#A almost falls for it when they get a fake 'you have a flower delivery up at the front' they spend 20 minutes

[arlathen]

i just had a collection of words enter my head so. flashing back a few fixations.

agency IT department phishing test email.

[dreaming-of-mossballs]

Bamboo for a Bashful Captain - (Gepard x Reader) - Chapter 2

Summary: You’re making your daily delivery rounds and become acquainted with Gepard’s sister. Things sure do happen!

▸ Genre(s): Fluff, a sprinkling of angst

▸ Word Count: 15k in total, 4.2k for this Chapter

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: Food mention, possible ooc, reader is shorter than Gepard but otherwise not much else is mentioned

A/N: I’ll have you know all of this was written on a Google Doc named “I am Sorry”.

MASTERLIST (also link to series)

A few days later, you were pleased to see that your new guard friend decided to show up again. 

He sure took his sweet while staring at the flowers this time. You couldn't blame him for his indecisiveness though, because choosing something as special as flowers could be a challenge.

Gepard eventually gave up and walked over to the counter. You gave him a friendly wave.

“Hey there again! How’s the new plant doing?” You inquired, shifting your weight onto your toes with a happy grin.

“Fairly well, surprisingly. I'm very happy with it,” he said with a relaxed expression.

“I’m glad! That’s the first time I've ever recommended somethin’ to someone!” You exclaimed. He blinked in surprise. 

“So, what are you in here for this time?” You asked.

“I'd like to buy some flowers for my older sister. She could use something to liven up her workshop. I'm not sure which ones to get for her though.” He paused, looking off to the side at the plants hanging by the windows. 

“Aww, that’s really sweet! What’s her favorite color?” You said.

“Purple,” he replied.

You glanced at the rows of purple flowers on the shelves and bit your lip. “Um, well, What's she like?” 

“She’s definitely something,” Gepard murmured to himself. “Between running the workshop and her rock gigs, she practically has an infinite amount of energy.” He shook his head lightly. 

“Rock gigs?” You questioned. “What’s that?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Rock is a genre of music she’s fascinated by. She does concerts sometimes… Although she’s somehow coerced one of my co-workers into performing with her,”

“No way… She’s a musician AND she runs a workshop? She sounds incredible!” Your eyes went wide with awe. 

Gepard stifled a chuckle.

“She can be, sometimes,” He sighed, tapping the desk with an armored finger. “If we ignore the numerous crazy things she’s done in the past,” 

“Sisters, am I right?” You chirped. “Anyways, what about you? What’s being a guard like?” 

“I suppose—,” 

He cut off as your boss shoved past you with some large boxes in hand, almost tipping you onto the desk, but your fall was stopped by his hands, which caught your shoulders and helped steady you. 

“Sorry about that! (Y/N),” she called, not bothering to look back as she rushed into the storeroom. “A new shipment came in today. We could use your help sorting it out if you could hurry it up a bit!” 

“Oops,” You turned back to him. “I’m sorry, I got carried away,” you said sheepishly.

“Don’t be. I don’t mind small talk,” Gepard responded, fiddling with one of the clasps on his uniform.

“Really? Phew.” You wiped fake sweat from your brow. “Anyways, I think she would enjoy a pot of Indigos.” You pointed to a flowerpot on the leftmost side of the shop. “They’re a nice bold color, and pretty hardy too!”

You swore Gepard’s eyes lit up as he picked up the pot of purple flowers. 

“These are perfect. Your recommendations truly are the best,” Gepard said when he returned to the counter. You thought you heard a bit more warmth beginning to creepinto his voice.

You smiled at him, and for a split second, his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. And with that, you checked him out and handed him a blank thank-you card to write on, bowing politely.

“Thank you, come again!” You called, and squeaked in surprise as you were promptly yanked by the collar into the storage room. Gepard could only blink in confusion as he watched you disappear into the back. 

———

A few weeks passed, and Gepard had become a regular at the flower shop. You started to look forward to when he came in so you could chat about how his new bamboo plant was faring. 

I wonder if he has a name for it, you mused to yourself. Probably not,

It was kind of unusual how much he stopped by, though. 

You were in the middle of putting a case full of seed packets on the shelf when you heard the door creak open, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Be right there!” You shouted. You peeked your head out from behind the door frame, only to spot Gepard’s familiar blond hair once more. He was looking very intently at a dresser filled with a variety of multicolored plants. The soldier caught your gaze, but quickly broke eye contact with you, much to your confusion.

“Isn’t this the third time he’s come in this week?” You whispered to your boss, Meg, who was writing labels for the different jars on the shelves. She shrugged.

Meg put her hands on her hips. “I've got no problem with it. It’s good for business, after all. He always seems to be looking for something or someone in particular… He gets awfully sad when you aren't there, y’know,” 

You squinted at her, confused, and then shook your head in disbelief. You headed back to the counter where Gepard was waiting with a small sack in his hands. 

“Good afternoon, Gepard. What can I do for ya this time?” You stared at his face harder than normal, analyzing his expression. It didn't change much.

“Just the usual, please.” He placed the bag of plant fertilizer on the desk while he dug in his pockets for the change. He was dead serious, like usual.

Ugh. Why was he so impossible to read?? 

“You do know we sell these in larger sizes, right?” You questioned while pointing at the bag. Gepard nodded, shuffling his feet a little. 

“Yes, I am aware, but I have a very inquisitive little sister. I'm afraid one of her pets might get into it while I'm not there and get sick,” he answered. “It's easier if there's less of it for them to get into,” 

Gepard ran his gloved hand through his hair while you stood nodding thoughtfully.

“Ohhh, I see!” You let out a gasp of realization. “Phew! I was worried you were coming in here just to see me!” 

“No, of… course not,” he said, mouth agape. The soldier closed his eyes in embarrassment as he felt his face heat up. “Although, seeing you does improve my day greatly,” 

Your face morphed into a scowl, much to his surprise. “You oughta be spending your time better, you know. Guard duty sounds very demanding.” You folded your arms with a huff. “You know, delivery IS an option if you want to save some effort,”

“O-oh? Could you elucidate to me how it works?” He stuttered, expression changing to one of nervous curiosity. 

“Yeah! Delivery works with almost anything. We understand how hard it is to drag an entire plant or package to your residence,”

You shook your finger matter-of-factly as you went off on your sales pitch. “You can place an order in-store and we can bring it to you, even on the same day you place it!” 

“AND, we can do regularly scheduled deliveries, that way, you don't have to come in every two days. Instead, one of our very capable workers will get it to you!” 

He merely stared at you quizzically. You huffed. 

“Believe me, we’re stronger than we look.” You raised your arm, curling it into a fist. “I used to work in the mines, so I'm used to heavy lifting,” you said, putting your hands back on your hips proudly. 

Gepard exhaled through his nose. He knew you weren’t going to let this one go.

“So… Would you be interested? I’d hate for you to have to go on a wild Mole chase every time you want to buy fertilizer,” you said slyly. 

“Well—” He raised his hand to protest. “It’s really not an issue—,”

“Nonsense! I'm sure your schedule is super busy, so let me help you out!” You slid a purple notecard and a pen with a floral print across the counter to him. 

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” The guard sighed in defeat.

Gepard waited until he got a safe distance away from the shop, and facepalmed with a weak groan. As he drew his hand away, a new look of determination flickered across his face. 

He was going to need new excuses to keep seeing you. 

———

Is this really the place?? You thought, boxes in hand. The sun was setting on the fancy buildings in the modern district of the city, painting them a brilliant orange. You adjusted your beret, determined not to let it fall off, and prepared yourself to venture up the stairs to the massive mansion located on the uppermost level of the city. 

When you reached the entrance at the top, you realized that the unfamiliar building made the shop you called home seem almost microscopic. Two guards were standing at the sides of the heavy-looking wooden door, complete with ornately carved bronze handles. 

The doors opened, and out walked a group of housekeepers. You gave them a feeble wave hello and trotted over to them.

“Hi there! I have a delivery for the—,” You narrowed your eyes at the card on top of the boxes—, “Landau Estate?” 

You hoped you didn’t just butcher the name. One of the guards and a maid sauntered over to you. 

“That’s unusual,” the maid said, taking the card and inspecting it closely. “We weren't expecting a package. This is for fertilizer, you say?” You nodded in agreement. 

“Do you know if anyone here ordered fertilizer?” She turned back to the group of servants, who all murmured among themselves. “Hmm… doesn’t look like it,”

“Oh jeez. I'm sorry, a man named Gepard ordered it. Maybe he put down the wrong address by mistake?” You shrugged. 

Who on Jarilo-VI would live in a house this big, anyways? You wondered. 

“Oh! The young master!” A lightbulb seemed to go off in her head. “I wasn't aware he had ordered something. I'm sorry, but we aren't allowed to accept packages on his behalf unless he clears it with us first.” She clasped her hands together. “I apologize for the misunderstanding,” 

You shook your head reassuringly. “That’s all right, I can just find him myself. Does anyone know where he might be?” 

That earned you a few quizzical looks. One of the aides, a woman with chestnut hair, piped up. 

“I heard he was heading to Serval’s workshop today. Maybe if you're lucky, you could catch him on his way out!” 

“Great! Thanks!” 

You adjusted the boxes under your arm once again and flew down the stairs two at a time. 

They called him “Young Master”? You furrowed your brow.

This was getting weirder and weirder.

———

Rapidly flipping through your map of Belobog, you pinpointed an eccentric looking building on the easternmost side of the plaza. When you reached the workshop indicated on your map, you stood still in amazement.

It was covered in the coolest metal fixtures and gave off a mature aura you couldn’t quite put your finger on. If something like this had existed in the Underworld, you wouldn't have been able to see it in full detail anyways.

Not right now! I have a delivery to make! You snapped at yourself. You pried the door open with your hand and used the weight of your back to push your way inside. 

The inside of the building was just as interesting as the outside. Metal cogs spun with no aim in particular, more tools than you had ever seen in your lifetime adorned the walls, and old manuscripts were sprawled out all over the various surfaces. You wanted to explore it all already.

You spotted Gepard talking to a boldly dressed woman at the front desk. Another blue-haired woman was working on a blueprint off to the side, too absorbed in her work to notice the commotion at the door. 

“Aha! There you are!” You exclaimed. “I've got your delivery for this week. Some housekeepers told me I could find you here.” You bounded up to him with the boxes curled under your arm, smiling as he thanked you. 

“I apologize you had to go through all that trouble to find me.” He rubbed his temples. “I should have cleared the whole thing with them first. Here, let me take that for you,” 

The tall woman stepped out from behind the counter, looking you up and down with great interest. She had stunning lip gloss and blond hair with a lone blue streak on her right side. You wondered where she got her style from, as everyone on the surface dressed the same, for the most part.

“And who might you be?” She inquired. 

“I’m (Y/N), from the flower shop across the street.” You curtsied with a smile.

“What a cute little doll!” The woman tilted her head at you, her eyes sparkling with adoration. “Gepard, where on Jarilo-VI did you find them? I know everyone’s face, and I've never seen theirs,” 

You saw Gepard shift from side to side in the corner of your eye. 

“I started working there just a few weeks ago, actually! I’m from the Underworld,” you chirped. 

“No way! Well then, it’s a pleasure to be meeting you!” She offered her hand for you to shake, which you took graciously. She was so easygoing, it was easy to be drawn to her. 

“I'm Serval, this clumsy oaf’s sister.” She wrapped her arm around Gepard and poked him in the side. “The one over there is Molly, my assistant!” She pointed at the worker with blue hair in the corner, who gave you a quick thumbs-up. “It seems you know my brother?”

“Well—,” you started. 

“We don't need to go into detail now, I'm sure you have places to be,” Gepard interrupted, placing a hand on your shoulder. He hoped you couldn’t feel his palms sweating.

“No, no, no!” Serval pouted, “I'm invested now, can't you see?” She said, circling around you like a carnivore would. 

“Um. It’s fine, actually! That was the last of the deliveries scheduled for today,” you chimed in.

“Perfect! Molly, could you get our guest some tea?” Serval called. She led you to a small table with an oil lamp resting on it, pulling out your chair before she sat in her own. She rested her arm on the tabletop while leaning forward with a thrilled expression. 

Gepard stayed where he was, rubbing his forehead. The poor man’s cheeks were bright red. 

“So! How are you liking the city so far?” Molly set down two cups of steaming hot tea. You thanked her, then took a sip as you paused to think. It was fragrant and had just the right amount of sweetness.

“It’s honestly gorgeous. The air up here is so clean compared to the mines!” You replied energetically. 

“My thoughts exactly!” The woman across from you nodded. “There’s nothing like the cold Belobog air to wake you up in the mornings too. Have you visited the Everwinter Monument yet?” 

You took in a sharp breath. “No, I haven’t! Not for real, at least. I see it through the window of my apartment sometimes. Since I live and work in the same building, I haven’t really felt the need to explore the city yet,” you murmured. “Although, I'm being put on delivery more often, so I guess there’s that,” 

You gazed around the room curiously, taking another sip of your tea. 

“I've never been in a workshop this fancy before. What kind of work do you do here?” You asked.

“Well, we do a lot of mechanical repairs and research. Although, my brother might have mentioned that we hold Rock gigs here sometimes,” she responded. 

Said brother was looking at the delivery card with incredible concentration. 

I still don't know what a gig is, you sighed inwardly. 

“That's incredible! What instrument do you play?” You said, voice dripping with enthusiasm to make up for the confusion.

“Electric guitar,” Serval said. “I can go grab it for you if you'd like to see it,”

“Would I EVER???” You practically bounced out of your seat. She got up from the table and opened the door to a side room, snapping her fingers and humming to herself. 

Noticing a pot of purple flowers, your rose from your seat to inspect them. They were healthy and had enough sunlight. You gave a happy bounce of approval, then sauntered over to Gepard, who was still standing stiffly. 

“So that’s the sister you told me about, huh?” You smiled cheerfully. 

“Indeed. That’s her,” Gepard nodded in agreement. 

“I can't believe you have a MUSICIAN for a sister. She's so energetic!”

“I guess the only thing we have in common are our looks,” he mused. His eyes locked onto yours and you giggled.

“Pfft. You got that right,” 

“Miss Serval really is the epitome of exciting!” Molly called from her desk. You pumped a fist in silent agreement. 

“I guess you could say that. Although she can be a little overbearing sometimes.” Gepard sighed and looked off into the distance. “I'm really sorry to be dragging you out here on a work night,” 

“It’s okay, really. I could use a bit more excitement. My life doesn't need to revolve around the flower shop, after all,” you reassured him. 

———

When Serval came out of the side room with her guitar, everything clicked into place. 

No wonder her adorable little brother was being so sheepish! (Albeit, only a little more than usual.)

It’s because he was feeling shy, Serval deduced. Every time you looked him in the eyes, he looked away and his ears turned pink. She almost cooed out loud, giving him a pitying glance. This was TOO CUTE. 

A raucous grin spread across her face, which she quickly squashed before deciding her next move.

You turned to face the sound of heels clicking on the tile floor. 

“And here—,” she announced with a grand gesture—, “Is my magnum opus!” She laid her guitar on the table proudly.

You could not, for the life of you, see how the machine in front of you resembled a guitar in any way. It was large and avant garde, with a long black handle and tubes sticking off the side of the body.

It was still the coolest thing you had ever seen, though. 

“Wow. wow wow wow WOW!!” You gasped in amazement. “Can I-- can I touch it?!”

“Go ahead! Who am I to stop someone from admiring fine craftsmanship?” Serval chuckled lightly. You inspected the guitar with so much excitement, she could have sworn your head was about to explode.

“Anyhow, I need to check something in the back just for a quiiick second,” she said offhandedly, fishing through her pockets and pulling out a key made of brass. “C’mon Molly!”

Serval yanked the startled girl by the hand unceremoniously causing her pen to drop on the floor. She turned backwards for a split second and gave Gepard a wink.

Gepard gulped. He’s seen that look before. 

His rebellious sister was DEFINITELY planning something. 

When she returned, the smile on her face was even brighter. Blinding, even. Molly was nowhere to be seen.

“The mechanics are really well done!” You said excitedly. “I've never seen anything like it. Repairing minecarts and robots wasn’t anywhere near this level of intricacy,”

“Whoa! You really know what you're talking about, new friend! You know, if you're ever interested in working with us, we could always use an extra pair of hands in the workshop,” 

“I would LOVE that,” you replied. “I’ll have to adjust my work schedule first, though. I took on a few too many hours this week and tomorrow is my only free day. I was planning on using it to see the city,”

“It's no sweat! Come in anytime it strikes your fancy. Actually, the workshop happens to be closed that day too, would you be up to touring the city together?” 

You nodded vigorously. 

Serval grinned and clasped your hands with her own. You exchanged contacts, while Gepard pulled her aside to whisper something in her ear. She then promptly elbowed him in the gut, causing him to grunt in pain, Then out of the blue, your phone started dinging incessantly.

“Um, I don't think that's ME doing that—,” Serval said nervously. You furrowed your eyebrows, raising the screen closer to your face to get a better look. 

It was Vaska. They must have wanted you to come back to help close up shop. The sky outside had shifted from an orange to a deep blue, dotted sparsely with stars. You sighed and accepted the fact that you had to return to your ordinary flower-filled life.

Your disappointment was abruptly interrupted by a huge crash coming from the back room. Your phone almost flew into the air as everyone scrambled to check for the source of the noise. 

There Molly stood, covered head to toe in soot, coughing up a storm, with bits of machinery scattered everywhere. A few stray pieces rolled off the table the machine was sitting on. 

You made sure to watch your step as you clung to the walls to keep your balance.

“Oh, by Qlipoth,” Serval covered her face with her hand, closing her eyes. “I forgot we had an experiment running! Molly, are you all right?” She bent down, picking up some stray papers and rushed over to the girl. Serval dusted her assistant off worriedly.

You began to reach for some of the stray parts scattered on the floor, but Gepard held out a hand to stop you. 

“That's not a good idea. It's hard to see sharp edges with everything covered in soot right now. Let me take care of it,”

You blinked at him in surprise. 

“Well then, I guess it's a good thing I carry these around with me then!” You pulled out a pair of thick gloves from your apron triumphantly, and proceeded to carry on picking up the shrapnel. When Molly had been sufficiently cleaned up, Serval groaned. 

“The Department of Education wants these results in three days,” she spoke. “It'll take me all night to get this baby up and running again— I'm sorry, but I can't make it to our little outing tomorrow,”

You shook your head frantically. “I'm so sorry this happened!” You sighed. “If I hadn't distracted you—,”

“That's not it at all!” Serval interjected. “I can be a little scatterbrained sometimes. This kind of stuff happens all the time.” She gave a small laugh. “Geppie can attest to that,” 

He blanched, almost dropping an armful of tubes.

“I'm really, really sorry.” She bowed her head. “Gepard, could you take them instead? Please? I know you have this week off.” She placed her hands together in a praying motion and closed her eyes. He let out a small sound of surprise.

“It’s… not an issue,”

Serval’s eyes flew back open.

“Great! I’ll leave you two to it then!” Her old enthusiasm was back in the blink of an eye and she resumed sweeping up the room. Gepard led you back to the main entrance.

“Okay, I know I said I could use some excitement, but not THAT much excitement,” you said quietly.

“I suppose that makes two of us,” he replied. 

“Do things really blow up around here that often?”

“They sure do. She says it's all part of the process,” he spoke. “I hope that doesn't scare you too much,” 

“Not at all, actually. I've seen my fair share of explosions,” You chuckled. 

“That's a relief,”

Your phone rang again, and this time you answered it. You put it to your ear only to be deafened by Vaska’s screaming.

“The heck is taking you so long???” She barked. You could hear the clamor of your co-workers in the background.

“Gahh! Sorry, sorry! I’ll be right over,” you said hurriedly. 

“You better be,” she huffed impatiently. You hung up with a groan. As much as you hated it, she was right. Your duties for the night were far from over. 

“Oh! That reminds me,” you piped up. “Gepard, did I get your number? Wait… do you have a phone?”

“That would be a no and a yes.” He ran a hand across his hip, only to realize he didn't have it with him.

“That's fine.” You grabbed a marker from your pocket, and scanned the room for anything to write on.

You decided you'd rather not risk a catastrophe by grabbing a random piece of paper. Instead, this would work just as well. 

“Crud. Gepard, could I see your hand for a second?” He held out his right arm, the one with the gauntlet on it.

“The other one, silly!” You giggled. He complied.

The soldier flinched in surprise as you rolled back the sleeve on his left arm, holding his wrist with your other hand so you could press the ink onto his skin.

“You have my number now! Don't worry, it'll wash off pretty easily. Anyways, I'm looking forward to our outing tomorrow. I’ll see you then!” You said cheerfully.

“You as well," he called out to you as you rushed out the door. “Travel safely,” 

But then he froze. 

Wait just a minute. 

Isn’t Serval still banned from the Education Committee?

He pondered this thought for a moment, and then chuckled to himself. Well, now I know what that look was for,

2023 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

[husbandomail-archive]

Hey hope your having a wonderful day/evening!

I was wondering if you could do some hcs of what the arclight bois are like when they have a crush on somebody.

If you can’t do all that’s fine and feel free to ignore. I love your writing as well.

Christopher:

Chris hasn’t had a crush on someone in quite a long time; even when his family’s not hellbent on their revenge quest, he’s pretty busy with his own work, and that doesn’t leave much time for a personal life. It probably isn’t until after the Barian war that he finally takes time for himself, to really relax and breathe— and that’s about when his feelings for you hit him properly.

To anyone who knows Chris, it’s easy to see the shift in his behavior. This normally put-together man is suddenly scatterbrained— he’ll place his notes down and immediately forget where he put them, or he’s stumbling over his words when usually they flow like water. It’s just subtle enough that, if you don’t know him too well, you can’t tell a difference— but it’s like flashing neon signs to everyone else.

The biggest change in his behavior, though— Christopher is suddenly far more talkative. His thoughts of you are overwhelming almost everything else in his head, so he finds that he has to start talking his way through everything in order to actually complete a thought; this ranges from more casual conversations with his brothers, to having to talk himself through the steps of making a sandwich. And of course, there’s the new habit of late-night phone calls about anything and everything, just so he can hear your voice again.

Thomas:

It’s always difficult to tell when Thomas is serious about his feelings— his television facade is already very flirtatious, and there’s a reason he’s known for fanservice after all. His voice is smooth, his smile is a bit too bright, and he always knows exactly the right things to say. Or at least, he thinks he knows the right things to say; when you turn away from him, unimpressed, at another of his many fancy events, he’s positively stunned. He’s got to have you.

At first, Thomas is relentless— more smooth lines you’ve heard before, constant deliveries of flowers to your workplace, everything he can possibly do to get your attention. When at home with his family, though, he’s oddly quiet; often lost in thought, he’ll occasionally ask his brothers what he could possibly be doing wrong, only to brush off their advice despite asking for it to begin with.

Eventually, when it’s clear that all his false charms aren’t working on you. That you’re not an object to be won, but a person with your own preferences and desires. After many sleepless nights of deliberation alone in his room. He finally admits to himself that maybe, just perhaps, there’s an ever-so-slight chance that you’re possibly not attracted to the fake part of him. And that’s terrifying— that’s the personality Thomas has presented to everyone, for years. Even at home with his beloved family it’s difficult to take the mask off. But at this point, he’s serious about earning your attention— maybe he can finally find it in him to drop the facade for once.

Michael:

In contrast to his older brothers, Michael can be read like a book when he’s falling for someone. Already a daydreaming type, he’s constantly lost in thought now, grinning to himself as his attention drifts off— he also can’t keep your name out of his mouth. He probably doesn’t even realize it, but he’s always talking about you, to the point that his brothers start teasing— granted, they’re brothers, so that’s what they do anyways.

Michael is very much the type to want to share his favorite things with you as a show of affection. He’s used to people rolling their eyes when he starts talking about his interests, so he’s learned to keep to himself; but then he starts quietly approaching you and slowly opening up about this and that. Oh, your favorite duel monsters card reminds him of this artifact from a different country— hey, did you see that article published this morning about a new fossil— there’s an upcoming museum exhibit he wants to see, wanna go together?

That last part had slipped out accidentally; he’d certainly not intended to basically ask you out here and now, but the words are already hanging in the air. He’s quick to apologize, you’ve probably got something better to do— Michael is usually in control of his insecurities, but he feels vulnerable with you in ways he’s never felt before. When you happily agree to spend more time with him, he almost keels over.

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Masquerade

Hawks/Keigo Takami x Reader

Summary: you run into a man who helps you take a short break from the life of a party that could bore anyone to death, he says he has his own agency and struggles with people recognizing him, but that doesn’t ring a bell for you.

Masterlist

The sound of laughter, shuffling expensive fabric, obnoxiously loud conversations, and the smell of expensive beverages wasn’t quite your scene as you stood amongst a circle of people. You stood and listened to them boast and brag behind their little shades or masks that were there in hopes of masking their identities along with their hero names that may or may not have been flattering or embarrassing. Those awful conversations filled with champagne did not mix with the classical music that played from the live, mini sized orchestra either and it could almost make a cringe burden your face behind the simple masquerade mask you wore, but you always caught your emotions from glinting across your face, it was a skill that you needed to learn and master from a young age. That is what came from being conditioned by the commission itself you guessed from early on in your life. Guess you could chalk it up to being old habits that would forever stick to you. 

“And you! You were elected as the commission’s designer right? So you get to play around with costumes for heroes all day? Play dress up?” Questioned one of the heroes in the little circle. It perturbed you a bit, you expected to go all night without anyone asking you questions and seemingly being passive aggressive with it. Or that person be slightly intoxicated as well since you could hear the slur in their words and sway in their step. So what do you do?

“Of course, what else would I be doing?” You replied back with a charming smile, flute of champagne soon brought up to your lips as you took a small sip, everyone’s attention now back to their bragging and constant and silent battle on who was the best among them. None of them however were in the top 100, that's for sure. 

Your eyes now quickly darted around the room. You wanted an escape, but then what? Find yourself in another circle of heroes who tried to compensate for their lack of popularity? Or have someone else belittle your place in the world? Sitting by yourself didn’t seem at all bad, but what goof will that do? Sitting by yourself in a room filled with people obligated to do good? They would probably approach you and offer to sit with you like the nice popular girl does to the weirdo at school before homecoming queen is voted for. Oh well, you guessed, might as well do as you go. You slowly backed away from the circle, the others preoccupied with themselves. 

“Oh no, I’m not interested..” A man spoke out, a woman seeming to follow with every step he took away. He let out a small exclamation as he felt something solid run into his side. You gave a sigh, mouth about to open to scold the person who had bumped into your side, though soon you felt your body be turned, the person who had almost made you soil the front of your dress with your champagne now had their arm around you. “You see, my wife here wouldn’t appreciate me gallivanting around with strange women, isn’t that right dear?”

You were confused and maybe even slightly dazed as you heard the man say that, You were even more in a daze as you looked up to the masked figure and to the red wings that were almost sprawls magnificently out from behind him, glinting under the many lights upon the chandelier above. A little clear from his throat made you come back to your sense as you brought that charming smile you were told to do over and over again, giving a soft nod of your head as you looked to the defeated woman before you. 

“You are correct about that dear, I wouldn’t appreciate you going out with mysterious women that aren’t me!” You said with a laugh, flute placed upon a tray of a passing waiter, hand now placed upon the man’s chest, the woman profusely apologizing before scurrying away to hide her embarrassed self amongst the many crowds and to possibly avoid the man’s face along with your own. 

“Lets go honey” He spoke, you giving a vigorous nod of your had as took his arm, following after his casual steps and past the many groups of people and passed the open curtains that covered the tall entrances to the many platforms that lined the ballroom. This particular one clichély led to the gardens of the venue. You didn’t care how cliché it was though, you were glad to now catch a break from the annoyances that walked and spat all over those polished ballroom floors. “Man, that was close, thanks for playing along” He said as he let a sigh of relief. 

“I should be thanking you, I don’t know how long I could take all those ridiculous conversations anymore” You said as you let go of his arm, taking the liberty to step ahead and down the marble steps the lead to the grass that almost seemed to be fake by how perfect it seemed to be. “Mind entertaining me for a bit? Before we either have to join the party or leave?” You asked with a small smirk to which he only returned as he followed in your shadow, hand soon lifting the small train of your gown. “Lets sit for a bit” you suggested as you sat down upon a small stone bench that was sat off to the side along the cement path that led through the garden or various bushes of flowers and fruit. The masked man sat beside you, the train of fabric he once held now piled onto his lap.

“I would have thought this mask would have hidden my identity, too bad my wings are a dead giveaway” He mumbled, though you only raised an eyebrow at him before looking off onto the garden. “What?” he asked, you only shrugging your shoulders.

“Just that I find you conceited. I don’t know who you are” you pointedly out with a matter of fact tone as you folded your hands on your lap, the other, who you guessed was a hero, looked at you in bewilderment.

“You live under a rock or something lady?” He asked as he ruffled his feathers a bit, face scrunched up with his confusion as you looked back to him accusingly, hands snatching the trail of your dress from his lap, tossing it to the ground as you got up. 

“For your information I am a costume and weapon concept designer for the comission...so its pretty much my job to do business with who they tell me about and keep to myself about anyone else.....and gossip magazines and drama news channels isn’t really my thing if you are only known for being controversial.” With that you were marching down the path towards the garden, the man now scrambling up and easily catching up with you.

“Whoa there, I’m sorry, I’m just not use to people who really don’t know who I’m and when I say that I really am not trying to sound so....”

“Douchey?”

“Yeah....douchey” he confirmed with a small laugh as he looked over his shoulder and to the classy party that was still carrying on within the fancy walls of the ballroom. “Look...I’m Hawks” He finally said, reaching out a hand, which you only gave a small glance before you sighed, your hand soon giving his a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise” you spoke out, though you only stiffly and sassily turned away to continue your walk along the crackless cement path, Hawks now falling in step beside you. You were glad, just by a tiny bit, that's all you would admit to yourself as you looked over to him. “So, you area hero I’m guessing? Judging by your name?” You asked as you clasped your hands behind your back, Hawks shoving his hands into the stiff pockets of his trousers. 

“Yeah, I am. I have my own agency in Fukuoka city. I have plenty of sidekicks registered with me, but really they end up being my cleanup crew. I’m a little to fast to keep up with” with a sheepish smile he looked down to you who only nodded your head with a hum before looking back ahead. “I can control my feathers from my wings, helps fulfill my need of being a constant mutli tasker” he joked a bit, which you gave a small laugh as you looked to his wings he now stretched out behind him fully. They only seemed to put you in awe as you raised a hand questioningly, only letting your hand softly brush against the red feathers once he gave a nod of permission.

“You seem pretty young, that is a lot you’ve got accomplished” You complimented, your steps now coming to halt as the two of you now made eye contact. Though he looked away to now look up to the starry night.

“I could say the same for you, you are the same age or yet probably a year or two younger” he pointed out before he looked down to you, waiting expectantly for an answer. you gave a nod of your head.

“What can I say? The commission liked what I could do and plucked me right up after my graduation” you said with a small roll of your eyes and a sarcastic chuckle. “Can’t complain, I wouldn’t be standing here with all these opportunities handed to me.” a sigh was soon pushed out into the cool spring air, Hawks giving a soft nod before looking back down to you.

“Yeah, I’m all too familiar with that...” you were just about to open your mouth to ask him a question before you cellphone had began to blare out it’s annoying ringtone, causing your to scramble for it within your bag to finally answer it, walking a bit ahead to hush words into the device before hurrying back. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to leave!” you shouted as you were already running off as fast as your heeled feet could take you, Hawks trying his best catch up, but once you had begun to weave through the groups, he lost you. With a curse he got swept away in a group, now to only be left to wish to see you again. 

“Good morning!” Called the secretary as you sipped tiredly from your coffee and was now skillfully opening your office door despite the binders and folders that were balanced on your arm. “You had a delivery this morning, so i placed it on your desk” called the secretary as you entered your room, eyes landing upon the flowers that rested in their vase on your desk. 

“What in the world....” you muttered out as you settled the things down on the work table nearby, now stepping up to the vase that held the arrangement to pluck off the note that sat in it’s little plastic holder. 

‘I didn’t even get the chance to ask for a number let alone an email address or something...so here is mine -Hawks’ and there was the number and there was the stupid grin that managed to crawl on your face as you sat down at your desk now admiring the flowers.

“Goodness..” you mumbled out as you grabbed the remote for the tv that was mounted onto the wall, turning on the channel, listening to the voices as you prepped your desk for the work you were about to begin. 

“Number two hero Hawks made an appearance at the ball for Hero and all Hero support personnel and sidekicks hosted by the commission to raise donations for the damage caused by....” Though the rest of the words now drowned out from your ears as your mouth was now agape, you now sitting up straight within your chair as you stared down to the name ‘Hawks’ scribbled on the small piece of cardstock. 

“What?!” You exclaimed. Wow...you really escaped that ball with the nation’s number two hero and didn’t even know. 

How embarrassing...

[cosmiclatte28]

Forced Marriage II

Hello!! The awaited second part is here! Refresh memory here

Thank you so much for waiting and I promise, one more chapter and this trilogy is done. Also I already have the idea and ending, so it's going to be fast.

A/n : I cried in the middle of writing this. A bit too carried away by the emotion of explaining (y/n)'s abusive father. I cried like cried a lot and sobbed. Blew my nose and wiped my eyes but as I type tears keep falling (I hope I am not the only one crying)

trigger warning : character's death

tagging : @yutahoes @neopalette @swagmonsterofficial @byunniebaekhyunnie @huniehoeee

writing net : @supermwritersnet @multifandomnet

“Good morning Mam, is (y/n) awake?" Baekhyun greets the young lady watering the small garden on the front porch.

“Oh Baekhyun! What is it that makes you come early in the morning? And No she hasn't” your mother looks at the young energetic man in front of her. Memories flash by her eyes when she still remembers Baekhyun being the small cheerful boy from next door. Puberty does hit him well, your mother thought.

“Did you bump your head last time mam?” Baekhyun playfully asks, he knows your mother close enough to crack jokes and secretly your mother loves his playful jokes.

“Oh Baekhyun, you’ve never changed! Always the fun silly careless boy from next door. Now, I know you’re here to deliver milk right?” your mom takes a peek at the truck Baekhyun’s brother is handling.

Well the Byun family owns a farm and supplies milk and eggs to this town and the neighboring town. They’re a well known family for it.

“Do you mind if we get one more bottle? We have guests today.” Your mother takes out her wallet to pay for the milk and Baekhyun nods “We have plenty today! I’m glad your guest gets to taste this town’s best milk. Who is this lucky guest mam?” Baekhyun asks as he puts the milk down to the front patio.

Your mother comes back with some cash and gives it to Baekhyun along with a basket of fresh bread she just baked this morning.

“It’s your favorite bread. I see there’s a lot of deliveries today.” your mom smiles seeing the truck full of eggs and milks.

Baekhyun nods “Yes, business is doing good.”

“Oh about the guest, well he’s (y/n)’s future fiance. Hope you can meet him soon and be friends with him. He’s a nice guy, like you Baekhyunie.” your mother taps his nose like she used to when Baekhyun was nine.

Baekhyun’s smile falls when he hears “(y/n)’s future fiance.” what is this? Why has he never heard the news from you?

He has a lot to ask but his brother already honks the horn and Baekhyun comes back to his senses

“Come over for dinner or lunch next time Baekhyun!” your mother offers a polite invitation to the young lad and Baekhyun puts on his smile again as he bows “Thank you and I’ll see you soon mam.” he waves goodbye and jumps into the free seat next to his brother.

“Have a nice day you two!” your mother sends the Byun brothers off and descends to the kitchen with the fresh milk.

“Baekhyunie,” she sighs and hides a small smile “Always charming and sweetheart, some lady will be lucky to have him one day.”

--

Baekhyun’s brother hears everything, but he is not aware of the romantic feelings both you and Baekhyun share. He only knows the relationship between his brother and you is platonic.

“Look at (y/n), it’s like only yesterday their family moved in and both of you are so young. Running around carelessly, getting bruises from trying to climb trees, and woop she’s engaged now. When will you get a fiancee Baek?” his brother jokes around and wiggles his eyebrow to Baekhyun who only keeps his head on the road by the window

He sighs “I don’t know, why don't you get married first. You’re the brother here.” he scorns

You spend the day waiting for your neighbor’s head to pop up on the window but until lunch he’s not back yet. Your mother told you he’s away to the town and the neighboring town for the day but usually by afternoon they’re back. There’s nothing much for you to do since Sehun bid farewell and said he’ll return next week with the plans all ready and the wedding can happen soon. You don’t even have to buy a dress because your mother wants you to use hers, since its the tradition. You scoff in your mind, when do you ever have a chance to make a choice?

Even something as simple as what outfit to wear to meet someone, your mother won’t let you choose by yourself

Tea time makes you finally move your butt from sitting next to the window. His room window is still shut closed and the truck is still not home. Did something happen to them? Your worry disappears when the truck comes into your sight but you already got yourself dragged out of your room by your mom.

Baekhyun washes his body quickly and climbs up to his room after faking a smile to his parents. His brother is busy counting today’s revenue but Baekhyun opens his window and sits down only to stare at yours which was still open.

He can see your room, how the lights are on and he knows that means you were dragged out and you didn't have the chance to turn the lights off.

He sighs and closes his curtain, watching your empty room already makes it hard for him to breathe. What about the day when you will move into Sehun’s house?

Judging by his car yesterday, Baekhyun knows he is from the city and he is rich. Will Baekhyun be able to wake up in the morning knowing that the reason he wakes up everyday is now taken away from him? Not that he can actually say “taken away” since he never claims you as his.

You sit uncomfortably on your chair. Your father keeps on talking about this wedding. He doesn't even realize he’s indirectly saying “I am marrying you to Sehun just for the sake of my business so it won’t crumble down and you’ll live a good life after I die.”

Your ear burns with every single word your father rambles. Yes you grew up with his strict rules, you got hit several times but this… setting up your marriage and pressing on you to accept it as his last wish hurts the most.

“I don’t love Sehun.” you try to speak up your voice.

Your dad chuckles as he sips on his tea “I never said this marriage is based on love.”

You gulp and look at your mom with your red eyes. You’re ready to cry and scream here that you’re tired of your life being controlled but your mother shakes his head gently with a pleading look and you don't want to hurt her feelings so you keep your lips shut.

--

Life feels like hell after Sehun’s constant mail filled with questions of which flower you want, what color you want his tie to be and whatever useless question he asks (it’s useless because you don’t intend to bother thinking of which color or flower for a wedding you don’t want).

Since the day Sehun left, you’ve never met Baekhyun too and that is odd. Something about the way his window is always closed when you wake up, how he never pops his head randomly at the window, his constant busy days that you don’t hear any knock of pebbles on your window and the disappearing sunshine in your life.

Your wedding invitation is distributed already to everyone that’s within the inner circle and in your hand now lies one more invitation you can’t bring yourself to hand.

“Byun family” was written on the addressed invitation. You hold the invitation in your hand and almost drop it when your mother suddenly enters your room and questions you with “Whose invitation is that you’re still holding?”

You gulp “Baekhyun’s” your voice croaks and your mother nods.

“Why are you not giving it to them?” she sits down next to you and runs a hand on your hair.

“I haven't seen him and I want to give it to him.” you lie. Well to be honest, you’d rather have your mom deliver this to his mother but you need an excuse to meet Baekhyun and he’s been gone so you need to see him. At least see him before you are married to another man you barely know.

--

Early in the next morning, you wake up to the noise from the window. You open the blinds, looking to find the ruckus and that's when your eyes pop open. There you see Baekhyun jumping around the garden and his family are just smiling and patting his back. You saw a white envelope in his hand and you're trying to remember if he ever tells you about waiting any good news. No, Baekhyun never tells you anything. You open your window and pop your head out waiting for the happy man to notice you and maybe share the good news with you, but until he climbs into his room, he didn't spare you a glance and instead he's calling someone and you're sure that is Chanyeol.

You tried to eavesdrop but it's impossible despite the close distant, someone was using the blender downstairs. Annoyed, you toss some rock to his direction but it all doesn't hit him.

Now, you're mad. What made him ignore you, was it that carnival night incident? After that you never met him… so is that why he is still ignoring you?

You wave and try to get his attention, to which he completely didn't see. Alas, your mother calls you for breakfast and you have to go.

The sweet smell of waffles make you smile and lighten up your sour mood.

"What's the good news in Baekhyun's house?" You ask your mom when she looks like she knows something.

She smiles as she sips her tea "Oh didn't you hear? He was auditioning for a record company and well he sent his tape and he won the offer. The company wants him to move to the town this weekend and they will begin his contract and discuss his debut. Oh that Baekhyun!" Your mom wipes a tear that fell, as if he is her son and she is so damn proud.

Your father smiles "Good fella, he sure will make it big. I remember him singing in the town hall when he was eleven! Good vocal, good looks, easy personality. I think the company made a good decision."

Both your parents are so happy, but you… something inside your heart is furious. How come he never tells you about this, will he leave you? Leave you for a dream that might flop!

You hide your feelings during breakfast and after cleaning up, you sneak out to knock on Baekhyun's window.

The mischievous grin you memorize by heart appears in the window and he gladly opens it up so you can climb in.

"What makes you climb in my window?" He calmly asks. His stupid smile still there as if he didn't do any mistakes and he was surprised you are here.

You sigh "You lied."

He shrugs his shoulders "You lied first."

You scrunch your brow "What do you mean?!"

He sits down and you copy him "Well, you didn't tell me the truth that you are engaged."

You froze and he slaps your back "Guess my proposal last time wasn't good. Congratulations." He tried to joke it off but you are tearing up.

"Don't congratulate me. I don't know him and I don't love him."

Baekhyun sighs "It's father again isn't it?" He places a comforting arm around you and you bury your face in his chest. Crying your heart out and calming you down.

"I'm sorry honey, I couldn't propose wealth to your father and I couldn't even ask your hand for marriage with a diamond ring. I'm sure that lucky guy has so many to offer you." He rubs your hair but his words sting more and you punch him "I don't need that. I just want to be with you."

"Well, we can still be friends." He tries to hold his emotion back at the word friends.

"But I want you as my husband! I love you." You stare into his eyes and see his eyes smile "I just need to hear that. I also love you."

"And you are not telling me that you auditioned for that singing company!" You punch his chest again.

Baekhyun giggles "Sorry, I heard your mom said about the fiance and I was so sad and mad at myself for not claiming you first… so that made me send my audition tape because I thought that you're going to be his and it'll hurt me."

"So you're leaving me with that man. You run!" You let out a breather

Baekhyun bites his lips "Well, I have to chase my dream like you always said."

"My dream is to be a singer." Baekhyun stands up and shows you the acceptance letter.

You read it through the tears "This is so far away Baek."

"Well, but it's a step closer to singing in stage!" He stares at you with passionate energy in his eyes and you couldn't bring yourself to beg for him to just stay here and be your neighbor so you can at least wake up and see him and feel less bad.

"Now, I have to leave this Sunday. Do you want to spend the rest of the week with me?"

You nod and hide the invitation behind your back. No he shouldn't know that you're getting married. Let him think he is only your fiance that won't hurt him.

"It's Tuesday already, we have 5 days."

You wipe your tears and lock your eyes to the ecstatic boy.

"Later i will write songs about you! About our friendship and about our memories. I'll make money and I can get you that diamond ring and we can host a wedding you love! The simple one in a garden." He pretends he is walking down the aisle and you just want to disappear. No one should break his heart but if he must get his heart broken why must it be from you?

"So, (y/n) wait for me okay. Don't get feelings with this man."

You scoff, Baekhyun doesn't even know the man's name.

"And then one day I will return to you and we can live like our dream." He takes your hands into his and twirls you around the room. You laugh and giggle, feeling alive from the small action you missed.

He ends with hugging you and you wish so hard that life could change its path and you can be with Baekhyun.

"Congratulations Baekhyun!" You whisper

--

5 days. 5 days to Baekhyun's departure and 6 to your wedding.

Day 1, you rush your fitting and got to spend the afternoon walking to the rose garden near the forest.

Day 2, Baekhyun starts packing and you're using the chance to practice your wedding speech and your walk. The afternoon was spent together strolling around down town

Day 3, You had to pick the dress up and Baekhyun had to legalize some of his documents. You sneak to his rooftop that night, both of you just sitting and enjoying the starry nigh.

Day 4, You help him pack only for him to realize your body has bruises. He stops you from helping and folds your sleeves "What else did you do?"

You shake your head and unfold the sleeve trying to shake it off saying it's just a small problem but Baekhyun could see the fear in your eyes and he knows you're lying.

"Wait for me, I'll save you. I promise." He pulls you into a hug and for the first time, you press a deep kiss into his lips.

Day 5, You hand him the invitation and you're glad you kissed him last night because right now all you can see is your feet and how Baekhyun's hand trembles. His hair hides his eyes but from the way his lips shake and his body shakes, you know he is furious and disappointed at you.

"I am sorry." You whisper

"Why not sooner." He asks, his voice so bitter and dry. His eyes still avoid yours.

"I want to spend my time with you before you go."

"But why you keep this invitation until today?!" His voice cracked and you cried. This time, he doesn't console or calm you down. He lets you cry alone

He closes the invitation "You could've given me sooner and I won't be promising you all those dreams. Now I sound like the jerk who made promises to a girl who will be married in two days! Grow up (y/n)! If I knew this-"

You cut him off "If you knew this, you'd avoid me Baek! And I wouldn't want to waste my precious 5 days to be with you. Heck who knows if this might be the last time we see each other." You're furious too and Baekhyun shakes his head "What are you talking about. We're adults! I'll definitely accept the news like a mature man. I won't give you the silent treatment."

You scoff "You would. I know you Baekhyun."

"And if you know me… do you know that because you did this, i am now so i don't know… i'm " he pauses

"You hate me?" You ask that

He shakes his head and stomps his leg "I love you okay! But this is not right! I'll. You know what?" He couldn't speak right and couldn't think straight

"This will make my departure easier. You do know artists cannot date and I'll be busy. Well, now I won't have the reason to think about you and our dream. You're going to be with him forever and i? I will be the fool who didn't know you're already someone else's. Goodbye. And congrats."

"No Baekhyun. Please, sorry. I cannot do anything!"

"Yes I know. You're just too afraid of everything your father said. You can't fight for yourself and oh I'm tired okay! If you told me earlier, we could think of a way to stop this. But now it's too late! I'm leaving tomorrow and your wedding is ready! Don't make yourself an embarrassment by canceling the date. Go, live your silver spoon life. Goodbye (y/n) it was nice knowing you."

Baekhyun steps inside his house, closes the door and you're there staring at the floor, eyes still wet.

He's right . It's too late.

You force yourself to go home and well, you didn't even get to send him a proper goodbye.

--

Baekhyun just left like that, with a simple goodbye from the window and he’s gone. You are also preoccupied by the busy preparation for the big day tomorrow that you don’t have time to ask Baekhyun about his arrival or well updates.

While drowning in the sadness of losing Baekhyun, your best friend, your love, and your dream, you have no soul left when you have to recite the vows. The wedding bells deafen your ears, the smile from the guests blind your eyes and when Sehun kisses your lips, your tears fall because Baekhyun’s right everything is too late to be fixed.

You’re glad Sehun didn’t force you to sleep with him on the first night. He respects your decision and you sleep peacefully that night, mostly because you’re tired of thinking and the day is tiring.

Your morning wasn’t any difference than before, despite living in a house not far from home, you didn’t feel any difference. Well, Sehun is as stoic as your dad, his morning is filled with coffee, newspapers, and him checking his agenda.

“We will be busy this week, your dad wants to move the company ownership to us, you will follow me to the office. Go dress up smart and I’ll see you in the car an hour from now, is that enough?” he asks and you nod.

The maids here clean up the table as Sehun leaves to fetch his documents and working bag and you just hope Baekhyun will reply to any of your texts.

The paperwork takes your whole one week, office paperworks, house ownership, marriage legalization and well with your father’s health deteriorating it’s been hard for everyone to keep signing papers when father is in the hospital. Your father has already prepared his last wills and all beneficiaries.

You finally get news from Baekhyun’s mother saying that he already signed the contracts and the company loves him and wants to make a great debut for him. He’s preparing to write songs and he is arranged to debut in two years if he is good.

One month after being Oh Sehun’s wife, you begin to see a difference in your husband’s attitude. Yes he can be a caring man, his cold facade is slowly gone, but the sly look in his face is still there. You don’t know what but something in your guts say that this is just the calm before the storm. Your father’s condition gets worse and the hospital announces that he will probably have months left. You take turn with your mom in looking after dad. He’s in the bedroom lying down half alive, the machines keep his heart pumping and the oxygen tube in his nose forces oxygen into his lungs. You feel bad for him, despite all the pain you grew up with, your dad was a responsible person who never leaves you and your mom.

“I am sorry (y/n) for being a bad father. I hope you forgive me and I hope your future will be good.” he said that one afternoon when he saw you crying on his side. You were crying because you were telling him your heart about how he hurts you but he was trying his best for his family.

“I am sorry I cannot be your ideal daughter.” you hold his hand and he smiles weakly, “You’re all I would ask for. I love you and mom so much but I’m just so bad am I not? I hit you a lot.”

You cry harder, “It was because you care about me.”

He shakes his head “I shouldnt have been that hard. You’re a flower after all, we need to handle you with care”

“But you trained me to be a warrior dad. And whatever storm I will face one day, I will be thankful that you beat me as a kid so that I won’t just cry and accept fate if things go wrong.”

Your father lets another tear fall ���I hope you don’t have to experience that time, but if you have to, I know I prepared you well.”

You hold into his hand tighter “I forgive you dad. Do you forgive me?”

He smiles “I never hate you love, I always forgive your mistakes every night before I sleep. I just have to punish you so you know that everything comes with consequences.”

You nod “I’ll remember that, how are you feeling dad?”

He coughs “Feeling like a sinner confessing his sins, but I’m glad I have time to tell you this.”

You kiss his hand and he takes a deep breath. “Be happy my flower, use the wealth for good stuff, and always help others. Remember that everything takes process.”

Your mom comes into the room and when the golden sun rays kiss your dad’s face, he glances to you and your mom. His sincere smile blooms and both you and your mom hold his hands, he takes one deep breath “My job here is done, I love you both.” he lets a big exhale and there goes your father. A great man who just can’t express his love in the best way.

Come to think of it, he is always coming home whenever he can. He tries to go home fast so he can eat dinner together. He only starts breakfast when all the chairs are filled. He taught you how to use a screwdriver, he taught you chess so you can beat your nosy friends. He helped you ride your bike. He’s the one who pays all of your living cost and not for once has he made you worried about what the family will eat for today. When life wasn’t as easy as this, he made sure you can still get a new dress on special days and he tries his best to bring you to the circus tour. Wealth came to your father when he was old and you were a young adult, and now he doesn’t have the time to enjoy it too much but he gave it all to you.

Baekhyun trained so hard day and night. His will and desire to be an artist beat all of his homesickness and exhaustion. He always appears in the training room with a big smile even though he has to go home half asleep. The company loves his attitude and promises a lot of good things for him. The boy just smiles, saying he’ll be happy as long as his dream of being an artist comes true. He heard about your dad’s death from his family and actually came home to join the funeral. He saw you but you were too sad to notice him and so he disappeared the next day. He noticed you moved back into your mother’s house because you don’t want her to feel alone. Sehun lets you do that, and because your mom insisted Sehun to also stay there, now the three of you live under the same roof.

Two years after your father’s death, Baekhyun has his debut. Well, it has to be delayed because the company saw that it’s going to be better to debut in Summer than in Fall. His hard work paid off when you finally see his name rising in charts and appearing in music shows. His hair is no longer boring, it’s painted silver white and you never think Baekhyun will look hot as an old man, but here you see him looking so handsome and lively as he finally gets to sing on a stage for thousands of audience. He was labeled as the successful rookie and he’s been offered a lot of advertisements and special appearances. You’re happy whenever you hear the town people talk about his name, or when the radio turns on his song. You missed him, you always text him but he rarely replies.

Everything seems going according to plan, but your guts were right. Those days were just the calm before the storm.

To be continued….

“(Y/n), come to the hospital now.”

“(Y/n) a package is here for you.”

[aquarri]

Humor/Fluff Fics

- Laundry Room by beautlouis (10,352 words)

[Louis and Harry are both students living in the same apartment complex. They end up having the same laundry night and time. Louis can't stop staring at Harry and he can't figure out why Harry consistently points out Louis’ inside-out shirts, and his untied shoes, and messy hair. Enter slow burn-ish flirting, banter, awkwardness, and a lot of laundry.]

- Naked & Proud by kiwikero (18,783)

In which Harry runs an organic store, not a nudist colony, and Louis doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

- Anonymous Said by alivingfire (21,158 words)

When Harry was sixteen, he reached out for someone, anyone, to help him through the hardest days of his life. When Louis was eighteen, he answered. While they didn't know each other's names or faces or lives at all, really, it didn't stop them from falling a little bit in love.

And when Harry moves to Manchester for uni two years later, he meets a boy in a bookshop named Louis and wonders why it all feels so easy.

Or: two boys, two blogs, two years of anonymous messages, and a bookshop where it all comes together.

- Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy (34,873 words)

In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.

- blend into my favourite colour by rainbowninja167 (19,904 words)

Harry is a barista with a secret Werewolf High fan blog, a desperate crush on a customer named Louis, and a best friend on Tumblr who always makes him laugh. Louis can't figure out why the barista at his favorite coffee shop keeps creepily staring at him, and to make matters worse, he may be slightly in love with a friend he met online.

A love square involving two boys, one TV fandom, and one food fight.

- The Green Room by JasTheLarrie (112,197 words)

Louis has just been through a bad break-up and accidentally verbally assaults unsuspecting flower delivery man Harry.

- Tongue like electric, eyes like a child by glitterlarries (13,990 words)

Harry stumbles into Louis in a kebab shop at two in the morning, and nothing will ever be quite the same again.

- anything you ask and more (19,131 words)

louis knows that he's in love the second harry begins speaking about the bolsheviks. (or, louis is a history teacher & harry is the fit curator that he desperately wants to mongol invade him, however many times niall tells him he's a psychopath.)

- We’re Going Down Swinging by eyesofshinigami (21,275 words)

Or, the one where Louis and Harry fake it til they make it, so to speak.

- That’s How I Know by allwaswell16 (19,798 words)

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

- Change My Needs by zarah5 (13,392 words)

AU. A one-night stand gone wrong. Or: it’s just Louis’ luck that the boy he wanted to take home needs stitches after a club brawl. Honestly, a precautionary trip to the emergency room isn’t Louis’ idea of a fun time - but a hospital waiting room is a good place to fall in love.

- Long Before We Both Thought The Same Thing by allyasavedtheday (36,547 words)

Or, Louis maybe, sort of realises he's in love with his best friend of almost twenty years and he maybe, sort of thinks that said best friend could love him back? A prequel to If You Asked Me If You Love Him (I'd Lie).

- Space Oddity by Velvetoscar (14,506 words)

Louis' blessed with the inconvenience of getting his neighbor's mail. It works out really well for the both of them.

- All I See Is You, Lately by runaway_train (2,016 words)

Harry noticed him for the first time three months ago. He couldn’t not, really, what with the man being so pretty and all, and Harry remembers it well because it was three days before his birthday and he had joked to himself that seeing someone so gorgeous for three days on the trot must be an early present from the Gods.

Or

The one where Harry has a crush on a fellow commuter.

- All Out of Love by SunTomato (32,788 words)

Harry is a Cupid, who work their magic on a different plane, invisible to humans. Harry is good at love. Harry loves love. Unfortunately, Harry can be a bit clumsy, and sometimes he gets a little distracted.

While on a mission to match Liam and Zayn, the distraction comes in the shape of Louis Tomlinson – an overworked and underloved man trying way too hard to do everything himself. Everywhere Harry turns, he sees Louis.

That wouldn’t really be a problem except that Harry’s fairly sure Louis sees him, too.

- you were in my dream by staybeautiful (59,358 words)

or Louis woke up after having a sexy dream about his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend resolved to never think about it again. He hardly knew Harry, so what difference would it make? But when they are thrown together only a few days later, Louis had to admit, his subconscious might have been onto something.

- 2 a.m. texts by everysingleday (30,112 words)

Harry has just come out and, with his best friend Louis’ support, he might finally be brave enough to go on a date with the guy he’s been chatting with on a dating app. Meanwhile, there’s a cat that wants to murder Louis, a fast-approaching deadline for Harry to find a new place to live, and this minor situation wherein he and Louis can’t seem to stop making out. It’s not a big deal. Louis is just being supportive.

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Eleven, "The Abyss"

Word Count: 5.4k /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad / Song: / It's Not The Same Anymore by Rex Orange County (click to listen) / Warning: Sensitive and upsetting topics, such as death, grief, and miscarriage

"The day after my baby died what shocked me the most was the sun still rose, and the post still slipped through my mailbox, and I still got thirsty, and the birds still sang, and the traffic lights still changed colour . . but my world had stopped, my planet had stopped spinning."

- Zoe Clark-Coates

I tried to stay there, beside him and with him, but I couldn't. The stillness had returned and I was sucked into its world once again, watching time pass in front of me. Waking up was the hardest, knowing what I had come back to and not wanting to move, let alone leave the bed. It wasn't ours and I was glad for it, if it was the only thing that made me feel a hint of that. I couldn't imagine lying in ours and my recommended bed rest was welcomed.

I didn't try to fight it, the emptiness that swam around inside of me, silencing my ears to Harry's words. His questions and pleas for me to eat. Somehow, I sat there and I did, sometimes. I ate and laid on the couch, watching Friends with him. He didn't think I noticed, but I did. I saw how he skipped the episodes where Phoebe was pregnant as we watched the show through for what must be the third time. I wasn't asleep like he thought when he tearfully told my dad over the phone what had happened. His sister. My brother. I pretended again when Skye stopped over with food that Harry took quietly, and when Myles did too. I listened in the bedroom or on the couch, my eyes closed, as he cried to his mom and then his best friend. I was there listening, but I wasn't there feeling. I couldn't.

I'd lost count of how many times I'd blinked and Harry had been talking to me, going on to repeat himself for what- the fourth time? How was I supposed to know?, I think this time as he stares back at me, a not so secret sigh following his words.

"I'm sorry. What'd you say?"

"I said you need to eat," he repeats, nodding his head towards the plate of food I hadn't touched. I should've known. Despite it being our favorite tacos from Pedro's, I couldn't even stomach the idea of actually eating it. Sighing, he's shaking his head as he dumps another helping of their chips onto his plate. "I don't want to argue about this again. You need to eat, love."

"Neither do I, but I'm not hungry, Harry."

Snapping the lid back onto the nacho cheese sauce, his head is shaking back and forth. Watching his movements, he habitually bites at his bottom lip, seemingly coaxing the words back in.

"I didn't push when you weren't hungry at breakfast, but it's two in the afternoon, Becks. You-."

"I had a protein drink. I'm fine."

"How can you say that?!" his volume shocks me, hearing his words echo around the empty house. Gulping, I look away from his fiery eyes and to the food that makes my stomach turn. "You're not fine. All you've had to eat the last few days are a few bites at meals, and those stupid protein drinks. That can't be healthy. You need to eat because . . "

"Because why, Harry?" I speak up, bringing my eyes back to his. They avoid mine though as he stands across the island from me, rubbing his thumb along the tip of another finger. "You don't know, do you? You can't use the 'eating for two' excuse anymore, because I'm not . . eating for two, am I? I'm not . . not pregnant, so why should I need to eat? You don't have an answer, do you?"

"Because of you, Becks. You need to heal, your body needs the food and-," he begins to insist, but my sharp tongue can't be controlled.

"Trying to shove food down my throat and practically counting the number of bites I take is not going to heal my body, Harry," I retort, sliding off the barstool and stomping my way up the stairs.

Stopping at the landing, I'm not sure what led me up here, seeing as how we're sleeping downstairs now. Something about 'less exertion on my part and I haven't even stepped foot in our bedroom since then' being the reason for the move. The day we came home Harry had moved everything downstairs that we'd needed, and to the bathroom that we use now. It wasn't the same, but was anything anymore?

"Why can't you just talk to me?" he calls from the kitchen. Already, I'm shaking my head before he's finished. I take one step and then two, but I don't get any further when I see the door to the other guest bedroom. The room where they would have slept, and one that I most of all can't step foot in. My foot lifts but I place it back down, wishing I could but knowing that I can't. No, everything about the wound still felt too fresh and I know that I'm not ready to walk back into the nursery. But when could I ever be?

"I'm going to lie down," I mutter, passing the island where he stands, shoving the last of a taco past his lips.

Padding past the living room where the last of Beetlejuice plays with neither of us watching, I hope that he doesn't notice the gleam to my cheeks. I try to wipe it away quickly, and only when my face is buried into the pillow do I let my scream out. The one I'd been holding in all day as he watched me eat a few strawberries at breakfast, during the checkup at the doctor's, and zoning out watching the movie. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't stop the avalanche happening around my heart. It felt like the death of a loved one, because well, it was. There's the death and not even the funeral, and then what? Nobody ever talks about what comes after and how to deal with grief. Everything looked good at the doctor's visit and Harry asked a bajillion questions while I wasn't even sure what to say. I could tell he wanted to say something about how I'd been acting, but I silently thanked him for not doing so. Just like how I do the same now, knowing that he won't walk in as I cry myself to sleep for what, the fifth time in the last four days? No, it had been more than that.

I couldn't blame him, because even if he was here with his arms wrapped around me, I wouldn't know what to do. That feeling jumped off my tongue when I told him to go away yesterday when I lied about taking a nap. He'd only wanted to take one too perhaps, but I'd jumped down his throat. I didn't know what was happening to me, but there was hardly a small part of me that cared. I didn't even wish that I did.

Throat aching and eyes burning, I breathe in past the sniffles and stare out the window where light leaks in from. My baby. Our baby. I still couldn't believe that they were gone, our daughter. I'd never get to feel her kick or know what her smile looked like. I was sure it looked like his, lopsided with two dimples. That made my cheeks grow wetter, but it worsened when I thought of her name and the hollowness that came with it. I didn't stir when the door slowly creaked open, only staring at the new strip of light that interrupted the darkness.

"I'm going for a walk. Would you like to come?" Harry says, caution at the forefront of his voice. I couldn't find it in me to answer, not even when the next words came, making the line of yellow disappear entirely from my vision. "Alright, well I have my phone if you need anything . . I hope you sleep well, bug. I love you . . so much."

"Love you," I whispered, but it was too late. The yellow line had disappeared and so had he. It had only been four days since our baby had died and it felt like months, far too many. "Harry?" I call, sitting up to turn towards the door. Hastily wiping my hand under my eyes, I listen intently.

It's only moments before the wash of light returns, casting shadows along his face. His eyebrows fall into a questioning V and I try to ignore the extra tablespoon of sadness in his eyes.

"I love you too," I say tearfully, catching the tear before it falls from my eye.

A corner of his mouth itches upwards, but not quite, "I love you more, Becks." It sits on my tongue, impatient for its chance that I'm afraid doesn't come. "Were you gonna say something more?"

"No, just . . bundle up for your walk. It's cold."

"I will," he smiles, sending me a wink before closing the door quietly behind him. I remain in that pose, sitting up and watching the door, wishing he'd come back. I almost said it, but for some reason, I couldn't.

Why couldn't I just ask him to stay and to come and lie down with me? Because, he'd ask questions or want to talk about it, the thing that consumed us both, even if we tried to pretend otherwise. No, I was far past that. I never had the poker face that he did.

He didn't think that I heard him, but by now, we had gotten good at pretending in one way or another. Harry pretended like things were okay, and I pretended that I didn't hear him sobbing his eyes out in the bathroom as I laid in bed, faking being asleep yet another night. It tore at my heart but I didn't know how to tell my legs to move and cross the hallway to him. I acted as if I ate half of my plate at dinner, per our new deal, but I really only ate a quarter and threw the rest away. I pretended to not see the second glance he gave me when he walked in on me changing. I knew it but acted as if I didn't see the thinner reflection of myself, despite knowing how nutrition worked.

I ignored it a lot, but the next day when the doorbell rang yet again with a delivery man on the other side, it was enough. As I walked away from the door with another strong-smelling vase in hand, I couldn't fake it anymore. Seeing as how nothing was normal anymore, the kitchen table now overflowed with vases of flowers, us having not eaten there for weeks. My feet refused to move any closer to the hoard of a smell that now made my stomach turn.

I don't remember telling my body to do it, but suddenly, I'm watching in slow motion as the glass shatters at my feet. I couldn't tell you why I stood there, staring at the tendrils of water spreading on the floor. Neither could I explain away tossing the flowers into the garbage can with the note I never read. They all said the same thing. 'I'm sorry for your loss,' 'Thinking of you,' blah blah. Harry had been gone for a while, getting groceries at the market, and it was only a matter of time before he came back. I wasn't sure how I would explain this, and as I picked up the shards of glass, the guilt grew in my gut. The rumble of an engine outside made me jump, worrying it was Harry. Wincing, my palm suddenly burns and upon looking, scarlet soon seeps from a new cut.

I ignored his casual greeting ten minutes later, probably kicking the door closed behind him. He didn't say anything about the flowers, because for the first time in two weeks, I took out the trash after sweeping up the mess. I stuffed the blood-spotted rag in there too. When he pushed the bedroom door open with a long creak, I played pretend again, acting like I didn't hear his voice.

"You sleeping, bug?" his molasses voice mumbled, marked by the soft fall of his feet. I hadn't even heard them cross the room until they stopped behind me, and I felt his touch. "I hope you're having sweet dreams. I missed you, I do all of the time lately," he murmurs against my head.

I find it hard to not stir when his fingers drag against my temple with a lock of my hair. It had been something I'd gotten used to ignoring, but this time, as he pressed his lips to my temple, I wanted to reach out to him and grab hold, and never let go. The sensation only grew stronger as the sound of his footsteps disappeared, it all coming to a head. One that's only answered by a fitful of sobs racing past my lips, the first thing I'd felt in a while, next to the guilt at the flowers. Why couldn't I be okay? It stung, the words calling for him that I held back as I heard the sounds of cupboards opening and closing. I knew he would come. Did I really, after all I'd put him through? No, I didn't really know that. I wasn't sure of anything anymore, I realized, and it only made me sob harder.

Dinner was a doozy yet again. I'd come to dread meals. The stare-downs Harry would give me along with the protein drink he always shoved my way a good fifteen minutes after my last bite, if any. It was like clockwork yet again. This time, it was Strawberries and Cream, and as I grabbed for the bottle sitting in front of me, he stopped. No, this wasn't how it went. He usually took my plate and dumped it in the garbage, no longer sticking it in the fridge for later, because he knew that there wouldn't be one. Most of the time he only filled the plate half full, but today, I guess he'd gotten his hopes up and filled it high. Now, he didn't walk away and instead, stood there looking. At what I didn't notice until I followed his eyesight, immediately pulling the sleeve of my sweater over my hand.

"Hey, what happened to your hand?" Harry asks, nodding to the appendage that disappears like a frightened turtle into its shell. I didn't need him asking any more questions than before, or finding another reason to nag at me. "Love?"

"I-It's nothing, I just got a scratch."

"A scratch doesn't require gauze. Let me see," he insists, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. His touch is gentle but nonetheless, it feels foreign somehow, and I retract my hand from his. I catch his eye and look away, but it's too late, I've already seen how they look. How he looks at me, offended and scared all in one. "Buggie, did you . . did you do this to yourself?"

"What?" the word passes my lips in one breath, like a whoosh. Now, I'm looking at him and already, the regret has glazed over his eyes. His lips are parting with a save face, but it's too late now. "I didn't hurt myself, Harry. It's not like that. I-."

"Then what happened, Becks? Why can't you tell me, huh?" he huffs loudly, dropping his clean plate into a sink with a clash! It makes me jump and the sound of defeat from him makes him realize aloud. "I want you to talk to me, and . . I miss talking to you."

The cogs turn in my brain but the puzzle pieces with a few dozen missing ones refuse to lock together at the sound of his voice. What could I even say that would sound right? Nothing would, I know it. A quietness settles over the kitchen save for another trashy show on the tv behind us, my barstool squeaking underneath me. I could count the seconds that a word doesn't pass between us until my rebuttal is impossible to push down.

"Why won't you go to that session Dr. Baker set up for you?"

"I'm not hurting myself, Harry," I repeat, peeling my eyes from my naked fingers to look at the back of his head.

"Why won't you ever just give me an answer?" turning around, his lost green eyes fall on me. It felt like a long time ago, the way that very pair could pull words from my lips. Feelings. Kisses. Love. It digs past my own and deep into my chest, but it comes up empty-handed.

"I'm not going to a fucking shrink," I answer, remembering the bottle. Giving it a shake, I feel his eyes hot on the top of my head, waiting for me to give him something. That wasn't something I'd done for a long time, and not even the bare minimum.

"How come? You don't know that it won't help unless you try, Becks," I'm already shaking my head, sure to cause his eyes a roll or two at that. The sloshing of the liquid in my hand suffices my words, because they would have been a mess too. "I wish you'd at least give it a shot, you never know what will happen. It's sure to help to talk about . . her."

"I don't want to go, Harry. Please, just drop it."

Without looking at him, I can tell that he's not finished, even as I try to will the silence away with the glug of a drink.

"No, I'm not dropping it. This is important, Becks. You need to learn to talk about the baby. We need to."

Slamming the drink down onto the counter, the loud thud resonates with me, sounding louder than I'd intended. It reflects in his eyes when I meet them, wondering how they could still hold sunshine in them. I can't even remember what that feels like.

"Maybe I don't want to talk about her, Harry. Did you ever think about that? Maybe I don't want to go and talk to some stranger about how my baby died inside of me. A fucking stranger that probably has kids of her own or some man who's never even wanted children. They don't know and they can't know what I'm going through."

The artificial taste of the berries and cream had grown acrid on my tongue. Turning away from him with my feet leading, I could feel the one mouthful turning in my stomach.

"I can't do this any longer, buggie. I-I've lost our baby and now . . God, now I'm losing you and it's scaring the shit out of me," if my feet had continued, I wouldn't have kept walking. I'd known. I could feel the truth of his words ring in my bones, but hearing them spoken into the air was something else. "I don't know what to do anymore, Rebecca," the river had already begun to run in his voice. I was sure that if I stepped foot into it, I just might drown again too, and so I didn't. It tried to grab hold of me, but with every step taken away from him, its strength dwindled. The worsening ache in my chest at the sound I heard didn't lessen, not even when I threw myself under the covers and pillows. It filled my insides as a similar one poured from me.

It was as if last night had never happened. The entire thing almost, but not in the way I'd wished. No, I'd yearned for a lot of things in the last few weeks and not gotten them. When I awoke the next morning to the sounds of breakfast and the tv playing, it felt like some kind of joke when Harry walked into the bedroom soundlessly with a suit wrapped around him.

On his way back from what must have been finding his rings on the nightstand, he caught my eye as he slid them on. "Hey," he murmurs, a hollowness to his voice that felt deeper than last night. "I was hoping you'd wake up soon."

"Are you going to work?" the question came, piercing the taut air between us. We both already knew by the clothes he wore and the attempt he made to comb back his hair.

"Is that alright? It's just a partner meeting and some managing stuff. If you don't want me to-."

"No, it's fine. Drive safe," I mumble, turning to place my back to him. I could almost hear his nod, knowing it was there as the floor creaked underfoot.

"I will. Maybe I can grab some gnocchi soup on the way home for lunch. I shouldn't be more than a few hours."

My response didn't come and a further one from him didn't either. The sound of the bedroom door behind him did, as well as the front door and that of the garage. It had been next to never the first two weeks that the house was empty, save for me. Just in the last week, he had been leaving more for errands and grocery runs, no longer sufficing with deliveries to our front door. I'd only left the front door once, maybe twice, and that was for the checkup a few days after. A part of me wanted to just walk around the block, but the thought itself tired me out.

I couldn't remember how long he'd been gone by the time my stomach had rumbled. The last piece of cheesecake in the fridge and leftover pizza passed for lunch, if it was even that time. I couldn't do it anymore. Time. The light or lack of outside helped at times, but in our surrogate bedroom, the blackout shades didn't allude to night or day. I wasn't even sure of the time on the clock when he'd left, or even the calendar.

I hadn't turned the pages of one for a while now and upon seeing the date on my phone, it seemed foreign. Everything had at one point over the course of this all now, but the mysterious passing of it hadn't. I'd get the day of the week down and a few days later it would be a Monday again, unbeknownst to me how it could be. I grabbed another snack and was soon confused to find myself loading the dishwasher. Running it. Wiping down the counters. Washing blankets and fluffing pillows.

When I reached the top of the staircase, the blankets I needed just a few steps away, I didn't know how I had gotten here. As if in slow motion, I watched as the door swung open, the image slapping me in the face. I didn't have a clue how I had done it or how it had gotten past me to come up here to this room. The Room. Already, I saw the gift bags I knew to be filled with clothes and other gifts, the stuffed animals, small knitted blankets, and the picture frames with sonograms that once adorned the house. The image had already burned itself to the back of my eyes, only to be replaced by another moments later when the bed of my nightmares sat in front of me.

I didn't know why I'd gone to either place. The nursery and then our bedroom. It wasn't my refuge anymore because I wasn't sure if I still had one. Neither place was safe and my heart didn't feel it either when I pulled the covers over my head, an avalanche of tears making its way through my body. I didn't want to see any of that again. Being reminded of it all was something I couldn't handle, because I hadn't wanted it to be true.

The clock ticked and darkness remained in the room until it didn't. A new sound came, that of footsteps and with it was brought a light that I couldn't face. It built and grew, surmounting when I heard his voice and the crinkle of a bag.

"Hi, buggie. Are you awake? I brought home some lunch," I pushed it down again and again, but it was feeling next to impossible now.

"I'm not hungry."

"But I got your favorite muffin," he teases, crinkling of the bag following his words. The smell of the lemon cream hits my nose, but it doesn't phase me. No, the boiling underneath my skin is too different.

"I said I'm not hungry, Harry. What do you not get about that?!" I snap, pushing the bag away. "I can't believe you're already back to work. How can you just move on so quickly?" His loud sigh is unmistakable, as is the way he slams the bedroom door behind him.

The racing of my heart pounded in my ears as different sounds found their way to me. I laid there waiting and listening as he slammed doors and cursed, not immune to jumping when something shattered before a loud 'fuck!' of his came.

There hadn't been a sound for a while now when I pull back a blanket, at last not able to hear the pounding of my heart. I wasn't sure what I thought I was doing, knowing that there was no way around it. More like, him. Cautiously, I made my way past the tv playing a rerun of Saved By The Bell, and towards him. There weren't many things I'd memorized about Harry after knowing him for a few weeks, maybe shorter. I learned his cues early because I had to in order to work with him and to get somewhere, especially those alluding to his anger.

The broad back that faced me from where he sat at the island didn't tell me what I needed to know but the tension held in his shoulders did. So did the clicking of his tongue, the bouncing of his leg, and most of all, his shaking head and perturbed exhales.

"I saved you a muffin. It's in the fridge. I know that's how you like it . . Soup's in there too," the offer comes out slowly and off his forked tongue, one I know all too well. Perhaps it hadn't made an appearance yet, but it was right there, waiting. "No 'thank you, Harry' or 'how was work, my fiance?'"

"How was work, Harry? Who all asked about me? What lie did you tell them this time, my fiance?" I nearly retort, not afraid to show my horns. The lid to the jar of nuts gets stuck, but with a good twist, I get it. Pouring a handful into a plastic container, I let the next one fly before turning around. "What'd they say when you told them about our dead baby?"

The trained facade on his face washes away upon turning and quickly I realize what I've done. It's not enough though, because time has been against me for its entirety.

"You don't get to act like this. It's not okay to say that kind of shit, Becks," he tuts, wiping a napkin across his lips before standing with bowl in hand.

"But it's okay for you to go back to work already, Harry?!" the question explodes on my lips, but the volcano isn't quite done. "Our baby hasn't even been gone a month."

"You think I don't know that?!" his voice echoes off the walls around us, hitting my ears with an intensity that surprises me. If that hadn't, the expression on his face does. The anger that melts into something else. "Do you think I don't know how long our daughter's been gone, Rebecca? I wake up every morning with a new number in my head, no matter how hard I try not to. I know, okay? Twenty-three days our baby's been gone, Becks. You think I'm not having the same thoughts- feelings just because I don't show them . . And I'm not pulling a 'who has it worse' like our parents always have with us, but- but I lost a baby too, Becks! I also lost a child and you seem to forget that. I was supposed to become a dad in August to a little girl, but I never will now. I'll never meet our Phoebe Anne either."

His cheeks had long ago come to glisten as did his eyes that overflowed with them. I didn't remember mine becoming the same. Was it when something fell apart in my chest, or when the anger melted away into utter guilt? Maybe it was in between the missing puzzles piece falling into the picture and being unaware to dropping the bowl back onto the counter.

"We named her and we've never even called her that and- . . for lack of better words, it kills me. All of this fucking kills me, Becks, and I know how it's doing the same to you. It's taking you away from me and it's almost worse than the night I thought you were going to die, because I'm supposed to be able to control this. I'm the dad, almost the husband- I'm supposed to be able to fix all of this, but I can't. For once, I can't fucking make it all better and it terrifies me . . ," he trails off, crying quietly into his hands that he presses to his face. A weakness overwhelms me and I back up into the counter, afraid I can't hold myself up, but I already hadn't been able to. "Phoebe's gone and- I can hardly bear it. I know you didn't mean what you said just now, because I told Myles before I came that . . that I couldn't talk about it to anybody, Becks. If somebody had I know I would've started crying, because I did the fucking second I saw the sonogram on my desk. I went in to grab something and forgot it was there," he stops, holding onto the countertop as his adam's apple bobs after his words. Red like wild cherries, his lips press together tightly while tears run races over them and down his chin, as he stares at the floor, whimpering.

"I don't want this to break us, Becks- I already know it has and I can't . . I can't lose you. I have so many times and I couldn't handle it if it happened again, for real," his voice frays at the edges from the weight it sits under. The pounds of it feel dropped onto my shoulders when his eyes carry over to me, dripping with unspent words. "We lost our baby and I can't lose my best friend and love too, Becks. Please come back to me."

"I wish I knew how," the reply is a mere whisper but I know he hears. Even without words, he always does.

"You have to try, bug. We have to talk about her, I don't want her to be forgotten."

Bottom lip wobbling, my response is immediate, "Neither do I, Harry, but I don't- I don't know how to talk about her. It hurts so much. I still don't want any of this to be real."

Wiping the back of his hand against his nose, I hear his agreement in his eyes as he takes a step forward, "I wish every day that I could wake up and she's there and not . . not gone, but she's not coming back, Becks. And I'm so sorry," weeping, his voice is taken under by the current of the river flowing down his face. "We have to face it . . to talk about her and what happened. Or else, I don't see us getting through this."

When I realize what I'm doing, the look on his face tells all. Something sparks inside of me and I wish that I could stop shaking my head. That I could stop pulling away from him. "I can't, Harry. I'm not . . I'm not ready," I murmur, wishing I could say that I don't know when I will be. I don't because that would be a lie and although I'd broken so many rules already, I didn't want to lie to him.

Placing my back to him, I make my escape and drown out his sobs with the running water of the tub. I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk about her, and I know he's right. If we can't get past this, we may never make it back from it.

[jbbuckybarnes]

Fun Nights

Bucky x Reader (Agent 16) Description: The result of sexual tension between the two soft idiots. Warnings: S M U T, not beta read

Agent 16 Masterlist | General Masterlist

Gala Night. This time it was the annual press conference for any team updates with an afterparty. You were wearing a lavender colored dress with fake flowers along the shoulders. A sight Bucky wasn't prepared for. Sure, he'd seen you in dresses before but he hadn't been dating you then. Only thought you were the cutest agent back then. Now he knows you are. "You look gorgeous." "Thanks, Buck. Ain't looking too bad yourself. You don't wear suits enough." you went to correct his bow. The urge to kiss you was written on his face but he couldn't, the others were around and you didn't want them in on your dating adventure until you both were 100% sure. "Is everyone ready to drive?" Tony asked and a collective Yes came back.

The press conference was 30 minutes, the afterparty usual Stark style. "Can I order you a drink, mylady?" he suddenly was right next to you. "Sure, Sergeant." you winked and he needed to hold back a sound coming from his deepest primal instincts. You were really driving him insane today. "Your undressing with your eyes isn't settle." you whispered so only he could hear it and his ears went red. "Sorry." "Nah, I get it. I look good." you chuckled. "Get this girl a shot," he asked and added, "doesn't need to waste her precious time at a bar." "Barnes!" you were fake offended and earned a boyish grin. The shot was served, you downed it and stood up. "I'm in my room if you need me." he bit his lip at your words. "Need to check on the pretty girl in a while, huh?" "Yeah, would be a shame if I would fall asleep without a goodnight kiss." and with that you made your way out of the party. In the car back to the compound your legs started to become jelly. The firsts with a new person were always so overwhelming. Especially when they were essentially super human. In the empty compound you got rid of your shoes, undid your hair and washed off your makeup. "Goodnight kiss delivery." you heard after a while of chilling in your bed. You opened the door to a man with almost black eyes. "Woah. Slow down tiger." you chuckled letting him in. "I'm calm. You're just very...intense today." he said while you helped him out of his jacket. "I aim to surprise." you grinned before starting to unbutton his shirt. "Um." you knew this tone and looked up. "I didn't do this since...well, a long time..." his voice drifted off. "That's okay. I know how to use my voice, Buck." you assured him of vocal and if needed physical assistance. "God, I love you." he growled watching your face and hands. "Want to help me out of the dress?" you smiled up and big gentle hands were opening the dress zipper and pulling it over your head shortly after. He analyzed you fascinated. Yeah, he had seen how women dress now, he'd seen some vanilla porn, he'd seen you in shorts and a sports bra before. Actually, he liked to reference that outfit quite often when he had alone time. But this was real, this was the person that he fell for hardcore. "Okay. I need to ask one thing. Who's taking the lead?" you got rid of his belt. "However you want, sugar." he said melting away at the way you opened the button of his pants. "Well, I see a man that didn't get a treat in quite a while." you grinned, melted your lips together for a second before letting his pants drop to the floor and went down on your knees, taking his briefs with you. Without messing around for too long you let your mouth be filled up. "Fuck, that's good." his right hand landed in your hair. Your eyes went up to see his face and he was looking right back, groaning again at your movement. "Holy shit, you're so fucking sexy like that." "Mhm." your hands were massaging him while your head moved faster and every gagging sound was paired up with a groan, a moan or a grunt. With a drawn out "Fuck." white liquid spilled into your mouth and you let him go. The spell was broken, his eyes were completely dark now and only focused on you. You didn't even notice the amount of wetness that wandered to your underwear just from holding his eye contact. He attacked you with a hungry kiss, he had to have you right now and right there. "You don't know how long I've waited for this." you landed on the bed roughly. His hands went to your black cotton panties and ripped them apart making you moan. Something about such an aggressive move from such a soft person made your center essentially a waterfall. "Hmm, so ready for me." he said in a low voice starting to kiss you everywhere. Your bra opened in the front and you opened it yourself before he could also ruin that one. "Mmh, what a pretty sight." his eyes wandered over your body. "Please, Bucky." you whimpered. "I'm here, sugar." "I need you." you whispered touching your boobs. "Where do you need me, babe?" "Inside of me, please." Your breathing hitched at his fingers going through your folds to collected some of the wetness there. "God, I barely touched you and you're dripping, darling." he groaned again before finally pushing into you. "Fuck. Yes." you almost yelled, thankful that the rest of the team was still gone. "So tight for me. God, sugar." he moaned with you. The moment he bottomed out an ungodly moan left you, "Oh my god, Bucky!" "I like it when you say my name like that." he gave you a dirty grin before starting to move. "Does that feel good, darling?" you smiled up at him and gave a nod before giving a content, almost relaxed moan. "Good girl." he whispered, making you tense around him. "I see, someone likes to be praised." he chuckled giving a more rough push and getting a loud moan back. "You feel so good, sugar. Fuck." his face was suddenly buried into your neck and he lightly bit your skin. "Fuck, Bucky." "You like that?" A strangled moan was your only answer before he got faster. "You take me so well." "So good." "So good? Want more?" "Please." you were panting and begging. His pushes became way harsher, faster and deeper. He hit your soft spot so perfectly. Nobody could ever get there before him and you basically were in heaven just from that. "Yes, make a mess all over me." he smiled down at you slowing a little. "I love you." "I love you too, sugar." "So much." "You wanna cum for me?" "Mhm." With sloppy pushes and perfect strokes over your sweet spot you gave a whiny long moan, while your walls squeezed around him, milking him a second time that day. "Shit, darling. That was perfect." he smiled again, kissing your nose, before pulling out. "That was...heavenly." you were still panting and smiling at him next to you. "I could get used to that." his left hand rested on your cheek. "Me too." you laid your hand on top before he moved forward to kiss you. "I love you." "I love you too." "I love you to the moon and back, James Buchanan Barnes. You'll never be able to get rid of me." "I'm okay with that." he chuckled. You leaned over to his ear, "I think you deserve to know my actual name is..."

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @largoindminor donated $50, and requested 'Hannibal/Will, first kiss’. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

It’s a different life, after the fall. Quieter. Still. The sun rises and spills over the earth like a slow pale tide, ebbing against the house where Will watches, waiting.

Canada. Not an exotic escape, like before. Woods and rivers. Snow, most of the time, and the summer a relief of blooming life when it comes. The house is on a patch of land that used to be farmed and that has gone wild in disuse, and around it there are stands of new trees struggling up, and flowers Will doesn’t recognize that bloom in spring, and birds that call in the morning. Like home, or at least the home that was. This is home, now. It has to be.

Summer now, with the days thick with sunlight. He fishes, in the river that curves by, a mile from the house. The dog waits on the shore, watching the birds. He breathes with the rhythm of the water and it’s peaceful--until it’s not. A tug--the line, caught--a salmon, desperate, and Will hauls in the line, gets it in his hands. Massive, struggling, its muscle working and terrified under the thin layer of skin. When he kills it he’s quick, and it lays still in his arms. He lays it on the rocks by the shore. The dog is warned off with a look. A thing that was alive, now dead. He doesn’t mind anymore that he finds it beautiful.

He stays by the river for another hour, sitting. He pets the dog behind the ears. Tiny ecstasy. The river flows east and the woods are full of birds. Life, soaring. He wishes he could enjoy it.

Dusk, or near to it, when he starts the walk home. The dog follows, smelling the fish in his bag. He’ll cook it tonight, he guesses, and it will taste like--nothing. He’s been trying to learn to cook properly, in hopes that spices and herbs and technique will do the trick, but everything he eats is reduced in his mouth to--protein, carbohydrate. Calories. Necessary to sustain life but nothing to care about. He can’t go to a psychiatrist anymore, can’t risk it, but he’s wondered. Is it something that’s changed in his brain chemistry, after the fall? When he woke up alone in a hospital bed with a new name, did the doctors know that this essential human thing in him was lost? Could it be fixed? Does he want it to be?

A mile, walked slowly. Dusk falling in a muffling blanket over the woods. He opens the gate to the property and the dog rushes home, eager for the kibble waiting, the guts of the fish it’ll get as a treat, and Will walks slower up the path between the weeds, because after all, what’s waiting for him.

“Will.”

He looks up.

Hannibal, standing on his porch. Almost unrecognizable--impossible--until he’s not. His hair has fallen over his forehead, and he’s not in a suit but in a thin sweater, sleeves pushed up at the forearms--jeans and boots--and there’s a bag beside him. He watches Will from the shadow under the porch and then takes the two steps down, offering his palm for the dog to snuffle into, never taking his eyes away. In the dusklight Will can see his expression in perfect clarity.

“Where have you been?” he asks.

A year. A year, here in this house that he was told was his. He pretended to amnesia and the doctors were useful, supplied him with his new name and his fake job and his keys and his phone, which had two contacts in it--his, with an address that led him here, and another under the name William Blake with a phone number, which he never called. If Hannibal wanted to speak to him--

But Hannibal’s here, now. “I had to take care of things,” he says. His voice. Rich as the dusk. The dog abandons him, thoroughly sniffed, and wanders off into the grounds to chase something else. Hannibal folds his hands in front of himself, neat. “Loose ends.”

Matter-of-fact and not an apology. Will nods, looks away into the shadowed trees. He wonders how many of those loose ends were tied up with murder. It’s a relief, in a way, to not care. “One last loose end to tie up, then, I suppose,” he says, and lets his bag and rod fall on the path.

Hannibal glances at the mess. Looks up again. “I would rather not,” he says. “If I do not have to.”

For the first time in a year, Will feels--surprise. An uncertainty. “I thought--” he says, and closes his mouth. He reviews, recatalogues. For the first time in a year he closes his eyes and there on the path among the wild-grown things he thinks--of a fall, of the wind rushing. The ocean, the painful crash. Blood, spilling everywhere, and what it must’ve taken to make sure he didn’t die there on the rocks, and afterward Hannibal thinking not of storing him away to be dealt with later but of--

“Safekeeping,” he says. He feels it. Deep in his chest. A space, tender as a bruise. He opens his eyes and Hannibal’s focus on him is absolute. It should be terrifying and isn’t. Never will be, ever again. “You could���ve picked somewhere with delivery.”

A tiny upturn of his mouth--Hannibal, smiling at him. It floods through Will like drowning did. “Why order delivery when you have me as a cook?” he says, light, and Will steps forward almost blind and Hannibal cups his face, leans down over him, thumbs tracing his cheekbones in sweet symmetry--and he says, soft, “You will have me, won’t you, Will?” and Will nods helplessly, and Hannibal leans down and presses their mouths together.

Soft, precise. The world condenses into a space of breath. Will parts his lips and Hannibal tilts his head further back, pressing inside--brush of tongue and a taste of--of nothing, and Will feels a surge of heat behind his eyes. It should be salt, and skin, and the infinitesimal differences in body chemistry that would make it Hannibal’s kiss and no one else’s. He pulls back--half a breath--and Hannibal cups the back of his head, holds him in place. When he looks his face is being searched, every part of him scraped open and bare--like he hasn’t laid himself like an offering, like he hasn’t transfigured at an atomic level to be the man Hannibal made him--and Hannibal says, “Oh, Will,” with an intense and mortifying compassion--and then Hannibal leans in, and bites him.

Will flinches, is caught. Grabs into Hannibal’s shirt, feels the pressure increase. His bottom lip between Hannibal’s teeth, and Hannibal bites harder, and harder, and Will’s muscles spasm involuntarily--and when the blood bursts forth he makes a strange sound he can hardly hear, but Hannibal groans, and lets go, and when he lifts his head again his mouth is a dark red, his teeth stained.

Will’s panting. He touches his lip. Not bitten through, but cut on both sides, and he looks at the blood on his fingers and then slides his tongue over the wounds inside. Salt, is the first thing he tastes. Salt, and bitter metal. Cloying, almost--too intense, and vivid, and immediately his mouth feels coated, his tongue flinching from the flavor. He looks at his fingers, and licks them clean, and his own skin is--”Is this what it’s like for you?” he says, and looks up.

Hannibal smiles at him, quietly. “When it matters,” he says, his hands still on Will’s skin and his face a promise, and Will leans up and kisses Hannibal and makes his blood his answer.

[rhoeysama]

Okay, it’s time for a rant about FFVII Dirge of Cerberus. After watching Maximilian Dood’s playthrough on Youtube, I was reminded of just how much I HATED this game, and WHY I hated it. This game ruined Vincent - one of my favorite characters of all time - and made me HATE Lucrecia, who was the woman that he loved. I have zero sympathy for her. And Vincent is not only a spineless doormat in this game, but he actually falls in love with such a dysfunctional crazy person as Lucrecia, who, by the way, possibly may have had feelings for Vincent's dad. And she doesn't tell him. That is just WEIRD and creepy.

How she chose Hojo over Vincent blows my mind. Or actually, never mind, I just answered my own question: he's a doormat. I get it: she was feeling guilty about Vincent's dad dying, and blaming herself, because she caused his death due to her recklessness. It's still really bad and doesn't make Lucrecia sympathetic at all. It makes her worse. My hope is that the remake will retcon this stuff and make it right. And by making it right, I mean telling the story in a way that’s believable and doesn’t completely ruin Vincent’s character.

Here’s a suggestion of how the story can be improved: Hojo is a narcissistic psychopath and managed to love-bomb (i.e. demonstrate his “love” for her with grand gestures and big words that have no genuine emotion or good intention behind them) and manipulate Lucrecia into being with him, manipulating her into rejecting Vincent. He uses her guilt and vulnerability to get to her; he says all the right things that she needs to hear, is there for her, perhaps even sends her flowers, checks in on her, etc. He seems really nice and caring, which is unusual for him, and perhaps Vincent picks up on this and realizes that something isn’t right with this man, that he’s only screwing with Lucrecia’s mind. He tries to tell her this, but Lucrecia, of course, doesn’t believe him. Hojo gets Lucrecia pregnant, talks to her about their big plans together for the future, about their “great work” that will bring progress to humanity and to Shinra, and will put the two of them on the map as the greatest scientists of all time. This is, of course, future-faking, and he doesn’t mean any of it. His plans don’t include Lucrecia at all.

As her pregnancy progresses, Hojo starts to show his true colors. The mask begins to slip. He stops doing the nice things for her; there are definitely no more flowers, no more support, and he turns really cold and nasty towards her, almost like all of his compassion and kindness from before has vanished into thin air, leaving Lucrecia heartbroken and confused, wondering what has happened, and even thinks that maybe it’s because of her. Maybe it’s her fault, maybe she’s the one who’s doing something wrong that he’s now giving her the cold shoulder. And he gaslights and convinces her that she’s the one who’s changed for the worse. He blames her for their relationship turning sour, and she believes every word of it. Vincent, who loves her and genuinely cares about her, tries to talk sense into her and get her out of that situation as best as he can. Unfortunately, though, Lucrecia is so far gone, that nothing he can say or do will get her to change her mind.

She stays with Hojo because she thinks that his treatment of her is probably a punishment that she deserves for her past crime, but a part of her still clings to the faint hope that the Hojo that she got together with still exists, and convinces herself that if only she sees this pregnancy through, then everything will be back to the way that it was before. Because after all, if Hojo gets what he wants, then he’ll be happy and start treating her well again, right? Since Vincent can’t get through to Lucrecia, he decides to go to Hojo and confront him instead. This is a HUGE mistake. What he doesn’t know is that Hojo expected him, and was prepared. Vincent tries to naïvely reason with Hojo and demands him to answer for this sick experiment and treatment of Lucrecia, and Hojo shoots him in the chest with a gun hidden within his coat. This is when Lucrecia’s mind breaks, and she begins to realize that the Hojo that she initially fell for, who was there for her, no longer exists. Of course, he never existed, he was an illusion all along, but Lucrecia still doesn’t piece this together. She’s still trying to process how it came to this, and blames herself for this, too. Hojo convinces her that this is her fault as well.

It would not only make a lot more sense, but it would make Lucrecia’s choices more believable and real. Because this is how abusive relationships work and how abusers operate to lure in and brainwash their targets of abuse. It would be a story that really hits close to home for many, because it adresses not only narcissistic abuse and the dynamics of such a relationship, but also the helplessness of the people who can see that it’s an abusive situation. Because in many cases, the abusers brainwash their targets so much, that they start to see any sane individual who’s trying to help as an enemy. This is how cults operate, too. Any guilt that Lucrecia may have felt and had to deal with over Vincent's dad, she may have felt that Hojo was "there for her" and gave her comfort (at least at first). And only later realizing that she fell into the trap of a perverse psychopath whose only intention was to exploit her and discard her when he had no more use for her.

Another gripe I had with this game, other than the way these characters were portrayed (and their wooden delivery of lines and absolutely awful dialogue), was that Professor Gast was completely taken out of the story, despite the fact that he DISCOVERED Jenova. He wasn't present or even mentioned. I hope that they fix this in the remake.

Thank you for listening to my TED talk. Nikki out.

[worldcakecakecake]

On Deutschland and Italia, by Lovino Valenti

Lovino writes a series of blog entries on the relationship between Germany and Italy as he deals with a move to Hamburg, his brother’s wedding, and his budding romance (which he denies) to the infuriating Gilbert Beilschmidt.

                                                               Chapter 7

It was almost midnight and yet Lovino remained awake, sitting by his balcony, reading a novel, indulging himself in some wine, smiling and being at peace…even when a certain loudmouth and insane albino was kept well in his mind.

 He read how the charmer of the tale romanced his beloved with a ridiculous song he whaled for the whole street to hear, embarrassing himself but making the lover laugh in just the high volume that made them present in their setting.

 Lovino chuckled, being reminded himself of the song Gilbert shouted high in the car on their way back. Feliciano joined along, a sudden band ready to play in the concert hall they passed by that moment. It wasn’t until the last song that Lovino dared join, with a thunder of wonderful voice that momentarily made Gilbert and Feliciano fall in awed silence. They returned to finish, making their band complete, laughing and clapping when they had arrived to the restaurant, Augusto heading out with a guitar and Aldrich with a microphone, thinking they still had time to be a part of it.

 Lovino smiled, deciding a halt to his reading, enjoying in the sweet memory and how handsome Gilbert looked, how much he wanted to continue a song and dance about in the restaurant as they had done before.

 It was interrupted by a call, his brother, having him questioning, with it being so late.

 “Pronto,” he answered wanting to get quick into it.

 “Be…Lovi…are you doing anything tomorrow?”

 “Just the office in the morning. What’s going on?” He suspected.

 “Is it all right if you can go to my flower arrangements appointment tomorrow? It’s in the evening so I’m sure you can go. Me and Ludwig have to go…somewhere.” Feliciano gazed over to his fiancé, speaking about in the phone with one of his superiors, pacing and making some accords. Before him on the counter were still lots of papers he needed to read over, sign, get copied, send and some needed translation into Spanish.

 “You two have your own apartments. If you want to do it, just do it. No need to leave to some godforsaken place. You’ll have enough of that in your honeymoon.”

 “It’s not for that!” Feliciano was insulted Lovino would insinuate it. “It’s just something to do with his job and my volunteering. Trust me, I wouldn’t push the appointment aside just to…”

 “Fuck?”

 “Yes. Besides, right now Ludwig is scheduling intercourse for the afternoon after he comes back from work,” Feliciano reported proudly while Lovino wanted to hurl.

 “Too much information and who the hell plans these things? You just do it and that’s it.”

 “We’ve been really busy. Oh, and, is it okay if Gilbert goes with you?”

 The name brought pink and airs that smelled like the sweetest perfume to Lovino.

 “Why-why…why would he have to come?” He really tried to sound annoyed, but Feliciano could tell that there wasn’t the usual harsh cut.

 “Ludwig suggested, thought it could help.”

 Lovino rolled his eyes and faked an annoyed sigh, “fine, I’ll go. Send me whatever I’ll need and I’ll get you some damn flowers. Don’t complain if they are not the exact ones you want.”

 “I know you’ll make a good decision, Lovi. Now, ciao, ti voglio bene!”

 The call was gone and Lovino was left with excitement.

  On Deutschland and Italia.

Art and Inspiration.

I’m taking a part.

 I believe that it’s through art that we show the faces of our country. It speaks more so than any political statement. The European union actually makes it easy to create this movement with different kinds of artists, encouraging connection and understanding. Cities like Berlin are a traditional destination for fashion and architecture from Italy, as well as a point of reference for promotions and managing the most modern museums. Germany is constantly being inspired by Italy. In food, lifestyle, and of course art. Most galleries are filled with proud Italian artists that Germans are awed to see. It presents communication and improves the country’s image more so.

 It is definitely not recent, as this inspiration traces back to the renaissance, when you had Germans coming down to the peninsula hoping to see and admire these paintings that were so talked about. Printing is invented through this, as Germans were trying to find ways to showcase what they saw in Italy to their own kingdoms. They followed their example in their art techniques, not as memorable, but enough to be proud of and make Italians themselves wonder.

 In music, Germans took their most sublime pieces and gave it Italian names, using our created instruments to make memorable melodies to join our own composers.

 Their writers wrote on Italy’s beauty, through constant travel tales or stories of their imagine to explain their experiences. Many of these phrases we quote, and it fill us with pride, and we are happy to read them.

 It works to get us curious, to travel to Germany as well and be inspired by colorful villages, hills of story and cities of feast.

 It is a trade I am happy to share in with these very entries.

  He wore a fine buttoned shirt, a pristine yellow he assured well that morning to be exceptionally clean. Tight jeans, his best shoes, with movement and stride that he wanted people to think of only king’s. Lovino tested it on his office that morning and the gazes he got proved to him that it would be enough.

 He left precisely and was smiling as he took the transport to the flower shop. He spotted Gilbert’s car at the entrance and so smirked, sunglassed eyes making entrance, the ring turning Gilbert, who had been leaning by one of the counters, turning to get baffled, wide eyed and luckily his hanging mouth could be covered by the fact that he kept a hand over it. Lovino removed his sunglasses, showcasing hazel that fitted well with the greens and colors that surrounded the shop.

 To Gilbert, it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

 “Hey! Why so fancy today?” He tried to act like it didn’t evoke any blush, hiding it by facing the cashier, hoping whoever attended this to come that instant.

 “Just uh…an important meeting in the company,” Lovino excused, coming to take seating right in the stool next to Gilbert.

 He really tried to resist, but the corner of his eyes still went down the figure hungrily, especially loving how those jeans hugged those thighs. Much to his embarrassment, Lovino had caught it.

 “What is it?” He didn’t sound annoyed and Gilbert wasn’t landed a hit on the head, in fact, there was temptation in that voice, accepting more of that gaze.

 “Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear the bell ring.” In came a young man, wiping dirt off his hands and laying before them, taking a notebook where surely appointments were written.

 “Beilschmidt-Valenti?”

 “Yes,” both answered.

 “Oh, you both came. Rarely do I get the couple coming together to pick flowers.”

 Both blushed heavily.

 “Oh, wait, no!”

 “We’re not the couple!”

 “Not…Beilschmidt-Valenti?”

 “Well, yeah, we are, just-”

 “Not Ludwig and Feliciano. Were Gilbert and Lovino, their brothers. They couldn’t make it today and so they sent us to deal with the flower arrangements.”

 “Oh, right! My colleague just put a note. Didn’t see it earlier.” He shut the notebook and went to proper introductions. “I’m Toris Laurinaitis and your brothers have chosen me for the flowers. Feliciano already sent me some information concerning the venue, the cake and the theme he wants. I already have some ideas and would like to show some displays we have up.” He stood and led way, the brothers following behind.

 They spent a good half an hour watching all the suggestions, Toris explaining meanings and how things could be set up, as well as trying to sell, making them all a dream beauty that actually made it difficult for Gilbert and Lovino to choose, for their own taste and their brothers.

 “These are beautiful greens, but I don’t think they will fit with what my brother wants.”

 “I agree, but it’s one our of pride works and we love showing it to all our customers.”

 “I do like how you pile them up,” Gilbert admitted, all coming together like one big tree, surrounded beautifully by ornaments.

 “I love this one with the marigolds.”

 “Marigolds? For Ludwig and Feliciano? Definitely not.”

 “Being honest, I think the best option will be…this one,” Gilbert pointed to the vined one with white roses, arched, extended, simple, and despite that green…it would actually flow well with the wedding.

 “Gilbert…I actually agree with you,” Lovino smiled to him.

 Toris joined as well, “I also believe it will be the best option.”

 They settled some minutes of gazing, assuring, decided.

 “We’ll take this one,” Lovino worded.

 “Very well then, I’ll schedule the delivery and date.” He left to surely implement this on a schedule, Lovino holding the card Feliciano gave him ready to pay.

 “You know…the one with the lilies, candles and gold stands would have been more expensive,” Gilbert smirked.

 “And it was stunning, but I know both of them would have found it too excessive. Besides, it was with red roses that Ludwig had confessed to my brother, so roses had to be a must. White for purity.” Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “Purity of the moment. Whatever, I’m glad I could choose it for my brother,” Lovino held himself high, showing well his pride.

 “Wow…we really are trying to make this wedding perfect here.”

 “Hey! Uh…um…uh…” Lovino had no excuse to fill this time, which gave Gilbert a fit of laughter.

 “It’s fine, it’s fine, we’re good…I’m actually glad we’re trying.” Gilbert didn’t know where that impulse came from, how his hand reached a simple red daisy that lay on a table nearby, raising it to lay in the thresholds of Lovino’s curls, sided perfectly, elegant on his face, shinning him the more in lovely colors that drove him closer.

 “Should we…do something to trick Berwald with the flowers?” Gilbert suggested with a chuckle that was endearing, not at all mocking.

 “I…I can’t think of something.”

 “Yeah I uh…I highly doubt they would sell some…poisoned stuff here.”

 It was such a beautiful exchange, Toris coming and not knowing how to interrupt, tapping his foot to the floor awkwardly, until he stepped harshly enough to get their attention. “Sorry to…interrupt, but I have put your brothers on the schedule and now all I need is the payment.”

 “Got it here,” Lovino raised the card, slow in his walk for both to reach the cashier. “I think we’re pretty much done. If you want, you can go ahead.”

 “Are you sure? We could go do something now if you want?”

 “I…” how Lovino would have loved to, but he had to keep some sort of field from letting this extend on. He still had to think, still had to come to terms with what exactly he was feeling and what he wanted with Gilbert. He needed more time. “…I promised to have dinner tonight at Nonno’s and I…have to get going to help.”

 Gilbert only let his disappointment pass low through his eyes, but nodded and understood. “Well…I’ll see you later then…”

 “Yeah…” why did it feel like there was more that they should do? More than that awkward wave and only that intensive look of their eyes.

 Lovino refused to let himself be captive to it, focus on the payment, picking receipts and leaving back home. He kept himself excited at the sea food platter he was sure his grandfather could suddenly prepare. He didn’t notice how Gilbert stared at him still from the comfort of the shop, making sure he was well underground, into the trains and he had the shop for himself once again.

 “Is there…anything else you need?” Toris shyly came forward, wondering still his presence.

 “Yes, can I make an order?”

  It was sudden, but Augusto welcomed his grandson’s visit, indeed having enough fried seafood to keep them chatting and drinking to distraction well into the night. It was midnight when Lovino decided to take his leave, picking his stuff and ready to take the simple stairs up to his own apartment.

 “Oh! Before I forget! Clemente sent me a message that something arrived for you. He hopes you don’t mind he went into your apartment and left it on your table.”

 “Did he tell you what it was?”

 “He was afraid to say.”

 “Must be that new underwear I ordered,” was his farewell.

 One more floor and he was entering his apartment, only a single lamp lighting the large bouquet of tulips. They were bountiful in beauty, in purples, reds, whites and enchanting oranges, in their vase, ordered well and Lovino was paralyzed at the entrance in awe. He wondered if perhaps they were delivered in the wrong apartment, looking about the hall expecting for the real owner to come forward, but the night continued silent and the flowers seemed to keep waiting for him.

 Closing the door behind him he headed closer, noticing a large card, on one side his name written elegantly.

 Yes…they were for him then. But who? He knew of no admirers, he wasn’t dating anybody and lately…the only person on his mind was…he turned the card and noticed the name at the bottom, his heart flourishing and a smile already plastered on his face by the first word at the top.

 ‘Toris here told me that tulips stand for forgiveness, so I thought it be appropriate. I could have asked this in person, and we still can, but it’s a nice gift to truly show and make you understand that I apologize. Not just now, I apologize for everything I’ve done to you ever since we met when you were like…what? Two months old? Whatever just…I’ve realized I was douche, still am and I want things to be different between us from now on. I hope we can be friends. I hope you can give me forgiveness.

 Gilbert.’

 Lovino couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so largely, he had felt so ecstatic as to even jump across his apartment and scream. He held the letter tight to him, embracing the words and copying them to his heart. He couldn’t wait for a next meeting that would surely be placed by whatever wedding planning Ludwig or Feliciano set. He took his phone, hunting down different chats hoping to find his number, surely once that Feliciano or Nonno had sent it just incase. He remembered scoffing intensely when they did, yet here he was, calling that number, heart about to burst and holding to the card like some desperate teenager.

 “Hallo?” came the questioning answer.

 “It’s…me…��

 “Lovino?”

 “Yeah, just uh…wanted to say, that, I…saw the flowers and they’re…gorgeous and thank you, and I…forgive you.”

 Petrifying silence, the only sound their breaths, their understanding of the words just said.

 “Yes…it’s hard to believe that I would actually forgive you, but…being completely honest, I too was a…jackass. My family was right, I could have avoided a lot of stuff if we could have just actually…talked nicely, found common grounds, had fun, enjoyed. I shouldn’t have been so…stubborn and judging. But…you were right, we were just kids. We didn’t understand anything and we acted on whatever impulse came first.” He breathed, he waited for whatever new words, but instead decided on continuing, “but we are not depending on those impulses anymore. We’re rational, we’re adults and should…understand our feelings more.” Something Lovino wished he could really take to himself. “So…yeah, I’m…sorry and let’s just…be friends, I guess.”

 Silence once again, utter silence.

 “Did you hang up?” Lovino threatened.

 “No, no! I’m here, just…wow, taking all that in.” And finally he heard breathing. So Lovino let him that, settling in laying in their own comforts, until a word could be ready to be said.

 “I…forgive you too. And…yeah, let’s…try this friendship out and actually…make our families proud.” Gilbert was so glad to have made Lovino laugh.

 “Then, that’s great! So…I think we should be heading to sleep now, right?”

 “…yeah.” Gilbert held his extensive words, he wanted to talk, of other things like…holidays, their favorite drinks, sunsets, anecdotes and music, but from all that variety, he remained in his stupefied silence, hoping that maybe Lovino would start.

 “Well, buona notte! Sleep well and I’ll…see you around,” he smiled, one Gilbert could even feel, hoping it was more on his skin.

 “Ja…Gute Nacht…”

 Lovino forced himself to shut the call, turning his glance to the flowers, grin wide, standing, picking and deciding to put them in his room as a good kiss for the morning and before he shut his eyes.

  On Deutschland and Italia.

Exchange Programs.

And what it can lead to.

 Another way to strengthen the relationship between two countries is through academia. What better way to see than through student exchange programs and research institutes.

 The ‘Erasmus’ and ‘Leonardo’ programs are well flourishing in both Germany and Italy, outside of the expecting England, France and Spain. There is in Italy a program literally called ‘University center for the documentation and study of the juridical relationship between Italy and Germany’ which’s job, as the title very obviously suggest, is to establish a relationship of professionals, writings and course students. My own brother was a part of this, which ended in an exchange of cultures, of learning, expanding, settling, even landing him a future husband.

 I did not hear the end of it when he visited me in Naples.

 It’s a youth that is being exposed to our dealings, our works, our being and culture, sharing and enlightening it to become better known, better recognized and for more artistic and intellectual inspirations to come.

  ‘I wish that it could be like that…why can’t it be like that…’ The music only helped to keep Lovino lost, with scenarios in his head, ideas that he shouldn’t be feeding, but what a fantasy he was living.

 “No,” Feliciano decided, scratching it off of the list, stopping the song, looking through his library to hear the next.

 “Wha-what-what? Why-why, why not?” Lovino startled himself from his stupefaction, worried and actually looking slightly…broken.

 Feliciano questioned and grew hesitant to play the next one, afraid he would only make his brother feel worse. “Well, the song is too sad and I think it will just make those without a couple or date more miserable, plus it’s not something Ludwig and I could relate to. Thankfully, our love was never forbidden.”

 The next song that played was a French-Italian song, one Feliciano himself really liked, but decided well against it knowing Ludwig’s distaste for French.

 “Well, we’re you lucky.”

 “One day you’ll be lucky too, Lovino!” Feliciano kept up.

 “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever, I don’t need that sappy shit.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah, I’m fine, there’s no one-”

 “Not even Gilbert.”

 Lovino held himself completely.

 “He’s…he’s…we’re not talking about this! I’m just here to help you with the damn music. You scratched off that breaking up song, right?”

 “But it’s so catchy!”

 “Hell no! Add some Adele!” He began writing a lot of her songs down in a list, leaving the table in silence.

 “You know…with Gilbert it wouldn’t be forbidden.”

 “Feliciano!” He slammed the pen to the table.

 “I’m just trying to help and make you realize.”

 “Don’t help! All right? It should be enough to you that we’re actually friends now.”

 “But you both want more!”

 “You don’t know that! I don’t know that! I…don’t know what I should do next.” He let himself those thoughts of wondering, of imagining, of acting.

 Feliciano smirked, leaning with a teasing gleam in his eyes, “…you could…tell him exactly how you feel…”

 “Hell no!” Lovino put one of the notebooks against Feliciano’s face.

 “Oh, Lovino…imagine how free you would feel, the happiness you could be in, the wonder, the romance of adventures!” Feliciano wowed, leaning well against the table with the notebook, to the point Lovino thought he would soon break it.

 “Feliciano, were two dumbasses living in Hamburg. There’s no fantasy in that.”

 “But you could make it! You could be together!”

 “Look! I admire your effort here, but really, leave it be, it will take its course and we’ll see what happens.”

 “But you have to let me-”

 “Shhhh!” He commanded harshly, not sparring another words unless it was to deal with this damn music list.

 Feliciano pouted, heavily as they continued their picking. At some point it eased, but whenever it raised again, Lovino would hit him with his pen.

 “I really like that Of Monsters and Men so-” his phone rang loudly, Lovino catching a glimpse, the number from the Dominican Republic. He suspected enough that it had to be from the volunteering Feliciano meant to do there.

 “Scusi, I have to take this.” He stood and was adamant on keeping this conversation out of the apartment, Lovino hearing the echo of voice go upwards, to the top most attic, running away from any prying ears.

 Why was it so important he kept so far? It was a volunteering project. What did Feliciano have to hide about that? Never mind, he kept adding songs by himself, this time Italian rap songs in the purpose of annoying the German attendants, smirking and already laughing at what their expressions would be. He was finishing an entire page by the time Feliciano returned, a deep smile, ecstatic, jumping and holding to his phone in such a grasp Lovino thought he was ready to throw it.

 “Dio, what happened?”

 “Oh, Lovino, they just gave me-” he sat, he began and then he stopped, mouth wide open, looking about, realizing what he had almost done. He changed his glance to the new list his brother made. “Lovino, I really don’t think we should add Caparezza, I mean, Fedez is okay maybe, but-”

 “Hey! Hey! Hey! Don’t change the subject! What happened? Tell me!” He demanded, ready to hear.

 Feliciano pushed his lips in, still with his eyes away, clearly in hiding.

 “Really? Can’t say anything?”

 “It’s…a surprise,” Feliciano hoped could work.

 Lovino rolled his eyes, sighing, tapping his pen to the table. “Fine, keep your stupid surprise and I’ll take all the Caparezza songs out, but I’m adding more Fedez!”

 Feliciano smiled at his achievement on focusing the topic away, oh but Lovino kept it his mind. He will find out soon enough.

  The apartment was in the calm Ludwig sometimes needed by himself. A simple read, a cup of coffee…luckily Feliciano came in his loud presence just as he was beginning to miss him. Footsteps rushed up in a way Ludwig could tell was him even before he burst into the room, laughing, jumping into his arms, showering in kisses and his tight hold warmth that Ludwig let himself lean to, keeping him well on his lap.

 “Are there any special occasions or is this just your usual?” He smirked.

 “They gave me the job!” He shouted, his smile going along with its high volume.

 “The-the the job?”

 “The hospital in Santo Domingo! They were actually in need of a nursing director. I had a lot of the qualifications and experiences and they decided to take me! I’ll be getting paid normally with all the benefits!”

 Ludwig glowed, even moving back trying to take the largeness of the wonderful news. “That’s…that’s amazing, Feliciano! Congratulations!” He brought his arms around his waist and settled on his chest as he rocked them on the sofa with the static of the excitement.

 “Yes! It will be wonderful! You will have nothing to worry about! You can focus on starting the company and I’ll provide for us! I’ll buy the food, pay the bills, make you comfortable and make us happy.” It was a dream, now a reality so close. “I was with Lovi when they called and almost told him, but I think it’s best we leave it a surprise,” he smiled grandiose…but Ludwig soured, dropping down, new agitations instead. “What’s wrong?” Feliciano wondered, dropping down with him, settling on laying on his chest.

 “My family will think me a leech.”

 “No!” Feliciano pouted with an adorable grimace. “You are not! I am just helping you out while you deal with starting a big business, as well as I’ll be advancing in my own career. We’ll be like kings one day!” Feliciano excited high, hands in the air and everything.

 “My family will not understand it this way. They expect me to arrive to Santo Domingo already living in a castle and…providing for you.” But it seemed like the opposite was to happen, saddened, dropped and oh how it made Feliciano just as gloomed, but leaned more into him, taking his face, looking into his eyes, wanting to give him all the sureness of the world.

 “Don’t let what they think decide how we live. When the time comes, we will sit down and explain everything and I’m sure they will understand.” He was positive. “For now it will do and it will make us happy. I want to be given the chance to provide for you as well…it’s more than what my family expected,” he chuckled.

 “They’ll probably think I’m leeching off you too.”

 “No! We will make them understand, I’m sure of it. If you want, maybe we can plan a day to sit down and talk to them. All before the wedding. We’ll show everything and they’ll be okay.”

 Ludwig sighed, a bit more shine to bring his arms back around his fiancé, strengthening and loving. “All right, but until then, we can’t let anybody know.”

 “Got it, amore mio!” He saluted, in a charm that had Ludwig grinning, bringing him down to a deepened kiss that will soon lead to the riding of clothes.

< previous chapter                                                                                                   next chapter >

[tewqut]

After One Night- One shot

Summary: Marinette catches her fiancé Adrien Agreste cheating on her with one of her models in their own bed. She runs away crying towards a certain man. She needed him and he gave her everything he could have offered even if it was only for one night. He leaves for tour and comes back to find a new person.

~~~~~~~~~~

He groaned as he felt his climax coming, however that didn’t stop him from thrusting inside and out of the small woman underneath him. He had promised to make her feel loved again and that was what he was aiming for. He started kissing her neck and sucked on her sweet spot leaving a hickey as one of his hand found its way to gently message Marinette’s left breast.

Her loud moans and gasps were proof that he was doing a good job, maybe even better than what her cheating fiancé did to her. When he placed his forehead against hers, she found herself pushing his hair out of his sweaty face gently which caused him to look into her bluebell eyes. She quickly pressed her lips against his as he fastened his pace and cummed inside of her followed by her own orgasm. He rolled off of her, falling next to her side.

He glanced towards her, fearing that she might be regretting their actions. However she kissed him and thanked him for an amazing night. When she rolled toward the end of the bed, Luka decided to risk it and grabbed her wrist before she stood up.

“Please stay, at least for the night.” She nodded and curled next to Luka’s body. They ended up falling asleep together with her head resting on his chest as he hugged her.

When he woke up, she was gone. No trace of her ever being there except of their scent combined.

Next time he saw her, she was again with Adrien Agreste in a fashion show where he was performing with his father. He knew it shouldn’t have bothered him, she never said she was going to leave Adrien for him. In the end, she still loved Adrien, not him.

On his last day before going on a world tour for 3 years with his father Jagged Stone, his friends threw him a departing party and wished him good luck. He saw Marinette alone at the end of the boat, her fingers rapidly typing on her phone before letting a frustrated sigh.

He knew he probably shouldn’t have, but he did either way and went up to her.

“Hey Ma-ma-Marinette.” She let out a squeal of fright before she faced him.

“You scared me, Luka.” She hadn’t talked to him since that night which was 2 weeks ago. After that night, she felt something inside of her spark for the man, but she was engaged to the other man everyone expected her to marry including herself.

“Sorry.” He gave her a sheepish smile that made her heart beat twice it’s regular pace “Where’s Adrien?”

She had forgotten about Adrien. She wasn’t going to lie to herself, she knew he was probably balls deep inside another one of his co-models. That’s what he always did and yet the whole universe kept telling her that she was destined to be with him.

“He’s running a little late.” Luka just nodded looking down. Of course he knew, she had told him and slept with him the first time she caught Adrien cheating on her. “You know, photoshoots take forever.” She faked a laugh even a six year old could tell.

Instead of him saying something about her lie, he just goes with it. “Yeah, it’s sucks.”

They stay there for a couple of minutes before her phone started ringing. She answered quickly. “Where are you?” Her voice was strict even Luka felt like he was in trouble.

“I know you have a busy sche-” she was cut off by the voice on the other side of the line

“Yes, I’m listening to you.” She looked at Luka while she was listening to what he presumed was Adrien.

A minute passed before she spoke again. “Okay fine. I’ll be home in 15 minutes.” She was letting Adrien know to get his side chick out of their apartment before she got there.

Once she hung up, she started putting her jacket on. “I’m sorry Luka. Adrien just got home and he’s tired, he said he wishes you good luck and congratulates you.” She lied again “I better get going.”

She placed a quick kiss on his cheek before heading inside the boat to say goodbye to her friends.

She waved him goodbye as she got inside a car driven by the same bodyguard that used to creep him back in his teen days.

That was the last time he saw her before he left.

During his third week on tour, he saw a magazine where the front cover was Adrien and Marinette having picked out a date for their wedding. The Fashion Wedding as the media called it. That’s when he figured he needed to forget about her to avoid feeling the pain. He deleted his social media to avoid seeing her, however he kept his number in case she wanted someone to talk to.

She never called.

On his eight month away, he had managed to release his very first song as a solo artist without his father’s help. His song was dedicated for her, no matter how much he tried, the bluenette was in his head at all time.

When he performed for the first time his song in a huge concert, he felt like on top of the world, like he had excitement running through his veins. That night, on December 25, changed his life completely. He wasn’t known anymore as Jagged Stone’s son, but as Luka Couffaine.

Everyone from Paris called him to congratulate him on his song but none of them were her. He didn’t even bothered to ask for her since he knew she was getting married next year.

On his first year and a half on tour, he was more famous than his father and had collaborated with some of his favorite artists. His father had dragged him to one of the fashion shows in New York they were invited to. During the first hour, he was bored to the core, sure he liked some of the clothes, but none of them caught his attention. He was ready to leave and go home when suddenly a piece of clothing caught his attention, a beautiful black leather jacket with pink flowers trailing on the arm. He recognized the design. The man modeling it did a good job showing off her hard work.

“Next piece is by the one and only Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” The host said confirming his suspicion. He looked around, seeing multiple people clapping and the flashes blinding him. He couldn’t see her.

He expected her to stand up like all the designers did when they presented their work, but she never did. She didn’t come.

After the show, he went backstage to find the person who brought the piece and found a woman who claimed to be Marinette’s representative. Some millionaire man had tried to buy the jacket for twenty million dollars, more than what he could have offered, but the woman turned it down saying it was off limits. He left without a doubt, knowing it was probably for Adrien.

On his second year on tour, his father hit rock bottom. He wasn’t aware of his father’s addiction to gambling. There was no money to continue the tour and if it was canceled, Jagged Stone’s career would have been over along with his.

He started dating Chloé Bourgeois the next month. Mayor Bourgeois agreed to give them a check for the tour if and only if Luka agreed to date his daughter to promote her career as an actress. He would’ve been okay to leave the fame and go back home to being a delivery boy, but this was Jagged Stone’s life and passion, he couldn’t do that to his father.

Every time he kissed Chloé, he thought of Marinette’s lips and that’s what kept him from going insane. Seemed to work since every magazine portrayed their kiss as a loving one. He wasn’t going to lie, Chloé was an amazing woman, she changed from her teenage years. However, his guitar played only for the woman in Paris. Marinette.

At his last concert, he sang his whole album and was mostly about him than Jagged Stone. He really had grown. Three years really did a good thing for him, he had gained more muscles, he had an arm sleeve tattoo, he had a stubble beard and his hair was shorter, he had a messy hairstyle with his unique dyed teal blue tips.

Chloé and him were best friends now, he learned that she was seeing someone in Paris and she wanted to quit their fake relationship once the tour was done because she was pregnant.

He looked relieved when he saw Paris outside of the plane window, he was finally home after three years. Chloé had arrived earlier than him since she wanted to see her real boyfriend and tell him the news of her pregnancy.

He couldn’t wait to get on his bed and finally get some peace away from the press.

Once he stepped onto the boat, he almost jumped off The Liberty as all his friends ran towards him, crushing him into a big group hug.

“Dude, you’re going to be a father.” Nino exclaimed as Luka looked at him with a puzzled look.

“You ready for diapers change? Aw man I feel bad for you, in a good way.” Kim continued.

“What’s going to be its name? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Alya asked with a serious expression, a disappointed one.

He looked at Chloé who was sighing as she looked down. He was ready to answer and tell them that he wasn’t going to be a father, that all of this was just a show, when he saw her.

She was staring at him from afar. She was still as beautiful as the last time he saw her get inside her car. Her hair was down and wavy, she had a beautiful classic small pink dress. She still looked perfect to him, but something was off. He realized she was staring at him with a hurt expression.

She also realized that he was staring back at her so she decided to head down below deck, away from the crowd.

It seemed like his feet took control over their own because he started walking towards her direction. He saw her sitting on the couch in the living room with her hands on her face. With no hesitation he tapped her shoulder. She looked up and smiled sadly at him.

“Hi Luka.” He forgot how her voice sounded like an angel.

“Hey Mrs. Agreste.” He remembered she was already married to the model.

She gave him a sheepishly smile before looking at the direction of his bedroom then back at him. “It’s just Dupain-Cheng.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What happened?”

Before she got a chance of answering, a small boy came running out of his bedroom.

“Mommy!” He yelled excitedly before giving Marinette a warming hug. “I saw magic, mommy! Tikki wet to wall and whoosh, she gone.” His eyes widen as he explained what he saw.

Luka was surprised, Marinette is a mother or that’s at least what the little boy called her. Marinette giggled as she heard her son’s story, but then she started laughing at Luka’s face of shock. His eyes were wide open as was his mouth.

“Is he your-” He couldn’t even finish his sentence.

Thankfully, Marinette caught on to what he was trying to say. “Yes, he is.”

He looked carefully at the boy who was now facing him. He looked beautiful like his mother.

“Say ‘Hello Luka’ and shake his hand.” Marinette ordered the boy.

Instead of shaking his hand, the boy ran towards him and wrapped his tiny arms around Luka’s leg. “Hello Luka.”

How someone like Adrien had created such a beautiful angel was beyond his knowledge. After a few seconds of admiring the young boy, he noticed the little boy didn’t have blonde hair like Adrien, but a darker shade of blue than his mother’s yet lighter than black hair. This boy didn’t have mint eyes like Adrien and bluebell eyes like Marinette, but light aqua blue ones like his own.

He kept looking at him as he saw the boy’s facial features. This boy looked like he was 2-3 years old which was the time Marinette and him had slept together. Luka tilted his head to the left in confusion as the younger boy copied his exact move and giggled.

“Marinette?” He looked at her as she went over to them and grabbed the young boy.

She picked him up and looked at Luka. “We have to go.” She was paler than usual. “Anyways, I’m happy for you and Chloé’s pregnancy. You deserve to be happy. Say goodbye, Lyric.”

The little boy waved his hand. “Bye bye.”

He saw her go yet he couldn’t move. He saw the little red Kwami follow them after she said goodbye to him. He turned around and went into his bedroom only to be shocked at how different his room was compared to how he left it.

There was a toddler bed next to his bed. There were toys and stuffed animals lying on the floor and multiple books for children on his shelf. He bend over to reach for two specific toys, the Viperion and the Ladybug action figures. He looked over to the side and saw multiple drawings.

He had the biggest smile when he spotted one of them. It was a drawing of what he assumed was Viperion, holding the little boy’s hand while he held Marinette’s hand on the other side. He was amazed by the boy’s art skills, but then again the boy’s mother was a famous designer.

“Lyric.” For the first time, he had said the boy’s name. He loved saying it and he wished it wouldn’t be the last time he would say his name.

His son’s name.

~~~~~~~~~~

Y’all I finally published my first Lukanette one shot and I’m so happy! Anyways, I’m also happy to introduce my Lukanette son, Lyric Couffaine Dupain-Cheng.

You can find this one shot in AO3 too (After one night/Tewqut). Thank you Lukanette fandom, this one is for all you people.

[yeoldontknow]

Joyride & Finesse | Chapter 1: Network-King | M

Author’s Note: part of the EXO Customs collaboration with @ninibears-erigom @baekwell--tart @fairyyeols @kyungseokie @suhoerections @skjdln @kpop---scenarios @kimjongdaely | this story features dark themes, including but not limited to: weapons trafficking, gang activity, use of a child for weapons transporting (this is based on the very real activities that occurred in the late 80s/early 90s in Manhattan and the Bronx), PTSD, and graphic depictions of death. Do not read if these topics make you uncomfortable and take the warnings seriously. Pairing: Yixing x Reader (oc; female; eventual) Summary: A brief history of Yixing’s life - if, that is, you can call it a life. | please see series summary for full context Genre: gang!au; action; suspense; drama; smut; au Rating: NC-17 Warnings: weapons trafficking; use of a child for weapons transport; gang activity; car theft; arson; gun use; graphic depictions of blood; graphic depictions of death; explicit sex; unprotected sex; creampie; mentions of pimping; references to PTSD - please take these warnings seriously and do not read if uncomfortable. Word Count: 6,405

Six days after Yixing’s ninth birthday, a man with calloused hands and blood beneath his fingernails promises him a large sum of money. 

Outside his grandfather’s restaurant, the fry cook scrawls an address on an order book, grease stains dotting the paper and smearing the ink. Slung over his left arm, a black backpack, the thick straps adjusted short enough for a child to keep their balance, swings haphazardly, weighted and slow; ominous, but Yixing assumes this is because the pendulum of the clock in his grandmother’s den swings just as slowly, and the swing reminds him he is idle and therefore of not much value. 

The man smiles as he hands him the paper, a slow pull of his cheek loaded with promises and secrets, though not altogether comforting. But Yixing feels the thrill of inclusion as he slides the backpack over his shoulders, grinning alongside these men who tower over him, glad that he has been given a sense of purpose. Beneath the neon green of the restaurant sign, the ruddy brown of blood is highlighted in the crevices of the cook’s fingers, and he wonders if by the end of the night he too will be stained. 

This, he decides, is the colour of initiation, and he feels a sudden thrill in the anticipation of being painted. 

Six blocks down, and the straps begin to rub into his shoulders, irritated as the weigh slides the neck of his shirt down. As he walks, he wonders if it’s books - chef books or recipes from the old land, as his grandmother calls it, secrets that she won’t even tell his mother because she was not from their village. Or, perhaps, he carries wrapped meats, provisions for the restaurant written on the paper, supporting their community the way a family does. 

Thirteen blocks down, and the sting from the backpack is matched only by the intensity of his curiosity. He pauses, leaning against a real estate office that has recently gone up for sale, windows shattered and building looted. Stretching his neck, he debates opening the pack and redistributing the weight, but the note in his hand says to deliver sealed and the way the fry cooks’ arms bulged as he wrote the words reminds him of the heavy way his cleaver never misses a slice, and so he decides to let it be.

The marks, he knows, are probably red, and the longer he walks, the darker they will be. Ruddy and red and powerful. 

When he reaches the back delivery door of the address, sweat has gathered on his brow, and he wipes it quickly away with the back of his wrist. If he appears weak, it is likely the money he receives will be less than promised - he isn’t exactly sure why he thinks this, only that his grandmother has told him weak men buckle when they’re offered opportunity, and he doesn’t want to be deemed anything less. 

Yixing knocks three times on the door before a woman with a severe brow stands in the entryway, eyes glancing through the alley before falling on his face. Mute, she cocks an eyebrow at him as he hands her the order slip, and almost immediately she pulls at the backpack. Her hands do not touch him, expertly sliding it off as though she’s done it before, has had this done to her, and she gestures for him to leave, yelling at him to go home to his mother. 

Confused, he turns to leave before she grabs his hand and slips a folded wad of money into his palm, eyes refusing to meet his before she shuts the door. 

Feeling small and bewildered and utterly insignificant, though not entirely disappointed, Yixing lingers behind the restaurant for a moment before a light in a basement window turns on. From where he stands, he can see the top of the woman’s head as she moves quickly. He shuffles closer, kneeling amongst the bushes for a better look as her hands tug at the zipper of the bag. 

Three black bags, taped closed, are pulled from the pack before it’s thrown to the floor, and Yixing can see the irregular heavy shape the bags take, glad that he was not as weak as he once thought he was. The bags are large, and loaded generously, and he feels proud for carrying such a heavy load so quickly.

She rips open the plastic as another man joins her, taking a bag and doing the same. Yixing blinks, unsure what he’s seeing is true, before he realizes there is no trick of the light and no film crew around him to tell him what he sees is fake.

From the bags, they pull pistols - several pistols - which they line neatly in a row and count, nodding and talking as though negotiating, but Yixing cannot hear them. His eyes fall to the guns, their sleek barrels and the way they gleam in the low light, catching all that is bright and good and absorbing it, without giving anything back. He’s never seen a gun before, only in the movies he watches at night when its past his bedtime, and something about their elegance makes him decide this shade of black is his favourite colour. 

Yixing looks to his palm and counts fifty dollars, exactly the amount he was promised. 

Delighted, he sneaks away from the window and walks with a happy bounce he does his best to contain. He’ll be able to eat for three weeks with this money, and hopes he will soon be given more. 

When Yixing is eleven, he is certain there has never been a girl more beautiful than Baozhai.

She is unafraid to laugh loudly, to beat the boys at sports, to fight for what she believes in, and to smile widely even though her teeth are not entirely straight. Her calligraphy is not the best, neither elegant nor clean, but it is committed and diligent, and he supposes these are her most important traits. From across the room during Sunday Chinese school, he watches and wonders what it would be like to sit next to her.

Would they talk about her father, and the deliveries he makes for him? Would they talk about his calligraphy, and the way he can never seem to get his strokes at the correct angle? Would they talk about the flowers she wears in her hair, a different one for everyday, and how he thinks she is always in bloom? Yixing is eleven, and is already happy to surrender the topic of conversation to keep her happy, assuming this is real love because he simply wants to keep her close. 

The first words she ever says to him make his blood run hot, mouth running dry and stopping him from formulating a coherent reply. 

‘I went to your family’s restaurant the other night,’ she says, walking home beside him after class because Meixing got a ride home and she lingered a little too long by the bike rack looking for her friends and Yixing smiled, a sign of companionship. ‘It was really good.’

Yixing stares at her, wide eyed as a blush creeps into his cheeks. In the cold winter of the sunlight, he’s sure it’s obvious he is not warm, that it is she who has turned him pink, but he does not care. He can’t care, because she giggles, and he’s glad he is the reason she made any sound at all. 

‘Next time I go, you should be there,’ she continues, watching her feet as she walks, tip of her shoes kicking at upturned stones. ‘We can study together.’ 

Yixing nods, amazed that luck smiles on boys who move guns from place to place for money, and who learned their fractions by helping their fry cook weigh cocaine. When she smiles, Yixing doesn’t have time to feel badly he wasn’t there the first night she went, only excited that he will get to be there the next time and the next time, sitting in his favourite booth towards the back and showing her the way he learned the calligraphy for flower just because of her.

‘I’d like that a lot,’ he manages, sounding small and childish and very unlike the man he feels he is between the hours of 9PM and midnight. ‘Name the day and I’ll be there.’

Baozhai turns the corner after letting her hand rest on his shoulder, her fingers giving a light squeeze full of hope and expectation and affirmation, and Yixing feels it all the way home. The child in the air bites at his cheeks, but still cannot take the warmth from her palm. 

And he feels it the rest of the night, as he walks in the foreboding darkness towards her father’s woodworking shop, backpack slung over his shoulders. He feels it as he sits with her father, counting the guns - revolvers, this time - and learns the fastest way to remove serial numbers from the metal. He feels it as the joints in his fingers burn from the effort of scratching and scratching and scratching, the muscles in his face aching just as much from the effort of wearing his smile.

He feels it even as she walks into her father’s shop, eyes falling on Yixing before going wide and skin taking on the ashen pallor of shock. 

Glancing from Yixing to her father and back again, she lingers in the doorway, knowledge and understanding narrowing her eyes and her expression into one of disgust. He wants to speak, wants to call her name and say he only does it for the money, only does it because it’s something to do, but she turns from him, back full of steel and posture straight as she leaves the shop and shuts the door. 

He doesn’t feel it after that, can hardly even remember the thrill of it. 

Baozhi never talks to him again, and he supposes luck, for boys like him is a fleeting, brief experience, one he was never meant to carry. 

Yixing is thirteen when he learns how to drive in a stolen car. 

His cousin, Longwei, sits beside him in the passenger seat, laughing and laughing until his eyes become crescent moons, as Yixing’s harsh right turns leave donut scars in the empty parking lot. Hands gripping the wheel tightly, letting the vibration of the steering wheel turn his knuckles white, Yixing does not ask where or how or why Longwei has delivered him this Porsche, but he assumes it does not matter. Longwei has no intention of keeping it, anyway.

It took years for Yixing to get his calligraphy right, years for him to master the art of stealing from his mother without her noticing, and weeks, if he’s being generous, to learn how to pickpocket without his fingers moving the air. But in driving, he realizes, he is a natural. Here, he does not need to take his time or take instructions twice. Here, he does not have to be shy, no longer hiding the fact that he flourishes so quickly at something; even though he is not yet tall enough and must sit on a pile of his school books; even though his foot only just touches the pedals; even though he revs the engine and does not bother to quiet the shrill yell of pleasure that reverberates in his chest. 

He’s being foolish, but in this moment he realizes he makes his own rules. And here, in the driver’s seat of a car that will soon disappear - gutted clean or shipped away or simply just vanishing - he understands the difference between being granted a purpose and finally making your way <i>home.</i>

‘I knew you would like this,’ Longwei tells him over the roar of the engine, and the joints in Yixing’s fingers become sore, lips curling into a smile he’s certain appears savage. ‘I did this for you.’

Yixing’s smile falls. People don’t do things for him. People, he knows, don’t do things unless it benefits them in some way, unless they get safety or satisfaction or a piece of your spirit to carry with them, and he slows down, cautious - not of the road, but of his cousin. It’s the first time he notices the gleam in Longwei’s eyes, how vindictive a sparkle can truly be when motive is misplaced from kindness. 

Longwei is family. Longwei will not hurt him. But already, he feels things being taken from him, feels the brief essence of boyhood slipping away from his grasp before he’s even put the car in park. 

One year later, in a parking lot not unlike the one in which he learned how to drive, Yixing watches his cousin die.

It’s the first time he’s seen a gun being pointed at a body, and it alarms him to realize the first thing he notices - beyond the fact that it is being pointed at Longwei; beyond the fact that the stranger in front of them states, calmly and altogether too gently, that he will not leave until he sees blood - is the serial number has been scratched off. Idly, he wonders if he’s touched this gun, if it was his hand that removed the details - the only thing that could trace this moment back to the man whose confidence in the hold of the gun dictates that he has done this before. 

‘Do you know what happens to tigers when they take things that don’t belong to them?’ the man says, reaching through the car window and gripping Longwei’s shirt.

He presses the gun against Longwei’s stomach, and Yixing waits, unflinching, expecting his cousin to fight, to flip this scenario around, to do something other than whimper and tremble, but he does not. “I did this for you,” Longwei’s voice echoes from the back of Yixing’s mind. A full year under his cousin’s wing, and Yixing has lost count of all the things they’ve done together - all the things Longwei has shown and given and delivered, without price or consequence. 

Five years older than Yixing, and Longwei has gone through a great deal to ensure Yixing could remain at his side - losing friends and permanently in the state of earning trust; keeping one eye on him and one eye on the road in front of him; bringing him home first even if, through the chill of the air and the hairs that stood on end along their arms, they knew they were being followed. He stole cars and money and bags full of things he would never let Yixing see, but in surviving, he did not put forth any effort. 

His cousin shakes his head. ‘Please, he’s just a kid -’

It’s the last thing he ever hears Longwei say, and in that moment Yixing is unsure if he’s ever heard his cousin say the word please. He’s still mulling over the sound, the shock and the unusual cadence of it, before the echo of the word is cut off and severed.

‘They get poached.’

He’s familiar with the barrel of a pistol, has touched and cradled and scratched into them, but never has he heard them. Longwei screams, he’s sure of it, but still he does not hear it. Yixing thinks he may never hear anything ever again. 

Four gunshots ring out and the noise of it makes his blood run cold, ears taking on a ring that turns his vision fuzzy. Longwei falls limp, eyes glassy and staring straight ahead, empty and unfocused and gone. Yixing waits for him to move, for Longwei to smile and say this was a moment for him to learn - a reminder never to leave your window down, to never let your guard down. But he does not move. 

Beside him, the door is ripped open, though Yixing does not remember leaving it unlocked. Hands grab him, pull him out of the passenger seat and drag him into the parking lot. His arms are held behind his back while the man smiles and cocks his head to the side, smiling and smiling, while Yixing breathes through his open mouth, unwilling to smell his cousin’s blood on the air. The symbol of a dragon is stitched into the man’s beanie, and Yixing’s eyes trace the pattern over and over, hoping to erase everything but the caricature and the symbolism from this moment. 

‘Put his hands all over it.’

The command hardly moves the craters in his face, scars and red marks turning his skin tight and waxy. At this angle, he almost appears to be burning alive from beneath his flesh, consumed by wrath and rage. 

Yixing is thrust forward, his left arm extended against his will and he fights the hold, yelling and battling, suddenly awake and aware. Laugher surrounds him, but the ringing in his ears only warps this sound into a painful resonance, one that makes Yixing scream in the hopes of forcing the world into silence. The gun is placed into his ungloved hand, fingers wrapped around its glossy metal and stained with his prints. 

He’s pushed forward again, his right hand dragged over the handle of the passenger door before a hair - several hairs - are ripped from his head and dropped into the seat. They are framing him for this, placing traces of him everywhere, ensuring that - even if it took weeks, or months, or years - he would be found, and found guilty. 

They abandon him not long after, leaving him alone with the smell of piss and shit and blood and bullet casings. The sun has just begun to set when Yixing finds the energy to move, away from the car and towards a gas station he spots on the side of the road half a mile away. Face expressionless, he uses the last of the cash in his wallet to buy a container of gasoline and a lighter, turning briskly on his feet without accepting his change.

He knows this looks suspicious.

He does not care.

As he pours the gas over the floor, the seats, his cousin - opening the hood and the trunk and pouring a generous amount there, too - he considers how much the burn of his closeness to this inferno will hurt. He wonders if he will hear it - he hasn’t heard anything in the hours it took him to walk away and back again, gladdened that he’s gone completely numb to existence, and hoping that the sensuousness of existence never returns again. 

He’s clear headed this way. Nothing, he thinks, has ever been so linear.

He tosses the lighter into the car and walks just far enough to be out of arm's reach of the heat before turning around and watching, with little awe or emotion, the car sizzle and smoke not unlike a bonfire. Even from this distance, the smell of burning flesh eats at his nose hairs, burning his sinuses with its sourness, but he breathes it in deep. 

Unsure how long he remains, eventually he walks away, long before the fire has a chance to reach the full tank of gas, long before any residual explosion gives away the history of this night, and long before he has the opportunity to consider joining his cousin.

“I did this for you,” Longwei had said.

Yixing wonders if it was worth it.

It is raining the day they bury his grandmother. 

It is raining and he is sixteen, anxiously standing on the precipice of becoming a man and wholly unprepared to be gifted a crown. 

He keeps his eyes trained on the ground, regarding hole in the earth that swallows the remains of her body and the barren waste he considers his memories of her body with a dry mouth and a shallow grimace. Occasionally, he finds himself distracted by the black umbrellas that blot the sea of white clothing, glad for their contrast against the flower arrangements that surround them.

Digging his feet into the squelching grass, hoping to break the silence of the grief that wallows in the overcast clouds, he feels, neither reassuringly nor supportively, the eyes of Kyungsoo as they bore into his spine, an announcement that someone is there for him and not for the woman who taught men to fear. He does not turn around, aware that the distance Kyungsoo keeps is crucial to maintaining the delicate pretense of peace, but he is glad for someone, anyone, he could consider a friend after everyone excluding family - a loose, vague term that made him chew at his tongue - was denied visitation. 

But Kyungsoo remains, standing across the street and on an entirely different plot of land, silently threatening a war just by witnessing their pain, an Yixing is glad for the danger of it. 

Yixing’s mother weeps when they return home, settling on the couch beside his father as her empty eyes scan the room, aware she is being greeted without greeting anyone in return. Her posture remains rigid and his father’s hand holds hers as if posing for a portrait, conscious of the eyes on their bodies and holding her against him in an awkward show of companionship, mimicking the affection he has witnessed in the threads of humanity he has bothered to notice.

Yixing settles against a hard, wooden chair in the kitchen, eyeing the food that has been brought for them from family, and family, and family, without feeling any appetite, wishing instead he could be somewhere he did not have to feign anguish or loss. The white of his shirt is still dotted with rain when three men approach him, and he studies the yellowed marks they leave in the fabric, choosing to ignore the imposing figures he assumes are loitering to extend, once again, their condolences.

Instead, they sit before him, dragging stools from the bartop counter and placing themselves directly in his vision. They tell him a lot of things - a lot of dark, and terrible, and horrible things he imagines other sixteen year old boys would struggle to stomach. But he’s held guns; and burned a body; and learned not to cry at the sound of a bullet tearing organs; and lost the will to love freely, and he supposes these things are harder for anyone to hear than the fact that their grandmother was the leader of a Triad group from Shanghai, the Tiger of the blackmarket, and her throne belongs to him.

‘You’re going to be in charge of a lot of money, kid,’ one of them says, envy evident behind his speech. 

He would later learn this man’s name is Bing Wen, and he is not incorrect. A large sum of money, much larger than he can comprehend, will soon be transferred to his name. And, at the shock and awe of the sheer magnitude of it, he will go to his grandmother’s grave and curse her for keeping his family so poor. 

But not yet. 

In this moment, Yixing only looks at them, eyeing them suspiciously as he dips his finger into a plate of peppered chicken, collecting the oil and rubbing it over his bottom lip. It stings against his skin, tiny tingles of pain grounding him to this reality as his mind remains empty, the scent of incense mixing with pepper and the implication of their words. He likes money, and he likes power, but most of all he likes the look on people’s faces when he stands before them unafraid to die and absolutely unafraid to watch them die. 

Yixing is sixteen, and he decides this kind of authority could be fun.

Yixing is sixteen. And at sixteen, he becomes a king. 

Yixing’s network makes nine thousand dollars on his eighteenth birthday, which is coincidentally the day he learns it is easier to chase pleasure between a woman’s thighs than it is to chase money. The start of this day looks absolutely nothing like the way it ends, and he is glad to be a chameleon, fitting into whatever shape the world requires of him.

Today, a knife was held to someone’s throat because Yixing demanded it. Today, a shipment as organized back to Shanghai - a warning and a threat for anyone who dares challenge him again. Today, he pressed cocaine against his gums, celebrating his good fortune with a brief bump, and got paid in crisp bills for the quality of his product.

And tonight, he recognizes the way women smile when he speaks, aware that he is someone worthy of being noticed.

There’s something addictive about the feeling of money in his pocket, a sense of power and pride rooting itself in the base of his spine. He stands taller, walks faster, shoulders rolled back and expecting the air to part for him. Weeks before his coming of age, he noticed women would smile when he spoke, heads cocking to the side as if bewildered by the sound of his voice, and now he decides to use the magic of beautiful boyhood to his advantage.

He is honey, and he knows it, an aphrodisiac hit that makes women lick their lips as they spread their legs - only slightly in the hopes that he will see it and, better yet, want it - as they recline in their chairs, waiting to be taken. It’s no different tonight, and, perhaps, the money and the manhood he carries amplifies his transcendence. A thin lipped woman lounges against the couch, puffing her chest to ensure he notices the perky roundness of her breasts beneath her tube top, skin warm and shimmering from the summer heat. 

Across from her, Yixing eyes the length of her body, cock stirring to a semi-hard state as he regards the yellow undertones of her lips. He wonders if her pussy looks just as golden, if it would part with the same ease as the air if he spread her with his thumbs, and his tongue runs dry, wanting to suck her clean. 

Sensing his arousal, she rises to a stand and does not bother to straighten her skirt, letting the smooth length of her thighs remain on display. Tying her hair back, Yixing watches with a placid expression as her breasts lift with the effort, top moving with them to expose her midriff, unashamed of letting him look before he tastes her against his teeth. 

They disappear into a bedroom, the bed full of coats and boxes which he pushes to the floor as he bites languidly at the tendons in her neck. She steps out of his arms, pushing her skirt down to her feet before removing her top, cocking her head to the side when she stands, naked and refusing blush, and notices Yixing remains fully clothed.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, she smirks. ‘Are you scared, pretty boy?’

It’s the first time he’s been asked this question, and he almost falters. Even when he was nine years old and men with murder on their lips handed him a backpack, they did not bother to ask if he felt fear - up until this moment, he did not think he had a choice. 

‘I’m not sure I know how that feels,’ he replies, honestly, a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth.

She shrugs, turning to lay down on the bed and spreads her legs, idly rubbing a finger over her clit to keep herself wet. ‘Man’s first inhibition is always being naked in front of a pretty girl.’ 

Yixing chuckles, letting his expression darken at her confidence. ‘You have a high opinion of yourself.’

‘You’re here because you want to feel like a man,’ she reasons, arching her back as she slips the tip of her middle finger between her folds. ‘I’m allowed to interpret that however I want to make sure we both get off.’

‘Looks like it’s just you,’ he counters, licking his lips as her eyes flutter closed momentarily, and nodding in the direction of her wet cunt.

‘I’ve never seen you with a woman.’ Her words are carried on a high pitched breath, her own mouth curved into a blissful smile. ‘Word is you’ve never done this and I want to make sure I can come. It’ll be over quick.’

Yixing undresses slowly, hypnotized by the movements of her fingers and studying the motions. She maintains a steady rhythm with two fingers, and he wonders how much better she would feel if it was his hand, if those were his long fingers - he wonders how he would feel, how much pride he would take in filling her with himself. 

When he settles between her thighs, she wraps her small hand around his cock and guides him to her entrance. He braces himself above her, unsure what to do with his weight, but the feel of her hand around his girth and the silky entrance rubbing wetness over his tip is enough to have his thighs already shaking. Now, he understands what she meant by saying this will be over quick. 

‘Stay like that,’ she commands, releasing her hand from his cock and the base of her palm against her clit as she fingers herself. The spread and movement of her folds makes Yixing’s arms shake, and he latches his mouth around one of her nipples to distract himself. Arching into him, she holds his hip with her free hand, keeping him still as she lets her sensitive nipple be teased to a hardened nub, bringing herself closer and closer to release. 

Eventually, she moves both her hands to the flesh of his ass, and nods as she pushes him inside. 

The tight warmth of her walls around his cock has his eyes rolling back, biceps trembling as he thrusts messily into her. It takes only a few thrusts before he comes, spilling into her as he chokes back a moan and keeps himself quiet. She laughs as she comes, slightly and vaguely, not nearly enough to be satisfied. Even as he collapses against her, she writhes beneath him, weaseling her hand between their bodies and guides herself to the full bloom of an orgasm. Her walls clench rapidly around his softening cock, and he relishes the sensation of the pleasure mixing with discomfort. 

It feels, he supposes, much the same as knowing men die for the money he earns. 

‘You’ll be a natural,’ she says, pulling her hand away from her wetness and running them over his lips. He sucks at the tips, brow furrowing at the slight bitterness of her flavor. ‘You didn’t crush me with your weight. Most guys are shit at that the first time.’

Yixing says nothing, thinking on sex and pleasure, driving and working, the market he runs and the sensation of his come dripping from her cunt. 

He’s a natural at a lot of things, a lot of grim and horrific things, and he’s glad sex is just as messy as money. 

It means he doesn’t have to learn to be careful. In this, he is just as natural as driving.

You buy your freedom on the night Yixing leases his first McLaren Coupe. He does this with money, credit if he’s being honest, fully intending never to give the car back. You do this with a knife to the stomach of your pimp - a knife to his stomach, his chest, and his dick - fully intending never to go back. 

He turns off Main Street, driving along the river and expecting to run into Baekhyun, hoping to watch as jealousy seeps into his irises and to pull away before his palms can mark the hood with his prints. Tonight, he wants to pretend - pretend that this is his car to keep, that his life is as simple as expensive metal and carbon put together with the sole purpose of moving fast. He’d like a life like that, existing without thought and without care, he thinks, and he wants the pink and passionate smile that always forms on Baekhyun’s lips when he teases to help him along with the fantasy.

Instead, he sees you. 

He’s unsure how you’ve made it so far, but given the state of you he imagines that the people who have seen you have given you a wide berth. Pulling up ahead, Yixing parks the car and watches you approach in his side mirror. He recognizes you from high school, neither popular nor an outcast you were merely someone quiet, another face in the crowd that did not bother to make themselves known. You kept to yourself, and now he wonders what crowd wound up keeping you.

The blood smears on your thighs have dried, turning a muddy brown beneath the ripped denim of your shorts, and splotches on your neck mean you have witnessed something messy. Arms crossed over your chest, your eyes remain empty as you walk, neither looking around you nor in front of you, seeing through space as you walk and walk, jaw set like iron in the effort of keeping yourself moving.

Resting his head against the seat, he closes his eyes and hums, conflicted. This is breaking every rule he has ever sent for himself and for his team - you never pull over for someone, you never stop, you always move, and you never give pause. But he knows you, and he knows how it looks to have seen someone die. He recognizes the features of his fourteen year old self in yours, sees Junmyeon's hollowed expression in your unfocused vision, and he knows that death will always catch up to those who face it alone.

And so, he gets out, leaving the door open and calling your name.

'Y/N.'

You pause in front of him, looking around for others to follow close behind, and when they don't you fix your gaze back on him, the fierce heat of it enough to make him bite his tongue.

'Get in the car,' he offers, keeping his voice calm. 'I can keep you safe.'

He's not sure why you comply, but you do, wringing the blood stained slickness of your fingers together. Yixing's eyes follow the movements as he cats glances away from the road to your trembling hands, and when he stops at a light he reaches to the glove compartment and pulls out a rag. It's meant to clean his prints from the wheel before he sells this car off to some unassuming, overexcited college student, turning a profit and turning away from the situation altogether, but he supposes you need it more. And you certainly need it to not stain the interior.

'That's not my name anymore,' you mumble, wiping and wiping at your skin.

Yixing keeps his eyes trained on the road, knowing not to look at someone who feels raw enough to take a life.

'No?' is all he says, accepting your truth for what you need it to be.

'It's Eve.'

Yixing nods, turning the corner to take you to his house, still unsure why he chose to do this at all.

'Did he decide that for you?' he questions, noticing the purple bruises on your arms as you press the cloth into your skin.

'No.' It's the loudest you've been, the full richness of your voice catching him off guard. 'I did, right after I watched the life fade from his eyes.'

Yixing nods, rebranding you at the same time he considers the sheer consequence of you. You are a bad idea - all of you, from the death and the mess and the baggage are a thing that runs the risk of weighing him down. But he knows, inherently, that you won't.

However long you spent under the wing of a man who pressed himself against your body in the hopes of breaking your soul was not enough to ruin you, choosing instead to break his flesh with your bare hands. You are resourceful. You are smart - uncoordinated and full of risk, but smart enough to know the only person anyone can fully trust is themselves. And you are unafraid, prepared to burn the world so long as it ensures your survival.

You are a bad idea.

At twenty, Yixing is addicted to bad ideas, and the idea of you is full of promise.

It’s a cloudless night towards the end of August when Yixing finds himself, twenty-one and standing on Junmyeon's porch, preparing to make promises. The chill in the breeze ensures summer's end, the oncoming storm of September and plans and change carried with the wind, and he grits his teeth as he considers his assets. 

Dongkyu’s death is an unspeakable loss, the kind that puts tangible grief in the air and reminds Yixing of the ash he tasted when he burned his cousin’s body, and he wonders how he’d be now if someone had promised to help with revenge. He knows how that feels, the fire it puts in your veins and seemingly endless drive that pushes and pushes and pushes until you don’t recognize yourself in the mirror anymore. You felt it too, still feel it sometimes when you wake up screaming and scratching at your skin, remembering the way men pushed themselves inside you and demanded that you feel them. 

Yixing thinks if there’s anyone who understands Junmyeon, its you and him. 

It takes a long while for Junmyeon to answer the door after he rings the doorbell, and he’s surprised that he’s the first one here. Sun set hours ago, his first stop of the night a shipping container by the airport where he picked up guns and drugs and a car he gutted with Huang. But his eyes do not droop with tiredness. He wanted the adrenaline push of the job to lead him here, ready and wired and feeling in control before the details of death turn him cold. 

When Junmyeon opens the door, he doesn’t need to say anything - he doesn’t even extend his arms for a hug or extend his condolences, Junmyeon simply knows. He’s ragged and hollow, but alight just the same, blood boiling with a vengeance that Yixing feels against his skin like electricity. 

The air burns with change, and they - eyeing one another wholly aware and wholly prepared to tear the world down - burn with a rage that will set their futures in motion. 

Yixing is twenty-one when he crosses the threshold into Junmyeon’s house, already a king, and a man, and a god, and finds himself becoming a brother.

[itissadbutitsmy-life]

the funniest jokes in bfdi

flower’s announcer crusher that she just. has, and everyone else just uses it too

trying to put out a fire by holding ice cube’s recovery center over the fire so she just falls into it endlessly

every single one of yellow face’s products, including but not limited to

fork attractant, for when you need a fork but don’t have the cutlery on hand

headphones you cannot change the volume on or remove

money slips, you just write an amount on them, and it counts as legal tender

“thats a pentagon!” “yeah! like if you took my name and added ‘Tagon’!“

in like episode 2 when they all run away from something and a second later flower casually power-walks away from it instead of running

when balloony deflated and a while later cloudy flies over and goes “i cannot believe it! this is a dead body!!”

“he’s not dead, he just needs a little help thats all! (starts reinflating him too fast) but i agree, he is a hindrance when he is deflate- ohh noooo”

hollow jawbreakers that sound can come into but can’t go out of

when they stuck loser in a jawbreaker they inverted it, so they can hear him talk to himself but he cant hear anything around him

no one seems to know that thats why they can hear him

one time they all ended up in space. because of budget cuts.

actually every time budget cuts lead to something that seems way cooler than their previous stuff, like sparkly purple lasers instead of a mechanical arm to eliminate people with

the consistently bad cake at stake prizes. one time it was just a block of ice cut into six pieces. one time it was dirty shovels.

the magical die of judgement

when freesmart drove across the ocean in their van and they managed it by holding their breath and each time one of them died they just recovered them and threw their corpse out the back

golf ball messing up naming her team by saying things like “we need to be another name” and ending up on teams called Another Name and A Better Name Than That

one team was formed entirely around learning to not kill people. pillow overhears them say “youre against killing?” and goes “:D did someone say killing??”

tennis ball admonishing rocky for not knowing how to write: “no arms is no excuse”

they had to find a needle in a haystack and needle just turned herself in, successfully

when they started using a board with the points written on it on flaps of paper instead of a computer screen, but due to budget cuts, it could only display two digits per contestant, so anyone who went over 100 started immediately dropping to the bottom of the rankings

when ice cube was sleeping at the cake of stake podiums and got shot up into the air at like 3000 mph

2763

when the eliminated contestants tried to escape the loser chamber and they just rolled it off into the ocean

theyre saved because the sun rises and picks them up out of the ocean

also apparently the chamber opens for like five minutes a day for sunlight, but instead of just climbing out during that time, which they seem to be capable of doing, they do a much more convoluted thing

they were sick of four so they got rid of him by multiplying him with donut, and it worked

ruby has some really weirdly specific ideas of beauty and coaches flower

the line delivery of “killing a bubble is as easy as one, two, th(pop)” “i just learned two things about bubble: she can be su i c i d a l and she’s S O D U M B she CANT even count to T H R E E!”

a few episodes later bubble angrily shows them she CAN count to three if she lives long enough to do so, and pencil and match are both like :O :O

bubbles first line in season four is her rapidly counting to ten before getting popped

the way each team breaks their jawbreakers

8 ball just goes “MNYAH” and bites it in half

"okay black hole, do the thing”

leafy tries to use woody’s tongue to lick it open even though rocky and balloony were doing just fine using acid

iance just going ‘bwehbwehbweh’ all licking the same one

team ice cube was doing a mix of bwebwhbehbbwehbw and loudly drilling it open with naily

when four loved so hard he shot eraser off over the horizon

when they’re discussing team names in season one  and theyre all talking over each other so you cant hear what theyre saying, except match, who grabs a megaphone and screams “SMOKY HOT FIERY BUNS”

when needle made a cake and put so much yeast in it that it breached earth’s atmosphere and astronomers apparently began classing earth as part of a three planet system (”consisting of the earth, the moon, and something called ‘needles cake’”)

“it’s ice cube! and she’s shrinking?” “she’s falling”

saying “(x character)! wake up!!” when it’s unclear (to the audience) why a character looks silly or apparently isnt responding

blocky’s sleeping pose is him with his eyes wide open, sporting a big goofy grin and hugging his legs

david’s sleeping pose is him with X eyes

one time the contest was to fill a tank with water from crying, and golf ball immediately ordered tennis ball to cry. he couldn’t do it on command, so golf ball tried, and cried her first ever tear, just... her first one

when the prize was fortune cookies, the fortunes were bracelety’s notes about how much she loves ice cube

“four, where’d you get these fortunes again?” “dumpster!”

“lightning always forgets to fly, so he had to be the fake”

when they were flying paper planes and stapy accidentally stapled his teammates into theirs, and he just hovered next to it while he was talking to them before they all started to plummet

the entire scene where liy tries to use ice cube to force teardrop to talk

“i’ll hold teardrops jaw open and you wiggle her vocal chords”

“i hate you” “yeah i hate her too!” “no. i hate you.”

“ice cube will only stop when she WANTS to stop!” “i want to stop”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULD HELP ME! YOU SAID YOU WERE COOL!” “so r r y (starts wiggling)”

“ICE CUBE! I AM APPALLED!!!!!”

ice cube gets bitten and starts screaming while bracelety is yelling “YEAH ICE CUBE! I CANT HEAR YOU, LOUDER!!”

apparently everyone who hates golf ball gets physically sick when they get near her (or at least, ruby does and snowball did once he knew she was there)

blocky got eaten by a monster in episode two but it turned out the monster missed him by a bit so he was fine

taco’s teammates thought she was dead forever and wrote eulogies for her, and once they found out she was alive lollipop threw hers away, but saw kept hers because in her eyes they’re still valid!!

when things started to get dramatic in the s1 finale, and leafy called announcer on the phone and he was in a ball pit

loser’s trapped in a jawbreaker and the only thing with him is donut’s diary. the next time you see him he’s reading it furiously and it’s filled with color-coded sticky notes

pillow decided if you wave your arms it means all your “care spirit” is getting sucked out your arms and sent into space (”a true indicator that person doesn’t give a fluff”)

remote got hacked and her FIRST INSTINCT is to send the hackers a bomb

“if theres an announcer recovery center now, that means we can kill the announcer as much as we want and he’ll still come back to give us dream island!”

they ask black hole to push them in their swing and he says he can’t push, but he can pull like there’s no tomorrow

“no i can literally warp space time so that there will be no tomorrow” “yeah,h don’t do that.”

when they have a tiebreaker announcer pulls out a silk tie and goes “first team to break this tie wins”

the second time, almost before he finished speaking, snowball just reached over and ripped it in half effortlessly

“proves you don’t need frills to make a feast for the eyes!” “more like taco doesn’t need to be dead to be deceased in my eyes!!!”

they had a race where everyone on each team had their legs tied together (like a three-legged race, but with like six people on a team)

pen’s team was doing fine but he wasn’t, so they just dragged him along behind

snowball tied his team into a ball and dragged them himself, to predictable results, and wouldn’t stop until he got to the finish line even though it took him until after the sun went down

he failed, actually, and him and his team plummeted down a ravine when he passed out

“the opposite of dream island! night...nightmare moon!!”

donut stuck his arms through a one way camera to the moon (it transmits matter as well as light), and to fix the fact that his arms were on the moon and his body was on earth, he pushed the entire earth through the camera

the moon is smushed up against the earth now. it has not been resolved yet

“gelatin and firey tied their legs together and fell off” “ya, seems like the kind of thing they would do”

pencil got caught by a monster and couldnt get away, so they had to kill her so they could recover her somewhere else, and they let her pick how they did it, which lead to everyone just sawing her in half while she grinned ear to ear. she was singing too. iconic

but first, match, her best friend, started waggling a big butcher’s knife around at her going “hoohoo hoeheehee im killing pencil loookat me” and pencil said “match put your butterknife away, you have to ACTUALLY kill me”

and when they were sawing her in half bubble had the BIGGEST, most BLISSFUL grin, with her eyes half closed like a happy cat

bell asks for help making people stop climbing her string, and snowball assures her he can do it, but he’ll have to climb her string to get to them

then like twenty people followed him up

when writing utensil characters use themselves to write with

sometimes they have tiny versions of themselves (sans limbs), but sometimes they just like, pull their caps off and write with their heads

(the same scream noise they use every time a group of people screams) “HONESTLY! (grabs a new can of fork repellent from hammerspace) are you guys going to scream like that EVERY time i use up a can?”

dodecadangit

OH THANKS AN OCTADECILLION, MATCH

they were basically playing hot potato where if you look at someone who was glowing you’d catch the glow, and most teams ended up just chilling with their eyes closed, but golf ball yelled “EVERYONE GET ON MY ROCKET” and she and her team just left earth entirely

this did not stop them from catching the glow

someone’s like “the communicator dish still works” and book goes “oh,” dips a chip into the communicator dish and splashes dip everywhere, “THATS what this is?”

the, like, five minute long end-credits scene of ice cube falling off a cliff eternally

pencil tells ruby which button to press and she keeps getting it wrong, partly because NEW BUTTONS KEEP APPEARING

the poison antidote that has the side effect of making the recipient eat one other contestant

pencil coaching her teammates on how to jump higher

“MMR? I love measles, mumps, and rubella!”

“golf ball knows how to do, like, everything!” (cut to golf ball) “i don’t know how to do, like, anything”

basketball invited 8 ball to be on her team cuz they’re both balls, then 8 ball said “sure, and let’s adopt these three” in reference to three other ball characters

loser said when he was younger he used to play with a toy that was apparently only just invented an hour ago, and everyone, like 60 characters, immediately disowned him and started a turf war over the situation

“black hole, you’re strong! open this jar for me!”

(as the world is literally ending) “FLOWER! WHATAVE YOU DONE??” “i got this jar open!!!”

whenever a host dies or is otherwise put out of commission and the contestants just keep trucking along until they remember no one can get the prize if the host isn’t around to give it to them 

that time announcer used like ten negatives in a sentence 

the way announcer says “wow!” with more emotion than anything else he says? idk if it’s intentional, or even a joke, but it’s the best thing 

(slow mo) “i want to cry now, i really do”

“and i cry acid”

ruby died of sadness and book made it big by selling her remains 

when they say some line that’s just regular words in a slightly unique way, and then the line gets repeated throughout the series 

announcer accidentally-on-purpose got everyone killed, except david (who’s immune to bugs), and he had a david cloner, so he just went ahead and replaced everyone with davids in costumes

halfway through cake at stake, the original contestants show up unexpectedly and explain that they “faked their deaths! obviously.”

“ive decided to not cancel bfdi!” “aw, seriously?”

the noises david and dora make when they do things, like clattering, or sprouting leaves 

bubble and match pretending to be trees

“NO BUBBLE! TREES DONT SAY THAT!” “OH, RIGHT! FSSHHHHHH! FWWWSHH!!!!”

when nickel and coiny get close together bad things happen

“how’s the tree-climbing going?” “it’s okay, but it’d be easier if you helped. (swoop) okay, just got to the top” 

“yes! I am the first one up the tree!” “that’s NOT true, I was here FIRST” 

i guess we’ll just have to use this trebuchet tennis ball built before he died 

“wha! yhad this the HWOLE TIME, I DIDN EVEN HAVE TO CLIMB THE TREE?” “physical exertion builds character :)” 

when everyone’s begging four to bring back their dead teammates, especially saw, who lost her entire team, and four is like okay I’ll bring back one (1) person, and saw very reverently starts to ask him for her dead team leader, but grassy says “tennis ball!” and four listens to him instead, and everyone immediately starts nagging four again to bring back more important people 

leafy, about to melt ice cube down for metal scrap: “ice cube, come on down! you can be my alloy!”

they met a new character and they’re like “who is that?” and pie’s like “I dunno, try squishing it” 

“theres another one? whoa! it totally has a different texture from the first one!”

8 ball beginning every single statement with things like “although I don’t have a favorite number...” 

“I do this!” (grabs pin and turns her, screaming, into a squiggly pile of lines) “pretty cool, dontcha think?” 

“can,,,, you bring her back?” “no” (five seconds later) “HEY CHECK THIS OUT! (brings back pin)” 

pen high fived black hole and his arm spaghettified 

“what are you doing?” “im going to die!” “hi needle! he’s not going to die.”

iance was trying to dig their way up out of the ground but they couldnt because golf ball kept blocking them from the surface

“maybe theyre trying to communicate with me?”��“yeah they’re telling you to stop”

“they raise a very convincing argument. BUT IT’S NOT ENOUGH!” “OH what a pain!!”

she accurately guessed the fact that there was a group of people underground running from some lava who “clearly value avoiding [golf ball] more than their own safety”

“ohhhh so THIS is golf balls idea of fun!” “(sigh)... yep”

they looked through a camera and couldn’t see donut (the zoom wasn’t adjusted) and marker went “donut’s a vampire too?” 

too???

“meh, I’ve still got other evidence”

one time the eliminated contestants got to vote who to eliminate and snowball was like “ice cube, cuz it’s really hot in the TLC and I can’t be the only one cooling it off” 

like four other people were like “oh man he’s right” and did the same thing

“wouldn’t it be cool if the last word of the last episode was the same as the first word of the first episode?” “yeah :)” 

“take. a deep breath. you know. A DEEP FRIED BREATH” 

at the end of the episode he shows up with some boiling oil and is like “LIKE THIS! ONE, (sizzling and screaming noises)” “COINY NO” 

leafy was about to throw a knife at them but watched this happen offscreen with horror and then left them alone

david’s human, and that’s just weird

“im still mad you killed bubble” “youre one to talk, you were about to impale TWO WHOLE teams” “yeah, but bubble’s life? is special”

pen’s like “okay we three need to stick together while we’re picking teams!” but then eraser hears some other team has free food, so he runs off and pen very flatly goes “okay, we lost eraser.”

“well let’s not pick pen, he’s still two hundred bigintillion dollars in debt” which is mostly hilarious without the first three seasons of context, but even with context it’s hilarious. he looks so shamefaced when they say it too. i love pen

once someone finally picks him he IMMEDIATELY perks up and takes charge

the hphprcc went into self destruct mode and everyone started frantically trying to figure out what to do, and book’s like “okay it’ll either just disappear without a trace, or blow up and kill us all, 50/50 chance” and then of course, it exploded, and ruby started screaming, and then book was like “ruby, stop hallucinating! see? it just disappeared, without a trace!”

“YOuuOURE HalLUCINAATING!!” “DON’T do that!! it is K-R-E-P!”

pin tried to knock everyone off the eiffel tower by shaking it and book was like “who does she think she’s kidding? it’s the eiffel tower we won’t fall off”

“name ONE! name ONE friend you haven’t gotten extremely angry at!” “thats not fair,! there isnt even any of them!”

8ball was saying the opposite of everything golf ball was saying, up to and including calling the members of their team, a better name that that, “worse namers”

“is this because i killed you last episode?” “what?? no, i dont care about that!”

“life is CHEAP! get me a BANANA!!!”

flower bit off half of announcer’s head and he couldn’t make the K sound anymore

“have this -ashew” “bless you”

“no i said -ashew. -ashew. -ashew. -ashew.” “wow you must be allergic to something”

“maybe announcer’s allergic to this cashew? here bubble, you can have it!”

pencil won the staring contest because david’s allergic to sunrises

freesmart was making video diaries during the three year hiatus, but apparently did absolutely no editing or even rewatching of the videos, because they found out three years too late that ruby left the lens cap on every time she used the camera

when four played the cake at stake song in the classroom he played it on a low-quality portable tv instead of cutting to a fullscreen video

“iknowafasterway!” “NORUBYYOULLDIE!”

pin said she didnt want to halve the votes she got because she hadnt done anything that would make people want to vote for her, and it immediately cut to a series of old scenes of her throwing people under the metaphorical bus

literally nothing is funnier than “i mean, i havent done anything to make people vote for me” (cut to flashback) “there’s too much weight on this sinking ship!!! we need to throw someone OVERBOARD!!!!”

one team got stuck doing their nine-piece puzzle for a MONTH because all the pieces were the same dark brown color

the pieces were upside down

a month

“the finish line! it’s only twenty or so yards away!”

two people talking and using the word “needy” twice and pausing to throw their hands up protectively and go “HNnnnynGH”

“why do i have filling, but also a hole?” - donuts diary

in 5b theyre talking to some npcs and theyre like “well dont hurt us, because we just got finished being punished in lego brick’s dungeon” and the npcs were like “oh yeah he does that. he’s a great guy, but he does that.”

also in 5b when book met lego brick the FIRST thing she asked is if he’s “safe to look at” which,???

they did a trivia contest and multiple questions were in complete gibberish

presumably this is an actual language in canon since like three other people answered correctly, also in gibberish, but still

“you’ve got this, bubble, you’re great at mental contests” “question one: ooba grooba, grooba shmooba?” “HUH?”

“but tennis ball -- oh... tennis ball....--”

team naming, especially in season four

“we’re not ALL in the alliance!” “well, if you take ‘the all’ out of the alliance, you get...”

“and what is your name?” (everyone says their own actual names at once)

ice cube is not on team ice cube

Death Prevention And Creating Trust

“let’s be called The Losers!” “awww! you didn’t have to”

wheel ooze a hole bunch. WOAH bunch!

“but then it sounds like youre saying free-DUMB!” “and we are so like totally not dumb!”

when the losers decided to use iance’s idea to win the swing contest and it was styled like an overenthusiastic science video 

“WHOA!!! iance just had a RADICAL idea!!!”

“TREASON! TREASON! TREASON!” “im in what?”

“seriously why are so many people drowning? it’s not even quicksand, or anything” - announcer, responding to five people drowning in a basket of bread

they were whispering with “susuusus” noises and cloudy whispered “zuzuzuzzuz”

the spaceship with the sign that says “this spaceship runs on big squishy contestants” or whatever and after the credits it slowly flips over to say “this spaceship runs on VOTERS”

“stop shooting at me!” “no way! i got these cannonballs on sale and IM GONNA GET MY MONEYS WORTH!!!”

eggy and cake’s argument over who has a deeper spiritual connection with loser

“my connection is so strong that when i crack, i bleed loser’s COLOR”

playing catch with a star they plucked out of the big dipper, and leafy’s horror over it

adding “ey” to people’s names (personal favorites are announcery, fourty-four, flowey, treey, and belly)

blueberries are EXPLOSIVE, including the ones inside pie, so sometimes she just explodes

“but over a year ago, four said you dont need frills to make a feast for the eyes, so that means hes okay with trash!”

the anti-advertisements advertisement!

four ate a whole team and they just sort of stood around inside him sticking their arms out his mouth and laughing hysterically

“again! again again again !!!!”

“we could be leaving!” “yeah, but when’s the last time you saw remote this happy? this is good for her!”

book, three episodes into season 3: hey, what is it we’re even battling for?

(iconic voice): dwream island,??

when they had a beauty contest and firey speaker box and flower speaker box just immediately chose firey and flower to be the winners without a second’s hesitation

“book! come help us catch a criminal!” “no thanks, im good!”

donut tried to punish people for getting the wrong answers when he was hosting, but it turns out a recording of four screeching doesn’t work... quite as well as the real deal

four zapping gelatin

ok ok ok this is insanely long but please add more if u have any favorites i missed

[marvelstud10s]

Cupid’s Bullet | 01

Summary: Leading a life of mystery and quiet, she has everything under control as her impeccable life as an assassin. Except this one time.

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

A/N: Legit screaming at how bad this looks, but I really like this AU thing I did, but ignore my rookie writing don’t let the beginning fool you (I put ethnicity and race in there cause I don’t want people assuming I only do one race hehe)

Chapter 1

The frosty November air nipped at Y/N’s sensitive skin, causing her to shiver and shrug deeper into her blue knit scarf. The cute little cafe seemed to be closer the last time she checked her GPS, deciding to walk instead of taking a cab to save money. Y/N could barely make out the cafe’s sign as she jumped on her tip toes, weaving her way throughout the bustling New York crowd. She kept glancing down at the time, not wanting to be late. 9:42 AM, the clock read. Four minutes until showtime.

Y/N walked into the almost deserted cafe, but still very pleasant. The air smelled of freshly roasted coffee beans and vanilla, soft jazz music playing through the speakers. She looked to her left, looking at her first client, Owen, white, a tall brunette with soft doe brown eyes. He was a paramedic, and good at it to. A good Christian boy with morals and astonishingly kind. As if on cue, he looked up and gave Y/N a wave and smile, showing off his pearly whites. She did the same hesitantly, then headed over to the other side of the shop to wait for her second client.

A jingle of the store bell made Y/N look up from her clock, seeing Victoria, her second client, enter the store. She was average height, neither tall or short, sharp brown eyes, Latina, a mole under her left eye, making her look more intimidating. She was an up and coming business owner for a beauty company. She walked with confidence, glancing at her watch. Punctual, Y/N concluded.

Just as the second hand reached the twelve. 9:46 AM.

Victoria turned and glanced at her watch once more, not seeing Owen shoot up from his spot, finally noticing he was going to be late for work. The coffee is going to be tough to clean out, Y/N thought to herself, as, seeming in slow motion, the two collided with each other, and Owen’s coffee flying through the air and splattering all over Victoria’s ironed blouse. Victoria stumbled a bit, staring down at her, now coffee brown and lavender, shirt with an open mouth. Owen grabbed her arm and steadied her. “Oh my gosh, are you alright? I am so sorry, I’ll get that cleaned up right away, I didn’t mean to-, gosh I’m so clumsy.” Owen rambled as he quickly grabbed napkins and dabbed her shirt repeatedly. You dug through your sleek black leather bag and fumbled with a small red handgun, with a little tiny white heart on the side (adds a little feminine touch, she thought). Y/N closed an eye and focused, pointing the barrel of the gun at Victoria. Y/N took a deep breath, not daring to move a muscle, not even huff a breath. And in one go, pressed down her pointer finger, the force of the shot pushing her backwards a bit, hitting Victoria, the invisible and harmless bullet going through her first client, then going into her second. Y/N slid it inconspicuously into her bag, doing what she’s done thousands of times without a hitch.

Perfect. No more, no less. Victoria gasped in a breath as she was ready to scream at him, but then she stopped herself, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, feeling a strange warmth in her chest. “I-it’s alright, everyone has those days,” she says, gently grabbing the napkins from him. The two looked at each other, time seeming to slow down just for the two of them. “How would you like it if I took you to coffee sometime, as an apology. I promise I won’t spill it on you,” He chuckled. Victoria smiled and bit her lip. “I’d like that very much.”

Y/N smiled to herself as she crossed two names off her list.

I guess you could call me cupid. But the idea of being compared to a floating baby in a diaper isn’t exactly flattering. I like to think of myself more as a “love” assassin, I don’t know what else to call myself really, my job is more of just a morning routine. Each night, every night for as long as I could remember at 11:15 PM sharp, I would get a letter, a pastel red envelope with a pretty little heart on the front in metallic gold, no return address, no name, no nothing. A deep, almost blood crimson wax seal would conceal the paper, with an arrow indentation on it. The paper inside would be a perfectly shaped rectangle stationery, fit for the envelope, with gold flowers and light green leaves lining the side of the white paper. All the paper would say is a time, two names, and two descriptions. When I come back from the missions, I would find $500 in cash in a similar envelope on my kitchen table. I would never get a location of the mission, that was for me to find out. I’m still stumped as to how I know where to go, I just find a place that seems fitting, and I’m always right, always on time. Never had an incident, never had a mess up, never late. Never imperfect.

Except for one time.

The day was Monday, January 27th, 7:38:23 AM. Y/N was up and doing her daily workout, preparing for the mission, which was at 4:39:03 PM. It wasn’t sharp, Y/N hated missions that didn’t end in a sharp. She mumbled and complained to herself about the early hours, but she couldn’t sleep last night. Her hand twitched on the dumbbell, almost dropping it on her foot. She set it down gently, not wanting to get lost in a daydream and hurt herself. She shuffled to her tiny kitchen, preparing a breakfast, feeling something deep in her gut, figuring food could solve it. Butterflies, and they wouldn’t go away. “Pancake mix, pancake mix,” she murmured, looking through her cabinets. “Dang it,” she whined, knowing she was out, and settled for a PB&J. Y/N bounced her leg up and down, nervously chewing on her sandwich, scarfing it down without even noticing. Her missions always go right, always, but she always had the tendency to get nervous.

She always made sure she wasn’t fidgeting, shaking, sloppily shooting or foolishly letting somebody see her. But she can’t help but worry something is going to mess her up, and she doesn’t even want to know what’ll happen if she does. Maybe the magic being who sent her the letters would stop and kill her in the middle of the night? What if her gun stopped working and she couldn’t do her job anymore? Wh- Her thoughts got cut short as she heard her doorbell ring. Y/N shifted her eyes to her leather bag, not jumping, her instincts always on high. She swiftly grabbed her gun and put it in her thigh holster, then grabbing a real gun and holding it up, pointing it at the door. She cautiously gazed around her apartment, quickly going over how long it would take to double check her nailed down windows. No, too much time. Trust yourself, she thought to herself. She never let her eyes wander from the door, never letting her gun trail from it. She ran from her spot and by the door, the doorknob farthest from her. “Who is it?” She asked in a firm but innocent voice, as she took the safety clip off of her gun. “Uh, delivery?” A wavering voice said from the other side, sounding like a teenager. Y/N’s composure let up a bit, but opened the door with her foot. She quickly stepped out and hid the guns, putting on a fake smile. “For whom?” She asked. He looked up at her nervously, his blonde hair falling onto his face.

The delivery boy stuttered, scratching at his growing acne. “Um, Miss L/N?” He asked. She signed the paper and sent him on his way, then setting the box gently on the floor, recognizing the pastel red color and multiple gold hearts. No address. Y/N briskly walked to her window, looking at the delivery boy and wondering how he knew where to deliver it. One part of her wanted to just throw caution to the wind and open it, seeing the familiar packaging. But letting her guard down meant laying her life down. She glanced down at the boy again as he walked down to his car. He hopped in, but didn’t start it right away, instead, reaching for something on his neck. Something wasn’t right about how he scratched it though. The delivery boy pulled on something, a sort of blue fabric coming off of his face, revealing a woman, pulling off the blonde bowl-cut wig, revealing her red hot hair. They made eye contact, a split second of mutual, controlled panic washing over them. The redhead reached up to her earpiece, saying something. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to read her lips. “We have a problem.”

That’s not good.

Before Y/N could even blink, a bullet came breaking through her living room window, effectively shattering it. Y/N ducked and ran, picking up her bag, staring at the mystery box, deciding to take the handheld box and put it into her bag, but then throwing it, chastising herself for tolerating something that obviously put her in danger. Her door slammed open as a man with a mask with an “A” on it, threw a red and white shield at her. She kicked it back at him and whimpered, never seeing these people before in her life and wondered what they wanted. Y/N limped a little, the shield really taking an impact on her boot clad foot. She hurriedly grabbed her shoes and ran into her bathroom, tossing open her mirror and crawling through the tunnel, closing the glass behind her. The cold, damp tunnel gave way and she dropped, a small gasp leaving her. She put on her shoes quickly, grunting at the rush. 

A light could be seen at the end of the supposed rabbit hole, the freezing wind making her squint at it, a dumpster pile speeding up faster and faster, cushioning Y/N’s plummet. She tried to be as noiseless and fast as possible, jumping over the dumpster, almost tripping over the gravel under her black combat boots and jumping onto her black motorcycle, quick and quiet, a stealthy black helmet already being fastened onto her head. She started the engine up, without it making a roar, making her smirk and she sped off without looking back. She turned into an alley, deciding to take the long way around the building, not onto the streets, not taking any chances to get caught. Y/N stepped harder on the gas, coming up to a gate that led to the freeway. A wooden ramp was coincidentally there, as if on purpose. She took it anyway, the ramp giving her leeway and making her look pretty cool as she dropped onto the freeway, passing every car easily.

Her engine revved as she swerved between lanes, multiple cars honking at her, many of them throwing expletives at her. “What am I lookin’ at?” Y/N wondered allowed, her computer screen inside the window of her helmet showing her the nearest exit and safe house. “Who were those people?” She asked again. Six faces showed up on the screen, a brief bio on the left side. “The Avengers, six super human heroes, Black Widow,” she looked at the picture of the redhead, recognizing her immediately. “Steve Rogers, AKA, Captain America, Tony Stark, also Iron Man, blah blah blah,” She muttered, quickly trying to learn as much as possible. A red alert popped up on her screen. Incoming impact, it read. “Send an emergency car ASAP, I need to get out of here quicker.” She instructed. She cleared the screen off her window, and looked to her left to see another motorcycle with a man firing at her wheels. Y/N switched lanes and went behind a car, evading the bullets. The man came up behind her and started shooting again. Y/N turned and shot, grunting. “Where is that car!” She yelled, getting impatient. As if on cue, the black car pulled up beside her, the drivers seat opening, the computer already opening it up for her. She stepped on the brake quickly and jumped off the cycle and into the car, the motorcycle crashing into the man and making him fall. Y/N closed the door and huffed. “Auto-drive. I should really come up with a name for you, like Tony did. What about, Saturday?” She asked jokingly. The computer swerved the wheel a little in objection. Y/N laughed, shaking her head. The car turned and pulled into an exit quickly, hoping not to be seen.

[coffeecomicsgalore]

A Night to Remember

The night of the dance is here and Marinette has rung up the team to get the gym looking great. But how will she react when Lila comes along to thwart her plans?

Ao3

Chapter 18 – Planned Disaster

“Ivan, Kim. That needs to be moved over there. Rose and Juleka. The balloons need to be on that table. Alya, the buffet tables need the black tablecloths, not the white. Nino, the stage is ready for your equipment. Adrien, could you help Nino set up the speakers...”  

Marinette stood near the edge of the gymnasium, calling out orders as her friends walked in to assist. It was the day of the event and everyone knew Marinette was stressed. Clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other, Marinette could not lose focus. She only had eight hours until she had to be back.  Being in charge meant that she needed to be early to direct M. Cessaire and her team to where the food would go. She would also need to make sure Jagged Stone and Kitty Section were comfortable and in their respected rooms to hang out and warm up until their performance of the night. Weeks of preparing were finally coming to fruition and the last thing she needed was something to happen and ruin everything.

“Hey, Marinette?” Alix called out as she brought out the large rolled up paper. “Where do you want the mural?”

Marinette looked around and tapped her chin. “Uhm. Right. It goes against that wall. I brought over the clips you’ll need to hold it up.”

Alix saluted and walked over to Nathaniel and Marc to set up the mural.

“Mylene and Sabrina, could you place all the tablecloths on the tables? Every other is pink and yellow. I drew up the idea to follow.” Marinette handed the sheet of paper to the girls. “Once Rose and Juleka finish with the balloons, have them help you with the lanterns and vases. The florist will be here in the next hour with the delivery. Make sure that the vases are partially filled with water – a third of the way is fine – and that the candles are all placed in the lanterns.”

Marinette became lost in her own world, focusing on what has been done and what still needs to be worked on. Everything on the clipboard was meticulously written on a time table to ensure everything will be done before everyone left to prepare for the dance. Thank goodness she was able to wrangle up her friends to help or else she would never have time to complete everything before the event.  

Things looked great. Everything was coming together just fine and was almost completed. Marinette placed her hands on her hips and smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment over the sight. Alya walked up to Marinette and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Girl, this place looks great! I can’t wait to see all the lights and candles lighting this place up. This masquerade was the perfect idea, too.”

Adrien walked up and wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her in close, placing a lingering peck to her temple. “She’s right you know.” He gleamed. “Your ideas are amazing and the fact that this cold, old gym looks like a warm, magical evening waiting to happen... well it’s absolutely perfect.”

Marinette smiled brightly and sighed a breath of relief. “I wouldn’t have been able to pull this all together if everyone didn’t come in and volunteer their time.” She turned to Adrien, “And thank you for helping me come up with the theme and working through my crazy ideas.”  

“You know I’m here for youuuu.” He said in a sing-song voice as his eyebrows wiggled in enthusiasm.

She ducked her head to chuckle as grabbed her phone to look at the time. “I’m grateful that I was able to save some money on the decorations and am able to use it to take the volunteers out to lunch.” Alya and Adrien salivated at the thought of the delicious meal waiting for them. “Let’s wrangle everyone up and head on over to the bistro down the street. They are expecting us.”

----

Lurking in the shadows, Lila watched the group huddle together as Marinette mumbled something to the team. The snarl that released from the brunette’s throat almost ousted her and the slight pang of fear escaped heart when she noticed Adrien. As if he had some secret ability, Adrien’s ear twitched at the strange sound causing his head to turn in search of it. Bracing herself against the stone wall, she hid further into the shadows waiting a few heartbeats before looking back in his direction. She only felt the calmness from her tightly coiled nerves when Adrien’s attention turned back to the raven-haired girl.

As soon as the team left, Lila sauntered towards the tables and surveyed the area. She crossed her arms and tapped a finger to her lips. “My, my Marinette.” She purred. “It looks absolutely wonderful in here. It would be a shame if someone destroyed it.” She laughed menacingly for a moment before turning her attention to the room. She made note of what she could do and ruin the repulsively-sweet look Marinette had come up with without looking like Lila wanted to destroy it out of revenge.

Because that’s the real reason she’s doing it. Too bad she needed to avoid being caught, because Marinette deserved all the disastrous things coming her way and she would just love to rub it all in that brat’s face.

Lila walked up to the mural and noticed how much detail Alix put into it. Looking to the side, she noticed a lone paint brush with a few tubes of paint beside it. She picked up the black tube and poured some in the paint tray and took a heaping glob across the mural. “Oh, no. I can’t believe a pigeon flew in here and just smudged the mural!” She said in mock horror. “All that hard work, gone to waste.”

She walked to the table near the entrance and found a pair of scissors. She then walked to each table and started snipping the flowers from its stems, leaving the buds sprawled on the tables. She then took the candles and threw them in the trash. “Oh dear, I wonder who could have damaged all these flowers?”

Lila looked at her clock and decided that she still has a little while longer to continue her rampage before needing to leave and avoid being caught. With the scissors in hand, Lila walked up to the balloons and started popping them. Seeing how long the popping was taking, she decided to just snip the strings and allowed them to float to the ceiling. It’s not like anyone would be tall enough to fetch them anyways.

She turned to the stage, and ran her hand across the speakers. She saw the wires that led to the DJ booth and smirked at her next thought. She unhooked the connected wire and threw it in the trash. Before jumping off the stage, she sauntered over to the microphone and threw it in the trash, untuned the guitar strings to the point of it needing to be restrung, and snapped a drum stick in half.  

Lila stood near the entrance, and marveled at the handiwork. Feeling satisfied, she flipped her hair back as her eyes turned dark with wickedness. “I’d like to see how you get yourself out of this one.”

----

After their delicious lunch, most of the team went on their way home to get ready for the night. Marinette needed to go back and grab a few things that she left behind and Adrien was happy enough to stick around to keep her company. Alix needed to go back and grab her paints, while Nino and Alya tagged along for the short walk. The small group conversed over the Kim’s most recent dare and joked about how much Alix made off of said dare.

But all the laughter subsided when Marinette opened the door to the gymnasium and noticed the atrocity that was left in their wake. Marinette walked in hesitantly, her hand slowly clasping her mouth as she scanned the room. Warm tears threatened to fall and a silent sob tried to escape. Adrien stood shell shocked, but the sound of Marinette’s stifled cry pulled him out of his revere and quickly ran to her side, pulling her close to rub her back in an attempt to console her.  

“Dude.” Nino reluctantly said as he removed his cap to scratch his head.

Alya clenched her fists and growled as Alix narrowed her eyes and spilled colorful language from her pink lips.

All their hard work was destroyed. Someone purposely walked in as soon as they left and vandalized the room.

“Who would do this!” Alya finally stated.  

“Whoever did this is going to get a serious pounding from my fist!” Alix growled as she punched a tight fist to her palm.

Adrien looked down to notice the shocked look on Marinette’s face. The tears subsided, but the look in her eyes matched those of her alter ego. “Bug? Hey.” He watched her lips purse to a thin line. “Listen, we’ll fix this. We’ll all be here to he-”

Marinette straightened her shoulders and pulled out of Adrien’s grasp. Adrien cocked his head to the side as he watched his girlfriend walk towards the entrance.

“Marinette, wait!” Adrien called out. “Don’t leave. We can fix this.” Alya, Alix, and Nino stopped and watched Marinette’s actions. They were worried; they have never seen Marinette go down without a fight. Was this the straw that broke the camel’s back?

Marinette continued to walk, ignoring his troubled cries. But instead of walking through the doorway, she suddenly stopped and turned to face the group.  

A devious gleam twinkled in her eye and a smirk curved her lips. Adrien noticed the quick change in her demeanor and straightened himself as he watched her next step. She turned back again, but instead of walking out, she stuck her hand into the shrub that Kim and Ivan had placed earlier that morning. She fished for a few seconds, wandering through the fake leaves until she found the treasure.

“Here it is!” Marinette shouted as she pulled out a camera. “I almost forgot I put this in here. Now let’s see who trashed this place.”

Alix crossed her arms. “Who wants to bet?” A smirk curled her lips.

Adrien laughed. “I bet it was Lila.” Nino shook his head to agree. Alix did the same.  

“Would she really?” Alya questioned, but she knew deep down that she was the most likely candidate. All her lies were exposed and caused the downfall of the green-eyed monster. It could easily be believed that she would do this out of revenge. She was just hoping that it wasn’t the case.

Marinette walked towards her friends as she fast forwarded the video. Adrien snorted at Marinette’s peace offering to the camera the moment the group left the gymnasium to grab lunch. A few minutes later, the brunette walked in and started her monologue. Marinette stopped the footage as the group let out a gasp.

“That bitch!” Alix and Alya said in unison.

Nino, Adrien, and Alix started mumbling to each other, trying to find the best way to destroy Lila for what she did. Alya grimaced at the stilled shot but then looked to Marinette to see her reaction.

Marinette looked determined. She wasn’t angry or upset, but the fierceness she showed could only mean one thing – Marinette had a plan and she was ready to attack.

“Guys.”

“Guys.”

“GUYS!” Marinette yelled until the four companions went silent. She looked at her clock. “We only have three hours until the event. I need everyone here to help. I can’t call anyone for backup, so we need to do this quickly if we want to finish and get back home.”

Everyone nodded as they waited for their roles.

“Alya, bring the trash bin with you and chuck the stems. Take the buds and put them all in the vases. I’ll help and fill up the vases. We’ll have them as floating flowers instead.” Alya nodded and started.

“Nino, check the stage to see if she messed around with anything. If you need the camera to check, go ahead. If nothing needs to be fixed, come back and I’ll give you something else.”

“Adrien, go and throw out all the popped balloons. We won’t worry about the ones on the ceiling now. It looks like she removed the candles from the lanterns too. Can you go and grab the box of candles from the kitchen and start refilling them? Also, there should be another lantern or two hidden back there. Go ahead and bring those out too and put it where the balloons were. We’ll surround the lantern with any leftover candles from the box.”

“Got it, bug.”

“Alix. Is there a way to fix the mural? I have an idea if you don’t.”  

Alix had a thought but was curious to what Marinette had in mind. “Humor me.”

Marinette and Alix walked up the painting as the former stated her thoughts. “What about if you take the black smudges and smudge it more? Give it kind of an airbrush effect since it’s dead set in the center anyways. Once that’s set, you can then spray paint a graffiti tag with the words “A Night to Remember” across it.”

Alix smirked. “Looks like we had the same idea. I’ll get started now.”

While the team worked on their tasks, Adrien pulled out his phone and called his driver. “Hey, I need a guard to stay at the gym until the dance starts. Know of a guy who could help on short notice?”

Alya stopped as she overheard Adrien’s call and quirked her lips as she thought of something a little more conniving. “Hey Nino? Let me see that camera. I think this liar needs to be held accountable tonight.”