#also i already liked your art this was just the cherry on the cake

[verm1c1de]

@u-tx3

[azrielbrainrot]

Maybe We Could Be The Start of Something

Pairing: Band member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Your friends invite you to a bar and you could never imagine who you'd meet there.

Word Count: 3294

Warnings: none

Notes: I had this idea after seeing this art and couldn't stop thinking about it. I actually had a lot of ideas for little stories in this universe but it makes sense to start with how they met. Also I know that's a terrible band name but I never had to name a band before okay. I didn't proofread this because I think I'd delete the whole thing if I did, sorry. This is really self-indulgent but I hope you like it!

Band AU masterlist

You could only blame yourself for agreeing to meet Viviane. Your skull felt like it was going to split open with this headache that has lasted all week. The only thing you wanted to do right now was try to sleep it off under your warm blankets, but instead you willingly came to a bar knowing it was just going to make it worse.

She's been telling you about this place and the bands that perform here occasionally for ages. Apparently it's a real hotspot for up and coming musicians ever since two bands made it big after starting out here. You've been turning her down for weeks so you had promised her that you'd finally come this friday, of course when you agreed you couldn't have known your week was going to be absolute shit. Though most of your days have been shit lately. That might be the actual reason Viv has been so insistent about you going out with her, she knew your mental health was ready to take a vacation and was just being a good friend.

This really hadn't been a good day to come though. Aside from your headache, your last class had also run late, making you lose your bus and barely have time to drop everything off at home and change to come meet your friends. As a little treat you also couldn't find your nice black skirt so you had to just wear jeans, you definitely needed the extra confidence the pretty skirt provided but the universe didn't seem to care about that.

The bar was already packed by the time you got there, you were almost being pushed around while you were searching for your friends. You look down at your phone to ask them where they are and see a text from Viv asking if you're still coming. Reading it makes you stop in your tracks. You can't really blame her for thinking you wouldn't show up since you've been declining every invitation lately, but seeing that she thought you wouldn't even give her a heads up hurt a little. You knew you had been distant lately but you were trying your best to deal with life and you never meant to do it at the expense of your friendships.

You're pushed out of your thoughts when someone taps your shoulder gently, making you look back at them. Turning your head you were faced with a muscular chest, slowly looking up a tattooed neck to meet beautiful hazel eyes staring back at yours.

“I'm sorry to bother you,” he says, breaking eye contact for a second before continuing, “but I think you dropped this.” He raises his hand so you can see him holding your keys. Your house keys, the ones you would undoubtedly only notice were missing when you went back home and tried to open the door. That would have been the cherry on the cake after this whole day. Maybe you should see a witch to make sure it's not actually a curse, no one should experience this much bad luck.

“Thank you so much,” you almost yell as you grab them from his hand in excitement. He just saved you from having no place to sleep tonight. You notice him tensing up when your fingers brush against his hand and realize you might have made him uncomfortable. “I'm sorry,” you take a tiny step back in the crowded bar, “I would have been locked out of my apartment if you hadn't seen that. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” he said, giving you a nod and something close to a smile, before going on his way. You curse yourself again for acting so awkwardly. You hope you didn't make him feel uncomfortable, he was nice in picking up your keys and giving them back to you. He was also really cute which only made it more of a shame that you met like this. At least you didn't lose your keys, that would have seriously sucked.

Making your way to the table Viviane told you they would be at, you notice almost everyone is here. She was leaning against her boyfriend, Kallias, while they listened to whatever story Alba was telling them about. Ezio and Celia were both looking down at their phones and showing each other something while giggling like schoolgirls. As much as you love your friends, you don't know how much socializing you can handle today. You already fucked up what could have been a very simple interaction. Then again, with all of them here you know Viv won't try to ask you about Eleanor so at least you can keep avoiding hard topics. Viv greets you with a grin as soon as she sees you, everyone following right after.

“Hey, thought you weren't coming after all.” Yeah, you almost forgot about that. You smile anyway, knowing she didn't mean to remind you of how much of a bad friend you've been lately.

“Sorry, guys,” you sit down in the empty chair next to Alba before continuing, “Class ran late and then I lost my bus.”

“Oh. Bad luck.” You have no idea, Kallias. Conversation picked back up after that and you let them do most of the talking, taking a back seat and just watching them. You're glad that they either noticed you weren't in a talking mood or just didn't realize you were mostly quiet anyway.

You have no new stories to tell them since you've barely been functioning outside of school and talking about your feelings is definitely a resounding no, especially at a bar, so you just let them keep up with their conversations and just nod along every once in a while.

Eventually, the DJ introduces the band playing tonight. The Night Court. Judging by the screams and the way everyone moves closer to watch, they're very popular around here and you understand part of the reason for said popularity as soon as you see them step up on stage.

“Oh, they're really good!” Viviane's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “The guitarist is Mor's cousin. You remember her, right?” You nod. Of course you do. The blonde with sparkly eyeshadow and red lips leaves a big impression, forgetting Morrigan is probably impossible.

You study the guitarist as he introduces himself and the band. He's extremely handsome, the type of handsome that would make you think he can't be human, like some kind of fairy or vampire. You can tell he's aware of this fact with every honey dipped word that comes out of his mouth, literally flirting with the whole crowd. Despite not having many physical similarities with Mor, that allure he exudes definitely matches with hers.

The drummer was already sitting in place, looking eager to play. It takes you a second to notice he was in fact already sitting down as he's probably one of the tallest men you've ever seen in real life. But, with the messy shoulder length hair and big boyish grin on his face, he doesn't look scary at all.

As your eyes travel to the bassist, half hidden in the shadows, you wonder why you didn't recognize him immediately. It was the same guy that helped you before. You had thought he was beautiful before but, considering the situation, you didn't have much time to linger on that fact. However now that he was standing on stage, you could fully appreciate it. He was tall - this much you knew since you were at head level with his chest - and by the way his arms strained against his black t-shirt as he picked up his bass, you could tell he was fit too. He was looking down at the bass in his hands, making the few lights that caught him cast an ethereal glow on his face and on his onyx hair. This man looks like he stepped right down heaven's gates.

They start playing what you think is an original song but can't be sure since you were too distracted checking their bassist out to hear what Mor's cousin had said. He does have a really good singing voice but as your mystery angel starts singing, you can't help but feel bewitched back to watching him.

You barely take your eyes off him during the whole performance but they're all undeniably good. It's easy to understand why this bar is so popular if this is the level of talent their bands have. You can definitely imagine them making it big. They all seem very comfortable and content on stage and the crowd can't get enough of them.

You're so distracted by them that you don't even notice your head pounding anymore, or how fast time flies because, before you know it, they're saying their goodbyes to the crowd and leaving the stage.

Conversation starts back up after that, everyone is gushing about how talented and hot they are and you find yourself easily agreeing with their sentiments. But, with no distraction and the dj back playing songs you've heard a thousand times and the pressure of keeping conversation going, your headache comes back. You wait out just a little longer until you think it's an acceptable time to leave without worrying everyone too much.

“I'm sorry guys but I think I'm going to head home.” You finish the last of your drink even though it's mostly melted ice by that point and start putting your jacket on.

“Already?” You're not surprised Alba is the first to speak up. You'll never understand how this girl has so much energy, you had the same morning class as her but she's still as energetic as she was at lunchtime.

“It's still kind of early,” Viviane looks up at you with her icy eyes and you can recognize the concern in them immediately.

“It was just a busy week,” you explain with a smile on your face, hoping no one reads too much into it even though you all know that's not all. “I think I need to go sleep it off.”

“Are you going by yourself though?” Out of everyone at the table, Enzo is the worst one at hiding his emotions. You can see as clear as day that he's worried about you.

“I'll get an uber. Don't worry.” You gesture to your phone hoping they'll drop it.

“I can wait with you outside.” Kallias offers immediately, ever the responsible one. You really wanted to stay alone right now though.

“You don't have to.” You put your bag over your shoulder to add some finality to your words. “It's cold and there's going to be enough cars out at this hour, I won't be waiting for long.” It looks like he's about to say more but Viv puts a hand over his arm subtly, making him shut up. The bass of the music keeps hammering at your head so you don't linger and just say your goodbyes, waving at everyone with what you hope is a seemingly content smile, before leaving.

As soon as you step outside the pressure you feel starts slowing down. The front of the bar is still full of people so you walk a bit more to the little parking lot on this street. The air is cold but it feels amazing after being in the stuffed bar and your thoughts don't seem so overbearing when you don't have to try to act happy with your friends.

You love them to death but everything about how tonight went just proves that they've been talking about you behind your back. You know this is just them being good friends. You've been acting so differently in these last few months that even one of your professors noticed so it's only natural that they also did, but knowing everyone can tell only makes it worse.

You didn't want to make anyone worry about you. Life has just been going for your throat lately, minor inconveniences keep popping up and piling on top of what was already a pretty shitty situation. But you know once the semester ends, you'll get the chance to finally breathe and solve some of the problems you've been ignoring. And then things will hopefully get better. It just really sucks that your friendships and even school life has been affected by this.

Sitting down on top of the small wall that wrapped around the parking lot, you look up at the sky, willing your mind to let you rest for a bit. Watching the stars twinkling and your breath turn into white clouds of smoke because of the cold. You should probably get that uber and go home before any of your friends find you here, but your body doesn't want to move for some reason.

You feel someone approach you and look back down to meet familiar hazel eyes. You both stare at each other for a second longer than what would be normal, not expecting to see each other again.

“We keep running into each other,” you can hear his voice better here. You didn't notice how deep it was in the crowded bar. His singing voice is also deep but a bit softer than this.

“Yeah.” You smile. Seeing him again after how he helped you and then watching him on stage is making you a little giddy despite your somber mood. He seems a bit less unsure after you respond as well.

“Are you here alone?” He asks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“No, I'm just waiting for an uber.” You hope you're not making a bad impression again. He probably hadn't seen you with your friends before either.

“Alright,” he looks over to what you assume is his car and then back to you, “I can wait here with you.”

“You don't have to. It's cold,” you start but he shakes his head before you even finish speaking, “I actually haven't called it yet.” He gives you a look of amusement and it just makes you try to explain yourself faster. “I have a headache. The cold just felt calming. I'll get it now.” Opening the app, you start searching and, just like you expected, there's a car barely 10 minutes away from you. A wave of disappointment washes over you at the thought that you won't get to talk to him for longer but you push it aside quickly, you barely know him.

“A bar probably isn't the best place to be if you have a headache,” he tilts his head slightly in what you're almost sure is concern. He's a little hard to read.

“I know but I already had told my friends I was coming so…” You shrug and change the subject, trying to allow this moment to let you forget about your earlier thoughts. “Didn't turn out too bad. There was this really good band playing today.” You can see a flush take over his cheeks and the tips of his ears and you feel incredibly proud of yourself for being the reason behind it.

“I'm glad you liked it,” he says as he dips his head slightly in thanks. You feel like this might be the best compliment you could have given him.

“You were all really good. I even forgot about my headache while I was watching you play,” you try not to sound too excited and make it weird but you want him to know how good his band is, “Do you perform here a lot?”

“Yeah,” he leans sideways against the wall next to you, “At least twice a month.” You're starting to notice that, although his face doesn't show too much emotion, his eyes are a little more expressive. His band seems to be a topic he likes talking about. You can understand why.

“Isn't that a big deal? I heard this bar is really popular nowadays, there has to be a lot of bands trying to perform here.” The blush seems to be back but it could also be because of the cold you're subjecting him to.

“We always try to do our best but we've been playing here for a long time. That helps too.”

“You know that's not it,” you point to the entrance of the bar, where some people are smoking, “The bar was packed. I don't know if that's how it always is but I'm pretty sure it was mostly people wanting to watch you perform.”

“You've never been here before?” It looks like he's getting a bit embarrassed by the praise so you let him change the subject.

You shake your head. “Need to come more often though. When are you performing again?”

“We don't always have a schedule,” he looks down at your phone in your hands then back up at you, “But I can text you the details.”

“Oh.” He wants your number. The thought makes warmth rush to your cheeks. “Alright.” You unlock your phone and hand it to him. While he's typing his number, you can't help but notice the scars on his hand. They completely cover his hands, the skin completely marred. It looks as if they were burned. You look away from them, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by staring. He hands you your phone back and you see he saved his number under his name.

“Azriel,” you say the name out loud, tasting it in your mouth. He's watching you a little more intensely than before and you have to break eye contact to stop yourself from blushing. You quickly send him a text so he can save your number as well.

“I'll need yours too.” You give him your name and he repeats it, just as you had done. He makes it sound beautiful in his warm timbre and you can't help the flutter in your stomach. “I'll text you as soon as I find out when we're coming here next.”

“Okay.” You lock eyes and don't look away, just enjoying the moment, until you see a car pass by and realize it's yours.

You think you could have stayed there in the cold talking to him all night. You're not sure why but talking to him is effortless, it's like you've been friends for years. It just feels right and you find yourself wishing that he texts you soon with the concert information and anything else he comes up with. You wouldn't need much of an excuse to talk to him.

“That's my ride,” You say as you hop down from the wall. He looks at the car and when his eyes meet yours again you think you can see a hint of disappointment, hopefully at having to cut the moment short. “Thank you for waiting with me,” you smile at him again, “You didn't have to do that.”

“No problem.” He gives you a smile too, the biggest one you've seen on him. “I'll see you next time.”

“Of course.” You'd be an idiot to not want to see him again. You linger for as long as you can, suddenly not feeling like going home at all.

You wave at him again before getting in the car and something beats faster in your chest when he waves back and watches the car speed off down the street, it's almost like your heart is telling you to stay with him. You're not exactly sure what just happened but you hope you don't regret not staying with him for the rest of the night.

You keep thinking about him during the whole car ride and he's the last thing on your mind when you're laying down to sleep. And when he texts you the next day you know you'll have many more opportunities to spend the night talking to him.

[klm-zoflorr]

Agnes Montague, the villain Phoenix :33

I used a stained glass filter on this one, looove how it looks. Also here are a few versions without as much editing so you can see the details.

Agnes is one of my favorites in this AU. And in general too I guess lol. So I made her entirely too overpowered! She's obviously based off Dark Phoenix/Jean Grey/The Phoenix from Xmen. Without as much of the hero-turned-villain vibes Jean has, Agnes can be nice but she's mostly a wrong-doer.

I'd probably say she's the most powerful super-human in the 'verse, or at least where the story takes place. Her and Magnus are buddy-buddies because. Um. I just want them to be.

So, her powers, right. She can control and

produce fire, lots of it. She can fly. The wings only appear when she wants them to btw. I think she has some form of telekinesis, sure why not plus I don't have a lot of people like that in the verse (and I'm quickly running out of canon characters anyways loool). I don't think I'll give her too many psychic powers? Maybe just some ability to block psychic attacks. Oh well nevermind lets just make her cooler let's say she can attack people psychically, as in not quite read their thoughts (even if I think she could grasp on some of the things you're thinking while she's there) but like, cause intense pain to her victim and maybe even kill them by hitting them with her mind.

Her hands are more like talons or claws, with tough nails and strong, too. She can rip someone's face off or hold herself up with them.

The nature of her powers make them somewhat incontrollable and ill-suited for precision work or limiting damage/casualties.

Despite all of that, Agnes is very tired and looks as such. Her abnormal body warmth makes her sleep poorly and not very much, if she isn't setting the room on fire or throwing objects around when she's having nightmares. She holds off from getting intoxicated in any way because she might level off the whole island if she did.

And the cherry on the cake... She can ressurect herself. AND others. Let the holy cleansing fire engulf you and be reborn anew with your sins scrubbed clean yadda yadda you know the deal. It resets people to a younger age and cures any ailment they have, so that's a rather extreme form of healing too if you will.

Naturally, with that sort of powers the Cult Of The Lightless Flame (named like that because Agnes hoggs all the light) treats her as a goddess. Which isn't that far from the truth actually.

Suffice to say in the story she is not the big bad our heroes have to take down because that would be straight-up impossible.

Design notes and misc:

-I usually imagine her with dark hair, but for this AU she really just had to be a redhead I feel.

-Yes, in the art she doesn't have feet but that's just because I got lazy.

-She wears practical gloves, a guilded shiny supersuit, impractical shoulder pads and a white flowy skirt and shoulder sash that both get set on fire very frequently. This is meant to evoke how she mostly doesn't care or need to be dressing appropriately for fighting, she's too powerful to need to.

-She doesn't carry anything on herself either, no pockets no bags no nothing, she has goons for that. She's just there to look impressive and deus ex machina everyone's asses to the ground if they get too annoying.

-She's lived a long life, done a lot, was in the military at some point which influenced a lot of how she thinks. Again, she CAN be unfrivolous and practical, she just doesn't want to and has to remain a symbol. She can shoot a gun pretty well.

-Her "crown" (it's a paper crown) is something children that admired her gave her. She's very very careful not to burn it, but can't wear it everywhere either

-She's not much of a strategizer or a long-term planner unlike Magnus, she just doesn't see the point in that and she already has everything she could ever want. She could have the potential to rule the city instead of having everyone vaguely follow her lead, but she's just not much of a tyrant.

Oh, yeah, and Jude. Jude Perry is Agnes' right hand woman and closest friend, her villain name is Lampadarius and she can make anything that isn't organic matter melt/heat up (like those cans in MAG012: First Aid). One of her favorite tricks is heating up her gloves and burning people like that. It pisses her off when you call her Agnes' guard dog. She's been ressurected a few times by the Phoenix, so been around for a while too.

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ PLAYLIST

hello!!! music is going to play a very important part in the price of fame series, so i wanted to post this playlist i’ve been working on since september when i originally had the idea for the story! i have been listening to this playlist nonstop while writing and i'm pretty proud of it tbh

there is a spotify link for the playlist, but i have also linked every song below on youtube if you don’t have spotify! + i’ve included the lyrics from each song that are most relevant to yoongi & MC

anyway!!! ahhhhh chapter one is being posted tomorrow! are we excited??? i know i am! if you listen to this playlist, please let me know what you think! any thoughts/feedback/THEORIES are 100% welcome (:

『 spotify link ★ series masterlist 』

01. price of fame | brent faiyaz

『 all of the things they want / and don't know why they want it (i know, look) / they don't wanna give you time to heal / they just wanna bleed you dry, for real / and if you're comfortable, don't let no one know / they'll fuck it up (i know) 』

02. perhaps vampires is a bit strong but… | arctic monkeys

『 well, i ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes / that might be a surprise but it's true / said, "i'm not like you and i don't want your advice / or your praise or to move in the ways you do and i never will" / 'cause all you people are vampires / and all your stories are stale / and though you pretend to stand by us / i know you're certain we'll fail 』

03. celebrity skin | hole

『 when i wake up in my makeup / have you ever felt so used up as this? / it's all so sugarless, hooker, waitress / model, actress, oh, just go nameless / honeysuckle, she's full of poison / she obliterated everything she kissed / now she's fading somewhere in hollywood / i'm glad i came here with your pound of flesh 』

04. evil twin | arctic monkeys

『 it's more a hunger than a thirst / she'll break your heart the second time / before you know about the first / looks well equipped to leave you in the lurch / but you'd let her do her worst / and it's not hard to tell / it's obvious the other angels' faces fell / when she told him that she had to go / swapped her wings and overcoat for something colorful 』

05. ignorance | paramore

『 if i'm a bad person, you don't like me / well, i guess i'll make my own way / it's a circle, a mean cycle / i can't excite you anymore / where's your gavel? your jury? / what's my offense this time? / you're not a judge, but if you're gonna judge me / oh, sentence me to another life / don't wanna hear your sad songs, i don't wanna feel your pain / when you swear it's all my fault 'cause you know we're not the same 』

06. escapism. | raye ft. 070 shake

『 last night really was the cherry on the cake / been some dark days lately and i'm findin' it cripplin' / excuse my state, i'm as high as your hopes / that you'll make it to my bed, get me hot and sizzlin' / if i take a step back to see the glass half-full / at least it's the prada two-piece that i'm trippin' in / and i'm already actin' like a dick, know what i mean? / so you might as well stick it in 』

07. still take you home | arctic monkeys

『 well, it's ever so funny / 'cause i don't think you're special, i don't think you're cool / you're just probably alright / but under these lights you look beautiful / and i'm struggling, i can't see through your fake tan / yeah, and you know it for a fact that everybody's eating out of your hands / but what do you know? / oh, you know nothing / yeah, but i'll still take you home 』

08. the doll people | sofia isella

『 the doll people are not men / they are made of ass and glass / our skin is clay and painted blue / our head can detach / we are statues with a pulse / we are art you can fuck / the doll people are quiet / what is there to say? / art does not interpret itself / there are men with a day to save / we are paintings with legs / we are art you can fuck 』

09. supervixen | garbage

『 a hit is hard to resist, and i never miss / i can take you out with just a flick of my wrist / make a whole new religion / a fallin' star that you cannot live without / and i'll feed your obsessions / there is nothin' but this thing that you'll never doubt / this thing you'll never doubt 』

10. popular | the weeknd & madonna ft. playboi carti

『 beggin' on her knees to be popular / that's her dream, to be popular / kill anyone to be popular / sell her soul to be popular / just to be popular / everybody scream 'cause she popular / she mainstream 'cause she popular / never be free 'cause she popular 』

11. teddy picker | arctic monkeys

『 and it's the thousandth time that it's even bolder / don't be surprised when you get bent over / they told you, but you were dying for it / she saw it and she grabbed it and it wasn't what it seemed / the kids all dream of making it, whatever that means 』

12. she’s my collar | gorillaz ft. kali uchis

『 she's the serpentine, she's my collar / i send a message, never call her / and now i wanna taste another / and it's safe in a persona, she's my collar / nothing to be justified in / she the first i'm running with / she the one that get my collar / she the one i'm running with 』

13. petals | hole

『 they will make you so / so cynical / the fire burns the flesh / destroys the best that made our souls / she's the grace of this world / she's too pure / for the likes of this world / this world is a whore / tear the petals off of you / and make you tell the truth 』

14. reptilia | the strokes

『 now every time that i look at myself / i thought i told you, this world is not for you / the room is on fire and she's fixing her hair / you sound so angry, just calm down, you found me / i said please don't slow me down if i'm going too fast / you're in a strange part of our town 』

15. the summoning | sleep token

『 oh, and my love / did i mistake you for a sign from god / or are you really here to cast me off? / or maybe just to turn me on / 'cause these days / i would be lying if i told you that / i didn't wish that i could be your man / or maybe make a good girl bad 』

16. guns + ammunition | july talk

『 guns and ammunition / make bullets out of you / you speak dynamic diction / and i see right through that too / when i think about you / my whole world falls through 』

17. false alarm | the weeknd

『 bathroom stalls for the powder nose (she loves) / high heel shoes with the open toes (she loves) / she's got a good time wrapped in gold / for you, for you / all red dress with the devil eyes (she loves) / so obsessed with the camera lights (she loves) / you love her, but you can't deny / the truth, the truth 』

18. image | magdalena bay

『 what's the best you've got? / i forgot all my common sense / i need all the common sense / time to start the clock, from the top / i need confidence / confidence in medicine / but oh, my god / twenty-two more minutes / oh, so hot / meet your brand new image 』

19. when the night is over | lord huron

『 now the trail has gone cold / i don't know where else to go / and my time, i fear, is nearly over / when the ocean drinks the sky / and the city winks its eye / when the night is done, you'll vanish in the sun / will i hold you when the night is over? 』

20. self explained | cherry glazerr

『 i started reeking of the people i was with / i have no secret, i was freaking out a bit / i took a chopper 'cause i grew up with a lot of changes / i am alone a lot, i see this as my weakness / i am embarrassed of my solo, i don't know why / i don't want people to know how much time i spend alone / time i spend alone, time i spend alone, time i spend alone / when i take you on, i try / when i take you on, i try 』

21. bad guy | billie eilish

『 i'm only good at bein' bad, bad / i like when you get mad / i guess i'm pretty glad that you're alone / you said she's scared of me? / i mean, i don't see what she sees / but maybe it's 'cause i'm wearing your cologne 』

22. cinnamon girl | lana del rey

『 there's things i wanna say to you / but i'll just let you live / like if you hold me without hurting me / you'll be the first who ever did / there's things i wanna talk about / but better not to give / but if you hold me without hurting me / you'll be the first who ever did 』

23. fake happy | paramore

『 oh, please, don't ask me how i've been / don't make me play pretend, oh, no / oh, what's the use? / oh, please, i bet everybody here is fake happy too / and if i go out tonight, dress up my fears / you think i look alright with these mascara tears? / see, i'm gonna draw my lipstick wider than my mouth / and if the lights are low, they'll never see me frown 』

24. distressor | cherry glazerr

『 dip it in my makeup / take a place away from the main stage / better than a traitor / push up on the fader / i just wanna drown in my own noise / i just wanna drown in my own noise / beneath time, the only faces i can see / are the faces i pushed away from me / so i can just be 』

25. billions | caroline polachek

『 psycho, priceless / good in a crisis / working the angles / oh, billions / sexting sonnets / under the tables / tangled in cables / oh, billions / salty (ah), flavor (ah) / lies like a sailor / but he loves like a painter 』

✧ TAGLIST: @jajabro @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @ktownshizzle

@futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @namjoonsbuspass @wobblewobble822

[claire-elvisgirl]

🎄 A CHRISTMAS PAINTING 🎄

Hi again. This was supposed to come out on Christmas day, but I've been sick and so it slipped away, but I think it's time to give it to you. I hope you like it!

Summary: Christmas time is near. You’re looking for inspirations to paint and Elvis needs some good feelings, since it’s the first Christmas without his mother

Warnings: Fluff, light smut

Word cunt: 3618

Memphis, December 1958

It was almost Christmas. The first Christmas without his mother. Elvis was struggling to feel some good vibes from the most joyful season of the year, but it was really hard. He often walked in her room and sat on her bed, then he would lay down there and cry in silence. He didn’t want anybody to see him so vulnerable. He wondered how could he go on with his life now that she was gone…the movies, the recordings…everything lost its meaning, but he knew that sooner or later he had to held his head high and try to be well again. And that’s when you came in help. You studied art and your biggest passion was painting. You painted practically everything, everywhere, and you always carried with you pencils and sheets. You were also a big Elvis fan and you never hid to anyone that your biggest dream was being able to paint a portrait of him…live. You already sketched him so many times on your book, but a live portrait would have been the cherry on the cake. So you took courage and you sent a letter asking to meet him. With your biggest surprise, he accepted and when you received the answer you almost passed out. He sent one of his friends to pick you up and he had you taken to Graceland. As you reached his house your jaw fell on the floor: even if his sadness still hit him hard, the yard was full of lights and many Christmas trees surrounded the house. A big nativity scene was placed on the side of the road and as you passed by your eyes widened, like a child under the Christmas tree. The guy who picked you up took you inside, he had you sit on the long white couch and asked you to wait. You looked around yourself. Everything was shiny and at his right place. The house held a great sense of family, but you knew something had changed. You read on the newspaper about his mother’s passing and you still wondered how he felt. You didn’t even imagine he would have welcomed you in his house to fulfil one of your biggest dream. After a while, you heard voices coming from the upper floor and as you turned your head, you saw him entering the room. He was literally the most handsome man you ever laid your eyes on and as he approached you, you felt your legs trembling and your heart beating faster. He put on a little smile and held out his hand to you: “Hi, I’m Elvis Presley, ya must be y/n, right!?” he asked gently. You held his hand and you felt a huge sense of warmth spreading from it, almost like he just held something very hot, but he didn’t, it was his personal charm that hit you like a wave.

You tried to answer, but words were stuck in your troath: “Y-yes…it’s…a pleasure to meet you…”

He came closer to you: “Aw don’t be so nervous, I don’t bite and I’m always happy to meet my fans!” he answered with a sweet smile. Then he motioned you to sit down. “Ya wanna something to drink?” he asked. You shook your head with a smile. He sat down next to you crossing his legs: “So…y/n, right? I read your letter and…ya said you’re some kind of…artist!?”

You were trying to calm down as you answered: “Yes, actually I study art and I love to paint…that’s why I sent that letter, but…I never thought you…”

“You never thought I was interested?” he asked “I’m always interested in pretty things!”

You blushed and coughed: “Well…if you read my letter you know why I’m here…I suppose…”

“I did. Ya really want to paint a portrait of me!?” he asked with a smile.

“Why not? I won’t even make you pay…it would be a great promotion for me!” you answered gently.

He looked at you curiously: “But why me?”

“Oh please, you’re perfect, you would be the best subject in the whole world!”

He put on a big smile: “Ya truly think so?”

You smiled back and you felt a great sense of joy, because that was the first time you saw him really smiling: “I have no doubts, but if you don’t want to…that’s okay…”

“Oh no hun, I’m more than happy to help ya, I’ll be proud to be your model!” he replied holding out his hand and grabbing your sketchbook “May I?”

You tried to stop him, but he was already peeking into it. He turned page after page and he found many pictures of him: “Why y/n, it seems ya already practiced on me!”

You took the book back embarrassed: “Well, you weren’t supposed to see them…”

“Ya kiddin’? Now that I saw how good ya are I’ll be even happier to pose for ya!”

You felt your heart full of joy: “Really? Oh my God, I’m so happy I could kiss you!” and as you said those words, you blushed even more and stuttered: “Oh dear…I-I’m sorry…I…”

He giggled at your embarrassment: “Aw, that’s okay, there’s no need to apologize. Would ya like to know something?”

“What?”

“You’re adorable when ya get embarrassed!” he pinched your nose with a warm smile on his face and he laughed a little bit. You headed for the door: “I have to go now, when could we start the painting?” you asked.

“Tomorrow night…is it okay for ya?” he asked.

“Perfect…see you tomorrow then!”

As you walked home, he watched at you from his doorstep. He felt a strange sensation into his heart, something like a sweet feeling blowing through his body. He closed the door and he went to his parents’ room. He picked up a photo of his mother and smiled at it…and for a little while she seemed to smile back too.

*

The following day…

You spent the whole night daydreaming and it was about time to get dressed for meeting him. You picked out your favourite dress and you put on some make-up, in hopes to be as beautiful as ever for him. After you dressed, you fixed a bag with all your painting stuff and then you got out of your house. The same car that picked you up the day before, was already waiting for you. The car drove slowly towards Graceland and your heart beat faster as you got closer to the house. You got off the car and you saw him on the stairs of the front door waiting for you. He wore a black two-pieces suit that left his chest in sight, a detail that you could not avoid to see. He ran to you and he gave you a big hug, taking your hand and leading you to the house.

“Hi darlin’!” he whispered to you with his beautiful voice. You looked around nervously and followed him with a blush on your face.

“Ya have no reason to be nervous!” he said smiling. Then he took your hand and grabbed it tight, making sure not to let go. His presence had a sort of effect on you, making you nervous and happy at the same time. You smiled and walked towards the doorway, Elvis following close behind you. He walked over to a beautiful piano in the corner and he sat down gently. As he tapped his fingers on it, he spoke to you: “Would ya like to see upstairs as well?! Or would ya like to start the painting now?” his voice still calm.

You looked at him and you noticed a sweet ray of sunlight kissing his hair. It was perfect: “I was thinking that maybe that would be the right place for the painting…there at the piano I mean…unless you don’t have a better idea!”

He glanced at the piano and then back at you: “I would love to have ya paint me at the piano, it’s one of my favourite spots in the house. I often play this piano actually…” he answered playing a sweet melody “So it’s done…I’ll pose here, just lemme know what ya want me to do!”

“Well…just be yourself!” you answered with a smile as you took out your pencils and brushes.

“Alright then, I’ll be myself just for ya baby!” he answered sitting on the bench. He placed his hands on the piano and his knees bent a little bit. He took a deep breath and looked at you: “Alright, go ahead…don’t stop until it’s finished!” he said in a genuine and serious tone.

“Alright then…here we go!” you took a deep breath and posed gently the pencil on the paper, starting to sketch his beautiful face. “Oh my God, I’m so nervous…”

He chuckled again: “Ya don’t have to, hun…I’m just here to sit and look pretty for your painting!”

“Thanks…” you answered “Look at me please”

His eyes darted back to you and he smiled, finding your nervousness adorable: “Ya want me to look at ya?”

“Well…I have to decide if it’s better for you to look at the piano or at me!”

He stayed silent for a while before speaking again: “I would say…it depends on what ya want to try to capture…do ya want to show how I look when I play the piano…” he smiled “…or maybe when I look at ya?”

You felt a strange warmth raising to your cheeks and you blushed: “Okay, look at the piano…”

He nodded and turned his eyes back to the piano, making it easy for you to paint. You kept sketching quickly and rough, before starting to give your draw a precise shape. He tried to talk again, but you hushed him.

“Oh okay…but I just have to say one thing…ya don’t know how beautiful ya are when ya paint. It makes me wonder what will come out once you’re done!”

He looked back at the piano as you kept sketching and your emotion grew bigger. As you kept drawing, he sat there and watched at you, fascinating with your artwork and his face showed all his emotions. He kept smiling, but tis time he seemed to be getting lost in his thoughts.

“You feel okay?” you asked him suddenly.

“I feel…like I’m fallin’ in love!” he answered, making you almost falling from the couch. He stared at you speaking with a calm and gentle tone. Your hands trembled a little. He noticed it immediately: “Hey baby, don’t shake too much or I’ll look like a clown!” he laughed.

You took a deep breath: “Try not to embarrass me!”

“Embarrass ya? Why would I do that to someone I’m fallin’ in love with? Let’s get this painting right baby…I think we’re almost done, aren’t we?”

After a while you took a breath: “Okay, let’s stop for a sec…I need to rest for a while…”

He nodded once again and walked close to you: “Take all the time ya need…ya know what? This is the most I’ve sat still since…”

“Since…?” you asked him.

“He stayed silent before speaking again: “Never mind y/n…anyway…make yourself comfortable and take a break!” he paused and waited for you “I’ll be right here hun, the entire time I’m waiting for ya to finish!” he said rubbing gently your shoulders.

“You seem sad…is everything okay?” you asked.

“Sad? Oh it’s nothing baby…nothing at all. It’s just thoughts passin’ through my mind, don’t worry!” he smiled and kept rubbing your shoulders while speaking. “I know I said that, but it’s not like I’m sad, I’m just a little nostalgic…that’s all, I’ll be fine!”

His hands stopped and he looked at you: “Can I ask ya a question?”

“Sure!” you answered as you adjusted the sketch.

“Why do ya like painting so much?” he kept looking at you “Is it the way ya feel free? The way ya can create whatever ya want?”

You looked up: “Well…my grandpa was a painter too…and when I was little I loved watching him painting…”

He seemed surprised: “Ah, so that’s who influenced ya? And do ya do it just for fun or is this something that ya do to make money?”

“Well, I don’t know if it can someday bring me money…but it’s not the main thing…”

He smiled: “I’m pretty sure there’s someone out there that will gladly buy your artworks y/n, ya just have to find the right person!” he stayed silent for a while, making sure his words reached your heart and soul. Then his eyes fell on your drawing: “This is amazing…”

His voice still remained calm as he kept talking: “Remember, ya only need to paint whatever ya want. Don’t let other people pressure ya into what they want ya to paint…just stick to your heart…” he smiled sweetly “You’re doin’ a great job!”

You moved your hands on the paper again, but his voice and his presence made you tremble so many times that you felt you couldn’t keep going on with your work. He notices it: “Baby ya seem so nervous and uncomfortable…”

���N-no, I’m fine…don’t worry…”

“Da ya mind if I ask ya something?” he asked gently.

“What is it?”

“What are ya gonna do with this painting?” he asked curiously.

“I was thinking of gifting it to you…so you can do what you want with it…”

 He seemed completely surprised: “Baby ya don’t have to gift anything to me…ya can keep it for yourself if ya want!”

“Don’t worry…it would be a pleasure!” you replied.

“Well, I…if ya insist on givin’ it to me, I’ll gladly take it, but…I-I wanna giva ya something in return!”

He looked at you with his twinkling eyes: “I never thought I’d find a person like ya…I think I…”

You saw him getting closer and closer: “Elvis, I…”

After a while, your lips met in a tender kiss. He rubbed your hair without breaking the kiss. His lips pressed harder on yours and he kept kissing you, while his hands caressed you from head to toes. Suddenly he pulled away: “Y/n…” he looked at you and kissed you again with more passion. You felt overwhelmed, but you didn’t find the strength to stop him. You leaned closer and kissed him again. He moved closer again, trying to get the most pleasure out of that kiss. After a while, he stopped: “God baby…I could kiss ya for hours…”

You threw away your pencil and your sketchbook and held him back, feeling your emotions growing bigger: “Please…kiss me again!” you begged. He chuckled and smiled, before pulling you towards him once again, pressing his lips on yours. His kiss was soft at first, but then he moved his hands slowly to your waist. He pulled you close and placed his hands around your hips, still kissing you with a sensual, soft and passionate kiss. Then he looked at you: “How do ya like that kiss, my lil’ artist?”

You were speechless: “You’re literally my best model…I usually paint apples and oranges…and they don’t get up and kiss me like that…” you laughed.

He laughed back: “Ah yeah…I do seem to look much better than a piece of fruit, don’t I?”

You looked at him, thinking you would have gladly tasted that piece of fruit, but your eyes fell on your watch: “Oh my God…it’s late…I have to go!”

He nodded and spoke to you in a flirty tone: “One last kiss…pretty please…I’ll make it quick, I promise!?”

You couldn’t say no and your lips met again, even if for a shorter time.

You looked at him: “Could…could you take me home?” you asked.

“Of course hun…it’s the least I can do to thank you for the wonderful painting…and for those kisses!”

He took your hand and walked to the door, opening it for you. Before stepping outside, you asked him: “It’ll be possible that we see each other again?”

He smiled: “I think we definitely will see each other again…I don’t think I can’t be too far from ya anymore! And I don’t mean just kissin ya…I wanna take care of ya in ev’ry possible way…I wanna love ya…”

You stopped and looked at him: “What?”

He watched you raising an eyebrow: “What’s wrong? I’m just being honest with ya…and I’m tellin’ ya how I really feel about ya!”

“You mean…”

“I’m tellin’ that I love ya! It took me a while to understand it, but…I love ya, so…I really wanna see ya again soon…can I?”

You were shocked hearing his words: “Well…why not? I mean…there would be nothing wrong…”

“What about this weekend?” he asked.

“I…I’d love to!” you replied.

He grabbed your hands: “I-I feel this sudden happiness…a-and I think…I truly wanna spend ev’ry single day of my life with ya!” he looked at you waiting for an answer.

“Oh Elvis…” your eyes filled with tears.

“What…is it too soon to say these things?” he asked “Am I being too honest?”

“I think…maybe it’s too early…” you replied, not being able to leave the hold of his hands.

“I’m sorry baby, but when it comes to ya, I can’t lie…”

You felt scared, but at the same time you felt the same things for him, you were just too nervous to tell him. You answered him with a kiss, but suddenly something happened. The passion hit both of you and you found yourselves on the couch, kissing and caressing each other. His eyes widened as soon as you pulled him closer and he took a moment to realize what was happening. He closes his eyes and put his hands behind your head, wanting to keep that kiss going for as long as he could. He moved his hands along your body, until he found himself caressing you all over. He smiled and his voices sounded softer, just to make you feel more comfortable. Then he leaned closer and whispered in your ear: “Y/n, I can’t wait for the weekend…it’s almost Christmas, would ya mind stayin’ tonight? I don’t wanna walk ya home now!”

You looked at him shocked: “Elvis, I…” he held you so tight that you could feel his heart beating hard in his chest “I feel the same…I don’t wanna go home…I wanna stay here with you!”

He pulled you closer to him and he kissed you again, deeper and more passionately. He wrapped his arms around your body and he moved his hands down to your hips: “I feel I can be completely myself with ya...and I like that feeling!”

You enjoyed his hug and your mind started to race…would have he really keep you for himself? Would have he marry you? You thought it was better not to have any expectations with him…you decided to just enjoy things while they lasted. It was Christmas’ Eve and instead of being with your family, you were in Elvis’ arms, enjoying probably the best night of your life. He looked sweetly at you: “Baby…I wanna spend all my Christmases with ya…” he said holding you. As he looked at his watch, he looked right into your eyes: “I just can’t go to sleep without my gift…”

You perfectly knew what he was talking about and without saying a word you followed him into his bedroom. Your heart kept beating faster as you got closer and closer to spend the night with him. Once you got inside the bedroom, he closed the door and he turned to you speaking gently to you: “Baby…I want ya to know…I’m not gonna force ya to do anything ya don’t wanna do, okay?”

You looked at him and nodded: “Okay!”

He kept kissing you in a loving and romantic way, talking to you in a soft and gentle tone: “Baby, ya can’t even imagine how much I want ya right now…” he smiled and for once in a long time he felt really happy. You looked at him and caressed him gently: “I…I want you too!”

He pushed you gently on his bed and he started to touch you with a gentle touch, full of all his love. As he caressed you, he asked you in a whisper: “Baby…can I…?”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but you perfectly knew what he was asking for. You looked at him and murmured a soft yes, as you let him taking off your clothes. After a while, both of you were completely naked, wrapped around each other, while your bodies warmed one on the other. You found yourself pinned down on the bed, with him covering you completely. You could feel the warmth of his body spreading towards you and after a while, he climbed on top of you, making you feel his hardness, pointing right at your core. As he moved gently, you felt his hard member pushing slowly inside you, making you gasp from the sudden pleasure. He moved up and down, making you feel the best pleasure of your life. It was the first time for you, but you didn’t tell him; you just enjoyed that incredible wave of pleasure that hit you with his every movement. Suddenly you felt his cock getting even harder and with a loud moan he came inside you, filling you with his hot juice. That feeling sent you over the moon. He didn’t even asked you, but you couldn’t be angry with him. You loved him so much that you let him have his way with you without stopping him. He gently pulled out and looked sweetly at you: “’M sorry baby…I-I…”

“You don’t have to be sorry…” you replied “…everything’s alright!”

Suddenly, a distant clock rang twelve times and he hugged you tighter than ever: “Happy Christmas baby!”

[carmenized-onions]

alright yo!! I gotta do this while it’s hot and fresh! I just read ch 11 and BRO, I didn’t know what was gonna happen cause I don’t think lmao but GOD was this ch soooooo good. (and yes good, i’m a it hurts so good type of BITCH so believe me when I say youve MASTERED THAT FUCKING GENRE AND I WOULD EAT YOUR WRITING IF I COULD 🥹🥹)

i could genuinely go on for days and days about how good— no fuck it, GREAT, your writing is but for times sake i’ll say this, it AMAZES me how fucking ughhhh, on the nail your writing is for each of these characters,,, like like richie??? oh you’ve got richie down!! and carmen (meanie carmen who hurt tony’s feelings and possibly broke her heart just now 🥹) i mean of course you got carmen down, but syd?? you both make her possible to envision saying and acting these ways while also showing her in this new light, a best friend type of light like how would she ride for the ones she loves type of light? and a i’m just a girlllll in the worldddddd with my bestie type of light like you ATE TS ALLLLLL THE WAY UP 😭

anyways i’ll give you my play by play notes i took while reading cause they speak for themselves lmao:

- fuckkkkk their writing is so fucking good

- they got richie’s character down so fucking OMG

- DONT YOY DARE SAY THAT TO RICHIE!!!

- and don’t you DARE say that to chippie!!!!!!! 😠🔪🔪

- how tf have they mastered the art of making not only real characters but REAL moving relationships in their writing and omg i’m gonna fucking cry bro

- also why’s tony’s character like me?? but also someone i want to be ?? but also someone i want to deeply tend and care for?? ugh the COMPLEXITIES 😭😭

- lowkey so much more interested in tony’s character and how it interacts with carmys (and truly everyone’s but syd n richie r my fav) versus his character on his own and its not cause his character writing isn’t good, MY GOD ITS IMMACULATE and feels so RIGHT but they really put their foot in the curation of tony’s character and world that im so HOOKED

- and don’t get me fucking sSTARTED on syd and tony’s relationship like????

- inky?????

- squid????

- we are just two girlssssss living in this worlddddd

- wowwwww i wish i had real life versions of richie n syd as my friends cause it’s giving we are girlbosses but also tender hearts club?? iykyk🤞🏽

- i would quite literally cry and die over this series a million times over and probably already do when i think about it but i wish i didn’t just finish that chapter cause i so so so SO selfishly NEED MOREEEEE 😖😖

~~~

ANYWAYSSSSS this series is quite literally the cake frosting and cherry on top to my fucking life rn and your world building is so great i live in it even when it’s being built still and we’re all waiting for you to drop another one of your deliciously written chaps. i’m so grateful to have found this lil side of the internet you exist in and thank you for supplying us with this consistent dose of yumminess!!

thanks for listening to me absolutely YAP and just know if voice memos was a thing you’d probably be receiving 15 minutes worth of me yapping so count your blessings todayyyy!!!

ALSO ALSO PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE ADD ME TO THE TAG LIST 🥹🥹🫶🏽

luv uuuuuuuu n keep being great 💐

THANK YOU FOR SAYING I'VE MASTERED THE HURT GENRE-- I also like the hurt, I was worried i didn't get the hurty enough. I'm glad everyone went "i'm so hurt" after reading 10/11, I did hurty all of you. my bad.

This is just gonna be a lot of me saying thank you over and over, but THANK YOU! I try very hard to nail these characters. I think there's fully notes in my drafts saying "HE HAS TO DO THAT. IT'S GONNA FUCKING SUCK TO WRITE BUT IT'S WHAT HE'D DO SO HE HAS TO DO THAT" Everyone that thinks I'm a cool good writer would throw up if they saw what the draft looks like LMAO.

Syd's been very fun for me to write, because with Richie/Carmen I think in canon we've seen enough of them handling friendships/partners to understand how they work in those dynamics-- But Syd does not have girlfriends. Like that bitch has no one. I'm so broken about this. So envisioning how she'd work in that dynamic while still being herself has been very fun for me. Based on the way she acts in Season 3, I think I got it p down. She's a witty fun gworl who's also a bad bitch who also has anxiety. I love her.

IN YOUR NOTES, I REALLY AM SO HAPPY TO HEAR YOU WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT TONY IN THIS UNIVERSE. I really did stick my fucking foot in implementing her in everything lmao. She's SO carved in. Which I love-- Apparently Carmen hates that but i love. I could smooch tony so much better frfr.

Richie/Syd/Chip have been genuinely my favourite trio dynamic to write for. Everytime it's been Carmen/Syd/Chip he has a tendency to just shut the fuck up because he's very wallflowery-- I love that Richie will interject without even a percent of hesitation. I love my yapping father. I love how he just be talkin.

I HOPE YOU LIKED THE CHAPTER AFTER THIS ONE TOO!! Something to Do was a doozy and this next one is . i'm not gonna say anything except i. am . sorry....

AND ADDED TO THE TAGLIST YEEHAW THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME YOUR THOUGHTS IT MAKES MY GDANG DAY SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO GET TO RESPONDING !!!

[merrybrides]

8 Wedding Cake Trends

1. Heart-Shaped Cakes

We can't get enough of this adorable wedding cake trend—and you might have even already spotted it popping up on your social media feeds. Heart-shaped wedding cakes are all about whimsical details and over-the-top embellishments, which you'll love if you're into maximalist style. The Lambeth-inspired cakes, usually decorated in pastel colors like pink, purple, yellow, green or blue, are often topped off with bright red cherries that complete their vintage look. Not sure you want to try this trend for your wedding day? Heart-shaped cakes are just as cute at engagement parties, bridal showers and rehearsal dinners.

2. Garden Patch Cakes

Florals for wedding cakes? Groundbreaking. But really—in 2024, fresh flowers will adorn cakes in new ways that evoke a more abstract, organic look than ever before. Instead of meticulously placed clusters of blooms or elaborate flowers cascading down fondant tiers, the concept of this wedding cake trend is to use florals in a way that feels like they sprouted directly out of the cake. It's giving simple cottagecore garden wedding—just add a sweet gingham or checkered tablecloth. Editor's note: Your wedding cake baker and wedding florist can help you choose food-safe flowers, which is important to keep in mind when adding any type of plant or natural element to your cake.

3. Ribbons and Bows

Dainty bows are already trending for hair accessories and wedding fashion, and they'll be making their way onto wedding cakes, too. This trend is a throwback to wedding cakes of the early 2000's, and today's version falls perfectly in line with the popular coquette and balletcore aesthetics. Expect to see bows on cakes in all sizes and forms, from actual ribbons to sugar bows made of fondant, meringue or hand-piped icing. Try this pretty idea if you're into understated and timeless details, since you won't need to add many other embellishments (if any) to your cake.

4. Wavy Piping

This wedding cake trend is unlike anything we've ever seen before, and we're a little obsessed. Wavy piping, ruffled buttercream and squiggly meringue accents are all bringing unique dimension to wedding cakes. The basket weave piping technique with a wavy look around the circumference of the cake stemmed from the inspiration of 1920s women's hair styles—the short bobs with their finger waves. I love the sensual and feminine look it adds, but how it also creates depth and structure. Each ribbon belt is different to emphasize the individuality of my cakes and to the corresponding client. No two cakes are ever alike.

5. Textural and Tonal Cakes

Understated luxury, anyone? Bridging the gap between super-simple wedding cakes and highly detailed creations, monochromatic textured cakes give you the best of both worlds. An all-white color palette tones down the overall look of the cake, but upon closer inspection, the details keep it far from boring.

6. Extra-Grand Wedding Cakes

Now that big weddings are back in full swing, the desserts have to be equally as impactful. After all, what's a party without cake? The cake is now center stage again. It's a vital part of decor and getting dressed up more than ever. Extra-tall cakes (think six and seven tiers or more) will tower above dessert tables, creating a focal point at your reception venue and giving you the ultimate cake-cutting photo opportunity. And the cake itself is just the beginning—lavish embellishments and add-ons will take the whole display to the next level. Lots of flowers, not just on the cake, but surrounding the table so that it feels more like a focal art piece than a dessert.

7. Sheet Cakes

If you're going the casual route for your wedding day, consider skipping the multi-tier cake for a one-tier sheet cake instead. But if you think this is your average grocery store sheet cake, think again. What makes this wedding cake trend so noteworthy is that the sheet cakes are decorated just as much as (if not more than) vertical cakes, complete with fresh flowers, intricate piping and other decorative techniques. The main difference? Because of their horizontal design, sheet cakes won't need as much structural support—and they're a great option to maximize the amount of cake you can serve at once.

8. Unique Cake Flavors

There's always going to be a time and place for classic vanilla sponge cake and buttercream frosting, but you don't have to play it safe on your wedding day. If trusty standbys like chocolate or red velvet just aren't doing it for you, draw inspiration from experimental avant-garde menus and seasonal flavors instead.

I truly believe in keeping things seasonal and I hope that the wedding cake industry can tune in more to this. I believe we will see more focus on seasonality and the use of various grains with a different twist on traditional flavor pairings. Think certain fruit fillings infused with various spices or herbs, such as citrus and coriander, or my all-time favorite and go-to: strawberry and bay leaf jam.

[mspandorasart]

Yay, I'm happy I wasn't alone in my feels.

Also, I finished the Neutral Route a couple weeks ago and I'm head over heels for the final boss fight. I think the rest of this reblog will turn into a Neutral Route appreciation post since you mentioned it, so spoiler warning incoming for any unaware reader-

First off, the music. The freaking music got me so hyped. I thought "Your Best Nightmare" was already good, but this one really takes the cake. Having this warped banger of Flowey's theme in the first phase, what really stood out to me and also being my favorite part were the violins among the electrical noises, giving it such a heart-wrenching sense of tragedy. Then the music just gets better in the second phase. The new chorus/leitmotif is a banger as well, holy shit. It has a similar vibe of desperation, but even more epic and action-packed to reflect the pace of the fight. (While I do love music, I wish I knew more about music theory to be able to articulate myself better-) I've been listening to "Best Friends Forever" and "Afterlife" so much ever since, huehue.

Anyway, the fight itself. Is so glorious. The guilt-trip Flowey puts you through in the first phase, and with haunting lines like "Clover wants to cry, but they have no eyes" (which, if I remember correctly, was a quote from another monster), plus those attacks of him that hint to self-loathing (Flowey's petals being plucked, him being slashed) are metaphorically awesome. Oh, and when you finally manage to save and walk through this corridor inside Flowey's mind, read his past thoughts, then meet "Martlet"- game legitimately turns into psychological horror, holy shit- the atmosphere had me so gripped.

Then the second phase: it's structured similarly to Omega Flowey in OG Undertale with the six souls being six "specimen", and I really love how the art styles are switching to further emphasize the uncanny and bizarre nature of this nightmare world as well as Flowey's distorted state of mind. (Look, I'm a huge fan of taking creature designs and mashing wild art styles together that don't necessarily fit with the normal one, e.g. the witches in Madoka Magica or Ba'als in Bravely Default. You can be insanely creative with that.) There is also a comment I saw from someone speculating that the specimen reflect different stages of Asriel's life, which I think is a neat theory.

And then the cherry on top once the fight ends and Flowey looks directly into the player's eyes, realizing there is no point to drag this out since we've got determination.

The climax of the Neutral Route was a rollercoaster, and I fully enjoyed it beginning to end.

(Also RIP Martlet, my poor gal just wanted to do the right thing. She didn't deserve this. qwq)

Thoughts about Undertale Yellow

Greetings, I just returned from binging through Undertale Yellow, True Pacifist Route specifically, and am seeking a place to let out some thoughts (and steam). It's the first time I'm doing this type of "review" on my blog, but since my thoughts on it are quite strong, I thought, "hey, why the heck not"? Spoilers for the game and its ending ahead, fellas. Buckle up.

First off, let me begin by stating that, for the most part, I had a blast playing through it. The music is amazing, the boss themes real bangers, the environmental ones great as well. My favorite track was the OST that played in the Dunes: a really catchy western vibe with Flowey's theme in it as well, an earworm that filled me with Determination while running through the sandy fields. Then we have a beautiful pixel art style, gorgeous sceneries, great gameplay with challenging and fun boss fights (side note: although I couldn't fully appreciate Ceroba's fight since it had a couple pretty much unavoidable attacks. Or is it just skill issue on my part? Anyway, that part annoyed me more than it should have. Moving on, lmao.)

Furthermore, the game also has charming characters! They are the ones that kept me going and really ignited my interest. Not gonna lie, it took me until the town in the Dunes to become really invested in the game. Martlet is charming and cute, sure, but North Star and his gang, no, that guy specifically sold it for me. Charismatic, funny, very expressive sprites (well, all facial sprites are quite colorful, but it took me until North Star to appreciate/notice just how many there are for each character) and an interesting internal conflict with wanting to entertain others so they forget about the pain of being stuck underground, but at the same time being so absorbed in his persona that he temporarily acts like a douche towards his pals and forgets who he truly is. He also features my favorite joke in the game when he proudly proposes to the salesman that "he wants to buy a gun for the child". Freaking hilarious, love him, huehehue.

Story-wise, I was pleasantly surprised and taken aback by the dark twists of Ceroba and her husband Chujin. And I appreciated how the flashbacks got intigrated within her final boss fight. I don't know about you, but my biggest motivation to play RPGs are not just the gameplay, it's mainly the characters and the story. If the gameplay is amazing but the characters/plot boring, then I lose interest quickly. To me, the real rewards of a tough battle are story progression and seeing just what the characters will do next. Therefore, I greatly enjoyed the breaks between Ceroba's phases in which we saw parts of her backstory. They even made me cry!

...Although, to be honest, I don't exactly understand why we had that insight into her mind in the first place. Why did we survive so many hits to the point of 0.00001 HP? Where's that coming from all of a sudden? Why did time stop at some point like Za Warudo? Maybe that random plot armor (that happened the first time and never again) is explained in another route, but anyway, moving on-

This review-style blog entry only exists because of the True Pacifist ending. I'll be blunt, I hate it. Why?

So it ends with Clover sacrificing their soul for the monsters so they can eventually break free. Which is fine on its own. Clover is for the most part a blank slate of a character, only driven by their desire to seek the lost humans, that's basically it. Maybe it would have made a bit more sense for Clover to see an actual physical proof of their demise before they give up on them completely, but eh. I'm also wondering whether they are really okay with potentially another, possibly innocent human falling down sometime in the future only to get killed by the monsters. But oh well.

(You know, now that I think about it, I actually am a bit salty about Clover's decision to sacrifice themselves, lmao. Would've been kinda cool if it was up to the player, have another ending split.)

Anyways, the issue I'm having is how our cast of supporting characters, Martlet, North Star aka Starlo and Ceroba react to Clover's decision. They are shocked first, but... agree surprisingly quickly?? What?? Excuse me, the entire hassle we went through to get to this point was to stop Ceroba from taking Clover's soul. Now with Clover volunteering to sacrifice themselves, the gang is cool with it??

Of course they don't agree immediately, but are easily swayed within a few arguments back and forth. Man, what friends you are, guys. The reason I'm having this pet peeve in the first place is because we as the human, who has known these guys for just a day, did a lot for them, alright? They all tried to kill us at one point, but we took the beating, the hard battles, forgave them and were there for them during their internal conflicts. We were a pretty decent friend, if I may say so.

Especially with Ceroba! We did a lot to change her mind and path of self-destruction! Yet our so-called friends don't put in the same amount of effort when it comes to convincing us otherwise- or heck, use force if you must- get Clover away from there, lmao. Wouldn't it have been an interesting act of redemption on Ceroba's part, by the way, if she tried to stop us? Being touched by our mercy and refusal to give up on her, she does the same for us?

I suppose the reason I am so baffled by all this is because of Clover being a blank slate, the player character really felt like me, like I was going through the journey and not like I was controlling another character. It felt like my decision to spare them all, to talk to them and wanting to get to know them better. So the group of characters I have really grown to like giving up on me within about a minute of back-and-forth just felt... wow. Thanks, guys.

If I compare it to Undertale's True Pacifist in which every important supporting character gathers up after the confrontation with Asgore, all agreeing with the decision of me, the player, staying in the Underground with them, then oh boy, it really stings. Just would've been a cool, wholesome sign of friendship if Martlet, Starlo and Ceroba decided that "nah, even for the surface, we won't give up on Clover". By the way, in this game, we don't even really get to see why the monsters want to return to the surface so badly. They keep saying they want to, but what are the reasons exactly? More freedom, I suppose. Yet by expanding the Underground with the Dunes, the Mines, the Factory, and some of Snowdin, the Ruins and New Home, their habitat seemed so much larger than in the OG game- What I wanna say is, their desperation should've been shown way more instead of told, so the player can understand the monsters' aspiration better.

The thing is, it's a shockingly easy issue to fix if you really want "the canon ending" with Clover ending up dead and their soul taken: have Clover still have their moment of doubt and realization, remembering what the monsters told them throughout their journey. Then they go to Asgore with their gang, hoping to convince him. It doesn't work out, so Asgore starts a fight. During the battle, Clover realizes it's useless to fight back, it's better to have their soul taken for the monsters, so they allow Asgore to kill them. Their friends are not powerful enough to stop him. There ya have it.

Siiiiigh. Is it just me, being annoyed by that ending? As a whole, the finale felt a little... rushed? Was New Home always meant to be so empty? Is it to build up atmosphere? Yet there were two silly NPCs in the first screen of New Home, making me assume that maybe, there was another plan originally? (If it has been stated in a devlog or any other comment by the creators, then I apologize, I haven't read those fully.)

Anyways, if I didn't care about the game, this rant wouldn't even exist in the first place. I was really invested in the game until the ending just left me... kinda sad, not gonna lie. It will take me a while to process it all.

If you got this far, then thanks for reading. Am I the only one feeling this miffed about the ending? I might go back and edit this post if I find out there are things to be corrected. Buuuut as of now, happy holidays!

[headfullofpresley]

Good Boy

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 8,6K

Warning(s): sub!Elvis, soft dom!reader, army!Elvis, SMUT obv; handjob (m. receiving), edging/orgasm control, begging, praise kink, strong language, alcohol consumption, smoking.

Requested: No, but pls send in requests for sub!Elvis ;)

Summary: While on military leave, Elvis discovers a whole new side of himself with the help of a pretty little showgirl in Paris.

Author’s note: readers’ performance and outfit was based on this video! I just suck at describing it, so if you want the visual, there ya go. also, i am officially dead after writing this bc GODDAMN. also, i suggest listening to this song while reading this ;););). enjoy luvs!

Translations for French words used in this:

mon chéri/chéri - my dear/sweetheart/etc.

bébé - baby

salut, mon amour - hi/hello, my love

mon ange - my angel

magnifique - magnificent

mon trésor - my treasure

masterlist

‘‘You've been a bad bad boy, I'm gonna take my time, so enjoy. There's no need to feel no shame; relax and sip upon my champagne.

Oh baby for all it's worth, I swear I'll be the first to blow your mind. I'll give you some oh-la-la; voulez vous coucher avec moi?

I got you breaking into a sweat; got you hot, bothered, and wet, you nasty boy.’’

To many, Paris was known for being the leader in the world when it came to fashion and art, authentic little bakeries that baked fresh bread and pastries at the crack of dawn to wake up the people in the neighborhoods with the mouth watering smell, the fierce people that could have one shaking with just a single glare. The city was classy and elegant, but as soon as the sun would go down, Paris would turn into the bustling place men and women from far away would come for. One could even say Paris was the cherry on top of the cake that was Europe.  

Elvis on the other hand did not give a damn for what the French city was known for. He had been serving time in the army for a year now and he couldn’t wait to get out of Germany and spend his week off in another country that was waiting for him to be explored. Or in other words: he couldn’t wait to let loose and attend some parties, curious to know what the French ladies were like. Even though he had girls lining up for him and fighting for his attention back in Germany, he hadn’t gotten any lately and he was feeling a little… touch starved.

‘‘I’m sorry, gentlemen. We’re completely full tonight,’’ the girl sitting at the ticket booth in front of the well-known Moulin Rouge club told the two men in front of her. Frank looked at her as he pointed at Elvis, who could already guess where this was going and swatted his hand away.

‘‘Do you know who this is?’’ He asked her in utter disbelief, nearly scoffing in the poor girls’ face and Elvis smacked his arm, shoving him aside as he stepped forward, giving the girl an apologetic smile. ‘‘I’m so sorry about him. Enjoy your night, darlin’,’’ he told her and she just nodded, not seeming to be bothered by Frank’s behaviour at all, nor the fact that he was Elvis Presley.

Elvis grabbed his friends’ arm and pulled him away from the club, rolling his eyes as Frank pulled his arm free, letting out a laugh. ‘‘What are we gon’ do now, E? It’s 2 in the morning and every goddamn place in Paris is full,’’ Frank exclaimed in slight frustration, spreading his arms. They had only arrived in Paris this morning but hadn’t had much time to do anything since Elvis would be followed around pretty much every day. He didn’t mind it all that much─giving the people the attention they wanted from him, posing for pictures and so on, but both men were looking forward to their first night out in the city. After all, everything is better when the sun goes down, right?

‘‘Let’s just walk and look for a place that’s not full,’’ Elvis sighed, lighting a cigarette as he strided forward. Frank rolled his eyes up to the sky, but before he could follow his friend, the both of them halted their movements as soon as a voice spoke up.

‘‘You’re going the wrong way,’’ a woman leaning against the wall next to a record store told them casually, smoke of her cigarette circling up as she held it in between her fingers elegantly. A small grin tugged at the corner of her red lips, golden brown eyes carrying a mischievous sparkle. The red trench coat she wore hugged all her curves and matched her lips to a perfection, her thick curls framing her face as her bronzed complexion glistened in the flickering neon lights coming from the Moulin Rouge club a few steps back. The two men were taken back for a second, staring at the woman with slightly dropped jaws. Paris was full of beautiful people, but there was something about the woman in front of them. Unconsciously, they were drawn to her and had taken a few steps closer. She laughed softly, taking a small puff from her cigarette, leaving a red stain behind on the bud.

‘‘E-Excuse me?’’ Frank stuttered, snapping out of his little trance as he tried his best to sound calm and collected. She blew out some smoke from the corner of her mouth and threw her cigarette onto the pavement, stepping on it with the pointy heel of her pump. ‘‘I said, you’re going the wrong way. If you want what you’re getting at the Moulin Rouge, and well.. maybe more, you will not find it there,’’ she hummed mysteriously with a soft French accent on her tongue, pointing at the direction they were headed in, as if they knew what kind of places there were. She knew it were all just small jazz bars that were closing up any time now and restaurants that had closed their doors hours ago.

‘‘Well, do you know a place we can go to then?’’ Elvis asked, flashing her a friendly smile as his cigarette hung in between his fingertips loosely, his brain completely forgetting it was there in the first place. ‘‘It’s our first night in Paris and we just wanna have a drink, nothing too crazy,’’

‘‘Soldiers?’’ The woman asked as she pushed herself off of the wall, standing up straight while tightening the strings on her coat, the fabric outlining her body even more. Both Frank and Elvis tried hard to keep their eyes on her face and to not let their eyes wander down to have a peek at said curves and bare legs. ‘‘Yes, ma’am,’’ Elvis said politely as Frank nodded and she let out a laugh, signing for them to come along as she started walking in the other direction. ‘‘Call me Daisy, chéri,’’ she grinned, her heels clicking against the pavement as she didn’t even look back to see if they would follow her. She knew they would─they always did.

Elvis and Frank exchanged a quick look before Frank quickly tugged his friend along, jogging after Daisy. She kept quiet the entire walk to where ever she was taking them, smiling softly as she could hear them whispering to each other now and then. At one point, Frank even voiced out his worries to Elvis about how he was hoping they wouldn’t die in Paris and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling softly. They certainly were not going to die, but she was positive that they would leave this city as new men.

A bubble of nerves mixed with excitement settled into Elvis’ stomach as Daisy turned into a dark alley, the only light that lit up the dark street being a twinkling midnight blue neon sign in the form of a martini glass. Despite the place not even seeming to have a name, there was a broad shouldered man standing by the door, letting the people that were queueing outside in, if he redeemed them worthy to be allowed in that was. It seemed like anyone that had more than just a few drinks were turned down, as well as people that could not prove they were over eighteen. Daisy passed by the line of people and greeted the man at the door, who pressed a kiss on her cheek and opened the black velvet robe, opening the big equally black door. Frank gave Elvis an exciting squeeze in his arm as he heard the music and chattering coming from inside, tugging Elvis along into the club Daisy brought them to.

It was like they were thrown into a completely different world. They were aware of what a burlesque club was and this seemed an awful lot like it, but at the same time, it felt so different. There was a big mahogany bar near the entrance, large mirrors on the wall behind it giving the perfect view of the stage that was located on the other side of the establishment. Bottles of any kind of liquor were lined up against the mirrors and Elvis couldn’t even read some of the labels as they were displayed in all kinds of languages he unfortunately did not speak. The place was nearly filled to the brim with people, sitting at tables that had the perfect view of the girls dancing on the stage, or dancing in any empty spot they could find. French franc’s and American dollars were flying through the air coming from the people closest to the stage, a group of Dutch soldiers spending all their last money on the dancing girls, sticking papers in their outfits or mouths when they allowed it. All the men, and even some women, were watching the girls on stage with hungry eyes and you wouldn’t have to think twice to guess what they were thinking about─despite that, everyone kept their hands to themselves and were very respectful. A strange place, but oh so exciting.

‘‘What is this place?’’ Frank yelled in excitement as he looked at Daisy when she brought Elvis and him over to the bar, waving over the bartender. ‘‘Hmm.. One would say it’s a burlesque club, one would say a gentlemen’s club, but I don’t like that name. The ladies love it too,’’ she hummed mysteriously, winking at Frank as she nodded to some girls at a table, cheering on one of the club girls that was making a show of pretending to remove her stockings, teasing them by rolling them right back up. Elvis laughed excitedly, flashing a grateful smile at Daisy as she handed him a drink. ‘‘It can be whatever you want it to be, that’s fun of this whole place,’’ she smiled brightly, poking both his and Frank’s noses, before she walked off and disappeared behind a curtain near the stage, leaving them behind to enjoy the show.

‘‘Salut, mon amour,’’ you hummed happily as you noticed Daisy walking into your shared dressing room. She walked over to where you were sitting in front of your vanity, hugging you from behind─you squeezed her hands and laughed as you hugged her back, your eyes following her in the mirror as she took off her coat, revealing the shiny black velvet bodysuit she wore that made her legs look like they went on for days, her breasts perfectly squished together. ‘‘Have you been saving poor lost souls from Moulin Rouge and Le Lido again?’’ you grinned knowingly at her, leaning forward to your mirror to continue applying your lipstick. Daisy laughed and sat down in front of her own mirror, leaning her arm on the back of her chair as she grinned at you.

‘‘Well ofcourse, my darlin’. We need to make money too, right?’’

You laughed a little at her reply, but nodded nonetheless. She was definitely right─with the Moulin Rouge and Le Lido being the most famous burlesque clubs in the city, the small mystery club you worked at had to work extra hard to keep up at with the scene. Knowledge of this place got out through word of mouth and although business seemed to be popping, the owner Théodore was up to his neck in debts. He refused to give up his passion for the business and close the club, and you and Daisy used to love this place just as much but you were both ready for bigger and better things. You had big dreams but in order to let them come true, you needed money.

‘‘I can’t wait until we get out of Paris,’’ you sighed deeply as you popped your lips in the mirror, puckering them to make sure you didn’t miss a spot before you put your make-up down. A wide grin spread across Daisy’s face and you could practically feel excitement oozing out of her, making you look at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘‘There might be a chance that we’ll get out of here sooner than expected,’’ Daisy said as she leaned a little closer to you, eyes twinkling in the lights of your vanity. ‘‘Elvis Presley is one of the lost souls I’ve saved tonight,’’ she whispered, as if you two weren’t the only ones in the room. You widened your eyes upon hearing that name, looking at her as if she had grown two heads.

‘‘E-Elvis.. Elvis Presley?’’ You repeated in disbelief, grabbing onto her hands as she nodded, her hair bouncing wildly with her movements. You both were very aware of who the man was, as did the rest of the world, but the fact that he was American excited you even more. Sure, there were American soldiers in here pretty much every night, but back at home they were nobodies. Elvis Presley was someone─someone with status, money, the power to get you out of this hell hole of a city. Yeah, Paris wasn’t all they cranked up to be. ‘‘Y/N, you have to do your solo tonight. The one with the little white corset and the feather skirt,’’ Daisy said with a gasp, and you could almost see a light bulb lighting up above her head. She let go of your hands and walked to the racks of clothing, looking through the fabrics for a little bit until she pulled out the outfit she had in mind─the fabric of the breasts were decorated with small diamonds as well as the seams and the panties you wore with it. The feather like skirt that you’d wrap around your waist to give the outfit a bit of a pop was a shade of very light pink. You had spend months saving up for this outfit and you loved performing in it because it sparkled so prettily in the lights. It was definitely one of your most successful outfits as well, as it always got you the most tips.

‘‘Only if you do your solo in the pearl outfit,’’ you grinned teasingly at her, wiggling your eyebrows─your best friend had a solo she’d do wearing only pearls wrapped around her body, making it seem like it was an outfit. Showed a lot of skin, but not the skin people were so desperate to see. You loved seeing her in it and you knew that Elvis and who ever he brought would too. ‘‘Bébé, it’s like you’re reading my mind,’’ she laughed as she handed you your outfit and grabbed her own. Since your job was basically dancing for money and dressing up, you often wore wigs─this time you decided on a white blonde bob cut with bangs, bringing out the Parisian in you. It was fun to play someone different from who you were in your day to day life, and you always greatly indulged in your roles, making the people in the audience really believe in the show you were putting on.

After you put on your equally as shiny and diamond covered pumps, you and Daisy walked out of the dressing room and as the lights in the club dimmed a little, Daisy quickly informed the band which song she wanted to do tonight before she took her position on the piano. You waited behind the curtains as the lights went back up, music playing as two of your other co-workers revealed Daisy that was laying on the piano from behind the big white feathers they held in front of her. She effortlessly flirted with the piano man as part of her show as she sang her little heart out. You and Daisy were probably the only girls at the club that sang and it got people coming back every time, so Théodore asked you to keep doing it. A lot of girls that worked at the club did not take a great liking to you and your best friend, because you made the most money out of all girls, but it wouldn’t be long until you and Daisy would walk out of here with a rockstar on your arm and follow him to America to make it big. After all, there was no way that you were going to leave your best friend behind in Paris.

As Daisy was wrapping every single person in the audience around her pretty little finger, your eyes scanned the crowd for the one and only Elvis Presley your best friend promised you she had somehow gotten here. When your eyes found him sitting at the bar, sipping his drink and shoulders shaking a little to the music, the wind was almost knocked right out of your lungs. You already knew he was handsome from pictures you had seen, but good Lord, he was absolutely gorgeous. Your fingers clenched around the stage curtain you were hiding behind, biting your lip as your mind was already making up all kinds of stories that included having him in very unholy positions. Rockstar or not, soldiers were always so easy to get on their knees, doing whatever you wanted them to do. Just like his friend, he was dressed up in a suit, making you giggle softly. A dress code was often required at the Moulin Rouge and other places, but in here, everyone just wore whatever they wanted. As long as their pockets were full, Théodore didn’t care what anyone looked like.

When Daisy’s solo came to an end, Elvis and his friend applauded happily as did the rest of the crowd. People at the front were throwing money her way, the locals chanting her name over and over again as they wanted more and more. They always did. You smiled brightly as you let go of the curtain and clapped your hands in excitement as Daisy ran back to you, hands filled with paper. ‘‘You were magnifique as always, mon trésor!’’ you exclaimed theatrically, though you meant every word of it. As all of her performances, this one had been amazing and you could understood why Théodore did not want to let the both of you go. It would have him completely broke by the end of the week, maybe even the middle of it.

‘‘I’ll keep his friend busy, go get him, mon ange,’’ Daisy laughed excitedly, nodding her head to the bar as she air-kissed your cheek, making sure not to get lipstick on your face. You giggled and nodded, tiptoeing on the stage as the lights dimmed once more, informing the band of your choice of music. As you sat yourself on the velvet cushioned bench on the stage, you felt nervous for the first time because you knew that Elvis Presley’s eyes would be on you in only a few seconds. You inhaled some air, making sure to relax every muscle in your body as you gave the guy in charge of the lights a nod, making him light up the club a bit more. As your song started with a soft and gentle piano tune and you started singing, people at the front row were already cheering and losing their minds just like they had with Daisy. You noticed some of the other girls that had been on the stage earlier who were now waitressing rolling their eyes and you had to bite your tongue not to laugh. Both you and Daisy always thrived even more because of their jealousy. The song soon picked up its beat, adding drums and saxophone to your performance and you put on the greatest show of your life, your body moving easily to the rhythm of the music. You made sure to give the people at the front row a flirty smile as you took some money from them, sliding the bills into your corset.

Nearing the end of your song, you took a few steps down the small stairs at the front of the stage and the Dutch soldiers were quick to lift you off of the steps by holding your arms, placing you down on the floor. You danced your way through the crowd, interacting with people and taking their money as you made your way to the bar. You shot a wink at Daisy who was sitting next to Elvis’ friend, your best friend supportively dancing to the music. You sang as you looked at Elvis, grinning playfully as you reached your hand out to him. He widened his eyes a little, taking the hint as got up from his seat and lifted you up by the waist instead, sitting you down on top of the bar. You gasped theatrically as the band had their solo, sliding yourself further up the bar to place your heels on it. Daisy had glued your little blonde wig down so much that you could probably keep it on the entire week, though it made it possible for you to throw your head back as you stretched your leg out, giving the people─and mostly Elvis─the view you wanted them to have. As you got on your knees and swirled your hair around before standing up straight, you kicked the cocktail shaker that bartender put down, making him catch it easily. You had done this so many times before, that all the bartenders were aware of every little performance trick you had up your sleeve. You seductively walked your way over the U-shaped bar, toward the mirrors and danced in front of it before you turned around and gave the bartender a knowing wink. Two of them held your hand as the third leaned over, letting you walk over his back to get to the other side of the bar and in front of Elvis again. You made sure not to dig your heels in too deep and smiled at him as he gave you a quick thumbs up. You finished your song as you sat down on the bar, turning Elvis around so he was facing the audience instead of you before you swung your legs over his shoulders, putting your hands up elegantly while shooting a big fat wink to the people as the song ended.

Elvis felt like he had been thrown in a fever dream. A very pleasurable fever dream, he had to admit. He had seen burlesque shows before in America and while they were exciting and fun to watch, it was nothing like this. The screams of the audience, the live singing, the way you had the crowd in the palm of your hand. Including him. It was all so thrilling and so risqué. As you lifted your legs off of his shoulders and thanked some people who gave you money, you took the drink the bartender handed you and looked at Elvis who had turned back to face you, flushed cheeks and wild electric blue eyes.

‘‘You.. You were amazing,’’ he breathed out, letting out a laugh as he reached out some money to your corset. As he slipped it behind the fabric and his fingertips touched the flesh of your breast, you could’ve sworn your entire body was set aflame. Now that you could take a good look at him from up close, you could definitely understand why so many girls would scream and cry upon the sight of him. He was strikingly beautiful and you were definitely planning on having some fun with him tonight, and the day after, and after, and after… You could get used to seeing his face every day of the rest of your life.

‘‘I know,’’ you smiled at him, taking a sip of your drink as you crossed your legs while still sitting on the bar. ‘‘I did not expect to see you here tonight, mr. Presley. Has Paris treated you well?’’ you hummed, making your voice sound extra flirty, accent extra thick. Americans loved girls with accents.

‘‘It’s only my first night, honey. But I like it very much,’’ he said, his Southern drawl sounding very interesting and very sexy to your ears. He gave you a knowing smile, as he obviously meant you as his reasoning for liking Paris. You smiled brightly and slipped your hand down the collar of his blazer, fixing it a little. Your eyes sneakily met those of Daisy and you two exchanged a wink as she clinked her glass against Frank’s, giggling at something he whispered in her ear. ‘‘What’s your name, darlin’?’’ Elvis asked, making you look at him again with a slight head tilt, squinting your eyes teasingly as if you were contemplating on whether you were going to give him your real name or not. But his eyes looked so hopeful and so cute, so you figured having him know your real name wouldn’t be so bad. After all, you were planning on having this man take you out of Europe─a girl’s gotta play her cards right.

‘‘It’s Y/N, mon chéri,’’ you smiled, reaching your hand out to him. He took it, grinning as he kissed your knuckles, though he didn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he intertwined your fingers together and casually held onto your hand as his other hand landed on your thigh, smirk tugging at his lips. ‘‘A pretty name for a pretty girl,’’ he complimented, as if you hadn’t heard that one a thousand times before. No matter where they came from, all soldiers were the same. Though when it came from him, it sent a tingle down your spine but you weren’t going to tell him that. It was true that you wanted him, but you were not planning on acting like one of his lovesick fans. You knew you already had him in the palm of your hand, even though he thought he was the one in charge here. You rolled your eyes slightly and laughed as you gently pushed him off, placing your drink down before you jumped off the bar.

‘‘I’m going to get changed, mr. Presley. When I come back, make sure you finished your drink, okay?’’ you told him sweetly, leaving a lipstick stain behind as you kissed his cheek. As you passed by Daisy, you squeezed her arm softly and laughed as you quickly ran off to your dressing room. You put all your money away and took your performance outfit off, putting it away before you put on your own clothes again which you had worn when you came here─a tight fitted black dress which was probably a little shorter than what modest women wore nowadays, but you weren’t exactly a modest women. You were a showgirl, a free spirited one. Didn’t like to be part of the crowd, but would much rather stick out in one. You kept the wig on. Because one, it looked kinda cute and two, it would probably take you hours to get it off. You fixed your make-up a little, spraying some perfume around you before you grabbed your clutch and stepped into your pumps before you walked back to the bar and over to Daisy.

‘‘Let me know if that wig is sex proof,’’ she whispered teasingly at you and you threw your head back with a laugh, nodding at her as you hugged her. You gave Frank a quick wave before you shrugged your coat on and took Elvis’ hand, smiling at him.

‘‘Where are you taking me?’’ He laughed softly as you pulled him outside, taking him out of the alley and away from the club. You let go of his hand and hooked your arm through his instead, smiling innocently as you looked up at him. ‘‘My house,’’ you shrugged casually and even though Elvis was surprised, he tried his best not to show it. Guess he didn’t have to work as hard as he thought. ‘‘I have been working all night and I want some coffee. The club’s coffee is not very good,’’ you chuckled and he nodded, letting you take him to your place. The walk there was short, but enjoyable nonetheless. He told you a little bit about his hometown and his time in Germany, telling you how he both liked and disliked being enlisted into the army and you told him you were glad he had become a soldier, otherwise you probably would not have met him. As you arrived at your apartment and you opened the door, stepping inside, he grinned at you.

‘‘Didn’t even have to use one of those creative pickup lines, huh?’’

‘‘It’s only coffee, mr. Presley,’’ you rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. You obviously weren’t planning on having only coffee with the man and he damn well knew that too. ‘‘Elvis,’’ he said as he followed you into the open spaced kitchen of your small apartment, leaning against the counter as you flicked some lights on, taking your coat off. ‘‘Call me Elvis,’’ he smiled as you looked at him and he took your coat from you, hanging it up by the front door. You hummed with a nod, making some coffee for the both of you, despite it being in the middle of the night. To you, it was usual routine.

‘‘Do you often bring men back to your apartment?’’ He asked as he blew at the dark liquid in the cup you handed him, eyes boring into yours as a teasing grin lingered on his face. You chuckled softly, taking a sip of your coffee. ‘‘Only if they’re as cute as you,’’ you teased back, licking your lips as you put the steaming hot coffee down, taking a step closer to him. You grabbed onto his jacket, biting your lip as your eyes wandered down to his plumb lips. ‘‘There’s not a lot of those out there, so no, Elvis. Not often,’’ you grinned and he put his coffee down on the counter, snaking his arms around your waist, pressing you against him. You stood in between his long legs, hands moving up his shoulders to wrap your arms around his neck loosely.

‘‘You know somethin’?’’ he hummed, leaning in closer to you. You could feel his hot breath against your skin as the smell of his cologne entered your nostrils, making your heart jump with excitement. ‘‘When you were up there, on that stage.. I could barely keep my eyes off of you,’’

‘‘Barely? Do not lie to me, Elvis. You were undressing me with your eyes,’’ you stated boldly, the tip of your nose touching his as his lips ghosted over yours. He laughed softly as he nodded, softly pressing his lips against yours. He was gentle and sweet and as he deepened the kiss, you let him take the lead for a little bit. You let him believe he was the dominant one in the room, you let him fantasize about how you’d be screaming his name, but boy… was he in for a surprise. You slipped your hands down and grabbed his hands, pulling away from the kiss as you smiled at him and took him to your bedroom, pecking his lips as you gently pushed him to sit down on your bed. You turned on the light on your bedside table, holding back a giggle as he eagerly took off his blazer, throwing it to the foot of the bed. He kicked off his shoes as he pushed himself further up the bed, leaning against your pillow while he watched you intensely as you pulled up your dress a little before you straddled his waist. You leaned down to capture his lips into a heated kiss as your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them as you kissed your way down his neck and chest, pushing his shirt open. He gasped softly as he looked down at you when you unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of the loops of his pants. He watched with confused but curious eyes as you threw the belt on the bed next to you and reached for his blazer, smiling at him. You figured you’d go a little easy on him, leaving the belt for another time.

‘‘I’d take that off if I were you,’’ you told him, nodding to the shirt he was still wearing. He had no idea what you were up to and while part of him wanted to question you on it, he kept his mouth shut and did exactly as he was told to do when he saw that cute grin on your face and mischievous twinkle in your eye. Taking the shirt off, he let it fall to the floor next to your bed before leaning back. You hummed softly and grabbed his hands, holding them above his head and against the metal bars of your bed. When you moved your body up a bit to hover above his chest, wrapping the sleeves of his blazer around his wrists and your bed, he widened his eyes a little. ‘‘W-What are you d-doing?’’ he stuttered out in a panic, looking at you when you moved down again after you had made sure he was firmly tied up. His brain and body were fighting each other─while he was in slight panic and confusion, maybe he was even a little scared, the bulge that was formed in his pants told a whole ‘nother story. You bit your lip as you giggled softly, hands pulling the zipper of his pants down.

‘‘If you want me to stop, all you need to do is say so, Elvis,’’ you hummed, fluttering your eyelashes at him innocently. When you pulled his pants down a little and traced your fingertips along the aforementioned bulge over the fabric of his boxershorts, he groaned softly, his toes curling involuntarily. Maybe the best thing to do here was to think with the rational side of his brain. He didn’t even know you and here he was, tied up in your bed after not even having been in your apartment for fifteen minutes. Instead, he let go of the reigns and let his body take over, muscles in his lower abdomen tightening with anticipation as you took his pants completely off, pulling them off of his ankles. You smiled at him as you shot him a quick wink, settling yourself on your knees in his spread out legs. He felt exposed under your intense gaze and a blush crept onto his cheeks as you very obviously looked at the small stain that had formed in the fabric of his underwear because he was leaking already. In his defense, it had been probably over a year since he had sex with anyone and while he wouldn’t admit it, he was desperate. Desperate to be touched, to be held, to be loved. Even if it was done by a stranger for just one night somewhere in the dead of the night in Paris.

You moved your hands up his thighs, feeling how tense he was made you smile. You were sure nobody ever has had Elvis in this kind of position and you kind of felt honored to be the first one. Usually, you wouldn’t be so bold with first-timers. You at least gave them some kind of warning first, tell them what you were into, the kind of role you liked in the bedroom. But God, it was like you could barely contain yourself when it came to him. Tough, dominant exterior… and you couldn’t wait to crack it. To break him.

When your hands disappeared into the legs of his boxershorts and your hand wrapped around his cock, he gasped as his fingers grasped onto the fabric of the blazer he was tied up with. You squeezed him in your palm softly as your hand moved up, fingertips caressing the head of his cock to spread some of the slick of his precum around. His eyes fluttered shut as you started jerking him off very slowly and softly, though the squeeze of your hand was firm. As you looked up at him and saw how his face was silently contorted in pleasure, you grinned devilishly to yourself and stopped your movements, pulling your hand out of his underwear.

‘‘I can always stop if you want me to,’’ you spoke casually and his eyes shot open, widening as he looked at you. He inhaled some air, clearing his throat as he shook his head, heat rushing to his face. ‘‘N-No.. P-Please.. Don’t stop,’’ he whispered, bucking his hips up a little and you just loved the desperation that was lingering on the back of his tongue. You could see how much it took for him to even say that, but you were sure you could have him begging before the sun came up. You flashed him a sweet smile, hooking your fingertips behind the hem of his boxershorts as you pulled them down without warning. Excitement bubbled in Elvis’ stomach as you took them all the way off and threw them behind you, moving yourself to sit on your ass in between his slightly spread legs, your dress riding up─when you put your legs over his thighs, pretty much trapping him on your bed, he had the perfect view of your lace panties. He goddamn nearly lost his mind and you hadn’t even done anything.

‘‘Have you ever been edged, Elvis?’’ You questioned sweetly as your nails caressed up his thighs, making goosebumps cover every inch of his skin. He inhaled a shaky breath as your hands creeped closer to his cock and no matter how much he anticipated the feeling of your hand wrapping back around him, the feeling never came. His eyes met yours as he shook his head, fingertips releasing around his blazer, gently grabbing onto the bars of your bed. ‘‘No.. What’s that?’’ He asked, the question making him feel inexperienced, as if he was about to have his virginity taken away. He hated that feeling, but when you gave him a sweet smile, he almost melted. He had no idea what it was about you that had this kind of effect on him, but he was excited to see what you had in store for him. Nervous too, but good nervous.

‘‘Hmm.. I think it’s better if you go in blindly to experience it. Do you trust me?’’ You asked him, your hands squeezing his thighs a little and he bit his lip, staring at you for a few seconds. He was trying to crack his brain as to what it could be what you were about to do, but he was so turned on and so desperate, that he nodded before he could even stop himself. Weirdly enough, he did trust you to some point. You had him tied up in your bed already and he was still alive─what could go wrong?

He hated himself for agreeing to this. He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself. Never ever in his life could he have predicted that he would be in a situation like this. A French showgirl jerking him off to the point of his orgasm nearing, but every time he was about to fall over the edge, you stopped your movements and pulled away your hands, making whine as he grabbed onto his blazer and the metal bars harder, chest heaving as he pushed his head back in the pillow. You were only on the third round and while you had given him a safe word, he hadn’t used it yet. He couldn’t, not when you’d go back and start all over again, making his body melt back into the bed and his brain turn into cotton.

You were smiling devilishly to yourself, arousal growing between your own thighs every time he whimpered and moaned, his toes curling. The head of his cock was red and angry, desperate for relief but you weren’t giving it to him. Closing your fingertips around the tip to mimick the feeling of him being inside of you, your movements were quick and relentless, your other hand massaging his balls skilfully. He lifted his head from the pillow, looking down at you as he breathed heavily through his teeth, jaw clenched. He tried to keep his head up to look at what you were doing, but it was like he no longer had control over his body and he couldn’t stop his head from falling back down. You had pressed your thighs against his, preventing him from closing his legs or moving them. He was writhing in the sheets, hands tugging at the blazer as he was so desperate to touch you, kiss you, fuck you. But you having your way with him was such a sinful pleasure and he didn’t wanted it to stop.

‘‘You’re doing so well, baby,’’ you hummed, praising him as he was moaning pathetically. The compliment had his heart leaping in his chest and he immediately felt his orgasm nearing once more, rolling his head to the side to look down at you. ‘‘P-Please, Y/N,’’

‘‘Please what?’’ you smiled innocently at him, tilting your hand as you slowed down your movements, letting them come to a halt once more when you felt him twitching in your hand and saw the muscles in his lower abdomen tightening. The longer you went on with your little game, the faster his orgasm would peek around the corner. ‘‘I.. I.. I wanna c-cum,’’ he whined with a stutter, his hips thrusting forward as he pushed the back of his head back in the pillow, imagining having your hand around him again. You looked at him and laughed softly, squeezing his balls softly, stealing another soft moan from him. ‘‘So soon?’’

He let out a weak laugh at that, shaking his head side to side in the pillow before he slowly opened his eyes and looked down at you. God, he looked so gorgeous with those flushed cheeks and hint of desperation in those blue eyes. It made your own arousal grow more and more, made you wanna push him further to the edge. ‘‘Three more rounds,’’ you told him and he swallowed thickly, his throat so dry it felt like he was swallowing knives. You gently wrapped your hand around him, slipping it up once as you pouted cutely at him. He licked his lips, hips slowly moving in your hand as he nodded. ‘‘Only three,’’ he said, trying to sound stern, but you didn’t even give him time to recover as you picked up your pace a bit more, making him fall back on the pillow once more. He had no idea if he could even survive three more rounds, but he just couldn’t get himself to use the safe word.

On the fifth round, he didn’t even recognize himself anymore. The moans and whines that were rolling off his tongue sounded foreign to him, his brain completely empty as the only thing he could focus on were your hands that were wrapped around him, doing tricks he never experienced in his 24 years of life. At some points, it felt like he was standing next to the bed, having an out of body experience as he was looking at the whole thing go down but as you stopped your movements once more when he was about to slip into euphoria, he slipped right back into the softness of your mattress. A hot tear rolled down his cheek as he let out an animalistic groan, wrists rubbing painfully against the fabric of his blazer because he couldn’t keep them still.

‘‘Please, please… p-please,’’ he cried out, his hips having a mind of their own as they kept thrusting into nothingness. Your laugh sounded so cruel and hot at the same time, but he wasn’t in the right mind to comment on it. He looked down at you, his cock twitching uncontrollably and desperately. ‘‘Can I cum? Please, I c-can’t.. I can’t anymore,’’

‘‘One more, chéri,’’ you smiled sweetly at him as you kicked the heels you were still wearing off and onto the floor, crawling out from between his legs to sit next to him. You leaned down and kissed his lips. It was only a peck, but he needily tried to chase your lips. He wanted more, he needed more. Since it was his first time, you decided to at least go a little easy on him. You pulled the knot out of the blazer sleeves, letting him lower his arms. He was breathing heavily, rubbing his arms a little to let them get used to the change of position. You quickly got up from the bed and he watched with curious eyes, smiling softly as you came back with a glass of water. Kissing his cheek, you handed it to him and he drank half of it before he put it on the bedside table. You gently pushed him forwards a little, slipping behind him so he’d be in between your legs. The position was foreign to him and it made him feel even more submissive than before, but he loved it.

He was too far gone to even think about how dominant he usually was, and he leaned against you, immediately kissing you back when you planted your lips on his again. His hands were running up and down your legs, squeezing the flesh of your thighs under his palms a little as he moaned when you sucked on his bottom lip. ‘‘I know you can do this, baby,’’ you smiled at him, running your fingers through his hair before you cupped his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he finally had a few minutes to catch his breath before you’d start your delicious torture on him for the last time. ‘‘You’ve done so good all night, baby boy. Are you ready to cum now?’’ You grinned at him and his fingers dug into your skin at the praise and use of the pet name, making his cock twitch needily. He immediately nodded his head, moaning softly as you pecked his lips once more before reaching your hand down, once more wrapping around him.

With his hands free now, he had no idea what to do with them. You had started out slow this time and while he appreciated it, it didn’t take him long to get needy and beg for you to go faster. You gave him what he wanted, your hands moving at a fast and steady pace and with every squeeze of your palm and every swirl of your thumb around his tip, he was getting closer. He threw his head against your shoulder, letting go of your legs to grab onto the sheets for dear life. ‘‘Oh.. F-fuck, p-please, bunny!’’ he was moaning desperately, the pet name slipping out without thinking as he begged for relief and this time, you were more than willing to give it to him. You snaked your free hand around his neck, fingertips holding onto his jaw as you looked down at him with a seductive grin on your face and the only thing he could do was stare at you with wild eyes, moaning in desperation as his hips tried to follow the movements of your hand. ‘‘You’re so pretty, Elvis darling,’’ you hummed, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his and his eyes fluttered shut at the compliment, bringing him closer to the edge. You giggled softly and looked down at his cock in your hand, your cheek pressing softly against his as you still held his jaw in your fingertips. Your grip wasn’t firm, but he liked the position and did not even dare to move away.

‘‘You wanna cum, baby?’’ You questioned sweetly and his knuckles were turning white with how hard he was squeezing your sheets, moaning as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. ‘‘Y-Yes.. P-Please, Y/N.. P-please,’’ he begged, toes curling, arching his back a little. You grinned and turned your head, pressing a tiny kiss against the shell of his ear. ‘‘Cum, chéri. Let it all go, my pretty boy,’’ you whispered in his ear and it was all he needed to hear. He was writhing against you, shameless moans and whines rolling over his tongue as he came undone in your hand─he was squeezing his eyes shut, seeing white spots that contrasted against the dark of his closed eyelids harshly, hips stuttering uncontrollably as he just kept spilling and spilling. In his brain, it felt like ages until he had completely emptied out, with the help of your hand milking all of him. His chest was heaving fast as if he had just ran a marathon, head leaning against your shoulder as a soft whine escaped him when you removed your hand, a big smile on your face.

‘‘Oh my God,’’ he breathed out and you laughed softly, biting your lip as you admired his face from up close while he was catching his breath. He looked so fucked out and so blissful, small grin tugging at his lips. You couldn’t wait to do this and so much more a few more times during his week in Paris─Daisy was going to lose her mind when you’d tell her all about it.

‘‘I need a damn cigarette,’’ he mumbled as you had gotten up from the bed and walked into your bathroom to wash your hands and grab a dampened wash cloth. Walking back to him, you laughed softly and dug your hand into the pocket of his pants, throwing his pack of cigarettes at him. He rolled onto his back, lighting a cigarette as he stared up at the ceiling. ‘‘You’re amazing,’’ he blew out some smoke, his eyes meeting yours as you hovered over him, cleaning him up. You grinned, shooting him a wink. ‘‘I know, baby,’’

He bit his lip at the pet name, bringing himself up to lean on his elbows to get a better view of you. ‘‘Are you free tomorrow? Well… today,’’

You looked at him as you raised an eyebrow, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He held out his cigarette in front of your face and you took a small drag from it, smiling softly at him. ‘‘I can be if you want to,’’ you hummed as you blew out the smoke and he sat up more, crashing his lips onto yours. You giggled softly, slipping one arm around his neck as you kissed him back.

‘‘I want to,’’ he breathed as he pulled back from the kiss, his forehead against yours. ‘‘Will you wait? Less than a year, and I’ll get out of the army,’’

You pulled back and raised both your eyebrows now, looking at him in surprise. You honestly hadn’t expected him to ask you this─you weren’t planning on letting this be a one time thing, but you thought you would’ve worked harder to keep him around. After all, he was the man. Could get anyone he wanted, had girls lining up in every corner of the world. What you didn’t know, was that you completely turned his world upside down. You brought out a side in him that he wasn’t even aware of having, but he wanted to explore that side of himself more. Together with you. You thought he was joking, until he spoke up again.

‘‘Wanna be your pretty boy,’’ he whispered, teeth sinking into his lower lip as heat rushed to his face. You nearly jumped his bones in that exact moment, but you wouldn’t forgive yourself for killing the poor boy on his first night in Paris. You smiled brightly, leaning forward to peck his lips.

‘‘I’ll wait,’’ you told him, tilting your head as you watched him lean back a little. ‘‘But only if you behave yourself with those German girls,’’ you warned him, playfulness lacing your tongue. He caught the playful tone, but he immediately nodded his head and smiled sweetly at you. ‘‘I promise,’’

You looked down at his pinky he was sticking out to you and laughed softly, hooking your own around it as your eyes met his, grin on your face.

‘‘Good boy,’’

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒕 (𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨× 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟒.𝟗𝐊

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧), 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐦! 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨/ 𝐒𝐮𝐛! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @yunhoiseyecandy @multidreams-and-desires @galaxteez @hanatiny @deja-vux

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

"Miss L/N? May I please have a word with you?"

While others would have already been sweating nervously at having their journalism professor single them out after they had just turned in an essay 2 days ago, the called out girl had a smug grin on her face that she did not care to hide as she practically strutted over to her teacher's desk. Looking over to make sure all the other students were gone and door was closed, she immediately pushed away some of the books on the edge of the desk before perching herself on it, one leg crossed over the over. Taking out the cherry tootsie pop from her mouth with a loud pop, she asked him:

"How can I be of service?" With a wink she put thr candy back in her mouth, making sure he could hear the sucking sound she made as she wrapped her lips around it.

He shook his head as he recognized the all too familiar tone in her voice that meant she was up to no good again.

"Don't start with me Y/N, you're already pushing your luck. First off......."

He tapped her exposed thigh with the tip of his pencil.

"You know I don't want you, or anyone sitting on my space. Second..."

One of his hands reached out and took away the lollipop from her mouth and dumped it in the trash bin under his desk.

"I've already told you no more eating in my classroom." He reminded her.

With a pout on her lips, she whined softly.

"But I was hungry! And besides.......I saw you staring at me in class as I sucked on it."

Clearing his throat, the black haired male adjusted his tie nervously, not thinking he got caught.

"You're very distracting at times." He excused himself.

Letting out a giggle, she scooted close to where she was sitting right in front of him, legs spread out enough that if he bent his neck, he'd be able to see right up her short plaid skirt and gaze at her bold choice of the pink lace panties he loved seeing on her during the nights she went over to his house. But he resisted the urge, instead keeping his face up and away from her lower bottom.

"Maybe you're just having trouble focusing cause you're too stressed......but I can help with that Yunho."

Feeling bolder than other days, she slipped off his desk and straddled one of his thick and massive thighs, her lips attaching themselves to his neck as one of her hands rested in between his legs, groping at his now hardening member that was bulging out of his khaki dress pants. Yunho bit back a moan, one of his hands instinctively reaching over to caress her thigh, drawing out circles before going further up her skirt, eyes scrunching together in confusion when he did not feel the material of the safety shorts she was supposed to wear. Feeling something soak his thigh as she slowly grinded down on it, his large hands gripped her thighs and got her off him, placing her back on his desk with a loud thud. She gasped softly when he lifted up her skirt and saw the familiar flower pattern covering her now soaking core, a visible wet patch in the middle of it. Yunho looked back at her with a disgruntled gaze.

"Surprise?" She batted her eyelashes at him rather innocently.

Letting out a huff, he pulled her skirt down before rummaging through his bag.

"Not only do you belatedly disobey dress code and wear a uniform skirt that's much too short, but you don't even wear your safety shorts?" He was beyond annoyed at this point, and Y/N knew it. Wanting to poke fun at him, she snorted.

"What? Afraid I'll bend over and someone else will see?"

Although she meant it as a joke, she immediately stopped laughing when he slapped her thigh.

"Yes."

She gulped as he stared her down. She could see the jealousy burning in his eyes, could also see the lust hidden behind him. He wanted nothing more than to bend her over that dammed furniture right then and spank her for even thinking about pulling off such a daring thing. But then he remembered where they were, the prestigious university he worked at and she studied in and calmed himself down, refusing to give in to her fantasy of having him fuck her in the very classroom where they met a year ago.

Taking a deep breath, he handed her a spare pair of shorts he kept with him.

"Go to the bathroom and put these on right now." He ordered her.

Looking at them, she chuckled.

"And just how did you know to keep a pair with you?" She inquired.

Smiling softly, he leaned down and brushed his nose against hers.

"I'm dating possibly the brattiest and most mischievous vixen in this school. I have to be prepared for anything."

With an innocent peck to her lips, he ushered her off his desk again.

"Now run along and do as I say. You're already on enough problems as it is, especially after you did utterly horrible on your last essay." He picked up a tiny stack of papers and waved it in front of her face.

Grimacing, she looked up at him.

"Does this mean I'm failing the semester?"

"I don't know...what do you think?" He questioned her.

Knowing she was screwed, she put on the cutest and most innocent puppy eyes she was capable of making and began playing with the tie across her teacher's neck.

"Please professor, don't you think you could be a little nice and give me a chance to make up for it?"

Leaning in, she whispered in his ear.

"Perhaps with one of those sloppy and messy blowjobs you love getting?"

Gulping slightly, Yunho gently pried her hands off him.

"Nice try Miss L/N, but if I'm going to be a fair teacher, I have to treat you the same as the others in these situations."

Her mouth dropped as he nonchalantly began packing his things to go have lunch in a teacher's lounge and hang out there until his next class.

"Seriously? Not even if I promise to do better or even bake you a cake?" She scoffed.

"Nope. And I'll remind you the last time you tried to bake me a cake, you nearly burned your eyebrows off." He let out a soft, deep laughter as he brushed past her to leave the room.

"But I'm your girlfriend!" She complained.

"And precisely because you're my girlfriend is why I want you to do better, even if it means failing you to get you to straighten up your act. Seriously princess, just because you're practically an heiress, doesn't mean I'll allow you to do as you please let alone give in to your every whim."

With a kiss to her forehead and a pat on her head he reminded her to behave and to follow his previous instructions of going to the bathroom before leaving her alone in the room.

Feeling fury rise up in her body, Y/N stormed out of the classroom and headed straight to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Hating the fact her stubborn and hard headed boyfriend practically called her a spoiled brat, she locked herself in one of the stalls and proceeded to dip her hand inside her folds, rubbing furiously at the clit, desperately trying to get some relief from all the pent up sexual tension she'd been accumulating. Inserting a finger inside herself, she tried to imagine that it was one of her boyfriend's long fingers penetrating her, even though it was no where near the real thing. Sometimes she'd get wet during class from him just tapping his fingers on the whiteboard, picturing all the times he'd buried them deep inside her and had her squirting all over his arm.

She imagined him laughing in her ear, calling her a dirty little girl and teasing her for making such a mess of herself as his thumb continued to abuse her sensitive little nub. She released long and deep moans, not giving any fucks about if someone came in and found out what she was doing.

Frustrated at not being able to get herself off like she wanted to, she simply tore the lace panties off herself and threw them in the trash can. Stepping out of the stall, she reached for her bag to get the shorts she'd been ordered to put on, but suddenly stopped. Still upset and not getting her way, Y/N zipped her bag back up and adjusted her skirt. With a little shrug, she calmly walked out the bathroom and headed to her next class. On her way over, she accidentally dropped her phone which sent her panicking for a moment.

"Please don't be broken." She was screwed if she broke the third phone her parents bought her in less than a month.

Bending over, she flipped it over and let out a sigh of relief as the screen was intake and still working. Standing upright, she stuffed it back in her bag and continued along as if nothing was the matter, as if she wasn't already late to class....

As if she totally didn't just get caught in her little scandalous lack of clothes.

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Yunho calmly picked up some of his lunch on his fork, ignoring the usual snickering and gossip of his seniors who were seated on the table next to his. He had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes or groan dramatically at their nonsense.

"It was so hot." Seonghwa, the social science teacher laughed.

Hongjoong, who was the visual and performing arts teacher, leaned in to whisper, not so discreetly since Yunho could still hear him perfectly.

"I know. I nearly dropped my books when I saw her ass on display. I wanted to go over there and smack it." He admitted unashamedly.

"Oh my God did you catch a glimpse of her pussy? I'm pretty sure it was soaking and fuck.....I just wanted to have a taste."

Yunho cringed when the older male swiped his obnoxiously long tongue across his lips.

"I bet she tastes so good and I bet her pussy is so fucking tight. I'd totally fuck her if I got the chance."

Seonghwa agreed with Hongjoong's words.

"She'd probably let you. I mean.....if she bold enough to come to this oh so holy school with those extremely short skirts and not wear underwear, I'm pretty sure she'd fuck around with a teacher or two." He added.

"Wasn't there a rumor circulating last year about her hitting on a teacher or something?" Hongjoong tried to remember.

Seonghwa shrugged.

"Wouldn't surprise me if it was true. And it wouldn't surprise me if any teacher accepted her advances. L/N Y/N is a seriously gorgeous girl, I don't think anyone could resist her."

Yunho dropped his fork when he heard her name, his blood boiling now as he replayed all their words now in a different light as he realized they were talking about his girlfriend. Grabbing his lunch, he quickly stood up and threw it in the trash, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore, but instead feeling angry and furious. Checking his time, he knew she was about to come out of her next class any minute now, so he waited for her outside his classroom, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

When she finally turned the corner, his eyes narrowed in on her, more specifically on her skirt. Sauntering over to her, he caught her off guard when he gripped her wrist harshly and dragged her inside the classroom, leaving her confused and wondering what had gotten into him. Making sure to lock the door behind him, Yunho pinned Y/N to the wall and in a flash lifted her skirt up, his face reddening as he confirmed it indeed was her that Seonghwa and Hongjoong were gushing and lusting about.

"Did I not specifically instruct you to put on the safety shorts?"

She shivered at the harsh tone he was speaking to her with.

"I...well, yes but-"

She let out a squeal when his fist banged on the concrete next to her face.

"Then explain to me why not only did you disobeyed me, but you actually went off parading around the school with absolutely nothing to cover that drenched cunt of yours."

She was absolutely speechless at his demeanor, she had never seen him this angry before and she wasn't going to lie, it was quickly arousing her.

"Yunho...Yunho I'm-"

He cut her off by pressing his lips against hers, one hand gripping her jaw as his tongue poked out to invade her mouth, as his other hand hiked her skirt up, a finger sliding across her folds.

"Don't fucking tell me you're sorry. We both know whores like you aren't build to feel regret."

His mouth silenced the sounds that came out if her as a result of him slipping one of fingers inside her, the very thing she had been craving all day.

"Oh fuck..." She breathed out when he gave her no chance to adjust as he shoved a second finger inside, circling them around to stretch her walls out.

"Hmmm yeah. That's all you think about don't you? Your head is just filled with thoughts of getting fucked."

She couldn't resist it as she began rolling her hips, wanting him to fuck his fingers deeper inside her.

"Is that why you allowed Professor Seonghwa and Hongjoong to see you like that? Did you purposefully bend over to let them see your filthy hole? Hmm? I bet you did it on purpose."

She opened her eyes and gasped harshly when he then added a third finger, the wet noises her pussy was making now becoming louder.

"Wh-what?" She managed to get out a single word.

Yunho grunted as he shoved his fingers deeper in her, almost tempted to shove his entire fist inside.

"Don't play dumb. They saw you bending over and saw your lack of underwear. I had to hear their bullshit talk of wanting to eat your pussy and fucking it." He let out a low growl as he recalled their lewd words, sending him into an angry mode once again, prompting him to move his lips from her mouth to proceed with an attack to her neck, sucking on all her sensitive spots.

"Did you want that? Did you want fucking Park Seonghwa to eat out that pussy of yours? Or did you want Kim Hongjoong to hit it from the back as he slapped your ass red?"

Before Y/N knew it, she was releasing such erotic noises as she threw her head back, gasping out as an unexpected orgasm took over her. Yunho also couldn't believe how unbelievably fast she came, and he was beyond pissed as he realized that he helped her get off to the thought of someone who wasn't him. Pulling his fingers out of her, he squished her cheeks, the remnants of her cum now plastered on the sides of her face.

"Did you seriously just cum at the thought of those two assholes?!"

Without a warning, he lifted her up and roughly sat her on his desk.

"Do I need to remind you who you belong to? Who this pussy belongs to?!"

Spreading her legs as wide as they could go, Yunho dropped to his knees and buried his face in her heat, tongue poking out to suck off all the juices his hands had her spilling out from before. He had no shame as he spilled out almost animalistic sounds as began slurping hungrily at her heat, paying close attention to her clit.

"No one but me gets to eat your pussy out. No one can make you get you like this but me." Pulling away, he spit onto her clit before diving back in, moaning erratically to send vibrations into her mound.

Y/N's chest began rising up and as her breathing became more labored. Her hands tried reaching for his head to try and grind herself against his face, but he harshly slapped them away.

"Keep them up or I'll tie them up." He hissed at her.

Wanting to keep herself from being tempted to move them back to his head, she opted to place them on her chest, kneading at her breasts as Yunho continued to devour her, tongue flicking in and out of her core. She felt herself ready to burst at any moment, and Yunho knew it too. He waited til she was a mere slurp away from cumming before removing himself, earning a frustrated groan from her.

"Yunho!"

She sat up to complain, but his hand wrapped around her neck and pushed her back on the desk, causing a choked gasp to get caught in her throat.

"Shut up you slut. You'll get and take what I decide to give you and you're in no place to complain. I'm still upset at you failing and livid at you being a slutty exhibitionist."

Pulling her up by her hair, he got her off the desk and shoved her to her knees, placing himself in front of her. He had a sadistic look as he began undoing his belt.

"I believe you offered to suck me off a few hours before......well I'm taking you up on that offer. Suck me off and I'll let you cum. Show me what the mouth of yours can do."

She was nearly drooling when his red tip came out, brushing against her nose. It was painfully erect and leaking precum. Wrapping her hand around it, she made sure to spit on it and coat it generously so her hand could stroke him more easily. She looked up at him, sending him a mischievous smile as she began taking him in her mouth. Her eyes never left his face as she sunk his whole length into her mouth, gagging a little when she reached the base, Yunho inhaling deeply as she proved yet again that she was more than capable of stuffing him down her throat. She began bobbing her head, swallowing around the head while her hand worked on the rest of his dick.

Yunho let her do as she pleased, wanting to get her as relaxed as possible before he commenced his plan. Silently, he removed the belt completely off his pants, making move as if he was going to place it on the desk behind her. While she was distracted, he suddenly removed her from his length, a trail of saliva dripping down her chin.

"Ok.....since you obviously can't seem to do it, let me give you a few private lessons."

Y/N slightly panicked when he wrapped the belt around her neck, using it as makeshift leash and collar. He harshly pressed her back into him.

"Open that mouth of yours."

Following his orders, she opened up as wide as she could. Wasting no time, Yunho slammed his cock back inside her mouth, hips moving at a fast pace as he began to fuck her face, hand never letting go of the long strap. Y/N hollowed her cheeks out, gagging and releasing choking sounds every time he hit the back of her throat. Yunho snickered amusedly as he watched drool pour out of her mouth, prompting him to go even rougher on her.

"That's it, just like that-fuck!"

He shut his eyes tightly, eyebrows furrowed as he began chasing his own release. The girl underneath him moaned uncontrollably as he tightened the belt around her, feeling his spurts of cum flowing down her throat.

"Swallow it all you slut. I don't want you spitting any of it out."

Holding her head in place, he made sure he had emptied himself completely before pulling out of her, her lips red and swollen as she gasped for air. Inhaling deeply, she stuck her tongue out to show she had indeed swallowed all of his cum, prompting Yunho to caress her cheek affectionately.

"Good girl......."

Cocking his head to the side, he easily lifted her up into his arms.

"But you're not off the hook just yet."

Y/N stuck her hands out to keep her face from slamming too harshly into the desk, cheek pressed on the cold surface as she felt Yunho lift her skirt higher to expose her ass. She looked over and noticed him loosing up his tie, tearing it off him before grabbing both of her hands and placing them behind her back, wrapping the tie around them and rendering them unable to move. "Look at you, looking so small and pliant...... like you aren't some filthy little whore."

He began to slowly tease her, slapping his massive cock onto her cheeks and then sliding it across her slick folds. Y/N pushed her ass more out, wanting him to just shove it inside her.

"Oh, are you desperate to cum little one? You want my big fat cock inside you to fuck you dumb?" He cooed at her.

She immediately nodded.

"Yes! Please Yunho! Fuck me dumb!" She begged him, wiggling her ass for him to give in.

She began whining when he still made no move to give in.

"Yunho! Would you please-Ahh!"

With no warning, he tore right inside her, hips setting a rough and fast pace. Y/N tried to grip the desk but was reminded about the fact her hands were bound behind her back. Frantic and staggered moans came out of her mouth as Yunho kept hitting her g-spot, making her previous ruined orgasm suddenly spike up once again. He noticed it too, feeling how her walls began squeezing around him.

"Go ahead. Cum, I know you want to."

Needing no further instruction, she came all over his cock, a long drawn out mewl of his name all she could say as she panted heavily as she was coming down from her high. She had no time to relax though as Yunho simply sped up his thrusts, taking advantage of her sensitive state.

"Y-Yunho no! Please! T-too much!" She cried out, earning her a slap on her ass.

"Shut up! You wanted to come so badly? And I'm happy to deliver."

His grunts and her piercing screams could probably be heard all the way across the hallway, but neither of them cared, Y/N because she got him to finally break and him because he got to claim her as his own. Taking a hold of one of her thighs, he lifted her leg up to rest on the desk, hitting even deeper inside her. Letting out ragged and hoarse grunts, Yunho slightly pulled Y/N up using the belt around her neck.

"Tell me who's fucking you this hard? Who's making you feel this good? Hmm? Answer me!" He smacked her ass once again.

Y/N tried to answer, but all that came out was incoherent gibberish, unable to form any words. Yunho couldn't help but release an evil laugh at the state she was in.

"Awww. I really did fuck you dumb. You can't even remember any words. Let me help you refresh your memory."

She let out a shriek when his hand came down to slap her ass.

"A."

He smacked her once again.

"B."

A third slap resonated through the room.

"C."

She had tears falling at this point from her eyes due to the overstimulation and from the seering pain on her bum from how hard his hand was slamming down on it as he continued to say the alphabet out loud for her. She knew he was definitely going to leave more than a few hand prints on it. He was barely getting to the letter 'N' when she began spasming underneath him.

"Yunho! Stop! I'm-fuck!"

She couldn't control herself as she began squirting from how hard he was thrusting in her, a pool of her liquids forming on the floor. When Yunho saw, he let out a groan of accomplishment, feeling smug at getting her to burst out of control. He wasn't satisfied though, he was nowhere near done with her. Not changing his pace at all, he continued his relentless attack on her throbbing and swollen pussy, one hand holding her down in place while the other went to stuff his fingers inside her mouth.

"I know how much you love my fingers. Such a slut for them. You get horny just by watching them during class."

He felt her muffled moans on his fingertips, followed by a choked out grunt when he pushed the deeper in her mouth.

"Tell me? Do you even remotely think Seonghwa or Hongjoong can compete with me? Can they?!"

Whimpering pathetically, she shook her head as she felt another spurts of liquid drip down her thighs. She was beyond worn out at this point, but wanting to push her past her limit, Yunho began untying her hands.

"Look at you making such a mess on the floor. Tell me if anyone can make you drip as much as I do? Can anyone make you cum for yet a fifth time?"

He took out his fingers from her mouth to let her try and talk.

"Please! Yunho! I c-cant! Can't!" She wailed.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears as he flipped her onto her back, holding her legs up onto his wide shoulders and quickly slipping inside her once again.

"Yes you can and you will. I know a little cumslut like you can give me one more, just as messy as the last two."

At this point, her nails were raking along the wood underneath her, her vision blurry from all the overwhelming pleasure she was enduring, her thighs aching from how hard his fingers were gripping on them, prints no doubt were going to be left on them, evidence of all that happened in those 4 walls. She was no longer aware of anything around her, the only thing she could hear was the sound of their sweaty skin slapping against each other and the squealching sounds coming from where they were connected. She muttered something incoherent which she could not even understand herself, but Yunho knew what she was trying to say.

"Come on. Give it to me. Make a mess all over me and then I'll fill up your dirty little hole with my cum."

His thrusts were erratic and sloppy at this point, hand coming down to slap her throbbing and reddened clit, causing her to jolt and squirt all over him once again, her body thrashing and quivering as she tried to move away from him but he just held her in place. With a few more thrusts, he shakily came undone, his hot and thick cum coating inside her walls.

"Fuck! Shit!"

His body collapsed on top of hers, breath hitching as he wheezed slightly. After a few minutes, he got up, bangs sticking to his forehead, sweat trickling down his cheeks and nape of his neck. She was in no better state than him, hair all disheveled and too dazed out to even think. Pulling out of her, a light trickle of liquids came out, falling onto the puddle that was already there.

"Oh my god." Yunho was astonished by the mess they created, unable to stop the shy giggle from escaping his mouth.

Pulling his pants back up, not caring about the wet stains all over it, he turned his attention back to his girlfriend. Bending down, he cupped her cheeks and began peppering kisses all over her face, fingers moving the hair away from her forehead.

"You ok my little princess?" He checked on her.

"Tired......can't...move." Through labored breathing she managed to answer him.

"Don't worry my tiny doll. I'll take you back to my place and take proper care of you."

Grabbing her limp arms, he wrapped them around his neck before lifting her up as if she was nothing more than a piece of paper. Y/N mumbled something with a whiny tone as she buried her face in his neck. Yunho chuckled as he processed her words.

"Well......ok. Just because I kinda feel bad at the state you're in, I'll give you another chance to redo your essay. But I want it turned in before the week is over ok?"

She nodded softly, arms clinging tighter around his neck as they walked through the empty hallways.

"And you say you're not the type to have a teacher's pet." She poked his chest slightly.

"Ya, behave or I'll punish you little pet." He gave her a halfhearted warning, that he knew he'd never follow through on after her heard her fussy little whine.

As they were nearing the exit, they were caught by none of than Seonghwa and Hongjoong, who were talking amongst themselves and stared in shock when they saw them together. Yunho protectively moved one of his hands underneath her thighs to press her flowing skirt to her body, not willing to allow them another glimpse at what was rightfully his. With a completely calm demeanor, he smiled at them.

"Hey guys. Don't mind us, we're just going home so if you'll excuse us."

Walking past them, he tried so hard not to laugh at their shocked and bewildered expressions.

"Oh! By the way, if you see the custodian, tell them I'm sorry about the mess."

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[chxrrysangel]

Stark Tea Time

Summary || Morgan Stark drags Bucky to one of her legendary tea parties, Sam leaving him to drown in pink fluff and glitter.

Warnings || Bucky actually smiles

You do not have permission to post my work anywhere else

“Lay up Cyborg, live a little. It’s not like I’m gonna di—”

“Look! Sam, I drew something for you!”

The two men’s attention is diverted from their conversation as little Morgan Stark comes barreling down the hallway, paper flapping in one hand and an assortment of crayons in the other. Her hair is covered in little butterfly clips, strands adorned with a wide array of colors from the chalk dye strewn across her cherry wood floors. She’s wearing a massive tutu, dressing to the 9s in a blue ballerina costume.

Sam smiles at the little girl, always excited to see what she has to offer. Ever since Tony passed, all of the Avengers men have taken on a father-like role towards the child, always making sure she feels loved and cared for. It’s the least they can do.

He bends down to her eye level, giving her his full attention. The smile on Sam’s face is in complete contrast to the grimace adorning Bucky’s features.

“What’s up sweetheart? Whatcha got?”

The little Stark giggles in excitement, overjoyed to see her two favorite Avengers come to see her again. They’re always quite busy, saving the world and everything. So each visit is quite meaningful to her. They’ll never replace Tony, but they ensure that his memory and love for Morgan is something she’ll never lack. They’d all die before that happens, and she knows that.

She takes the drawing from behind her back and lays it out for both of them to see. It resembles some sort of bird-like figure, Sam thinks to himself. Next to it is a robot-type figure, not failing to notice the frown etched into his features with a Crayola marker. Shaking with excitement, the little Stark looks at the two men expectantly.

“What is it?”

Morgan sighs loudly, annoyed by their stupidity and lack of “artistic vision”. The two men have yet to figure out where she learned such a concept.

“It’s you guys! Duh!” Their mouthes form into an ‘o’ shape in understanding.

“Well it’s stunning. It’s absolutely beautiful Morg. You know, I might have frame this one actually. When you become a famous painter, this is gonna be worth so much money!” Morgan squeals, jumping around excitedly as Sam praises her.

“I think it’s kind of ugl—” Sam cuts him off by sending a small electrical current to Bucky’s arm, causing him to hunch over in pain as he’s being electrocuted.

“What he was trying to say is that it’s very avant-garde, meaning unique in the art world. Don’t worry little Stark, it’s a good thing.” Sam smiles at her encouragingly, hoping Terminator’s harsh words back there wash over her. She nods in understanding, James’s words already long forgotten.

The two men attempt to continue their conversation from before, discussing details about their next mission. There’s a hostage situation in the Palace of Westminster, the perpetrators threatening to blow the whole thing up with everyone in it. But before they can really strategize how to scope out the place, Sam feels a tap on his leg.

“Yes princess?”

“Can you guys come to my tea party?”

“Actually Morgan, we have to go so—” Bucky starts to say before being rudely cut off my bird-man to his left. Sam shoot daggers in his partner’s direction and the words die in his throat.

“Actually, I have to go take care of something really quickly. But Bucky can join you.” At those words, Bucky’s head jolts in his direction, giving Sam one of the meanest looks he’s probably ever seen. But the big man is all bark and no bite, so Sam just laughs in his face. Bucky’s fists tighten at his sides, thinking of all the ways he plans to torture and murder Sam when they leave the Stark house.

Morgan, on the other hand, is practically bursting at the seams. Bucky doesn’t know this, but he’s her favorite of all the Avengers, especially because his titanium arm reminds her of her dad’s suit. She feels closer to him when she’s with Bucky. Plus, they’re both kinda stoic, but it’s only an act in her eyes. She knows that deep down, he has a heart of gold.

Morgan takes Bucky by the hand, dragging him down the hallway back to her room. Meanwhile, Bucky looks back at Sam, pleading for some kind of mercy or aid. Sam, of course, provides no such thing and only cackles at his best friend’s misfortune. He says goodbye to Pepper, promising to be back once he finishes talking to Torres.

Meanwhile in a certain Stark’s bedroom…

Morgan bounced from corner to corner of her large bedroom, capturing all of the items she needs for this special occasion. It’s not often she has a guest for her weekly tea parties, let along James Buchanan Barnes of all people. She has to make a good impression if he’s ever going to come back.

Standing like a dark looming giant,surrounded by tiny chairs and more pink and purple than he’s ever seen, Bucky is clearly out of his element. At 6’0 tall, he stands taller than anything in this room, standing neck and neck with the canopy bed in the middle. Morgan doesn’t take notice of his discomfort however, she’s just happy to have him. She whips around him, gathering her stuffed animals at the table and setting up the placemats for each guest.

Almost as if having an epiphany, the mini Stark girl gasps and runs out the bedroom, yelling that she’ll be right back. Bucky wanders around the room, taking notice of all the little trinkets and toys that he, along with the rest of the team, gifted to her over time. His lips contort into a ghost of a smile, reminiscing all the times Morgan screamed for joy every time they came bearing gifts. The gifts didn’t really matter to her, though. It was just their presence that set her heart into cardiac arrest and her cheeks aflame. They were her family.

Not soon after, Morgan returns dragging a more normal sized chair into her room. Bucky is surprised at this action, as the small girl is barely breaking a sweat. That is, until he noticed the two small gadgets attached the back of the chair, marked with Tony’s insignia. So little Stark is smart, just like her dad.

Morgan sets the chair down next to her own pink, fluffy and bedazzled throne at the head of the table. She sits down, motioning Bucky to take a seat and calls the tea party into session. Bucky’s eyes wander over the pristinely white tabletop, taking in the wide assortment of snacks. From shortbread, frosted oatmeal cookies, to cheeseburgers and mini sandwiches, you name it and she’s got it. The baked goods are Pepper’s doing of course, courtesy of her daily afternoon attempts to become the next Martha Stewart. Morgan doesn’t mind at all, eager to indulge in a daily sugar high as the designated guinea pig.

“Tea?,” the child offers, “it’s raspberry, your favorite.” James can’t help but blush as her consideration of his tastes. For a kid, she’s a pretty decent host. He quickly covers up his blush by coughing and nods firmly.

After filling up the China tea cups lined up around the table, Morgan moves towards introductions. “Bucky, these are my friends. There’s Mr.Whiskers, Genevieve, Fae, Natasha, Tony, and James. They’re very happy to have you here with us. They think you look quite nice today.”

James? As in… Bucky can’t help but blush again, honored that Morgan named one of her beloved stuffed animals after him. He smiles shyly, staring at the lavender Elephant across the table. The girl doesn’t fail to notice his smile, happy that he’s happy.

“So James, how do you feel about glitter?”

~~~

The doorbell rings sometime around 7:00, just after sunset. Pepper opens the door to a smiling Sam, carrying a mysterious box by his side. He just left Torres house, the two men agreeing to scope out the place just before dawn when everyone is still sleeping. That way, they can get a good picture of what it looks like on the inside without having to use night vision technology.

“What’s in the box?”

“Lemon Merengue. For Morgan.” Lemon Merengue is Morgan’s favorite dessert. So by bringing her some, Sam hopes that she’ll forgive him for taking a rain check on one of her illustrious tea parties.

“They’re still down the hall.” Pepper points in the direction of mini Stark’s room, before returning to her baking. Tonight, she’s trying devil’s food cake.

Even from down the hall, Sam can hear the chatting of two distinct voices, a deep scratchy one and a much higher, daintier tone. He shakes his head at Morgan’s complete lack of an inside voice when she’s excited. They must be having a blast in there.

To Sam’s surprise, Bucky actually seems to be enjoying himself. He stands in the doorframe, watching the two chat back and forth while a Disney movie soundtrack plays in the background. From the distinct piano, Sam recognizes Beauty & the Beast (also one of Morgan’s favorites).

Sitting down obediently, Bucky gives Morgan his full attention as she places puffy stickers on his titanium arm and adds little doodles to his real one. He smiles as he watches her drawing a picture of the two of them with princess tiaras and feather boas, just like they are now. She babbles away, telling him the details of the movie she wants them to watch together. It’s called Tangled, he learns.

Sam decides to leave the two alone, going back to help Pepper bake in the kitchen. Although, not before snapping a picture of the two together, reminding himself to print it and put it on the fridge. He knows that Pepper isn’t exactly the kindest person to be in the kitchen with, as she is very bossy and demanding. But he’d take that over ruining this special moment in the princess-themed room down the hall.

He can still hear the faint giggles and screams of Morgan, this time begging Bucky to stop tickling her. She pleads for mercy but he refuses to budge, only making her laugh harder and her giggles to bounce off the walls like they’re in an echo chamber. And to think, he was gonna say no earlier.

[yeojaa]

( SWEET MAGNOLIAS. )

He was your unlikely muse;  you were the weird girl in the park.  Could you make it any more obvious?

pairing.  myg x named f!reader.  s2l.

genre + rating.   college!au.  fluff, angst, smut.  explicit. 

tags / warnings.  light cussing, yoongi being rightfully weirded out, a whole lotta softness, sadness if you squint at the right times, body painting, and then, of course, the most tender, dumbest lovemaking (unprotected but don’t be silly like them!).  there’s also a really bad callback to the titanic.  i’m not sorry.  lol.

wc.  8.2k

You try not to stare for too long, sweeping your gaze in wide circles so as to be as inconspicuous as possible.  You try not to let your eyes linger, follow the contours of his cheeks - soft, pronounced when he smiles - or the shape of his mouth - delicate, petal pink.  You try not to make it weird - but it’s decidedly, very weird.

You just can’t help yourself.

He’s always here around this time, laid out on a worn red blanket.  Sometimes, he reads.  Books like The Alchemist and the Stranger and once, Dante’s Inferno.  Other times, he pops a pair of headphones on - oversized, intimidatingly large over his ears - and closes his eyes.  Most rare of all, is when he’s not alone, joined at the hip by at least one other boy and on occasion, an entire group of six.  

They’re all interesting in their own ways.  

There’s one with shoulders the size of boulders, a mountain range situated beneath his shirts.  He has a weird laugh that sounds like windshield wipers and your mother’s spring cleaning routine.  He yells a lot and even across the lawn, you can sometimes make out his voice.

There’s the tallest one, with kind eyes and dimples so deep you question if there’s treasure buried in them.  He reads a lot, too.  You’ve seen him in the library more times than you can count, always dutifully tucked away in a back corner surrounded by scattered looseleaf.  Despite the course load he seems to have taken on, you’ve never seen him lose his cool.  You have seen him lose his phone, though, and pencils and textbooks and AirPods. 

There’s Hoseok, whose name you only know because he held your hair once at a fall sorority party.  You hadn’t been drinking but somehow, somehow, your roommate had convinced you to apple bob with her.  He’d been gracious enough to help you out, fisting your hair in a gentle grip.  It’s what spurred you to now always have an elastic on your wrist.

There’s the dancer.  He’s slight and even in stillness, far more graceful than you’ll ever be.  He’s got pillowy lips and hair that gleams like silk.  You’ve sketched him too, once or twice, but never more.  It just didn’t feel right - as if you’d never be able to translate that sort of beauty onto paper.  

There’s the one from your Art 340 Drawing II class.  You’ve wondered, on more than one occasion, how come he isn’t the model.  He’s got perfect proportions - defined jaw, strong nose, cheekbones carved from marble.  It’s almost off-putting seeing him in person;  it feels far more fitting for him to be displayed in a museum, with a plaque that reads Perfection, Mixed Media.

There’s the youngest one, Jungkook.  They call him maknae despite the fact that he dwarfs nearly all of them.  Maybe it’s just the clothes he wears:  boots that look like they’d break your neck and everything in slightly darker shades of black.  You run into him at least four times a week - trading greetings at the campus coffee shop and at the library.  You’re practically best pals by college standards. 

And then, of course, there’s him.  Your muse.  The one you can’t help but stare at - even when you’re trying your hardest not to.  The one who wears glasses though you’re almost certain he doesn’t need them.  The one whose smile is more gums than teeth, who looks unassuming and yet often breaks out into the strangest, most inspired dance moves you’ve ever seen.  The one who plays recreational basketball on Tuesday nights and who drinks more coffee than you think should be humanly possible. 

Min Yoongi.  

You sketch him like you’ll never see him again, dragging charcoal strokes across paper until your hand is muddied and the curve of his ear is looking worse for wear.  You repeat lines over and over, turning the mop of his hair into ringlets and waves, weaving dimension through the india ink that spills over his eyes.  You sometimes add his glasses;  you’re quite fond of the look on him.

You paint him sometimes, too, imagining how he’d look with periwinkle blue hair, or maybe dressed in shades of maroon.  You swath him in textured fabrics and lovely watercolours, turning him into a fantasy that’ll never see the light of day.  Pretty little daydreams with him fixed at the centre.

You fill your pages with his figure, the way he smiles when Hoseok does something silly or how he joins in when Jungkook laughs.  You study every bit and piece, learning him in every admiring way you can - despite the fact that you don’t really know him at all. 

It’s a staggering lesson in futility but one you take almost daily, armed with pencil and paper and not a single ounce of common sense. 

That is, until you’ve done the stupidest thing imaginable.  

No, not getting caught.  Not in the traditional sense, at least.  He hasn’t realised you sit on your bench - yes, your bench, with the sticky metal arm rest and illegible initials scratched into the back - and watch him almost every day.  You thank your lucky stars for that.

What you’ve done is much worse - punishable by death by embarrassment. 

You have no fucking clue where your sketchbook is. 

You could’ve sworn you had it in your bag when you’d returned to your room last night.  You can’t imagine you would’ve left it anywhere in the open, orphaning it on a campus full of idiots.  You were always so careful.  You don’t just lose things.

“I think it’s gone, girl.”  You’ve never wanted to yell at your roommate more - not even when you’d caught her and her boyfriend banging in your bed after you’d come home early on the long weekend or when she’d eaten all of your Cherry Garcia ice cream.  The desire bubbles about in your chest, fizzing angrily like an agitated soda bottle.  

“It’s here somewhere.”  The words grit between your teeth, insistent as can be.

“You’ve been looking for like, twenty minutes.”  

“It’s here.”

“I really don’t think it is…”  Jisoo doesn’t quite deserve how you explode, rounding on her with hands flying and eyes wild.  “You’re also going to be late for your class.”

Your words falter with the verbalisation of hers. 

Lucky for her;  unlucky for you. 

The hands of the clock above your desk wave at you mockingly.  You are, indeed, going to be late for your class.

“Shit!  Shit!”  Everything you’d torn out gets shoved back into your tote bag.  Band-Aids, mints, too many wayward pencils and pens.  You almost forget your phone, attention only drawn to it when Jisoo catches the strap of your backpack and yanks you back.  

“Don’t forget,”  she hums, far more kindly than your harebrained self deserves.

You forget all the reasons you’re upset with her.  “Thanks, Ji.”  You force a kiss on her cheek before you’re darting out of your room and sprinting across campus to Art 340.

“Nice of you to join us, Miru.”  It’s your professor greeting you as you run in fifteen minutes late, weaving through other students to find your seat near the far wall.  Laughter follows you, coiling around your ankles and over your shoulders as you settle into your seat, fully hidden behind the oversized easel.  

You can’t help the scarlet that paints your cheeks, creeping high across your temples.  You know no one cares - that Professor Kinsella is probably the most laidback professor you’ve had in your four semesters - but it can’t be stopped.  You’re already flustered from temporarily misplacing your sketchbook that everything else just feels like shit icing on your garbage cake.

“Sorry!”  It squeaks out - a mouse, eaten up wholly by cat-ate-the-canary laughter that sounds over your shoulder and not very quietly.

“Having a bad day?”

You’ve heard the voice a handful of times so it shouldn’t shock you the way it does, nearly knocking the graphite from your hand.  

“What?”

Kim Taehyung’s on the edge of his chair, one long leg stretched toward you, the other balanced across his knee.  You’re not sure how that’s meant to be comfortable but he makes it look effortless.  Then again, looking like him, living probably was effortlessly.  You can’t deny you’re a little envious. 

“Your face is all red.  You’re out of breath.  Feels like a bad day to me.”

You try not to dwell on the fact that, apparently, you look like an absolute mess.  “No, I’m good.”  It sounds fake even to your ears, tinny and wrought with anxiety.  

“You sure?”  He’s not really paying attention to you as he speaks, tracing the contours of the model across his canvas.  He begins where you’d never think to, framing the main masses with a languid twist of his wrist.  Unlike you, he doesn’t get caught up in the detail;  he sees the bigger picture for all it is, building from the outside in.   

You’re watching him for longer than you realise, whipping back around once it dawns on you.  “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Who knows.”  There’s a playfulness in his tone that sets you on edge.  You’ve never heard it before, all rounded vowels and molasses laughter.  You mean to work as you listen, waiting for some indication of whatever lies just beneath the surface.

It’s a mistake.  Your stick of charcoal snaps in half when he continues, low and slow as if he’s dragging it out.

“—maybe you lost a sketchbook?” 

“Did you say…”  You can’t finish the sentence.  You feel like you’re about to be sick.  

The amount of mischief in his expression should be illegal.  It’s dancing in his eyes, curling wide and unabashed over his lips.  It’s practically radiating off of him.

“So, bad day?”  

He waits for you to pack up, hands tucked into the endless pockets of his black slacks.  At any other time, in any other universe, you’d be giddy.  Girls on campus would kill for even a second of Taehyung’s attention.  

(It’s true - you’d heard a group of them talking about it one time.)  

Here and now, you want to sink six feet under.

“They’re really good, you know.”  As if the compliment will dull the mortification that threatens to cleave you in half.  “You’re really good at capturing his boredom.  That’s not easy.”

“Thanks.”  You should make conversation;  it’s the polite thing to do.  

After all, he was kind enough to find and return your sketchbook.  Better him than someone else, right?  Better him than Yoongi himself?  That’s what you tell yourself, at least.  

Yoongi doesn’t know and therefore, it’s okay.  Semi okay.  Distantly related to the idea of okay.

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung speaks gently, with a hand that burns through the linen of your blouse.  You know he means well but it sears white hot, eviscerating your nerve endings.  “You have nothing to worry about.  I didn’t tell him.”

You don’t answer him.  There’s nothing to say - not really.  You’re far too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge the effort he’s making.  Maybe this was life’s way of telling you to back off - to find another person to paint.  

Or maybe it’s brought you two together, says the silly, naive angel on your shoulder.

You’re ready to flick her off - launch her like some kind of poor Tinkerbell - when your name catches your attention.  It’s announced so dramatically that you double take, making sure you haven’t completely run through a picnic or accidentally slammed into someone. 

“This is Miru.” 

Cognisance comes slow and unhurried, even as your stare swivels wildly in search of context clues. 

Laid out before you, right under that familiar magnolia tree, is one blanket, three bodies, and enough takeout to last you an entire week.  

“Ohf, phey!”  With cheeks stuffed full, it’s hard to make out the two syllables.  They crowd against each other, offered in a garbled mess that has you regarding Jungkook with a mixture of concern and confusion.  He’s swallowing thickly before he rises far too quickly;  you watch a forgotten piece of kimbap go flying, lost to the dirt and bugs.  “Sorry.  Hi.”  

“Do you want to join us?”  It’s the angelic one, fitted with cherubic cheeks and a rounded Cupid’s bow.  “I’m Jimin, by the way.”  He pats the empty space beside him, eyes waning into crescents with the force of his friendliness.

Taehyung had asked if you wanted to grab dinner but you’d never imagined he meant this. 

You’ve never been subtle but you try your damnedest to peek at him from your periphery.  Unfortunately for you, he’s already sat down, fully made himself comfortable beside the last member of the group.

The one who, for all intents and purposes, appears as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.  If looks could kill, you think.  

“Don’t worry about him,”  Jimin says, so sweetly, with a small bento lid held towards you.  It’s already stacked with goodies - a selection of banchan and homemade-looking meatballs sitting alongside a poorly-shaped mound of rice.  “Sometimes, he gets like this.”  

You want to believe it.  Really, you do, but by the way Yoongi’s mouth curls in distaste, all signs point to it being a matter of you rather than a mood.

“Maybe if she respected peoples’ privacy, I wouldn’t have an issue.”

It’s a single sentence quietly spoken and yet it feels like an open-palm slap to the face.  Heat radiates over every visible inch, starkly coloured in contrast to the white of your top.  It burns as it licks over your cheeks and past your temples, tipping your ears. 

“I’m so sorry.”  It isn’t clear who you’re apologizing to, the words tumbling wet off your tongue like a waterfall.  

You’re gone before anyone can ask.

“That was a dick move.”  Jungkook is the first to break the silence, levelling his friend with a disapproving stare.  He’s not used to this side of him - the one that can tear a person apart with just a few words.  It’s not the Yoongi he knows.  It’s not really Yoongi at all.

“Yeah, hyung.”  It’s thinner, but just as reproachful.  “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Yoongi’s laugh is dismissive but he won’t meet anyone’s stare - a tell-tale sign that he’s just a little affected by their words - choosing instead to shovel bites of soondae into his mouth.  “Mean what?  Invading my privacy?”

“She’s an artist.”  Taehyung doesn’t mean it as an excuse but by how Yoongi bristles, he’s certain the senior takes it as such.  Before the argument can begin, he continues, all while wrapping a piece of samgyupsal in lettuce.  “I doubt she meant any harm, so just cut her some slack.”  Fringe is flicked away from his eyes, something sparkling in the pretty brown of his irises.  “I’d actually be flattered, if I were you.”

“Then you be her model.”

You haven’t drawn in four days.  Well, not really.  

You’ve completed what you need for classes, filling your books with mandatory figures and notes on colour theory.  You’ve diligently mapped out proportions and brought to life sunsets and sceneries.  You’ve done everything you should be doing but nothing that you want to be.

It just doesn’t feel right.  Not anymore.

“I hear he’s a really nice guy.”  You can’t count how many times Jisoo has tried to cheer you up.  From picking up your favourite ice cream (the one she tends to devour anyway) to ordering in fried chicken, she’s been the picture perfect roommate.  It only makes you feel that much worse.

You were moping over something that was your fault.  And she had to pick up the pieces!  It seemed wildly unfair but when you’d told her to stop - insisted upon it with a wail into your pillow - she’d simply shook her head and wrapped you in her arms.  

For all of your stupid, silly little rows, Kang Jisoo was the best roommate you’d had in your entire university career.

“Just go outside.”  She’s perched on the edge of her bed, painting her toes a brilliant shade of neon green.  She’d offered to do yours too, but you’ve more or less refused to leave the comfort of your burrito blanket for anything beyond classes or food.  “You can’t avoid him forever.”  

“I can try,”  you mumble, words lost to the cotton of your sheets.  

Try - and fail, it seemed.  You’d already run into him twice.  Twice!  Even after you’d started taking absurdly long roundabout routes to your classes, the universe had conspired against you.  

The first time he’d been walking out of the gym, shoulder to shoulder with another upperclassmen you didn’t recognize.  You’d seen him coming from a mile away thanks to his obnoxiously bright Lakers jersey and you’d booked it back the way you’d come, nearly mowing down a couple making kissy faces at each other in front of the lecture hall.  

The second time was yesterday afternoon.  You’d thought he’d be in his usual spot - so close to your usual spot - that you’d gone to the coffee shop for a midday pick-me-up.  Even embarrassed, you weren’t about to suffer a caffeine deficiency.  You’d rounded the corner in the same instance he had and you’d sworn he’d seen you, recognition flickering across his face.  Fortunately, there’d been a door directly to your right and you’d all but thrown yourself inside.

It was the first and hopefully last time you’d be in a men’s washroom.

“I thought you were tougher than this,”  Jisoo hums, equal parts disapproval and kindness.  She levels you with a stare - you can feel it burning into your fortress of blankets - and sighs.  It’s a bit dramatic, you think.  

“Tell me you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing!”

Then again, she’d probably never be stupid enough to lose something so important nor would she fixate so heavily on one person.  Your point still stands.

“Seriously, girl.”  

Her nail polish bottle bounces off your bed, tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump.  You look up in time to see her staring at you imploringly, so wide-eyed and innocent you can’t help but be a little suspicious.  “What?”

“I wanted to have Andy over.” 

It all falls into place then.  Her boyfriend’s in a frat and your (poor) dorm room is the only place they have any sort of privacy.  It makes you want to gag but you can’t blame her.  You’ve always had an unspoken agreement;  you’d just tossed it out the window the past few days. 

Guilt prompts you to extract yourself from your duvet, though you don’t stop the chorus of gross, gross, gross! as you begin gathering your things.  You almost leave your sketchbook, only opting to tuck it under your arm at the last minute.  

“Please, please, don’t use my bed this time.”

“We love you!”  She sing-songs as you tug your sneakers on and slip into the hallway.

You’re at a different bench across campus when you hear the voice.  It comes from behind you and to your left, accusatory and sharp.  You nearly jump out of your own skin, toppling over your water bottle and plastic paint palette. Orange watercolour soaks into the material on your thigh.  Dammit. 

“Are you following me?”

Min Yoongi stands not three feet from you, arms folded over his chest.  

Your heart stutters at the sight of him.  It’s hard to speak when it feels like it’s leapt into your throat.  

“What?”  You hate how you sound - a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  You have nothing to be ashamed of.  At least, not right now.  You’d come all the way here, as far from the magnolia tree and red blanket as you could.  

“I said—”  His words are glacial and biting.  It’s suddenly winter, far chillier than spring should be.  You wish you’d brought a sweater or maybe, that the ground would open up and swallow you whole.  You can’t be cold when you’re dead.  “—are you following me?”

“Of course not!”  

There’s nothing but disbelief in his expression.  It paints itself in broad strokes, prominent in the shadows beneath his eyes and the curl of his mouth.  He says nothing.  

“Really.  I’m not.”  You’re insistent, apologetic.  Every nerve ending is shot, going haywire beneath your skin and lighting you up in shades of red.  The tips of your fingers are tingling.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”  You wonder if he’s baiting you now.  

“For…”   Words are cherry-picked and perfect, chosen with a shaking head and the utmost care.  “I shouldn’t have drawn you without asking.”

“No shit,”  he returns, completely deadpan.  He’s really not making this any easier.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,”  you continue, a little hopeful and a lot bashful.  “I just— I don’t get inspiration like this that often.  So I couldn’t let it go.”  You don’t need to add what you do, but you do so anyway, because you’ve never been great at making good choices.  “Your face is really unique and when you’re happy, it’s just so expressive and your smile is—”

There’s a siren blaring in your ears.  A red alert going off so loudly you almost miss the way he laughs.

It’s not the same one he offers to his best friends - far more reserved, exceedingly softer - but it’s there and it’s real and you don’t think you’ll ever forget this moment. 

“You’re laughing.”

He stops immediately.  Fair.

“I’m sorry.”  Again.  More.  Draped in apology and optimism that peeks out between your teeth and shines in the dark of your stare.  “Even though I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I did, and for that I’m sorry.  Really, really sorry.  Please don’t hate me.”

It’s hard to read him, even after you’ve spent hours studying his face.  There’s a distinct difference between seeing someone and knowing them, you realize.  You might be able to map out every wrinkle of his eyes - replicate every dot and freckle - but you have no idea what it all means or how it comes together to create something more. 

Silence fits between the two of you for what feels like a long time.  It’s not uncomfortable, though, so you allow it to settle.  You figure it’s better than his anger, in any case.  

“You could’ve just asked me.”

You can’t wipe the disbelief from your face.  “Would you have said yes?”

Yoongi shrugs, a small roll of his shoulders beneath the oversized sweater that dwarfs his frame.  “Don’t know, but I would’ve appreciated it.”  

Because that’s really what it came down to - the thought, not the action.  He’s not entirely sure you understand that yet but he’s willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.  Blame his softening on the steady repetitions Taehyung and Jungkook have made the past few days.  You were lucky to have them in your corner - even if that meant they’d been a thorn in his side.   

“Then… can I sketch you?”  You’re probably (read: definitely) pushing it.  You can’t help it. 

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scoff at your audacity.  He decides on the former, with a shake of his head that swings his bangs across his forehead and a small, private smile.  “Maybe next time.” 

“Next time?”  You imagine he can’t hear you as he’s backing away and disappearing the way he came.

“See you tomorrow.”

True to his word, Yoongi lets you draw him the next time you see him (and the next time and the time after that). 

It’s different - working off someone who knows they’re being studied.  He holds himself a little more stiffly, a little more carefully.  His laughter isn’t quite as loud, his smiles more forced.  He apologises, even though he doesn’t need to.  

Even his untrained eye can see how you struggle to bring life to a robot. 

Over time, though, it comes - comfort. 

Like the quietly burning coals that melt him down from the inside out, he begins to warm up to you.  It comes slowly but it comes nonetheless, as steady as the sun.  You appreciate his effort - his patience - more than you can ever say.  

You know he gets it, though.  He always does.  It’s a Yoongi thing. 

“You can relax.” 

It’s just the two of you, swathed in sweat and waning light that casts shadows across his cheeks.  The days are longer than they’ve ever been and the both of you tend to lose track of time, spending hours under that magnolia tree. 

“I am relaxed,”  he returns, sinking further onto his back, elbows hardly acting to prop him up.  He’d been engrossed in a novel for the first half of the afternoon.  Another book you’d never bothered to read outside of high school English class.  You never really understood it - you much preferred to watch than read - but you loved when he’d recite the words to you, clear and bright and better than any melody.

“You’re trying to stay awake.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No.  You’re just as good of a model when you’re sleeping.” 

The smile is lazy, hazy like Sunday morning.  It reveals his gums and ticks higher on the left side.  It makes your heart skip a beat.  

“Go ahead then,”  he continues.  The entirety of his body sags, drops onto the bag he likes to use as a makeshift pillow.  You don’t imagine it’s all that comfortable but he never complains.

“If you’re tired, we can just head in, you know.”  

You always offer.  He never says yes. 

A part of you thinks he likes the attention.  It’s different from what he receives from anyone else - thoughtful and careful.  You think he might like the quiet, too.  The benefit of quality time without any of the effort.  

So you push on, charcoal edge meeting paper once more.   “Just another twenty minutes.”

“Why me?”  

The enquiry comes one day, completely out of the blue.  It skips your heart and breaks the pastel in your fingers, dust chalking them a lovely shade of lilac.  

“What?”  You’re not ready for how close Yoongi is - much closer than he ever is - and you shift back, away from the face you’ve spent months filling your sketchbooks with.  “Why you what?”

He’s completely nonchalant as he moves even closer.  

You can smell his cologne - a distinctly masculine fragrance that’s musk and cedar - and the coffee he’s been nursing for the last hour.  It fills your senses, recentring all of your focus so intensely that you don’t immediately recognise he’s continued speaking.

“Why’d you choose to draw me?  Why not someone else?”  He seems genuinely curious, even though it feels dangerous - a dangling string that’s meant to unravel you.

The answer doesn’t come easily, despite the fact it’s something you’ve asked yourself.

Why him?  Why Min Yoongi?

“I don’t know,”  you answer, perhaps too honestly.  “I saw you and it sort of… just clicked.”  How it sounds doesn’t escape you - like something plucked out of a bad romance novel.  “I didn’t expect it to be you.  I thought I’d draw you once - okay, twice - and then I’d move onto another subject.  But I just… couldn’t?”  

“So, what you’re telling me is it was love at first sight?”  It’s glaringly obvious he’s teasing you.  He’s got that grin of his, sly and feline as it creeps across his mouth.  

You don’t bristle, instead painted bright red like the sunset that streaks across the sky.

“I— I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, you didn’t say otherwise.”

It’s an uncomfortable line of questioning.  You’re not used to it and certainly not from him.  You hesitate to speak, turning words over and over on your tongue in an effort to make yourself clear.  

You’re not weird.  You don’t want this to be weird.  But you can’t deny - it’s, decidedly, still very weird.

He tries again - a different tactic this time.  One that surprises you, despite the unique friendship you’ve forged over the past few months.  “What if I told you I was glad?” 

“Glad?”  It feels like an echo chamber.  Repetition.  As if you’re going in circles, chasing a tail that remains just out of reach.  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What if I told you I’m happy we met?”  

Your blink is owlish, fully caught off-guard.  “I’d say the same thing.  I’m happy we’re friends.”

Amusement rolls off him in waves, evidenced by the laugh that curls into the afternoon.  He shimmies closer and closer until there’s barely three inches between you.  His knee knocks against yours, bony and denim-clad.  You try to ignore the way it burns through your own jeans, sparking heat all the way up to the tips of your ears and down into the soles of your feet.

“What if I told you I don’t want to be just friends anymore?”  

It’s not a surprise, really.  It’s something that’s been on your mind the past few weeks, sown by offhand comments and little gestures you haven’t been able to ignore.  Jungkook had even practically shouted it at you just the other night.

“I’d say…”  You trail off, lost somewhere among the constellations in his eyes.

“You’d say?”  The words are parroted back at you, threaded together by gossamer thin hope. 

“I’d say you’re welcome.  For choosing you.”  The confidence isn’t your own.  It comes from him, crafted by the support he offers easily, hands out like keys.  Keys to his heart, you realise belatedly, with a sudden bashfulness.  Of course.

He can’t wipe the smile from his face.  It eats up every inch, dominating even the playfulness that shines through, turning it the prettiest shade.  It stands bright against his cheeks, staining the pale apples red.  “That’s it?”  

“What do you want me to say?”

You’re suddenly very determined - because you want to give this to him.  Just as he’s given you everything you wanted, you want to do the same.  In this little cut-out piece of paradise, there’s nothing quite as important. 

The one word isn’t much but it feels like a turning point.  “Yes.”

“You want me to say ‘yes’?”

He nods, just once.  There’s so much certainty you can’t doubt him.

“Then yes—”  

It doesn’t matter what you’ve just said yes to.  It doesn’t even matter that it could be something awful or really, anything under the sun.  All that matters is the feeling of his lips, soft and warm and dry on yours.  It’s better than any painting you’ve ever seen, any song you’ve ever heard.  It fills you wholly, stuttering your heart and bubbling giddiness in the pit of your stomach.

You probably sound a little silly, surprisingly breathless from such a little thing.  “Wow.”

“Good things happen when you ask,”  he states, solemnly.  You’d take him more seriously if he weren’t so dopey, grinning at you like he never has before.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Luckily, you don’t mind.  Not if it gets you another kiss.  

You tell him as much and he happily obliges, stealing your breath and replacing it with sugar-coated stardust.  You ponder whether you might be able to create with those same particles, turning them into colourful streaks to paint his cheeks.  You’d like to find out.  

You want a lot of things with Min Yoongi, you decide. 

You don’t know how you ended up here.  

Actually, that’s a lie.  You do.  All because of a dumb joke, uttered in passing by Taehyung and now ingrained so deeply in your psyche that you haven’t gone a single day without thinking about it.

“Get out of there,”  he whispers right against your temple, lips following to soothe whatever’s got you preoccupied.  

“Where?”

“Right there, idiot.”  Fingers tap twice, a quick one-two against the side of your head.  

You can’t help but grimace, a wrinkling of your nose that your boyfriend chuckles at, pressing kisses across the bridge and over your cheeks.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry - just come back to me.”  To this moment, he means.

This strange little scene, with his fingers dressed in non-toxic paint and you stripped down to nothing but a flimsy cotton bra and thong.  

Have him paint you like one of his French girls, Taehyung had said.  It’ll be fun, he’d said.

You think it might be - if you weren’t bouncing with nerves, all five feet three inches of you fizzling with anticipation.  Yoongi was only painting you.  This was a bonding exercise.  Something to bring you closer, to breach the gap between lovestruck artist and inspired musician.  Nothing more.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”  It’s not meant to be a reassurance but simply a passing comment, like looking at the sky or seeing it snow.  So straightforward it makes you laugh, the sound bubbling about in your throat. 

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“No, seriously.”  He levels you with a look.  You know the one - a touch stern but ultimately playful.  “I wanted to make something beautiful but…”  Digits wiggle, Atlantic blue sweeping over the tips and up his knuckles like the sea.  “I can’t really improve on something that’s already perfect.”

Your cheeks light on fire, as brilliantly coloured as the red in his - your - palette.  

He thinks it looks pretty against his hands.  The same ones that cradle your cheek, so precisely you want to remind him you’re a canvas and not clay.  

“You’re silly.”  

“ You’re silly,”  he returns, as if that’ll somehow win him this battle of wits.

 The roll of your eyes is undeniable.  “Good one.”

“You know, I’ve got a ton of paint, right?  Not your best choice, making fun of me.”  He punctuates each word with passes of his fingers.  Colour appears wherever he travels, dragged over your skin with dreamy twists of his wrist.  A line here, a circle there.  Goosebumps follow in their wake despite the fact that his touch is like candle wax - soothing and deliberate.

You wonder, idly, whether he can feel you burning up beneath him.

“So beautiful,”  he murmurs again, almost to himself as he dips his fingers into another dot of paint.  Pink this time - in the same shade as the magnolias outside.  He spreads the colour over your chest, right where your heart beats an erratic rhythm.  

He takes his time in admiring his handiwork, swirling the two shades together until it’s the most flattering shade of purple.

You try - and fail - to ignore the way it stirs something behind your ribs.  A need that flickers to life without any sort of warning and has you pressing your thighs together.  

“Can I take this off?”  It comes abruptly, with eyes that snap up to yours.  There’s already a hand tucked beneath the small of your back, right under your shoulders.  He already knows your answer - can see it in the blown out pupils that reflect his entire world back at him.  He still wants to hear it.

You’re unable to find your voice.  It’s gone, stolen by the way he ghosts his fingers up and down the sensitive notches of your spine.  You could get lost in this feeling, if he let you.  You almost do, only nodding when he moves no further, flat of his palm a solid weight right against the clasp of your bra.

You don’t mind that the band is coloured pink and blue when he tosses it aside.  You don’t have it in you to focus on anything but how he studies you now.  Openly admires you, like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

“What?”  Mellifluous and adoring.  Music to his ears.

“I think I’m getting distracted.”

“I think so, too.”

“Is that okay?”  He speaks more to your boobs than you, single stained hand coming to rest across your ribs.  The pad of his thumb swipes over a single bud, perked and already far too sensitive.  He’d put his mouth on it, if not for the fact it’s now covered in paint.  

Fortunately, there’s still so much of you - places he hasn’t explored but suddenly, desperately needs to.  

From the column of your throat and all the way down to the valley of your breasts, he offers sweet kisses.  Open-mouthed adoration that leaves you needy and breathless and writing.  He catches your untouched nipple between his teeth, gently working it into the same state as its tinted twin. 

You shift beneath him, unable to stop the bolt of electricity that rips through you like a thousand volts.  It cracks your composure like lightning and sends your pulse racing like thunder.  “Of course.”

He hums, content, and nearly falls, dropping his cheek fully against your chest.  You’re so soft beneath him, velvet and pliant under his tongue.  

“I think I love you.”  It’s his voice but your words, spoken so faintly you almost miss it against the roaring in your ears.  

“I think I love you, too.” 

Yoongi stares up at you then, so full of wonder that you can’t help but look away.  It’s an incredibly intimate moment - so much emotion carried in one simple look that you’re not quite sure how to process it.  He’d been your inspiration and now you were his.  The realisation is almost too much, filling you until you feel like you might float away.

His hands act as an anchor, keeping you here with him.  

“You don’t have to say it back.”  It’s careful, loaded with his heart and every key to open it.  

“I know - I want to.”

He grins so breathlessly handsome that you can’t help but return it, rubied cheeks crystallised with delight.  Those same paint-stained hands of his find their newly discovered favourite home of your chest and he sounds like sin when he speaks.  “I want you.”

“You can have me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s ducking down and smothering every uncovered inch of you in sweetness.  His mouth burns hot but he’s unbearably gentle, searing the shape of his mouth over your breasts and across your collarbone.  He licks and sucks as he goes, soothing any ache left behind by the edge of his teeth.

You’re not quite sure where the bites end and the paint begins.  It’s all so pretty you don’t mind either way.  

But it’s not enough.  It’ll never be enough, you think, even as you whine airily, words stuttering out in a half-formed breath.  “Please touch me.”

“Where?”  He’s hardly given you room to answer, crowded so closely against you that you can feel his heartbeat all the way through to your own.  He’s so warm - so solid - upon you that you almost want to tell him that here, just as he is, is perfect. 

A momentary lapse in lust before rational judgment is clouded yet again. 

Instead - and with more demand than you mean - you grind purposefully against him.  A benefit to having him sitting how he is, knees hooked on either side of your hips.  He can’t pretend like he doesn’t feel it, cock twitching beneath the constraints of his boxer-briefs. 

Your eyes meet and he chuckles, nuzzling his head back into that spot between your neck and shoulder that has you whimpering.  The sound alone drives him crazy.

“You’ll be the death of me.”  Yoongi knows this like he knows the sky is blue or your smile is his favourite sight.

You’re teasing him when you catch his face, palms cradling the shape of his jaw.  “Then it’ll be a good death.” 

He doesn’t disagree - especially when he slips his clean hand along the length of your body.  He tweaks your nipple on its descent, tickles the underside of your ribs, and then finds the band of your underwear, all in one fell swoop.  A digit dips below the elastic, neatly clipped nail grazing the jut of your hip before shifting and dropping further.  

You keen when the pad of his finger grazes your clit. 

“Do that again.”  He doesn’t need to tell you twice.  When he repeats the motion, the sound spills off your tongue without restraint.  

He slips further down, pressing his hand to gently part your folds.  Digits glide easily, coated in slick that drips between your legs and sorely tests his patience.  Yoongi’s not sure what he’d expected but this is so much better it’s making his head spin - and he hasn’t even felt you yet.

“You’re so wet, love.”  Shame would swallow you whole if not for the way he speaks with reverence.  “How badly do you want this?”

“Don’t tease,”  you huff, rutting uselessly against the fingers that tease your centre, barely slipping in before resuming a lazy, leisurely path back up to the bundle of nerves that throbs at the contact.  He’s hardly touched you and you’re already at a six, entire body alight with need that thrums heavy in your veins. 

“Just tell me.”

“I want this.  I need this.”  You hope he believes you.  You’re not sure what you’ll do if he doesn’t.  “I need to feel you - please.”

His entire world is spinning, kicked on its axis by the way your tone pitches, demands and begs in the same lilting voice he so adores but has never quite heard like this.  He loves it.  “I need to stretch you out.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whine so prettily he almost cracks.  It’s enough to have him choking on his own words, not that he’s saying anything.  He’s too focused on how he sinks into you - a single digit but so tightly it feels like there’s no way he’ll survive his cock buried inside.  

You’re a dream come true.  He never wants to wake up.

“More.  Please.”  You’re so polite, he almost laughs.  You’d really taken his words to heart - always asking for what you wanted now.  He can’t deny how proud he is.  It blossoms in his chest, juxtaposed greatly against the salaciousness that drives him to do exactly as you ask.

His index finger slips in alongside the other.  You make that noise he loves, grinding your core against the flat of his palm as he curls his knuckles and seeks out that spot.  He knows he’s struck gold when he taps it experimentally, pressure turning light but unrelenting when a choked cry ricochets off your tongue and onto his sweat-slicked shoulder.

“Right there?”  

Your nod is enough of an answer. 

He redoubles his efforts, fucking you with measured glides of his fingers and precise presses against your g-spot.  In no time at all, you’re barely coherent, mumbling his name in a slew of breaths that has him grinning.  You’re a sight to behold, moaning so obscenely you’d be ashamed you weren’t so preoccupied by the fact that every part of you feels as if it’s about to splinter.

“Miru— Princess—”  Your clit aches and you nearly shriek when he applies pressure against it with the pad of his thumb, swiping your cum over it in slow circles.  He wants you so badly - just as bad as you want him- but he’s torn halfway between watching you unravel by his hand and wanting that same euphoria when he’s buried home in your dripping pussy. 

“Please, please, please.”  There are tears in your eyes.  You’re so close you can practically taste it, entire body shaking with the effort of keeping the coil from snapping.  “Yoongi, please.”

He’s a fucking goner then, filling you with a third finger and grinding his palm against your clit as you come apart beneath him.  

It starts in your toes, stealing feeling all the way up your calves and over your thighs.  You’re only aware you’re trembling because it vibrates through Yoongi’s body, looped back to yours when he mouths across your shoulders, sucking memories into your heated, sweat-sweet skin.  The stimulation is what keeps you from floating off on a cloud of bliss, the warmth in the pit of your stomach liquifying your bones. 

“Are you tired?”  Because you certainly look tired - too fucked out to properly meet his stare as he looms over you, both hands adjusted to rest comfortably over your hips. 

You are, but it doesn't matter.  You haven’t gotten what you wanted - not really - and you aren’t about to let it go without asking.

He’d taught you that.

You smile up at him, doe-eyed and alluring.  A hand reaches for his, curls around the fingers still glossy with your slick, and squeezes.  “I still need you.”

They’re words he’ll never tire of - also words that have him kicking out of his briefs and rolling your thong down your legs, all too eager.  He’s painfully hard, leaking pre-cum and purple at the tip, but he fists himself in slow, measured pumps regardless.  It’s a show for you, more than anything.

“ Please.”  So pretty, so ready.  He can’t resist.  

Yoongi sinks against you, the head of his cock brushing through your folds as he slots himself into place with his paint-free hand.  The other, still coloured garishly bright, brushes the curve of your lip, the delicate skin beneath your eye.  It’s so tender you can’t help but blink, caught off-guard.  

“I love you,”  you say, though you’re sure he’s meant to, too.  You can read it in his eyes - brilliant and bright like a beacon in the night.

He speaks with a roguish grin and a fluid press of his hips.  “I know.”  

You fit like two puzzle pieces, the stretch perfect as he sinks deeper, a low groan sounding from somewhere deep in his chest.  You’re so tight around him but he glides in easily, coaxed to fill you by your wetness and the soft, whiny noises you make.  

“Holy shit,”  he manages once he’s buried as deep as he can go, head spinning with the way you clench around him, nearly stealing the words off his tongue.  “Am I dreaming?”

Laughter is a salve - a catch-all remedy for anything that ails him.  It pulls him to the here and now, drawing his attention from the overwhelming bliss that creeps up his spine and recentring it on you, beautiful and bashful beneath him.

“No, you’re not.”  It’s a caricature of your voice but he doesn’t mind.  He loves that he can bring you to this.

“Thank God.”

Except it’s not God you’re thanking when Yoongi begins to move against you, dragging his cock through your walls with such slow, measured strokes you think you might combust.  It’s his name when he pulls almost fully out of you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, before snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt.  It’s his name that rolls off your tongue like a mantra, hoping and praying and begging for more as he consumes you wholly, in no half measures.  

It’s him - Min Yoongi, your muse, your love - that has you crying out, pleasure coursing through your veins as he adjusts and fills you at a completely new angle, brushing against your g-spot with every thrust of his hips.  

“Yoongi - please.”  You’re chanting the two words again, turning them into a song he’ll never get out of his head, when you spasm around him.  His eyes nearly roll back into his head, the sensation turning his rhythm sloppy as he chases the same high.  The hand that had previously been propping him up falls, thumb seeking out your clit as he charges toward the precipice. 

“One more, love.  Once more for me, okay?  I want you to come with me.”

He asks so nicely you can’t deny him - even as the overstimulation takes over.  You’re shaking so badly you’re not sure how he keeps you in place;  it’s a tremor that won’t stop, traipsing over every limb until you’re sobbing.  

“I love you,”  he chokes out as he tumbles over the edge, falling headlong into climax with you in tow.  It’s so strong it feels like it blinds you, spotting your vision with white as he fills you with his cum and continues to fuck you through it, milking every last moment just like you were his slowly softening cock.

You don’t have it in you to answer, far too exhausted by the last orgasm that has your limbs turned to jelly.  Yoongi doesn’t mind though;  he likes the just-fucked afterglow and how you sink into his arms when he slips out of you and onto his side.  

He eyes the cum that spills onto your thighs, pearlescent and going to waste.  He has half a mind to push it back where it belongs.

He only doesn’t because of the words you speak next, hardly above a whisper but loud enough that he groans, burying his face into your hair.  “So, thanks, Taehyung?”  

“Can you not?”  It’s a playful response, with teeth bared against the sweat-slicked nape of your neck.  

“Sorry.”  A beat.  He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep suddenly.  “I meant thanks, Titanic.”

author note.  this was a drabble prompt i got from the lovely @hecticwonderer​ and i kind of just...  ran with it.  oops. 

[iatethepomegranate]

We are not alone in the dark with our demons, Chapter 11

In which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, and learns to be a person and protect those who have been hurt like he has.

Content warnings: Caleb's backstory, mentions of abuse from teachers, discussions of institutionalisation, implied medical abuse

Chapter summary: Caleb was hurting, but he wasn't the only one. If he could do nothing else, he could care for his friends, and they could care for him.

Chapter notes: Kirschtorte is just Black Forest Cake with the geographic reference removed because Zemnian. Chapter title is from Neptune by Sleeping At Last

Chapter 11: If brokenness is a work of art surely this must be my masterpiece

Dinner was a solemn affair, no matter how much Caduceus and Yasha tried to provide comfort in the food they made. The spiced, fried bugs that Yasha had convinced them all to try were actually very good. And they hadn’t made apple tarts today--Jester would have been furious if they’d tried it in her absence--but they made a different Zemnian dessert instead: Kirschtorte. Layers of chocolate sponge sandwiched with whipped cream, sour cherries and a cherry liqueur unique to the Zemni Fields, with a few cherries placed on top.

It tasted so much like home that Caleb stopped eating, folded his arms on the table, rested his head on them, and cried. He had been too tired to excuse himself.

“Was the cake that bad?” Yasha half-whispered.

“No,” Beauregard said thickly. “It’s good, babe. I don’t think that’s… I think it’s been a long day. Long two days.”

Essek rubbed slow circles into Caleb’s back, but the group let him cry without disturbing him. Caduceus handed him a glass of water when he was finished. Caleb did not miss Beauregard twisting away from him to wipe her eyes. And Caleb was struck by another wave of emotion, grief at how much Beauregard was hurting, that almost brought him to tears all over again.

After dinner, Essek helped Caduceus and Yasha with the dishes. They hadn’t let Caleb or Beauregard help tonight. Caleb caught Beauregard as she left the kitchen, and guided her to the couch. They sat together, quietly at first. Sometimes Caleb felt so many things that it seemed impossible to put them into words. But he couldn’t leave things like this; she had gotten involved because of him. She’d run into a burning house with him, she’d watched Felix so Caduceus could help him try to save the Baumanns, she’d spent a day and night watching over Nico in the same state she knew Caleb himself had once been in. Eleven years in Vergesson, broken under the weight of what he had done to his mother and father. She knew all that. She knew more than almost anyone what he had gone through; she had listened to his story and written it down so they could stop Trent from hurting anyone else, and give Caleb just a little shred of peace. She cared about Caleb. She cared about people like him. And she had also been abused by a powerful man.

And they’d had the chance to help Nico in a way neither of them had been helped when they most needed it (and what help they had received only came years after the damage was done). Then, all their efforts to help Nico had failed. She’d mobilised the monks and done her best to find him, and had come up empty just like Caleb had.

She was hurting, too.

Caleb took her hand in both of his and, feeling awkward about it, kissed her knuckles. Beauregard looked at him strangely.

“Uh, Caleb? You’re being weird.”

“You’re a good friend, Beauregard.” Caleb patted her hand, setting it down on her leg.

“Oh, we’re gonna have one of those talks.”

Caleb’s track record for emotional conversations with Beauregard was, for the most part, horrifying. They were both awkward people who sometimes understood each other well, and other times couldn’t understand each other at all. He had, on more than one occasion, stormed away from a conversation silently screaming.

“Beauregard…” He sighed. Caleb was running on sheer willpower, emotionally bruised and given to cry at a moment’s notice. But he wanted her to know how much he appreciated her, and how sorry he was for her pain. “Thank you.”

“Caleb, we’ve been over this. You don’t need to say this shit.”

“I do, though.” Caleb hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so small. So fragile. But he… Caleb needed her to hear this.

She looked away. “Sorry. I just… you’re going through a lot of shit, and I don’t want you to feel, like, obligated…” She trailed off, staring at the colourful, jewel-toned rug Jester had brought from Nicodranas.

“This is not easy for you, either,” Caleb said, and Beauregard sagged against the couch, looking at him like he had grown another head.

“Caleb, what the fuck?”

“You are a caring person, Beauregard. And you know better than most what those children have been through. You listened to my story and wrote it down for me. You stood with me while I faced Trent in the courtroom and recounted, again, everything he had done to me.” Caleb didn’t know where he found the strength to speak, to build up the steam he needed to spill out all his feelings, but he did it because Beauregard needed to know. For both their sakes. “You and Veth were the first people I ever told. You are… invested. You care. You are kind and good. I need you to know that I am grateful for everything you have done for me, and for people like me.”

“Caleb, I know you’re grateful,” Beauregard said, with that same tired frustration she often had when he was being emotionally obtuse. “You’re also a fucking wreck and need to stop wasting your time on me.”

“I am not wasting anything,” Caleb said. He had to fight down his frustration. Neither of them were comfortable having this kind of focus on them, and she was trying to be a good friend. “That is not all I wanted to say. I want you to know… I see you.” Caleb wasn’t great at eye contact, but he made a special effort now, locking eyes with Beauregard and hoping she got it. Hoping she understood he knew she was suffering, and that it mattered to him.

“Hard not to, man. I’m pretty hot.”

“I’m glad you know that about yourself.” It would have been easy to let her deflect, but Caleb steeled himself to drag this conversation where he intended it to go. “But that is not what I meant. You know that.”

Beauregard averted her eyes once again.

“Yesterday was hard. Today was hard. For all of us. And you…” Caleb reached for her hand, relieved that she let him hold it. “You have been abused as well. And yet, you ran into a burning house with me. You saw Nico unresponsive in Wulf’s arms, knowing I was once like that, too. You watched over Felix while Caduceus and I tried to save Nico’s parents. Then, you watched over Nico and had to witness what I was going through that day, and that night. You have seen me in a bad place before, and that was the worst I have been in a long time, and I know it was confronting for all of you. And you did everything you could to keep Nico from running, and you were there when it all fell apart. I know you are hurt, Beauregard. And you are allowed to be. Please allow that for yourself.”

She squeezed his hand, and some of her guardedness fell away to reveal the sheer depths of sadness in her eyes. “I love you, man.”

“I love you, too, Beauregard. Thank you, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

“I know. You are a good person. I am sorry for your pain, because I am your friend.”

Beauregard clasped his hand in both of hers, staring down at the tangle of fingers. “I’m worried about you, Caleb. And about the kids. But I can do something about you, at least.”

“You have done a lot already, Beauregard. Thank you.” He tugged her by the hand until she shuffled close enough that he could throw his arms around her and drag her into the tightest hug he could manage. She squeezed him back, and his spine cracked a little in a way he didn’t know he had needed on both a physical and emotional level until relief flooded through his system.

****

Caduceus stayed overnight in case he was needed, and Essek dropped him back at the Grove the following morning.

“Call me any time,” Caduceus had said as his parting words. “Whatever you need, even if it’s in the middle of the night, I’ll be ready.”

The Volstrucker and the monks continued searching for Nico, and Caleb was at a loose end. So he launched himself into preparing for the upcoming semester, his first as a teacher. He split his time at home between his study in the dormer, the floor of Beau and Yasha’s living room, and occasionally the Cobalt Soul Archives while Beau was working, depending on how much his need for privacy warred with his need to have his loved ones close at hand.

Essek stayed. Caleb stewed in silent guilt whenever he let himself think about it too much, but he knew better than to ask Essek to leave when the man was clearly worried about him. More often than not, Caleb left the house with his hair braided, whether it was a single braid at the back or, Essek’s favourite, two narrow braids tucked into a half or full ponytail. Sometimes it felt like Caleb’s mental health hinged entirely on the presence of a braid.

Caleb sent daily messages to Felix and Nico. For Felix, it was simple to find a routine. A question about his day, little tidbits about a spell the boy had indicated an interest in, updates on the search for Nico, and whether either of them had received responses from him (the answer, thus far, was no). He didn’t push Felix for an answer about school. Not yet.

For Nico, Caleb weighed his words far more carefully.

On one day: “Hallo, Nico. It’s Caleb. How are you? I am working from home today. You are welcome here any time.”

A few hours after that: “Hallo, Nico. Caleb again. I just wanted to say: I know how you are feeling. I went through this as well. You’re in my thoughts.”

Another day: “Hallo, Nico. Me again. Are you safe? It’s cold out. Remember to drink water. Boil it first if necessary.”

And another: “Hallo, Nico. I am a teacher at the Academy now. I intend to watch these fuckers like a hawk. Keep the kids safe, ja?”

He burned a second spell for that one: “We deserved better. I will make sure the children who come after us get it. And you… come back when you’re ready. Let me help.”

And countless other messages, little updates about his day, about Felix, about work, about just… coming back in one piece.

And he did not receive a single response. Caleb cried more often than not after going through this. He preferred to be alone in his study in those moments, and the others had learned not to disturb him until he was ready to be around people again.

Overall, he felt he had been pretty good about it. He kept busy, spent time with his friends, let Essek hover around him and take care of him. Caleb let Essek help with his lesson plans, bounce around ideas for a presentation he would have to make in the first week of semester as a new teacher at the Academy. He had already told the Nein they were invited, and had spoken to Astrid to make sure the non-citizens would be welcome.

He also remembered to invite Nico, on the off-chance the boy needed a specific call to action to return to Rexxentrum.

“Hallo, Nico. I am presenting a talk next week at the Academy on the first day of semester. 7 o’clock. You would be welcome.”

Caleb met regularly with Bettina and Alphira to work on their lesson plans together. He spent most of that time with Bettina, given he would literally be taking over one of her classes. He was mostly assisting Alphira, though she was interested to get him in to talk to the senior Evocation students at some point about his experiences with the Sending spell. Including the funny ones with Jester. There was also an interesting discussion to be had about why Sending was considered an Evocation spell while Message was considered a Transmutation cantrip. Both professors spoke carefully in a way that suggested they knew what had happened with Felix and Nico, but they never brought it up. He was relieved they let him keep his academic work separate from that heartbreaking shitshow.

Between work, Caleb found time to catch up with Astrid and Wulf. He pretended not to notice their visible relief whenever they saw him, because he was genuinely unsure what they would do if he brought it up.

At a certain point, meeting in Astrid’s office brought up too many memories, so they moved their meetings to the dance hall. Beauregard, Yasha and even a disguised Essek had “accidentally” wandered in on more than one occasion.

“Are you still talking to Felix?” Astrid asked him as the three of them sat around a table in the farthest corner of the room from the dance floor.

“Ja, he doesn’t tell me everything, but he responds at least.”

“Still nothing from Nico?”

Caleb didn’t need to say it out loud; he couldn’t school his expression to hide the pain there. And Astrid and Wulf had once known him very well.

Astrid reached out, touched the back of his hand where it rested on the table beside his mug of ale. “I’m sorry, Bren.”

Wulf had his eye on Yasha, who was calmly drinking at the bar. “Astrid’s people are still looking for him.”

Caleb did his best to shrug off the hurt. “I know.”

Astrid squeezed his hand once and then retreated. “Now, about your lesson plans…”

She had been teaching for a while, so Astrid had plenty of advice to give. However, she was also hesitant to steer Caleb too much.

“You have good instincts,” she told him every time they spoke about it. “Trust them.”

On their way out of the dance hall, where they had sat for a good three hours, Astrid caught Caleb’s arm.

“One more thing. I have secured a venue at the Academy for the support group, mid-week. I have contacted most of the Volstrucker. We are ready to go ahead when you are.”

“Astrid, the point of this is not for one person to steer it.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow at him. “Bren, we need a dedicated person to drive this. And that person is you.”

The thought of that was frightening. Caleb was barely figuring out how to be a person himself, let alone be responsible for the healing of dozens of people who had been under Trent’s thumb for far longer than he had.

“Astrid.”

“I am not expecting you to have all the answers for them,” she said firmly. “But you have had more time to process than the rest of us have.” She gave a small, wry chuckle. “In fact, you may be the most stable of us all.”

“Astrid, that is horrifying.”

“She’s right,” said Wulf. “Besides, you have a way with people. Always have.”

Caleb was not like Fjord or Jester or Caduceus who always seemed to have something to say when someone was hurting, but he could talk when he had to. He feared some of the Volstrucker would not take him seriously because he had broken, or because he had gotten out long before they had. This would take time. Fortunately, Caleb was one of the few Empire wizards with in-depth knowledge of time, learned from a reliable source.

Astrid still held his arm. She slid down to grip his hand instead. “I know this will not be easy for you. You were always sensitive. But that is why you have a chance with these people. They are not…” She sighed. “Trent made sure we don’t know how to exist in a world without his boot on our throats.”

“We don’t know how to process our emotions,” Wulf said, and it was odd to hear him admit it aloud. “Well, most of us. You do all right.”

Caleb laughed at that, because it sounded like a horrible joke. Caleb, who felt so constantly bruised on the inside that even the slightest inconvenience threatened to send him into tears. Who still woke up gasping in the night. Who was so choked by pain sometimes that words left him. Processing his emotions? It was more likely that his emotions processed him. Like a fucking meatgrinder.

Astrid frowned at him. “Let’s take a walk. Just the three of us.” She glanced back at the door, where Yasha was visible. “If your shadow will allow it.”

“My shadow does what she likes,” Caleb muttered, letting Astrid tug him along. Wulf took his other hand, leaving him little choice to let the two of them take him where they willed.

They wound up in a small park they had used to visit regularly, especially when drunk after a night of dancing. It was strange to see it in daylight, and while Caleb was mostly sober. They sat on the grass beside a small ornamental pond, Astrid and Wulf pointedly bookending Caleb, sitting close enough for their shoulders to touch. The wind played with the strands of Caleb’s hair that had fallen out of his braid. He never bothered to fix them because Essek found it endearing.

“I apologise,” said Astrid. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset, Astrid.” At her doubtful noise, he added, “Not at you.”

“You should get out of Rexxentrum,” she said abruptly. “Just for a few days. We have things well in hand. Your lesson plans are solid. Bettina and Alphira are pleased. You do not need to be here until next week.”

“And if Nico comes back?”

“You will be contacted. I promise.” Astrid looked to Wulf, who shrugged at her, which caused her to roll her eyes. “Jester keeps pestering me to make you visit Nicodranas.”

Caleb had been messaging with Jester regularly, and she had hinted that he should visit, but she was usually a lot more explicit when she wanted to see him. And he knew she was talking to Yasha, Beau and Essek, but none of them had said much about it.

It was odd. “Is there a reason she is pestering you and not the people I literally live with?”

Astrid shrugged. “I may have let a few things slip.”

“Astrid, you do not ‘let things slip.’”

She looked utterly unashamed. “Well, apparently you had not told some of your dearest friends you are going through a rough patch, so I did it for you.”

“In how much detail, exactly?” Caleb did not like to be angry with his friends, especially Astrid, but he needed to work out how much of a problem he needed to have with her.

“Very little, just enough that she knows you are not at your best. I would not rob you of that agency.”

That last part hit Caleb harder than he could have expected. “I… thank you.”

Caleb had to admit he missed his friends terribly. Especially Veth, who of all the Nein had seen him at his worst, helped him put the pieces of his brain together on the days he collapsed, who had cuddled up to him on bad days, who had been the first friend he’d had in many years. And Jester, who knew how to ruin a dark mood. Fjord, with his quiet understanding. Kingsley with his… Kingsleyness that was a little painfully close to Molly sometimes but more than welcome.

He always knew they would be worried sick if he told them even a fraction of what had happened in the last few days. Seeing the pain he brought to Caduceus, Yasha, Beau and Essek was hard enough. But they loved him. Those who did not know what had happened would want to know, so they could help.

And he was touched that Astrid and Wulf had taken the time to sit him down and discuss this with him. He didn’t know what they were now. Maybe he never would. Maybe they were friends again. They had all changed so much, Caleb especially, that it was hard to say if they could even be friends. But Caleb wanted it. He wanted it a lot.

“I suppose I can spare a day or two,” he finally said. It would be good for Essek to get out of Rexxentrum, too. Maybe he could drag Beau and Yasha out for a bit, even if Beau had obligations at the Archive.

Wulf and Astrid looked at each other in a knowing way he had not seen from them in seventeen years. The familiarity was strange, and a little uncomfortable, but also comforting at the same time. He had spent so much time emphasising how much he still cared for them, doing his best to drag them away from Trent, and then gently guiding them through sharing their trauma to put Trent away for good. But he had never forgotten that for such a long time, they were the ones looking out for him and protecting him. He had done the same for them, of course, but there had often been an unspoken understanding that Caleb was just a little bit squishy, needed just a little extra care.

Caleb was also keenly aware that sometimes it was easier to care for someone else than to care for yourself.

Wulf’s large hand found Caleb’s knee. “Good. Say hi to Fjord for me.”

“Tell him yourself,” Caleb muttered, because he knew Wulf would find it more funny than offensive.

Wulf chuckled and squeezed his knee. “Oh, and warn your boyfriend: if he hurts you, I will cut off his balls.”

“You will have to beat me there,” said Astrid.

Okay, this conversation had taken so many twists and turns that Caleb had half a mind to visit the Grove and ask Caduceus to check him for whiplash. Unsurprising, really. Things were complicated between the three of them and likely would be for a very long time.

He wasn’t sure what to say about the fact his exes were on the cusp of threatening his current partner, and not in the way one might expect. Caleb found himself fiddling with the end of his braid while he tried to process what the fuck was happening to him.

Finally, he said, “There are a great many people who would fuck him up if he ever put a foot wrong with me, and he himself is first in line. You need not worry about that. Thank you for your… concern?”

Astrid and Wulf shared another look, much more pained than the last. Then they both looked away, Astrid into the grass and Wulf at the pond.

“He treats you well?” she said quietly.

“Ja, very well. He came back to take care of me.” Caleb had no words for the depths of his gratitude towards Essek. He was always gentle with Caleb, sensitive to his needs. And these last few days, he had been nothing but a source of endless love and support, a soft place to land when Caleb felt like he was in freefall. He always offered this, but every protective and caring instinct in Essek had been cranked upward, like casting an old, reliable third-level spell at eighth level instead. Or ninth, though Caleb and Essek were not quite to that level of magical skill yet.

“Good,” Wulf muttered. “You play with your braid when you talk about him.”

Caleb chuckled, not even embarrassed he had been caught with such an obvious tell. “Ja, he likes to braid my hair for me.”

“Hard to hate a man who braids his partner’s hair.” Wulf’s voice was almost wistful; Caleb’s hair had never been long enough to braid when the three of them were together, but they had occasionally been able to get a small one into Astrid’s hair.

“Good. Don’t.”

Astrid’s hand found Caleb’s other knee. “You’ve been through a lot, even in the past few days alone. And… we know you are capable. You have the willpower and the support you need to get through all of this, and to guide the Volstrucker who agree to attend the support group. But we do worry for you. And we are… glad… you have people in your life who take care of you.” Once again, she could not look at him. “Wulf and I… we are sorry we failed you.”

That was a new one. “Astrid, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Greater Restoration,” Wulf said quietly.

“If we had found the nerve to talk to a cleric ourselves,” added Astrid, “we could have gotten you out of there years ago.”

Right. Vergesson. “Trent wouldn’t have allowed it. You know that.”

“We could have tried.”

They had been teenagers. Frightened, grieving teenagers at the mercy of a powerful man. Of all the things Caleb could have held against Astrid and Eadwulf, this would never be one of them.

“You could have gotten us all killed,” Caleb said, forcing steel into his tone in the hope it would break whatever spiral Astrid and Wulf had worked themselves into. “You didn’t know that Greater Restoration would have done shit for me. Why would you? That is not the skillset Trent cultivated in us. He taught us how to hurt people, because we were to be his weapons. He had us murder our own fucking parents because all he wanted us to know was violence and pain and fear and utter reliance on him alone. You do not need to apologise for not taking on a fool’s errand.”

They refused to look at him once again. Jaws clenched. Eyes wild and staring holes into the ground.

“We were children,” Caleb reminded them, squeezing their hands where they remained on his knees. “We were children. Of all the things we have done or not done, that is the last thing I will ever let you apologise for. Do not hurt yourselves, hurt me, like this. Please.”

Astrid’s free hand pressed over her mouth, catching a sob. Wulf’s thumb drew a slow circle on Caleb’s knee.

“You’re right,” Wulf said quietly. “It would have been foolish. But we…”

“We were cowards,” Astrid snapped. “We left you there for eleven years. Trent made sure you were cared for, but… it was Vergesson. And you were defenceless.”

“I am well aware,” Caleb said before she could pull up memories that were far too painful for any of them. “I have told you before that I remember little of my time there. I would prefer it remain that way, I think.” Caleb wasn’t sure he could survive remembering that place beyond the flashes of awful that would sometimes come to him.

“I’m sorry, Bren. I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh. Enough of that.”

Astrid cleared her throat, straightened up. Evidently she had remembered they were technically in a public place.

“Do us a favour,” said Wulf. “Go to Nicodranas. Get some rest.”

“I will, if the two of you will also do me a favour.”

Astrid, newly composed, raised an eyebrow at him. “What is this favour?”

“Try to hate yourselves a little less. Hypocritical coming from me, but I think we could all stand to be kinder to ourselves.” Caleb had said almost those exact words to Essek in the Blooming Grove all those months ago, and he was struck by how much he had a type.

“All right,” she said, smiling with so much affection that Caleb was taken back to their first kiss in a freezing cold tower. “You first.”

They parted ways not long afterwards, and Yasha melted out of the shadows to walk Caleb home.

“That looked very intense,” she said, leading him by the hand like he was a small child bound to get lost in a big city. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. Think you can convince Beauregard to visit Nicodranas for a bit?”

Yasha chuckled. “I think I can manage.”

****

Making arrangements for Nicodranas kept Caleb from stewing too much in his talk with Astrid and Wulf. That was welcome. He appreciated the care they still had for him, but there were some things that were still too painful and probably always would be. He had already messaged Jester to confirm the Nein Heroez would be in dock at the time.

“Of course, Caleb! Did Astrid talk to you? She’s super nice, and she really cares about you a lot. I’m sorry I was mean to--” The message cut off at twenty-five words; Jester’s word economy, or lack thereof, would always be a source of joy even on a bad day.

Essek, mercifully, had messaged Veth for him; she would hear the exhaustion in Caleb’s voice and worry herself into a panic.

Despite the flurry of activity, Caleb still found himself occasionally caught, freezing in the act of folding a shirt or cataloguing his spell components. And he’d remember how much the two visits to Vergesson he had made since his escape had rattled him. The few memories he had were bad enough, and he knew so much of the pain the place brought him was buried in his subconscious. Or in moments that his body seemed to remember but his mind didn’t.

The bloodbath he’d caused while on the amulet heist. So on edge that he had forgotten a crucial detail about the Wall of Force spell until he had expended all his spells that he could have used to disintegrate it. Caleb did not forget things like that. Until he did, apparently. And then there had been his complete inability to do anything but fight when Trent had appeared suddenly, temporarily thwarting their escape. He’d fallen back on his training. Always his training. And the violence it entailed.

While part of him was a tiniest bit curious what had happened during those eleven years, if nothing else to further catalogue Trent’s sins on the public record and dig up his accomplices, most of him hoped he never found out.

As he stood a little too long in these thoughts, a pair of dusky purple hands lifted Caleb’s component pouch from his shaking grip, setting it aside. Essek sat Caleb on the end of the bed and wordlessly climbed behind him, knees gently pressing Caleb’s hips as he pulled the braid loose and began it anew. The gentle tugging motions slowly pulled Caleb back into his body, and the present.

Essek finished off the braid and kissed Caleb’s neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”

More like Caleb needed to talk about it before he imploded. “Astrid and Wulf apologised for not getting me out of Vergesson themselves. And… I think they know some parts of what happened to me there. Things I don’t remember. Things I don’t want to remember. Things I might know subconsciously that I don’t think I can handle knowing consciously. I’m just… out of sorts, I suppose.”

Essek slid his arms around Caleb’s chest, pressing himself up against his back, squishing their cheeks together. “I would like to turn them into spaghetti for making you think about this when you have enough to worry about, but you would be upset with me.”

“I’m not angry with them.”

“I know.” Essek kissed his cheek, nuzzling Caleb’s stubble.

“Vergesson is… I do not like the person I became when I was last there. I don’t think I could survive remembering what happened to me.”

“Then don’t try to remember.” Essek flattened his palm over Caleb’s heart and gently pressed down, forcing Caleb to focus more on his breathing. Remembering that his heart still beat. He was here.

More immediate, practical thoughts began to filter back into Caleb’s mind. He remembered he was going to Send to Caduceus and invite him to Nicodranas. Caduceus would hear the rough edges in Caleb’s voice, but he could handle it far better than most of the Nein.

“Hallo, Caduceus. It’s Caleb. We are visiting Nicodranas for a few days tomorrow. Would you like to come? We can pick you up in the morning.”

There was a slight pause, and then Caduceus’s warm, soothing tone filled Caleb’s mind. “Hey, Caleb. That sounds great. I’ll be ready, with fresh tea for everyone. And sunhats. You and Essek will burn in the sun.”

“Caduceus is in,” Caleb said, stifling a yawn. Essek laughed softly, his breath tickling Caleb’s neck. “Now for Yussa.” He cast again, directing a message to Wensforth. “Hallo, it’s Caleb of the Mighty Nein. We are visiting Nicodranas tomorrow. May we use the circle? It would be good to see you both.”

Wensforth replied quickly. “Yes, of course! The master is eager to speak with you at any time. Please… message before you arrive?”

Caleb let himself laugh a little. The Nein were notoriously awful at warning people of their arrival. And Caleb was touched that Yussa, ever a busy man, thought so highly of them now that he would happily drop everything to talk to them. They had spoken a few times since Cognouza, and if Yussa had been a less restrained man, Caleb had the strong impression he would’ve hugged each and every one of the Nein in gratitude for saving him.

And, to think, Caleb had once been so frightened of him that he could barely speak.

He felt better, so he got up and finished sorting his spell components, making a note that he would need to restock his teleportation circle chalk after a few more uses.

Caleb helped Yasha cook Eintopf that evening, a one-pot stew. Caleb had grown up eating dozens of versions of the stew, but he had his favourites. Carrots, leeks and celeriac were key to the base of the soup, as they were preparing their own broth. Along with a bunch of parsley. Yasha had found some excellent pork sausages at the market today, so those went in along with green beans (Caleb’s sentimental favourite), potatoes, and a ton of onion. Lots of garlic. Yasha had also found marjoram at the market today.

This was a recipe Caleb had helped his mother cook even as a boy, so he also insisted they add apple like she always had. For a little bit of sweetness and acidity. And surprise.

Caleb cleaned and steamed the beans while Yasha browned the meat and onions and potatoes and garlic. From there, they tag-teamed to get everything bubbling away until it was all finally ready to put into a pot and simmer away to completion.

It was a good use of the evening, and it kept Caleb busy and enveloped in happy sensory memories of his mother’s kitchen. While the stew bubbled away, he munched on a few green beans he’d set aside for the fun of it after they had steamed.

Essek hovered in the corner, reading a book about sea creatures Jester had brought him last time she was in town. Caleb pulled out his lesson plans and speech preparation, spreading it out across the dinner table, and made edits into the evening.

Beauregard arrived home from work--Yasha had visited her already to persuade her to come with them to Nicodranas. And then they ate dinner together at the table, and the taste of home did not send Caleb into a grief spiral tonight. This time, it just soothed him.

Before bed, Caleb sent one last message: “Hallo, Nico. It’s Caleb. I will be in Nicodranas for a few days. If you need shelter and the house is empty, take the key--” He cast again. “From inside the flowerpot on the right side of the house. I have an illusion set to guide you. Password: Wilkommen. Gute nacht.”

No response, but Caleb hadn’t expected one. He let Essek tuck him into bed. They curled up together, Essek slowly but firmly stroking his back with grounding pressure, until Caleb fell asleep.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 7.5 OR Chapter 8

➜ Words: 2.7k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You thought about it over Winter break.   While baking and laying around your dorm room, you’ve come to a self-revelation. You spent only a week in Jungkook’s hometown before coming back for the other two, not wanting to intrude on his family too much, and during that time, you’ve re-discovered a strengthened will. You’ve decided to abandon your unproductive heartache in favour of nurturing a new ambition, a new eagerness to flourish and thrive, and make the most out of your time here.   And Jungkook is surprised to see this fresh enthusiasm.   “You’re here early.” He steps into the kitchen to see you crouched over the counter with notebooks and textbooks sprawled out, already studying at the beginning of the semester.   “I know.” You lift your head to grin at him. “Just thought I’d get a head start. Don’t slack just cause we’re in the same class, Jeon. I won’t always give you notes when you skip.”   He approaches with a small smile. “I’m guessing the rest of your Winter break was good.”   “It was alright. It’s nice to sleep in. How was yours?”   “Lia and Eunbi kept crying when you left. I swear my family likes you more than they like me.”   “Naturally,” you taunt while batting your lashes. “I’m just so likable.”   “Uh-huh.” But that still doesn’t explain why you’re humming and smiling to yourself. It’s only eight in the morning and he wonders where the usual Little Miss Cranky went. “Did something good happen?”   “What do you mean?”   “You’re giggling to yourself.”   “I’m not giggling.” You feign a glare. “I’ve just...found new motivation to work harder. I thought about it a lot and….”   “And?”   “I’m going to get back with Seokjin,” you declare. Jungkook’s eyes are wide and you smile. “I’m going to catch up and become someone worthy of him. Someone he won’t be able to let go. I’m going to work my hardest, so he can be proud of me.”   “Huh.” The boy nods. “Well, good for you.”   “Psh, what’s with the bland response. Listen, you better look out, Jeon. I’m going to make the best portfolio ever to submit at the end of the semester.”   He grins. “Okay.”   You return to your work, finishing up reading the section while humming to yourself.    Jungkook glad you found a new vigour to strive and do your best — but he can’t help feeling unsure of your reasoning. He’s pretty sure that this isn’t it.   //   The lectures and hands-on workshops at the very start of the semester are always the blandest. Introductions are done, course outlines are looked at, and the professor drones on and on about the course’s expectations and what the assignments and examinations will look like. Jungkook isn’t exactly enthused to hear what he’ll have to get done in the coming weeks.   And it’s in this very boredom that he knows he doesn’t need to say anything about your new-found determination. Eventually class will wear you down like it does for everyone, and you’ll become indifferent again. You’ll come to your senses one way or another.   But to his surprise, you’re still very much jolly after classes.   “It hasn’t been one day and classes are already fucking me in the ass,” Taehyung groans.   “Hey, guys!” You plop down with Jungkook beside you. “I missed you. How was Christmas break?”   “It was good.” Hoseok looks up, appearing utterly exhausted with dark circles lining the area beneath his eyes.    Yoongi actively glares at you. “You’re chirpy.”   Much to his dismay, you laugh. If Yoongi was a dog, he’d probably bite you.   Jimin smiles. “Did something good happen, Y/N?”   “Actually, yeah. I just realized some things over the break and I just have more motivation to work hard, you know?”   “Can you give me some of that motivation?” Taehyung groans. “What does it take?”   “A fear of flunking and getting kicked out should be more than enough motivation,” Yoongi deadpans.   “What’s your motivation, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, the corner of his mouth curling.   “I…” You glance at Jungkook, not sure if you should tell them the truth. But after a moment of hesitation, you go for it. There’s nothing to hide. “I’m going to try to get back together with Jin.”   At once, you receive mixed reaction — Jimin goes blank, Taehyung lifts his head off to the table and Hoseok’s brows are raised, lips tight. He’s the one who breaks the silence. “Wow, that’s great, Y/N.”   You grin. “I know, right?”   “How are you going to do that?” Taehyung looks at you. “If I can ask…”   “I’m going to improve myself and become someone he wants, someone worth him.”   “But is it really up for you to decide?” Yoongi asks out of the blue, piping up as he chews some chicken in his cheek. The black-haired man looks at you lazily. “It takes two.”   “Yeah, but I can try, right?” You shrug your shoulders, wearing a small smile.   But Yoongi doesn’t accept what he hears, not in the way you want him to. “He dumped you, didn’t he? What makes you think he’ll want you back?”   “I—”   Taehyung steps in before the situation can escalate. “Yoongi.”   But the tired man ignores him, his eyes piercing, even if he gazes at you languidly. “You think you can change him or change what happened?”   “I love him.” Your eyes are glossy and there’s an overwhelming urge to block out your ears.   Yet Yoongi scoffs. “Okay. So what? Who says you won’t be dumped again?”   “Yoongi, chill it, dude,” Taehyung intervenes and Hoseok is also alert, trying to change the topic to no avail. In the meanwhile, Jimin is caught in the conflict and rendered speechless, but what hurts most is that Jungkook doesn’t defend you. He doesn’t utter a single word of support.   “Is it so bad to want him back?”   “Yeah. If he doesn’t want you back.” He shrugs. “It would be more productive if you get on with your life, got better and showed him what he missed out on. Trying to get back together with him makes you look desperate.”   “I never asked for your opinion, Yoongi.”   “Fair, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hear what I have to say. Plus, I’m just asking you questions and as of yet, I haven’t heard any answers, Y/N,” Yoongi bites back. It’s not like the friendly banter that you have with Jungkook. What Yoongi says is painful to hear, heavy on your heart. It’s argumentative with intentions to prove himself right, confrontational in a way you’ve always avoided. “Why are you setting yourself up to be hurt again? Don’t you think you deserve better than that?”   The group falls into strained silence. The tension wraps itself around your throat, robbing your breath from your lungs. Nothing is spoken, no one utters a word. They stare at you as if they’re waiting for a response, for your justifications. But they don’t need to hear it — it’ll sound like a broken record.   They’ll never don’t get it — how much you love Seokjin. How much you miss him. How much you want him back in your life. Someone who used to be your best friend, who was your entire world, your person, and how he’s turned into a complete stranger.   “Alright, guys. Let’s just agree to disagree, okay?” Taehyung laughs stiffly, trying to dial it back. But you abruptly stand, grabbing your tray of food.   “Y/N.” Jungkook grabs your arm before you can walk away.   You don’t face him. “I have some stuff to do. Catch you guys later.” After dumping the tray, you walk out of the building before they can see the tears in your eyes. And they watch your backside until you’ve disappeared from the dining center.   “You’ve really done it now,” Hoseok chides Yoongi.   The male shrugs. “Was I wrong? She needed to hear it from someone and apparently I’m the only one willing to be the bad guy.”   //   You continue to march across campus with no destination in mind, merely attempting to find some peace and quiet. You tear open the door to the west wing, sniffling as your breath heaves, and at your hasty pace, you fail to notice another person walking in the opposite direction until your shoulders collide with one another.   “S-Sorry.”   The rounded, short girl regards you with bright eyes, wearing a white apron and jeans. “It’s okay—oh, Y/N, right?”    “Do I….know you?”   “I’m Yoo Aeri. We met each other on orientation day, remember?”   “Oh my god.” It was four months ago, but you can vaguely recall the first person you befriended. You were so happy that you met someone friendly that you told Seokjin right away, even if you forgot to exchange contact information. “I remember now. I’m so sorry I forgot, my mind lately is just…”   She laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I actually switched into the culinary program recently.”   “Oh, really? That’s super cool. I heard it was hard.”   “It is a little, but the Baking and Pastry Arts program is a lot more competitive. I just found it wasn’t for me.”   “I know what you mean. I can get pretty tough.”   Aeri smiles and you realize she’s holding a plastic wrapped plate when she thrusts it towards you. “I’m actually walking around right now to see if someone wants to eat this — It’s seared salmon I made in class, but I made too much. As usual. Do you want to have lunch with me?”   You’ve never had such a proposition before. “I’d love to.”   //   8:12 pm. Jungkook: is the plan still on?   Every so often when Jungkook’s sick of you complaining about the vile food at the dining hall, the both of you go out to grab a bite to eat off-campus. His wallet cries but he has to admit that it’s fun.   Tonight though, you haven’t knocked on his dorm room yet and he hasn’t been in contact with you since lunch. Jungkook wonders passingly if you’ve permanently ghosted him — if so, he doesn’t know why he’s being punished for Yoongi’s actions.   8:14 pm. Y/N: oh yeah sorry 8:14 pm. Y/N: not tonight   The moment he gets the message, his brows shoot to his hairline. Jungkook audibly groans.    You should’ve told him sooner. He can’t get a good meal in the dining center when it closes in just fifteen minutes. But Jungkook wonders if you’re underneath your covers crying, if you’re really that weak willed to be broken down so easily by a few words from Yoongi, but then—   8:16 pm. Y/N: made a new friend   Wow. So you ditched his ass for someone else — now Jungkook has zero sympathy for you.   With the annoyance of a lifetime, he grabs his coat and decides to go out anyways. He doesn’t need you. He can enjoy a perfectly good meal off-campus by himself.   It takes Jungkook fifteen minutes by bus to get to the bustling street. He enters the cozy pizza restaurant down the block that you’ve both gone to a few times and orders takeout. He waits at the front playing a game on his phone to pass the time, hoping he can get home soon and enjoy the food in the comfort of his own bed.   But Jungkook’s ears perk when it catches loud voices that draw his attention. He naturally lifts his head. It’s a mistake.   He can’t even act that he doesn’t know them, that he didn’t see them, not when his eyes connect directly with Jin’s and they look at each other.   Yet, to Jungkook’s surprise, the older man stops with a smile. “Hey!”   The best way to describe his relationship with Seokjin was that they are acquaintances — similar to how he would’ve called you, excluding the recent months. Jungkook knows Jin from high school, saw him in the halls but they seldom spoke to each other. They hear things about one another but that’s the furthest extent of their interactions.   Until now.   “Are you here alone?”   “Yeah I’m just grabbing some takeout.” Jungkook awkwardly hitches a thumb over his shoulder.   Seokjin nods, plump lips naturally pouted. “Were you in the area?”   “Not really. I came from school.”   “Oh, that’s actually pretty far. I’m surprised you didn’t just do delivery.”   Jungkook’s doe eyes double. He feels like an idiot. “Oh shit, actually?! I didn’t know they had delivery!” He could’ve saved himself half an hour.   Seokjin grins. “Yeah, but it costs an extra two dollars.”   “Guess I’m saving money then.” He feels bitter. Sincerely, you are the curse of his life. Jungkook would’ve never been in this situation if he didn’t feel a need to imaginarily prove you wrong in his mind.   “Jin!” One of his male friends calls out, signaling him over as the waitress shows the rest of his friends to a table.   “I’ll be there in a minute.”   Jungkook can kind of understand the sad state you were in after the breakup. Aside from Seokjin’s handsomeness that even renders Jungkook speechless at some angles, it’s evident that Jin has a good personality. He’s friendly and warm, despite being an acquaintance. And Jin never once treated him poorly even back when he had his feud with you.   “Want to step outside for a minute?” Jungkook asks. “It’s kind of loud in here.”   “Sure.”   The two of them exit the restaurant and become enveloped in the chilly air. It is quiet out here, almost too quiet. They can finally hear each other properly but Jungkook finds his thoughts are deafeningly loud.    “So, what did you end up ordering?”   “Three sausage and two pepperoni.” Jungkook’s fond of the way you always call him a meathead as he stuffs his face with it. “It’s my favourite.”   “Oh really? I’m more of a pineapple man, myself.”   “I’ll admit, I hated pineapple myself until Y/N changed my mind.”   Seokjin grins. “She did for me too. How is she, by the way?”   “She’s...fine. Enough to drive me crazy.” Jungkook sighs with the force of his entire being and Jin nods with the corner of his mouth quirked.    “I'll admit, I was pretty surprised when I heard through the grapevine that you guys became friends. But I’m glad she has someone with her.”   “We’re not like that.”   Jin hums. “Doesn’t change the fact that she has someone to support her.”   There’s a pause. “Can I ask you something?”   It’s the reason Jungkook went out of his way to ask him to come outside. He’s curious and maybe it’s not his place to be, but he’s always felt more involved than he should be. Jungkook wants to understand, to clear his confusion, to hear the other side of the story.   “Depends on what it is.” Seokjin smiles.   “Why did you break up with Y/N?”   You had never really told him the reasoning, and he’ll admit it was bizarre when the two of you split. Jungkook always thought you were one of those irritating high-school sweetheart couples that would eventually get married and settle down with one another. The kind of couple that would get their love story posted in the newspaper after their seventy year anniversary.    A picture-perfect happily ever after.   Seokjin sighs, a cloud of condensation emitted through his parted lips. He leans against the brick wall and looks up at the night sky. “Sometimes...there doesn’t need to be a bad reason or a red flag or some kind of deal breaker.”   “Then why?”   Seokjin shrugs. “I always felt like Y/N loved me a lot more than I loved her. Always.”   “Sometimes, it felt like she put me on a pedestal. Other times, I think I made her feel inadequate. But she was always willing to give up everything for me.” Their eyes connect, Jin’s sheepish and soft. “And for me, I constantly felt like I had to play the part of a good boyfriend, rather than be one because it came naturally. It made me feel guilty. She didn’t do anything wrong. I think I just realized sooner that we weren’t the ones for each other.”   A disconnect. Jin liked you — he adored you — but you loved him wholeheartedly with your entire soul. Even now you still earnestly love Jin.   Jungkook isn’t sure what to do with the new information. But he suddenly feels bad for you. More than he ever has.

[yukipri]

Hey there so I know you are currently not working on your mer!luffy stuff but I just had to say; I finally finished whole cake island and the confrontation between sanji and luffy, I had to imagine it all playing out in your AU. I mean it was already heartbreaking, but thinking about it in your work just gave it the cherry on top. Now I'll have to reread all of your posts again :D thank you for creating such an amazing AU, I really love it. All of your art is great, but I'm sadly not into sw so I'll appreciate that from an outsiders perspective :D thank you for everything!

Thanks so much for liking my OP Mer AU, and also for understanding that I'm not working on it right now ^ ^;

Whole Cake Island is definitely one of those arcs that would be affected even more than usual by the cast change. It's definitely a deeply personal and important moment between Luffy and Sanji in canon and I wouldn't want to reduce that, but at the same time, in this particular AU, there are certain members of the crew that if present, absolutely wouldn't tolerate Sanji's treatment of Lu. The cast present at Whole Cake Island would depend on what happens in all previous arcs, and it isn't something that I could have written in a simple ask response or even one shot fic response.

As such, it was definitely one of those arcs where i basically thought, "I'll think about it in more detail in the unlikely chance I ever get that far." ^ ^;

I've been in many fandoms over the years, and this blog has seen me through all of them. I'm sure I come in and out of fandoms for all of my poor followers who stick around, and I'm grateful for them tolerating me ^ ^; Thanks so much for appreciating my work regardless!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

[shortyisweird9]

'Lonely ghost serie'

Chek and heartache- part III

Tw⚠️:swearing, referring of dark themes such as suicide attempt and mental illness.

The morning rays hit your eyes gently, tangible by their warmth,as you forced yourself from another dream of nothing but blank.

You groaned as your cat,Didi, comes running towards you: purring, meowing and chirping in pure happiness. You knew the reason she does this; your previous cat, Martha or Dildo- your roommate Sergiu called her that because of her dickish attitude with him- used to do this everytime so the little one, Didi, just followed her mother's lead.

Everytime she does that is like a small needle stabs at your heart especially when just 2 weeks passed since Martha died of old age- the black cat was adopted when she was senior, abused and malnourished, your heart knew you couldn't leave her to be laid to rest like a nothing. You adopted her, she bit you and you petted her, she hissed you hugged her, you did everything you could think of to show love even brush her fur with a wet toothbrush end to mimic sweet kisses coming from her mom. The cat soon realized that and started living again. Cautious of your other 3 roommates, cuddly with you.

Anyway, you got sidetracked with reminiscing. You heard your friends in the kitchen, Sabrina throwing away the take out boxes and Sergiu preparing some tea, probably to calm his stomach after all the spicy curry he ate last night.

You fixed the oversized white t-shirt and pull the marine blue shorts out of your bottoms, Didi already waiting you by the door.

You all, Sabrina,Sergiu,Ace and you, live in a quaint apartment, turned from campus housing, right next to one of the malls of the city. It had two small bathrooms, a living room , three petite bedrooms ,a tiny kitchen, a rounded balcony and a hallway. It was much smaller than your family home but it was in a central zone where your family home was outside the city's boundaries. You chose it not only because you wanted to spare your family from driving you to university but also because you needed your freedom, your space. Your parents were very understanding of that.

-Y/n e trează? ( "Is Y/n awake?") Ace asked as he sipped on his black cofee.

Without, he would pretty much be a grumpy hedgehog with spiky tealish mohawk. And who wouldn't love that?

-Nu încă, ah! Uite-o! ("Not yet,ah! There she is") Sabrina exclaimed, getting up to hug you and leaving the smoking tea cup by the window.

"Hello." You said ,voice grungy and eyes shut from the light.

You felt the warm hands of your Arabic friend on your face filled with moles and couple of marks from recently popped pimples, you let yourself be engrossed into it ,the touch starvation you carry like a cross chosing for you.

You hear her laugh, she always had a pretty laugh and a prettier smile . She was the beauty of the group, with big puffy sand yellow curls, brown skin with red undertones and black eyes who glow in pure happiness. She was stunning and a sweetheart with an obsession on the colour red and butterflies.

"Someone is needy." Ace teased.

"Shut up or I will staple those hair triangles on your scalp. "

You wanted to say something better but Sabrina then started massaging your lower face in a circular manner with her thumb. You knew you couldn't do anything anymore except melt.

-Anyway ,unde e Sergiu? ("Anyway, where is Sergiu?")

-Ți-o făcut ceai, cane e pervaz. S-o dus până sus să o ajute pe Florentina.("He made you tea, the cup is on the windowsill. He went upstairs to help Florentina.") He said, taking another sip of his cup.

-Ooooh, Florentina. You two began as Ace shook his head in amusement.

You and Sabrina were known to be ruthless in your teasing of the guitarist with long brown locks and beard.

Florentina was a crush of his, a freshman in the University of Arts who played the violin beautifully. Small,with olive skin, long red hair keept in a 1960s hairstyle and green petite with a triangular shaped face. She was a sweetie with a love for fantasy book ,autumn and ferrets.

-Oh, yeah?

-Dup, iubitul ei se mută cu ea. ("Yup, her boyfriend moves in with her")

-Oh.

Ace sucked in his lip ,his face filled with disappointment just like theirs now.

-That sucks.

-Numai spune,Sabrina.("You don't say,Sabrina")

Just then, the door clicked shut. Sergiu is back, this will be awkward.

-Ce vă uitați așa la mine?("Why are you looking at me like that?")

Neither of them could properly looked into the warm brown eyes of the man whose glow seemed to fade a bit, Sergiu was a stubborn man who shut his feelings deep inside, only through his song you could tell he was suffering. Just like you, I suppose.

-Am auzit...("We heard...")

You bit your lips as your long fingers played with each other, twisting and tugging while your nerves grew. Last thing you wanted was another fight where you all force the man to open up. He had suicidal tendencies, sometimes he came too close to actually do it but you were there and you needed to be there now too, even if he doesn't like being taking care of.

Sergiu rolled his eyes at you, his heart hurt from how rigid your posture was, eyes were worried about him but also scared, teeth grinding themselves not out of anger but out of care and fear.

He knew you hated arguments and shouts with dying passion. You always cried when someone raised their voice in less than friendly manner, you hated this reaction of complete terror, you hated looking weak but now you hated letting your friend burn himself because of an unfortunate love triangle. So you swallowed your nerves and braved on, it's about him ,not you.

Sergiu wanted to protect you all from this negativity, especially you and Ace. You had a big event to organise , Ace's sex reassignment surgery is coming up soon. You both have your own problems to dwell ,you didn't need to have him as one too.

However somewhere in his head, a voice telling him that he was wrong ,that voice that took the shape of you in the night of July.

You were crying, your grey hoodie wet from the rain as you cling desperately to him, not daring to move.

He was the reason why you crying, why you yelled profanities our of worry for what he was about to do. He...He tried to throw himself off a bridge ,the same bridge you two first shared your kiss.

That dark episode still irked your minds in the darker moments, late in the night nothing but your mind to keep you company and that's torture in itself.

You thought you could help him, change whatever hurts him and make it go away. That was your biggest mistake, you can't change a person that's not your duty , your duty was to support them through tough times and help them see the light at the end of the dark tunnel. A duty you solemnly swore to uphold even if he didn't liked you to. There's no fucking way you let him do that again,not if you can be there for him. Like he was always there for you, your big guardian with a guitar that spews flames in shape of songs.

-Y/n..

-Te rog, Sergiu. Nu ascunde. ("Please, Sergiu. Don't hide.")

Your eyes were desperate for him to talk it out in any shape or form. They implore for him to vent, to not hid between fake lies like " I am okay" or "I'm fine."

-Bine,bine. Tu ești șefa. ("Fine,fine. You're the boss.")

————————————————————

They talked and talked and cried and laughed and cried again. A never ending circle of venting ,small earthquakes which instead of fracturing the friendship , it onlyakes it stronger as it should.

-Te simți mai bine?("You feeling better?") Your voice ran timidly on the top of your apartment building, watching over the brutalist styled architecture.

-Un pic, doare știi dar asta îmi arată cât de îndrăgostit sunt de ea. Iubirea adevărată pentru mine nu se referă doar la a iubi doar dacă te iubește reciproc, nu , să iubești fără să forțezi persoană să te iubească înapoi. Să îi porți de grijă, să o protejezi, să o ajuți fără să fi un egoist, fără să te aștepți să fi iubit înapoi. ("A little, it hurts you know but this shows how much I love her. True love for me doesn't mean to love just so they will love you back, no, to love someone without forcing them to love you back. To care for them, to protect them, to help them without being an egotistic, to love without expecting to be loved back.")

-Poetic.

He laughed at that , starring at the setting sun ,his lit cigar forgotten fumed between his painted fingers. His hair blown gently by the wind , he looked like a masterpiece.

-Scuze..pentru tot.("Sorry...for everything. ")

-N-ai de ce. Mi-ai făcut chec până la urmă așa că balanța eternă este restabilită.("You don't have a reason to be. You made me chek in the end and thus the eternal balance is restored.") You joked, munching quietly on the piece of cake, his jacket keeping you warm.

-Haha. Cine ar fi crezut că checul are fi o gustare bună când îți dai vent.("Haha. Who would have thought that chek will be a good snack when you vent.")

Indeed, who would have thought of that but one who cried in the sore days filled with heart ache.

————————————————————

Hey,guys!💖

Hope you like the third part of the serie, I wanted to focus on "your life" and your friends backgrounds this time. The translations are not 100% word to word but enought to give you context.

Anyway, I hope you like it. Stay safe!

Tagged 💗💗:@moolujk @gaysludge @simonsbluee @yoyoanaria @cherry-piee @magenta-skyline @yikesyikesyikes95