#i had a friend who used to say to me that well tailored suits were to me what expensive lingerie is to him

[inkykeiji]

I feel with men drinking amber liquor. Combine that with a suit or uniform and an authoritative attitude. Cause not every man can rock a suit/uniform. Ugh, I'm on my knees for you -🦒

YESSSS GIRAFFE u get it!!!!!!!! oh my god same a man in a well-tailored suit has me on my knees before he even says hello esp if the suit is navy blue and/or plaid/checked bcoz not every man can pull that off, either

[arcane-vagabond]

Road to Perdition: Chapter One

Road to Perdition: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

Content Warning: Feelings of inadequacy from reader, Lectures from father figures, Bank robbery, Mentions of guns, Mentions of historical events, Flirting, Cocky Hangman, Forced kissing, Reader gets knocked out, and slight kidnapping. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 3.2k

Series Masterlist

The heels of your shoes clacked against the pavement, and you made a mental note to replace the worn out pair sooner rather than later. It was an unwanted expense, albeit a necessary one. You’d have to spring for more thread and perhaps another needle too considering you had discovered a rip in your skirt on your way into town.

You let out a heavy sigh, a frown tugging on your lips that could almost be called a pout if it weren’t for your pride. Your hand tightened on the strap of your bag as you narrowly avoided colliding shoulders with a passing stranger, a scowl marring your face as you glanced over your shoulder to glare at him. He paid you no mind, his expensive looking suit tailored to his tall figure, one hand shoved deep into his pocket as the other gripped the rim of his hat. You rolled your eyes at the mustached man before turning back forward. You weren’t personally a fan of the facial hair that had started becoming so popular as of late. You preferred either a full face or nothing at all, not that it really mattered you supposed.

Laughter filtered out of one of the cafes, and the sound send a wave of longing through you. It had been a long time since you had taken the initiative to spend time with your friends, and more and more of them were leaving the small town, looking to bigger cities for more opportunities along with their families. Many of them lamented the fact that you seemed to be the only one who was still single amongst them, most having already settled down over the years or making their way there.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to settle down because you did. You also knew that your current situation wasn’t exactly a healthy one to bring another person into, let alone a helpless child. Jack had developed a wicked temper ever since he started his heavy drinking, and there had been more than one occasion where you had had to make yourself scarce in order to avoid his wrath.

“Well, hey there, Moonie!”

You turned to see Mr. Kerner stepping out of his shop, a beaming smile on his face as he waved at you. His hair had long since grayed, giving him a more distinguished look compared to a decade ago. You used to frequent his shop often when you were younger, your mother stopping by once a week for her essentials and a small treat for you. Your mouth watered at the memory of peanut butter cups that melted on your tongue during those days, and you briefly considered stepping into the shop to allow yourself the rare treat.

“Afternoon, Mr. Kerner,” you smiled back, turning to face him as you shifted on your feet. “Getting much business today?”

“Oh, well, you know,” he chuckled, placing a hand on his hip as he rested against the door frame, “times are tough for everyone right now, so I’m taking each day as she comes.”

You hummed in agreement, your smile shifting into something slightly more sardonic at the comment.

“What about you, Moonie?” He pressed. “Don’t see you ‘round these parts much. Not since…”

He trailed off, and you bit back the urge to sigh. Your parents’ deaths had kept you fairly isolated to your little home on the outskirts, only venturing in to take the occasional job for the paper and to make your weekly deposits. You had tried to make the necessities at home stretch as much as you could, not wanting to spend more money than necessary as you kept saving.

“Don’t really have much of a need to come into town, I suppose,” you offered, tilting your head back to avoid meeting the older man’s gaze. The buildings were beginning to look rundown, one of the many downsides to living during an economic crisis.

“No,” he agreed, but the tone of his voice indicated that he felt differently. “I suppose not. I see your friends around here all the time, though. Comin’ and goin’ and makin’ the best of everything. You should join’em sometime.”

“I’d just be a third wheel,” you snort, kicking at a rock beneath your feet as your eyes continued to look everywhere but at him.

“Maybe,” He nodded, “but it would do you some good to get out of that old house of yours. You should enjoy being young while you still can.”

“It’s not so bad,” you muttered, noticing in your peripheral the cynical look he cast your way. Ron Kerner had always been kind to you, sneaking you an extra sweet when you were younger and looking out for your well-being now that you were older and your parents were gone. You were grateful to him, but it didn’t stop you from letting out a huff of annoyance as he continued to stare you down.

“If I promise to make more of an effort to leave the house, will you stop nagging me like a mother hen?” You asked him, finally meeting his eyes with a challenge. He quirked an eyebrow at you, the subtle twitch of his lips being the only giveaway that a smile lay hidden beneath his stern look.

“Depends,” he hummed, “what do you mean by ‘leave the house?’ I ain’t gonna be duped out of naggin’ ya if all you’re gonna do is go around taking pictures for the paper. You need to go out and have some proper fun.”

The two of you stared one another down. You knew his heart was in the right place, but it still irked you to be scolded like a child.

“Fine,” you mumbled, earning a grin from the man in front of you. “But don’t expect me to be out here giggling like a schoolgirl every day.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he chuckled. You grunted at him, peering over towards the cafe where a group of girls emerged, arms looped through one another’s as they giggled and shrieked their way between the two of you. You took note of their carefully curled hair and ruby red lips, suddenly feeling a little self conscious at the state of yourself. You caught Mr. Kerner’s eye, feeling your cheeks warm at the sight of his sympathetic smile as the girls continued on down the walkway. You didn’t need anyone’s pity.

“Come on in and grab yourself a bottle of coke,” Kerner said with a roll of his shoulders, pushing off from the door frame.

“I shouldn’t,” you muttered, shooting a glance down the street. You still needed to go by the bank, and you were hoping that Mr. Mitchell would have an assignment for you if you swung by the Gazette headquarters early enough.

“Wasn’t a question,” Mr. Kerner snorted, disappearing into his shop. You hesitated for a moment longer before letting out a long sigh, trudging through the doorway after him.

The shop held an air of familiarity, not many of the brands having changed in the long years that it had been open. There had been talk of putting in a soda fountain a few years back, but old Ron Kerner had scowled at the idea, and so it had gone to the drugstore down the street instead.

The pop and hiss of the glass bottle being opened drew your attention to the counter where Mr. Kerner stood, holding out the drink to you.

“How much do I owe you?” You asked, already moving to pull out some of the loose change still nestled in the depths of your bag. He waived you off before setting the bottle down and turning to mess with one of the boxes stacked in the corner.

“For you? Free of charge.”

You let out another sigh, knowing better than to argue with him as you took a sip of the bubbly liquid. It had been God only knows how long since you had allowed yourself a treat like this, and you couldn’t help but to smile as the cool, sweet drink washed over your tastebuds.

The two of you said nothing for a while as you enjoyed your treat and Mr. Kerner worked on his inventory, the day passing on as you enjoyed the peace and quiet. You finished your drink with surprising quickness, letting the bottle clack against the wood of the counter as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder.

“Headed out?” Mr. Kerner asked, glancing up from his logbook as your eyes darted around the shop.

“Yeah,” you said, brow furrowing as you turned to look back at him. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any thread in here by chance, would you?”

A couple of minutes later and a few cents poorer, you found yourself entering the bank. It was a large building, maybe even the largest in town. Very few people of your standing still trusted the banks, not after the stock market crash that took place almost five years ago. It wasn’t until a few months ago when the Roosevelt administration passed an emergency act that people started leaving money with the banks again. You had been one of the first to go back to the banks, and while the clerk had given you a rather disapproving look as he finalized the paperwork. You made sure to avoid him as much as possible after that first day, preferring to interact with the stout, older gentleman who always greeted you with a smile.

The bank itself held an air of prestige, like you weren’t supposed to be there amongst the opulent decorations and well-dressed patrons, several casting you bewildered looks as you paused in the doorway. Conversations were muffled as the clack of typewriters in the back mixed in with the clank of coins being counted, and no matter how many times you found yourself inside the grand room, your heart always began to race, the whispers of self consciousness tugging on the hairs on the back of your neck.

You caught sight of an older woman leaning in to her husband’s side, whispering something in his ear as she gave you a disapproving glare. Your lips tugged into a frown, and with a roll of your shoulders, you held your head high as you made your way towards one of the lines of patrons waiting to make their transactions. A man scribbled away on a piece of paper next to you, the scratch of his pen more pronounced in the echo of the hushed room.

Your fingers played with the strap of your bag, a sense of unease tugging at your gut. You didn’t like being in this space, the stark contract between you and others even more pronounced as you took in the fine clothes of the other patrons. You glanced down furtively at your navy blue skirt, noticing for the first time how worn it looked. You smoothed your hand over the pleats, once again reminding yourself that there were more important things than worrying about one’s fashion.

The line moved forward as the patron at the window finished his business, the next person stepping up to greet the clerk. There were still three people ahead of you, and you let out a sigh, cursing Mr. Kerner’s insistence on you sticking around for a while.

You heard the door to the bank open, several sets of footsteps clacking onto the hardwood behind you.

“Everybody on the ground!”

Several of the people around you exclaimed in fear, a couple of women letting out terrified shrieks as a man bumped into you, nearly sending you crashing to the ground. You caught yourself just in time, placing a steadying hand on the top of the table next to you as you crouched down.

A group of five men stood in the doorway, guns in hand as they took in their surroundings. You recognized the one standing in the middle as the mustached man who nearly crashed into you earlier that morning, dark eyes holding a wild sense of mirth as he strutted further into the room.

“We’ll make this nice and easy for you folks,” he drawled, lips twitching up into a smirk. “Y’all just stay where you are, and we’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

You watched them warily as they dispersed throughout the room, patrons shrugging away in fear whenever one got too close. A darker skinned man strutted his way across the room, grabbing a finely dressed, older gentleman by the scruff of his neck and dragged him to the back room followed by the shortest of the bunch.

You gripped your bag tightly, eyes shifting as you waited for the nightmare to be over. You shied away as one of the men walked near you, a confident swagger to his step. The man stopped just in front of you, and you could feel his eyes on you. You kept your gaze pointed forward, refusing to look at him even as he closed the distance between the two of you. You heard the weight of his gun settle on top of the table as he leaned against it, hand slipping into his pocket.

“Well hey there, Sugar,” he drawled. You could hear the smirk in his voice, the timber causing your heart to skip a beat. You refused to look up at him even as he snickered.

“You don’t gotta be afraid of me, darlin’,” he continued, taking the hand out of his pocket to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask me real nice.”

You stiffened at the insinuation, lips pressed firmly together as you willed him to leave you alone. Your silence only seemed to egg him on though, and the hand that lingered by your hair moved forward to ghost over the apple of your cheek, nearly brushing your lips.

“I got a way to pass the time, you know,” he purred, “all you gotta do is use that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You head shot up at his words, anger coursing through you as you glared at him, and for a second, the man looked taken aback by your sudden fury. He was handsome, you had to give him that, aggravatingly so even. Green eyes stared down at you, squared jaw slack as he took you in. A beat passed before his shock turned into a look of pure delight. Lips curving into a salacious smirk, his hand cradled your jaw as he leaned forward, so close that the tip of his nose brushed yours.

“Aren’t you a little spitfire?” He crooned. You jerked your head back out of his grasp, baring your teeth at him. He let out another snicker as his smirk widened into a full-blown grin.

“That’s enough, Hangman,” the mustached man chided, scowling at the man in front of you. Green eyes glanced your way once more before he let out a huff, straightening back up. He took off his hat, running his hand through blond locks before settling it back on top of his head.

“What’s taking them so long?” Hangman groused, turning to look towards the door his companions had disappeared behind not too long before. Just then, the door burst open, revealing the small group of men in question. The taller of the two robbers still had his hand on the back of the older man’s neck as he dragged him across the room. The smaller of the two held several bags in his hands, tossing one to the man on the other side of the room.

You heard sirens off in the distance, head turning towards the noise along with the man in front of you. The smaller man cursed under his breath, and the mustached one pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Looks like we’re not making a clean getaway after all, boys,” he frowned, dark eyes fixed on the men in front of him. “Payback, Fanboy, we’re taking Mr. Jennings with us.”

He glanced over at Hangman, and a second later, a firm hand wrapped around your bicep, hauling you up on your feet.

“Looks like you’re comin’ with us, Sweets,” he murmured, pressing tight against your back as he marched you forward. The crowd murmured in fear as they allowed the men to pass, and bright contrast of the sun compared to the shaded room of the bank lobby left you momentarily blind. You moved to shield your eyes, but stumbled instead as Hangman dragged you down the steps toward the sidewalk. A hand rested on your waist, steadying you.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured into your ear as he made his way briskly down the street, the sound of the sirens growing louder as the pace quickened. Your heart hammered away in your chest, your breath coming out in quick pants as your group rounded the street corner. You took two more quick turns before being led down a back alley. You could hear shouting from a couple of streets down, and you moved to look over your shoulder before the hand on your arm jerked you.

“Eyes forward, Sugar,” Hangman warned, green eyes boring into you. You clenched your jaw, nostrils flaring as you stared him down. His lips twitched into the hint of a smile before pulling you further into the alley. You watched as the mustached man and the black man whose name you still didn’t know moved to open one of the rusted garage doors, revealing a shiny, black car and a bespectacled man leaning against the hood.

“It’s about time,” he groused, pushing off of the hood and rounding to the driver side door. The mustached man rolled his eyes before jerking his head, watching as Payback and Fanboy rounded the back with the bags. The sound of a crack along with a grunt and thud drew your attention back towards the remaining man. Mr. Jennings was on the ground, still breathing but clearly unconscious. The man looked up at Hangman before gesturing towards you, and your body stiffened in his hold. Hangman whirled you around, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him, your hands trapped between your bodies as he smirked down at you.

“Well, Doll,” he sighed, leaning into you once more, “this is where we part, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, though. I’ll leave you something to remember me by.”

Before the words could register, his lips were on yours. You gasped at the suddenness of it, eyes wide and body unmoving as he pressed further into you. His lips were surprisingly soft, and you felt your cheeks warm at the realization that you enjoyed the sensation. As quickly as he kissed you, he pulled away, grinning from ear to ear. He pulled away just a hair before letting out a forlorn sigh.

“Let’s go, Casanova,” his companion called from his position by the garage door, an exasperated look on his face as he mounted a motorbike. A hand brushed against your cheek, drawing your attention back to the man in front of you.

“Sorry about this, dollface,” he muttered. Your lips had just begun to form a question before a sharp pain radiated from the blow to your temple, the world falling into oblivion around you.

A/N: Y'all, this was a doozy to write. Words cannot express how fucking excited I am to write this fic!!!

If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find all of my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[bodybeyondstories]

story prompt: A tailor has the power to enchant clothes to change the wearers body and does so when clients have unreasonable asks. like a guy with a flat butt ask for pants that flatter his rear so the tailor inflates his butt out of proportion…that kind of thing

My first thought with this was what if there was some sort of less than ethical business model based on forming a runaway positive feedback loop where someone had to keep coming back to have clothes altered and then ended up altered in some way, which would be fun to write eventually. Here I riffed on some classic careful-what-you-wish-for ass expansion.

1313 words

_____________

"You might have to adjust the seat a little, I've been hitting leg day pretty hard." Danny glanced down at me with an expectant smirk as I ran the measuring tape across his backside.

"Whatever you say, Cake Boss," I said, pretending the number wasn't exactly what it always was. "I might need to run and get a few more yards of fabric for this dump truck."

"Big butts are in style and I need to show off these gains." He swung his hips back toward the mirror to check himself out, eyes focusing expectantly on an unremarkable backside.

Are the gains in the room with us now? I thought, chuckling out loud.

Danny and I were good friends, and as such, he occasionally took advantage of the very generous friends and family discount for my tailoring services. This time, he wanted to get his suit refitted for the upcoming commitment ceremony of our mutual friends and favorite throuple, Jean, Gene, and Jerome, who were officially, begrudgingly, tying the three way knot. He had been through my shop no less than six times in the past several months, begging for an adjustment of this or that pair of trousers in anticipation of whatever new workout routine he had jumped into. He was obsessed with his ass, specifically--tragically--its undeniable flatness. I was a damn good tailor, but I could only do so much. News I had to break to him on a regular basis.

"Can't you like, work your magic or something?" he asked, winking down at me.

I thought for a long moment and relented, feet taking me toward the back of the shop. "I can try."

I reached behind my desk and pulled out a well worn notebook, decorated by decades of page folding, sticky noting, coffee staining, and annotating. It was one of many strange, sentimental pieces of inheritance I received from my mother, a practitioner of the craft who disappeared with her coven years ago. I was left with half memories of their gatherings, what little training I had paid attention to growing up, and of course, this notebook, my own annotations slowly forming a cross-generational palimpsest.

Occasionally, especially with my more tedious clients, I'll let my hobby cross into the tailoring business, enchanting the fabric with whatever magical push the wearing needs to feel their best self.

I pulled out a container of ink--hand made from ingredients foraged sustainably under the light of a full moon--and drew out what I hoped was the right mix of sigils for illusion and manifestation, sprinkled with a little bit of chaos, to give Danny the booty of his dreams. I stitched the small slip of paper into the waistband of his pants and handed them back to try on.

He slipped each leg in and pulled them up his toned quads, gasping as he stopped suddenly at the top of his hamstrings. What usually slipped on with minimal effort was now blocked by a perky bubble butt perched behind him.

"Nice!" he exclaimed, giving his newly hefty ass a jiggle. "I knew you could do it."

---

I rolled into the ceremony just as it was starting and posted up in one of the empty rows towards the back. As I passed the gaggle of bridesmates, gentlethems, attendants and henchmen (they all got to pick their own terms), Danny gave me a wink and a thumbs up, adjusting his waistline as the procession began.

As they walked down the aisle, I got a better look at my handiwork, and apparently so did everyone else. When he had left my shop his ass had looked delectably round and perky, but the pair of cheeks fighting for space as he strutted towards the front were on another level. They looked big. Really big.

Maybe it was the light? I tried to convince myself with a twinge of worry. I kept my gaze as professional as possible as he stood at the front with the rest of the attendants with his shoulders squared and hands clasped firmly in front of him. As the ceremony progressed, he seemed increasingly uncomfortable, squirming in place as he shifted from one foot to the other, the tails of his suit jacket riding up over his meaty buns.

Those cheeks were definitely bigger than they were during the fitting. In fact, they were bigger than they were twenty minutes ago. The sheen of sweat on his forehead and small winces of discomfort confirmed what I--and likely others--had picked up on. His ass was inflating imperceptibly but undeniably.

Something must have gone wrong with the spell. Or maybe something went too right? I don't know. I hoped I could intervene before things got out of hand, but time was quickly running out on that plan. The attendant behind him took a step back as his ass slowly ballooned from his otherwise slim frame, straining the fabric of his pants to their limit.

Even a magically enhanced pair of trousers can only take so much. When Jean, Gene, and Jerome were two thirds of the way through the sharing of vows, the seat of Danny's pants finally gave way, revealing his now basketball sized buns spilling into the open air clad in a pair of plaid bikini briefs.

A shockwave of gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd. "Ooo girl," "Need his leg routine," "The whole bakery..." could be heard among the general whispers of surprise and politely restrained chuckles. Danny, face a flush of embarrassment, tried to hold what remained of the seat of his pants together as he slunk away, the attendant behind him quickly taking his place before the soon to be betrothed could notice the commotion or his wildly jiggling buns disappearing out of sight.

I found him behind the reception tent, clutching my handbag full of emergency repair materials for just this situation. But I quickly came to realize that some heavy duty thread and patches wouldn't be enough.

"Dude, it won't stop!" he exclaimed, trying and failing to cover the globes of his ass. "What do we do?!"

"Okay, um," I said, grasping wildly for solutions, "I have my notebook, I can try and figure something out on the fly. Just take your pants off and the growth should stop."

"...I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I mean I can't!" he snapped, turning to show me the waistband stuck just below his hips, unbuttoned and stretched to the limit yet still woefully incapable of making it over his massive--and still slowly expanding--posterior.

"Okay, Plan B," I said, reaching into my bag. I brandished a seam ripper as I turned him around and traced the waistband of his pants until I found where I had installed the sigil. "Wow," I muttered, marveling at a pair of globular, gravity defying glutes that were nothing short of a work of art.

"What's up?" he asked, panic rising in his voice.

"Nothing, nothing, it's just...it's a lot..."

"Yeah I think we've all figured that out. Can we address this crisis while I still have any hope of wearing normal clothes?"

"Right." I snapped back into focus, searching along the seams for my signature stitch. "Found it!" I beamed, slicing through with one deft cut and yanking the sigil from the fabric.

"Thank fuck," he whispered. "Can you stitch this back up before the reception?"

"Yeah, I should have everything here, just let me--"

I was cut off by the unmistakable soft staccato of seams tearing. With the spell broken, and the pants returned to their mundane state, the overstressed fabric no longer stood a chance against the melons ballooning from Danny's lower back. Seams split one after the other as what was left of his pants fluttered apart, revealing every extensive curve of his beyond bodacious butt.

"Okay," I said. "I might have some spandex in the car."

[claraswritings]

heyy as a blurb for the Can I Be The One fic- how about a jealous Carmy? Like he knows she picked him but he can’t help but be a littttle bit possessive?? And she actually likes it 🫣

Hey thank you for your nice comment!!

Some SMUT BTC

If you have any other blurb ideas for my Can I Be The One universe let me know :)

Carmy could hear the person next to him at the bar try speak to him but he wasn’t really listening.. he was too focused on you.

You were talking to a guy. A guy who was easily 6’5”, broad shouldered, with a well tailored suit and slicked back red hair. A guy who was animatedly talking to you whilst you nodded politely.

You always were friendly to everyone but he couldn’t help the jealously in the pit of his stomach. Did you think this guy was hot?

‘She picked you. She loves you. She’s still with you even though you’re fucking crazy’ he tries to tell himself but as he sees you laugh politely at something the guy has said. He can’t help it.

‘Well the past three months have been too good to be true’ he told himself, his eyes not shifting off you.

And then like you always do, like you always have, you tapped into that weird ability you have to sense when he needs you and glanced across the room for him, waving him over when your eyes locked.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

****

“Carmy, this is Tom. He’s my brothers University friend, he’s from London and he’s a personal trainer for a rugby club”

Carmy rather stiltedly held out his hand and offered a handshake to Tom, who reciprocated.

“Tom, this is Carmy. My boyfriend.” Another person wouldn’t notice the oh so subtly emphasis on the word but Carmy did. “He’s from Chicago and he’s head chef at his own restaurant, aren’t you babe”

You were smiling at him, looking at him so happily but all Carmy could focus on was how this Tom was staring at you.

“Oh interesting.” Tom said as if he thought it was anything but. “Is it as good as Baccchanalia? The beef carpaccio was spectacular there”

“Yes.” You enthused “Carmy has worked in several Michelin star restaurants, he’s won awards, he cooks the best food I’ve ever had. I’m very proud of him”

Tom nodded “Well good for you mate.” He said before turning back to you “Say…there’s this new place in Kesington, my sister does their marketing and can get us a table for two tomorrow if you fancy it. Me and you of course”

Carmy felt his jaw clench and subconsciously he wrapped his arm around your waist. And as if you could sense his tension, you touched his hand in the spot it rested.

“Oh no thank you, Carmen and I are going to the museums, aren’t we babe?” You said politely.

“Next day then?”

“No…I’m good” you said

“Or we can catch up when your friend is back in Chicago?” Tom suggested, placing his hand on your arm, a gesture that made Carmy want to punch this asshole in his perfect jaw.

That was enough.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend.” Carmy took a step closer to Tom, folding his arms to flex his toned biceps. Tom was easily taller, but at this point Carmy would have liked his odds if he did have to lay this guy out

Tom looked a little surprised but didn’t move away from you “Relax, mate, we’re only talking aren’t we? Just an old friend hoping for a catch up…”

“You fuckin’ stupid? She said no thank you.” Carmy pushed Tom off you with a shove.

The other man looked like he was weighing up his options. He opened his mouth to speak but Carmy wouldn’t give him the chance.

“Go on, get the fuck outta here, she’s mine, fucking asshole”

“We should be going.” You added “Goodnight…” you linked your fingers with Carmy’s and led him out of the hall and into the corridor without a further word.

‘Shit you’ve fucked it by being a jealous weirdo. Fucking idiot’

He hoped this wasn’t going to be a fight. You hadn’t really fought, and he wondered if it would even come to that or if you’d just break up with him for making a scene.

Fucking apologize, idiot

“M’sorry about that. I meant you were mine like you’re my girlfriend not like my property or anything weird” he said as you reached the elevators.

“I know” you smiled at him and squeezed his hand as you pressed the call button “I appreciated you standing up for me. It was hot.”

Carmy turned to you a little surprised. “What?”

“It was a kinda sexy. Knowing you’d fight for me…” you said tone low as the doors opened and you both stepped in.

You’d pressed the button for your floor but the lift had barely started moving again before Carmy had hit the emergency stop.

His lips were on yours in a second, tongue slipping into your mouth, teeth biting and pulling on your lip as he pressed you up against the wall.

You let out a surprised throaty sound but responded in turn, hooking your leg around him, using the handrail to support you as your other hand made its way into his hair, pulling lightly as he left red marks on your neck.

Carmy could have sworn he heard the radio telling you, ‘We will have the lift up and running again in five minutes’ but he elected to ignore it, instead sliding a hand up your thigh and under your little black dress to your underwear. As soon as he grazed against the fabric, he could feel you wet and ready for him.

“Fuck you weren’t joking baby”

He touched you through the material putting just enough pressure on that you could almost feel him, as he started kissing you again.

“Stop messing with me, babe,” you muttered into his mouth.

“Okay okay” Carmy muttered “you really are my girl aren’t you” he said, pulling back to look at you”

“You know I am” you said voice low.

Carmy deftly moved the material to one side, stroking your sweet spot with his thumb, eliciting a moan out of you that went straight to him like fire.

“Like that babe” your head thrown back against the wall as he inserted a finger and then another, moving slowly in and out, as his thumb circled over again and again. He moved back a little to watch, savouring seeing you like this, knowing it was all for him, only for him.

“Carmy…” you pulled his hair a little giving him about open mouth, messy kiss, before dropping your head to suck on his neck in a way he knew would leave a mark.

He could feel you tightening around him, drawing close, and spurred on by the down right dirty sounds he was drawing from you, he picked up the pace, going faster and faster until you tensed up, biting lightly on his shoulder as your finish hit you.

You were only catching your breath, his hand still under your dress when you felt the clink and the elevator begin its rise again

“Okay, folks, that should be you moving again.” The crackled voice came from the speaker.

You didn’t say anything until you reached your floor, eyes too busy scanning the lift for CCTV, you didn’t know if you wanted there to be or not.

“Come on,” you kissed him as the doors opened. “Take me to our room and show me I’m your girl”

And for the second time tonight but with a lot more reassurance than the first time, Carmy didn’t have to be asked twice.

[muiitoloko]

I read your fic about Elliot and I love your writing. Could you write something with him and maybe a more, not submissive but kind girl with who he used discipline domestic (like spanking not beating the hell out of her) in both way for punishing her when she gets on his nerves (and she does it only with him because she is comfortable and confident with her husband but not really in the day to day life) but also in a playful way to add some taste into their sexual life ? I think that kind of story really suit him. 

Title: Behind the barn.

Summary: You tease your husband, prompting Elliott to take you behind the barn to teach you a lesson.

Pairing: Elliot Marston × Fem! Reader

Warning: Smut.

Author's Notes: Hey there! I'm thrilled you enjoyed the Elliot fic! 😄 Your idea sounds intriguing and definitely fits his character. A kind girl who gets a little cheeky with some playful discipline? That could be a spicy twist! Don't worry, no "beating the hell out of her" here—just some fun and games! 😜 Thanks for the suggestion.

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

You were feeling particularly mischievous that day as you watched your husband, Elliott, working in the bright sun. He looked very handsome in your opinion, his elegant and well-tailored clothing doing nothing to hide his commanding presence. His Zappa mustache and hooked nose gave him a distinguished air, and his baritone voice carried over the estate as he directed his men.

You couldn’t help but try to get his attention. Being disobedient was a surefire way to achieve that. You were a good wife most of the time, if not a little shy around people other than your husband, but today, you felt an irresistible urge to provoke him. You knew exactly how to do it: by being disobedient in front of his men. Elliott was not a violent husband, unlike some of the aggressive men your friends were married to, but he had a firm hand when it came to discipline. He preserved his strictness for those rare moments when you strayed from his expectations. And to your delight, those moments always ended in sex. Your bottom might be sore from his spankings, but you were always sexually satisfied.

You hatched a plan to irritate Elliott, eager to feel his firm hand again. With a coy smile, you made your way to the paddock where the men were working. You knew that your presence would be a distraction, but that was exactly what you wanted.

"Elliott," you called out sweetly, walking toward him with a deliberate sway in your hips. "I was thinking of taking the horses out for a ride."

Elliott turned to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Not now, darling. The horses need to be rested."

"But I want to ride now," you insisted, your tone bordering on petulant.

Elliott’s men exchanged glances, clearly aware of the tension building. "You heard me," he said, his voice firm. "The horses need to rest."

You pouted, crossing your arms defiantly. "I don’t care. I’m taking one out for a ride."

Elliott’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mix of annoyance and something else—something that sent a thrill through you. "Don’t be foolish, woman. Do as I say."

Ignoring his command, you marched over to the stable and began to saddle a horse. The men watched, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement. You knew you were pushing Elliott’s limits, and that was exactly what you wanted.

Elliott strode over to you, his face a mask of controlled anger. "What do you think you’re doing?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

You looked up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently. "Just taking a ride, Elliott. What’s the harm?"

"The harm," he said through gritted teeth, "is that you’re disobeying me."

You gave him a cheeky smile. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Elliott’s eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and desire. "I’ll show you exactly what I’m going to do about it," he said, his voice a threatening whisper.

He grabbed your arm and led you away from the men, his grip firm but not painful. Once you were out of earshot, he pulled you close, his face inches from yours. "You’ve been very naughty," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "And you know what happens to naughty wives."

You shivered with anticipation, your defiance giving way to excitement. "Yes, Elliott," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I know."

He led you to a secluded spot behind the barn, his eyes never leaving yours. "Bend over," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative.

You obeyed, your heart pounding with anticipation. Elliott positioned himself behind you, his hands sliding over your hips as he lifted your skirt. "You know you deserve this," he said, his voice a growl of desire.

Elliott pulled down your panties, his fingers grazing your skin as he muttered, "Naughty woman, is this what you wanted? To be spanked behind a barn?" You gripped the hay beneath your hands, the rough texture grounding you as you looked over your shoulder, feigning innocence.

"I just wanted to ride," you said sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

Elliott's eyes narrowed, a predatory smile playing on his lips. "I don't care what you wanted," he said, his baritone voice dripping with authority. "You disobeyed me, and now you'll be punished."

He patted your bottom firmly, watching it turn pink under his hand. "Count the spankings and thank me for each one," he commanded, his voice a growl.

"One, thank you, Elliott," you said, your voice trembling with anticipation.

"Two, thank you, Elliott," you continued, the sting of his hand sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

Elliott's strikes were firm and deliberate, each one a reminder of his dominance. "Three, thank you, Elliott," you moaned, feeling the heat spread across your skin.

He paused for a moment, his hand caressing the reddened flesh. "You like this, don't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

"Yes," you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. "I love it."

"Four, thank you, Elliott," you counted, your voice shaking with a mix of pain and pleasure.

Elliott's hand came down harder this time, the sound echoing in the quiet of the barn. "Five, thank you, Elliott," you gasped, your body arching towards him.

He smirked, his hand lingering on your bottom. "You're such a naughty girl," he murmured. "And naughty girls need to be taught a lesson."

"Six, thank you, Elliott," you whimpered, the pleasure intensifying with each strike.

Elliott's fingers trailed down your thigh, his touch sending shivers through your body. "Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?" he asked, his voice a seductive whisper.

"Not yet," you replied, your voice husky with desire. "I think I need more."

Elliott's eyes darkened with lust. "Very well," he said, his hand coming down again. "Seven, thank you, Elliott."

"Eight, thank you, Elliott," you cried out, your body trembling.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Nine, thank you, Elliott," you moaned, your voice filled with need.

"Ten, thank you, Elliott," you gasped, the final strike leaving your bottom throbbing and your body aching for more.

Elliott's hand gently rubbed your sore skin, his touch both soothing and arousing. "Good girl," he whispered, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You took your punishment well."

He turned you around, his eyes locked onto yours. "Now, I think you deserve a reward," he said, his hands sliding up your thighs.

You shivered in anticipation, your body responding eagerly to his touch. "Yes, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Elliott's lips captured yours in a fierce kiss, his hands exploring your body with a possessive hunger. "You’re mine," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "And I’m going to make sure you never forget it."

You moaned into his mouth, your hands clutching at his shirt as he pressed you against the barn wall. His fingers slipped between your legs, teasing and tormenting you until you were gasping for breath.

"Elliott, please," you begged, your voice a desperate plea.

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You’ve been such a good girl," he murmured, his fingers slipping inside you. "Now, let me show you how much I appreciate it."

Elliott removed his fingers from you, undid his pants just enough to free himself, and threw his gun aside. You glanced around nervously, aware that you were behind the barn and that at any moment one of Elliott’s men could come and catch you both in the act. But Elliott didn’t seem to care. His focus was solely on you, his eyes dark with lust as he stroked his cock for a moment before moving closer.

He grabbed your leg, lifting it to press you against the wall. The rough wood scratched against your back, but the sensation only heightened your anticipation. Elliott’s strength and determination were intoxicating, and you wrapped your legs around him, your hands clutching his shoulders for support.

"Elliott, we could get caught," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

"Let them watch," he growled, his baritone voice sending shivers down your spine. "Let them see how I take what’s mine."

He positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his cock. "You’re mine, and I’m going to fuck you right here," he murmured, his voice dripping with authority.

Your body responded eagerly to his words, your hips arching toward him. "Please, Elliott," you begged, your voice a desperate plea. "I need you."

Elliott’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he thrust into you, his cock filling you completely. "That’s it," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Take me, darling. Take all of me."

You moaned loudly, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. "Elliott, oh God," you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, then growing faster and harder. "You feel so good," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight, so perfect."

You clung to him, your body pressed against the barn wall, the rough texture grounding you as his cock drove deeper inside you. "Elliott," you moaned, your voice filled with need. "Don’t stop."

He chuckled darkly, his hips slamming into yours with a force that left you breathless. "I have no intention of stopping," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Not until you’re screaming my name."

Your mind was a blur of pleasure and sensation, the fear of being caught only adding to the thrill. "Elliott," you gasped, your voice trembling with desire. "Please, harder."

Elliott’s eyes blazed with lust as he complied, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more demanding. "You like that, don’t you?" he growled, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew you’d have bruises later. "You like being fucked like this."

"Yes," you cried out, your voice breaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "Yes, Elliott, I love it."

Elliott suddenly grabbed the bodice of your dress, pulling it down to reveal your breasts to him. His eyes darkened with lust as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting gently. You moaned at the sensation, your hands tangling in his hair. But Elliott gave a firm slap on your thigh, the sharp sting sending a thrill through you.

"Quiet," he murmured against your chest, his breath hot against your skin. "I don’t want my men hearing these sweet sounds. These sounds are for my ears only."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle your moans as Elliott’s mouth continued to work its magic on your breasts. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer as he thrust into you with increasing intensity. "You feel so good," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "So tight, so perfect."

"Elliott," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "Please, I need more."

He smirked against your skin, his teeth grazing your nipple before he pulled back slightly to look at you. "Oh, you’ll get more," he promised, his eyes blazing with lust. "But you need to be a good girl and stay quiet for me."

You nodded, your body arching towards him as he resumed his ministrations. The rough texture of the barn wall against your back only heightened the intensity of the sensations, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Elliott’s hands moved to your thighs, lifting you higher as he drove deeper inside you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "Take me, darling. Take all of me."

Your mind was a blur of pleasure, the fear of being caught adding to the thrill. You clung to Elliott, your nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to stay quiet. But the sensations were overwhelming, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

"Elliott," you gasped, your voice barely more than a breath. "I’m so close."

Elliott smiled arrogantly, his charming side surfacing despite the strain in his arms from holding you in position for so long. "Quiet, darling," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. He shifted, guiding you towards the soft pile of hay, laying you down gently while he positioned himself on top of you.

"You like disobeying me, don’t you?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "But here, you’re mine, and I’m going to remind you of that."

You shivered with anticipation, your body responding eagerly to his touch. Elliott’s hands roamed over your body, his fingers trailing over your skin with a possessive hunger. "You feel so good," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "So perfect."

He thrust into you again, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring every moment. "Look at you," he growled, his voice dripping with authority. "Spread out beneath me, taking everything I give you."

Your moans were muffled by the hay, the rough texture a stark contrast to the soft warmth of Elliott’s body. "Please, Elliott," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I need more."

Elliott’s eyes darkened with lust as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming more powerful. "You’ll get more, darling," he promised, his voice a husky whisper. "But you have to be a good girl and take everything I give you."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive hunger. "You’re mine," he growled against your lips. "And I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think of anything else."

Your body responded eagerly to his words, your hips arching towards him as he drove deeper inside you. "Elliott," you moaned, your voice filled with need. "Please, don’t stop."

Elliott smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "I have no intention of stopping," he murmured, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Not until you’re screaming my name."

He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping your hips as he pounded into you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. "You feel so good," he groaned, his voice a low rumble. "So tight, so perfect."

Your mind was a blur of pleasure, the intensity of his movements driving you closer to the edge. "Elliott," you gasped, your voice trembling. "I’m so close."

Elliott’s eyes blazed with lust as he drove deeper inside you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Come for me, darling," he growled, his voice filled with command. "Scream my name."

With one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm. "Elliott!" you cried out, your voice echoing in the quiet of the barn.

Elliott groaned as he followed you over the edge, his release filling you completely. He collapsed beside you, his breath ragged as he pulled you into his arms. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You took that so well."

You lay there, entwined with him, your bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Elliott’s hands gently caressed your skin, his touch both soothing and arousing. "You’re mine," he whispered, his voice a possessive growl. "Always."

You smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but your heart light with contentment. "I love you, Elliott," you murmured, your voice a sleepy whisper.

Elliott kissed your forehead softly before standing up. He pulled his pants up and secured his gun back in place with practiced ease. You straightened your dress and slipped your panties back on, your movements slow and deliberate as the afterglow of your encounter left you both satisfied and slightly sore.

Elliott’s eyes followed your every move, a predatory smile playing on his lips. "Now, be a good girl and get some rest," he murmured, his baritone voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "And this time, try to be obedient."

He gave you a firm slap on the ass, the sting a reminder of your earlier defiance. You gasped softly, your eyes meeting his with a mix of defiance and submission. "Yes, Elliott," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Elliott’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good girl," he said, his voice filled with approval. "Now, go on. I’ll see you at home later."

You nodded, turning to leave the secluded spot behind the barn. As you walked away, you could feel Elliott’s eyes on you, the weight of his gaze a constant reminder of your place. You made your way back to the house, the sun high in the Australian sky, casting long shadows across the estate.

Once inside, you headed to your bedroom, your body still tingling from the intensity of your encounter. You lay down on the bed, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you settled into the comfortable mattress. Despite the soreness, you felt a deep sense of contentment, knowing that Elliott’s firm hand had once again brought you both to a place of intense pleasure and connection.

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Fourteen

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: drinking, references to blow jobs that happened like 60 seconds before the chapter starts, Jungkook's a bit possessive, Jin's a bit jealous, mentions of pregnancy, references to sex, 2021 AMAs Jungkook is the wedding visual, special guest stars Woosung and El Capitxn

Word Count: 7.5k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: Happy two years of Paradise!! 🎉 Two years ago today, I posted the first chapter of what was going to be a five-part series. So to say I can't believe we're here is really no joke!! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, reblogged, sent me asks or DM'd me about this series - this is all because of you! 💜💜💜

Unbeta'd as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you! Taglist is open. 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist ♦️ Next Chapter

Turns out that impulsiveness looks pretty good on you. 

Or so you think to yourself, catching your reflection in the mirror of the men’s room as you leave Jungkook to collect himself after giving him the best blow job of his life (your words - although, based on the look on his face as you’d swallowed, you might not be far off). 

You hadn’t planned on dragging him into the bathroom like that, but upon seeing him walk out onto the terrace in that grey belted suit, looking like an absolute dream, well, you simply could not help yourself.

You also hadn’t meant to tell him you missed him last night. But you had, because you did. God, when had you turned into this - this massive simp? It was only yesterday morning that you’d woken up in Jungkook’s embrace. You’d barely spent 24 hours apart - so why were you so desperate to get back into his arms?

Of course, none of this matters right now. There are only minutes to go before the ceremony begins, and you need to pull your head out of the clouds and get back to Jennie and the others. Starting by escaping the men’s room sight unseen.

“YN!” 

Or not.

As soon as you close the door, you hear Jin’s voice calling to you. He’s standing at the other end of the little hallway, near the entrance to the reception room.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to be the most nonchalant you’ve ever been in your life, as if you weren’t just gagging on Jungkook’s dick in a public bathroom. 

Jin smiles as you approach, but there’s a gleam in his eye that makes you nervous, and you’re so busy trying to come up with a valid excuse for why he saw you emerging from the men’s room that you apparently forget how to walk, trip over the hem of your gown, and crash directly against his chest. 

“Easy, tiger!” he laughs, arms locking around your back as he helps you stand back upright. “I’m used to ladies throwing themselves at me, but only you’ve taken it literally.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re pretty sure he’s not lying about fighting off admirers, given that he looks like a supermodel in his crisply tailored tuxedo. His bowtie is a little crooked thanks to being squashed by your face during your ungainly landing, so you gently fix it, and Jin thanks you with a soft grin. 

“I left my glasses at home, so tell me - did I just see you leav-” Jin suddenly stops in the middle of his sentence, his gaze drifting over your shoulder. “Oh. Nevermind, I see.” He takes a step back, arms falling from your waist.

Another hand slips into yours. 

Jungkook didn’t wait very long before following you out of the restroom. He squeezes your hand as you glance at him, but he stares directly at Jin, nostrils flaring slightly, eyes narrowed, lips pursed tightly as if - as if -

Oh, shit. 

“You left this behind, jagiya.” Jungkook turns to you, his face shifting into a softer expression as he produces your clutch like some sort of trophy. You must’ve left it on the counter. “Did you want me to hold it during the ceremony?” 

Your brain is lagging severely at the moment, trying to process two major facts at once. Fact one: Jin obviously realized that you were with Jungkook in the bathroom. Fact two: you completely forgot to tell Jungkook that Jin would be at the wedding. Which, given the events of the last 24 hours, it’s understandable that it slipped your mind, but this isn’t how you’d expected to officially introduce them. And he doesn’t exactly look thrilled to run into him now. 

On top of that, Jungkook has asked you a question. And is now waiting for an answer, while Jin watches in polite silence. 

“Um. Yes. Sorry, yes, can you keep an eye on it for me?” 

Jungkook nods, tucking the clutch into his jacket and patting it lightly. “Of course,” he says, nodding solemnly, as if you’d just asked him to protect precious goods and not a cheap bag full of tissues and mints. 

Jin clears his throat lightly. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, Jin, this is Koo- Jungkook. Jungkook, Jin.” 

Of all the ways for these two to meet, this might not be the most embarrassing, but it’s definitely up there. There’s still a bit of Jungkook’s taste lingering on your tongue as the two men shake hands, Jin wincing slightly. 

You try to quickly fill Jungkook in. “Jin’s the best man.” 

“Sure am.” Jin grins. 

“He and Yoongi grew up together,” you add, ignoring Jin’s little interjection, knowing that Jungkook didn’t miss it based on the way his jaw flexes violently, as if he’s gnashing his teeth. 

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook. That’s quite a grip you have there.” Jin slides his hands into his pockets. “YN’s told me a little about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jungkook replies, inclining his head slightly. His hand returns to yours, fingers locking firmly. “Wish I could say the same, but YN never mentions you.” 

You try to control your face as you look at Jungkook. What did he just say?

Jin just grins wider. “So… she said you’re a dancer?” 

“Yeah, I'm a dancer. But I’m also an artist,” Jungkook replies, chest puffing out slightly. 

“Yes! You should see his work, Jin. He’s an incredibly talented painter,” you add, and the corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitches, like he’s holding back a smile. “I might actually have a photo on my phone…” 

Jungkook doesn’t give you any time to check. “Y’know, I think I’ve heard of you. You’re a cook, right? I think my halmeoni watches your show.” 

If Jungkook intended that as a jab, Jin shows no sign that he felt it. “Well, technically, I’m a chef. And a restaurateur. But yes, I do host a successful cooking program - actually, it’s about to be turned into a series for a major network.”

“Right. So like I said. You cook.”

Jin’s the one twitching now, his eyebrow rising slightly at Jungkook’s blasé tone. But rather than looking annoyed, Jin looks amused. Meanwhile, Jungkook is still glowering. You, though? Your smile feels a little strained as you try not to react to the snarky shots being fired off around you. Jungkook seems more rattled than you’d expected by Jin’s presence. You’ve never heard him talk like this. 

“You’re right, I do cook a little,” Jin laughs. “I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it. But YN could tell you, since I’ve cooked for her a few times.” He glances at you, the sparkle in his eye you’d noted earlier back and twinkling a little too merrily for your comfort. “From what I remember, she’s been pretty satisfied every time.” 

And you’d thought this couldn’t get any more awkward than running into Jin post-beej. How silly of you. 

Jungkook’s fingers grip yours tighter. “And yet not satisfied enough to ever bring it up. Huh. Sounds like it was kinda forgettable.” 

Jin’s eyes flicker to yours questioningly and you cringe, still struggling to come up with anything to say that could make this conversation less tense. At this point, you’d be better off wishing for the ground to open up beneath you, as useless as your brain is being.

Jin coughs. “Anyway, YN, Yoongi asked me to tell you to tell Jennie that the officiant is running a little late. Nothing to worry about!” he adds hastily upon seeing your concerned face. “Just caught in traffic. But on his way.” 

Great, another thing for Jennie to stress out about. “Okay. I’ll let her know.” 

Guests are starting to fill up the rows of chairs on the other side of the glass wall. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Lisa heading towards you, waving your bouquet. Thankful for the interruption, you stretch out your hand. 

“Come on, we’re cutting it close on time!” she announces. “Hey, what happened to your lipstick?” 

“Uh…” Rather than answer, you opt for escape, tugging on Jungkook’s hand lightly to urge him to follow you. “One sec, Lis. Come on, Jungkook, let’s find you a seat.” 

“See you at the altar!” Jin calls behind you, and you wince, feeling Jungkook stiffen momentarily. 

There’s an empty chair on the end of a row on the bride’s side. Jungkook folds himself into it, placing your clutch delicately on his lap. 

“Um, so, we already took photos earlier, so I’ll just come find you after the ceremony.”

“Okay.” Jungkook chews on his bottom lip, nodding. 

An unsettling feeling comes over you. Should you apologize for not telling him about Jin? Or say something about what just happened in the hallway? What did just happen, anyway? 

Through the glass, you can see Lisa waving, pointing at her watch. Shit. Whatever happened, you’ll just have to talk about it later.

As you turn to leave, Jungkook grabs your wrist. He threads his fingers through yours, pulling you closer to him, until his lips brush your cheek. “See you soon, jagiya.” He gives you another soft smile, sunlight sparkling in his eyes. The angry scowl from the hallway is nowhere to be seen. 

Your head is a mess as you follow Lisa. How had you not mentioned to Jungkook that Jin would be here? Damn, maybe he was right - maybe you really never talk about Jin. 

Both men had warned you when you started dating them that they could get competitive. Apparently that meant passive aggressive disses and weirdly possessive behavior. If this is how the two of them are going to behave, you’re in for a long day. 

A small room cordoned off from the rest of the rooftop restaurant has been turned into the bride’s waiting room. Jisoo’s doing a last pass on Jennie’s makeup when you arrive. She takes one look at you and reaches for a tube of lipstick sitting on the makeshift vanity. 

“Babe, what happened to you? You look stressed.” 

Rosé hums in agreement. “I expected you to stumble in here looking more satisfied than that. You dragged Jungkook away at lightning speed!” 

“Pucker up,” Jisoo orders you, and you obey, letting her fix your lips. 

“Mmm, well, I found her talking to both Jungkook and Jin in the hallway, so maybe that has something to do with it?” Lisa pipes up, eyebrow raised. 

“Oh shit, did something go down?” Rosé asks, a little too excited for your taste. 

“Well, actually,” you start to say, then shake your head. This is the last thing you need right now. This day is too important to be derailed by your love life. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Oh, but Jin did say that the officiant’s running a little late, Jennie. He’s on his way, so there’s no need to panic, but the ceremony might start a few minutes later than planned.” 

“Oh, see, Jennie? I told you there was no reason to worry - now you’re not the only one who’s late!” 

“Jisoo!” Lisa hisses. Rosé covers her mouth to suppress her giggles. 

Jennie, who has been sitting silently since you walked in, inspecting her appearance in the makeup mirror, lets out a strangled sound that’s a cross between a laugh and a wail, and buries her face in her hands. 

“Girl, please do not make me fix your makeup again,” Jisoo pleads as she crouches next to Jennie. You pull up a chair next to her and sigh, rubbing Jennie’s arm lightly. 

“Ji’s lame attempts at humor aside, how are you feeling?” you ask.

Your best friend is absolutely radiant in her white gown, dark hair tumbling in gentle waves down her back as she turns to you. 

“I’m still okay. I know things were a little… dramatic yesterday, but really, I’m okay today. You guys don’t have to keep asking me how I’m feeling.” Jennie clasps your hands, giving you a soft smile. “I’m excited and I’m nervous but more than all of that I’m ready to marry the love of my life.” She pauses. “I think maybe I should use the bathroom again, though. I guess I have some time.” 

“I’ll help you,” Lisa volunteers, gathering Jennie’s train and following her out of the room. 

You’re quiet until the door closes behind them. “Okay, was anyone else expecting her to freak out about the ceremony starting late?” 

“She’s keeping it together, somehow,” Jisoo shrugs. “I think she’s still a bit in shock, honestly. But she’ll be okay.”

“She’s fine, as long as no one mentions anything about the you-know-what,” Rosé informs you, crossing her arms as she glares at Jisoo. 

“You don’t have to censor yourself when she’s not in the room.” Jisoo rolls her eyes. 

Your friends fall into their usual bickering, but you’re too deep in your thoughts about Jennie to bother telling them to knock it off. Maybe Jisoo’s right and she’s still adjusting. Just another reason to try to stay focused on her and make sure everything goes perfectly for her and Yoongi.

It’s the least you can do for your friend, after the day she had yesterday.

Yesterday

Friday morning brings you a sweet surprise. You weren’t expecting to wake up with Jungkook in your bed. He spent most of the night making you forget all about Taehyung’s joking offer to drop to his knees at your promise to help him, doing such a good job that you’d almost forgotten your own name, too. You’d figured he’d slip out in the middle of the night after you’d fallen asleep. 

You were wrong. He’s still here, all messy bedhead and sleepy eyes, laughing quietly about alarm clocks and wrapping you up in his arms. He follows you like a puppy as you start your morning routine - into the shower, back into your room, and then into your kitchen - and honestly it’s no wonder that you decide to take the day off to spend it with him. The thought of repeating yesterday and hanging out with him all day is too tempting to refuse. Even though you’ll see him pretty much all day tomorrow at the wedding - look, if he’s down for it, then why not?

And then somehow the universe decides that your day has only been maybe a solid eight out of ten so far and decides to kick it up a few more notches, by offering you a possible life boat off the sinking ship that is your job. 

Hey YN!

I know this is ridiculously fast, but my company has an opening, and I think you’d be great for the job! Long story short someone unexpectedly quit yesterday, so now we have a position we  need to fill immediately. I hope it’s okay, but I’ve given your name to our VP in charge of hiring and she’d like to bring you in for an interview! She asked me to reach out and see if you’d be all right with coming in next week - I know that’s fast, but this is for a new project that’s being rushed to production so we really need someone to crunch some numbers ASAP! 

Let me know if you’re interested!

Best,

Wendy

As if that’s not enough, Jungkook offers to help you practice for the interview, and suddenly you can’t see through the hearts in your eyes. Could he be any sweeter? You thank him, and he kisses you, and you melt, lost in his warmth. 

Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality. “How many more emails do you need to answer?” 

“Um…” you stare at your laptop. “Let me just respond to Wendy and then I’m done.”

“Cool.” Jungkook stretches. His t-shirt rises with the motion, his Adonis belt briefly visible, and you know he’s caught your stare when he smirks. You quickly turn back to your computer, but he just wraps his arms around your shoulders, catching you in a back hug.

“I’m gonna go home and take off these dirty clothes,” he murmurs, teeth nipping your earlobe. “Come find me when you’re done. I’ll be waiting.” 

“Fuck,” you breath. Jungkook laughs, obviously pleased at the effect he has on you. He’s such a tease sometimes. You’re trying to figure out how to flip the tables on him when your ringtone starts trilling.

Be still, my heaaaaart…

“Oh god, I bet that’s my boss, wanting to talk me out of taking off.” You frown as you check the screen. “Shit, it’s Jisoo. I gotta take this.” 

“Hey, do you have a second?” Jisoo’s voice comes through a little strained. And loud. She’s talking over some sort of high-pitched wailing. It takes you a minute to figure out that it’s a person’s voice making that sound.

“Ji! What’s going on? Wait, what’s that sound? Is that Jennie? Is she crying?”

“Yeah, that’s Jennie. She’s - she’s had - well,” Jisoo sighs. “Look, I’m over at her place because I wanted to treat her to a manicure today because I know she’s been too busy to schedule one and you know how she gets about her nails so I thought it would be a nice surprise but when I got here - oh, you know what, this is not important to the story, why am I telling you this?” 

“Just get to the point, Ji!”

“I’m trying! I’m sorry, it’s been a big morning and - what?” There’s a muffled conversation happening suddenly, and you stare blankly at your computer as you wait for Jisoo to return. You don’t know what the hell is going on, but you don’t like any of it.

“Just ask her to come over!” you hear Lisa say in the background. Lisa’s at Jennie’s, too? 

“I was getting to that!”

With a frustrated sigh, you try to get Jisoo’s attention. “Okay, okay, I’m coming over!”

“Do you mind? I know you have to work-”

“No, I’m not working today, I….” You pause, knowing that Jungkook’s just in the kitchen, likely able to hear everything you’re saying, not wanting to embarrass yourself by admitting that you took the day off just to be with him. “It’s a long story, I’ll explain when I get there.” 

You don’t end up explaining anything once you arrive. That’s because as soon as Lisa opens Jennie’s door, she greets you with a tiny white stick bearing two little pink lines. Rosé is right behind her, beaming from ear to ear. 

“Oh my god.” 

“I know!” Lisa grins, throwing her hands in the air. “Baby Min, coming to you soon!” 

You frown, glancing over Lisa’s shoulder. “Where is she?” 

The sound of Jennie’s crying gets louder as you approach the master suite. When Lisa stops outside the bedroom closet, you grab her arm. 

“Before I go in there - are those happy tears or sad tears?” You’re pretty sure you already know the answer, but you need to know what to expect. 

Lisa grimaces. “Somewhere in the middle, I think.” 

Jennie’s curled up beneath the hangers of clothing stuffed into the closet that she shares with Yoongi. She’s wearing one of his oversized hoodies, sniffling into the black material as Jisoo, smushed into the corner beside her, carefully untangles herself. 

“Tag, you’re in,” she says, taking the hand you offer to pull her to her feet. 

There’s not a lot of room for you but you squish yourself in as best you can, and immediately tuck Jennie against you. Jisoo closes the door behind you. 

“Hi, babe.” 

“Hi,” Jennie’s voice is wavery and small, so far from her usual confident, cheerful tone, that it hurts your heart. “Did they tell you?” 

“I saw.” 

Jennie settles against you, hiccuping slightly through her tears. “This wasn’t part of the plan.” 

“I know.” 

Jennie has been mapping out her and Yoongi’s future pretty much since the day they met. They both want to start a family, but Jennie insists that they enjoy their honeymoon period first. And she’s determined to make tenure at the school where she teaches before taking time off to have kids. She wants to have it all, but at her own pace and on her own terms. Which means timing everything out so meticulously. So carefully. 

Gently, you brush a lock of hair from her wet cheek. “So… do you know how…” 

Jennie sighs. “Pretty sure it was the night of my bachelorette party. I came home and Yoongi asked how it went and um, I kinda couldn’t stop talking about my lap dance.” Your friend’s face flushes at the memory, and you bite back a grin. You’ll have to tell Jungkook he left a lasting impression. “And Yoongi… well, you know how he gets competitive sometimes?” 

You can’t help it. You burst into laughter. 

“Yoongi gave you a lap dance?!” 

“God, I wish I’d seen that,” Jisoo says from the other side of the closet door. “I’d love to know if he’s got moves.” 

In all your years of friendship, you’d never known Yoongi to do more than a simple side-shuffle whenever Jennie would drag him onto a dance floor. The thought of him performing an erotic lapdance is too much for even your overactive imagination to conceive.  

Jennie just smiles to herself. “Believe me, he does.” She glances at you shyly. “He’d kill me for telling you this but… you don’t think Jin choreographed his routine all by himself, do you?” she laughs, referring to the night Jin danced for you, and your brain breaks a little trying to picture Yoongi doing the same moves. 

The closet door flies open. 

“I’m gonna need to hear every last detail about that,” Lisa proclaims. 

“Same,” Rosé adds, and Jennie laughs for the first time since you arrived. She sits up, dabbing at her face with the sleeves of Yoongi’s hoodie. 

“Ugh, my face is going to be so puffy tomorrow.” 

“No, it won’t. We’ll take care of you,” Jisoo promises, already on her feet. “I’ll go raid your kitchen for supplies. Do you have any cucumbers?” She’s gone before Jennie can answer, Lisa scrambling behind her.

“Anyway… we always use protection, but you know how they say it’s not 100% foolproof? Yeah, turns out they’re telling the truth.” She stares at her sweater paws, suddenly forlorn again, and you give her a tight squeeze. 

“I’m sorry, babe. I know this is… a lot.” 

“Yeah. And I just…” You don’t say anything, just wait patiently until she finds the words she’s searching for. “I just feel like a failure. You know? Like, it’s so stupid, but…” She shrugs. “I feel like everything’s ruined now.” 

“Oh, Jennie, no!” Wrapping both arms around her, you sigh. “Accidents happen. That’s life! You can make all the plans you want but you can’t control everything. There’s chaos everywhere! And even if you do your best to avoid it, sometimes it gets through. And it’s not always bad! I mean… look at me and Jungkook. He came out of nowhere. I didn’t plan to start dating him and Jin at the same time. I didn’t know it was gonna get serious. I thought…” you trail off, realizing you’re making it about yourself. “Sorry, this is not about me.” 

“No, it’s ok, finish your thought. Tangents and diversions are good right now,” Jennie informs you.

You bite your lip, weighing your words. “Back when Jin and I met, when you introduced us, I just thought… this is it. This is my chance to have what Jennie and Yoongi have. Something real. Something safe and steady.” 

Jennie nods, encouraging you to continue. 

“And then Jungkook… he’d always been so close but I’d never gotten to know him. He came in and opened my eyes to another possibility. To something exciting and different and - and passionate, and, oh god, I sound like a shitty romance novel, don’t I?” Burying your face in your hands, you laugh. 

“No, go on!!” Rosé says. 

“I’m just trying to say - plans don’t always work out. But that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. And sometimes, the unexpected can be exactly what you want. Or need.” 

Jennie sighs, and you can feel her relaxing against you for the first time since you sat down beside her. 

“I hear what you’re saying. And I’d like to believe that. It’s just… really difficult for me to accept that I’m not always in control.” 

“That’s a fucking mood,” Jisoo says, returning from the kitchen with a mug of tea in her hand. Lisa carries a bowl of some sort of cucumber concoction, and the two of them settle on the floor outside the closet. 

Rosé scoots across the carpet until she’s close enough to take one of Jennie’s hands. “Back to your chaos, if that’s what we’re calling it. Is it too soon to ask you what you’re gonna do?” 

Jennie groans, pulling the oversized hood over her head. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” 

“I just want to get through the wedding,” Jennie states, voice muffled by the soft fabric. “I’m getting married tomorrow! And I don’t want anything to - to ruin it. Or make things weird, or more stressful than they already are. I mean, fuck, I think my halmeoni is already upset that we’re not doing a traditional wedding. Imagine if she finds out I got knocked up before marriage!” 

“Okay, then we’ll make sure no one finds out tomorrow.” Lisa glances at everyone and you all nod in a wordless pact. “We’ll do whatever it takes to make sure your day is as perfect as you’ve planned. You know we will!” 

“Does Yoongi know?”

Jennie peels her hood back to look at you. She shakes her head. 

“I took the test this morning, after he left for work. I’ve been so busy lately that I didn’t even realize I was late until today! Ji was the first person to find out when she showed up, and then she called the rest of you.” She pauses, fiddling with her sleeves again. “I think I’m going to wait to tell him until after the wedding. We’ll need to have a serious talk, and there’s too much going on right now.” She glances up. “Is that - do you think that’s okay?” 

Once again, she seems lost. This time, when you go in for a hug, Rosé joins you. 

“Babe, you can tell him whenever you’re ready! It’s your body.” 

“Yeah, but we’re in this together…”

“And you’ll be in it together still, no matter if you tell him today or tomorrow or next week.” Jisoo declares. She holds the mug out to Jennie. “And we’ll be here too.” 

“Yes. Maybe this is good chaos. Maybe it’s bad. It’s up to you to decide how to react - how to move forward. Whatever you decide, you know we’ll be by your side the whole time,” you declare, your sentiments echoed by the other girls. 

Jennie blows lightly on the steaming drink. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you guys,” she says, choking up slightly, and everyone else starts talking at once. 

“You deserve the world!” Rosé coos. 

Lisa shakes her head. “We’re the lucky ones, babe, having you in our lives!”

“How’m I gonna depuff your face if you keep crying?” Jisoo tuts. 

You just rise to your feet, laughing. “Come on. Ji said something about manicures earlier. Let us pamper you today, so you’re ready to knock Yoongi off his apparently very talented feet tomorrow.”

NOW

The officiant is only a few minutes late, and the ceremony goes off without a single hitch. You and the other bridesmaids join the groomsmen flanking Yoongi at the altar. In addition to Jin, there’s Yoongi’s brother Geum-jae, and two of his friends from work, Yi-jeong and Woosung.

As a string quartet plays the wedding march, Jennie walks down the aisle, beaming more brightly than the sun, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s face, bearing such an openly reverent expression that it makes your eyes flood with tears. The officiant begins his speech, and Jennie and Yoongi stare at one another as if the rest of the world has fallen away, with nothing left but the two of them and their love.

Watching them almost feels like you’re intruding on a private moment, so you turn your face to the rows of guests, searching without thought for Jungkook, smiling when you find him already gazing your way. Your chest nearly buzzes as warmth spreads there, matching the glow in his eyes. 

Because Jennie and Yoongi chose to take photos before the ceremony, there’s no cocktail hour after the ceremony. Instead, everyone is seated for dinner. The happy couple sits at a table for two on a small dais in the front of the room. 

There are no tables large enough for the entire wedding party. There are also no seating arrangements for all of you, either. Jennie had worked very hard on the seating chart for all of the guests except the wedding party. (“You guys figure it out. I’m tired.”) So you quickly claim a seat at one of the two empty tables left open, with Jungkook taking the spot next to you on one side and Jisoo the other, with Rosé next to her. 

As the wait staff brings out the first course, you slide your chair a little closer to Jungkook. “Hey. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that Jin would be here.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Jagi, it’s ok.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure it is,” you reply. “That was not the way I wanted to introduce the two of you. It was, uh, not ideal.” 

Jungkook’s silent as he sips his water. He works his bottom lip between his teeth again, and you wish you could see inside his head, could get some sense of what he’s thinking, because sitting here waiting for him to say something makes your stomach churn a bit.  

Finally, he sighs, reclining back in his seat as he looks at you. “I’m sorry if I made that uncomfortable. I wasn’t expecting to see him.” 

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t mention he was part of the wedding. Truly, it slipped my mind.” Repeatedly. You bite your lip, struggling to figure out what to say. This doesn’t have to be a thing, but you also don’t want them at each other’s throats all night. “But there’s no reason it has to be weird or ruin the night. Because I’m here with you, Kookie. Not him.” 

Your pulse begins to pound. It’s like you’ve just laid your heart on the line. Jungkook’s furrowed brows relax, doe eyes blinking slowly as he absorbs your words. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You turn to find Jin standing with a hand on the empty chair across from you. 

Jisoo lets out a tiny “Yessss, game on,” and you covertly kick her under the table. 

“Uh, I think Lisa is going to -” Glancing around, you don’t finish your sentence as you spy your friend sitting with the groomsmen. Oh, right. Lisa has her eye on Yi-jeong, having basically all but explicitly called dibs that morning when she saw him in his tuxedo. You can’t really blame her. “Nevermind.” 

“Please, join us,” Jungkook offers, gesturing to the table. He says it so kindly that you can’t help but gawk at him in surprise. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but his palm rests on your thigh, rubbing lightly. Reassuringly. 

Your heartbeat returns to normal as Jin smiles. “Thanks.” 

Despite the ceremony being so modern, Jennie and Yoongi opted for more traditional dishes for dinner. For several minutes, there’s mostly an easy silence over the table, as everyone enjoys the janchi guksu and banchan in front of them, only the noise of clinking utensils filling the air. Well, that and the sound of the servers running back and forth to the bar, trying to keep up with drink orders. 

Jisoo, as usual, is the first one to break the silence.

“Okay, Jin, professional opinion on the guksu?” 

Jin chews thoughtfully for a few minutes. “I think they went a little heavy on the spicy soy sauce in the broth, but the noodles are just as tender as the ones I make. Oh, but you’ve had my noodles, YN, what do you think? Do they compare?” 

All eyes focus on you, including Jungkook’s. You swallow quickly. “Um, I think these are just as good! And I really like the broth, to be honest.” 

“You do like it spicy,” Jungkook murmurs under his breath, quiet enough that only you can hear him, and when you glance over, you’re met with that teasing smirk of his. It’s back again. For some reason, that’s more comforting to you than Jungkook’s hand on your thigh. Your heart does a somersault. It’s getting a real workout tonight. 

“You know, I never really thought about it, but it must be hard for you to eat in public. People are probably always asking you for your opinions on their food, or tips on how to make it better,” Rosé says. 

Jin shrugs. “Comes with the territory, I guess. I’m not gonna complain if people value what I think - and I’m always happy to help anyone improve their skills.” He swirls his wine glass before taking a sip. “But I suppose there can be a downside, too. Sometimes I just want to enjoy a meal without being asked to provide a full critique.” 

“I can understand that,” Jungkook replies. Again the other heads at the table swivel. 

“You can?” 

Jungkook nods. “Yeah. Like, right now, I bet you’re all expecting me to be the first on the dance floor, right?” He laughs as everyone suddenly becomes very interested in their meals. “It’s okay. That’s how it is whenever I’m out with friends. I can’t just sit at the bar and have a drink. And I definitely can’t just sway with the crowd. Everyone expects me to show off.” 

“I mean, I’m definitely hoping to see you turn up,” Rosé confirms, and Jungkook laughs again, gesturing at his point being proven. 

“Sure, that sounds annoying. But outside of going out with your friends, how often are you in a situation where you’re asked to dance? People stop me everywhere. When I’m out shopping. When I’m on a plane. I even once had someone ask me for deglazing tips while I was at a funeral! It’s not quite the same as being asked to do the robot at the club.” Jin shakes his head dismissively. 

Rosé mumbles, “I thought you weren’t gonna complain…?”

The two men eye each other for a few seconds as you hold your breath. Then Jungkook huffs out a laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s not the same. That sucks, dude.” 

You exhale, settling back in your seat. 

Jin just hums, eyes darting back and forth between you and Jungkook before he speaks. “I suppose it’s just a small price to pay for being so successful.” He tips his wine glass back, emptying it. “Where are the servers hiding? I need a refill.” 

“See, this is one of the benefits of being a financial analyst - absolutely no one wants to talk to me about what I do,” you grin. 

“That’s because no one understands what you do,” Jisoo declares. 

“She’s right.” 

“Thanks, Rosé.” 

Jisoo points her spoon at Jungkook. “Okay, but real talk, you are going to dance tonight, aren’t you? You wouldn’t deny us a show!”

“Ji, we just had an entire conversation about this!” you groan, throwing your hands up. “Can you not?”

“What? I’m just saying! The man is a born performer. Right?” 

She looks at Jungkook, who nearly chokes on his wine in his haste to answer.

“Uh. Yes?” 

“Right. So there’s no way you’ll leave us disappointed.”  

“Let me get this straight - if Jungkook doesn’t dance for you, you’ll be disappointed?” you ask. “Hold on while I call Jimin and Taehyung real quick. Wait, sorry, I mean Min and Tae.” 

“All I know is suffering,” Jisoo sighs.

“Oh, relax, Kitty Cat,” Rosé giggles, nearly doubling over at the confused look on Jin’s face. 

As Jisoo loudly laments her choice of friends, Jungkook bends towards you, mouth brushing your ear. 

“Don’t worry, jagi, whether or not I dance here, you can still have a private performance later. I’d never deny you.”

Heat works its way through your body as you shift in your seat, squirming slightly from the low rumble of his voice and the promise laced within. There’s a sudden prickling at the nape of your neck, that nagging sensation of someone watching you, but when you follow the feeling and glance over at Jin, he’s staring at his empty wine glass. 

The tapping of a fork against stemware draws your attention to the married couple’s table. To your immense relief, Yoongi and Jennie had decided to nix the best man and maid of honor toasts, opting to say a few words themselves. Normally, Jennie does all the talking for the pair, but to your surprise, Yoongi rises to his feet, and the room falls silent.

“Jennie and I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for coming. It means the world to us that you took the time out of your busy lives to celebrate with us.” He glances down at his bride, who smiles back, and Yoongi’s gummy grin gets bigger than you’ve ever seen it. “As you all know, Jennie and I have been together since our first year of college. We’ve been through so much together - college, grad school, finding jobs, losing jobs, moving from apartment to apartment - but we weathered it all, because we always had each other.” 

Jennie’s cheeks are wet as she smiles at her husband. Yoongi takes her hand. 

“Jennie, I don’t know what life has to throw at us yet, but I want you to know that I’m never worried, as long as I have you by my side.” He presses a kiss to the back of her hand, and there’s a chorus of awwww’s from the guests, including yourself. Jisoo rolls her eyes, but they’re already spilling over with tears, and you poke her in the side as she laughs.  

“Here’s to you, my love. And to all of you with us here tonight. We can’t thank you enough for your love and support. Geonbae!” He raises his glass.

“Cheers!” his brother shouts, and the cry is echoed around the room as everyone raises their glasses to the couple. 

Just when you think you couldn’t be happier, once again you feel a hand slip into yours, pressing palm to palm, fingers threading through. Jungkook doesn’t say a word, too busy clinking his drink against everyone else’s, but his hand tightens around yours when you look at him, and you feel as though you could float right through the ceiling if it weren’t for his strong grip. 

To think that you nearly hadn’t asked him to come here with you. What a mistake that would’ve been. Thank god you’d ignored the constant fear and doubt in your head and listened only to the steady sureness of your heart. 

You’re getting better at it.

YESTERDAY

After you coax her out of the closet, you and your friends turn Jennie’s apartment into a mini spa, trying to help the bride-to-be relax. By mid-afternoon, as everyone is giving each other manicures, you realize that the window on your day with Jungkook is swiftly closing, so you text him to let him know you won’t be coming home any time soon. 

Not long after that, the door to Jennie’s apartment opens, and Yoongi walks in, trailed by Jin. 

Jennie greets her fiancé happily, hugging him with her hands held straight out so as not to smudge her pretty new pink tips. “You’re home early!”

“Couldn’t focus. Decided to call it a day.” As ever, Yoongi seems completely unfazed to see you and your friends at his apartment. Sometimes you wonder what it would take to ruffle him. Probably something extreme like the zombie apocalypse. “Figured I’d grab my stuff and then get some dinner with Jin.” 

Although they weren’t holding to every tradition, Jennie had insisted that they spend the night before the wedding apart. So Yoongi would be crashing at Jin’s tonight. 

Jin nods at the sound of his name. “By ‘get some dinner’, he means ‘take advantage of his friend’s restaurant and score a free meal.’” 

“As if you weren’t the one who offered,” Yoongi drawls, ignoring Jin’s squeaky chuckling.

“Sounds good, baby,” Jennie smiles as Yoongi presses a kiss to her cheek before he shuffles down the hallway towards their bedroom. “Do you guys wanna get some takeout?” 

While Lisa, Rosé, and Jennie argue about what they feel like eating, Jin catches your eye. “Hey, you got a second?” He jerks his head towards Jennie’s kitchen. Rising from the couch, you follow, closing the door behind you. 

“What’s u-oh!” Your question becomes an exclamation when Jin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, long arms wrapping around your waist as he holds you tight. 

“Just wanted to get you alone,” he says, nose brushing yours as he smiles. “Hi.” 

This is where the butterflies should come in. Standing this close to this incredible specimen of a man, this paragon of perfection, would normally send them flittering through you. Shivers should be running down your spine. Any number of excited reactions should be happening right now. 

Right. 

Now. 

Except… they’re not. 

“Hi,” you echo, grinning a bit weakly. Jin doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong with your smile, locking his hands behind your back. 

“I heard you got some good news today.” 

Your eyes widen as your stomach goes into freefall. 

“You know?” 

How? How on earth could he know about Jennie being pregnant?? Shit, did Lisa leave the pee stick out somewhere? Jisoo told her to put it -

“Of course I know! It’s my show.” 

“It’s your show?” What the fuck does that mean??

Jin honks in delighted laughter at your obvious confusion. “The interview Wendy emailed you about - that’s for my show! The one Nosh picked up?” 

The room tilts as gravity returns your stomach to normal. “Oh! Oh, wow!” Of course. The new project Wendy had referenced - it was Jin’s cooking show! “Wait, so we might be working together?” 

“Yes! Er, maybe! I don’t know how closely or whatever, but basically, the Nosh execs told me Wendy’s firm is responsible for budgeting and figuring out revenue streams and - and that’s really all I remember, sorry.” He laughs. “Most of what they said went straight over my head, to be honest. But I spoke to her on a conference call today and she told me they had an open position for the team that’s assigned to my show, and she’d asked you to interview.” 

“Wow, that’s really…” you trail off, lost in thought. “Isn’t it… the other night at the networking reception, weren’t you saying it might be a travel show?” You have a vague memory of Jin telling you what he wanted to do with his show if it got picked up by a network.

“That’s right. I pitched it as an exploration of local delicacies that often get overlooked by tourists. I’ll be going around the country, visiting tiny, off the beaten path restaurants and bars, and learning how to make their favorite dishes.” 

Traveling for work. That was one of the perks Wendy had rattled off when she’d given you the sales pitch for her company. So, if you got this job, did that mean you’d be traveling with Jin? 

Your mind is already wandering, thinking about what this new job might entail, when Jin brings a hand up to cup your face. His thumb traces your jawline. 

“Wouldn’t it be amazing? You and I, on the road together. Me, discovering new meals to cook for you…” His voice drops, a low murmur meant only for you to hear. “Maybe picking up some new dance moves to show off…” 

He rolls his hips slightly, jostling you right out of your tumultuous thoughts. 

“Doesn’t that sound good?” 

“It does,” you reply, mouth moving on autopilot, not waiting for your head to decide if it agrees. 

“I know I haven’t had the time to take you out properly, and I’m sorry for that. But this is my chance to show you that I’m still in this.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I like you. And I’m hoping it’s not too late for me to say that.” 

If this were a romantic movie, the music would swell now, strings soaring as he tips your mouth towards his. It’s a perfect moment, lush lips caressing yours, sweet and unhurried, lingering like he doesn’t care if anyone else walks in. 

It’s a perfect moment, for sure. Just, not for you. 

“Jin,” you begin, stepping out of his embrace, “I need to tell you something.” 

A/N Pt. 2: To be continued!! (Sorry, the chapter was getting a bit long and this felt like a natural stopping point… what do we think so far??)

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[jingooism]

breathless

panic attacks were normal. they were a part of life. or at least that's what joowon had to tell himself. 

he's been riddled with them since he was a child. it started with the yelling between his mother and his father, so loud that even behind his closed door he could hear. his small hands over his ears did nothing to shut out the harsh tones. he began to withdraw, staying quiet and to himself to avoid any confrontation, especially from his father. when his mother dies, it only gets worse. 

then came school, where joowon sat by himself in the corner of the room, quietly hoping that one day someone would sit down with him. it never came. by the time middle school came around he had the reputation of being cold and mean, but little did they know he was like that because of them. 

he graduated school at the top of his class, then college, and now he has a full-time job. given, not the one he would have wanted--if han joowon could be anything it would be a photographer. a nature photographer to be specific. nothing calms him like being near the water. 

his weekends usually consist of long drives to the coast, where he likes to sit on the sand and read by himself. the fresh air and the sounds of the waves always does him a load of good. 

he tries to picture his favorite spot, just close enough to the dunes to not be affected by the tides but still close enough to be able to dip his toes in if he decided to. he thinks of the big uneven rocks that he likes to walk on during low-tide, the small island that only reveals itself an hour a day. he wonders how peaceful life would be if he could live there, away from everyone else. nothing works, though. when he goes to run his fingers through the sand he's met with the cold marble of his bathroom floor. when he strains his ears for the sound of the ocean, all he can hear is the gasps of his own breath. 

it's the worst attack he's had in a while, all because he thought he saw his father in the crowd. his father, who wasn't even in the country, was too busy trying to make connections somewhere that wasn't korea. the gray hair was the same, the harsh line of his spine under a well-tailored suit was the same, everything was too similar. joowon barely got through the rest of his shift. 

which is why now he's here, in his own bathroom, trying to not die. and the small rational part of his brain knows that he isn't going to actually die at this moment, but he can't get past how real it feels. his hands are clammy, his heart rate is through the roof, the walls are closing in. it feels like hell. he rushes to call hyeok, the only person who had ever had success in getting his breathing under control. his best friend picks up after one ring. 

"yah! han joowon! it's been days since you last called. did you forget about me?"

"hyung," joowon gasps into the phone.

"joowon? what's going on, are you okay?" his friend's voice goes serious in an instant. "are you having a panic attack?" joowon can distantly hear the sound in the background of the call fade away, like hyeok is walking away from a crowd. 

"it's bad," joowon admits, slightly ashamed. even though hyeok is his closest friend, he still hasn't been able to beat out the instinctive shame he feels at someone seeing him in a weak moment. "i can't breathe, hyung," he forces air into his lungs and feels not a single ounce of relief. 

"let's calm your breathing down okay? breathe in for 8 counts, hold for 3, and then breathe out of your mouth for 7. like we used to do."

joowon nods like hyeok can see him, and tries. he really tries. and for a second he thinks it might be working and then a loud crash floats through the wall from the apartment next door and his muscles tense up again. 

"are you at home, joowon-ah?" hyeok is starting to sound panicked too, and joowon feels bad for making him worry. 

"yes," joowon whispers. 

"i'm calling an ambulance," hyeok says firmly. 

"hyung, no--"

"no, joowon. i'm five hours away and there's no one else to help you. i'm calling," hyeok cuts him off. joowon feels stupid for even calling him, completely forgetting that he's away on a business trip. "i'll call you right back," he hangs up before joowon can argue.

the seconds stretch into what feels like hours, joowon's heartbeat still stuttering in his chest, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his sleep pants. his vision starts to go fuzzy at the edges when hyeok calls him back. he swipes his phone across the screen to answer. 

"they're on their way," hyeok soothes. 

"okay," he replies quietly, dropping his head between his knees. "just talk to me, please."

"what to talk about," hyeok wonders out loud. "i've been rubbing elbows with annoying business men all day, joowon-ah. my social battery is depleted," he complains. 

"are you drinking?"

"if i didn't i would've went back to the hotel hours ago," hyeok laughs. 

their mindless conversation goes on until joowon finally feels something get lighter in his chest, signalling that hopefully the worst of it has passed. he hears the beep of his door code being entered and the lock turning open. 

"you gave them my code?" joowon asks. 

"it was an emergency," hyeok scoffs. "i don't wanna hear it."

"han joowon-ssi?" a voice calls into the hallway. footsteps shuffle around for a second before they come right up on the bathroom door, two knocks echoing through the space. "han joowon-ssi? this is sfd, we got a call that you weren't feeling too good."

"in here," he says weakly, fatigue seeping through his bones. attacks always make him exhausted by the end. 

the door swings open to show three paramedics, the bright orange uniform looking odd against the neutrals of his home. the older man in the middle crosses the bathroom and kneels in front of him so they're face to face. 

"han joowon-ssi? i'm lee dongsik, and that's park jeongje, and oh jihwa," he gestures to his colleagues. "we're just here to make sure you're alright, okay?" his voice was calm enough to soothe the frayed edges of joowon's nerves. he pulls out a pen and shines it into joowon's eyes, "pupils are even and reactive." he leans a bit into joowon's space, enough that joowon is forced to really look at him and realize just how handsome he is. 

lee dongsik looked older, definitely at least a decade older than him. his hair was slightly long, just past his ears, and fell in shiny black waves. if joowon wasn't mistaken there were threads of silver in it. he's got lines around his eyes and his mouth that tell joowon that lee dongsik has lived a life of happiness, one where he was obviously smiling a lot. he smelled like cheap aftershave mixed with something else that joowon couldn't put his finger on. and now his heart is beating for a whole other reason. 

"can i take your pulse?" lee dongsik asks, hand hovering over joowon's wrist, waiting for his consent. all joowon can think to do is nod.

he tries not to react at the spark he feels at the skin on skin contact, already embarrassed enough that the hottest man he's ever seen is seeing him like this. "do you normally have panic attacks?" dongsik asks, looking at the bulky black watch on his wrist. 

"i've had them in the past, yes," joowon nods. he sees dongsik nod once and place his wrist back down to his lap. joowon mourns the touch immediately and wants to kick himself for it. 

dongsik turns to his team, "looks like things are evening out. we should be fine to load the truck back up," he gestures to the equipment in their hands. they nod with a knowing look and turn around to do as he's asked. 

"do you want to go to the hospital?" dongsik looks back at joowon, gaze fully locked in on his. 

"no," joowon quickly says. "i think the worst has passed."

"let's get you up off the floor then," dongsik grins, something small and bright that shouldn't knock joowon off his ass but does anyways. the older man stands up first and reaches his hand down to joowon.

joowon only second guesses for a moment before taking the hand offered to him and allowing himself to be pulled up. lee dongsik's hands are slightly rough, calluses probably gained from long days on the job. they fit into joowon's own hands perfectly. he tries not to think of it. 

joowon doesn't even want to imagine how he looks to dongsik right now, hair probably mussed, sleep clothes in disorder. he brushes his hair down self-consciously, and doesn't miss the way dongsik's lip twitches up.

"can i have my hand back?" dongsik laughs, eyes falling to where their palms are still fitted together. joowon hadn't even realized, dropping the other man's hand and trying to fight off the blush that he felt start to spread at the base of his neck. "not that i minded, but i do need both hands to write the report," dongsik reassures. 

"not that you--" joowon clears his throat, the words that fell from the other man's lips replaying in his head. not that he minded? what does that mean? is he flirting? "no, of course, yeah that makes sense." he brushes past dongsik into the living room where he sits, still feeling tired from the attack. his heart rate wasn't fully back down and neither was his breathing, but at least it didn't feel like he was at death's door. 

in the brighter light of the living room, joowon sees all of dongsik. he's slightly shorter than joowon himself, with a build that was definitely more lean. his belt was buckled around an absurdly small waist, and his thighs filled out the black work slacks beautifully. joowon feels his ears start to ring again. just his luck that the paramedic on the scene is something straight out of his teenage wet dreams. 

there's a silence in the room that joowon desperately feels the need to fill, wanting dongsik's attention turned back to him and not the notepad he was currently writing on. which is why, like an idiot, he blurts out, "do you come here often?" as soon as the words leave his mouth he feels wracked with mortification. 

dongsik looks up at him, a smirk on his lips, the pen twirling between long fingers, "do i come to your apartment often? sadly, no, i don't." 

oh. 

oh.

"i've been to this building plenty of times, though. it's a shame we haven't run into each other till now."

joowon's head is too busy sounding like a ten-car pileup that he barely registers the words. lee dongsik was definitely flirting with him. joowon flicks his eyes down to an empty ring finger and silently thanks god for it. 

"a shame, yes," he stutters, trying to make his brain work normally. it's obviously failing because dongsik's smile just keeps spreading across his lips. 

"you live here by yourself?" dongsik questions, voice too light and airy to not have an underlying question in it. he looks back down at the notepad and clears his throat before continuing the report. 

"yes," joowon says, hopefully not too quickly. "my friend was the one that called, but he's away on a trip."

"a good friend," dongsik nods.

"only a friend," joowon announces, tongue not in his control. he's not sure where all this forwardness is coming from, but he does know that dongsik's ears are burning, which has to be a good sign. "not that you asked, but..."

"good to know," his gaze meets joowon's again. "you know, just in case we have to ever come back here." there's a mirth in his eyes that joowon finds himself reading into. maybe this almost dying thing was finally paying off. 

"of course," joowon's lips start to turn up. "you know my door code now, so."

"i'll only use it for emergencies, scout's honor," dongsik holds three fingers up and plasters a too serious look on his face. "but try not to need me, han joowon. my line of work isn't one where i want to see you every day," he laughs, showing off the deep smile lines in full force. joowon notes his perfect teeth and the crow's feet that crinkle around his eyes. they make him feel giddy. 

"i'll try," joowon nods. he stands up to reach into his work vest that's hanging nearby, pulling out his officer card with his name and department on it. "here, in case you ever find yourself in need of help," he smiles softly, inwardly cheering when dongsik takes the card and examines it before tucking it gently into his breast pocket. "though hopefully you won't."

"a man in uniform," dongsik purses his lips approvingly, nodding his head. "what precinct do you work with?"

"i'm out of headquarters," joowon answers. dongsik whistles under his breath. 

"smart and handsome? it's almost unfair," dongsik grins, getting up from the couch and closing his notepad. "is this your direct line?" he pats the pocket on his chest with the card.

"my personal and my work phone. feel free to use either," joowon blushes, sticking his hands in his pockets to hide his fidgeting. "though i prefer you use the personal."

"i think i'll prefer that too," dongsik beams. 

a voice comes through on his radio and dongsik responds, his team is being called elsewhere. 

"i have to go but," dongsik looks unsure for a second before gently grabbing joowon's hand in his own. joowon doesn't even have time to process what's going on until he feels the smooth drag of ink across his skin and looks down to see a phone number there. 

"my personal," dongsik explains, color high on his cheeks. "make sure to use it." he opens the front door again and is almost through before he turns back to joowon, who had been looking between the palm of his hand and the man, mouth ajar. "my day off is tomorrow," he winks, throwing his bag over his shoulder and finally leaving the apartment. 

joowon doesn't even have to think about it before he texts his chief that he's calling in sick. 

[maryhadalittlehobby]

Recap of my experiences at the IWTV Premiere April 30, 2024

I found out about if from one of the most unlikiest sources. A person I thought was an even bigger fandom lurker than myself😅 I wasn't even gonna ask but I said fuck it, maybe they know someone who knows someone. And they did but said people were under ndas. Initially said they couldn't say but then last minute said they believe they knew where it was going to be.

I didn't say anything because 1) I didn't want them or their friend to get in trouble by spreading the info. 2) possibly spread misinfomation if that wasn't the place and 3) nobody asked lol

I thought I would just show up and see what I could see. In the past I have done this at a Walking Dead premiere. At that event it turned out that they had a lobby full of props that anyone could enter and take pics of. They even had walkers roaming around. Then the kicker-I got into that TWD premiere TICKETLESS by pure accident! So why not fuck around and find out again.

I put on a "closet cosplay" of Claudia in the upcoming yellow dress using all stuff I already owned and headed out.

I walked up to Mckittrick hotel, asked if there was a standby or waiting list but the person said they didnt know. There was a lot of important looking people surrounded with guards double checking lists and whatnot so I gave up that angle and loitered around with the other 15 or so fans who found the location too hoping to just see a glimpse of our favs.

Didn't have to wait to long as one by one they started showing up. The first one I noticed was Delainey and she slayed in that black sheer number. She was soft-spoken and a little shy but took her time and signed/took pictures with all the people who were there. Not sure if she knew I was cosplaying Claudia but she did compliment my contacts.

I had all my pics on motion video so if I didnt like the actual pic there was a few frames of vid to pick from as well. The actual video is a bonus! Too bad I can only link 1 video here but a lot of vids are on my IG in the highlight. Same name!

Then Sam came. As soon as he exited the car the wind blew his hair back and I lost my train of thought. He is pretty and his eyes are a lighter shade of blue than they look in pics. Also he is blonder! And so slim! The suit they had him in was a fun nod to vintage suits.

He too complimented my contacts! In the vid he is asking me questions about them but as soon as I take the pic another fan was yelling his name and grabbed his attentionl. Not mad lol I probably would have gotten less coherent the more I talked😅

Jacob showed up soon after-all smiles. What a cutey. He was damn near falling in the garbage they had us lowly non invites next to trying to contort this way and that to sign and take pics. Again-so small! And he too complimented my contacts😁 if the suit would have been properly tailored( the pants looked to long!) It would have been slay

Not gonna lie I kinda blacked out after meeting Sam so my memory with jacob is fuzzy.

Assad and Luke arrived together shortly after but got whisked away pretty quickly so I didn't get a pic with them. Eric was the very first to arrive and despite me being there I missed him too.

But I was sooo happy getting the unholy family little else mattered. I contemplated waiting after but I was BUZZING with adrenaline and starving lol. My fandom plug said she did come after and met EVERYONE and their momma. Cast and crew alike and they were still happy to engage even after their long night❤️

Finally Fang Gangers, please do not repost/ reupload/ or screenshot anything of mine as your content. Linking back / sharing is ok.

🖤🧛🏾‍♀️

[mcu-binge]

Love in Brooklyn pt 5

A couple of hours after finishing up at the bakery, I walked into my apartment, tossing my keys onto the counter and heading straight for the shower. The hot water was exactly what I needed to unwind after the day. My thoughts drifted back to Steve—his easy smile, the way he moved through the bakery like he belonged there, and that hug. Get a grip, Dani, I told myself. You barely know the guy.

As I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel, my phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at the screen, seeing a text from my best friend, Sofia.

Sofia: Got invited to this PR party for an art gallery in Manhattan tonight. Wanna come with me? Free drinks, fancy people, and you could use a night out. Don’t make me go alone!

I smiled at the text, rolling my eyes. Sofia was always dragging me to events like this, but after a day in the bakery—and the unexpected encounter with Steve—I figured maybe a night out wasn’t such a bad idea.

Me: Alright, I’m in. What time are we going?

Sofia: *I’ll pick you up in an hour. Wear something hot. ;)

I laughed, setting my phone down. I quickly dressed, slipping into a sleek black dress that hugged my curves in all the right places, and paired it with my favorite heels. I kept my makeup simple but elegant, adding a bold red lip for a pop of color. I loosely curled my hair quickly seeing as I was running out of time. After a final check in the mirror, I grabbed my clutch and headed out to meet Sofia.

The art gallery was stunning, all modern lines and high ceilings, with abstract pieces displayed on the walls. It was the kind of place that made you feel like you should know something about art—even if you didn’t. Sofia and I arrived fashionably late, as usual, and we were immediately handed champagne flutes as we entered the party.

“Not bad, huh?” Sofia said, taking a sip of her drink and scanning the room. “Fancy art, fancy people… but more importantly, free booze.”

I laughed, clinking my glass against hers. “You always know how to find the best parties.”

We wandered through the gallery, admiring the artwork and enjoying the drinks. It was a fun, lighthearted atmosphere, and after a couple of glasses of champagne, I was starting to relax and really enjoy myself. That was, until I spotted someone familiar across the room.

Steve.

Standing across the room, in a corner near one of the larger paintings, was none other than Steve Rogers. He was dressed sharply in a tailored suit, chatting with a few people, but as if sensing my gaze, he turned and locked eyes with me.

Sofia followed my gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the hottie?”

I shook my head, still in disbelief. “You won’t believe this, but that’s Steve. The guy from the gym—and my bakery. The one I was telling you about.”

Her eyes widened, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re kidding me. Wait, did he follow you here?”

I laughed. “No, I don’t think so. At least, I hope not.”

Sofia smirked. “Well, go say hi. I’ll be over by the bar if you need me.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking as I made my way over to him. "Are you stalking me now?" I teased, stopping just short of him.

Steve’s lips curved into a lopsided grin, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “Stalking? No, just enjoying a night out with a friend,” he replied, motioning toward the group he had been talking to.

I glanced over at the group, noticing a few familiar faces from the art world. “A friend, huh?”

He laughed softly. “I swear, it’s purely coincidental. What about you? Didn’t expect to see you here either.”

I shrugged, leaning a little closer to him, enjoying the banter. “A friend dragged me out. I couldn’t say no.”

“Well,” Steve said, his voice dropping just slightly, “I’m glad she did. You look…” He paused, his eyes trailing over my dress before meeting mine again. “Incredible.”

The compliment sent a small thrill through me, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Rogers.”

He chuckled, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer. “So, what do you think of the gallery?”

I took a sip of my drink, glancing around. “It’s beautiful. I don’t usually make it to events like this, but I’m glad I came.”

Steve nodded, his eyes still on me, the energy between us shifting from playful to something warmer. “Me too.”

For a while, we stood there, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. He told me more about his "friend" inside the gallery—someone who was helping curate the event—and I filled him in on the bakery, how my dad would probably still be trying to “test” him if he were around.

“So,” I said, leaning against the wall beside him, “are you going to take up baking full-time, or was that a one-day thing?”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to being a part-time apprentice. I don’t want to steal your job or anything.”

"Thank you," I said with a wink.

“So, Dani, what brings you to a fancy art gallery on a Saturday night?”

“My friend Sofia dragged me out,” I said, nodding toward the bar where Sofia was now chatting with a group of people. “She got an invite, and I figured why not?”

“And here I was thinking you came just to see me,” Steve teased, his eyes twinkling.

I laughed, taking a sip of my champagne. “If I had known you were going to be here, maybe I would have.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Maybe,” I said coyly, enjoying the playful banter between us. There was something so easy about talking to him, like we’d known each other for much longer than just a few days.

Sofia had made herself busy with some PR world friends and I was happy to get to spend more time with Steve and champagne lots of it.

"Are you an art fan," I asked as he stared at an abstract painting.

"I wouldn't go as far as saying fan, but sometimes they have some good stuff." He answered honestly.

"I never understand them," I admit.

"Well apparently...." he drags "its about how it makes you feel." He finishes making me laugh.

"This makes me feeeeeeeel....dizzy." I giggle.

"I think thats the champagne." Steve laughs. I finish my glass and he takes the empty glass handing it over to a waiter who takes it.

As the party began to wind down and people started trickling out of the gallery, Steve glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. Do you want me to walk you home?”

I laughed softly, glancing out the window at the sparkling Manhattan skyline. “I live in Brooklyn. That’s one long walk, even for you.”

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that effortlessly charming way. “Fair enough. Let’s grab a cab then.”

We made our way outside, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth of the gallery. I shivered slightly, and without hesitation, Steve draped his jacket over my shoulders again. The gesture was automatic, like it was second nature to him to take care of people.

“Thanks,” I said softly, pulling the jacket tighter around myself.

“Of course,” he replied, looking down at me with that soft, genuine smile of his.

Steve stepped out to the edge of the street and flagged down a yellow cab. The car pulled up to the curb, and he opened the door for me with a small, teasing bow. “After you, Dani.”

I smirked at his old-fashioned gesture, but I liked it. It felt nice, different from the usual cocky bravado I was used to from other guys. I slid into the back seat of the cab, and he followed, settling in beside me.

The driver glanced back at us. “Where to?”

I gave him the address of my loft in Brooklyn, and we pulled away from the curb, merging into the late-night traffic of Manhattan.

The city lights flickered by as we drove across the bridge, the skyline fading in the rearview mirror. For the first few minutes, we sat in comfortable silence, the hum of the city buzzing faintly outside the cab windows. I glanced at Steve out of the corner of my eye, noticing how relaxed he looked, his gaze out the window as if he was taking it all in.

“So,” Steve finally broke the silence, turning to me, “I have to ask—did you have fun tonight?”

I laughed, the sound escaping before I could stop it. “I’m more of a simple girl, but I actually had a good time. The art was nice, but the company was better.” I glanced at him meaningfully, enjoying the way his expression softened just a little.

“Glad to hear it,” he replied, his tone just as playful. “I was worried I’d scared you off with all this fancy Manhattan stuff.”

“Please,” I waved a hand dismissively. “It takes more than that to scare me.”

Steve chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Good to know. You seem like someone who can handle just about anything.”

The cab passed over the bridge, leaving the city behind, and the familiar streets of Brooklyn came into view. The conversation flowed easily between us, the teasing banter turning into something softer, more genuine. There was something about Steve—something that made me want to open up to him, even though we’d only known each other for a short time.

“So, you really don’t get tired of the whole ‘Captain America’ thing?” I asked, half-joking but genuinely curious. “People must look at you like some kind of superhero everywhere you go.”

Steve gave me a lopsided grin. “It comes with the territory, I guess. But honestly? It’s not as glamorous as people think. Most days, I’m just trying to keep up with everything.”

“Yeah?” I tilted my head, intrigued. “Like what?”

He shrugged, his gaze turning contemplative as he stared out the window. “Just… life. The world’s different now than it was when I first got into all this. And sometimes, it feels like I’m playing catch-up. Trying to figure out where I fit.”

There was a hint of vulnerability in his voice, something I hadn’t expected. I wasn’t used to hearing people talk like that—but it made him feel more real, more human.

“I get that,” I said quietly, resting my head against the back of the seat. “Life changes fast. Sometimes it feels like everything’s shifting, and you’re just trying to keep up with it.”

Steve glanced over at me, his expression softening. “Exactly. And then you meet someone, or find something that makes it all feel… less chaotic. Like it makes sense.”

I wasn’t sure if he was talking about me, but the way his eyes held mine made my heart skip a beat. I swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment.

Before I could respond, the cab pulled up in front of my building, breaking the spell between us. The driver turned around. “That’ll be 60 even.”

Steve immediately reached for his wallet, pulling out a hundred and handing it to the driver before I could protest. “Keep the change.”

“Hey, I could’ve paid for that,” I said, giving him a playful glare as we both climbed out of the cab.

He smirked, shutting the door behind him. “You can get the next one.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled as we walked toward the entrance of my building. The streets were quiet, the soft hum of Brooklyn at night creating a peaceful atmosphere. When we reached the front door of my apartment, I hesitated, turning to face him.

“Thanks for bringing me home,” I said softly, feeling a little awkward now that we were at the end of the night. “I had a good time.”

Steve smiled, his hands sliding into his pockets . “I did too. Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

My heart fluttered at the suggestion. I nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the quiet between us filled with something unspoken. Steve stepped a little closer, his hand brushing against mine as if testing the waters.

“I should probably head back,” he said softly, his voice low.

I nodded, feeling the moment slip away. “Yeah, of course.”

But neither of us moved, and before I knew what I was doing, I leaned up, brushing a soft kiss against his cheek. Steve blinked in surprise, a slow smile spreading across his face as I pulled back.

“Goodnight, Rogers,” I said, stepping back toward the door.

“Goodnight, Dani,” he replied, his voice warm.

With one last smile, I turned and headed inside, my heart racing as I closed the door behind me. I leaned against it for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I couldn’t deny the chemistry between us, the way he made me feel… I barely knew him. Yet, somehow, that didn’t seem to matter.

As I headed up to my loft, I couldn’t help but wonder where this unexpected connection with Steve might lead.

[amorest-viesse]

[Ringing the Bell of Blessings With You] - Chloe SSR Card Story Translation

Ft. Arthur and Akira (Western wizards mentioned)

Bonds Tied With a Ribbon - Chapter 1

[Estate Courtyard]

Akira: I’m glad the wedding ceremony was a success.

Arthur: I agree. Things were a bit rough in the middle, but everything came together in the end. The ceremony itself was absolutely gorgeous.

Chloe: The decorations up at the venue and all around town were beautiful as well… Not to mention the bride and groom’s attire! Their outfits really brought out their best features!

Chloe: Gosh, I hope I can make an outfit like that someday, one as bright and beautiful as the person wearing it.

Arthur: I’m certain you will. Even the outfits we have on now are perfect.

Arthur: You know Chloe, if I were to ever marry, and I’m allowed to choose my own tailor, could I leave my wedding suit to you?

Chloe: Huh!? For real!? Like, for real for real!?

Akira: That sounds like a wonderful idea! Wearing something made by a friend would make your special day even more special.

Chloe: It’d be such an honor…! I wonder how it should look?

Chloe: Arthur works well with a traditional style, but maybe I should go for something a little more personal and out-of-the-box!

Chloe: Ohh, I just can’t decide, but if there’s one thing it needs, it’s gotta be ribbons!

Akira: That sounds like a good start! I’m sure it’ll look lovely.

Arthur: There are ribbons on these outfits too. Do they mean anything?

Chloe: Yep! I learned about this while traveling through the Western Country…

Chloe: In one of the towns we stopped in, ribbons were used in a ceremony meant to strengthen bonds as a symbol of tying people together.

Chloe: I thought that’d be perfect for you since you’re always working hard to improve the relationship between humans and wizards!

Arthur: Chloe…

Arthur: Thank you so much…! I truly appreciate how much thought you put into this.

Akira: Ribbons as a symbol of strong bonds… What a lovely idea.

Chloe: Right? Actually, they became a trend among Western wizards for a while…

Chloe: Even now there’s a bar game related to it!

Akira: Ohh, is that what the Western wizards were doing with all those ribbons the other day?

Chloe: Yep!

Chloe: The rules are everyone takes turns professing their love, and at the end of the round, we vote for whomever had the best lines by tying a ribbon around their pinky finger.

Chloe: The person with the most ribbons at the end wins the game.

Akira: Well that explains why you all had so many! Who ended up winning?

Chloe: About that… We got a little carried away with tying the ribbons, and lost count of the actual score.

Arthur: Ah, so that’s why Murr was somersaulting through the dining hall the other day yelling something about a ribbon from Shylock.

Arthur: What an interesting game. It seems like a good way to improve your relationships with others too.

Chloe: Right? That’s why it became so popular in the first place.

Chloe: …Hey since today is all about celebrating bonds, why don’t we play it too?

Akira: I’d love to!

Arthur: Count me in as well. I would never pass up an opportunity to get to know someone better.

Chloe: Yippee! I’ll get everything setup then!

Opening his magical sewing kit, Chloe took out a handful of ribbons from inside.

Arthur: These work perfectly for the game.

Akira: We’re supposed to profess our feelings, right? I’m getting nervous, but I’ll do my best…!

Chloe: I can’t wait to hear what you’ll say! Alright, since it looks like we’re all ready, I’ll go first!

Bonds Tied With a Ribbon - Chapter 2

Chloe: I’ll go first!

Chloe: “I can’t help but feel envious whenever you wear clothes made by someone else.”

Chloe: “Forgive me, but could you only wear my designs from now on?”

Chloe: Ehehe, how’d I do?

Arthur: I could really feel the passion in your words. If it were me, I’d probably end up saying yes.

Akira: You were a lot bolder than usual too. It really got my heart racing.

Chloe: To let you in on a secret, Rustica and Shylock helped me with that one.

Chloe: Although they told me that using someone’s name and addressing them directly would make it even more effective. 

Arthur: It’ll be hard for me to beat the three of you combined, but I’ll definitely give it a try. Ahem…

Arthur: “Didn’t you know, darling? You’re mine, all mine. I’m holding you tight and never letting go.”

Akira: Whoa…! Hearing you act all possessive is making me flustered!

Arthur: I wanted to go for a “gap moe” approach like the former Sage taught me and decided to use one of Bradley’s pick-up lines.

Chloe: Way to go, Arthur! You really played into your strengths there!

Chloe: I bet you could give Rustica some real competition in the “I Love You” game!

Akira: The two of you did that so easily… Is there a trick to it?

Chloe: Hmm… Well, what would make you happy to hear? Whatever it is, I’m sure it’d work on us too!

Akira: (What I'd like to hear…?)

Keeping Chloe’s words in mind, I opened my mouth.

Akira: When I first came to this world, I had no idea what was happening, but the two of you reached out to me anyway. Thanks to that, we can have fun just like we're doing now. I love you guys.

Akira: …Was that alright?

I hesitantly watched the two of them for a reaction. They looked at each other for a second, then burst into laughter as if someone had tickled them, before taking my hands.

Chloe: That was amazing…! I love you too, Master Sage!

Arthur: Just as Chloe said, I owe you my thanks for always thinking of us.

Akira: Thank goodness… I was so nervous, but I’m glad my message got through to you.

Overcome with relief, I began to laugh as well, and now it was Arthur and Chloe’s turn to look sheepish.

Chloe: That’s everyone then. Who will be the winner of this round...

Arthur: I’ve already decided.

Chloe: Me too!

Akira: That was quick! Who managed to steal your hearts?

Chloe: Well… <<Suisipicibo Voitingoc>>

Arthur: <<Pernoctant Nixzo>>

The two of them cast their spells and…

In the next moment, a red and a blue ribbon tied themselves around my pinky finger.

Chloe: Our winner is you, Master Sage!

Akira: M- Me!? But why…?

Arthur: It didn’t matter who we were talking to. Our lines had a fair chance of making anyone swoon.

Akira: Oh, I get it now… The difference is that I addressed the two of you specifically.

Chloe: Which made me really happy!

Chloe: Hey, can we play again? I wanna say something to you guys too!

Arthur: I agree. There are several things I’d like to say.

Akira: Ahaha, I wish I could be as forward as you two, but I’ll keep doing my best! 

Bonds Tied With a Ribbon - Chapter 3

Chloe: I had so much fun playing that game!

Akira: We probably could’ve kept going forever too if Figaro hadn’t called Arthur over. It’s funny how we all tied in the end.

Chloe and I walked through the gardens, laughing as we talked about the game. 

Akira: You two could’ve given me a heart attack with how intense your lines were.

Chloe: Ehehe, I felt the same way. It was giving me goosebumps.

Akira: I absolutely understand what people mean now when they say the game strengthens your relationships.

Akira: Didn’t you say it originated from a ceremony in the West…?

Akira: Does that one involve exchanging passionate confessions too?

Chloe: Umm, that one’s a little different. It goes something more like this…

Akira: …!

Chloe suddenly kneeled before me, the long hem of his jacket fluttering in the wind before it hit the ground.

As I froze in shock, he reached out with a white-gloved hand and grasped mine, his violet gaze meeting my eyes.

Chloe: Master Sage. Thank you for always keeping me in your thoughts.

Chloe: Because of this precious bond you’ve forged between us, like tying a ribbon around our hearts, all of us can spend each day in happiness with one another.

Akira: Chloe…

Chloe: I want to stay with you forever.

Chloe: To ensure our bond never falls apart… I’ll gift this red ribbon to you.

Akira: Ah…

Taking a glossy red ribbon, Chloe tied it around my pinky finger.

His eyes glimmered with happiness as he pulled the bow taut and leaned his forehead in.

Chloe: …Ehehe, that was a little embarrassing, but I wanted to show you what the real ceremony was like.

Akira: I- I see…! That certainly got my heart racing…

Chloe: Right?

Chloe: Rustica was the one who taught me about this…

Chloe: I was on the receiving end that time, and it was super nerve wracking. I was sure my chest would explode.

Akira: I really appreciated hearing your thoughts though…

Akira: I’d love to tie a bond with someone too... Although I’m sure I’ll be just as nervous on the giving end.

Chloe: Do you have someone you’d like to gift a ribbon to?

Akira: Of course! I’d love to give one to every single one of you!

Chloe: All of us!? I’d love that!

Chloe: I’m always happy to receive something from you! And when that time comes…

Chloe gently held up the ribbon tied around my pinky and blushed.

Chloe: Could you start with me? I want your very first ribbon, Akira.

 Akira: …! Of course! I’d be happy to!

Chloe: Ehehe, thank you so much! I was so worried you would say no, but I’m glad I asked!

With his cheeks still a rosy red, Chloe smiled.

Seeing the expression on his face, I knew that this was a bond I wanted to last forever.

Beware of Western Games - Card Episode

Akira: Afternoon, Chloe. I found this ribbon on the floor of the common room. Is it yours?

Chloe: Oh wow, thanks for finding it! I’ve been looking everywhere for it since I noticed it was missing earlier.

Akira: It’s no problem at all. This brings back memories of that game we played the other day.

Chloe: Right? All of us were pretty fired up about winning, but that’s what made it fun.

Akira: Are there any other bar games that Western wizards play?

Chloe: Several actually! The one I remember most is “Tryst of Numbers”. We played it at Bar Bennett with some of the other guests.

Akira: What’s that?

Chloe: Typically the game is played with a deck of enchanted cards that are laid out on a table facedown, and you have to match the pairs…

Akira: (My world has similar memory games doesn’t it…?)

Chloe: If you guess wrong, the numbers will levitate off the card and attack you.

Akira: Wait… Attack you!?

Chloe: Oh, don’t worry! It’s only a prick, so it doesn’t hurt.

Akira: (That doesn’t reassure me in the slightest…)

Chloe: What you really need to watch out for is the penalty if you lose…

Akira: W- What does that entail…?

Chloe: Well…

Chloe: No, it’s too much, I can’t say! I’m sorry!

Chloe: You won’t have to worry about us…

Chloe: But if any other Western wizard invites you to play, tell me right away! I’ll take your place!

Akira: O- Okay! I’ll keep that in mind.

Akira: (What in the world could they be doing…)

Home Screen Voice Line

“Rutile told me that in the Southern Country, people often swear their love beneath the open sky…! Since most weddings in the West are held indoors, I wonder what an outdoor one would be like. I’d love to know more about wedding traditions from other countries, especially since we have representatives from all over at the manor. Someday, I'd want my wedding to be the best of the best for my beloved.”

[logosbot-tm-fics]

Grumbo enjoyers! I've posted a new fic! It's a steampunk boatem au that currently lacks Impulse as he hasn't joined the team yet. He will show up later on.

Also, if you like Scar, he has a rather important role in this one, and will have that in the future

You can either read it here or on Ao3

Ready to Leap

With a grunt, Mumbo took his seat in the grand circle of the  theater, and looked over at Iskall. He hadn't been to the theater in a good while, it was just too expensive for him nowadays, and unlike what people seemed to believe, being an inventor in their current climate wasn't particularly profitable. 

Not when the big companies were selling similar products at a cheaper price, pumping out patents at twice the rate that he could on his own. Sure, they weren't as good or as developed, but that was never the focus of corporations these days – profit was the only thing on their mind.

Not to mention they were notoriously willing to steal ideas, or hire inventors and then leave them in the dust the moment that the work was complete. Something that independent inventors didn't do. They all had too much pride in their own work, Mumbo included. 

"So, who's this friend you'd like to introduce me to?" Mumbo asked curiously, folding his hands in his lap. 

Iskall smiled back at him. The two of them had been collaborators for a good while now, and Iskall had recently mentioned that there was a business opportunity they'd been offered that might be more fitting for Mumbo. They'd said they had to turn it down because their wedding date was coming up. Apparently, it involved a lot of travel and they preferred to be able to return home to Stress at the end of the day. Mumbo could understand that, though he had no such reservations. Maybe that’s why Iskall thought to recommend him. 

"You'll see,” they said ominously. “But first, let us enjoy this performance. It's free after all." 

Mumbo nodded in response. "Alright." 

Then, the lights in the audience dipped and the music began to play, something jazzy and upbeat, easily fitting for a cabaret, or a burlesque performance. Wait, was that what they were here to see? 

"Wait, Iskall, is this a bru-" Mumbo was about to ask, but was interrupted by Iskall hushing him. 

"Shh, it's starting!" They hissed, and Mumbo had no choice but to turn his attention to the stage as the curtains opened. 

From behind red, velvet drapery  stepped a person dressed in a gorgeous pink gown, covered in glittering rhinestones. Their blonde hair looked like gold, shimmering in the stage lights. 

Immediately, Mumbo knew who it was. It was someone he hadn't expected to ever see again, much less in this scenario. Actually, seeing him in this scenario might be the last place Mumbo would have ever guessed.

"Grian?" He whispered, surprised to see his long lost friend.  

Wide-eyed and disbelieving, he turned to look at Iskall next to him, and despite the darkness, Mumbo was certain that he could see them grinning.

~

"What did you think?" Iskall asked as the pair of them settled in at the bar during the interval, handing Mumbo a glass of champagne that was already paid for by whoever had invited them. 

Mumbo took the glass, sipping the sparkling drink. "Well, considering I've never seen a burlesque performance before-" He began, as he felt his cheeks heat up. "I'd say this one is jolly good so far.." 

Iskall smiled knowingly back at him. "You’re sure it’s just a good performance? You seem to be enjoying yourself quite a lot."

"I mean- wait, what's that supposed to mean?" Mumbo asked, feeling flustered. 

"Oh, nothing! I just think you might be a tad bit partial." They responded with a shrug. 

"Iskall, that was ages ago. I genuinely-"

"Ah, good people, there you are! I've been looking for you everywhere! You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to find someone in this crowd," a tall man said, effectively interrupting their conversation.  

He wore a top hat and a well tailored suit, one which put Mumbo's well-worn suit to shame. It was the nicer one out of the two he owned - the other one was patched up, and had a few stains from grease and oil. He wore it on the daily, determined to look as put together as he could, but… well, it’s not like he could afford much more.

"Scar!" Iskall said, immediately heading over to him, greeting him with a half hug.

Scar. Now that was a name Mumbo had heard before. "Scar? Scar Goodtimes? This is the friend you wanted to introduce me to? The one with the business opportunity?" Mumbo asked, feeling tricked. 

Scar Goodtimes was a rather well known conman, known for tricking people, and making them loose a lot of money. 

"The one and only!" Scar replied, tipping his hat in Mumbo’s direction. "It seems that my reputation precedes me!" He smiled, something wide and confident, the type that could fool you into believing almost anything. 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Mumbo whispered into Iskall's ear as discreetly as he could, the room too loud for Scar to hear. 

"I'm sure that you'll like the offer," Iskall replied, whispering as well. It was said with such conviction that Mumbo almost wanted to believe them.

Almost.

Scar just leaned on his cane as he watched the two of them talk amongst themselves, impressively unphased by the whole display. 

"Well,” he nodded matter-of-factly, “Why don’t you tell me when you're done whispering secrets, and I'll show you to the dressing room so that we can discuss this properly!"

"Ah- don't worry, we're done. Lead the way!" Iskall cheered. 

Mumbo was about to protest, but as the other two began to walk away, he had no choice but to follow. 

This almost certainly would end up as a catastrophe. 

~

"What did you think of the show?" Scar asked when they were in the dressing room. 

The walls were red, with a big vanity mirror on one side, outlined in lights bright enough to illuminate the whole room. On racks around the room, costumes were hanging, each of them extraordinary and some bedazzled, and one of the walls was covered in a variety of masks, some simple and others intricately painted. 

"It was wonderful," Iskall replied politely, and Mumbo nodded in agreement. He didn't have much more to add. 

"That warms my heart, Grian sure is an extraordinary performer," Scar replied, and headed over to a table in the corner of the room. "Whiskey, anyone?" He asked, beginning to pour some for himself in a lowball glass. 

"Yes, please," Iskall said. 

"Uh, yes. Thank you," Mumbo agreed as well. 

"Ice?" Scar gestured towards the ice bucket with the glass. "Feel free to take a seat as well, no need to stand up."

"Oh! Thank you. Yeah, I'd like some," Iskall replied, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in the room that had a small table in front. 

Mumbo sat down in another one, sinking down into the soft cushion. "I'd prefer it neat, actually," He said with a nervous chuckle. 

Scar didn’t seem to notice, laughing good-heartedly at Mumbo’s request. "Oh, so do I! I can already tell that we're going to become very good friends indeed." He placed the glasses in front of them with a flourish, before taking his own and sitting down as well. "Now, Mumbo, I have a proposal-" 

He didn't get to finish his sentence as Grian suddenly burst into the dressing room, his costume in his arms, dressed in a floor length robe. 

"God, my legs are killing me!" He exclaimed, dropping the costume on the vanity table. He bent down and began to undo his heels. "I suppose the price I pay, I chose to do this, but God! High heels sure are a pain to wear! I swear, next time I'm just gonna wear work boots instead. It'll ruin the aesthetic, but I'm so tired of heels!" He complained, throwing his shoes on top of the costume before spinning around to face the rest of the room. "Anyway, hi Scar!" 

He hadn't seemed to fully notice the guests yet, or he simply didn't care. He marched over to Scar and placed a kiss on his cheek, leaving a lipstick mark behind. 

Mumbo tried his best to ignore the sting of jealousy that shot through him at that. 

"Hello, my star," Scar replied, smiling at Grian. "We've got guests." He gestured to the other two with a smirk. 

Grian looked almost bashful as he turned away from Scar, acknowledging his guests for the first time since entering the room. "Oh, hi! I'm-" 

He stopped when he saw Mumbo, eyes widening in recognition. Then, his gaze flickered to Iskall, and Mumbo watched on as Grian visibly paled. It wasn't a surprise that he took longer to recognise Iskall than Mumbo -- after all, Mumbo practically looked the same, but Iskall had gained scars and a bionic eye in the time that had passed -- but he couldn't deny wishing that Grian's eyes had lingered on him for longer.

"Hi," Mumbo greeted awkwardly, whiskey glass in his hand. 

The air in the room was slightly stuffy and uncomfortable, and Mumbo felt his grip tightening under the strange atmosphere. It was quiet, awkward, until Iskall finally pointed at Scar and Grian, bursting out with, "Forgive me for being impolite, but are you two-?" 

They let the others fill the silence, and Mumbo was suddenly slightly tempted to chuck his drink in their face. 

Thankfully, Scar only laughed. "Together?" He shook his head. 

"Goodness, no," Grian laughed as well. "No, no. Not at all." He headed over to the chair in front of the vanity mirror. "We're just friends, nothing more. Besides, he's basically my boss, it would make it a bit awkward if we were together." He began to remove the makeup he was wearing as he spoke, wiping at his eyes with professional efficiency. 

Mumbo couldn't deny the wave of relief he felt when they denied being in a relationship. 

"Oh, but I'm a good boss, aren't I?" Scar asked, slightly teasingly as he smiled at Grian. 

Grian shrugged. "The best. Never had a better boss." He replied sarcastically, removing his earrings and necklace, placing them in an ornate box. "Though, I must say, you earn most of those points by paying well." 

Scar shook his head, smiling fondly. "Anyway, back to business," he returned his attention to Iskall and Mumbo. "Now, we unfortunately don't have much time to talk, so here's the deal." He said, his tone shifting into something business-like and serious. 

It was a stark contrast to his previous easygoing, silly and happy demeanour, and Mumbo found himself caught a little off-guard. It was frightening almost, how quickly he could change personality. 

Scar continued, "I need someone who's good with technology, gadgets and such. From what I know, you two are some of the best in this city, and I'd love to employ one of you." 

Grian let out a mock offended gasp. "You need someone better than me? What a shocker," He was now standing up, robe dropped on the floor as he began to dress himself. 

Even if Mumbo tried, he was only listening half heartedly to what Scar said, far too much attention stuck on Grian dressing. Though, it wasn't for the reason one might believe. 

No, he was stuck staring at two scars on Grian's back, right where his wings were supposed to be. What had happened to them? What had happened to him? Why hadn't Mumbo heard anything from him until now? 

No one else seemed put off by those raised pink lines, continuing on like Mumbo’s world wasn’t spinning on its axis.

"Grian, I love you, but you're God awful at anything that isn't explosives, and even those are questionable at best," Scar joked, rolling his eyes. 

Grian crossed his arms as he turned around. "How dare you? They're top tier, thank you very much. You could never." He saw Mumbo staring, and winked at him.

Mumbo quickly averted his eyes, feeling a blush spread over his face. He returned his attention to Scar.

Scar let out a chuckle, sliding back into his showman persona with ease. "You're right, I couldn't most certainly couldn’t. Which is why I need to employ one of our lovely guests!" 

It was fascinating to see the shift in personality. It was like flipping a light switch, the difference between them was day and night. Mumbo couldn't help but to find himself slightly entranced by the man, he wanted to know what made Scar tick. 

"If I say yes – I’m not saying that I will, but if I do – what will that mean for me?" He asked, sipping some of his whiskey. It was very high quality, the taste full-bodied and smooth, with the deep and smokey tone Mumbo enjoyed. It couldn't have been cheap. 

"Well, you'd be employed within my company full time, and paid quite handsomely for all of your hard work. You'd have a permanent place to stay, and complete access to any and all materials that you could need for your projects. I'm more than willing to invest in you, I know that you’re experts in your field.” Scar scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, “Plus, truth be told, I'm a bit desperate for someone who can get the job done!" 

The list of benefits was impressive, but – well, Mumbo had worked for himself for so long. The idea of working under a parent company, one of the very things he’s hated in the industry for so long, was certainly an uneasy thought.

Mumbo took a moment to mull  it over, leaning back in his armchair as he ran through Scar’s promises in his mind. "What's the catch?" 

Scar sighed. "I figured you'd ask that, you’re a smart man, after all." He took a long sip of his own whiskey, before admitting, "You see, Mumbo, what we're doing isn't exactly legal."

Grian laughed, whether at the words or Mumbo’s shocked face, the man wasn’t sure. 

"Ha! Not exactly legal is an understatement, it's straight up illegal,” Grian smirked. “Speaking of which, we have to hurry up. Time’s running out." He worked on buttoning his shirt quickly, nudging Scar with his elbow. "Scar, come on, get changed." 

"Alright, alright. Calm down, mister!" Scar stood up and began to change clothes as well, though he just replaced his jacket with a burgundy one instead of a black one, and switched his waistcoat for an identical green piece. 

"I'm so sorry to cut this short, but we're in a bit of a rush," Scar explained, as he took off his hat. "You wouldn't mind giving me that hat box?" He pointed at a hatbox on the shelf beside Iskall. 

"Sure." Iskall replied with a shrug, doing as they were asked and passing the box over. "Here."

"Ah, thank you." He took out a burgundy hat that perfectly matched his waistcoat and his jacket, bringing the outfit together into another gorgeous combination that – quite frankly – Mumbo found himself jealous of. He was so caught up in wishing that he too could own such a fine suit, that he jumped as Scar addressed him. 

"So, what do you say, Mr. Jumbo?" 

Mumbo was suddenly made aware that he never introduced himself.He wondered if perhaps Iskall had told Scar his name? Or maybe Scar had done his own research to make sure he knew who he would be offering a job?

"I-"

Then, the door flung open, and a woman was stood in the doorway. 

"Scar! Grian! We have to go!” Grian's younger sister, Pearl, yelled her wings wide open behind her. “The engine is running, the cops have shown up, and the guests have figured out that this event wasn't free." 

"Dang it!" Grian exclaimed, speeding up his movements. 

"Oh whoops!" Scar began to move quickly too, stuffing seemingly random things into a bag placed on the floor. "We'll be right outside in a second, just stay in the corridor and keep watch, okay?"

"Got it!" Pearl replied and disappeared. 

Mumbo hadn't seen her in ages either, as she had vanished at the same time Grian had. What had happened to the two of them? Why did she still have her wings intact, whilst Grian didn't? 

"Grian, pack your stuff, we have to go." Scar yelled, picking up the bottle of whiskey from the table. 

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Grian shouted back, frantically putting his things away. 

"Wait, what did she mean not free?" Mumbo asked, only then registering what Pearl had said. "Did you know about this?" He asked Iskall. 

Iskall nodded. "I did, but it actually was free for us. Don’t worry about it, Mumbo." 

"They're right." Scar said as he tossed a shoe over his shoulder, digging through a pile of clothes. "It was free for you, but no one else."

Mumbo turned back to Scar with a questioning look. 

"You see-" Scar stood up straight, staring at Mumbo as he spoke. "This whole thing was a set up." 

"What?" Mumbo asked. 

Scar shrugged, instantly snapping out of his serious attention to the discussion, continuing to dart around the room, somehow calm despite the pace he was moving at. "Basically, we invited the socialites-"

"-said that the event was free-" Grian continued. 

"-got them all to show up-" Scar said. 

"-and whilst the performance was happening-" Grian snapped his briefcase closed.

"-Pearl and some people we hired, robbed their vaults at the bank." Scar finished, finally closing his bag as well and hauling it over his shoulder with a grunt.

"I'm leaving, see you on the zeppelin, Scar." Grian said, who was now standing in the doorway, fully dressed with his briefcase in hand. 

"Good, I'll be right behind you." Scar replied, smiling at him. 

"I'm sorry we didn't get to speak more, Mumbo. I've missed you." Grian said to Mumbo.

Mumbo looked at him, wanting to say something. "Grian, I-" 

But it was too late, Grian had already turned tail and sprinted away, the doorway now empty.

"Well, I'm really am sorry we had to end the meeting like this, for what it’s worth. But time is ticking and if I don't leave, I'll end up in jail. Which I'd rather avoid, considering that they haven't caught me yet." Scar said, grabbing his cane and placing it beneath his arm. "Pleasure doing business with you, shame we didn't get the time to come to an agreement." 

Mumbo felt his heart pounding in his chest as Scar spun on his heel, making his way towards the door just as quickly as Grian had. It had been a good offer, he needed the money, his business was bound to fail, and he could really use access to more materials. That, and he had missed Grian a lot, he- 

He stood up, not giving his decision any more thought. 

"Wait!" Mumbo yelled to Scar, effectively stopping him dead in his tracks. 

Scar turned around, something expectant on his features. "Yes?" He replied with a charming smile. 

"I'll take the offer." Mumbo replied. He knew that it was risky, but- it just didn’t feel right to let him leave like this. He needed to see Grian again, to talk to him properly, just like old times.

"Amazing!" Scar exclaimed cheerfully. "Better get a wiggle on then, we have to dash! Just go up the stairs to the roof, we'll try to wait for you. Say goodbye to Iskall, but don't take too long." He stepped out of the room. "Pearl, let's go!" He yelled down the corridor, before running off as well, Pearl following closely behind. 

Mumbo breathed in, his hands shaking where they hung at his sides, and turned to face Iskall. "I- I guess this is goodbye then." 

Iskall stood up as well. "Seems like it," they said, pulling Mumbo into a tight hug. "Stay safe."

Mumbo laughed, hugging back. "I will." He promised. 

They only stayed like that for a moment before Iskall pulled away, giving him a smile. Something that looked oddly proud. 

"I'll see you some other time." They said. "Now, run." 

And Mumbo didn't need to be told twice. 

~

It was surprisingly easy to find his way from the dressing room to the stairwell, and soon he was standing on the theater’s roof, a zeppelin anchored in front of him with Scar standing next to it. 

"There you are!" He exclaimed. "I almost thought you changed your mind!" 

"Not quite yet, mate," Mumbo replied, a smile on his lips. 

Scar tossed his head back in an exaggerated guffaw, "Ah, that's amazing! Climb on board, I'll be right behind you, I just want to make sure that you get on board without falling off."

Mumbo nodded, feeling slightly anxious about climbing the ladder that was shaking in the wind.

His palms were sweaty as he approached, the wind truly beginning to buffet around him as he got closer to the open air. He looked down, and- couldn't move. It was a big drop down to the street below them, at least three stories off the ground, and he'd really rather not fall off. 

"Well?" Scar asked, holding onto the ladder.

He allowed himself a second, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in, before Mumbo steeled himself and reached out a hand. Climbing the ladder, being aboard the zeppelin, those were things he’d have to get used to. Those were worth it, if it meant he got to see Grian again. 

Mumbo gripped the ladder and began to climb, keeping his sight on the even handholds above him. The climb was shaky, he truly believed he was about to fall off multiple times throughout it, but Mumbo eventually got to the top. He finally swung his legs over the side, feet touching a wooden floor, and barely a second passed before he was sinking down to the floor, shaking with anxiety from the long climb. 

Scar showed up moments after, and he only spared Mumbo a short glance before beginning to haul up the ladder behind them. 

"You came!" Grian exclaimed, running across the floor of the ship, throwing himself at Mumbo. "Oh god, I've missed you so much." He whispered, clinging onto Mumbo, as if he was scared of what might happen if he dared to let go. 

Mumbo hugged him just as tightly in reply, allowing himself to breathe in Grian's scent. It wasn’t as familiar as it used to be - hee smelled like flowers, no doubt from a perfume he'd begun to use at some point - but there was some undeniably recognisable smell that still remained underneath it. "I've missed you too." Mumbo sighed softly, happy to have his friend his arms. 

"Well, lovebirds, I seem to have missed the fact that you knew each other," Scar cooed, standing right next to them. 

Grian looked up at him. "No, you didn't.  I know you, you don't miss stuff like that," he replied. 

"You're right, I didn't, but it would've been funny," he smiled, then turned to look back down at the roof.

Grian stood up, holding out a hand for Mumbo. 

Mumbo took it immediately, feeling an urge to hold onto Grian as much as possible. "Thank you," he said gratefully. 

"Anytime," Grian replied, pulling Mumbo to his feet and not wasting any second before wrapping an arm around his waist. "You used me as bait, didn't you?" He asked Scar, brows furrowing.

Scar shrugged casually. "I might've," he admitted, still looking at the roof. "But that’s not important anymore, because - would you look at that! We were right on time." 

Grian and Mumbo peered over the edge together, looking down upon a group of cops as they began to flood onto the roof. They had managed to escape just in time. If they had been a second later, they would've been arrested.  

"Oh," Mumbo breathed, suddenly feeling a tad faint. 

Scar smiled at him. "Well then," he said, and held out his hand. "Welcome abord HMS Boatem! We hope that you enjoy your stay!"

Mumbo reached out a wobbly hand to shake, as Grian giggled next to him. "T-thank you," Mumbo stammered, as it finally began to set in just what he'd just agreed to. 

There was no going back now. 

He couldn't really say that he minded it, though. Not when the view of the city was that gorgeous, the sun slowly setting. Not when he could feel the wind blowing in his hair, Grian's arm wrapped around his waist. Not when he had finally found Grian again. 

If he was honest with himself, he was actually looking forward to seeing where this would take him, what his future would be like.

It all felt rather exciting.  

"Time to leave!" Scar said. "I'm going to tell Pearl to start driving, feel free to do anything your heart desires in the meantime."

Mumbo nodded in response, watching as he left with Grian at his side all the while. 

The two of them turned back to watch the sunset as it painted the sky in shades of yellow and red, a gorgeous inkstained canvas that felt as though it stretched out forever. 

"It's gorgeous." Mumbo whispered, afraid to break the moment between them. It felt strangely intimate and frail, like the illusion might shatter if he spoke too loudly. 

"Yeah," Grian breathed an equally quiet response. They stood in silence for a little while, Grian leaning against Mumbo, simply allowing themselves to be pushed to and fro by the wind. 

When the ship eventually began to move - after what could have been seconds or hours - Grian removed his arm from Mumbo's waist and entwined their fingers together. His hand was warm, and it fit against Mumbo’s own like a matching puzzle piece.

"Come on, I'll show you to your room," he said, beginning to tug Mumbo away from the edge of the ship.

Mumbo followed, their fingers knitted together all the while.

[beskarthief]

Chapter 15 of the Star Wars fic "Order 65". The rest can be found here.

19 BBY, Coruscant, Senate District

 “I’m sorry I’m late.” Riyo huffed. It was getting colder outside, winter would be upon them soon. Not that you could really tell by anything but the temperature dropping. Coruscant hadn’t had snow in years. Not natural snow, anyway.

 “Don’t worry, we’ve barely started.” Bail assured her as one of his droids took her coat. He led Riyo down the hall and into his sitting room, where she could see the others already gathered. They each nodded to her in turn, though Senator Vane actually rose from his seat and came to greet her.

 “Riyo, it is so good to see you safe and well. We heard about your new… appointment and feared the worst.”

 “They haven’t given me any trouble yet.” she told him, taking a seat. Bail settled on the settee beside her. “Though I doubt they are merely for show.”

 “And it did not occur to you that your presence here could lead them to us?” Senator Rosha asked, leaning forward, eyes bright and concerned.

 “I took precautions.” Riyo assured her. “That is why I was late. But even if they had been able to follow me, what is a small gathering among friends?”

 “Friends who have all spoken against the new flurry of bills in the Senate.” Vane said. “Do not think that goes unnoticed.”

 “Senator Chuchi would not do anything she thought would put us or our cause in any danger.” Bail interjected, and the others fell silent.

 Riyo gave him a small smile of thanks, which he returned as he continued.

 “Now, as you are all aware, the Senate is clearly moving towards a complete rejection of the Clone Army. As much as I hate to admit it, there is not much else we can do for them. I believe it is time we begin speaking about other things, which we may be able to better apply our sway to…”

 Bail continued, but Riyo wasn’t listening. She had come here expecting them to formulate a plan, not pivot entirely. It didn’t matter if the Clones were the hardest to defend, that was precisely why they needed their help. Why they needed her help.

 She didn’t remember rising to her feet, but found herself there with the three of them staring at her.

 “Riyo?” Vane asked quietly, and she didn’t like the sound of her name in his mouth. Him with his gelled back hair and tailored suits, getting more expensive by the day as money rolled in from Bracca’s junkyards. Profiting off of the very thing that was forcing more and more clones to the streets, with nowhere to go and no money to their names. Their numbers.

 “We are Senators.” she said, not entirely sure where she was going with this but not willing to say nothing. “We speak for the people. I know it is easy to only listen to the ones who have voices, to only address their concerns. To only listen to the ones who speak loudest and do not let themselves be ignored. But anyone can listen to those voices. No, what makes a good Senator is not how well they can reiterate what everyone has already heard, it is how close they can bend their ear to the ground. A good Senator is someone who searches out the people without a voice, and uses their own to give them one. So I will not sit idly by while we pretend that the clones do not need our voices, or that our time would be better spent elsewhere. Because their silence is precisely why they need us. Why they are the best use of our time and efforts and resources. If we do not offer them our voices, then no one will. And after they offered us our lives, I think it is the least we can do to try.”

 The others were silent as she finished, so she returned to her seat, smoothing the skirt of her gown around her. She steepled her fingers in her lap and waited for them to speak.

 “Senator Chuchi, as right as you are, as true as what you say is…” Senator Rosha said finally, “What would you have us do? We have spoken for the Clones, you more than any of us. We have tried. But our voices fall on deaf ears. One can only shout so loud before their throat begins to grow tired and their voice gives out. And if no one cares to listen, well…”

 “If they will not listen, then we do it ourselves. If we cannot get them government mandated money and housing, then we raise the funds on our own.”

 “Senator-” Vane began, but Bail cut him off.

 “No, Riyo is correct.” he turned a small, sad smile to her and she knew he was seeing someone else sitting in her place for a moment. “We cannot stop fighting just because it is hard. They did not stop fighting for us.”

 Chuchi nodded to him. “So we must simply fight harder.”

 “But how do you expect us to get this money?” Vane asked, and she saw Rosha’s eyes flit to him as well before they lit up.

 The younger woman stood, pushing her scarlet hair back from her face and giving them all a winning smile, her eyes alight with excitement. “A fundraising gala! We invite all the Senators and anyone else we can think of. No one will decline, not when it would mean they’d be missing out on something their competitors are taking part in. It will be a can't miss event.”

 Riyo beamed at her. “Yes, a wonderful idea. Thank you, Ylivea. I would be happy to help you arrange it.”

 “Perhaps it would be wiser for you to sit this one out, Riyo.” Bail cautioned. “You already have so many eyes on you and-”

 “No.” She shook her head. “I will help to arrange it and offer my services as host. I refuse to let them quiet me. Ducking our heads is the first step to being trod over.”

 Bail nodded, that look flickering across his face again. “I will be happy to help in any way I can.” He glanced around the little gathering of the four of them. “And I believe I speak for all of us when I say that.”

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| No Show ||

Female reader x Matt Murderdock x Elektra

Tags/warnings: threesome, oral sex (female rec), p in v unprotected sex. E 18+

A/n: I've been hoarding this for a long while and finally finished it off. This is what everyone wants, right? 😉

As you down the dregs of your second drink and were considering ordering a third, you finally admit to yourself that you'd been stood up. You checked your phone yet again, the battery draining fast from the amount of times you'd unlocked it and refreshed for notifications just in case. It was even more frustrating that you'd been ghosted as this guy had actually seemed like he was really nice. Well shit, turns out they're all the fucking same.

You raise your head, about to stand up and get the bartender's attention but as you look up a woman was there, right in front of your table, smiling at you. She's very beautiful, with poker straight dark chocolate coloured hair, a deep red dress that skims her curves with a pair of killer heels to match, and dark eyes that draw you in.

"Um, can I help you?" You ask politely.

She smiles again. "If your date hasn't been ambushed by ninjas on his way here, he's not worth it darling." She turns to the bar. "Another round, and whatever the lady wants, bring it to our table."

She has an accent, from somewhere in Europe you guessed. And she smells amazing. You watch her tip the bartender generously before she turns back to you.

"Come join us. I know it's no fun drinking alone. My name is Elektra, and he," she gestured to the low table in the far corner of the restaurant. "is Matthew."

You look over to where your eyes had been subconsciously flitting most of the night. You supposed it couldn't be helped, they were an attractive couple, and the woman, Elektra, had briefly caught your eye when she saw you looking over earlier. The man you already knew was Matt Murdock, the Kingpin, one of the most powerful men in the city. He was famous, handsome, and extremely dangerous. And you were let-down, bored and had nothing to lose.

Despite his blindness, he throws you a grin as Elektra walks you over to their table, you offer your hand and are both taken aback and charmed as he brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it with a softness you didn't expect.

"Who's this you've brought me 'lektra? A new friend?"

You could feel the power almost rolling off him at this close distance, he was sharply dressed in an expensive tailored suit that probably cost your salary, and it perfectly matched the colour of Elektra's dress. His tie was loosened slightly around his neck with the top button of his dark plum silk shirt undone, his eyes hidden behind a pair of deep red oval glasses and red hair slightly ruffled as if someone had just run their fingers through it. It was in no way an exaggeration to say he had devilish good looks.

You introduced yourself to both of them and Elektra beckoned you to sit next to her.

"She had a very undeserving date." She explained, bringing colour to your cheeks as you shyly sipped on your cocktail. "I thought we would could show her a good time and perhaps make it up to her."

"Oh my, of course," Matthew purrs, "men are such assholes, aren't they?"

Elektra cackles and you soon join her, agreeing and clinking glasses and falling into easy conversation with these two utterly entrancing people who, currently unbeknownst to you, were going to show you the best night of your life.

A couple of hours had passed, along with a few more drinks. Elektra fed you canapés and you were laughing more and more as it seemed to bring the most gorgeous smile to Matthew's lips, and somehow you found yourself eager to please him. When you turn to look over the room you realised some of the patrons were looking right back.

"Oh, people are looking…" you whispered, trying to sink down and hide in your drink.

Matt chuckles. "Yes, staring at us. Jealousy is such a terrible thing. Do you perhaps want to go somewhere a little more private, sweetheart?"

You looked between them, unsure, your heart suddenly racing at the potential meaning in the question, as well as the added endearment.

"I-I…" your liquid courage had faded slightly but the soft warm touch of Elektra's hand over yours relaxed you more than you'd have thought as Matt continued.

"No pressure at all angelface, but I do have a nice little room upstairs."

Elektra leans in, "He means a penthouse. He owns this entire building."

You can't help but gawp slightly, this was no cheap diner you were sitting in. "You own this place? Do you live here?"

Elektra smiles and Matthew shrugs like it's nothing. "Some of the time. He flicks a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. "Would you like to see? Like I said, no pressure, but we'd both love if you would join us."

You turn the proposition over in your mind - they were two of the most gorgeous people you had spent time with, they even smelled amazing, and they only seemed to want to show you a good time. Your eyes absently follow Elektra's slender fingers to Matt's thigh where she strokes and squeezes. He leans over to her and whispers something that makes her lips split in a grin showing nearly all of her beautiful white teeth.

You finish your drink, licking your lips and picking up your purse, your mind suddenly very firmly made up.

"Show me then."

The ride in the private elevator up to the penthouse is something else. Elektra took your hand in hers, leading you out of the restaurant as Matt was leaving a very generous tip before catching you up. You're all smiles and giggles as Matt presses his key against the lock of the lift and Elektra pulls you inside.

"You're such a pretty one," she was like a big cat that has you pinned and ready to devour as soon as the door slid closed, and you blush again as she strokes the side of your face, so very close to you you can feel her breath. "whoever the jerk was that stood you up should be cursing himself right now…"

Her fingers slide under your chin, her thumb resting lightly on your lower lip leaving you dumbfounded as her sultry gaze meets your eyes.

"May I?" She asks, and you're only half certain of what she's asking permission for but you nod quickly, murmuring a soft yes that melts into a moan as her mouth meets your own. She moves her lips against yours so delicately, like she knows you may never have kissed a woman before. She tastes as good as she looks, her scent and the sensation of her warm wet tongue on yours making your body heat up infinitely, and your hands automatically reach for her then halt, unsure of what's allowed.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Matthew answers from behind you. "Touch her, go on."

Your tentative fingers curl gently around the back of her long elegant neck holding her as she deepens the kiss, while your other hand grazes up the outside of her thigh where the split in her dress reveals her smooth bare skin. Her own hands continue to snake through your hair and curl around your waist, holding you closer so you can feel her warmth, feel the soft press of her breasts against your own.

You gasp, leaning against the wall of the elevator and tilting your head back as Elektra trails more kisses under your jaw and down the side of your neck to your decolletage.

Your eyes close and you feel Matthew beside you. "She's good isn't she, doll?"

You moan in agreement as Elektra fondles your breasts through your black strappy dress, teasing your hardened nipples with her fingers, teeth and tongue. You were already aroused at the bar, and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling yourself getting wetter with every passing second, still wondering if this is all a dream.

Then the elevator pings, signaling that you've reached the top floor and the doors open to reveal a tastefully extravagant penthouse apartment before you.

"Oh, here we are!" She says teasingly, grabbing your hand again and Matt's, leading you both to the bedroom. It's the biggest bed you've ever seen and you wouldn't be surprised to learn if it's had many more people than three in it.

Matt's hand sneaks around your waist and you hold your breath as his lips brush your shoulder. "Can I get you anything sweetie?"

Your eyes are drawn to his plump lips as he runs his wicked tongue over to wet them.

"I… no, thank you Mr Murdock."

His grin is dark and delicious. "'Mr Murdock'. Mm, I like that…"

He leaves you temporarily alone with Elektra as he goes to the bar to fix a drink. She guides you to the edge of the bed, her deep brown eyes roving over your form as she raises her hand to your shoulder, pulling the strap to one side, and you shrug off the other, letting your dress to puddle on the floor leaving you in black lacy panties. You reach for her again, your fingers trailing up her arms and leaning in closer as you kiss for a second time. She breaks it off gently to turn around, raising her hair up so you can access the zip of her dress.

"Would you please?"

You oblige of course, taking your time drawing it down, kissing her neck and her shoulders as she did for you, down between her shoulder blades and down her spine to her lower back where you kneel as she pushes the remaining fabric off over her bare hips. She hadn't been wearing any underwear all evening.

She turns again and your face is right in front of her neatly trimmed mound. She looks down at you and smiles, beckoning you to your feet and then guiding you to kneel on the bed, following you and slotting her thighs between your own. You want to kiss her again and she welcomes it, her hands moving yours to her breasts as she encourages you to explore. She's so very firm yet yielding, her entire body is sculpted so athletically but you marvel at her softness, desperate to feel and perhaps taste all of her.

A whimper escapes your throat when you feel her soft touch between your thighs, her fingers stroking lightly over your panties, teasing you through the fabric.

You moan into her mouth, your tongue lapping softly against hers when she slips her hand inside to touch your slick cunt.

"Mmm, so nice and wet darling, good girl." She purrs and you feel your pussy throb and ache at her praise.

"Does she like it?" You hear Matthew ask as Elektra slowly starts rubbing right over your clit then slides two of her fingers down between your soaking folds, gently pushing them up inside you.

"Oh yes, fuck… yes!" You cry out, whining at the sudden loss when she withdraws, licking your juices from them.

"Mm, I'd say so." You can hear her smile.

"It's okay angel, lie down." Matt is at the foot of the bed, now his tie is gone and shirt is undone you can see just how incredibly ripped his body is. Your eyes cast downward to the rather large bulge in his slacks and you can't help how your body automatically clenches around nothing as you fantasize about him fucking you.

"I think she sees something she likes…" Elektra notes and you turn to look at her hungrily.

"I do, oh I do, but I want to… can I taste you first?" You ask her tentatively.

"Oh my darling, of course…" she carefully moves over you, hovering over your face, her gorgeous pussy on display for you. You quickly wrap your arms around her thighs and pull her down onto your mouth, reveling in the sensual sound she makes as your tongue licks a slow, wide stripe right up the middle of her. You discover you love her taste, musky but sweet, and you lap up as much of it as you can, swirling your tongue around and suckling on her swollen clit just the way that you would like, keen to find out if she does too.

You jerk as you feel warm hands on your hips, fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties and pulling them slowly down your legs. The bed dips slightly as you feel him, the kingpin, hitch your legs up and spread them gently apart. You moan deeply into Elektra's pussy as the warm whisper of his breath fans over your own exposed core.

"Forgive me, I just had this overwhelming urge to make you come on my mouth. Can I taste you, beautiful?" Matt asks so sweetly you could never say no, but you feel like he would stop right away if you ever did. You hear him as he takes a deep inhale and groans.

"You smell so delicious, little dove,"

You whimper again, still licking and fucking the beautiful woman above you with your tongue as you feel Matt swipe his thumb through your arousal, spreading it over your sensitive bud before he puts his mouth on you.

Your whole body feels alight. Turned on beyond belief, you encourage Elektra to grind onto your mouth as Matthew's extremely talented tongue works on taking you ever closer to coming apart. When he slides two of his fingers inside you briefly think of a shitty joke about blind men and g-spots before he finds yours with apparently zero effort, making you moan loud and buck your hips uncontrollably. He seems to know exactly what you like as if he's reading your body like Braille, you swear you can feel him smugly grinning against your cunt before he draws away for a second to speak.

"Think you can make her cum when I make you cum?"

"Oh she can Matthew, I know she can." Elektra answers breathlessly for you while you double down, trying your best to keep the rhythm that she likes while Matt fucks you with his fingers just the way you need. You feel your orgasm zeroing in, and you hold her fast to you as you start to shake. He latches onto your clit, flicking the tip and flat of his tongue over and over.

"Yes, just like that sweetheart, that's a good girl…"

And you don't know how but he makes you squirt as you come for the first time, gushing hard over his hand as he pumps his fingers inside you until you can't take any more. Your loud shuddering moans mingle with Elektra's as she throws her head back and you feel her twitching around you as she keeps grinding her wet pussy into your lips and tongue as she reaches her peak too.

You let her ride her pleasure out and she carefully dismounts lying on the bed beside you, turning onto her side to kiss her essence from your mouth as you both pant and gasp from the aftershocks of your orgasms.

"Fuck. I- I've never done any of that before!" You laugh with a warm feeling of relief, your body relaxing like goo into the mattress and they both smile, Matt making you giggle with the soft kisses he's trailing along your inner thighs.

"You are so good for us darling, so, so good." Elektra sighs with pleasure, and you shimmy further back onto the bed, propping yourself up on some pillows as you watch Matt stand and take off his pants and tented silk boxers in one smooth motion. His cock is impressive to say the least, springing up from between his thick thighs to smack against the tempting landscape of well defined abdominal muscles. You can't help but stare as he strokes himself with his hand as if he's putting on a show just for you.

"Tell me you're not glad your date stood you up." Elektra asks, grinning at you wickedly and you're almost surprised you're not drooling.

"So incredibly glad…' you reply, watching as Murdock teases his thumb over the head of his cock.

"Would you like to ride him, pretty girl?" She gestures to Matt as you watch him prowl onto the bed and settle down on his back beside you. "He's very good…" she adds.

You're practically eating him with your eyes. "Please… yes, god, yes please-" the words tumble out of your mouth and you try your best to hold yourself together as he guides you closer, his hands smoothing over your hips as you steady yourself on all fours above him.

Delicate fingertips dance across the skin of your back, your ass and around to your inner thighs making you let out a breath you'd been holding as he cups his hand over your pussy and pulls you down with the other behind your neck to his lips.

He tastes of you at first, but it melts away and lets you become addicted to the deeper, more delicious essence that's just so him. You may be on top but he's entirely in control, his hand slipping around under your jaw to your throat and holding you there as he licks his tongue against yours making you moan with pure want. He teases you, sliding his fingers between your folds through your wetness and leaving you needy as he takes his hand away to spread it over his cock. The action makes you clench and the corner of his mouth pulls up as if he can sense it.

"I think you're ready for me, aren't you sweetheart?"

You let out the breath you were holding, and your affirmation comes out as more of a moan than words.

He smiles, holding himself in hand, teasing you, running the head of his hard cock through your slick needy cunt so painfully slowly you want to beg him to hurry up and just ram you with it. But oh, the anticipation when he's lined up, just before he eases you down onto him creates a sizzling heat that spreads like a wildfire through your body, when you finally sink onto him and he fills you full.

"Mm angel, you feel so. fucking. good!"

His voice deepens to almost-purr, and you close your eyes, let him guide your hips with his hands, let him push a river of nonsensical euphoric words and whimpers from your lips as you begin to ride him.

"This okay for you, kitten?" He inquires with a grin.

You almost splutter out a laugh at the innocence in his question as he's fucking you into oblivion, but you're too lost in the sensation, too cock dumb to form any actual words so you just moan and nod hoping he can feel it.

Elektra's arms embrace you from behind, guiding you to sit up on your knees. Her hands cup your breasts and your head falls back against her shoulder as she teases and pinches your peaked nipples, connecting a fiery jolt of pleasure right to your core. Her body is molded perfectly to yours, moving with you as you rise and fall, her hand snaking down to your hip, her fingers interlocking with Matt's on your heated skin while the other slides slowly down your stomach and between your legs. She touches you again, drawing firm tight circles around your throbbing clit in time with Matthew's hips as they snap powerfully, relentlessly upward.

"Oh sweet girl, I can feel you getting closer…"

A moan escapes from your parted lips, they're driving you hard and fast to a mind blowing crescendo…

"C'mon beautiful, let go for me. Let me feel you come."

It's impossible to deny him or Elektra, crying out with pleasure as you reach your peak, watching in amazement as the Kingpin of Hell's Kitchen follows you into ecstasy as your pussy clenches repeatedly around his cock. He moans so beautifully, bucking up into you as your body milks him for all he's worth. Elektra is pushing you just that little bit farther until you're on the edge of yet another orgasm.

"Such a good girl for us…" her silky voice soothes into your ear until you're coming yet again, shuddering with overstimulation and begging her to stop. With aching thighs you carefully dismount from Matt's softening cock. He immediately pulls you close, kissing your forehead, Elektra curls her arms around you too bracketing you between them both and nuzzling into your nape. A contented sigh leaves your lips

The next morning once you're washed and treated to an incredible breakfast, it's finally time to leave this unbelievable bubble of sin that you'd been swept up into. You linger by the elevator door, Matthew has already called you a car at your request.

You suddenly find yourself blushing as it's time to go, even after everything you've done together.

"Thank you, um… for last night. I'm thinking I should let myself get stood up more often."

Both Matt and Elektra grin before kissing you on the cheek.

"if you give me that asshole's name and number, I'd like to teach him a little lesson in how to respect a lady... and, anytime you'd like to play, sweetheart," Matt says, producing a sleek business card seemingly from out of nowhere, "just call."

[verdantcrimson]

Heaven and Earth / Discernment of Heaven and Earth - 8

(Unproofread)

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[A week later. At the shooting location of the prototype for ‘(Tentatively named) Rumbling Heaven and Earth R’]

Keito: Alright. Everyone is good to go.

Keito: Souma. You look beautiful today too. The sight of you well-dressed makes me feel refreshed.

Souma: Yes- …….Pardon?

Keito: Kuro. You designed and tailored these outfits, correct?

Keito: They’re made with the level of workmanship you’d expect. The costumes you make suit us more than any top designer’s ever could.

Kuro: Don’t start callin’ us by our first names outta the blue.

Kuro: There’s probably a reason, but don’t do it outta nowhere. We’re more stubborn than most other ‘young folk’, so we can’t even react in time.

Kuro: Also, if I’m bein’ honest, it’s disturbin’.

Souma: I- Indeed. I do not fully comprehend, but t’was horrifying.

Keito: Was it that bad? I tried to imitate the behavior of Hideyoshi-sensei, since he’s a people person—

Keito: For instance, he’ll act like he’s practically related to, or been friends with someone for decades, even though they aren’t that close. He’ll use their first name or nickname, casually sling his arm around their shoulder, and shower them in compliments.

Keito: By continuously behaving like this, he confuses the brain of the other person, and before they know it, they start to actually think he’s like a close friend or family to them.

Keito: If you keep repeating a lie, it can become the truth.

Kuro: Personally, I don’t think that’s somethin’ ya gotta imitate.

Kuro: You’re perfect just the way you are, Hasumi danna.

Souma: Yes. We love the usual Hasumi-dono. There is no need for you to unnaturally praise, to flatter, or force a smile.

Souma: Well, I do suppose we may have been influenced unknowingly in a myriad of ways through our interaction with the ‘Three Sages.’

Souma: I, as well, have begun to pay closer attention to my hair and clothes each morning due to the influence of Nobunaga-sensei, for she would consistently critique my appearance each encounter.

Souma: Earlier, Hasumi-dono praised me for being ‘well-dressed.’

Souma: However, recently I have become concerned with earning Nobunaga-sensei’s praise, that is to say, I have become concerned with adhering to what may be in fashion. 

Souma: It is most certainly not being well-dressed. It is mere frivolity.

Kuro: Haha, ain’t that a good thing? You’re real uptight, Kanzaki.

Kuro: I reckon it’d be fine to be a little more flexible, for the sake of becomin’ an idol beloved by all, don’tcha think?

Keito: Agreed. Though Kanzaki is surprisingly self-conceited. No matter how much I lectured him, he never stopped wearing that sword or shed his old-fashioned way of speaking.

Keito: Though with that being said, I think having character is a good thing, because that’s what makes an idol. You truly are a good kid, like a moon that hasn’t waned, Souma. ♪ 

Souma: As expressed earlier, I truly wish for you to cease complimenting me without reason and addressing me by first name. It sends a shudder down my spine.

Kuro: Yeah, feels like danna’s been possessed or somethin’.

Keito: Hideyoshi-sensei is a talkative person. Whenever I was with him, he was always going on about his pet theories and opinions, and I tended to be brainwashed by the contents of his theories.

Keito: So naturally, I suppose I ended up unconsciously trying to play a character that matched Hideyoshi-sensei’s ideal—

Kuro: Haha, but I thought that you were ‘self-conceited’, was it? Thought ya were the type that’d never ever compromise or change.

Keito: I am aware of that quality to some extent.

Keito: In fact, I tried my hardest to be that way.

Keito: To not change, no matter what happened. I clung to the character of ‘Keito Hasumi’ as much as I could.

Keito: Growing up, I was surrounded by people who had a strong influence on those around them. And so, while we mingled amongst each other like colors on a palette, I tried my best to avoid being dyed the same shade of red.

Keito: That was mine, AKATSUKI’s, and perhaps even ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’s greatest fault.

Keito: There may be great things that remain unchanging. However, in order to survive, change is necessary.

Keito: The law of this world is survival of the fittest. Likewise, we need to adapt accordingly to a world upheaved by the establishment of ES.

Kuro: Well, I learnt that one the hard way.

Kuro: We’ve gotta change too, yeah?

Keito: Yes. I hope that the sequence of events surrounding ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’ is a sign of what’s to come.

Kuro: Of course. But don’t go changin’ everythin’ all at once, danna.

Souma: Truly. When the ever dauntless and sophisticated Hasumi-dono, abruptly dons a sycophantic smile and draws close, ‘tis as if he has become a different person, which strikes fear into one’s heart in turn. 

Kuro: Nito got mad and said somethin’ similar to me too.

Kuro: When we change, it’s gotta be in a way that doesn’t cause a disturbance in the surroundin’s. Slow and steady…… Right?

Keito: Yes, like the constantly waxing and waning moon.

Keito: Not just ‘like’, we will become it.

Keito: We’ll become beloved by all, from ancient past to present day, just as that ethereal moon is.

Prev | Chapter List | Next

[power-chords]

In fact the backstory of Tom in the film is that in the offshore world of narco trafficking cartels, they have the budgets to buy the best and they do. Particularly since the end of the Cold War, when that market has become available, people that are ex-KGB, ex-Stasi, as well as Brits and Americans from special forces; Israelis.

Since we’re only in these ten hours, we’re only seeing a fraction of a whole life. And since we’re only ten hours, the challenge is can I design those fractions that they become glimpses… that you kind of sense the person. To do that, one has to invent the history of Vincent, the history of Max, and then to choose those details to put in the ten hours of tonight. [...] The film does not do what a life experience of these ten hours would not do, which is to have exposition or to travel backwards in time via flashbacks or any of those other devices. But instead just to keep it as immediate, into this presence, and yet to have a greater degree of knowingness into their lives.

Vincent is somebody who’s decisive… who’s embraced force as a way of controlling his environment, as a way of — and I don’t think Vincent is actually actively aware of this — but it’s a way of controlling an environment so that bad things don’t happen to him. He, consequently, can be someone who’s improvisational, he’s highly trained, he takes action, he has opinions. Max is exactly the opposite.

The other aspect about Vincent’s appearance is again, and building the character, how to make these two characters be oppositional, what Vincent’s chosen to wear, it tells us things — I believe that audiences are much brighter than they are aware of, there’s a lot of information they take in on a feeling level. There’s a cut to his suit that says perhaps it was custom tailored, but not in Milan or London or New York, in my mind it was Kowloon. The thing about his hair, scars on his hand, scars on his face.

In effect he’s a rough trade in a good suit. Prematurely gray, kind of a steely aspect to him. Those are design issues that are there to tell us, tell the audience, tell YOU things about who he is on a feeling level, not anything that is didactic or spoken to you. It was tricky to arrive at some of these looks and some of these issues because — and this is also the challenge of the film that made it very exciting to me, to do it and want to do it — which is that when you compress the time frame, of a narrative and it’s under two hours, and you’re just in one locale, you’re one night, it also means there’s going to be one suit and one wardrobe change and everything’s going to become inordinately important. Driving a race car, a very small input in steering has a radical effect. So the slightest change, because it’s cumulative, becomes a big deal.

But the deep work that goes into this kind of thing is in fact how did Vincent become Vincent. And Tom and I did a lot of work in trying to understand where this guy came from. If he was in a foster home for part of his time, if he had an institutionalized childhood. And if he was back in the public school system by age 11, that would have been sometime in the 1970s. He would have been dressed very awkwardly. He probably would have been ostracized, because he would have looked odd and you know… the brutality of preteens and early adolescents.

We postulated an alcoholic, abusive father who was culturally very progressive. He was probably part of Ed Solowski’s steelworkers local in Gary. He was a Vietnam veteran. He had friends who were African American, the South Side of Chicago, the Checkerboard Lounge is 30 minutes away in a cab, Calumet Skyway. So the father in his sixties and early seventies was probably an aficionado of jazz, there was a great jazz scene on the South Side of Chicago, modern jazz quartet… it’s almost as if the father blamed the son I.E. Vincent for what happened to the mother, and the father drank and Gary was being reduced to — I mean it looked like Dresden at the end of the war. The father never tutored the boy in jazz. But the boy extolled the virtue of knowing about jazz because he heard his father talk about jazz, not to him, but to other people. And that’s why he knew about jazz, and that’s why he learned about jazz.

Now his father, Vincent’s father, never tutored Vincent about jazz because he had rejected his son. And ignored him. It was something that got constructed as backstory and the work I did with Tom during pre-production and understanding every aspect of the character of who Vincent was, much more than it appears in the text of the film so that the fractions of Vincent-ness that we have IN the text of the film, within these ten hours, could resonate with the totality of a life the same as they would with anybody you met. We all bring a whole history with us into the moment of the present.

[canariie]

something blue

Rating: K+

Synopsis: “How are you feeling, Hinamori?” he asked.

“I’m doing well! I’m enjoying the party!” she said cheerily, but even to her ears it felt a bit forced. She sighed and took another sip, avoiding her captain’s watchful eyes.

…

Amidst the dancing and drinks, Momo doesn't realize how overwhelmed she feels on Renjii's wedding day.

Word Count: 5590 words

Setting: the RenRuki wedding during We Do KNOT Love You!

Prompt: @hitsuhina-week Celebration 2023 Day 7 - Future

Authour’s Note: Welcome to my pasta-salad of a fic! Partly because I think I tried to put so much into this, culminating in my longest fic on tumblr and usurping i just called to say's position!

This is also RenRuki adjacent, so proceed how you would with that.

Similar to that fic, this is also INCREDIBLY LATE and I apologize for that! It also has several music inspirations going from Enchanted (Taylor's Version) & Back to December (Taylor's Version) to the tone of Billie Eilish's What was I Made For & my future—and I think that shows hahahaha

I hope you all enjoy it!

—

Momo was excited for the nijikai, the less formal wedding after party, because that’s where the night truly began.

Renjii had picked Daruma Bar, a familiar haunt of his that the lieutenants had visited many times after late meetings, long work weeks and happy hour celebrations. And maybe it was the romantic in Momo, but she was delighted that they were celebrating a new chapter for her friend in a place that was cemented in such fond memories.

The Bar’s decorations were less ostentatious than the engagement party and the Kuchiki ceremonial shrine. However, it warmed Momo’s heart to see Kuchiki-taicho act so openly benevolent towards his younger sister—something unusual for the typically aloof man.

There was a room at the back of the bar off the side kitchen, dedicated for the respective parties to get ready. It had doubled as storage and a changing space for the servers, leaving it cramped with boxes and a folding screen. To call it a room was generous but the larger formal one was rightfully reserved for Rukia to get ready. Momo had joined in on the groom’s side because she was much closer to Renjii—and, because she hadn’t gotten the chance to spend time alone with him.

“How do you feel, Abarai-kun?” Momo had asked as she took the groom’s outer robe from him, carefully folding it away. The garment had been a gift from Kuchiki-taicho who had it embellished with the Sixth Division symbol. Izuru and Ikkaku had gone with the human, Kurosaki, to look for the final additions to Renjii’s next outfit for the night, leaving Momo alone to help the groom get ready.

“I don’t know…normal—but not?” the tall man shrugged. “I’m not used to all this pomp and circumstance—especially everyone looking at me.”

Momo laughed as she handed Renjii the black suit bag—a custom tailoring from the Quincy boy.  “It’s your day Abarai-kun, everyone should be looking at you!”

His cheeks turned bright red, rivaling his hair. “I’ve had enough of it for a while.” Renjii moved behind the screen, and Momo turned her back around to give him further privacy as he removed the other layers. (Days spent in the Shinigami Academy had broken through any semblance of modesty when they had to quickly change between fitness courses and studies along with their overnight camps).

“How are you, Hinamori-kun?”

“Me?” Momo looked down at her hands as she played with the strings of her purse, fiddling with the knotted ends.

“No, the other girl in the room,” he scoffed loudly.

She rolled her eyes and threw a tie over her shoulder and screen, smiling in delight when she heard him yelp.

“You were pretty emotional at the engagement party—and now at the ceremony…I just wasn’t expecting you to cry so much.”

Momo smiled to herself— she had definitely cried her fair share of tears the last couple of days. But she’d shed them all again because they were happy tears. And she knows she wasn’t the only one to be overwhelmed by such a beautiful moment; for even the human girl, Orihime, had started crying so much so when Rukia walked down the aisle, the human couldn’t hold her camera straight. During the ceremony, Momo had sat with Rangiku and the other lieutenants, and was bawling as soon as she saw Renjii have his first glance at Rukia.

“I’m just so…happy for you,” Momo sniffled feeling an onslaught of tears come on. “Is that such a bad thing?” she asked as she could hear him chuckle behind the screen.

She couldn’t help it. Momo loved love and she loved that her dear friend had finally found his.

Momo remembered in the Academy, how Renjii has first come out as rough around the edges. It had been the first time she had met someone from one of the lower districts, and she didn’t quite know what to make of him—except that his eyebrows were quite strange.

But any reservations she may have initially had melted away when she saw his sincere heart and what a dedicated friend he was. From walking her back to her dorm after late night studying sessions to dropping off sweets before her advanced kido exam to sticking by her side when they were prematurely attacked by the hollow—Momo dearly wished that Renjii believed in himself like how he believed in his friends.

“How do I look?”

Momo turned around, and gasped. The taller man had left his hair loose, hanging long down his shoulders—making him look older and more debonair. And though the black formal suit was atypical garb for him, he somehow brought it all together with his usual black bandana. He looked good.

Renjii tugged at his collar, wincing in discomfort. “Is it too stuck up?”

The young girl shook her head and walked closer, taking the tie into her hands. “Abarai-kun, you are going to break a lot of hearts tonight.” She winked. “It’s a good thing you’re a married man.”

“You sound like Matsumoto—or Hisagi after a couple of drinks,” he chuckled in disbelief. “But you really think so? I don’t look out of place?” He joked casually, but Momo could detect something deeper.

“Abarai-kun,” she tightened the knot and looked up at him. “Do you feel like you don’t belong?”

He shrugged his shoulders so much that the ruby tie slipped out of her fingers. “It just feels like a lot—the ceremony, the wedding party. We knew we wanted to be together, but I didn’t expect it would become such a big event,” Renjii looked away to the side. “It’s all out of my comfort zone,” he confessed, twisting the ring on his finger.

She looked at him sympathetically. “I know you two have gone through a lot, Abarai-kun,” Momo reasoned softly, putting her hand on his arm, having him look down at her. “But I can say with absolute confidence that the two of you are the strongest and happiest when you two are together. This party—it just became something for everyone else to put their energy into having fun for one night.”

Momo smiled wholeheartedly. “And honestly I’m sure for Rukia-san, she doesn’t care for all these extravagances—she’d marry you even with paper rings.” She reached up to straighten out the wrinkles on his shoulder. “Again—I’m so happy for you.”

Renjii smiled and ruffled her hair, much to her protests. “Thanks, Hinamori-kun.” The taller man paused, like he was trying to uncover something on her face, but before Momo could ask, Ikkaku came barreling in with the human boy Kurosaki and Kira following suit.

“We found the corsage!” Ikkaku boomed, holding it up in victory.

“Byakuya had it expedited shipped from some out-there province—but wasn’t clear about which import hub it was located in,” the human boy said as he rolled his eyes.

...

Daruma Bar had transformed from the quaint backyard bar they knew into a bustling reception area. Tealights strung from the trees, hanging over a generous dance floor, already teeming with well-dressed officers. There were Kuchiki mansion staff seen around serving cocktail drinks while Hisagi was manning the DJ booth (a custom export from the human world), with an overeager Omaeda directing the spotlight.

Momo found herself ushered out onto the main floor, following the loud cheers of the groom party as the bridal party followed suit. Rukia was resplendent in a white cocktail dress, though she still wore her veil attached to the back of her head. There were tiny little strawberry flowers dotting the lining—which Rangiku had eagerly whispered into Momo’s ear during the ceremony that Orihime had personally embroidered as a gift.

It was only with the deafening cheer when the young couple satisfied the crowd with a kiss that the party truly started.

A dusk had descended on the day, with candles illuminating the tables and basking everyone in red orange hues. Momo could see many of her lieutenants around the tables, chatting and mingling, along with lower seated officers who were clinking glasses of beer together. There was a relaxed air, and she felt immediately at ease to see everyone unwind.  

Hisagi had blasted the music loudly, and only for the fact that it was an official Gotei Thirteen event (and that Kyoraku-soutaicho was enjoying a round of shots himself), Momo was sure they would have violated some noise pollution ordinances. But when Renjii pulled her onto the dance floor as a line dance came on, she couldn’t help herself but laugh out loud and try to follow along.

And Momo danced. In the group dances when the crowd swarmed to the floor, she jumped from side to side. When the music slowed to heartfelt ballads, she clutched onto Nanao’s shoulders, singing with her whole heart out.

During the brief moments of respite when she was taking a break with a drink in hand, she found her eyes drifting to the human group on the side.

The war had been long over, but there was still a wide berth around the Quincy boy, Uryuu, who stood off to the side chatting with the other tall human. Momo could see Orihime run over to them, trying to liven up the conversation and eagerly pointing to her plate of food. And in between the loud beats of music, she found herself thinking how the war had left invisible scars on all of them.

The music shifted to softer, mellow music and Momo eagerly took that as a cue to head over to the chef’s table. There were several cooks who were preparing popular street food from the different districts of Rukongai, such as taiyaki, grilled corn and okonomiyaki pancakes—many of which she knew were Renjii’s favourites. There was still the presence of Kuchiki-taicho’s influence in the decoration, from the ornate ice sculptures, exquisite flower bouquets among finger sized hors d’oeuvres and a slow roasted pigling on the split. 

Momo didn’t want to eat too much as she was keen to dance more without the heavy feeling of being full. So, she quickly took a bite of the taiyaki before walking over the newlywed couple who were in line with Kuchiki-taicho at the kabob stall.  

Renjii gestured forward with his meat skewer, holding it by the Sixth Captain’s face. “You have to try this, Taicho! It’s an Inuzuri special!”

Rukia nodded her head eagerly, the excitement sparkling in her violent eyes. “They marinate the meat with plums to help sweeten it.”

Momo had to laugh at the look at the sixth divison’s captain’s face—the only indication of displeasure was the slight downturn of his lips. He slowly took the skewer, inspecting it on all sides before lifting it up and taking the smallest bite Momo had ever seen. He chewed slowly, maintaining contact with the eager eyes of the bride & groom, before swallowing.

“It is…appropriate,” he sufficed, before dabbing his lips with a napkin.

...

The party continued in beat again, with no clear sign of stopping. Hisagi’s position of DJ had been usurped by one of the Shiba men, eager to grab the mic and direct the audience in line dances. After the ninth lieutenant had realized what happened, it was a loud battle where the music changed pace and tempo to their scramble, confusing the audience in between switching from easy going sways and fast jigs. The fight immediately ceased and desisted when the older Shiba came on stage and hit the two men both, stopping the bickering without any question. It was only when the music slowed to a soft classical tune, did Momo decide it was time to sit out for a bit after another long stint on the dance floor.

She walked up to her captain, who was leaning casually against one of the high tables, observing the party with his eyes straying down to his phone every so often. Though he looked relaxed, Momo knew him well enough to know that he was eagerly waiting for the vizards from the Human World to join—specifically a short blond woman.

A server walked by, and Momo quickly took a drink, shooting a generous smile at the staff in thanks.

“Go easy on the drinks,” Hirako mused with a smile tugging on his lips, “We still have work tomorrow.”

Her captain had eagerly taken the opportunity to dress in human clothes, wearing a dark pinstripe suit with silver tie. Momo had never seen him before so excited to dress up and he had taken many trips to the Human World to find the right outfit.

“Taicho, the suit looks quite good on you!” she remarked, leaning against the table with a champagne glass in her hands. Now that she had stopped dancing, she didn’t quite realize how much her feet were hurting. She sighed, inhaling the dusky air that was sweet and heavy with candle smoke.

“You also look good,” her captain remarked, holding his glass up in a cheers motion. “Matsumoto had fun with the makeup?”

Momo smiled in agreement as she played with her flower hair ornament. “She did a fantastic job!”

The two lieutenants had eagerly gone through the stores looking for appropriate kimonos to wear. And even though the older woman had more stamina than Momo in that respect, she enjoyed the shopping spree; especially when she finally settled on a light pink print with white printed flowers. Rangiku had helped her dress up and made sure to spend extra time on the younger girl’s makeup and hair before getting ready herself.

When Momo finally saw the look, light pink blush and soft red lips, she couldn’t stop staring at herself which filled her with greater anticipation for tonight.

“How are you feeling, Hinamori?” he asked.

“I’m doing well! I’m enjoying the party!” she said cheerily, but even to her ears it felt a bit forced. She sighed and took another sip, avoiding her captain’s watchful eyes.

Hirako took a long swig of his drink. “You’ve been crying a lot—I know you and Abarai are close friends…” he drifted off. “But is there nothing else going on?”

Momo swished the glass around, looking down. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I am happy for Abarai-kun—I truly am.”

The Fifth captain leveled her with a long stare. “Sometimes seeing other people happy can remind us of when we’re not,” he said simply.

Momo turned sharply towards him. “Do I seem unhappy?” she asked softly.

Hirako shook his head and looked at the last of the crowd dancing. “Not to everyone–no. But I think those that care can tell when there’s something deeper.”

“Hina-chan! Hirako-taicho!”

The two Fifth Squad guards looked towards Rangiku who was walking towards them with a skip in her step, dressed in a beautiful vibrant violet kimono with peony flowers.  In the low light, her blue eyes were twinkling, and the red candle flames highlighted her wavy golden hair. 

Following behind slowly was the tenth division captain, dressed in a simple dark grey kimono. While others had gone for extravagance or taken the opportunity to dress up, the simplicity of his outfit made the young boy stand out in the crowd. His turquoise eyes seemed brighter, and his white hair shined amongst all the candle lights. Momo could feel her heart race up (but she blamed it on the lightheaded feeling from the drinks).

“Hinamori-chan, you dance so well,” Rangiku remarked as she plucked a champagne glass from a passing server. She shot a flirtatious smile at the server, who scrambled away flustered, their cheeks a bright red. “I don’t think I’ve seen you take a break all night.”

“I’ve been having a lot of fun,” she laughed, moving forward and almost toppling over if it hadn’t been for her captain and Rangiku who grabbed a hold of her arms. “I’ll say,” Rangiku laughed. She turned behind her, beckoning her hand forward. “Taicho, take a photo of us!”

Momo looked to the young captain who looked like he was frozen in motion, with hands slightly reached out. They fell lamely to the side. He recomposed himself and sent a glare towards his lieutenant—but complied, holding up the camera in front of him.

The lighthearted smile Momo had tried to put on all evening felt strained and she could only hope it didn’t show as the flash went off.

“The Kuchiki’s really know how to throw a party,” Rangiku observed demurely, “they should do it more often.” She flipped her long hair as she scanned the crowd. “I think they’re going to be turning off the music soon.” The older woman turned to look at Momo with a devious smile. “Hina-chan—you should dance with Taicho.”

Her heart rate immediately jumped, and she found herself frantically waving her hands in front of her. “Oh no,” Momo looked back for support but found herself being pushed forward by her captain, who was sporting a smug smile. “C’mon, it’ll be good for you,” he said with a final nudge.

A similar look was mirrored over with Rangiku who was pushing a protesting Toushiro towards the middle of the dance floor, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Taicho, hasn’t stepped on the dance floor at all tonight!” She agilely grabbed the camera out of his hands.

“Matsumoto!” Toushiro turned to yell at his vice-captain who quickly made herself scarce from the scene. He turned slowly to look at Momo as dancers passed by around them.

He cleared his throat. “Hinamori, we don’t have to do this.”

She could only mutely nod her head shortly, as she realized that this was the first time, they had spoken outside of work to each other after the recovery period.

The crowd continued to move around the two of them undeterred. Swaths of maroon, blue, purple flashed around her, but she could only look down at her feet. The music slowed down in pace, and a loud cheering occurred across the floor, with Renjii and Rukia making it onto the floor before holding onto each other like they had all the time in the world—which made Momo’s heart clench.

Momo could hear Toushiro sigh softly before she saw two feet approach her.

She turned to look up and he was too close, much too close. She forgot to breathe as she looked up and counted the flecks of sapphire in his eyes.

“Can I,” he asked softly, a sense of trepidation in his voice.

She jerked her head down and felt her heart rate quicken as he took her hands in his—which were several degrees colder than hers but grounded her in a reality that too many earlier drinks had lifted her from.

“Just humour them for one song…” he whispered.

It was an awkward start with Toushiro guiding Momo’s hand to his shoulder before moving behind to hold her shoulder blade. She had to swallow a gasp as she could feel the cold move dangerously close to the scar in her back, making her breath quicken.

And she didn’t know if it was cruel fate or not, but the music had slowed done to a pace that only in twos could one traverse. Out of the corner in her eyes, she saw her subordinates holding onto each other, with easy-going smiles as they swayed in comfort.

Momo stared straight at the side of his neck, trying to avoid all eye contact as they moved from one side to the other. She was too aware of his white hair tickling her cheek and the cool exhale of his breath on her collarbone.

This was too close too close. It was the closest they had been to each other in five years.

They had spent three years after the Quincy War dancing around the divide between them. Prior to that, Momo could only focus on her personal recovery after the Winter War as well as adjusting to her new captain. Toushiro had always seemed to be there on the periphery, flitting in and out of her consciousness.

He had apologized to her for what happened in the Fake Karakura town. She had profusely apologized in retaliation — no it wasn’t his fault, she shouldn’t have been there, she hardly remembered it, they were all foolishly tricked. (But that doesn’t stop the cold tremors she feels whenever she sees Hyourinmaru).

The young boy had stood there, silent and listening, but Momo could see the winter storm in his eyes, obscuring the shame that he had still felt whenever he got a glimpse of her scar through the Fourth Division robes. She had clutched the fabric tighter to her heart, where ice had barely missed, unable to meet his gaze. Even though she set the fissures off first, it was his sword that had swung the final blow in the demise of their crumbling relationship.

And she knows that he knows she feels that way because he had stepped aside, adamantly training in isolation to be stronger (at least according to her usual queries to Rangiku). And what could she do, except also turn around and try to move forward as a lieutenant of the Gotei 13.

For as much as she hated to admit it, they were not the same as before. Now they were just small talk and shallow inquiries about the weather, during the brief exchanges between captain and lieutenant meetings.

Momo wishes with all her heart that they could go back to who they were; where she could rush to him on the good days, a whole plate of watermelon in between them and see his eyes light up in excitement; or seek him out in the bad days when she desperately wanted to her hear his calm and rational reasoning, that soothed her like a cool breeze in the summer.

“How are you, Hinamori?”

Momo startled, looking to the right at him, but any closer and her lips would be on his neck.

“I’m good,” she responded quickly, inwardly grimacing at how high her voice sounded. “Hirako-taicho and I were excited to finish work two hours earlier so we could get ready. I had made sure we had finished all our reports for the day for approval, but it was nice to have an official announcement that work could be done earlier,” she rambled.

Toushiro raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t quite believe her.

“Isn’t Hirako supposed to be one that handed those in?”

“Hirako-taicho,” Momo corrected, “He had done it the previous time but since I was meeting Rangiku-san and Nanao-san to get ready, we thought it best that I hand in the reports since it was on the way to the First Division.”

He hummed in agreement, before it became silent again. They turned around to avoid another couple who had swept a little too close. Momo found herself looking for Rukia and Renjii to distract herself from the awkwardness. The two were glued to each other, with Rukia staring up at her husband, the adoration evident in her eyes. She stood on her toes to which Renjii responded by lifting her higher. The young woman whispered something in his ear to which the red-haired man looked at her with wide surprised eyes before spinning her around as she laughed.

The two of them were out of step with the song but perfectly attuned to each other.   

Momo’s heart ached and a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach.

She looked down at the corner of his neck and shoulder. “Are you enjoying the wedding?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been designated to photograph duty.”

“At least you’re part of the moments?” she tried to salvage.

“Not really,” the boy scoffed.

There was an awkward turn and Momo turned too quickly, tripping over her feet and bumped her chin into his shoulder. She mumbled an apology, not before she got an inhale of his scent which sent her mind into scrambles.

Momo pulled back to face him. “Did I hurt you?”

His emerald eyes went wide. A pause. The boy took a deep breath and leveled her with an intense gaze. “You could never hurt me, Hinamori.”

She stopped moving with Toushiro following suit. Everyone continued around spinning and laughing, while the music went up in crescendo.

“That’s not true at all…” Momo said distantly, shaking her head.

A loud bang startled her into moving closer to him, and she could feel him tighten his hold on her. Loud bursts of fireworks went off above them and the sky illuminated with bright vibrant streaks of colour.

All of a sudden, Momo noticed people looking at her with hopeful smiles and knowing looks, which made her chest tighten. And the cold on her back and her hand slowly felt like a vice that she couldn’t get out quickly enough.

“I’m sorry, Hitsugaya-taicho I have to leave,” Momo sputtered out right as the final note dropped, before running off the floor. Fireworks continued to crackle as she pushed past the dancing bodies, desperate to get as far away as she could. All the excitement that had made her feel before like she was floating on a cloud disappeared, leaving her with deep intense dread inside. 

A hand reached out and grabbed her arm, and she was pulled off the dance floor. Momo startled as Ikkaku thrust a shot glass into her face.

“C’mon, Hinamori—it’s the last shots of the night!”

The groom’s party had gathered around, with several bottles already empty in between them all.  Kira looked completely out of it, stumbling forward, and clutching onto Renjii with a dazed look in his eyes. The human boy wasn’t too far behind, his face mirroring the fruit he was named after. Ikkaku still seemed bright and alert as he poured the alcohol into her glass.

“Hinamori, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Renjii reasoned, trying to push off Kira so he could come towards her. She recognized that look of concern, it was his big brother mode when he saw she was teetering on the edge of anxiety.

Momo, determined not to make a bigger fool of herself and ruin her friend’s special day, took the shot lifted out towards her.

“To the Abarai’s!”

And she threw back the drinks, the liquid burning down her throat.  The rest of the guys hollered loudly, rivaling the sound of the fireworks. And they didn’t stop there, continuing to chase one drink after the other until Momo’s head pounded like the fireworks.

--

In front of Daruma Bar there was a large pond and several benches for guests to sober up on. Amid the final throws of excitement, Momo had hobbled alone out of the bar before throwing up in the bushes by the water. And even through the motions, she found herself thinking—that in no way was she getting her kimono stained—and that she was grateful there was no one to witness this embarrassment.

A cool cloth appeared in the peripheral of her vision, and she was too tired to not accept it.

“How much did you eat today?” Toushiro asked sternly as he hovered over her. She startled belatedly and threw a fatigued look over her shoulder.

“Not enough,” Momo heaved. When she was finally done coughing, she collapsed on the bench in exhaustion—feeling spent and drained.

The tenth captain stood a distance, in that quiet way Momo knew he reserved for battle, figuring out his first move.

Momo wiped her forehead and her mouth, looking down at the lipstick smears on the cloth. She sniffled, feeling despondent.

The war was over. They had fought, had shed blood, had lost men—but they had won. And though it was a quiet victory, with reconstruction looming as a herculean hill to climb, they all pressed on. People were having fun, becoming stronger, moving on. This party was just one moment of many future beginnings, a dynamic turn of high energy and excitement for what was ahead— and yet, Momo still felt caught in the past somehow.

Momo knew in the deepest of her hearts, that Renjii deserved this night. She had remembered it all too well, the pain on his face when Rukia had entered the Kuchiki household, leaving him at the Academy broken-hearted. He had fought tooth and nail and truly defied the odds when no one had believed him.

But, now sitting in the aftermath of the party, Momo was hit with the sobering thought that she was pitifully jealous of Renjii. Jealous that he had a new future to look forward to with someone he cared deeply for. Momo was nowhere near where he was, hell—she wasn’t even on proper speaking terms with one of her oldest friends.

Momo sobbed, furiously rubbing her eyes with her kimono sleeves. “Do…do you think—we’ll ever be like that?”

Toushiro sighed, knowing that Momo’s tolerance how gone past reason.

“We never stopped being friends, Hinamori.”

“But we don’t talk anymore,” she wailed tearfully, feeling fresh tears come down her face. It was bothering her now how sticky her cheeks were becoming, considering the amount of time Rangiku had spent on her makeup—which made her feel even more pitiful. “Do you hate me, Hitsugaya-kun?”

He stood there uncomfortably, as if trying to find the right words. “Hinamori I never…hated you.” Toushiro let out a long exhale as he sat on the far end of the bench. “I just wanted to give you space.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t know what we are,” she bemoaned, gesturing her hands in between them. “But I do know,” Momo sniffled loudly. “we’re not the same as before.”

“No…no we’re not,” Toushiro said simply, looking at the moon’s reflection in the water. Momo could see that even though his hair seemed bright like the white light, there was a dullness in his eyes. 

“I thought training would be the solution, to get stronger and let you be on your own.” He kicked a loose pebble into the pond. “But that wasn’t the only right answer.”

Toushiro turned to her, and solemnly said, “You didn’t deserve that.”

Momo hiccupped and looked up at him with teary eyes. “…You’re not mad at me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head in confusion. “Why would you blame yourself for everything?”

“Well, I started this all—this rift,” Momo drew a line in between them, tracing her finger on the stone bench. She looked up at him with doleful eyes. “I’m sorry, Shiro-chan—for all of it. I don’t think I can ever apologize enough.”

The boy looked down at the space in between them pensively. It was like she could see the gears turn in his mind, slowly and methodically, to find the next right step.

“And for every apology you give...instead of pulling away,” Toushiro shifted himself over until he was halfway over the bench, looking up at her with determination in his eyes, “I’ll move closer.”

Her brown eyes widened, before she smiled in relief, scooting closer to him, until they were side by side. Momo grabbed his hand in her’s, holding them up high in between them. “And for every time you feel like you want to pull away, I won’t let you.”

Toushiro noted objectively. “I think we’ve come to a standstill.”

She laughed as she wiped the tears off her cheeks, “That the Hitsugaya-kun I miss. You always know exactly what to say.”

They stayed in silence, listening to the last sounds of the party as it wrapped up. Finally, Toushiro pushed himself off the bench and turned to the teary girl. “Come on, let’s go home.”

At the thought of getting up, Momo immediately deflated with the pent-up fatigue from the party. “My feet are killing me,” she whimpered, quickly trying to kick off her heeled shoes. The brown-haired girl stuck out her bottom lip in contemplation.

“Can you carry me, Hitsugaya-kun?” she asked quietly, as if she were afraid to shatter the moment.

The tenth captain raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to remember this in the morning?” he asked dubiously.

Momo whined, her voice raising in pitch. “C’mon—I used to do it all the time for you when you got hurt.”

Toushiro rolled his eyes, before turning around and bending down. There was a moment of awkward fumbling as Momo eagerly climbed onto his back. She clutched her arms around his neck and leaned her cheek down next to his as he stood up.

“You’re so strong Shiro-chan…” Momo pulled back a hand to smooth the wrinkles of his kimono. “Like obviously your shoulders are a lot wider now,” she observed. “But I didn’t know you were this strong.”

Momo yelped as he shifted her with a jolt, making her knock her chin on the back of his head. “That was mean, Shiro-chan,” she said though she could feel her heart racing as he chuckled. “That’s what you get for making comments like that,” he responded dryly, though she could hear the slight smile in his voice.

The girl tightened her arms around him again, swinging her feet back and forth. “You’re a lot funnier than people take you for, Shiro-chan.”

“It’s a secret I try not to share,” he responded to which Momo laughed out loud. 

She snuggled closer into his back, relishing how secure she felt as he carried her away from the bar. “Shiro-chan…we’re friends again, right?” she mumbled softly.

Toushiro scoffed, feeling her doze into his shoulder. “Yeah…we’re friends.”

Momo fell asleep with a smile on her face, feeling more at ease than she had ever been before.

—

Author's Notes: You know the stressful thing about writing about a wedding party? It's almost like you're planning it!! Is there enough ice for the drinks? IS everyone dancing? What kind of music do they need? Who's going to be the wedding crasher? What are the decorations? How can I show that Byakuya has no chill and spares no expense in anyway he can? Where's the food??? IS EVERYONE HAVING FUN??

This was one of my first times writing Renjii and of course I have to do it during his wedding day but oh well. I would really love to write more about him and Momo's friendship together, and I thought it was a perfect place for Momo to compare herself in what she has and lacks since they both came from similar relationships to their childhood friends.

I think my trend has also to leave the Hitsuhina moments until the very end and then flourish the beginning immensely with self reflections and them talking to everyone BUT each other (which results in much longer fics)