#I did work hard on this but shading wasn’t my strong suit and my artist did a fantastic job.

[aries-wants-anarchy]

Bit bloody here but tattoo in progress

•

•

•

It’s not done jut yet there’s some more detail to be put in but I’m happy with it and it’s great and I wanted to share

[lumosinlove]

Well, this got longer than I thought it would, so I’ll have to publish in a few parts as I write...

But Happy Birthday, Finn, my favorite :)

Find it here on Ao3

~

Of Silence And Slow Time

part i of iii

~

New York City, 1920

~

Everyone told Finn that the statue looked like him, that he simply must go and see it.

“Really, Finn,” his older brother Alex said. “It’s the eyes, the face, it’s the mouth. It’s uncanny.”

Finn had just looked over Alex and the man and woman he seemed to always have at his side ever since the war ended. Natalie, a nurse whom he’d met in France, and Kasey a Canadian from another unit—they’d ended up in the hospital together.

“It’s in France,” Finn said flatly. “I know you’re forgetting about it all, but I’m not exactly keen on going back there. It took me ages to get home.”

It had taken everything for him to get home.

Alex, to Finn’s relief, nodded at Natalie and Kasey to go get themselves a drink at the bar down the street, told them that he’d meet them there. Finn stared down at the book open and unseeing in his lap. He wasn’t even sure what he was reading, on that he wanted to. His mind didn’t seem to follow him just right these days. Cars became bombs sometimes. Sleep was all dreams.

Alex sat beside him on their parents’ old sofa.

“Fish,” Alex said softly, and moved his hand slow, where Finn could see it, before resting it gently around his shoulders. “You can’t sit here all day. That’s not going to help you, and I know you don’t like it. You’ve never sat still like this.”

“I’m not going back to France.”

“It’s Paris,” Alex said, and gently flipped Finn’s wrist over to reveal the tiny globe his friend Jackson had dotted there with a needle and ink. “You’ve always wanted…don’t let this war stop you any longer.”

Finn stared down at the reminder he’d asked his friend for, ink permanent black. He’d never been farther than New England before the war. Paris, he’d always thought, gazing at his collection of books. Rome. Athens, Barcelona—

Finn swallowed hard. “Looks just like me, huh?”

Alex’s grin was enough to pull one out of Finn, just slightly. “It was bizarre.” Alex squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll even meet you there later if you want, once we’re through with Canada.”

Finn sent a wary glance towards where Natalie and Kasey had left.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’d like them. And, who knows who you’ll meet over there. We ran into all sorts of people, people like you’ve never seen. It’s why—” Alex broke off slightly, and looked after the nurse and soldier, too. Finn blinked at the nervous bob of his throat, and then his smile. “There are all sorts of love and art in this world of ours. I know it feels like it’s all war, I felt that too, but it’s not. Please let me help you see that.”

Finn rubbed a thumb over his tattoo, and closed his book.

Everything felt like war. He was so tired of it he thought he’d be crushed.

He looked up at his brother. “I don’t have much money.”

Alex just grinned and slapped him on the back, then pulled him into a tight embrace.

~

Finn arrived in Paris with a lump in his throat. He stumbled through half-French greetings and requests to his taxi, who looked at him sourly and turned out to have dropped him off four streets away from his hotel—maybe on purpose. Maybe because it was barely six in the morning.

Finn was annoyed at first, and then he began to walk.

Paris’ cobblestones were like those in the West Village, only they weren’t. There were glimpses of his home in the uneven tread of his feet, but these stones were darker, as if soaked with more time and more place. It calmed him, while the brief glance towards France’s rolling hills had sent him back to his cabin on the rocky ship, shaking and gasping for air. He’d barely eaten during the entire journey besides forcing down the occasional breakfast sludge, and his legs had wobbled so fiercely upon stepping back onto land, he’d had to sit down.

Finn paused now, closing his eyes and leaning against the nearest building. He’d been so stupid the first time, decked out in his new uniform, eyes on the war like it was some prize to be won. The comfort waned with his scattering mind and Finn tried to draw a steady breath in. The lump in his throat only grew tighter and he squeezed the handle of his small suitcase.

“Monsieur?” came a voice, spilled over with concern.

Finn’s eyes flashed open and he pushed himself straight, blinking through the pale morning light. There was a boy standing there, around his age, with bright blond hair and worried blue eyes. He was tall, with a neat white apron tied around his hips.

“Ça va?” the boy took a hesitant step forward. His eyes glanced towards Finn’s suitcase, and he nodded in realization, then spoke in accented English. “Are you all right?”

Finn looked behind the boy to see the cafe, slowly opening, from which he must have come. There was an abandoned stack of chairs he was putting out for the day, and his apron had an embroidered name at one corner, Finn realized, that matched the sign above.

Le Lion.

“Yes,” Finn breathed, but found himself unable to speak louder. “I’m fine.”

The boy just shook his head, and gestured behind him. “Non. You must sit down. S’il vous plaît. Please.”

Finn didn’t know how to refuse him.

A few minutes later, he found himself stationed at one of the cafe’s tables with a steaming pot of coffee in front of him, a croissant, and a plate of softly scrambled eggs.

“You look like you need more than butter and bread,” the boy had said, wiping strong looking hands on his apron. “You are from America?”

Finn nodded. He had been worried he would be able to stomach the food after the boy went through so much trouble, but upon his first bite of eggs, he felt ravenous.

“Yes,” Finn nodded, brushing his hands off from croissant crumbs. “Sorry, yes,” he held out his hand. “Finn.”

“Leo,” the boy smiled, and took his hand. “It is a pleasure.”

Finn found himself returning that smile with one that, for the first time in a long time, felt like his own. He tried to put coins into Leo’s hand when it was all over, but Leo simply waved him off and said he hoped to see Finn again.

~

The Louvre was more than Finn could have imagined. It was like walking across the ocean floor, new rarities at every corner. And, of course, there was the matter of the statue. Alex had said it would be with all the other works from ancient Greece. He didn’t have trouble following the signs to the correct gallery, walking through the white marble hallways. When he did reach the Greek galleries, his first thought was that the perfectly white statues nearly blended in with everything else, at least until he found a plaque that said it had all been painted once. Finn smiled to himself. Maybe his apparent stony doppelgänger had had red hair, too.

Imagining Alex and his long stride in these halls was easy. And it was quiet here, and distracting, which let Finn close his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of old stone, like a church, or a river’s bank.

When he opened them, he had found it. He was staring into his own face. His eyes were blank. He reached up to feel the shape of his own jaw as he looked at the statue’s, on display in the way the head was slightly turned, jaw set, brow low, as if in focus. Finn blinked, pulled out of the daze of seeing it, and his eyes landed on the museum card beside it. There was a word in ancient Greek, said to have been carved more visibly into the bust’s base. Future, it translated to. Thought to be made in the name of a God, though he may be lost now. There is no other surviving work by this artist.

Finn looked back at the eyes, so much like his own he could have seen brown there in the blank irises, and thought about when this strange statue had been carved. He’d always loved the way ancient Greece was sometimes described in poetry. It had gotten him through many long nights in the trenches. Serene, warm, and with nothing to do but lounge in the olive groves. Working the land and coming home at sundown to wine and honey and spiced meat. He’d longed for it. He longed for it still, this simple-seeming past.

The next thing he felt was warm wind. He smelled salt water.

The museum melted around him and his shoes slipped into sand before disappearing entirely.

~

Finn turned around to the sound of someone shouting, worried it was at him, only to find a brunette boy storming towards him—then past him—a foreign language continuing to fly off of his tongue. But more importantly, the boy was dressed in a simple garment of white cloth that left his strong, tanned legs and arms completely bare, and his feet were sandaled. Finn reached down to smooth his suit, only to find it gone, as well, replaced with a similar getup. He stared down at his bare skin, so pale in the bright sunlight.

And then the foreign language morphed, like a scratched record, and became English to his ears.

“—I’m telling you, Leo, I won’t go. Not without you.”

Leo?

And there the blond boy was, sitting in the shade of low trees at the edge of the beach. He was holding some sort of musical instrument, plucking at its strings almost sadly, head bowed.

“You have to,” Leo replied. “The oath says—“

He stopped mid-sentence, having looked up and spotted Finn. It made the brunette turn, and then Finn’s back was in the sand and there was a thin, rough blade at his throat.

Green eyes bore down into his own, a growl ripping from the boy’s throat. “Spartan.”

Finn choked out a breath, his hand going around the boy’s wrist. “No—no.”

“Logan,” came Leo’s voice, and then the knife’s pressure was released, pulled back by Leo, but the boy—Logan—was still sitting firmly on Finn’s hips. Finn felt his entire body flush with the sheer lack of fabric between them, but Logan didn’t seem to either mind or notice.

“I’m not a—Spartan,” Finn managed. “What the hell, I…” He looked to his left, at the sparkling waves lapping there, and then to the two boys looming above him. “Where am I?”

That made both of them freeze, the knife twitching in Logan’s hand.

“Ithaca,” Leo offered timidly, then glanced out at sea, as if that was where Finn had come from. Finn just stared at him.

He was the boy from the cafe. He was sure of it. His blue eyes filled with the same concern as they had on that early morning cobblestone street.

“Are you all right?” Leo asked.

“He is a spy,” Logan said, and went for him again.

Finn was ready this time. He knocked a leg around Logan’s waist, putting him on his back, and then rolled away from him and to his feet, knife in hand. He raised it for the two of them to see and then tossed it a little ways down the beach. “I’m not a spy. I…I’m just lost.”

It was true. In more ways than he’d even thought before.

“Please,” he managed more quietly.

He watched Leo and Logan exchange a look, unsure of what it meant, until Logan turned on his heel and Leo gestured for Finn to follow.

~

“Are you at war?” Finn asked he was led through the city streets. It had been a hot walk up a long road built into a steep hill, all the way up to what Finn assumed was the inner city and acropolis. Water ran along the side of the street—no doubt with sewage—and they crossed via stepping stones, pressing themselves against the walls whenever carts rattled by—carts filled with men with shields and swords or spears.

Logan, who brought up the rear behind him, having retrieved his knife, scoffed. “Aren’t we always?”

“And where are you taking me?”

“Where we take any question we can’t answer,” Leo said from in front of him, golden hair gleaming. “Pascal.”

[lubdubsworld]

Falling for you ( Falling from Grace ) Jungkook x OC

Summary : Friends with benefits? Or maybe Enemies who just happen to fuck? Areum and Jungkook love driving each other crazy, but also can’t keep their hands off each other.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  

Chapter 7

Author’s Note : This isn’t a chapter update. Just a snippet of how they met ;) 

Two Years Ago ~ How they met. 

“So, first day at work?” My sister gave me a bright, vibrant grin as she watched me shimmy into my slacks , struggling to yank the skin tight fabric up my legs.

I was half tempted to just choose something a little less form fitting but, Jung Hoseok, my soon to be boss was a hot piece of ass and I wanted to make an  impression. 

The kind of impression that would end in me , under him , horizontally. And him well, inside me preferably. God , he looked so hot in those fitted suits of his , dark hair falling into his face . That sharp as a blade jawline and that beautiful damn smile. He was so humble and friendly, which meant that he had a gorgeous daddy dick and knew exactly how to use it. 

My sister, so attuned to my thinking , read my mind like a book. 

“Don’t even think about sleeping with your boss again. That's how you got fired the last time remember?” She said sharply.

I rolled my eyes.

“I quit. Because he lied about being divorced. There’s a difference.” 

“Still Hobi is a stickler for rules , don’t do anything stupid.”  She warned. 

I grinned a bit. 

My perfect, holier than thou sister would never understand the thrill of good sex, I thought . And one look at Hoseok told me that he had bomb dick game. And men didn’t really care about rules when they saw my ass in this particular pair of pants. It was a theory tested and proven. 

“Its not stupid to want to ride a gorgeous man into the sunset. It’s the only fairytale ending I believe in “ I said loftily. 

“Well, I’m only looking out for you , Areum. I am incredibly proud of you for landing this job. Jeon Inc., is one of the biggest conglomerates in our country. You did well.” She looked annoyingly bright and cheerful for someone who had actually got up at the ass crack of dawn to make me breakfast and had then driven half way across Seoul to deliver it at my apartment. 

I loved her with my whole entire heart but my sister had a tendency to sometimes treat me like I was still five years old. 

Which I loved, most of the time. 

But not when I was already running late for the first day of work. 

“unnie, i love you but you need to go suck Seokjin’s dick and leave me alone.” I grinned wide at her and she turned an alarming shade of red. 

“Areum!!!!!”

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

“So, you’ve familiarized yourself with all the Office policies, right?” Hoseok narrowed his eyes at me and I groaned.

“Yes.”  i muttered, morose.

“Yes?”

“Yes sir.” I groaned. God, he made me want to kneel down and suck his dick but also made me want to knee him in said dick, at the same damn time. 

“Especially the clause on interpersonal relationships in the office and the dress code.”

I gritted my teeth. 

Ugh, no amount of daddy dick was worth putting up with being talked to like an errant school girl , 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Now, we have a well stocked wardrobe department in the fifth floor. I would suggest you go change into a more suitable pair of work pants “ He waved his hand, dismissing me and I turned around, trudging back to my desk. 

So much for nailing the boss.

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

I was a little awed that the company had a bunch of things for the employees . Things I’d never heard of before. There was an actual ‘nap’ room where you could take a twenty five minute nap , once a day. A wardrobe department for when you needed to change your clothes and  a whole garden out in the terrace for team meetings that were informal. 

Apparently, the entire set up had been designed by the younger Jeon kid, Jeon Jungkook. The whole thing was patented in his name and he was also a super talented digital artist, evident in the bazillion gorgeous murals mounted all over the office,  all of them signed with a beautifully scripted “JK”.  

 I hadn’t met him yet but he was apparently incredibly smart, incredibly handsome and also the biggest man-whore in the entirety of Seoul. 

Which fair enough. i didn’t begrudge good men the right to pussy. And if he was getting so much of it, he was probably good at what he did. That was cool. 

What wasn’t cool, was him apparently leaving his cum stained fucking pants in the  closet in the Women’s section . The same closet i had dug into five minutes ago looking for appropriate clothes , only to have my hands met with a damp, sticky white mess that clung to my fingers like ...well like cum. 

“What the fuck....!!!” I screeched in disbelief, stumbling back and landing hard on my ass, shaking my hand in despair like that could get rid of the grossly disgusting mess that now coated my digits. 

Completely out of it, I wiped the mess on my blouse of all thing, realizing a split second too late , what a bad idea  that  was. 

“Oh, gross!!” I sobbed out in disbelief .

“You alright, angel?” 

The words came from right behind me and i whirled around, surprised. 

I got the wind knocked out of me as i stared at the fine , fine specimen standing in front of me. ‘

it was a face that looked like it was straight out of the most luxurious fashion magazines in the world. Beautiful ebony black hair that fell into deep, almond shaped doe eyes. Eyes that fairly glittered with mischief. He had a nice strong nose and a beautifully red pair of lips , quirked up in a wide smile. 

“You alright?” His voice was perfect, not too deep but with a masculine cadence to it. 

He was completely shirtless, grinning like it was going out of style,  as he pulled on pants over his gloriously muscled thighs. I watched him carefully tuck his underwear in, before buttoning  the pair of jeans up. 

He was tall, just a little shy of six feet and had the body of Adonis, with broad shoulders, beautiful pecs and drool worthy abs that tapered to a ridiculously tiny waist. 

I stared down at my hands and his eyes followed mine. 

“Oh, my bad. I thought that was the closet for the used clothes.” He grinned unrepentant. 

it took me a second to realize that it was his cum.

I was covered in his cum. 

“What?!” I hissed in disbelief , staring at him in pure horror. 

He held his hands up. 

“This is not my fault. The girl told me she’d swallow every drop of it and then choked half way through-”

“Oh my fucking God...” I groaned in disgust. 

“Although I’m not complaining now... Wouldn’t have met you if it weren’t for her... What’s your name, pretty?” 

I stared at him, slightly slack jawed. 

What kind of a man whore-

I froze. 

No way. It can’t be.

“Jeon Jung Kook.” I said drily. 

His eyes widened. 

“Well now you have the advantage ....i don’t know your name.” He pouted. 

“You should be in a cage.” I snapped, turning back to grab the nearest skirt. I moved to leave but he stepped in my way, blocking the path with both hands held up. 

“What are you doing?” I narrowed my eyes at him. 

Jungkook chuckled.

“Come on baby..Don’t be mad.. Its just a little bit of cum. Granted you did not get the pleasure of getting it out of me yourself but that can easily be remedied if you just-” 

“You will not have a dick to cum out of , if you don’t move right now.” i warned him. 

Jugkook’s eyes widened at that.

“Um... you do realize who I am?” He smirked. 

“A man whore with bad taste in hook-ups? A girl who can’t even swallow? Really Jeon, how desperate were you  ?” I smiled. 

His eyes danced at that.

“ Not as desperate as I am now.... Go out with me.” 

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not happening. Get out of my way.” 

Jungkook let out an actual groan at that but he moved aside nonetheless. 

“What??..come on, please , angel, just one date.....” 

I shook my head. 

“ I’ll send you the bill for my dry cleaning Jeon.” I flipped him off before stalking right out of the room. 

“Gonna make you fall in love with me, new girl.” He called out from behind me. 

I scoffed at that. 

Yeah right.

Author’s Note : I had to write their first meeting okay???? I’ll update tomorrow or the day after . 

@veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

@jincentvangogh

@unicornbabylover

@ggukkieland

@yoongisdragon

@aamxxrii

@brooky95

@apollukee

@taesgalore

[thedragonemperess]

JATP Big Bang Fic

Title: A Job On The Other Side

Artist: @bowtiesareavenged

Cheerleader: @flynn-flynnagan

Art Link: Here!

Tag List: @angelwiththeblue-box @almightygrasshopper @strangeradventures @nyxie75 @beansisarat7 @tronagon @welcome-to-gaytown @jatpbigbang

Summary: An AU where Julie gets a job at the HGC instead of the boys losing their stamps. While Luke comes up with a break-out plan, Julie finds out that Caleb isn't what he makes himself out to be.

Warnings: Suicidal Thoughts and Soul Stealing

Ships: There's some light Juke, Willex, and Rayleb, but nothing strong enough that it should be tagged as such

Notes: This took a really big turn from what I originally wanted it to be but it came out pretty well in the end! And hey, it isn't half bad! I wrote the last, like, 3,000 words today because I didn't have time to finish it at any other time, so a lot of it is unedited. I'm sorry for that, but I hope you enjoy, anyway!

Luke walked up to Julie and looked her in the eye, a million emotions running through all four of them. The jolts were too much, they were fading completely. Playing the Orpheum, something that they had all worked so hard for, ended up not being their unfinished business.

“No music is worth making, Julie, if it’s without you.”

“If that’s the case, then maybe I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

Julie whipped around, Caleb now standing behind her.

“You. You were the one that did this to them!” she yelled, no longer caring about if anyone else heard.

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m evil. But I have…..an offer,” he stated, stepping closer to her.

Julie stood her ground, looking up to him in order to keep eye contact.

“If they won’t perform without you, why don’t you all join me?”

“....What do you mean?”

Alex pulled himself up and leaned back against the piano, clutching his stomach with his right hand. “Don’t listen to him, he’s trying to trick you.”

Caleb ignored him and went on. “You get an afterschool job at the Hollywood Ghost Club and perform with them. Julie and the Phantoms can still exist, you just perform at my club on the side. So what do you say?”

Julie looks back over her shoulders to look at the boys. Reggie was still on the floor, not able to gather enough energy to move, Alex was leaning back over the piano in pain, and Luke was swaying slightly, standing up. She looked back up to Caleb.

“So they won’t disappear?”

Caleb shook his head.

“And you won’t come after any of our friends and family?”

“If that’s what you wish for.”

Julie hesitated to do anything else, but nodded.

“Deal.”

Caleb stuck out his hand and tilted his head slightly. “Shake on it?”

“No!”

Julie turned around completely to face the boys and Caleb retracted his hand.

“He’ll use his stamp on you, too. That’s how he gave it to us.”

Julie looked back to Caleb and glared.

“You never said anything about not being able to use my stamp,” he acknowledged, shrugging.

“We’ll work something out some other time, but for now, can you just stop their jolts for good? Please?” she gestured to the boys, panic starting to drip into her voice.

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He waved his hand and the boys’ jolts stopped, forcing them to stand up straight. As Julie ran over to them, Caleb vanished.

That was a month ago. Now Julie was walking down the busy street alone, holding a white pair of dress pants, dress shirt, and black blazer over her right arm and a pair of knee high, black, heeled boots in her left hand. Things had gotten busier, yes, but she could handle it. Flynn hasn’t stopped bothering her about this and keeps going on about how it was a stupid thing to do, but what was she supposed to do? If she didn’t make the deal with Caleb, the boys would have faded from existence, and she couldn’t live with that fact knowing that she could have stopped it.

The HGC was open 24 hours with different performances based on the day of the week and time. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays Julie and the boys would perform. Ray was a little confused on what this place even was, but after a quick explanation from the boys (specifically, Alex, because even though he may suck at lying, the others were way worse), he was fine with it. (“My friend’s uncle owns this incredibly exclusive club. It’s for really rich people only. He thought he would give our band a chance.”) He worried about her not having time for everything, but she assured him that it would be fine, and for the most part, they were. Things got a little hectic at times, but the boys and Flynn were able to help her through it.

Something that was great about working at the HGC was most of the other workers were performers, through and through. They all had different passions and talents. For every singer, there was a dancer, a magician, instrumentalist, acrobat, and more. Everyone was really welcoming, making it a really nice environment overall.

Caleb wasn’t half bad either. Yeah, he was a pretty terrible person, and she still hated him, but he was a good role model, all things considered. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. This entire situation could have been much better, should have been much better, but it wasn’t. Life didn’t go their way, but it was still better than it could have been. There were bright sides. The band’s popularity has grown exponentially, the boys can be made visible, Willie was freed (he still works at the HGC, though), and everything was looking up.

Julie looked around, making sure that no one was looking in her direction, before getting closer to the fence of the HGC. Just before the gate, there was a small opening. Reaching it, she ducked down, getting as low to ground as possible without getting her uniform dirty. Well, it wasn’t really a uniform, she was allowed to wear whatever she wanted as long as it was black and white. After getting through to the other side and brushing herself off, she looked around one more time. Finding that no one was watching, she turned to run to the back of the building.

The Hollywood Ghost Club was the most busy on weekends, so Julie had to try extra hard not to bump into or walk through anyone. The HGC was private property, and the events that went down there weren’t exactly scientifically possible (or legal). After she made it past the gates, multiple people appeared out of nowhere. There was something about the place that made anyone on the property, once inside the gate, became invisible to anyone outside of it, but it didn’t stop her from double checking, just in case. People wearing fancy dresses, some in colorful glitter, others in black and white, of all different fabrics, lengths, and shades. People in suits walked alongside the people in dresses, some more flamboyant than others. A lot of people here lacked creativity, which Julie had learned to decipher as other lifers. If the Hollywood Ghost Club has taught her anything, it’s to never be dull.

Lightly jogging, Julie swerved around the people, not wanting to figure out who was a ghost and who was a lifer. She looked down to the lavender, sparkly watch on her wrist, which read 4:55. Picking up her pace, she made her way backstage.

“Hey guys,” Julie waved to the others.

It was still early, so no one else was there. Luke was sitting on a small table that was supposed to be for props (the variety of performances in this place is insane). Reggie was laying down in a chair, his head hanging back over one of the arm rests while his feet hung over the other. Alex was sitting down the right way in a chair next to Reggie, messing with his drumsticks on his left arm rest. Willie sat across from him, his chair backwards so that his legs were around the back and his arms were crossed on top of the back, which he rested his head on.

“Hey, Julie!” Luke exclaimed, pushing himself off the table.

“Hey, Luke!” She looked around him to the others. “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, Julie,” they all said in unison.

“So, um,” Luke started, lowering his voice, “I have a new song I wanted you to look at. I only have the first verse down and I wanted some of your insight.”

Julie smiled up at him. He was bouncing, his eagerness clear on his face. He was almost like a puppy, with how much energy he had.

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to check it out, just let me change first.”

“Got it.”

Julie gave a small wave and then turned down a hall, looking for a bathroom. Luke watched her leave before heading back to his spot on the table.

“It’s terrible how she’s limited as to what she can wear. If she could wear anything, she’d be the best looking person in this place,” Luke commented, still looking forward.

“Hey, don’t let Caleb hear you say that,” Willie joked. “You don’t want to be jolted.”

“Nice try, Willie, but we can’t be jolted!” Reggie retaliated.

“Wait, why can’t you guys be jolted?”

“Because we don’t have stamps!!” Reggie exclaimed, oblivious.

“Wait, if you guys aren’t stamped, then how come you’re still here? Is Julie stamped?”

“Not that we know of…..” Alex trailed off.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with the fact that none of our souls belong to Caleb! We don’t have to be here! We can just walk right out of here, and he can’t do anything to scare us into coming back!! He doesn’t have any real power over us!!”

“I mean, he kind of does, he’s our boss,” Reggie countered, oblivious.

“Really, Reg?” Alex asked in disbelief. “You can’t be that clueless.”

“What? Caleb is our boss! He’s in charge of us while we’re here! Sure, he can’t force us back here- ohhhh.” He paused in realization. “You guys are saying that we should just leave him.”

“Yes, Reg!! That is exactly what we’re saying!! Caleb doesn’t have any control over us anymore!! There’s nothing that he can do without the stamp to make us stay!! We can leave!!” Luke repeated, pushing himself off the table, again, in excitement.

“Uh, Luke, I get where you’re coming from, but there’s something that you’re forgetting,” Alex interjected.

“What is it?”

“He still has Willie.”

“Well, we can fix that! We just need to get to the bottom of what else can get rid of the stamps and use that to get rid of Willie’s!!”

“Maybe it’s true love,” Reggie offered, mindlessly.

“Reggie, this isn’t a Disney movie, a true love’s kiss won’t just fix everything.”

“I mean, it’s worth a shot if all else fails,” Willie defended with a laugh.

Alex took a double take. “Wait, what?”

“I mean, true love doesn’t have to be romantic, and you guys are kind of like brothers to me at this point. And an act of true love doesn’t necessarily have to be a kiss..”

“Oh. Oh. Okay, I just-- I thought you meant-- Because I was gonna say--”

Luke put a hand on Alex’s shoulder to stop him. “Dude, stop. You’re only embarrassing yourself.”

“Got it,” Alex responded, lowering his voice.

“But yeah, like Willie said. We can do this!! We might even be able to get rid of everyone else’s stamps as well!! We could overthrow Caleb!!”

“But some people genuinely like being here. Wouldn’t that be unfair to them?” Reggie pointed out.

Luke nodded and rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe not overthrow him, but anyone that wants to would be able to escape him!! We could give them hope!!”

“But doesn’t he know where Julie lives? Couldn’t he take Carlos, or Victoria and use them as leverage?” Willie offered.

“Or Ray!! He could use Ray as well,” Reggie quickly added.

“Come on, guys!! They’re the Molinas!! They’d be damned if they let some old ghost with a glitter addiction beat them!! You’ve seen what Carlos and Tia have in store in the case of a ghost!! And they’ve learned from us!! Not to mention, Ray wouldn’t let anything happen to his family, even if it was the last thing he did!! And we got the Riders on our sides!! Maybe even the Wilsons and Danforth-Evans as well, if push comes to shove!! Caleb doesn’t stand a chance!!”

The three of them nodded. The Molinas and their friends were a force to be reckoned with. If you dared to mess with one of them, chances are you’d end up regretting it. Even an otherworldly being like Caleb would be in for a bad time.

“See? There’s nothing realistically stopping us from leaving!!”

He glanced behind him at the table before jumping on it with a loud thud, startling the others to their feet.

“I say we revolt and start a revolution!! Stand in our own power!! Sing our own songs!! Write our own lyrics--”

“Don’t we already do that?” Reggie asked, cutting him off.

“It’s symbolism, Reg,” Luke informed him before getting back to his speech.

“As I was saying, we need to step into our greatness and stick it to the man!! Now, WHOSE WITH ME!!!”

“WE ARE!!”

“No, you are not!!”

.

Julie walked down the hall, on the way to a bathroom she could change in. Sure, she could just use one of the countless dressing rooms there are in this place, but the extra privacy that she was given in the bathroom was comforting to her. In such a busy place, it was nice to be alone with her thoughts. Especially before a performance, when she needed it most. The further she strayed from backstage, the fewer people she passed, and the fainter the noise of the people in the club became. It was like a scene in a movie, she thought, where the dialogue and background noise slowly disappeared to be replaced by the next song in the soundtrack.

It was fun to think of life like a movie sometimes. Or a musical. Breaking out into song while doing a regular task, or being a bit too over dramatic about a dropped ice cube mixed things up. It made things more fun. Thinking of a conversation-cut-short as a cliffhanger or the always dreaded next day of school as the next episode. Setting an alarm to one of her favorite songs to make it her theme song. Random moments of dead silence like the credits. It was weird, in hindsight, but she made it work. It became so natural that it wasn’t strange. Then again, nothing in her life was exactly normal. Julie laughed at the thought. The word normal has basically lost its meaning. She’s in a ghost band, working for an evil ghost, at his magical jazz club. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up in the morning and found out she could fly.

Julie was completely lost in thought, now walking around the building aimlessly. She was humming a random tune to herself, no specific song in mind. This place was like a maze, so easy to get lost in, and forget about telling the time. She was just going over her conversation with Flynn at lunch (who is still not very happy about the whole Caleb thing) when she heard someone speaking from another room. It was unusual, to say the least. She snapped out of her mindless state enough to figure out which room the talking was coming from, and get closer to it. After finding the door, which was left ajar, she leaned in to listen.

Was this smart? No, absolutely not. She should be going on with the band any minute, or at least, that’s how it seems, but that was in the very back of her mind right now. At the moment, she was focused on what that voice was talking about.

The voice sounded stressed, panicked, even. But it also sounded familiar. She couldn’t put her finger on it. She tried to lean in closer, opening the door slightly more.

“I can’t keep doing this with them. They’re too smart for me to trick! They’re performances have lured many ghosts out here. Many naive, young ones. Isn’t that enough?!”

“No, Covington! I need their souls!! That girl--”

“Julie.”

“Is too powerful. And she’s getting stronger. And the boys are getting too....too....too reckless. I can’t wait much longer, Covington.”

Caleb! That’s who the voice belonged to! But wait. Who was the other person? And why were they speaking to him like that?

“I need more time!”

“Well, you don’t have more time. Get the girl and her friends, or else you’ll be in the same position they just got out of.”

“Wait--!!”

Before Caleb could say anything else, the owner of the other voice disappeared, making him slam his fist down on a hard surface.

“God damn it!!” Caleb yelled to noone, before flopping down in a chair.

Julie could hear him mumbling, but couldn’t make out the words, so she tried leaning in further, opening the door wider, if ever so slightly. With all of her weight on the door, she ended up pushing too far, causing the door to swing open and for her to stumble into the room. Unable to find her balance, she fell forward landing on her hands and knees.

Caleb barely gave her a glance, his head buried in his hands.

“Hey, Julie,” he acknowledged her, his voice muffled.

Julie looked up at him, pushing herself to her knees and then standing up. She brushed herself off before taking a look around the room. The floor was a gray carpet that looked far too clean to be anything other than something out of a commercial. The walls were a lighter shade of gray, almost completely empty. In the middle of the right wall, there was a fireplace with a flat screen tv above it. It made her wonder if it was fake or if she had somehow made it to the top floor while lost in dreamland. In the middle of the room, there was a black marble and glass coffee table. Around it, there were a pair of velvet, ocean blue hairs and loveseats. To the right of her, there was a minibar. The countertop looked to be made of black marble as well, with barstools in front of it. Above the cabinets was a white and metallic blue clock O.n the other side of the room, a giant glass window stood between her and a balcony that looked like it could fit 50.

“Uhh, hey, Caleb,” she responded, her voice raising at the end. “Um, what was going on in here?”

“It was nothing, just my boss getting to me.”

“Your boss?”

“Yes, my boss. Things right now are....complicated.”

Julie walked over to the loveseat diagonal of where Caleb was seated and sat down.

“What happened?”

Caleb looked over at her through his fingers for a moment, trying to figure out whether or not he should tell her. He sighed, moving his arm to his armrest, his hand now laying on the side of his face, holding him up.

“He wants you and your friends’ souls, but most importantly yours. You guys are all pretty powerful, but you are......something else. He keeps berating me with questions and requests and demands and updates and you guys keep outsmarting me and if I don’t follow through with this, I’ll be put back in the black room, or have intense, continuous jolts, or worse. It’s not like I don’t deserve it, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that I don’t want it to happen,” Caleb explained, looking in Julie’s direction but seemingly staring off into space. He let his guard down, anxiety creeping into his voice.

Julie didn’t know how to answer at first. Caleb had been a jerk to her and her friends, but has given her quite a few opportunities here at the club that she wouldn’t have had otherwise. But how much of a price really is selling your soul? Is it like in the movies, or does it follow a certain religion? Where would she even go after death? And what about the others?

But Caleb looked so.....scared. He was never like this. He always had a cool, overdramatic, posh, demeanor. Seeing him like this was like looking at a completely different person. And, as much as she hates to admit it, she’s started to like him during the time she’s spent at the Hollywood Ghost Club. Yeah, he’s evil, but he wasn’t so bad. And now he might not even be evil?

“I’m sorry, Caleb. But I don’t.....I don’t want to give up my soul. I want to be able to crossover and see my mom again when I die.”

“I know, that’s the problem. If I can’t convince or trick you into giving me your soul, then I’ll fade from existence and he’ll take matters into his own hands.”

Julie sighed. No one should be in this situation.

“We’ll find a way to figure this out. I promise,” Julie reassured Caleb, nodding her head. She looked him over for a second, thinking her next move through.

“Eh, what the hell?” she thought to herself, before enwrapping Caleb in a hug.

Caleb tensed, looking down at her and holding his arms out at his sides. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her in return, giving her a small pat on the back.

“Thank you.”

Julie retracted, reaching up to push a few stray strands of hair out her face.

“It’s no problem. I mean, it all adds up. It is kind of weird how most of the people here aren’t scared of you. I mean, don’t hate you? Wait, no. That’s not what I-- I don’t--” Julie started to panic, but relaxed when Caleb shook his head and waved his hand, brushing it off.

Caleb glanced at the clock above the bar while he did so, checking the time.

“We’re gonna be late for the opening. I’ll teleport out, you change here, and get back to the stage as soon as you’re done,” Caleb ordered, getting ready to leave.

“Wait!”

Caleb stared at her, expectantly.

“I, uh, I don’t know how I got here. Or my way back,” Julie explained, shyly, holding her left arm.

Caleb sighed, nodding.

“I’ll go wait outside. When you’re done, we’ll walk back together.”

Julie smiled, quickly separating her clothes as she picked out what to put on first.

“Thank you! I promise this won’t happen again.”

Caleb gave a small smile, quickly hiding it and heading out the room, giving Julie privacy.

Talking about this made him feel lighter. Weirdly, lighter. Of course, he shouldn’t be talking about this with a 16 year old. Especially not the 16 year old that he’s been specifically ordered to steal a soul from. Even then, just talking about it briefly had helped. It felt like a curse had been lifted, ironically.

Caleb lean’t against the wall, closing the door as he stepped to the side.

That girl had too much hope. He had known from the moment he made the deal with that man he was doomed. Sometimes you have to go through with something to realize how bad of a mistake it was, and this was one of those times. He was doomed. The moment they had become entangled with the club they had written their fate, too. They might have been able to outsmart him, but there was no way they would be able to outsmart nor outpower him. At least, not yet. Julie still needed training, and there wasn’t enough time for him to teach her how. Yet, here he was, thinking that maybe he could figure this mess out. Maybe they could all get out of this.

The door opening made him stand up straight.

“I’m ready.”

Caleb nodded, silently and started walking back to the club, leaving Julie to fall into step next to him.

.

“No, you are not!” Julie yelled, grabbing the others’ attention.

The boys looked at Julie, startled by her sudden entrance and confused by her objection.

Luke gave her a saddened look. Julie nodded her head towards Caleb, who was standing behind her. Luke ‘ohed’ silently, looking away.

“Do I dare ask what’s going on?”

“That depends on how much you heard,” Reggie replied, who had shied away, behind Alex’s chair.

“Only the end. Something about ‘sticking it to the man.’ I’d be careful about that, by the way. I do still have some leverage over you guys.”

Julie rolled her eyes while the others glared at him.

“Now, get ready. You guys go on in five minutes.”

With that, Caleb walked out onstage, putting on a cheery voice.

“Sorry about that! We’ve been running a bit behind schedule, tonight. I see some glazed eyes out here tonight,” he threw his cane to his other hand and the music started, “Let’s see if we can change that.”

As his speech blended into song, they had stopped listening.

“Wait, so that means you’re with us, right? And you were just saying no because he was there?” Luke asked, still standing on the table.

“No? Look, something happened. Caleb isn’t that bad? It’s hard to explain. I’ll have to tell you guys later. But for now, we’ve gotta get ready to go on.”

The boys looked at each other with a mixture of confusion and worry. What had happened to their Julie that made her side with Caleb all of the sudden?

.

The door to Caleb’s office slammed shut. Caleb froze. His time was up. The light dimmed and the room went cold. This was really it. He had put it off for so long, finding ways around it and surviving (if you could really call what he was doing ‘surviving’). But now it is finally gonna end. He deserved it, didn’t he? He should have stayed dead the first time; he didn’t deserve to live. Then he was given a second chance. He could have made things better; help others instead of himself! But look at where he ended up; doing the exact same thing as he was doing before: Hurting others for the sake of himself.

“Where are their souls, Covington?” his boss asked, raspily.

Caleb took a deep breath, standing up straight. He tried to sound confident, but his failure was evident at his shaking.

“I don’t have them.”

The man appeared in front of him, eyes glowing white. You couldn’t really say he was appearing as a man, though. He appeared to be a black cloud, making up a silhouette of a man. In place of his eyes were two glowing, piercing, white dots that seemed to be staring into his soul. At least, if he still had one.

“How. Come?” the figure asked, his voice booming.

Caleb gulped. “The girl - Julie - outsmarted me.”

The figure let out a deep, maniacal laugh. It bounced off the walls, surrounding Caleb. He backed into the door, fear now clearly showing on his face.

“I’ve given you a lot of time for this, Caleb. I’m afraid,” the figure lifted up a part of his shadow, appearing to be his arm, “I can’t afford to give you anymore.”

The figure stepped closer, shooting his arm out in front of him and into Caleb’s chest. Caleb curled into a ball against the door, turning sideways, trying to save as much time for himself as possible. When nothing happened, he looked back down at himself, confused as to what had changed. He looked over to the ghostly figure across from him, who seemed just as confused as he was.

“WHY ISN’T THIS WORKING?!?” he yelled out of frustration.

He tried again. Caleb flinched, but it was for nothing when nothing changed once again. The figure glared daggers at him, causing Caleb to shake even more. The figure lifted up his arm to himself, closing his fist suddenly and tightly. A realization came upon him.

“You no longer have your stamp.”

Caleb looked down at his wrist, pushing up his sleeve. Sure enough, the glowing outline of the stamp that would usually appear when prompted didn’t appear. He pulled down his sleeve quickly, hiding his wrist. He looked back up at his boss, who had stepped closer.

“Fine. There are other ways to take you out. More fun ones,” he stated, deepening his voice, moving closer to him, ever so slowly.

Before Caleb could get away, he grabbed him, teleporting them both away.

.

“Hey, have any of you guys seen Caleb?” Julie asked the others, who were relaxing backstage.

“Why does it matter? This place is better without him, anyway,” Alex asked, laying down on a couch, his head in Willie’s laugh, twirling his drumsticks.

“He hasn’t been here all week. I’m getting worried.”

“Why worry? He sucks,” Luke asked, not looking up from his song book.

“Yes but….he doesn’t? I think something bad might have happened to him.”

“What did he do to you that you care about him all of the sudden?” Luke looked up, shaking his head.

Julie took a deep breath before relaying her and Caleb’s conversation. She shouldn’t be worrying herself over what was probably nothing, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask around. And she couldn’t hide this from her boys forever, so this was a good opportunity to confess.

“What? Come on, Julie, he’s gotta be lying! He’s trying to trick you into giving him your soul!” Luke exclaimed, getting up from his seat and walking up to Julie.

“Yes, maybe, but he seemed genuinely scared, and--”

“Julie, he’s an actor! He’s lying! There’s no way--”

“I saw him. I saw his boss there, too. The conversation only happened after he had disappeared,” Julie blurted out, stopping Luke from continuing.

.

Willie, Reggie, and Julie pushed open the door, trying their best to ignore the noise being made behind them. Inside the room was Caleb, sitting in a corner, leaning against the wall. Julie and Reggie rushed over to him, while Willie stayed at the door.

“Caleb! Are you okay?” Julie asked, kneeling down in front of him.

Caleb lolled his head, looking in the duo’s direction, not being able to completely focus on either of them. There were no physical signs of injury, seeing as he was a ghost, but it was clear that he was hurt.

“What--” he sucked his teeth, wincing, “are you guys doing here?”

“Getting you out of here! The others are fighting off your boss right now. He is not a nice guy. He puts you to shame, really,” Reggie explained quickly.

“Come on, help me get him up,” Julie told Reggie.

The two of them lifted his arms and helped him stand up, although he was basically being dragged due to the major height difference between them all.

“How…..how are you able to touch me?”

“I’ve learned quite a bit since you’ve disappeared. Now come on, we’ve gotta get you out of here and finish dealing with your boss.”

.

They had finished him off. Whether he had crossed over or simply didn’t exist anymore, they didn’t know, but he was definitely gone. The Hollywood Ghost Club still stood, although it was now empty. A handful of ghosts stayed behind; some wanted to take care of it until it was performance ready again, while others didn’t want to leave what had grown to be their home behind. Those who wanted to leave, left. No one blamed them; that place held as many bad memories as it did good, if not more.

Julie and Flynn were explaining the situation she had been in to Ray, Carlos, and Victoria. Caleb was here for the time being, so the boys could become both solid and visible to the others. At first they had thought that was an idea better saved for another time, but Reggie was bouncing at the thought of being seen, and Alex had wanted to talk to Victoria for a while now, so they had decided that once Caleb cleaned up a bit, however he was gonna do that, they would meet each other, officially.

“......Julie, are you doing okay? Do you need to start seeing Dr. Turner, again?” Ray asked, stepping closer to her.

“No, Dad! She’s telling the truth! These ghosts really do exist! I have the proof!” Carlos defended Julie, stepping forward and in front of her.

“I thought the same thing at first, but these ghosts are real! They’re really nice, too!! You’d love them,” Flynn stated, nodding.

Ray looked around at everyone. When he landed on Victoria, she shrugged.

“I don’t know what to believe! All I know is that this house is haunted, and if they’re all saying they know the ghosts, maybe they’re telling the truth?”

Ray sighed, crossed his arms, and smiled. “I guess, if you’re telling the truth, it won’t be so bad. I mean, they brought music back into your life, I’d be crazy to kick them out.”

Julie grinned, running over to give him a hug. “Thanks, Papi!”

Then, she ran over to the stairs, and called up to them. One by one, the four boys descended the stairs, lining up at the bottom.

“Dad, Tia, this is Luke, Reggie, Alex, Willie, and-- Where’s Caleb?” Julie asked, cutting herself off.

“To hell if we know!” Luke exclaimed, ignoring the others staring at him.

“He’s gotta be here, somewhere. I mean, we wouldn’t be visible, if he wasn’t, right?” Reggie pointed out.

Just then, Caleb appeared in front of them with a puff of purple smoke. He was wearing his classic purple suit, save for the jacket.

“There you are! You may have not been the one behind everything, but you’re still on thin ice. You can’t just do that!” Julie reprimanded him.

Caleb rolled his eyes, nodding. “Yes, yes, I’m very sorry. Now, would you mind telling me who hot stuff over here is?”

Julie glanced at where Caleb was looking, and quickly looked back at him. “You mean my dad?!”

Caleb ignored her, walking up to Ray. “Hi, do you know how much a polar bear weighs?”

“No…??” Ray answered, confused.

“Enough to break the ice; I’m Caleb,” he said quickly, sticking out his hand.

Ray absentmindedly took it. “Ray…”

“Do you mind if we take a picture? To prove that angels really exist, of course.”

“I--”

“No! No, no, no. No. You can come over whenever you want and help mend your relationships with this family, but flirting with my dad is OFF LIMITS, you got that?” Julie ordered, rushing to stand in between them.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, Julie,” Caleb replied, winking at Ray before walking away.

As everyone started chattering and getting to know each other, Flynn and Julie talked about the situation.

“Do you think this is a good idea? For them to be visible?”

“Absolutely not. But they’re happy, and that makes it all worth it.”

Flynn nodded, turning her head to look at Julie. “You know this is gonna cause a lot of trouble, right?”

“Yeah, but we’ll handle it together. Right?” Julie asked, turning her head to face Flynn in return, raising her first.

“Right.”

Flynn fist bumped her in return.

“Double Trouble back at it again!”

“That is not our band name!”

“It doesn’t have to be our band name! It just has to be our name!”

Julie cracked a grin.

“Alright.”

“Yesss! Now I don’t need to trash the new t-shirt design!” Flynn celebrated, clenching both her hands into fists.

Julie laughed. It was definitely gonna be a mess, but it will all be worth it as long as her family is beside her.

[leejeongz]

TO1 reaction to you wearing dark lipstick

anon requested: can i request too's reactions to you wearing dark lipstick/liptint? like you don't normally wear any make up but you suddenly show up wearing a dark red lip 😋🤍

✨some of these are a little suggestive (not the younger members’ ofc) - just a warning haha✨

jaeyun:

you wanted to make a great first impression at your interview and so you decided to wear a little more makeup than usual. instead of bb cream you put on foundation, some pink eyeshadow rather than the usual brown and some red lipstick.

you’d just finished getting ready when you heard a knock at your bedroom door.

“only me, i just wanted to wish you luck today!” jaeyun announced, entering your room with a smile. “i took the day off work so i can take you and wait outside if you like?”

you nodded and turned back towards your full length mirror, patting your outfit down and taking one final look at yourself. you always thought that nervous deep breath thing was a cliche but no it was real, definitely real.

“your makeup looks really beautiful y/n, are you sure you don’t want to be our make up artist instead?” he joked, knowing your response.

“do you not remember when i did your make up that one time?” you laughed.

“well you look good right now, you’re gonna kill it, honey. they better not ask for your number.”

chihoon:

“they’re just kids, they don’t care if you’re wearing makeup or not” he laughed at your tantrum. you had started volunteering at a nursery and today was your first day. of course you wanted to look your best, which wasn’t easy with the uniform but you made it work, you just really needed that one red lipstick you bought a few weeks ago. after 5 minutes of looking, you spotted it in the bottom of your makeup drawer and pulled it out quickly.

“really? red lipstick? not even i get red lipstick” he whined, watching you get ready from the comfort of your shared bed.

“are you jealous of a bunch of two year olds?” you asked.

“pft no” he lied blatantly. “okay maybe a little. but it suits you! why don’t you wear it more often?” when you looked at him in the mirror there was a serious pout on his face.

“ummm maybe because you’re not a two year old and you don’t deserve it” you sassed, grabbing your pre packed tote bag and walking out the door. “get on their level”

he let out a small whine and threw himself back at the pillows “good luck i guess.” he really meant it but there was no way he was gonna let you get away with that sassy behaviour when you got home later, even if he didn’t enjoy it.

donggeon:

you swatched the two colours on your forearm, one pinkish-coral, the other a deep red. “which do you think?” you held your arm out for donggeon to investigate.

he thought for a while, letting out an audible “hmm” before pointing to the red one and smiling at you sweetly.

you paid for the new lipstick and rushed home so that you could try it, applying some more makeup so it didn’t look weird with the makeup that had rubbed off throughout the day.

“wow” he said, looking at your reflection in the mirror. “look at me! let me see!” as you turned his hands grabbed your arms so he could keep you still. “it suits you, i think you should wear it more often, but i think it would suit me more,” he said before kissing you on your lips.

“places to go, people to meet” you lied, pulling away from the kiss to tease your boyfriend. “how about we put this lipstick to good use and go out tonight?” you asked, excited by the prospect of showing off your new shade.

“orrr we could just stay in?” he fell to the bed behind him, pulling you down with him.

(he is at the top of the list of boys i would sin for omfg look at him)

chan:

a dinner date with chan was just what you needed after a rough week at work. you put on your favourite two piece and applied some make up, including the wine coloured lipstick you’d bought especially for the occasion. you knew chan would like it, this was right up his street, so why not tease him a little?

“hmm well this is a nice surprise” he said with a smirk on his face, grabbing your hand and holding it. “i really wanna kiss you right now” he whispered down your ear, close to burying his face into your neck “but i don’t wanna ruin your lipstick” he teased, breath hot on your neck.

“well i can always re-apply it” you pointed out but he pulled away and shook his head in reply. “my neck has no lipstick on it...?” you were practically begging to feel his lips against you at this point.

“it’s okay, i can wait” by this point he was back to looking you in the eyes. his smile was cheeky and he knew EXACTLY what he was doing. but it was all just payback since you wore THAT lipstick.

jisu:

“y/n, are you almost ready? the taxi is here!” jisu shouts from the living room. you were busy getting ready to go out for a meal with a few family members as a celebration and so you wanted to look your best. you were just applying a final spray of perfume before heading into the living room.

“wow, you look gorgeous” jisu commented, almost tearing up at just how beautiful you looked.

“aww thank you” you replied, smiling from ear to ear.

“your make up” he pointed out, going to touch your face. you slapped his hand away before he could ruin it.

“shall we get going then” you changed the subject abruptly, remembering the taxi was outside.

“hang on” he grabbed your hand, pulling you back from the door, “can we take some pictures first? my instagram looks so boring without you on it”

minsu:

“must not be late meeting his members for the first time” you said to yourself, scurrying around your room, applying the first lipstick you saw.

you arrived at the dorms and composed yourself before ringing the bell at the entrance. before you could talk to anyone on the intercom, your boyfriend was already greeting you.

“hey, nice lipstick” he complimented, giving you a sweet hug. “you smell nice too” he complimented once again “all this effort for some other boys, should i be scared?” he joked.

you stood at the door to the dorms, composing yourself once again.

“guys! meet y/n!! they wore a dark red lipstick today just for you guys so you better be nice to them” he said in a fake angry tone as a warning.

the whole time you were there, minsu couldn’t stop looking at you. he wondered why you never wore that lipstick to meet him and actually started thinking really deeply into it, beginning to get a little jealous.

you noticed this, reassuring him at the end of the day that you only wore this as it was the first you picked up and that you always thought carefully about what to wear when you see him. you made sure to wear it the next date you went on with him.

jyou:

with your birthday FINALLY here, you were excited to see what your boyfriend had been hiding. it was always “don’t go in there” or “don’t look in that bag”, it was the only thing you’d heard from him for the past week at least.

you woke up to a collection of gifts at the end of your shared bed and next to them, an ecstatic jeyou.

“open this” he said, handing you his gifts one at a time, being careful to make sure you didn’t open the little box until you had no more left to open.

“this is the last one, i really hope you like this one the most,” he said, hand shaking in anticipation as he handed you the box.

you opened it slowly as a lipstick box began to reveal itself through the wrapping paper, your favourite brand too. you pulled it from the box and found he had bought you a deep red colour, something you’d never tried before.

“put it on! put it on!” he was more excited than you at this point which was a pretty hard competition to win.

you followed his instructions despite only just waking up.

“wow you look…” he paused, grabbing you a mirror “sexy as hell, babe. here take a look. don’t you just wanna” he made a fake kissing noise “kiss yourself right now? because i know i wanna kiss you”

kyungho:

“can you come over?” you asked kyungho on the phone, almost in tears.

“i’m on my way right now. what’s wrong, angel?” he answered, extremely concerned because maybe this time there had been a real incident.

“there’s a spider” you replied.

“i’ll be 2 minutes” he was so used to these kinds of calls now, but he didn’t mind, he was your big strong boyfriend and he didn’t want to ruin that.

you opened the door for your boyfriend who was ready to fake storm in and capture the spider, when he noticed your makeup.

“you look nice. like… really nice” he complimented, a little bewildered. “is that dark purple lipstick?”

“GET THE SPIDER KYUNGHO” you shouted making him snap out of his trance. “but if you must know, it’s actually called black cherry”

“I WAS DISTRACTED IM SORRY” he shouted back, running to find the little terror.

after putting the spider outside, he returned to you. “but like for real, you look really good and it would be a shame to let this make up go to waste so why don’t we go out for dinner?”

jerome:

you always assumed jerome’s favourite makeup look for you was just natural with chapstick and mascara and so this is what you wore when you wanted to impress him. not to mention how good he made you feel when you were all natural around him, you’d never felt so pretty without makeup than when you were with him. he never stopped telling you how beautiful you are.

today you were going out with your friends and so you decided to wear heavy make up with a dark lip. before you went, jerome facetimed you.

“oh you look different,” he said as you answered.

“i do?” you asked, a little insecure.

“yeah, you’re covered in makeup. what have you done with my y/n?” he joked.

“ohhh don’t you like it? i know it’s not really your style” you looked down, you felt guilty but you weren’t too sure why.

he looked closer, as close as he could, leaving you with a picture of his blinking eye only “i think you look really pretty, you could pull off anything, but you know you don’t need all this makeup to look pretty, right?” he commented. you nodded in response “but if you feel pretty then i’m happy because that’s all that matters” he pulled the phone back and smiled brightly at you. “your friends are getting a real treat being able to see you like this”

woonggi:

“how come you never wear that lipstick?” woonggi asked, pointing towards the deep red lipstick on your desk.

you looked at it and turned back to face him. the dreaded lipstick… you don’t even know why you kept it if you were honest.

“i don’t think it suits me right now” you said, fake pouting before turning back to carry on with your everyday makeup look.

“try it, i think you’ll look fabulous!” he exclaimed, emphasising the fabulous, “and you can always take it off if you don’t want to wear it”

you took the lipstick from the desk, investigating it to check if it was out of date, you’d owned it for that long. you applied it delicately, one false move and you'd end up looking like the joker. you put down the lipstick and looked in the mirror, surprisingly pretty impressed with how well it suited your skin tone. “damn i look good” you spoke.

“i knew you’d look amazing, omg i should become a makeup advisor” he said, thrilled with your new found confidence after applying the lippy.

gifs aren’t mine

[dinosaurs-last-day]

Hi!! It’s the one and only Remile Anon popping in again! Life’s kinda hitting a rough patch again right now, but i’ll most likely be fine. Anyways, I wanted to ask if you’d mind writing some fluffy Remile today. Hope you’re having a good day! <3

Hey Nonnie! Of course I’ll write some fluffy Remile for you.

How about a short high school au? 

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

Remy Sanders sat in art class, already having finished the assigned sketch project and sitting in silence. He was trying not to stare, but it’s hard when the guy sitting right in front of him was so damn attractive. Emile Pacani, the boy in front of him, was basically Remy’s dream boy. Emile was sweet and smart and really kind. And Remy was gay, really gay. He would have asked Emile out by now if he wasn’t so damn awkward around cute boys, and if he actually knew if Emile liked guys. 

Emile didn’t even notice that Remy was staring, he was busy with his art project. Art wasn’t Emile’s strong suit, despite what everyone thought. Emile, with his love for cartoons and storytelling, could barely hold a pencil. Remy watched as Emile furiously erased what he had drawn. He decided that today would be the day he actually had a conversation with Emile, even if it was just to give him some drawing tips.

“If you draw the lines lighter, you won’t have to erase so hard,” Remy said, slipping into the empty seat next to Emile. Emile looked over at Remy before going back to his art. 

“You’re probably right. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.” 

“Well, you’re not doing a terrible job, you just need to learn some tricks to make it better,” Remy said, grabbing his pencil and a sheet of paper. “Lemme show you.” He demonstrated a few things, different ways to hold the pencil and how to draw gently and erase so that the paper didn’t tear. Emile watched, eyes wide, soaking in every detail. 

“You’re really good,” Emile said. Remy felt his face turn hot, his mouth suddenly unable to form coherent words. He reminded himself that it was just a compliment, that he needed to get over his crush for a minute. 

“Um, thanks,” Remy finally said. Emile turned around and looked that Remy’s completed sketch. Remy suddenly became very aware of all the little mistakes he made on the drawing, but Emile didn’t seem to notice a single one of them.

“I think you’re the best artist in the class! I wish I could draw like that.” 

“Well, practice makes perfect and all that.” The words fell awkwardly off Remy’s lips. His face was still a bright shade of red and he wished that he could hide in his leather jacket. 

“You’re right, I need more practice!” Emile laughed. “I don’t want to make you feel obligated, so totally tell me if I crossed a line, but do you think you could teach me some more? Like, after school?” 

Hanging out with Emile after school was Remy’s dream, but he wasn’t about to admit it. 

“I’m sorry, that was a dumb thing to ask,” Emile apologized. Remy practically jumped out of his seat at the fear of losing his chance to spend more time with Emile. 

“No! I mean, of course I would like to teach you some stuff. Maybe you could come over to my place and I let you use some of my art supplies or something?” Emile’s face brightened as he agreed. 

“Oh, I don’t think I caught your name,” Emile said as the bell rang, signaling the end of class. 

“Um, it’s Remy.” 

“Well, thank you then Remy!”

~

Remy waited impatiently for Emile to arrive. He had given Emile his phone number and address right after art class and was anxiously pacing his families shed, which had been redesigned to serve as an art studio for Remy. 

Finally, he saw the other boy walking up the driveway and he practically ran over to greet him. 

“Hey! Thanks for doing this, it means a lot,” Emile said, following Remy to the shed. 

“It’s no problem. I can’t promise that I’ll make a good teacher, but I can try.” Remy opened the shed door and motioned for Emile to walk inside. When Emile got in, his jaw dropped a couple of inches as he took in the sight.

Remy had been allowed to paint the walls, and he had chosen to use chalk paint so that he could constantly doodle on them. There was one wall not painted with the chalk paint, and on it hung a bunch of Remy’s favorite art projects, the ones he was most proud of. Over the sketching desk hung a pride flag, and there were shelves full of paint and other art supplies. Emile looked around for a long minute, his eyes finally resting on the pride flag.

“You’re gay?” Emile asked. Remy’s brain suddenly started to panic. What if Emile was homophobic? Leave it to Remy to fall in love with that guy. He mumbled a yeah and was surprised to see Emile practically jump in excitement.

“I’m gay too! What are the odds? This is so cool!” Remy let out a silent sigh of relief, allowing himself to relax.

“So, what did you want me to teach you?” Remy asked. Emile thought for a moment.

“Maybe we can work on a simple painting project? I think that might be easy.” 

Remy laughed. “Painting isn’t as easy as people lead you to believe but sure! That sounds like fun!” He got out two easels and his favorite acrylics, setting everything up for Emile and answering any of Emile’s questions as he went along. 

Painting with Emile Pacani was probably the most fun Remy had ever had in a long time. The two laughed and joked, swapping different colors every once and a while. Remy had suggested that they started with something easy and Emile said that painting a butterfly sounded easy, so there they were, two butterflies on canvas. Finally, after they both had decided that they were finished, they stepped back to admire their work.

“Your butterfly is actually really good,” Remy noted. “You have an amazing eye for colors, it looks beautiful.” 

“My butterfly looks like a sad little moth compared to yours,” Emile said, earning a laugh from Remy. 

“Hey, don’t hate on moths. Mothman is my one true love,” Remy joked. As Remy cleaned up some of the paints, out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Emile go over to the desk and stare up at the pride flag. 

“You okay?” Remy asked, putting the easels back in their place in the corner of the shed. 

“I’m fine, just thinking.” Emile turned to face Remy. Remy noticed that a bit of paint had managed to find a home on Emile’s face. 

“You have some paint on your cheek,” Remy said, fighting the urge to reach up and wipe it away. Emile rubbed his cheek. “No, the other cheek.” 

“Could you wipe it off for me? I don’t want to miss it,” Emile said. Remy nodded and ran a towel over the paint. He was acutely aware of how close he was standing to Emile. He ran the towel over the cheek a second time, just in case he had missed some paint the first time, totally not because he didn’t want to move. 

Even though he was less than a foot away from Emile, he could barely make out what Emile was saying. Emile was barely speaking, just breathing out the words. “I really want to kiss you right now.” 

Neither one of them remember who initiated the kiss, just that they kissed, and it felt like magic. Remy held Emile’s face, he could feel Emile snake his arm around Remy’s waist and pull him closer. They stood there, kissing desperately, for what felt like the longest minute ever. When they broke away, Remy tried to pout from the lack of lips against his, but he couldn’t because he was too busy smiling like an idiot. 

“Remy, you’re very attractive,” Emile whispered, more audible this time but now his voice sounded slightly hoarse, probably from all the kissing. 

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now,” Remy admitted. 

Emile’s lips quirked into a mischievous smile as he pulled Remy close once again and they kissed, another long and breathless kiss. Remy felt like he had forgotten how to think, and that was fine. 

Finally, Emile let go of Remy, stepping back. Remy’s lips were slightly swollen, his hair messed up. Emile’s glasses hung crooked on his face. 

“I have to get going, I promised my mother I’d be home in time for dinner. Maybe tomorrow I can come back and you can teach me something new?” Emile asked, grabbing his stuff. Remy smiled.

“I’d love that.” 

[juminly]

Sugar & Spice

Matchup story written for @nafeary. ❤

Context: From the moment you walked through that door, you made yourself at home (at an incredible pace). Some of the residents were more than pleased to have someone new in the mansion, someone that could stir things up a bit and make things a bit livelier. And others (mostly Mozart, Jean and Isaac) wondered why they would even hope to disrupt the semblance of peace that they have.

You were surrounded by geniuses of all the arts and you were definitely going to take advantage of that. You took the time to spend time with each one of the residents or they would even invite you to spend time with them. Mozart told you about his music and would let you listen while he composed (after you made him understand that you would not leave him alone cause this is an opportunity of a lifetime that you wouldn’t miss), history and warfare from Napoleon, physics from Isaac and the list goes on and on.

One of the residents that seemed to be irritated by your presence was Theodorus. Or at least, that’s what you thought. He always had snarky comments, stating his opinion even when he wasn’t asked. It only seemed that you argued all the time.

[The few times that he’s called you “Hondje”, the punches he got from you were enough to make him stop. You were not all bark, you would bite too (he loved that but never admitted it)]

But that wasn’t the truth. You could call it “intellectual tension”. You were constantly engaged in debates without you noticing it. Theodorus had a wealth of knowledge when it came to the arts, appraising assets and had a keen eye for talent and genius.

He saw something in you and sometimes deep inside him actually believed that he didn’t really have anything to teach you and he somehow had to prove himself.

The day that brought you closer together was a very very weird idea from Sebastian. This man suddenly comes up with things and everyone has to go along with him because he always puts it under the guise of “this was advised by Monsieur le Comte”. He had prepared a cooking lesson where he taught you how to make the most delicious pancakes. Theodorus had a ferocious sweet tooth and if pancakes were involved, he would definitely play nice. And since he was guaranteed a plate stacked with over 8 pancakes, for the first time since you arrived, both of you actually had a nice time together, teasing one another about your techniques and talked about everything and anything that crossed your minds.

From that day and onwards, you would often bond over pancakes (and even go on walks) and he’d be interested to know about the exploits of other artists in the future (and see how he can learn from the information you have to give him).

[he once said: “are you ready for your walk, Hondje?” and you made him regret him by refusing to talk to him until he apologized profusely and in front of all residents for  his insolent behaviour]

As an avid lover and fanatic of Shakespeare and English literature in general, almost every single resident in the mansion froze when you mentioned his name. Except for Vincent. He was delighted to take you to see him.

In Theodorus’ mind, Shakespeare was a threat. To his brother and to you (he didn’t necessarily care about you [that’s what he tells himself] but you were the Comte’s guest so all residents had some sort of responsibility to ensure your safety]. He never liked him and he never will. He recognizes his genius but could clearly see, in those dichotomic eyes, an abyss of grief, darkness and sin. The man was starved for his muse and the universe to bless him with inspiration to create more art. And Theodorus didn’t want you to be a victim of that. 

[Shakespeare was no threat to you. He was pleased by your fascination with his work and enjoyed your conversations. He noticed the younger Van Gogh’s behaviour and knew for a fact that there would be other individuals who would have a part in your story. He would have to sit this one out and just watch.]

Everytime you and Vincent had a visit to Shakespeare’s place, Theodorus would escort you there and back. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t give a damn but something inside him wanted to interact more with you. He knew that you could possibly open more doors for him. He noticed that you had an eye for things, very perceptive and analytical and your curiosity was your best trait. The more information you get, the better decisions and arguments you can make.

On your way to and from Shakespeare’s place, you and Theodorus would sometimes take detours while Vincent would go buy painting supplies. The younger Van Gogh would take you to art galleries, ask your opinion about other artists’ pieces and as time went by, he started taking you with him when he’d try to negotiate deals for certain venues. You would help him assess the locations, the type of public/audience that surrounded the area and debate on whether it would get the right exposure for Vincent’s art.

The more you both interacted with one another, you discovered that you both might seem like you’re rough around the edges but what drives you the most is your curiosity and your desire to uncover/discover the broad horizons that the world actually had to offer. Theodorus believed in you and knew that you were capable of so much and was so glad that you found yourself in the mansion with all these men, to learn and be who you aspire to be. 

After a while, Mozart was so used to your behaviour which was bizarre to him but completely normal to you. You didn’t take it personally cause Mozart thought everyone was weird. Listening to the composer just play, day and night, ethereal music just swimming in the air and coursing through your body. You would close your eyes and enjoy the music, and sometimes, even dance to it.

Theo passed by the room a few times and thought that you were probably out of your mind… Then after a few times, he couldn’t help but sneak into the music room and dance with you. He was surprisingly light on his feet and it said a lot about his upbringing, something that he was not fond of talking about, but you couldn’t blame him for it.

Genuine smile and seemed like he was enjoying himself, he held you up and twirled you around, letting your feet land on his so he could do all the leading and you would just have to enjoy the ride. Dancing together, your laughter was enough to earn you both a good scolding from Mozart, however, you could see the slight quirk in the corner of his lips. He was pleased to see others thoroughly enjoy his music.

Your interactions with Arthur were always interesting. And this man had a thing with harassing you in the hallway, inviting you into his room, leaning in close, wanting to show you all the joy and pleasure a vampire has to offer. It became more of a joke and a type of banter you would engage in with the mystery writer. However, Theo was not aware of that. He happened to pass by one of your interactions one day and didn’t hesitate to growl loudly at Arthur for making a pass at you, even baring his fangs at him. [He was then so embarrassed to know that both of you were just joking around and immediately left with a disgruntled expression. (you definitely saw a pout also!)]

One day, Arthur was feeling very playful and invited you out to hang out with him at the bar. He had a few games in mind and he had a lot to “teach you”. Even with his sneaky attitude, you tagged along with him and had quite an eventful night. Arthur played a few rounds of poker with some other patrons, with you at his side. He gave you tips on how to read people and pointers on how to find their weak points and tells.

When the clock struck 11, Arthur excused himself to the restroom, leaving you surrounded by the other patrons who took it as an opportunity to make a move on you.

And who just happened to enter the bar at the same exact moment? The younger Van Gogh. (Well played, Arthur).

Theo’s eyes almost flashed at the sight of those men, leering so disgustingly over you. In the blink of an eye, he was by your side and glaring daggers at them. “If you value your own life, I suggest you all stay put in your seats. You, come with me.” Unsure on whether he should take you by the hand or not, he stepped aside and gestured for you to join him with his hand.

One of the men did the grave mistake of trying to reach for you and you could almost swear you heard Theodorus threaten to cut both his hands off if he dared to touch you. 

Once you made it to the table, you saw how flustered the man was and the crease between his eyebrows was so deep. It wasn’t a look that suited him but it obviously amused you to see him in a state like this (in a situation that has nothing to do with his brother).

Theo: Why on earth are you here at this godforsaken hour? Toni: Theo… you need to relax.

Theo: Easy for you to say, Hond… Toni. Do you even realize what those men were planning to do to you? Toni: It doesn’t really matter what they were planning to do. I wasn’t going to let them do anything to me anyway. You know me. Plus, I’m not even here on my own. Arthur was with me. Theo: *his frown only got worse and he covered his face with his hands, rubbing hard* That son of a… Toni: *you leaned closer to him, rubbing your thumb between his brow* As much as I like seeing you like this, this expression doesn’t suit your smug (and stupidly) handsome face. Theo: *he scoffed and a crooked smile appear on his face* Handsome, huh? Toni: Oh, shut your mouth. It’s not like you weren’t really aware of that.

Theo: *exhales and shakes his head* Arthur got me good. 

Toni: Huh? Theo: He knows that I believe you’re a masterpiece… I can see it in your eyes. You’re so strong, so fierce… *he gently takes your hand and kisses the inside of your palm* Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious… *he keeps talking and it almost seems like he’s pouting, his cheeks tinted in the most adorable shade of pink* You’re a treasure that I’ve come across…You’ve become so precious to me and… I can’t let you go. *he pressed a soft kiss on your lips* I don’t want to.

You told him from the very start that you were asexual. Theodore was not shy to ask you any questions about what that meant and to learn more about you. If anything, It taught him to look at things in a different way, especially in how he expressed his love to you.

When you became lovers, you discovered that he has trouble sleeping and barely manages to get a few hours a day. He worries too much about his brother, about the future of his art and whether he’s actually capable of getting people to truly recognize his work. Apparently, he spends all night just reading books and occasionally drinking. But, not for long!

You would force the tall boy in bed and force him into a death-grip cuddle so that he can’t distract himself with anything else but focusing on laying by your side, your warmth and your voice. You would hammer the truth into him, lay it on thick and you knew for a fact that he would do the same for you. You would tell him all the things he needed to hear and know, tell him where he should try to grow and also know when and how to let go. No sugar-coating and no poetry or romancing involved in it. Both of you kept things real all the time which is something that you adored about one another.

If you touch the ridges of his ear, he’ll get awfully ticklish and call you a “monster’ and you couldn’t help but grin at that and say  “I’m your little monster”.

That was enough to make this grown-ass man all blushy and mumble something along the lines of “Don’t be so full of yourself”.

His weakness is whenever you actually make him feel like he belongs to you and you belong to him.  

As a token of his love for you, Theo came up with an interesting idea and wanted both of you to share something that reminded you of one another. He gifted you a pair of amethyst earrings (your horoscope gemstone) but there was a catch. One earring for you and the other for him. So you both went to get your ears pierced in the same place and wore it with pride.

He acknowledges the fact that you have your limits and boundaries and he fully respects them. Relationships are all about giving and taking.

He vowed to you that he would not take blood from another and only drink Blanc and Rouge. He cannot fathom the idea of drinking from another human but you. It went without saying that, only if you were willing and actually wanted to, he would gladly drink your blood. From which part of your body? He didn’t give a damn, even if it were from the tip of your finger, he would be satisfied to know the taste of the blood that courses through your vein, the taste of the life in you. As a vampire, he can’t help his instincts in wanting to consume the blood of his beloved.

He gets a bit flustered if he gets hard and usually just jerks himself to get it out of the way. He also enjoys it when you talk to him while he’s pleasuring himself, reminding him how much you love him (Nothing makes him happier than when he hears those words from you, even if they make him blush) and whenever you feel like giving him a hand, he’ll never actively ask for it though.

Theo did the stupid mistake of teasingly asking you for a kiss and smirking at you. He’d expect you to get on the tip of your toes and try to reach for his lips. What he didn’t expect was for you to punch him in the gut and grab his face and kiss him while he was hunched over. Smug bastard got what he deserved but he was pained and happy nonetheless.

Arthur can’t help but chuckle whenever he sees how Theodorus looks at you or acts around you. He’d tease him and say that you’ve tamed the wolf and turned him into a mutt.

And you’d simply reply back by saying “Maybe it was just meant to be” and didn’t that just draw a shit-eating grin on your boyfriend’s face (he stopped calling you Hondje a long time ago).

Places he kisses to show you affection: your wrists and temples.

Bonus:

Dazai would always use the following nicknames “curious little thing” and “curious little creature” just to tease you.

But your boyfriend was having none of that. Theo was not taking any of that and the writer’s intentions were more than clear to him. He’d sneer at him with “This little creature is mine. Make sure to remember that.”

It’s as if Theodorus knew, that if he didn’t approach you in time… Dazai would be the one to snatch you since he’s your runner-up suitor. ;)

[your-rose-highness]

Tell Me What Is Love (ch-5)

The breakfast was rather awkward. Hye Hee’s post- drunk brain was failing to comprehend the situation and Baekhyun only made small talk with Jane, very interested in her family whereabouts and her struggles of the past. Hye Hee scanned him the entire time, reading his every move. Baekhyun caught her eye a couple of times while he spoke to Jane, only to quickly look away, which made it look even more suspicious. 

“What was Baekhyun doing in my dingy apartment so early on a Monday morning?” she thought to herself.

The three of them did the dishes and chilled in the living area before Jane left to go for the shift. Baekhyun and hye hee stayed silent for a long time before Baekhyun asked, “why have you been drinking so much?”

“I’m a grown woman. I can drink when I want to.`` she sternly replied.

“That's not what I meant. And you know that.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I can’t come to visit..?”

Hye Hee sat quietly. Baekhyun began twitching beside her when she looked over at him.

“The sofa is uncomfortable….”, he whimpered.

“I’m sorry it doesn’t suit your royal ass.”

“Why did you drink?”

“... I can't switch things because you don't like them…”

“Hye Hee, stop avoiding the question... Why did you..?”

“... plus why are you here anyway? Go run back to Taeyeon.”

“Excuse me? You were the one who suggested that I pretend harder..`` Baekhyun said, his voice rising.

“Pretend? When the hell…?”

“You know what, I'm leaving. You don't need me.”

“Yeah, run away Baek. That's what you did in the past. Do it again!”

“What did you say?”, Baekhyun looked at her furiously.

Hye Hee left the kitchen and walked to her bedroom, avoiding any confrontation. But Baekhyun wasn't having it.

“I left? Me? You never even tried to come back. That's how much I meant to you huh?”

“Yeah, you’re right!!! You never meant anything.i was happy to have gotten rid of you... Baekhyun this is my room, get out.”

“No.”

She exhaled slowly and began pushing him. Baekhyun didn't budge.

“I’m not leaving. Your place is my place.”

“Why are you doing this?!!” she exploded, even though Baekhyun was smiling.

It was like they were back in school again. He reached out for her hand, his eyes full of concern when he knew his best friend was hiding something really bad, “What’s wrong? Will you tell me now that you’re done yelling?”

Baekhyun was taller than her now, something she still wasn't used to yet. Her shoulders relaxed and she fought the urge to hug him. He was there for her, but he was someone else’s. The thought only made her want to cry but she tried with all her might not to.

“I miss you…”, she barely managed to say, her voice cracking.

Within an instant, his arms wrapped around her, his palm supporting her head, as he rested it against his chest.

“ I do too. Why do you think I'm here? You may be strong enough to avoid seeing me, but you know I'm not.”

He made her tea later, while both chatted about a job possibility in his company.

“Won't that be troublesome?”, She questioned.

“No… not really…” he trailed off, “at least better than someone we don't know. Teacher Sooman is more scared of sasaengs in the disguise of staff than anything else.”

“That's a good point.”

“Anyways, you have my recommendation. So there's a big chance you'll grab the job plus, your resume is a bonus.”, He stated, proud.

“It’s almost past 9 pm, don't you have to go home?”

“Well, I should… but Taeyeon and Sarang both are not home. So …. I'm free for dinner with you…”

“I didn't say I wanted to have dinner with you though,'' Hye hee responded cheekily.

Hye hee offered to make dinner this time, with Baekhyun as her assistant. They were discussing the amount of milk to add in their pasta sauce when he received a call. His expressions gave grim instantly, and he walked out to the balcony. Hye hee didn't want to trespass but she found herself a little too alert, trying to catch some words.

“..... really?... okay… yeah, you know… with the guys…. Don't wait up. Hmm.. okay.”

Hye hee wondered who it was on the other side. Taeyeon maybe? Baekhyun hung up and leaned against the wall for a few minutes before he left a deep sigh. 

Hye Hee quickly made her way back to the kitchen and innocently asked, “Who was that?”

“Taeyeon.”

Bingo.

“Oh? I thought you said she was not gonna be back till a few days?”

“Yeah, she decided to come back sooner I suppose. Anyway, let's have dinner and I’ll have to leave..”

“Yeah, sure.”

His one sentence had summarised their position in each other's lives. No matter how much they wished to spend time with each other, no matter how much they meant, Baekhyun was somebody's husband and his priority was never going to be Hye Hee. 

They quietly finished dinner and Baekhyun offered to wash the dishes with her, but by this point, Hye Hee didn't want to keep him away from his real family any longer.

After a few days, while Hye hee was shopping for some groceries, Baekhyun called her.

“Hello?”, She took his call, while also trying to put the pack of perilla leaves in her cart.

“Hye hee, do you have time tomorrow?”, his voice sounded urgent.

“Umm. For what??”

“The opening for staff at SM I told you about? I heard a few staff members discuss that it was the last day. What say? You want me to put you in?”

Hye Hee had a hard time saying yes, but a girl's gotta eat right?

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll come tomorrow for the interview.”

“Great! Alright, I'll text you the time okay? Okay, gotta go now, bye babe.” He hung up, excited like a puppy.

A faint smile played on Hye Hee's lips. 

"What?!", Jane exclaimed over the phone, making Hye Hee move her phone away from her ear. She had called her on the way to her interview the next day.

Reposing herself, Hye Hee continued, "So as I was saying, I have no confirmation about the job! can you calm down?"

"No! No! Okay, do this, once you get in, can you get a spot for me too?"

"Okay, we're going in circles! Look, I'll call you after my interview, my stop is here."

Hye Hee got off in a hurry, only 10 minutes before her expected time. 

She found the SM building with ease, no one could miss the tall building with a swarm of fans standing out in the hope of seeing their favorite celebrities. Hye Hee was guided to the staff entrance, on showing her interview mail on her phone.

The office was a beauty. The interiors were largely based on pastel shades and the minimal decoration gave it a very chic appearance. 

I could be working here... It's so pretty...

Snapping out of her daydream, a staff scurried over to her, leading her to the exceptionally large waiting area. She and 20 others sat nervously, waiting their turn through the huge glass doors.

After which seemed like an eternity, Hye Hee was finally called in. Taking a deep breath in, she opened the door to an exceptionally large room. Her legs wobbled a little as she took small but decent steps towards the large desk that had some of their artists and also Baekhyun’s manager. Just like her, he seemed taken aback by her presence but quickly reposed himself. Hye hee took the seat in front of the panel after she greeted them all.

She quickly recognized the handsome Yunho at the left of the table and couldn't help being starstruck by his beauty. 

“So, Song Hye Hee…”, boomed one of the member’s voices and also snapped her back to reality.

“You’ve quite an impressive resume and also an experience. I hope you know that the current job openings do not call for such expertise. Though we could use you for the international language department occasionally…”, he said, glancing at the other stern panelists with doubt.

“Oh yes, I know that the job doesn't entail or call for my previous work experience. I was looking to enhance my resume when I applied for this job..”

“Have you had any managerial responsibilities at the last post?”, suddenly enquired Yunho, looking straight into her eyes that could make even the non-guilty shiver.

Swinging between forming her sentences to answer and not being able to directly meet eyes with Yunho, “ Yes, I was head of the entertainment reporters team for a year…”

“Well… that’s not the kind of skills we’re looking for…”, mumbled the man on the far left, shuffling through the papers in front of him.

“Yes, sir. I have never said that I can't learn the work. My reporting job wasn't exactly my forte. But I learned the skills required for the job quickly after my supervisor helped me. I am more than sure that the responsibilities you bestow upon me will be dealt with to the end and with the utmost professionalism.” hye hee insisted. 

Hye hee’s demeanor vibrated through the room as the panelists thought over what she said. It was rare even for them to have an interviewee be that direct and to the point. The employees at the company were especially strict with their new recruitments due to past such incidents when they had toxic fans pose as recruits.

Yunho seemed to be quietly talking to Baekhyun’s manager, occasionally glancing at her direction. Hye Hee couldn't be sure if it was accidental with the questions being showered on her from either end. 

Boarding the bus closest to the company after filling a few more details, she headed to meet Jane for lunch at the closest ramen restaurant. Once again, thoughts clouded her mind and she found herself weighing the consequences if somehow they dug out her history with Baekhyun. Soon her phone lit up from a number she didn't recognize. She quickly dived to pick it up, expecting the company.

“Hello?”

“Song Hye Hee-ssi?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“I’m Jung Mu, Baekhyun’s manager. I was wondering if we could meet later today? I have some things to discuss with you.”

Hye Hee’s heart raced from the moment she heard him say his name. Baekhyun had mentioned his manager hyung's a million times before and continues to do so. Jung Mu had been a very quiet encouragement for him since the day he was assigned to manage EXO. he had helped him from many sticky situations and quite so even when he was out on dates with her. 

“Umm sure. There’s this tiny cafe on the 17th..”, she told him but was only cut short.

“Yes, I’m aware of it.”, Jung Mu quickly responded. “I’ve dropped him close to the cafe a million times.”

Hye hee an irritation in his voice that was hard to brush off. 

It reminded her of the rare occasions when baekhyun would get mad at her for nothing in particular. The sour memories clouded her, cueing the tears instantly. As she hung up, she contemplated if her working at SM would be the right choice after all. She was denying to herself that this step was taken to stay close to baekhyun and be able to see him every day, lying to herself that it was a big field break into the entertainment agency. 

But, the truth was, this would only further the distance more. Materialize it. The celebrity, married to an equally popular singer, and she, a struggling writer. Nothing but a layman. 

She hurried over to Minseok’s cafe soon, informing him about everything that had happened. He, being the good friend that he was, agreed in no time, however, did think that working at SM could cause trouble. Not just for her, but baekhyun as well.

“Why do I need to close the cafe for a staff?”

“Fans stalk the manager too, Oppa. I’m sorry. But this is the only safe space I know of.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head in disbelief. He soon handed her the pomegranate tea, her favorite for times when stressed. Minseok was usually very mindful of the people around him. The kind gesture made hye hee smile, he smiled at her and softly tapping her shoulder giving her courage to face what lay ahead.

She watched him walk into the low lit cafe soon, accompanied by someone she hadn't anticipated. The two dark figures approached her as they spotted the only person seated. 

“Song Hye Hee?”, asked Jung Mu extending his hand towards her. But Hye Hee’s eyes only followed the other tall man behind him. 

Suho.

 She couldn't think of him as an old friend at that moment. His expression was too grave to be addressed as the man who would smile so gently at her whenever they met.

When hye hee didn't respond at his words, Jung Mu just drew the chair opposite to her. Suho slid into the chair next to him, without meeting eyes with her the whole time. Hye hee silently tried to read into the situation, partially terrified. Minseok appeared minutes later to ask if anyone needed anything. Suho took one glance at him and said, “Lemonade, no sugar.”

“Can we trust him?”, Jung Mu whispered to hye hee after he left, briefly meeting eyes with hye hee, concerned.

“Minseok is a very close trusted friend of mine. You’re safe here.”

Minseok quickly hurried over with the drinks and left them to talk alone, shutting the small staff door. The room where she had met Baekhyun after all those years.

Sipping from his drink, after which his face scrunched in sourness, he quickly reposed himself.

“Hye Hee why were you at the agency today?”, his clear voice boomed in quiet space.

“Baekhyun said I could apply…”

He smirked with disbelief as she spoke, turning to face Hye hee, his eyes pierced into hers.

“Are you kidding me, Hye hee? After all, this while, don't you know? If someone ever finds out about the two of you, it won't just destroy him and you. It’ll take all of us down.”

He paused for a minute before whipping out his phone, showing her a twitter update.

Hye Hee picked up the phone bewildered.

“He’s already been spotted.”, Suho hissed. “You are VERY lucky that even though they are suspicious, the angle makes it hard to be sure. Isn't this your apartment, Hye Hee? Baekhyun refuses to handle this maturely, but Hye Hee, you? I expected better out of you. I cannot allow this. I’m sorry. I need you to minimize your contact with Baekhyun, and eventually, fade him out.”

He was right. What was she thinking? She was low key yearning for Baekhyun, expecting miracles where he would abandon his family for her. He wouldn't ever. Everything that he had built over the years was at stake and so was the entire group. 

“Fine.”, she whispered, a voice soft yet unshaken.

“Fine?” wondered Jung mu.

“I will fade away from his life, his memory. But I will need your help.”, said she, with eyes dark and resolute.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 16

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Saturday (the Gala)

“You know, I find it a little funny you’re doing more pampering in anticipation of tonight than you did before the wedding last week,” Clara noted out of nowhere.

Rose’s brow furrowed for only a moment, quickly relaxing before the makeup artist working on her could comment.  “Are you joking?  I’ve spent the last year of my life planning the Gala.  This is a big deal.  Of course I’ve got to be at my best.”

“More than your wedding?”

Keeping her eyes closed, Rose reached out an arm and swatted in Clara’s general direction.  “Yes.  I’ve got 300 guests tonight, including the Mayor- Malcolm implied on the way home the Prime Minister might even show up.  Last week was thirty people.”  It was hard to believe she’d already been married for a week; eight days, technically, but who was counting?  Eight down, one thousand eight hundred eighteen to go.  The thought was nauseating.

“I’m sure it will all go perfectly, you’re a natural at all this hosting.  Every year is better than the one before.”

“Gee, thanks, no pressure.”

“You’re done, ma’am,” the hairstylist murmured, touching her shoulder briefly; Rose opened her eyes to see an entirely different woman from the one who had sat down two hours earlier.  Hair and makeup done, jewelry in place, nails freshly varnished, she felt like a million bucks.  How could anyone resist me looking like this?

After a week of thinking about it, going back and forth a dozen times, she’d decided this was the night to take her shot – if everything went well, and the mood was right when they returned to the townhouse, Rose was going to do everything in her power to seduce Malcolm.

If she didn’t lose her nerve.

“Thank you, Moira,” she said belatedly, standing carefully and moving towards the privacy screen where one of Moira’s army of assistants waited to help her into her dress.  Undoing her robe, Rose only felt mildly uncomfortable standing in just her knickers as the woman helped her into the dress, one forearm across her breasts for privacy as long as she could – given the dress’s back, a bra was out of the question.

Or rather, the lack of back to the dress.  Crimson red, it covered her entire front to compensate for being entirely backless.  Clinging to her like a second skin, it was red lace over a nude-tone background, almost sheer in the right lighting.  Starting at her shoulders and going straight across her clavicles, it went down to her wrists and ankles, leaving nary an inch of skin bare.  A thin white belt at her hips gave her some definition.  In contrast, the entirety of her back was uncovered, and she could already almost feel the warmth of Malcolm’s palm on her skin.  It made her feel sexy and confident, and capable of seducing anyone – but she had eyes for only one man.

“Wow,” Clara breathed when she stepped out, ready to go.  “You look incredible, like you’re straight off a runway or red carpet.”

“Thanks, so do you,” Rose grinned, taking in her friend’s equally elegant gown.  Hers was a blue and white floral pattern, with a crisp white bateau neckline that showed off her shoulders.  Full sleeves buttoned at her wrist, and it had a split in the middle from the hemline to the knee, letting her knees peek out when she moved.  “I love that shade of blue.”

“Thanks,” Clara shifted, turning her back to the mirror and glancing over her shoulder for inspection.  “Remember that sapphire necklace Dad gave me for my thirtieth?  I’ve been saving it just to wear tonight, and I wanted to make sure the dress went with it.”

“It does, you look lovely,” Rose promised.  “And, I think we’re ready- just in time,” she said, as the clock struck six.  “It’s a minor miracle.”

“Rose!  Clara!  Time to go!” Malcolm shouted from somewhere in the distance, likely the entryway, and the two women shared a knowing grin.

Gathering their accessories, and with profuse thanks to the Glam Squad, as Malcolm called them, they hurried off to meet their carriage – they had a Ball to attend.

-

Rose let Clara go down the stairs first, waiting a good thirty seconds to let her friend have her chance to shine before following.  In the deepest, darkest, still-sixteen corners of her heart, she wanted that Hollywood moment, where she came down the stairs in a beautiful dress and the boy she liked was so moved by her appearance he confessed his undying love.

A girl could dream.

She’d be willing to accept making Malcolm pause; she could hear him speaking, chattering away to Clara and Danny, who had also gotten ready at the townhouse.

Taking a deep breath she stepped carefully, making her way down and into the hallway.  His back was to her, gesturing wildly as he spoke, and she caught Danny’s eye first.  His gaze widened, and he sharply elbowed Malcolm, who turned to look.

And froze.

Eyes going wide his jaw dropped slightly, words drying up mid-sentence as if they’d never existed.  He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just looked at her, wonder and surprise in his eye.

It was everything she’d hoped for.

“Do I look okay?” she teased softly, walking up to him and touching his arm gently, seemingly sparking him back to life.

“You look… spectacular,” he murmured, voice dropping as if the words were only for her.  “Incredible, unbelievable, goddess-like…  Would you like me to go on?”

Rose smiled, blushing slightly.  “Only if it’s genuine.”

He tentatively wrapped an arm around her waist, stepping closer into her personal space and lowering his voice further.  “How about… sensational? Breathtaking?  Stunning?”

“Well, if you say so,” she laughed softly, leaning into him.  His cologne was strong, and it was doing delicious things to her insides.  “Thank you.  You look rather dashing yourself.”  Unable to not touch him any longer she smoothed one finger along his bowtie, tweaking it.  “Like James Bond.”

“Connery, I hope.”

“The accent certainly implies it.”

A cough from the doorway broke the spell, and Rose glanced over to find Clara and Danny waiting there, ready to leave.  “Ready?”  Clara’s amused expression faded, face flashing through several expressions before settling on curious.  “Limo’s here.”

“Let’s go,” Malcolm agreed, a reluctant tone in his voice that Rose wished meant he’d rather sweep her into his arms and carry her off to bed.  “The Gala awaits.”  He kept his arm around Rose’s waist, guiding her out to the waiting limo that way, and her heart fluttered, unable to keep from hoping.

Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the only one with expectations of how the evening would end.

-

Clara and Danny climbed into the limo first, Rose and Malcolm waiting patiently as they maneuvered getting her inside.

“You do look wonderful,” Malcolm murmured, sliding his hand back to center and then up.  His eyebrows ticked upward when he hit flesh, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling as his eyebrows and hand rose in unison.  “What-”

Letting her grin fly free, she took a step away and turned, so he could see the back.  “What do you think?”

“Oh fuck me.”

She laughed, turning back to his gobsmacked expression.  Oh, I will, mate.  “Mhmm, tempting, but I’ve got this event to go to,” she teased, jerking one thumb in the direction of the limo, while smoothing down one of his lapels with the other hand.  “Raincheck?”

“Oi!” came from the limo, ending the moment.

Malcolm’s slightly glassy expression faded into an annoyed eye roll at his daughter’s timing.  “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

She let him help her into the limo, all the while smirking to herself.

Game, set, match.

-

As soon as they arrived at the Cutty Sark and made their way along the short red carpet inside, Malcolm grabbed the first drink he could from the passing butlers.  Downing the champagne in one go, he watched as Rose headed across the room to the site’s event planner to check in.

He’d never seen so much of her back on display before, except in a bathing suit – and always surrounded by family.  But this was a professional, formal event, a week after their wedding, and she was…  heart-stopping.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away, could still feel the soft, smooth skin beneath his palm.  Never in his life, at least to his memory, had he ever been so attracted to someone, so easily set on fire.  It had been a long time since he’d been so distracted, having thrown his life into his work.

And, impossibly, it almost seemed as if Rose wanted him as well.  ‘Tempting’?  ‘Raincheck’?  And what’s with the fuck-me dress?!  Never mind her comment on Monday about her ‘talented mouth’!  That alone had been responsible for half of his insomnia over the last week.

“Malcolm?”

Head jerking up as he realized he’d been staring at the floor lost in his thoughts, he barely kept back a groan.  Why does her father only appear when I’m thinking about her naked?  It was like the man had a sixth sense.  Distantly, he realized his own daughter would be laughing her ass off if she knew his thoughts.  “Pete, Jackie, thank you for coming.”

“Everything looks lovely, Malcolm,” Jackie gushed, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.  “Where’s my daughter?”

“Over there,” he pointed, spotting her standing with the Jacksons near the bar.  “You look wonderful, Jackie.”

“Thank you, dear.”  Her brow furrowed as she stared at her daughter.  “Where’s the rest of it?”

“Sorry?”

“Her dress?  There’s no back.”  Narrowed blue eyes focused on him, and he gulped.

“I dunno, I had nothing to do with her dress,” he said, truthfully enough.  “I only saw it for the first time getting in the limo.”

Jackie’s knowing gaze said she didn’t believe him, and Malcolm bit back a sigh.  She still didn’t know about the arrangement, and was probably thinking it was something to do with their relationship.

Sure enough- “We all know you’re newlyweds, she doesn’t need to advertise via her dress what’s happening after this is over,” Jackie huffed, making Pete choke on his whisky.  “I’ll be having a word with her.”

“I think she looks lovely, dear, and she’s a grown- and married- woman.  She can choose her own fashion,” Pete said patiently, catching Malcolm’s eye and jerking his head slightly.  “Isn’t that Barbara what’s-her-name over there?”

“Oooh, it is, and isn’t that a horrible dress?  I ought to go say hello.”

Malcolm slipped away while she was distracted, making his way over to Rose.

It would be an interesting night, to say the least.

-

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”

Rose yelped, startled, and turned to face Clara.  “What?”

Thankfully, her friend waited until the Jacksons were out of earshot to continue.  “Da- Antonio.  You’re going to take my advice, aren’t you?”

“I’m thinking about,” Rose demurred, scanning the space and pinpointing Malcolm’s location – he was on the other side of the room, talking to guests.  “Why?”

“I can tell – you’ve got that predatory look on your face every time you look at him.  That, and that dress.  Look at you!  I didn’t see the back earlier, but… holy fuck, Rose, if that doesn’t scream ‘seductress’ I dunno what does!”

Rose blushed, but didn’t flinch.  “Good.  I don’t want him to have any question about if it’s a result of too much champagne – if it happens, I mean.  It may not.”

“You’re afraid,” Clara understood, nodding.  “You’re worried about taking the chance.”

“What if he rejects me?”  She dropped her voice, stepping closer, worried about being overheard.  She double checked that Malcolm hadn’t moved; she didn’t want him sneaking up on them in the midst of such a conversation.  “We’re going to be living and working together for the next five years… That’s an awfully long time to spend in close proximity with someone who doesn’t want you the way you do them, and has turned you down.  If I did.  Not saying I do.”

Clara rolled her eyes.  “Stop being coy, at least with me – I know that you do.  And, trust me, he does too – I promise.”

“Even if that’s true, that doesn’t mean he’d say yes.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Rose gave her an exasperated glance.  “He’s a friend of my father’s, I’m a friend of yours.  If it didn’t work… the consequences are…”  She drifted off, trying to picture it.  “It would ruin everything.  I can’t do this, it’s not worth the risk.”

“What?  No!  I mean, yes!  You can!  You have to.  I can’t sit around any longer and watch you make goo-goo eyes at each other,” Clara said firmly, grabbing Rose’s elbow.  “Don’t overthink it, just feel.  Look, if nothing else, maybe you can Stockholm-Syndrome him into loving you?  Though I’m pretty sure he’s… pretty much there.”

She was too upset at how many ways it could go wrong to bear that a second’s thought.  “I have to go play hostess.  Um… thanks.”

Lower lip trembling she walked away, ignoring Clara’s hissed calling of her name behind her.

What on Earth made me think this could actually work?

[antigenius]

Can I get a Bnha matchup pretty please? I am a gymnast and I have lots of medals! I love working hard and pushing my limits. I also am an artist! Usually I am a positive person but sometimes people don't want me around them. I suck at reliationships basicly but that doesnt bother me because I have some friends I can trust. People say I look cold but actually I can get emotional easly. But I am a strong person and I can handle lots of things myself! (I have a broken English hope you don't mind.)

[MATCHUPS ARE CLOSED]

Your english is finneee!! I wish you gave me your sexuality though, but since you didn’t, I’ll just give you a matchup based on what I think.

I think you’re suited for...

Mina Ashido!

Now, Mina is a very empathetic person. I think she’d be able to see through your cold exterior and see you for your sensitive self. 

It’s known that Mina loves to dance, and since you’re a gymnast, I think you two go like peas in a pod! I can definitely see her teasing you or goofing around as you try to attempt training. ^^

Mina is also a very hardworking individual. If you ever want to be pushed to the limit or accomplish a goal, Mina’s always there for you to cheer you on or discipline you, whatever thing you want to achieve.

Positivity goes hand and hand with Mina. She’s bubbly and cheery, and I think your personalities would go well with each other due to your seemingly happy-go-lucky attitudes!

I also think you guys would be cute because Mina would boast about you EVERYWHERE. She’d be like “omg my girlfriend won gold for ___” or “DID YOU SEE HER THATS MY BABEEEE-” 

I think with gymnastics, Mina would be able to find out some things you never would’ve thought of!! I think she would offer a cool outsider’s perspective that understands what it takes to do certain moves, so I think she’d be super helpful!

Right before this starts, I’m going to apologise since I’m not a gymnast. I tried to research the terms to make this sound right, but if it doesn’t, please do forgive me :”)))

A date with Mina

A loud crack resonates in the room as you stretch your legs. You had to practice for your upcoming competition which was in about six weeks. You weren’t particularly concerned about any of your routines, but it would never be a bad idea to practice just in case. You had to do your best, after all, Mina told you she was gonna watch you this time!

You straighten back into a standing position, taking a deep breath. The music starts up, and you couldn’t help but dance a little to the beat. It felt so captivating; your body moves by itself. The beat approaches, you steady yourself and taking a running start. 

Breathe. 

The round-off goes as it should. You bounce a bit off the mat, immediately going into a front handspring, then a front walkover. The world rushes under you as you twirl your body for one last flip, feet hitting the ground. Stretching your arms out to balance, you frown to yourself. It didn’t feel as fluid as it should’ve been. Maybe you should’ve run a little faster? Perhaps another step just before? You thought about it as the music changes for your next set. 

You hear a shrill whistle come from behind you, making you jump a few feet into the air. The intruder giggles shyly, making herself visible.

“Darnit Mina!” You suck the air from your teeth. “Don’t scare me like that!!”

She places her hands together in apology. “Sorry, sorry!! I just wanted to see how you were going with practice!”

The girl snaps her fingers all of a sudden. “Talking about the practice, that looked so COOL!” Her arms flail about as she describes your performance. “You ran so fast, and you flipped so many times I don’t think I could’ve counted it all on my fingers!”

You laugh, nervously rubbing the back of your neck. “Thank you. My competition is in a while, so I thought it would be good to practice to see if there’s anything to improve on.” 

Mina hums. “I get what you mean, reminds me of when I used to compete in dance competitions more often!”

She thinks for a minute, her weight all pushed on one leg as you look at her in curiosity. 

“...Mina?”

“Maybe you should try starting back there a bit more? If you can?” She says, pointing to a point in the mat which was slightly behind your starting position. “You seemed to start the whole thing too fast, kinda takes away the beauty of your running start.”

You blink. You didn’t expect that. Well, it wasn’t too bad of an idea, plus, you needed to touch on it anyway.

“Sure, just rewind the music, please?”

“Gotcha babes!”

The song starts up, and you ready yourself at the new starting point. You allow a few more steps before you go into your round-off. Your hair whips up with a flick of your head, landing skilfully. Mina gives you thunderous applause for your performance, her whistle sharp even with the music blaring in the background. 

"I got it on tape!" 

You sidle up beside her, watching yourself on the tiny mobile screen. It did certainly look good, even though your face looked a bit too concentrated. She holds back a laugh.

"You focus too much." Her suppressed giggles only worsen. "Makes you look funny~"

You roll your eyes, lips curling. 

"I could say the same for you and dancing."

Mina pokes out her tongue in refute. "Whateverrr!~ Let me see your other sets!!"

So the day continues with you retouching on your routine, sometimes getting some good advice from Mina. You'd catch her jiving to the music occasionally, it would make you stumble and giggle, resulting in you falling to the ground or Mina catching you before you hit your head. 

The day comes to an end, or at least, your energy was. Your sweat gleams off your skin, giving you an evening glow. Mina walks over to you with a bottle of cold water.

"Drink," she says, "you'll feel better."

With a small nod, you take the bottle, letting the liquid contents flow down your throat. The cool water invigorates your system and you stand, finishing about half the bottle in one chug. You wipe your mouth with your sleeve, handing the bottle back.

"Thanks."

You were about to go back to training, but you notice that Mina didn't walk away. She had simply put down the bottle, glancing at you at the corner of her eye. You watch her.

"You... okay?" You ask, approaching her. The pink alien twiddles her thumbs together, seemingly embarrassed. Normally, Mina was upfront and confident, so seeing her like this was... cute, to say the least. 

"It's just, this looks super cool, and I wish..." She bites her lip. "I wish I did gymnastics so I could practice with you. I feel kinda bored standing here and just videoing you, even though it's so cool watching you."

The statement hangs in silence for a moment, almost like it was written on the air. You break the silence with a giggle.

"We can try doing a pose together, I can teach you."

You extend your hand out to her, like in one of those bishounen animes. Even without the sakura petals, she takes it. You lead her onto the mat.

"Since you're flexible, it'll be easy for you to do most poses." You pat the mat. "But since you're stronger than me, I think it's best if you're on the bottom."

A devilish smirk makes it way to her face. "Sure..~"

You land a light slap to her arm as you got into position. “Just sit down here with your knees up.”

Mina sits on the mat like you told her to, hugging her knees to her chest. 

“Alright.” You stretch a little bit. “I just need to....”

You place both of your arms on her shoulders, facing your hands away from her whilst your body faces her. You go upside and into a headstand, lowering yourself down to her level.

“You okay?” You ask, your lips almost brushing hers. You watch as her pink complexion grows into a magenta shade. She doesn’t say anything, but your lips connect, and that was all you really needed as an answer.

[adilynia-kiden]

For Them: Part One

March 19th, Nishan

From the moment I woke up, the highs and lows of my emotions have left my head reeling and my stomach filled with razor-winged butterflies that refuse to abate no matter how many breaths I count. Lessons on manners, decorum and propriety flood my mind in the hopes that I will not offend the entire Federation of Nishan with anything other than my presence.  As an Outsider, I not only have to tread carefully with my words and actions, but understand that most Nishanians in attendance for Teren and Lycan’s wedding would rather I wasn’t there at all.

I think I’m handling that pressure well considering I am expecting the event to be filled with wary looks, whispers and a general sense of disdain for my company. However, I have my family here for support and the knowledge that while I might be persona non grata for 99.999% of Nishan, Teren and Lycan want me there today, and that is all that matters.

Today, everything I do is for them.

My morning began with Nishanian inks set to my skin by the talented hand of Teren’s foster daughter, Anou’e Nillion and bound in magics by Baron Larcos Sobo’Avill.  I admit that I was nervous in having to be laid bare for such spellweaving to occur, but I was surprised to find that the Headmaster was both accepting and understanding of my modesty and the permanent pink stain on my cheeks. For all my embarrassment and discomfort, the end result was entirely worth it. My pale skin looks beautiful, which is not something I have ever thought in my life.

Intricate designs of runes, wards and protections now mark my back in golden color, while a lotus flowers spans the plane of my stomach. Butterflies decorate my hands, and join other exquisite loops and lines shading my feet and ankles in a beautiful display of artistic expression. I am not privy to the full details of their meaning until I have earned my citizenship in Nishan, but I am nonetheless honored to wear them for Teren and Lycan.

However, it is the artwork that Anou’e inked over my heart that holds personal meaning for me. Blue roses and feathers have been designed in such a manner to create an infinity symbol that memorializes my Twin Flame and beloved mother. It’s beyond thoughtful for her to include such a thing, as it holds no purpose beyond making me smile in knowing they will be with me today.  I will need their strength to fill my spine with steel and face the lords and ladies of Nishan with all the humility and grace I possess. Which, I admit is a bit hard to do given my attire for the evening. 

The magnificent gown that has been gifted specifically for the occasion, highlights the work that Anou’e has done to make my pale skin feel beautiful. The gold fabric of Nishanian design is perfectly tailored to my small frame, and manages to be both flattering and comfortable, which is a blessing that rarely occurs in formal wear. I’ve taken it out of my closet on multiple occasions to admire the pristine gemstones that sparkle on the delicate hood and each time I notice new details that built my anticipation in wearing it.

The little girl inside my memories that used to play in her mother’s jewelry box and closet is doing cartwheels in actually having it on.

I’d done really well all day in keeping my chaotic emotions in check but the final additions to my glittering appearance sent me over the edge and Bri scrambling to keep the kohl and gold liner on my eyes from running down my cheeks and ruining all her hard work.

My fingers trembled when I lifted the earrings from the black velvet and secured the posts of sapphire and diamond earrings in my lobes. So much so that when I moved to put the matching necklace on, I required assistance from Brilaria in fastening the lock as I was unable to stop them from shaking. Light bless… they are beautiful…

The color reminds me of Teren’s eyes which is soothing beyond words and will help reinforce my nerves. I’m not ashamed to admit I spent more than a few moments wistfully tracing the shape of each stone and imagining the smile that will come from my wearing this undeserved, but no less cherished set he has made.

I swear my heart stopped with the final box opened that revealed a tiara of blue and white that stands as an opulent and exquisite homage to the title Lycan speaks as fondly as he does my name.

Princess.

He meant the nickname as an insult the first time he used it. I had earned his malice and vile tongue for my behavior and judgments a hundred times over before that day. But only when he spit the word out did I begin to understand that I had been acting as the very thing I always loathed about some fairytales; spoiled and weak heroines who were called Princess because of the crown on their head, not the nobility and courage of their hearts. 

It was a turning point in what would become our love story when I decide to check my ego at the door and truly become the person he needed me to be.  Now he whispers the royal moniker with adoration in his voice and love in his heart, but for me, it will always be a reminder of how hard we fought to get where we are and to protect the one thing that matters above everything else; Teren.

In that vein, I have chosen to honor their (and our) fight for happiness in my own way by incorporating a Silverfall tradition among the Nishanian ones they have asked me to carry.

There are only two occasions in which the members of my family don Valkyr braids and decorate them with prayers of metal meant to convey the blessings of the Titans we have so long held faith in; War and weddings.

In war, the knots in our hair are meant as a reminder that our oaths bind us, and that the strength of those who came before us is at our sides when we step on a field. The clink of the metal almost sounds like bells, and is a herald for the Halls of Valhallas that will rejoice if our fate is to be guided by the Valkyr to join them in the Eternal Battle and Wild Hunt.

For a wedding, the honor we step onto a field with is given to our chosen partners as a symbol of our willingness to fight, and if necessary, die to see that they are protected and cherished above all else. It is a promise to defend and lift up those that hold our hearts as high as the honor of dying with a sword in our hand and victory on our lips.  The knots make tangible the bond we offer and serve as a reminder that there is nothing worth going to war for, if we do not have the peace of knowing what is to love, and be loved in return.

I wear my hair in eternal knots on their wedding day, because there is no war I would not wage or path of destruction I would not carve to see them protected. There is no god or mortal that would not feel my wrath and no vengeance I would not take if they sought to take from me what is mine. They are mine.

But I also wear them in knowing the tranquility that comes with one simple fact; I am theirs. Even if our own vows have yet to be spoken and until the last star falls from the heavens, I know where my place is and the peace that comes with their hands in mine.

I have known it since Teren kissed me on the western porch and allowed me the only favor I will ever request before taking to a jousting ring. He gave me the first moment of true solace I had known since my Twin Flame was lost, in the sunlight of a ballroom and the press of black and white keys. My heart had found its starting point when he fastened a choker of diamonds around my neck and composed a love song for me out of his Confession…

I have known peace since Lycan’s words were the ones I clung to when sadistic red ropes bruised my skin and his lips were my reward for tilting to victory.  I know divinity in the curve of his smile and the joyful privilege of naming him as my Champion.  The half of my soul that remains finds stillness in his grueling training sessions and the sanctity of a promise he made to share his wings, but fulfilled in giving me a set of my own. He is my reason to fly…

They are my reason to live.

Teren and Lycan have given me so much and my braids are just one of the things I am capable of granting in my desire to see the foundation of their future set in the strong roots and firm ground of an undeniable love.

Today I get to watch the bond they have fought for celebrated and shared for the world to see.

Today, the love of two men I hold most sacred will be declared in loving vows that will etch the annals of history and begin to heal unfathomable loss and suffering.

Today, my faith in fairy tales will be renewed in knowing that there are no others more deserving of the ‘happily ever after’ promised to us as children than Teren and Lycan.

I expect a great deal out of today… March 19th.

What I did not expect was to have my carefully controlled emotions teeter on the brink of destruction the moment Brilaria opened the door to my suite…and the struggle it would be to keep them in check.

(( @silverfall-patriarch @ironbound-praetorium  for the SL itself. In the next few days or so the ceremony itself will be posted :) We’re still in the process of writing it! <3))

[secret-rendezvous1d]

For When You’re Missing Me.

NO REQUEST.

This is just something that the smut side of my brain decided to spring upon me, late at night, having stumbled upon a particular video that sparked the idea. My first piece of smut writing for 2018 (I know it’s almost mid-2018 but... deal with it) and, hopefully, the first of many, many more to come this year. Some WIPs that I’ve been working on and have been sitting in my drafts for some time, some new stories that conjure up in my brain, some old requests that have been sitting in my inbox for months and months, and some stories I’ve been promising for a while but haven’t quite gotten around to writing yet.

I’m trying out something new with this piece. Smut is usually a very quick scene that I write. Limited detail. Rushed in some areas. When it comes to smut, the dialogue side of things is something that I’m not so good with, so I hope this suffices and doesn’t make the story too... cringe. 

WARNING: THIS IS A MATURE PIECE OF WRITING. PURE SMUT. ALL FILTH. SOME MATURE LANGUAGE USED AND MATURE SCENES. PLEASE READ IF YOU ARE COMFORTABLE WITH READING THAT KIND OF STORY. 

Feedback would be insanely appreciated.

IDEA BASED ON THIS VIDEO, HERE.

Word Count; 12k+ (what the hell?)

Enjoy. xx

Harry loved his job.

He loved that he was living the dream that he had as a child. The dream he told his mother about, the dream that his father was willing to help pursue, the dream that his grandparents became the biggest supporters of, the dream that his sister never made fun of him for and the dream that his friends always spoke so positively about. When teachers at school asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, what he wanted to do when he left school, he would tell them he wanted to be a singer. A performer who was known for the good times he threw in front of thousands of fans every night, in venues that his idols performed in and in venues that held hundreds of people, working his way to the top until he was performing in front of thousands and thousands of fans. Like a future Mick Jagger. The modern day Elvis Presley. The male version of Stevie Nicks. A singer who wanted to be known for singing his favourite songs, for supporting the biggest campaigns and participating in charity events that were broadcast all over the UK, singing his own songs, putting across strong messages and creating an atmosphere that people enjoyed being in, that they felt safe in; because he’d been to concerts as he grew up and he’d been to places that had live bands and live musicians showcasing their own work and he wanted to do that, too.

He loved that his dream career had become his full-time career. In the space of 5 years, he’d gone from someone who worked in a bakery on Saturday’s and studied during weekdays to someone who was receiving number one singles and awards that he had earned with his friends and cracking every continent on the planet. No longer having to sing on a karaoke machine in the living room and no longer driving his family insane from singing the same song on repeat, no longer having to participate in school talent shows with White Eskimo, no longer having to ask people for the truth about how good they thought he was because he had the stamp of approval from one of music’s highest moguls, no longer being asked to perform at family or friend’s or family friend’s weddings and social gatherings during a twenty-minute slot assigned for entertainment, and no longer needing to work hard to be seen by a talent scout that his school had brought by or to be noticed by someone who might offer him the chance of a lifetime because it as clear that he was already there. He was at the top of the chain of musicians, in a band that was widely spoken about and had become a household name, up at the top of the list with artists he had grown to love as a young boy, during family road trips and playing on the record player on a Sunday afternoon - and he fucking loved that.

He loved that his life now consisted of singing and meeting fans who had waited ages for One Direction to step foot on their land, who had brought tickets to see them and were the real reason they were at the top of the chain of musical artists, and he loved that he was given the opportunity to travel all over the world because every day of his life was a day where he was introduced to somewhere new, introduced to someone new, introduced to a world that he was still so fresh in. Exploring the countries he’d always wanted to go to but never had the privilege as a child, taking in the sights that he’s always wanted to see but could only see them in geography books and magazines, that he’d learnt about in primary school geography and begged his mother to take him to, and being able to turn into a tourist during his days off with a camera, brought with his own income, as he documented every place he stumbled upon to keep as memories for the future. To share with his future children and his future grandchildren so he could be the grandfather who told the most wicked stories, ever. From quaint towns in the mountains that were barely populated with 100 people to sweet villages that were brimming with life and sold homemade treats and trinkets and made him feel peaceful and relaxed. Because relaxing days off weren’t so common for him anymore and he liked to the cease every chance he got to be himself. Where he didn’t have to worry about his name being whispered around.

But the one thing he hated - and it was only the one thing - was sleeping in beds and staying in places that just weren’t home.

To anyone else, they would snicker at the double entendre.

And he would simply tut and shake his head and show his unamused distaste of being someone’s act of entertainment because of what modern day society had done to people’s pure minds.

Harry Styles, the teenage boy who had grown up with all the looks and the charm, who was the womaniser of the most prestigious and popular boyband, hated hooking up with the women? Who hated taking advantage of his status and turned down all the women who fell at his feet and purely stuck his nose up at the idea of waking up in unfamiliar territory. Beds that were far too unfamiliar for him, in a part of the city that he never planned on visiting, in rooms that he’d never seen in his life and knew, from the smell and the feel of the sheets and the atmosphere of the room, that was far, far away from his hotel rooms.

But to everyone else, from his family to the woman he adored and loved to share a bed and a home with to his close best friends and commonly aquatinted mutuals, it was far from something amusing and much rather something that was completely understandable. That was met with nods, a clap on the shoulder, and Everyone knew he liked his own comfort and you, for first hand experience, knew he liked to be in places he was entirely familiar with. YN knew he found it awkward to sleep in beds that he hadn’t slept before - he struggle the first night he slept in hers - and she knew that he liked his own personal space and a room that was all him - or had aspects that were him, whether it be a deodorant bottle on the vanity or a pair of shoes tucked into the corner or a bottle of fresh cologne beside her perfume bottle. That he felt more at home when he was staying in a place that was considered as home.

The hotel in Seattle couldn’t have been further from what felt like home.

The room was small, and he didn’t need to strain his neck to look around, and it was perfectly fitting for just one person - it was a single room, to be honest - with a couple of windows that were smeared with cleaning products, having been wiped after the last person who had stayed in the room, and a view of the hotel pool rather than overlooking the skyline. Which was a view he liked to see when he woke up in the mornings and when jetlag kept him awake at nights; seeing people sunbathing just never felt right to him. It wasn’t like any other hotel he’d slept in before... not that he was materialistic and thought he was worthy of 5 star rooms that looked like apartments and was double the size of his girlfriend’s flat. He didn’t mind not having luxurious rooms fit for royalty because he was happy to have a roof over his head and bed to sleep in for the night. The bed had a squeaky mattress that was too solid for him to lay comfortably upon, it didn’t have his body imprint left behind for him to find as he rolled around and shuffled under the duvet that covered him, and it didn’t have a pillow that completely swallowed the back of his head and gave him intense comfort. It didn’t have the intoxicating smell of his girlfriend lingering in the small space around it, the room didn’t hold them fruity smell of her body spray and it didn’t emit warmth like his bed did back home. The sheets were itchy and scratchy against his bare skin, far from the soft cotton that clung to his own king-sized mattress, and the duvet cover felt like paper... and, if he was being honest, he was sure the pillow had crumpled balls of paper pushed into the pillowcase to fill it out because the pillow didn’t quite succeed its purpose. His feet hung over the end and he knew he needed to curl up to ensure his toes didn’t get cold through the night, only putting pressure on the small of his back and creating kinks that would become trouble throughout his busy days, that might potentially cause him to be winded on stage during a performance. The floor looked like something from a motel in horror movies and it was scratchy beneath the surface of his feet and the light shades were old-fashioned and shaped like overturned tulips.

He missed London and he missed his own home and he missed his own comforting environment more than he had ever done before.

Harry dropped his wallet, his key-card and his phone, encased in a pink and rubbery case, upon the small table beside the en-suite bathroom door, sighing heavily as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Wiping away the sleep that made them feel like they had slits slashed across them with the burning blade of a knife and aiding to the ache that lingered because, even though he felt tired and knew he would probably drop off as soon as his head hit the pillow, his adrenaline-fueled mind just hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of him yet. His suede boots becoming heavy upon his feet, weighing down every step he took and causing him to scuff with each footstep that took his further into the room, as he toed them off and kicked them in the direction of his suitcase.

Outside his room, and scuffing down the corridor, he could hear the rowdy chatter and the heavy footsteps and the cackling laughter belonging Louis and Niall as they made their way to their rooms - Liam having travelled back with Sophia, as soon as the after-show excitement had come to its gradual end - discussing the events of the night, reminiscing on how the show had gone for them and expressing their feelings in how they couldn’t wait to explore the city of Seattle on their day off, the next day, before a late-night flight to Vancouver. Because, as sad as it was to think about, it was the last time they would be exploring the state as a group.

Oh, and that was another thing that Harry hated about his job.

Not necessarily hating it all of the time (because he felt so privileged by it) but hating it most of the time; exploring the cities that One Direction were lucky to perform in, taking in the sights around and learning never-before-heard facts that were fascinating to have stumbled upon, without the one person he wanted to have by his side, snapping candids and capturing the moment with a camera - his girlfriend. Always promising to take her anywhere she wanted to go, anywhere she wanted to explore, to be anywhere in the world that caught her eye, so she could say she’d been there. He felt like he was cheating her, as silly as he sounded, and he was making promises that he knew would take a long while before he fulfilled them.

He crouched down beside his suitcase, toes cracking underneath his weight, and pushed open the top after having left it foolishly unzipped when he was in a haste to leave the room after giving in to Niall’s consistent bangs against the door of his room when he was in charge of making sure they were all meeting in the lobby on time, letting it fall to the floor with a rattle. Zips clinking together. His neatly packed case making him rather frustrated, because he would only need to re-pack it neatly for the journey to the next city, as he rummaged around for a clean pair of boxers and a tee shirt to sleep in; usually, and rather frequently, he would sleep in the shirt that he had performed in (because YN wasn’t there to steal it from him), but, the grey material was soaked with sweat and clung to his back in an uncomfortable manner. Like a second skin that covered his torso. And as much as it hadn’t bothered him at the time, it was beginning to make him feel gross. The shower calling his name, his hair, that was almost instantly tied up in a bun before the journey back to the hotel, begging for a wash, and his back screaming to be rid the discomfort that he chose to ignore - he could freshen up tomorrow.

As he slung a clean shirt over his shoulder, he discovered an envelope. 

A white envelope, that was no bigger than the stretched out palm of his hand, tucked in between a suede boot and his gym trainers - the ones that he knew his girlfriend hated but wore them anyway because they were comfy and felt light on his feet as he jogged on a treadmill and threw a few punches at a personal trainer’s mitts - keeping it as flat as possible. Fresh boxers draped over his shoulder, brushing over his cheek, as his nimble fingers pulled the paper from the contents of his case. His name was written in a beautiful cursive script, right in the middle with a couple of ‘x’s underneath, accompanied by a lipstick kiss pressed to the corner in his favourite shade - a magenta that was bold and prominent and smeared a little at the corners.

His finger tore open the seal and he immediately hit another piece of paper that had been folded once and then once again and, knowing his girlfriend like the back of his hand, probably folded a final time to keep it as secure and as tight as she could have possibly made it. Something heavy settled in the corner and capturing his mind with curiosity; it was definitely from his girlfriend, definitely addressed to him, but what on earth could she be giving to him? 

A note...

... and an SD card belonging to one of her cameras.

Harry,


If you’re reading this then you’ve found my little surprise!

I didn’t tell you about what I had planned for you because I knew you’d go looking for it - I know you and you just can’t resist yourself - so I wanted you to find it by yourself, when you were least expecting it.

I don’t know how long it took for you to find it, I don’t know where you’re reading this, what country you’re in or what the time is, I don’t know when you’re reading this or under what circumstance, but what I do know is that you’re missing me more than you thought you would. Don’t lie to me. I’m missing you, too. So, I hope my little surprise will make you miss me a little less. Regardless of when you’re reading this, I’ll see you very, very soon and I’m really looking forward to that.

Make sure you lock whatever room door you’re behind, make sure you’re alone, make sure you’re not going to have any interruptions and make sure you have no plans that will coincide with what I have planned for the next fifteen to twenty minutes... maybe longer... depending on how things go. Enjoy yourself because this is something special, made by me, that is just for you. JUST FOR YOU. No one else. For your eyes only. (And I mean that, too).


I adore you. Always.


Love you. xxxx

He tipped it over and let the SD card drop into the middle of his palm. Fogged plastic landing upon his skin, blurring out the label of the black-coloured SD card, with a scribbled heart drawn in the middle with a red Sharpie. A red pen that was, without a doubt, from the collection in his office that he had hidden in his drawer that had the sole purpose on making changes in his schedules and for writing on demo CD’s to be sent off to different artists who had requested his help in songwriting or to be given to his management office across the pond so they could listen to what he’d been working on and to see and hear the well-thought out title of a single that he wanted in the charts. A pen collection that he would always find in her office but hadn’t ever gotten upset over because she always did something so wonderfully colourful with them.

And he wasted no time in rummaging around for his laptop. Whatever was on that SD card, whatever he was going to be met with upon the screen and whatever she was going to be surprising him with was something that got him excited. Tingling from the inside out. Whatever was happening on social media and whoever was tagging him in tweets and in Instagram posts, whatever was making his phone buzz and whoever was sending him messages and making his notifications go crazy, yeah... they can wait, he thought. Butterflies erupting in his gut, fluttering around and tickling all around, pulsing blood through his veins.

Perching down on the end of the neatly-made bed, which made him feel slightly guilty because he’d left the bed in a right mucky state when he’d woken up that morning, he used his teeth and one hand to open the card holder whilst balancing the base of his laptop upon his thighs, using his free hand to open the lid, to type in his password and to direct the mouse to the bottom left corner.

It was was so close to being known and he was expecting something that was from both sides of the spectrum.

On the one hand, he was expecting something sweet and adorable, something that screamed YN. Like a little montage of photos and videos that she’d taken and managed to find from their shared iCloud, putting them all together into a digital photo album, with a song that meant a lot to them (one that they sung together, that they played in the car, that they hummed during dinner, that they always turned up when it came on the radio), with a sappy message at the end that, annoyingly, made him cry. She said it would make him miss her a little less and that would definitely work... but it would also make him miss her a little more than he liked to admit to anyone. Even to her.

But, on the other hand, it could have been a cheeky montage of photos that she’d taken, without his knowledge, that ranged from nudes to lingerie shots to close-up selfies that looked incredibly realistic to her ‘Harry’s just fucked me really rough’ face. A face that had a mix of her mascara and her tears running down her cheeks, hair matted to her forehead with sweat and her lipstick smeared across her lips and the underside of her nose - his favourite look.

He squinted at the screen to see the title.

JUST WANT UR COCK BUT THIS WILL HAVE 2 DO

What will have to do? What was he about to see? To witness? 

What was this surprise?

He cautiously double-clicked on the small folder that appeared once he pushed the card into the slot at the side of his laptop, his eyes darting nervously from the bright screen to the door of his hotel room, silently praying that Paul, or anyone from the crew, didn’t walk in to tell him “light’s out, big guy. Busy day tomorrow”. A paused screen going straight to full-screen mode, showing the smiling face of his girlfriend, who was half-naked and had one of his button-up shirts covering her exposed breasts. Her nipples erect and almost tearng through the material.

“’ello, my sweet peach.”

He grinned widely, on instinct, because he’d really missed her voice. Hotel rooms sounded eery when she wasn’t there to fill the silence with her cackles and her garbage talk about why pigeons looked the way they did or how planes managed to stay in the air despite being made from metal - he hated those types of conversations but had really grown to miss them when they weren’t there to drive him insane.

“Wait, no. That sounded weird. Sweet peach. Let me start this again. Sorry.”

He chuckled lightly when the screen went black, cutting off from, what he imagined was, a mistake that she had left in for humours sake that was there just to make him laugh. The seconds still ticking away at the bottom of the screen and he chose to sit and patiently wait. Her face, no longer than a couple of seconds more, soon appearing back on his screen. Closer than it was beforehand, with the buttons of his shirt, that were done up to help keep her breasts covered, now unbuttoned and allowing the flaps to open with each movement she made.

“Hi, mister. Hey. Hello... ohhh, yeah, that felt so much better. Nice and simple.”

He snorted; he wanted to say he loved her little, out-of-the-blue nickname because ‘Peaches’ was a newfound pet name she was experimenting with, just a little personal something between the two of them before she took to using it in the world outside, but, if he had to be honest, he preferred her second attempt. It was sweet and natural and very YN. 

‘Mister’ was what she called him on a regular basis, had been since their first date, whether it be to sweet-talk him or when it casually slipped out during a conversation at breakfast or from beneath the shower, and it had slowly become on of his favourite nicknames for himself. A difference from the common H or Haz that his friends called him.

‘Missus’ slowly becoming part of his vocabulary just so he could match with her. So they could be that cheesy couple who had the cute nicknames and made their friends gag dramatically in their presence but fawn over them in the distance.

“I’m guessing that, since you’re watching this, you’re all alone and in an empty hotel room and feeling a little lonely and missing me, yeah? You found this in your luggage, realised you missed me, and just wanted to see what I had for you, is that right? I imagine you’re feeling a little horny, too? Since you saw the title. And you just want me there, sucking you off, making you cum, and making you feel good, right? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A long while,” he mumbled to himself, gulping thickly as he pressed pause, and released a deep sigh. The door needed to be locked and he needed to be naked, if not completely than definitely, from the waist down. This wasn’t a case of slipping his hands into his pants and trying to be discrete about the whole thing; he was on his own, and he would be till morning, and he had no need to worry about being interrupted with someone who was eager to see him. With her looking like that, dressed in his clothes, with a sultry voice being used to talk to him, he had a feeling this wasn’t something that was quiet, meant to be soft and made just to make him cry. “A really long while.”

He stood up from the mattress, discarding his laptop to the side of him, as he unbuttoned his black jeans on the way to lock the door, grabbing a ‘do not disturb’ sign on his way passed the small table that he bumped into upon both of his arrivals into the room that day, sticking his head out of the door as he hung it on the handle. Grinning to himself because if anyone noticed, he would be ridiculed and teased. He wouldn’t mind what they thought though. He didn’t think any one else, from the crew to the boys to the strangers who walked passed in the night, had a loving partner as surprising and as thoughtful as his own and, deep down, he liked how jealous he would be making them.

He shimmied out of his jeans, letting them pool at his ankles as he stepped out of them and left them in the middle of the room, his sweat-soaked t-shirt soon joining the black denim. Hobbling around on one foot as he tugged off his socks and threw them over his shoulders, not particularly fussed about where they landed, darting to the window to pull the sheer curtains to a close. Almost succumbing the room to complete darkness if it wasn’t for the yellow glow that emitted from the lamp on the bedside table - he could deal with that. Tugging off his boxers and leaving them on the floor, closer to the bed than his other garments, he situated himself against the headboard because, over the many years of having to have solo orgasms when his cock wouldn’t soften and wanking until he could no longer wank, he’d found that was the most comfortable position to be in. 

Using his foot to reach for his laptop, pulling it close with the arch of his ankle and leaving it be on the empty side of the bed, stretching out his thumb to press the space-bar. Her voice, yet again, filling the quiet room.

“I thought I’d treat you to a little something special,” was the first thing she said when the video continued, “so consider this as my way of apologising for not being able to travel with you on the first few legs of your last tour with the boys. Should’ve tagged along, really. I bet you’re having a great time though. With all the lads, having lad fun and being all lad-y. Although you’ll probably tell me you aren’t because you miss me and want me with you because you always enjoy having me around. I think that might be something to do with me being your personal groupie though. Going to all the shows, squeezing in a shag in afterwards, but never saying goodbye to me because I’m your girlfriend and I’m always there in the mornings.”

He smiled a little, shyly amused, and dropped his chin to his chest; she found humour in reading about his X Factor days and how 16-year old Harry was a little bugger when it came to the ladies. Comparing him to the Harry she knew because she could see that näive teen streak, showing at times but remaining hidden, still inside him. He knew she had stumbled - well, she says stumbled but he knows there was more to it than her coming across it during her time in the toilet - upon an old story, about him and Zayn and a couple of girls who had followed them around on the duration of their very first tour. Finding it funny to use “Christabelle Riley” when she felt annoyed with him or when she wanted to be downright annoying to him or when she wanted to make him squirm because she was in one of her playful moods. The name being one that he wished she’d drop because it was something about his past he wished to forget all about - he was a serious artist. Wanted to be taken for more than just his ‘groupie’ past.

“Do you remember that gift you brought me a while back? For my birthday? The one that you had to hide away from the rest of the presents, in the corner of the garage, because our parents were there?”

Sybian - that’s what the website said it was called.

And how could he forget about it? It would be impossible to. He had never heard of one before, let alone seen one, so he almost spunked in his pants when he stumbled upon it. On the dark side of a website specifically for sex-toys, different bottles of lube and specially-made lingerie that weren’t just to look good on the body but were also made to help encourage the feeling of pleasure - pouches in the knickers, vibrating knickers, role-play outfits of all sorts and latex garments that accentuated every curve of it’s wearer. Having ordered it at a time when he couldn’t spunk in his pants; when he had a spare few minutes from doing a chunk of recording in the recording booth, when Jeff was out on a call from his father and his band were out getting a bite to eat, having promised to bring him a sandwich and a water from the shop on the corner.

“Well, I’ve only used it once, just to test it out, and I thought it would be a perfect piece of footage to give to you, whilst you’re away, so that you have a little piece of me as to not miss me so much. Something sexy so you don’t need to stare at photos or watch porn. I see your web history after you say you’re ‘going for a nap’, you dirty prick.”

He feels his cheeks heat up.

Even though she knew that he was a avid watcher of amateur porn videos and even though she knew he turned to Pornhub when he was having difficulties feeling satisfied, he still felt embarrassed when she called him out on it. Having been caught one afternoon, when she was supposed to be spending the whole day with his mother, with his hand around his cock and a body that was spread out on the bed with clothes all over the floor, as he watched an amateur teen having the time of her life with a vibrator as she spoke dirtily to the man to the side of the frame, she hadn’t let him live it down. She watched him, she watched the video, and she waited for him to finish before she made her presence known and his face was purely picture-perfect. His mouth in the shape of an O, his eyes wide and watering at the corners, his cheeks heated and flushed, his hair completely tousled after he’d tugged and pulled his strands and his thighs were still quaking. Picture. Bloody. Perfect.

“It makes a difference from all those other videos that I send to you, as well. The ten second Snapchat stories or the grainy iPhone camera videos that you get to see when you wake up. The is done on my proper camera. My blogging camera. Professional and all that. And, unless you lose this SD card, it’s just yours and no one elses. It won’t get leaked, it won’t get downloaded, and my modesty, and my dignity, will forever be in tact. My boobs are yours to see. Not the world. And, as much as I love the toys we have and the dildo’s you’ve brought me that are all shaped like you, this has to be one of my favourite things to play with. So, thank you for buying it for me. We can both have some fun with this.”

Riding a prick was something that he didn’t think about too often. Of course, he’d explored around as a teenager and he’d slipped a finger in and what have you, had the opportunity to find what really got him going, but having a cock sit heavy in a place that burned with the thickness of a finger was something that he wasn’t desperate to try. That wasn’t on the top of his fantasy list. It was something that he’d brought just for her to use when she was missing his body to straddle rather than penetrating his hole that was foreign in the act of anal and had only been visited once in the past... by her tongue and a thumb and forefinger.

The memory, on its own, was enough to make him shudder. A good shudder, of course. The kind that came from something that felt really good, really pleasurable and came from something that had good intentions behind it, and he knew that experimenting around would bring him immense pleasure.

“Tonight, from me to you, I’ll be riding this.”

He felt his cock twitch when she jazz-handed as a way to show it off, involuntarily and almost reflexive against his stomach, much like it did when she happened to be wearing something that got his motor running or did something that he found rather enticing - like it did when she hunched over in front of him and allowed him the chancing moment to peek down her top and to stare at her boobs cupped so delicately by a pale-yellow bra or when she purposefully bent over in front of him and gave her bum a wiggle because she knew he couldn’t let the moment go unseen. He let out a choked sob of relief when he gave his base a soft squeeze, dropping his head back against the headboard as he slowly pulled his fist all the way to the top of his shaft, his foreskin tickling his length underneath his heavy and rather sweaty palm.

His other hand slipped down his body, his fingers toying with the pebbled nipple to the right of his chest before he ghosted the tips down his abdomen and down passed his belly button, itching at the underside of his belly and feeling his stomach contract as he brushed over a slightly ticklish portion of skin, until he was happy on where they had settled. Course hair, thick and dark and looking a little unruly (“a trunk as thick as yours always needs a little grass around the base” is what she’d always told him when he questioned whether to shave or trim) at the touch of his fingertips, enough to grab in small clumps and long enough to not lose a grip of. A strangled moan bouncing around the insides of his mouth before it escaped the small gap made when he took his bottom lip between his teeth.

Her virtual presence, so bright and infectious upon his laptop screen, was there for his disposal and for his needs and, due to how delectable she looked, it was easy for him to let his imagination run wild inside his mind. Plain and simple for him to imagine that he was balls-deep inside of her. Sinking into the most desirable, cavernous-like space so deep and filling her up so nicely and deliciously, with her slick walls clenching and squeezing around him in the way that he just loves, in a way that could never be forgotten because it felt so pleasurable. So insanely good. How her legs would almost always spasm and how her thighs would quake and how she would shiver and pierce his back with her fingernails as he pounds into her and fucks her through her euphoric high.

His hips jut upwards impulsively and he tears his hands away from his pubis, thick with hair, and tucks them between his open thighs, his little finger resting perfectly against the crease where his thigh met the curve beneath of his pubic bone, and he begins to fondle his balls gently. Rolling them between his fingers, cupping them and almost making juggling motions (juggling - which he had become a professional at doing) and making the muscles of his stomach tighten even more.

“So good, so good... fuck.”

In his mind, she’s saying his name. Well, not exactly saying it... more like mewling it out from quivering lips. Eyes wide and staring into his, legs tight around his waist as he deeply grinds his hips into her, her orgasm being so visible through her coloured orbs as she cries and squeaks out her appreciation, as her fingers cling to his neck. The heels of her hands resting at the top of his neck, her nails scratching at his scalp as her fingers push through his hair, tugging harshly on the sweaty roots that were beginning to feel dirty and gross under her touch and the sensation, itself, was enough to make him loose his smooth rhythm...

On the screen and filtering out from the speakers, filling up the empty spaces in the air that was full of his deep panting and soft moans, she was deep in chatter - so far from where his imagination had taken him. He’s not sure what she’s talking about, really. She’s pointing at things, reaching out of the frame from things, grinning at the lens and toying with the hem of the shirt covering her body.

“... so, I guess I should explain to you how this works? It might make it a little easier for you. I’ll show you. It’s a fascinating piece of equipment,” she heightens herself on her knees and crawls forward a few centimetres, her hands coming up from her side to adjust the button-up that was flowing away from her torso. She stretches over and picks up, what seemed to be, a control box. A heavy block, that looked rather mechanical, that was coloured silver and black. “This is its remote control and it controls everything to do with this toy. The rotations. The vibrations. The speed of both. Oh, god, and I have full control so I’m like a dominant and a submissive all rolled into one,” she giggles, and it makes his heart skip a beat, with a contagious little squeak that had him letting out a chuckle - well, a loose breath of warm air pushing out from between his lips. “I can be tough on myself. Give myself a real go at it. Make myself cry and all that. Or I can be really soft and gentle. Calm it all down if it gets too much. I’m a softie so...”

She grins so widely before her shoulders slump and she drops from her height, her bum brushing over the carpet of the bedroom. And, as she stares at the camera with her hand wrapped around the fake, peach cock, he loses it. Completely and utterly loses it and gives in to the coil in his gut that was screaming out in mercy. Her eyes holding so much behind them as he squeezes his own shut, cumming hard as he continued to jerk his shaft, imagining her clamping down on him tightly as he filled her full of his thick juice. He wheezes, like he was winded and struggling to catch his breath, slumping down upon the mattress and ruffling the pillow that was trapped between his back and the base-board of the bed.

“... it’s extraordinary, Harry. I’ve never seen anything, or ridden anything, like it. This attachment is a wonder. My clit sits and rubs against here,” - she points to a small lump made in the rubber, scratching her nail over the grooves made for added pleasure - “you see the little bump? Well, I say little but it’s not. It’s like a lump. Yeah, uhm, that’s where my clit sits. The curve, it’s perfect, and the wiggly lines - I think they’re the grooves? Yeah, they make it so much better. The rest slips deep inside me,” - she strokes it like she would his cock and he glances down at his slippery, mushroom-shaped head, oozing cum and turning a deep shade of pink - “like your cock would do, but it doesn’t go as deep as you go, and it doesn’t fill me up as half as how you fill me up, but it feels so good. And it rotates and vibrates, too. Unfortunately, your cock doesn’t do that. It’d be cool, and a little weird, if it did. But I love it, nonetheless. It’s my favourite cock to ride. And these plastic ones will have to do until you get back to me.”

He wished he had something other than his hand.

He says he’s not adventurous in exploring new positions, new techniques upon one side of the relationship, but he’s all for experimenting with toys. He nicked one of her vibrators one night, for goodness sake! 

She had a couple of rounded-tip vibrators in her bedside drawer, she had a wand that was his preferred vibrator to use on her (and himself), and she had a small dildo collection (that he had stumbled upon when he was being a domestic house-boyfriend and cleaned the cupboards of their walk-in wardrobe) that, after much interrogation on his part, she said she used rather frequently. A shy promise to use one when he was home and when she was next in that mood. 

He had nothing but two hands and a vivid imagination.

“So, this is the rotation,” she twists the knob, with the “ROTATION” labelled beneath it, and there’s an abrupt sound that begins to crackle through his laptop speakers. His eyes completely focused on how fast it was spinning on the spot. “This is the fastest speed but that is way too fast for me. Maybe we’ll go that fast when I’m feeling a bit more courageous and feel more confident. Maybe when you’re here so I can focus on you and how you like to get off to me getting myself off. Because watching your hand around your cock, jerking yourself and cumming from your own touch, yeah, that really gets me going. Could watch you do that all day, like watching my favourite movie,” and she sports the naughtiest of smirks as she looks at the camera, sending him a cheeky wink, toying with the knob as she adjusts the speed to show him, “and, if it gets too crazy, I can just turn it down. And, if that gets too less and I need a little more, I can turn it back up and let it go crazy. Reaching inside and touching every inch of me. Not as good as you though, of course,” she slows down the rotations and adds a little force to the small switch at the bottom of the left-hand side, stopping the mechanical motion completely, “I’ll probably just go to the halfway mark. It was on a real slow rotation last time I used it and it took me forever to get to an orgasm. You’d have laughed. Called it a useless contraption and gave it a kick for not doing it’s job.”

Useless, of course, for not doing its assigned job in making her squirm and scream.

That was the reason he brought it, of course: to help fulfil the need and the desire for nothing but pure satisfaction when he wasn’t there to help her. It was junk if it didn’t serve it’s purpose.

“... the vibration though? Harry, it’s fucking crazy. You wouldn’t believe how good it feels. I had it on quite a quick vibration last time and, oh my god, you’d have to feel it yourself to understand how amazing it feels. It’s insane,” she smiles sweetly and it drives him nuts as he slumped down against the pillow, his non-existent double-chin resting against his chest as he switched his focus between his erect cock and his girlfriend, crawling backwards and setting herself up behind the mount, “are you ready? Make sure you’re on your own, yeah? Make sure there are no interruptions? Stick a sock or a tie on the door or something. Let people know you’re occupied and have no time to spare for anyone because this is for your eyes only, mister,” she points accusingly at the camera lens, at him, and he giggles tiredly, “do you understand me? If I find out that one of the boys has caught a look at me, you’re on the sofa for the next year. No sex, now blowies, no handjobs, or anything. You’ll have to resort to your hand.”

He knew she was serious because it had happened before. Not to the same extent as what she was implying, here, but... rather similarly.

They were fresh into a relationship, give or take eight months, when it happened.

Despite dropping the ‘L’ bomb just 5 months before, and with their first time being sexually intimate with one another just a short 2 months before, they were still exploring the excitement they could have with one another and they were still finding their own ways in dealing with the distance when he was country hopping for tours and promotional purposes and they were still trying to come to terms with being away from one another for so long. It’s when nudes were first introduced. When the very first video, filmed by her and sent to him, first happened. Of course, he had initiated it - she’d woken up, one morning, to a rather glorious photo that he had taken from the bathroom of whatever five star hotel room he was staying in, with everything on show and the cheekiest of grins on his face, without an inch of embarrassment written on his face. He seemed so happy. Pride was probably the correct way to describe it.  

Given the time difference between London and the States, she’d sent him one back... breasts on show, laced knickers at the bottom of the frame, with her bottom lip between her teeth and a seductive wink that closed her left eye... and it couldn’t have been sent a worser time.

Because she was inundated with messages that she had a feeling weren’t sent from her boyfriend. In the 244 days of being with him, she had never once seen his use slang or the common ‘text language’ that the kids were using, back in the day. Lots of ‘u’s rather than ‘you’s, lots of ‘2’s rather than ‘to’s, plenty of ‘z’s being added to the end of plural nouns rather than the usual ‘s’s and there were no ‘xx’s at the end of the texts and Harry never skipped out on sending a couple of little kisses at the end of each message he sent... never.

She couldn’t talk to the four boys for weeks. Could barely look them in the eyes because she felt so humiliated.

“... oh! Do I look good for you, baby? I hope so. I feel good with myself. Been wearing this for the majority of the evening. I bet you look pretty amazing, too. All spread out on the bed, completely naked and just the way I like you, with a little semi going on because we haven’t reached the real action yet but you know what’s about to come and you’ve gotten all excited.” 

She giggles sweetly and peels away the lapel of the white, intricately scattered with black polka-dots, button-up that draped down her torso, and she lets it fall off of her shoulder to show one of her breasts as she grabs at the soft flesh. Pinching her nipple and biting her lip as it sparked a reaction throughout her body, a cheeky wink sent to the camera before she rolled her shoulder swiftly, bringing the material back to cover her chest.

“Although, that one flash of my tit probably had you sporting a hard-on like a teenage boy seeing fanny for the first time.” 

It falls silent between both ends and all he can hear is his wheezing breaths as his chest rose and fell with each deep breath her took.

“Have you just come off stage? All high on adrenaline and you’re not sure what to do with yourself, yeah? You know I live for post-concert you. Sweaty, smelling a little dirty, t-shirt clinging to you, patches under your arms and your back completely soaked. You know how that gets me riled up, Peaches. When you smell like you’re already fucked out, like you’ve already been through a few rounds with me, when you’re all hot and bothered and eager to get that cock inside me.”

There was one night that came to mind; June 3, Edinburgh, 2014.

As soon as he stepped off stage, backstage at Murrayfield Stadium, she’d been glued to his side from the moment she gave him a kiss to congratulate him on such a remarkable show. Despite the horrendous smell that wafted from under his arms and despite the sticky sensation that he could feel all over his skin, she stayed tucked under his bicep as he thanked everyone for being so helpful, grabbed himself a chilled bottle of water and let the boys know he would be missing out on their scheduled boy’s night out because he knew he wouldn’t last long in a dingy bar, drinking his weight in tequila shots and cheap lagers, and being stared at, regardless of how many times he escaped eyelines. With a promise to head out with them when they arrived in London and getting everyone together to celebrate their return, he sunk his mouth into YN’s hair and they were out of the stadium before anyone could tell them to stop with their “disgusting PDA”.

She’d practically wanked him off in the car and ruined the orgasm that was building up in his belly, she’d left hickies all over his neck in the lift going up to their room and she’d tore his shirt at the collar in a haste to take it off, she’d hid her hand in the waistband of his jeans and squeezed his bum as they scuffed down the corridor and, as soon as the door to their hotel room had closed with a click against the lock, she’d whipped his trousers down and, without any hesitation, welcomed his semi-hard cock into the warmth of her mouth before they had the chance to make it out of the entryway.

To this day, he still wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline that made his stamina break the bar on how long he could last or whether it was the excitement of sinking nice and fulfillingly into his girlfriend multiple times throughout the night... he was thankful for whatever it was though.

“Do you want to fuck me? I hope this video, me riding this, makes you want to fuck me even more. I hope it gets you excited to come home, to sink deep into me, to make me feel good. To make me feel even better than this ever could,” she scoffs to herself playfully and bangs a hand down on the arched mount, “let’s make a deal. I’ll cum for you if you cum for me.”

His eyes widened nervously as he took a glance down at his, what was once tight and almost in a death-like vice, fist. His fingers loosening from the grip he had upon his erect cock, letting it spring back against his slick stomach, splattering a few droplets of spunk that caught at his slit, the space of stretched skin between his thumb and his forefinger sporting a glow of his ejaculate; sticky against his flesh, dribbling down to his wrist and speckled upon the fuzz of his upper thigh because he was always messy when he came and, really, he wasn’t afraid to admit that.

“Bugger,” he mumbled lowly, coughing into his clean fist to clear his dry throat, “could’ve bloody said before I spunked, baby.”

“And you have to tell me how good it felt afterwards. I don’t care if I’m sleeping or if the time difference is wacko or if I’m busy and can’t get back to you right away. If I’m with your family or my family or out with friends. I want a simple text to tell me how could you feel after blowing a load over this video. To know that it’s done its purpose. Because this whole thing is to make you feel so good. Is that an okay deal? I think that’s a pretty good deal.”

He heard her cough and he watched the screen intensely as she taps her fingers against the black leather.

“Wrap your hand around your cock for me. And stroke it. Stroke it like I would for you. Up and down. A little squeezing. You know how it goes, don’t you? Keep doing that until you cum for me. Can you do that? You better be able to do that for me. I know you can and you don’t want to disappoint me now, do you?”

He shook his head, and he chuckled lightly because she couldn’t see him, and happily obliged. Tightening his hold upon his cock, for the second time, and wiping his sensitive head to evenly spread out the remnants of his orgasm. Wincing through clenched teeth as spasms of electricity shot through him, pulsing his veins more rapidly and throbbing in his hold. His mouth watering as he stared between her thighs.

“You know what my pussy looks like. But, here’s a little glance before it’s ruined by this contraption,” she says as she leans back on the mount, hands bracing her weight on the edge of the arch to stable herself as she pushes up, into an amateur crab position, to let the camera focus plainly upon the soft folds between her thighs, “remember how this looks, yeah? If you have to rewind it, rewind it. If you have to take a screenshot, take a screenshot. A photo with your phone or whatever. Because I’ll show you again, at the end, to show off how crazy this makes me feel,” she leans her weight on one hand and uses her forefinger and middle finger to spread her slick folds, letting him catch a couple of seconds of her, yet to be ruined, pussy before she settles back on her knees and lets the rounded tip brush over her clit, visibly shivering at the stretch of pleasure coursing her veins.

“I’m not going to lie. I’m a little nervous. You’re actually out with Nick right now, you know? Remember when you came home at the end of June? A couple of weeks ago? Spent a couple of days with me before you took off to America? Nick took you out for some beers and you’ve been out for a few hours now so you could be home at any minute.” - And he remembered this so vividly. How she’d given him a clean button-up and told him to not where black jeans because it was muggy out and he would have gotten hot, how she’d snuck into the shower with him when he was getting ready to leave and how she’d helped him shave because, the last time he shaved, he had missed a patch by his sideburn and looked utterly ridiculous. She’d made him a cheese and pickle sandwich with a cup of tea so he had his stomach lined before his night out and she’d ate her own dinner whilst he ate. He’d kissed her goodbye when Nick had arrived in the taxi and he’d begged her to give him a reason to stay at home because, deep down, he didn’t really want to spend the night with his friends and get pissed to the point where he would be vomiting all night and would end up with a rotten hangover by the time the morning came. He remembered how they’d teased him because he’d been glued to his phone the entire night, how he’d been texting his girlfriend because he missed her and didn’t feel right without her there, telling her how he should’ve been feasting on peanuts and drinking lagers but had chosen to stick to water and cokes, only for her to encourage him to have a good night because she could look after him in the morning, and he’d told her how it didn’t take long for Nick to start sweet-talking the bartender because he thought he was cute. How he’d walked through the door and tripped over his own feet and fallen flat on his face because YN was in stitches when she told him over breakfast the following morning, how he’d been sick in the bathtub because, apparently, the toilet was too far from the door, and how he’d been bedridden until his flight in the late hours of the evening. - “It’s exhilarating to know you could catch me but I really don’t want you to catch me. Because then this whole thing, this video and this surprise, would be ruined. It’ll be your loss. Your fault.”

He smirked and rolled his eyes - he still would’ve asked for the video to be in his possession and he knew she wouldn’t have been able to turn him down.

“Are you hard for me yet? I want you so badly, you know? Every time I want something to penetrate me, to slip between my walls, to fill me nice and deep, I’ll always think about how badly I want you. How badly I want you to penetrate me. How badly I want your cock to slip between my walls and how I want you to fill me up, nice and deep, and hitting all those delicious spots inside me. The ones that have me squirming underneath you.”

He could feel his second orgasm beginning to tip over the brink and his cock was involuntarily twitching, again, in his hand. His slit pulsating and his tip tingling and his veins making his shaft feel hot as he flicked his wrist in achingly slow jerks. He’d already had one and he was as sensitive as his teeth were to ice-cream - it was painful but it was pain that was delicious and enticing.

“If your mind wanders away from wanting to fuck me, that’s okay. You think about whatever you need to think about. If you want to think about these lips,” she points at her pink lips and using her finger to drag her bottom lip down, “wrapped around your cock, shining with your pre-cum and bright pink against your tip, then go ahead. If you want to think about this tongue,” she sticks out her tongue, flat and thick, and wags it from side to side, “licking you up and down and coating your balls with spit, then go ahead. You’ll be able to feel the real thing soon. Wrapping around the head of your cock. Sucking gently, at first, and getting harder and harder and harder. Until you can barely see straight,” she tickles her fingertip down her neck, down between her collarbones, down the middle of her torso and taps the hooded bundle of nerves at the top of her pubic bone,  “and, if you need to think about this pussy, riding you, going in and out of me,” she lets the dildo sink into her, reaching up inside her and settled so perfectly that it felt like it was breaking all kinds of walls to feel so good, “like this, then think about that. Think about my tight little pussy wrapped around you because I know how much you like to think about that. Know how much you love the feeling of me being completely wrapped around you.”

“... oh, what about my bum? Know you’ve slipped in once before. Could think about that, you know? Sliding in and out of there,” - he visibly shuddered. Because, little did she know, he thought about their first anal session whenever he needed to get off and was struggling to do so. Remembering how her bum was propped up by her pillow, how his hands cupped her ample cheeks with his fingers, how his cock laid perfectly where the crevice of her bum met the small of her back and how it felt so delightful as the newfound feeling, that was foreign to the both of them, took over. - “I know you liked how that felt, Peaches. Feels good, doesn’t it? When someone loves on your bum? When someone takes you to cloud nine by inflicting pleasure around the backside? Must give your bum some more loving when you get back home.”

He was too shy to ask her about exploring the area that was his backside, up front, so he would definitely hold her to that. Would even quote her, if he had to.

“Are you ready to start? I’m ready to start,” she stretches over and grabs the square remote control box, holding it tightly in her hand as the back rested against the bare flesh of her thigh, “there is one thing I forgot to tell you though. Might make you get there a little faster. This little contraption makes me squirt, you know? Feels so good that I just can’t help it. Thinking about you, it drives me insane, and I wish you could see this in person, Harry.”

His head snapped up just as she shrugged off his button-up; squirting? That was somewhat brand-new for the both of them. Sure, they’d spoken about it and he’d always wanted to try and make her have a wet orgasm that soaked his thighs and had her completely convulsing in his arms, and he’d googled all about it and whether it was normal and easy for all women to do, but they’d never reached the perfect moment to give it a try.

“Have to be hard now, right? Been naked for a little over five minutes. Had my tits on show for that long. You’ve probably already had one orgasm, hm? Watching me fuck this, imagining it being your cock, yeah?”

He so focused on her hips that her voice was only background noise for him. His complete upper jaw gnawing down on his bottom lip as he worked on stroking his cock hard and fast, quick and tight, fingers beginning to shake as his eyes squeezed shut. Her whines and her whimpers encouraging his orgasm and enticing it to spurt up his chest, beckoning it to escape and mix with his first.

He tried to hold himself off for a little while longer; it’s his second orgasm of the night and he wanted to milk the pleasure for as long as he possibly could. Wanted to feel every inch of it coursing his body. But, with each pump of his hand going up and down his girth and with each swipe of his thumb over the, deep shade of raspberry, head of his cock, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold himself and to contain his hips from bucking up into his fist. Watching his girlfriend squirming and whining and whimpering as she ground her hips down and round on the peach-coloured dildo, that was lucky enough to be feeding her the pleasure he should have been giving to her, and whilst picturing her pretty lips, now swollen and bright red from how she’d continuously bitten and nibbled to contain her squeals, wrapped around him, it was overbearing for him. Overwhelming, if you will, as his moans caught in his throat and his grunts rumbled through his chest.

He groaned with deep guttural passion, almost like a yelp that bounced off the walls and echoed around the quiet room, his mouth dropping open as he rolled his head back against the ball of his neck. The tips of his hair tickling at the space between his shoulder-blades, the top of his head bumping against the soft headboard behind him as he tugged his cock, flicking his finger beneath the ridge at the underside of his tip, gargling out a string of profanities as he shot an almost empty load across his thigh.

Her voice so broken as she spoke through her orgasm; “fuck, m’squirtin’, Harry.”

He watched as she bobbed up and down, grasping her left breast and squeezing the soft flesh as splashes of her release escape from between her thighs, coating the base of the dildo mount with droplets he could only wish he was there to taste. To lick clean. The desire assisting his orgasm as more cream coated the fuzz of his inner thigh.

“Remember when you fucked my throat?” She says with a crack in her words, “had me gagging around you because you were so thick and heavy? Touching the back of my throat and you had my eyes watering? S’exactly what my eyes are doing right now, Harry. You remember how that looked? Remember how you had my eyes leaking? How I was close to crying with so much pleasure? I bet you do. I bet you think about that so much. Pretty sure my throat needs that again soon. I’ve been practicing.”

Deepthroating her was a spur of the moment thing.

What started off as a sweet blowjob after a warm shower, with gentle kisses being pressed against his thighs and her tongue being so soft with his flaccid cock and her hands cupping his backside so delicately, had soon turned into something much more. When he was erect and hard in the palm of her hand. When he was leaking pre-cum and she was slicking up the dry skin with the natural lube he excreted. Her nails digging into the fleshy mounds of his bum (which, he was sure would draw blood to the surface - not that anyone would see) and her teeth dragged up and down the thin flesh and bumped over the tingling veins pulsing with blood, that covered his throbbing muscle, with each rough thrust he gave her mouth. Gurgling around him as she tried to whine and whimper and moan out to tell him how she wanted him to keep going, gagging and dribbling down her chin and onto her coffee-coloured thighs from how he broke the boundaries of her throat, his fingers raking through her hair as he pulled fistfuls to guide her up and down his cock.

He remembered how she couldn’t speak for days beyond that. How she smacked his arm, kicked him up the bum and wanted to yell at him, but couldn’t. How she had meetings with important sponsors and how she had trouble with speaking in a hushed tone because people were struggling to hear her. She blamed it on the start of a cold and, despite how terrible she was as a liar, was rather pleased when they brought it.

“I wish you were here, baby. Fuck,” she whimpers, the heels of her hands resting on the front arch of the large toy, his hips stopping the motion of going up and down as she rotated them around in circles. Fighting the rotation of the toy as it sunk deep into her. “Do you wish you were here, too? Watching me squirt like this? Helping me through my orgasms? I wish you were here to fuck me, Harry. Wish you were here to finish me off with your cock.”

And, oh gosh, how he wished he was there, too.

It didn’t feel right to be so far away from her, wanking over her and thinking of her as he jerked himself off in each country they visited,  and he wasn’t so sure he could last another month and a little bit longer without asking her to fly out to whatever city in America One Direction were next going to be in.

Her job was flexible and she could take her work anywhere in the world; that was one of the many perks to being a lifestyle, freelance blogger. A laptop in her bag, passport in her hand and a camera around her neck with cities all around that were full of picture-perfect moments that were momentarily opportune. So, surely, she wouldn’t mind swapping the four walls of her office back home to working from all over the world, right?

“Wish I was there, too,” he muttered, giving his cock one final tug before he let it spring back against his stomach, “so bad.”

He took his come down as a brief break. Letting his fingers relax as they had started to feel stiff, letting his cock feel a little cooler and to make sure he wasn’t overworking himself as he let it droop to one side, resting against the curve of his upper thigh and in a pool of his own spunk.

“Fuck, m’squirtin’, Harry. For you. You know what I’m thinking about?”

He smiled tiredly and watched her as she sunk down, knees pushing into the carpet as she let her orgasm loose, little splashes being heard as he watched her, cheek resting against his shoulder.

“I’m thinking about you pounding into me, baby. Spanking me and telling me how good I am and telling me how amazing I feel. Clenching around your cock, squeezing you and edging you closer, and squirting for you as you fuck me deep. All over your stomach. All over you. Feels good when I make myself squirt, you know? Want to show you so badly.”

He whimpered and it was such a cartoon whimper that rolled from his tongue that, usually wouldn’t have embarrassed him because it wasn’t forced and came from an act that enticed it from deep within him, made his cheeks heat up.

He had this habit, that he wasn’t sure how it started, of banging his hands down on the mattress when he pushed up after being stretched out down the spread of the bed. Whether it was after a full nights sleep and it was time to get up or after a nap that he’d taken with YN after a busy morning or after they’d spent a few hours on the bed being amorous with their sexual activities. Because it annoyed her and he loved to annoy her and it had simply become a habit he would do when he was on his own. Using his trembling arms to push himself up from the bed and onto his knees. The pillow that he hadn’t slept on, which still held the strong aroma of hotel washing detergent and was still crisp white and had a fresh pillowcase and was untouched and wrinkle-free, was grasped tightly in his hand. His knuckles turning white after he lunged forward and grabbed it, leaving an empty space at the headboard. His erect and tingling and leaking cock swinging as he moved, his laptop pushed to the side in a haste to find a new position, his bare heels pushed into the pillowy flesh of his bum cheeks. Green eyes staying focused on the screen as he watched her grind against the arched base of the sex-toy between her thighs. Her back arching, her nipples pebbling as a hand disappeared behind her frame, her other clinging to front to keep her as stable as she could possibly make herself.

She’d spoken about pillow humping before... and it definitely wasn’t something that would slip his mind with ease. Whether it was during their late night chats when the time ticked passed midnight and the both of them were struggling to sleep, whether it was when they were discussing ways they managed to get themselves off when they were alone, or whether it was overhead when she was talking to a female friend during a stay-at-home brunch in the kitchen. It wasn’t a foreign topic of conversation and he was all for trying new things - he’d gone as far as having his girlfriend give him a rimjob, for goodness sake, so there were no boundaries he was terrified of crossing.

He folded it over as quick as he could - well, actually, it was more wrapped around his cock than it was folded before his quivering frame - and, despite being untouched, it was warm and, if he could let his hazy imagination wander a little further than her lips wrapped around him, he could really imagine her warm cunt clenching around him. All slick and warm and deep, homing him perfectly and stretching to accommodate the thick girth he packed between his thighs, and being enough to milk his balls dry. He didn’t need a hand fondling his balls or a finger pushed into his behind. Needing the sounds and the touch and the smell to drive him over the edge. He grabbed either side of the pillow, keeping it in a tight fold, as he gave his all into thrusting between the gap, feeling his bum clench with each forward thrust, his body almost toppling to the mattress with each retracted thrust, and his eyes were watering. His bottom lip situated between his teeth, chewing hard on the flesh and nearing the point of drawing blood, making it red raw and dribbling down his chin.

Because, oh god, did it feel good.

It was better than his hand; far much better. It had the creases, it had the depth that her warm cunt had to offer every single time, it had the metaphorical entrance that he found pleasure sinking into and it had the warmth that he could imagine wasn’t just a folded pillow. Where he could imagine it was really her. It was an action that he didn’t mind drooling over and that he didn’t mind making a mess of, an action that he definitely wouldn’t rule out in the future, and an action that he would have to tell her all about, just to tell her she was right. That it felt brilliant. That it sent him spiralling towards a place where he felt he was flying. Not necessarily cloud nine but... something even better than that.

His knees were starting to ache from holding up his weight, his stomach was clenching and coiling with white-hot pleasure as he kept pushing his hips losing all rhythm but driving deeper into the groove that the pillow offered him, his head swimming, his knuckles turning white and his fingers feeling like they were stiff when he tried to give them a wiggle, and he was beginning to feel like jelly because he was on the brink of a third orgasm - the most orgasms he’d ever given himself in one night - all whilst his girlfriend was edging towards her second.

In hindsight, he felt guilty for what he was doing. This wasn’t his property, it wasn’t his room, it wasn’t his bed to get messy and the pillow wasn’t his - it all belonged to a hotel, a room, that many people would use after he signed himself out and handed over his key. It was a pillow that people would use, that they would rest their heads upon, without knowing the high levels of deep lust it had helped him feel. And, despite not wanting it to end, he threw it to the floor. The least he could do was salvage what was left of the inanimate piece of furniture.

His stomach ached as he jerked himself through his third orgasm, the third of god knows how many, just as his girlfriend announced she was cumming hard. His hand feeling clammy around his length as he tugged up and down, up and down, up and down, adding in a spark of pleasure as he squeezed his girth and stroked the sensitive, mushroom-shaped head with the pad of his thumb. Her squeals sending him over the edge as he spurted thick, white strings of release up his chest, painting his sticky and shimmering, with sweat, skin. Smearing his release over each and every section of exposed skin he could.

He fell back against the bed, his head missing his pillow by mere centimetres as he choked and swallowed saliva down his dry throat, releasing his cock and spreading out, like a starfish against a rock, upon the mattress. Feet hanging off the end of the bed as his fingers twitched. YN’s cries of relief echoing around the room as they filtered from the speakers at either side of his laptop and he wasn’t so sure he could last another go. Three orgasms was good enough for him.

“... this is driving my clit crazy, Harry. And, as much as I love it when you use your fingers and rub them against me, when you flick me with your tongue or suck on me, this feels so much better,” she hums, his eyes straining as he peered over his shoulder to watch her, “it’s up there on things that drive me crazy. Love your fingers though. Make me feel so good in so many ways. They’re so soft and gentle, delicate and feathery, touching me so lightly and it’s like they know exactly what to do. They know where to go. They know just how to make me feel nice.”

This go around, as he watched her unravel on the sybian, he skipped out on a potential fourth. He could have gone for it but a staggered orgasm, that he would class at number four, could come in the morning when he could keep his eyes open. When he wasn’t feeling sore. When his cock had had a break and had regained all feeling from tip to base. He had new material to watch, to think about and to help his imagination delve further into the darker depths of his mind now that he had stumbled upon what she had so sweetly given to him... that he was thankful she had given to him... that he would, as corny as it sounded, keep safe and look after and would only use it when he was in dire need of a little help. When amateur porn just wasn’t satisfying enough.

“... I think s’all I can take. 3 orgasms is good enough for you, right? I feel great. I’m going to go and take a warm bath, relax a little and wait for you to come home so you don’t smell sex on me,” she giggles, dismounting the sex-toy and walking over towards the camera on shaking legs. He could see her glistening thighs struggling to close from how long she’d been in her position, the upper muscles trembling under her skin, “drunk you always seems to know when I’ve been naughty with myself and I can’t be giving myself away. If you’re curious as to where I’m putting this, it’s back in the box and in the wardrobe under your shirts. Means I can grab one when I chose to have some fun,” she grins into the lens as she picks the camera up with her hands, holding it at arm’s length as she twirls on her bare feet and collapses - well, more like lets her legs give out from underneath her weight - upon their bed. Head nudging between the two plump pillows as she hid her face into his. A tired smile on her face. “That’s all I can do. My legs ache and I’ve still got to put it all away and get myself freshened up. I’ll see you really soon, mister. Really soon. Enjoy the rest of the tour. It’s your last one with the boys, for a long time, so make the most of it. I’ll see you at home in a short few weeks. 6 nights at London’s O2? That’s going to be so cool! I love you huge amounts.”

Sure, he missed home... but he was missing it a little less now.

[plagued-yakuza]

To Have You Back

So apparently I can’t read, or if I did I forgot, because I totally missed the deadline for posting the OP x BNHA hub event! ;A; Honestly, I almost cried when the mods of @onepiecerphub​ contacted me. I’m terribly, TERRIBLY sorry!! @askblackleg-sanji​ please have my apologies alongside your gift! I loved your content and I think you’re a great artist and such a chill person. I’m willing to write you another one to make up for the delay if you want ;w;

This piece has been half-finished in my drafts since the beginning of September, and since my class today was canceled, I took the time for some tweeking and updating to make it more manga-compliant. Once again, I’m really sorry for the delay! No content warning for this that except for innuendo and manga spoilers - but it’s kinda big, so it goes under a read more.

Summary: They finally meet again in Wano. While things may have changed, others are exactly as they should be. (ZoSan | One Piece)

Moonlight paints the ruined castle in shades of silver and black, glossing over the remains of destruction, less of a tragedy and more like a dream. The existent warmth comes from the embers of their bonfire, already dulled by Wano’s insistent winds, only strong enough to create a smaller circle of golden light and heat. They’re scattered around it, wrapped around themselves to keep precious body heat, the only sounds those of a peaceful night after the stress of the afternoon and the emotional tales of the evening.  

Still, one of the pirates has not fallen asleep. Despite the tiredness weighing down his bones, Sanji is wide awake, the light smoke of the cigarette and the pleasant twirl of his thoughts to his company. He has never been to Wano before, and yet it feels like home, like belonging. During the dreadful time in Whole Cake island, he has longed for this - for the sight of his asleep nakama nearby, for the safety and comfort of their presence. Luffy’s light snoring to disturb the occasional song of the cicadas, Chopper bundling up with Nami and Carrot to share a cover, Momonosuke laying against Kin’emon, even Torao asleep with that silly hat over his face. After almost giving up on it all, even if for reasons he thought for the best at the time, he treasures it even further, and the quiet joy keeps him awake for longer than he thought that night.

There is the light shuffling of cloth nearby, along with the tinkling of metal as it shifts in its leather band with the owner’s movements. Sanji makes no comment as the green-haired man takes a place beside him next to the dying fire, seemingly too caught up in his own thoughts to care. Zoro lets a long sigh escape his throat as he stretches his tired muscles, knowingly calling to himself an attention that he already had.

“So…. The girl?” The swordsman asks casually, fingers drumming against his hurting neck. His good eye is closed, his silhouette drawn in yellow and black against the fire, a sight that Sanji is pleased to be the only one awake to see.

“Didn’t really work out.” The chef shrugs lightly, taking in a deep puff from his cigarette rather than expanding more on what happened in Tottoland. He needs the calming numbness of nicotine to push it away from his mind, a sign he knows the other will understand.

Zoro snorts, a tiny smile playing on the edge of his lips - the mere sight makes Sanji frown, the edge between his brows deepening with the following comment. “I bet it didn’t.”

“What are you implying, eh?”

“That not even Big Mom’s ugly kid wanted you.”

“Fuck off! She was really pretty!” The blonde huffs, smoke puffing out from his nostrils as he glances beside him in annoyance.

“Oh, was she then? Then why all that trouble of sending Bege and shit to get you there? Like you wouldn’t do a thing for a skirt.”

“You’re wearing one.” The reply is smooth and self-assured both, a playful jab with a not at all subtle hint. He can see Zoro grim with the edge of his eyes, and he knows this means a small victory in their rather particular way of flirting.

“Last time you met a nice lady you got all beaten up. Or did you?”

“I’ll beat you up myself if you keep up with this bullshit, Marimo.”

"Would you?” Zoro’s reply is as sharp as his swordsmanship, an eyebrow lifted slightly in provocation, and in between his words is a promise that paints the tips of Sanji’s ears red.

“I will.” The chef is quick to assure, breathing in smoke to hide his embarrassment as his gaze shifts away, back to the fire, to recollect himself and change the subject. “What were you up to, during that?”

“Was accused of killing some dudes. Had to leave the capitol for that - Torao was pretty pissed.”

“And did you cut them?”

“Of course not. He only wanted Shusui.” He makes a mention to the swords held close to his hip, his index finger laying on the flowery handguard of the dark-bladed treasure. The touch is soft, as caring as he is when they’re alone like this. “They thought I stole this from an old samurai, but it was that creepy shadow dude that got his body and brought him back. He gave it to me after we fought.”

“That was back in Thriller Bark, right?” At the time, it had been terrifying; two years later, Sanji is surprised on how nostalgic it feels to remember the decaying boat and its inhabitants. “Such a long time ago.”

“You’d figure they’d have found out earlier I wasn’t here all that time back. But the attacker himself was the judge, and tried to accuse me of using it against some others, so I cut him down.”

“You cut down the judge?”

“And the building.” Zoro adds solemnly, with a light nod of his head.

Sanji cannot hold it anymore - he laughs aloud, almost wheezing in between breaths. The fingers that hold his cigarette are trembling slightly as they bring it back to his mouth, an effort to keep himself quiet and not awake their companions. It is their moment, and he does not wish to interrupt it. “That’s such a Marimo thing to do. Bet you didn’t even think of the consequences, did ya?”

“What for? I’ll just cut whoever comes my way.”

It takes more willpower this time to hold back the laughs, and he fails to control the smile that insists to come out when he hears such things from dumb Marimo. It feels so easy, so liberating - he envies it, and the feeling comes out the smoke as the cook sighs. “I wish I could be as straight-minded as you and the captain. Sometimes I think about things too much.”

“That’s your fault.” The swordsman replies in the same beat, an accusatory finger poking against Sanji’s temples as he glares at his companion with a narrowed eye. “You and this swirly eyebrow, it catches your thoughts and prevents them from leaving your brain.”

“It what?”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Says who?? Nothing you just said makes sense!”

“Makes more sense than your face.”

“I’ll put sense in you so hard you’ll remember my shoe size forever!”

“That’s if I don’t cut you up and serve you for dinner first!”

They’re up to each other now, hands on collars, faces close enough for their noses to touch, and it is a miracle the altercation has not awaken any of their companions. Sanji’s long-forgotten cigarette is turning to ash on the floor, a different kind of drug in his veins as he leans closer, the grip on his clothes softening as his lover does the same. The hidden touch of their lips is what he missed the most - the way their tongues seem to meld against each other, to be close enough to feel his body heat and his scent, to dig his fingers into that stupidly soft green hair. He missed those stolen moments in the Sunny, away from the well-intentioned but nosy eyes of their crewmates, and the dance of competition, playful insults and teasing provocations they share in their own pace.

He missed Zoro, most of all, and he has no heart to put in words how he dreaded never seeing him again.

They back off slowly from each other, in between heavy breaths and burning cheeks, fingers intertwined and foreheads touching in the feeling of longing and the thrill of danger. They could very well have been caught, kissing right there where any of their nakama could see, and it makes Sanji’s heart drum faster in his ears with the need of doing it again.  

Yet the swordsman backs off, green hair brushing against the cook’s cheek as he moves to lay his head on his shoulder. Almost instinctively, the prince’s hand rises to caress his lover’s hair, long, skilled fingers combing through in a calming gesture. It is only due to the quiet environment that he can hear Zoro whispering against his shoulder, the grip in his other hand tightening. “I missed you. Dumbass. I thought you’d stay with that girl forever.”

“I would never leave the crew. Or Luffy. Or you.”

“Nice to see your level of priorities.” The green haired grumbles, shifting his position to glare annoyedly at Sanji in between long eyelashes. “I come last, eh?”

“Suits you well for how annoying you are.” The blonde teases back, a smirk playing in his reddened lips. His gaze softens despite that, the proximity and softness under his fingertips mellowing his teasing lightly. “You know I’d never truly leave, right?”

“Fucking no.” Zoro buries his head on the chef’s shoulder again, half-hiding from his own embarrassment, half-eager for the closeness. “You’d leave us and marry the girl just so we could all be safe or some bullshit. Stop putting yourself on the line, Swirly Eyebrow. How am I supposed to deal with that?”

“I’m sorry.” Sanji mumbles back in quiet remorse, the echo of Luffy’s words fresh in his mind. I just wanted to keep you all safe, is all he wants to say, but Zoro knows it; he can feel it in the way the swordmaster pulls him closer, in the light huff of anger he lets out. He knows and he hates it, and they will butt heads for this and for so many other things in the days and years to come. For once, Sanji does not want to think of sacrifice. He just wants to stay there for a while longer, to kiss the top of Zoro’s head and whisper: “But I’m here. I’m right here, and here to stay.”

It won’t last forever, they’re both aware of that. As morning comes, their nakama will awake to find Sanji making breakfast and Zoro napping, and think no else of it. But for now, they have this moment - a place to belong, even in the dreadful Wano country, and a memory written in moonlight amidst those ruins.

“......At least I’m glad to have you back.”

[cbraxs]

Warped [Time Warp Trio Fanfiction] - Chapter 8

Izzy ran away. Again.

She hefted on her snow coat on as she exited Joe’s house, throwing a hasty goodbye to his parents before the door slammed shut behind her. Light snow fell on the streets of Brooklyn, blanketing everything in a layer white. Izzy shivered, but not from the cold.

The Monocle Man… Mad Jack, was realer than ever. She dreaded this happening for years, clinging to the hope that maybe that incident with her and her mother was a bad dream she’d mistaken for a memory. In less than an hour, she’d met her boogie man, learned his name, and found out one of her friends was his nephew. Could she trust Joe anymore? Could she trust any of her friends?

Of course I can, she thought. Just because someone had bad relatives didn’t mean that they themselves were bad. Her maternal grandparents disowned their only daughter to the point of not even attending her funeral, but her mother was the most loving person she knew.

Izzy’s dad must have trusted Joe, too. Why else would he tell her to go find Joe if he was in cahoots with Mad Jack? If Joe was working with his uncle, something would’ve happened by now.

This opened more question for her. How did her mother know that time traveling madman? Did she know about time travel? What about her dad?

It wasn’t hard for her to believe that they knew about time travel and never told her. But why? She knew about magic. Her parents taught her what it was. They taught her how to use it, to respect, and not to abuse it. Why not tell her about time traveling?

Magic and time travel might be similar, but Izzy knew they weren’t the same. With magic, the witch or wizard was in complete control of the outcome if they studied, trained, and knew what they were doing. Time travel, at least from Izzy’s experience, wasn’t as clean cut. You could be prepared, know your history, have the means to protect yourself, but you could still be at the mercy of others. Between Master Mysterio and Mad Jack, Izzy knew how dangerous things could get.

So her parents kept it from her to protect her.

Izzy sighed, her breath trailing into the air in misty wisps. She was being a brat. For one reason or another, some kids didn’t have their parents looking out for them. She was lucky to have even one who cared about her safety. Izzy shouldn’t complain about a few kept secrets when her parents only meant to protect her. Besides, she had secrets as well. How could she be upset with her parents when she was keeping her situation away from her friends and not feel like a big fat hypocrite?

Were her parents time travelers? It made sense the more she thought about it. Her dad read her history books to sleep when she was little instead of picture books or fairy tales. Her mom would decorate their home with old-timey knickknacks that always seemed a bit more authentic than a Made in China replica.

There were other things, too. Vague memories of vacations when she was no older than three or four. Meeting people she’d later learned were dead for centuries. Trips to countries that no longer existed. For years thinking the great pyramids were white, only to find out in the fifth grade that that was hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Things she disregarded because she thought they were simple misunderstandings.

Those trips, however, ended with a visit to Egypt. Izzy remembered crying; her mother’s distressed face; cold, manic eyes that bore into her. She tried to recall more details, but it was like trying to roll a boulder uphill. Just when she was about to get somewhere, it would all come crashing back down, and she’d wind up back at square one.

Izzy tried to put these thoughts aside that night and get some rest, but the thoughts invaded her dreams, morphing and transforming into strange and weird images that confused her even further.

~*~

The next day at the Craft Shack, Izzy helped Joe pick out color chips and tried to stifle a yawn.

The Craft Shack was this local hobbyist store that carried everything an artist/seamstress/scrapbooker could ever want/need/buy and forget they had. It was meant to be just her and Joe picking out colors for their trick box, but Sam and Fred tagged along and she was happy to have them there.

Sam lagged behind, his nose in an engineering book. Despite declaring he had no eye for color theory, he chimed in every now and again, adding his two cents on what he thought about each shade of purple they looked at. Fred had… questionable taste when it came to color coordination. He seemed to think clashing colors would help them stand out more. It would, but not without damaging some corneas in the audience.

Joe was dead set on picking out the perfect colors for the trick box Izzy built for their talent show. Joe was one of the most ambitious people Izzy had ever met. The talent show wasn’t for another month, but ever since Joe asked for her help, they’ve been practicing whenever they could after school. Izzy was practically finished with the box so they could start working on the payoff of the trick instead of just the setup.

There were still things they needed to work on, outfits to buy, etcetera. It was a lot of work, but Izzy enjoyed it. At her old school, kids wouldn’t care enough to put together an act the way Joe did. She admired him for that.

“How about this one?” Joe asked, pulling out another purple paint chip.

“Dude, just pick one.” Fred waved a flippant hand at the row of paint chips. “These are all the exact same color.”

“No, they’re not,” Izzy said and picked out two different chips to show him. “Royal aubergine has more red in it than uncut amethyst, which is a lighter shade of purple. See?”

Fred nodded. “Oh, uh huh. Definitely.”

Izzy frowned. “Was that sarcasm?”

“Oh, uh huh. Definitely. Of course you can tell the difference. You’re a girl. Chicks see more colors than guys do.”

Sam shook his head. “Fred, that’s…” He blinked, reconsidering Fred’s statement. “Actually true.”

“See, what’d I tell ya? All these names are pointless. Violet Twilight? Lavender Razzmatazz? What even is a razzmatazz? Some kind of sprinkler?”

Izzy examined the last chip Fred pointed out. “It’s my middle name.”

“Lavender?” Sam asked.

“No.” She mentally kicked herself for even bringing it up. “It’s… Razzmatazz.”

Fred and Sam looked at her. Even Joe, who was previously fixated on looking at colors, turned to stare at her. After a second, they busted out laughing. Shoppers gave them weird looks as they passed by their isle.

“Razzmatazz?” Joe asked in disbelief. “So your name is Izzy Razzmatazz Shabazz?”

“Like the crayon?” Sam managed in-between laughs.

Fred wiped a tear from his eye. “How much did your parents like the letter Z?”

Izzy’s cheeks burned. “I-it was my parents’ incantation. When they did shows.”

She signed more heavily than she intended. Thinking of her parents reminded her of Mad Jack. Her hands trembled.  

The boys stopped laughing. Joe noticed her shaky hands. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Fred said. “We didn't mean anything by it.”

Izzy clenched her hands. “No, it's not that.”

“It's Mad Jack, isn’t it?” Joe asked.

Izzy flinched. Her first instinct was to brush off his guess but then she stopped herself. She wanted to tell him the truth, to tell all of them the truth. She wanted to talk about her troubles and she wanted to talk about it with her friends.

“You’re right,” she said. “I keep thinking about… Mad Jack. Yesterday wasn’t the first time I saw him.”

“So you do know him?” Joe asked.

Sam and Fred were both equally surprised. She realized they thought she knew more than she was letting on.

“No!” Izzy insisted. “It’s not like that. I don’t know know him. Not personally, anyway. I mean, I met him once before, like a hundred years ago. Well, a hundred divided by ten, give or take a couple years—”

“Slow down,” Fred rubbed his temples. “No one said that there was going to be math involved with this story.”

“Start from the beginning,” Sam suggested.

She looked down, twisting her earrings. Words were not her strong suit.

“I know Mad Jack freaked you out,” Joe said when she was silent for too long, “but we’ve dealt with him dozens of times before.”

“We haven’t actually seen him all that much lately,” Sam added. “He might’ve given up on trying to steal The Book.”

So Mad Jack wanted The Book? It made sense. The Book was seriously powerful and could do a lot of damage in the wrong hands.

Fred smiled with confidence and punched his palm. “If we do see him again, I’m sure we can handle him.”

Izzy wanted to cry in relief. She was grateful she had such great friends that wanted to ease her worries. She felt guilty for ever questing if she could trust them. She wanted them to trust her, too. Which meant no more secrets.

“I met Mad Jack when I was little,” she said. “Me and my mom went to see the pyramids. After that, it’s blurry. I remember his face, he said something or did something. My mom was so scared. She told me if I ever saw him, I needed to run. When we went to Mysterio’s show and he tricked me, that’s what he told me. He said word for word her warning to me.”

Joe shook his head. “That’s awful.”

“No wonder you ran,” Fred said.

“I never told anyone this before,” Izzy said, “but I trust you guys, which is why…”

“Why what?” Sam asked.

She had to tell them about her dad. But not here. Not like this. Her situation wasn’t exactly normal, and she’d already dumped a bunch on them today. Telling them would be easy, but how they’d handle it was a different story.

“Brownies,” she said. “We need the Brownies of Coping.”

The boys all looked at each other, confused. Fred was the first to ask, “Uh, the what of what now?”

“There's a lot of to go over,” Izzy said, “and I feel like if I start babbling about it next to the yarn, someone will overhear and I’ll get vaporacted.”

Joe frowned. “You mean baker acted.”

“That’s what I said.”

Fred held up his hands. “Wait, wait, wait. I’m all for free food, but why do we need brownies?”

“To soften the blow of difficult news,” Izzy explained, “you always need the Brownies of Coping. Whenever my parents had some hard news to tell me, like when my goldfish drowned, or that the Easter bunny wasn’t real, they’d make me brownies and—why are you guys looking at me like that? Do your parents not do this?”

“Uh, no,” Fred said. “That’s weird.”

Joe elbowed him. “It’s not weird. It’s just… not exactly common.”

“Because it’s weird.”

“Wouldn’t this tradition of yours lead to emotional eating?” Sam asked.

Izzy looked at him like he spoke in French. “What else are we supposed to do with brownies? They're not for show.”

“That's not what I... Never mind.”

“Well, if you’re making free food, I’m down,” Fred said. “What about you guys?”

~*~

Monday after school, Izzy weaved through the crowd on her way to her locker. The hall was filled with students heading to after-school clubs, chatting with their friends on their way to the car circle, and rushing to make it to their busses on time. By now, Fred would be on his way to baseball practice, Sam to mathletes. Joe had left earlier that day to get his braces tightened.

As Izzy stuffed her textbooks into her locker, a sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. She sighed. It was the pop quiz she had in math that morning. A big red 48% stared back at her, the second F she’d gotten on a math test since she’d transferred to H.G. Wells High. Mrs. Reynolds, her Algebra I teacher, talked to her after class about getting a student tutor to help her. Izzy didn’t mind asking for help, she was never the best at school. But getting help from another student felt embarrassing.

Why did they have add letters to math? Izzy thought. Letters, her only weakness.

She bent to pick the test up as a group of giggling girls headed down the hall behind her. One of them waved at her.

“Hey, Isabella,” she called out. “Loooove those pigtails, girl!”

“Too cute!” Another one said.

Izzy waved back. “Thanks, I—”

Their attention was already off her and back on each other, laughing as they headed towards the bus circle.

Izzy stood and grimaced. Those girls spoke at her, not to her. It left a bad feeling in her gut.

“Hey, Izzy!” A voice called.

It was Sam, making his way upstream through the crowd.

She crumbled the test and smiled. “Hey, Sam. I thought you had a meeting with the mathletes today.”

“I did,” he said, having reached her, “but Mrs. Reynolds had to cancel and go home. Something about faulty flip-flops and a cactus? Anyway, I figured, I meet up with you.”

“Cool.” Izzy tossed the test into her locker. “I could use your help moving the box to the theater, that is if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all, that is if I can even manage to move it. How big is it?”

She pulled her hands apart and squinted at the distance between them. “It’s about Joe’s size plus some… so about a Joe and a half?”

“Very specific.”

~*~

At shop class, Mr. Morrison greeted them. “Miss Shabazz and friend, welcome.”

Mr. Morrison was a middle-aged guy with long sandy hair and a scruffy beard. He always wore flannel and a permanent smile. Izzy didn’t take shop class, but Mr. Morrison was happy to let anyone who took interest in shop use the tools after school.

“Hope you two don’t mind some company while I run out to get your cart. I got someone coming to fix the projector— Oh speak of the devil.”

A girl with long dark hair up in a ponytail strolled in, her hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie. If Izzy had been drinking, she would’ve spat it out. Sam made a terrified noise in the back of his throat.

Rin scowled at them.

“Y-y-you have students fix your electronics?” Sam asked Mr. Morrison.

“Isn’t that against several rules?” Izzy asked.

Mr. Morrison laughed. “So is leaving you alone with power tools every day while I go chat up that cute math teacher.”

“Wait, it is?”

Rin shook her head in disbelief.

Mr. Morrison clapped Rin on the back. “Patinkin here works better than the people who get paid to do it, and she actually comes down when you ask.”

“For a price,” Rin said.

“Of course, of course. I didn’t forget again.” He brought her over to the projector, explaining what didn’t work.

Meanwhile, Izzy showed Sam the chest she’d been working on. It was a simple solid wood chest, with vintage gold corner protectors and swirly designs carved along the sides. A lotus flower was carved onto the lid.

“Wow,” Sam said. “You made this yourself?”

Izzy nodded proudly. “Yup. I designed it after my parents’ chest.”

“Why don’t you and Joe just use that one?”

Izzy deflated a bit. “I had to leave it behind when I, uh, moved. I’ll explain later.”

Sam frowned but nodded. He inspected the chest with interest. “How’d you learn to do this?”

“My mom taught me. That woman was the queen of power tools.”

“You’re lucky,” Sam said. “I can come up with ideas, but I’m not the best at executing them.”

“I can help you build stuff,” she offered, “if you want a flying car made out of wood, nails, and a mess of gorilla glue.”

Sam chuckled. “Thanks, but that wouldn’t be at all practical.”

Izzy’s laugh was cut off by Rin banging the projector with her fist. “What did he do to you this time,” Rin muttered to herself. She mumbled curses under her breath and scrutinized the projector like a car that wouldn’t start.

Sam gulped then cleared his throat. “W-what’s wrong?”

Rin shot her eyes at Sam’s so fast he flinched. She glared at him for a second, before sighing in resignation. “Morrison manages to break this thing at least once a week. Usually, I can fix it by blah blahing the blah and blah, but I have no idea what wrong with it this time.”

Sam cautiously walked over to her. “These projectors are pretty old. There’s a component that pops out of place sometimes when it gets overheated. Have you tried blahing the blah blah?”

“I did blah.”

“Uh, what about blah blahing the blah blah?”

Okay, so they weren’t really saying “blah blah blah,” but Izzy couldn’t comprehend their technobabble. They might as well have been doing Chinese Sign Language.

Well, at least Rin understood what was being said. She tinkered with the projector as Sam suggested. It whirred to life and the light flickered onto the wall. Rin sighed and dropped her head. “Finally.” She slipped something silver into her hair that looked a bit like a flattened wrench. It disappeared into her mane of dark hair before Izzy could get a better look at it.

Sam headed back over to Izzy.

“Hey!” Rin called out.

Sam flinched. “Eep! I mean, yes?”

“Thank you.”

Sam stood there, stunned. “You’re welcome.”

Mr. Morrison pushed the cart into the room. “I come bearing gifts! Your payment, Patinkin. Heads up!”

He tossed Rin a can of Cherry Bovine. She caught it effortlessly and cracked it open. She threw Sam one last glance before downing the drink and sauntering out of the room.  

“You pay her in energy drinks?” Sam asked.

“Those were her terms,” Mr. Morrison. “Now, let’s load up this chest, shall we?”

~*~

“So what do you think Izzy wants to tell us?” Fred asked Joe.

The two of them waited at the porch of Izzy’s apartment complex and tried not to look like stalkers. Joe’s mom dropped him off after his dentist appointment and Fred showed up a little later, fresh out of practice.

“Beats me,” Joe said. He winced. He’s gotten his braces tightened before and knew how to combat the pain by taking some ibuprofen beforehand. But the anesthesia was wearing off and his mouth was beginning to ache. “She already told us her history with Mad Jack. What could top that?”

Joe fiddled with the object in his hand—some miscellaneous plastic and Styrofoam pieces mixed with a few rubber bands in a plastic sleeve. He’d been thinking about the same question Fred had since Sunday. He couldn’t figure out what was so bad Izzy felt like she needed to give them food as some sort of apology.

Fred blew rings into the cold air. “Maybe she— oh there they are. Hey guys!”

He waved at Sam and Izzy bounding down the sidewalk towards the two of them. Izzy spotted them, and smiled, waving back enthusiastically. “Joe! Fred! Were you twowaiting here long?”

“I can’t tell,” Joe said, “my watch froze.” He handed her the object in his hand. “Here. You’d appreciate this a lot more than me.”

It took her a second to understand what it was. She grinned. “Is this one of those DIY whirly helicopter toys?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “The dentist still thinks I’m ten. I usually toss ‘em.”

Izzy oohed and ahhed at the toy as she let them in.

“I guess it’s true what they say.” Fred shrugged off his jacket. “One dude’s trash is another chick’s treasure.”

“The treasure, in this case, being a child’s toy that will break in six minutes,” Sam said flatly.

Izzy’s home was a cozy little studio apartment. Some paintings hung on the wall he recognized as hers. There was a TV almost as long as Joe was tall across from a pink and turquoise bed-sized couch with matching polka dot pillows. Comics and art supplies were strewn across the coffee table.

Looking around, Joe noticed how small her apartment was. He rubbed his achy jaw. “You live here with your dad?”

Her face darkened and he mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to sound rude.

“I’ll explain in a bit,” Izzy said. She dropped her backpack and made a beeline for the kitchen, letting her rabbits out of their cage on her way.

“Cage” didn’t do it justice, it was a three-story bunny condo that took up a big chunk of the room, filled with toys, deluxe, fluffy bunny beds, and plenty of room for the rabbits to hop around in.

Dini hopped out to greet them. Bess turned her nose up at them and stayed in her condo.

“I think your rabbit hates us,” Fred said to Izzy, scratching Dini on the back.

“She’s just a shy baby,” Izzy said. She pulled something from the freezer. “You guys wanna give them a treat? They like Bok Choy.”

She handed Joe an ice pack.

“This doesn’t look like Chinese cabbage,” he joked.

She chuckled. “It’s for your jaw. It looked like it hurt.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He was caught off guard by her gesture, he barely noticed the ice pack was the girliest shade of pink dotted with white hearts. Fred snickered at him but otherwise didn’t say anything.

The three of them fed her rabbits Bok Choy while doing their homework. Well, Sam did his homework. Joe and Fred thumbed through her video game collection. There were the expected things like DDR, Guitar Hero, some sci-fi and fantasy RPGs for the Wii. Then he saw the last thing he expected to see.

He pulled the game out. There was no mistaking the grungy white font splattered with blood and gore, and the ominous hill in the background. “What are you doing with a copy of Hill of the Dead?”

Izzy smiled embarrassingly and scratched her cheek, smearing flour across her face. “I, uh, really like the atmosphere?”

“Seriously?” Fred asked. “We played this game when it first came out. The lights were on and Sam still nearly wet his pants.”

“I did not!” Sam protested.

“He totally did,” Joe said.

Sam turned his glare from Fred to Joe before rolling his eyes and returning to his homework.

After an hour, the brownies were finally done. Izzy called them over to the breakfast bar and handed them each a napkin.

“I haven’t made brownies in a while,” she said, cutting them each a neat square piece. “I hope you guys like them.”

Joe placed the ice pack on the bar. “They smell amazing.”

Fred was the first to scarf one down in his usual way. He stiffened as if someone flicked him in between the eyes. “Oh, my God…”

“What’s wrong?” Izzy asked. “Did I add too much salt?”

“These brownies are incredible!” Fred grabbed the pan of brownies and started cutting himself a large slice. “Izzy, marry me and make these for me all the time. Better yet, I’ll just marry these brownies.”

Sam rolled his eyes and brought his brownie to his mouth. “Fred, they can’t be that–”

Fred pushed Sam’s hand to shove the treat into his mouth. Sam’s pupils dilated. “Holy cow.”

“Right?!”

Joe took a bite out of his brownie and understood. They were fluffy and sweet—but not too sweet—with the chocolate morsels still warm. It melted in his mouth.

“How did you manage to bake happiness into these?” Joe asked.

“It’s just butter and love,” Izzy said, “It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“I can taste the love,” Sam said, getting another slice.

Izzy poured them each a glass of milk as they chowed down on brownies. “Okay,” Joe said coming back up for air. “You sweetened us up enough. What did you have to tell us?”

The three of them looked at her expectantly. She put down the gallon of milk and sighed, lacing her fingers together. “You already noticed that my place is pretty small. Well, that’s because my dad doesn’t live with me. I mean, he used to, but he left a couple weeks ago.”

“So you live all by yourself?” Joe asked.

“It’s not that bad,” she lied. She didn’t look them in the eye.

Fred’s expression turned serious. “Oh, man.” Then he grinned. “You could totally through a wicked party here!”

Izzy frowned. Joe and Sam gave him a Seriously? look.

Fred cleared his throat. “Just a thought.”

“Anyway,” Izzy said, “weeks ago, my dad disappeared in the middle of the night. He left me a letter explaining some things.”

She pulled out a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Joe. He looked at her and she nodded, giving him the go-ahead to read it aloud. “Isadora, when you wake up, I will be long gone. I can’t say for certain where I’ll be. I need you to follow my instructions very carefully. This is extremely important. It’s a matter of your safety.”

So far, so strange, Joe thought. He kept reading.

“Pack up your things and move out as soon as possible. I put the address on the fridge; a moving crew will help you. Our home is no longer safe. Afterward, you NEED to destroy this note.”

Joe looked at her. “This isn’t going to blow up in my face, is it?”

Izzy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

That’s reassuring, he thought. “Put these earrings on IMMEDIATELY. “Spin them so the sand is always pouring. The sand moves slowly, so you won’t have to do it often. I’ve enrolled you into a new school on Friday. Find the magician named Joe.” Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “He can protect you if the need arises.”

“Why Joe?” Fred asked as if reading Joe’s mind.

Joe lowered the note. “Yeah. I don’t know your dad. Well, I know of your dad but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know me, like, at all.”

Izzy shrugged helplessly.

“Not to be that guy—” Sam started to say.

“You love being that guy,” Fred pointed out.

“Maybe your dad meant Joe’s uncle?”

That made sense to Joe. Still, he didn’t think uncle Joe knew Izzy or her dad either. His uncle would’ve mentioned them before, even in passing.

Joe continued. “Money will be left for you every week for you to buy whatever you need. There will be more than enough for you to order takeout, buy painting supplies, or some other third thing. Think of it as an apology for my absence, though I know this doesn’t make up for it.”

Izzy shrunk into herself. Joe felt weird about reading the next part, partly because it was so personal, partly because she got sadder and sadder the more he read. But she didn’t try to stop him and he already read most of it.

“I am truly sorry for leaving you with no adequate explanation. I realize I should’ve explained things to you sooner, the way your mother wanted. But we shouldn’t change the past, only learn from it. Isadora, I wanted you to have a normal life, unperturbed by the dangerous adventures awaiting you in your future. I only wanted to protect you.

“I have no idea when I’ll be back. I WILL be back. Whatever you do, do NOT go looking for me. I know it'll be difficult, but understand that I'm doing this for your sake. Love, always and infinitely, your father, Anthony J. Shabazz.”

Joe lowered the letter. The room was silent for a while as the three of them took in this information.

“Now I get why you wanted to sweeten us up,” Sam said finally.

“So your dad just left you all alone?” Joe asked.

“That’s nothing new,” Izzy explained. “He’s left before, not just the time I told you about back at the museum. I have no clue where he goes, but he’s always back in a week and we always talked about it beforehand. This time, I got no warning, no time to prepare. Everything was fine one day, and then he was gone in the morning. I…”

Her voice quivered at the end. She cleared her throat. “I know it’s a lot to ask…” She looked at Joe with pleading eyes. “Can I use your Book to find my dad?”

He rubbed his arm. “I dunno, Iz. He said not to try and find him and—”

“I don’t care anymore. It’s been too long. I need to know that he’s okay. Please, Joe?”

Joe wasn’t sure. Her dad was pretty clear in the letter for her not to go after him. Joe may not understand what was going on with him, but it was obvious that whatever it was, it was serious. Izzy should stay put until he came back.

But then Izzy gave him the puppy dog eyes, and Joe’s resolve shattered.

He sighed. “Okay. I’ll help you find your dad.”

He pulled The Book out of his bag and Sam nearly fell out of his seat. “You can’t pull that thing out without giving us a warning!”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Sam, do you know how many times I’ve had The Book on me when you were around and we didn’t warp?”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yes!”

Fred clapped Sam on the back. “Relax. Joe totally knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, until he doesn’t,” Sam muttered.

Joe was just going to ignore that little quip for now. He’s been doing this for years at this point, and most of the time (like five—no six—times out of ten) things went off almost without a hitch. He was going to become a level three warper any day now. For a kid whose gotten minimum guidance when it came to operating a magical time machine when he was ten, that wasn’t half bad.

Joe flipped open The Book and looked for any mention of Izzy’s dad. Usually, he could find a single person, historical or not, easily if he thought about them, as if The Book was reading his intentions. But he couldn’t a single entry on Anthony J. Shabazz.

“What’s wrong?”

Izzy’s voice broke Joe out of his concentration. He realized he’d been scrunching his eyebrows. “I can’t find him anywhere. Maybe if I try looking for you I’ll get to him.”

And he did, finding Izzy easily. Isadora Razzmatazz Shabazz, born October 31st 1995, yadda yadda yadda, daughter of Dulari Shabazz and                                           .

Joe stared at blank space in total bewilderment. “What?”

“What what?” Fred asked.

“I’m sure it’s just a mistake.” He turned the page and came across his family tree. He was ready to turn the page; he’d seen his own family tree dozens of times, but then he stopped. It wasn’t his, it was Izzy’s. A portrait of Izzy sat at the top of the tree, the thin, winding branches connecting her to her ancestors towards the base. Beneath her was a picture of her mother, a beautiful woman with long, flowing dark hair. Where Izzy’s dad’s picture should have been was a blacked out box like someone scribbled his picture out with a marker.

“This is so weird,” Joe said, half to himself. “It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

Izzy grimaced, her worry etched all over her face. Joe stood. “Let me try something,” he said. “Let’s warp back to the night he left. If we both confront him before he leaves, he’ll have to give us some answers.”

It was a long shot, but at the moment there weren’t many other options. Izzy smiled, her eyes alight with hopeful determination. “Let’s do it.”

Joe turned to Sam and Fred. “This shouldn’t take long, guys.” He opened to the transporter page.

“Wait!” Izzy bounded around the breakfast bar and clamped onto Joe’s arm.

He looked down at her. “You gonna do this every time?”

“If I can help it.”

Joe shrugged and hit enter. Green mist surrounded them and they were sucked into the glowing green cyclone of mist.

~*~

Joe would like to say that after warping with The Book for nearly six years he was a total pro. At best, five-and-a-half times out of ten he’d land on his feet after reaching his destination.

Time travel with The Book was a smooth ride as long as you were prepared and knew how to right yourself so you didn’t end up tumbling through space like a dead fish down a flight of stairs.

Unfortunately, Izzy hadn’t mastered the technique yet. As soon as they left her apartment, she lost her grip on his arm. She yelled and flailed as she plummeted along, bumping into the misty walls of the wormhole like a pinball.

Suddenly, the green mist around them stopped churning. Izzy slammed into an invisible wall and sprung back like she bounced off a trampoline. She was hurled, screaming, into Joe, the force of her impact throwing them both back to their starting point.

They dropped back into Izzy’s place, crashing right on the floor on top of each other. The Book bounced off Joe’s shoulder and slid to the TV.

Sam and Fred jumped. “You guys alright?” Fred asked.

Joe helped Izzy up. “Yeah, I think so.”

“What the heck happened?” Sam asked.

“I have no clue.” Joe explained what happened to the two of them.

Izzy rubbed her shoulder. “H-has that ever happened before?”

Joe shook his head. He hadn’t the slightest idea what the heck was going on. He’d never encountered this before. There was once or twice when one of them was stuck in The Book, midwarp, but they were never slammed into an inviso-wall and pitched like a fastball back home.

Izzy’s shoulders slumped as she went to pick The Book off the floor. “Thanks for trying anyway, Joe.”

“There might be another way,” Joe said. “I know who might be able to help.” He meant Jodie. He hated to admit, but Jodie knew how to work The Book better than anyone he knew, maybe even his uncle Joe. If anyone could help, it was her.

“You’ve done a lot already,” Izzy said. “I feel like a burden.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Joe insisted. “I want to help you.”

She smiled at him, but her eyes were sad. “It’s not fair to leave it all on you. I just wish I knew what was going on so I could help, at least…”

Izzy hugged The Book to herself, and green mist seeped from the pages, cocooning her. A final look of shock flashed across her face before she vanished into The Book.

The three of them stared in shock at the spot where Izzy previously stood.

Fred gripped the sides of his head. “We lost her again!”

“Where did she even go?” Sam asked.

Again that day, Joe had no answer.

~*~

Izzy ricocheted off the side of a pyramid and fell on her face, eating a handful of sand. She stood and spat, trying to catch her bearings. The tall white pyramid standing before her told her she was in Egypt. Ancient Egypt. She turned. Nearby, there were remnants of an old settlement. A few people milled around, but it looked abandoned otherwise, with the housing falling apart.

Further away was the palace. A sea of people gathered in front, their cheers audible even in the distance.

The Book was still in her arms, no doubt unable to slip away while in the vice grip she had on it. This was good. It meant she could just warp back home… that is if she even remotely knew how The Book worked.

“It can’t be that hard,” she lied to herself and opened The Book. “All I have to do is figure out what I have to do. Easy-peasy.”

The letters on the pages flipped and twitched and swam around. Izzy shut her eyes and breathed, trying to calm herself. If she was too freaked to even read, then there was no way she was getting back home. She needed to relax.

She exhaled and opened her eyes, the words less chaotic than before. She managed to find instructions and she stumbled through a couple pages.

A burst of yellow light in her peripheral broke her out of her concentration. After a moment, a little girl no more than three ran from around the corner and bumped into Izzy’s legs. The little girl giggled and snapped a photo of her with a disposable camera.

Izzy just stared at the child, unable to understand who she was looking at.

“Slow down, Malpua!”

A woman appeared from the corner, and Izzy’s heart sunk.

Her long chocolate hair flowed behind her as she raced to the little girl, not noticing Izzy yet. The little girl turned and snapped a picture of her mother.

The mother knelt and gently took the camera out of the daughter’s hands, a soft smile on her face. “Oh, Malpua, don’t use up all the film.”

“Sorry, Mama,” the little girl said.

Izzy dropped The Book. A lump grew in her throat, salt rubbed into the wound that never quite healed.

The woman frown at The Book, then her eyes shot wide. She looked up and met Izzy’s eyes, noticing her for the first time.

Izzy gulped. “Mom.”

[black-x-lotus]

One Fireball Rumchata and a Shot of SsamD (Fanfic)

*I wrote this about a year ago while daydreaming on the job. Never thought to post it until now. Enjoy~~!

Word count: 4,271

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

It was just past 12 am and you were sitting at the bar of the VVertigo Lounge, nursing a fireball rumchata. It was your second that evening. Why were you here? It was the wedding reception of one of your best friends. The wedding ceremony was lovely; plenty of smiles and tears, quickly followed by good food, well wishes, and popping music. The evening was dying down as the music got a little mellower. You assumed it wouldn’t be long before the bartender called ‘Last call.’

You turned around to watch the crowd or lack thereof. The crowd had died down since the evening was coming to a close and they had to return back to the reality of their normal lives in a few short hours. Your eyes fell on your best friend and her new husband as they danced to an instrumental of a song he had recently wrote just for her. When they turned, she looked at you and flashed a smile. You raised your glass in a toast to her and her newfound happiness. You were happy for her and you wished nothing but the best for her and her marriage. You also hoped that you’d be able to find love like her someday.

As you lowered your glass and took a sip, your gaze wandered over the crowd. You weren’t looking for anyone or anything in particular when suddenly, you locked eyes with a stranger who wasn’t exactly a stranger. You knew who he was, but he had yet to find out who you were. Under normal circumstances, you would have looked away, but there was something about him that kept you from looking away. You noticed that he hadn’t looked away, either and it didn’t look like he was about to. You never usually backed down from a challenge, but you felt like playing a game just to see how he’d react. He smirked as if he knew what you were about to do, but you looked him up and down before turning your back to him, feigning disinterest. You held a picture of him in your mind; he was dressed in all black from head to toe in a well tailored suit and shiny black gators. He wasn’t too bad looking, either, you thought with a shrug.

You looked over your shoulder to see if you got a reaction. He was nowhere in sight. Guess I won, you thought with a smirk as you polished off your drink victoriously. Then out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone come stand beside you. Well, isn’t this a lovely turn of events? you thought.

“Ay, could I get some Hennessy on the rocks and another fireball rumchata for the lady?” the stranger said in a strong voice that commanded attention.

“Right away, sir,” replied the bartender. He brought the drinks over in less than a minute and was rewarded with 50000 ₩.

“Keep the change,” said this stranger, who was obviously trying to impress you by throwing around his money. “Hello, beautiful,” he said turning to you with a smile.

You turned to him and smiled sweetly before sliding the drink he just bought you toward him. “I don’t take drinks from strangers, especially those who like to throw around their money.”

“Oh, that’s a shame…But if it’s worth anything, my name’s Simon. Simon Dominic.” He offered his hand, but you didn’t shake it. He simply stuck his hand in his pocket and continued saying, “What’s your name?”

“My friends call me (Your Nickname).”

“Is that short for something?” You gave him a look that indicated he wasn’t going to get anything else out of you. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, gesturing to the seat beside you.

“You don’t see anyone sitting there, do you?”

“Then, I guess it’s mine.” He sat down with a sigh. “So, how do you know the bride? I saw you sitting on her side during the ceremony.”

“We’re good friends,” you said flatly. “How do you know her?”

“I actually don’t,” he chuckled. “We have met a few times prior, but I’ve worked with her husband in the past.” He took a sip of his Hennessy.

“Oh?” you said with some interest. “Are you an agent?”

He coughed as he nearly choked on his drink. Once he caught his breath, he looked at you as if you’d dealt him the worst insult. “I’m Simon Dominic.”

“And…?” you said coyly.

“The Simon Dominic…Producer…CEO of AOMG?” You stared at him blankly. “You’ve never heard of me before?”

You shook your head, no. He then proceeded to ask if you knew various artists from different labels.“Really?” He took an angry sip of his Hennessy. “How can you know Dean, Gray, Loco, ZICO, Hoody, and Jay Park, but have never heard of me?”

“Maybe you’re not as popular as you think you are,” you replied with a shrug.

“Say what?!” He was getting pissed now…and you liked it. He then went on to list all the artists he’d worked with, awards he’d won, and television appearances he’d made. “And I’m rich…Did I mention that?”

“Yes, all but five times,” you sighed with a roll of your eyes.

“Yet you don’t know who I am?”

“Now that I think about it…I think I do. You were on that one track with Gray, right?”

“…Which one?” Simon asked as he shifted in his seat.

“You have more than one?” you asked, continuing to play coy. You actually had most of his songs in your iTunes library.

“Mm-hm…So, which one?”

You decided to keep up your act by pretending you couldn’t remember the name of the song, so you just started to sing. “I’m gonna be…comfortable. I’m gonna be…comfortable.”

“Ah, that’s ‘Comfortable’,” he said with a smile as he rested his elbow on the counter and propped his head on his hand.

“That’s the name! It’s one of my favorite songs.”

“Mine, too. You have a lovely voice, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you replied with a smile before quickly averting your gaze. A moment of silence passed as you felt the front of indifference you’d put up begin to fall. The fact that he was shamelessly checking you out didn’t help.

“So, what other songs do you like?” he asked.

You then went on to talk about some of your favorite songs, artists, and genres before you began to talk about your hobbies, career, and such. The next thing you knew, you heard the bartender say, “Last call!”

“Another rumchata, please!” you called and he brought it to you immediately. It was the third you let Simon buy for you.

“So much for not accepting drinks from strangers,” he said with his signature smirk.

“Whatever,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“So, would you consider me a stranger now?”

“Hm…no. I’d consider you an acquaintance.”

“I’ll take it,” he said with a nod of approval. “…That being said, may I please have your name? Or would you rather I just call you (Your nickname)?”

You looked at him knowingly. He’d been persistently trying to get to know you all evening despite all the shade you threw and your indifference toward him. As far as you could tell, he’d earned it. The least you could do was tell him your name. “It’s (Y/N).”

“(Y/N),” he repeated, making you melt as it rolled off his tongue; it sounded so sexy that you almost begged for him say it again. “Nice. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He took a swig of his Hennessy and licked the excess from his upper lip.

You heard him ask you something, yet you didn’t hear him because your eyes were fixed on his luscious pink lips. You were mesmerized by them; they looked so kissable and bitable. Then you came back to reality when you realized what you were thinking and how hard you were staring.

“Are you okay?” Simon asked as he placed a hand on your arm, concern heavy on his voice.

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine,” you replied as your eyes shifted from his lips to his eyes and back again. Despite how you balked at your own thoughts a moment before, your mind began to wander again. Only this time, you didn’t stop yourself when you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. He didn’t stop you, but just when you were about to pull away, he caught your chin and held you still as he deepened the kiss. You’d never kissed anyone in public, much less an A-list celebrity, but there was a first time for everything.

Simon broke the kiss and smiled before whispering, “Let’s get out of here.”

———-

Then next thing you knew, your back was pressed against the wall of the elevator as your tongue danced with Simon’s in a battle for dominance. He ran his hands up and down your sides until he decided to let them grip your hips. You lifted your leg and wrapped it around his waist, pulling him closer to you. He broke the kiss and directed his attention to your neck. He nibbled and sucked, eliciting a series of whines and moans from you.

Suddenly, the bell from the elevator sounded and the doors opened soon afterward. He then reluctantly tore himself away from your neck and led you into what looked to be a foyer, which turned into a living room as soon as you crossed the threshold of the archway at the end of the small hallway. You gasped and stared in awe as your eyes came to rest on the Seoul night skyline which lay outside of the large glass windows. Despite your tipsiness, it was quite apparent that you were in the penthouse given the grandeur of the foyer and the open layout of the floor. You were so enthralled by everything you were seeing that you had forgotten about the man who brought you up here in the first place. It was only when you felt two arms enclose about your waist did you come back to reality.

“Enjoying the view?” Simon asked as he followed your gaze out the window.

“It’s…incredible.” You had never seen anything like it before in your life; much less anything you’d seen or experienced up until that very moment.

“Well, I know a place that has an even more incredible view,” he chuckled before planting a kiss on your exposed shoulder.

You smiled before turning and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Lead the way,” you whispered before pecking him on the lips.

“As you wish,” Simon said against your lips before he took you by the hand and led you down the hall and into the master suite. He closed the door behind you while you hopped onto the bed to await his next move.

As you settled, you happened to see some movement above you. When you looked up, you were surprised to see your reflection staring back at you. So, that must be the more incredible view he was talking about, you thought. Then you looked back over at the door to see Simon leaning against it as he stared at you with a hungry look in his eyes. “Having second thoughts?” you asked with a smirk that Simon mirrored.

“Not at all.” Then he walked over to the bed and came to sit beside you. He paused to look you over before he caressed your face and brought his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. “Nervous?”

“No,” you said with confidence despite the fact that your heart was pounding so fast that it might burst out of your chest. You prayed that he couldn’t hear it.

A look of skepticism flashed across his face, but only for a moment. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” he asked.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Point taken. I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want. I may be drunk, but I’m still a gentleman.”

“Well, let’s see how gentle you can be.”

“Gladly.” He leaned in for another kiss as his hands began to wander, as if searching for something; perhaps the zipper to your dress. If he wanted to see you naked, he had to show you some skin first, so you reached up and undid Simon’s tie, quickly proceeding to unbutton his shirt.

Simon seemed to pick up on your intent and slipped his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss in an attempt to distract you and win this undeclared race. Despite his efforts, you were in the lead. You had already undone three buttons. Suddenly, you felt him tug at the material of your dress. He’d obviously given up on finding the zipper and had resorted to attempting to rip it off of you in a desperate effort to win this battle.

Before he could rip your dress off you, you stopped him saying, “Do you have any condoms?”

“What?” he asked, not sure if he’d heard you correctly.

“Do you have any condoms?” you reiterated.

“Yeah, of course.”

He was about to kiss you again, but you said, “Show me.”

“Wha-?”

“Show me.” He looked at you like you were crazy, but the look you gave him said that you were serious.

“Alright, alright,” he said as he reached into his nightstand drawer and dug around. It was empty, so he got off of you and checked the other one, which was also empty. So, he opened the closet and began to dig through his luggage. “Just how drunk are you?” he called over shoulder as he continued to search.

“Not very,” you mumbled as you rolled onto your side to watch him.

“Found it.” He rose to his feet and began to walk over to the bed.

“Besides, I wouldn’t want to get pregnant my first time…”

Simon stopped in his tracks and dropped the condom. Did she just say this is her first time? he thought. “Wait…are you-?”

“Hm?” you asked, tilting your head.

“You just said you wouldn’t want to get pregnant your first time, so does that mean you’re a virgin?”

“Yeah…Is that a problem?”

“N-No, but…” The poor man was having trouble wrapping his head around this. “You mean to tell me that a girl as beautiful as you has never been touched?”

“Well, I’ve touched myself…but no one else has.”

“B-But, how? Why?”

You sighed as you drew a pattern in the comforter with your finger. “Let’s just say that I think one’s virginity is special, if not, sacred…And I think it should be given to someone worthy of such sanctity.” You looked up and saw a conflicted look on Simon’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I – I’m sorry, (Y/N)…I can’t. Not after hearing you say what you just said.”

“But, I want you to,” you insisted as you sat up with a start.

“Why? Why me? I’m no one special.”

“That’s not what I heard an hour ago when you couldn’t believe that I didn’t know who you are! Funny thing is, I know who you are…I knew from the moment I saw you staring at me from across the room.”

“You knew?”

“Yes.”

“Then, why’d you act like you didn’t?”

“I was playing a game…and I got more than what I bargained for,” you said with a chuckle.

“But, what’s so special about me that you want me to be your first?”

“Because you have a good heart. I know some people see you as a rich arrogant asshole, which isn’t untrue; but the person I met tonight seems to be a very sweet, considerate, and charming gentleman with just a tiny dash of asshole.” He laughed at that. “A gentleman who has the makings to be a great husband and father someday.”

Simon stood in silence as he took in everything you just said. Those were some of the kindest words he’d ever heard from anyone and they came from the last person he’d expect them from; a lovely stranger of a woman he’d met at a wedding reception. This’ll be an interesting story to tell the boys, he thought. He looked down at the condom, bent down, and picked it up. He held it in his hands for a moment as he entertained the possibility of being your first, but when he looked at you again, he decided against it and tucked it in his back pocket. “As kind as your words are and as tempting as your proposition is, I still can’t bring myself to give you what you want,” he said as he joined you on the bed.

You would’ve argued further, but he’d clearly made up his mind and you didn’t have the energy or the patience. “…It’s okay,” you managed to say in a sweet voice despite your disappointment.

Simon saw right through it. “Sorry…But, since you’re here, I wouldn’t mind talking some more…I like talking to you.”

You looked up at him, thinking he had to be joking. Why would he enjoy talking to me? I have to be the most boring ordinary person he’s ever met. Your thoughts were all destroyed when you saw his apologetic smile along with the slight tilt of his head. “…I’d like that.”

You stayed up all night talking about whatever you felt like talking about; music, philosophy, religion, hobbies, dreams, fears, and more music. You’d learned more about him by sitting and talking than what you’d learn from any feed online. It was…nice to just sit and talk. You were actually glad that you’d let it slip that you were a virgin in your tipsy rambling. Although, it might have been TMI since you both had just met, none of this would’ve happened had it not come out. When it became evident that you were tired of talking, Simon politely excused himself from the room and allowed you to sleep in his bed while he went and slept on the couch in the living room. Your last thought before drifting off to sleep was, He’s not so bad for an asshole.

———-

The next morning, Simon awoke with a groan. He stretched until he heard his back crack and rose with a contented sigh. He squinted at the light that came in from the outside. Surprisingly, he didn’t have a headache. “What time is it?” he grumbled as he searched his pockets for his phone. He fished it out of his back pocket and 12:16 pm flashed across his screen. Damn it, he thought upon realizing he had less than an hour before check out.

“(Y/N)!” he called. He reached your bedroom door and knocked, but received no response. “I’m coming in.” He opened the door and found an empty bed. “(Y/N)?” He wandered into the bathroom and you weren’t there, either. Where’d she go? he thought as he came out of the bathroom. Then he saw a paper on the nightstand. It was folded neatly with his name written on the outside. He unfolded it and saw that you’d left him a note, which read:

Dear Simon,

I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. I had an early checkout today and my flight was leaving soon after. I had a great time last night! Thanks for being a gentleman. I hope to see, if not, hear from you soon!

Until next time,

~(Y/N) ☺

He smiled at the kind gesture and the fact that you wanted to keep in touch with him. He read and reread the letter, searching for a phone number, e-mail address, or something. He found no such thing. He turned it about once and again, but didn’t find anything. You’ve gotta be kidding me, he thought as he ran a hand down his face with a frustrated sigh. He couldn’t allow himself to get too upset, though. She was in a hurry and probably forgot, he reminded himself. It wasn’t like he’d never forgotten small details before.

He wondered how he’d ever get in touch with you, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He had to pack so he’d be able to check out on time. Not that the fee would matter to him anyway.

Two weeks later…

You were sitting in your living room doing a combination of watching TV, reading a novel you’ve been dying to get back into, and listening to music. It’d been weird trying to get back into the groove of normal life after your night with Simon; after your little taste of the good life and after you forgot to give him your contact information. Nice, you thought with a sigh.

As if things couldn’t get even more interesting than they already were, your actions didn’t go unnoticed. Not only did the bride, groom, and a few members of the bridal party see the two of you kiss, but they also saw you leave together. You were made aware of this when she called you the week before to check on you and make sure you were okay. It took a while to calm her down and assure her that nothing happened between you and Simon. As her best friend and baby, as she loved to call you, she promised that if Simon did anything to harm you, she’d make him wish that he were never born. You assured her that it wouldn’t be necessary and hadn’t heard anything else of the matter from her. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were on the cover of some Korean magazine or in the headline of an online article.

You closed your eyes as you rested your head against the back of the couch. Simon’s face came into view; his lips curled back in that signature smirk of his. I wonder what he would have to say? you thought. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a buzzing sound. You looked down at the table and saw your phone vibrating; a number you didn’t recognize flashing on the screen. You hesitated to pick it up, but it might’ve been your friend calling to harass you some more. So, you answered saying, “Hello?”

“(Y/N)?” said a voice you’d recognize anywhere.

“S-Simon?” you stammered.

“The Won and Only,” he chuckled.

Although the joke was corny, you couldn’t help but snort at it. “How’d you get my number?” you asked.

“Through a mutual connection.”

“Oh, yeah…sorry about that,” you said upon remembering how you forgot to leave your number.

“It’s cool, beautiful. Listen, I wanna see you again. When’s the next time you’re coming to Seoul?”

“…Not for a while,” you admitted. “I’m not really in a position to be taking expensive trips.”

“I could fly you out,” he offered.

“Simon, I-,”

“First class and everything. It’ll be great. Have you ever flown first class before?”

“Simon, I can’t accept that. It’s really sweet, but…we barely know each other.”

“What do you mean? We spent a night together.”

“That’s the point. We spent one night together. That’s not enough for you to be offering me flights anywhere.”

“Too fast?” he asked.

“Very.”

“Sorry…”

“It’s okay.”

“I just really wanna see you. Would it be all right if I came to see you?”

“I…I guess so. M-My place may not necessarily be what you’re used to, but-,”

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t worry about that,” he insisted. “I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, you know. As long as you’re there, I’ll be fine.”

Your voice caught in your throat. Did he really just say that he’d be fine as long as you were with him? That was the sweetest thing any man had ever said to you. It was funny to hear him say it, considering the fact that you’d only met once under not so ordinary circumstances. Despite your thoughts, you just replied saying, “O-Okay.”

“Just tell me when and where.”

“…Venice, L.A.”

“When?”

“I don’t know…Whenever,” you said with a shrug.

“I’d like something more specific, please.”

So demanding, you thought with a roll of your eyes. “How is two weeks for you?”

“…It’s doable. So, what would you like to do when I get there?”

“We could…talk some more if you’d like.”

“I’d like that.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I’d like that a lot.”

You talked for a little while longer before he had to go because he had a meeting of some sort; most likely to discuss a contract with an artist from AOMG or make plans for an upcoming concert. After you hung up, you put your laptop down on the coffee table before lying down on the couch and letting everything that just happened sink in. Simon Dominic just called your cell phone and arranged a date with you. You wondered what he had to go through to get your number, but you had a pretty good idea. You could see your friend smirking as she sipped her champagne ramune. Nonetheless, he was coming to see you in two weeks and it scared you to death. You began to wonder what he would think about…everything; your home, décor, clothes, food, and whatever else rich people could possibly be critical of.

Then all your irrational thoughts stopped when his voice came back to mind: “As long as you’re there, it’ll be fine.” You found comfort in those words and decided to let them carry you up until the moment you met in two weeks. You smiled as you imagined what that’d be like. You pulled up your call history on your phone and added his number to your contacts. “SsamD,” you said as you triumphantly pressed the add button.

[mindofchonsin-blog]

Yen’fay and Art

Hello, everyone! It’s been quite a while since I’ve made one of these, but I figured now was as good a time as any! Ever since Yen’fay painted Inigo that picture he gave him for his birthday, I’ve been planning to make a big meta post detailing his gradual descent into the art world and why he decided to take up the brush in the first place. As you can guess, things get kinda looooooong, so join us under the cut for that sweet, sweet headcanonony goodness.

First off, I thought I’d get into Yeff’s past a bit, because, although it might seem like a small thing, it’s important to realize that Yen’fay was never trained or “supposed” to become an artist in the first place. This had a lot to do with the responsibilities Yen’fay was expected to shoulder once his father retired. He had to become a king, a diplomat, and a soldier all rolled into one. I personally headcanon that pre-Walhart Valm had 50+ different countries, all with different customs, history, and rituals. Chon’sin was just one in a sea of many, and he needed to know all of their customs by heart to avoid offending anyone and carelessly sparking a dispute. Not only that, but he needed to learn to govern, to fight, and to lead troops in order to defend the borders of Chon’sin in case the unthinkable happened. 

It’s for these reasons that Yeff’s life outside of studies and training drills was pretty dull. Even his “recreational activities” were just things he needed to learn anyway disguised as fun. He’d spar with family to put practical application to what he learned in his drills and would learn how to dance because it was expected at social events like galas and the like. The closest he ever came to learning anything related to art was calligraphy -- mostly because it was what he’d give all his formal missives in as king. No wonder he went wild once he got a taste of freedom at Roxanne.

If this all sounds a little... stifling to you? Don’t worry. Yen’fay may have had his life dominated by rules and structure, but he never felt unhappy about the direction his life was headed. Sure, he had a bit of minor rebellion in his youth, but that’s natural. At a certain point, it was just the way life was for him. He didn’t really see much use in questioning it, and luckily enough, he learned well in a classroom-like setting and enjoyed most of what he was being taught at least to some degree, so there was no real feeling that this wasn’t a lifestyle that suited him. He just didn’t have a lot of room to explore purely recreational activities like his sister did because there was just no time. 

Of course, this was how things were when he was supposed to be raised as the ruler of Chon’sin. Now his sister fills that role, and he has no interest in trying to reclaim his place. He’s a much different person now than who he was raised to be. But even though he sometimes helps Say’ri with courtly duties (from behind the shadows, of course - he doesn’t want word getting out about his apparent resurrection), he’s still left with a lot of free time and a sort of feeling of... emptiness. What exactly is there even left to do once you’ve spent your entire life preparing for some momentous task, only to find out that you’re no longer fit to serve? 

To help sooth his restless mind, he turned his attention to the arts. Specifically to painting, which is something he’s come to really enjoy as of late. Most would assume that, since this is Yen’fay we’re talking about, that he would have a very bold an precise art style, much like 17th century Japanese paintings, with thin, but clearly defined lines, eye popping colors, and dynamic imagery. But I had something much different in mind.

In the short thread I had with Inigo, I likened Yeff’s art style to the likes of Claude Monet, and I definitely think that’s the closest comparison to what I envision in my mind. Yeff’s art style is characterized by watercolors utilized in an almost foggy, impressionist style dominated by lots of small brush strokes, unconventional blending techniques, and splashes of color used only really as a way of drawing in the eye amidst a field of desaturated earth tones. Most of the time the subjects of his paintings are outdoor landscapes and other naturalistic settings, as most if not all of his attempts at drawing people turn out... warped and a little unsettling. 

Perhaps it would be thought of as a little out of character for Yeff, who is usually so rigorous and strict during every social interaction, to have an art style that so loose and experimental. But try to see things from Yen’fay’s perspective, and I think you’d understand. After a life that’s been positively smothering with rules and how you’re SUPPOSED to do things and all of that nonsense, he’d finally have the freedom to make whatever he wanted without any kind of rules dictating what he should or shouldn’t do. The only thing that mattered was if he made something he (or the person he was gifting the art to, if there is one) is happy with. That’s it! It would be absolutely invigorating for him.

As I said, his paintings are characterized by soft gentle brush strokes, a fuzzy, almost dreamlike quality to them, and a pallet dominated with desaturated earth tones, deep blues, and maybe hints of pink and gold when he’s feeling particularly daring. Well, that is to say, most of his paintings are like that. What he’s willing to show to other people, anyways.

Yen’fay has two very different art styles for very different types of moods. The first is the stuff I’ve talked about already. What you could describe as “Showroom Art”. It’s pretty and it’s detailed, despite the almost foggy like quality it has to it. These are the type of works he would share with his friends and family and perhaps even put on display. The second type is stuff you could only describe as “Vent Art” which is, of course, very, very different.

If his showroom art can be described as having an ethereal, dream like beauty, his vent art is characterized with raw, nightmarish ugliness. It’s hard to overstate just how different the two styles are.

For one, the fuzzy quality is gone with these. Instead of many, tiny short brush strokes, he uses long, aggressive strokes with clearly defined borders, though there are still no lines. Secondly, there are almost no relaxing or soothing earth tones and cool blues in these works. Yen’fay primarily uses colors that terrify him and invoke strong feelings of fear and dread. Most notably a vivid, scarlet red and a choking, jet black. Sometimes he also uses a withered brown and a starkly unnatural, vivid shade of purple. 

Thirdly, whereas the focus of his pretty art might be kind of hard to understand amidst the blurry quality, the subject matter of his vent art is almost frightfully cryptic. Most of the time you wouldn’t even know what you were looking at unless you took several steps back. It makes sense, though, because he’s literally painting snapshots of his nightmares from having to wander in Grima’s ruined future.

It’s kind of hard to really describe what I’m talking about, so, for the sake of science, I decided to create some mock-ups of how some of these artistic visions might look. I have to admit that I don’t see myself as a very adept artist, like at all, and all I had at my disposal was Windows 10 Paint and my dinky little mouse pad, so this is uhhhh. Probably going to really suck compared to all the talent we have in the group right now. But, I mean, it’s vent art, so it’s not really supposed to look great, I don’t think, haha. Everything I did was using the Watercolor brush, and I added titles to the things so maybe you guys would have a chance at understanding wtf you’re even looking at, even though I’m fairly certain Yen’fay would never title these works.

Obviously, these types of works are pretty unsettling and would raise some uncomfortable questions for those that saw them. I feel like a lot of people would destroy these as soon as they were made -- at least someone with Yeff’s mindset of “I can’t let anyone ever know there’s something wrong with me or else I’m a weak fool and no one will ever want to rely on me again”. Destroying them would be the logical thing to do, but, unfortunately for Yeff, he’s not as logical as he seems to think he is.

He keeps all of them. Every vent art he’s ever made is still out there, and yes, he has tons. What must be dozens by now. I feel like he would keep them locked in a closet where no one could hopefully find them. He doesn’t want to destroy them, though, because he’s hoping that by putting these nightmares of his on canvas, he’ll eventually be able to rid himself of them. He doesn’t want to destroy any of the works, because then it would go back into his mind to torment him more... or something. IDK, he doesn’t really think about it consciously, but he’d be very distressed at the notion that he should get rid of any of them. Almost as distressed as he’d be to ever have to explain them to anyone who came across them.

I think that just about sums things up. If you actually read to the end of all this bullshit, thanks a fucking ton. You have no idea how much it means to me! This is something that I’ve been wanting to do for a while, but I wanted to be able to give it the proper depth I felt it needed. So thank you again for listening! 

If you have any questions, feel free to ask. For now, though, I’m going to rest my poor aching wrist, haha. See you soon!