#i saw a three piece pink floral suit and right then and there i knew that suit is meant for Wilf

[dleep-deprivation-idk-jelp]

ik I'm like super late but uh happy valentines :) have the Big Three™ in suits

[mandoalorian]

Sunkissed [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT

Warnings: SMUT; foreplay, oral (m! receiving), spanking, slight exhibitionist kink, cum facial, rough, Maxwell is a subtle (?) asshole.

Word count: 3k

Rating: 18+ only.

Author's note: YACHT SMUT YACHT SMUT YACHT SMUT. This whole one shot is based off this gif alone. I wish we got to see more of Yacht!Max in the movie because wowww this was a look.

Masterlist

Today was the day.

A few months ago, your agent called you with an opportunity you just couldn't resist. You were new to the 'acting' world, having only scored gigs in a toothpaste commercial and a local theatre production. This was different though; your agent stating there was a spot available for an infomercial. You weren't sure what to think. You imagined it being for some boring historical or political campaign and scrunched your nose up in displeasure. Nevertheless, you needed the money and all the experience you could get, so you prepped and went to the audition.

You were surprised when the directions your agent gave you took you to Black Gold Cooperative. You waited in a small room amongst a dozen other girls, before the CEO, Maxwell Lord, came padding in, doting his famous television smile. He hummed in delight, looking around, his eyes flicking between each girl. He pursed his lips together but didn't say a word, before pointing a ring clad finger at you and wiggling it in the air. "You're hired!" he grinned, his voice rich and filled with vibrancy. You knotted your eyebrows together in bewilderment, wanting to say something, but he was already gone. The other girls sighed and huffed, slowly disbanding and leaving the room. You were the last to leave, hesitantly standing up and tugging on the arm of a woman who worked in the office.

"I got the part," you bit your lip nervously and the blonde woman nodded her head, listening carefully. "But I don't really know what for."

"Mr Lord is shooting a new infomercial to promote the company, to try and boost investments." the lady explained.

"But I didn't even audition." you replied, genuinely confused.

"Why would you need to audition? Mr Lord is the star of all his infomercials. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty," the woman in the pink pant suit looked down at her clipboard. "We don't start shooting until summer, but we'll mail you all the details closer to the time." And with that, she was whisked away. You stood there in the middle of the office, completely dumbfounded.

About a week ago, you had got the details just as she promised. You showed up at the harbour fifteen minutes early that morning with a small case full of clothes that would last you the weekend. That's what you were promised as payment for the infomercial. Not cash, but a weekend away on Maxwell Lord's five star private yacht. To be honest, you'd rather have the money, but you'd never been on a yacht before, so you were looking forward to the experience.

"Right!" the director called, pulling her headphones down around her neck. "Mr Lord won't be boarding until noon so… just do as you please until then, but try and not cause any havoc," you looked around. It was only you and four other girls who'd be starting alongside the businessman. "He'll be boarding from a different harbour so we'll be sailing out there in around fifteen minutes. I'd recommend you all get ready for shooting."

You felt isolated. It seemed like the four other girls were quick to befriend one another, giggling and chatting about everything and anything. You didn't usually consider yourself shy but they seemed so different to you. You felt like an outcast.

You sighed, entering the yacht and finding your cabin. You spent a few moments settling in and adjusting yourself to the room before remembering the director had advised you all to get dressed and ready for shooting. You looked outside the small round window and couldn't help but smile. It was a beautiful, hot Summer's day. You stripped out of your clothes and into a floral bikini you'd forked out and purchased especially for today. You did your best to style your hair, but figured it was pointless knowing the salty sea air would get to it anyway. You felt like you had forgotten to grab something, but shrug it off, heading back outside to the deck of the ship. The golden sun rays beamed onto your skin and it felt amazing. Deciding you had a few hours, you placed down a towel and lay on the floor to sunbathe. You could hear the faint laugher of the girls who must've been gossiping elsewhere on the yacht, but you were thankful for a few moments of relaxation before shooting began.

You fell asleep. You didn't know how long you were out for, but it was long enough. You woke up when a cool shadow loomed over you, cutting away the sun beams and sending a shiver down your body. You slowly fluttered your eyes open, them widening when you saw who was standing before you.

Maxwell Lord.

Shit, had you really been asleep that long? You groaned apologetically, sitting upright and hoping you weren't in trouble. Maxwell was doting a blue and white vertical pinstripe button down, the top three buttons undone showing just enough of his bronzed chest to create a weakness in the pit of your stomach. His hair was golden under the sunlight, and he sported a pair of gold rimmed sunglasses. Upon inspecting closer, they looked like limited edition RayBans. He didn't stay a word, just stared at your body hungrily, admiring the way it was spread out.

"I-" you started. "Have we- have we started shooting? Shit, did I sleep through it?" you asked nervously and Maxwell couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"No, we start shooting in half an hour," he replied, shaking his head. Something about his presence still made you nervous. He sank to his knees, resting beside you and didn't tear his gaze from your body once. He placed his large, ring clad hand over your stomach. "Hot." he commented.

"Huh?" your eyes widened almost comically. Was he calling you hot? You shuddered under his touch, and it didn't go unnoticed by Max.

"Yeah, you're hot," his voice was gravelly and sensual as he began to trace his finger around your belly button, admiring the softness of your skin. "Quite literally burning up."

"Ohhhhh," you drawled out, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. For a second you thought he was coming onto you. And suddenly, you knew what he meant. You had fallen asleep under the sun for what might've been hours. It's not like you were going to be cold. "Oh right, yeah. I knew I forgot something. Sunscreen."

Max laughed light heartedly and it almost put you at ease, that is if you weren't already so nervous from his soft and delicate touches. "Don't fear," he smiled, dragging his fingers along your tummy. "Max is here." He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen from nowhere and presented you with it, a small and dorky 'ta-da!' escaping his lips. "May I?" he asked, slowly pushing you back down onto the towel that you were previously laying on.

It was hard to read his expression through the sunglasses, but you noted his quirked eyebrow and the wicked smirk that played across his lips.

"Okay." you affirmed with a reassuring smile. Maxwell pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to read the back of the product he was holding. For a second, you caught a glimpse of his dark, chocolate coloured eyes.

"This lotion has biotin in it, makes you glow like a teenager. Great for when you're in front of a camera," Maxwell explained as you heard him click open the cap and squirt some of the product into his hands. "Let me do your back first."

You wasted no time, following his instruction and turning over. Maxwell spent a moment, admiring the way your body was shaped so beautifully. His eyes trailed from the nape of your neck, down the dip of your back and along the curve of your ass. Your swimsuit panties left very little to the imagination and Max could already feel himself getting turned on, his cock twitching as he began to rub the cream into your shoulders. You hummed at the pressure of both of his hands as he worked at you.

"You know, I remember you," his voice was friendly and approachable, so much so that it almost distracted you from what he was doing to you. "I remember you from all those months ago. I remember the way you stood out from the other girls. There was just something about you I couldn't put into words… but now I see it." he didn't describe what exactly he saw but you could feel the butterflies stir in your stomach at his compliment. "I mean, look at you. You have a body that will sell. And I mean that in the best way possible." you felt his fingers play with the string that kept your bikini together. "May I?" he asked again. "Want to make sure I get every piece of your skin." he murmured.

"Yes," you breathed out, a little too shakily. With a gentle tug, the string came undone and Maxwell continued to rub the lotion down your body, his large hands travelling to the small of your back.

"This ass too," he hummed, giving you a little spank. You gasped, tossing your head back in pleasure. "Oh I see, you like that, don't you?" he chuckled, smacking you again but this time a little harder. You moaned, your lips parting into a perfect 'o' shape. He spent a considerable amount of time rubbing the silky lotion into the curves of your ass cheeks before working himself down the backs of your legs and to your feet. "Turn around and let me get your front."

You eagerly did as you were told. You rolled over, forgetting your bikini top had been untied from the back and gasped slightly when the thin, colourful material exposed your breasts. Maxwell tsked, shaking his head. You used your hands to cover your chest as the straps fell down your arms. "Don't worry darling, you don't have to hide yourself in front of me." he chuckled, slowly peeling your hands away from your body. He pulled off your bikini top and threw it aimlessly to one side.

He took the bottle of sunscreen and squirted a little more into his hands, before smothering it all over your chest. He dipped his fingers into your collarbones and gently stroked down the valley of your breasts. He got your stomach again, rubbing in the cream and making sure not to miss a single inch of skin. You moaned wantonly as his fingers glided across the hem of your bikini panties, slipping in just under the waistband teasingly.

You reached out, grabbing a hold of his wrists and dragging them back up to your chest, placing each of his hands so they were cupping your breasts. He squirted some more lotion, this time straight on your tits, and started to massage it into your soft skin. He still looked composed, despite his hard and leaking manhood pressed against the confines of his cream coloured, fitted pants.

His thumb grazed the bud of your nipples, even occasionally pinching at them to see if he could gain a reaction out of you. You moaned wantonly, feeling your folds grow slick with arousal as he teased you. Maxwell positioned himself on top of you, leaning down and pressing sloppy kisses all over your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipple and sucking on it greedily.

"Mm, what if someone sees?" you managed to whimper out as Max pulled away from you with a 'pop'.

"Don't worry princess, they're all preoccupied elsewhere. But we don't have long until the shoot begins and oh… look what you've done to me." Max pressed his crotch against your thigh so you could feel the thick, hard imprint of his cock. "You're gonna have to take care of this, sweet girl." he muttered, unzipping his pants and freeing his aching manhood.

You gasped as you took in the size of him, subconsciously licking your lips greedily. Max rose to his feet, jerking himself off as he walked over to the metal bars that gated the edge of the yacht. He looked over into the ocean, slowly pumping his length with one hand and with his free hand, he pulled up his sunglasses so they were resting in his hair. He turned back to you and pointed a finger, curling it and gesturing for you to come over. You didn't stand up, instead, crawling towards him with a primal glint in your eyes. Max leaned against the cool bars as the wind gently breezed through his hair and you straightened yourself up. You stayed down on your knees as you gently pulled Maxwell's hand away from his dick.

You felt your mouth begin to water with anticipation as Max's hands fell into your hair. You ran your fingers down his cock to tease the CEO the best you could, knowing full well this might be the only time you'd be able to exert your dominance over someone as powerful as Maxwell Lord. Max grunted under your delicate touch, and began to subconsciously thrust himself into your hand.

Eventually, you leaned in to lick the tip of his cock. You found yourself lapping at his small slit which was leaking with his salty precum. Your small kitten licks earned groans of pleasure and praise from Maxwell as he quietly begged for more. Max's breathing got heavier and he started to exhale sharp sighs, everytime you swirled your tongue against the tip of his cock. You finally sunk your mouth down as deep as you could, and Max's breathing became shallow as he mewled a string of dirty curses.

You cupped his balls with your hands, playing with them as you deepthroated the businessman to the best of your ability. You ignored the way tears pricked your eyes and your saliva mixed with his precum dribbled down your chin. Max Lord always liked to take control, and he began to thrust his cock deep into your mouth. But as always, he craved more. He craved for something warmer and wetter. He ran his fingers through your hair and pulled your head away from his manhood so his cock bounced against your face.

"Stand up." he commanded and you did so with a wobble. He pulled you over to where he was standing and bent you over the side of the ship, pulling your bikini bottoms down quickly and roughly. He spanked you again, earning a pretty little wail of surprise.

You felt him line his cock up against your soaking wet folds as his tummy pressed into your ass. He rubbed the tip against your entrance teasingly until you were crying out his name and begging him to fuck you.

When he finally pushed his length into you, you couldn't help but scream. You gasped, your fingers curling around the metal bars so hard your knuckles turned white as he set up a brutal and rough page. His movements were unforgiving as he fucked you so hard and fast, your poor legs felt like they were going to give way. But he had you pinned against the barrier, and the way he mumbled sweet nothings and appraisal into your ear only spurred you on more. He told you how much of a good girl you were for taking his cock so well. He warned that if you kept screaming, you'd alert the filming crew. He'd tease you, nibbling and biting gently at the skin as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

"Gonna cum," you warned, your moans becoming erratic as he kept pushing into that perfect sweet spot inside of you. Your walls clenched around his cock tighter than a vice as you came. But he didn't stop fucking you. Your body ached as he used your pussy to bring himself to his own climax.

"Ngh— fuck!" Max cried out as he doubled back, pulling out of you and pushing you back down onto your knees. He jerked himself rapidly and you noted the way his cock throbbed in his hands. "Gonna make a mess off your pretty face." he chuckled darkly. "Mouth. Open."

You did as you were told, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out as Max's salty load roped into your mouth. At least— most of it got into your mouth. His eyes slammed shut and his cum sprayed onto your face and dripped down your chin and onto your chest. You couldn't believe how pent up he was. He slowly opened his eyes and gave you a small nod. You closed your mouth and swallowed his load with a hum of approval, licking your lips and fluttering your eyelashes.

"Five minutes until shooting!" you heard the director call and you gasped. Max smirked, taking a mental image of how sexy you looked with his cum splayed all over you.

"You better clean yourself up." Max laughed, taking your hand and helping you to your feet.

You were at a complete loss for words. Your hair was sticking to your skin from the sweat and your whole body was slippery with the sunscreen Max had applied earlier. Max grabbed the towel that you were once lying on and threw it in your direction. You noticed he had already tucked himself back into his pants, and, other than the few strands of dark blonde hair that had fallen out of place, he looked ready to go.

You wondered how often he did this. How often he fucked his employees on set before he shot important commercials or infomercials. There was something about his energy that thrilled you and filled your body with desire. He left you wanting more. And, knowing you'd be spending the whole weekend with him on this yacht, part of you figured this wouldn't be the last time he'd touch you like this.

Taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!)~

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: cuties!! hehe we’re finally getting...a couple things in this chapter that i’ve been wanting to share sooo bad! i added question marks to some of the tags to make it more of a surprise! i love hearing what ya thought of it! hehe <3 

Five 

Pairing: self insert, (?) x female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut and angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, informantandclubowner!changbin (loll thats so long), (?)!felix, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, mentions of alcoholic drinks and getting drunk, hehe bit of smut/suggestive content (tags omitted for surprise--nothing crazy to tag tho hehe), maknae line are my sons in this fic, binnie in this fic can fkn take me lol 

CWs: sizable shoot out in public club with several people involved, presumed that people die because of this event, lots blood and other wounds such as gunshot wounds, mentions of drugs (both recreational and hard drugs) mentions of weapons such as knives and guns--the whole scene is violent 

Word count: 8.5k 

Parts 

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE 

“Five years later and I’m still tying your ties, F. Some things never change.” 

Jeongin cracks a smile, simple and cute, much like the man himself even when he has a handgun glued to his hand. 

“It’s still a harder task than some of the stuff that they have us doing. Not gonna lie.” 

You smooth down your partner’s lapels where he’s pinned a small pin of the ticking clock. While others would wear crests, the insignia that bonds you to the younger man is this this small instrument. He’s quiet while he watches you fiddle with his silk blue tie that compliments his snow white hair perfectly. 

“Are you nervous for tonight?” 

Your partner upkeeps his stoic façade the best he can, but tonight there’s something different about him. His silent answer speaks louder than he could ever admit. On the queen sized bed, Seungmin kicks his perfectly shined shoes while flipping through the channels of the TV with a staticky sounding click. Jeongin lightly brushes his hand over the diamond dangling earrings that twinkle as they are supposed to from your ears--likely they’re crystals, not the more expensive jewel. 

“I’m not nervous,” He finally sighs, but there’s a bit of a crack to his voice. “I trust you. And Two. I’m trying to focus on that.” 

“It’ll be fine.” You assure, “White Rabbit must have his own security that would be at his beck and call. If anyone shoots at us, they’re shooting at him. We’re not alone.” 

The young agent nods, then gives a little slap to the college student on the bed. “Get up. We’re leaving. Remember what I showed you?” 

Jeongin draws from the bedside a small handgun. It’s more decorative than protective, but still fires bullets that could save his life. 

“Keep it in your breast pocket. Make sure that no one sees it. We don’t wanna cause a scene.” 

Seungmin’s eyes widen as he feels its weight in his hand. “Got it. I hope I don’t have to use it.” 

“Me too,” You give the youngster a soothing smile. “And remember, don’t tell anyone your name. When you’re in there, your name is S. Better yet, it’s best not to interact with anyone.” 

He nods, then slides it into the thin fabric of his coat. The young man looks considerably more dapper with The Agency’s clothes: a deep purple velvet two piece with silver cufflinks decorated with white roses--another symbol that you’ve grown familiar with. 

The prince saunters up to the bedroom with a slick tap at the opened door. He oozes with regality; not like you expected any less. The royal has dressed himself magnificently without the aid of his help once more: a pure black silk suit with a smart pressed white button up that’s spotless with not one crinkle. The while shirt itself is adorned with two thin silver chains which stretch across his lower torso. At the neck where the shirt meets its last button, there’s a floral brooch: one more more white rose for good measure. 

“Wow!!” Seungmin respectfully bows. “Your Highness, you look--” 

“--I didn’t fuck up the hair, did I?” 

Chan grins as he brings his fingers through his newly colored hair; its much lighter than his dark locks had been before: now a shade of tawny brown. The change to his appearance had come at the request of the palace who suggested that he try to conceal his identity even further as to not arouse suspicion. 

“Handsome as ever, your Highness.” You sneer out the compliment. 

Since the previous night had turned sour, seeing eye to eye with the prince had become harder to do. It was a wild confliction of feelings when you thought more and more of it. With every glance that he would throw in your direction, along with way that he had stared at you all through breakfast, you couldn’t meet him. You felt as if you had borne a wound for him to see, for him to poke at--the secret kind that was best kept to yourself--and he had dug his finger in; he had laughed. 

The prince tilted his head, and you met his eyes for the first time since then. There was a softness about him when you knew that he was inspecting you. You knew you must’ve been overthinking it--and that was what made it so dangerous. 

“Looking stunning as always, Bee. I knew that you would wear that dress well.” 

You let the words, “Thank you,” leave your tongue before toying with the small handbag provided to you. As always, your thigh holster held steady under your dress. 

Four clicks at the suite door sounded, startling nearly everyone in the room, revealing everyone’s nerves which they had denied. 

“That’ll be Lee Minho.” Chan announced. 

Two answered the door in his own costuming. The two men bowed upon meeting, a usual meeting between strangers. The agent lead him to the room, and the royal buttoned his own suit properly. 

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m Lee--” 

“--Minho.” Jeongin dryly cut, “We know who you are.” 

Luckily, you and your partner shared the same apprehension. 

“I’m Fox. You’ve met Bee. The young kid is S, he’s a new agent. The quiet one that let you in is Two.” 

Minho bowed politely with a slight blush. “You weren’t kidding when you said that you were well protected, Your Highness.” 

Chan chuckled in response then clapped the other royal by the back. 

“You look amazing,” Minho said to the prince who shooed him away with a humble hand. 

“You as well.” 

Chan sized up the royal who indeed looked like one. His suit was a simplier charcoal grey with pinstripes with a white undershirt that ruffled at the collar. Not typical of the royals that you knew, he also wore dangling silver earrings that would have never passed the royal standard for professionalism. However, it made sense considering that he had been of a lower rank. 

“Now that we’ve got the formalities out of the way, shall we head out?” Chan put a very obvious hand to the lower back of Lee Minho while checking with the rest of the group. “It’s best not to keep him waiting?” 

Your partner nodded and ushered the group out while giving his body one more pat down to ensure that all concealed weapons were in place. Two checked the assortment of knives tucked discreetly into his own jacket. The man had some kind of wicked and unidentifiable grin while he felt the metal against his fingers. You exited at the rear, feeling a hand tug at your arm. 

“--Bee, I’m sorry about what happened...I’m...I hope that you can understand my motivations as to why I said what I did, it didn’t seem like the right time--” 

“--There will never be a right time.” You tore your arm free. “Your Highness, what happened...that was a mistake on my part. I acted out of line. There will never be a right time because...I’m your guard, and you’re my prince. Do you understand?” 

“But Bee--” 

“--End of discussion,” The words burned in your throat seeing the way that he had looked at you just then, and it was clear that he definitely didn’t understand. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

You had heard that the White Rabbit had been a prideful man--this was now an indisputable fact once you pulled up to the roaring nightclub set into one of the busiest streets on the avenue in Cairo. Everything about the place was showy and bright and outrageous. It was a miracle that the man hadn’t been caught considering that his home base was as obvious as it was. The entire front of the night club shone with the brilliance of a million stars in a hundred different colors. A giant marquee held the signage with the title of the place, “The Tea Party” coupled with the image of the white rabbit himself--the one from the old movie--a stout little thing with his pocket watch swinging from his paw. His neck was wrapped up in a white ruff, and he wore a frock pattered in red hearts. 

A line stretched from the front entrance for as far as you could see, and clubbers swung their bodies in tune to the muffled sound of the EDM music thumping from inside and throwing cigarette butts to the sidewalk. 

“Do we just walk in?” Seungmin hurriedly asked with nervous hands wrapped around his body. 

“We’re expected, so, yes.” You snaked your arm through Jeongin’s to look even less conspicuous. “Just relax,” You commanded the group lowly. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw the prince slug his arm around Lee Minho who appeared to shrink under the other man’s broad shoulders. 

Two large bouncers stood at the entrance with muscles swelling under their shirts stained pink in areas which you assumed to have been white at some point. 

“Names?” One of them grunted rather than spoke. 

From his pocket, your partner took out his very own pocket watch that had been hidden with the rest of your supplies upon arrival to Cairo. On the opposite side of the watch was engraved the two symbols intertwined: the white rabbit and the the white rose. The two men inspected it, nodded, and opened the door for your small entourage. As soon as you entered the booming central room, you could see Seungmin’s shoulders drop as he relaxed. 

“There should be someone meeting us!” Jeongin yelled over the sound of the white noise leading to the bass drop. Hundreds of clubbers danced with the music, throwing their glasses to the air and howling like animals. You wouldn’t have been surprised if at least half of them had been strung out on the very drugs that the man himself had helped peddle. 

The young agent pulled you closer to him as stumbling bodies passed. 

“They could be here. We have to be on our guard.” 

“Let me watch the prince.” 

Jeongin nodded, letting you recede to the back of the group where Two had tailed. His eye wound hadn’t healed nearly enough, so he opted to wear the sunglasses once more. It was likely that word had spread about the four of you escaped twice--his eye was evidence. From behind the group, you watched the way the the prince’s hand fell down hold Lee Minho by the hip, and the way that his fingers dug in there slightly. As much as you had denied it, seeing them close brought back the very covetous thoughts you tried to keep at bay. 

A slender woman with gorgeous tanned skin pushed her way through the crowd and set her eyes on the white head of your partner. Her dress was even thinner than yours, but she wore it as if it was her second skin. The luxurious red color contrasted perfectly with her dark hair and eyes. 

“Are you Fox?” She asked with a thick accent, and cascaded her hand down the young man’s arm. 

“Y-yes. I am.”

“Bun asked me to bring you to him. I know the way.” 

She let her hand fall into Jeongin’s who whipped his head back to you with dry lips that he wetted immediately. You had expected to have been retrieved by someone a bit stockier than this woman. 

“He’s trying to get our guard down.” Two said suddenly as he reached into his pocket to thumb over his stockpile of metal there. “Don’t you think?” 

The woman took your group near to the corner of the room where bodies didn’t linger for long, but were drawn in the mosh pit in the center. Tables lined these edges which were fashioned into booths with red velvet curtains for privacy to do much more sinister things. The room smelled heavily of pure alcohol spilled by drunk hands and of synthetic fabrics made of cheap plastics. A dozen different fragrances mingled into one dizzying mess: each a scent so different and chemical that it was toxic. 

She walked with a swing to her hips, all the way to a booth that was a bit larger than the others--you could only assume that this must’ve been his booth. The woman gestured for you all to enter before drawing the curtain. At the center of the table, the rabbit’s symbol had been burned into the wood. She wore some kind of thin diamond bracelet which she hovered over the image, causing a winding staircase to pop from the carpeted floor down to a hidden chamber. 

“Take the stairs, and it you’ll see it once you get down there.” 

Your partner have her a curt nod in thanks, then lead the group further down. A soft green and red glow emanated from the space below, also humming with a concealed type of music different from that which was played in the club. From here, it nearly sounded like jazz. 

The corridor under the club was bleak and grey with cement, but wooden crates lined it with stamps on the sides in numerous different languages. Your brain could only fathom where the contents had been before they ended up in this basement. It must have been millions of dollars just sitting undisturbed with enough firepower to blow up the whole building and more. 

“Guns. Military grade and a little more improper,” Minho sighed out. “He must have every model in existence here.” 

“Do you think that he has like...missiles?” Seungmin reached for his small handgun. 

“Ease up S.” You tried to contain your own creeping fear, “Those would be too big to keep down here.” 

“Who says that this is his whole stockpile?” Two deadpanned as he cleaned his glasses. 

At the end of the hall, one more bulky guard stood expressionless with a small sized machine gun ready in his hands. He opened the door without saying much else, letting loose the red and green lights you had seen before, and with it, the putrid smell of expensive drink and marijuana. 

The smaller room was only lit by strobes with multicolored gels, and it was dense with the smoke of many number of drugs and vices. There was a small bar with a bartender with bagged eyes and a swath of women in cocktail dresses and men with ties tugged nearly all the way off their necks with lipstick marks pressed into them. 

A single disco ball spun above their heads, spreading shiny squares all across the room. Even more guards waited in the same uniform, but these ones looked more expensive--likely his own personal detail wearing gaudy chains and wrist watches inlaid with diamonds and crested in real gold. 

“My friends! You were able to make it!” 

The man of the hour spread his legs wide on his leather couch set upon a lion’s coat rug, complete with a head and marble eyes and all. At his sides were two more women more unique than the rest: both of them was breathtakingly gorgeous, one of them jeweled like a queen with a thick gold choker that resembled that which old Egyptian royalty would. Her head was smoothed with no hair at all, but instead intricate and beautiful tattoos decorated her like some kind of otherworldly being. The other woman had a cat-like face with two differently colored eyes; one hazel green and the other icy blue contrasting with her fiery orange hair. 

“Carroll told me that you had a bit of trouble before you got here. I’m glad to see that you were able to get here in one piece. It only seems like things are getting more and more...risky these days. Even for people like us.” 

“We’re not “people like you,” Rabbit.” You pushed to the font of the group. 

The club owner himself was dressed in a purely white fur coat which you presumed to be made of real fur. Considering the material, it must’ve been made from the fur of snow foxes--an interesting choice considering your partner’s persona. The smaller man with a thick and muscled form took off his yellow tinted sunglasses to tuck them into his wildly printed shirt that had tiny buttons doing the work of keeping his chest covered. 

“Babydoll! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard all about you. Your reputation precedes you.” He took a rather greedy bite to his lip whilst looking you up and down. The white dress must have been doing it’s job well. 

“Babydoll?” Chan asked with furrowed brows. “What is--who is--?” 

“As does your reputation, Rabbit. I wouldn’t have expected less.” 

The proud man snorted, “I hope this doesn’t mean that you’ve got any...preconceived notions about my lifestyle. Our dear friend Carroll doesn’t seem to.” 

“Of course not.” 

“And you...you must be the Prince of Bulgeun! His Royal Highness Prince Chan of the Crown!” The White Rabbit spread out his arms wide in welcome. “I don’t often get royalty in my club--lots of celebrities and the like.” He leaned over to one of his guards, speaking in Egyptian Arabic and asking for drinks for the group. 

“Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” Chan bowed deep. 

“So respectful!” The White Rabbit chuckled, “You can all call me Bun. We’re all friends here. And you...who might you be?” Bun pointed a finger at Minho who stepped forward. 

“Baron Lee Minho, of Bulgeun as well.” 

“Ah! And a Baron too! How did I get so lucky to have such honorable company?” Cat-face ticked her long nails against the club owner’s hand slung around her. 

“You know what we’re here for, Rabbit. There’s no need for theatrics.” Jeongin huffed his words out with a confident breath. 

“You’re the one that they call Fox? Rumor has it that you and Carroll have a rather...special...connection?” 

The bartender arrived with drinks, each of them looking expensive with flecks of gold leaf floating on the surface of the clear liquid. Seungmin shot an apprehensive glare once the glasses were left on a small side table. As had been discussed previously, none of your group had picked up a glass. 

The woman with beautiful tattoos stretched a hand down one of the White Rabbit’s thighs, reaching dangerously high between them; just enough to make you flinch from the forward action. 

“Baby, I see that you’re playing a dangerous game towing this Price around, so of course I’m willing to help a friend of my friend. You’re lucky that I’ve got just the intel that you need. Some people just don’t know how to shut their mouths, especially when the get a taste of what I’m selling.” 

“Oh? And what have you been hearing?” 

You eyed a leather chair across from him seeing an opportunity. 

“Your Highness.” You motioned for Chan to sit in the chair next to yours, swinging your legs crossed to peek from the thin white silk in full view for the Rabbit to see. After, you dipped your chin into your palm, just for the purpose of letting the front of your dress fall slightly. The prince remained quiet while taking his seat and spreading his legs out strongly. 

“If it’s compensation that you need Rabbit, the Crown is also willing to make offers for added...persuasion.” 

Chan crossed his fingers in his lap leaning forward. His words were slick and domineering--kingly even. 

“Is that so?” The White Rabbit tugged at his lip with his teeth, “I wasn’t aware.” 

“Double what The Agency is offering. If I like what you say.” 

The club owner scoffed with a grin, “Oh, you’ll like what I say.” Cat-face lifted his drink to his lips, then wiped off the excess off with her finger. Both of the body guards appeared to tense before he spoke and tried to be inconspicuous while they reached for their decorated pieces resting in their waistbands. 

“Hell, I’ll even tell you what they call themselves.” 

In your impatience, you leaned forward, “Who are they?” 

“They’re called The Spades. Some kind of new crime syndicate that’s been fucking up my business and making bargains with my customers. Of course, as you know...I work in a very lucrative business.” 

“Naturally.” 

“They’ve been stockpiling shit like crazy: all kinds of weapons, any kind that you can think of outside of fucking nukes. They’ve even tapped into drugs as well to make extra on the side. I don’t know what it is that they’re doing that makes them so appealing, but suddenly I’m missing out on millions because of those fuckers. They’ve got someone masterminding it all too--some crazed bastard. I’ve been trying to find him ever since they popped up.” He resumed his grasp on both of his women who cuddled into him. 

“Mastermind? The one who’s running the whole operation? You know him?” Both you and your partner locked eyes quick enough for the other man to not take notice. 

“No, one of his cronies. He runs the business. He’s illusive and fucking insane. Someone whispered once that he’s psychotic or something like that. You think that I’m bad...” 

“Who?? Who is he? Where can we find him?” 

“Slow your role there doll, I’m just getting to the good part.” The Rabbit nodded for another sip of his drink. “He’s got several names depending on who you’re talking to. Fucking funnily enough, I’ve heard that he goes by “Hatter,” or more commonly “Joker.” He deals in anything: arms, drugs, sex...and he works for The King.” 

“The King?” Chan butted in with the mention of a royal name. 

“Not your silly little king, prince. The King. The one who runs it all. He tells The Spades what to do. They’re everywhere, taking over every sector in every nation. They’re trying to dismantle it all--every political system, monarchy, presidency...everything. It looks like they’re starting with you, prince. The Spades preach about chaos. Every man for himself...but it’s a lie. Why the hell else would they be stockpiling? They’re trying to take it all over.” 

Seungmin gulped audibly as he sunk to the back of the group. 

“When there’s no more control the ones with the most resources always end up on top.” The young student whispered. 

“This King, do you know who he is?” Jeongin spoke over Seungmin to detract attention from him. 

“Nope.” The White Rabbit swung his legs up on the small coffee table with alligator leather shoes. “I’ve been a little focused on taking down the Joker at the moment, for your information.” 

“What’s your intel on him then? He must know how to get to The King.” Minho pushed to the front of the group right to Chan’s side. “We’re not satisfied with your information yet.” 

The Baron’s sudden demand surprised you: he had been timid before--so you had thought. 

The club owner looked to Chan, keeper of his “persuasion” who nodded to prompt him for more. 

“He’s on some island off Greece. Private. Tight security, the kind that could shoot you out of the sky.” 

“Impressive.” You tutted, feigning confidence once more. “What more do you know?” 

The woman with the bangled necklace whispered something in his ear once peeking at a small old-model cellphone in her hand, brushing her lips over his earlobe. Over the sound system, the jazz music turned sultry, and both women moved to join the other intoxicated clubbers in the back to sway around brass poles. 

“There’s the freckled bastard. He’s the grunt--and the one that’s been chasing you I think. Real nuisance isn’t he? He’s the Knave. Had a few run ins with him myself.” 

You thought back to the gas station and the black SUVs. Between all the shards of glass, it had been hard to make anyone out, but you had figured that he had must’ve been one of the men throwing their bodies out of the windows to shoot. 

The Rabbit chuckled out with some kind of hand signal to his guards. “Knowing him, he could be right outside my door for that matter.” 

Jeongin’s eyes flew open, sending you “the look.” Your time was running out. Judging by the way that you hadn’t noticed that the Rabbit’s women had cleared out the other clubbers from the room, they must’ve known something that you didn’t. The club owner stood up with a languid stretch and cracked his knuckles. 

“We probably don’t have much more time before they come in here guns blazing. Best protect your prince, hm?” 

“Rabbit! You must know something about The King?!” You crossed the room to grab at his frim and fuzzy arm. 

He slyly smiled, amused by your grip, “Like I said doll, no one knows much about him. Your Baron has got it right. Start with the Joker. But...” His grin cracked even wider, “Good luck.” 

Seungmin tugged at Two’s dress coat as the two bulky bodyguards took The Rabbit by the arms to escort him. 

“What's going on??” The young man’s voice cracked with urgency. 

“Ready that gun of yours.” Two said lowly with gritted teeth. 

He strode across the room with his fur coat lazily swaying, then raised the golden rings on his fingers to the air as he exited. He threw his yellow tinted glasses back on, before turning back to your stunned group. 

“I estimate that you’ve got...three minutes? --Oh! And one more thing!” 

The white fabric of your dress swept to the side, revealing your thigh holster which you grabbed at quickly. 

“What?!” 

“Every King’s got his Queen? Does he not?” 

The enigmatic club owner slipped into the shadows of his private room, leaving your group with the sound of clambering feet on the floor above, followed by muffled gunshots. 

“They’re here?” Seungmin readied his small handgun as he was told and looked to the ceiling where the lights flickered from the commotion. “They found us?” 

Two twirled two knives in his hands with a silvery glint. Both of the blades were a bit on the shorter side, but you were certain that he knew how to use them. “They’re always following us.” 

“We need to get out of here.” Lee Minho drew out his own gun concealed by his suit. It was custom with a pearl handle. You had seconds to make out the insignia, but you could make out the shape of what looked like a red rose. “The place must be crawling with them. We need to find the exit.” 

Your partner nodded while taking his own gun. “Stay close, Your Highness. Follow me.”

“Bee?” The prince called your name with a worried cross between his brows. “Give me a gun. Hand-to-hand is nothing against these guys. I’ll stay close. I promise.” 

While he held your eyes earnestly, the way that his chest heaved up and down told you something much different. 

“You can handle it?”

“I can.” 

Jeongin passed him a Glock from the holster strapped behind his shoulders. 

You made your way back through halls lit by hissing fluorescent lights with a white burn to them. The crates of weaponry stretched on and on, adding to your unease knowing what could happen if a bullet were to be fired in this hallway. Thick rats skittered in the dank edges of the hall and weaved between boxes labeled in Spanish. 

“Drugs.” Minho gripped his gun tighter. “From the looks of it, cocaine.” 

Above your heads, a giant boom resounded and dust with drywall fell from the lights that flickered harder. 

“Its a fucking maze down here.” Jeongin tapped at his watch in an attempt to find a schematic of the place. 

The college student wetted his lips. “At least we’re not up there with them.” 

“At least the lead worked out. We know more about these...Spades than we did before. It’s a start.” You tailed the back of the group with careful footsteps and the click of your heels against the cement flooring. 

Another resounding boom echoed followed by the shrill screams of clubbers above. It sounded hellish--you could hear the raw fear in their voices. The music thudded on, likely abandoned by someone running for their life. The Prince’s knuckles turned white holding onto his piece of metal near the front of the group. 

“F, you know the way up?” 

“I-I think. We should be approaching some stairs soon, but there’s nottelling who will be on the other side.” 

Two tore off his sunglasses and shoved them into his breast pocket. “We’ll be damn lucky if they haven’t found the hotel yet. If not, we’ve got to run.” 

“My laptop??” Seungmin whimpered. 

“That damn Chromebook? Don’t worry about it, your life is more important.” Jeongin scoffed. “The Agency can set you up with something even better.” 

“I can’t believe that at a time like this all I can think about is my stupid computer.” The young man shook the thought out of his head. 

“Stairs up ahead.” Jeongin pointed. “Get ready.” 

“Chan?” You pulled at the prince’s trim to his coat. 

“I’m fine Bee. Honestly. I trust you.” He attempted a smile. The same smile, that damned charming one that couldn’t get out of your head. 

Minho looked back to the prince too with worry, it had been the most sincere motion that you had seen him do as of yet. He reached out to squeeze the royal’s shoulder with a soft smile. 

“Don’t go dying on us Your Highness. Think about what that would mean for the kingdom?” He chuckled. 

“I’ll try my best,” The prince returned the gesture. 

Jeongin reached for the metal door handle to the teal green door cracking with paint. The sound of machine guns had grown even louder, followed by the sound of the shells hitting the wooden dance floor. The air was thin where it crept under the door and carried with it the horrid smell of smoking guns and spilled alcohol. 

“Two, Bee, form rank around the group, I’ll lead.” 

Two nodded, popping gum into his mouth and blowing large electric blue bubble. “Can do.” Both of his hands tightened around his blades.  

“One...Two...Three!” 

Time slowed the second that the door opened, and your ears rang with the deathly silence. Bodies to the left and right of you became a blur and they fell to the floor in the silence with their limbs twitching until they didn’t move at all. White collars turned red, as did the white tablecloths of the standing tables. The strobes pranced around the room in a multicolored shower that was as blinding and stained your eyes. 

The men in black suits and leather gloves scattered around the room with their red crests glinting. They shouted commands at eachother, but to you, all you could see was the way that their lips curved and cracked. In front of you, your partner leads with a hand gesture that you had memorized from training, and all of your focus was drawn the the back of the group. The trigger of your gun was cold on your finger: you pulled and pulled not even pausing to feel the way that it fought back against your wrist. The men were sprinting with their own guns tight in their hands, but each of them fell before they could get close. 

Two’s mouth was in a flat line as he threw tiny blades from his hands to the chests of men running across the balconies and hiding from behind tables. He appeared to have an infinite amount in his coat and saved the longer and more lethal ones for close connections, subsequently dipping his own fingers in red. 

The young college student trudged on in the center of the group with his head tucked firmly between his two shoulders. Clear streams of tears fell down his eyes, but he wiped at them furiously between each shot that he took with his small handgun. Next to him, the two royals kept their own heads low aiming shots around them to backup you and your partners. 

Their footsteps came echoing behind you, and you walked backwards, taking aim with one eye squinted, while barking out commands from your mouth that you barely even understood. Your heartbeat bumped in your chest nearly in tune with the thudding 808′s of the music that reverberated in your ears. Each of the Spades moved as if they were shadows over the bodies of the fallen, leaping and jumping, nearly floating over dining tables and sweeping off the glassware and silverware with them as they did so. 

“BEE, I’M ALMOST OUT!” Jeongin screamed to you nearly before reaching the front revolving doors. 

Two tossed another magazine in the young agent’s direction, then threw another dagger with startling accuracy. 

For seconds at a time you could see how Minho’s eyes had narrowed with his aim, and he too met every target exactly where he wanted. You figured that the royal must have trained himself well to have that kind of precision. The way that he appeared perfectly calm was startling: his dark eyes squinted and he turned his body swiftly with little effort. 

“Fuck--I’M OUT OF ROUNDS!” The prince bellowed before ducking under Minho’s arm which immediately swung over him. 

You closed in closer to the group, using your body as a shield for the prince’s back. 

Your partner cast aside fallen chairs and tables in his wake, as one of the thugs charged at him. In response, he threw his gun into his waistband, opting to slung the man with a hurried uppercut that sent him spitting blood to the floor before falling, “We’re almost there! Keep pushing!!” 

“SHIT!!!” Seungmin groaned out before dropping his small gun to the ground, he trembled with his leg dragging behind him, then soon his pants soaked with a dark stain to his slacks. 

“BEE LOOK OUT!!” A voice screamed, seconds before you could register it.

Your head whipped back to the chaos of the club, seeing the “freckled bastard” himself point his decorated riffle at you point blank with a wicked grin on his face. He looked purely evil. There was something about the way that his ears poked, or how his eyes upturned that made him look devilish when his pearly white teeth peeked once he took his shot. He had ashy blonde hair that had strung with sweat over his forehead, and blood wetted the tip of his dress shoes. He cocked his head to the side, as he did too with his gun before the deafening shot cracked through the room. 

You were shocked trying to memorize his face, and frozen in your fear from the barrel of the gun facing you right between the eyes. 

An excruciatingly tight grasp at your arm pulled you to the side before you could react, throwing you to the hardwood floors before whoever it was pulled themselves in front of the bullet. Your vision was rocked when you hit the floor, missing the glass revolving door by centimeters. 

“Y/N!” Your partner screamed, waking you from your haze as the room started to piece back together. “You good?!” 

Another hand grabbed you to your feet before shoving you through the door, lightly slinging your arm around his shoulder before taking your gun from your trembling hand to take a few more shots. You realized it was Two this close, and tiny flecks of red splattered at his neck. 

“Fuck--give me that--” You grabbed the gun from his hand to fire every bullet that was left at the freckled bastard until you couldn’t any more, and the cool of the evening stung at your heaving lungs once your group reached the sidewalk. 

Outside of the venue, clubbers scrambled and ran the streets still shrieking in their fear and tripping over their heeled shoes. 

“Chan?? Chan--where-where’s the prince??” The words spilled from your lips in your pure adrenaline. 

Right behind you only a couple paces away, the prince stood pale with Seungmin holding between them a groaning and gasping Minho who barely held on to the two men. A bullet wound soaked his black suit jacket, and the red crept up to his white frilled collar.” The wound made a hole right in his shoulder with a visible circle. 

Jeongin sprinted to the back of the group looking disheveled himself with sleeves hastily pulled up to his elbows. “Shit--shit!!” 

“S-move aside. MOVE!” You commanded the whimpering young man who gave you Minho’s other arm. You wrapped around his wasit and dragged the heavy weight of the man who had just saved your life. 

The prince dryly smacked his lips then scanned the street for more of the Spades in his daze. 

“Y-you okay?” The words dried up your tongue. 

“Yeah...yeah, I’m fine, are you?” His energy had been drained of him, and his knuckles were also cracked, likely from having to throw punches that you haven’t even seen him take. 

Gunshots echoed further down the street followed by the screeching of wheels and more panicked yells. The chirps of cop cars pulled up to the scene and their husky demands rounded up the escapees in rapid-fire Arabic. 

Jeongin sprinted back with his white hair bouncing to a taxi nearest an intersection. He threw the door open apologizing profusely the best he could before pulling the driver out of the driver’s seat and to the cement. He cursed out loudly in response to which Jeongin tossed out some bills haphazardly to his chest. 

“Get in, GET IN!” He called to your group while tapping on the metal side of the vehicle. 

Both you and the pricne guided the injured royal in to the backseat between you. 

“Minho--Minho, hold on--” Your nervous hands held his pale face in your palms. 

The tear of your dress filled the small compartment, prompting the prince to snatch his hand into the other man’s firmly. 

“Minho--you fucking dumb asshole--you had to go and he the hero didn’t you?” Chan smiled hopefully. 

“Ar-are you alright?” He coughed, “Your Highness?” 

“Shut up.” Chan ruffled his hair with another adoring smile. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” 

Although it was silk, you used every inch of your dress tear to tie around the baron’s shoulder tightly in an attempt to add pressure to the open wound. 

“Bee--” Minho started with a lazy glare. 

“--Keep talking Minho, look at me. You’re gonna feel sleepy, stay awake. You did great, thank you so much for doing that to me. Thank you.” You grabbed his opposite hand firmly. “I can’t thank you enough.” 

Lee Minho laughed. “Don’t mention it. And--if you wanted me to keep talking...I wanted to tell you that you’re really stunning Bee. How you handled all th-that. I was really impressed.” 

“Hm, I was impressed too.” In his own way, like this, bloodied and a bit delirious, Lee Minho really was as handsome as he let on. 

The taxi car whipped around another corner with wind whipping in the windows and each of your masses jostled in the car as if bumped over the curb. The hotel wasn’t that far from The Tea Party, and you knew that any moment you would reach it, but each second stretched longer and longer. 

“Fox?! We’re not there?” 

“Fuck--Bee, the whole city is crawling with cops, everywhere I turn, they’re on the hunt, The Spades are everywhere I can’t make it back--no doubt they’re already there...” 

In the front seat, Seungmin clung to Two as if his life depended on it as his whole body shook and Two tore his own jacket sleeve to close off the young man’s wound on his leg. 

“Wha-what are we going to do?? S-shit!! Ouch!!!” The young student gritted his teeth in his pain while his leg shook terribly. He sobbed, “It hurts, really, really bad!!” 

“I planned for this.” Jeongin’s eyes flicked in the review mirror to you in the back. “I asked Carroll to set up for us a secondary place if something went down and we couldn’t make it to the hotel. I figured...if anything happened or if they found us--” 

“--Get us there, fucking drive Fox, Minho needs first aid, right fucking now, he’s bleeding too fucking much.” 

“I know, I know!!” 

“How far is it?!” 

“Not far, I promise, twenty minutes--tops.” 

“Make it ten!!!” 

Jeongin floored it, running lights and becoming a stream under the skyscrapers of Cairo. From the small skylight of the taxi, thin clouds streaked in the evening sky and mixed with the glow of the city. Far, far, above your head, you prayed for the first time in years that you could make it in time. 

Seungmin sobbed with puffy eyes from the front seat and writhed, “Hurry! Hurry!” He begged. 

Minho’s head lulled in the backseat as he bled though the white silk binding him. His head bounced back and forth from you to the prince with glossy marbles for eyes that blinked slowly. The prince rested his hand on the baron’s thigh and rubbed calming little circles into it. 

“Minho, you did so well. Look at me.” Chan coaxed, causing the other to smile adorably grim. 

Minho twitched before rolling his head over to the prince. “Your Highness, i-if I may be so bold...I-I’ve got...I’m crush on you.” He finished his sentence with a wrinkled smile. 

You scoffed out with a laugh while making knowing eye contact with the prince who laughed out lightly too. 

“He sounds like someone I know.” You winked at the royal. 

The taxi made one final turn to an alley filled with potholes that jostled each wheel of the car. 

“This is it! Right here!” The young agent whipped into a one car garage hidden into the alley. The darkness of the garage filled the car, and snuffed out all of the light from the street, and even muffled the faint sirens of police as they whizzed past. The night was still full of gunshots, but at least now they sounded far enough away to be safe. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was a modest two floored apartment outfitted with the normal security system of The Agency: window locks and cameras in every corner of every room. As expected, each of the rooms was covered in a fine layer of dust, and the old smell hung with flecks of the material stuck on lampshades and wafting in the light. 

Work had been delegated between you and your partners, with the two other men helping treat Seungmin in the second bedroom out of three while you and the prince aided Minho.  

The windows were left open to let in some fresh air, also letting in the faint sounds of the city which still surged with life even late into the night. Still, the smell of the desert came floating into the room with a welcome sense of tranquility. 

The royal lay on the bed with cracked pale lips while you set to work dabbing at his wound gently with gauze, cleaning the area around the bullet wound. Fearful to cause more bleeding, the bullet would stay where it was for a few moments more for another layer of wrapping. The prince remained quiet, passing you materials as needed with hands stained pink from the other man’s blood. 

“How are you feeling?” Chan quietly asked. 

“Hurts like a bitch,” Minho smiled, “You ever been shot before?” 

The prince shook his head. 

“Well, I hope that you never are. Feels like your whole body gets stirred up from the impact and then there’s the sting.” 

Carefully you pulled back the remains of the baron’s shirt while lifting him slightly off the bed. As you swept the fabric from behind him, you noticed the thin red line tracing around his shoulder bade which you figured to be blood at first. 

“What...what’s this?” 

“Oh,” Minho shied, “It’s a tattoo.” 

“You’ve got a tattoo? For a royal?” Chan slicked back Minho’s sweaty locks. “You really are full of surprises.” 

Gently you laid the baron back down to lay with his new wrappings. “What is it?”

He paused, wetting his lips quickly before he spoke. “It’s a red rose. It’s a bit large--I know--not typical for royals. Don’t worry, you’re the only royal that knows that I have it.” 

“Why a red rose?”

 Below you, Minho looked relaxed and calm, beautiful even like this bare-chested under the single lamp-light of the bedroom. 

“Well...you know the significance of symbols and insignias. We’ve all got our own.” He grinned out while playing with the prince’s free hand. 

“I’ve got my white rose, Bee’s got her clock: seems like we’ve all got our own thing.” Chan agreed, watching the way that his fingers interlocked with the other man’s. 

In the opposite bedroom, Seungmin cried out sharply to the tune of Jeongin chuckling out, “I’ve got you, you fucker!” The clink of metal fell into the little bowl they used: the bullet was out of the poor boy. 

You sighed knowing that the damage caused to your group could’ve been much worse, yet you had made a skillful escape. Still, the thought of the bodies littering the floor...the silence that rang in your ears from the pace of it all and how the energy of survival started to wear off...it was truly gruesome. 

“Minho--really, I appreciate you taking a hit for me like that. No one has ever done something like that for me...and you barely know me...” 

The baron smiled, taking your hand in his too. “Like I said, it’s fine. Had I not, you wouldn’t have been able to help us out of there...even if you were dragging my ass for the tail end of it.” 

The breeze flew in with the dusty curtains; just cold enough to make you shiver in your thin dress. 

The prince looked to the both of you, “What happens now?” 

Chan himself was a proper mess: he no longer looked like the perfect vision of regality from the earlier evening. He looked like a man, a regular man, scared, unsure, and confused. His knuckles were cracked...and you had promised that you had never wanted to see him harmed again. 

The prince’s eyes softened, softer than they had been, soft like they had been the evening before when you had broken. 

“We survive. The best we can. We recuperate for a couple days, and ask Carroll what the next steps are. I’d guess it would be Greece then.” 

Minho leaned up with a little grunt to face you. “I’m coming with. I can help. I can be valuable if you need another set of hands on a gun.” 

“I think you mean hand. Your arm is gonna be out of commission for a little while.” 

He smirked, “Still...” 

The sweeping red outline of rose peeked to his shoulder, and you wondered how far it really spread. 

“Bee, I don’t think that I’ve thanked you.” Chan let the words fill earnestly, throwing that same damned smile at you. 

“Chan...you don’t have to thank me. You’re my prince.” 

The royal nodded with a contented little grin that tugged a dimple on the side of his face. You found both men looking at you as such, as if they were waiting, or anticipating the unsaid as you were. 

Somehow, the room turned silent once more: a void quiet enough to hear your heart beating in your ears. 

You bridged the gap, pulling Chan close to you as you pressed your lips against his, using your stained hand to pull his lapel into your body while he melted perfectly into you as he had done before. His mouth tasted slightly like the salt of blood, but that was of no matter to how sweet he was when he gently let himself unfold for you, gasping lightly against you. Chan’s hand reached to your arm to caress the goosebumped skin down, giving you another reason to shiver. You found your own hand tie into his light brown locks and pull deeply at the roots with depths of curiosity and want. Your tongue gently explored his lower lip before teasing right into his mouth which was even warmer than you had imagined it being. 

Your other hand found the torso of Minho: bare and quivering under the touch of your fingertips which traced each muscle there. He let out a drawn out sigh, then drew his own hand down the curve of your body to your hip, finally working it back up over your belly to your breasts thinly protected by the dress. He sat up higher and brought his lips to the fabric, kissing right into your belly with the warmth of his mouth. He paused, giving you moments to crave that same feeling on your lips and prompting you to bow down and indulge yourself in the taste of his mouth too. 

Chan’s hungry hands came tip-toeing over your back as he watched, and slipped one finger under your thin dress strap to pull it down and press kisses to your shoulder. With his other hand, he let it fall down Minho’s back: over the red rose, right to his thigh which he squeezed at firmly: right between the heat of his legs. 

Minho was different from Chan: rougher with his advances, but still addictive in how he would test the corners of your mouth with each kiss more courageous than the last. He ruffled up your torn dress, then let the silk fill up his hands before pulling it in ways to meet your skin with his. Slowly, Chan did the same, edging a hand up to your ass from the frayed bottom of the once-gorgeous dress. 

The bed was just big enough for two, but with this new interlocking of limbs as close as possible, you melded into one. Both you and Chan crept over the man between you, painting the blank canvas of his chest with seething hot lips and biting at the flesh of his skin lightly. Minho’s back arched from the beautiful sensation, causing him to giggle in his euphoria. 

In the middle, you found Chan once more, and held him close, as close as you had wanted for longer than you had admitted. 

“Oh Bee...” He moans into your mouth while releasing all of his glee onto your tongue. 

“Chan, I’m not scared anymore. I don’t even care.” 

The prince shuddered at the thought, and held you back just as tight finding the corners of your dress to pull over your head. 

“Oh my god,” Minho adores you, then reaches out to pull you to his chest. 

This mysterious man, melts for you too, whimpering perfectly between your lips.  Your legs find their way around his thigh to grind at lightly. There's an innocence to his eyes, much like that of the prince: its a kind of blind adoration that you know all too well. His dedication to Chan, and his gesture to you: the thick bandages around his arm: you find your apprehension slipping to nothing. 

Your fingers loop around the white lace of your panties as you kneel above both men, and you swipe your thumb over both of their glistening and trembling lips. 

“Well boys, how about I’ll make both of you mine tonight?” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

[mayibeyoursbanks]

“The Bow-Tie”

Hi so it’s been an eternity since I’ve written anything but I’m slowly trying to get back into the swing of things:)

A while ago I saw a post by @adoreyoudrews with the gif of John B doing JJ’s tie in episode 5 and they talked about the concept of recreating that at JJ’s wedding and I thought it was sooooo fucking cute

*not my gif

———————————————————————

“Need some help with that man?” John B laughed from his seat behind where JJ was standing in front of a mirror, struggling to twist a black and white floral bow-tie around his neck.

JJ grunted in reply, letting the fabric slip from his grip and down to the floor for what seemed like the millionth time. John B stood from his chair and bent to pick up the tie before he approached his best friend.

Standing in front of JJ, John B reached over his head, almost knocking off the worn baseball cap perched atop it. He rolled his eyes at JJ’s insistence on keeping it on until the last possible second.

“Guess I should’ve taken to wearing bandanas everyday instead huh? Chucked JJ.

“Well, they’re a heck of a lot easier to do than a bow-tie.” Replied John B with a smile.

“Hey, you think Y/N would be mad if I walked out there wearing one of yours?” John B just gave JJ a pointed look in reply and continued to mess with the delicate bow-tie. The boy wiggling around in front of him trying to finish buttoning his crisp white shirt served no help with that task.

“Stop fidgeting JJ. I’m almost done.”

“Sorry man, nervous is all.”

“JJ Maybanks, nervous to go sweep a girl off her feet? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” He laughed as he looked at his best friend, who only watched as he wrang his clammy hands together repeatedly.

“Hey, remember the last time I did your tie for you?” John B asked as he moved down to JJ’s collar to adjust it over the now complete tie.

“Of course, Midsummers three years ago. How could I forget such a pivotal night in our legendary treasure hunt? I think this might even be the same tie.”

“I think the night was important for more reasons than just the treasure hunt.” JJ smiled at the recollected memory of that night.

~

“Now could you just hold still.”

“So just give this to...Sarah?”

“Yes, just give it to Sarah.” Grumbled John B as he tried to quickly do JJ’s tie.

“Now-“

“Vlad.” John B glared at JJ as he pulled the tie into a bow, making sure to cut off his circulation only a little bit, to which JJ only smirked. John B reached down to JJ’s backpack, immediately spotting the gun.

“You kidding me?”

“No. I’m not kidding.” JJ replied as he adjusted his collar.

“You get caught with this thing in a pinch you’re going to jail.” John B glared at his best friend again.

“Fine,” said JJ as he took his baseball cap off his head, “but if I get ambushed, it’s on you.” John B just shook his head as JJ grabbed the tray and glasses and began to walk up the beach.

JJ immediately started searching for Sarah Cameron as soon as the party came in sight. Except, JJ was so focused on looking for John B’s mysterious “Val” that he didn’t notice the small approaching figure until he walked right into it.

“Woah, dude! Watch where you’re going,” the voice attached to the figures exclaimed upon impact. The run-in wasn’t too bad, just shoulder-to-shoulder really, but it was enough to shake JJ out of his focus.

“Sorry, sorry. My bad.” JJ looked down at his side to see a girl, a very pretty girl, readjusting the contents of her tray. Then he noticed she was dressed very similar to him, in a white shirt and black vest.

JJ, a little flustered to find such a good-looking girl working the Kook party, continued to ramble.

“Gotta admit, I may have taken one too many sips from the kooks’ abandoned glasses,” he said gesturing to his tray. The girl smirked at him, finally meeting his eyes with her stunning Y/E/C ones.

“Yeah well, I guess I can’t blame you. These kooks are already obnoxious enough, but this party is just totally tone-deaf.” JJ smiled at the interesting word choice, it reminded him of Kie and her distaste for the wealthy class.

“Although, if you plan on infiltrating the lion’s den, I would suggest making sure you have a matching uniform,” the girl said. JJ must have looked confused at that comment, because she gestured to the handkerchief around her neck. JJ took a quick glance at the other servers walking around, noticing their matching baby pink bow-ties and handkerchiefs, starkly different than the black and white one he wore himself.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Just promise me it’s a top secret, life threatening mission to save the world.”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you. And...you’re too pretty kill...it’d be an awful shame.” JJ cheekily replied as he watched her cheeks flood with a pink far darker than her handkerchief.

“So who’s that note for? The person threatening to push the big red button?” The girl asked and she nodded toward the piece of paper in JJ’s other hand. JJ knew he shouldn’t, but somehow he felt like he could trust this girl with any secret.

“Miss Sarah Cameron, if you would believe it.” The girl’s eyes flashed with worry quickly, and JJ pretended not to notice as she straightened her back ever so slightly. “I’m afraid I’m merely playing the role of the messenger in a forbidden love story,” JJ quickly added.

“Ah, so your friends with John B, Sarah’s mysterious new prospect,” visibly relaxing a bit. JJ looked at her, confused how she knew about John B and Sarah’s situation, since she was clearly not from Figure 8.

Seeing his confusion, the girl explained, “When I’m not playing waitress at over-the-top Kook parties, I help my mom clean and cook at the Cameron house. And Sarah Cameron has quite the tendency to overshare.”

“Hey! You two! A couple glasses broke by the stage...clean them up, pronto!” Both JJ and the girl looked over to where the loud voice came from, seeing a man in a suit, security, over by one of the food tables managing the servers.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to saving the world then...” The girl trailed off.

“Maybanks. JJ, Maybanks,” he said in a horrible James Bond accent. The girl laughed, and something inside JJ told him not to let her walk away quite yet.

“You know, once this mission is over and the world is no longer in danger anymore, I’d love to tell you all about it. It’s quite the tale.”

“I’m sure it is, JJ. And I’m looking forward to hearing it...over a bottle of wine stolen from the Cameron’s cellar, of course,” said the girl.

“And what kind of wine is the lady partial too?” JJ found himself surprisingly attracted to the girl’s sudden forwardness.

“Only the darkest of the reds,” her voice dropping to just slightly louder than a whisper.

“A tempting offer. Assuming the world doesn’t implode on itself, I’ll be there.” JJ smiled as she tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.”

“It’s a date.”

“That it is.” The two stood in silence for a few seconds longer, not wanting to leave yet.

“And who should I look for, when I sneak into the Cameron house?” The girl smiled wide.

“Y/L/N. Y/N, Y/L/N,” she said while mocking JJ’s James Bond accent. They both laughed and held each other’s eyes, looking for an explanation as to why it was so hard to walk away.

~

“The most important day of my life,” said JJ, now staring at his reflection in the mirror. He barely recognized himself; the sharp dark grey suit and floral bow-tie made him look like a completely new person, one definitely not from the Cut.

“Second to this one, I hope,” added John B from behind him.

“Second to this one,” said JJ as he tugged his baseball cap off and set it on the table in front of him. He turned to look at his best friend and smiled.

“I’m getting married, JB. Who would have thought, right?”

“Trust me J, we all knew it was only a matter of time the first day you brought Y/N to the Wreck with you.”

“I think I knew too.” John B just smiled, and there was a knock on the door. Pope peeked his head in.

“We’re ready if you are JJ,” he said, and the two boys exited the John B’s room and followed Pope out the Chateau door to the venue set up on the dock.

The next couple minutes passed by JJ’s eyes in a blur, him not fully comprehending the people watching him walk down the makeshift aisle. He was oblivious to Pope and Kie, to John B and Sarah, following his steps after. He was in a trance, until you appeared.

JJ teared up immediately at the vision of you, his angel, as he tried to take you in. You clung to your mother’s arm in your flowing white dress, and a veil wrapped around your shoulders as it fell from a crown of yellow roses. You were immaculate.

He held eye contact with you all the while, immediately grabbing your hand to squeeze it when you finally took your place next to him in front of the pastor. A single tear fell down his cheek as JJ noticed the pink handkerchief wrapped around your wrist, and he rubbed the fabric between his fingers. You smiled at him with nothing but adoration, and a few of your own tears.

“You ready bub?” You whispered to him.

JJ whispered back, “Hell yeah, angel.”

———————————————————————

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @the-crackhead-next-door @pankows-girl @howdyherron @poguemacking @dpaccione

[wwitbeyondmeasure]

Summer at the Burrow / r.w. fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ron’s Return / Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations / Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise / Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match / Chapter 7: Girl Talk / Chapter 8: Aphrodite’s Push / Chapter 9: Mistakes and Love Potions

Chapter 10: You Would be Fine

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the love and support for this fic, it means so much to me :) Get prepared because this chapter is a lengthy one (about 4,200 words I think...oops). Also, the gif has nothing to do with the chapter I just thought Ron looked really cute lol. Okay anyways enjoy!!!

You were fine. Really you were.

Every time Hermione or Ginny gave you a concerned look while passing, you could easily plaster on an "I'm-good-everything-is-good-thanks-for-asking" smile onto your face.

In reality though, your heart hurt ever damn day.

About 2 weeks ago, Ron broke your heart. Under the oak tree outside, he told you that whatever happened between you was a mistake. Mistake. So instead of moping around for the rest of your summer vacation, you tried to be happy. During the day time you would laugh and joke with the Weasleys, help make meals, finish your school work, and do chores. But at night is when you finally let yourself feel your heartbreak. Once everyone fell asleep, you would creep down the stairs and sit underneath the oak tree, and cry.

It was therapeutic, kind of. With each passing night, you felt better. Yes, it still hurt seeing Ron's freckled face every morning at breakfast. And it still made your skin and body ache when he accidentally brushed up next to you in the tight kitchen. But you were okay.

You knew that if you let Ron fully see how heartbroken you were, it would change the dynamic between you. You were best friends, and nothing more. No matter how much you loved him, that's all you would ever be. Instead of jeopardizing the friendship you had come to cherish so greatly, you simply suppressed your love for Ron so you could maintain it. And it was working, king of.

The night after your heartbreak at the oak tree, you started treating Ron exactly as you had before you came to the Burrow, before you had let your emotions run wild. He reciprocated this and before long, you were best friends again. You played Quidditch on each other's team, joked around with Fred and George, tried the newest Weasley Wizard Wheezes products (though you stayed away from the love potions), and played wizard's chess together. Although your heart still skipped a beat whenever Ron leaned closer to you, everything was back to normal with your best friend.

Over the past 2 weeks, you had been alternating between sleeping in Ginny's room for sleepovers, the bed in the attic, or the couch in the living room. Ron didn't offer his room to you again, which made you sad but you understood. If you were alone with him late at night when your emotions were high, your cover of "nope-i-don't-love-him-we-are-just-best-friends" was going out the window. So you stuck to your usual 3 beds.

That morning, you had awoken from the attic bed bright and early. Hermione had been getting the girls up at 8am for the past 2 weeks so that you could finish your school work early in the morning and have the rest of the day to relax. Although you hated her every morning for this, you were glad she had such a strict regimen because you had all finished your homework yesterday. Now, for the rest of the summer you were homework free.

By now you were so used to waking up early that it was no longer a surprise for anyone to see you help cook breakfast with Mrs Weasley. Besides Hermione, you two were usually the first awake and in the kitchen right away. This morning was no different as you padded down the creaky wooden steps into the kitchen.

"Good morning Mrs Weasley," you greeted her, tying an apron around your waist. There were four aprons in the Weasley house; a floral one designated for Mrs Weasley, a dark blue one for Mr Weasley when he would attempt to use a muggle grill, a plain white one for whoever decided to help cook, and a yellow one with stars for you. Mrs Weasley even spelled your name, y/n, on the edge in elegant cursive.

"For my newest child," she has said when she showed it to you. She pinched your cheeks, the way she did with all of her kids, and the action almost made you tear up. You threw your arms around her in a tight hug and thanked her profusely.

Mrs Weasley smiled approvingly at you as you started on the breakfast. As the usual morning rhythm took place, you cherished the routine of cracking the eggs, putting them in pans, flipping them, and then doing the same thing again and again.

But soon, Mrs Weasley's voice broke the silence. "Sweetheart, what happened with Ron?" she asked.

Your head snapped up from the frying pan, your eyes meeting Mrs Weasley's. She looked at you with motherly concern, and for some reason you couldn't look at her loving face and lie to her.

"I don't think he feels the same way that I do about him," you stated, turning your attention back to cooking.

Mrs Weasley huffed. "Well, my son has never been the sharpest boy, as you know," she said. You giggled, though you were still sad, and she smiled at you. "Maybe things will change honey," she told you, "love happens unexpectedly."

Before you got the chance to reply, thundering footsteps sounded from the staircase. You whipped your head around to see the twins barreling down the steps, practically tripping over one another in their hurry.

"Where's the fire?" you asked.

Fred ran across the room, picked you up around the waist, and spun you around.

"Percy's home! His work is called off for the week because of his birthday!" He shouted excitedly. You laughed, swatting at him with your spatula until he set you down.

"I didn't know you two were so excited to see your brother," Mrs Weasley noted, fixing her sons with a stern and skeptical stare.

"Oh mother, we're not," George replied.

"We're excited to mess with him for a week straight," Fred added with the largest grin you had ever seen.

As soon as the words left his mouth, more of a promise than anything else, the front door swung open and in entered the most prestigious Weasley of the house. With his rigorous work schedule, you hadn't seen Percy once this entire summer. But now, here he was, standing in the kitchen in a three piece suit with a pocket watch and shiny black shoes at 8 in the morning.

"Hi Percy," you said, trying your best not to laugh at the long tail of his suit coat.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Fred asked, his face shocked as he took in Percy's outfit. George's face was bright red as he held in his laughter.

"This," Percy said, unironically spinning so everyone could see his outfit, "Is traditional Muggle-wear. As I climb higher in the Ministry's success ladder, sometimes I have to encounter Muggles, so I must dress accordingly. This particular suit was a gift from one of my many clients."

He turned to you and you tried to wipe the teasing smile off your face. "Y/n, this is what muggles wear to their jobs, isn't it?" he asked.

You schooled your features into seriousness. "Oh yes," you responded, "definitely."

At that moment, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione stumbled down the stairs, looking like they had just woken up. Everyone stayed up late last night playing nighttime Quidditch (an especially difficult yet fun game considering the fact that you can't see the bludgers because of how dark it is).  

Ron froze when he saw Percy standing in the kitchen, his shoes so shiny they were reflecting the kitchen lights into the eyes of anyone who looked at them.

"Bloody hell, what happened to your clothes?" he asked incredulously. Him and Harry shared a look and then burst out in laughter.

Percy's ears turned pink at the tips as he huffed before sitting down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table. You and Mrs Weasley decorated the center of the table with plate after plate of delicious warm breakfast food. Proud of your hard work, you took off your apron and sat down next to Percy.

Ron sat down next to you as the others joined the table.

"For your information, Ronald, your girlfriend says my clothes are the proper Muggle attire," Percy said, glaring at his little brother.

"She's not my girlfriend," Ron responded, his ears turning pink now too.

"How's Penelope?" you asked Percy before you could let yourself get too caught up in the fact that you really wanted Ron's response to that question to be different.

Percy smiled at the mention of his longtime girlfriend, who had been a Prefect at Hogwarts with him. "Oh she's fantastic," Percy said before launching into a long-winded story about Penelope's latest project she was working on at the ministry. Words such as "top-secret" "highly important" and "imperative job" floated past your ears.

Ron leaned closer to you and mumbled in your ear, "I wish you hadn't asked him that."

"Me too," you whispered back, giggling behind your hand.

As breakfast began, you were proud of all the compliments you received on your cooking. Waking up early to cook with Mrs Weasley was a part of the day you always looked forward too, and the compliments only made you feel better about it.

After everyone finished eating, and cleared their plates, chairs scraped against the wood of the floor as everyone prepared to go about their daily business.

"Wait!" Percy shouting, using his wand to spell everyone back into their chairs. "Nobody leave this table until we discuss my birthday party details."

Theses past few weeks your brain had been so focused on Ron that you had forgotten Percy's huge birthday party that was taking place at the Burrow next week. From the guilty expressions of everyone else around the table, you could tell they had forgotten too.

"I want this party to be perfect," Percy said. "My bosses are coming to this party, as is Penelope, so I will not tolerate any shenanigans." He fixed his eyes on the twins and gave them an icy glare. "I mean it, no funny business."

Fred and George saluted him, shouting "yes mother" before jumping out of their chairs and running to their room. A memory flashed in your head from the beginning of summer. The twins were showing you fireworks in their room, "special fireworks for Percy's party" they had said. There was definitely going to be some shenanigans taking place.

Increasingly interested about what kind of pranks the twins were going to pull on Percy, you excused yourself from the table and followed them upstairs. You were about to knock on their door before it swung open and Fred dragged you inside.

"Can I have a sneak peek?" you asked them giddily as soon as the door closed behind you. Apart from the twins, you were the most excited about their funny products and pranks they always pulled. You knew Percy's party wasn't going to disappoint.

Instead of reciprocating your excitement, the twins traded nervous glances.

"What is it?" you asked them. You felt a strange sense of deja vu to the time when they picked you up to drive you to the Burrow in the beginning of summer. They were hiding something from you then, and they were certainly hiding something from you now.

"So we take it you're not going to tell Ron about your unconditional love for him anytime soon?" George asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish expression on his face. Fred was ringing his hands nervously next to him.

"That is correct," you responded flatly.

"Well, you see," Fred began, "When we ordered these special fireworks for Percy's party, we assumed you two would be dating and in love by the time of the party. And the thing is, there's no refunds on the fireworks, so we kind of have to use them." He spoke so fast that the words were tumbling together in your head.

"Okay...what does that mean? What do the fireworks have to do with Ron and I?" you asked, getting increasingly more upset by the moment.

The twins must have sensed your anger because they traded a quick glance before assuring you "Okay, never mind, love, everything is under control," Fred promised.

"Yep, totally under control," George said, steering you out of the room. You didn't even register what they were saying before you were standing in the hallway.

"What aren't you telling me?" you asked, eyes narrowing into a glare at the twins.

They both gulped nervously.

"Don't worry about it, y/n, everything is fine. Percy's party will be full of lots of laughs and fun," Fred promised, before promptly shutting the door in your face. Once again, you got deja vu.

And with that, you left the twins room, feeling even more confused about your relationship with Ron than ever.

                                                                                              ...

The next week was frantic, hectic, and insane as you all scrambled to prepare for Percy's big party. Decorations needed to be made, food needed to be cooked, and you totally forgot to get Percy a present. After a day trip to Diagon Alley, you had returned home with a bag of more owl food for Dite and a magical watch for Percy. Despite all of the high energy and excitement in the house, the twins words still weighed on you. The party was quickly approaching and you had yet to "confess your unconditional love" to Ron. What would happen if you didn't? You didn't even want to think about it.

It was the night before Percy's party, and you were in the garden helping Bill string up lights around the outdoor tables. You and Bill had been spending a lot more time together over the past week. Bill had always opted to help you in whatever decoration or cooking you were tasked with for that day. Although you could tell that made Ron grumpy, you tried to ignore it. Your feelings were confusing enough without trying to unpack Ron's jealousy at the moment.

You wobbled on the chair you were standing on as you tied the last string of lights around the nearest tree branch. After you finished, you put your hands on your hips and took a look around the garden. It looked amazing. 10 tables were arranged in a neat circle around the yard, completed with white table clothes and centerpieces with Percy's photo in the middle. You bought a couple packs of muggle Christmas lights to hang from the trees to illuminate the area, which Mr Weasley was very happy about. He spent about 2 hours asking you about the mechanics behind muggle electricity.

There was a long table for the buffet to be served at and a short circular table for Percy's gifts to be placed on. At the corner of the garden the twins had set up a firing booth for the fireworks. To be totally honest, the decoration fit more for a wedding than a birthday party, but Percy wanted things to be perfect, so the family followed his decoration ideas to a tee.

While being distracted by observing your handiwork, you weren't really paying attention to what was happening behind you. This was unfortunate because Harry and Ron were practicing disarming charms right behind you.

"Y/n, look out!" you heard someone yell behind you. Whipping around towards the voice, you saw a red ball of sparks sailing towards you from the end of Harry's wand. How did Harry always manage to accidentally attack you?

You dove from your chair to avoid the sparks, and were fully expecting to land roughy in the grass. Instead, you felt strong arms wrap around you to prevent you from hitting the ground. You looked up to see none other than Bill Weasley as your knight in shining armour.

"Thanks," you said quietly.

Bill didn't let his arms drop from around you.

"Anytime," he replied with a grin. His arms were still wrapped around you when you heard angry footsteps marching towards you.

"Get your hands off her, you prat," you heard Ron's voice say. Bill's arms dropped from your sides as you both turned to face Ron.

"Calm down, Ron," Bill told him.

Ron glared at his older brother. "Stop flirting with her, she's my best friend," he said sternly.

Your heart hurt. You wanted Ron to be jealous because he liked you, not because you were just his best friend.

"He can flirt with me if he wants." The words were out of your mouth before you could even filter it.

Ron's gaze snapped towards you and you almost had to take a step back from their intensity.  "Do you want him to?" He asked you, his voice strained.

The answer was easy. No. You knew you didn't want Bill to flirt with you. He had been your first crush and he was beyond attractive, but he wasn't Ron. The only person you wanted was Ron. You said those words not because you wanted Bill, but because you wanted Ron to stop acting possessive if he didn't even love you back. It just hurt too much for him to act like your boyfriend if he was never going to be.

"Ron, I'm sorry," Bill said, mediating the situation. "I know you and y/n have something together, I shouldn't have overstepped. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

It won't happen again.

That's exactly what Ron told you after the night he had taken the love potion. The night that made you believe that maybe he did have the same feelings for you. But in the end, he regretted the moment that you had loved so much.

It won't happen again.

Tears crowded your vision and you tried your best to blink them away, you were not about to cry in front of him and show him just how much power he had over you and your emotions. But soon there were hot tears slipping down your cheeks and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Bill and Harry exchanged nervous glances as you and Ron just continued staring at each other. They both took a couple steps away to give you and Ron the space you needed to hash things out. Ron was breathing heavily, obviously still angry from the flirting between you and his brother. But you were angry too, angry that he didn't want you the way you wanted him.

"I don't want you flirting with my brother," he said, his intense gaze never leaving yours.

You rolled your eyes, "It's not your choice if I do."

Ron bristled at your comment, taking another step closer to you. You could practically feel the heat and anger radiating off of him.

"You know, you've really been pissing me off these past couple weeks," he said. "You prance around making breakfast in the mornings, but in reality all you're doing is trying to get with Bill. It's so fucking frustrating! I'm your best friend, we were supposed to be together every day you visited, but instead you found someone better to spend your time with."

God, he was thick.  You told him that.

"I'm not trying to get with Bill, you dumb git!" you shouted back. Why couldn't he see that he was the only one you wanted. Bill hadn't even crossed your mind this summer, your heart was too full of Ron as it is.

At this point, you were practically nose to nose with him, your shouting words bringing you closer and closer towards each other.

Ron mimicked you from earlier and rolled his eyes. It was beyond infuriating. You set your jaw and clenched your hands as you tried not to yell more.

"Oh of course you're not. You just spend every waking moment with him and barely hang out with me, but sure you're not trying to get with him," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Now it was your turn to get angry. "Oh really? I'm the one to blame right now?" You shouted at him. The words were hot rolling off your tongue.

"You're the one who treats me so poorly! You cuddle me in your bed, and then run out the next morning. You almost kiss me and then act like it didn't happen! You told me what happened in your room was a mistake," the last sentence flew out of you, the anger just boiling and boiling up towards your breaking point.

Even though you knew it wouldn't do you any good, you kept talking. "Don't you dare try to put blame on me for this summer going to shit, because it's not my fault Ron! It's not my fault you're jealous of Bill, it's not my fault things aren't the same between us, and it's not my fault you don't love me back!"

Both of you froze as the words left your mouth. You wanted Ron to say something, needed him to say something, but he remained silent. You couldn't read his emotions and it was going to drive you crazy.

Ron stared at you, his eyes full to the brim with turbulent emotions that you couldn't read. All he did was shake his head.

"I don't want you with Bill," he finally said.

"You're not my boyfriend! You've made that perfectly clear!" You shouted back, your voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

Ron raked his hands through his messy hair, obvious frustrated. "If I were your boyfriend..." he started. "If I were your boyfriend... I wouldn't...." He glanced up at you and the words stopped forming at his mouth. You had tear streaks on your face and your eyes were still watery. The look of you must have shaken him too much for him to continue speaking.

"But you're fucking not! So stop acting like you are, because it hurts too much," you responded, all the fire gone from your argument. Instead it was replaced with a sad silence, the only sounds were the rustle in the tree branches and your occasional sniffle.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said, taking a step closer with his hand out to you, almost like he was thinking of reaching out to you.

You couldn't do this. You couldn't stay there, letting him reach out to touch you. It was clear he didn't love you back, so you couldn't stay and let him hold you when there wasn't any hope. You backed away from him, shaking your head as tears continued to fall down your cheeks.

"You did. You do," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. If not for Ron's body suddenly becoming stiff, you would have thought he didn't hear you.

"Y/n, please..." he began, but no words followed. You shook your head again before turning and running back inside to the Burrow.

Nobody moved when you entered the dimly lit house. The family was sitting around the crackling fire, chatting with one another. But all talk stopped as soon as you entered.

Hastily wiping the tears from your eyes, you tried to make yourself presentable.

"Sweetheart," Mrs Weasley said with that loving tone of hers only a mother could have, "are you alright?"

You nodded, despite the fact that you knew none of them believed you.

"I'm just a little tired is all, I think I'm going to head up to bed," you said, before climbing the stairs as quickly as possible.

As soon as you entered your makeshift room in the attic, you slammed the door shut behind you. You couldn't even make it to the bed before you crumbled onto the ground, your back pressed against the door. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you buried your head in your arms and let yourself cry.

Sobs racked your body as you replayed the conversation from outside. Ron didn't want you. He didn't love you back. He was angry and jealous, but he still didn't love you back.

You stayed there, pressed against the door for the next hour. Everyone headed up to bed at some point and Hermione and Ginny came to check on you. They explained how Harry told them about what happened outside but you just asked them to let you be alone for now. Being the good friends they are, they listened to your request, but not before Ginny promised to "beat Ron to a pulp for hurting you" the next morning.

Even Harry came to check on you. He was visibly uncomfortable, crying girls were never his strong suit (as you could remember from his first kiss with Cho Chang) but he still managed to give you a comforting hug. You thanked him and he left almost as quickly as he arrived. You got ready for bed in a trance, your eyes now swollen from the crying. Slipping on your pajamas, you barely noticed you were throwing on the vintage band shirt Ron had gotten you for a gift earlier. This only made you cry more. Dite landed on your shoulder as you lay in your bed. She affectionately pecked your ear and nuzzled her feathers against your cheek.  

"I'm okay, Dite," you told her, petting her soft feathers. Your fingers traced the black heart on her head. Ron bought you an owl named Aphrodite, with a heart literally on her feathers, but he couldn't even tell you he loved you. These mixed signals made your head and heart both throb.

You fell asleep fitfully, waking up every couple of hours and tossing and turning in bed. Tomorrow was Percy's party, and you had to be okay for it. You couldn't let Ron know just how much he had hurt you. You would be fine tomorrow. You would be fine, just like you had been these past few weeks. You would be fine.

[hoodoo12]

Festival (30/30)

@beejiesbitch @turtlepated @clairjohnson @memedemonhours @monsterlovinghours @yankyo @edosunshine @go-commander-kim @saucymangos @beetlebitchywitch

Everyone departs, in various ways. Some go away further than others (and may have further adventures . . . wink) Thank you to everyone who took a chance reading this very self-indulgent rp scenario. Thanks especially to @pinkbeej for being such a fun amazing partner, and more importantly, a fun amazing human being.

Beej and his clone locked eyes as Eve explained the circumstance. Initially there was hesitation on his part for losing a piece of himself permanently, a sort of damage he had never sustained before; on her part, for losing her home, her lover . . . the two of them felt so certain that the curse would bring her back into him the moment he was put away. If that wasn't the case, though . . .

"It'll be fine. I think she's shown she's got enough drive to be . . . the me I could never quite be," he said softly, giving a nervous grin to the manifestation of his self-hatred and femininity. She was made from powerful feelings, and had much more potential than he'd previously thought.

Pink swallowed thickly and nodded, biting at her lips as tears lined her lower lid. Beej floated closer to her so that she'd have no cause to release Carmen's hand or leave Kadus' grasp. Two additional arms sprouted from her, reaching for him as he leaned in to embrace her. The hair of both forms gleamed brightly, and when he pulled back he looked surprised for a moment, until understanding and a wider smile set in.

"Go. If you end up staying . . . you'll be all right."

He backed up a step as Pink scooped Carmen up into arms that stretched to comfortably hold her even with her distended stomach.

"I'll see you at home, sugar." she murmured, kissing her cheek and neck. "Or I'll find a way to come see you again."

She turned timidly to Kadus and blushed. "You . . . you sure you don't mind me coming along?"

⁂

Jessie perked her brow a little, but noted that it didn't seem like Eve would help them find out more about Andy . . . now that she was familiar with his face, she supposed that didn't matter much. Perhaps she'd talk some sense into him, but . . . well, there was always her way of dealing with things to fall back on. She shook off the initial irritation at having no further leads into finding the asshole and turned her focus back to the brownie and Ollie.

"What do you think honey? He's been helpful and sweet. If he would like to, would you mind us offering to bring him home?" she asked. It relieved her to think that there would be another being to keep Ollie company if she wanted some alone time with BJ. She had to admit, the furry little thing was so ugly it was cute.

"Does that interest you?" Her last question was asked directly to the brownie.

She mindfully continued to touch BJ through the questioning, allowing a steady stream of her thoughts to pass to him in flashes. The man being gutted if he appeared again-- Ollie and the brownie being occupied together while she took his hand and pulled him to Harold's porch--a little burst of excitement and pleasure at the recollection of the taste and effect of the jelly cakes.

With a pink tint to her cheeks, she allowed her mind to wander down other avenues as well. His thumb in her mouth--hands held above her head--the sharp, repetitive slap of hard thrusts--her pinned and bent beneath him, thighs nearly at her sides with his tongue in her mouth . . .

She looked a little dazed as the fantasy ran away with her and she stopped herself before she could go so far as to tease him with the orgasm he wasn't yet allowed to have. Gods, she hoped it'd make him ravenous. She felt delightfully attractive and sensual, reveling in the pleasure she'd been able to share that night. She ached in her womb with the desire to be claimed by him, to give back every piece of her she'd shared for his pleasure.

The flow of thought and emotion shut down as she found herself spurred even further into her needy daydreams by the realization that he had access to her little mental spiral. She tried hard to focus instead on the responses to her questions.

⁂

Watching her lover and his clone quietly make the decision for her to go, Carmen chewed on the inside of her lip. She wanted him whole but wanted him happy, and she was only just beginning to understand which fractured parts of his souls each clone manifested. It seemed like this decision was edging more towards the happy side of his equation. She enjoyed getting to know this clone, but if it was best for Beej, she supported it.

What worried her most is not calling his name. He’d been out all night, and despite not using much of his energy he did use some, and she had no idea how much he actually had, or if he was leaving a trail that was going to lead his monster of a mother back to them. She hated that keeping him safe meant keeping him cocooned away from the world.

Still, she accepted the the final decision and burst into a surprised little laugh as his female clone pulled her against her, even as tears wet her face. “Have fun,” she whispered into her ear, “be careful.” She took a deep breath, locking the light floral scent from the delicate flowers into her memory. She pulled back a little and brushed her pink hair back just to keep the contact for a moment more, then kissed her gently on the mouth. “I can’t wait to hear about everything,” Carmen told her, then let her go. Once Pink was released, Kadus gathered her up. “Yes, ροζ θεά μου. I wouldn’t have invited you otherwise. What the witch says is true, however. I don’t know the way back that isn’t ordained by set laws between the worlds.”

“The door, centaur,” a low voice near the dying bonfire called. Carmen and Beej looked over Kadus’s haunches to the minotaur who’d spoken. At some point he’d put on his thin loincloth again, and in the brightening dawn, Carmen saw the true color of his horns under the gilding: verigated white and black. In respect to the somberness of the moment she had to bite her tongue and not giggle; she must be automatically drawn to black and white now. She could feel Beej’s fingers tightening on her and his quizzical glance at her as she shook slightly in the effort not to laugh, and knew she’d have to tell him why sooner or later.

“I’ll take care of her,” Kadus assured Beej and Carmen. It was easy to see they were torn between letting her go, worry, and fear. It pleased him, however, that his offer was accepted; he hadn’t lied when telling Pink he wanted to show her his homeland.

With a final nod to the two of them, he led Pink away towards the faint shimmer passed the bonfire. A satyr slipped through, and a few fauns lingered as if to see if Eve was going to follow. She didn’t. They skipped into the doorway, visible one second and not the next, and then the minotaur lowered his head to step through as well. When it was Kadus’s turn, Carmen lifted her hand to wave and then wiped away more tears that fell.

⁂

Jessie had asked him a question, but before he could answer dirty fantasies flooded his mind’s eye. As much sex as she’d had over the past night she was still horny and it showed; it should be embarrassing to get a hard-on with a breather who was a essentially a stranger standing right in front of him, but after this orgy he supposed it didn’t matter.

BJ reached up to cup Jessie in what he hoped looked to be a protective way, although it was mostly to keep his hand off his cock for the moment. He did manage to muzzle a moan at the images she fed him too, and briefly he wondered if she was going to be sore, when they could find some time for themselves, and--oh shit, when did she need to feed again?

They really did need to go.

It was in the back of his mind that he had no real reason to refuse to let another fey take up residence in his place, and Jessie was already asking the little creature its opinion. It was answering positively without his blessing anyway. The witch’s pointed directive at least gave him a chance to turn and move to pick up his suit. “Leaving the clearing is exiting,” she called after him, making him pause. Should he say something to anyone else? The specter who seemed so similar to him but different in fundamental ways hadn’t yet turned back to them. He had no idea if he’d ever see him and his scarred lover again, so it would probably be polite--

“We’re going,” BJ called in their general direction. When the two of them turned, he lifted a hand. “Thanks for . . .”

Stupid, but he didn’t know how to end that sentence. A one time blow job and fuck fueled by fairy magic didn’t mean anything, but being approached and accepted did. In the end, paralyzed by indecision, he simply nodded to them, made sure everyone he carried had a handhold on him to not be dislodged, and stepped into the treeline. His suit reclothed him with a thought, like a second skin, and despite Ollie’s earlier declaration he’d have to find his own way home, the leprechaun twittered in his ear a route. Arriving with two housemate but leaving with three, BJ shook his head and glanced back for a final look at the clearing.

As Pink returned Carmen's kiss with a sweet smile in her eyes, Beej watched the exchange with mixed feelings. There was still the large amount of certainty that his clone would be pulled back into him by the curse, but the tears on his lover's face made him almost regret the decision to let a piece of himself travel to another world. The potential for what they could learn from it, though . . .

As Pink floated alongside Kadus, having waved to Carmen, Beej and even smiling in farewell toward Eve and the specter who had indulged with them all earlier . . . it dawned on her that perhaps it was his interaction that gave her the courage to try to branch out and caused her to make Kadus' acquaintance.

She hugged close to him, eyeing the door between their worlds with excitement, wonder and curiosity. Her arms tightened around his arm as she watched the other beings vanish in passing through. As Kadus prepared to pass through, she turned and saw Carmen waving to her. With a brilliant smile, she raised her arm and waved back, though her wave was bouncy, happy and enthusiastic.

Before she could change her mind, she turned and met Kadus' eyes with a warm smile and nodded, floating alongside him as he stepped through.

Beej turned to Carmen and gathered her to him, wiping the tears from her cheeks and bending to kiss her lips softly. Multiple hands fussed over her, drying her tears and brushing back her hair from her forehead, stroking her back and cupping her ass to pull her in.

"'S alright babes, I'm right here." he murmured softly, hoping to comfort her.

He nudged her forehead with her own, kissing her cheeks and the tip of her nose sweetly. The call of BJ's voice snagged his attention, and even as he held her close he turned to listen to the other ghost.

The half-finished sentence made him smile, the guy did seem like the type to not know what to say after a positive experience with strangers . . . and truth be told, he could remember the time when he wouldn't have had words either.

"Thank you!" he called back with a grin, "'N remember, it's all right ta be happy."

One of his many hands held up BJ's card, displaying that he'd held onto it purposefully, not wanting to lose the memento of this strange other.

Jessie listened to the exchange with a grin, cocking her head a little as Beej held up a somewhat familiar looking card. It'd been ages since she'd seen any of those, back before they'd replaced the bed! She didn't have much to say, but she raised her tiny arm and waved at Beej and Carmen and Eve as BJ stepped away, clothing himself and taking his leave with her and both tiny fey clinging to him securely. As they vanished from view, Beej looked back down to Carmen with a smile.

"How're ya feelin' babes?" he asked, brushing her hair behind her ear again. "'m surprised yer still standing."

His lighthearted tease was followed up by a soft kiss to her lips.

Carmen watched as Beej’s clone floated to the doorway on the arm of the centaur, excitement plastering a wide smile on her face. It occurred to her, in a rush of panic, that she was nude, but just before she could call out after her to put on some clothes, Beej was holding her and kissing her, and the other specter’s voice was telling them he was leaving.

She turned just her head in response to the call, and by the time she looked back to the doorway between planes, Beej’s clone was gone.

She held onto Beej a little tighter then, even as she managed a good bye to the ghost almost at the tree line. His striped suit reappeared on him and although she should have been able to see him for a longer period in the trees, after only a step or two he was gone from sight as well.

Her throat hurt, and she took in a shaky breath. Beej still cuddled her, soothing her; it occurred to Carmen she should be doing that for him, not the other way round. Still, his query made her laugh a little. Luckily Eve had given them a little privacy, returning to the side of a few other witches tamping out the remaining coals of the fire, so she didn’t feel embarrassed to answer him.

“I’m not sure either,” she admitted, slipping a hand between her legs to cup herself lightly. “I don’t know how well I’ll be able to walk once all the adrenaline wears off.

“Thanks for last night. I’m glad we attended.” Carmen kissed him and was interrupted with her cousin telling them to get their clothes; it was past time to go. Hand in hand, they crossed the clearing to where they’d entered. Carmen slipped her cotton shift over her head and let Eve and Beej lead her through the forest again.

fin

[vannahfanfics]

Song of the Sea

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Eri, Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada

Eri jumped as her bedroom door burst open, followed by a very familiar voice announcing, “Hey, hey, stop what you’re doing, because we’re going to the beach todaaaaaayyy!” 

“The beach?” Eri said owlishly as she looked up from her tea table, where she was currently pouring imaginary tea for the myriad of stuffed animals seated around the small pink furniture. As Present Mic waltzed into her bedroom, wiggling his hips in a giddy little jig, his grin was nearly blinding. 

“That’s right, my dear! Summer is here, and your therapist thought it would be good for you to go out and get some sunshine!” he explained as he crouched down and picked up one of the ceramic cups. He shook it at her, silently demanding to be served, and Eri giggled delightedly as she used the floral-patterned teapot to distribute. Present Mic took a long, exaggerated sip of air, emerald eyes glittering playfully above the rim of the cup before he pulled it away from his lip with a loud, satisfied sigh. “Delicious! Anyway,” he said, bopping her on the nose as she continued to snicker, “How does that sound?” 

“I’ve never been to the beach before,” Eri considered, cocking her head to the side. From what she knew of the beach, it was supposed to be an enjoyable place indeed. Ever since being rescued from Overhaul’s clutches, she had been making considerable efforts to come out of her shell and do things that normal little girls did. A smile spread across her face as she imagined the rolling waves cresting on pristine white sands, tasting the salty sea breeze and feeling the sun kissing her skin. “Yeah! That sounds really fun!” she agreed with an emphatic nod. 

“Wonderful!” Present Mic trilled and clapped his hands together. “Let’s go, then!” 

“Wait, right now?” Eri squeaked in surprise as he hopped to his feet. She looked hesitantly at her array of stuffed animals. “But I haven’t finished the tea party.” It would be very rude of her to leave her guests wanting tea and snack cakes. 

“Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry!” Present Mic tutted, smacking himself in the forehead. “How rude of me! Scoot Mr. Teddy over so I can enjoy some tea too, Eri, dear.” Eri did as he wished, cackling as the tall man wormed his way into one of the wooden chairs, his knees hunched up under his chin. He grabbed one of the chocolate cream-filled pastries and devoured it in nearly one bite, crumbs raining down from his chin. “We’ll finish this first and then go to the beach!” 

Eri nodded eagerly and then proceeded to finish serving her guest, along with the newcomer Present Mic. Eraserhead found them there half an hour later, with his friend loudly regaling Eri’s stuffed bunny rabbit with a story about their high school glory days. Eri was cackling maniacally at his gut-bustingly funny rendition of Eraserhead falling asleep on the school rooftop and getting drenched by a surprise thunderstorm. 

“And he came trudging into class, dripping wet and had to explain—” Present Mic was interrupted as Eraserhead grunted in the doorway. His head whirled on his shoulders to look at the disgruntled teacher with wide emerald eyes. “Oh, hello, Shota.” 

“I thought we were taking Eri to the beach?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, but I had to finish my tea party!” Eri explained with a gesture at her stuffed animals, which all had snack cake-colored stains over their snouts. Eraserhead regarded the myriad of toys with silent consideration before nodding understandingly. 

“Right. Of course. Are you done now?” 

“Yes, I think so.” At her confirmation, Present Mic jumped up with a triumphant yowl, throwing his hands in the air. 

“Yeeeeeeeaaaahhhh! Beach time, beach time! Oh, Shota, did you bring it? Did you bring it?” Present Mic pestered as he zoomed up to Eraserhead and tugging elatedly on his shirt. The dark-haired hero scowled and shoved him away with an irritated, “Yes, yes, now get off!” Eri blinked confusingly as Present Mic bristled with excitement in the corner, and Eraserhead procured a plastic bag to fish something out of it. “If we’re going to the beach, you need a swimsuit,” he explained simply as he handed her the clothing item. 

Eri turned it over in her hands, eyes widening. It was a beautiful one-piece; three rows of red ruffles crossed the bust area diagonally, with strings coming up to tie around the back of her neck and others crisscrossing over where her shoulder blades would be. The rest of the fabric was creamy white and patterned with apples, complete with little stems and green leaves. As she admired the cute bathing suit, Present Mic dashed over, tucking his fists under his chin as he practically vibrated with excitement. 

“Do you like it?! Oh, when we saw it, we just knew it would look super cute!” 

“Mic, that’s gross.” 

“Eh? What’s the point of having an adorable daughter without dolling her up for the world to see?!” 

“Mic, she’s not your daughter.” 

“She might as well be!” Present Mic protested, hugging Eri close. As her cheek squished into his chest, Eri smiled sweetly and looked up at him. 

“I love it! Can I go put it on?” 

“Of course, of course!” Present Mic trilled, pushing her past Eraserhead to the hallway bathroom. “And while you get ready, Shota and I will get everything ready for our super-duper awesome day at the beach! Yeeaaaaaaaaaah!” 

Eri had to giggle at his enthusiasm; she found herself thoroughly hyped for the new adventure as he shut the bathroom door behind her and dragged Eraserhead off to prepare all the necessary items. She wormed out of her clothes and slipped into the bathing suit, careful not to tangle the strings as she tied them around her neck. It took a few tries as she was too short to use the mirror, so she had to fumble underneath her silvery hair to secure the knot. Eri felt pretty accomplished when she managed to do so without asking for the adults’ help. As soon as she unlocked the door and opened it back up, Present Mic was standing there in a muscle tee and a pair of yellow shorts with rainbow music notes all over them, a towel around his neck and that same grin on his face. 

“Kyaaaaaa! Shota, isn’t she the most adorable thing ever?” he howled with delight. Eraserhead, sporting a gray tee and some plain black swim trunks, lowered his shades to inspect Eri critically. Though he lifted his sunglasses before grunting his approval, she could see some color rise to his cheeks. Present Mic scurried over to secure her hair into a set of pigtails before ushering her to the door. “We’re gonna have so much fun! Ah, wait, wait, wait,” he said as she stepped out of the door. When she looked back in bewilderment, he was whipping out his cellphone. “Say cheese! I have to show everyone how cute Eri looks on her first day at the beach!” 

Eri reflexively smiled, wincing as the camera flash momentarily blinded her. Present Mic snickered to himself as his fingers flew across the keyboard, probably posting the picture everywhere it could be seen. That is until Eraserhead booted him out the doorway, causing Present Mic to yelp and rub his bum with a pout at his friend. Eraserhead just trudged past him, carrying a beach bag full of towels and other assorted items to the car. Eri tottered along after him, pigtails swinging with each trot. As she climbed into the backseat and buckled herself in, she peered curiously into the bag; before she could get a good look, Eraserhead reached back from the driver’s seat to close it. 

“You don’t want to ruin the surprise, do you?” he winked. Eri slumped a little as she was playfully admonished, but a surprise did sound fun. 

She obediently refrained from peeking during the ride. It became the furthest thing from her mind anyway as they neared the shore; she sat up in the seat to stare at the expanse of blue stretching along the horizon, red eyes wide as they behold the white rolling waves and even whiter rolling dunes. Colorful umbrellas and towels dotted the landscape. Beachgoers lounged in the shade reading books and listening to portable radios, played in the wet sand moistened by the tide, or frolicked in the surf, tossing balls and playing with inflatables. Eri bounced up and down, growing so excited that a little squeal bubbled out of her throat. When she looked impatiently to the front compartment of the car, both Eraserhead and Present Mic were smiling happily at her out of the corners of their eyes. 

As soon as they parked, Eri jumped out of the car to dash to the sand. She hopped off the boardwalk into the grainy stuff, gasping as her bare feet sank into the warm grains. She wiggled her toes, appreciating the way the sand moved around her feet like fluid. She then jumped up and down with a squeal, throwing up the fine sand all around her. 

“The beach! The beach!” she chanted, turning in a circle as she stamped around. Eraserhead chuckled as he walked up behind her, carrying an umbrella and two fold-out chairs over his shoulder. 

“Having fun already, kiddo? Wait until you see the water.” 

Eri gasped, whirling around so hard she lost her balance and bumped into Eraserhead’s legs. She could hear the waves rolling beyond the dunes, crashing and frothing. She ran up the side of the dune, grunting as she sunk deep into the sand, to clamber up to the top. She immediately sucked in a breath as the water came into view and the salty breeze hit her nose; it looked ethereal, the way the water rushed in and out, spraying up sea foam as it sank into the sand. Squeals of children and pleasant conversation floated on the breeze, creating a symphony of revelry on the tune of the ocean. 

“Wowwww…” she breathed exultantly, looking up at Eraserhead and Present Mic as they came walking up the dune. “We’re really gonna spend the day here?” It almost seemed too good to be true; tears of gratitude and joy welled up in her eyes as she looked back to the gently crashing waves. In the deep dungeons of Overhaul’s compound, she could only dream of the ocean. Now here it was, right before her very eyes, close enough to touch. 

“Of course,” Eraserhead smiled. He adjusted his grip on the chairs and umbrella before extending his hand to her. “Let me put this stuff down, and then we’ll go into the water, okay?” Eri nodded without looking at him, spellbound by the push-and-pull of the waves, but she reached for his hand on instinct. It wrapped around her small one, tough and calloused and warm, and led her down the side of the sand dune to the beach. Eraserhead left Present Mic to set up the chairs and umbrellas as he led Eri to the shoreline, where she stopped hesitantly in front of the water. The back-and-forth crashes almost seemed intimidating, now; surely, those waves could suck her right in and spirit her away into the great dark unknown. With a small whimper, she hugged Eraserhead’s leg and tugged at the ruffles of her bathing suit. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you go anywhere,” Eraserhead chuckled warmly and gave her back an encouraging pat. She clutched tight to his hand as she tentatively inched up to the waterline. As a wave came rolling up, foaming and dumping seashells into the wet sand, she dipped her foot into the water. She squealed and retracted it, giddy with relief. 

“It feels good!” Again, as the wave came cresting up, she edged forward, sticking her whole foot in this time. She laughed at the funny feeling of the bubbles popping against her skin and the water swirling around, making the shells bump against her ankle. She quickly leaned down to scoop up one. It was a cracked scallop shell, but the brown-and-cream patterning was so pretty that she still found herself holding it up to the sun to admire it. “So this once had a clam in it?” 

“Yep,” Eraserhead confirmed, taking it from her to look it over. “Now it’s an empty shell. It’s broken, but would you still like to keep it?” 

“Mhmm!” 

Eraserhead whistled to Present Mic, who obediently brought over a bucket that she could drop the shell into. Before she could dive down to get another one, Present Mic tapped her on the head with a tube of something. 

“Eri, let’s put on some sunscreen first, okay?” 

She nodded obediently, and he leaned down, popping open the cap and squeezing a generous amount of the thick white cream into his head. Eri scrunched up her face as he rubbed it all into the skin of her face, then slicked it over her arms, legs, and the bare areas of her back. She grimaced at first because it made her feel gross and sticky, but she tolerated it because she knew it would make him sad if she objected. 

The two men crouched beside her as she weaved her hands through the sloshing surf to catch the shells fluttering up from the deep, picking ones she liked to keep. She spent a good fifteen minutes there while the two looked on until Present Mic cleared his throat. 

“Eri, would you like to go swimming?” 

She straightened up, salty water dripping from her hands. 

“Oh, but I don’t know how to swim…” she said with a longing look out at the sea. It certainly looked fun and refreshing. She glanced back when Eraserhead chuckled and patted her on the head. 

“Don’t worry. We have floats for you.” As he said it, Present Mic approached, blowing up the second of a pair of strange-looking inflatables of transparent red plastic. Eraserhead dipped them in the water before sliding them up her arms, nestling them near her armpits. She flapped her arms up and down, giggling at the weird feeling of the plastic rubbing against her skin, and then watched as Eraserhead straightened up and offered her his hand again. Eri’s heart hummed with happiness as she reached up to take it, marveling at how strong yet soft it felt. 

Even with all the people around, there hadn’t been a moment yet that Eri felt nervous because she always felt safe with Eraserhead. She wasn’t daunted in the least as he helped her wade out into the surf, the sand squishing beneath her toes and the salt spray lapping at her upper body and face because she knew that he’d never let her be dragged away. As she went deep enough to have to tip her head back, she lifted up her legs and began wildly kicking her legs. The floaties kept her buoyant on the waves, and she bobbed in a circle around his legs, occasionally bumping into him as she panted with effort. 

“I’m swimming!” she screeched with delight, laughing as a wave pushed her up against his thighs. Eraserhead smirked as he pushed her a foot away, keeping a hold of her ankle. Eri squealed as she rolled onto her back and drifted on the sloshing water. “Mic, Mic, look!” she called to the blond as he came wading out into the water, his long hair piled into a bun atop his head. At that moment, a wave crashed over the back of her head, drenching her entirely. 

“Ah! Eri, dear, are you all right?” Present Mic exclaimed and raced toward her at the speed of an Olympic swimmer. 

“Ugh, you’re such a mother hen,” Eraserhead grunted as he calmly tugged the sputtering and coughing Eri close. “You okay?” he then asked, eyebrows pinched together. Eri flipped her dripping silver bangs out of her eyes, blinking rapidly as the salt stung, and sucked in a breath. After gathering her thoughts, she began laughing happily. 

“I got wet,” she snickered. Present Mic deflated in relief before scooping her up to mount her on his shoulders. Her squeals of happiness bounded up to join the caws of the seabirds as Present Mic roared and charged the waves, kicking at them on the pretense of defending Eri from the sea. She clutched onto his head as she kicked her little feet too, although that high up, she could only nab some of the bubbly froth spraying up. 

After about an hour of playing in the water, Eri retreated back inland to build a sandcastle. They decorated it with the shells she found, as well as bits of kelp and some driftwood. Present Mic declared her the queen of the castle and slapped a seaweed crown on her head; it felt really gross and slimy, so she chucked it at him on instinct, and Eraserhead started guffawing when it slapped across Present Mic’s face like an enormous mustache. 

As she was watching a hermit crab scuttle across the sand, a large yawn split her face. She reached up to rub her eye with her knuckles, smearing sand and salt particles over her eyebrow. 

“Tired, kiddo?” Eraserhead asked with a lopsided smile. She nodded and stood up to toddle over and hug his legs. He affectionately tousled her hair, which was dry and tangly from the salty water. Present Mic came up behind her to wrap her in a pink floral-patterned towel, and Eraserhead picked her up to carry her to their chairs and umbrellas. As he reclined in one of the fold-out chairs with a long sigh, she snuggled into his neck, playing with the ends of his long black hair. 

“Did you have fun?” he asked as she smiled sleepily up at him. 

“Mhmm,” she nodded and then yawned loudly again. As she nuzzled into him, enjoying the way the scent of salt mingled with the smell of his cologne, she quietly asked, “Can we come again sometime?” 

“Sure.” 

“Can Deku and Lemillion come too?” 

“Sure. I’m sure they’d love to.” 

Satisfied, Eri closed her eyes, embracing the drowsiness threatening to overtake her system. She listened to the rhythmic roll of the waves and the rush of the wind and the squawks of the seabirds and the symphony of shouts and laughs riding the wind. It really was a beautiful sound. As she sank into the sweet twilight of sleep, she found herself reminded again of all the heroes who risked their all to save her from the deep dark of the underground yakuza compound. 

Thanks to them… I can listen to the beach anytime I want to. Thank you… My heroes…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[camiddletonxox]

Justins Journal: From Unprofessional to Special

Pairing - Justin Mercado x Charity Middleton Masterlist (Save the Date)

Characters - Justin Mercado (this is his journal), mentions of Charity Middleton (MC)

Warning - General, this is just a journal after Book 1 which Justin has written about his feelings for his girlfriend

Note - I was so stuck on what to write so I thought a journal piece would be fun, tell me what you think

Taglist - @drakewalkerfantasy @ao719 @princess-geek @polishchoicesfan @binny1985 @desireepow-1986 @adriansbiss @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @hatescapsicum @itscassandral @gardeningourmet @heauxplesslydevoted @thequeenofcronuts @kaavyaethanramsey @regencylady1810 @dailydoseofchoices @storyofmychoices @choicesficwriterscreations

🌟🌟🌟🌟

Prompts - Happiness Day 3 @julychoiceschallenge

Summary - Justin writes in his journal about his girlfriend, his first impression of her to how he feels about her now

Word Count - 829

————————

I never thought in a million years the day I fired Charity Middleton from Concept Events that we would ever see each other again. She was brash, childish and utterly, if I am honest, a complete embarrassment not to mention utterly unprofessional, I’d seen better behaviour from a three year old, and that really is saying something. The Day I saw her at my sisters, I was disgusted beyond belief that my rabbit would choose to hire her. It had just been a lot with Charity. From the inexcusable episode at the dress shop to the cake incident, but somehow all those weird encounters, it just made her more enticing to me, in one of those strange ways, it is madness.

When I looked through Edward’s correspondence, I was utterly disgusted with the way I had treat Charity, I was dumbfounded and that night, I immediately went to her apartment and apologised. Then on the Yacht, thats when we agreed to see where things went with each other, so she became my girlfriend secretly. We had then started to spend time together, doing little things like the book store, the carriage ride, I introduced her to my parents and slowly I was feeling this ..... undeniable attraction to her. I got to know her.

The day of Nora’s wedding came and Charity just looked splendid. That beautiful dress suited her well, the way it sparkled in the day light. Her hair looked beautiful, those beautiful pink flowers on a band made her look like a ... well I’m not sure what. But I knew I was falling for her, I just knew it. There is just something about her. When she took a photo of me, she was smiling and laughing. That laugh of hers is like music to my ears. Then at the end of her wedding planning duties, which for her first FULL wedding, must have been utterly exhausting, she came to find me.

She asked me to dance, and I felt complete. I felt like between the planning of Nora’s wedding and getting to know her, that the dance was significant. We danced together and spent our first ever night together. It felt like a dream come true. It almost, and I do not say this lightly, felt right. It made me feel content, is that the word? I’m sure it is to describe how I feel.

Charity expressed she was happy that all the ups and downs that had happened between us, and somehow, so was I. As much as at one point I was so disgusted by her lack of professionalism and hoped I would never have to see her again, now I see all the bumps in the road were just building blocks of our relationship.

Two days after Nora’s wedding, a month ago today, we went on a date. A perfect date. This very modern, almost peaceful little restaurant just outside New York. She wore this beautiful blue dress, it had floral all over it, it looked beautiful over her body, her make up complimented her already beautiful face. We spoke all night and she opened up about her family. She opened up about her dreams and about her hopes and fears. But one thing struck me, it was the smile that met her eyes, the way she relaxed, the way she flirted with me. It gave me a feeling of fullness, it made me feel happy. I was happy to be in her presence, I am happy to be in her presence. To be by her side. There is just something about this beautiful woman that gives me butterflies, and makes me exceptionally happy.

Ever since then, in her presence, all I ever do is smile, and I love the feeling she gives me, she makes me feel like I can be myself and I hope she feels like she can be herself around me. I love who she is, I think she is so special. She is special. She is special to me and I adore who she is. I am proud to call her my girlfriend. I love being able to walk side by side with her, her hand in mine, being able to pull her close to me, and being able to kiss those delicious, beautiful lips. Being able to smell that apple scented DKNY perfume I know she loves wearing, its also my favourite perfume that she has.

Charity Middleton makes my heart feel like its going to explode. She makes me want to be a better person, she makes me want to adore her, and she makes me want to be a better version of myself. When I see her smile, I immediately smile. When I see her happy, I am happy, I have no idea what she is doing to me but I am falling head over heels for her.

Charity is my happiness, and I am beyond happy that she came into my life.

[birdycurtains]

What about Tony being an old school horror director who feels like he’s about to be upstaged by Peter, a new horror director - think Blumhouse - and Tony, never having met him, both hates and fears him, until he bumps into him at a movie theater and hit it off until Peter introduces himself -des

this inspired me beyond belief, i have no idea why. i don’t think this was the direction you intended, but once i started i couldn’t stop haha. - birdy

He Calls Him Anthony

wordcount: 2,357

Friday nights were sacred. They were nights centered around going to see old movies at the IFC, and there was never to be a schedule conflict. Because that was one of the three nights he was awarded for seeing his daughter a week. 

And he would die before he didn’t take Morgan to see a truly good movie every Friday night. 

This night was Sunset Boulevard, he did always enjoy a good Wilder film, as did Morgan. Her twelve year-old self had mastered the art of the Norma Desmond gaze.

But here was Peter Fucking Parker, waltzing out of a showing down the hall. 

Morgan blearily leant into her dad's side as he attempted to speedily walk out of Parker’s field of vision.

It wasn’t that he hated Peter Parker, well maybe he did just a little. 

He was once that fresh face on the scene, basking in the limelight, being the true face of modern horror. 

But now his takes weren’t exactly fresh, and what the younger audiences were looking for. They wanted a twisted gore, with just this side of odd comic relief, that Parker had perfected while Pepper was serving Tony divorce papers.

So maybe he was envious, maybe he was just tired of everytime he attended a premier, or so much as breathed in the direction of the media, he was hounded with questions of what exactly did he think about Peter Parker?

In the beginning, he didn’t care or think much. But as trailer after trailer was put out, the movies being produced at a rapid rate while maintaining or increasing their following, even Morgan was asking her father if they could rent this, or if they could go to the cinema to see that.

And maybe he caved once, and with a hoodie, and sunglasses, a hat. For good measure of course. He went and saw one. With Morgan, because she insisted, and who was he to deprive her. 

It was good. And he resented Peter Parker for the same craft he held a torch for.

So here was Peter Parker, coming out of Casablanca. And making a bee-line towards him. 

“Mr Stark! Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark?”

God damn it. 

Tony willed his body to face the younger man. Morgan follows in suit, her eyes widening in realization, and proceeding to prod her elbow directly into her father’s side.

“Mr. Parker, well, nice to see you.” 

Tony could play nice, put on his ‘customer service’ voice, and act chummy with Peter Parker.

Although, the in-person Parker didn’t exactly match what he imagined.

This one wore thread-bare jeans, and converse that had seen better days, three years ago. 

He didn’t match the one he had seen plastered over last month's vanity fair, the pictures that had circulated his time-line a little more than his liking. 

They ran in the same circles, it wasn’t like he was actively looking for him.

“Gosh, Mr. Stark, it’s an honor to meet you really. Please, call me Peter.”

He was like a chihuahua that took a five-hour-energy-shot. 

His handshake was firm, and he slipped his glasses back up his nose as he collected himself. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you, but I thought I had seen you here before, I come here all the time y’know, every time they have a Rocky Horror showing, I’ve got tickets.” 

It was easy to catch that he was a New York native, unlike Tony himself. His Queens drawl interweaving between vowels and catching on to his r’s. It was rather cute, and personable. 

Did he just- Tony called him cute. Christ.

“My daughter and I like the classics.” He put simply smoothing down Morgan’s unruly strands. 

“Yeah, me too. I’m usually knee deep in everything going on right now, that to just enjoy the good ol’ stuff-”

He gave a dramatic sigh of pleasure, Tony felt his ears turn red.

 “That’s everything man. You would know of course. God, of course you know-  I mean”

The younger man cut himself short as he realized he was gripping Tony’s shoulder, his face and neck flushing red.

“I’m sorry- I’m probably taking up your family time. But, we should totally get together. Like talk shop or whatever?”

Peter flashed him the brightest smile, he swore the dim hallway was a little brighter.

“Yeah.”

The man was gone with a friendly wave as he jogged back to a small group of people, probably his friends, towards the exit.

Tony looked down at the ground and focused on his hand that hung limply by his side. On it was a chicken scratch phone number. 

Peter had written down his phone number. On Tony’s hand. 

And he hadn’t even noticed.

~

A few days later, Tony decides to grow a pair. He types the number into his phone, makes an individual contact for a Mr. Peter Parker.

He never thought this day would come. And he’s not sure the exact connotation behind that thought.

Does he call? Does he text?

In all honesty it has been a minute since he attempted friendship, or even communication outside of his usual social circle. 

Things had never been like this when he and Rhodey had initially become friends. Even the rest of his band of misfits had just happened naturally, never really taking this much preamble communication.

He texts.

~

They decide to meet at a small cafe around the NYU campus. Peter had said the place was quiet and usually uncrowded, one of his favorites.

Going against his gut, he trusts Peter and agrees.

Now here he is, looking presentable for the public eye, it’s a Monday. He’s just dropped off Morgan at school, and here he is. At another school.

“Anthony!”

He winces just the slightest, and is met with the vision that is Peter Parker at eight a.m. on a Monday morning. For someone so heavily criticized and praised in the public-eye, appearances must be everything on some level for the man. He doesn’t exactly aim to disappoint.

He looks so effortlessly cozy, dolled up in his black turtleneck and rust orange suede jacket, and those same glasses from the week prior perched against his brow bone. His hair looks soft, and his eyes are warm.

“Mr. Parker.”

That’s good. Set some boundaries, before you directly tell him he looks soft.

“I told you.” Peter sighs wistfully, wrapping his hands around a deep mug of hot chocolate? 

He looks up again with the same kindness and warmth.

 “Call me Peter.”

~

He invited him to dinner.

He doesn’t exactly know how it happened. It was somewhere between talking about how Peter had wound up picking up where his uncle left off, and how working as a barista in the cafe they were sitting in was Peter’s favorite job during college.

He could imagine a littler Peter, running around behind the counter making drinks and warming up scones. His open textbook to the left of the register, just like he described.

It made a fluttering in his chest somewhere, to know a personal and small detail of the Peter Parker. 

Not in a, I’m a huge fan of the Peter Parker.

But, in a, this kind young man, I am having the privilege of getting to know, kind of way.

The point is he invited him to dinner, at this high-end steak house he’s familiar with. A reservation for eight. 

It’s eight forty-five, and he’s on his second glass of red wine, Peter’s on his third.

Things are comfortably warm, they’re talking about Tony’s first movie, and how much of a shitshow it was, but the critics loved it.

The steak is amazing, they order dessert.

And he doesn’t budge or comment when Peter hooks his foot around his own. He only smiles softly, and watches Peter’s curious eyes watch as he brings a piece of poached pear to his mouth.

He hails Peter a cab at the end of the night, and Peter thanks him for dinner.

He calls him Anthony, once again.

~

Peter calls him this time.

It’s in the late hours of the night, and Tony, never really one for sleeping through the night anyway, has a lapful of script he’s reviewing, making sure it fits his artistic vision and what-not.

His voice is rough around the edges, a haze of sleep almost.

Tony wonders what it sounds like in person. If he were in bed next to him, or with him. Maybe with a lapful of Peter Parker, and not dialogue bleeding into his iris’.

He invites Tony over for Thursday night.

Peter knows the custodial schedule. That should mean something right?

He texts him an address later in the day. It’s in the Upper East Side, not too far from him, it’s in a cozy neighborhood of brownstones. 

Very Peter Parker.

~

Tony, will never understand Rocky Horror.

Peter had invited him when he arrived a little late, just five minutes, but he could see the worry drip off his shoulders as he greeted him at the door.

His home was a beautiful thing, filled to the brim with the most eclectic vintage interior, but it somehow matched.

He had learned from their meeting at the cafe, that Peter’s aunt owned a store that specialized in all things vintage and antique. It hadn’t surprised him to see it rubbed off on him.

In the downstairs parlor, it was decorated with dozens of Peter’s movie posters. Some were beta’s that Peter and an artist had worked on together. Peter flushed when he caught him staring. 

Tony would never get used to the fact that this Peter Parker was shy and not open about his work in his personal life, he liked to keep things very separate. 

He watched him put together a heaping bowl of kettle corn and followed him up a winding staircase, Peter remarked it was his favorite thing about the house.

He told him they were watching Rocky Horror Picture Show. 

Tony had never seen it in his entire life, he knew the cult following it had, but he couldn’t piece together that this is something Peter loved so much, but was so different from the direction he took with his work. 

He only smiled and agreed and saddled up with Peter on the pink floral couch. 

They’d never done this before, but it felt so familiar, like they had been through this scenario a dozen times, and it was just natural to lean into each other and fumble for the sugary popcorn between them.

It was around the scene when Frank N Furter was doing the backstroke with the rest of the cast in the swimming pool, that Tony realized their closeness.

How he had his arm wrapped around Peter, and Peter had just melted into his side.

The younger man must’ve felt the pressure of Tony’s gaze burning into the side of his face, since he turned his head to face him. 

It was all very cliche in this sense. 

A romantic scene directed and scripted and cast.

Except the love interests were him and Peter.

Peter kissed him first. That’s all he can clearly recall, the seconds prior being a blur of ‘is this actually happening’ to ‘it’s actually happening, do something’.

Finally the cognitive gears in his brain rekindle their function, and his lips are moving against Peter’s. He’s so warm and soft, he tastes like cinnamon sugar. 

Peter’s hands are grounding against his chest, holding him to reality, in any other case he would’ve drifted off somewhere because he has to be dreaming.

But this is real. And Peter’s real.

And, oh no. 

Tony gently pulls away from Peter’s grasp, and takes a breath. And Peter’s got this smile on his face like he won the grand prize at a carnival game.

“Peter- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. This is not going to happen.”

The smile falls faster on Peter’s face than the pit in his stomach.

There’s something hurt and cold in his eyes. The warmth is gone, and the guilt gnaws at Tony as he flees the Parker residence. 

~

It’s been two weeks since the Rocky Horror incident. 

Peter’s texted, and called. He believes he’s got Anthony all figured out. 

To be truthful he does. 

He had called Anthony out on his behavior six days ago, and hasn’t sent another message since.

Peter left a voicemail stating that Anthony wasn’t going to let himself enjoy something without finding an excuse for why he can’t. Peter wants this, and Anthony wants this, then that is all that matters. He is going to be filming at this location for the next two weeks, he can make his peace by showing up or not.

Tony stared at the message for ten minutes before Morgan told him to go get Peter.

She knew.

She always knows.

~

When Tony saw Peter again he was rushing past people ushering him to stop.

But Tony was on a mission, he felt like one of his main characters in the final leg of the movie, finally making it out alive, and this was the final call, where he would live to the credits, or the antagonist would leave no survivors. 

Peter was beautiful.

Even if he did look like Prom Queen Carrie at the moment. 

His hands and clothes were covered in fake blood, helping arrange the set to a T.

When Peter looked up at him, he knew he would make it to the credits.

His boy ran at him and swallowed him in his warmth. 

It was a pining, longing, and apologetic kiss, with bloody hands cradling Tony’s face.

“You’re dumb, and you hurt my feelings Anthony.” Peter whispered as he pulled away. 

“I’m sorry.” He replies, his eyes watery, insecurity wrung out like a rag, he wanted Peter and Peter wanted him. He chanted it a million times into the crook of Peter’s neck, just holding him. 

Peter pulled away and held him by his shoulders “It’s okay Anthony.”

He smiled that big beautiful warm smile of his, and pushed him away.

“Now. Get off my set. I’ll see you at nine, bring Morgan, they’re playing Psycho tonight.”

[ouronlyangelhes]

Just a Little Bit Of Your Heart: Harry Styles One Shot

Okay this is major feels but I hope you all enjoy it 😍😩

You opened your mailbox to find the one piece of mail that you had been dreading to get. Harry’s wedding invitation. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for him, you were so happy he had found someone that he wanted to share the rest of his life with. However, your heart broke that the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life wasn’t you. You and Harry had met in college and had become had best friends. The two of you were always together, the best of friends.

Harry had met his fiancé while visiting a friend at another college. He fell head over heels in love with her and told you that he had met his soulmate. You were happy for him that he was so in love, and you really liked her as much as you didn’t want to. You had hoped that she wasn’t going to be amazing as Harry had described, but she was perfect. She was kind, genuine, and beautiful both inside and out. No matter how much you wanted to find something wrong with her, you couldn’t. Harry was over the moon for this girl and you couldn’t tell him your feelings and ruin it for him. You had thought about it so many times over the years, there really isn’t a casual way to tell your best friend you’re in love with him so you avoided it. The two of you had gotten tipsy so many times over the years and no kisses were exchanged, no drunken hookups, nothing.

The invitation remained in your hand, the smiles on this invitation were contagious.

You and dinner plans with Harry tonight, the two of you always tried to find time to hang out as much as you could. Unlike other girls Harry had dated, his fiancé never felt threatened by Harry having a girl as a best friend. Some of his former girlfriends tried to hog all of his time and make it clear that you were his friend, not his girlfriend. Gabby was different, she embraced your friendship and always did her best to include you.

You grabbed your jacket and purse and made your way out to the car.

“Did you get your wedding invitation in the mail yet love?” Harry asked as he sat down at the table next to you.

“Yes I did, it’s lovely Harry.” You said.

“I’m glad yeh like it, I feel like it took us ages to decide on what we wanted because we just liked all of them.” He said with a smile.

“Well I like the one you went with.” You said.

“So what’s new with you? I feel like I have been drowning in all of this wedding stuff and it’s all I seem to talk about anymore.” He said to you.

“Oh you know, nothing too crazy. Just the usual. Work and all that.” You said as you took a sip of your wine.

“I have a favor to ask and you can totally say no if you don’t want to or if you’re too busy I understand. But Gabby is going out of town for her friends baby shower and we were suppose to pick out the flowers for the wedding tomorrow, and she doesn’t want to cancel the appointment. So she just asked if you’d fill in for her because she thinks you just have the best taste and I would totally agree. If you’re not into it just tell me.” He said.

How could you say no? Your best friend was practically begging you for your help. What kind of friend would you be if you turned him down because of your feelings? It was going to be his special day and you couldn’t dare ruin it with your own selfishness.

“No! I’ll totally go with you. Besides, you know I am a sucker for a good floral arrangement.” You said with a smile.

After dinner you headed back to your flat. Your mind was racing, it was like you couldn’t turn it off. Eventually you finally fell asleep.

You were awoken by your alarm a little after 9 am. You got up and began to get ready for the day. Harry had texted you saying to meet him at the flower place around 11:00. As you got ready, you looked yourself in the mirror. Where was the girl who was never afraid to speak her mind? Where was the girl who never left anything unsaid? Where was she? Because the girl you were looking at in the mirror had let her feelings take the backseat and prioritized friendship over what her heart desired. You didn’t want to live with regret, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to break Harry’s heart and burst his happy bubble. You think the worst part in all this is you know your feelings aren’t reciprocated. You and Harry had many of discussions over the years after countless people had mentioned what a great couple they thought they Two of you would be. Harry had said to you that he just didn’t see what they saw between the two of you and he hadn’t ever wondered about the possibility of there being anything more.

You finished up getting ready and headed out of your flat to go ahead and meet Harry.

The drive to the flower shop was quite short, only about 15 minutes from where you lived.

You walked in to find a very concentrated Harry browsing various floral arrangements.

“Oh thank god you’re here. There’s like a million kinds of flowers and plants and arrangements and I think they’re all lovely, so I’m gonna need some help here.” He said as he embraces you with a big hug.

“Well, we can’t have you overwhelmed by the flowers can we?” You said with a smile.

“Hi. I’m Trish, I am the main florist here. Any idea what the two of you are looking towards for the big day or are you just wanting to see various flowers and arrangements.” She said.

“Oh, this is Y/N she’s my best friend, my fiancé unfortunately had to leave town for a baby shower and she didn’t want to cancel so I sent her here to fill in. She has impeccable taste so I’m sure she’ll help me pick the right thing. “ He said to her with a smile.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet the both of you. Let’s step over here and the two of you can look at these arrangements that are already done up and see if you like any of those. We can always substitute any flower for another if you’d like as well. The vases and all that can be changed too. If you have a specific thing you’d like just let me know and I’d be happy to make it work for you.” She said.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Harry said as he began to browse the floral arrangements before him.

Flowers and flowered galore. Types of flowers you hadn’t even seen before. You had relatively simple taste and you weren’t into anything super glitzy, similar to Gabby. You had a rustic simplistic style and a lot of these arrangements were overwhelming.

“I really like these. I think they would looks good mixed with baby’s breath, you said Gabby liked those right?” You asked.

“Yes! She does. See this is why I brought you. Already doing a way better job than I would’ve alone.” He said with a smile.

You confined to browse around the shop looking at the various arrangements. But ultimately deciding on the simple one you chose.

“Thanks again for coming with me, I really do appreciate it.” Harry said as he finished sorting out all the details for the delivery.

“Of course, I didn’t mind at all. I actually had fun.” You said.

Harry finished sorting out all the delivery details as you walked around the store.

“You and him make such a cute couple! Not to sound creepy but I’ve just been watching the two of you and you guys are precious!” A woman no older than you said as she was sorting arrangements.

You didn’t bother to correct her. Maybe it was selfish but you wanted to enjoy the idea of that for a second or two.

“Aw, thank you.” You said as you walked away and met Harry at the counter.

You followed Harry out of the flower shop.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me and Gabby that you would do this. I knew I picked a good best friend.” He said as he kissed your cheek and pulled you in for a hug.

“No problem. Anything for my best friend and his fiancé.” You said as you said your goodbyes and parted ways.

-

Three months later.

The wedding was getting closer and closer. It was happening in a matter of days now. Gabby had asked if you would be one of her bridesmaids. You agreed, she was the kindest and sweetest and you couldn’t say no. Your dress had come in and you were very happy with it. You and Gabby had similar taste, a light pink dress was the choice for all of the bridesmaids. You were preparing yourself the best you could for the big day. The big day that was going to end with Harry marrying someone that wasn’t you

It was the night of the rehearsal dinner, you had kept the drinks flowing steadily to keep your mind from wandering to the reality of the event that was going to take place tomorrow.

You made your way back to the table as Harry was preparing to make a toast.

“Thank you to everyone for being here tonight. It means so much to Gabby and I that you are here to celebrate us. I am so lucky to be marrying the most loving, special, and wonderful person tomorrow. Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate and I am super lucky to have found mine and I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Thank you to everyone who has helped plan this day and we cannot thank you enough. Mum, Gem, Dad, thank you for helping me be the person that I am today and I hope that I make you proud. Cheers.” Harry said as he raised his glass

You had tears in your eyes, but lucky you weren’t the only one. Gem and Anne seemed like they were tearing up as well, but for obviously a different reason.

The rehearsal dinner began to wind down for the night and people started heading out.

“How ya doin’ love?” Harry said as he came up to you at the bar.

“Good. How are you? Soon to be husband.” You said to him.

“I’m good. That’s crazy innit, im getting married tomorrow.” He said.

“I know. Time flies.” You said as you took another sip of your drink.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow love.” He said as he gave you a hug and went back to say his goodbyes and thank yous.

You went to bed that night with a nervous stomach and an aching heart. You just wanted to be able to get through tomorrow and just get it over with.

You woke up dreading the wedding. You began to get your things together as you were all heading to Gabby’s suite to get ready.

When you got there, she was already getting her hair and makeup done. She looked beautiful. You got your make up and hair done and now all you had to do was wait. You cleared out fo the suite as it was getting a little chaotic in the suite with everyone getting ready. Your hair and makeup was already done and you had gotten changed into your dress. You decided to walk around and get some fresh air. You decided to check on Harry and see how he was doing. You knocked on the door and Jeff opened it.

“Hiya, come on in.” Jeff said as he invited you in.

“Harry’s just in there.” Jeff said as he pointed at the door.

“Harry.” You called out.

“In here!” He said.

You took one look at him and he took your breath away. You had been dreaming of this moment since you had first met him. He looked fanatic in a suit but this was something special.

“You look great, Harry.” You said as you stroked the suit.

“As do you. I can’t believe this is happening.” He said.

“I know, me either.” You said trying to hold back the tears that were forming in your eyes.

“I have a present for you.” Harry said as he opened a drawer.

“Present. Why are you giving me a present? It’s your wedding day, you should be the one who’s getting all the gifts.” You said.

“I know but you’ve done so much for me over the years and have really been an amazing friend to me and this is just to thank you for that. And for saving my life with the whole flower ordeal because that would have been absolutely dreadful without you.” He said as he handed you a box with a box on it.

“Thank you. Do you want me to open it now?” You asked as you held the small box in your hands.

“Yes.” He said.

You opened the box to find the box beautiful necklace. It was a simple gold chain with one pearl on it in the center.

“Wow, Harry this is beautiful. You didn’t have to do this, thank you.” You said as you looked at it.

“Of course I did. Here, I’ll put it on ya, it’ll look great with your dress.” He said as he unclasped the necklace to put it on you. 
Feeling his hands on you in the most innocent way, made your thoughts wander to the least innocent of places.

You said thank you what felt like a million more times before heading out of his room and making your way back to the suite with all the rest of the bridesmaids. As you were leaving Harry’s room you noticed Jeff standing in the hallway. He was on the phone dealing with the usual business stuff.

“Y/N, is Harry ready in there?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” You said.

“Are you ok?” He asked with a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked.

“I mean just considering, I figured this would be a pretty hard day for you. Is it not? I could be wrong but I guess I just always thought you had some kind of feelings for him. I mean, I could be wrong but I’m not the only one who sees it. Hell, even Harry does.” Jeff said leaving you stunned. Did Harry really know about your feelings all this time and just say nothing?

“What do you mean even Harry sees it?” You asked noticeable getting more upset.

“He said something a while back about how he was pretty sure you had it bad for him but that was a while ago. Y/N I didn’t mean to upset you, you know the I love you and think you’re an amazing person and friend.” Jeff said trying to calm you down and reassure you.

Everything wasn’t fine and you were far from okay. The boy who had been your best friend since college has been aware of your feelings towards him and put you in situations where you would be hurt. Like picking out those damn flowers. He knew how badly you wished that was you and still invited you anyways. You couldn’t believe it. You had to speak to Harry and you had to speak to him now. You couldn’t let the rest of the day go on, you knew that you would be extremely passive aggressive towards him and distance yourself l, you couldn’t do that to him today.

You turned around and walked back to Harry’s room where you began to knock quite aggressively on the door.

“I’m here love what’s up.” Harry said sounding slightly annoyed at all the knocked on his door.

“How could you? How could you pretend all this time like you didn’t know how I felt about you? How could you just drag me around when you knew the feelings that I had for you? You made me go fucking flower shopping for your wedding Harry! Do you not understand how much that hurt me but I did it anyway because you asked me to!” At this point you were screaming at him.

You don’t think you have ever been this hurt and upset with him ever in your friendship. You felt betrayed. It’s not like you had been forward with him and told him how you felt, but still the fact that he knew you had feelings for him and he dragged you along anyways just didn’t sit right with you.

“Y/N, love I was never dragging you around. And there was a time where I had an inclination that you might have feelings but that was right after we met! I had no idea that you had felt this way! Why didn’t you say something? I wouldn’t have made you go shopping for the flowers if I had known. Do you think I’m really that heartless?” Harry said noticeably offended.

“Oh. Well I just saw Jeff in the hallway and he told me that you knew and I don’t know why I stormed in her so angry and I’m just- I’m just gonna go.” You said to him reaching for the door.

“Wait, look my feelings may not match yours but I cannot lose you. You’re my best friend ok, I don’t know what I would do without you. Is there anything that I can do to make you stay?” Harry asked trying to plead with you.

“I don’t think there is Harry. I’m sorry to do this to you and I’m sorry that I did it today but I can’t stay and watch you marry her. Look I don’t want to not have you in my life but I just cannot go out there and stand up there. I just can’t do it. I promise that we’ll stay friends and you won’t lose me but you just have to let me go today. Please. I can’t stay.” You said as tears ran down your face.

“No, I get it. Do what you have to do. What should I tell Gabby? She’s going to wonder where you went and why you aren’t up there with her. Just tell her I got sick or something. I’m not going to be the reason that this day isn’t good for her. Again, I’m sorry Harry I don’t want to ruin your day.” You said.

“I should be the one that’s sorry. You’re here begging for me to love you and I just can’t. I’m sorry that I can’t be that one for you, I really am sorry. This hurts me too. I’m sorry. I wish I felt that way about you, I really do. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, I just don’t love me in the way you want me to.” He said as he wiped the tears from your cheek.

“I know. I’m gonna head out okay. I’ll see you soon.” You said as you walked out. You didn’t look back once. You got in your car and got the hell out of there. You wished you had kept your mouth shut and never said anything to Harry. But at the same time you would’ve probably lost it standing up there watching them say their vows, put the rings on each other’s fingers, and kiss.

-

It had been two months since the wedding and you had only seen Harry a handful of times. You were desperate to not lose the friendship that you and Harry had but things just weren’t the same after that day. You tried, both of you really did. But things just felt forced and uncomfortable. He was happy, you saw that in his eyes the last time you saw him. You knew that the only way your friendship would ever go back to what it was if you got over him.

You had to. You needed to meet someone and let all of those moments that you had dreamed about with Harry go. It wasn’t going to happen and you needed to be free from it. They say that you often times find the right person when you aren’t even looking. You had met someone and he swept you right off your feet. He was all the things you could have ever wanted in a boyfriend. Tyler was kind, patient, and loving. He made you feel love that you didn’t even know that you could feel. Love that you thought was only reserved for Harry. You and Tyler has been dating for a while when you had ran into Harry at a summer barbecue at a friends house. Harry was over the moon that you had found someone and it was in that moment that things started going back to normal between you two. Somehow through it all, both you and Harry did end up with love. Just not love that was shared between you. And for the first time in awhile, you were okay with that.

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

The Cocoanut Grove

Summary: Nestled within the iconic Ambassador Hotel lies the infamous Cocoanut Grove Club. In the 30′s and 40′s it was the place to see and be seen for starlets and celebrities. If you asked Bucky, he couldn’t give less of a damn.  Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader Warning(s): Post-Endgame. Cursing. Kissing. Suggestive situations but nothing explicit. TW: Anxiety. Word Count: 3,231 Beta Reader: My darling honey bun, @supersoldiersruined-me Notes: Congrats @buckmesideways22 on 2k!!!! Prompt “You’re a slave to pleasure” is bolded. This is my first post-Endgame fic. Some of my favorite scenes in the movie The Aviator take place when they’re in this nightclub during its heyday. Something just made me want to write Bucky into the setting. I’m also obsessed with art deco elevators. We have a ton of them in Chicago and they always take my breath away. 

Bucky’s eyes shoot a squinting glare at the offending object before him. His suit hangs freshly pressed on the cedar hangers in the closet. It’s a medium weight wool. Charcoal grey with subtle blue undertones.  A quality garment to be sure; but he could think of nothing he’d enjoy less than putting it on right now. A monkey suit. That’s what they called it back in the day. He’d much rather continue the evening in his boxers lounging in his hotel room.

A knock on the door interrupts his staring match with the single-breasted monster. Before he can call a greeting down the short hallway, he hears the mechanical whirr and click.

“No room service, please. I put the do not disturb sign-”

“Put on some damn pants, Barnes!” Sam hides his eyes in horror and plops down on the bed as if he owns the place. “I don’t need to see your little soldat.”

Normally Bucky would shoot some equally snark laden comment back, but the stress of the evening has him feeling tongue tied. He chooses instead to pelt Sam a few times with the overstuffed hotel pillow before shuffling to the bathroom. His toes recoil at the sudden contrast between the plush carpet and the cool marble tile.

“Why are we doing this again?” He calls back into the bedroom. “Steve isn’t here to play dad and it’s not like…”

He was going to say it’s not like Tony is here to force us. Despite the time that has passed it still feels wrong saying the words out loud.

“Don’t even think about bailing. Fury and Pepper are downstairs already.” Sam must have been sent to prevent him from escaping.

Bucky looks toward the gilded art deco mirror and glares at his own reflection. He was doing a lot of glaring it would seem and the night had hardly begun.

There’s an array of products arranged on the tray with marble inlay in the same sunburst geometric pattern as the mirror. Surely Pepper’s doing. She’d sent over the suit as well. He picks up a glossy black tin which claims it’s hair product and smooths back his hair. His muscle memory from the 40’s helps him tame the brunette locks into something more manageable. Crap. His hair is too long to do the simple slicked back formal style he used to rely on. A good three inches of his brunette locks trail limp and awkward at the base of his neck.

Glancing back down to the tray for some help he sees a package of hair elastics. He snatches one off the package and begins again. He tosses his hair roughly and sections off enough for a small handful at the crown of his head. With rusty skills but determined focus he manages to tie the small section into a braid; securing it with the elastic. His heart clenches. Natasha taught him how to braid. He turns and looks over his shoulder to get a better look. It was shoddy work at best. He was certain she would make him comb out the braid and redo it neater, but she wasn’t here to scold him. He did it anyway to quell the voice in his head. It’d have to do.

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

The Avengers compound in upstate New York had been rebuilt after the destruction and battle with Thanos. Most of the daily operations, training, and Avengers work was conducted there. Bucky split his time between the compound and the shared apartment he had with Sam in Brooklyn. Bucky belonged on the East Coast. It was in his blood. He’d made a home there with his therapy dog and Sam. Steve checked in when he could. Bucky took only the missions he felt were manageable. It was a good life.

He had been dragged west, away from that life, for a job in California a week prior. Something about a trafficking ring. When he had completed his final check in for the mission, Fury had sent him to 3400 Wilshire Boulevard. “Between Catalina Street and Mariposa Avenue” he remembers the text message had said.

Bucky assumed it was a safehouse where he could collect himself post mission, clean up, and catch a flight home. He couldn’t have been more wrong. When his cab had pulled up to the address, he double checked with the driver it was the correct spot. He stared at the pure white curved sign which read The Ambassador Hotel.  Maybe Fury had wanted to treat him. The hotel certainly looked like an upgrade from some of the safehouses he’d stayed in. Doubtful. A bellhop politely tried to relieve him of his bags. Bucky began to protest (tug-of-war) with the man when he saw the familiar face of Pepper Potts hurry from the entrance.

“James! Fury said you were on your way.” She glances at the bellhop who still had his hands clasped on Bucky’s duffle. “Would you drop that? Was traffic bad?” He doesn’t remember what stuttered answer he gave her as he reclaimed his only piece of luggage.

Before Tony had gotten roped back in for the Thanos battle, he had purchased the iconic Ambassador Hotel from auction. The city of L.A. had planned to demolish the building and sell its lands to the highest bidder. Tony decided to snatch it up and renovate it back to its former glory. It was his passionate side project. Pepper was out west helping to promote and ensure the launch party went smoothly. That all sounded swell, but he still didn’t understand why he was there.

“Tin Man!” He hears the exclamation as Pepper leads him to the front desk. “Looks like they roped you into being another celebrity guest.”

“Who’s watching-,” he starts, thinking of his shaggy Newfoundland back home. The therapy dog accompanied him on as many missions as possible but this one hadn’t been suitable.

“Peter is pet sitting the beast.” He knew Sam’s comment was all in good fun, nevertheless his heart clenched thinking of their homey apartment. He would give anything to fall asleep with the weight of his mutt across his chest, both of them spilling over the sides of the sofa.

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

Dressed in the freshly pressed suit, he continues to imagine home to calm himself while making small talk with Sam in the elevator down to the ballroom. The club is called Cocoanut Grove. Pepper had given them a tour earlier. The hotel and its club had been something of the hotspot back in the 30’s and 40’s. Names like Charlie Chaplin, Katharine Hepburn, Howard Hughes and Ginger Rogers were thrown around. It would appear those incredibly famous people had come to see equally famous people and be serenaded by musical guests like Sinatra and Bing Crosby. Bucky didn’t care. He didn’t care much for famous people then and certainly cared less for them now. Having to masquerade around as if he was one of them, simply because he was an Avenger, seemed laughable at best. Torture at worst he thought.

“Don’t get in your head, man. You’re such a stick in the mud when you’re in your head.” Sam nudges Bucky’s elbow a bit. Despite the teasing tone he knows Bucky is anxious. “We’re here to be seen. We don’t have to do anything. Have some drinks, eat some free food, have a good night. In and out.”

The doors to the club are coated in frosted glass etchings of palm trees and coconuts which surrounded the club name. The tropical theme was over the top if you asked Bucky. But he was happy with soft chenille blankets and some take out. The party’s luxe pre-war theme was a bit outside his current desires.

Walking through the doors of the club was like being zapped back in time. All the women wore beautiful, period appropriate frocks and gowns in silky metallic tones. Clusters of people gather under the curved arches of the ceiling. The floral motif on some of the walls make his head swim. He turns to look at the dining area instead. It’s dotted with small collections of circular tables in the sunken dining room. He and Sam make their way down the central staircase; Sam leading the way. Bucky thinks he hears Sam talking but he’s distracted. Women with ornate headpieces sit on large wooden swings which hang from the ceiling. Their swings trail shimmering tassels over the dining area like shooting stars. Everything is busy.

“I have someone I want you to meet.”

Sam can’t have said that. Bucky glares at the live band playing swing music at top volume. The large stage is framed by fake palm trees and a parquet dance floor. There’s the occasional flash and pop from the old timey photographers someone hired for the event. The cacophony of sounds has him on edge. All the noise must have distorted Sam’s words.

“Dude!” He wheels around. “I have someone I want you to meet!”

Bucky opens his mouth to protest but the woman is already standing beside his friend. Sam’s arm is slung over her bare shoulders. The emerald gown’s square neckline skims the underside of her clavicles. The moderate neckline is contrasted by an off the shoulder detail and a low drape of the silk down to the small of her back. Bucky finds himself jealous of Sam’s hand. He wonders how soft her skin would feel under the pads of his own fingers.

She brings her tumbler of amber liquid to her blood red lips with a sideways smirk. Could someone be jealous of liquid? Jealous of a glass?

Bucky was.

The flash of a pink tongue to corral a stray drop of bourbon from spoiling her perfectly painted lips had him hypnotized. He hadn’t heard her speak and he wanted to know everything about her.

Sam had made quick work of the introductions and sneakily exited. By the time Bucky had realized he’d been abandoned with the mystery woman, Sam was already across the ballroom shooting the pair finger guns and a wink.

“You always play the glaring stranger card or is that special for me?” He blinks. “The gaping mouth is a nice touch.”

The sound of her laughter rings in his ears. For those brief moments the pops and flashes of the camera, the bellowing swing band singer, and the muddled buzz of all the surrounding conversations dims. All the unpleasant sounds, smells and sights disappear. It’s just her. The gentle clink of the ice in her drink. A glint of light off her teardrop earrings. A waft of her warm enticing perfume. He comes to his senses.

“Sorry. I’m not a huge fan of events like this.”

“Me either. Tacky and overwhelming most of the time.” She interlocks her arm with Bucky’s and begins to walk the pair of them over to the bar. With her standing closer, he could detect more subtle notes in her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of citrus? “Tell me why you hate them and I’ll buy you a drink.”

“It’s an open bar?” He asks.

“Oh hush.” That giggle again. “Pick your poison, sir”

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the introduction. He didn’t care. All the anxiety he had felt at the beginning of the night had made its exit. He felt light. No. Exuberant. It was her. It had to be. The conversation was flowing in a way which usually only happened after months of getting to know someone. Hunkered down in a secluded corner of the jade accented bar she had rid him of the usual walls he put up. The pair talked about anything and everything. He knew he should be introducing himself to people and making rounds if he wanted to do his job “correctly”. But he didn’t. Not if that meant prying himself away from her side.

She raps her knuckles to signal the bartender for another bourbon. While she’s waiting for her beverage, she unclasps her clutch and fishes out a gold compact. Bucky watches as she removes the pouf from the powder and presses away invisible imperfections in her makeup. Her middle finger swipes down the center of her cupid's bow to make sure her lipstick stays in the lines.

“You’re staring.” He should look away or apologize. The intoxicating proximity to this magical woman and his own drink have him feeling bolder than earlier in the night. “Though I suppose that’s an upgrade from the glaring I was getting earlier.”

“You are just hitting on all six cylinders, aren't you?” The last words are mixed with a grin and chuckle.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Barnes?” Her heavily charcoaled eyelids blink twice before she stares at him over the top of the compact. For a moment he thinks he’s in trouble. Too forward. “You wanna get out of here?”

He knew he didn’t want to leave her side, but the idea of this woman taking him up to her room nearly made him faint. Sam would never let him live that down. The armpits of his suit felt tight and too near his now damp skin. He wanted to respond but his mouth refused to make words.

“And we’re back to mouth gaping.” Her laughter brings him back to reality once more. “We don’t have to. But this schmooze fest is just beginning. It’ll go well into the early hours of the night. Thought I’d give you a chance to escape.”

Where did Sam find this woman, he wondered. She somehow made him oscillate between fumbling idiot and suave crooner the entire night. He wished he could say he hated it. Needing a second longer to collect his thoughts, he clasps her hand in his and abandoned the bar for the elevators.

The mirrored doors of the elevator close. He’s not sure how it happened but she’s nestled into his side. His palm rests on the gentle curve of her hip. The coolness of the silk doing nothing to quell the burning heat radiating off his skin. The two of them lock eyes in the golden reflection. Neither moves to press a button.

He slides his hand off her hip.

Silk. Silk.

Skin.

Both palms rest on the bare skin of the small of her back. If the skin there is any indication of how soft the rest of her is, he’s in for it. The two stand chest to chest with a sliver of space as a buffer. She leans towards the button panel trying to press the correct number.

“Nope.”

He playfully swats her hand away and punches the button for the second highest floor. She quirks her brow. From the number alone, she can surmise his room is far nicer than her own. Given his connections, it makes sense.

“Trying to impress me, Barnes?”

“Maybe a little.”

His grin is boyish and charming. His play for the button has closed any space between them. The swells of her breasts rub against his chest with each breath.

“I wanna learn what pleases you. I wanna learn everything about you.” His hands trace invisible patterns against her sensitive skin. The words are cheesy. Clearly a line well-rehearsed in a past life. The tone makes the emotions genuine and sinful. “Would you let me do that? Would you give me that job?”

His hand cups her chin waiting for a response. The sigh he lets out when she presses her lips to his tastes of bourbon and caramel. His calloused palms pull her into him now having his answer. Despite the renovations, the building is old and the elevator slow. Bucky’s grateful. When the elevator dings, the kiss has turned feverish and deep. He braces the door open with his metal arm and walks her backward off the elevator towards his room.

He fumbles for a moment, attempting to get the keycard out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket without his lips leaving hers. No such luck. He groans in frustration at the lack of her taste on his tongue. It’s mitigated by the pepper of nips and licks she places along his neck. He holds the card up to the sensor.

Flashing red light.

He slaps the card back against the sensor with more gusto. She sucks at a soft spot behind his ear. Tingles shoot down his spine. She had him ringing like a tuning fork.

Flashing red light.

“Sonofa-”

Lips never leaving his skin, she snatches the card from his hand.

Press. Green light. Click.

The two of them burst through the door ricocheting like a ping pong ball against the walls of the hallway. She shimmies his jacket off and drops it somewhere near the door. He’d have to dry clean it before returning it to Pepper. He’d feel guilty if she wasn’t occupying every damn thought in his brain. His shirt, along with his shoes, is thrown off in the living room of the suite.

Standing at the foot of the king bed her delicate hands rip his belt off and push his pants to the floor. She turns away from him. He’s confused. Has he done something wrong? Some invisible offense?

“The zipper, Bucky.” She hisses impatiently.

His fingers skim over her heated skin as the zipper glides lower. The emerald silk pools on the thick carpet. He feels like the wind is knocked out of him when she turns to face him once more. Her lingerie hugs every curve and dip of her body. He’s never seen something so sensual and enticing. She pushes him back into the rich duvet. He wants to devour her. He wants to study every inch of her skin and learn every sound he can pull from her.

He wants to stop.

She straddles his lap and grinds against him. The breathy whimper which tumbles from her lips almost makes him change his mind. He whispers her name into the shell of her ear.

“Darling…” It comes out choked and stifled. She stills her hips. “Can we pause.”

She rolls off of him and awaits an explanation. He can see the hurt in the depth of her eyes.

“I had an amazing time with you tonight.”

“But…?”

“No but. I don’t want tonight to just be tonight.” She meets his eyes. “If we continue how we were, I’ll never see you again. I want more than one night.”

Her lipstick is smeared but the grin is radiant.

“Can we order some room service, get comfy, and watch a movie?”

“You’re a slave to pleasure, Barnes.” She pecks him on his sensitive, love-bitten lips. “One condition… only underwear.”

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

The heavy bedspread is littered with a large pizza, at least a dozen tacos, various confections, and a litany of other junk food. The opening credits of some movie are playing on the large screen. Bucky should be engaged in the plot. She’d promised him he would love the movie. Instead, he’s staring at her. Not glaring. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen something more beautiful. She’s surrounded by a nest of pillows. Her chandelier earrings still dangle on her ears and she’s clad in her strappy, lacy lingerie. Her makeup is a certified mess. She’s sipping the chocolate malt she had stolen out of his hands after he said it was delicious. This was a sight he could certainly get used to.

[askthiscpblog]

Slenderman x tea fluffyness

He knew this day would come, and he was dreading it. Slender could send his proxies out to get some more, but they didn’t have the refined taste that he had.

Slender looked up into his tea cabinet with disdain and sorrow. It was empty, even the stocked up packs of earl grey. There was the forbidden tea he has, some from olden times coming in solid bricks and even further back. Original tea from China and India that he wants to save for special occasions, so he decided to not break into that for his craving for the day. This meant he would…have to go out and buy it himself. Slender shuttered at the thought, hating to go out into the human world in any length. Unless it’s to capture kids or cause suspicion, follow a new person to recruit. As anyone knows, his usual job and what he’s made to do kind of deal.

Taking some time, Slender went through his wardrobe to see if he could find a casual suit for the day. That was all he owned, suits upon suits. They were comfortable, they always fit his body, and came in many different styles. He scanned through the old Victorian one he has, past the ’50s, to a more modern-day casual three-piece suit. Being as posh as he is, it was soft and made of silk and linen, dark blue instead of black, with a deep purple tie and a white undershirt. Slender doesn’t undress, the suit slides onto his body and forms over him as if a second skin was forming over his body. Stretching out his arms, he looks it over with a nod of approval before heading out of the mansion and into the forest.

It was sad that most places he enjoyed going to closed from times past, but there were some others. Standing on the edge of a forest, Slender’s body shifts, a light shimmer passing over him to take the form of a tall, slender human. They had black hair, pale, and dark brown eyes that could be mistaken for black, standing around seven feet tall so he still towered over normal humans. Walking out, he headed towards where a mall was closest. Yes, he had to go to a mall for his tea but he wanted it now and his usual sources are to difficult to get to for him to get to.

Walking into the mall, he adjusted his tie and looked around for the nearest tea store. Slender saw one with plenty of old-style teapots, the ones with the small tea lights to keep it warm. Entering, he’s overwhelmed with the smells of the place at first, but then his eyes widen at the whole display; he’s shocked. The name over the top of it spelled Teavana.

Teas come from all over the world, places he would normally have to travel to. Well, they didn’t have everything he noticed but had the widest selection that he has ever seen in one area. The smell of lavender hit him first, then everything floral and citrus, then spice and warm sents fill his nose. Standing tall, he could see the selection behind the counter and notice they had over 50 choices in tea types, each with these weird descriptive names like Lavender Dreams, Golden Monkey, Mango Mist. Why does it have to be weird like this, and not simple names of what they are? Mango Green or something like that would be so much easier.

Despite the names annoying him, Slender was still stunned by the options. He never usually gets these feelings, ever, but he could feel goosebumps prickling on his skin and up to his neck. This breathing, the weird feeling of breathing, was quickening with the feeling of excitement crashing through him. Slender doesn’t feel excitement often to this extreme; this was as if a twenty-foot wave from the ocean came and crashed into him, knocking him ass over tea kettle losing his bearings. This was a new experience for him, and he had no idea how to react to this.

“Can I help you, sir?” Came a voice that shocked him out of his stupor. Right, he was still in the middle of the mall where humans shopped. And he was gaping at the tea behind the counter, his mind elsewhere.

“Yes, do you have any suggestions? I have been drinking tea for a long time and have a love of the classics, but am willing to branch out to some of the newer flavors.” Slender responds, his voice even as he uses his magic to project his mind into a true voice. It was weird to do, but it was necessary in order for him to communicate.

“Well if you’re looking for something new, Pink Lemonade is good for the citrus twist. Or if you are looking for something calming, Mint Rose Bloom is a good one in my opinion. If you want to combine any, you can do that to try new things with the good flavors of the old classics.“

Something awoke in Slender that he never knew existed in himself, it was something deep and primal. This feeling of sheer wonder, excitement, and pure pleasure washed off of him in drones. He was a creature of control, a creature who prided themselves on emotions they didn’t have or feel strong connections. At this moment, he gasped and squealed like a 12-year-old girl who got told they had VIP tickets to see One Direction. The sound reverberated in the store, shattering glass and causing all electronics to short out in a 100-meter radius. The salesgirl who was behind the counter at the time covered her ears to drown out the sound, but couldn’t to save her life. The poor girl dropped to the ground from the intensity of the waves scrambling her brain. Slender didn’t seem to notice, his eyes scanning all the tea behind the counter. It was then when he noticed that the girl was dead behind the counter and that everyone was looking into the store.

Slender knew he would have to act fast. Shedding his human form, he lets out another wave of energy to knock out anyone else who is close to him. Taking out his wallet, he dropped onto the counter about $700 in cash, using his tendrils to grab all the tea behind it. Stepping around the counter, the tea he grabs onto vanishes into thin air, going to his tea cabinet back in the Domain. Continuing to the back, Slender dropped another $500 on a chair as he took all the inventory that the store had of tea. He won’t be running out anytime soon. Alarms blared then died into a spurt of fire and sparks with how his presence works with electronics. It was when people started to come into that he got worried. Taking everything else, Slender vanished back to the Domain in front of his now overflowing tea cabinet. All was right in the world, he had tea again.

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

After End

V x MC | Gen | FIXIT FIC | I left in the bits I liked. All two (?) of them.

Also I wanna dedicate this to @jihyunkkim, who loves V more than anyone and has been excellent to rant with

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

MC’s wedding dress was as white as a snowflake and as soft to the touch as a summer breeze. She turned to admire her reflection in the mirror-once and then twice, touching her fingers to her hair.

For the first, and likely only, time in her life, she was wearing a tiara; made of silver and engraved with clear stones. It was cool to the touch but warmed her heart, a reminder that the day was hers.

Half hers, at least. She wondered how Jihyun fared in his room-if he was as excited and nervous as she was. If she closed her eyes, she could practically see him, only partially paying attention to Jumin’s well wishes and advice for the day as he fastened his tie.

She opened her dresser drawer and unfolded the letter within, rereading the vows she had spent months drafting and amending in the run up to the big day. There were so many things she wanted to tell him; so many promises she wanted to make. She knew she would not have the luxury of reciting them all, but narrowing them down was easier said than done.

Someone knocked at the door and she folded the paper again, slipping it back into her drawer without a moment’s hesitation. It wasn’t a secret, but it was slightly embarrassing.

“Come in!”

It was Jumin, dressed in a carefully tailored suit and flowers pinned to his lapel. He gave her a soft smile as he entered, so small and subtle that only those who knew him well enough might see the warmth behind it.

“Congratulations,” he said, taking in her dress and curious expression. “I’ve got something for you.”

MC wasn’t sure what else he could possibly have for her. He had already offered up the use of the grandest of his vacation homes for the nuptials.

The item in his hands was perhaps the last thing she might have expected: a single use camera, typical of her childhood, though rather unusual of late. MC turned it over in her hands, remembering the seemingly endless summers of her childhood, snapping photograph after photograph of her friends and family and waiting eagerly to see the results. She held the camera to her chest, considering how typical such a detail was of both her fiance and his best man. Her wedding might last days or even weeks depending on how long it took to gather and develop the film.

The first photo she took was of Jumin standing a few paces from the doorway as the Chois arrived with a handful of bridesmaids. The second was of Seven in his three piece suit, pretending to toss her bouquet over his shoulder, while Saeran watched in horror.

Seven made no secret of the fact that he wanted to be MC’s maid of honour, winking theatrically at the tradition of running away with the best man. Jumin flatly refused the idea and, even though everyone else found the mental image amusing, MC compromised and asked him to walk her down the aisle instead. Both twins, actually, would be giving her away. She laughed and joked that it was to stop her from escaping, but in truth she wanted them close now of all days.

It had been years since her arrival at the Mint Eye castle and everyone had changed, mostly for the better. Seven no longer worked for the agency, instead putting his skills to use at C&R, a gesture of goodwill from Jumin that has provided near constant entertainment since. When Seven wasn’t playing pranks on his boss, he was enabling his love for cat projects, much to Assistant Kang’s ire. MC wasn’t sure which was worse for Jaehee’s health: trying and failing to prevent Seven from filling Jumin’s desk with party poppers or the knowledge that even after everything, his diet was almost entirely chips and soda.

Saeran was hospitalised for almost a full year after the incident, slowly progressing from withdrawal to psychotherapy. No one could say for certain exactly how much elixir had poisoned his body, only that he spent months shivering and sweating, racked by nightmares and sick to his stomach.

The change she was proudest of came from Yoosung. He had grown so much in the past couple of years, barely recognisable as the boy she chatted to all those years ago. He was taller. Happier. He balanced psychiatric studies with volunteer efforts and fundraisers; a regular at counselling groups for the survivors of Mint Eye and their biggest advocate during their integration back into society.

He, as well as Zen, were the ushers at her wedding and both swelled with pride when they saw her approach.

“Ahhh, here comes the bride.”

“Congratulations, MC!”

“Has everything gone to plan so far?”

“Ehh, a few paparazzi here and there. Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Did...he show up yet?”

She didn’t say his name, but everyone knew who she meant.

She and Jihyun spent hours on their wedding invitations, creating each by hand. They attached lace and ribbons in the style of a wedding dress; wrote each name in careful calligraphy-no two identical, but each one perfect.

Neither Jihyun’s father nor his stepmother had responded to their invitation; something Jihyun himself claimed was for the better. Pursuing an art career had left them more distant than ever, leaving only his sister to acknowledge him as family. She replied within a matter of hours, young enough to be more excited about the occasion than any bad feelings.

She was a bridesmaid, in fact; willowy and cheerful in her pale pink gown. MC wanted to include her somehow, in return for her maturity and understanding over the past few years. Her gentle nature, in fact, was the reason MC whispered the question.

“Not yet,” said Zen, with a sympathetic touch to her shoulder. “But there’s time yet!”

MC sighed, conflicted in her emotions; closing her eyes to take in the momentary silence while realisation slowly sank in. This was it. Soon she and Jihyun would no longer be engaged but man and wife.

For the briefest of seconds, she found herself anxious, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Jihyun had been broken in so many different ways...what if she hurt him in several more? What if he fell out of love with her the moment she threw her bouquet?

MC took a deep breath, glancing down at the flowers in her arms: sweet peas, pale pink and shaped like butterflies; lily of the valley, as ornate as a pearl necklace; pink peonies, as soft as kisses. Saeran put them together for her; his love for flowers one of the only constants over the past few years. Last night he stayed in his room to arrange every ribbon.

They were as comforting as a lover’s embrace and MC let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, just in time for violin music to ring out from beyond the closed doors.

She watched as Yoosung and Zen pulled them open, revealing a garden illuminated by fairy lights.

“Wow,” she whispered, unsure where exactly to look. There was something new in every corner, from friends and family watching her expectantly to Jumin and V standing under a floral canopy that matched her bouquet. Jihyun had his back to her and stood up so straight that she could tell he was nervous. Jumin stole glances every now and then, smiling and whispering in Jihyun’s ear.

She noticed the record player last of all, as she took her first steps down the aisle. It was Jihyun’s idea to have a band, but Jumin’s to play a recording, speaking aloud the ideas that Jihyun never would. It was not just any musician; not just any song. It was a song by Pachelbel performed by a dead violinist; one who set aside her music books in unfortunate circumstances.

Her seat was in the frontmost row, with two white roses resting against the frame.

A gentle breeze caught MC’s hair as she reached Jihyun, scattering flower petals across the green. Seven and Saeran loosened their grip on her arms and she turned to her fiancé for the first time all day, stomach fluttering in anticipation.

He had flowers on his lapel just like Jumin’s, matching her bouquet and complimenting his light suit. He flushed the same shade of pink when he saw her, never once looking away even as the record player fell silent.

The rest of the ceremony passed by in a blur. Seven shed several tears as they exchanged vows, completely serious for the first time all day. MC stumbled over the words, love seeping into her voice as she professed her feelings in almost unadulterated detail.

His vows were not only original but the words of a poet. He told not only MC but everyone present how long he had searched for love before her; how dark and lonely the years had been. He once believed that true love would be a masterpiece, and in many respects that was true, but he had not been able to not experience it fully until he found his own colours.

MC, he explained, was full of colours. More colours than he would ever know the names of, much less put to paper. His world was monochrome when he met her; she leaves sunsets and soft light wherever she goes. If he was beautiful now it was her doing.

Their hands trembled as he slipped a ring onto her finger; the room falling silent with the exception of camera clicks. MC could not tear her eyes away from their joined hands and never wanted to. She never wanted to let go ever again.

The spell was broken when they were pronounced man and wife; MC returning to reality as if crawling out of a comfortable slumber. No one had to tell Jihyun he could kiss the bride-his lips were on hers the moment he heard the word ‘wife’.

He took her hand as they turned for photos, whispering both sweet words and obscenities in her ear.

She blushed, eyes darting around the garden and finally resting on the unexpected guest standing at a distance, a white envelope in his hand.

He was far away, but recognizable enough for anyone who knew him. V’s sister certainly did, gathering her skirts and rushing to greet him with an enormous smile on her face. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the other guests, eager for him get a photo with his brand new daughter in law.

Jihyun clearly wasn’t expecting his father to attend and MC wondered if Chief Kim had ever expected to come. They both looked like ducks out of water as they stood side by side for photographs.

She still wondered about it as she tossed her bouquet, watching it sail through the air and land quite neatly in Jaehee’s arms. It took her a moment to fully register what was happening, but she was swift to elbow Seven in the ribs when she realised he was standing next to her fluttering his eyelashes.

It was a day MC hoped to never forget-from champagne bubbles on her tongue to their first dance as husband and wife.

She does not forget, of course. No one could forget such a perfect day and she has it immortalised in seven different albums, containing each and every photograph from every roll of film. From Zen posing for a selfie at the dinner table to Jumin giving his best man speech to Saeran sitting by the flowerbeds to feed confetti to the birds. Every detail is immortalised, with only one exception.

At the end of the evening, almost every single disposable camera was full, save for mystery camera with exactly one photograph left on the film. At first she was eager to take a photograph of just about anything just to finish off the film, only to change her mind at the realisation that doing so would truly end her wedding day. She was glad of the extra time each roll of film afforded her, but the prospect of being a bride forever was far more attractive than knowing what was on the film.

She positioned that camera pride of place in their front room, underneath her wedding bouquet, which Jihyun pressed and fitted into a frame. It serves as a reminder that every day is her wedding day; each morning is a fresh start and new beginning for their love.

She never intends to develop it, never caves to curiosity and ultimately only reaches for it when several years have passed.

“She’s here!” Jihyun says, running his fingers through his hair and taking one step towards the front door, only to change his mind and double back. “What should I say?”

She hasn’t seen him this nervous since the day she married him.

“Well...you could start with ‘hello’.”

“Good idea!”

MC gives the room a final onceover, listening to his excited, albeit stuttered greeting when he opens up the front door.

“Come in, come in!”

She moves to join him, stepping out into the hallway to greet their guests.

Jihyun is still shaking the social worker’s hand when she gets there, and they look only too relieved when he awkwardly lets go.

The woman is an acquaintance of Yoosung’s, who regularly gives lectures on vulnerable children. The orphanages she works with have benefited from multiple VFA fundraisers, in part because of their tactical approach. They bring an orphaned child to every party, appealing to the sympathies of other guests and very often securing not only funding but permanent homes for abandoned children, just like the one standing in front of them today.

Her name is Lucy, or so MC was told, and has been in and out of foster care from birth. Both Jihyun and MC expressed surprise at such a detail, for Lucy is quite a beautiful child, not unlike a porcelain doll. It all became clear, however, when they actually spoke to her. Lucy did not speak her name-she signed it.

Along with painting, Jihyun had studied sign language, in part because he had never done so to communicate with his mother. MC wasn’t sure who was more excited to speak; Lucy, whose signs bordered on frantic, or Jihyun, who struggled to translate at times because he needed to give her one hundred percent of his attention. He told her terrible jokes; she told him he was handsome. Later they learned that she suffered mumps as an infant, which left her hard of hearing at first and later entirely deaf.

Today MC sits onto her knees and clumsily signs a greeting. She’s not nearly as fluent as Jihyun, but more than willing to try.

My name is MC. I’m going to be your Mother.

She knows for a fact she probably signed it wrong, but Lucy is more than excited, reaching to loop her arms around MC’s neck and pulling her into the warmest of hugs.

It was MC who suggested they adopt her. Having children had always seemed like a far off dream, but Lucy crossed their paths ready made and perfect, leaving MC unable to think of anything else but feeding her ice cream and signing her goodnight.

Once again she is reminded of warm summer childhoods; of excitement and wonder. She can see it in Lucy’s eyes as they sign the final papers, unapologetically examining each and every inch of their home.

No.

Her home.

Before long it is just the three of them; Jihyun showing Lucy to her room, laughing all the while at her excitement over each and every toy they picked up for her. She has a paint set from Jaehee, multiple leather bound encyclopedias from Jumin, a DVD of one of Zen’s performances that Jihyun slipped into a cupboard and never saw the light of day again, an enormous teddy bear from Yoosung.

Of all of the gifts, however, she makes a beeline for the tablet left by her uncle Luciel.

“Ahh, now, Lucy...wouldn’t you rather play with this?”

Jihyun picks up a copy of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe and Lucy shakes her head.

MC watches them from the doorway, turning that final disposable camera in her hands, just like she did on her wedding day. She lifts the camera to take the final picture, laughing at her husband’s incredible old fashioned-ness and Lucy’s excitement at whatever game Luciel created and installed on the tablet. From the looks of things, it’s a rhythm game, with piano keys and bright lights to show which one to press and when. MC can tell that before long she’ll not only be walking all over Jihyun but the whole of the VFA.

Her husband is barely recognizable from the one that called her upon her entrance to the VFA, voice quivering and spirit broken. She no longer sees herself in the woman who rested her head on his lap while he struggled through poison.

She recalls V’s words on the day of their wedding- that if he is beautiful it is because of her, considering that it is only half true. The three of them are butterflies, bursting out of their chrysalises to bathe in the sunlight.

The camera snaps and MC takes the final photo.

[msruchita]

In Lies: You Hide - The Moon

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Indian Reader

Words: 2.1k+

Warnings: None

Summary: From Tumblr Prompt @writing-prompt-s ‘When someone lies to you, you can feel the weight of how bad the lie is. little white lies are a barely there pressure while lying about murder feels like a truck is being balanced on your head. You’ve just asked your spouse how their weekend at their parents was, and the answer makes you feel like the entirety of the world is crushing you.’

(So after months, I’ve finally come to part 2. There’s a point that seriously, I have no idea what i’m writing anymore. I changed from Indian lawyer to Indian reader. If you want, you can always still imagine the reader as yourself, minus the skin tones and such. Let me know your thoughts about this. All mistakes are mine, and I really love feedback. Hope you enjoy this!)

Masterlist

Part 1

There was a thrum of energy as Judge Rogers leaned back against his chair listening to another fresh-faced associate struggle to explain how they had treated the case with bias due to the lawyer on the other side being Loki. Restraining the urge to grin like a shark especially when the smell of blood was so lovingly wafting over to him, he merely kept his smirk on.

The courtroom was Loki’s favourite place to be; the lies, the deceit, the sheer chaos of it all, was a wonderful cup of rose earl grey tea to him. He thrived on being a lawyer - embracing the slow coil of desire at the liberty it gave him, allowing him to twist and tease fact till it no longer held any shred of credibility - as his victim lay destroyed by another one of his lies. Such an incident would usually give him much satisfaction, however, his mind was preoccupied today.

His dear betrothed; a fierce spitfire compared to his ice, with her curves and butter soft skin, and he couldn’t help but chuckle soundlessly at the irony of opposites attract. They were meant to meet up today, together with their caterers for the cake and food testing, however, he had smoothly evaded her question of when he would arrive by answering that a case held more precedence.

He could very well leave by now, seeing how Rogers seemed to be pulling the last vestiges of his patience as the associate continued to blunder on till he help a hand up.

’Mr.Carter, if you don’t shut up, I will personally file a few lawsuits just so you will my chambers. Due to your personal bias, Mr.Loki’s client has been waiting for the past 8 months for this charade to come to an end. Your client has 2 hours to think about the plea deal, otherwise I’m taking this to trial. Now, leave, before I shoot you.’

Loki’s smirk slid off his face when the Judge turned to glare at him. He may be a shark, but Rogers was a mountain compared to him. Exceedingly brilliant as he was honest, he reminded Loki very much of you. He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a low chuckle.

‘Counsellor, I don’t know if I should warn her or hug her. From what I heard, she’s more than capable off handling you. Anyways, get the fuck out. We all know this case is in the bag.’

Striding out of the office, Loki checked the watch on the wall in front of him. He just had enough time to meet you at the caterers, a small smile playing on his lips as he contemplated your reaction. He could have made another excuse but the thought of seeing your flustered look made him groan softly to himself. Finding his phone, he punched in a number heading towards the courtyard, ‘Niles, the caterers please.’

*

I struggled to keep a straight face as Loki moaned low, licking buttercream frosting off his finger as we both tasted the third cake. He had been attempting to seduce me the moment he slid out of a black BMW, lean and powerful, in a simple three piece suit. My jaw almost dropped when he reached down to squeeze my butt through the pencil skirt before sliding his hand up to the small of my back, ushering me inside. His low chuckle telling me he enjoyed my wariness and surprise.

The caterers were friends of Judge Rogers; Maria Hill and Pepper Potts together owned a small bakery that was just on the edge of town and it was only due to my love for long walks off to nowhere did I enjoy the seclusion it provided. I had managed to throw Loki off when I mentioned that our menu for the buffet had already been set.

Ignoring his look of surprise, we settled down to try the five different cakes I had selected to try. Loki dismissed the first cake the moment he laid eyes on it while I still chose to try a slice, closing my eyes the flavours of hazelnut chocolate and raspberry preserve hit my tongue. The second cake was called banana foster, a simple butter cake with a caramel and banana filling, that also included rum and cinnamon.

I wrinkled my nose at the slight scent of alcohol, shaking my head as I did not want to get drunk off a cake. Loki on the other hand, enjoyed it a little too wholeheartedly, his hand on my knee leaving no mystery to what he wanted. The third cake, was definitely a treat to my eyes and everything I had wanted for a wedding. Cherry blossom - half fruity, half floral, this cake was a unique dessert with a light, refreshing taste and an equally delicate flavour. Combining layers of strawberry and vanilla with rose ganache and cream cheese frosting on top, it was a girl’s dream come true.

Loki on the other hand, teased me by sucking buttercream frosting off his finger, quietly telling me how much he loved the soft pink and how good it would look on my skin in contrast. What a pleasure it would be to lick off this flavour off my clit, when I clamped a hand down on his thigh, squeezing hard.

*

‘Tell me, are your parents dead?’

Your voice washed over him like a cold slap of air. You didn’t care when you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes before he grimaced at the taste of the cake, pushing the plate away. Masking the surprise at your words, he attempted a nonchalant shrug, wondering how long had you known that he had been lying about his parents. Nobody knew the truth about his family and he chose to keep it that way - being the black sheep of the family would be of no surprise to anyone.

Slowly standing up, he pulled her chair away from the table, circling her, like a wolf stalking its trembling, paralysed prey. She was anything but terrified as he leaned towards her, growling in her face. She sat promptly, completely unaffected except for the frown still in place, her legs crossed. His eyes darkened to bottle green as the scent of cinnamon and chocolate tickled his nose. Even when he stopped behind her; puffs off his hot breath brushing against the skin of her neck, she didn’t move.

Her skirt slightly rode up as she leaned forward to reach for the next cake - the ever classic red velvet. His mouth watered at the sight of fabric stretching over that luscious, round ass, vivid images of her bending over his desk, his hand coming down to spank each globe filled his mind. The simple white blouse she wore accentuated her full breasts, and he wanted to tear off every button, watching them expose inch after inch of creamy brown skin as the fabric moved from each breath she took.

‘Your parents don’t approve of you, or your proclivities, do they?’ Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he stilled as she slowly turned to offer him a bite of cake from her fork. Sighing, she finished the slice and stood up to cut herself another slice willing her migraine to stop. It felt like a truck had decided to sit on her head and she wanted to head home and knock herself out with sleeping pills. Turning around, she leaned against the edge of the table. A foot shorter than him and yet she showed no fear, her gaze directly on him. ‘Were you planning on making them disappear? Is that why you lied about your weekend?’

He took a deep breath, shock lancing through him as her words hit their mark. How could she have possibly known the truth and his true intentions? Unless, he suddenly took in her demeanour, she wouldn’t stop scrunching her nose muttering about balms and sleeping pills, constantly sighing and turning away from the sun’s glare shining through the windows.

She was a open book; her honesty and goodness shining out of her every time she smiled. He wanted to preserve that smile on her face, not see her frowning in displeasure especially because of him. His lips thinned slightly as she huffed out in discomfort. The moment she looked him in the eye, every cell in his body screamed to dominate her. Her confidence in her abilities as well as her body was admirable - he could see the seams of her pencil skirt were about bursting.

Stepping into her space, he tugged her closer to him, his hand burning through the thin layer of her shirt at her back, trailing a long, cool finger down her cheek as she stared at him wide-eyed. Finally, a reaction worthy of his taste.

‘It’s alright, my darling. I will never hurt you, not you. Not here…’

The desperation to taste her, mark her was slowly driving him mad. How sweet it would feel, her soft moans as he stretched her arms over her head and her legs apart; wrists and ankles in his leather cuffs bound to the bed. His silk sheets gliding against her skin, as he would tease her with his fingers and lips; his skin tone a direct contrast to her beautiful bronze.

Picking her up, he gently set her down on the table, her head tipped back against his hand reached up to cradle it. Rummaging in her bag, he found the small bottle of sweet-minty smelling balm that she so coveted. He held it above her head when she reached for it, his voice slightly husky. ‘Let me, my dear. After all, it is my right as your husband to take care of your every need.’

Her eyes widened as the weight tripled, letting out a silent scream and she slipped into darkness.

*

He gently spread the balm in soothing circles on her forehead, the sudden urge to protect her, cherish her filling him. Even fast asleep, Y/N let out a small moan of relief that was music to his ears, his eyes glued to her body. Sinful thoughts ran through his head whenever she shifted, his shirt sliding across her hips. Every breath he took was carefully exhaled, perfectly planned as his eyes wandered up and down.

Softly, he pushed aside her braid, letting the overside of his fingers slide down her collarbone that was exposed in his shirt. He didn’t understand the need for him to have to dress her in something with colour, but he dug in his wardrobe till he found an old yellow shirt, slightly worn from several washes. You shivered, whimpered softly as the anticipation of branding his mark over her creamy brown skin had him clenching his fist tightly.

Unable to help himself, he slid the blanket covering her lower half, exposing her to him as he slid a pale hand up her leg, tracing the thighs full of hickeys, and the finger shaped bruises on her hips where his fingers had bit into her when she rode him. He knew her breasts held the same marks, her throat lightly bruised from his chokehold.

He couldn’t believe it when she passed out from a simple lie; yet, instinctively he knew, she had figured out that he had made plans for her to disappear like his parents. Stealing a quick look at her, he lightly stroked a bruise on her thigh, lightly pressing eliciting a soft sigh from her.

Picking her up in his arms, he had told Maria they would take the last cake; Honey and lavender - vanilla cake soaked in honey-lavender-white wine with honey-goat cheese frosting, something that suited the both of them. He had Niles rush them back to his apartment, understanding that his lying was physically hurting her.

After applying the balm and changing her out of the confining clothes, he laid her down in his king sized bed with silk sheets that now just seemed too much. Sitting next to her, he had gotten the shock of his life when she suddenly sat up to straddle him, rubbing herself against him. ‘Loki, you have to help me. It’s too much, and I need relief. Need you in my wet pussy.’

Crude seduction had never worked on him before, he preferred women of class and stature but those words sent his cock springing to attention. The next few hours were a blur as she humped him until she came again and again, completely soaking his pants till he lost control, and buried his tongue in her pussy just so he could answer the question of how she tasted. The answer: divine and sweet. He stayed there for several minutes, alternating between biting the soft skin of her thighs and licking her clit as she dripped onto his tongue before collapsing still after the 9th orgasm.

Breathing hard, he stared at the small woman next to him. She was a match made for him.

In one week, they would be man and wife.

What would she do when he told her the truth?

Forever bae <3:

@dammn-dean @aniketadeptinmacabre

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[irndad]

this is not what i had planned- part 1?

title: this is not what i had planned

ship: peter parker (17 yo) x reader

wc: 2.1k

a/n: hello! LONG TIME NO SEE BABES okay so this is a piece i worked really hard on so :D do u want a part 2

summary: basically peter sees liz get jealous of you and him so he asks you to b his fake gf. then, he realizes something rather important, but is it too late?

tell me what u think!!!!

It was kind of a dumb idea, and Peter totally wouldn’t have gone for it if it wasn’t working. He noticed this, of course, when his best friend laid on his arm, while commenting about how annoying her French teacher was. He didn’t mind, obviously, he never did when she got touchy with him- it was just her.

This particular Thursday she was sleep deprived and talking to both Ned and Peter at the same time, her head resting neatly on his shoulder. It should be noted that of the many sensations Peter had had in his 17 years of life, he knows none better than her voice hitting the skin of his neck when she’s close to him.

It wasn’t like he was intrigued by the way her hair curled around he jr finger as she spoke about the test and anger and frustration seeped into her tone but somehow didn’t harden it.

It wasn’t intriguing how she made him feel better every time she trusted him to be the on she hugs and tells her problems to.

But what he did find very intriguing was the way Liz’s eyes darkened at the sight of his best friend laying on him, and that is what fed this whole idea.

When he came to her about it, she just didn’t understand.

“You want me to...pretend to be your girlfriend?” her voice shook on ever syllable, like he’d spoken a foreign language. He told her while she was sitting in his room, wearing one of his oversized sweatshirts that dwarfed her and shorts and her head cocked in confusion, not a hint of judgement in her eyes.

“Please! I will buy you sandwiches for a month, please!” he unintentionally jutted his lip out in a pout and she laughed, which he notes without trying is absolutely lovely.

“Okay, okay you don’t have to do that! Just...why?” she says, words light and she looked at him warmly.

Warmly. When she looked at him like that, he understood the meaning of the word-she looked at him like warmth was spilling out of her and joy and love enough to keep him warm for the rest of his life.

“I...uh, Liz saw you on me today and she looked kinda, y’know, irritated?”

It isn’t adorable when she slaps her hands over her mouth and her big eyes grow wide and words spill out of her pink mouth.

“Oh my god, Peter I am so sorry!” her face is red at the idea that people thought that’s what she could’ve meant. Peter tried not to be irritated at it, but he doesn’t think it’s that crazy. Obviously.

“No, no! Don’t be sorry. I uh, I think she was jealous.”

“Liz. Jealous.”

“Yeah.”

“Of me.”

There is a pause, before she looks at him with her head tilted again.

“Are you high?”

Then there’s bubbles of laughter all over the room and when they’re done with their cracking up at the idea of it, she’s closer to him, so close he can smell her perfume, floral and sweet and so close.

“You want me to make your crush jealous?” she says.

“Well, when you say it like that-“

“I’ll do it.” she says, a mischievous grin playing on her pink lips, “Let’s get you a real girlfriend, Parker.”

She then kisses his cheek, like the pretending is starting then, and he tries not to think of the way the skin tingles where her lips lied.

May loves the news of them together, adores it actually. She said she knew it would happen, kissed both of their blushing cheeks before winking and leaving them alone, but insisting that you keep the door open.

Which was fine, because she was over to study.

Ned took it weirder, which was expected. He was weird with big news.

“So you guys- you guys kiss and stuff? You like each other?” his voice incredulous.

Peters' voice died in his throat but she came to the rescue, didn’t she. Subtly wrapping his arm around her waist and dropping her head on his shoulder, she answered perfectly.

“Now that is a great example,” she spoke before pecking him on the cheek, “Of something you probably don’t want to know.”

Is she being flirty? It’s not, obviously. It’s for show. Of course it is. It’s for show but the wide smile she gives him and he returns- that doesn’t feel fake.

Good. Liz’ll think it’s real.

Liz. Liz. Liz.

In the cafeteria, he can feel her eyes on them and she whispers to him that she can too.

Ned mentions it because subtlety be damned, he talked about whatever the hell he wanted to.

“Dude, Liz is like, glaring at you.”

She doesn’t falter, not for a second. Wraps her fingers around his and pulls him closer, and his stomach rolls in that lovely beautiful way.

“Yeah, let her look.” she winks, and Peter remembers.

Fake.

She is beautiful, Peter notes. This is not new information.

She has been beautiful since the day he met her in primary school, and she was beautiful when she stays up too late watching Netflix, and she’s beautiful now, when she’s bare-faced and wearing shorts and his sweatshirt, only this time for school.

The thing is, everyone says that they’re a lovely couple, ever since they��ve “gotten together”. Everyone says that they make a good pair and Peters kind of proud of it. She is incredible, in all of the best ways, and for people to think he could be with her that’s- honestly, it’s an honor.

Everyone thinks it, save for Liz. Y/N, she’s giddy about it- how well the plan is working, how she’s jealous and how Peter will have her in no time.

Sleepy eyes open and excited words leave her when she speaks to him.

“Pete, Pete it’s working! You’ll be with her and I’ll be the supportive best friend Proper again!”

Wasn’t that the whole point of this? To get Liz to notice him? At this point, he wasn’t even noticing Liz. All he could notice is the girl everyone thought she was his girlfriend and how much he loved when people said it and-

Fuck.

It’s not Liz he likes, is it?

This was going to be ending soon and he’d maybe- maybe get to be with Liz, which is what he always wanted. He always wanted to know what it felt like to be with her. Nothing could be better.

Why is he so scared of the fake version ending?

“Babe, I have had the worst morning.” he pouted at her, curling into her immediately and her fingers instinctively going through his hair and he hums. She hums at him, kissing his forehead and he’s honestly in heaven.

“I have a headache,” he mumbles and she continues carding through his hair.

“I’m sorry baby,” she hums into his hairline, leaving a kiss there.

“You guys are gross.” they hear MJ say, but she is smiling, just barely, and Y/N gives her a bright smile back.

“She’s right!” Ned groans, annoyed with how couple-y you’ve become, “You’re such a baby Peter.” Ned rolled his eyes as Peter rests his head on her shoulder.

“Don’t be a dick,” she said, softly and gently like a mother would, and they both laughed at her words, her pretty lips quirking up a bit, “His head hurts.”

“It hurts? Let’s get him to a hospital! What if he dies!” She whacks ned in the arm for that, and Peter smirks a bit over it.

Ned walks to class, but they have a bit, and if he’s being honest he likes looking at her and he’d like to do it a little longer, so he will.

“How does he not know this is fake?” she laughs, words quiet not to be overheard.

He feels so sick, like genuinely sick, like someone’s just told him the worst news of his life. Of course it’s fake, of course he’s the one who did it. But it’s easy for him to forget because-

Because as he’s only figured out that while he liked Liz, he loved Y/N.

Loved her, loved her the way that people told him he’d love whoever he’d marry, loved her the way that’s makes this impossible to end because he accidentally granted himself everything he’s ever needed, except with one fatal flaw.

A expiration date.

“Ha, yeah.”

“Shit, Liz at three o’ clock.”

Those eyes, wide and beautiful and looking at him and it’s his weakness.

“Kiss me.” she says quickly and his eyes are the wide ones now, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he kissed her once then never again-

“You don’t have to do that-“

And then she’s kissing him, her eyes closed and his following suit, soft and sweet and his arms drawing her as close as possible and kissing her back instantly, and he can’t remember ever feeling this good, this happy, this perfect before and it’s-

It’s over before he can let himself feel it, really.

“Dude, dude it totally worked! You have to ask her out now. She’s definitely gonna say yes!”

Liz isn’t there anymore and he’s dazed, lips wet and his brain just chants again and again:

doitagaindoitagaindoitagain

“We can ‘break up’ tomorrow,” she continues, taking a bite of her sandwich, Then you can go get your girl.”

She then sticks her nose in the book she’s reading and everything, everything hurts. No more hand holding that brings electricity or cheek kisses that make his stomach flip. No more of what just happened to turn him inside out and craving more of her.

Its not a real break-up but it hurts like one, maybe worse because his lips still tingle with the taste of her and he’s going to be sick with the idea of never doing it again.

Because she doesn’t feel that way about him.

“Tomorrow sounds good.” he says, wrapping his arm around her the way he’s gotten used to the last month, the way he has to get used to never doing again.

They agree to improv the breakup, and Peter is kind of numb to the whole thing. Saying bye to May hurts because he gets why she loves them together and knows that she’ll be heartbroken.

Not as much as him, though.

He holds her hand tighter on the walk to school, thumb palming over hers, and she takes notice of how when they hug before class he holds her tighter, memorizing the feel of her against him.

God, he’s such an idiot for falling in love with his best friend.

She tilts her head and asks if he’s okay, and he says yeah, that he’s just nervous for this.

nervous to lose her, nervous to never get to touch her again, nervous she’ll fall in love with someone else and he’ll have to watch and be okay

“We can do it tomorrow, if you feel like.” Sympathy drenched her tone and it causes it to be worse, honestly, how she’s so understanding.

“No, bite the bullet, yeah?” she nods, more somber. It’s kind of funny, how they planned for  his to be somewhere Liz could see, so it’d have to be public.

“I just,” her voice took on a sad tone too it, and it’s starting, she’s a little louder to cause a bit of attention, “I don’t think this is working. We tried, Peter, but friends is how we work best, yeah? I just don’t feel that way about you.”

The truth doesn’t set you free. The truth makes you want to cry and punch a wall and scream because the truth is unchangeable. He can’t change that this is the only part of this that isn’t fake, that the only part she’s not lying about is the part he wishes she was.

“I-I don’t understand?” His quiver isn’t fake, the way he instinctively reaches out to touch her isn’t a lie. “This, this has made me so happy, baby you have no idea.”

He didn’t mean to call her that, but it’s hitting him all at once how he’ll never get to call her it again, never get to be around her and have her act lovesick for him again. Can’t they just pretend a little longer?

“I’m happy too, Peter. But I think we were better as friends, I really do. I just don’t think there’s anything there.”

Nothing there when she kissed him and he felt a thousand rockets going through his veins.

Nothing there when she carded through his hair and told him sweet nothings until his headache disappeared.

She kissed his forehead again and disappeared back to her way home, without him, for the first time in about 10 years.

He tries hard as hell not to let tears fall on his way home, but hey, he’s not superman.

liz: hey, i saw what happened. u ok?

y/n: great acting 😘 💔

He doesn’t reply to either.

________________________________________

tag list under the cut!

@frecklesholland @heckin-good-holland  @afoxwonderland

@radicalstars @once-upon-a-walking-wolf-demigod@thecreativeangel@barnesvogue @nedthegay @nevaehsuga @the-girl-with-no-plan @llotrr@uglygirlkk @macfullyloaded17 @starkintcrn @1022bridgetp@im-super-potter-locked @dianileesawsomeness@readixgkodie615@blamebangtan@emgrace728 @nedslaptop @dangerousluv1 @midtownsparker @loverboy-holland

[strapcats]

Thicker Than Water (Part 11)

↬ Genre: Gang au, angst, drama, eventual fluff

↬ Pairing: Jeongin x Chan

↬ Word Count: 3,846

↬ Description: Dépaysement- (n.) When someone is taken out of their own familiar world and pushed into a new one.

–

Yang Jeongin is a young Busan runaway with a sharp tongue.

Bang Chan is the easily-offended leader of a crime syndicate.

Read on Wattpad // Read on Archive

Part(s) One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven

!!!DISCLAIMER AND WARNING!!!

I am very against underage smut, especially with skz becuase they're my ults and I hate the idea of sexualizing minors. With this in mind, this chapter includes some stuff that I'll classify as "heated". I'll put a warning before where it is, so you can skip it if you want.

---

“I know I sound like an idiot but that’s beside the point.” Felix spoke angrily, running his hands through his soft white hair again in anxious feeling. “I think I really like him, Changbin. Honestly. And all he ever does is run in circles with BC. I fed him when he first came here! I made sure he didn’t freeze on the solid ground since that asshat didn’t give him a blanket!” Felix was near shouting now, he was so frustrated.

“Felix, I get it, and it’s not stupid. Honestly you just have to get over him. I can’t give you much more advice than that, because that appears to be the only way you’re going to get out in one piece.” Changbin spoke calmly, his voice unwavering and full of compassion. The slightly older male was trying to comfort his friend, though he was just a little out of reach. Felix sniffled in defeat.

“Thank you hyung… I’ll do my best.” The white haired male spoke calmly again and thanked his undercut friend. Changbin had recently had it redone, and it looked so sharp. To Felix, the style really suited him, it made him look handsome. The pair of boys had been brought into Clan 09 around the same time, so they became fast friends. Felix sought out gang life, and Chan was his easy in. The freckled boy needed to support his family, and taking people out was an easy way to make big bank. 75% of each of his paychecks got automatically wired to his family’s bank account, they thought he was a freelance artist that happened to be hitting the right deals. Changbin was yanked into the crime syndicate web after he got into ring fights. He ended up losing against Chan and the penalty was three months of work. Of course he accepted, he was a good sport. After the three months however, he had grown to love the lifestyle, and he had found that Chan was a fantastic person to have on your side. So he stayed.

A few rooms away, Minho, Jisung, and Seungmin were chatting over a high-stakes game of M&M poker. Minho was winning. The eldest of the three had joined the gang life at 17 out of sheer rebellion. Clan 09 hardly existed at the time, and Minho was one of the founding members. Jisung joined up purely for the thrill, because nothing in the world felt better to him than sprinting through the dim-lit Seoul streets from a squad of police cars with an AK-47 strapped to your back. Seungmin was scouted by BC, he was the brightest teen hacker in Korea. He had taken up computer science and technology studies in high school, thinking that the government would notice his potential and he could make his family proud. They never saw him, not even when he hacked their security systems for the hell of it. So he started looking elsewhere, in deeper, darker places. The boy-wonder had caught the eye of a number of less-than-legal businesses, but Chan was able to coax him in with good money and a fantastic cover story. Seungmin’s family thought he was a government iT agent now.

Kim Woojin was rebandaging a cut on Hyunjin’s arm in the younger’s office, while he counted money. The black-haired boy ran into the dangerous gang lifestyle headfirst, as his sister got caught up in a hostage situation, or so he thought. The boy was fooled by a rival gang to work for them, but Chan snatched him up before he started working for someone else. The young boy meant to leave, he really did, but once his first paycheck rolled in, he never wanted to leave. Designer brand after designer brand, he got more and more comfortable in his role as treasurer. Woojin on the other hand, was born into his syndicate role. His father was one of the first mafia bosses in Seoul, so when Woojin was born, it became his birthright. After witnessing his father’s murder by his right-hand man, however, he decided to stray from his original path and let his father’s old mafia die out. Kim Woojin was infamous in the syndicate web, everyone wanted a piece of him and his bloodline, regardless of his loyalties. Chan though, had other plans, and made Clan 09 with his best friend as soon as he knew that he was free from his father’s clutches. They were the seed that sprouted into the intricate web of illegal activity that Seoul seemed to thrive on.

Jeongin sat on his bed in his room, surfing the internet and browsing social media. All the higher-ups of the gang had been doing nothing but planning since their shootout with Purity Ring, and Jeongin was not in that circle. He was unaware of any plans or ideas in the making, but “mid-late April” was drawing ever nearer by the day. He trusted his teammates, so he just laid low, they would figure something out.

“Knock knock.” A voice at the door pulled Jeongin out of his thoughts, so he looked up to find a very cute looking Felix standing in his doorway. The younger boy waved him in and scooted over on the bed a little to make room for his friend. The white-haired male took his silent offer and sat next to him on the plush bed, leaning back against the headboard and picking up a pillow to put in his lap and hug. Jeongin chuckled at the boy’s actions.

“You look really cute today, Felix. And your socks are very nice.” The curly-haired young boy spoke clearly with a slight giggle in his throat, pointing out Felix’s appearance. He wore a light pink beanie, white melange ribbed joggers, and a black, longsleeved thermal tee that clung to his lean body. He had on fuzzy socks that matched the color of his hat and had little ears and a face embroidered on each one to look like bunnies. Jeongin thought they looked cozy.

“Ah ~ Thank you Jeonginnie. You’re not too bad yourself.” Felix blushed as he spoke, unable to contain his smile. Jeongin reciprocated the loving grin and nodded in thanks. The younger boy didn’t feel like he was wearing anything special, just a pink and white floral silk sleep shirt, and a pair of white fleece shorts with fuzzy socks similar to Felix’s but without the embroidery.

“Did you have a reason to come compliment me and steal my pillows or did you just wanna hang out?” Jeongin asked playfully, nudging Felix with his elbow as he went back to scrolling. His friend’s face dropped quickly and he began to subconsciously fiddle with his fingers. His eyes dropped to the soft sheets on the younger boy’s bed. Jeongin became concerned. “Hyung? What’s up?” His voice was laced with worry for his best friend, he thought something was drastically wrong. Felix sighed.

“Don’t worry Jeongin it’s nothing bad, I’m just… I’m just scared.” Felix’s voice was soft, and Jeongin leaned in to hear it, only making the elder’s nerves worse. He took a deep breath. “I know it won’t work out for a multitude of reasons but it’s been eating away at me and I really want to tell you that I kind of like you. And I mean, like-like you. I guess I’m confessing right now.” Jeongin’s eyes widened, but before he could think of a response, Felix kept talking in his quiet, tense voice.

“I just, actually feel alive when I’m near you. Ever since I joined 09 I’ve just been living day to day waiting on my paychecks and only having a little bit of fun with Jisung or Changbin here and there. Chan is a great older brother figure but ever since you came along it’s almost like you’ve brought this warmth and kindness with you that makes me not dread waking up every morning. Being around you when you’re happy is intoxicating and contagious, and it’s the best feeling in the world. God, and not to mention the fact that you’re physically a prince. Your eyes are so changeable and deep and your dimples add so much to your already beautiful smile. You have perfect proportions and I know this is probably too far but your lips look painfully kissable.” Felix rambled on and on, eventually getting louder and more confident in his words, like he was getting lost in the idea of Jeongin even when the boy was sitting right in front of him.

“And when you talk about BC and the way he treats you, it makes my blood boil. He has no idea the damage he’s causing or what a precious gift he’s rejecting. You want to please him and be his friend and make him proud so badly and he just spits in your face and calls you names. You deserve better, Jeongin! He doesn’t respect you like you should, he doesn’t understand how lucky he is that he’s receiving your affections, even after all the bullshit he’s done.” Felix was nearly yelling now, and his eyes were glassy with intense emotion. He felt so strongly and he had never said all of his feelings out loud before, so everything just came tumbling out without a filter. He barely noticed that Jeongin was withered backwards away from Felix. He looked like a wilting flower, so beautiful but so distressed that it was eating away at his form. The older boy finally came out of his trance-like state and noticed the now shaking boy across from him. His eyes were cast downward and he was trying to make himself as small as possible. He winced at himself and then reached out a hand to try and comfort his younger friend, only to be met by Jeongin flinching away violently. That one stung.

“J-Jeongin…? I’m sorr-” Felix tried to start, but the younger cut him off.

“D-don’t you dare tell me what I do and don’t deserve. My feelings are my own and you have no right to dictate them. A-and you come here, confessing your emotions, and what do you think is going to come out of it? A relationship? I’m barely 17, and you don’t know the first thing about why I’m even here.” Jeongin spoke his words quietly, almost afraid of them. They cut through Felix like a knife, but he knew the younger was right. “I’m flattered, and I like you as a friend, as my best friend, but you have no power over who receives my affection and who doesn’t.” The black haired boy finished up his thoughts as he stood up and walked to the door. He stared at the floor and Felix saw crystalline drops falling from the young boys face. He pointed out the door.

“Go.”

And Felix did, without a word of protest, without any movement but getting up and walking out of the cozy room. Jeongin closed the door behind him and fell face first onto his bed again. He thought he would start bawling, but no more tears came than the ones already softly streaming down his supple skin. He felt hopeless and like his body was made of lead. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to because of the weight of his emotions crushing his back and shoulders. His best friend had a crush on him, and now their relationship was ruined. Jeongin was alone again.

The young boy only had one idea in his head, and he knew it was a stupid one. He decided against his better judgement and stood up from his comfy bed and walked to the mirror. He checked his appearance momentarily to make sure he didn’t look like he’d just been crying, before walking out of his room and down the dimly lit hall to the last door at the very end. Before he could even knock on it though, Woojin opened the door to BC’s room from inside, surprising both of them. The older male only had on silk pajama pants and basic socks, no shirt. Jeongin had seen almost every member without their shirts, save Woojin and Chan. Well, now just Chan.

The older male didn’t say a word as he stepped out of the room that definitely was not his, and walked around Jeongin, breaking eye contact only when he finally had to. The honey colored boy didn’t close the door, so he took that as an invitation in. Though he had been in it before, Chan’s room never ceased to surprise him.

It was bigger than all the other rooms, and rightfully so. He had a king-sized bed that was a bit raised off the ground on a solid black platform. He had a dresser across from his bed and an indented closet in the wall. On the dresser a couple glass bubbles sat with little air plants in them. There was a black and white geometric rug on the floor and a few miscellaneous things like clothes and gun harnesses strewn about. It had a pyramidal skylight that had clearly been redone, as it had clean, slightly fogged glass panes instead of the dingy, rusting ones that were present in the rest of the warehouse. There were small succulents hanging on little gold chains from the corners of the light, as that was the only place they could get direct sunlight. Jeongin smiled a little bit at the thought of his leader having plants. BC had simple black sheets with nearly invisible wide navy blue stripes on it. He had a few pillows, and no plushies. The older man’s voice took him out of his thoughts.

“What do you need, Fox?” BC spoke clearly, his eyes cutting right through Jeongin’s weak facade. There was no emotion in his voice, no resentment or concern or irritation; it was just flat. Jeongin gulped.

“Yeah… I just kinda wanted to talk to you sir… I don’t feel so good.” Jeongin fiddled with his pants a little bit and cast his eyes to the floor. Now it was the leader’s turn to gulp. Sir.

“Jeongin, you’ve never called me sir, what’s going on?” Chan closed his laptop that he was fake-working on and turned his full attention to the young boy in his doorway. His voice was still emotionless, it reminded Jeongin of when he first met the older.

“Oh, yeah… sorry. It’s just that Felix, well, he confessed to me.” Jeongin spoke ever quieter, only casting his eyes upward when he apologized. Distress and shame were evident in his tone and caused Chan a small bit of unidentifiable worry. He heard Chan sigh in apparent irritation and hit the top of his laptop in frustration. Jeongin looked up at the noise to be met with Chan’s stony glare. Jeongin felt his heartrate pick up speed for a couple of reasons.

“Jeongin, come here.” The leader spoke, disregarding his rare sign of emotion that he displayed just a moment ago and patted the bed close to his thigh as a motion for where Jeongin should sit. The young boy followed his directions obediently, only breaking eye contact to make sure he didn’t step on anything important on the floor. He sat lightly and scooted over to where Chan has pointed out, the pair’s thighs barely touching as he settled.

“I have to ask the obvious, do you like him back? Did you accept his feelings?” The leader spoke, showing a little bit of boredom by the questions he of course had to ask. Unsurprisingly, Jeongin shook his head disdainfully. Chan nodded back, not needing any more explanation.

“In that case, why did you come to me? Shouldn’t you have resolved it with Felix?” The black-haired boy said with a twinge of annoyance in his voice, making Jeongin crumble inside. The younger had no idea why he came to Chan, his mind just told him to. So he shrugged noncommittally. Chan rolled his eyes and scooted just a tiny bit closer to his youngest member. “Jeongin. Tell me why you’re here. I can’t do anything for you otherwise.” Chan spoke with a hint of condescension lacing his words and so Jeongin took a breath.

“Because I felt like I needed to tell you. You were the only person I wanted to tell, hyung. I don’t know why but I did and now I’m here looking weak and vulnerable again and making your life harder with problems that aren’t yours.” Jeongin’s speech picked up speed quickly, the stress and confusion eating away at him at a rapid pace. He just needed reassurance and comfort, neither of which Chan seemed like he would be doling out anytime soon. The pair sat in silence for quite a while before Jeongin felt awkward, causing him to look down at the striped duvet and pick at a loose thread. He felt the need to get up and leave, but right before he started to move he felt Chan’s hand on his own. He looked up slowly, a slightly stunned expression on his face. His eyes met his leader’s and he gulped, heat rising in the back of his throat. The older male turned his hands over in his palms and just comforted the younger through physical touch. After a couple of silent minutes Chan took a breath.

“I know that everything is confusing right now. And I also know that I have been anything but a good leader to you. I'm sorry, Jeongin.” The older male spoke calmly and cooly, and for once showed emotion in his voice towards the younger boy. Jeongin looked down again and nodded. Chan shook his head and reached out to touch the black haired boy's face. He used two fingers to lift the boy's head to look at him again, startling him and unknowingly cause a vicious blush to grow on his face. Jeongin gulped and looked at Chan’s lips momentarily without really meaning to. Some meaning flashed between them, and before he realized, Chan was leaning in ever so slightly, then Jeongin, and then their lips met.

!!!THIS IS THE WARNING!!!

It wasn't fireworks, it was more; it was like pyrotechnics at a stadium concert. Jeongin’s soft lips tasted like bubblegum and intoxicated the leader, only sending him reeling. Chan's hand cradled Jeongin’s face, pulling him closer to him, the younger’s body pressing against his own. Their lips were locked in a long-awaited embrace, and even when he realized he needed air, Chan refused to let go. They felt like they fit together, long they’d been searching for something and the moment their lips touched they found it. Jeongin was the first to pull away, much to BC’s distress. The younger was now basically on Chan’s lap, his wrists draped over his hyung’s shoulders and neck in a very feminine way. Chan’s hands had moved from his members face to his hips, subconsciously squeezing them to draw him closer. The smaller boy let his forehead rest on Chan’s for a moment, catching his breath and biting his lip a little bit in awkward anticipation. BC was just soaking up the view.

“Hyung, how long have you wanted to do that?” Jeongin asked abashedly, averting his gaze from Chan once again. Chan chuckled and squeezed the boy’s hips again, making him squirm a little in unexpected pleasure.

“I didn’t really know how badly I wanted it, wanted you, until you were leaning in, fox.” The leader’s words sent chills down Jeongin’s spine and the speaker blushed slightly at himself. The pair sat in relative silence for a few minutes, letting their actions settle into the air. Chan was happy, but thoroughly scared as to what this meant for the future of the Clan. He was about to open his mouth to speak when Jeongin started to move, Chan thought to leave. Instead, the younger boy simply fixed their position so he was straddling his leader’s lap. Chan felt heat rise to his cheeks for the first time in front of someone else and when he met Jeongin’s eyes with his own there was a devilish fire within them that made the leader gulp.

“J-Jeongin… What are you-” Chan tried to speak but was cut off abruptly by Jeongin’s lips on the corner of his own, clearly trying to tease him. The black haired boy quickly realized what the boy on his lap was trying to do so he just sat still, not reacting to the tempting things the younger decided to do with his lips. He kissed the corner of his lips, then trailed his kisses to the older male’s neck and ear, giving Chan goosebumps from the younger’s bated breath.

“Come on hyung… why don’t you play along?” Jeongin’s mischievous side was back out in full force and it lit a fire inside Chan just like how it had when they first met. He groaned in a displeased manner before moving the younger away from his tattooed neck and placed his attention back on his lips. Jeongin smiled in an accomplished manner into Chan’s mouth, running his hands through the elder’s hair and settling his hands on his cheeks. Chan’s rested on his partner’s hips again, and when their lips began to melt into each other, the elder pulled Jeongin roughly closer to him by his hips, earning a surprised noise from the younger boy, delighting Chan. The older boy licked Jeongin’s bottom lip, and the smaller eagerly accepted his invitation. They continued, Jeongin’s breath progressively getting hotter and came out in shorter pants, Chan becoming greedier by the second. Eventually Jeongin found the willpower to push his partner away, because he knew at this point Chan never would. The boy in question looked up at Jeongin with a confused glance before trying to go back in for his swollen pink lips, but the smaller boy just pulled farther away.

“B-BC, we have to stop… I’m still a minor and we have an attack on the horizon…” Jeongin stuttered out his words between sharp intakes of breath. He tried to keep his eyes away from Chan’s face, he knew that just one look from the leader’s lust-filled eyes would send any impulse control to the wind and he couldn’t go that far, he was still too young. He felt Chan loosen his death grip on Jeongin’s thighs, where his hands seemed to have travelled during their heated moment. The boy scooted away a bit, making sure to put safe distance between them now. Chan nodded at the actions, understanding and agreeing that it was probably the best course of action. The pair sat in silence before Chan flopped down backwards on his plush bed, surprising Jeongin a little bit. The smaller boy looked at him skeptically before BC rose a hand and beckoned him to come, Jeongin obediently obliged and crawled over to his leaders side, lying next to him happily. A strong arm snaked around his waist and the pair eventually drifted off to sleep, a million unspoken words dangling in the air between them.