?" You mutter to Jenna. She glances at you, placing a hand on your lap.

"We're going anywhere but here," she replies, her voice steady. "...I was thinking London. I've always wanted to live in England." The thought of starting a new life in London fills you with excitement and hope, causing you to smile regardless of the circumstance you had just escaped from.

Together, you embark on a new chapter, ready to rewrite your story and create a better life for yourselves and Luna in England.

#tonyspank #jenna ortega x reader #reader insert #jenna ortega #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #you netflix #joe goldberg #love quinn #love quinn x reader #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega angst #jenna ortega fluff #she

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chaiifluuf · 2 months

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•°. *࿐ What if all i need is you? — d. osamu

synopsis. after going underground for the time being to leave the port mafia, yours and dazai’s friendship starts to feel like something else

content. gn!reader, spoilers for the dark era/season 2 ep 4, lowercase, comfort, fluff, hcs + one-shot, clingy dazai, lowkey bad writing??

notes. i don’t think i’ve ever been this nervous about posting something ( ; ω ; ), anyways first post and first time attempting to actually write smth so this most likely has grammatical mistakes…

dazai who, after witnessing his best friend’s death, arrived at your doorstep at midnight and without a second thought asked you to run away with him.

dazai who tells you everything that happened and why he is willing to make a change, hoping you will come along with him.

dazai who is deep down desperate for your comfort and touch, your soothing words that somehow always manage to find a way to his heart.

dazai who at one point couldn’t hold it together anymore and spends many nights silently crying into your shoulder, for the first time allowing himself to be vulnerable around you.

dazai who believes he will never be quite enough to deserve your endless amount of care and affection.

dazai who was able to have a full night of near peaceful sleep in a while, all thanks to your warmth and mere presence next to him.

dazai who realises how much you truly matter to him, how he can’t ignore the warm feeling in his chest whenever he sees you, how his body craves for you.

dazai who slowly starts to think that maybe with you he can do this and become the better person who odasaku wished him to be.

the full moon was shining brightly tonight, slightly peeking through the curtains of your shared apartment. the weather is calm, only a soft breeze passing by at times. it’s almost been half a year now since you and dazai went underground and it’s been quiet to say the least. with some help from ango, you were able to find a small temporary apartment in the suburbs, away from the main city.

the first few weeks after agreeing to go with him were rather rough. dazai was uncharacteristically quiet most of the time, his eyes seeming even duller and more distant than usually. it was clear to you how much odasaku’s death had really affected him and you can’t blame him. the best you could do was to tell him it was going to be okay and be there for him in any way needed, a reminder that you’re here to stay.

Another thing you weren’t used to was how clingy he would become.

despite the two of you not being in a relationship, it was almost unreal how touchy you got with each other. Sleeping and basking in each other’s warmth, the lingering touches when the other had to go elsewhere, the small caresses were like a second language for him at this point. and it never made you uncomfortable.

as of now you are finishing watching a film, one that has been sitting in your watchlist for a while now. the ending of it left you a little disappointed but overall it was more than enough to cure your boredom. with a soft sigh, you turn the tv off and place the remote control away.

your gaze drifts down to your chest, a view of familiar brown and soft hair snuggled up to you. he has been practically in the same position for the whole duration you watched the film, a pair of arms securely wrapped around your waist and his head resting against your chest. it's a serene sight.

judging by his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, he seems to be asleep. which is rather rare since the only time he gets actual sleep is late at night if even that. you briefly check your phone and it's barely ten pm. your hand finds itself in his hair, gently brushing through it as you untangle a few knots. it really was beyond your understanding of how soft it is. if you could spend your whole day just caressing his hair you would.

you can’t help but take notice of his features when you brush some of his bangs to the side. he looked absolutely ethereal and it made your heart beat faster without you realising it. you wish he could see himself the way you do. but then again he has said the same thing about you so that’s that. you will never get tired of his peaceful state though, looking as if there is not a single worry on his mind.

more often than you would like to admit, you wonder what you two are. up until running away, you were just close friends with him, friends who got along well. sure there was the typical dazai flirting and petnames here and there but you didn’t think they meant anything further than that. however, overtime you can’t deny the fact you might just have fallen for him.

but now you don’t know. do friends hold each other so intimately? do friends make most of your meals because they know you won’t eat anything else? does a friend look at you so longingly, even if it’s for a split second? and once you ponder about that, you start doubting if he feels the same. what if he doesn’t see you like that? what if he’ll get bored of you eventually? what if—

a small movement from dazai was enough to snap you out of your thoughts. he slightly shifted his position, letting out a faint exhale afterwards.

“‘samu?” you murmur as you stare at him for a little, expecting him to wake up but to your surprise he’s still in his slumber.

there is a certain glint of softness in your eyes before you close them and lightly bury your face into his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. despite your calm breaths, your mind was still running.

“…i love you.” your voice was barely audible. for whatever reason, you felt the need to say it, the very same three words that have plagued your thoughts for a while now. you know he didn’t hear it but at least that’s what made it easier to say. maybe one day you’ll finally let go of all your doubts and fears and confess to him, telling him how much he really means to you.

“you do?”

your heart drops. for a second you wondered if you really heard that or not. there was no way.

“what?” you respond quietly, almost in disbelief. dazai turns his head to get a better look at you as well as move a little closer. his eyes were half open but you can still see the glint of playfulness in them. a faint smirk was on his face. this man… is this supposed to mean that this whole time he was only pretending to be asleep?!

“you love me?” he repeated his question, a bit of teasing evident in his tone. god you wanted to smack that smug smile off his face. perhaps you should have never opened your mouth in the first place.

“ah, i just… i mean…” your words trailed off as your heart started to speed up. suddenly you didn’t know what to say but if he really heard your words earlier then the answer must be obvious. you’re sure you look flustered right now and you can’t even hide it from him since he’s right in front of you.

however, what he did next made your world freeze in time.

without a warning dazai slowly closed the distance and softly touched your lips with his. having you so distracted that you didn’t even notice when he moved his hand to the back your head.

the kiss lasted for about three seconds but it sure felt like an eternity. his lips were much softer than you thought, despite you not having enough time to fully react to the kiss. for a moment you can’t help but question if this was real or another dream you were about to wake up from.

his face still stayed close, his lips slightly parted as his warm breath hit your skin. “i think i love you too y’know..” he mumbled while gently caressing the corner of your jaw. his voice seemed more sincere when he said that.

and just like that all of you anxieties disappeared. you don’t what came over you but what you do know is that you captured his lips with yours once again. only this time you felt the need to go deeper, like you couldn’t get enough of him.

dazai welcomed your initiative warmly, letting out a quiet hum as you kissed him once again. you had no idea kissing someone could feel this good. you swear you can feel him smiling against your lips at some point and it makes your heart skip a beat. your hands wander through his hair, holding him close as your body relaxes.

you guessed all those times he bragged about being a good kisser turned out to be true after all.

when the two of you part to take a moment to breathe, he takes the chance to tease you again. “i’m still waiting for an answer to my question, bella.” he says softly.

yeah, this was definitely real.

thank you so much if you made it this far !<3 literally need to stop rereading this because it gets worse every time i do help

#𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ maeve writes . 🖋️#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs dazai #bsd x you #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu fluff #dazai x y/n #dazai x you

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itsonlydana · 2 months

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THRANDUIL'S GUIDE TO: LOOSING A JOB / WINNING A HEART | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

You are late for work and sure that your boss will sack you. Instead, Thranduil takes you and his kids to the park, and somehow the day takes a turn for the better.

tags/warnings: modern!AU, nanny!AU, mutual pining; characters: Thranduil, young!Legolas, young!Tauriel; rating: sfw

wordcount: 8,4k

an: sorry sorry sorry for not updating "passenger princess"; please take this as a small apology. I'm posting this after watching 'anyone but you' so know i'm dancing and singing rn

+ general m.list +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

The subway doors shut close with a squeak, mere seconds after you stepped out. They gave you barely any time to think about whether you had everything important with you before the train hissed away again, disappearing into the dark tunnels that twisted like endless labyrinths beneath the city.

Not that you had the time for it; anything forgotten was lost, and you were already far too late to mourn a possibly left-behind lip balm.

Pressing your bag tightly against your side, you joined the stream of people, moving like an army of ants from the platform to the escalators.

It took a while before you could step onto the moving steps – of course, the third grade that had already been on the train when you had rushed in left at the same stop as you.

Screaming, uncontrollable children surrounded you, and you did your best not to make eye contact with any of them, impatiently staring at the approaching exit, the clear sky finding its way through high towering glass buildings.

As a very rude man in sportswear pushed ahead, mumbling swear words that the nanny in you wanted to scold him for, one of the kids stumbled against your legs.

Clammy hands grasped at the coat shielding you from the brisk autumn winds, its numerous inner pockets offering a secure haven for your valuables against the avaricious hands of pickpockets. Gazing downward, you found yourself locking eyes with a boy, his wide blue eyes reminding you that you were so so late...

You gave him an encouraging smile, causing the child to loosen his grip but he didn't let go until you reached the fresh air outside.

Out of habit, you quickly bent down, ignoring the complaints of an elderly lady behind you, and zipped up his bright orange jacket.

It was still early in the morning, the air cold, coloring the tips of noses and cheeks in blushes. Even if you didn't know this child, no parent would be happy to take a day off because of a sick child; especially not here.

Once the boy was properly bundled up, his big smile disappearing behind the fleece of the jacket, you straightened up and made your way through the crowd of people.

Somewhere in your pockets, your phone vibrated now that there was a reception and bombarded you with all the messages that didn't reach you in the last twenty minutes underground.

The sidewalk was bustling, shoulders pushing against shoulders, making it impractical to fish out the phone at the moment; it felt like a time-wasting endeavor, and the chance that you would start crying if anyone snapped at you for slowing down was far too high.

This whole morning left you on the brink of a meltdown, the stress bubbling under the surface, an itch under your skin that didn't want to leave you–

Opting for a brisk walk, you maneuvered through the lively streets of New York, a city of grand dreams that, at the moment, felt a bit out of reach.

Three years ago, following a string of peaceful years growing up in your quiet suburb, one of the Universities you had applied to offered you a full scholarship.

That led to packing up all your possessions, and you transitioned from the comfort of your familiar childhood room to a cramped studio, outweighed by more "cons" than "pros."

You initially went with the expectation of finally fulfilling the big dream, only to realize that living the dream in New York brought problems with them– like an expensive water and electricity bill, unfriendly neighbors that stole the washing machines and dropped your clothes onto the floor, and the inescapable feeling of loneliness amid millions.

After uni, one odd job followed another; "dishwasher in a food truck" and "Christmas-card door-to-door selling with Girl Scouts" were some of the tamer examples.

You did what you had to do, even if that sometimes involved horrendous pay for even more horrific work hours.

Sure, they were definitely experiences , but many of them were the kind that your parents used as a reason to convince you to come back home.

They were right on some level, there were nights you cried sitting alone on the floor of your apartment until the neighbors below you knocked on their ceiling, complaining about the noise, but these evenings were few and far between.

Ever since you got your current job it had reduced to once or twice a month!

It was by far the best on the now 40-line long list of abandoned "experiences." It was flexible, paid more than enough, and you actually looked forward to the days you had to work.

At first, you couldn't believe your eyes when Thranduil Oropherion (the Thranduil Oropherion, multimillionaire and head of the 'Greenleafs Children's Book Publishing' well before hitting thirty, face of the Times on many occasions) contacted you through an unknown babysitter matchmaking site.

Fortunately, the site wasn't so unknown that someone could pretend to be him; otherwise, you wouldn't have engaged in the subsequent chat, where you shared your babysitting experiences with him, and you certainly wouldn't have gone to the first meeting.

It had been in a small café near Central Park, and thankfully not at some fancy Italian place, as your remaining money for the month wouldn't have covered elegant evening wear.

Mr. Oropherion, Thranduil, as he insisted daily, was, unsurprisingly as attractive in person as the press had described.

You had seen pictures, heard of his name, maybe even looked him up once or twice ever since you started babysitting rich kids who had his books lining their shelves without reading them once. They were the kind of children who said "Please" nearly as often as "Thank you."

Close to never.

After being confronted with the beautifully bound books in most of their study rooms, you had googled the Green Leaf emblem, only to have the picture of the hottest man you have ever seen pop off.

The legs that went on for days, the long blonde hair, the warm voice sending chills down your spine as he explained his need for a new sitter- funny how you had no idea what the reason was, but knew exactly how his dark brows had furrowed and raised, how his voice had dropped lower on some words and higher on others.

Easy to say that you wasted no second after he asked you if you still wanted the job (still? To this day it was a mystery what he meant with that, lost in daydreams about his blue eyes and the firm handshake) for you to agree.

One contract signing later, and you were officially the babysitter of the sweetest kids you have ever met.

Legolas and Tauriel not only listened to you, but they even cooperated and never caused trouble when it came to bedtime or leaving the park. They naturally reached for your hand on the street, ate their vegetables obediently, and even when you had to be strict on rare occasions, it never took long for the sulking faces to light up again.

It wasn't just the children that you took a liking to.

The initiate awe of meeting Thranduil turned into a full-blown crush faster than you could have blinked; a sentiment you would only ever confide in your diary.

The prospect of explaining how sad it was to fall in love with your remarkably young boss was not inviting, and you would do your best to avoid those conversations.

Falling in love with someone in a position of authority, who paid you for your services monthly, particularly in a role where you cared for his children, was not an ideal situation.

Nevertheless, you found yourself deeply infatuated with – his looks, charm, smile, and the way he effortlessly made you forget all worries when he returned home, embraced by his children, eager to hear every intricate detail of their day.

And yours.

Falling for him had happened quickly, too quickly to really think about how it could affect your job in the case of an outburst of feelings, whether accidental or intentional.

You saw it as a kind of adventure, like diving into a novel where you could experience the feelings of love without ever wanting to address them.

And sometimes, when there was just the two of you left at the dinner table and he would offer you wine and a smile, you had the impression the conversations turned into teasing and flirting.

It was important for you to keep this job, which is why the fear of getting fired for being late today made your legs move, and you managed to cover the usual fifteen-minute relaxed walk despite the piercing cold air in your nose and lungs in seven minutes.

Eight minutes earlier, and still twenty-three minutes late, you arrived at one of the many towering skyscrapers, with glowing cheeks and sweat drops rolling down your temples.

The doorman in the lobby looked at you with an understandable and sympathetic look through his small glasses before letting you enter the elevator and pressing the button for the Oropherion residence.

The minute it took to reach the 53rd floor - 53, seriously, that's an absurd number of floors - you loosened the red scarf around your neck, finally being able to breathe without it feeling like you swallowed ice, and unbuttoned your coat to fish out your phone.

As soon as the screen lit up, all other messages faded away.

Except for one–

Thranduil O.: I write to inform you that...

Dizziness, not from the height you must be at, but from the thoughts of all the stressful evenings when you had called through stores and sent resumes one after another.

You knew how much your boss valued punctuality; he relied on you to arrive at the agreed-upon time so he could leave for work in peace, and today, you had disappointed him.

He was a nice man, friendly but strict in important matters.

You had witnessed more than once how icy he could become when his driver had picked him up late for reasons within his control, and so far, you were glad not to have experienced that side of him.

Was he late today? What if he had an important meeting or had to sign contracts? What if he could pack up the publishing house because of you? (That this was more than unlikely didn't cross your mind at the moment, but much later)

With trembling hands, you tried to unlock your phone before the elevator reached the penthouse, but you failed several times at entering your password, fingers hitting the wrong numbers, which didn't help your agitated mood.

At the same moment, you finally managed to enter your password correctly and access your messages from the lock screen, the loud ping of the elevator startled you.

Quickly, you slipped your phone into your pocket again and prepared for the worst, like bidding farewell to the sweetest children on earth and the best boss, who would easily hire a new sitter.

The doors opened the same moment a piercing scream echoed through the apartment, high in pitch and undoubtedly Tauriel.

"No no no no"

The worst scenario sprung into your mind, the children left alone and hurt, climbing on expensive furniture, and possibly injured, all because your alarm didn't ring.

As fast as your legs could carry you, you ran into the adjacent living area from where the crying had come. "Tauriel?" you called out; the children should know that you were there now and could help.

But the next words died on your tongue, didn't make it over your panicky opened lips.

The image of an injured Tauriel and an apartment thrown into chaos faded with the last bit of breath in your lungs.

Nowhere were traces of such chaos; nothing was out of place, except for the children's toys, like some dolls and Lego pieces scattered on the oakwood floor.

There were no injuries, no tears, and no abandoned children.

There, on the floor in front of the gray couch, was Thranduil, stretched out on the usually neatly arranged sofa cushions, a screaming Tauriel balanced on his raised hands and a laughing Legolas stretched across his stomach, trying to reach for his sister.

You didn't know what happened to your thoughts.

Why they strayed away from the fact that Thranduil was here, at home, while he should be at work, and that this was surely your last day, and instead clung to the happy family image that you had envied for several months now.

Then Thranduil's gaze fell on you, and your heart stumbled over the smile on his face. The children also looked up, joyfully calling your name, and you waved to them, a forced smile on your lips.

You only had one chance to explain, one chance to save this beloved job before it slipped through your fingers. "I'm so sorry for being late, Thranduil," you started, wrapping your arms around yourself for support. "You probably want a proper apology that can explain all this, but as inexcusable as it is, I overslept. The power went out at my place last night, and my phone couldn't charge, so my alarm didn't ring. I'm really really sorry, and I want to make it up."

You took a deep breath. Tears were swelling in the corners of your eyes, threatening to break out every second, and you struggled to blink them away; your apology was pathetic enough without tears.

Thranduil slowly got up, gently placing the confused-looking Tauriel on the small coffee table and took a few steps towards you, causing your concentration to waver for a moment.

Why wasn't he wearing a suit like usual? Normally, he was already dressed for work every morning. Today, however, he wore black straight-cut trousers and a dark blue knit sweater that was covered in gray couch pillow lint.

He spoke your name softly, much too soft for the conversation that would follow.

Now he would fire you; now you could say goodbye to everyone, and from tomorrow on, you would only be able to admire this beautiful face in newspapers.

"I'll make it up to you, but please don't fire me!"

With an expression of pure horror, Thranduil bridged the meters between you and pulled you into a surprising hug, stifling any sob. His hand lovingly patted your back, stroking in circular motions over your shoulder blades.

"Ada, what's wrong?"

"Legolas, Tauriel," he turned his head, one hand cupping your neck, and spoke in a soft voice, "could you please to go your rooms? Give us a minute, alright?"

Immediately, you wanted to pull away; he was your boss, and he shouldn't send his children away just because you were upset about your own mistakes.

Thranduil didn't let go though; he continued to hold you tightly in his strong arms as if the boundary between your roles in this relationship didn't exist.

"What nonsense led you to think I would fire you?" Thranduil asked after a while.

Slowly lowering his arms, he silently allowed your heart a moment to mourn the warmth of his body, a last moment before he stepped back, and you feared you might never be so close to him again.

Instead, he surprised you by reaching for your hand and leading you over to the couch, stepping around the thrown-around cushions on the carpet.

Waiting for you to sit, he joined you, surprisingly close.

"I did write to you that I have a day off today and would love to spend it with all of you," he said, patting your knee and seeking your downward gaze.

Your already reddened cheeks flushed even more. Perhaps you should have checked your messages right after leaving the subway. Then you wouldn't have embarrassed yourself so much in front of Thranduil, a man whose respect meant more to you than anything else, and especially you wouldn't have caused a scene in front of the children.

"Unfortunately, I didn't see that," you admitted, quietly and ashamed.

The man beside you nodded in understanding, his hand still on your leg.

With each touch, a tingling fire spread from that spot through your entire body, to your rapidly beating heart.

He had been doing this more often lately, guiding you with a hand on your back or brushing over your shoulders when helping you with your coat.

Sometimes, the occasional, slightly longer-than-necessary handshake left your knees weak, and even now, his touch burned through the fabric of your pants, as if a sitcom-worthy handprint might be etched there.

"It happens to the best of us," him excluded of this, the man was never late, never forgot, and worst of all, never broke down crying "-please don't fret over this any longer. Everything is alright."

You nodded, sniffling when he stretched to the coffee table and offered you a tissue, handed over with one of his infuriating smiles.

"Thanks," you dabbed the tissue against your cheeks, trying to wipe away the blush and surely ugly puffiness as well as the tears, "I'm still sorry for-" you pointed to your face, "-all this. This probably wasn't how you wanted your day off to start"

Thranduil tilted his head slightly, long blond hair cascading over his shoulder, which he now nudged against yours. "Hey, we have a rule in this house, y'know? No crying unless it's during a movie, book, or when I cooked"

The laugh you let out sounded more like a snort, which is embarrassing in itself though Thranduil only nudged you again in good humor, "So, if you don't want me to punish you for this utterly inexcusable rulebreaking, then you should quickly smile again"

"Oh no!" you exclaimed, wiping away some more tears, before biting down a smile, "I could not handle watching Frozen 2 again this week"

The Oropherion household was most prestigious with Thranduil representing the largest book publishing company in the country, and his two exemplary children, so of course, punishment for any rulebreaking of this kind was a movie night- movie chosen by the youngest (if she wasn't the one breaking the rules).

"Again?" Thranduil raised his eyebrows, then patted your leg condescendingly, "Have I ever told you how strong you are, my dear?"

Ignoring the stutter your heart makes at the nickname and carefully filing the moment away for later, you shook your head, "You have no idea. I had barely picked them up from school yesterday when Tauriel snitched on Legolas for tripping another boy- he did it as an act of self-defense.. well he defended Aragorn but we do not know that if anyone official calls, and then for that Legolas tripped her and so I spend the evening yet again in the company of Olaf and Anna."

As you recount the eventful first day of the week, you could hear and feel Thranduil snicker, his whole body shaking where it pressed against yours- legs, thighs, shoulders.

"Wow, just.. oh my," Thranduil exhaled, and there laid a fondness in his blue eyes, a softness in the corner of his mouth, that washed away the stern businessman, leaving no room for anyone else but a young father, who soaked up every moment of his kid's lives, scared they were growing up too fast.

"Anyway, I shouldn't just sit around and ramble," you crumpled up the tissue in one hand, using the other to brush away some hair.

Conjuring your best smile, the one reserved for him and only him, you linger for one second on the warmth of his body this close to you, before squaring your shoulders. "Soo, thanks for not firing me, I appreciate it and swear that I'll check my phone in the morning to not cause you this much trouble again"

Thranduil's eyebrows twitched, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't staring at him constantly. "I wouldn't have fired you," he said, honest and completely serious; you shrink together, just like the paper tissue. He continues, voice grave and his eyes focused on you, "Not because of something like that, not because of a little thing you are not responsible for. And even if you were, I think we're long past the point where I'd want to fire you, no matter what"

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape, and you want to ask him what he meant by that or if he meant to say it like he did, but no words come out.

Thranduil takes your speechlessness in, his lashes fluttering softly as he closes his eyes, tipping his head to the side. Another barely noticeable change in his demeanor, this time the hint of a smile, that quickly disappears again.

A call from Tauriel shattered the atmosphere between you, and you pulled yourself together.

"Let's just let it go," Thranduil said, this time his mouth curved into a full smirk.

You glare at him, forcing yourself to stand up. "I hate you"

You didn't, but there was no need to add that since the smile and blush on your face gave that away as much as any words would.

Still smirking at you, Thranduil yelled "Yes, Tauriel, you can come back in" and as soon as he finished the two children you loved so dearly rushed into the living room.

While Legolas immediately spilled over the back of the couch like liquid and rolled face first into the small space between his father and the couch, Tauriel nearly toppled over her own feet racing toward you.

She collided with your legs without slowing down.

Unlike Legolas, who was a spitting image of his father with his bright blue eyes and blond hair, Tauriel had inherited her red hair and freckles from her mother, who was only mentioned by Thranduil, if at all, with a dismissive snort, as if it were part of her name.

However, he had every right to do so.

After all, he did rush into the hospital on Christmas-Eve nine years ago, thinking that from then on, Christmas would have the table decked for four, not two, and he left with two children barely a day old and already burdened with a mother who had lost all interest in them.

She had left the hospital when Thranduil had been asleep, his children close to his chest as he grew from boy to single father in one night.

"What are we going to do today?" Tauriel asked, her hands grabbing the coat you still hadn't shed.

"Well, we could go to the park?" you offered and brushed some of her hair out of her face, "Or do you want to let your Ada decide?"

She pulled a face, twisting her lips in an adorable pout. "Noo, then he will go to a museum and they are soo boooring"

Thranduil cleared his throat, looking thoroughly outraged- as well as one could with his other child climbing over his back and tugging his hair. "Tauriel, I thought you loved our trip to the History Museum!"

There was a pause where Tauriel contemplated what to say, before pulling her lips into a smile and swiping her hand at the air: "Oh, yes, Ada, I really love going to the History Museum with you."

Then, turning to you and rolling her eyes in a matter that was surely an imitation of all the adult chit-chat she had caught and not even close to the behavior of a nine-year-old, she faux-whispered: "Don't fall for my tricks, I just don't want to see him sad"

You weren't even close to fast enough to cover the laugh that bubbled out of your throat with a cough.

"She just goes there because there is a boy in our class that she wants to impress," Legolas piped up, his feet dangling over Thranduil's shoulders while his blonde hair was sticking to his father's back.

"Not true!" Tauriel snapped back.

"SO true, she looooves-"

"Do not!"

"Yes, you do!"

"NO, I do not!"

"You-"

"HEY!" you cut into the back and forth that surely would have ended in punches or more tears, "If anyone says anything there will be no trip to the park, the museum or to wherever you want to go today!"

You fixated the twins with a warning stare that left no room for discussion and it even seemed to shut up Thranduil, who had opened his mouth and now, slowly and looking at you, closed it again.

"Thank you," you crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Now, I don't see beaks or feathers on the both of you so I'll ask you to refrain from squawking and cackling, and Legolas if you want to tease your sister about a boy, should I tell her about-"

"NO!" the boy screamed and immediately, realizing his mistake of speaking out of turn, clapped both hands in front of his mouth, leaving his blue eyes to plead.

Not that you would have said anything; whether it was Aragorn or that boy, Kili, you would never dare to spill the secrets that they whispered to you when you tugged them in.

You nodded once.

It was enough for the boy to relax, slipping onto the couch bare of cushions, and curling his arms around his father's neck.

It was an endearing, yet very exhausting trait of the boy to be unable to stop moving, always climbing things, restlessly skipping around when he was supposed to do his homework.

"Go and put on your boots, coats, and yes- Legolas, even your scarf and hat, and no- Tauriel, you did not forget them in school, I picked them up yesterday and put them into your bag"

There was not much grumbling, well, Tauriel muttered something close to a curse under her breath but at your sharp gaze, she opened her mouth in such a wide smile, baring two rows of teeth, that it looked strained, and Legolas made his protest clear in changing in and out of at least five sweaters before settling on one the same ink-blue as his fathers.

Said father continued to stifle his laughter while you stood in the hallway, waiting until the coat rack was nearly empty and the children had their coats zipped up, their boots tied, their necks covered in scarfs and two pairs of hands had gloves dangling from them.

Said father also came up behind you, when the twins were busy forming plans on what this day would come to, maybe an adventure in the park, or a walk through the aquarium, and you felt his hands brush over your shoulders, as he leaned to whisper in your ear and cause shivers to prickle down your spine despite the warm clothes:

"What a shame that I miss you this assertive most of the time, it looks good on you"

He must have heard the gulp of your throat, must have felt the buckling of your knees, but alas, he said nothing more and the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

It was what he was good at, swiping you off your feet with comments like this and touches like that, leaving you dazed and wondering if you had imagined it all or if that twinkle in his eyes truly was as flirtatious as you thought it to be.

"Okay so, shall we go?"

You caught Thranduil's smirk as he grabbed his coat as well.

His hands were quick to fasten the shiny buttons, working their way up from the bottom in seconds, and as he pulled his long hair out to toss it over his shoulders, the elegant length of his fair neck flashed into view.

Frozen in place, your gaze lingered on the curve of his cheekbones, the pointed ears, and quickly you looked away before he turned his attention from Legolas back to you and might have caught you staring.

It was truly unfair how beautiful he was, wearing the fitted coat, snug at his small waist and highlighting the broad of his shoulders, the midnight blue color being the perfect color for his blonde hair to look like starlight and sunshine all at once.

He drew looks onto him wherever he went and not because of his wealth or business– those were things New Yorkers didn't care about if he passed them on the streets.

He was simply breathtaking, and that he had a daughter skipping over puddles reflecting the clear blue sky and a son babbling while he listened and laughed and answered was more of a magnet than he maybe realized.

In fact, he never seemed to notice the heads turning, the heart eyes that mothers and young women watched him with, and the appreciating nods of handsome men. The ogling and giggling, the sighs and gasps, murmurs and whispers.

Not from strangers but certainly he had the talent to catch the slighted exhale of breath from you whenever you lost yourself in his elegant figure, watching and dreaming as he played with his children or washed the dishes, his back turned to you to examine his muscles straining against the stretch of his shirt.

He teased you for it, lips curving into smiles, eyebrows raising in a wiggle, arms lifting to reveal a sliver of toned stomach.

Even now, as you crossed the street to enter Central Park, the constant pull of Legolas on your right arm left you to slightly tumble into Thranduil, shoulders knocking against shoulder and you glanced up at him to apologize only to find a smirk already tugging on the left corner of his mouth.

The air is still quite chilly, leaving you to lift your nose in the direction of the February sun, albeit a long way from warming you up, it was enough to ease on the frost nipping at your skin.

The children were tugging you into the direction of their favorite playground, hats bouncing at the excited steps that were nearly too fast to hold them back, boots stomping as they made a game of pulling you.

Their happiness was brighter than any sommer light, the teasing from the apartment long forgotten as the roads curved and dew-kissed gras made way for sand and rubber flooring.

They stormed off as soon as Thranduil and you let go of them, scrambling away to conquer the climbing towers and slides and most assuredly end up befriending some if not all of the other kids that are playing under the watchful eyes of parents sitting on the many benches scattered around the place.

Thranduil and you settled onto a weathered bench, positioned directly beneath a skeletal tree that, in a matter of weeks, would burst into bloom, but for now, stood adorned only with bare branches reaching towards the heavens.

Thranduil folded his hands in his lap, starting by delicately pinching at the fingertips of one glove.

With graceful precision, he slipped his slender hand out, exposing his milky skin to the chill, repeating the process with agonizing slowness on the other hand.

The ritual held your undivided attention, captivating you as you watched those slender hands gradually unfasten the first button of his coat.

As if that weren't bad enough, he proceeded to loosen the red scarf wrapped around his neck, a vibrant contrast against the wintry backdrop.

Your mouth felt almost devoid of moisture as you struggled to comprehend.

Huddled deeper into the folds of your own coat, you shot him a reproachful glance. "I don't get how you aren't cold," you muttered, your words punctuated by a shiver.

He made a show of popping another button of his coat. "Tze, how could anyone be cold in this weather?" Thranduil angled his face toward the sun, "I dare say that this is the perfect weather for a long walk"

You scoffed, "Oh, here we go again. I can't wait for you to open up the window later and tell me that the winds are just a slight breeze. It's unfair, you know? Some of us freeze just by looking at you carelessly throwing that scarf away"

Thranduils squinted his eyes, seemingly contemplating whatever was going on his beautiful head and before you could say anything else he had raised his arms and wrapped the scarf around the smaller one you already wore.

Your mouth fell open in surprise, the blood rushing into your cheeks as he busied himself tugging here and there and then had the gall to pull so that you had your mouth full of scarf.

It not only smelled like his perfume but tasted like it as well.

"There, now you are best equipped for this blizzard-like cold!" he chuckled and when you tried to pull the scarf away, he held one of the ends so that it slipped to cover your ears. "Oops, my fault-"

"Thranduil!" was what you wanted to say though the fabric made it sound more like "Franfuil" which made him only laugh louder. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the amusement showing itself in their baby blues.

Thinking that he maybe just did it for a joke, you wanted to free yourself from it.

His cold hands coming to rest upon yours with his long slender fingers covering yours, halted the movement.

"I can't wear your scarf," you said meekly and made another attempt though with not much force.

You wanted to wear his scarf, wanted to sit on this bench with all the other parents passing you and seeing his claim, his scarf wrapped around your neck, but this was another dream, not something that really happened.

He was just joking, wasn't he?

"Tze," Thranduil swatted at the air and clicked his tongue. "Why not? You said it yourself, you are freezing because of me. Let me offer you some warmth and don't tell me this scarf isn't wondrous. The wool is from irish sheeps-"

He continued talking, and you sunk back into the bench, nose buried into the fabric that carried his scent.

The scarf did help, although it wasn't just because of the added expensive layer but because of the hands that had wrapped it as well.

"and thus this scarf is the best way to keep your poor freezing body self. Imagine what the kids would say if they came back and you sat here like an iceberg. We would have to bring hammers to break you out of it," he finished with a satisfied nod to himself and folded on leg over the other, clasping his hands on top of the raised knee. "Now, no more complaining, do we understand each other?"

You nodded obediently.

Thranduil took it in, making sure that you didn't talked back to him, then he turned toward the playground.

You followed his gaze to Legolas and Tauriel hanging on the monkey bars and swinging back and forth.

"Mhm," he hummed and a smirk pulled on his lips, "I really want to say that the cold never bothered me anyway"

At your pained groan, he just laughed joyfully.

Inside your chest, your heart stuttered against your ribcage.

"I can say that this is far better than sitting in the office," Thranduil mused after a while, eyes wandering from his children to you.

He really did look much happier, the cold giving him a healthy blush that reached all the way down his slender throat.

Not that you stared at his Adam's apple and the soft rosé of his skin– your eyes were just drawn to the red lint his scarf had left on his collar.

You tried to lift an eyebrow like he always did but failed miserably. "What? And here I figured that playing all day was only half as much fun as making sure my suit didn't get wrinkled from all the sitting around."

Thranduil scoffed, not in anger but in humor. "I will let you know that I'm not bound to the desk and will walk to get some coffee now and again"

"Oh how adventurous," you teased, nudging your elbow into his side, "Do tell, whatever do they do with this wild man of a boss?"

He laughed at that, and you had to bury your teeth in your lip to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

"Sometimes they take away my pen and force me to listen to whatever offer is going on instead of letting me play tic-tac-toe"

"That's so unfair," you shook your head, the smile now breaking out despite the best effort to retain it, "Maybe I should talk to them because last time I saw your notes you lost every time. Like you are so bad! They should let you practice more"

"You cheeky-" Thranduil stopped himself, the chortling laughter made it impossible to understand anything he would have said anyway.

After a while the laughter subsided, leaving a comfortable silence that you sunk into, letting the whole moment wash over you.

There was laughter all around you, children screaming and yelling, Tauriel and Legolas swinging on the monkey bars as the cold colored their faces nearly as red as the girl's hair.

Somewhere in the distance, the music of the carousel waved over, the melody familiar by now and you dared to tilt your head just enough to the side, to make it look like your gaze was trailing over to the wooden tent instead of trailing the curve of Thranduil's nose, the long lashes resting on his cheek as he bathes in the sun.

As if he felt your eyes on him, he hummed. "Maybe I should cut my hours short," Thranduil's voice was low, but there was a firmness behind the words, a determination that told you he had thought about this longer than his statement let on.

Your heart jumped in your chest.

Grateful that his eyes were still closed so that he couldn't see the shock that played your features, you inhaled deeply, needing the sting of the air in your lungs.

"Oh," you whispered, wanting to follow up with something encouraging but the words just wouldn't come to you.

"Oh," you simply repeated.

The chill of winter settled deep into your bones and you hunched your shoulders, the meaning of his words cutting sharp into the string of affection that you thought connected the two of you.

If he worked less than that meant he wouldn't come home late in the evening, maybe even early enough to pick up his children from school, giving him time to cook for them, go to the playground, and accompany them to Legolas archery lessons and Tauriels dance classes.

If he had all the time do to this, then it would be more than reasonable to let you go.

"Mhm–" Thranduil hummed again, eyes still shut. "The firm doesn't need my input, they can do their best without me hovering around as if I was not just there to listen in to negotiations. This is what I should have done ages ago, direct my attention to the kids instead of book deals that only need my signature."

You nodded, ignoring that he couldn't see it.

"We should get away, the kids haven't had a vacation in forever. I own a house near Greenwood, and the last time I was there there had been a village close enough for the children to make some friends. It would be good for them, don't you think?"

"Yeah– sure," you swallowed hard, trying to force down the stone lodged in your throat.

There, on the tip of your tongue, was a plea, the urge to beg him not to fire you but you would rather let him continue to talk than embarrass yourself again.

"There was a house close by, a family with another single dad and his three kids. If I remember correctly the youngest had been Tauriel and Legolas' age, they could show them around, and Legolas can finally have that damn treehouse he always asks for," Thranduil chuckled and stretched out his legs, the tips of his shoes pointing to the sky, "He asks for one every birthday and I think if he asks me one more time I will find a way to build him that treehouse, even if that means buying a damn tree here in Central Park."

You let out a humorless laugh, more an exhale of air than anything else.

The images Thranduil painted would have been lovely if not for the pain growing inside your chest at every word.

"And we could take a walk through the woods, just you and me."

"What?"

Thranduil's eyes snapped open, blue eyes piercing you like the brightness of the sun over your heads.

For the first time, you saw confusion in them, unsureness, and doubt, and you must have looked just as baffled.

"A walk, to talk, you know? Without the kids sleeping in the other room, without their nosy ears hearing things they shouldn't?" His eyes widened, suddenly he seemed very much uncomfortable with how slouched he sat for he straightened up, "Oh my," he lifted a hand to run it through his hair, tousling it even more, "Oh no, have I overstepped?"

Your gaze remained fixed on him. "You want me to accompany you on this vacation to the woods to 'talk'? Damn, Thranduil, I thought you were on the verge of letting me go!"

"Let you go?!" His cheeks flushed crimson within seconds, a vivid contrast against his fair complexion.

There was an unfamiliarity to the flush, something so new and alien about it that, despite the gravity of the situation, you found yourself momentarily speechless, captivated more by the sight than the words spoken.

"I thought that we could come to an agreement about the arrangements of your employment status"

"My status?"

Nothing that was said made sense, for either one of you, and the comfort grew into frustration that made it impossible to sit still.

"Yes! Were we not on the same page?" Thranduil's voice got louder and you both flinched as a mother with her stroller walked past and threw you an annoyed look. Thranduil leaned closer, dropping into something close to a whisper: "I wanted to ask you out for like a month now, but it felt awkward since it would have required giving you the evening off or compensating you. Neither option seemed like the ideal foundation for a date, in my opinion," he pressed out between his teeth, tipping his head to the side.

"A date?" you felt stupid for parroting his words- again, but how could you not? This conversation had dragged out for far too long to be your imagination, yet you wouldn't believe that this was happening.

"Yes," he was laughing now, kind of desperate if you were honest.

The touch of his knees against yours became a hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand toward him so that he could lay it onto his open palm.

There were sparkles in your stomach, exploding like fireworks at the soft touch of his skin, warmed from the gloves he had worn on the walk.

"I am mad about you, haven't you realized? Have you any idea how I have to hold myself back whenever I come home and see you on the couch with my children, reading stories or singing movies, dancing around the living room in costumes?"

(You blushed deeply at the memory of that evening, Tauriel had convinced you that her fairy wings would fit you better than her, the pink glitter sticking to your clothes as you twirled around the room just when the elevator doors opened and Thranduil stood in the doorway; his tired and exhausted eyes lightening up at the sight of his daughter- or so you thought)

He continued, staring at your hands as he drew circles with the tip of his fingers. "Leaving for work is only easy because you are there to send me off, and working is only durable because I know that when the doors to the apartment open you will be there. It gets harder though, every time I see you cuddling with Legolas or drawing with Tauriel I have to refrain myself-" he stopped to look up, a coy smile on his lips that were suddenly much harder to ignore in their closeness and allure.

"Else, I'd find myself sinking to my knees before you on the couch, bestowing kisses for 'Hello', 'Goodbye', or simply surrendering to the emotions that have stirred within me since the day you entered my life."

"Well, I can tell you no other boss has greeted me like that," you murmured quietly, uncertain of how else to react.

His fingers continued their subtle dance, now entwined with yours. They melded together seamlessly, like a perfect puzzle, as if their natural state had always been intertwined.

Thranduil chuckled softly, his index finger tapping against his knuckle. "One of the reasons I never acted upon it," he admitted, "was the fear of you dialing the Department of Labor for harassment."

"A kiss wouldn't lead to that," you bit down on your lip again, "Fainting on my side, yes, absolutely, and I have never seen a fainted person make a phone call. And what would I say? Hello, my gorgeous boss, who I have a crush on kissed me? Oh, sad old me. could you maybe find a way to compensate me for something I have dreamed about?"

The moment you said what you said, the words slipped out your mouth faster than you could hold them back and loud enough that you could have pretended that you had mumbled something else.

The shock of Thranduil's admission had opened the pandora box of feelings that you had shoved under terms like 'work ethic' and 'inappropriate salivating over your superior' as if that would make it any easier.

"So we are on the same page," Thranduil smiled, his chest heaved in a relief exhale of air. "I'm glad.. oh, so glad. I would have perished if I had been wrong and all those times I asked you to eat with me you thought 'Great, now I have to spend time with him as well.' That would have been... well, rather disheartening."

You choked on another laugh, "No, no, I never thought something even close to that. Most of the time, I was occupied trying not to scream in excitement while figuring out how I could get rid of the glitter or marker on my arms."

He laughed, but his eyes were honest and he held your hand a little bit tighter, "You must know that you are beautiful in every way, especially covered in feathers and gemstones, couch lint, and flour." His head dropped then, his eyes falling to your lips as he took in your smile and the way you struggled to find words.

"I wish I could kiss you right now," he said instead and the regret was audible in his low voice, "But we should figure everything out before I do."

You understood his point, it would be irresponsible to make out - which a kiss would definitely lead to, after all, you were bursting at the seams just thinking about how his lips would taste.

There were the kids, for once, you couldn't know how they would react at seeing the nanny kiss their father without being spoken to first and then, there was the whole thing of him being your boss.

Instead of kissing him, you just nodded. "Of course. Mister Oropherion, I hereby tell you that I plan to resign. It was lovely working for you but this is not where I see myself in a few years."

His face had morphed into the professional that you had met all those months ago in that little restaurant, older yet not by much, less exhausted and happiness in those blue eyes of his that you would spend hours staring into.

Your last name still sounded unfamiliar on his tongue, you had instantly offered your first name for him to use- an order he gladly followed, the only exception being the nicknames you doted on.

"I'll make sure to have the papers ready in the afternoon," Thranduil said in a matter of business, "And there will be a bottle of wine, perhaps? To celebrate?"

You glanced around, making sure that no one was watching before lifting your hands and breathing a soft kiss onto his fingers, relishing the first taste of him.

"I would very much like that"

"Ada!" came the sudden yell of Legolas, and in the blink of an eye the boy ran toward you, coming out of nowhere and the rest of the sentence, whatever Thranduil had wanted to say, never crossed his lips that now spread into a wide smile at the sight of his son.

"Ada, you have to push us on the swings!"

Legolas jumped in front of you, fisting his gloves into your coat and pulling your attention onto him, cheeks all flushed red and blonde hair standing to all sides- he seemed to have lost his hat.

"You can push me and Ada can push Tauriel, and then can we go eat ice cream? There was a boy that said that his mom would buy him ice cream and let him ride the carousel, and–"

Thranduil laughed and raised a hand to smooth down the flyaway strands of hair. "Alright, alright, Las. Lead the way"

The boy immediately turned, tugging you with him at the seam of your coat into the direction of the pair of swings where his sister already waited, her hat lost in the sand as well.

That would be a problem for later, for now, you just followed Legolas and turned your head to see Thranduil catching up to you.

His hand brushed yours as he passed you, his legs much longer than yours and his coat free from the impatient drag of a child.

"Race you!"

There was more laughter echoing over the playground as you and Legolas chased after his father, their blonde hair flying in the wind, sand slipping into your boots, and the red scarf around your neck fluttering.

Later, when the children were asleep in their bed, tugged under their blankets, and exhausted from the day, Thranduil would bring out your contract, ready for your signature of resignation.

He would wait until you sign next to him, the pen just barely lifted from the paper before his lips would capture yours in a soft kiss; his hands resting on your waist as you fall on top of him on the couch.

There would be wine and kisses just as sweet, quiet laughter as to not wake the children, hushed giggles when you would follow him to his bedroom, his hand in yours.

Right now though, you swept up Legolas into your arms and dashed through the sand.

#thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #king thranduil #thranduil

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flowerishness · 23 days

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Acer platanoides (Norway maple)

Last year, I came to the conclusion that I wasn't doing enough about tree flowers. Unfortunately, it was already late May and most trees bloom in the spring. Welcome to the Norway maple at the end of my street. Native to temperate Eurasia, it was introduced to North America in the mid-1700s as an ornamental shade tree. Now it's a common street tree in the endless suburbs.

Urban trees need to be carefully planned. Norway maple may have pretty flowers in the spring and colorful leaves in the autumn but it can lead to sidewalk heave and expensive pruning and leaf pickup, all paid for by municipal taxes. My advice is to do a little research before you plant a tree. Case in point: the roots of the Douglas Fir in my front garden have torn my driveway to pieces.

#flowers #photographers on tumblr #Norway maple #street trees #gardening #fleurs #flores #fiori #blumen #bloemen #Vancouver #Canada

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meropegaaunt · 1 year

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WEST COAST

Billy Dunne x reader

Implied eventual Graham Dunne x reader

Summary: The love between two best friends toes the line between platonic and romantic.

Warnings: Kid on kid violence, fighting, angst, alcohol, and attempted kissing

Word Count: 2,359 words

GRAHAM DUNNE (lead guitar, The Six): Growing up, Y/N and Billy were, like, best friends. I mean, God, they were close, so close you never saw one without the other.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You, Y/N L/N, grew up in a small suburb outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Said suburb was small, quaint, filled with red-brick houses and white picket fences. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The rich thrived, having two or three properties in their name and far too many zeros in their checking accounts, but the majority struggled to make ends meet, to even keep a roof over their heads. You were part of the majority, but your father, F/N L/N, did everything in his power to ensure that you lived in blissful ignorance, unaware of the struggles that weighed so heavily upon his shoulders. He had two jobs, one as a music teacher and one as a bar manager. Endless hours had been spent slaving away at those jobs in an attempt to ensure you were given every opportunity to succeed, and luckily, you were.

Truth be told, you had not the faintest idea of your dire living circumstances, because your father showered you in love and affection, making everything, even the most mundane tasks, seem like an adventure. He had a way with people, a way that he passed on to you, which was why at school, you got on well with your classmates. You got on best with Billy and Graham Dunne, though, two brothers that shared your true love: music.

(Your friendship did not have an easy beginning, though. Not by a long shot, because even at a young age, Billy had trouble letting people close. Your first encounter with him was in passing. Names had been exchanged, but there was no inkling of what would bloom between the two of you. That inkling did not come until a boy two years older than you and Billy and four years older than Graham came around looking to give Billy a hard time. He found Graham instead, who became his victim of circumstance. You happened upon the scene just in time to see the boy deliver a harsh kick to Graham’s ribs, and that sight alone was enough for you to see red and abandon all common sense. It mattered not that he was your superior in both age and size. All that mattered was that Graham, who had only ever shown you kindness and civility, was frightened and bleeding and needed help, which was why you threw caution to the wind, ran forward, and thundered, “Hey, that’s my friend you’re kicking!” In an instant, you two were on the ground, grappling violently atop the dirt path. The boy pawed at your face, pulling at your locks while you pressed on his throat. His efforts broke your skin and knocked your nose askew, yet your hold stayed firm, just as F/N had shown you. You hunched forward, pale with rage as he writhed about, trying futilely to get free. Each action made his throat tighter, though, so his attempts hastily slowed down. He gasped, his eyes growing hazy from the wild thrumming of the blood in his head. It was only after oxygen escaped him for a beat that you lessened your grip and retreated with Graham, though, your feet flying over the earth until you found Billy. That day, covered in blood and dirt, he deemed you all right.)

Seeing your love for music, your father found and salvaged an old guitar for you, a Gibson Les Paul that had seen far better days. It had suffered much hurt and misuse, but he searched out alternatives for each decaying piece, eventually returning it to its former glory. You basked in its glory, showing it off to the Dunne brothers with stars in your eyes and a smile that rivaled the sun in intensity. They had an old Silvertone guitar, so the three of you began learning how to play, going through much trial and error before discovering what worked and what did not.

Your musical range evolved as you entered your teenage years, especially when Billy and Graham’s mother, Marlene, bought them an old Strat. Armed with three guitars, you delved into songwriting, thus laying the foundation for what eventually became one of the world’s most beloved rock bands.

You were there at the nanscene of the Dunne Brothers band, long before its first additions — drummer Warren Rhodes, bassist Chuck Williams, and rhythm guitarist Eddie Roundtree — were brought on. You did not have a designated title, though. Instead, you played whatever part was needed, whether that be a singer, guitarist, or keyboardist. The band worked whatever gig it could, whether that be at house parties, seedy bars, or dance clubs.

Around that time, you had noticed that you had physically changed, had grown into your own. Your friends had, too, but you did not realize until one of the nights when the band had played at a seedy bar. There had been various acts of violence committed at said bar, but this particular night, a man who was out of his mind on drugs had started swinging. Hands had been thrown, landing hits upon bar attendants, but then, he had come for you . . . You had not seen it coming, too engrossed in your music, which was why there was no time for you to react, to defend yourself. Your eyes snapped up, catching sight of the fist flying your way, but it never made contact with your face. Before it could, Billy collided with the man, hitting him with enough force that he was sent crashing to the ground.

You blinked once, twice, thrice, pure, unfettered shock keeping you rooted in place. It was only when a warm, familiar hand landed upon your shoulder that you snapped out of it, the shock wearing off. “Thanks, Billy,” you breathed, your eyes rising to meet his emerald ones. “I owe you one.”

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged, a mischievous look flitting across his face. “Couldn’t let him take you out before I do.”

“Ah, that’s not happening,” you remarked, unable to conceal your amusement. He had tried to sweet talk you before, had even gone as far to use his go-to pick-up line: If you let me take you out I’ll write a song about you. The pick-up line had not worked, though, for you had shot back: No, thanks, Dunne. If I want there to be a song about me, I’ll write it myself. “The day we start dating bandmates is the day the Dunne Brothers is over.”

Perhaps if he was being serious, you would consider going on a date with him, but you truly believed that he was not, that he was simply being his typical coquettish self. Despite this, in the future, you will think that this perhaps was the moment when you first realized that you loved him, that you were in love with him . . .

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

BILLY DUNNE (lead singer, The Six): We got hired for this wedding. It was a big deal. A wedding meant we were gonna be heard by, you know, a hundred people. I think I was nineteen.

We had auditioned for this couple with our best song. It was this slower, folkier song Y/N and I had written called “Nevermore.” Just thinking about it makes me cringe. Truly. I was writing about the Catonsville Nine and things like that. I thought I was Dylan. But we got this gig.

And about halfway through our show at this wedding, this fifty-something guy catches Y/N on a water break and pulls them onto the dance floor. I see and think, Does this guy know what a creep he looks like? And then I realize it’s my dad.

GRAHAM: Our father was there, all over Y/N, completely unaware he was making them uncomfortable. I realized it before Billy, I think. Recognized him from the pictures our mom kept in the shoe box under her bed.

Y/N L/N (singer, The Six): I didn’t originally know it was Mr. Dunne that had pulled me onto the dance floor that night. I mean, plenty of older men go after younger people. It’s not great, it’s just how it is. Not wanting to start a scene, I danced with him until Billy came down off the stage and pulled me away. Afterward, he told me who he was, and it just . . . made me sick. Mr. Dunne looked right at Billy, his son, and didn’t recognize him. How is that possible? How is that fair?

BILLY: I couldn’t believe it. He’d been gone ten years by that point. And he was supposed to be in Georgia. The asshole was just standing in the middle of the dance floor, no idea his sons were up onstage or that he was dancing with their best friend. I put an end to that. I got off stage and pulled them apart. Y/N was confused as hell, but I explained who he was.

GRAHAM: Billy asked a few people at the wedding about him. Turns out our father had been living a few towns over. Friends with the bride or something. Y/N was furious, saying, “You know what, fuck him. You guys are the best. If he can’t see that, that’s his problem, not yours.” They were right. He was a drunk asshole anyway. So good riddance to him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Seeing the response — or lack thereof — from Mr. Dunne infuriated you. He had laid eyes upon his sons for the first time in a decade, and there had been no recognition, no remorse. He had helped bring them into the world, had raised them for five and seven years respectively, but then, when given the opportunity to reconnect, he treated them like strangers, like they meant nothing.

Your father had loved you dearly, had done everything in his power to protect you, which was why such a poor excuse of a man was hard to wrap your head around. You tried, though, even going as far as to snag a bottle of whiskey in an attempt to lessen your inhibitions, to think outside of the box. Unfortunately, the whiskey did not offer any answers about Mr. Dunne, but it did cause your budding feelings for Billy to spill out, to make themselves known.

He too had taken in alcohol, had consumed beer after beer, but Billy, for a reason you did not know, held his alcohol better. That was why when you took a seat next to him with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in hand, he looked relatively put together. You, on the other hand, looked simultaneously attractive and disheveled. It was paradoxical, but the sight of you, with your warm cheeks and wild hair, lit a fire within him, a fire whose flames threatened to consume him, to devour him whole.

“Billy,” you breathed his name, leaning through the dark so that your faces were mere millimeters apart, causing your breaths to mingle. “Your dad is a real prick, but I’m — I’m glad you’re not like him. You’re a real great guy. The best.”

“I’m not,” he refuted, knowing that your tongue had been loosened by the alcohol. When sober, you were generous with your words, but not like this. Not to this degree. “I’ve made some dumbass decisions. You know that better than anyone—“

“And yet, I still love you,” you cut him off, leaning impossibly closer. You had contemplated kissing him a handful of times since that night in the bar, but had yet to work up enough nerve to do so. Now, when you were feeling brazen, it would be so quick, so easy. All you had to do was bridge the gap between your faces . . . You made to do so, to press your lips to his, but he pulled away, moving out of your range. A mixture of hurt and confusion crossed your features then, followed by uncertainty. “Do you not want to—“

“Not like this,” he shook his head, because even though the flirtatious comments sent your way held truth, he would not allow you to make such a drastic move when drunk. Not with him. “If you remember this tomorrow, we can figure things out, Y/N.”

In a perfect world, you would remember this conversation the next day. You and Billy would communicate and sort out your feelings together, but this world was not perfect. In this world, you did not remember your advances on Billy, which was why when he met the foxy, dark-haired Camila Martinez, he pursued her . . .

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

WARREN RHODES (drummer, The Six): In the summer and fall of ‘69, we were all really starting to get laid, man. And Billy was taking himself off the market. We’d all be with chicks and he’d be sitting there, smoking a joint, having a beer to keep himself busy. I came out of a girl’s room one time, zipping my pants up, and Billy was sitting on the sofa, watching Dick Cavett. I knew Y/N loved Billy. Hell, by that point, I think everyone except Billy knew. So I said, “Man, you gotta ditch that girlfriend.” Don’t get me wrong; we all liked Camila, she was foxy and she’d tell you your business right to your face, which I liked. But c’mon. Y/N isn’t the sort of person you want to miss out on an opportunity with.

Y/N: I wanted to hate Camila. It would have been easier that way, if she was terrible to Billy, if she made him unhappy, but she didn’t. She grounded him, made him a better version of himself, so there really was no choice but for me to take a step back, to put some distance between Billy and I.

GRAHAM: It killed Y/N to give Billy and Camila space, but they did. Because they loved him, and that . . . that took a lot of selflessness. I think, maybe, that might have been when I started falling in love with them.

#daisy jones and the six #djats #djats spoilers #billy dunne #graham dunne #warren rhodes #daisy jones headers #x reader #sam claflin #writing #writing requests #open requests #angst #rockband #camila dunne

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