#i love him in 1940s fashion

[inkedberries]

sanguineterrain left this tag from my previous art post about bruce being 40s heartthrob coded and they are SO right!!!!!! can't stop thinking about it!!!!!

men don't know if they want to be him or own him

this man is a single mother

[girlhelpicf]

consider a fact. trad goth nico

[geeky-politics-46]

Party For Two

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky discuss what he wants to do for his birthday and what he wants as his present.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, light dirty talk, pet names, language, creampie, Bucky in his underwear needs a warning all its own

You could seriously just watch Bucky walk around in his underwear all day and be happy as a clam. You've told him before, and you'd tell him again. That he should just not wear clothes when you two were spending the day at home. 

It didn't matter if he threw on a shirt. Some days, having his arm and his scars completely visible bothered him. Sometimes he had phantom limb pain and needed the arm off completely, prefering to cover his scars as you tried to help with the residual nerve damage in his shoulder and back. 

Shuri did a lot, but she couldn't rewire the mess of his nervous system Hydra had left behind. Despite your assurance that you loved every inch of him, you would never push him to do something he didn't want to do. Some days were harder than others and you made sure he felt safe and loved even on his worst days. So your main rule was just no pants.

A man in his underwear should not turn you into this much of a hot horny mess, especially when you get to see him totally naked regularly. Although Bucky was an incredible specimen of a man.

Even now, you could see his lips moving, but your brain could not process the words he was saying. Not when those tight boxer briefs made his ass look like you could just bite into it. Not to mention how they perfectly cupped his bulge. The way you could just slightly see his cock and balls jiggle as he walked. It felt dirty but still kind of sweet. 

It made you just want to play with his cock. Not necessarily in a hand job sexual way, but just hold it and pet it. Tell him how pretty and perfect his cock was. Gently massage and rub his balls and kiss all over him. He did have the prettiest cock. 

You also loved how much he blushed whenever you told him how pretty his cock was. The old-fashioned boy from the 1940's was still taken aback by such words coming from your pretty little mouth. Even if it was a genuine compliment he still wasn't used to hearing a sweet pretty thing like you talk so openly about liking cock. Especially his. Especially when he wasn't already balls deep inside you.

Bucky agreed to the deal on the condition that you also wore no pants. You were allowed to throw on shorts or pj's on occasion, but only ones Bucky liked. Usually, you just went for an oversized shirt. 

Honestly, the two of you became quite the pair of hermits or homebodies. Your happy place was your apartment. Just the two of you, and Alpine, of course. You had all settled into your little domestic routine quite well. You couldn't help the little contented sigh that left your lips.

It was then that you realized Bucky had stopped talking and was staring back at you, trying not to laugh at your deer in headlights expression. You were caught red-handed, staring at him again. He couldn't be too mad about you not listening if you were gonna look so cute when busted.

"You know I think you have a bigger staring problem than I do, babydoll."

You could feel your cheeks blush as you both dissolved into little giggles. You knew he wasn't mad, but you still apologized anyway once you composed yourself. 

"I'm sorry, Buck. You are just too sexy sometimes for my brain to do anything but stare at you. I kinda like you, ya know." 

You gave him a teasing smirk punctuating your statement. Saying I love you was still new to the two of you, but Bucky would say it over and over the first few days. You couldn't help but tease him about it. All out of your own love for him though, and he knew it.

"Well, if you had been listening, you would know that Sam is inevitably going to try to throw me some sort of birthday party. He's been dropping hints for days, but if he asks please tell him we already have plans. I don't care what, but I really don't want a party." 

Of course, that's right. Sam had been after you about trying to do something for Bucky’s birthday. Sam wanted to go out and do something bigger. You knew all Bucky wanted to do for his birthday was be alone. It was hard for him think about all the birthdays, all the years, he had lost. He wanted to mark the day by enjoying the life he had waited so long for. 

He had waited so long to be at peace. Even though he still had missions to go on and work to do in the field, and in his own head, he felt a stability that he had always dreamed of. He had an apartment. Even if it wasn't the most put together. He had a pet. Alpine the fluffy white feline rescue who has helped him just as much as he helped her. 

Most importantly, he had you. He had an amazing girl that he wanted to settle down with. Create a home with. One day marry and have babies with. Assuming he could. He really didn't know if Hydra had done anything to affect his fertility. He didn't really want to know. For now, the 2 of you and Alpine was enough though.

That was what he wanted to celebrate, and he wanted to celebrate it by staying in with you. Just you, take out, tv or movies. Then, of course he planned to cash in his birthday points on dirty noise-complaint-getting loud sex. Some people may think it sounded boring, other than the sex part maybe, but that was exactly what he loved about it. 

You could see him planning out the evening he really wanted in his mind. He always joked about not wanting anyone else in his head, but he did love that you seemed to be able to read his mind. 

"What if I tell Sam that we are having a party and he just isn't invited? That it's a party just for two. Just you and me. I'll even let you pick dinner." 

He pretended to think about it as he walked over to the side of the couch you were on. Reaching across the arm of the sofa to help you up onto your knees so he could wrap his arms around your waist. Letting yourself slide up his muscular chest and link behind his neck. A mischievous smile curled up on his lips.

"I like the sound of that. I do still want cake though. Are you planning any party games?" 

You nodded at his request. Oh you were planning on cake, ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate syrup. Basically, any sort of dessert that could be enjoyed in both appropriate and inappropriate ways. 

"Well cake is a given of course. I'm sure we can find all sorts of creative ways to enjoy it too. As far as games, I do have a couple things in mind. Tell me how do you feel about naked Twister?"

He grabbed your waist a little tighter and growled a little at the idea of the two of you bent into all sorts of compromising positions. His blood starting to rush to his groin as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

"You know, I may need a little practice. Why don't we have a little practice party right now? Just so I know what to expect on my birthday." 

You smiled and shook your head at him, he knew you were a sucker for that look he got when he was feeling frisky. The crooked little grin, the way he would bite his lip, and the way his pretty blue eyes would sparkle. It was like your lips were pulled to his by a magnet. Moving closer on their own volition. 

Not that you mind of course. Your thoughts had already been in the gutter from watching Bucky strut around the house in those tight boxer briefs. Now you knew his was there too. The feeling of his bulge hardening against you, confirming that and making you wiggle your hips in anticipation.

He pulled back so his lips were barely touching yours, eliciting a needy little whine from you. You wanted more of him. You always wanted more of him. His hands started to slide down your low back to cup your ass cheeks, bending his knees a little so he could get a firm hold on you. 

"Mmm, can smell you, babydoll. You smell so good. Know you taste even better though. Taste even sweeter than that birthday cake will. I want a taste, baby girl."

He almost effortlessly scooped you up off the couch, your legs quickly swinging to wrap around his waist. Alpine had abandoned the couch to go hide under the table the minute you two started getting lovey. So without fear of stepping on her tail he practically sprinted to your shared bedroom, plopping you down unceremoniously onto the bed before lunging so he was on top of you. 

His lips hurried back to connect with yours in a frenzy of playful, passion filled kisses. Letting your hands wander up and down each others bodies, rubbing and touching any bit you could grab. Slowly working to get your hand down to rub over his cock. Straining against the soft fabric of his underwear. Still getting harder as you massaged him. 

You pulled your lips away from his so you could admire his cock in your hand. Even though it was still hidden behind the dark fabric, you couldn't help the way you licked your lips and moaned at the sight. He was just so perfect and thick. You knew the serum hadn't changed his height and size near as dramatically as Steve, but it did effect his muscle mass. You had a little bit of a hope that it had made his cock this thick. Otherwise those girls in the 40's wouldn't have survived.

"Starting to think you might be a little obsessed with my cock, babydoll." 

He teased you as he started kissing and sucking at your neck. Letting you enjoy your view as he let his hips occasionally roll and rut into your hand. You hummed in agreement as he began teasing his vibranium hand up and under your shirt. 

"Can't help it, baby. It's just so fucking perfect and big. Fills me up so good. So much better than any of my toys. Plus I kinda love the man it's attached to." 

He nuzzled his face into your neck before you felt him grin against your skin. He whispered an "I love you too baby…". Suddenly moving quickly and knocking your balance out from you as he in one smooth move threw off the shirt you were wearing and rushing to get your panties off just as fast. Leaving you suddenly naked underneath him. 

"... I'm also kind of obsessed with this pretty pussy. So I guess we're even." 

His body dropping to the bed and your legs thrown over his shoulders as he descended on you. Wet kisses along the crease of your inner thigh, just shy of where you desperately wanted his lips. Jumping to the other side and letting his warm breath dance across your dripping sex.

You could feel his bright blue eyes on you as he placed his first long lick up your slit. Making sure to cover every inch from your tight light hole up to your clit. Stopping to place several small kisses and kitten licks on the bundle of nerves. Hearing your breath already starting to falter.

Bucky loved eating you out. It wasn't something he remembered doing more than maybe once or twice before you, and he can't remember enjoying it nearly as much back then as he did now. Maybe he was more selfish back then. Maybe those women had just been less secure and open about what felt good. Women being so vocal about enjoying sex was pretty taboo in his day, but the way you reacted to his mouth on you made him obsessed. 

Each time you moaned as swirled his tongue around your clit. Each time you would grind against his face as he thrust his tongue inside you. Each time you would pull his hair as rubbed his whole face farther into your wet cunt. It all made him want to spend the rest of his life wirh his head between your thighs. Not even caring that he usually ended up so worked up he would start humping the mattress underneath him in an unconscious effort by his cock to get some sort of attention. 

He didn't even want to stop after he heard you whine and moan his name when you came. Why would he stop when he had the opportunity to lick up even more of your sweet nectar from your orgasm? No, he only stopped when he had his fill of  feasting on your cunt and your cum. Leaving you teetering on the edge of overstimulation. 

"Definitely my favorite treat. Hell fuck the cake, I just want your pussy as my birthday treat. What you think, doll? Can I have your pretty slutty little cunt as my birthday present? Can I eat it and play with it and fuck it whenever and however I want?" 

By now he started working his way back up your body as you clung to sheets arching into his mouth as he moved. Pressing your breasts against his face as he reached your chest. Greedily encouraging him to take one of your nipples into his mouth as his metal fingers pinched at the other. The contrast of his warm mouth and the cool vibranium making your skin prickle into goosebumps. 

After switching sides, making sure to give both perky pebbled nipples the attention they deserved, he made it back up to your lips. Kissing you once before nipping at your lower lip playfully. 

You had already wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to pull his pelvis to yours. Your fingers now tangled and tugging at the fabric of his boxer briefs trying to get them down. Desperately trying to get his cock free so you could feel him against your still soaked and needy cunt. 

"I'm waiting for an answer baby, tell me and then I'll take these off. Fuck you nice and hard. Can I have your perfect tight little hole as my birthday present? I want to spend my party making you scream and cum all over my cock." 

The sound of his filthy birthday wish pulled a deep groan from your chest. You wanted to spend his party doing that too, and what the birthday boy wants the birthday boy gets. You let your body go lax so he would be able to easily position you however he wanted you as you answered. 

"Yes, Bucky, holy fuck yes! My pussy is all yours, birthday boy. Use it however you want, James. All for you." 

"That's my good girl." 

He got back up on his knees and shimmied his underwear down and kicking them off. You eyes glued to his cock before it even sprung free from the fabric. A whimper falling from your mouth when a dribble of pre-cum dripped from his swollen flushed cockhead onto your low belly. A string of fluid running from his cock and starting to make a mess on you. He knew by the look in your eyes that he had you in the palm of his hand. So you promptly obliged when he told you what he wanted next. 

"Spread your legs farther, babydoll. Pull them back and hold onto your ankles for me. I want to see every little bit of my present." 

Quickly you worked to fold yourself in half as best as you could. Opening you up even more to Bucky’s gaze. His eyes raking over your body as be stroked his length a few times. Stopping only when you started to wiggle your hips, trying to urge him to touch you.

"Impatient, aren't you baby?" 

His tongue darting out to lick his lips, still swollen for having his face buried in your pussy, before a faux pout crossed his face. Cooing lightly at you as he started slapping his cock on your sensitive cunt. 

"God you look so fucking good when you get all needy for my cock baby. Saw you get that look in your eyes earlier. Knew that smart little brain had stopped thinking of everything but my cock. It's all yours baby." 

He placed his tip at your entrance and slowly started to push his hips forward. Sliding himself into you one inch at a time. Letting you feel every little bit of stretch he gave you. The feeling making you both moan in pleasure. Stilling in place once he had bottomed out inside you. 

"Fuck darlin', that's the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Look so beautiful getting fucked with my bare cock baby."

You gave him a seductive look and bit your lip. 

"Happy early birthday baby." 

With that, he gingerly drug his hands from the backs of your heels all the way down to the backs of your thighs. Gripping onto the flesh there and bracing you for his next move. Bucky slowly started to pull his hips back and started building speed with his first thrust back in. 

A feral look in his eyes as he watched where his cock was impaling you. Hypnotized by the sight. The image of your pussy stretched tight around his cock. The way his cock shined, wet with your arousal. It tipped him over the edge when he started hearing the wet squelch of your pussy as he thrust into you spurring him on to fuck you harder. 

The headboard starting to thump against the wall under the force of Bucky’s thrusts. A litany of swears falling from both of you. Your moans and squeaks as he pounded you accented by the sound of his full balls slapping against your ass. Each of you getting closer to climax with each sound the other made.

When he could feel his balls starting to tighten and he knew he was close to blowing, he let his flesh hand dip to rub at your clit. Smearing your wetness around to make his action smoother.  

After a moment of him touching your clit he found the perfect speed and spot. Feeling the fire start burning in your belly you let your eyes roll back in your head. 

"Oh fuck Bucky, right there! Don't stop, baby please don't stop!" 

His hips only sped up even more at your reaction. 

"Oh don't worry, dollface. I'm not stopping until I make a mess in my birthday present. You want that babydoll? You want to cum in you pretty girl? Let me hear it baby." 

Few things could throw you over the edge quite like Bucky when he talked dirty. It fueled that fire in your belly and sent it boiling over. As you came undone on his cock you practically cried for him to cum inside you. Your pussy squeezing and fluttering around his cock, practically milking him.

"James!!! Cum in me please, fuck I'm cumming for you baby. God you make me cum so good. It's your pussy daddy. Fuck it and fill it please, please!" 

By the time you had finished cumming, you felt his cock start to throb as he climaxed. Your body still jerking from your own orgasm with each stream of cum you felt him shoot into you until you were nearly overflowing. 

After a few minutes of basking in each other's afterglow, Bucky eventually pulled out of you with a groan and rolled over. Promptly grabbing you up in his arms again and pulling you over to cuddle. Pressing kisses into your hair as you drew little patterns on his chest. 

"If this is what I can expect for my birthday party, then happy birthday to me indeed." 

You gave him a wicked grin as you looked up at him. 

"Oh no, Buck, this was just practice. Remember? Your actual birthday party is going to be even more fun."

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

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[cardansriddle]

Teach Me - ( tom riddle x fem!reader )

part 2

Summary: Feeling awfully inexperienced, you ask Tom to teach you how to kiss.

Warnings: friends to lovers trope. old-fashioned mindset because it's the 1940s. sexual tension. implied smut but no actual smut.

A/N: It's 4 AM and I had to quickly write this idea before I could lose motivation. I love this "teach me how to kiss" trope so much so let me know your thoughts abt this!

buymeacoffee <3

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Tom's low voice carried around you as you lay your head against a tree, eyes shut closed to enjoy the serene atmosphere of the day. You barely paid attention to the meaning behind the words he was reading from his book, instead letting the soothing voice lull you to a relaxed state.

You adored these little moments with him. Your friendship with Tom Riddle was an unexpected one, yet not unpleasant. Whatever had bloomed between you two was unique, and you cherished whatever attention he could give you because you knew it was only you that received these rare moments with him.

"I'm bored." You suddenly interrupted him mid-sentence, huffing and opening your eyes to stare at the thick branches above you.

"What do you want me to do about it?" The wizard asked dryly, causing you to turn your head towards him. The sight of his profile greeted you, and you enviously traced your eyes over the perfect slope of his nose and the sharp edges of his jawline. Truly, it was unfair that he had been blessed with such pretty features.

"Maybe we should put aside the book? We've been reading almost every day now." You suggested, continuing to stare at him while his gaze remained glued to the pages of the book. "Tom."

"Hm?"

"You are not even listening to me!" You hit his arm at his offensive behaviour. The action seemed to snap him out of his trance and he met your gaze at last, eyes dark and holding an expression of bemusement. "This is dull. Let us do something else."

"Do what?"

You shrugged. "Talk?"

He seemed to contemplate his options, knowing if he kept reading you would persistently annoy him until he could no longer focus but if he complied with your request, he would at least receive peace of mind. With a tired sigh, as if he was trying to appease an insolent child, he snapped his book shut and turned to face you fully, causing you to smile in triumph at your small victory.

"Well, talk then." He gestured with his hand for you to speak, but you only glared at him.

"No. I always talk. Perhaps you should tell me about one of your adventures. Or stories. Anything."

He almost whined your name in protest but you hushed him. An idea came to your mind, something that you had been meaning to question him about, and you sat up eagerly. "You could tell me what Xavier and Avery were talking about yesterday? Remember? Before you told them to shut up?"

Tom only stared at you, his lips beginning to quirk up in a half-smirk. "Those are not for your innocent ears. Or any ladies' for that matter."

Instead of discouraging you, his words only caused your curiosity to grow. "Oh come on, Tom! I thought we told and shared everything with each other." You pouted, eyes pleading for him to indulge you in those secrets.

"You must stop." He tried to warn you but you decided to settle your head into the curve between his neck and shoulder, to attempt and soften him enough for him to speak.

"Walburga always talk about stuff like that. We are not as naive as you men think us to be."

He scoffed and averted his eyes down to his closed book. "Walburga does more than talk about it and I would advise you to steer clear from her presence."

"Did Xavier and Walburga lay together?"

He stiffened, and you lifted your head up from his shoulder to look up at him. He seemed lost, not knowing how to direct the topic of conversation elsewhere.

"I wonder what it feels like." You continued voicing your thoughts out loud, missing the way his head turned towards you swiftly, entranced by your genuine and clueless curiosity. "I mean I do not know what exactly transpires between man and woman but I can imagine the—"

His hand grasped yours on your lap, halting you before you could finish your trail of thought. "We should not talk about this topic any further." Although his voice was as gentle as he could allow himself to be when with you, you could detect the finality in his tone.

"But—but Tom! Would you tell me?"

You observed him as he clenched his jaw. "When the time comes, your husband will tell you and show you."

"But I wish for you to tell me. Do you not think my future husband would prefer me to know what I am doing at the very least? What if my terrible inexperience will bother him?"

He was quiet, staring at you with a flurry of emotions in his eyes. Something about his gaze caused your cheeks to redden and you opted to look down at your fiddling hands on your lap.

"Perhaps you could teach me something." You muttered after a long minute, not daring to meet his stare.

Tom's heart began beating unevenly beneath his robes. All of a sudden he felt too warm, too suffocated in his clothes. Tom was not pure by any means. He did not care for honour or propriety. Nor did he care for the foolish yearnings of men and women. He had indulged in those acts before, once or twice just to attempt to satisfy his body's urges. But he never actively sought it out. And he never particularly enjoyed it. But with you in front of him, so close to him that he could feel the scent of your perfume, he was just a regular man. And he had never felt desire the way he did at that moment.

"Stop." He said with a hoarse voice, and he cursed himself lightly before clearing his throat and repeating the word. "This is highly inappropriate."

"Show me just one thing. Please? Please, Tom?"

His pants tightened and his breathing got shallow. If you kept pleading him and uttering his name with such need surely he was bound to break. Surely no one would fault him for sealing his lips and yours—

No. He berated himself.

"Tom?" You moved closer, your knee bumping his thigh—

Before he could resist, his hand slid to grab your jaw. "You are being insufferable. I am holding myself back to protect your honour and yet you insist on me breaking my resolve."

"One time won't hurt anybody. Please?" With your last plea, and with a confidence you were not aware you possessed, you climbed over him to straddle him, sliding down until you were settled in his lap comfortably.

Tom froze underneath you. He could only stare up at you sitting so innocently on his lap as if you were born to be there and attempt to blink away the very ungentlemanly, very filthy thoughts from his brain. But how could he? With you pressed up against him, with only a few layers of clothing separating you, how could he banish those indecent images away?

"Teach me how to kiss." Your small voice filled his head again and how could he deny you anything when you were a pleading and desperate mess for him?

"Just once." He muttered with his last remaining resolve, no longer able to resist the pull that was urging him to close the minute distance between you. He moved to press his lips against yours and before you could respond, he retreated to gauge your reaction, only for you to whine and eagerly reconnect your lips back together. The grip on your hair grew tight, and he fought with himself to maintain control. But it seemed you had other plans as you needily pressed against him, the kiss no more gentle, but intense and messy.

Your body felt as if it was set aflame from the inside, and you would gladly burn alive if it meant you could experience this for the rest of your life.

His hands slid to grab a hold of your waist, and he lifted his hips up to grind the straining material of his pants against you. You gasped into his mouth at the action, and he did not miss the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You moved your hips against his, feeling him hard underneath you. He groaned, the low sound travelling straight to your core.

"We should stop." He muttered between kisses, and your hand moved to take a handful of his hair and pull at it, causing him to look up at you with dazed eyes. "Or I will not be able to control myself."

"Don't you dare stop."

He moved his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing kisses along your throat before you felt his teeth bite into your flesh.

"Tom." You murmured his name in pleasure, rolling your hips against him once more to feel that pleasant ache between your thighs once again.

Suddenly, you heard the snap of a twig from somewhere behind you, and you pulled away from Tom in horror to look back over your shoulder. One of the Slytherin boys you did not recognize was standing there, eyes on you with an expression of bewilderment.

He had caught you in a compromising position. This was not appropriate. If he said anything about this situation, you would be ruined. You quickly removed yourself from Tom's lap and stood shakily on your legs.

Hesitantly, you looked at Tom, and he was staring at the boy with cold indifference as if this situation was not severe. Feeling embarrassed and utterly horrified, you did not utter another word before you rushed away from the place, desperate to return to your dormitory.

You worried that the boy would tell everyone of what had occurred, people would gossip about your ruination, but most of all, you felt betrayed that Tom had just sat there and done nothing.

If only you stayed long enough to witness Tom obliviating the boy, perhaps you would not be in such distress.

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[rayveneyed]

continuation of this au

cw: mentions of cheating/infidelity/disloyalty; vague allusions to sex

“so, like, what’s his deal?”

two months into your relationship with sukuna ryomen, you’re personal-assistant-turned-friend carries a bouquet of a hundred red roses into your dressing room. they’re so large that they eclipse her entire top half, and she pants as she sets them down on the table, cursing to herself.

it’s the first night of your mini-tour, your first performance in a good few months, and you don’t bother pretending that the sight of the flowers doesn’t soothe your nerves immediately. there’s a little note attached to the pale-blue cellophane that hugs the flowers; in his chicken-scratch, a love letter. i already know you’ll knock it out of the park. blow their minds, baby.

you read it over and over again, mind flitting between the set list for the night and where you’d been just days earlier — in his home, in his bed, in his arms. he’d sent you off well and truly satisfied, called you almost every day since, and hadn’t missed a single good morning text. and now, this. you fight a swoon.

hair laid — 1940s pin curls — and makeup done (a deep, oxblood red lip, really selling the whole vintage aesthetic), you lift your head to peer at her in the mirror. karmen really would kill you if you got foundation on your neckline — the first dress of the concert is white, glimmering with rhinestones and embroidery, a more virginal jessica rabbit moment. you force yourself to hold your chin up and away from it. “hm?”

“you know.” unscrewing the lid of her water bottle, nina waves it in a vague shape in front of her. “sukuna. ryomen, that is.”

“is there any other?” you joke. she sends you perhaps the most unimpressed look she’s ever bequeathed you with.

“i just never thought he’d be your type,” she continues, casual. “like, real oil and water vibes. i don’t know. but the roses are a nice touch.”

you hum. you’ve known her long enough to not take offence to most of what nina says -- she's wonderfully blunt, and you value that greatly. instead, you pick up your phone and open the camera app, zooming in and out to snap a couple of pictures of your flowers. exposure up, down, up, down -- should you take one at an angle? “oil and water?”

“yeah, i guess." there's a moment of silence, and then: "like — you’re always talking about how you wanna settle down and get married and, like, be loyal to someone, y'know? and he’s just — look, i’m not saying that he’s not loyal to you, i’m just—”

she makes a noise of frustration, and you snort. "he's just, like, a little bit of a whore, right? sorry, i don't mean to be mean -- but has he had a serious relationship in the past 10 years? and all of a sudden he’s talking about you to anyone who will listen — allegedly. allegedly.” she pauses. “how are you taking this so lightly? i'm literally bagging on your man."

finally, you set your phone down, and actually take a second to heed her words.

in truth, you had been extremely cautious when sukuna first showed an interest in you -- sat beside each other at a fashion show, never having met before. you'd be stupid to call it mere coincidence -- nothing in this industry ever really is, and the organisers had definitely gotten the photo op moment they'd hoped for. you're almost 100% sure they hadn't expected for him to stare at you like an idiot, or for you to shoot him your most demure smile, or for the actor to pull out his most casanova-esque moves.

you're not stupid, and what nina says isn't wrong. you're not into hooking up, or one night stands, or being another notch on someone's bedpost -- you weren't before you got famous, and you sure as hell aren't now, when there are cameras around every corner and gossips at every table. and sukuna isn't exactly known for his long-standing relationships or his monogamy -- it's almost like a rite of passage, you think, for a girl to have a shadowy nightclub picture taken with sukuna. if not a shadowy nightclub picture, then a steamy pool shot, or a sensual beach picture, with his hands up her t-shirt and her's down his pants.

despite his general bad-boy appearances in the media, you'd heard that he was quite… kind, if that’s the word. brash, but kind. a little hardheaded, but hard-working, and not too difficult to work with. you've met music video directors that had sung his praises and trusted producers that had called him a good friend. maybe that's why you'd spoken to him when you caught him staring, instead of sending him a smile and continuing on.

"is this your first time at a mugler show?" because it had been yours, and you didn't know what else to say. you wouldn't call yourself shy, but you're certainly not the most adept at small talk -- and you're not ugly, but sukuna is intimidatingly pretty for a man. and the tattoos, and the hair, and those smouldering eyes and long lashes...

"not my first,” he'd replied, seemingly unbothered that he had been caught staring. "y’know, i don't think we've met before."

"no, i don't think we have.”

and yet, there’d been no need for introductions. you were both aware that the other knew who you were.

"you, uh — you doin' somethin' after this?" the question had come out of nowhere -- at least, to you it did. what you didn't know is that he'd been repeating the question to himself from the moment he'd sat down beside you. and while his face didn't betray anything -- his jaw set and his eyes in their usual half-lidded state -- if you'd reached out and placed a palm over his chest, his heartbeat would have rabbitted against your hand.

you had allowed yourself a smile, and tilted your head. of course, his reputation proceeded him — but you were nothing if not a risk taker. maybe that’s why, instead of outright denying his invitation, you said: “i don’t do casual, darling. sorry.”

his eyes had been almost piercing. that wasn’t a no. “who said anything about casual?”

you’d quirked an eyebrow. “really? you want to go steady with me?”

“why not?”

“you don’t even know me.”

“i want to.”

and fuck. it wasn’t the smartest decision in hindsight, leaving the show so openly with him — but you did, arm in arm, and he hadn’t yet broken your trust. perhaps stupid of you, you didn’t believe he would.

“y’know,” you say, snapping out of your memories. you’re back in your dressing room, clutching his card in hand, staring at your reflection. “i don’t know what it is. i don’t know why he suddenly changed his tune. i don’t know why it was with me. and — well, i know he won’t, but if one day he leaves me for some waify scandi model, i’ll know he didn’t really change at all.”

nina nods, slow, like she finally understands. “you’re going in headfirst.”

“yeah, i guess.”

“that shit’s scary.”

“yeah.” you lift the card to your face again, thumb smoothing over where he’d scrawled your name, the little heart where he signed his love. your cheeks feel hot. you know there’s a facetime call waiting for you when you’re back at the hotel, tucked into bed and sleepy. “it’s really not so bad, at the end of the day.”

[ineffableigh]

The costume details in Good Omens never cease to amaze me

I was working on cosplay research and looked up 'men's dress shirt rounded collar' since I noticed Aziraphale's blue dress shirt collar is rounded, not pointed:

So it turns out...

"The rounded collar was part of Eton College‘s dress code beginning in the mid-1800s. Because men wanted to be perceived as belonging to this exclusive club, the rounded, or “club” collar was copied by the masses." (Source)

Between that and the fact that Aziraphale's waistcoat, from what I can find, most closely matches shawl collar waistcoat designs from the 1830s, and his waistcoat at Saint James Park in 1862 is the first one we see him wear that most closely resembles his 'modern day' one, it's safe to say our lad is stuck at the start of the 19th century.

Which COULD be hilarious given undergarment styles of the time:

Through the late 19th century - union suits! Lovely for cold London winters.

1907...

However, I suspect 1940s style to be most likely, as it seems to be what he emulated when pretending to be Crowley at the end of Season 1.

1940s undergarments:

Anyway this has been your fashion history dork brain dump LOL

[blood-red-ocean]

The Soul Always Remembers.

Warnings: angst, death, angst, sad lesbians, angst (but hopeful ending??)

Tagging @winterfireblond because I know you love your angst bestie

1940's.

The small, quaint yet elegant bar was alive with the sound of music and laughter, its dark oak interior almost glowing with the light of several lanterns. You slid your glass across the bar, catching it as it slid back, refilled anew with golden liquor. You raised it to the bartender with a nod of thanks before turning back to tonight's main attraction - another lively performance by Lady D and The Pallboys. Everyone was enraptured by her - because of course they were, who wouldn't be? - but you found that her eyes were only trained on you. As if she had been singing solely to you. It had been this way the last few nights, but you had yet to get a chance to introduce yourself to her. As soon as she finished her set, she would disappear backstage, only to reappear the next night.

Not tonight, however.

Tonight, you would get your chance.

It went how every night went. The last notes of their final song were drawn out, her lilting voice wavering at the very end in her own unique fashion. Then, one by one, they took a bow and disappeared behind the silky red curtain behind the stage. The bar patrons started to dwindle after this, those who did not immediately leave choosing to request one more drink. You took your chance, now. You slunk along the side of the room, to the edge of the red curtain. You peered inside, breath hitching as you saw her. As she bid the last of the Pallboys goodnight, it was now or never.

You took a step behind the curtain.

"Alcina?"

Damn, those eyes were even more intense from this proximity. With a sly smile, she strode to you and took your hand, pulling you with her.

1950's.

You wiped the sweat off your brow as you stood up, your back aching from moving bags of dirt around. Your father had employed you to help him with his gardening business, thankfully sparing you from the nightmare of factory work. The feeling of cool metal against your face reminded you of the golden ring that lay on your finger, and you couldn't help but blush.

Alcina had slid it onto your finger after several endless nights of passion. A reminder, she said it was, of her love for you. A reminder that wherever she may be, she'll always be yours. And that, of course, was followed by her hands once again exploring your body in the candlelight. You'd be lying if you said you didn't dream of those nights every night since.

Your father told you that you'd have a special client come to visit today, a VIP client. Someone of high status who wanted to get some information for landscaping their abode. When you asked why someone so wealthy would be asking about his humble gardening service instead of hiring someone privately, he just shrugged.

Thankfully, you didn't need to wonder about it much longer when the VIP client arrived. When you saw Alcina's eyes peering at you from across the garden, a smile on her face.

This time, you wouldn't let her slip away. You were going to make the most out of the very few years left that the Sickness had afforded you.

1980's.

You were different this time. Different hair. Different smile. Different eyes. Different voice. But the same soul. She could tell.

Alcina could always tell.

She spied you walking across your college campus one evening after classes, laughing with some other people your age. At first, she didn't want to believe it was you. She didn't want to believe that the one person she had loved most, the one loss that had affected her most, that had led her down the chain of events she had experienced, was here again. Especially not since the last time she saw you, you were frail and deathly. She took a drag of her cigarette and breathed out slowly.

Just like you had taken your time to work up the courage to see her after her show decades ago, so she had taken her time to approach you after classes. Every night she had the chance to, but every time, she just walked away.

Not tonight.

Tonight, as she watched you and your friends part ways at a fork in the path, she extinguished her cigarette. The path you were following curved towards her, and it would be so easy for her to approach you... But she couldn't. How could she lay her hands on you again, knowing they'd been swimming in the blood and viscera of her victims? How could she even look in your innocent eyes after all that she had done, waiting for a death that would never come, waiting to come back to you in another life? How--

"Wow, I love your dress!"

Alcina snapped out of her thoughts and looked towards you. Her eyes met yours, and something akin to primal recognition flickered through them. Her dress was dark scarlet, trimmed with golden thread, not quite appropriate fashion for the decade. Alcina smiled and stepped forward, taking your hand in hers and bringing it to her lips. She was surprised that she held her trembling back long enough to kiss the back of your hand.

"Thank you, draga," she murmured.

"Have... Have we met before...?" You shook your head, laughing at yourself. "Sorry, it's probably crazy, I just--"

"Not crazy." She smiled. "I feel the exact same way."

1990's.

"No! NO, DAMN YOU!"

Alcina could only watch as her creator held her beloved by the throat in a single hand. So close, we were so close this time-- "Let her go!" Alcina roared.

"This? This is what has been distracting you, this is what has been causing you to disappoint me again? This... This... Mortal?" Miranda sneered at you as you clawed at her hand, trying futilely to free yourself. "I thought you were better than this, Dimitrescu."

"Let her go, damn you!" Alcina attempted to leap up to Miranda, but her mutation hadn't quite finished yet, and her wings were as effective as a baby bird's. "Damn it, Miranda, she did nothing wrong."

"I don't care." Miranda's cruel laughter cut off and she looked directly at Alcina below her. "We have one goal. I created you - all of you - with one goal in mind. And you have forgotten it - for a mortal?"

A flick of Miranda's wrist had you flying through the air, slamming into a nearby wall with a sickening crunch before falling to the floor. As Miranda scoffed and turned away, Alcina ran to you, dread and panic in her every heartbeat. You were barely alive when she reached you - but barely. You whimpered, reaching for her, coughing feebly.

"Shh, I know, draga. I know. I'm so, so sorry." She brushed strands of hair from your face with the back of her gloved fingertips, shushing you gently. "I know." She did know, as she felt your pulse fluttering. She knew. "You can rest. It's okay. I've got you."

She remained bent over your lifeless form for some time, unable to move, shoulders trembling out of anger. You two had almost made it. Almost.

"I'll find you again. I promise."

2020's.

The coffee shop was unusually quiet for this time of day - and semester. To be fair, it had been raining, so maybe nobody wanted to come out in the drizzle. The round table before you was covered in textbooks, each open to a certain page as you tried to study them all at once. There were numerous empty coffee cups to the side, another one warming your hands. With a heavy sigh, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, hoping a quick peruse of social media would help clear your mind.

There was a rattle as a teacup and saucer were set down on a small, non-textbook covered portion of the table. You looked up at the sound, smiling at the waiter. "This is from the rich as fuck lady in the corner," He said. "She says that you need to drink something that won't make your heart explode for once."

"Rich as fuck?" You enquired, eyebrow raised.

He shrugged. "She's elegant, so I just assumed. Anyway, she's been here at the same time as you for weeks. I think she wants to get to know you."

"Oh then by all means, bring her over here!" You exclaimed. You gestured to your textbooks and added, "Anything would be better than this right now."

Admittedly, you had been feeling eyes on you for some time, but you were too concerned with your studies to try and discern who it was. The chair on the opposite end of the table pulled back with a scrape, the rustling of clothes signalling that whoever it was had come to meet you.

"Hey, thank you for the tea, you really didn't have to do... That..."

You trailed off as your eyes met her golden ones. She looked like someone who should be at a glittery socialite party, not at a humble little cafe on your campus. She quite literally took your breath away - it took you a moment to realise that she was much taller than she should've been, and her skin far too pale. But you didn't care. While all eyes were on her, she had eyes only for you.

"I-- Have we...?" You shook your head, cursing at yourself inwardly. "Have we met?"

She smiled then, reaching her hand out. Without thinking, yours found its way into hers, and she responded as she stroked her thumb across the back of your hand, "I know exactly how you feel, draga."

All notions of studying were forgotten, then. The two of you sat in that coffee shop until the sun began to dip below the horizon, talking about everything and anything. You were almost sad to see that it was time to go home. The rain had stopped by the time the sun set, though, so the two of you stood outside in the street for a while longer. Beneath the glow of an old streetlight, she looked even more beautiful, hauntingly so. There was something in her eyes, something ancient, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

There was a lull in the conversation, and you found yourself lost in her gaze. She reached up and gently caressed your cheek, murmuring, "Different again, but..."

"W...What did you say?" You asked, eyes flicking between her gaze and her lips.

She simply shook her head. "Nothing, draga." She whispered with a smile. Her other arm snaked around your waist and, in an instant, her lips were upon yours, your hands in her hair. You melted into her as she did into you, and the same thought ran through your heads - hers with purpose, and yours for reasons unknown to you.

This time, we'll get it right.

[captainsophiestark]

Oldies And Goodies

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Bucky's not a fan of modern dating conventions, until Sam sets him up on a date with a good friend who shows him the potential of the modern world.

Word Count: 1,543

Category: Fluff

A/N: To the anon who sent me an idea outline for this, I hope you like it! It got merged with another idea I had, but hopefully, it's still pretty close to what you had in mind :) Thanks for continuing to read stuff for Grant Ward and enabling me to keep writing him- he's my fave, so I'm glad I have at least a few people to share the love with!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

My eyes scanned the restaurant, trying to make out Bucky through the dim lighting. After a moment, I caught sight of him at a table by the window. I smiled and started heading his way. As soon as he noticed me, he shared my smile and stood to greet me. Always the perfect gentleman. My heart skipped a beat, and I made a mental note to make Sam some cookies or something as a thank you.

Sam Wilson, a good friend of mine even before he'd taken up the superhero mantle, had recently introduced me to the second supersoldier out of time that he'd befriended. Bucky Barnes, the reformed Winter Soldier, was a little different than the Man With A Plan Steve Rogers, but he'd been different in a way that I liked. We'd hit it off pretty well, and with a some meddling from Sam, we'd set up a date within a few weeks of first meeting each other.

I'd spent an hour and a half making sure my outfit looked just right and trying to convince my nerves to calm the hell down. It was just a first date, with someone I was already friendly with. And I knew Sam wouldn't steer me wrong. Tonight was going to be fun.

Once I got close enough to the table, Bucky pulled a small bouquet of roses out from behind his back, holding them out to me with a lopsided smile. I gasped, taking them from him with a slightly disbelieving look.

"I've been told the flowers are a little old fashioned, but... it seemed like the right way to go," he said. I gave a little laugh, taking a moment to smell the roses (literally) before beaming back at Bucky.

"I love them," I said. His shoulders seemed to relax a little, the smile spreading to cover the rest of his face as he took a few steps closer to me.

"I'm glad. Here, let me get your chair."

He pulled my chair back from the table, gesturing for me to sit down. I nodded my thanks, trying to ignore the butterflies exploding in my chest as he scooted the chair back in for me like it was nothing. I gently laid the roses down on the table as he took his seat across from me again.

"Thanks for finding this place," I said, scanning the restaurant to take in the ambiance this time, instead of just searching for Bucky. "It's... really nice."

"Yeah, no kidding," he said, huffing a small laugh. "Honestly, I'm... a little out of my depth here. A lot's changed since the last time I asked somebody on a date."

"Well, for what it's worth, you've been doing pretty damn well so far."

We shared a smile, but then a silence settled over us that wasn't entirely comfortable. As much as this night seemed perfect, I couldn't help agreeing with Bucky. This place wasn't totally my scene, and I was starting to feel a little out of my depth, too.

"So..." I said, taking a deep breath and meeting Bucky's eyes again. "What exactly did dates look like back in the 1940s? One of the handful of times I talked to Steve, he said you set up a pretty cool double date to... some kind of expo?"

Bucky's eyes fell to the table even as his mouth pulled up in a smile. He nodded, talking as much to himself as to me.

"Yeah. Despite how it ended, I was always pretty proud of the Stark Expo one. We got to see a car fly long before any of that should've been possible. Walking around, looking at all the exhibits and experiments... honestly, it was incredible." He looked back up at me, the soft smile still in place. "Unfortunately, there weren't a lot of major, groundbreaking expos happening tonight for us to swing by."

"Damn. That would've been fun," I said, gently reaching across the table to take Bucky's hand in my own. I bit my lip, then looked up at him with a smile. "You know, Steve also said you're kind of a nerd."

Bucky snorted. Clearly, that's not what he'd been expecting me to say. He shook his head, but when he looked back at me, he had a smile on his face.

"Steve's got quite a few stories of his own that he should keep in mind when he says things like that."

"Well..." I took a deep breath, hardening my own resolve. Bucky and I were friends, and for whatever reason, this restaurant didn't feel right for either of us. I needed to trust him and our relationship so far, rather than pretending for norms or anybody else's approval. "Look, I don't know about you, but... this restaurant is lovely, but not exactly my usual vibe."

Bucky sighed, shaking his head and pulling his hand out of mine.

"I know, it's not really mine either. I just-"

"Hold on. I have an idea for a solution that might suit us both. And I think it'll be super fun."

Bucky stared at me for a few moments appraisingly, the faintest ghost of a smile appearing on his face.

"You know, I'm not used to letting the other person plan the date. But I guess I can make an exception."

I grinned. "Good. Because I have an idea that didn't exist in the 40s, but is the kind of modern thing I think you'll be able to get behind. You trust me?"

"...Yeah, I do."

"Good." I took Bucky's hand, grabbed my roses, then stood from the table. "Then follow me."

****************

"...and in the original, Gollum volunteered the ring as a prize for Bilbo winning the riddle contest!"

I beamed at my date as he raised out of his chair, the few beers we'd had and his passion for Tolkien pushing him to make his point loudly after being called on for the bonus question of this round of trivia. The host grinned, ringing a bell and pointing at Bucky.

"Aaaaand that's correct! Mark that down as three points for Oldies and Goodies! Hang tight everybody while we update the scoring, and we'll be back with our final round in ten minutes."

With that, the bar dissolved into chatter again as everyone went their separate ways for the break in trivia. Bucky settled back down into his seat with a sigh, then carefully cut his eyes towards me.

"So... was that a dealbreaker for you?"

I laughed. "Are you kidding? You got us three points, all while schooling the rest of the bar on some nerdy shit! It was hot."

Bucky laughed at that, shaking his head even as a smile stayed in place on his face.

"Alright, I've done a lot of complaining to Sam about how much dating's changed since I last did it, but I'll admit... I like this."

I grinned. "I'm glad. And for the record, I like it too. As far as I'm concerned, being able to have fun and kick ass at bar trivia with someone is one of the best green flags there is."

"Well, good. Because that table over there is right behind us in the points, and after they shouted out the worst string of horseshit about the Hobit I've ever heard with complete confidence, there's no way I'm letting us lose to them."

"Hell yeah! I'll go grab us another round, and then we'll make them wish they'd never come to this trivia night."

I jumped down from my seat and started heading past Bucky to the bar, but he caught my arm before I could get very far, his expression more serious than I'd seen it all night.

"Hey. Thanks. For getting a round of beer, for agreeing to come out with me tonight, for bringing us here... it's the best time I've had in a while, and you've been pretty much the entire reason for that. So thank you."

I smiled, my heart speeding up in my chest as I took a half-step closer to Bucky and softly kissed him on the cheek before leaning back.

"You're welcome. Thanks for being willing to try out something as new and chaotic as bar trivia. Maybe we could even make it a weekly thing?"

Bucky beamed back at me. "Sweetheart, I would love that."

"Okay, good. Then start getting ready for the next round, because if we're coming back here next week, I want it to be in defense of our title. This is the beginning of the trivia power couple Oldies and Goodies."

"I like the sound of that," Bucky said, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned into me a little. I smiled, and he pulled me into his side, squeezing me tight before letting me go so I could get us both another round.

My dopey smile stayed on my face even as I got to the bar. I'd always had butterflies in my chest when I was around Bucky, but now, it was more than that. Being around him made me happy. I felt comfortable, and I didn't want the night to end. And luckily for me, he apparently felt the same way.

Destroying our enemies at trivia was just the beginning for us. And with no ending in sight, I truly couldn't wait to see what came next.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 4 - Le Rideau Tombe Avant La Fin

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is reader and Eloise's farewell to Paris. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Paris, September 1939

The next three days are a blur, fleeting but at once memorable, lived on borrowed time. 

Knowing the inevitable is happening - that you will need to leave Paris soon - you give notice at work; so sad to have only been there for a matter of weeks rather than the planned months. On a brighter note, however, you are able to spend the days with Benedict, showing him all you have learned about art in the city in the short time you have had. Many a happy hour is spent in galleries. Both of you tripping over your words to share what you know about the art and the artists in a breathless, excited fashion. Kindred spirits in your appreciation of the works. Sometimes lost in a reverie as you stand in front of a canvas as large as your entire living room, the scale and complexity literally dumbfounding. 

And, of course, a little of your heart is stolen with each moment together - the first person you have ever met who truly seems as enthused as you about the subject matter. That it's all wrapped up in that handsome face adds more complexity and confusion. You can't deny the skip in your pulse when he looks at you, weighted, a touch of reverence, so focused as you speak passionately on the subject you love. And you are certain your face is a picture of devotion as he waxes lyrical, too. You know you are getting swept up into the almost cliched romance of it all - the city of love, a handsome stranger, the no doubt impending invasion giving a sense of urgency and finality to every hour- it's a powder keg that feels dangerous as it is intoxicating. 

—

Early evening of the second day, as you wander back from the Louvre, you pass by the offices of the cruise company you came from America with. 

“Oh! I should speak to them about swapping my return ticket,” you comment, seeing the men standing outside in the smart red livery of the company, speaking in English to crowds of people inquiring about escaping France.

“See if you can move it to the day after tomorrow,” Benedict counsels. “That is the day we are due to set sail. We can all go to the coast together on the train.”

“That would be nice,” you admit, realising it will be lovely to have someone to wave farewell to, even if there is a little stab in your chest at the idea you may never see Benedict again. Or, of course, darling Eloise.

So, a couple of hours later, after an early dinner, you are back on this same street, your ticket in hand, waiting patiently to speak to one of the young men in uniform. 

“Mademoiselle?” he beckons you forward.

“Good evening. I have a ticket to New York for eleven months, hence, 12th August 1940. I am hoping I can swap to a sailing in a few days? Ideally, the day after tomorrow?”

The men exchange glances, and there seems to be a swirl of excitement as they crowd around you.

“A real ticket?” one of them pipes up, an excitement in their tone which strikes you as rather odd.

With a nod, you hand it over, and they all seem to confer, then grab a pad of tickets and transfer some details. 

“Not a problem at all, Mademoiselle. Here, this is for a sailing two days hence. Thank you for travelling with us!”

They seem inordinately pleased as you walk away clutching your new ticket, a mix of emotions swirling. The finality of your time in Paris suddenly so real, the date on the newly issued ticket, ink still drying, sinking in.

—

When you push open the door to your apartment, still with a tinge of melancholy, you are taken aback by the whirlwind you encounter.

“How did I amass this many mugs?” Eloise decries, standing amidst a complete bomb of possessions scattered all over the surfaces of your apartment.

“Well, you can't take them all home,’ Benedict points out wearily, “you have your case, and that trunk there, Eloise, and that is all.”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “Well aware of that brother…” holding a blue and red mug in each hand, assessing which she likes more.

“I suppose I'm lucky I've only been here a matter of weeks,” you pipe up as they both turn to look at you, Benedict shooting you a lopsided grin as Eloise barges forward and loops your arm in hers, dragging you across the room.

“Just the person I need!” she declares. “Help me! What mug screams, ‘I had a life in Paris once, and it was amazing’?” She gestures to the array of drinking vessels she has pulled out to the cupboard.

You ponder the question with a thoughtful pout. “Why not just leave them all for the next tenant? I'm sure Solene would appreciate the ability to rent out the apartment with kitchen supplies?” you try to be diplomatic.

“Yes, I know that,” Eloise sighs, “there were mugs when I got here. That, of course, got mysteriously broken after a few days, which is a blessing as they were all hideous…”

“You broke some perfectly good mugs?” Benedict frowns disapprovingly.

“Do you live here?” she shoots back pointedly, raising an eyebrow, “I am only seeking the counsel of those who live here… not a squatter,” she sniffs.

You share a look with Benedict -  yours contrite, his bemused - as if this is just another day with Eloise. Which, to be fair, it sort of is.

“If I had to choose one…” you point to the cherry red earthenware mug that looks French in a way you can’t quantify; it just does.

“You’re right as always,” Eloise grins, seizing it. “Much better help than that one,” she adds, sticking her tongue out at Benedict as she wraps the chosen item in yesterday's newspaper.

“Packing going well?” you breeze, your eye again meeting Benedict’s as he pulls a face that makes you giggle hard.

“You try cramming nine months of freedom into a teeny trunk,” Eloise grumbles, heading towards her bedroom.

“I am just taking my clothes…” you admit. You only have a few additional items you purchased since you arrived in Paris that should all fit if you pack smart enough.

“That’s yours, by the way…” Eloise gestures to Benedict’s painting on the wall before she disappears out of sight. “I have no room for it, and it seems strange to carry a picture of a house I'm headed to…” she calls out down the corridor.

“I would love it…” you inhale, looking at the artist imploringly as if somehow you need his permission.

“Y-you want it?” Hesitant, disbelieving almost. 

“If you will permit me,” you confess, clasping a hand over your heart.

“It is yours,” he replies, his face a mixture of pleasant surprise and humble acceptance.

You rush forward and take the painting off the wall, reverentially cradling it between your hands. 

“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, a little fizz in your stomach at the idea he wants you to have it. Like you will always have a piece of him with you once you are apart.

“I can paint you others...” he offers quickly, in a rush of exhaled breath. “Whatever you want…”

Something in the tumbling sincerity of his words has your heart beating fast.

“I can think of nothing more appealing than a wall full of your works…” you confess while trying not to think that room would be thousands of miles away.

He blushes adorably, casting his eyes down until suddenly, his head jerks up again. “Wait I…I have something I want to give you, actually,” He scurries across the room and gathers a sketchbook. “I'm sorry it's not framed, but here…”

He carefully tears out the page from his pad. And your heart stops.

It's you from two days ago. Sitting on a bench overlooking the Seine, the Eiffel Tower over your shoulder as you read a book. You wondered what he was doing sitting a few feet away that day as you took a lunch break. Now you know. It's a perfect pencil rendering of the scene, each sketched line a wondrous recreation of that sun-soaked afternoon.

“Benedict….” all other words fail. 

“I want you to have it,” he murmurs, “your time in Paris may have been unexpectedly brief, but you deserve a memento of the happiness you found here, however fleeting it had to be.”

Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes; you want to rush to him, to throw your arms around him, thank him profusely, but you are scared to. Scared that in the moment you would get carried away, press your lips to his…

“Thank you...” is all you can struggle out, inadequate and awkward.  

“De rein…” Again, that perfect accent has you practically swaying

But the spell is broken when Eloise reappears, complaining loudly about the size of her trunk, and part of you is grateful for it. Guilt floods your being as you think how bad of a person you must be to covet your best friend’s brother when you have a fiance back home. One you will, in fact, likely see in a matter of days now… tamping down that disquiet, you excuse yourself to your room, placing your ticket on the mantel and refusing to look at it as you pick up a book to read.

—

Solene’s hug is so tight you feel like she is crushing your ribs. Or perhaps it's that you feel a little too fragile today.

“I shall miss you, ma cherie,” she mumbles into your hair before pulling back and seizing your jaw. “You will come back when this is all over, oui?”

“Oui,” you agree, knowing it’s more of a wish than a promise.

Once again, she pulls you in for a tight hug before turning to Eloise and clinging to her just the same, lingering longer.

“Souviens-toi, ma sœur,” she reminds Eloise, having told you the previous night that her sister lives just outside the port city of Le Havre should you need a place to stay for any reason.

It's two days later, the day of your departure, and your eyes ping around the now-tidy apartment, only furniture left where once there was a jumble of life. It looks much less like home, making handing over your key a little less painful. One final wistful glance at the Eiffel Tower out of the window is all you can manage before picking up your case and walking out, scared to look back.

Benedict is loitering in the corridor outside and shoots you a sympathetic glance as you exit, eyes glassy.

“You will return,” he offers solemnly, even as you both know it's just a platitude, before turning his attention to the apartment door. “Hurry up, Eloise, we need to get to the train…” he calls.

You start to move towards the sweeping staircase, preferring a long amble down its winding loop than the lift, your case feeling much heavier than when you arrived mere weeks ago…

—

You watch the puffs of steam float past the window as the train picks up pace, pulling out of Gare Saint-Lazare. Perhaps aptly, it begins raining soon after, streaks of water lashing the glass as you rest your head back into the seat.

“I can't bear to look at it,” Eloise sighs, closing her eyes so as not to see Paris slipping away.

You reach over the table between you and grasp her hand, and her eyes open to give you a nod of thanks before closing again. 

“Why do you have to be American?” she whines. “I would do anything to have you come to England. We could get a little place together in London…” She winds her feet around yours like a vine, needing the connection in your last few hours together.

“If only…” you agree, a weight akin to a heavy boulder settling in your stomach at the idea you will soon be back on Long Island, a world that seems so…. staid to you now.

Benedict shoots you a sympathetic look across from his seat next to Eloise on the aisle but says nothing, going back to reading his book as it's your turn to sigh, the city now a blur outside the window as you speed towards the end of your time in France.

–

Half an hour later, Eloise is sleeping, her head lolling lightly on the glass with the gentle rocking motion of the train, now following the meander of the Seine just outside Poissy.

“She didn't sleep well last night,” Benedict observes, looking up from his book and following your line of sight. “I don't think she wanted her last night in Paris to ever end.”.

His words take you back to just hours ago, a rousing evening in your favourite local bistro filled with wine, camaraderie and song. Benedict didn't accompany you and Eloise, preferring to stay home and read, he said, but part of you wishes he was there to help commiserate and toast your final night chez Paris.

“You should have come out,” you opine with a slight pout, which makes him chuckle.

“It's not me who had to have the fitting farewell,” he points out with a sympathetic smile.

“Still, it would have been nice if you were there…” The idle thought is out of your lips before you can think about how that might sound, and you know you are blushing when his mouth opens a fraction in surprise, a dot of colour on his cheeks, too.

“I'm sure you still had a wonderful time,” he placates demurely.

You smile and nod, feeling a little twinge in your ankle from all the dancing you have done.

“Are you excited?” he asks, changing the subject.

You frown. “Why would I be excited to leave Paris?”

To be reunited with your fiance?” he answers slowly, a look of puzzlement on his face that it had not occurred to you.

“Oh…” you pause, your mind recalling Stanley’s smile, although somehow it seems faded now, like an out-of-focus photograph, as if you cannot wholly remember it now.  “I… I suppose…”

His face is a picture of concern again. “You do not sound certain…” he hedges.

“I am not, to be honest,” you sigh for what seems like the hundredth time today. “These few weeks have… shown me so much of the world,” you explain, “I have had so many novel experiences, met so many wonderful new people…” you can't help but let your gaze meet his as you say it. “It makes my life before seem… small? Parochial?” you are clutching for the right words as his hazy eyes track your every facial move.

“Like an old shoe that used to be comfortable but now suddenly feels too tight?” he offers a metaphor that is so apt you can't help but nod.

“Exactly!’ you agree, enthusiastically waving your hand. 

There is a quiet moment where your eyes meet again, a tingle over your skin, a pulse of energy so enlivening.

“Do you feel there is perhaps something out there better for you?” his ask feels loaded, a quiet murmur that carries so much hidden meaning but is nearly lost in the rhythmic sound of the train clattering over the tracks. So much so you could likely pretend you didn't hear, but you don't. 

“I just might…” you answer softly, even as you are unable to look away. Something about this man makes you daring, unwilling to do anything but be bold.

Long, elegant fingers reach out over the table and are about to brush the back of your hand when Eloise suddenly startles awake between you. His hand disappears rapidly, pulling back as if burned. All you can concentrate on is the ashy taste of regret at your best friend’s timing.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[chaifootsteps]

tbh one thing i liked about the instas that i dont think the series will bring back is him wearing casual clothes outside of work. the concept of a gay male sinner from the 1940s embracing modern day fashion from the current era because of how cute it is without anyone caring because its hell, (with the implication he mightve been doing this for decades beforehand before he came to the hotel,) is just really cool concept to me :3 it gave him a fashion identity outside of his sex work (something the show really doesnt do at all,) and it let him explore a more cutesty side to his character, but in a really natural way! i also just liked it because most of the sinners we saw tended to stick to dressing from their era, which made angel stand out more.

but this isnt present at all in the series, and even weirder, the one time he has a chance to put on pajamas in episode 2 like the girls have, where hes alone in his room with fat nuggets, he doesnt. maybe we wouldve had time for that if there wasn't a joke dedicated to showing how tone deaf and christian charlies morals are for the bisexual daughter of lucifer morningstar.

all the clothes he wears, there's more of a focus of his outfits from posion rather then anywhere else. i hardly see as much fanart of that stupid ugly ripped finale suit, as much as i see fanart of the latex suit angel wears while singing about being unable to help swallowing poison. either that, or the outfit he wears while dancing with val. love the fluffy spider butt, but cmon. we can get an angel dust design thats more spider in a natural way, but we can't see him wear casual clothes when he isnt working? or even see him in a full suit? (i really miss the purple suit from the instas, no stupid pink stripes, full suit for both arms, and his boobs were out w his tie instead of being hidden away like they are in the finale, which was perfect for his character </3)

him wearing clothes separate to his identity as a pornstar also helped him reclaim some of his freedom under his contract, obviously being unable to choose what val makes him wear on set. that's what angel dusts actions reflected in the instas and the comics too. (the "work shit" box comes to mind, i hate that borderline on screen rape is fine for an amazon funded show, but a box of dildos is too much,) even the addict mv shows this, with angel wearing just a pink sweater and some purple shorts when laying with cherri. or even just the casual, but cute outfit he wears when he blows up that club with her.

its just one of the few things that made him feel human, especially when fashion is bound to change in so many ways when youve been in hell for 77 years like he has. this part of his character being missing (along with the implication he even has a life outside of his work in the series; pilot ad was coping with work with hard drugs, being an teasing asshole as a defensive mechanism, getting into turf wars and murdering mafia goons. but still dresses cute and gets to be cute w his friends in his own time! series ad is coping by self destructing and letting people drug and fuck him so he'll be "broken" but then gets better by going out once after being waterboarded at work, only to not relax and be a mom to a joke character at a club called fucking consent,) is one of the reasons im still bitter about the instas being nuked. but not the only reason.

viv will always takes the credit for them anyway, no matter if she feels they do or not, because her fanbase isn't smart enough to realize someone else wrote these stories they still love. even if theyll be the first one to remind you they arent canon, because the creator said they arent. but my honest to god confession is that sometimes the instagrams feel more like the canon hazbin hotel to me, even months after s1 dropped, simply due to the nuance and detail it has compared to the actual series. it wasnt perfect, but you could tell there was passion there- passion that now, only the leads are allowed to put in hazbin so their favorite character can get more screentime and attention.

Thank you, Anon, for this absolutely beautiful writeup. It was true, seeing the difference between the outfits Val forced him into versus the outfits he chose to wear on his own time was one of the most interesting aspects of Instagram Angel Dust. It was a more safe-for-work extension of the "work shit" dildoes that didn't make it to Amazon Prime (while his graphic on-screen gang rape did) and it was powerful.

Of course, there are practical logistical reasons why cartoon characters wear the same outfit, but if only one character in HH was going to have a big wardrobe, it absolutely should have been Angel. But of course it wasn't, because as far as Viv and Raph were concerned, the only Angel outfits that mattered were the ones that fed into their shared fetish.

[kitspindles]

I’m in no way bashing on people who have already finished TSatS and say they hate it, are disappointed, etc., because I myself have not gone past chapter seven. My friend let me read some today, but I won’t have my own copy until Thursday, so maybe my opinions will change. I will say, however, that if you read 400+ pages in less than a day, maybe give yourself some time to process the entire plot first?

In any case, I can’t help but wonder how many people went into this book expecting one version of Nico and Will, only to be hit with something else entirely. And I mean like... expecting the fandom’s versions of these two, rather than what canon has previously shown us up until this book.

It’s my personal opinion that the PJO fandom’s worse enemy is their own mischaracterization of the characters at times. And I don’t mean like little head canons and stuff. Everyone has done those at some point. There’s usually no harm in those. I’m talking about people who created their own versions of Nico and Will and have been running with these visions for years through different fan fictions and what-not online.

For years we’ve known basically nothing about Will aside from the fact that he’s sarcastic, likes Star Wars, his mom is a country singer, he can glow in the dark, and he’s better at healing than fighting. (And he has questionable fashion choice at times). Like, that’s all we’ve had since his initial introduction in The Last Olympian over a decade ago. Everything else? Online and fan speculation. And again, there is nothing wrong with that! I just feel like a lot of people went into this book holding onto their own pre-conceived visions of what Will Solace was and ended up disappointed the authors made him... different? But not really different, because he didn’t have a lot of in-depth personality or backstory before this.

Me personally? Yeah, I’m not that far into the book yet but I’m loving how Will is portrayed so far. He’s still sarcastic, but he’s shown his fair share of level-headedness as well as frustrations just within the first couple chapters. He is in no way the overly-optimistic sunshine-y boy who only exists to help Nico that the fandom has portrayed him to be all these years. His character arc is already headed in a way deeper direction (more on that when I finish the book). The whole bit where Will had coffee spilled on him and spent the next couple paragraphs in the scene trying to be unbothered while actually giving off “This is fine” fire dog energies? I loved that.

As for Nico, can I just say I adore how he’s written in this book? Aside from his PoV in Blood of Olympus, this is the first time he’s had his own narration. And it’s actually about him and more in-depth than previous times. I’ve heard people say that he’s “out of character,” and while I can see a little of what they’re all saying, I just want to know... what version of Nico have you all been reading? Did I miss something?

Up until this book, what exactly did we know about Nico? That he’s displaced in time, his sister and mother are both dead (and he feels alone), he harbored repressed gay feelings from his upbringing as a Catholic guy in 1940s Italy, and he’s been through the ringer more than once (so, trauma, basically). Oh, and he’s a bit of a nerd (Mythomagic and knowing all kinds of ancient creatures). That’s... about it. Everything has been speculation and projection from fans.

In previous books he’s always been portrayed from first- or third-person point of view (usually from people who don’t know him well and just think he’s “creepy”), leading to the idea that he’s distant and low-empathy based on some interactions he’s had with demigods who weren’t thrilled to be around him, during a time of great pressure. But he’s not exactly uncaring. He’s been shown to care a lot, actually (Bianca, Hestia, Bob, everything he’s done for Percy, his friendship with Reyna, Hazel, etc.)

But what about when he was ten? He was an excitable, curious kid who liked to have fun. And what did we see briefly in Trials of Apollo (before Jason died, at least)? We saw some of that energy return, particularly in The Hidden Oracle.

So, yeah, I’m personally thrilled to see him making cringe-y jokes and have some self-deprecating humor. It’s very “#OnBrand” for a traumatized teenager who’s just trying to cope and live life without any godly wars forcing him this way and that. Can we really say it’s “out of character” if we’ve never seen more than one side of Nico? (The under pressure side, from other character’s PoVs, in books not about him where he’s basically been a side character?) I’m just glad to see him cracking jokes, laughing, and acting more like a normal kid.

Now, is this book different from Rick’s other ones? Uh, yeah. I won’t say it’s not. But it’s not bad. It’s supposed to be different. It has slightly different intentions than the other books (re: explicitly working through trauma and relationship bumps). Also, it’s co-written. Co-written books always read slightly off from the original author’s work, but dam if it isn’t hard to meld writing styles and copy another author’s particular voice. But I think Mark did a very good job at imitating Rick’s style (again, from what I’ve read so far).

Will I change my mind on all this the farther I get into the book? Maybe. There’s a lot to read and take in. All I’m saying is don’t let the negative reviews warp your opinion of the book if you haven’t read it yet and are on the fence if you should or not. Wait for the PDF to drop, or for a library copy, and read and see for yourself.

[bleed-more]

My Updated Headcanons for Seth Wilson

Since a lot of my attention is on Seth right now, I'm writing some updated headcanons for him with things I've learned over the past 4 years! I'm starting with my HCs with evidence and will write my HCs without evidence later >:3c

HEADCANONS WITH EVIDENCE:

- Seth's dog name is Link (Joseph mentioned in a livestream that's Seth the actor's dog's name so in typical MH fashion I imagine dog actor Link also plays dog character Link)

- Seth is about as tall as Brian (this isn't even really a hc but I used to draw him short so I wanted to clear that up)

- Seth did all the TTA entries that include fried images and red motifs (based off of Night Mind's theory that Tim-themed entries are black and white, Brian-themed entries are stereoscopic, and Seth-themed entries are deep-fried/red. They used these colors to both communicate who's speaking AND to let the recipient know who the message is for.)

- Seth used to be Christian but fell out of it by Season 2 (I think Seth is responsible for all the Christian iconography in the first season i.e. stigmata, ark, deluge, etc. considering neither Brian nor Tim were part of TTA yet, and he slowly abandons that faith because.......)

- ...Seth thinks he is a messiah of some kind (from TTA's "Forecast" where he says "AMIAPROPHET." [TW DEAD ANIMALS & ANIMAL CRUELTY FR PLS READ WITH CAUTION] Forecast uses footage from the USSR's "Experiments in the Revival of Organisms: 1940" in which you see a disembodied dog's lung being inflated and deflated by a machine in an effort to keep a dismembered dog's head alive. I don't think it's a coincidence TTA used a dismembered dog to refer to Seth ((or what Seth has become)) and that Seth is both alive(-ish) and has saved others from death, but only in the same fucked up corrupted way you see in the USSR's footage. Which leads me to...)

[END TW]

- ...Seth is trapped somewhere between the line of life and death and is sticking around for the unfinished business of revenge killing Alex (in the TTA entries, while many things are convoluted and unclear, one thing that is very consistent is TTA's hatred of Alex. Seth is vengeful for the death of himself, the attempted and successful murders of his friends. From TTA's "Decay" where Seth is clearly addressing Alex, he says "HE[Jay] WILL LEAD ME[Seth] TO YOU[Alex], LEAD ME TO DEATH[because his job will be done then], LEAD ME TO THE ARK[salvation and an end to his and Alex's suffering])

- Seth is the one responsible for Brian, Tim, and Jay surviving during Alex's first murder attempt (Alex couldn't bring himself to *actually* kill his friends back in 2006, so he lured them to the park and used blunt force trauma to knock them unconscious hoping leaving them for dead out in the park would be enough. Seth, however, had already caught on that something was wrong after Sarah's disappearance (I am going to write a whole thing about this eventually hehehe) and so he knew to be at the park, and after Alex left them, Seth made sure they were safe (there is also info I have here about a lake but that's worth a whole other post, send an ask if you're curious <3)

- And finally, Seth had been well ahead of everyone else in figuring out what was going on (Seth was the camera and tech guy, so it would make sense he would be the first to see what's happening on these cameras, and investigating what might be causing all of this. Seth was the one who coined the term OPERATOR. He understood Alex's actions were being influenced by this creature Seth was seeing while editing Marble Hornets. And I also think Alex knew Seth was catching onto his murder attempts, and that's why Alex took no chances and shot Seth (the first instance of Alex using a gun in the series) instead of hitting him over the head with a pipe and leaving him for the Operator like the others.)

I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND IF YOU GUYS HAVE ANY OF YOUR OWN THEORIES THIS WAS REALLY FUN TO WRITE AND I CANT WAIT TO MAKE PART 2 <3

[toxic-libra]

style - jwy (m)

pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader (interactive here) words: 6.9k genre: second chance romance, smut warnings: 3rd person pov, this is 'based' on style - taylor swift, mentions of old hollywood movies (please watch them bc they're super good), smut with biting, thigh riding, oral (m and f), not my best work but give me a chance pls a/n: i was supposed to post this on his bday, but i was at taylor's concert and lmao i kind of got depressed after and hated everything i wrote. this is my debut with ateez so i wanted it to be perfect, but inspiration just fucked me up and i decided to post it anyway since it's been too long already :(

Jung Wooyoung remembered it all too well. He remembered how the delicate musky sandalwood of her signature perfume made his heart tug whenever she was near, the way his stomach flipped when their eyes met, and how his fingers always itched to be touching hers.

Autumns and winters were always the worst.

He could hear all the lines of Rebecca (1940), one of her favourite movies, whenever someone tried to make small talk with him about the weather.

‘Most girls will give their eyes for a chance to see Monte.’

Clenching his jaw, he locked his phone and tossed it aside, trying to digest the fact he was the one who took that damn picture and she decided to post it just when it had been two months since they las saw each other. Not that she was as considerate as to block him so he wouldn’t spend hours on her social media, feeding on any crumble of appearance she dignified her followers with.

Y/N was petty like that.

She didn’t block him, no. She muted him and vanished from his life, but she didn’t give him the pleasure of not having to erase her from his world. If he wanted her truly gone, then he had to do it himself… Which, of course, proved to be a failure.

Because he didn’t want her gone. He tried moving on, only it didn’t work.

Wooyoung wondered if she also thought they made a huge mistake.

Turning his streaming service on, he searched for another one of her 40’s TOP5. Clicking on ‘The Shop Around the Corner (1940)’, the Old Fashioned tasted way bitter on his tongue than it should.

With a condescending sigh, he relaxed against his couch, and waited for Klara Novak (played by Margarete Sullavan) and Alfred Kralik (James Stweart – not surprisingly, one of Y/N’s favourite actors) to engage in their enemies to lovers plot as if he didn’t see that damn movie a thousand times already. Only this time, like others during this year apart, she wasn’t around to swoon over any minor interaction and to almost beam in happiness when Mr. Kralik said:

‘Take me out of my envelope and kiss me.’

Oh, there he went again… Quoting old movies like it was part of his personality.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

A month later

Y/N dried her hair and breathed in the woody scent of her haircare products – a tiny bit of her heart warming at the thought of Wooyoung. He used to love how she smelled.

“Are you ready, big sis?” Jongho knocked at her bedroom door.

“Not even close! You can go first, I’ll tag along later.” She yelled back.

“I’ll wait, no problem. I’m afraid I’ll ruin the surprise by mistake.”

“You just wanna make sure you don’t miss his shocked face when he sees me.” She giggled.

“You know me too well.” He sighed in feigned despair. “But do hurry up, please.”

“I’ll try.”

Y/N couldn’t rush everything. She wanted to look so good Wooyoung would almost faint as soon as his eyes laid on her. Not that she wouldn’t almost faint either… Just the perspective of being at the same place he was made her throat dry.

She missed him in ways she never missed anyone else before.

Deciding on the black dress, she admitted that the fact that he loved that colour made her like it even more. The small slit that drew up her right thigh would also catch his attention, and she couldn’t wait to have it all for herself. Her jewellery were ones he gave her over her birthdays, just to poke at their own stupid game. She didn’t spend much time on make-up, choosing to remain simple and classic – eyeliner and red lipstick… Which Wooyoung also liked.

Most men hated being smudged with lip tint, but he adored it.

The first person she saw was Seonghwa. With one of the prettiest smiles that graced humanity, the tall and handsome man approached her with open arms.

“Isn’t this the greatest surprise ever?!” He chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“Glad you like it,” She hugged him tight. “Because I’m back for good.”

“Oh.” Although subtle, Hwa’s smile faltered slightly.

“What?” She frowned.

“Does everyone know you’re back?”

“As of now, just Jjong and you.”

“Right. Makes sense.” He muttered to himself, doing his best not to look over his shoulder. It would be heart wrenching to let Y/N see Wooyoung with his date first thing inside the party.

Of course, she would eventually meet them… There was no way his friend would be as crass as leaving the girl alone because his ex (and the woman he was still in love with) was back in town. Wooyoung could be a little impulsive, but he had manners. And Y/N probably wouldn’t get that hurt from it, but she’d get hurt, nonetheless.

“What makes sense?”

“Oh, the fact that the boys were so quiet. If they knew you were coming, they’d be hyped as fuck.” It wasn’t even a lie, just not exactly the truth. “Let’s grab you a drink and get going, then.”

Hwa’s smile was slightly off, but she didn’t point it out.

Ordering her standard autumn/winter drink – French Connection –, Y/N relaxed against the bar stool. Jongho was nowhere to be seen, which made her a bit insecure. Things were always bit easier when her brother was next to her.

“So, what else is new? How are you guys doing?”

She was fishing for information, obviously. She couldn’t directly ask about Wooyoung because her friends didn’t know they secretly met in Monaco more often than not.

In her defence, the first time happened rather unexpectedly, and it led to a second, and a third… By the fourth, they decided it was better to pretend every time was an accident and keep their friends out of it. Wooyoung normally wouldn’t be this good keeping secrets, however, something in him had shifted. His boyish air had vanished almost completely, leaving his wicked jaw and sharp eyes without the warmth he once carried within him.

He walked with confidence, still. Nonetheless, every move seemed calculated, controlled. The carefree Jung Wooyoung she loved was swept by the future CEO Jung. And while she looked at Seonghwa, she wondered if he had noticed that too.

“We’re fine… We’ll probably be even better with you around now.”

“I hope so.” she grinned as the bartender handed her a glass. “Oh, thank you. Where are the lads? I want to see them. Is everyone here? Hongjoong too?”

With a sigh, he held her hand. “Listen, darling, I’ve something to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“Woo… Wooyoung came here with a girl.”

For a second, Y/N felt the air burning her lungs at the same time someone punched her stomach. Well, she supposed he wouldn’t stay single forever… However, the fact that she had to witness it a month after meeting him was too sour and pitiful. “Oh, I see.” Her voice came out crooked.

“It’s nothing serious, I’m sure. Just a date for the party.” Hwa squeezed her fingers tenderly. “You know he’s still as much in love with you as you are with him.”

But before she could react to his words, her attention laid on the man in question: dressed in a black three-piece suit, his dark long hair was slicked back, only some bangs’ locks falling off from the gel hairstyle. Y/N clenched her jaw, heart thumping so fast she was sure everyone could hear it. Luckily, there was no girl next to him, only her friends.

“Shall we go greet them?” With a haughty pose, one that differed completely from what she felt inside, she tugged at Hwa’s arm, dragging him towards their group.

In slow motion, Wooyoung watched Y/N approach him. When their eyes met, the party seemed to disappear, only the two of them in the ballroom. His fingers flexed on the Old Fashioned glass, demanding a lot of self-control as not to rush to her, hug her tight and kiss her senseless. He couldn’t do that for a thousand reasons, but the impulse was almost cruel.

He still loved her.

He was afraid he’d always love her.

“Long time no see, Wooyoung.” Her smirk was subtle, and there was a twinkle of mirth in her beautiful orbs. The playful tone was laced with politeness, but he knew her all too well.

As if they didn’t see each other a month ago in Monaco, he breathed slowly, letting his lips stretch and mimic hers. “Long time no see, Y/N.”

Straightening her back, her suave pose disappeared as a girl’s hand rolled around his forearm. Then, the jest was replaced by possessiveness, gaze darkening. Jealousy was the lousiest bitch.

“Oh, hello! I’m Lia.”

Well, at least that didn’t come accompanied by ‘His girlfriend’.

“Enchanted. I’m Y/N Choi.”

And since the girl didn’t react at the sound of her name, Y/N supposed she was rather new there. Lia was new enough to not know about her, and wouldn’t stick around enough to do so.

“I can’t believe she’s back!” Hongjoong celebrated, a huge grin on his face and open arms.

“I’m back, Joong.” She agreed, hugging him. “Back for good!”

“That’s awesome!”

“Were you living abroad?” Lia questioned, curious.

Y/N sipped on her drink, cocking her head to the side. “I wouldn’t call it ‘living’, but you could say that, yeah.” It was more like ‘suffering while trying to pretend everything was fine’.

“Why, though?” The quip came from Wooyoung. His eyes were glinting with a mix of grudge and challenge. “I thought you’ve always wanted to move abroad.”

“Where did you live? Europe? The USA?” Lia butted in.

“I spent some time between London and Monaco.”

“Oh my God! Monaco must’ve been a dream! I’ve heard there are some cute guys there, and rich too. Did you meet any? Are they really handsome?”

Y/N chuckled, feeling rather silly for being jealous of that girl. No one would dare to talk about crushes and money in front of a potential boyfriend, so that meant Lia felt nothing for Wooyoung, right? “Oh, I wasn’t feeling like… Meeting new people there.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Why meet any boy if her heart was still set on her ex? Why pretend she could replace him with another rich dude?

She couldn’t, it was pointless.

Not when Monaco screamed them. If she was Taylor Swift, ‘Cornelia Street’ would be called ‘Monte Carlo’. And like Taylor said on her lyrics, Y/N couldn’t walk around any corner of the small principality without being reminded of Jung Wooyoung.

It didn’t help that, although breaking up, they engaged in secret rendezvous more often than not… And each reunion just proved her how any other men paled in comparison to him. It was ridiculous to have an ‘affair’ with her own ex-boyfriend; she always condemned people that broke up and still kept hooking up with each other… Until it happened to her.

To be quite honest, the reason they broke up wasn’t exactly because of bad behaviour. There wasn’t cheating, nor deceiving. They didn’t fall out of love, either – in fact, Y/N was sure she loved him even more with each month apart. However, love alone wasn’t enough to calm her restless mind, and he too seemed eager for… Well, she didn’t know?! Things were just different. The weight of responsibilities and the need to make something, any difference in the world drove them apart.

Wooyoung was taking his position in his father’s business, and Y/N had no idea of what to do with her life (again). She acknowledged her timing was shitty, for he needed something concrete to hold onto while everything changed… But… She was afraid of not being good enough for him. He was becoming the Business Prince he was born to be, and she… She was just the shallow heiress with nothing important on her ‘life curriculum’ that the media thought her to be.

Then, London seemed a good escape.

It was a familiar place, offering her some comfort. Not warm and soothing like Wooyoung’s presence in her existence, but enough to keep her going.

She occupied her mind with a Master’s degree in Creative Writing, and when it was over, she had the overwhelming desire to call Wooyoung and tell him she finally did something about those 68 stories she wrote throughout her writing life.

Now, they were face to face and she didn’t know what to exactly say.

“Right…” Jongho intervened. “Big sis, we should greet some people now.”

And like smoke, Y/N disappeared from his sight for the next hour.

Ordering his third Old Fashioned, Wooyoung recognised the almond-shaped red nails, especially the black onyx ring on her middle finger.

“A Death in The Afternoon, please.” She smiled at the bartender.

“No French Connection?” He looked at her.

“Summer habits die hard.”

“I thought you preferred winter.”

“Any champagne of preference, miss?” The man asked Y/N.

“Veuve Clicquot.” They answered at the same time.

She sighed, biting a faux grin and playing with the gold band on her finger. “I see we still have some stuff in common… Does your date like signet rings?”

Wooyoung was wearing his black onyx signet ring… Y/N’s one twin.

“I’ve no idea; never asked her.” His eyes traced her neck. “No pearls?”

“Not with black satin.” She quoted Rebecca (1940), heart thumping with expectation.

“I thought it was never wearing neither one nor the other.”

Thank God he still remembered the movie!

“You can’t blame me for loving pearls and black satin, I look divine in them.” She jested, flicking her hair in a haughty way. “So, I try not to wear them together.”

Ogling her from head to toe, Wooyoung’s grin was one of a panther, although he felt his stomach tightening and the annoying dryness of his throat. “Cheers to that. You do look divine.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort in this.”

“It wasn’t needed. You look good in anything.” ‘Even better if stark naked’, but he obviously wouldn’t say that. Before he could comment on something else, his drink arrived. “Thanks, lad.” Turning to her once more, he kept grinning, although less sincerely. “So, see you around, Y/N.”

“Wait.” She called out before she could stop herself. He just raised his eyebrow, like he used to do whenever giving someone his initial attention. “I was hoping we could talk about my being back home… At some point this weekend, maybe?! Are you free?”

“I’ll be free after the party, if you want.”

“Well, don’t you have other plans with your date?”

“I don’t and you already know that.”

“Why did you invite her?”

“I couldn’t just invite you, could I?” He retorted.

Her jaw clenched, swallowing the apology. They were in public, not the right place to discuss their relationship. “Text me when you’re ready, and we can meet up.”

“Alright.”

“See you later, then, Woo.”

“See ya, Y/N.”

Wooyoung still lived in the same penthouse. It was painful sometimes, for the whole place had a bit of Y/N in it. He kept their photographs, kept the clothes she left behind, kept everything he could. It wasn’t his wisest decision, however, breaking up with her wasn’t one of them either.

And now she was back.

She was back and wanted to talk about it.

Now, way past three in the morning, he wasn’t drunk, but had the weirdest taste on his mouth – something like hope. His heart was beating heavily against his chest, and he couldn’t wait to smell her again. To touch her, kiss her, set every emotion free.

Dragging himself to the mirror of the entrance hall, he combed his hair with his fingers and smoothed out his shirt, opening two buttons just because.

At the sound of the doorbell, he took a deep breath and straightened his back.

“Well…”

The small, almost timid smile Y/N gave him was enough to make his knees wobble.

“Hi there… Uh…” She opened her arms. “Here I am.”

With a chuckle, one that made her eyes water a bit, for it resembled the Old Wooyoung so much, he let his body cage hers, holding her in a tight hug.

Wooyoung always gave the best hugs.

“Hi there, love.” His voice was slightly raspy, quite full of emotion, the nickname slipping past his tongue before he had any chance to keep it locked.

They remained there for a minute or two, feeding on each other’s presence and feeling each other’s warmth as if the sun was finally out after a fortnight-long storm.

“I’m back, Woo.” She said against his torso. “I’m back for good now.”

“And what does it mean?”

Y/N knew he wanted to hear her exact words, even though he already knew why she was there. And, because she loved him so, she didn’t have any problem laying her chest bare for him.

“It means I’m sorry I backed off when you needed support. Sorry I freaked out and thought lowly of me, and ended up hurting you… Hurting us in the process.” She put some distance between them, trying to be as honest as possible. “All this time apart proved to me that you’re my only one and I was really dumb for thinking I could ever move on from you.” She offered him a shy smile. “I wanted to be worthy of you, but I didn’t understand I could do that while being with you. My mind and insecurities blinded me, and I ran away. I hurt you deeply, and I’m so very sorry for it.”

Wooyoung nodded, face serious.

“You did hurt me.” He agreed. “I wondered what had happened, why you stopped loving me.”

“I didn’t.”

“This was clear by our second meeting in Monaco.” His grin was slightly off. “But it angered me that, although we kept seeing each other, you never suggested for us to get back together.”

“I still thought you deserved better.”

“Well, turns out I’m the one who gets to decide who or what is good for me, Y/N. And you were it.” He noticed how her expression dropped, probably due to the use of past tense. And Wooyoung had learned to be cruel to others, his job required him to be cold and controlled, but he could never be like that with Y/N. “And you still are, even though you hurt me.” Her beautiful eyes stared at his, hopeful. “When I saw you at the party tonight, the world slowed down. It’s no use pretending I don’t miss you and I don’t love you; we’re old enough to stop playing these games now. It was alright when you were in Europe, but now you’re back, and I’m not in the mood for halves. So, it’s either all of it, or nothing at all. It’s either starting over together, or ending everything.”

She didn’t hesitate, despite the ultimatum. “I want to start over. I want to be with you.”

“So no running away whenever things get difficult, nor making assumptions, ok?! I’m not one of giving second chances, Y/N.” He warned. “And I’m not interested in having my heart broken again. I hate being like this, hate being sceptical and cold. This isn’t me.”

Y/N nodded. “I won't let my insecurities and paranoia hurt you again.”

“You can talk to me, you know? I want to make you happy, see you happy. If things get hard, I’m more than honoured to be your safe-haven… You don’t have to move to fucking Europe to sort it out.” He rolled his eyes, sounding more like the Wooyoung he once was.

“Want me to pinkie-promise?” She stuck her pinkie out, grinning.

“God, how I’ve missed your inability to take things serious!”

“Hey! I’m mature now.”

“Nah,” He shook his head, one hand cupping her cheek. “You’re mine now.”

“I’ve been yours the whole time, and I don’t plan on running away ever again.”

“Thank God.” Wooyoung whispered against her lips, starting a searing kiss.

Y/N relished in his lips, fingers threading in his dark locks. He tasted like Old Fashioned and home; he felt like the rays of sunshine on a spring day; he smelled like the best mix of spiciness and man. She couldn’t get enough of him, and it was pointless trying to pretend so.

“Woo, I…” Her voice was breathy, conflicted.

“You…?” He frowned, brown eyes fixed on hers. “Should I stop?”

“No, don’t!” She sighed. “It’s just… I don’t know if… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I…” Well, they’d agreed to be back together, right? It was better getting it off her chest quickly, so he wouldn’t doubt her later on. “I love you.”

With an easy smile, one that obviously didn’t mirror the flood of emotions, Wooyoung kissed her urgently, again. She sighed against his mouth, tongue quickly searching for his before she lost her last thinking brain cell. It didn’t take more than a minute before a cheeky and feminine hand found its way down his torso, tracing with pointy nails from his belly to his crotch. Wooyoung pulled her hair, pushing her face upwards and changing their kiss angle, then, he groped her ass, relishing on the feeling of her plump bottom and the luxurious velvet of her dress.

Y/N gasped for air, pressing sloppy kisses on his jaw and neck. She gave him small bites, sucking on his skin and mirroring how she would do on more private areas. She untucked his shirt off his trousers and fumbled with his belt, patience running thin.

Why the fuck was he wearing a belt, in the first place?!

“Don’t you dare getting on your knees now.” He warned, predicting her actions.

“Pardon?” She hesitated.

“I’ll come so fast if you give me a blowjob now, we’ll lose all the fun.” There was an adorable blush on his cheeks, despite his mockery tone and bossy warning before.

Her heart tugged at the sight.

“Then we do need a new approach, for I was really hoping to choke on your cum as soon as possible.” Now it was her turn to say something obscene with flushed cheeks.

“May I choke on yours first?” He offered, a smirk growing on his lips.

“By all means.” Y/N giggled, shaking her head in agreement.

Wooyoung pushed her against the wall, eyeing her for a brief second before stealing another kiss. At every stroke of his tongue there was a silent promise; he tried to pour both love and lust in it. Then, he got on his knees, pushing her dress upwards and revealing her legs. Y/N helped him by holding on the skirts, bunching the fabric up next to her waist. She felt his hands on her feet, undoing her shoes, then they were on shins, tickling their way to her thighs until they rested on her bum, kneading at the flesh in pure hunger.

Wooyoung kissed her lower stomach, nibbling lightly at her smooth skin. “I’ve missed you so much.” He murmured against her, grip tightening.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“But I’ve missed you more.”

“Is this a competition?” She eyed him in defiance.

“What if it is?!”

Y/N chuckled, combing his hair out of his forehead.

“Then I won.”

“I don’t think so.” Wooyoung touched her panties, his thumb drawing small circles right on her core. He kissed her right there, his tongue swiping up and down the lace and its warmth travelling through the fabric, making her shiver. “You better hold onto my shoulders, love.”

Y/N moaned loudly, feeling her legs bend a bit and skin tingle. She quickly took her dress off and tossed it aside; getting drunk in the way Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled as he looked up, hypnotised by her boobs. She rested her head against the wall with a loud thud, but pain was the last thing on her mind. Slowly, he rolled her undergarments down and launched his mouth on her, sucking and licking in lazy strokes like those that he knew would drive her insane. His touch, his kisses, his presence… She beamed in joy at the sight of him, and she would regret every second of their breakup because it was a waste of time for both of them. As for Wooyoung, he knew no other woman would compare to her; no one else fitted him as Y/N did.

She tugged at his hair, forcing her hips down to create a bit more friction. His short nails scratched her thighs, bringing her even closer. Normally, she would prefer to lay, but there was something rather wicked about that position, especially knowing that they were by the door… It didn’t matter he lived in the penthouse, she wondered if people on the other floors could listen.

His heart fluttered as she came, the most wicked and lustful moan of his name coming from her lips. Y/N felt gooey, her legs begging for buckling down and resting anywhere… Preferable on a bed… However, Wooyoung seemed to have other plans.

Tugging her by the hand, he brought her to the nearest chair in his living room and sat down with her nestled on his lap. He kissed her jaw, delicately biting at the flesh.

“Ride my thigh, love.” He murmured against her chin. It sounded like a suggestion, but Y/N understood the meaning: an order.

“While you’re wearing trousers?”

“Mm-hm.” He shook his head in agreement, finger pads pinching one of her nipples.

“Won’t it stain?”

Wooyoung’s eyes flew back to hers, a mockery gleam fighting its way beyond the lust.

“Are you trying to gain yourself some minutes?”

Busted.

Ugh, how she hated him for knowing her so well!

“I’m just thinking about how embarrassing it’ll be for those doing your laundry.”

“I’ll do it instead.”

“You? Doing the laundry?!” Y/N grinned in pure jest. “Jung Wooyoung, part-time millionaire and part-time CEO, doing housework?!”

“Full-time millionaire and full-time love of your life, as decided minutes ago.”

“What an amazing career.”

“You just gotta focus on what you do best.” He shrugged, putting on a serious expression though his voice was soft, cheerful even.

“Well, God help me, for you do that perfectly.”

Y/N kissed him, shivering when his arms rounded her waist to pull her closer to his crotch.

“Ride my thigh, Y/N.” Wooyoung said again.

Her eyes flew shut after listening to her name falling from his lips. Promptly, she moved, straddling his leg and rocking her hips against his pants. One of Wooyoung’s hands groped on her ass while the other went up, scratching her ribs on the way to her boobs. His head dipped down, tongue darting around the bud, licking and sucking it as he felt her body tensing.

“It’s too much.” She moaned.

He paid her no mind, keeping the assault until she started trembling.

“Can’t you take it?” He rasped against her collarbones. “Can’t you do it for me?”

Y/N gulped, mouth dry and heart beating so fast she was sure Wooyoung could hear it. She was also sure he knew she would do whatever he wanted as long as he kept making her feel good, so she just went back on grinding on his thigh without answering directly to his question. Besides, words escaped her as her second orgasm approached.

“Fuck, love, you’re fascinating.” it came out breathy, Wooyoung’s teeth sinking onto her shoulder. He felt the spot next to his knee wet, noticed her hips losing strength speed.

It was the second bite that undid her truly. She shook, nails leaving red lines on his backs and arms tightening around his neck, bringing him even closer. Then she collapsed against him, panting. Wooyoung peppered kisses around her jaw, smoothing her hair and praising her for being the best of girls, for obeying him and cumming again.

“Wooyoung,” Y/N croaked. “I’ve made a mess of your trousers.”

“It’s ok, love. We’ll take it off.” He smiled softly. “Are your legs working?”

“Barely, but I can try to stand up.”

“No, no, no. I’ll just put you...” He murmured while pushing her to the side and standing up himself, leaving her on the chair. “See? I’ll take it off.”

“Oh, no, wait!” Y/N slapped his hand. “Let me do this.”

Fuck, he could cum on the spot. She really was at his house, the living room’s dim light casting over her while she fumbled with his trousers, and it downed on Wooyoung that she was back.

And she still loved him.

And they were together again.

“Here, sit down, you’re making me uncomfortable.” She gestured, getting on her feet too.

Oh, damn, he knew where that was going.

“What did I tell you about getting on your knees?”

“You choked on my cum already, now it’s my turn. Be fair!” Y/N pouted.

Wooyoung blinked slowly, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, God, the things I wanna do to you.” His thumb caressed her bottom lip. Soon, he forced it in, attentively staring at her mouth while she sucked it inside, cheeks hollowing. “Please, if you could do the same to my dick, I would…”

“It’ll be a pleasure.” Y/N chuckled, bringing his hand to full view and tracing her tongue on the tip of his finger. His chestnut eyes were a shade darker, pupils blown open.

“All mine, I guarantee.”

But before she could dive in, a familiar ringtone erupted from the floor, his trousers vibrating at the rhythm. It startled them, though Y/N’s reaction was only a small grin whereas Wooyoung’s was an annoyed grunt, cussing in a low voice.

“Maybe you should pick it up?”

“Absolutely not.” He refused to move and spoil the moment. His dick was hard, he finally had her back and between his legs (ready to suck the soul out of him)… He waited more than a fucking year for that, whoever called could damn wait too.

“What if it’s important?”

“There’s nothing more important than your pretty mouth around my cock, love.”

“But…”

“On your knees, darling.”

She gulped, slightly annoyed by the fact he could change the mood with only one phrase. It never failed to surprise how much effect he had on her.

Trying not to let his temper rise, Y/N went back between his legs. She caressed his thighs, nails trailing them slightly. Then, she went up, unbuttoning his shirt while he glanced at her with a hunger in his eyes. She pushed off his shirt, being awarded with the sight of his tattoo. Hands palming his torso, she mapped his skin, tracing the Latin phrase, wanting nothing more than to eat him open. She licked her lips, heart thumping loudly against her ribcage.

“Why are you staring?” He wondered. “Do I look too tempting?” He jested.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “Delicious as fuck and all mine.”

“I like how it sounds.” Wooyoung dipped his head down, pecking her lips. “And you’re all mine.”

“Always have been.” She agreed.

His stomach churned at the gleam of lust in her beautiful eyes. “Suck.”

The order came out simple and serious, a bit like the new Wooyoung he was.

Y/N’s hands found purchase on his thighs, the very ones she rode a while ago. Well, she was already in the rain… Let it all get wet.

Literally.

She gathered some saliva, palming his dick and spitting right on its head. Wooyoung breathed audibly, chest rising in a lungful expanse. Y/N moved her hand on him, spreading her spit and hearing his quiet moan. With a grin, she closed her eyes and sank down on his shaft, tongue circling the tip and tasting the salty pre-cum.

“Fuck.” He groaned.

She wasn’t that good with having dicks on her throat, always gagging and getting teary eyed, but this time she wanted to surprise him. She wanted to make him feel as marvellous as she felt during her two orgasms. Hence, she watched her breathing and swallowed him deeper. Wooyoung said something through gritted teeth, a hand flying to her hair and holding her head in place. Y/N hollowed her cheeks, bobbing up and down for a brief minute, forcing the movement against Wooyoung’s command. His hips bucked, making his cock hit her throat and she feel the burn in her eyes, tears coming almost automatically.

“Fuck, love, you’re gonna…”

He was cut mid-sentence by her gaze and thought he would explode. If there was anything hotter than her sucking him off and his cock was gagging her… Wooyoung didn’t really want to know. He honestly wouldn’t survive it.

Y/N repeated the motion, then she backed off with a gasp, drooling all over him. His hands were shaking, making him slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t stop even if I gag.” She ordered.

“Ugh, the things I wanna do to you, darling…”

“It’ll have to wait a bit.” She kept her fingers busy, caressing him while she took a breath.

Then, Wooyoung watched, mesmerised, Y/N’s wickedness take control: she turned her attention to his balls, licking it up and nibbling at the sensitive skin like he used to do with her clit. Words escaped him, so all he did was let out a raspy moan, tightening his grip on her hair.

Her tongue swirled around his shaft and she swallowed him again, tilting her head slightly so he could start fucking her mouth. He caught on her idea and adjusted his position, moving his hips smoothly, testing the angle. Y/N gagged once again, because that way he hit a spot too close to her throat, and although it was a bit uncomfortable, she couldn’t be hornier. Just tasting him and hearing him moan, knowing it was her own doing… It made her all wet and desperate. Glancing up, she locked eyes with Wooyoung – he looked hypnotised, almost drunk on the scene… On her.

It was all so erotic, so lustful, so right. He couldn’t tear his gaze as his dick disappeared on her plump lips, accepting all of him in as if she was born to suck him off, as if she was starving for it.

“Can I cum in your mouth, love?” He asked, wiping a small tear from her eye, his thumb caressing her cheekbone while he kept thrusting inside. “Or should I cum in your pussy?”

She whimpered, doing her best to shake her head positively, nails clawing at his thighs for support. Her knees were starting to hurt, legs sore and quite numb, but she really wanted to taste him before they properly fucked.

At her consent, Wooyoung’s mind clouded, Y/N being the only thought echoing. He shivered, the orgasm hitting so strong his belly clenched and his toes curled; he spilled inside her mouth, a deep, sexy groan erupting from his own.

Y/N swallowed and wiped her mouth, climbing his legs and sitting on his lap. She caressed his face, drawing all of his angles and mapping them on her mind once again.

“I love you.” She whispered next to his ear. “And I intend to make it up to you every day.”

“You’re a fucking minx.” Wooyoung murmured, a small smile reaching his mouth.

“Full-time minx?” She joked.

“Yeah. And full-time love of my life, so don’t fret.”

“Good.” Y/N stole a peck. “Good.”

They kissed in a lazy, tooth-aching romantic dance. He could taste himself on her tongue, and it was addictive, making him want to ravish her on the spot.

Then, after catching some breath and regaining more strength, Wooyoung hooked his arms around her legs and stood up, grinning at her wide eyes and high-pitched yelp.

“Hold tight, love. We’re going to the couch.”

“You should’ve said that before.” She giggled.

Wooyoung moved as if he was used to carry her all the time. Laying her down, he hovered over her, kissing her once more. This time, it was sloppy, teeth clashing as they touched each other all over – Y/N’s sharp nails digging at his back, leaving red lines on its length, while he groped at her thighs and ass, letting her wet pussy grind against his stomach and hips. She moaned, breaking the kiss and bending her head backwards when she felt his touch creeping down, stopping right at her core. Wooyoung didn’t mind it, kissing her neck instead, and plunging two fingers inside her, moving them slowly.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N cursed. “Please, Woo, please.”

“What are you begging for, love?” He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mirth and lust, heart beating a bit too fast at her desperation, at the fact that she was his again.

“You.” Her teeth tucked his bottom lip at the same time she tugged at his hair, her pupils blown wide, hungry and desperate for anything he could give her. “Always for you.”

“But I’m already yours, Y/N.”

“But I want more. I want everything, Woo.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.” Setting his fingers free, it was time to fuck her properly.

He thrusted, finally linking their bodies. She hugged him, nails digging onto his back and leaving crescent marks; her legs pulled him even closer. His cock twitched, being devoured by her tight cunt. Wooyoung couldn’t even control his own muscles, so eager for his own release and to make Y/N feel good, like she deserved after repenting.

They were so focused on each other that every movement felt calculated, synchronised. Where she went, he followed, and vice-versa. His belly tensed up when one of her hands held his ass, groping at it while she let out a low, sexy laugh.

“You fucking minx.”

“It’s mine to touch,” She pouted, bathed in feminine power. “All mine.”

Something switched in his demeanour and Y/N gasped in surprise as he pulled her arms up, a strong hand blocking them from moving.

“Well, you’re all mine too. Mine to touch,” He brought another hand up, fingers intertwining with hers. “Mine to kiss,” A hungry, wet kiss stolen. “Mine to please,” His pace quickened, cock throbbing while she clenched around it. “Mine to…”

Love.

He growled, combusting in emotions. Y/N seemed to understand, because her eyes shone in a warm, romantic gleam. She got teary, pleasure so unbearable, so suffocating her body couldn’t take it anymore. She was still sensitive from the other orgasm, which made this one stronger, more devastating. Gripping at Wooyoung’s hands, she found in him her safe-haven.

Feeling her clenching around him just made his dick harder, and he was surprised at the fact… Normally he had to rest a bit before he went from one orgasm to another. Sitting up, Wooyoung hugged her by the waist, bringing her body closer, letting her nipples grind against his torso as she rocked against him in a steady speed. Bouncing, Y/N created enough friction and Wooyoung moved to match her speed, their muffled moans paired up with their hips colliding were the only noises echoing in the room.

They kissed again, messily and hungrily. She held him with such strength, anchoring on him as if her life depended on that. It was intense and raw, her body subconsciously trying to conquer his, claim his as hers… Although she didn’t need that anymore. He wouldn’t belong to anyone else… He didn’t want to. It was Y/N from the beginning.

“I’ll probably leave some red marks on your shoulders…”

“It’s ok.” He kissed her jaw, muffling another moan.

At each sharp and fast thrust, at each moan and kiss, they got further lost on each other. His dick twitched in earnest, feeling her so snug and wet around him. Y/N trembled at the breath denial, causing her stomach to tighten in delight. Wooyoung felt his body giving up and cursed low, unable to hold back anymore.

“Love…” He rasped. “Are you with me?”

Her teary eyes were enough answer. Wooyoung wanted to say a couple dirty things, however, the grip she had on his cock robbed him his sanity, so he just plunged on her violently, guiding both of them to the climax. Y/N shook from head to toe, moaning his name like a prayer and squeezing him like she had claws. He bit on her shoulder again because he knew she loved that. His fingers dug into her skin, also leaving marks.

The only noises were their panting. He rested his face against her neck, giving it small bites and kisses. Playing with his dark, long locks, Y/N sighed in contempt. How could she think it was possible to be happy without him when she was only happy with him, because of him?!

“Why?” She heard his muffled voice.

“What?”

“Why are you sighing?” He moved slightly, so they could look at each other.

“Just because.”

“Perhaps because you’re in your favourite place in the world with your favourite person?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “God, you’re so conceited!” Slightly tugging at his hair, she shook his head a bit. “My favourite place is Monaco.”

“This still makes me your favourite person.” He grinned.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Playfully rolling her eyes, she pouted.

“I’m not tired at all. I suggest we grab a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and celebrate a bit more, hm?”

“Will you help me remove my make-up first?”

“Of course, it’s classic Y/N-Wooyoung behaviour.”

She smiled, knowing that everything would be alright again.

[lovingwanda]

Character Profile: Candice Ann-Marie Montgomery (Candy)

Full Name: Candice "Ann-Marie" Montgomery

Nickname: Candy

Age: 35 years old

Eye Color: Green

Hair Color: Chestnut brown, often styled in loose waves or elegant updos.

Residence: Warren Valley (Trick R Treat universe)

Occupation: Owner Of "Candy's Corner" A boutique shop in Warren Valley.

Family Background:

Mother: Eleanor Montgomery, a dedicated homemaker who infused warmth and creativity into her family's life. Eleanor encouraged Candy's love for fashion and instilled the importance of self-expression through clothing and personal style.

Father: Robert Montgomery, a decorated veteran of both World War I and World War II, who returned home with a deep sense of duty and responsibility. His strong work ethic and focus on discipline influenced Candy's determination to succeed. However, his experiences in war left him emotionally scarred, leading to periods of withdrawal and difficulty in expressing his feelings, which strained their family dynamic. Despite the pride associated with his military accolades, the toll of his service created a complex relationship for Candy, as she struggled to reconcile the heroic image with the reality of his struggles with PTSD.

Siblings: Candy is an only child, which fueled her ambition to excel and fulfill her parents’ high expectations. Growing up without siblings allowed her to develop independence early on, often planning her own activities and social events.

Marital Status: Widowed

Late Husband: Nathaniel "Nate" Carter, a kind-hearted man who supported Candy's dreams. They were married for four years before his untimely passing due to an unexpected illness. Candy often reminisces about their adventures together, and Nate’s encouragement helped her build the confidence to pursue her aspirations.

Would-Be Child: They were expecting their first child, whom they named Lily, but Candy suffered a miscarriage during the first trimester. The loss deeply affected her, instilling a sense of fragility about life that she channels into her work and relationships.

### Backstory:

Candy grew up in a tight-knit suburban community in the late 1940s, where individuality and creativity were cherished. Heavily influenced by her mother’s role as a homemaker, she learned early on how to throw vibrant gatherings and events that brought people together. Candy's childhood was filled with color and warmth, as her mother often organized neighborhood events and holiday celebrations, cultivating a sense of community.

Her father's experience as a decorated veteran of two world wars instilled in her a sense of respect for duty and service. However, his service left him with deep emotional scars, leading to difficulties with intimacy and emotional expression. While she admired his bravery and accomplishments, she often felt the weight of unspoken expectations and the burden of his unresolved trauma. As a child, she found herself tiptoeing around his moods, desperately wanting to support him but often feeling helpless to alleviate his pain. This dynamic taught her resilience but also instilled a sense of responsibility and fear of vulnerability.

After high school, Candy attended a local community college, where she studied fashion design and business management. Her education sparked a passion for style and entrepreneurship, leading her to envision a future where she could combine both. Upon graduating, she worked in various retail settings, honing her skills in customer service and fashion merchandising. Her outgoing personality and flair for connecting with people made her a natural fit in these roles.

Candy and Nate decided to travel together, exploring America’s vibrant culture and fashion scene. Their adventures deepened their bond and ignited Candy’s desire to create a space that reflected her vision of community and creativity. Tragedy struck when Nate fell ill. His unexpected passing was a devastating blow, leaving Candy grappling with her grief. The emotional toll was compounded by the loss of their unborn child, an experience that shattered her dreams of family and stability. Yet, through the darkness, she resolved to honor Nate’s memory by pursuing her dreams.

### Personality:

Candy is outgoing and friendly, with an innate ability to make people feel at ease. She thrives in social situations, often acting as a mediator and organizer among her friends. Her life experiences have made her empathetic and emotionally aware, qualities that draw others to her. Despite her cheerful demeanor, she is a planner at heart—meticulously organizing her shop’s events and always keeping a detailed calendar.

Candy’s resilience shines through in her determination to succeed despite personal tragedy. She uses her pain as motivation, channeling it into her work and community involvement. Her shop serves as a safe haven for those looking to express themselves, and she approaches every customer interaction with kindness and understanding, hoping to uplift others who may be going through similar struggles.

### Goals and Aspirations:

Professional: To expand her shop into a well-known destination for fashion enthusiasts, offering unique pieces and community events that inspire creativity and connection.

Personal: To heal from her past losses while finding ways to keep Nate’s memory alive. She dreams of one day starting a family again when she feels ready, nurturing her own legacy and possibly naming a future child after Lily.

### Conclusion:

Candy’s story is one of resilience, creativity, and connection. She embodies the spirit of a social butterfly, using her charm and planning skills to create a welcoming environment for others. Her journey from grief to self-motivation illustrates her strength and commitment to living life to the fullest, making her a beloved figure in her new community.

### About "Candy's Corner"

In Warren Valley, within the Trick 'r Treat universe, Candy currently owns and operates a charming boutique called "Candy's Corner." The shop specializes in unique, handmade clothing and accessories, embodying her flair for fashion and creativity.

### Details about Candy's Corner:

Theme: The boutique features a whimsical and nostalgic aesthetic, blending 1970s styles with seasonal decorations, particularly for Halloween. The shop transforms into a festive haven during the fall season, showcasing costumes, spooky decorations, and autumn-themed clothing.

Community Hub: Beyond being a retail space, Candy's Corner serves as a social hub for the community. Candy often hosts events, such as crafting nights, fashion shows, and seasonal celebrations, where locals can come together to share ideas and support each other.

Focus on Sustainability: Candy is passionate about sustainability and often sources materials from local vendors, promoting eco-friendly fashion. This aligns with her values of community support and responsible living.

Mentorship: She also takes on a mentorship role for young aspiring designers and seamstresses in the area, encouraging them to express themselves through fashion and creativity.

### Conclusion:

Overall, Candy's Corner reflects her vibrant personality, love for fashion, and dedication to building connections within Warren Valley, making it a beloved establishment in the town.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Percy makes so much sense as an afrolatino character i genuinely don't understand how it wasn't intentional.He's a New Yorker from El Barrio,a mama's boy who respects women and disrespects men,poor and has a deadbeat dad but characterized in ways to defy stereotypes as the purpose of his creation and deals with realistic guilt of falling under stereotypes to begin with,was a bully beater that refused to stop standing up for himself and other kids to the point he got kicked out of 6 schools by the time was only 12 and authority figures picked on him too,has gotten straightup profield in the mortal world his entire life because 'he looks scary' and 'his vibes are naturally off to normies',is a hardcore cocky ahh asshole yet also a softie with zero self-eestem in that way so many black men are,his dad is Poseidon but his mom raised him in the ways of the sea because she's loved it her whole life and her parents' past isn't expanded on so they could easily be inmigrants,he's punk but in mentality and lifestyle and tastes and dosen't care about being just an aesthetic poser and roasts other guys for machoism,used 'rich white boys' as an insult in the second book,his hair is pure black and the texture isn't specified but it being longer than average for a dude's IS and his skin gets specified too as mediterrean i.e brown skin and we're not given his exact shade,he's a genius and has been saving everybody's asses for 11+ books but gets treated like a well-intentioned idiot by everyone for no reason,Hazel aka the first darkskin black fem mc of the series who's also from 1940s New Orleans described him as having 'the good looks of a roman god' and Percy was instantly riding harder for her than anybody else did including her nonblack 'boyfriend' and nurtures her in a dad-like fashion which brings to mind the fact that Hazel's BIODAD is a roman god but didn't get the reaction on his apperance from her Percy did,his foil is Luke aka a fascist to his anarchist and a paragon of cishet physically abled allistic white male privilege and violence and self-victimization and he said Sadie who is CANONICALLY a black dad white mom kid who's light but not white passing since her racist classmates could tell she's black biracial by just looking at her looks like if he had a daughter.And his name is literally Percy Jackson.How much blacker can a character get like fym Percy's not short for Perseo and that he dosen't have eyebrow,spider bite,tongue ring and forward helix on both ears piercings and Sally dosen't have an afro and wear head scarves and make him blue soul food and blueberry flan,he's literally a hood nigga and an afropunk

[justrainandcoffee]

The sun always rises again (Farrier x fem!oc) Part II.

Masterlist - Part I

Summary: 1940 Dunkirk, France. Farrier, Collins and thousands of soldiers are fighting at the same time they're waiting for their evacuation. The Air Force is exactly where they need them to be. || In Sussex, his wife and kids are awaiting for him, although something tells Maggie that it wasn't going to be easy.

Warnings: Angst. Some old fashioned thoughts. Mentions of war and all related to it. Daisy Preston belongs to @emotionalcadaver. || Same as I did with Farrier, I also invented Collins' name.

Words: 3k.

1938-1940

"I bought you something," Maggie said giving him a small box that contained a new watch.

"Love, you didn't have to. It's really nice."

"I wanted you to have something that reminds you of me. It has our initials engraved on the back.

"And our wedding date," he added reading it.

Maggie nodded. She had been avoiding to show her sorrow, but every minute it has become difficult to achieve.

They needed him, of course they needed him. An elite pilot as he was, it was always necessary. The air force was an essential part of this new, but not unexpected, war. Although probably, no one knew the magnitude of it nor the damage that it was about to cause.

"Jack is already there?" she asked refering to Collins. His best friend and also their son's godfather.

"He is. And the rest of them as well. But they're going to separate us. Although, at least, Collins and I we're going to be in the same group."

"Together as always," Maggie said trying to smile. But a single tear betrayed her.

William knew she was trying to show him that she was going to be fine, that she was strong so he could leave without worrying, but he knew better. Of course his wife was strong and was perfectly capable of taking care of the house, the kids and herself. But that didn't mean she was okay with it. Farrier put the watch in his pocket and hugged her. He felt her hands clutching his jacket and how she started to sob against his chest.

"I promise to be back, sweetheart. To you and to the kids."

"I'm scared," Maggie finally confessed.

"I know, love. But, I'll be back and when I do, I think we can make another mini-us," he said, putting his hand on her belly and smiling at her. "Or two. We did it well before."

"Maybe we can," she admitted, feeling his arms embracing her tightly.

"I know I don't say it so frequently as I should, but I love you, Maggie. I really love you."

"I know you do, Will. I don't need you to tell me it all the time, I can see it. You're the most perfect husband I could ask for. I wish I could do something about this and prevent you to go to hell."

"You can't. But I'll survive."

Alone in the kitchen, William kissed his wife. It was a soft, slow kiss. Like trying to keep this memory of them together for the last time forever in his mind. Her hand was caressing his cheek and he had the other against his chest. Her tears fell down her cheeks and he could taste them in his own mouth but he didn't mind. When they pulled apart, he wiped them away with his thumb.

"You don't know how lucky I am," William said looking at her. "I love you, Maggie."

"I love you too, Will."

A car outside was already waiting for him, but he took his time to kiss her again.

Their kids were in the living room. Clara ran into his father arms and hid her little face in his neck "don't go, papa."

"I have to, Clarie, but I'm going to return, yes? Be a good girl. Can you promise me that? Help your mother, okay darling?"

The little girl nodded. Then, William turned to look at his son "you too, Ed. You're the man of the house, now. Don't make your mother angry and helped her. She needs you. Will you behave and help her?"

"Yes, sir!" The kid responded, saluting him.

His father nodded "You're a good little man, Edward."

William kissed Maggie once last time. He touched reddish hair with his fingers. He always loved her hair. In the mornings, when the sunlight entered through the bedroom's window it seemed to shine. And the freckles on her shoulders accentuated that.

Farrier was going to miss his family. He knew that. The last image he saw of them was the children hugging their mother and Maggie looking at him go, without knowing if he was going to return.

Contrary to regular soldiers forced to be on the battlefield for long periods, his position required him to go back to safe place because planes required maintenance and fuel.

After six months there, Farrier asked permission to return home for two weeks as it's was allowed to do but they refused his request. They needed him.

"They needed me, too!" He wasn't a man who easily lost his temper, but sometimes his superiors tested his patience.

Collins and Farrier had a free day. Farrier could call his wife and heard her calmed him a bit. Things back in home were fine. Edward lost one of his deciduous teeth and was happy when he saw that the fairy teeth left him money under his pillow. Although, Maggie said, he was determinated to give his money to the soldiers. Until one of them, gently, told the boy that any soldier could be happy if he kept the coin for himself or bought something nice for his mother.

"He bought me a cake," Maggie said and Farrier knew she was smiling. "Clara, him and me ate it drinking tea that same afternoon."

"He's a good boy. Kind as you are, my love."

"Ed is a little gentleman as his father is," she said "it's really sad that you can't come, Will."

"I'm furious. They promised me time with my family, like the rest of them! It's… it's frustrating. Maybe I can do it for Christmas."

"That would be beautiful. I'm planning to buy a new tree and Clara wants to decorate it with ribbons. Do you remember that doll she saw in town? I bought it already."

William couldn't help but smile imagining the house decorated for holidays. When he was there, the four of them helped to decorate it. The smell of the delicious food, his kids playing in front of the fireplace… he missed them. Marguerite was the best wife and mother he knew. It wasn't egocentrism, but he knew she really missed him. Farrier knew her very well and knew how difficult it was for her and yet, there she was proving herself that she was stronger than she believed.

"You have to go, I know," she said later "I love you."

"I love you too. I'll call as soon as I can."

"I'll be waiting. Kids send you their love, too. Take care, okay, Will?"

"Promise."

.

"If it's helps," Collins said to him later when they were walking into a bar where other soldiers were and looking how annoyed he was, "They don't allowed me to go home either. How's the family?"

"Kids are waiting for Christmas already and Maggie is trying her best to keep them entertained."

"I need to send them something, I think. What kind of cool uncle I am, if not?"

"Edward presumes the planes you sent him to anyone who has time to listen to him," Farrier commented refering to a collection of wooden planes that Collins sent to him a year ago for his birthday. "You already are the coolest uncle."

"I know, of course I am," the blond man smirked, but then added more seriously "your kids are good and so is Maggie. This has to end sooner than later and you'll be able to get back to them."

Farrier sip the beer in front of him and looked at his best friend "if something happens to me, promise me you're going to take care of them."

"Wiliam…"

"No, don't try to tell me that everything will be alright because we both know how things work. How many of our soldiers already died? Pilots, too! We're not the exception, Jack! So if I die, I want to do it knowing that my kids and Maggie will be okay. They trust you."

"They're waiting for you, not me. So don't think those stupid things because I know very well that you could sell your soul to the devil if that means to go back to them, Farrier!"

"The devil nowadays live in Germany, Collins, and don't think he wants my soul."

Jack Collins nodded "if something happens to you, I'll take care of your family, William."

"Thanks."

.

But William couldn't go to his house that Christmas, although he sent cards, chocolate and money to them. And the morning of the 25th, he had the chance to talk to his children.

Both Edward and Clara were already sleeping, but Maggie wasn't. The woman was in the dining room with a cup of tea in her hands and a plate of cookies next to her, that she and the kids baked that morning. Through the window, she could hear the ocean, too dark to see it, but the sound of the waves was clear. Some lights in the distance indicated that fishermen were in their boats waiting to catch the best fish.

Maggie wonder how many times her own mother sat exactly where she was waiting for her husband while Maggie and her brother were sleeping same as her kids right now. She promised herself more than once not to follow her mother's steps. Mrs. Lewis didn't abandon them, but her mind always seemed to be somewhere else and not in the present. Like it was always 1914 and the man she loved was going to return.

Maggie dreamt about having a family like the one she now had, but William wasn't in her plans. Probably she hoped to marry a carpenter, a teacher or a fisherman even, but she didn't want nothing to do with men involved in the military field. She didn't want to be her mother. And yet, when William appeared everything she promised herself evaporated the moment her eyes found his. And there she was, like the woman she promised herself not to be.

She didn't know what her father promised her mother, if he even promised something, but she did believe William's word. He promised to return and something made her believe his words.

The Farriers saw the landscape of Sussex changed with every season that passed. Christmas arrived again and the man of the house was still absent.

By 1940, Edward was already seven years and Clara five. Maggie found a new job as the secretary of a doctor near the school were the kids studied. With almost no men in whole Great Britain, pubs were almost empty all the time and incomings weren't the best. This new job also gave her the opportunity to spend more time in her house and didn't take time from his old neighbor who looked after her kids when she wasn't around.

"We're going to France. Dunkirk."

That was the last time she spoke to him. A rescue mission organised by Churchill himself.

May of 1940 was ending and the news weren't good at all. Operation Dynamo, it was called. The objective was to rescue at least 29,000 soldiers from France and bring them back to England. The Royal Air Force, where William and Collins served, was required. It was the only way to stop the bombings of the enemies.

"You can do this, Will," she said. "I love you."

.

"You can do this, Will. I love you."

William saw the panel in front of him and checked the fuel. Still had enough gallons to do that.

The vast and infinite sea was behind him. Under any other circumstances he'd take some minutes to enjoy the view but he couldn't.

Farrier only wanted to leave that place as soon as possible and doing it alive. Now yes, his superiors authorized him to return home. Finally, after a year and a half. All he wanted in this world was that. His kids and Maggie hugging him, his house and the smell of the food prepared by her. He loved her meals. He loved her.

"Fortis 2," he called.

Collins replied immediately. "Here, Fortis 2."

"What's your fuel, Fortis 2?"

"70 gallons, Fortis 1."

Farrier took notes.

At the beach, hospital ships were carrying the injured soldiers. A lot of them in critical conditions, so bad that probably lot of them were going to die before reaching England. Thousand of soldiers strong enough to be on their feet were waiting their turn to be evacuated.

And above their heads, the enemies. It didn't matter if the hospital ships should be untouchable, in theory. They dropped bombs against them, too, killing the poor soldiers, nurses and doctors.

"Where's the bloody air force?!"

Dodging the enemies and down them, was easier to say that to do. The Spitfires were amazing planes piloted by elite pilots but so were the others.

"I have no eyes on Fortis Leader," William said. He had shot one of the enemies and it collapsed in front of him. "Fortis, 2, answer."

Collins dodged another plane before responding "Understood, Fortis 1. Orbit for a look."

Over the sea, help was coming but not quickly enough. Not when you're floating in middle of the ocean with seawater entering your lungs. When despair is filling your mind.

When your best friend is floating next to you already dead.

.

Maggie was nervous that day. The skies above her were clean and only birds were flying there.

No planes. Not Spitfires. Not him.

She knew something was wrong and couldn't explain why, but she feel it in her heart.

Her kids were fighting that day. It wasn't uncommon they were just kids, and siblings, but in her current state she couldn't tolerate it and yelled at them. Both kids stayed quiet immediately and apologized. She regretted in the moment, too.m, she wasn't like that. Every time she corrected them, she did it firmly but calm, not like that.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" she said kissing their heads

"It's okay, mom. We're going to behave. We promise dad that," Edward said and his sister nodded.

"Thanks, Ed. Today I'm not feeling well, that's all. But it's anyone fault. Just…just a bad day."

.

"He's on me, Fortis 1!" announced Collins to Farrier.

"And I am on him!"

William managed to destroyed that plane. But Collins didn't have time to celebrate because another one, shot him.

Farrier wanted to swear. He wasn't that kind of man, but that was a good moment to say fuck. Not Collins. Not his best friend. He saw smoke in one of the wings.

William allowed himself to look down. Some ships were around them. Collins was prepared enough to water landing, if he succeeded, then he could be safe. And then, only him will remain in the air.

"Forty gallons," said his friend and Farrier nodded.

"Just do it," Farrier commanded. "Jack, remember your promise."

Jack stayed quiet as he began to descend on the sea "I do remember. Good luck, Farrier."

"Good luck, Collins."

.

He was rescued. Luckily alive. A man, his son and a pretty lady helped him to get in the boat. A black haired soldier was there wrapped around a blanket, shaking and apparently in his own mind.

Collins raised his eyes to the sky. Only one plane against the rest. The odds weren't favourable, but it was also true that his friend was a hell of pilot. If anyone could do it was him.

"Come on, Farrier." He said for first, but not last time.

.

The fuel tank was almost empty but he felt in his heart that he could do that.

His mind was focus on his target and every enemy plane that fell, meant that he was nearing home.

Maggie. He needed to do that for her. If he wanted to return home, he needed to succeed.

There wasn't more fuel on the tank and the the plane was using the propulsion system to stay in the air. New bombs from the enemies but those were the last ones before Farrier destroyed in hundreds of pieces the last enemy. Where he was, he didn't hear the cheers. The happiness of them, meant the victory that Churchill wanted.

He flew over his heads. He could see the boats and ships rescue them and felt peace. Although he didn't know what was going to happen to him. Sun was starting to hide as he began to land his faithful plane. And yet, Fortis 1 needed to die.

He was alone in the beach, or so he believed, when finally the wheels touched the sand. He took his gun from his vest and shot at it. Fortis 1 combusted almost immediately and he remained in silence watching the fire that contrasted with the sunset in that moment. Then, he heard voices and a gun on his back. Germans.

Farrier didn't know that, but in that moment to calm her anxiety and nerves, his wife was at the beach. Her feet were touching the sea, like if somehow she could connect with him. Her red hair was moving in the wind.

She was crying and he wasn't there to comfort her. She didn't want to think the worst, but why her heart ached that bad? Maggie sat down on the sand and hugged her knees, she hid her face against them and cried.

Her mother was right. All those years, she was right. The pain of waiting couldn't be described.

.

"Going home?" The sweet girl named Daisy asked Collins when they were finally at the pier and the train was ready to take the soldiers home. Some of them were rude towards him, but he ignored them.

"Sussex," he replied.

"You live there?"

"No. My best friend live there… the other pilot. William Farrier is his name, his wife and kids… I need to tell them that him-"

Collins couldn't finish the sentence. Daisy put a hand in his arm.

"Maybe he's alive and well… hope is something invaluable these times. Have hope, Collins."

Jack Collins nodded and said goodbye. He fell asleep in the train thinking what and how, he's going to tell Maggie the news.

_____

FINAL