#god... those lucky lucky women who shared even a moment with him!

[hooked-on-elvis]

Diana Goodman and the first jewelry piece Elvis gifted her with (1975), a sapphire and diamond ring, to which her first reaction was to ask him: "Is that real?"

Credits: screenshot from Youtube channel "Those Elvis Girls." I recommend you to WATCH the full video interview on "Elvis Presley and Diana Goodman: A Southern Belle's Love Story"... there's many good stories and details on Diana's time with Elvis. She's such a lovely lady! To watch the video, click HERE.

I had already read Diana's brief love affair story with Elvis prior to watching this video interview and I have SO MUCH to say about it, but I had never saw the actual ring and had to share it because that story just broke me down laughing (sorry about the poor quality in the photos guys).

Diana said Elvis was SO OFFENDED with her question! I can't stop imagining the inflection in his voice like it was in the 50s… You know in the movie "Loving You" (1957) when Deke Rivers was gifted with a shirt and he says "For me?" in that cute little high-pitched tone it's so adorable? Yeah, I paint that scene from Diana's story like that in my mind… the surprise in Elvis' voice to think Diana would even consider him giving her fake jewelry. Like, wide-eyes Elvis staring at her: "Are you serious?" Anyway, that's one of the little details that make Elvis gifting people stories adorable!

[scoonsalicious]

2.1 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, pick-mes, internalized misogyny.

Word Count: 2.7k

Previously On...: You asked Bucky to dance.

A/N: Guys, I know it's moving fast, but next part is smut <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

As soon as the opening bars of the saxophone began, Bucky found himself feeling at ease. It wasn’t exactly like the big band tunes he used to cut it up to back in the day, but the beat was similar, and the horns were familiar. He was delighted to find the rhythm of the song was perfect for the Lindy Hop, and in no time, he was moving Major along the floor like he would have if he’d met her in 1943. 

And the look on her face as he spun her, twisted her in his arms? It was fucking priceless. Major’s smile was huge, her laugh infectious, and in no time at all, Bucky found himself laughing, too. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun with a dame. 

He was surprised to find himself thinking of Major in those terms, as a dame. Yeah, he’d dated since he’d woken up from cryo for the last time, even had a couple of relationships that never seemed to go anywhere, but those had all been with girls, occasionally women. Not a single one of them had made him feel the same electric rush he’d felt in his youth; not the way he’d felt dancing with Major tonight, and that made her a dame. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

The song was over far too soon for Bucky’s liking, and even though the next one was one he didn’t know how to move to, he found he didn’t want to let go of her, didn’t want to move off the floor.

“That was great,” he said, slightly panting from the dancing and laughing. “What was that?”

“Bleachers,” Major said. “Modern Girl. They’re one of my favorite bands. I’m so glad you liked it.”

“I loved it,” Bucky smiled. “I haven’t danced like that in nearly a century. It felt fucking amazing; thank you.” 

Major ducked her face behind her hair, bashful at his thanks, and Bucky thought it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “Are all their songs like that?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted, “but they’re still fantastic.”

“I’ll give them a listen, then,” he said, “if you like them so much.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, blushing. God. How Bucky wanted to bite the apples of her cheeks!

“I want to,” he said, earnestly. Without a thought, he found himself reaching up to tuck a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. She was so beautiful; he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to even be talking to her, let alone having gotten to share a dance.

“What?” Major asked, sounding self conscious, and Bucky realized he’d been staring at her for a little longer than was probably considered politely normal.

“I was just thinking about how beautiful you are,” he told her honestly, and was rewarded when she ducked her face down again. He tucked his hand under her chin and tilted her head back up so she was looking at him. “What?” he asked with a soft smile. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Major chuckled softly. “No,” she said. “I guess… I’m just not used to getting compliments.”

“Well, that’s a damned shame,” Bucky tsked. “You should be getting them multiple times a day.”

She licked her lips. She looked so fucking kissable, he thought. “I was in a relationship for a long time,” Major told him. “Got a lot more insults than compliments, unfortunately, toward the end. Guess I just got accustomed to them.”

Bucky frowned, having a hard time believing any straight man with eyes and blood in his cock would ever consider insulting her. “Your ex-boyfriend sounds like a dumbass piece of shit,” he offered.

Major shrugged. “Ex-husband, actually.”

That took Bucky aback. “Oh,” he said. “Shit. I’m sorry–”

“No, it’s okay,” she rushed to reassure him. “I married young and dumb. Military housing is a big perk, you know.” Bucky nodded. “It was… nice for a few years, but between the stress of deployments, and the fact I was getting promoted more often than he was… we weren’t happy for a while.”

“How long since you split?” he asked. He was nervous– based on what he’d experienced of Major so far, he saw her as someone he could really end up liking, and he didn’t want to come trampling in if she wasn’t emotionally ready. The idea of just being a rebound to her didn’t sit well with him. At all.

“Oh, like, five years ago,” Major said, waving her hand as if dismissing her entire marriage. “He cheated on me during his last deployment. Cliche, I know, but I ended up being grateful for it. It was the kick in the ass I needed to finally get out of a dead relationship. In fact, I fueled all the anger I felt at him into building the first WarZone. So, in a weird, roundabout way, I have him to thank for where I am today. Just think; if he had been able to keep his dick in his pants, we might not be standing here right now.”

Bucky laughed at that, and he suddenly found himself wanting to send her ex a thank you card. “Do you still see him?” he asked. 

“Not if I can help it,” Major told him, an upward tic to her lips. “We still have some mutual friends, and I’m fond of his mother, so we run into each other socially, here and there, a couple of times a year. I don’t look forward to seeing him or anything like that, but I stopped caring enough to let it really bother me a long time ago.”

“That seems like a pretty healthy outlook to have,” Bucky offered.

“It took a lot of work to get to this point,” she laughed. “I mean, why’d you think I had to start a rage room, of all things, to help me deal?”

Bucky laughed, and as he did so, he realized he was still holding both of her hands in his; neither of them had made a move to pull away from one another since the dance ended. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, looking up from where the two of them were joined.

“Yeah,” she said, offering him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. “I’d like that.”

They both returned to the booth a few minutes later, Bucky with a beer and Major with another frozen margarita. In their absence, Peter, Thor, and Wanda had left, leaving just Bucky and Major, Nat, Steve, Sam, and Lily. 

“They wanted me to tell you goodbye, and that they loved meeting you,” Nat told Major as she and Bucky both sat back down. “They wish they could have stayed, but Thor and Wanda have an early mission tomorrow, and Peter’s got a school project. You and Barnes seemed to be having a deep discussion, so they didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I’m sorry to have missed them,” Major said, “but hopefully I’ll see them again?” She looked to Nat with a question on her face.

“Of course you will,” Bucky said before Nat could reply. “You think I’m– er, we’re gonna let you get away from us that easily?”

“Oh, Bucky,” Lily said, reaching for his arm. “Did you get me a drink from the bar, love?”

Bucky frowned. It was their usual routine to get the other a refill each time one of them went to the bar, but he’d been so smitten by Major’s presence, he’d entirely forgotten. “No, Lil, I’m sorry,” he said, knowing she’d rightfully start pouting.

“You can share mine with me, if you’d like,” Major offered, holding out her margarita. “I’ve probably already had enough alcohol for one night.”

“Ew, gross,” Lily said, sneering at the proffered drink. “I don’t touch that fruity shit. They’re just so… girly.” She spat out the word like it was an insult. “I mean, if you can’t take beer or straight up liquor, what’s the point of even drinking?” She leaned over and picked up Bucky’s beer. “I’ll just share with Jamie. You don’t mind, right, love?” Smiling, she took a long swig before placing the bottle down in front of him.

“Well, since my drink’s been commandeered,” Bucky said, looking to Major with big, soulful puppy dog eyes, “will you share yours with me?”

“Of course,” she said, handing him her glass. Bucky took a sip.

“Oh, shit,” he moaned, then leaned down to take a larger swig; it was tastier than he’d ever imagined, not to mention her lips had been on the glass, just where his were now. “Lil, you’re missing out! This fruity shit is delicious! Thanks, doll!” 

“I’m just curious,” Major started, seemingly apprehensive, as though she were wondering if she should say what she was actually thinking, “why you say ‘girly’ like it’s a bad thing. What’s wrong with being a girl?”

Nat raised an eyebrow in surprise, and Bucky was sure he heard Sam cough “oh shit” into his fist. 

Lily rolled her eyes. “Nothing’s wrong with being a girl, obviously,” she said. “But, like, you have to admit, all the stuff that’s catered to women is just so… stupid, childish. No self-respecting, serious person is into all that kind of stuff. It’s weak.” She shook her head. “No, if it comes down between being a girl and being a badass, I’m going to choose badass every day of the week.”

“Uh oh,” Major said, leaning back and giving Lily a scrutinizing look. “Sounds to me like the misogyny is coming from inside the house.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Lily asked, planting both hands on the table. “Lil, calm down,” Bucky said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure Major didn’t mean anything insulting by it.”

“I said,” Major reiterated slowly, “that the misogyny is coming from inside the house. You’re acting as though anything that’s considered inherently feminine is less than anything masculine. And when you look to build yourself up by bringing other women down by rejecting femininity, that’s internalized misogyny.”

“How dare you?” Lily seethed. “You don’t fucking know a thing about me! Bucky, tell her I’m not like that!”

“If I made an error in judgment, I apologize,” Major said, before Bucky could come to Lily’s defense. Though, if he really thought about it, Major had a point– Lily always did seem to irrationally hate anything she deemed girly. “I’m simply responding to the implications of your own words.” Major took a sip of her margarita and smacked her lips. “I mean, I like girly things. I like makeup and dressing up and fruity drinks, but I’ve also been in combat. I’ve fought in a war. I’m both girly and a badass. So is Nat. The two can co-exist, and neither one has to be better than the other.”

“You are now officially my best friend,” Natasha said, looking at Major with wonderment and a newfound respect. “Finally, someone else who actually gets it!”

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Lily said, standing up and walking off without waiting for a response from anyone.

“I like you, New Girl,” Sam said, holding out his fist for Major to bump, which she did with an embarrassed smile. “I want you around all the damn time.” 

She turned to Bucky. “I’m sorry if I made your friend upset,” she said, “but after all those years of dealing with the shit that comes from being a woman with authority in the military, misogyny of any kind is a giant no go for me; particularly when it’s from another woman. We should all be propping each other up, not trying to tear one another down.”

“No, I completely understand. She was out of line,” Bucky said. She had been. There was no excuse for that kind of behavior, and if an old fogey from the ‘40s like him could realize that, she should have, too. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

Major smiled at him, seemingly pleased with the way he responded, and Bucky felt his heart swell. He was overcome with the idea that he wanted to make her happy all the time. Slow down! He told himself. You’ve only just met her!

Major glanced down at her watch, her expression falling. “Shit,” she said, picking up her leather jacket. “It’s getting late. I should probably head back if I’m going to catch the last train back into the city tonight.” She slid out of the booth and put her jacket on. “It was so great meeting you guys,” she said. “Please tell Lily again that I apologize if what I said offended her. Nat, thanks so much for the invite; I had a great time.” She leaned in to hug the redhead. “I’ll see you on Tuesday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Nat said, smiling. “I’m so glad you made it out; get home safe, yeah?”

Major nodded. “Will do. Goodnight” She looked back as she started to walk away, catching Bucky’s eye one last time, and his heart dropped in his chest; he didn’t want to– couldn’t– let her walk out of his life just yet.

“Major,” he said, standing up and sliding out of the booth to join her. “Why don’t you let me give you a ride back to your place? It’s late, and the train’s not the safest this time of night.”

He heard Nat, Sam, and Steve all cough-laugh into their hands in the booth behind them, but didn’t pay them any mind. “That’s so sweet of you,” Major said, “but I would feel awful for inconveniencing you like that.”

Bucky shook his head. “No inconvenience at all, I swear,” he told her. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t genuinely want to.”

Major chewed on her lip for a moment, considering his offer. “Okay,” she said eventually. “Yeah, you can give me a ride home.” Bucky thought his heart was going to soar out of his chest.

“While that’s real chivalrous of you and all, Bucket,” Sam said, “what are you gonna do about Lily? You drove her here. How you expect her to get home if you’re taking New Girl?”

Bucky turned and flashed Sam a Look. “Since you’re all going back to the Compound,” he said, “it shouldn’t be a problem for the three of you to drop her off at home on the way, right?” he asked pointedly. Come on, Sam, he thought, trying to silently communicate to his friend with his eyes. You said you’d be my wingman here!

Sam and Nat exchanged an annoyed look while Steve just looked resigned. “Yeah, alright,” Sam said after a minute. “We’ll make sure McIntyre gets home safe and sound. But you owe me one for this.”

Bucky put his hand to the small of Major’s back and led her out of the bar, waving to Steve, Nat and Sam as they went. His fingers brushed gently against hers as he led her to where he parked his motorcycle.

“Oh,” Major said. “I didn’t realize we’d be taking a bike.”

Bucky frowned. “Is that a problem? I can drive up to the Compound and get a car if–”

“No,” she smiled at him. “This is great. I haven’t been on a motorcycle in ages.”

Bucky unlocked the helmets and took his extra one, gently placing it on Major’s head and adjusting the straps so it was nice and snug. “There you go,” he said with a grin. He hopped onto the bike and waited for her to get on behind him. “Where’re we headed, doll?” he asked, typing the address of her SoHo condo into his GPS once she’d given it to him.

Once she’d gotten situated on the back of the bike, Major wrapped her arms around Bucky’s middle, and he immediately felt all his blood drain to his cock at her touch. “Uh, make sure you hold on tight,” he said, barely managing to choke out the words over the effect she was having on him. She squeezed him a little bit harder in acknowledgement, and Bucky knew that he was in for it.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[daincrediblegg]

How did you come up with Lady Terror?

OH THAT'S A GOOD QUESTION!!! Well. The short answer is that I watched The Terror again after a few years and needed to jump that grumpy old irish man immediately because he's so sad and outcast and pathetic, so I did what I usually do, which is wedge myself as hard as possible into the canon, slap a cool nickname onto it, and that was that.

But as many of you know, I'm not into short answers. So here we go.

Honestly, the process of developing Lady Terror has been a really interesting one. As I've explained before she was initially meant to be part of a more sci-fi centric AU based loosely off of 1899 in which she is a physical manifestation of the ship, but the way she developed from there is entirely due to three factors, 1) my friend's staunch encouragement (some of whom are still around, some of whom have deactivated, alas), 2) the Gothic Literature, film theory (which was very philosophically heavy), and the women gender and sexuality classes I was taking last year and 3) my staunch love for Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre reemerging in my consciousness at the time. These elements combined really gave me a sense of purpose when thinking about the relationship dynamics that I wanted to put forward with Francis and Lady Terror because I can absolutely never in my life just throw my self-inserts in all willy nilly because I am of the firm and staunch belief, which has been reinforced by my studies of all genres, that romance has the capability to be as radical and philosophical as any other, and where Crozier is concerned, I think he has so much potential as a romantic figure to break a lot of the common conventions that proliferate the genre, and put together with a figure like Lady Terror, it just makes my brain go brrrrr in a way that a lot of pairings with him just... don't.

Because the focus of their relationship is on the complexities, horror and fear of love. These are two people who have been ostracized in different ways but recognize in each other that ostracization, but beyond that, their capability that continues to be stifled by a social order that is designed to keep them in their place. I've talked a lot about how Francis is probably my favorite to do think work on because he's both a colonized subject but he's also a colonizer and that's his big struggle throughout the series (mirrored, perhaps, only by Hickey), but Lady Terror mirrors him in a unique way in that she is a privilaged colonized subject, and the unique experience that that entails connects them in a way that he doesn't share with a lot of characters, and one that I think is fascinating to explore.

Because like god. What if you were all that but also truly loved? Not to be confused with devotion, adoration, admiration, or with simply being seen. What if you were loved with those things, but also then for your mind, your humor, your ability to reject and rebel against that social order, and still be loved in a way that was barred to you because the social order that you were born into is designed to continue to reject you on every level? What if then you found it in a place that wants you dead? What do you do with that love? Knowing and fearing that you will be rejected again or, even more horrifying, that it could be ripped away from you at any moment because, again, this place wants you dead. You could not be more equally as lucky and as damned. But then also you wonder if this small and sacred thing can do anything at all? does it have the capacity to change things? Does the reinforcement that the union brings matter at all to anyone else? And how do you cope with that? All questions that I'm hoping to pose with them. I don't have strict answers for all of those questions, of course, but perhaps some hints in certain directions. But I hope to put them through their paces in this way.

... but also. Fundamentally, at the end of the day, I did come up with Lady Terror because I want to fuck that old man so bad it makes me look stupid. But also I'm a lit major and if I don't get freaky with it I'll die. Just how it goes with me, I guess.

[lorddeathofmurdermountain]

It bears repeating that all this results in guys who don't think trauma dumping is bad still being against it because they're scared of how people will react. It can cause some guys to have absolutely no trust in their loved ones because they know (or "know") that the moment they open up they'll be either ridiculed or yelled at for daring to have problems.

I've got an example here, it's slightly tangential and also more extreme than typical but please bear with me.

A few years back I left a friend of mine, who had a free day, at the skate park while I went to class. After I was done I went to pick him up, only to see him with people neither of us know, looking lost. I picked him up and all the way to the train station he keeps asking me repeating questions. Hey, where'd I put my wallet? What time is it? Where are we going?

Turns out he tried a trick and landed on his head. He had a pretty nasty concussion. He kept assuring me it was fine, and he didn't even look in pain, but I kept badgering him to go to the hospital anyway because, while I still didn't know what's up, naturally this behaviour looked mega sus. But he kept assuring me he was fine and left to his house on the same bike he got his dumbass concussion riding. Apparently he hid the concussion for a good chunk of the rest of the day from his mom because he was sure she'd shrug it off like she always did, or would yell at him; mind you, this is the same woman that made him chop wood because he complained that his broken arm itched (he gets a lot of injuries, this isn't even the tip of the iceberg). Chop wood. With a broken arm. In the fucking rain.

Anyway, God must have smiled on him that day because his mom begrudgingly took him to the hospital and, for how long he hid it, he was lucky to get away without any brain damage. I mean she made him do menial labor the moment he was discharged but hey at least he didn't fucking die or something.

This guy was so used to having to hide his problems, physical or emotional, that he could've had lasting brain damage because he has no trust in his own mom. Because the only thing he ever got by talking about how he feels is being yelled at and made to do the hardest work available, whether it needed doing or not.

Men, women, doesn't matter. Please listen to each other, if you hold even a shred of love for one another, because joy shared is doubled and suffering shared is halved. And if you ask me, I'm more than happy to share the burden with those I care about.

is he “trauma dumping” on you or have you just not unpacked what the patriarchy has taught you outside of “woman bad” and you think men expressing any kind of emotion or vulnerability is bad actually.

[defaulttwig]

Allegiance to a Stranger

Prince Hal x fem!reader (18+)

Summary: Looking for work in a dingy pub/inn, you catch the eye of a rather handsome stranger. He offers you money, in return you simply need to talk to him. Easier than your other services, right? Plus, you got free drinks. Absolutely nothing could escalate from there.

Warnings: smut

WC: 4.9k

A/N: oldie uploaded from AO3 and a prequel to Long Live That C*ck but can be standalone

The moment you entered the inn's pub, you booked it to a corner of the room, finding a table along the wall. Petra would kill you if she found you came back here. The patrons here served danger on the second hour of drinking, but the coin balanced out the bad. Well, you thought that. Petra had you swear you'd avoid this place like the plague. Fuck the coin, but you needed the coin fuck to make a living.

What better way than to barter yourself for the drunkards that frequented the place?

Seated at a table by the wall, you could better scout out potential buyers from there. Every able body set before you like they were the merchandise and not you. You were on the lookout for those who seemed to have the fattest pockets.

This lot proved tougher to pick out than the last time you were here. The pub lacked breathing room, packed full of men and women drinking away their sorrows. None looked willing for a fuck and those that did either already had a gal on their lap or looked piss poor. You huffed and did another once over for the umpteenth time around the room.

Sitting around on your ass and wasting precious hours that could be used to make money pissed you off. If there was just anyone that-oh? Oh. You did a double-take. Not too far from you, a lanky gentleman sat hunched over a table, nursing a tankard. That didn't necessarily catch your eye but the fact he made not-so-subtle glances your way.

A brief assessment from your spot told you he must have good coin on him. Or, at least enough for your services rather than be wasted on the piss poor ale here. And judging by the peeks behind his dark locks, you were sure he wouldn't mind a companion tonight.

You gathered yourself and made your way over. He didn't seem perturbed as you sat at his table. You made sure to puff your chest a bit, accentuate your selling point, and offered him a smile.

"Couldn't help but notice you're all alone," you said.

He lifted his gaze at you, but his face had been partly hidden by hunched shoulders and his disheveled hair. You leaned forward and tapped your finger on the table.

"Would you like someone to share a drink with?"

"I'm fine."

You blinked, momentarily lost. His voice, as much as he sounded bored, excited you. His tone held such a cadence and manner of power, you couldn't help but be drawn in by the way he spoke. Surely, you wouldn't have expected someone as lanky and seemingly lone-wolfish as himself to carry such an intoxicating sound.

You smiled to yourself, certain you wanted his coin. "Didn't seem that way when you kept looking at me over there. Or, are you looking for other services? Services I may be able to provide."

He fully turned to give you his full attention. Every fiber of your being had not been prepared to be faced with an angel, not here. His deep eyes bore into your own, carrying so much emotion that you couldn't name. Even in the poor lighting here, you could make out his sharp features, sure he had to have been a god of some sort. Count your lucky stars, you really wanted his coin.

"If I wanted your services, I'd have asked."

You didn't let that deter you. "All right." Folding your arms under your chest, you raised it a bit shamelessly. A man this beautiful had to have some coin in his belt, a hefty amount. "I'll go bother another patron. Someone will enjoy my company."

You noticed him glance at your chest and knew you already won this quiet battle. Baiting him, you stood from your seat to make a point. He had not allowed you to move two steps from him before his hand grasped your wrist.

You looked down at him, batting your eyelashes innocently. As if you didn't know what you were doing.

You fought down a growing smile, instead pouting slightly. "Problem?"

"Fine." He sighed. The way he made it sound, you'd think you pestered him over and over and not simply made an offer that he ultimately could have said no to. "Drink with me. It's dreadfully dull here."

You reclaimed your seat, painting the puffed chest look. "Dull? I'm afraid we're not in the same pub if you don't see the man suckling a woman's tit on the other side of the room."

You both looked over at the same time and saw exactly what you described. Another woman trying to earn coin the same as you, though she seemed farther ahead of you in securing that coin. You had yet to know if he'd buy your services.

He looked back at you as your smile grew. "Or, are you not used to this sort of crowd?"

"I'd wager this isn't your ideal place either."

You blinked. "What do you mean by that?"

"Your posture is awfully rigid for someone who acts like she knows what she's doing." He gestured his tankard in your direction. "And I've seen real whores. You're more of a whelp, someone who doesn't belong here."

You hadn't expected this turn in the conversation. Finding your train of thought, you forced a light laugh. "Perhaps, your vision is fuzzy. This isn't my first time."

"No, I don't believe so. But I do believe I could count on one hand how many times you've done this."

"Wrong." He was right, you just didn't want to agree and have him turn his money elsewhere. "If you believe that, why not find a woman who suits your interests?"

"Because I'm not looking for a fuck. I'm looking for a drink." He tried to take a drink but realized his tankard was empty. Waving down a barmaid, he brought his attention back to you. "And I'm certain you'd appreciate the night off, wouldn't you?"

Your smile had slipped off by now. Looking him in the eye, this not-so-angel of a man, you fought the urge to frown. "I still need to make a living. If you truly won't provide it, I'll look elsewhere."

"Consider this your service," he said as he ordered drinks for both of you to the barmaid before she hurried off to fetch some. "Drink with me, hold a conversation if you can, and I'll pay for both the drinks and your time."

You certainly frowned now, unsure of this trickery. "I don't believe you."

The two drinks had been set between you. This handsome stranger kept his eyes on you as his hand disappeared under the table. Your eyes widened the moment he set his hand down on the table before you, pulling back to reveal three gold coins.

"You have my word." He took hold of his tankard, raising it with a nod. "Drink. We have all night to talk."

You took hold of your own tankard, eyeing it cautiously before putting it to your mouth. He offered a half-smile, taking a drink of his own. If that was how you would earn your coin, you wouldn't mind. Free drink and free coin, that's the life anybody could ask for.

For three hours, the two of you drank and talked. Each drink served, he'd hand you more coins. You wanted to keep the drinks coming at that point, but held back. You wanted to remember this time with the stranger beside you.

The first hour consisted of him asking you questions. Nothing deep. Questions of 'have you traveled far out before,' 'pet peeves,' 'do you think you can hold as many drinks as you are?' Questions like that. That last question made you slow down your drinking, a reminder that you had your limits as any other person, but it also slowed down the coin.

By the second hour, you had gotten his name. Hal. It rolled off the tongue easily. And you were certain that even if you did get too drunk to remember tonight, you'd remember his name. Not that you thought you could forget this man.

In the third hour, you had both nearly completely stopped drinking. Poking fun quietly at other patrons, you couldn't remember smiling this much. Certainly not with a stranger.

Hal raised his hand and called someone over. You expected another round of drinks but he asked for two bottles. He caught your look just as he asked for them to be brought up to his room.

"I've had my fun, but I'd like to escape the commotion." Before you could ask if he was looking for your other service, he continued. "You're more than welcome to continue this conversation up there unless you've grown tired. I'll still pay, of course."

Just talking. You'd never have expected this from a man. And you certainly didn't have it in you to venture out this late full of ale. You took him up on his offer, following him out the main floor and up the stairs to his room.

He let you in before he followed, shutting the door behind him. A moment before he could walk away from the door, he heard a knock and opened it, receiving the two bottles he asked for. He closed the door with the side of his shoe, looking at you.

From the intense gaze, you almost expected an order to strip, but he walked past you to set the bottles on a table. He glanced over his shoulder. "You're free to sit wherever you please. No need to simply stand there."

You nodded but he'd already looked away. Your gaze fell on the bed and though a small part of your mind warned you to not sit there, you did anyway. Hal stared at the bottles as you looked him over.

Three hours were not long enough to know a person, especially when most of the conversation had been about you. Yet, you felt that all had been said downstairs. Maybe it was the ale, but you were warm with ideas about Hal.

He grabbed a bottle, mind set on something, and turned to find you on the bed. He looked you over before he made his way to you. Your heart spiked with emotion, stuttering as he moved behind you to all but flop onto the bed. You turned in your spot to look at him. Eyes on you, he held himself up by an elbow and took a large drink.

"Truthfully, I have nothing more I want to say to you," he said. "I've run out of things to talk about hours ago."

"Oh." You weren't sure to feel about that. "Then, why invite me up here?"

"Because I couldn't fathom letting a beautiful girl go." His eyes bored into yours, his mouth pulled into a frown. "Not in a place like this. Not when you still need to earn a living."

"So, what are you saying? You want to buy my body for the night?"

He lowered his gaze to the bottle. "I wouldn't want to disrespect you. I want to take your feelings into account. I will pay you for being in here, whether you enact your services or not. The choice is yours."

You scrunched your nose. "I'm not sure if you're really giving me a choice."

"Simply sit here and talk with me about whatever is on your mind." He held the bottle at his side, flopping back onto the bed. "Or, you can do what you first intended to do with me."

You gathered your dress in your hands, kicking off your flats. Pulling yourself further onto the bed with your knees, you looked down at him. "Which of us is really selling their body? You or me?"

He lazily turned his head to look at you. "If there is an answer, I am not the one who knows it."

You swallowed air. His gaze fell to your chest once more and you couldn't help but feel shy. Seeing how he looked at you, with such lust, you almost wondered if the ale messed with his head. He hadn't acted this way up until now.

You won't deny that when you first saw his face, you not only wanted his coin for capital reasons. You had truly been curious what a man of his nature would be like with a partner. Your hand reached out to him, finding the collar of his tunic and pulling it aside, revealing a bird charm on a chain necklace. You wanted to know if he was anything in bed like he had been in the pub, someone that you'd find yourself wanting to be with for hours on end.

"You're drunk," you reasoned.

"If I finish this bottle, then I can confidently say I am drunk. For the moment, my head is clear." He sat up, grabbing your hand before you could pull it away from his necklace. "Are your thoughts clear?"

Your heart stuttered. The warmth from his hand enveloped your small one. His face not so far from yours, you wondered what his lips would taste like. Ale, most definitely.

"My thoughts are my own."

He pressed your hand to his exposed collarbone, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Tell me you don't want this."

Your eyes flicked from his own to his necklace, to his lips, back to his eyes. You weren't sure you could say that. The thoughts in your head were your own, but they vanished the moment he declared this. You licked your lips, trying hard to utter any thought that weighed against this moment.

So far, you only found you wanted this as much as he seemed to. "Hal."

"Yes?"

You looked at the bottle. "I do want this. If you want this too, don't finish that bottle. I'd like you to be of the present mind."

If he could've set the bottle aside any faster than he had, you were certain he would. He adjusted himself to sit up fully, his hands holding him up on the bed while you let yours linger on his tunic.

"I wouldn't want you to forget me." You smiled softly.

"I don't believe any amount of ale could make me forget you." He exhaled slowly. "Whatever happens tonight, I ask that you remember me too."

You'd sunk back into your comfort zone, a teasing smile on your lips. "Show me what you got, and I'll carry your name to my grave."

He accepted the challenge. No more words needed to be spoken on the matter, both of you dove in for a kiss. You were right, he tasted like ale. Parting your lips and wrapping your arms around him, you were sure you tasted no different.

Both of you scrambled to take each other's clothes off. The moment his tunic went over his head, your hands traversed his torso, memorizing the rough edges. Your nails dragged along his skin, featherlight and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

It took a moment for your dress to come off, but it was just a heap on the ground by the time he grabbed you and laid you beneath him. Both nude, your eyes fell to his necklace, the bird in direct line of sight. You tapped your finger against it, letting it swing back and forth for a moment. Hal grabbed it, simply looking at your face.

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but you had no thoughts. Act first, think later was your current mindset. Your hands found purchase in his hair, fingers buried in the dark locks as you pulled him down to kiss you.

He tasted like heaven. His lips were slightly chapped but the same could be said for you. He swiped his tongue over your lips, drinking in your moans. His hands found their way to your breasts, massaging the mounds with slow, rough movements. You sighed into his mouth, enjoying his hands.

He broke the kiss, moving his mouth along your neck. He bit and sucked wherever his mouth landed, biting particularly hard below your collarbone, along the soft mound of your breast. You knew that mark would be visible in the morning, with the sort of dress you wore, but it only excited you more. People would see the markings of a beast, strangers in your path unaware what sort of angelic beauty put them on you.

You pushed on his shoulder, stopping his barrage of attacks with his mouth and brought his face back to yours. His kisses were finer than any ale from the richest of provinces. You could get drunk on his kisses, forget the number of tankards you went through earlier.

Hal massaged your legs. His hands slid up along the inside of your thighs. Your breath halted as he neared your cunt, only to breathe out in a huff as they fanned out to your hips. You hadn’t realized how sensitive your hips were. Not until he gingerly trailed the pads of his fingers against the area. Your hips jerked, a sharp exhale came from you as he let his eyes wander over your body.

He repeated the motion. Rinse and repeat. Nearing your cunt, only to touch your hips or squeeze your thighs. Each time he’d venture closer to your cunt, making your insides flutter. He brought his mouth down to one breast, licking the nipple. You were caught off guard by the action, assuming he’d continue to tease your lower body.

The attention to your breasts had been more than welcome though. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, head against the pillows and basking in his hot saliva coating your nipple. He flicked his tongue right before his teeth grazed it. When he moved to give the same attention to your other nipple, he used that distraction to use his hands.

Your breath caught in your throat, hips jerking once more. He slipped his thumb through your folds, swiping it through your wetness. Right before he pressed it against your clit and smothered the wetness on it.

You gasped and raised your hips. His thumb circled your clit, switching up the pattern every so often. You were so wet, a knot building from the attention he gave you. He didn’t stop, not when you tapped his arm and tried to convey you neared your high. Right on the edge, you threw your head back, ready to explode.

Hal pulled his hand away.

You let out a pained moan. The knot faded in a burning sensation to almost nothing as your gaze snapped to him. You furrowed your brows, reaching your hand to your cunt, about to finish yourself off.

“Why did you stop?”

He caught your hand. Your eyes widened as his narrowed. “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

You swallowed your spit, trying to find your words. “What do you have planned?”

“I’m going to make sure you remember this.”

He let go of your hand, which you let fall to your side. In favor of seeing where this was headed, you watched intently as he grabbed the back of your knees and parted your legs wider. He kept his gaze locked on your face as he neared your cunt. You shared a moment of silence, where nothing seemed to happen. The tension hadn’t dissipated and you nearly squirmed, gasping as he parted the folds of your cunt with his thumbs and blew against your clit.

It chilled against your went cunt. A stark contrast to the heat you felt that sent your cunt aflutter. He briefly glanced at your cunt, enveloping the little clit in his mouth. You let out a quipped moan, twitching under him. He worked wonders on you, that tongue of his rolling your eyes into your head. You grabbed his hair for stability, encouraging him with soft praises.

“Oh, god,” You said. “Lord, what you’re doing to me.”

You felt the knot once more. Repeating phrases such as that, swearing against the king, the lord, you swore to everyone but Hal’s name. His name was too holy to soil. You’d curse anything before you cursed him. He stopped, again, before you could reach that climax.

He ignored your grunting, lazily swirling his middle finger at the entrance of your cunt. “God isn’t here fucking you. Say my name.”

God, he looked like a saint. His beautiful face and mouth were completely opposite of the words coming from him.

“Hal,” you hissed. So, much for holy, you thought while you tried to buck against his mouth and finger. “Don’t stop.”

“I want you to scream my name when you cum.”

“Sure. Whatever you want, but don’t stop. I’m right there.”

That satisfied him. He returned to sucking your clit, his finger pushing past the entrance. You moaned his name, losing yourself as he added a second finger. He curled them, made scissors inside you, did whatever made you twitch and buck. Combined with his mouth working overtime, your hips shook violently, torn between the need to be still and the friction you got.

Everything exploded in a hot white, your back arching off the bed. True to your word, you screamed his name. Apart from the crack in your voice, the volume suited him.

He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, replacing it with his mouth. Your legs threatened to close around his head, too overcome with stimulation. His hands kept your thighs apart, his wet fingers slick against one thigh. You dug your head into the pillows, crying out and weakly bucking as he lapped up your juices.

If he did that forever, as spent as you were, you would be in heaven. You were certain you were going to hell, but his mouth would redeem you. By the stars, you’d pledge to him if he kept you on a blissful high like this.

The moment he stopped lapping up your juices, he brought his face back to yours. He joined your mouths, forcing you to taste yourself on him. You shivered, the strange taste mixing with saliva. He cupped your face with both hands and you felt those wet fingers smear your juice on your cheek.

Breaking the kiss, you weakly reached between the two of you. He wrapped his arms around you and flipped you so you were on top. You forced yourself down the bed a ways, lining your mouth up with his cock.

The tip leaked pre-cum. You took hold of his cock, holding it steady. He twitched and shivered the moment you licked his tip, gathering the pre-cum on your tongue. You were about to go further, but he grabbed your hand.

“Stop.”

You stayed in your position, breaths fanned over the tip of his cock. Tilting your head slightly, you frowned. “What’s wrong?”

He twitched in your hand. “Don’t. I don’t want you to do that.”

“I don’t understand.” You rubbed your thumb over his tip, gauging his reaction. By the way he jolted, you knew he liked it. “Don’t you want this?”

“Not tonight.” Oh, so he planned for more sessions. “I said I’d make this night memorable for you.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

He pushed himself onto his elbows, staring into your eyes. “Get on your hands and knees.”

You understood what he meant, and turned around. He pulled himself to stand on his knees, all the while you backed your ass into him. You looked over your shoulder.

“What next, your majesty,” you teased.

He squeezed your hips, pulling you closer. “Don’t call me that.”

“What do you want to be called?”

He lined his cock at your entrance, teasing in the tip. “Just say my name.”

He held your hips steady, thrusting himself completely in. You moaned, head dropping down. He remained still, allowing you ample time to adjust to his size. Tears pricked your eyes by the time you picked your head back up, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Hal,” your voice cracked slightly. You cleared your throat. He looked at you, scared he’d hurt you. “Don’t hold back.”

His face blanked. You feared you broke him. By how he acted, you figured he had some tricks up his sleeve, but he remained quiet.

“Hal?”

“I heard you.” He smoothed his hand along your back. Your eyes widened as he gripped your neck and pulled you until your back was flush against his chest. His lips brushed against your ear. “Are you certain?”

“I am.” You touched his hand on your neck. “Do whatever you want to me.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I trust you.”

He pulled out until his tip remained, then slammed his hips back into yours. “I’m going to make you cum. A thousand times over, whore.”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t expected the name-calling, but it made your cunt flutter with want. Hal noticed this as well.

He bucked into you again, setting a pace for himself. “I’m going to make you forget every man. Only my name will make you quiver.”

“Yes.”

He squeezed your throat. “The moment you stepped into the pub, I had my eyes on your tits.” He breathed hotly into your face, his gaze set on the way your breasts bounced from his rigorous fucking. “Thought about my hands on them. Thought about fucking you with your tits pressed agaisnt the table.”

“Hal.”

“I’m going to make you cum until the sun comes up.” He bucked up into you. “Touch yourself.”

“Huh?” You exposed your neck for him, letting him bite your neck.

“Touch yourself. Play with your pretty clit.” His hand left your neck to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging hard. “Pleasure yourself.”

You did as told. Lowering your hand to your clit, you rubbed two fingers in a circle over it. Collecting the juices that spilled out of your cunt and coated his cock, you used it on yourself. It made it all the more slippery, your rubbing faster and sloppier.

He let go of your hair and you all but fell forward, catching yourself with your free arm. You laid your head on it, rubbing yourself in tune to the way his hips sporadically slammed against yours. He continued to buck into you, combined with your rubbing you knew your next wave was approaching.

And when it happened, you were a moaning mess, your fingers halting in their movement as you became nearly limp, rocking with Hal’s thrusts. He brought his hand between your legs, continuing to overstimulate you. You writhed under his touch, moaning his name in what sounded like whimpers.

He took your fingers, sticking them along with his own in his mouth. You shivered at how his tongue lapped at your fingers. It was short lived, as he brought them to your mouth straight after. You sucked on his fingers, your hand fallen out of your mouth to lay listlessly by your head.

Your walls fluttered around his cock. Moans muffled around his fingers, you let him pull them out of your mouth to go back to rubbing your clit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“God, Hal, if you keep this up,” your hazy mind said, “I’ll have to pledge my allegiance to you.”

Hal, for what it was worth, pressed himself to you. “What was that? Speak up.”

You moaned. “I’m pledging allegiance to you, Hal.”

“What?” His thrusts slowed so he could gather his thoughts. “You’re supposed to pledge allegiance to your king and country.”

“Yeah?” You arched your back into the bed. “Fuck the king and country. You’re the one I’m in bed with.”

“So, what are you saying?” He continued to thrust. “You’d give up any other man for me?”

“For this?” You quivered. “Yes.”

His thrusts picked back up. Pace fast and rough, he gave everything his all. “Then, cum for me. Cum for your king.”

Your legs shook violently from how rough he handled you. The knot returned full force. If you hadn’t already had your face planted into the bed, you’d have collapsed from how hard you came. Hal’s name chanted from your lips, you weakly bucked back into him until he climaxed right after.

He continued to fuck you through both of your orgasms. His seed spilled into you, hot and full. Your walls fluttered erratically around him, taking him all in.

The moment he had finished, he pulled out of you and collapsed beside you at the foot of the bed. You turned your head, basking in his handsome features. His face and body glistened with sweat. No doubt you were the same.

Hal weakly brushed some hair out of your face. “Did you mean it?”

You hummed, mind partly focused on the leakiness from your cunt. “Mean what?”

“You pledged your fealty to me. Do you want to be mine?”

“Your personal whore?” You scoffed. “If that’s how you always fuck, yes.”

“No other man will bed you?”

“Not if you pay me. I still need to make a living.”

Hal nodded. “It’s settled then.”

He wrapped his arm around you. You pressed a brief kiss to his jawline, snuggling closer to him.

“Did you mean what you said about making me cum until sunrise?”

“Yes.” His eyes closed. “Enjoy your break. We’re starting again soon.”

You smiled and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I could get used to this.”

[naesarangyunho]

Suited for Each Other- Jeong Yunho

[I don't own these images all credit to the original owners]

NSFW CONTENT- MINORS DNI

Synopsis: Y/n and Yunho are betrothed and when the finally get a moment alone they milk it for what it's worth.

Contains: arranged married, 1860's setting, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, pet names (my love, sweetheart etc.), mild dacryphilia and fluff because I can't help myself and also they're deeply in love because once more, I can't help myself.

[Word count: 4.8k words]

She was walking through a corridor upstairs in her family manor with the intention of returning the books clutched in her arms to her father's study.

She had been slowly but surely making her way through her father's personal library and had recently taken an interest in mathematics of all things. Truthfully, it was a challenging subject but perhaps that was why she enjoyed it so much. She was never one to say no to a good challenge and mental workout and never had been.

She came from a very wealthy background, her father an outstanding and well-known businessman and so she had the fortune of having a personal tutor. She, unlike many women her age, had been lucky enough to have an education- even if it was only a tutor's personally curated course.

Her father was more than willing to fund and encourage her education. He had always been overjoyed by her eagerness to expand her bank of knowledge and had often praised her curiosity. He was proud of his intelligent and well educated daughter and never missed out on an opportunity to show her off, much to the bafflement of his colleagues who naturally believed that women had their place in society and that was not it.

She was well aware of her status and position in society as a woman in these times and although she had always dreamed of furthering her education and, God forbid, inheriting her father's business when he retired, she wasn't foolish enough to believe those things were within her reach.

Her role in society was to marry a good man, produce children and take care of them and the home. Being born into a rich family, she would marry a noble man selected by her parents and become lady of the manor-- Just as her mother had done before her.

Fortunately, she had some excellent luck in the area of suitors. Whilst other young women she knew were unfortunately being courted by some rather unpleasant men-- be it physically or otherwise-- in her opinion, the suitor her parents had selected for her was absolutely perfect.

When during dinner one night her parents had informed her that they had in fact settled on a suitor for her, her heart had dropped into her stomach. All the horror stories and loveless marriages she had heard of had flashed through her mind's eye and she had felt her throat tighten at the thought of sharing that same fate. When she had finally been introduced the gentleman her parents had spoken of, she was almost completely certain that they were tricking her. There was absolutely no way she could have such amazing luck. She had felt a surge of excitement and joy when they had told her that they were in fact not tricking her.

The man her father had selected for her was Jeong Yunho. He was the eldest son of one of her father's business associates and she had heard of him in passing before but nothing she had heard could prepare her fully for the sight of the tall, charming man that had pressed a chaste kiss to back of her hand and offered her a disarming smile as he greeted her.

He was a few years older than her but the slight age gap between them had absolutely no effect on their budding relationship and friendship. They got along like a house on fire.

He had a silly sense of humour and perhaps to anyone else, it would come off as juvenile and unfunny but to her it was everything. He made her laugh-- really laugh-- in a way no one else before him had.

He had the most interesting things to say sometimes and she was always quick to indulge in his musings. Unlike some men she knew that couldn't stomach the idea of a woman with ideas and opinions, Yunho loved it. He was always interested to hear what she had to say and was pleased at how well she could carry a conversation with him. They could talk for hours on end about anything and everything and often did when the opportunity to presented itself.

Sometimes they would talk until their throats were dry and laugh until their ribs ached and she wouldn't trade that for the world. She wouldn't trade Yunho for the world.

Annoyingly, despite their  growing physical and emotional attraction and flourishing relationship, they were always accompanied by a chaperone.

Their flirting was limited to sly smiles and comments, sneaky winks from him that her heart fluttering and little nudges when no one was looking.

As the months passed and the time of their wedding drew nearer and nearer even the chaperones got tired of accompanying the two lovebirds. They often rolled their eyes at the two young adults when their backs were turned and got painfully bored sitting around while the two spent every possible moment together, caught up in conversation. They started to get lazy with their chaperoning and began to grow lax, sometimes even dozing off whilst on duty.

It was only in those moments that she and Yunho could be close, even for only a short while.

They savoured those moments together as if they were rare delicacies and to some extent they might be. It was in those moments that he would reach out and pull her closer, lock their fingers together and gently stroke his thumb over the back of her hand. Or tenderly stroke her cheek, smiling the whole while. If they were feeling brave, he would even tug her in for an embrace and she lived for those moments-- warm and safe in his arms with his comforting scent in her nose as she buried his face in his neck.

She adored every moment like that with him, every little touch and each one always left her craving even more of him.

They had only kissed a total of three times as of yet.

The first kiss was short and sweet but nonetheless memorable-- it was her first kiss after all. It had taken place when they had been making their way down to the main hall of his family manor, unaccompanied for the first time. He had tugged her into a quiet side corridor and pulled her into his arms. He held her so gently, one arm around her waist and his other cupping her cheek as he had bent his head down to press his lips to hers in the sweetest kiss.

The second kiss lasted longer. Their chaperone had fallen asleep on the veranda, basking in the warm summer sun. The couple had escaped to take a private walk together.

When they came across a quiet courtyard, he had pulled her into the shadows and once again kissed her with a bashful "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

She had only smiled in response and tugged his face back down to hers again. This time the kiss had been a little different. He held her tight and close to his body and had slowly eased her into and open-mouthed kiss. She positively melted into the kiss, her heart racing as she clung to his neck.

He had tentatively run his tongue over the seam of her lips and just as she parted them to allow him access-- anticipation settling in her at the thought of his tongue exploring her mouth-- they had heard footsteps approach and had swiftly separated in fear of being caught.

The third time... Now, that third kiss had been something else entirely.

After she had expressed that she had been struggling with a particularly difficult topic in mathematics, Yunho who had studied it had been quick to offer his assistance. Her father had praised and thanked Yunho for his kind offer to help her and agreed quickly. His daughter, however, quite clearly saw through Yunho's offer and knew perfectly well that he was truly only after a moment alone with her. She was certainly not one to complain and so with a lingering glance over at the young man she had thanked him and arranged a time.

And so, two weeks later they had been left alone in the library  under the guise of Yunho tutoring her but as soon as they were well and truly alone Yunho had led her into the rows of bookshelves and had held her to him once more.

He had kissed her more fiercely than before and there was an underlying urgency in the eager movements of his lips on hers-- one that she too felt lingering in her. His hands had roamed her waist, hips and the small of her back as his tongue had curled around hers. She was swept away in his passionate kiss and found herself breathless and weak in the knees after, clinging to his neck helplessly as they caught their breaths.

But just as the times before, their time together drew to a close and they once more had to reluctantly part.

The way he had kissed her and touched her remained persistently in her mind afterward and as time passed an insatiable hunger grew within her. It was a hunger she knew very well would be taboo to feed and satisfy but it only grew each time she was with Yunho but couldn't touch him or feel his hands on her and she soon saw her morals begin to slip.

♡♡♡

She was abruptly pulled from her thoughts by arms slinking around her waist and lips pressing into hers in an eager kiss.

She nearly dropped the books in her arms as she tried to steady herself and gather her bearings.

It was Yunho. He was six foot one, how out of it had she beed to not notice him approaching her? This man had her head in the clouds more often than she would care to admit.

"Hello," He murmured with a bright smile, his face still close to hers. Her cheeks flushed and she quickly pushed him away from her.

"What are you doing? What if someone sees us?" She hissed.

He gave her a quick peck on the lips, "They won't."

She frowned at him, still clutching the books to her chest, "What do you mean? Of course they will! I'm on my way to my father's study."

"He's not here. He and my dad left for the Choi manor together," He raised a teasing eyebrow, "I'm sure my clever girl knows how far away that is?"

She rolled her eyes at his last teasing comment and pressed on, "What about my mother? The servants?"

He grinned, "They're occupied. They are all downstairs, preparing for the ball with your mother guiding them."

She looked at him, a small smile forming on her face as she caught on, "And we're in the east wing... No one needs to come up here."

"Exactly," He said with a mischievous smile before he took her hand in his hand and tugged her along the empty corridor.

She let him lead her along with a small, curious frown, "Where are we going?"

"Your father's study."

"Wait. Why?"

"You want to return those books, do you not?" He threw a cheeky smile over his shoulder.

She nodded but she had a feeling in her gut that said that was definitely not all they would be doing in there but she let him take her there nevertheless.

Her suspicions were confirmed when as soon as they had entered the empty room, he pushed her up against the closed door and caught her lips in a kiss.

Caught off guard, she dropped the books she was holding and grabbed onto his shirt to steady herself.

"Yunho, the books," She mumbled against his lips and he broke the kiss with a huff. He swiftly gathered them up off of the floor before blindly and haphazardly placing them on a nearby table. He was quick to crush his lips to hers again.

Her breath caught in her throat as his tongue met hers and his large hands settled on the small of her back. They could almost wrap completely around her waist and the thought made her dizzy.

He kissed her deeply and with a blatant urgency she had never felt before and soon enough that hunger that she had been trying to shove down steadily rose to the surface until she felt hot all over and ached for his touch in a way she had never ached for it before.

His mouth left hers and whimper escaped her as she felt his lips press kisses into her neck. The instant the sound fell on his ears he pulled back to look at her.

"Good God."

She forced her eyes open to look at him, "What's wrong?"

Yunho gazed at her with a sort of breathless awe, "That was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard."

Her cheeks flushed and she closed her eyes again, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact with him-- especially when he was looking at her like that.

He chuckled, a sound that had her mind going fuzzy, before he pressed his mouth to her neck again. This time she felt his gentle, warm tongue on the sensitive skin. Her grip on his shirt tightened as she tried her absolute best to not let another shameful sound escape her. She quickly lost that battle when she felt his teeth pressing into her skin at just the right pressure.

She whimpered again she heard and felt the way his breath hitched at the sound before he cupped her jaw in one large hand and caught her lips in a searing kiss once more.

She sighed into his mouth eagerly matching his pace. She licked his bottom lip and he let out a little choked sound when she pushed her tongue into his mouth and dragged it along his.

He saught to better support her against the wall and somehow ended up pressing a leg between hers. She moaned into his mouth as his knee made contact with  her aching heat and the sound travelled straight to Yunho's hardening cock.

She was painfully aware that this was wrong but she couldn't help the way she pushed herself against his knee with a shameless moan.

Hearing those sounds leave her mouth drove him absolutely crazy and before he knew it he was picking her up, carrying her across the room and perching her atop her father's large polished wooden desk.

She clung tightly to him, keening as she felt his large hands slide up her stomach to rest on her ribcage, right beneath her breaths. She wanted those beautiful hands of his on her, cupping her breasts. She wanted to feel his warmth and grip.

"Yunho?" She broke the kiss, her uneven breaths fanning across Yunho's lips.

"Yes, my love?"

"I..." She wasn't quite sure how to word her thoughts so she instead tentatively and carefully placed her smaller hand on his and lifted it to one of her breasts.

He flashed her a devilish grin, "Of course. I'll touch you any way you like, sweetheart."

His words only served to further stoke the fire in her belly, feeding her ever-growing desire for him.

She reached out and grabbed him by the back of the neck, and connected their lips in a fiery kiss as he began to knead her breast in the most delicious way possible.

She was whimpering and gasping into his mouth and he swallowed each sound greedily, savouring and appreciating each one.

His trousers were painfully tight at this point and all he wanted to do was touch her and never ever stop.

He pulled her closer to the edge of the desk, pushing their hips flush together. She choked back a whimper and her blush intensified as she felt him hard against her.

"Yunho," She moaned out as he pressed against her with a little more intent. Although she was wearing a more casual dress today, she still felt like there were way too many layers of fabric between. She cursed at the obstruction to her desire to feel more of him.

"Yunho?" She murmured against his lips and he pulled back to look at her.

"What is it?"

Her cheeks were burning and she fought to look him in the eye, "I want you."

He smiled and kissed her, "And I want you."

Her heart twisted, "But I can't have you. Not yet. Not before our marriage. If our parents were to find out..."

He tucked her hair behind her ear, "I know, my love."

She smiled weakly in response.

He kissed her once more before moving to press his mouth to the shell of her ear, "That doesn't mean we can't do other things."

She frowned and gave him a questioning look as he gazed at her, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"Move forward a little. Yes, right on the edge there."

She gazed at him expectantly, not sure of his intentions until he dropped to his knees in front of her.

"Yunho, what-"

"Shhh. Let me. I want to taste you. Can I taste you?"

His words sent a jolt of electricity through her body and straight to her core.

She hesitated, knowing for a fact that even if this wasn't really sexual intercourse, it was still technically wrong. But a sinful, hungry part of her didn't care and took over.

"Yes. Please, Yunho."

With a cheeky grin, he lifted the skirt of her dress, bunching it up on her stomach. She reached a hand down to hold it up for him.

"Lean back a bit for me, sweetheart."

She did as he told her and he went straight for her underwear. He smiled to himself upon seeing the wet stain she'd created.

When his fingers began to tug her underwear down she panicked, knowing that once they did this there was no going back.

"Yunho, wait."

He looked up at her, "What? Scared daddy will catch his little girl with my tongue buried inside of her?"

That sentence and the way he was gazing so intensely at her had her clenching.

But he looked serious a moment after, "I can stop if you don't want to continue. It's alright."

She knew he was being genuine and that made her happy but to be honest, at this point her arousal was frustrating and she no longer cared. All she needed was Yunho to touch her.

She took a steadying breath and shook her head, "If you stop, I will lose my mind. Please, Yunho, please touch me."

"Fuck," He groaned and his expression as he looked up at her knocked the breath from her lungs.

She had never heard him curse, not like that and the word sent shivers down her spine.

"Yunho, please. I need you. I need this," She urged, already starting to fall apart without him even touching her yet. He just had that effect on her.

He nodded and gently kissed the inside of her thigh before finally tugging her underwear down. He couldn't help the way he twitched in his pants as he finally laid eyes on her, soaked and ready for him.

"Is every inch of you just beautiful?" He breathed.

Her pulse was racing and she didn't even have a chance to formulate some kind of response before he pressed a gentle kiss to her mound.

She had never felt anything like it before and when she felt him drag his tongue through her folds she couldn't help the choked whine that forced itself out of her as her hips twitched.

He groaned against her skin upon hearing her whine and the sound sent vibrations straight to her clit. Her fingers tightened their grip on her dress skirt with a gasp and his grip tightened on her thighs as he held her still.

He gently lapped at her a few times before applying more pressure and searching until he finally found that spot that had her crying out. He latched onto it  and sucked gently and he groaned as she let out a wanton moan and her hand found purchase in his dark hair. Her grip on his hair tightened as he swirled his tongue around her swollen bud and he took pride in the way he could feel it throb. He dragged his tongue down and the most sinful moan was punched from her gut as his tongue found its way inside of her, eagerly stroking along her walls.

Her hand left his hair and shot out to steady herself on the desk instead as he slowly began to fuck his tongue in and out of her with a fervour and he groaned deeply as he heard her unleash yet another moan.

He had never heard a better sound in all twenty-four of his years. Not even the expert orchestras hired by his parents for events could even begin to compare.

He made it his life's mission to keep coaxing those sounds out of her, speeding up his movements, his nose brushing against her throbbing clit as he worked.

She felt like she was melting, losing all awareness of what was going on around her, her mind empty of any thoughts except Yunho, Yunho, Yunho.

She was moaning and whimpering unabashedly now without a care in the world.

She was soon grinding herself against Yunho's mouth as she desperately chased her approaching orgasm.

He felt her clenching around his tongue and let go of one of her thighs, bringing the hand to her heat instead, fingers finding her clit.

He rolled his fingers over it while his tongue worked her entrance, pushing in just the right places to have her moaning.

She rocked her hips faster and he smirked against her skin, doubling his efforts, desperate to have her reach her peak. He needed her to fall apart on his tongue.

"Yunho, Yunho,"

He flicked his eyes up to see her face and felt his dick twitch almost painfully as he saw her absolutely debauched expression and the tears clinging to her lashes.

He moaned against her and removed his tongue briefly, "Come on, my love. You can do it. Do it for me."

She could only whimper in response.

His tongue dove back inside of her and only seconds later he felt her clench hard around him and her whole body stilled as her muscles tightened and she came in his mouth without warning.

He greedily lapped up every last drop of her release, his fingers still working her clit.

His tongue left her body and he replaced it with his fingers, refusing her the time to recover yet as he pumped them in and out of her and brought his mouth up to kiss her.

"One more, sweetheart. Once more, just for me. You sound so beautiful when you come undone." He sounded almost desperate, even in his own ears and perhaps he was.

Her legs were shaking and tears had begun to slip past her eyelashes but she only nodded.

"Yes. One more. Just for you," She whined and kissed him back as best she could, not even caring that she could taste herself in his mouth and on his lips.

Yunho sped up, fingers crooking to brush against that sensitive spot within her with every thrust.

She gave up trying to reciprocate his kiss, focusing solely on rocking her hips to meet his thrusts. She needed that release. He needed it. She wanted to give him what he needed.

She was openly and helplessly crying at this point, completely overwhelmed and the line between pleasure and pain beginning to blur with the overstimulation but she would be lying if she said she didn't love it every second of it. So did Yunho she discovered as she felt his tongue on her cheek, licking up a tear and savouring the salty taste on his tongue with a hum.

"Oh, Yunho!" She cried out as her second orgasm ripped through her body.

His gaze was fixed on the way her face contorted in pleasure and the glistening of tears on her cheeks and he didn't stop until the last shock of pleasure receded and her legs were shaking and new tears clung to her lashes.

When she whined, "'s too much, Yuyu." He finally relented.

"What a good girl," He murmured affectionately against her cheek before kissing her softly.

Her heart sang at his words but she kissed him back rather half-heartedly, too spent to even move her limbs for a moment.

He removed his fingers from inside of her and she cracked her eyes open just in time to see the way he licked them clean, tongue not missing a single spot.

She groaned.

God, she wanted him inside of her, wanted him to bend her over and take her right there on her father's desk, even now when she could barely move. But she couldn't. Not yet.

Just two more months, she reminded herself.

She finally gained enough energy to lift an arm and wrapped it around his neck to pull him in for a lazy kiss.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" She finally asked and she saw how his ears flushed pink as he gave her a sheepish grin.

"Let's just say I've read some interesting pieces of literature."

She laughed at that and kissed him again, "Naughty boy."

He kissed her, smiling into the kiss.

"What about you?" She suddenly asked and he pulled back to look at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?" He replied and she simply looked down at the taut crotch of his pants in reply.

"Oh. We've already been gone for much too long. As much as I joke about it, I don't really want to be caught."

"That's not fair though. You've made me feel good, I want to make you feel good too."

He smiled and stroked her damp cheeks, "We can save that for next time."

"But next time isn't guaranteed."

He smirked, "Trust me. After today, I'll make it happen. That's a promise."

She still didn't look convinced and he sighed and cupped her cheek.

"Don't worry, okay? I'm very satisfied with what we've just done."

She could tell he was telling the truth so she nodded and held him to her for a moment.

"We need to clean up somehow," She muttered.

"I think that all we can do right now is have you pull your underwear up and clean up in the privacy of your own room, my love."

"And you need to wipe your face," She added, finally aware enough of her surroundings to notice the evidence of what he'd just done on his mouth and chin.

"Oh, you're right."

He dug in his pocket and produced a handkerchief, "Let me clean your face first."

She held still as he cupped her face and gently wiped away the drying tears on her cheeks and the sweat on her brow. She took the handkerchief from him after and carefully wiped his face for him. He reached out and fixed her hair up a bit as she did so.

Just as they had finished tidying themselves up and she had pulled her dress down, there was a knock at the door.

"Shit," Yunho cursed softly.

He hurriedly hid behind the heavy floor-length curtain of the study window and she straightened the desktop as quickly and as well as she could before grabbing a book at random and leaning what she hoped was casually against the desk.

"Yes?" She called out, wincing at the way her voice went up a pitch. The door was opened to reveal the face of one of the many maids of the manor.

"Sorry to disturb, miss, but your mother requires your presence in the main hall."

"Alright, I will be there in a minute."

The maid nodded and if the maid noticed her dishevelled appearance or the fact that she was holding her book upside down, she said nothing and just quietly left.

When she was sure the maid was gone, she quickly made her way over to Yunho.

She pulled the curtain back to look at Yunho. He was shaking from the effort of holding back laughter.

She slapped his arm, "Arse."

He rubbed the spot she had hit, "My, my, what foul language for a lady."

"You're one to lecture me on foul language."

"Touché," He chuckled and she felt her heart flutter and smiled at him. Gosh, she was so in love with this man.

"I love you," She murmured and his grin broadened.

"And I love you."

He pulled her gently toward him and kissed her quickly before releasing her once more.

"Now go before they get suspicious."

She couldn't help but kiss him once more, "To be continued?"

He smirked, "Of course, my love."

She smiled before pulling the curtain back around him with a giddy laugh and leaving to go see her mother.

She couldn't wait for next time.

A/N: I might do a second part. Maybe third. What do you think?

Remember that requests are open. Just comment or send me a DM with the idols' names and what you would like to have included as well as whether you want smut or fluff.

Thank you for your support♡

[writer-monster]

11 reasons why cap 4 should reintroduce Bucky Barnes as the love interest, an essay

to start this off, i am not writing this essay from a shipping place nor do i believe that this would have any influence at all over the upcoming movie. i expect nothing. this is simply something that i would personally like to see. (of course no hate to anybody who thinks differently)

here are 11 reasons why i think making Bucky into Sam Wilson's love interest in Cap 4 would be a good move for Disney.

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1. on the Chinese film market - and why it's an irrelevant argument against the inclusion of homosexual themes in Cap 4

the Chinese film market is something that has been blamed for a lack of diversity in Hollywood films a lot lately. many people claim that this market with a lot of buying power has been responsible for the lack of gay and black representation in particular within Hollywood films.

and we have certainly seen Hollywood treating it as such, going so far as to cut gay scenes from movies for their Chinese releases, and vastly minimising John Boyega's (a black actor's) presence in the Chinese poster of Star Wars The Force Awakens.

[image ID: on the left is an image of the American poster for Star Wars The Force Awakens, featuring John Boyega prominently on the right-hand side. And on the right is the Chinese poster for the same movie, in which John Boyega is barely visible.]

so we know at the very least that Disney believes this through their own actions and efforts to self-censor for the different markets.

but Captain America 4 is a black-led movie, don't you forget. and Disney can't minimise Sam Wilson/Anthony Mackie in the movie or the poster because it's his movie and his poster. and no amount of creativity in the editing room can change that (thank God!).

so if by their own argument the film is already going to be either banned, panned or slammed in China... then what do they have to fear from making it a gay movie too?

-

2. oh, the queerbaiting

queerbaiting is an unusual cultural idea. and sometimes i find myself thinking that the term is far too easily used, but then all of a sudden i will stumble upon a movie or show that is so quintessentially cruel and overt in it's... well... queerbaiting that i will start to wonder what the hell kind of a bizarre relationship all these straight people seem to have with their friends. take Troy and Abed from Community or John and Sherlock from Sherlock as the perfect examples of this. (in which my reaction to the show's creators saying the show wasn't gay was to ask so then why did you make it so gay?!)

i felt that Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes in tfatws were getting quite close to this level of queerbaiting.

there was the field scene, the couple's counselling scene, the boat scene, the couple's counselling scene, Bucky going with Sam to face Karli when she told Sam to come alone, the couple's counselling scene, ALL the staring scenes, Sam checking out Bucky's ass here as they said goodbye, the "i would move in with him but" hidden scene, "Uncle Bucky" showing up at the cookout scene, the romantic walking off together into the sunset together ending scene, and the couple's counselling scene. did i forget anything? but i mean seriously, the couple's counselling scene!!! that thing they did with their legs and their crotches while staring deep into each other's eyes, would any straight guy willingly do that? do straight guys crotch-snuggle now?

[image ID: an image of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes during the therapy scene with the quote, "Isn't anybody going to drag me into impromptu couple's therapy and slot my legs firmly between theirs before staring deeply into my eyes?"]

(yeah i stole this image from a buzzfeed article on the fan reactions to the couple's therapy scene. but given that they stole 80% of the content of that article from fandom tumblr, i think it's pretty even-steven.)

there's also the fact that people started talking about bisexual Bucky Barnes a lot after the tiger pictures line, and the lead writer Malcom Spellman responded to the talk of Bucky's bisexuality with "just keep watching". well we watched, Malcolm. but it's beginning to feel like you were just jerking us around.

-

3. the writing

seriously though, what else is Bucky Barnes doing right now in the MCU? his only remaining connection to anything going on right now is through Sam. there is literally nothing else established that's left for him to do that doesn't involve Sam. he moved to Louisiana to be closer to Sam (canonically), he hangs out with Sam's family (canonically), and Steve is presumably gone and is definitely not coming back for more adventures.

he has no villains or loose ends left. he has no other superheroes that he appears to be in contact with. he has no girlfriend or potential love interest, or even other friends or family. he is living in a tent that he has secretly set up in Sam's backyard and is mysteriously appearing from the bushes when it's time for dinner like a stray cat.

in my opinion there is no other meaningful and pre-established progression for Bucky's character that wouldn't just feel cheap.

plus, i don't think the general audience would be all that surprised if they kissed. i think a LOT of people picked up on all that tension. i think a lot of straight people picked up on all that tension too.

-

4. the chemistry between the actors & the chemistry between the characters

the original pitch for tfatws was essentially just this, it was the chemistry between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie and their respective MCU characters of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.

now obviously Anthony and Sebastian are simply friends, and i wouldn't mean to imply anything more. but they are also not their characters.

Sam and Bucky's scenes together before tfatws were both limited and short, and yet audiences still fell in love with the dynamic between the two characters.

in interviews, these two actors are constantly slipping into character and flirting with each other and frankly it's adorable. plus it's really entertaining. i'd love to see that dynamic, unfiltered, in a movie.

because believe it or not the flirting is actually even more open in their interviews than it was in tfatws. and i'm leaving some links as proof.

this here is known as the "married" compilation

and here's a "lucky dip" selection of interviews - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

and here's Anthony trying to get Seb to take his jacket off.

i'm just saying, why not let their chemistry shine? these two are so talented and so entertaining, especially when you put them in a room together. and can you imagine how absolutely hilarious and brilliant it would be to watch them navigate being a couple?

(and for those who bring up the "friends would be uncomfortable pretending to be dating" argument, i'm not here asking for a sex scene or anything. i don't think anyone would expect them to show any more intimacy (physical or emotional) while playing a couple than what they've already shown together in say... tfatws or in their own interviews. not that i actually expect anything regardless.)

-

5. if they were a man and a woman they would've gotten together in tfatws

i have no more to add here. just that... yeah, they would've.

-

6. and i'm not talking about the comics here, i'm talking about the MCU.

i understand fully that none of what i'm saying here falls in line with these characters from the comics. but the mcu itself doesn't fall much in line with the comics either, and these two characters especially are very different from their comics counterparts.

i'm not asking for these two to get together in the comics. tbh i don't think that it would work.

but the mcu Sam and Bucky are different and closer than their comics counterparts. they've got different histories, different backstories, and a very different dynamic. please rest assured that i am only talking about them in the mcu.

-

7. Bucky Barnes is believably bisexual. and Sam Wilson has never been proven to be straight in the mcu, nor has he had a love interest.

(now please continue to keep in mind that these points only stand for the mcu versions of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, and not at all for their comics counterparts.)

Sam Wilson has never had a love interest, which is crazy because have you seen that man! he has had two blink and you'll miss it moments of verbal expression of attraction to women, both in TWS. and that's the extent of it, through his entire history in the mcu.

Bucky Barnes has had a number of surface-level female love interests, but none of them even came close to the level of connection and chemistry that Bucky shares with Sam.

and i'm sorry SarahBucky fans, but i just don't think there's very much to their relationship either. i love Sarah, i really do. but it's Sam who shares all the meaningful moments and history and chemistry with Bucky. and i don't see what making her into a love interest would do for Sarah's character either, what would that add to her story?

[Picture ID: Bucky at the cookout with Sam, Sarah, Cass and AJ. Bucky and Sam are looking at each other and smiling.]

and also there is the whole tiger pictures thing... again. which does strongly suggest that Bucky is bisexual whether this was intentional on behalf of the writers or not.

-

8. it's representation... AND it feels natural

marvel hasn't had a lot of queer representation that's been noticeably present in the MCU at the time of writing this.

there have been a lot of failures so far, from the bisexual erasure of Valkyrie in Thor Ragnarok to the wlw erasure in Black Panther.

there was queerbaiting almost identical to the bisexual Bucky baiting for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. when asked if he had considered featuring a gay hero in gotg2, director James Gunn stated that "We might have already done that. I say, watch the movie." after the movie's release audiences were understandably confused about the lack of queer representation. To which the director followed up his comments with, "But we don't really know who's gay and who's not. It could be any of them."

there is also Loki, considered by most fans after the airing of his six episode series on Disney+ to be both a poor attempt at both genderfluid representation and bisexual representation. with both attempts being summed up fairly well by the term "blink-and-you'll-miss-it". (also it's just terribly written and Loki doesn't wear any interesting clothes! fanficcers are a Goddamn blessing in this hard time!)

and let us not forget that Andrew Garfield was apparently FIRED for pushing for a bisexual spiderman. a bisexual spiderman within an interracial mlm relationship no less.

so for all these failures, marvel, why not allow us queer fans this? two brilliant and heroic men in a loving interracial relationship. two heroes that we can look up to.

now, one of the biggest detractions from the argument for representation is the idea of "forced diversity". and some poorly written characters certainly do end up feeling forced into the narrative. take Iceman in the comics for example, with Jean Grey just straight up suddenly telling him he's gay. like, marvel, sweetie, that's not how this works! and i don't know a lot of queer people who thought much of that "representation".

but the crux of the "forced diversity" argument is almost always that it feels unnatural within the story, right? and i don't think that anyone could say that about MCU Sam and Bucky ending up together, given these characters' existing chemistry and their history. they've both played characters in gay relationships before so we know that it's not outside of either actor's wheelhouse. and y'all know that Anthony and Seb can act, people. if it's in the script i believe that they'll make it seem like the most natural thing on earth.

-

9. it'd be a nice change

there's been an ongoing meme lately about "Disney's first gay character", the joke being that they continually announce gay characters without really ever including gay characters in their films.

this is to the point where Disney has formed a reputation amongst queer audiences of being homophobic.

if Sam and Bucky were to become a couple, then Disney could have its first actual gay character within a gay relationship. AND have him be in the lead of his own movie, no less.

it's also worth keeping in mind that there's likely an overlap between the people who were outraged by a Sam Wilson Captain America, and the people who'd be outraged by a gay Captain America. and if they were already not seeing the film, then i don't think much is gonna change that.

queer audiences would definitely love it, and the media attention would be guaranteed to be huge. i mean, simply look at the amount of media attention mere rumours of a character's queerness gets you and multiply that by a canon confirmation of said rumours.

but i'm pretty sure that Disney already knows this.

-

10. and yet, in truth, it's not about the representation

in truth i've never felt that i had any trouble relating to characters of any sexual orientation, race, gender, sex, body type, etc. (although that is not to throw any shade at all on people who do wish to see themselves represented) but for me, i think it's more about the story than the packaging.

and yet, a love story is still just a story. straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial. when two characters have chemistry and history and have sacrificed for each other time and time again, and they also can't keep their hands or their eyes off each other, then i'm pretty sure that that's a love story.

straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial, it shouldn't be about these simple labels. it should be about how well written the relationship is. it should be about chemistry, and history, and sacrifice.

because i'm fucking sick of all the hollow, forced romances in media no matter the genders of the participants. i'm sick of lazily written, shallow relationships where any two people sharing the same space for any extended period of time will simply fall in love. it's boring, it's repetitive, and as a writer myself it drives me up the wall!

romance stories suck! and everyone knows that romance stories suck. between twilight, and most of the entire YA genre, and love triangles (so boring), and romance used as poorly-written throwaway subplots in Hollywood movies, the world is in agreement that the romance in western media is simply dreadful. and yet we still want love stories. it's an entire genre that sits at the heart of the human experience (<3), and yet one which so few of today's best known writers seem truly able to capture.

i don't think that i'm the only one who feels this way, either. i suspect it's actually a large part of why fandom is so romance-centred in the first place, that we're all just starving for a good love story.

(btw i think fandom has a reputation for being something that as a whole that it is not. it has this reputation for straight up demanding things and harassing people until they get their way. while unfortunately there are a few people who do this, they're fucking annoying and i swear that they're far from the majority.

in my experience fandom is mostly about writing a five thousand word story at three am while drunk off your ass because it might make someone whom you've never met smile, editing it in the cold light of day, and then posting it. expecting nothing. sometimes getting nothing. and sometimes getting someone send you kudos or a comment so heartbreakingly wonderful that it makes you smile in return.)

-

11. so once again, it is all about the writing.

i want to see Sam and Bucky get together in the mcu, not because they would be a gay couple but because i genuinely believe that their story has potential to be an amazing love story.

and i know the mcu isn't about the romance. it's why in my personal opinion we haven't gotten a lot of good canon romances besides Peter Quill and Gamora. and i don't think that the mcu should be all about the romance either. i fucking love the action and the fighting scenes. i love the comedy. Captain America: The Winter Soldier had no romance and it was a fucking treasure, it was an amazing spy-action-thriller and it made my little gay heart dance. Thor Ragnarok had no romance, and it was an utterly brilliant comedic spectacle action film. not every movie needs romance.

but mcu Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were doing couple's therapy and fixing a boat and walking off into the sunset together in tfatws. they were inseparable on the battlefield. they've got a dynamic. it's beautiful, it's romantic, and it's gold.

a budding relationship between them in the next movie would be a good way to explore both characters more without the narrative feeling too stilted and separate. at the end of tfatws, both Sam and Bucky fans found that their respective fave felt somewhat underutilised and that their characters were underexplored.

now, that problem would be even more difficult to remedy in a movie, because the plotline of a movie needs to be really tight to work (giggity). and we know that the central conflict of the movie is gonna be action-based (which is good), but we still need each character's personal journey and growth to tie into the main conflict. (which is another issue that some fans found with tfatws, that these characters didn't really feel connected to the action-based plot on a more personal level.)

if Sam and Bucky are already in a relationship, however, this whole dynamic changes. first, their relationship has already been set up for nicely since TWS and through tfatws and they would officially be the best-fleshed-out couple in the mcu. but most importantly, a relationship gives them a perfect vehicle to explore both of their pasts comparatively and connect them personally to the action-based plot.

do you want to establish that Sam is a little too trusting and naïve? then establish this through his relationship with Bucky, and through showing his placing his trust in Bucky. (rather than through having him sympathise with a villain who threatened to murder his sister and his nephews).

perhaps you want to show Bucky recovering from his trauma? show us how comfortable he is with Sam. they get along, they're enjoying each other's presence, we see more of Sam's life and of his family, and then let Bucky tell Sam something that's raw and dark and honest about his life as The Winter Soldier. something about a memory, one that he only just recalled. he's opening up. and maybe what he tells Sam is even something that sets up the future action-based conflict, to ground that in something real.

you want to explore that Sam has trauma too? do this through Bucky. he tells Bucky a story about his time in the military. in the form of a flashback, he shares his own story of loss to evoke before the audience the shared theme of feeling at fault even when you're simply a helpless bystander to an act of pure destruction.

then, action sequence! and it's directly connected to Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier. explore the grief of someone whose life the Winter Soldier tore apart manifesting into a villain perpetuating the cycle of pain. establish your villain.

Later, Sam is dragged into battle against this villain for protecting Bucky. But Bucky doesn't want Sam to protect him. He feels guilt for what he can't control and he doesn't want Sam getting hurt because of him. Bucky reminds Sam that he has a family, one who needs him and who loves him. He tells him to go home.

Sam reminds Bucky that he's a part of that family. And that sure Sam's a hero and his job is to protect anyone and everyone, but that he's doing it because he wants to. It's not simply to prove that he can, or to prove that he's not a bystander (this connects to Sam's trauma here), but that he's doing it to help people.

and this gets Bucky thinking about who he is and what he's doing here. is he a hero who stands by Sam's side? or is he an ordinary man who stands aside? or perhaps, does he stand alone? what does he stand for? Maybe Sam knows. But does Bucky?

Sam and Bucky fight off the villain again, and for the first time Bucky meets this adversary face to face. And Bucky recognises this villain, and has a flashback to the genuine pain that he inflicted upon them in the form of the Winter Soldier. Bucky freezes mid-fight, he almost dies, and Sam has to save him.

Sam chews Bucky out for almost getting killed because he was afraid for him. but Bucky takes this the wrong way and goes off to fight the villain alone, or perhaps to die alone, he's not quite sure.

He puts up a half-hearted fight. He apologises for what the Winter Soldier has done, and he waits for the killing blow, when Sam swoops down and he saves him. He asks Sam why he saved him and Sam calls him a moron. And then, Sam asks him what sacrificing himself would solve. He tells him that you can't choose your past but you can choose your future (connecting to his own experience of loss and guilt and grief). And that no matter what Bucky Barnes still has a future, whether that's as the Winter Soldier or the White Wolf or just some dork with a day job. And that he has a future as a part of Sam's family too.

Sam fights the villain, and it's toe to toe. He delivers a few good blows, but receives a fair few himself. And then the villain tears off his wings, first one and then the other, in a manner reminiscent of what the Winter Soldier did to him in TWS. Through Bucky's eyes there's a flashback to highlight the parallels. Sam gets back on his feet and he fights his best fight, but is now losing.

And then the heavily injured Bucky steps up and fights by Sam's side, and only together do they take down the villain.

"So... I inspired you, huh?" Sam teases with a smile, utterly exhausted. "With my heroism and-"

"You inspired me." Bucky said, equally exhausted. "Let's leave it at that."

Together, Sam and Bucky go back to the safety and warmth of their family. Sam fixes his wings. Sam goes back to being Captain America. And Bucky... he's around, but it's unclear what he's doing.

That is, until the very end. When Sam is in a fight, and suddenly Bucky shows up and helps him out.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks.

"I've made up my mind." Bucky says. "I'm the Winter Soldier. But now I'll save lives, Sam. Now, like you, I'll be a hero."

Sam smirks. "So does this make you my sidekick, then?"

Bucky smiles. "C'mon, at least make me a partner." He says.

"How about co-workers." Sam says (in flashback, he remembers back to the death of his last on-the-job partner).

"How about friends." Bucky says, with a wry look.

"Bucky... I don't want to see you put your dumbass self in danger." Sam says.

"Oh, and it's ok for you to go running off into danger on your own all the time?" Bucky asks.

"Yes." Sam says stubbornly. "Absolutely it is."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a dumbass?!"

"Sam, if you think I'm not gonna be watching your back for the rest of time... then you're the biggest dumbass I know. And I don't care if you need me or not, I will be there for you."

"Because Sam, you're more than Captain America. You're more than a good soldier. You're a good man. And I think sometimes, the world forgets what the difference is."

-

...or something like that.

(i only spent like 15 minutes on that. you know if i were actually writing this movie i would come up with something much better. and if anyone from marvel is seeing this, yes i can come work for you. i will make the time, let's do this thing right!)

-

finale

at the end of the day, whether or not the mcu chooses to make Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes a couple, it's their decision. and they don't owe me anything.

i'm just some random person on the internet. who thinks that Captain America 4 should #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend

[sacredsorceress]

Who Am I? || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

summary: spider-man’s identity is exposed to the world after the death of mysterio. the issue? spider-man has a known relationship with your superhero alias, sorceress, but peter is in a relationship with y/n y/l/n. your identity remains a secret as you are forced to decide to either reveal your identity to the world or to allow your boyfriend to have his reputation tarnished further.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst angst angst

masterlist || request || taglist

You stood, shocked, in your bedroom with the television still playing in front of you. For a moment you were unable to move as you watched a photo of your boyfriend, Peter Parker’s face flash across the screen with footage of Spider-man playing alongside it. You always knew the day would come where both you and Peter’s identities would be exposed to the world, but you thought you would be the one to decide when and that you would have so much more time.

Your hands began to shake as you paced your room, picking up your cellphone and dialing your boyfriend’s number. Your identity hadn’t been exposed yet, but you knew there was only a matter of time until there was a decision to be made.

You and Peter had an ongoing relationship that everyone in your shared school knew about. However, it was a known fact across the world that Spider-Man was in a relationship with your superhero alias, Sorceress.

In this moment you were kicking yourself for never realizing that this situation could happen. If they weren’t already, you knew soon enough that people would begin connecting the dots. Peter Parker had you- Y/n Y/l/n- whereas Spider-Man had Sorceress- a woman with an unknown identity. You would either have to come forward and reveal your identity or remain in hiding, allowing the world to believe that you had never known of Peter’s super human abilities and that he had been seeing an Avenger behind your back.

You cursed to yourself as your call went to voicemail, about to call again until you heard banging against the glass of your bedroom window. You rushed across the room, pushing open the window for Peter as he climbed in before you slammed it shut once more.

“What the-” You began.

“Fuck.” Peter cut you off. “Shit. Shit. Shit! What am I going to do, Y/n?”

He began pacing your room, pulling the mask off of his face before tossing it aggressively across your room.

Just then, the phone in your hand began blowing up, buzzing and dinging from texts and direct messages in between phone calls from your family. You knew everyone had started to hear the news.

Silencing your phone and threw it on the bed.

“I- I don’t know, Pete.” You said confused and frustrated. “God, I could just kick that guy’s ass right now. What are we going to do?”

Looking at your boyfriend, you noticed as his eyelids grew red, water brimming on the edge and spilling over them as he tugged at his messy hair. His chest contracted and relaxed rapidly as his breathing quickened and you could hear soft huffs and puffs spilling from his mouth.

Meeting him where he stood in your bedroom, you cupped his face in your hands, pushing your own thoughts aside.

“Peter, look at me.” You told him, searching to meet his eyes. “You need to breathe, baby. We’re going to figure this out, okay? I know this looks bad, but not everyone can believe this, right? You’re Spider-Man. You’ve helped save the world. You’ve never given anyone a reason to believe shit like this because you’re a good person, Pete. They’re gonna have to believe you.”

Watching the tears fall from his eyes and stream down his cheeks, he shook his head, moving his hands out of his hair to instead wrap his arms around you, pulling you tightly against him. Shoving his face into the crook of your neck, you could hear his muffled voice.

“I don’t know what to do.” He sobbed into your skin, his fingers digging into the cloth of your shirt. “It feels like everything goes wrong. F-first Mr. Stark and now this. The world is literally against me, Y/n. I- I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Listening to your boyfriend's soft cries, you rubbed your hand in circles against his back, soothing him.

You swore you could feel your heart shattering in your chest, watching your favorite boy fall apart right in front of you. Although you both had been through a lot- Peter was going through your worst nightmare and had been hit repeatedly back to back to back. You wish you could turn back time and make it right for him just so you could see a smile grace his face once again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Peter.” You whispered. “We’re going to figure this out together-”

Just then, you heard your name announced from the television, your yearbook photo displayed on the screen alongside Peter’s, below it a photo of Spider-Man with his hand rested against Sorceress’ lower back, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Shit.” You cursed to yourself in so low a voice you hoped Peter wouldn’t notice, but he did.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked pushing himself out of your embrace.

As hard as you tried to hush him and keep him in your arms, he backed away, turning his attention towards the television.

“This just in! Sources confirm that Peter Parker, better known as Spider-Man, has had a long-term girlfriend, Y/n Y/l/n, pictured here since before the Blip! Now, for those of you out there that don’t know, Spider-Man has also been in a relationship with fellow Avenger Sorceress for the past seven months! If you’re keeping up- that’s two women! We’ve been unable to reach Miss. Y/l/n so far for any comments at this time, but fellow classmates have been eager to share their sides of the story.”

“This whole thing is just so crazy.” You watched Betty say on screen. “I thought Peter was so nice, but journalist to journalist- Y/n was way above his league. That’s what’s so shocking! I can’t believe he’d cheat on her like that. I guess being an Avenger really does go to your head.”

“Do you know what this means?” Peter asked suddenly, turning towards you.

Feeling your heart thump in your chest, you furrowed your eyebrows at your boyfriend. “What are you talking about, Peter?”

Pointing at the television he raised his voice.

“Y/n, they don’t think that you’re Sorceress.” He explained to you. “They think that I’ve been seeing the both of you behind your back. You... you can still get out of this. You don’t have to go down with me.”

Staring at your boyfriend’s face, the severity of the situation written all over it, your eyes grew wide.

You understood what Peter meant. You had been given an out by some lucky chance. You could lie and say that you weren’t Sorceress and that you had never known a thing about Peter being Spider-Man. You could lie and pretend that you didn’t know who your boyfriend really was.

You could lie and allow Peter to have his reputation tarnished even further by making him out to be a two-faced cheater.

Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Peter, I can’t do that.” You told him. “You’re innocent! If I lie and say that I didn’t know anything- that I’m not Sorceress and that you’ve been cheating on me behind my back- then you look guilty. You can try to prove you’re innocent for the whole thing with Mysterio right now because you’ve never given anyone a reason to believe otherwise, but if I let you take the fall for me, Peter, and make you look like a liar and a cheater then that will give them all the more reason not to trust you. It’ll be impossible to change their mind.”

Listening to the words you were saying in disbelief, he pushed his fingers into his hair, tugging hard on the strands and shaking his head.

“Y/n!” He shouted your name. “You don’t think they’ll bring you down with me? If you tell everyone who you are, they’ll think you knew about it the whole time. They’ll think that you knew what I was doing with Mysterio and that you’re just as guilty as me. I can’t ask you to reveal your identity for me just for everyone to turn on you too!”

Flinching from the volume of his voice, a part of you knew that he was right.

You had always wanted to keep your identity a secret to allow you to live a normal life outside of avenging, but seeing Peter’s situation just gave you all the more reason to protect yourself by living a double life.

At the end of the day though, you loved Peter.

You and your boyfriend had chosen each other every day regardless of the hectic lives you both led- sometimes even risking your lives for each other in the process. 

Your lives weren’t easy by any means, but you always had each other and promised yourselves that you always would.

“So what?” You asked. “What am I supposed to do, Pete? You think they’re going to stop at you? You don’t think they’re gonna start wondering who’s behind my mask? And God, what kind of life would it be if I kept mine a secret now? I can’t live normally anymore- not when I’m apparently the ex-girlfriend of the Avenger who they think murdered someone. Besides... what? We’d have to see each other in secret from now on so nobody finds out who I am? It’s not worth it, Peter-”

Throwing his hands in the air, he shouted.

“It’s worth if you’re safe, Y/n!” He raised his voice at you once again, before taking a deep breath. “What don’t you get?”

Taken back by his outburst, you both stood there staring at each other in silence.

When you finally reached your hand out for him, you winced as he shied away from your touch.

“I- I’ve lost to many people.” Peter said, his voice nearly a whisper. “I can’t lose you too.”

The way his voice cracked, made your breath catch in your throat as you stared at the broken boy in front of you.

Peter had undeniably lost so much- his parents, his uncle, his mentor- there was no doubt about that and it broke your heart knowing that he worried about losing you too.

Gazing at his tear-stained face- you swore to yourself that he never would. You would do whatever it took to make sure that Peter Parker was never alone.

“I know, Pete. I’m sorry.” You said, slowly stepping towards him. “You’re not going to lose me. I mean, Pete, we went to space and turned to dust for five years and still found our way back to each other. We’re going to figure this out together, Peter. We’re gonna clear your name, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise you.”

When the palm of your hand met his rosy cheek this time, he didn’t flinch away, instead nudging his head into your touch.

“I can’t ask you to do this.” He said softly, meeting your eyes.

“I wouldn’t ask you to either, Pete, but you would do it anyway, wouldn’t you?” You asked, brushing your thumb against his cheek.

“Yeah.”

Not being able to help the light chuckle that slipped from your lips, you threw Peter a soft smile.

“I know.” You whispered. “So just... let me do this, Peter.”

Just as Peter opened his mouth to speak, the sound of his phone interrupted him as it began ringing in his pocket. Stepping back from your touch, he pulled the device out from his suit and brought it to his ear.

“What? May, slow down.” He said sniffling. “I’m at Y/n’s.”

Watching as he furrowed his eyebrows, you crossed your arms.

“What?” He asked. “’Check outside her window’?”

Rushing across the room, you pressed yourself against your window, looking down at the street below you. On the sidewalk stood at least a dozen reporters, clamoring outside the door of your building. Eyes growing wide you stepped back, throwing the curtain over the glass.

“Shit.” You muttered to yourself, wringing your hands and turning to look at your boyfriend.

“May, I know.” He said. “I just- let me call you back.”

With that he hung up the phone, slipping it back into his pocket and strode across the room to meet you in your spot. Resting his hands on your arms, he squeezed tightly.

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Peter said meeting your eyes. “I know I can’t tell you what to do, but I want it to be your decision, Y/n. Make sure whatever it is that it’s... that it’s what you want because t-there’s no going back.”

Nodding your head along with his words, your focus shifted from your boyfriend to the dresser in the corner of your bedroom where you kept your suit.

This was it.

You had to make your decision.

You wished more than anything that you had more time, but you knew that you had had enough allotted to you already. You had been given more than any other member of your team and standing there now, you were thankful for every second of it.

No matter what your decision was, your life would change for good from this moment on.

Your heart racing in your chest, you memorized the feeling of your boyfriend's touch and the way his eyes glistened from the tears in his eyes, his cheeks stained red. You remembered the way he smiled when he first saw you again after the Blip and the way he held you so tightly after returning from his trip.

Taking one last, shaky breath you looked up at Peter and nodded.

“I’m ready.”

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

__________________________

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him. 

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this. 

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red. 

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you. 

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.” 

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it. 

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?” 

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.” 

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most  practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy. 

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip. 

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy.  As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.” 

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be. 

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke. 

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind. 

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find. 

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.  

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse. 

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable. 

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look. 

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began. 

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan. 

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

You lowered your head. 

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot. 

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled. 

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?” 

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod. 

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.  

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned 

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again. 

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly. 

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust. 

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that? 

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person? 

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once. 

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew. 

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under. 

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed.  How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you. 

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions. 

No wonder he was so angry. 

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call. 

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.” 

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing. 

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.” 

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.” 

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it. 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again. 

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy.  He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right? 

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger. 

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos. 

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh. 

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up. 

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?” 

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot. 

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.” 

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.” 

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm. 

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

[arvandus]

The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta.  You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face.  You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed.  You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note:  A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder​​. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??).  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar.  Some looking to win romance.  Some looking to win money.  While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends.  Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band.  It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched.  You checked your phone for messages but found none.  It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up.  It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response.  Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up.  A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point.  You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now.  Sometimes it was them.  Sometimes it was you.  But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best.  At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date.  And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing.  Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians.  Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din.  Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs.  Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage.  All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club.  Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch.  Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was.  Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips.  He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans.  He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing.  The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star.  The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck.  It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This.  This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out.  You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people.  But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new.  And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump.  Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed.  But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel.  Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away.  Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble.  His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral.  To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze.  You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis.  “Another night solo, huh?”

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons.  He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly.  “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down.  “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles.  “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow.  “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’.  You know who I’m talking about.  If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done.  But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened. 

Watching him from a distance was one thing.  But actually meeting him?  Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body.  “No, it’s okay.  I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention.  You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage.  No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him.  The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at.  And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you.  You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance.  Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift.  The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins.  You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him.  Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time.  Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did.  Only rarely did he linger for a drink.  What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you.  He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep.  It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten.  You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured.  You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit.  He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him.  No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him.  In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied.  “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied.  Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass.  Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip. 

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar.  “Duty calls, friend.  Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him.  Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later.   You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice. 

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight.  A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred.  “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold.  “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned.  “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl.  It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat.  Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi.  He had a way of handling drunken idiots.  But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him. 

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind.  Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face.  A well-placed kick to his shin.  Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder.  The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort.  You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips.  But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare.  “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered.  “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed.  His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission.  For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay!  I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good.  Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him.  “Hey, fuck you man!”  He shouted.  But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables.  Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse.  Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess.  The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had.  But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded.  “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine.  But next time ask for one of my bouncers.  Or Hizashi.  Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin.  “And why is that?”

“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents.  “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay.  Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.”  She crossed her arms.  “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand.  I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration.  “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better.  And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before.  “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love.  I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

 Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

 “And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment.  I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi.  “Get her a fresh drink.”  

 “Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

 She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

 “Thank you.” You replied.

 Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

 You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now.  “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

 “Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath.  Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display.  Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied.  There was a long silence before he spoke again.  “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then.  Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely.  The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked.  “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking.  The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.  

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown.  How long had he noticed you’d been coming here?  Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment.  You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh.  He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused.  Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time.  I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True.  I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice.  You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin.  “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back.  This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective.  Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval.  He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought.  It felt natural.  Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself.  After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face.  His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri.  You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own.  Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life.  You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory.  He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed.  “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed.  “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look.  “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink.  “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation.  You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now.  You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him.  “How about you?  Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No.  No special someone.  Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand.  Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.  

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him.  Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched.  If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned.  Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there?  What if you were wrong?  

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter.  The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy.  It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations.  Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.  

He was interested.  In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned.  Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind.  It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most.  You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.  

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers.  Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin.  That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment.  “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club.  Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day.  How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement.  But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could.  “Leave me the keys to the place.  I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug.  He placed a set of keys on the counter.  “Don’t tell Nemuri, though.  She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left.  You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze.  Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space.  He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile.  “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you.  “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips.  You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own.  Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass.  You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head.  “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid.  Used to mess around on it.” He explained.  “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails.  You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing.  “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head.  “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them.  Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat.  He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty.  The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him.  The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C.  Everything else will center around this.”  He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space.  “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys.  Like this.”  Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm.  “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.”  He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out.  Then, he removed his hand.  “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried.  The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured.  “Let’s try it again.  Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol.  It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness.  You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience.  “It’s okay.  If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it.  You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit.  And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop?  How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay.  Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys.  “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his.  His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land.  Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said.  “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval.  “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time.  The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled.  “Good.  Now, for the other hand.  You’ll start one octave lower.  Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect.  Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys.  “Like this?”

Shouta nodded.  “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand.  The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you.  You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap.  His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his.  The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod.  “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily.  “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No.  Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him.  He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them.  You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this.  The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes.  To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly.  The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake.  You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down.  And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys.  All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen.  His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.  

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys.  His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable.  But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted.  But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting.  Finally, he spoke.  “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now.  “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you.  Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results.  Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need.  Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did.  It was obvious you did.  Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him.  He needed to hear it.  A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you.  At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own.  You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.  

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs.  This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing?  How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence?  And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties.  The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation.  His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps.  Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock.  Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements.  “You better stop that…” he warned.  

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end.  But you didn’t care.  You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction.  In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck.  His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw.  There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap.  The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control.  But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back.  “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath.  With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel.  He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance.  The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered.  Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit.  A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage.  With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release.  Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you.  With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching.  Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer.  You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly.  “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers.  The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake.  Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched.  Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.  

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure.  Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch.  His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs.  The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips.  Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him.  But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh.  “Much.”  You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you.  “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans.  “As much as I like that idea, no.”  He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap.  His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place.  “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.  “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms.  “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.”  You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered.  You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access.  “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind.  Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes.  He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was.  You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

 You couldn’t wait.

[fruitcoops]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do another fic involving jules and coops together? Just like sweet moments between the three? I loved the baby sitting series you did and could not stop thinking about it❤️❤️ Thank you!!

Yeah, of course! I love writing my boy at any opportunity. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but the relatives are my ocs!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sirius asked under his breath as Remus finally—finally—appeared from the mass of people.

“It’s fine,” Remus said around a forced smile to a middle-aged man across the yard.

Sirius hid his mouth by pretending to look down at the nearest casserole dish. He didn’t even know what was in it; nobody had bothered with labels, and everyone’s dishes were the same basic florals in different colors. “I love you, Re, and I totally get the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing, but this is a bit much if I’m being honest.”

“Honey.” Remus’ shoulder pressed against his own. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good time, but my Aunt Jen would skin me alive if I didn’t bring the man I’m marrying to the family reunion. We can leave tomorrow if you really hate—oh, no.”

“Remus!” a shrill, excited voice called. Sirius felt his fiancé straighten up as a tall, redheaded woman in star-painted jeans hurried across the grass with three other women in tow. She reached up and gave Remus’ cheeks a squish, then leaned in a planted a lipstick-stamped kiss to his forehead. “How are you, my duckling? Was your flight alright? Make sure you stay away from the salt or else your feet will swell.”

“Hi, Aunt Jen,” Remus said, grimacing a little at her rib-crushing hug. “I’m doing well, and our flight was fine. How are you?”

“Peachy keen,” she assured him. Dark brown eyes lasered in on Sirius half a second later and he felt his fight or flight kick in. “And who are you?”

“Aunt Jen, this is—”

“It was rhetorical, honey,” Jen interrupted with a pat to Remus’ arm as she stepped closer to Sirius and immediately hauled him in for a hug. She was as tall as Remus, but broader in the shoulders and hips; he had never felt so engulfed by someone. It was a strangely enjoyable feeling.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” the shortest of the group cooed, as if she was talking to a particularly small dog in a purse. “Our Remus always knew how to pick them.”

Remus furrowed his brows. “Aunt Lisa, this is the first boyfriend I’ve—”

“But he’s not just a boyfriend!” Jen trilled, giving Sirius’ cheek a pat. “He’s a fiancé, something I learned from your mother. Not from your father—oh, I gave him a talking-to about that—and not from you, duck.”

Sirius bit back a laugh at the nickname and spared a glance to his left, where Remus had gone pink all the way to his ears. “Sorry.”

“Introduce us!” the shortest insisted, taking the other two by the hands as pulling them forward with an eager smile.

“Everyone, this is Sirius Black, my fiancé.” Remus gestured between them, and the four women beamed at him. “Sirius, this is Aunt Jen, Aunt Lisa, Aunt Allison, and Aunt Mary, my dad’s sisters.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Sirius said, holding a hand out.

“No need to be so formal,” the brunette grumbled with a teasing grin. “We have heard so much about you from Lyall. After those damned pictures—”

“Allison,” Jen hissed.

“—after the damned pictures,” Allison repeated with a pointed look. “I was about ready to drive up to Gryffindor myself and give that lousy son of a bitch a piece of my mind—”

“Allison!”

“—but Lyall talked me down and I have been waiting to meet you ever since.” She finished with a soft huff and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Remus is a lucky boy to have you. It’s very exciting to see you in person at last.”

Sirius’ heart gave a happy little ka-thump and he smiled. “I’m glad to be here. Thank you for having me.”

“He is so polite,” Lisa said to Remus out of the corner of her mouth with a wink and a thumbs-up. “Good choice.”

“You know what I just realized? We haven’t said hello to Jules yet. We’ll see you in a few, yeah?” Without waiting for an official answer, Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist and practically carried him away from the table. Once they were out of earshot—and the aunts had busied themselves with one of the younger Lupins—Remus relaxed with a slow exhale. “I am…so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I had no idea they were going to corner you like that. I mean, I did, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be for another few hours. They tend to move in a pack at reunions, like sharks. Or wolves.”

“They’re really sweet.”

“They are,” Remus said grudgingly, though Sirius could read the affection dripping off him like his favorite book. “My dad’s the youngest of five, and I was the first nephew. You can imagine how that went.”

“Baby of the baby?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask one thing?” Remus nodded, visibly confused, and Sirius found he couldn’t keep his grin down any longer. “Duckling?”

“I hoped you didn’t hear that,” he groaned as they headed toward the kids’ play area beneath a large oak. “Long story short, it involved five-year-old me, a pond, and a sinus infection that made me sound like a duck when I sneezed.”

“Oh my god,” Sirius laughed, earning himself a light elbow to the ribs. “And the name stuck?”

“Considering she was the one that had to stay with me while my folks were working, she could call me whatever the hell she wanted. Please don’t ask her about it unless you want a thirty-minute TED talk about the ins and outs of my sinuses.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“No, she just overshares.”

“Sirius!”

Sirius looked up and saw a herd of small children racing toward them, led by his favorite person under the age of eighteen; Jules crashed into his legs and squeezed him tight around the waist. “Hey, I missed you!”

Jules propped his chin below Sirius’ sternum and stared up at him with the classic hazel-gold eyes that were far more common than Sirius believed before they arrived in the Lupins’ backyard. “I missed you, too! How’s the team? How’s Harry? Is he still super small or did he do that weird thing that babies do where their legs grow and the rest of them still looks normal? How was your flight? Did you have turbulence?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Good, also good, growing normally, and yes.”

“Sweet! Come play cornhole with us!” Jules grabbed his hand and dragged him along the grass at the closest thing he could manage to a sprint with Sirius’ added weight—the pre-teen years had lent him gangly legs, though he didn’t seem quite sure how to use them yet. He looked more like a foal than a sixth-grader.

“What the hell is cornhole?” Sirius muttered as the flock of kids ran ahead to grab armfuls of beanbags.

Remus grinned. “Something I’m about to kick your ass at.”

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

By the time the sun set, Sirius was exhausted. He had been introduced to dozens of people who looked just enough like Remus to be eerie, as well as plenty who seemed to have been acquired by one Lupin or another over the course of their life. Jules fluctuated between laminating himself to Sirius’ side and disappearing for an hour at a time, only to return more grass-stained and rumpled than ever as he begged Remus to swing him around by the ankles again. His ass had been thoroughly kicked at cornhole and freeze tag; it was a true miracle he hadn’t already passed out into a food coma. For all of his earlier griping, Sirius couldn’t think of a time in recent months when he had been more content.

“You’re a brave soul,” Remus remarked as they sat in the grass together and watched the fireflies wake. Though it was a warm night, it seemed the citronella candles littering the tables were doing their job of chasing off mosquitoes.

Sirius leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder. He smelled like grass and summertime and sunbaked warmth. “Am I?”

“Mhmm. I’m sure most people would have run screaming by now.”

“I like your family.”

A beat of silence passed; Remus rested his temple against the top of Sirius’ head. “I’m really glad to hear that. They’re weird and loud, but I love them.”

“And I love you.”

“Are you saying I’m weird and loud?”

“On occasion.”

“Asshole,” Remus laughed, giving him a nudge that hardly qualified as more than a gentle sway.

“Language, there are eight million kids around.”

“They’re busy.”

Sirius watched as small group run by in a wave of giggles, all clutching mason jars of fireflies with their names written on masking tape. “Thank you again for asking me to come with you.”

“Like I said, Aunt Jen would—”

“Remus.” He fell quiet. Sirius didn’t remember the last time he said Remus’ full name aloud. “Your family loves you so much. They’re everything I ever wanted growing up, and it means the world that you wanted to share them with me. All they want is to see you happy. It was amazing to finally meet them.”

“They really, really love you,” Remus said softly, his voice a little thick. “I had about twenty people tell me how wonderful you are. They all thanked me for bringing you, and not a single one mentioned the celebrity thing. Even my Uncle Jay didn’t say a word about hockey.”

“He was the one in the jersey?”

“I’ve known him for my entire life and I’ve never seen him without one.”

“Huh.” Sirius tucked his face closer to Remus’ neck and let the sound of the bullfrogs in a distant marsh lull him. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. The adults will be up for a while, but the kids will start crashing soon.”

Footsteps on the cool grass rustled to their right and Sirius looked up. “Who wants pie?” Aunt Allison singsonged, breaking their quiet bubble with paper plates and utensils. “This one is blackberry, but we have peach, pumpkin, and a few others on the table if you’re still hungry.”

“Just a small piece, please,” Sirius said.

Allison paused and cocked her head, then burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re funny!”

“I am?”

“Don’t fight it,” Remus whispered.

“You are a growing boy,” Allison said as she cut a thick slice and plonked it onto his plate. “And there’s no such thing as too much pie.”

I’m 26, Sirius wanted to say, though he held it in. “Just a small one for me, as well,” Remus said.

“Ha!” Allison snorted. “You’re already too skinny. Eat your pie or you’ll end up a string bean like your father. The NHL might have given you muscle, but it’s useless if you don’t enjoy some of your favorite aunt’s—”

“—woah, hey now—”

“—pie once in a while.” Allison kissed the tops of their heads once both plates were secure and bowing in the middle. “I’m going to make sure the kids aren’t poking around in the river again. Sleep well, you two.”

Sirius stared down at his plate as she wandered away. “I’m honestly going to die if I eat this.”

“Yeah, please don’t make yourself sick on pie. You really don’t have to eat all of that. The aunts and uncles are convinced that none of us are eating properly once we turn eighteen.”

“Really?”

“I wish I was kidding. You’re going to sleep so well tonight, though.”

As if on cue, Sirius stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and cuddled under Remus’ arm again. A familiar shadow bounded over not two seconds later and he barely held down a groan. “Hey, can I join you?”

Remus shrugged. “ ‘course.”

“Sweet.” Jules settled himself across their laps, staring at the sky with his head pillowed on Sirius’ thigh. “Did you have fun? I’m really glad you could come.”

“I had a great time,” Sirius answered honestly. Now please move on so I can take a nap.

“Mom and dad and me got here yesterday, and Aunt Jen kept checking the door for you guys even though she knew you weren’t coming until today. She was worried you wouldn’t like us, I think.”

“That was never an option, Jules.”

“Yeah, I know.” A devilish grin flickered over his face. “Remus is the weirdest of all of us, and if you want to marry him—”

“Get off,” Remus grumbled, shoving Jules’ legs onto the picnic blanket. “You know, you were a lot nicer before you turned eleven. Can I return you and get a new one? I have the receipt somewhere.”

“Nope.”

“That’s all a birth certificate is, right?” Sirius raised his eyebrows. “If you bring it back in good condition, I hear they give you a ten percent discount.”

Jules scowled. “That’s so not true.”

“How do you think I got Regulus?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Remus asked with a pointed look. “Run along, problem child.”

“Of the two of us, I’m the least problematic.” Despite his words, Jules clambered to his feet and dusted his hands off over Remus’ head. “I’m not the one that got a secret boyfriend and got engaged in a year. I’m so easy. Mom and dad want two of me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remus sighed as he stretched out on the blanket. “They had a second kid because they wanted two of me.”

“You’re adopted.”

Remus cracked one eye open in disbelief. “No, I’m not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—y’know what, go to bed. Or go find the stampede, I think they’re by the river.”

Sirius whistled lowly as Jules scampered off again. “That was impressive. Isn’t your aunt over there?”

“Yep.”

Realization clicked into place. “She’s going to make him go to bed.”

“Yep.”

“You’re brilliant.”

Remus smiled without opening his eyes, and tugged Sirius down by the sleeve to lay next to him. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

The stars were brighter than anywhere Sirius had ever seen; for a moment, he was struck speechless by the endless rivers of sparkling white overhead. He stared until his eyes burned from dryness, then put his head on Remus’ chest and kept on looking. There was no way he could tear his gaze from it. A few shooting stars streaked across the clear sky and he felt his heart skip a beat in pure amazement when he realized there was nothing else he would wish for in that moment. He could listen to Remus’ heartbeat and the sound of his new family talking against a backdrop of the night, relishing in a full belly and cool wind, and simply stay there for as long as he liked.

[a-libra-writes]

How the GoT Characters Propose To You

We’re BACK AT IT AGAIN FOLKS

In this imagine, you’ll be proposed to by: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion

NED STARK

In spite of the fact your families arranged this marriage years ago, Ned has to be his usual honorable, traditional self and go along with the expected courting process. That includes a formal proposal, but… that’s not for the purpose of tradition. The way he beams and looks at you with such adoration, you can tell he just really wants to hear you say “yes” to the proposal he shyly talks through. The ring is on the more modest side, combining the direwolf and your house’s sigil. There’s a personal touch on the inside; either an inscription or an engraving that has a special meaning to the two of you. He likely has a matching ring, very unassuming, that he wears whenever possible.

ROBB STARK

He didn’t expect to fall so completely for you during this stuffy courting process. Robb can’t believe how lucky he is, and it’s obvious to everyone how enamored he is with you. He’s ready to jump straight to the wedding, tradition be damned, but oh well. What he does do is give you the ring quite early, and his own proposal, even if your marriage has been long decided. His proposal is straightforward, but there’s love and earnestness in his eyes as he takes your hands and presents the ring he secretly acquired. It’s beautifully crafted, with silver direwolves and gemstones that match your house’s sigil for their eyes.

SANSA STARK

Sansa had thought about this for a long time. Letting that romantic spirit come back, even after you’d been together for a while, was difficult. The whole concept of marriage had become repulsive to her, but together the two of you could make it something different. She gave you an unassuming ring you could always wear, with gemstones that reminded her of your eyes. She tried not to cry with happiness as she gave her heartfelt proposal. You’d say your vows in the weirwoods, where she always wanted to be married. The whole day would seem like a dream to her, like the innocent daydreams she had as a girl, before the world took everything.

JON SNOW

He had it planned out: What he would say, where he would say it, but his nerves and doubts bite at him again and again. You can tell he’s been thinking about something for months, it’s been weighing on him, but you hadn’t expected this. It all makes sense when you both are alone in a godswood and Jon takes your hand … and finally blurts it all out. He had a silver ring made; you don’t know how he managed it, but it’s pretty in its simplicity. There’s a direwolf running across the ring, its teeth bared, and another one running beside it. A pack of two.

BENJEN STARK

The asking and ceremony would be more of a ‘symbolic’ thing - being you both were in the Night’s Watch, and you were in disguise. It’s why when he first asked you, you thought it was some silly jap. “Of course, Ben,” You rolled your eyes. “I would love to be your wife.” Then he took your hand, removed the old woolen glove covering it and put on a small, unassuming iron ring that fit you perfectly. Benjen couldn’t stop grinning as he asked you again. It’s a sweet moment you share high up on the wall, in the middle of the darkness, where it seems like you both are totally alone in the world. Days afterward, you notice the engravings of the direwolf inside the ring.

JORY CASSEL

No matter how long you both were together at this point, Jory gets tongue-tied and stumbles over what he carefully rehearsed. He’s still so sure you’ll refuse him, given the small land and influence his family has. He thought for a long time about what sort of ring to get you, and admittedly, he was thinking about it early on in the relationship. It’s something quite pretty and elegant, and it references your house and personal taste. Honorable and traditional as he was, it didn’t feel right going to your family for “formal” permission. He wanted to know your feelings first, and that you truly wanted the arrangement.

EDDISON TOLLETT

You being his “old lady” was a dumb in-joke you and Edd had for some time. You were disguised in the Night’s Watch, of course, but the way you two (playfully) bickered made everyone call you an exhausting old couple. Even when you both were alone, Edd would use “wife”, though you were increasingly aware it wasn’t a joke anymore. Finally he really asks you, even if it’s pointless, even if it’s while you both are freezing in the middle of a frozen wasteland. And even then, he’s still surprised you say yes. One day he ties a piece of old twine around your finger, blushing the whole time, insisting you don’t have to keep it on if you don’t want to.

YARA GREYJOY

If you were from the greenlands, from the get-go, Yara liked to refer to you as her salt wife. It was half teasing, half telling the other Ironborn to stay away. Whenever she’d say it, she’d keep such a protective hold on your waist, you were half-convinced she was going to carry you off to her ship. Eventually she made good on that promise. If you were Ironborn, Yara would be more willing to be forward. She’d tell you about some story she heard from her uncle about brides of the sea, women who stayed together and never married, though you knew she wasn’t one for fancies. Regardless, she’d have matching necklaces made for the both of you, leather and iron, like most of what she owns. She keeps it protected under her clothes.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

Oh, she’s brought it up with you plenty of times - how you’ll be her Queen before gods and men, no matter what anyone thinks. The thing is, you both never did a grand ceremony. There were other matters to attend to, but Daenerys always made it clear to visitors who you were to her. She has plans for a wonderful ceremony once she takes her throne back, a celebration of your unbreakable union… Well, until then, you both can have your private vows. There’s dozens of beautiful things she’s given you (mostly from suitors who won’t bugger off), but your favorite is a necklace she had specially made. It’s a necklace of obsidian with dragons in flight, all connected together. The three largest dragons have a ruby, a diamond and an emerald for their eyes - a reference to her children, who are also fond of you. You two also wear matching obsidian bands with small rubies, made from the same stone as the necklace.

JORAH MORMONT

First, you knew this was happening. Jorah wears his heart on his sleeve and that’s even more evident when he’s worried about something. You noticed he was being both especially loving and anxious. You considered saying something, but he was clearly waiting for a perfect moment. Seriously, he’d look ready to say something, then back off at the last second at least a dozen times. Finally Jorah asked you, with the most loving smile on his face, and he was so choked up when you accepted - as if he really thought you’d refuse. You’ve told him before that you don’t need anything fancy, but he still gets you a lovely and elegant ring with silver-black engravings of small bears and another animal you’re fond of. He’s thrilled if you got him a matching ring or necklace; again, Jorah didn’t imagine you’d want such a thing. He’d wear it constantly and it’d become something he’d fiddle with when he was nervous.

MISSANDEI

Missandei would wait for you to pop the question because, in truth, she never imagined you’d want to. She understood that was a tradition in your home country, but you were both women, and she was… well, she just didn’t expect it. But Missandei’s eyes light up with surprise and adoration at your earnest question, and she says yes without even thinking. She isn’t one for anything fancy, but she’d love you both to have a matching set of bracelets, necklaces or rings - something elegant but not flashy, perhaps with stones or engravings that mean something personal to the both of you. She’d always wear it, even if she had to hide it under her clothes for some reason or another. She’s terribly flustered when someone asks her who it’s from and what it means.

GREY WORM

Oh, no no no. He’d grown a lot beside you, and as Daenerys’ commander, but there were still areas where Grey Worm felt like he wasn’t enough. It would take a lot of prodding and reassurance from Missandei before he’d finally start planning. You’d wonder what he was up to, and he’d just shyly say it was a surprise and you’d learn eventually. His proposal is sweet and faltering; he tried to stay serious, but he just couldn’t when you looked at him with those kind eyes. Grey Worm decided to make the jewelry himself - it would be an intricate leather bracelet with gemstones inlaid. He hunted the animal and tanned the leather himself, and spent many evenings hurting his fingers to put it together. He has a matching one, though it’s far simpler.

TYWIN LANNISTER

First off, this was a marriage arranged well in advance, so you didn’t expect any extended courting or proposals. This was Tywin, after all. Still he managed to surprise you a fortnight before the wedding with an absurdly jeweled ringbox. The ring itself was Lannister gold, and you anticipated lions and rubies… but it was your house’s sigil, with your birthstone inlaid, and small lions along the band. It’s far more than you anticipated from such a man. And when Tywin presented it to you, you sensed his expectation, and the heat in his eyes... He would never admit to wanting your approval, but that look was saying otherwise. Some years later, you have more jewelry than you could dream of, but you still wear that original ring most often. You’ll catch him glancing at it when you put it on, or twist it around your finger, then he’ll glance aside like he wasn’t watching.

TYRION LANNISTER

Naturally, he’s been thinking of this and planning it for weeks, maybe months, depending on how in love he is. Even if it’s a marriage of love, Tyrion will still have late-night nagging thoughts that you’ll back out, or you’re doing it out of duty. When he takes your hand and gives you the sweetest proposal you’ve ever heard, he still isn’t sure… until you kiss him and tell him what a silly man he’s being. Of course you’d accept. The ring has beautiful craftsmanship, with delicate flowers, lions and gemstones matching your house. It’s rosegold and silver rather than Lannister gold, and the inscription inside is something of an in-joke between you two, likely a quote from a book.

JAIME LANNISTER

You were concerned when he first approached you. It’s rare Jaime is this solemn with you, and he’d been acting strange the past week. Then he started to speak, and you realized he was nervous. His cheeks were starting to get red, and he was having trouble looking right at you. His nervousness came from the fact that Jaime wasn’t entirely sure you’d say yes, no matter how long you’d been together, no matter how confident he was that whole time. All the doubts would begin to creep, and before you could even answer, he considered backing out. But you said yes, and the smile that grew on his face was so wonderful to see. Jaime doesn’t want anything fancy or ceremonial, tradition and his family name be damned. The ring is gold, naturally, but it’s simple and charming. There’s small, pretty gemstones inlaid beside lion engravings.

SANDOR CLEGANE

At this point, you two have been married in all but name for years. He has his own thoughts on marriage, and you have your’s, and there was never a rush. People in the village already thought you already took vows, so honestly, you might have kids before Sandor starts considering something a little official. It would be something simple, but heartfelt. He’d have a fancy leather bracelet woven for you, or a simple silver ring, if you’d prefer that. He wouldn’t want much for himself, and would be flustered if you made something - but he’d absolutely wear it. Instead of taking the three black dogs from the Clegane sigil, you both would think of something new.

BRONN

He’s made all sorts of stupid jokes about marriage, especially now that he’s a proper lord. You’ve never taken any of it seriously, especially when these sentimental rambles come from when he’s drunk and wanting under your dress. Other times are when you’re out and about and pass a sept - “We oughta made it official, then go straight to the wedding night” - really, you never expected him to be serious about it. One evening he tossed something shiny at you, and you caught it. It was a beautiful ring with a huge diamond … and your first thought is if he stole it. He didn’t look at you, only mumbled something about maybe talking to your family. Maybe considering it for real. Bronn’s terrible with emotions, especially speaking them out loud. His gestures speak louder, and the whole time he’s talking he’s trying not to look at you.

PETYR BAELISH

Naturally he planned out the whole proposal - the right location, what he would say, and a beautiful ring that meant something important to you. It wasn’t big and conspicuous, rather it was something absolutely tailored for you, with a mockingbird etched inside. Petyr starts strong as he takes your hand, but begins to falter in his words when you look at him with such adoration. That undivided attention and love just gets him flustered, though he knew you’d accept. This was all part of his plan, but even knowing it would happen didn’t make him any less pleased.

STANNIS BARATHEON

Your houses had been in discussion about the betrothal for a while, but being the man he was, Stannis still wanted to do the usual courting and formal proposal. His words were blunt, the tips of his ears were turning red and he kept darting his eyes away, but he said it. He remembers the ring when you accept, and you assumed he had it ordered without much thought… Though when you look at it, you notice it’s not just pretty woven gold and black diamonds. In the center of the diamonds is your birthstone, and you wonder if he added that touch - your parents certainly wouldn’t have. Even after you’ve been married for years and have plenty of jewelry to pick from, Stannis gets a little flushed that you wear the first ring he gave you so often.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

Your dear Davos made your ring, a pretty and modest thing he created with the help of a blacksmith friend (you were wondering where those little burns on his fingers came from). You both had been together for a while now, talking about marriage here and there but never actually doing it. When he takes your hand, he’s bashful, though he gets through his words. They’re sweet and honest, like you expected. He knew you’d say yes, but he wanted to say it, and to give you the ring. Even if you don’t want a ceremony, he wanted to give you this. It’s a pretty silver and iron ring with pretty engraved flowers, your favorite, and a loving inscription on the inside.

MARGAERY TYRELL

First off, she’d been asking you strange questions for weeks. You could tell she wanted to get you a gift, and she wanted it to be just right. Then you realized she must have some sort of elaborate date planned… Well, you didn’t expect the wonderful evening to end in a proposal. Even if it wasn’t possible for you by the laws of Westeros, Margaery didn’t care. She had a beautiful ring made for you, and she had her “vows” ready. As far as she’s concerned, your hearts belong together, and the gods will understand. She only cries a little, but she’s mostly beaming as you say yes and allow her to put it on your finger.

The gold ring is made wonderfully, with sculpted roses and a large emerald in the center, with her birthstone around it. Margaery wanted a matching one, but that might be suspicious. So, her ring is your favorite flower sculpted with your birthstone in the center.

BRYNDEN TULLY

All his life Brynden resisted the brides his brother threw at him, absolutely sure he was going to die a warrior and not some lazy lord… Well, you certainly changed that perspective, though he likes to say he’s still too old and you ought to spend your life with someone else. Because he thinks it’s the right thing to do, and you deserve it - and with the upcoming war - he gets the ring. Brynden is actually flustered the whole time, giving you a curt and honest proposal. He wants to be with you until the rest of his days - even if they’re numbered - if you’ll have him. No fancy ceremony, ideally, it’s just the two of you. The ring itself is unusual and also not traditional. It’s cool silver with black etchings, and the sigils are your house’s sigil or a favorite flower. It’s not very Tully, except for a small chain of trout engraved on the inside.

EDMURE TULLY

He’s completely confident in this proposal. And why not? You both adore each other, the marriage has been planned for well over a year now, he has just the right place to ask you… Though he’s so excited, he ends up stumbling over some words while he asks you. The official arrangement had already been announced, but he still wanted to do something private and romantic. It was difficult for Edmure to keep the ring a secret. He oversaw every step of it being made, and when he notices you looking at it, it makes him very happy. It’s an elegant silver ring inlaid with diamonds, rubies and sapphires; the latter being in a wavy formation like the Tully banner. You think it’s a bit extravagant, but he says otherwise.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

She’s been thinking about it over and over… you can tell she’s been agonizing about something for months. Finally she shyly presents you with a pretty and simple gold bracelet she figured you could always wear; stumbles over her words to explain it, then you understand her meaning. Yall find an abandoned sept and do cute lil vows and shes crying lol. You rlly want her to wear something similar and she’s just blushing the whole time but she agrees; she takes extremely good care of the necklace/bracelet and wears it under her armor.

RAMSAY BOLTON

Your parents and Roose made the arrangement, so you and Ramsay had little say in the matter. Still, he loves to play his roles, so he wanted to play the part of the attentive, doting lord, especially in front of your family. Though you’re surprised by the unusual ring he gives you; it’s two smooth rings interlocking with each other. The proposal is a little intense and unsettling, but you notice something when he puts it on your finger. He has small burns on his fingers, like had smithed it himself… And you wonder how he knew your ring size… Later on, when you both are married and living in the Dreadfort, sometimes he’ll take your hand and run his thumb over the cold ring.

ROOSE BOLTON

You both were officially engaged for some time, so he didn’t have to do any sort of proposal. When you both were at a private, quiet place in the gardens, and he took your hand. You weren’t expecting it at all. It was simple enough. He promised to look after you, to ensure your protection and health. It almost seemed… genuine, though those eyes were cold as ever. The ring was another surprise. You realized it was an heirloom, but it still looked impeccable. It was iron that was twisted into an elegant shape, with rubies and morganite. The largest ruby was in the center, shaped like a tear-drop… or maybe that was a blood-drop? You notice afterward he’ll glance at your hand each time you meet, as if concerned you wouldn’t wear it.

OBERYN MARTELL

You both had been paramours for years now, and you didn’t need the ring to be happy or official… So it surprised you when after a wonderful evening of dancing and drinking, and pressing against each other in the gardens, he asked you the question. It was romantic, like you’d expect, but also so earnest. Oberyn always wears his feelings on his sleeves, but this didn’t seem like a spur-of-the-moment passionate proposal. His words seemed like he’d worked on them for a long time. Oberyn is understanding if you want to stay paramours and not an official Lady Martell, as that title comes with trappings and expectations. He just had to ask you and hear your acceptance. The ring he gives you is gold, with vibrant topaz and rubies. The inside is engraved with the spear of Martell. You later learn from his brother that it’s a beloved family heirloom.

BERIC DONDARRION

The two of you don’t have much, but you’ve been in love for a long time and he very much wants a “proper” ceremony to express that. He shyly proposed to you in the moonlight after you both made love, and the almost desperation in his voice surprised you. He gave you a smooth, iron ring with a faint design of interwoven flames. The “ceremony” is a drunk Thoros and equally drunk septon his men found, for a double ceremony! It’s extra luck! Or something like that. Beric insists that makes it even more official, and he’ll marry you under a Godswood too, if you come across one. He’s full of smiles and wants to bridal carry you every chance he gets.

[yuzukult]

dissonance (teaser) || jjk & reader

title: dissonance pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, eventual smut (but teaser is smut free baby), fluff, rockstar!jungkook, gradstudent!reader teaser wc: 1,277 | full fic wc: tbd summary: something that first seems out of reach becomes a reality for him. screaming adoring fans, billboards with him and his band plastered on it, and touring across the globe with venues sold out. he has everything... but all he's missing is you. a/n: back at it again !! i honestly didn't think i'd come back with another jungkook fic but... i've always written series' for him so maybe this time lets dabble in a one-shot. :) enjoy this little teaser!

He loves it here. It’s his dream to be here, on the stage, with the feeling of the music rumbling underneath the soles of his chunky boots, the sea of fans screaming and hollering out his name with his self-produced songs booming through the speakers of the venue while his band stands by his side, just as passionate for this as he is.

It’s his dream; he reiterates this constantly as a reminder that this isn’t something everyone gets the chance to breathe the opportunity of. He’s been manifesting this scenario his entire life, wishing and praying to the potential Gods to help make his aspirations become a reality. He’d work his ass off to make ends meet, be able to afford the necessities all while chasing this goal that many claimed to be unrealistic or unattainable. But he’s here right now, supporters that flood the building to the brim for a concert that’s been sold out in thirty cities so far. He has everything he could ever want. Girls, money, music…

But why does he feel… like there’s something missing?

Another pair of panties gets thrown at the toes of his boots—it’s probably the sixth one that night but he’s grown used to this already. In some performances, girls would throw themselves at his feet instead of undergarments, yelling at the top of their lungs so ferociously that the security guards had to hold them back in fear of what they’re capable of. And sure, if he really wanted to, he could ask them out or invite them back to his hotel room for a quick bang, and it was what he’d been doing for the first couple years, and maybe they’ll make him feel a little less like this.

Albeit it doesn’t quite hit the same way anymore.

He’s left with this feeling of emptiness when he says his goodbyes and shuts the door behind them; there’s a gap in his chest like he’s forgotten something, yearning for it to be filled but those girls aren’t the ones to do it. His dreams used to be able to—but what are accomplished dreams when you have no one to share it with?

His friends/band mates are great, supportive and understanding, he’s admitted that he’s gotten lucky in that department, but part of him believes that it’s not friendship he’s lacking.

It’s love.

It sounds sappy to the ears of strangers, especially because ideally, you’re not supposed to depend on love to have that stuffing to the brim emotions in your chest, to feel complete and whole because a pretty person fell for you and vice versa. But to Jungkook, being in love had been something he thought he could toss under the rug for another day when he’d given up the girl he’d be infatuated with for this unobtainable aspiration, yet instead, he finds himself back in the same spot years later. Missing it.

He loved the chase—he’s a hopeless romantic kind of guy. After all, how would all of his songs be so full of raw emotions like that? It’s because Jungkook lives it—or well, lived it because everything he knew about love had been left on a shelf to collect dust. And he’d try to convince himself that he didn’t need someone, but he’d grown… lonely.

And quite frankly, finding someone genuine has proven to be difficult.

Don’t mention Tinder, Jungkook has already tried that. It promptly made headlines the moment he logged into that app with a selfie he’s never used before, and still then people actually thought he was catfishing, and wasn’t the real Jeon Jungkook. He should’ve known. But in all fairness, Jungkook isn’t much of a ‘future thinker.’

Then there was trying to date a staff member—worse idea yet. That noona ended up pissed at him when he realized that this isn’t what he wanted (he’d learn she was quite the control freak) and she flipped shit to the point that his managers fired her on the spot then informed the security that she was on the “do-not-enter” list.

After that, Jungkook just thought maybe he was going about this wrong.

Maybe, women weren’t actually of his interest.

Possibly, he was into men.

So, he tried. He ventured out a little, got a little taste here and there. Jungkook even found someone who fit him perfectly. His name? Kim Hyunwoo.

It worked out for a little, Jungkook admits, because Hyunwoo was overall a great boyfriend. He looked out for Jungkook, treated him well and they shared the same interests overall.

But… that was the problem.

They got along very well. As if they were best friends.

He found himself getting a bit uncomfortable when things got a little too serious—don’t get him wrong though, he honestly wasn’t embarrassed to be dating a guy. Hyunwoo was the definition of a model; handsome, tall with these sharp facial features. He’d been stopped and recruited several times during their dates, and truthfully, it made Jungkook feel a little awkward. He was the celebrity here, yet standing beside Hyunwoo only makes him feel small.

And in all honesty, he shouldn’t feel this way about the success of his significant other. But it wasn’t even just that. He found himself unable to pass first base with the guy—something about the action itself made him feel… discomfort. But he’s attracted to Hyunwoo. So why can’t he push himself to kiss him?

Jungkook learns maybe he finds men appealing but he can’t have more with them.

So, he goes back into the dating game. Met girls all over during his tour stops; he met a foreign girl named Lily, a gorgeous girl with pretty blonde hair and pale skin. But they didn’t click. He oddly felt like they weren’t ever on the same page. Then he went to dinner with a gal named—okay. He forgot her name. But the way her dress hugged her ass made his mind go blank, so could he really be blamed? (The answer is yes.) Oh! What about that girl whose name is similar to a hurricane? She had long, dark hair that matched her lengthy lashes that fluttered over her supple cheeks when she sucked his—

Nonetheless, it’s a dud again. He’s still lonely, he sadly confesses, but all of this is too much for him to process. He’s tired of getting his heart broken. He’s exhausted from meeting girls who first claimed that they’re not obsessed then actually are. He’s worn out of the ones who don’t love him for him, but love him for his fame.

Jungkook just wants to be loved for being… Jungkook.

And when he encounters you, some graduate student who spends majority of her days in between the activities of face dug into a textbook or eyes glued onto a computer screen, he thinks he’s back to where he was before this lifestyle. Jungkook finds himself swooning, desperately wishing for your touch and kisses, but there’s just one thing he doesn’t quite know.

Do you like Jungkook for Jungkook? Or do you like the ideal version of him that sings on stage, tossing off his shirt with his abs flexing while the crowd screams his name once more, all while the veins in his neck pop when he reaches that high note?

Or do you like Jungkook, the one who still doesn’t understand the difference between an orange and clementine, the one who still has trouble knowing when a potato is thoroughly cooked, and why his socks came out of the wash in this weird pinky shade when they definitely went in as white.

So… which is it? Which Jungkook are you interested in?

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi, it’s Fanfic Anon #2 (Welcome, fellow New Fanfic Anon!). (I’ll take nickname suggestions if someone wants to make keeping track of us easier…) I hope you all like this one.

It was rare that Brigitte was up earlier than he was, his need for little sleep both well publicized and, as she can attest better than anyone, very true. But it had been a very long week - the mad dash to London for the Queen’s funeral, with all the other state events that accompanied it, two jam-packed days in New York at the General Assembly, and all the events, meetings, speeches that were miraculously squeezed in - no wonder he was sleeping in this Saturday morning. Well, sleeping in for him.

She rolled over to get a better look at him, savoring this rare moment where she could observe him completely relaxed and at peace, her Atlas getting a tiny reprieve from the weight of the world on his shoulders. She could see that peace in the way the lines in his forehead he’d developed since he started this job five years ago finally were smoothed out, the way he was breathing evenly, his shoulders loose, a small smile on his face.

She traced those well known features over and over in the dawn’s soft light as it filtered through the curtains in their bedroom. ‘God, he’s handsome’ she thought to herself, taking in the plane of his nose, his chiseled chin, his sharp cheekbones. She still can’t believe this beautiful man, to her both inside and out, loves her, choses her, out of every woman in this country, hell, even on this planet (she knows there are women, and men, the world over who wouldn’t hesitate to get their hands on him…). She knows she’s lucky. But she still can’t imagine what she’s ever done to deserve him, to deserve this love.

She was inside her own thoughts when he slowly blinked awake, missing the smile on his face grow when he realized she had been watching him as he slept, one of his own favorite pastimes being late at night when he awaits a response to a text watching her once she’d finally nodded off after one of their “debriefs.”

“Good morning, beautiful,” he broke her from her thoughts with his greeting, his voice deeper than usual, rough from sleep and disuse.

“Good morning, mon cœur,” she replied, blushing in response to the way his was looking at her, his bright blue eyes boring so completely into hers. “Sleep well?”

He smiled at her wolfishly, replying, “Sure did. I was in the middle of the most excellent dream.”

“Oh, really?” She asked, starting to get a sense of where he was going when he rolled on top of her, pushing his upper half up on his arms keeping enough weight off her he wasn’t crushing her at this early hour of the morning, but pushing his very awake lower half into hers so she felt just what she (even the dream version) does to him.

“Mhmm,” he answered leaning down to kiss her deeply, slipping his tongue into her mouth as she opened up to him, reaching up to gently pull his face even further into hers.

“Care to share?” She asked a little breathless when he pulled back to reposition himself, now trailing a set of kisses down her neck as he worked to remove her nightgown.

“Well, it started like this,” he teased verbally as he moved his hand to tease her physically, delighting in her little surprised gasp - “Emmanuel!”

A few more minutes of his careful, loving attention later, catching her up to where he already was, she whispered, “no more teasing, my love,” as she removed the last barrier between them.

“I love you,” he told her before he slid home.

Hey you, welcome back! ❤️ Thank you once again for taking the time to write this and sharing it with us! ❤️

Must be a sight to sore eyes to see Emmanuel sleeping 🥰 (or maybe he just snores and drools like almost human being lol)

[tetsunova]

Ballrooms and dances

fic ft: Tooru Oikawa

reader: gn!reader

type: one-shot

genre: angst

wc: 1153

a/n: i actually love this one i hope you love it as much as you do <3 i’ll link the song i was listening to while writing this if you want to listen along

youtube | spotify

masterlist

It was one of those extravagant and loud charity events, full of people sipping on the finest wines and dressed in the fanciest clothes. Your company always hosted these, attracting a new kind of rich, some generous, others egocentric and stingy. This year, the venue was a ballroom. The kind that you thought was only for royals, filled with glimmering crystal chandeliers and tiles that were smooth as cream. Satin banners enclosed the walls while bites were set on a long row of tables. Clicks of heels and polished shoes, laughs and chatter, all of it in one huge room. It was chaos but in a way it felt comforting and almost home like.

This year you’d decided to participate in an auction. Where men and women from all backgrounds would bet on a dance with you, all of it for charity. Your affectionate heart couldn’t decline, anything to bestow even a little ounce of happiness to the fragile shattered heart you carried around, loosely plastered together by these little moments of temporary happiness and maybe, you could find warmth in a foreigner's arms or, if you’re lucky, maybe you’d feel the same feeling you felt when you were with him. What you didn’t know was that he’d show up tonight.

Oikawa was more of a celebrity than a volleyball player. Always surrounded by fangirls, swooning over him like he was the prettiest boy they’d ever laid their eyes upon. He sure was quite charming and could sway any one of these women, he knew that. All but one. He’d broken his now ex-lover's heart, he knew that too. He tried everything he could to fill the empty space. New lovers here and there, but no luck, it’d never last long. How could he look at someone the same way he looked at you when he knew what he’d done. He lost the only person who’d see him as a normal boy; something that seemed impossible to find yet he let it slip out of his hands so easily. He was the one who stopped showing up to dates, making you wait for god knows how long. Oikawa had started groaning and whining about every single thing, not you. The diabolicals of fame had consumed him; it was too late when he realised.

Your mask was what hid your identity. It gave you a chance to let out another alter ego. This was your chance to escape memories- his touch, his laugh, his smile, his fluffy hair. It’s a shame that sometimes things don’t go as planned. There he was, the one who you thought would be yours forever, sitting amongst the crowd of people who were about to participate in the auction. Your eyes grew wide with shock but refused to look away. It had been months since you saw him, last on tv yet he looked the same. Just the sight of him made you tremble. You wanted to look at him and feel anger, frustration and sadness but your heart only let you love. 

On the call of your alias you stepped into the spotlight, Oikawa right in front of you. The mask was now your greatest enemy since the brunette couldn’t recognise you. Tooru knew you felt familiar, he just couldn’t understand why. He felt something for the first time in months, the feeling almost unknown to him. So he did what he did best, swayed by his heart. The betting amount started rising like the pounding in his chest. All he now knew was that he had to get hold of this masked beauty, and he did. One by one, each of the couples stood in their places, face to face.

You could smell the cologne he practically worships and it made you reminisce of all the good times you both shared, before Oikawa (what it looked like to you) fell out of love. He gave you a quick smile and bow as you smiled back with a curtsy. Neither of you dared to speak a word, just taking in each other’s presence though Tooru was also trying to figure out why you seemed so familiar.  

The music began with an enchanting violinist playing the strings with skill and grace. He took your hand in his and held you close as you both began to waltz. Your head resting right under his shoulder where you could hear his heartbeat while your feet drew dazzling circles. Oikawa knew he’d smelt this perfume before. It was lavender; pure, serene, calm and graceful. You knew you shouldn’t but you couldn’t help but savour this moment. It had been so long since you heard the rhythm of his breath and held his hand in yours. His hand on your waist made your lips quiver. If only time could pause in this moment forever.

As the first set came to an end, your eyes locked in his beguiling brown ones. The way your body fit into his, the way your hand and his were a perfect match, the smell of your shampooed hair and the way his body towered over yours- it all started to come together and his eyes exploded in shock as he realised who he was standing in front of. No mask could conceal your attributes, the same ones that were forever glued to his mind. Right before he could utter a single word, the music began. 

This time he didn’t let you break eye contact. Afterall, that’s your weakness. As the song sped his mind started to clutter. What does he even say to you? A sorry is not going to cut it. He finally has you in his arms, should he even say anything? Is it worth ruining the happy moment when there’s no guarantee y/n will forgive him? This was too much for him so it was natural the word slipped out of his mouth. “Y/n…”

Your worst nightmare was now unfolding right in front of you. He knew who you were, what else did you expect? Tooru had been with you for so long he was sure to figure it out. You knew this but let your emotions get the best of you and decide to dance with him, knowing well that this was probably the last time he’d hold you. The last time you’d hear your name fall out of his mouth like a blissful melody. It was all going to come back and hit you like a truck, only this time you weren’t sure you’d be able to stand back on your feet again. So, you ignored him, pretended not to hear a thing. The song was close to an end. Just a minute more and those hands would never touch your waist. That smile would only appear on tv, though a masked one. These seven minutes were what you’d have to live with for the rest of your life since you were too afraid to let your heart break again.

taglist: join here

@ri-days @bokubear @just-that-bi-girl @yatsurinamikaze @sakusaww

[ravennm84]

Marinette’s Family Court Circus

I got this idea from a post @unmaskedagain and decided to put my own little spin to it. It’s a bit sad and does have my usual Lila-Salt spin, but I really loved writing this. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

The day of her greatest triumph was also her greatest tragedy. Hawkmoth had finally been defeated, the butterfly and peacock miraculous back in the miracle box where they belonged, and Paris was finally safe. 

However, when Gabriel Agreste was revealed to be the magical terrorist and his assistant, Nathalie, his accomplice, Adrien had been devastated. When the Paris police sought to find out the extent of Adrien's involvement, he had no choice but to reveal in a private interrogation room with only the mayor, Officer Roger, the chief of police, and Ladybug herself, his identity as Chat Noir. After which, Adrien said a tearful goodbye to Plagg and surrendered the ring of destruction to Ladybug. A press conference was held within an hour, absolving Adrien of any crimes in relation to his father, and his bodyguard would also be absolved four days later.

That night, after Ladybug had returned home and tearfully placed the ring, broch, and pin back in the miracle box; her parents and Grandma Gina had told her that they were going out to dinner to celebrate; Gina had even rented a car so they wouldn’t need to walk or take the subway. How Marinette wished that they had just gotten on the subway.

She woke up the following afternoon in the hospital. Apparently, her family weren’t the only people celebrating Hawkmoth’s defeat, and a car load of university students had celebrated too hard and T-boned their car while running a light. The doctors told her that her grandmother and father had died on impact and her mother passed away during surgery. Marinette had been extremely lucky to survive without any life threatening injuries; a broken leg, arm, collar bone, two cracked ribs, and a few lacerations across her body. 

She was hardly paying attention to what the doctors were saying. Too shocked by the whole situation. There was no Miraculous Cure that could fix this. In the span of a single day, she had defeated her enemy, saved Paris, lost her partner, lost her grandmother, and her parents. She was alone.

When her family’s lawyer, M. Contere came to talk about custody, it was revealed that her grandmother was supposed to take custody in the event of her parents' deaths. Her grandfather would have been the next logical choice, but he had recently suffered a stroke and had been placed in a nursing home. This left the lawyer scrambling to find someone to take the girl or risk having her surrendered to the city of Paris.

Going through the Dupain-Chengs’ contact list, M. Contere made phone calls to numbers listed as family friends or emergency contacts. There were three that particularly stood out to him, all listed under the title of ‘uncle’. 

The first was to an ‘Uncle J’; a woman answered the phone, introducing herself as Penny. When Contere told her it had to do with the Dupain-Chengs, the phone was handed to a man with a distinctly British accent. He sounded devastated to hear that Tom, Sabine, and Gina had all passed away before going into a panic and asking if Marinette was alright, showing absolute relief that she had survived the crash. When Contere mentioned the custody hearing, the man practically demanded to know the date, time, and place before promising that he would be there.

The second contact that stood out was labeled as ‘Uncle Tony’. That call was answered by an assistant named Jarvis before transferring the call to Tony. Again, Contere could hear the surprise and hurt at hearing that his friends had passed away before asking if Marinette had been in the car. When told that she had survived, there was relief and he mentioned that Peter would have probably cried for a week if he’d lost his childhood friend. Tony then offered to take custody of Marinette and Contere quickly told him the details.

Although M. Contere was relieved that at least two family friends/possible relatives seemed more than willing to take Marinette, he knew how fickle and difficult the courts could be and wanted as many options as possible for the girl, which led to the third contact labeled ‘Uncle Bruce’. 

The phone was answered by an older sounding gentleman named Alfred before transferring the call. Contere could hear multiple voices in the background, most sounding like young men, and when he told Bruce about the passing of Tom, Sabine, and Gina; it went very quiet for a moment before all the voices began speaking at once demanding to know what happened, who was responsible, and if Marinette was okay. M.Contere answered the questions that he could and told them that Marinette was in need of a legal guardian. Bruce said Gina had been a great friend and mentor to him when he was younger and that he would be honored to care for her granddaughter. So he told him the details of the court hearing with the promise that he would make sure that Marinette was taken care of until then.

After hanging up, M. Contere had a strange feeling that he couldn’t shake. A feeling that told him that those three ‘Uncles’ were either going to make his job of getting Marinette into a stable home a lot easier… or it would be a total nightmare.

~oOo~

The day of the hearing was a Monday and Marinette's case was the first on the docket, which was a relief. If things went smoothly, she could be placed with one of her respective uncles by the end of the week and be taken care of. When the two of them stepped into the room, with Marinette rolling beside him in her wheelchair, M. Contere was surprised to see multiple familiar faces in the courtroom that he had not expected. Jagged Stone, Bruce Wayne, and Tony Stark were glaring, arguing, and puffing out their chests at each other; ignoring everyone else in the room. He also noticed how each man seemed to have an entire team of lawyers backing them up.

The tension and glaring match only broke when the two women; Pepper Potts and Penny Rolling, and the four Wayne boys; Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damien, noticed Marinette’s arrival. 

“Marinette, sweetie, how are you feeling?” Penny asked as she walked away from Jagged to kneel beside Marinette’s wheelchair.

“Been better, but I’m glad to see some familiar faces,” she said with a weak smile.

Pepper leaned over a bit to give the girl a gentle hug while minding her injuries. “We’re here for you, Mari. No matter what.”

Then the four boys were almost surrounding her, offering to hunt down the people that took away their family and pile so many lawsuits on them that they’ll die of papercuts. This made her chuckle and grimace a bit from the pain, telling the boys that was sweet but unnecessary.

Jagged, Bruce, and Tony immediately put their argument on hold as they hurried over to check on the girl as well. Contere found it to be a good sign that Marinette seemed familiar with the three men, that they all asked how she was and if she wanted anything, as well as promising that they would take care of her. That last one, the three said at the same time and got them glaring at each other again. This caused Contere to sweat and Marinette to give her head a resigned shake.

What followed would probably go down as the most intense, well argued, and most headache-inducing case in the history of the Paris Family Court System with all three men vying for custody of the teenage girl. 

Being able to provide financial stability wasn’t a concern as Jagged Stone was currently the most successful rockstar in Europe, Asia, Australia, and the Americas; while Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne were two of the wealthiest businessmen in the entire world. All three even offered to completely cover Marinette’s tuition to any school she wanted, so long as she was accepted.

Her safety turned out to be a large factor with all three men, and they were willing to hire their own private security to make sure that she stayed safe at all times. However, the three men also argued how the others lived in unsafe environments. 

Jagged mostly lived in tour buses and out of hotels, which was a factor; but he was willing to call off his tours during the school year and only go on tour during school breaks so Marinette would never be without her guardian. Penny was also willing to help Jagged at every turn, stating that she loved Marinette like a niece and would make sure that she had a strong female role model in her life as well.

Tony’s reputation as a playboy and his identity as Iron Man brought up the possibility of attracting a dangerous element. He argued that his homes were equipped with the most advanced security systems on the planet. As well as being friends with an actual “God-Alien”, who had met Marinette and liked her a great deal. Tony was also willing to make Marinette her own personal Iron Suit that would be programmed to protect and fly her to a safe location at the first sign of danger. Pepper also offered to share custody as she already took care of Tony’s daily life as his assistant, taking care of Marinette would be easy and she was looking forward to having her around.

Bruce’s residence in Gotham, the most crime ridden city in North America, was a big factor. Bruce made a point that he already had experience as a guardian of his three adopted sons and his biological son, and they were kept safe. That he also had a top of the line security system at his home, which was located outside of city limits. Dick, Jason, and Tim also commented that they thought of Marinette like a little sister and that Wayne Enterprises had locations all over the world. If the judge decided that Gotham was too dangerous, one of them would gladly take up residency in a city that the judge approved and would stay there to watch over Marinette while still working and providing for her.

After two hours of listening to the back and forth of the three men and their lawyers, the judge decided that he’d heard enough for the day and set the next meeting for the following Thursday after lunch. He also recommended that the men bring proof that they have the mental capability of caring for a teenage girl, lists of schools near their homes to show that she will continue her education, and character witnesses, if available. 

The three men wanted to take Marinette out to get something to eat after the court was adjourned, but M. Contere was forced to tell them that it would not be appropriate during the legal proceedings. He also recommended that they follow the judge’s instructions and make sure that they had everything needed, otherwise they would likely not qualify. Hearing that got all three men, their assistants, family, and lawyers moving at top speeds to get everything they needed for court in a few days. 

Once they were out of sight, the lawyer couldn’t help but let out a stress induced sigh as he raised one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. This custody battle had the potential to turn into a total circus, and although it could do great things for his career in the long run, he was more worried about how this would affect Marinette. 

Speaking of, he was brought from his thoughts when he felt her small hand gently pat the hand that was holding his briefcase. When he looked down at her, she gave him a kind, though slightly amused smile. “You had no idea about the can of worms you were opening when you made those phone calls, did you?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “How was I supposed to know that Uncle J, Uncle Tony, and Uncle Bruce would turn out to be three of the most influential men in the world? How does your family even know all of them?”

“Uncle Bruce was raised by the family butler, Alfred Pennyworth, after his parents died. Grandma Gina and Alfred were best friends when they were younger. After the Waynes died, Gina would go check on them in Gotham, she liked to brag that she helped get Bruce back out of his shell. Uncle Tony knew my parents back in university, he was a lot younger and smarter than the other students and you can guess that didn’t go over well with some of them. My parents looked out for him and they became friends, and even after he got busy when he took over the company, he always made time to be there for the big moments in our lives; my parents’ wedding, their baby shower, and when I was born. I’ve actually spent a few summers in Gotham and New York visiting them.”

“And Jagged Stone?”

“He’s the most recent of my honorary uncles. I’m his personal designer, but he got unofficially adopted into my family after the tv show that took place in my parents’ bakery. Uncle Jagged made a bread guitar and sang rock songs with my dad. Once the show was over, Mom invited him and Penny to stay for dinner. During the course of the night, Dad claimed him as a new little brother. Jagged was so happy that he started calling my parents big brother and big sister, and started calling me his niece. Since then, he’s come over at least once a month to just relax and be a family with us.”

M. Contere couldn’t help but smile at that. From the sound of it and what he had seen, all three men truly cared about this girl and were willing to bend over backwards for her. That was a good thing, but he still worried that a custody battle between these three men could go for a long time and possibly cause mental distress for Marinette. Although the final decision was ultimately up to the judge, he was allowed to make recommendations if they were in the best interests of the child. 

With that in mind, he knelt down beside Marinette. “You know the three of them and what they’re living situations are like better than I do. And even though you’re not 15 years old yet, I could petition the judge to factor your opinion. Which of them would you like to have guardian status?”

When Marinette gave him a knowing smile, he just knew that things might get more complicated.

~oOo~

It got a lot more complicated.

The media had caught wind of the custody battle, causing a giant crowd of paparazzi to stake out the courthouse to catch a glimpse of the rockstar, billionaire, and the self proclaimed “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist” who was also a superhero. To their credit, the three only said that they were devastated by the loss of the Dupain-Chengs and wanted to do what was best for Marinette and left all the other questions at the door.

In the courtroom; all three men, as well as their assistants and Bruce’s boys, had done mental evaluations that their lawyers submitted to the judge. They also provided lists of different schools that Marinette was free to choose from; including public schools, private, and even schools that specialized in fashion. But the absolute kicker was the character witnesses.

Jagged Stone had brought other music stars, movie stars, and production mega stars that made Contere wonder for a moment if he’d accidentally walked into an award ceremony. Tony Stark had brought the Avengers, The Avengers, as his character witnesses. Contere wasn’t too proud to admit that he was a bit starstruck when Thor himself came over to great Marinette and complimented her on her ‘battle scars’, saying that they were a testament to her strength. If that wasn’t enough, Bruce brought multiple members of the Billionaire’s Club as character witnesses, many of whom had been suspected of being members of the Justice League. 

The judge looked just as surprised, though somewhat irritated, by the people crowding his courtroom. He quietly looked over the mental health evaluations that had been provided, as well as the lists of schools; finding that everything was in order and that any of them would have been wonderful guardians to the girl. He was tempted to call another recess and pick this back up the following week until Marinette’s lawyer raised his hand.

“If it would please the court,” the judge motioned for him to continue, “although Mlle. Dupain-Cheng is not yet of legal age to make a final decision on the matter of custody, I felt that she was old enough to state her opinion. We have discussed it over the past few days and I believe we came up with a proposal that will satisfy all parties involved while still being in the best interest of the child.” M. Contere presented the four copies of the proposal to the bailiff, who handed one to the judge, and the three lead lawyers.

The judge read the summary at the top before looking at the lawyer in surprise. “You’re proposing joint custody?”

“Yes, your honor. My client and I feel that due to the influence that these men hold, as you can see by the character witnesses that have come here to speak on their behalf, that this custody hearing could be drawn out for a long time, which could have mental repercussions on Marinette.” Contere didn’t miss the ‘you ain’t kidding’ roll of his eyes, or the looks of shame that the three men shared at the thought of hurting Marinette.

“Keeping that in mind, my client came up with an outline for a possible custody agreement. M. Stark would retain custody during school as he has listed one of the top fashion schools in America, which would further Marinette’s future career. The weekends would be spent with M. Wayne, as Wayne Enterprises has connections to the fashion industry and would be able to give her training to help her successfully run her own business. M. Stone would have custody during summer breaks, so Marinette may continue gaining experience as his personal designer, a position she has held for close to a year and has already earned her recognition in the industry.”

The judge grew quiet again as he contemplated the proposal and read over the details. He didn’t want to deal with these three powerful, and in a lot of ways eccentric, men for the next few months while attempting to figure out the best placement for the child. Nor did he want to deal with the media frenzy that this case had already brought on. If anything, this was likely the best option, if he could get the men to agree to the terms.

“Do you have any objections to this proposal?”

There was a moment of silence as the lawyers continued to look over the proposal and spoke to their clients. Jagged’s lawyer was the first to respond. “No, your honor. M. Stone believes that this would be best for Marinette, but we would like to add a clause that M. Stone be permitted to call and visit Mlle. Dupain-Cheng so long as it does not interfere with her school work.”

“My client would also like that clause added to the proposal, your honor,” said the Wayne lawyer. “As well as the clause that Messieurs Stone and Stark work together with M. Wayne in securing Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s safety. As previously stated, all three men could be considered high-priority targets and normally require bodyguards. M. Wayne has proposed that any potential bodyguard be vetted and approved by all parties involved before being hired.”

The judge looked to Stark’s lawyer. “And do you have any stipulations you would want to see added to the proposal?”

“Only that there be an open line of communication between Messieurs Stone, Wayne, and Stark at all times in reference to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s well being and any possible travel. As all three men are known to travel the world for business; there will be occasions for the child to travel as well. When this occurs, the other guardians should receive notice of the country, city, and address that she resides; so, in case of an emergency, they will be able to be present to assist and protect her.”

“My client has no objections to these clauses,” said Jagged’s lawyer.

“And you, M. Wayne?”

The Wayne lawyer nodded. “The clauses are more than reasonable and are in the best interest of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. Although I only speak for my client, I do not believe that I would be out of line to say that is the main focus of Messieurs Stone and Stark as well.”

The lawyers hid their relief when the judge nodded in agreement. “As the proposal was presented by the child and the three of you are in agreement, I’m scheduling a meeting in my chambers for next Tuesday to go over the finer details of the custodial agreement. I will allow your clients and one lawyer each to attend; this includes you and your client, M. Contere.”

“Yes, your honor.”

“And as for you, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette’s head snapped up to meet the judge’s gaze. “It seems that you have gained three extremely powerful, influential, and in many ways crazy guardians. I don’t know if I should congratulate you or give you my sympathies. What I will do is wish you the best of luck and hope that you are prepared for the future. Court is adjourned.”

There was a hum of surprise and joy that spread through the courtroom as Jagged, Bruce, and Tony stepped up to each other and shook hands before approaching Marinette and M. Contere. 

“Of course, my niece would come up with a way to keep everyone happy, she’s so rock n’ roll that way.” Jagged beamed with pride as Tony and Bruce nodded in agreement.

“Would it be alright if all of us went to dinner to celebrate,” Bruce asked Contere, indicating the ‘all’ to be himself and his boys, Jagged and Penny, and Tony and Pepper; along with Marinette and Contere.

“So long as there’s no discussion of custody and everyone stays civil, I don’t see any harm in it.”

Everyone smiled in agreement while Pepper mentioned that she’d just finished making reservations for all eleven of them at a nice restaurant that had the best view of the Eiffel Tower.

As the others began filing out of the courtroom, Marinette patted his hand and gave him a sympathetic look. “You just opened your second can.”

M. Contere wasn’t sure about what she’d meant until after the meal was over and the waitress brought the check, and then watched as the three billionaires fought over it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he only hoped that this would all be over on Tuesday and he could go back to his normal, boring cases.