#i say as someone who has had one sip of champagne and decided all alcohol is disgusting

[emioliravioli]

girl please put down the bottles 😭

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I want the LaDS boys to react when someone else accidently makes his s/o sexy gasp/moan; someone had randomly poked a spot on her back to get her attention, but it was one of her sensitive spots. Does that make sense? You can write them all or pick one.

Hands off!

Tags: LADS men x fem!Reader, established relationships, jealous LADS men, threats of violence (Rafayel’s) and slight stalking (Caleb’s), suggestive content, NSFW (Sylus’s), MDNI

An: what a wonderfully devious request, i love it.

ZAYNE

The two of you were at a fundraising banquet. The hospital was raising money for pediatric oncology treatment. While Zayne wasn't an oncologist, he made a habit to show his face at most Akso Hospital events, especially ones for a good cause.

You were surrounded by city hall representatives, nurses, doctors, and other big wigs in the healthcare industry. While you felt out of your league, Zayne assured you that he often felt out of place as well, but it was for a good cause at the end of the day.

Giving your temple a light kiss, Zayne follows one of his residents towards the small dessert table that the hospital has set up.

You busy yourself, listening to another doctor's wife prattle on about a recent trip she took to the islands recently. You nurse a glass of champagne to your lips as you're only half listening to her. Inwardly, you wonder when Zayne was going to be back.

“Ah~!” you gasp, face reddening as you jolt slightly. You spin on your heel, looking to see whoever just grazed their hand over your lower back.

You feel you skin grow hot with embarrassment as you see a fellow doctor that Zayne works closely with behind you. He's a little bit older, much old enough to know better than to touch a married woman there. "Oh, I apologize miss. I didn't mean to startle you."

Before you can even think of how to respond, you feel a presence press to your side, and you immediately recognize the smell of your husband's cologne.

"Dr. Hartford, to what do I owe the pleasure?" his stoic voice fills the space, and his hand steadily slides across your lower back until he wraps his palm conspicuously around your hip. It's subtle, but he's staking a claim over you.

"Dr. Zayne! It's so good to see you. I see this must your missus," Dr. Hartford says with a jolly smile. His cheeks and nose are red telling you one of two things: either he's embarrassed to be caught touching you while Zayne was present or he's had far too much alcohol. You decide that it was likely a combination of both factors.

"This is my wife, y/n." Zayne says as his hand imperceptibly tightens around your hip. It's not very often you get to see this more jealous side of him. "For your own benefit, Dr. Hartford, it'd be wise to keep your hands to yourself in the future. You know how... touchy HR can be about these sorts of situations."

Your eyes widen as you look up towards your husband in slight shock and awe. Only Zayne could threaten someone so professionally and look so handsome while doing so.

Now, if only you can convince him to take a few sips of champagne tonight, and you'll have yourself a good night.

RAFAYEL

Being a Lemurian meant that every one of his senses is attuned to be able to experience his beloved better. This meant he practically heard your small moan before it ever even left your lips.

His eyes search the crowd at the art exhibit he was forced to attend. You promised to stay by his side, but where were you now?

To the average person’s eye, Rafayel looks completely normal right now. Someone would even say he seems aloof, but to the people who truly know him, he’s seething with an unforeseen anger.

Once his eyes zero in on you and Thomas of all people, Rafayel feels his anger only double. He doesn’t even excuse himself away from the group of people that were talking and interviewing him about his latest painting. He walks over straight to you.

“You know, it’s not nice to touch things that aren’t yours,” he says, throwing a quick glare over at Thomas. His voice sounded lighthearted, almost like he was some petulant child who caught someone playing with his favorite toy, but you knew the truth.

Thomas’s face was already beet red. When he grabbed your side to stabilize himself, he didn’t think you were going to make that noise. He also didn’t consider that Rafayel would hear it.

You look towards your boyfriend, who is nearly pouting at you from the whole exchange, and you playfully roll your eyes. “Thomas was just trying to keep his balance. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Well, if my girlfriend was standing beside me, then Thomas could’ve grabbed someone else’s girlfriend, bur no, he had to grab mine,” Rafayel huffed as he turned his nose up at the two of you, putting on a show of bratty behavior.

“You’re so helpless, Rafayel.” You tease, looping your arm around his to follow him back to his painting.

“Only for you, miss bodyguard.” He then reached out a hand and drops a piece of paper onto Thomas’s extended hand. “That’s for you.”

Thomas waited until the two of you were a distance away before he slowly unfolded the small piece of paper. His eyebrows furrowed as he read the words on the paper.

I’ll kill you and paint with your remains xD

Stunned, Thomas looked back up to where you and Rafayel were. His eyebrows furrowed a little bit, wondering if Rafayel was just playing or not…

XAVIER

The moment a sharp breathy moan leaves your lips while you, Xavier, and another Hunter are out on the field, you know one thing is certain. Xavier's going to kill him.

His hand is still wrapped around your waist. He had only grabbed you to protect you from stepping in a puddle on your way towards reported wanderer activity.

Unfortunately for this poor hunter, who you thought was actually named Hunter, your waist was where you were most sensitive.

Xavier immediately spun around, and his light blade was out within milliseconds. His sapphire blue eyes narrowed as he saw where Hunter was grasping you. His jaw tightens, and you can immediately perceive the stormy look on his face.

“Hands off her,” the blonde hunter demanded. “She’s fine. She can handle herself.”

“Right— I was just.. helping her out, man. No harm; no foul,” the other hunter said as he took his hands off of you. He held his palms facing Xavier in a surrendering position.

No one in the UNICORNS knew about yours and Xavier’s budding relationship, but they were going to find out real quickly if Xavier’s jealousy kept getting the better of him.

“Y/n, you should lead,” Xavier says, ignoring Hunter’s statement. He puts you in the front of their small group, and he trails right behind you, leaving Hunter in the back.

While your back is turned, your boyfriend casually pointed his light blade towards Hunter, forcing space between him and the group. He then shot a glare that could kill over his shoulder to Hunter.

The intention was clear. Xavier was posturing. His glare said all the unspoken words that he could not. ‘Stay away. This is mine.’

The poor man didn’t even speak to you for the rest of the mission. He was way too intimidated by Xavier to even consider it. Oh well, Xavier would just have to keep you company.

SYLUS The two of you were at a couple’s massage. Well, you were getting a massage, and he got to watch with a glass of wine on the side.

When the masseuse’s fingers rubbed into your neck, targeting all the knots from stress and tension, a breathy little whimper escaped your throat.

Sylus was already having a hard enough time concealing just how much of an effect you had on him. His right ankle was propped against his left knee, and he was settled back onto the chair.

He let out a deep, rich laugh that only men with old money seemed to have.

You were clearly embarrassed, clenching your eyes shut as you profusely apologized. The masseuse tried to reassure you that it was natural, and it only meant she was doing a good job.

“Careful kitten, if you stress yourself out anymore, you’re going to need a massage for this massage,” he teased, swirling his wine glass in his glass cup.

“Oh no, that would be sooo terrible,” you responded back with sarcasm bitten into your tone.

“We all know you’re having a good time, kitten. No need to rub it in everyone’s faces.” A smirk curled on his lips as his roamed over your body, only covered with a towel.

“Shut it-!” you whined, feeling the embarrassment creep back in.

He was doing a good job at hiding it, but his pants felt extremely tight. The thought of you letting out those delicate sounds accidentally, so overwhelmed by painful pleasure…

He took another sip of his wine, and he eyed the masseuse closely. He had gotten massages from her in the past. He knew she was happily married, and he had nothing to worry about. Even if the masseuse was some single guy, he would’ve still been comfortable in his position. He knows you’re not going anywhere; he trusts you with his entire being.

Still, he watched extra closely. He now felt the need to learn how to use his hands like that. The next time you got a massage, he wanted to be the one to make you let out those noises. He also wanted to be in private, so he could bury his cock into you in peace.

CALEB

Oh, oh man… First of all, when you and Caleb first started dating, he barely let you out of arm’s length of his side. He couldn’t help it. He needed you there with him :(

However, when he finally started letting both of you do things on your own, he still had a habit of watching you.

You were going to go get drinks with a girl friend? Oh okay, that’s fine… the bar has cameras anyway :)

You needed to go to the grocery store? Caleb’s already hacked into their security system. No big deal.

You wanted to go out for a walk? Sure, Caleb would just walk a good enough distance behind you so you didn’t see him, which is exactly what was happening when he heard that small whine..

He knows that whine by heart. Hell, he’s been teasing you for years, but he’s only heard that specific whine when he’s rearranging your guts.

Subtlety be damned. He didn’t care about staying incognito whenever there was someone else who just got to hear that very, very sweet noise from your lips.

When he jogs straight up to you, he’s nearly panting but not from jogging — his pissed. The guy who had gotten you to make that noise was profusely apologizing for accidentally pulling your hair. Apparently, he saw a bug on you or something…

It didn’t matter to Caleb. Of course, he was polite, putting on a good show by laughing and teasing you. He ignored the confused looks that you threw his way.

“Yep, my girlfriend is so unaware, haha. Thanks for getting that bug off her. She hates those things,” he flashes that pretty smile that’s gotten him out of trouble for years.

While guiding you away from the man, he assures you that he was just going the same way as you because he needed to run to the market really quick for a very specific ingredient for what he was making for dinner tonight.

And of course, the kind stranger was never heard from again. If you have any information on the missing man, please contact the local authorities or the Deepspace Aviation Administration. 

[ghostly-bat]

Omg I'm begging you to write the Bed Chem thing the previous anon asked 🙏(bless you previous anon) I'm going feral over here, you would write it so well 🙏😭

No for real, bless that anon, cus thinking about that au while listening to bed chem has me screaming 😭

But you 🫵 personally have so much more confidence in me than I do in myself. Like I believe my writing is subpar, it's okay at best there's so many other writers that could do this au so much better than I can and I think that they should go ahead and do it I would eat it up in a heartbeat! They most likely understand the characters better than I do too 🥲.

But! Because you believe in me more than I believe in myself I went ahead and wrote the longest thing I've ever written so far. I used so much brain power. Took me two whole days just to end up with 19 minutes of reading material writing is hard 🥲

So here you go! For you anon!

Bed Chem

“How much longer until this thing is over?”

Stephanie checked her phone, seeing that it was only 9 PM, and let out a soft groan. “Four more hours…” She had a look of utter boredom on her face.

“Great.” Damian sighed, taking a sip from his third champagne glass of the night. Damian wouldn't call himself a drinker, but these galas tended to be a little easier and go by faster with some alcohol in one's system. He had his first glass an hour into the event, his second two hours after his first, and now his third. He made sure to drink plenty of water in between—he wanted to feel lighter, not drunk.

Stephanie was sitting at one of the many tables while Damian leaned his weight against a pillar next to her.

The gala had been for some charity event—it always was, and of course everyone had to attend despite their lack of enthusiasm.

Damian and Stephanie decided to retreat to a quiet corner as they watched Bruce mingle with his many business peers, Tim getting interviewed for the fourth time that night already, Jason and Cassandra sticking by the dessert table playing judge, seeing which dessert was the best, and Dick himself was on his fifth drink talking and mingling among the rich, with Barbara at his side already deciding that he had had enough for the night.

“So,” Stephanie started, “how many interviews have you done so far?”

Damian took one more sip of his glass before putting it down. “Three, and I hope it stays that way.”

It was relatively normal for the Wayne kids themselves to get interviewed at these events. They get asked about their opinions and current ventures. Damian had already been asked multiple times about his art gallery that had been open for a month and if he had plans for any new pieces to be added. And as much as he loved talking about his art, it did get tedious having to answer the same questions over and over again. He would never understand how his father and Tim did it.

About another hour in, Damian had taken a seat next to Stephanie, watching her play some absurd mobile game on her phone when he decided to scan the crowd one more time, and his eyes landed on someone who looked to be a bit out of their element.

From what Damian could see, the man was tall, somewhere between his father's and Jason's height. He looked broad, though it could be the suit he was wearing giving that illusion. Damian hoped for the latter. His hair was curly, and despite the large frames on his face, it was easy to tell that he was handsome. All that being said, the man looked rather flustered despite the friendly smile on his face.

Damian was interested. Which was a rarity in itself.

Damian hardly ever found himself being physically attracted to people, good-looking or not. So, on the rare occasion that he did find himself physically drawn to someone, it just so happened to be a random, what seemed to be an overly friendly reporter trying his best.

Damian supposed that he simply found it cute watching the man get a hold of his bearings in what seemed to be a new environment for him.

He'd, of course, never say any of this out loud, though.

“Who's that?” Damian asked, pointing his chin in the direction of the curly-haired man who was now interviewing some socialite about who-knows-what.

Steph looked up from her phone, following the direction of Damian's eyes. “Oh him? That's… Jonathan… Kent!” Her voice raised as she remembered the name. “He interviewed me earlier, asking about my recent performance with the Gotham Orchestra.” Stephanie had gotten into a prestigious music college through her piano skills, landing her a job with said orchestra. “He's new, I think? New here anyway.” And she was right; neither she nor Damian had ever seen him before, and they tended to remember which reporters were regulars at these types of events.

“Why are you asking, by the way? Do you like him?” Stephanie gave a playful grin, turning her attention back to the younger man.

“Please, I just learned his name.”

“So you can be attracted to someone and just know their name.”

“Hm.”

Oh, and in that moment, Stephanie knew exactly how she was going to spend the rest of this night. Because despite how hard Damian tried to hide it, she could tell he was interested in the good-looking stranger; he wouldn't be asking questions otherwise.

“He has an accent, you know,” she scooted herself closer to Damian. “It's southern… or at least I think it is… I actually don't know if I'm being honest with you.” And she really didn't; all she knew was that there was definitely a twang in the other man's voice when he interviewed her. “All southern accents sound the same to me, but it’s definitely country!”

Damian continued to eye the man, watching him try his best to get one interview after another.

‘An accent…’ he thought.

‘I'd like to hear it…’

And Damian decided that was enough motivation for him to get up from his seat, take one last sip from his glass, and make his way toward said reporter. “I'm gonna go talk to him.”

Stephanie watched as Damian straightened his clothes and made his way across the room to where a flustered reporter stood. She took that as her opportunity to stand up herself and make her way to the dessert table where Jason and Cassandra had pretty much planted themselves for the night.

“Guys! Look…” As she got closer to Jason and Cass, she made a spot for herself right between them and focused their gaze onto Damian.

“Damian's gonna talk to that new reporter,” she said, grinning.

Jason and Cass, who had been enjoying their time eating the different desserts and getting out of interviews—with Cass simply giving one-worded responses and Jason just flat-out refusing—followed Stephanie's line of sight to where Damian was, in fact… talking to a reporter… willingly.

“Damian doesn't talk to reporters unless he has to. What's his goal here?” Jason watched, confused more than curious.

Stephanie rolled her eyes.

“He's going to flirt.”

Great, Jason was even more confused now.

“Damian flirts?”

“Sometimes. He knows how.”

“Why, though?”

And Stephanie groaned because it really should be obvious.

“'Cause the reporter's a good-looking guy, and it's better than sitting around at this stupid gala being bored!”

Jason supposed that made sense.

“Fair. Guess we can see if he gets shot down or not.” He chuckled at the possibility.

“Oh please,” Stephanie snickered. “Damian's not gonna get shot down; he has the charm of his dad and the looks of his mom—he could have everyone in this room wrapped around his finger if he wanted to.”

And that was true; Damian's looks alone could command a room. The soft and delicate features he had inherited from his mother were a sharp contrast to his already somewhat standoffish personality. It made Damian the perfect mix of pretty and mysterious. In fact, most of the time, he didn't have to go out of his way to charm people at all, but there were occasions where Damian knew exactly how to use that Wayne charm to his advantage.

Whether this was one of those times, however, was hard to tell.

As Damian made his way through the crowd, it quickly became clear just how tall this reporter was the closer he got. He was definitely around his own father's height—6'2” if Damian had to be exact. He easily towered over Damian's 5'8”.

Damian stopped himself right behind the reporter. He could tell he was fiddling with something.

His badge?

Notes?

It wasn't relevant.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh!? I'm so sorry!” There was a quick nervous turn around before Damian was finally able to be face-to-face with this reporter, and the moment he was, Damian took everything in all at once.

“I didn't see you there—”

Oh, there is definitely a twang.

“Damian. Damian Wayne.”

Damian held his hand out for the other to shake, and the moment he did, Damian took immediate notice of how big his hands were compared to his own.

“And you're Kent, right? Jonathan?” Damian said with feigned ignorance, as if he hadn't just heard the name moments ago from Stephanie.

Jon let out a deep breath immediately—embarrassingly. Half out of nervousness and half because the instant he had taken Damian Wayne's hand into his, he noticed just how small they felt, how soft they felt.

Jon, of course, knew about Damian Wayne; he knew about all of them. Who didn't? He also heard that they were a relatively attractive family, blood-related or not. Damian, however, seemed to be a different case. He had only ever seen Damian through videos and pictures, but being able to actually stand in front of him, it was so easy to tell that Damian Wayne was far more beautiful in person.

Jon took immediate notice of Damian's soft and delicate features, long lashes around beautiful green eyes, and slight, lithe frame with what seemed to be an average height of 5'7”? 5'8”, maybe.

He couldn't help but notice these things. It was hard not to, especially when he was a journalist!

‘These things mattered’—is what he told himself.

“You've always been a sucker for a pretty face.” The words of his mom echoed in his head. And she wasn't wrong. She hardly ever was.

So excuse him if he was a bit distracted.

So Jon composed himself, stood tall, gave Damian a genuine smile, and shook his hand before letting it go.

“Yes, Jonathan Kent, Daily Planet.”

Oh,

And how he was handsome.

Almost stupidly so, and the glasses Jon wore did nothing to hide that, much less the blue eyes and freckles that were behind them.

'Blue... Such a nice color,' Damian thought. And it wasn't like he hadn't seen blue eyes before; his father and most of his adopted brothers had them.

But on this man.

On Jonathan Kent.

They were stunning.

~~~

“The Daily Planet?” Damian questioned.

“I believe my father owns that, doesn't he?”

Jon nods and smiles, taking a sip from the plastic water bottle he had been fiddling with earlier. He couldn't seem to get the cap to close right.

“Yeah, he does.”

Damian decides that he likes Jonathan's smile.

“And how are you liking the event so far? It's your first time at a Wayne Gala, isn't it?” Damian stares up at Jon with curious eyes.

At this, Jon's smile widens a little more. ‘Damian Wayne's cute…’ he thinks.

“It's been lovely so far; you Waynes really know how to throw a party.” Jon chuckled, the slight hint of his twang coming through.

Damian couldn't help but wonder where it was from.

Couldn't help but wonder how his name would sound with it.

“It's definitely a lot more than I'm used to… If it wasn't obvious enough… Was it obvious enough?” Jon worries.

This whole event had been a really big deal for him, his biggest event so far since he started working at The Daily Planet with his parents. He was both excited and nervous, and so far, he had only gotten a handful of interviews that actually mattered.

But the night was still young, and just as luck would have it, a Wayne approached him.

“Well, if I'm being completely honest, you'd stand out whether you were nervous or not.”

“So it was obvious.” Jon sighed.

Damian shrugged. “Like I said, you'd stand out either way. I mean, your suit alone for starters is what... a rental?” He snickered.

Jon rolled his eyes. “My dad's. Men's Wearhouse, I think.”

“Well...” Damian took the opportunity to eye Jon from head to toe. “I still think you look rather handsome, Mr. Kent, if that helps ease any nerves.”

And surprisingly, it did.

Jon also took quick notice that he didn't mind being called Mr. Kent if it was said in the same smooth way Damian said it.

(He wondered if that was on purpose.)

“Hm.” Jon hummed.

And Jon grinned. Just a little, because Damian Wayne had just called him handsome.

“It does, actually. I mean, getting called handsome by someone as pretty as you, Mr. Wayne, is sure to boost anybody's confidence.” And then Jon beamed.

A genuine, sweet, charming smile on his face, the kind of smile a child would have when playing with friends or getting a hug from their mom.

“Thank you, Damian.”

Damian's breath hitched a little at that.

Especially after hearing his name said with that accent he was desperately trying to place in his head.

He wasn't used to receiving a smile like that from someone who wasn't Dick, or Stephanie, or his mother and father. He was so used to the grins and smirks he'd get from people around him simply because he looked nice; he knew how to handle those.

But a smile like this from someone he genuinely found attractive was so different.

Damian thought that if this was Jon's way of flirting, then it was cruel.

“Metropolis is where you're from then, I assume? Considering where you work,” Damian said while taking the opportunity to carefully move himself closer into Jon's space.

Not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough of an invitation to be friendly.

Jon didn't notice, though, not right away, because what he did notice instead was the light flush that appeared on Damian's face after Jon thanked him for calling him handsome.

‘Really cute…’ Jon thought.

“Yeah, Metropolis is where I live and work,” he stated.

“Then where exactly is your accent from, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Oh! I grew up on a farm in Kansas, actually."

Damian slightly perked at the word “farm.”

Jon took notice.

It wasn't a secret that the youngest of the Waynes was an outspoken animal lover; Jon actually found this fact to be rather endearing when it came to Damian.

He had read countless articles about the proclaimed Prince of Gotham (Jon did his homework) and how, despite his many talents and beauty, he was written as the most aloof and unapproachable out of all his brothers.

It made Jon wonder if he was ever lonely.

So finding out that the small prince had a soft spot for animals gave Jon peace of mind that they at least had one thing in common.

“My family moved to Metropolis when I turned 10, so that's where the accent comes from.”

A farm, Damian thought.

A farm boy from Kansas.

A farm boy with pretty blue eyes and freckles he wanted to trace.

“I like it, Mr. Kent, your accent,” Damian said.

“I especially like it when you say my name with it.”

Damian spoke that last sentence with a rather alluring tone, causing one Jonathan Kent to go a bit hot in the face at the realization that Damian Wayne—

The supposedly most unapproachable Wayne—

Had most likely been flirting with him this whole time.

Jon couldn't help but let out a little bit of a laugh.

“What is it?” Damian asked with a bit of confusion. Maybe even a hit of annoyance.

“Nothing,” he composed himself with a smile still on his face.

Jon then leaned forward enough so that Damian was the only one that could hear him.

“I honestly just never expected you to be a flirt, Mr. Wayne. I'm flattered.”

The pride that immediately washed over Jon as he watched the soft flush of pink grow on Damian's cheeks was enough to make his entire night.

And as much as he was flattered, and as much as he should have noticed what with the way Damian had been looking at him with big green eyes and standing so close, calling him handsome, Jon was here on a job.

“Well, Mr. Wayne,” Jon decided now was as good a time as ever. “Since I have you here in front of me, do you think I could ask you a couple of questions myself?”

~~~

The two had made their way to an unoccupied table mainly so they weren't in the way of other guests but also for a sense of privacy.

Jon sat himself across from Damian, pulling out what looked to be a notepad and setting his phone flat on the table, ready to record.

Damian, in the meantime, had decided he wanted to remove the blazer he had been wearing for most of the evening.

And so underneath said blazer revealed that he had been wearing a sleeveless cheongsam top, showing off lithe and toned arms.

Jon didn't think it was possible to look erotic while taking off a blazer. Yet there Damian was, sitting across from him, proving his point wrong.

‘Red looks good on him…’ Jon thought.

The top was red.

Jon needed to focus.

Almost in an instant, Damian noticed the shift in demeanor. What was once a nervous and slightly flustered Jon was now someone who had confidence and understanding in what he was doing. He sat with his back straighter and with a more intense look.

Damian couldn't help but also find this attractive.

“So, Mr. Wayne, I've heard you're opening up an animal sanctuary,” Jon looked at his notes, most likely reviewing pre-written questions. “An exotic animal sanctuary, to be exact, and you're even going back to school to get a zoology degree. Now, it's pretty well known that, among many, you are quite the animal lover; you're even a vegetarian, and you've already had such a successful career as an artist, even recently opening up your very own gallery. I imagine it must be a bit nerve-wracking to move on from something you've known most of your life to proceed with something new.”

And that is what did it.

Because if Damian wasn't attracted to Jon before, he was certainly attracted to Jon now.

Something about that whole question—if one could even call it a question—seemed so genuine that, bizarrely, it was enough for Damian to want to sleep with this man. Forget the fact that Damian had already found Jonathan Kent to be undeniably handsome; this, in itself, just added a whole other layer to it.

Immediately, Damian acted on that primal feeling.

“You know, Mr. Kent…” Damian moved from his seat across from Jon to the one right next to him in a lithe and smooth motion.

Jon noticed it immediately, the way Damian moved his body in a graceful, fluid, almost sensual way just to get closer to him. “You're the very first person to ask me about that tonight,” Damian said in a low, soft tone.

“Really?” Jon swallowed.

He was so close to him.

Damian was so close to him, looking up at him through long dark lashes and gorgeous green eyes.

Green might just become Jon's favorite color tonight.

“Mhm,” Damian hummed, flickering his eyes from looking into Jon's to down at his lips and then back to his eyes again.

Goddammit.

Jon was here for a job.

Jon was here to interview people.

Jon was not here to be given bedroom eyes from Bruce Wayne's youngest son in the middle of an open gala.

“You've always been a sucker for a pretty face.”

And by God, had his mom always been right. Because when Jon sat down and thought about it, the absurdity of it, the fact that someone like Damian Wayne was giving him the time of day.

How could he not flirt back?

In fact, Jon could flirt.

Jon could easily flirt and do his job at the same time.

He took a breath, adjusted his glasses.

“Well, if that's the case…”

Jon leaned in close enough for only Damian to hear.

Close enough for Damian to feel the light brush of Jon's lips near his ear.

“I'm glad that I'm the first. Especially seeing as it gives me the privilege of being this close to you tonight.”

Then Jon pulled back.

Pulled back to take off the jacket of his dad's borrowed suit.

Pulled back to roll up the sleeves of the white button-up he was wearing underneath.

And Damian stared.

Damian stared because it wasn't an illusion.

Damian stared because Jon really was that broad. His arms really were that big.

And in that moment, Damian wanted nothing more than for Jon to kiss him.

Wanted nothing more than for Jon to pick him up like he weighed nothing.

Wanted nothing more than for Jon to simply have his way with him.

“I'm also sure you hear this a lot,” Jon said with a stupid soft smile on his stupidly handsome face.

“But you really are so much more beautiful in person.”

[lupinsagas]

Shut up and Dance

Warnings: No use of gendered pronouns, only They/Them. Reader does wear a dress and is AFAB however. Alcohol mentioned.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,337

A/N: omg y’all I’ve been trying to write this for MONTHS. It’s a little insane how long I’ve been writing this on and off but I think I’m satisfied with it now! First time writing Bigby and my first time writing on Tumblr!! I didn’t have a specific fairytale in mind to make the reader, I just wanted a fairy reader. If anyone has a fairytale they think would fit plz do let me know!!! And plz request more Bigby there’s not enough for my boy :(

 It was the Remembrance Day ball. Anyone who can pass as a human will be attending and it’s a very highly anticipated event for Fables. Well, most Fables. Bigby was never one for these formal events, however, it was a pleasant change of pace from everyone trying to kill one another. 

 The 19th floor is currently decorated to the nines. Fables dressed up in luxuriously stunning outfits, laughing, drinking champagne, and dancing. Bigby pulled out his one black tuxedo from the back of his closet that he saved for occasions just like this, dusted it off, and threw it on. He now stood in one of the far-off corners of the room observing the people on the dance floor. 

 “Bigby!” A voice called out. Bigby turned his head to see Snow White approaching him with a smile. Her hair was down from her usual low bun as it was now loose, she wore a pastel blue dress with a high neckline and long sleeves with a floor-length skirt, and the whole dress was dusted with blue and white sparkles. “You clean up well” she stated 

 “You look a lot better than I do that's for sure,” Bigby spoke observing her outfit. “But thanks.” Snow just let out a chuckle as she took a sip of champagne from her glass. She seemed less on edge than normal, maybe she decided to loosen up for one night.

 “Are you waiting for a certain someone?” Snow asked. Bigby raised his eyebrow at her. “Don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about.” Snow sent him a knowing look. Snow didn’t tease him often, keeping things professional a good majority of the time. But Snow wasn’t oblivious, she saw the looks he was giving them, and them in return.

 “I’m waiting to see if someone’s gonna throw a punch more like it.” Snow rolled her eyes. 

 “All I’m saying is that if they're here then you could at least ask to dance with them” 

 “I don’t even know how to dance, Snow.”

 “Maybe they can teach you.” Snow took another sip of her champagne. 

 The elevator dinged and the doors opened, a few more fables entered the floor, including the person of Snow and Bigby’s conversation. Upon seeing the group the two looked over, eyes were immediately drawn to them and their outfit. 

 They had a dress in a shade of blue that perfectly complimented their skin tone, with a halter strap neckline and a flowy evening-length skirt. 

 “I’ll leave you to it.” Snow whispered with a smirk as she elbowed Bigby and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of Fables. 

 “Bigby!” 

 “Y/N.” He saw y/n walking over to him with a smile on their face. Bigby tried to fight the smile from spreading on his face, only winning half the battle and showing a small smile. “You look…really nice tonight.” He said softly. Y/n’s smile grew ever so slightly. 

 “Aw thank you, Bigby!” Something behind their back moved ever so slightly, which Bigby's trained eye caught. 

 "You have your wings out," Bigby stated. Y/N's cheeks had a soft blush spread over them. Their wings were an iridescent color with hints of blue, purple, and some green. Their wings were flat against her back rather than spread out.

 "Yeah, it went with the dress," They lifted their wings a bit more to show the color off a bit more "Do you think it'll be an issue? I know Snow has been a bit more on top of keeping Fables more concealed."

 "Honestly, I don't think it'll be a problem, at least for tonight." Bigby said "It is a Fable exclusive event, and you're right it does go with your dress. It's very beautiful." Bigby tried to say the last part as smoothly as possible. Normally he most likely would've suggested covering their wings up, but they just looked so lovely. He honestly couldn't bring himself to say they needed to cover their wings up. 

  “Oh, thank you, Bigby!” Y/N’s face heated up, a flush of color showing up on their skin and their wings fluttered ever so slightly, which of course did not go unnoticed by Bigby.

 "Do you...maybe want to dance?" Bigby asked as the orchestra started back up. People pulled their partners or friends onto the dance floor to waltz to the music 

  “You know how to dance?“ they asked. 

  “Not…necessarily,” Bigby nervously chuckled. “But it is a ball.”

 “I’d love to dance with you, Bigby.” Y/n giggled and reached out for Bigby’s hand. He held their hand gently, almost hesitantly. He led them to the dance floor, as he did he felt eyes on them. Some people looked at them, some looking at him. But none of them mattered once he lowered his hands on their waist, and their arms wrapped loosely around his neck, resting on his shoulders. 

 Bigby could only stare at them, only think about them. Everything about them seemed so ethereal as if they weren’t even supposed to exist let alone be dancing with someone such as himself. The Big Bad Wolf, dancing with such a majestic person. 

 “You seem to have something on your mind?” Y/n spoke softly. Bigby hadn’t even noticed they were moving slowly to the music, it’s a miracle he hasn’t stepped on their toes yet. 

 “You’re just very beautiful.” He blurted out “I know I said that earlier…but everything about you tonight- everything about you normally as well, but especially tonight is just beautiful.” His face flushed as theirs did as well before smiling. They let their wings flutter a bit before clearing their throat. 

 “Thank you, Bigby. That means a lot coming from you.”They said softly, almost whispering. “I know everyone always kinda either has it out for you or is terrified of you. But I don't feel that way”  Y/n said

 “Really? Then how do you feel?” Bigby spoke up, getting a small surge of courage after what they had said.

 “I like you, Bigby. Something about you I just can't help but admire.” Y/n giggled a bit “And you're also really hot.”

 “You think that?”

 “Wouldnt say it if I didn't, Sheriff.” Y/n spoke with a playful tone in their voice, their smile contagious and spreading onto Bigby’s lips as it did to theirs. They both erupted into a fit of small giggles. Some people had given them questionable looks, but neither was focused on the looks, solely on each other as they continued to sway with the music. They both stole glances at one another's lips before looking away.

 “May I kiss you..?” Y/n asked softly, their wings lowered, almost pressed into their back. Bigby was taken aback by the question, his voice being caught in his throat. He didn't trust himself to speak at this moment, so he simply nodded his head. 

 They both leaned into one another to press their lips together, closing their eyes. Y/n’s soft lips went against Bigby’s slightly chapped ones in a quick but passionate kiss. The two separated with somehow more color on their cheeks. They simply looked at one another and went back in for another kiss. Separated when the music ended and the patrons clapped before the next song started. 

 “Wow.’ Bigby whispered, “I'm surprised I didn't smash your foot during all of that.” Y/n let out a laugh, unwrapped her arms from her neck, and held his hand, leading him off the dance floor. 

 “You wanna get out of here?”

 “And go where?”

 “Anywhere you want, Bigby.” Y/n shrugged “We can kiss some more if that'll convince you to go somewhere else with me, Sheriff” that playful tone returned to their voice. 

 “Yeah, let's go. I know this restaurant that's still open.” Bigby nodded “The food here at these events usually isn't that good. Frankly, I'm starving.”

 “Lead the way, Bigby.”  The two held each other's hand and headed towards the elevator, leaving the Remembrance Day Ball, together. 

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: eren x reader

♡   —   tags/warnings: mentions of cheating and alcohol. side aruani and yumihisu. honestly just a feel-good fic, with humour and fluff <3

♡   —   a/n:  honestly, this is the most “romantic comedy” fic i’ve ever written and i love it <3 shout out to @ofoceansandtombstones​ that beta read this one mwah thank u

♡   —   masterlist

There was an ill taste in your mouth that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many drinks you had. And you already had more than a few. From your spot on the table, you could see your friends dancing and having the time of their lives. You really wished you could join them. Nevertheless, you had wasted all your energy forcing a smile and clapping along during the ceremony. Once you had arrived at the hotel reception with the rest of the guests, you had slid a bill to a kind waitress and told her to keep the drinks coming. 

Ymir and Historia were dancing in front of you. Stoic, sour-faced Ymir couldn’t help but smile as her sweet girlfriend twirled and giggled, her cheeks red and eyes just the tiniest bit unfocused. Next to them, Sasha, Jean and Connie were owning the dance floor, moving in sync to the happy music. A grin formed on your face as you saw Connie lifting Sasha up and her almost falling to the floor. Jean was holding his stomach as he laughed loudly.

On a nearby table, Mikasa looked over at them, a small smile on his lips. She was sitting next to her girlfriend, who was holding her hand as they watched their friends dance. You saw her girlfriend leaning over to her and whispering something in her ear, to which she chuckled. It was so strange -and so beautiful- to see Mikasa laugh that it took you aback. And apparently, also the girl she was with, because her lips slightly parted as she watched her in awe.

“How’s the party animal doing?”

You looked up and saw Eren staring down at you with a funny expression. He was wearing black dress pants and a white shirt. The first two buttons were undone, and he was carrying his suit jacket over his shoulder and a beer on his other hand.

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye out for everyone,” you replied with a shrug. Eren scoffed and took the seat next to you on the empty table, leaving his jacket on the nearest chair.

“I mean, I know attending your ex’s wedding isn’t bound to be a good time, but you’d think you would try to put on a happy face.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hey, at least I’m here.”

“After Mikasa tried her best to convince you during a whole week,” he said. You turned your head to Eren, eyes wide open. “What? Of course she told me.”

“That little… That’s it, I’m going to tell her girlfriend about that one time Mikasa got drunk with us,” you muttered angrily, standing up. Eren was quicker and pulled you back to your seat.

“You and Armin broke up a year ago. Why are you so upset he’s moving on?”

Before you could answer, the music stopped and the dance floor erupted in applause. Eren and you watched as Armin and Annie walked in between their guests, greeting everyone as they made their way to the bride and groom table, covered with a pearl cloth and decorated with the finest flowers. Every detail screamed elegance and you knew Armin had been the one to decide most of it. It had his taste written in every napkin and strategically placed flower.

Armin’s smile was almost too big for his face and if you had to guess, those small red marks on the external corner of his eyes meant he had been crying just a few minutes ago. You rolled your eyes. So sentimental. On the other hand, Annie’s smile was far less noticeable, but for someone who always repressed her public displays of emotions as much, that little smile must have felt heavenly to her new husband.

Husband. You took a big gulp of your drink.

“I’m telling you this because I care for you,” Eren said, redirecting your attention to him. “You’re looking like a petty ex.”

“Rather be petty than a cheater,” you shrugged, finishing your drink. You gestured to the waitress and she immediately walked to you, handing you a full glass. Thanking her, you wasted no time in taking a sip.

Eren’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Armin never told you why we broke up, right?”

Eren scooted his chair closer to you and you bit back a laugh.

“He said you just weren’t good together,” he said, trying to remember his friend’s words. “And you said something similar when I asked you back then. Where does this ‘cheating’ thing come from?”

You let out a long sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t cheating. Not by definition, at least. But when your boyfriend starts dating someone else a week after you broke up a two-year-long relationship and he gets engaged four months later… you draw your own conclusions,” you explained, taking another sip of your drink and making a grimace. “Fuck, this one’s strong.”

After not getting a response from Eren for a long moment, you finally turned to look for his emerald eyes. You could almost see the numbers flying around his mind, trying to make sense of everything you had just told him. It was endearing.

“Wait, no-- wait,” Eren gestured at you with his hand. He stopped himself again and took a sip of his beer. “The first time Armin told me about Annie was in February. I remember it clearly. We were shopping for Mikasa’s birthday gift and then he went to pick something for Annie. And you guys broke up around Halloween, that’s the time I found you crying-- in Jean's backyard during our costume party.”

“We had a big fight at that party. We hadn’t broken up,” you clarified with a smirk. “He broke up with me after Mikasa’s birthday party. The same party he convinced me not to attend.”

Eren’s face dropped once all the pieces clicked together. He turned his body to look at the bride and groom table, where Armin and Annie were taking a sip of their champagne glasses and talking to each other enthusiastically, while the rest of their guests kept dancing.

“That son of a bitch,” he breathed out. You burst out laughing at his reaction. “No, I mean it! I really thought you had broken up during that Halloween party! You didn’t upload any more photos together, I don’t even remember even seeing you together--”

“I told you, we were fighting and… not in the mood for photos or public dates. Most of those months were spent at his apartment, fighting over really, really stupid things or just not texting each other for days,” you explained. “Honestly, when he broke up with me he made the decision I was too afraid to take. He was right, we weren’t good for each other anymore. But... fuck,” you chuckled icily. “I wish he would have broken up with me before getting with Annie.”

Eren listened in silence, his eyes still on his friend. You gave him time as you kept drinking, your gaze drifting to your friends again. You really wished you could have the energy to join them and forget Armin and Annie. It was true you didn’t love him anymore, yet seeing them together only made you remember how you had been fooled by someone you thought loved you the most.

You had had many dates ever since, but no one ever stuck. It was fun, getting someone’s attention for a couple of weeks, but then you couldn’t help but ghost them, putting up shitty excuses like wanting to focus on yourself and not having enough time to spare with them. You had lost so many amazing opportunities with both boys and girls that a couple of months ago you had decided to stop dating at all. It was lonely for sure, but at least you didn’t find yourself feeling guilty for not being able to open yourself up emotionally for someone else.

“Want to get back at him?”

You turned to Eren so fast you almost hurt your neck.

“What?”

“I have an idea. Just play along,” he explained, standing up.

“Eren, hey, what are you--”

“Everybody! If you could give me a minute please!”

You watched horrified as your friends started turning to you and Eren, confused at the commotion. Eren kept waving his hand, gathering more and more people’s attention, Armin and Annie included. He even gestured to the DJ to lower the music and she complied. In a few seconds, all the guests of the party were looking at you, who was still sitting down with a confused expression, a drink in your hand. Once he deemed enough people were looking at him, you saw him fumbling with his hands nervously.

“Eren,” you called for him again in a whisper, but all he did was take the drink you had in your hands and put it on the table.

“Sorry for interrupting, I know a lot of you were having a lot of fun dancing. But all I’m asking is one minute of your time. I hope that’s okay with you guys,” he grinned back to the bride and groom table, where they were as confused as all the guests around. “I have something really important to say.”

“Eren, no, you can’t tell them about--”

“No, no, give me a moment,” he hushed you again. The DJ walked to both of you and handed an inalambric microphone to Eren.

You didn’t like how devilish his smile turned.

“Great, thanks, this is much better,” he told the DJ, who just kindly smiled at him. “Anyway, I don’t want to take much of the bride and groom’s time, so I’ll try to be concise. The thing is…” he said, turning to face you. “I love you.”

Your mouth flew open as you heard multiple gasps coming from the guests. Yet, you couldn’t bother with looking anywhere but Eren’s eyes. What was he doing? Since when did he have feelings for you? If he wanted to say something, he could have easily said something a few minutes ago, when--

Just play along.

Oh.

Your questioning glare turned into a big smile and you noticed Eren softly nodding at you.

“You already know how much I love you. Honestly, I never get tired of telling you so. And hiding our love from our friends has probably been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Sorry about that, Mikasa,” he said, gesturing to the woman.

You could imagine your friend’s dumbfounded face, but you knew better than to turn and check for yourself. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hold in your laughter.

“So I’m here in front of all our friends and some other guests I don’t know to ask a simple question.”

In a swift movement, Eren got down on one knee. Your hand flew to cover your mouth, trying your best to hide any trace of laughing on your face. The flash of the cameras startled you for a moment, but that only meant Eren’s plan was working. The excited murmurs and squeals only fueled Eren, as he pulled up a ring and showed it to you. You immediately recognized it as one of the rings he had been wearing a few moments ago. 

“Would you marry me?”

A huge, honest grin made its way to your face and you nodded quickly. You grabbed the microphone Eren was holding and spoke right into it.

“Yes, I’ll marry you!”

You hadn’t listened to a crowd erupting in applause and cheers as loud as the guests at Armin’s wedding when Eren slid his ring on your finger. Once again, the flash of the cameras were right into the both of you as you leaped into his arms. He stood up while holding your body close to him, even giving you a small spin and you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

When he finally put you down, the music resumed and all your friends began running to the both of you.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered to Eren, holding his face between your hands. He laughed.

“Kinda ruined the reception, huh?”

“When the fuck did this happen?” Jean inquired as soon as he reached you.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell us?” Sasha whined, with a small pout. “But congratulations!” she quickly followed, hugging you tightly. As you hugged her back, you felt someone taking the hand that was now wearing Eren’s ring.

“This is one of your rings,” she noted, shooting Eren a dirty glance. He lifted his hands in surrender.

“Hey, I didn’t plan this! But I will get her a prettier one soon,” he said, winking at you. You laughed and shook your head.

“Nah, I like this one,” you replied. You shared a knowing grin and soon it was Connie’s turn to hug you.

While you were hugging your friend back, you saw in the corner of your eye Armin getting up from the table and starting to walk to both of you. Your smile immediately vanished from your face and once Eren caught it and followed your eye trail, he understood the reason why. You heard him mutter a curse before he pulled you from Connie’s embrace.

“Well, we’d love to stay, but my fiancée and I want some time alone.”

“C’mon, you haven’t told us yet how you got together!” Sasha complained.

“Next time, we promise,” you hurriedly assured her.

Eren picked his suit jacket from the table and before Armin could reach your group, you quickly walked away, exiting the hotel. Eren whistled to a taxi and you jumped inside, telling the man behind the wheel to drive. Loud laughter filled the vehicle as soon as it began moving.

“How-- how did you even have this idea?” you asked him, holding your stomach as you laughed. “Dude, Armin looked so upset, we totally stole his thunder.”

“That was the plan,” Eren shrugged, a winning smirk on his lips. “Knowing the gang, everybody’s going to be talking about us and the engagement for the rest of the party.”

“Remind me to never have you as an enemy,” you chuckled, leaning back on the car seat. Letting out a long sigh, you took off Eren’s ring and handed it to him.

He shook his head. “Nah, keep it. As a souvenir of today,” he winked.

“Thank you,” you smiled. You put the ring on your thumb this time, since it was too big for your ring finger anyway. “You didn’t have to do this at all, and yet--”

“It’s okay,” he assured you.

“No, really. It’s just-- I’ve been having a tough time since the breakup,” you admitted. “To have you doing this for me means a lot. Makes me feel someone really cares for me. I never said anything to anyone back then because Annie is also a part of the group and I thought…”

Eren leaned his head towards you.

“You thought…?”

“I thought you would pick her too. It’s stupid, I know,” you shrugged, turning your head to Eren. “But Armin had just broken up with me and a week later he was already in public with Annie. Back then, I thought everyone knew we had just broken up and if no one had said anything was because they didn’t care. So I just… stopped hanging out with all of you as much as I did before.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he muttered.

“You did?”

Eren nodded. “That’s why I asked Mikasa to pressure you into coming to the wedding. I hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“You could have just asked me to hang out, you know,” you teased him. Eren chuckled, pushing some of his loose hairs behind his ear.

“I think we know by now I don’t take the conventional route.”

“Yeah, all of the guests know that too,” you quipped, making both of you laugh.

This time, when the laughter came to an end, you realized how close your faces were. Your noses were almost brushing as you both were lying your heads on the back of the car seat. You looked into Eren’s emerald eyes and noticed he wasn’t looking away from yours either. Was it the alcohol that made his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink? If it was, then you could say the warmth crawling up your face was its fault too. It had to be the alcohol, or else, you would have to also ponder about the reason your heart was beating out of your chest at having your friend so close to you. He was handsome, he had always been and you knew this. But why were you losing all your composure just now?

A brief look at Eren's lips gave your thoughts away and, in less than two seconds, he was pressing his lips against yours.

For a spur-of-the-moment kiss, as you thought this one was, it was rather soft. Eren kissed you as if he thought you were the most expensive and fragile thing he had ever seen. But of course, this was just a product of the adrenaline and the fact that -as far as you knew- he hadn’t been dating anyone as well, right?

Your small theory crashed and burnt when you felt his hand softly cradling the side of your face. No. This wasn’t an adrenaline kiss, neither one that you gave without a thought. Maybe it had been unprompted and maybe you hadn’t seen it coming, but it sure as hell seemed he did. Eren’s lips gilded against your with ease, revealing a soft tenderness you didn’t know he possessed. You kissed him back, matching his rhythm as you softly pressed your hand against his chest.

Eren pulled away from you softly, and if his longing eyes were any indicator, a bit reluctantly.

“Hi,” he breathed out, making you grin widely.

“Hi,” you replied. You gently caressed his cheek with the knuckles of the hand that was previously resting on his chest. Eren took it and kissed your palm, making your heart flutter.

“Sorry to interrupt kids, but where are we heading?”

The voice of the taxi driver startled you, making you pull away from Eren. He chuckled at your reaction and then looked back at the man.

“Take us to that pizza place near the central park. Gotta have a celebratory dinner with my fiancée,” he said cheekily, taking your hand into his. You squeezed his hand back, his ring digging a little on your skin.

“So young and engaged already? Congrats!” the driver said, turning left and heading towards the direction Eren had given him.

“Thank you!” you smiled brightly at Eren while he took your joint hands to his mouth and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

A part of you knew you weren’t taking that ring off anytime soon.

[gaitwae]

Hello!! Mob!thor au please. You’re a successful and rising businesswoman and it’s your first time going to those rich people galas, there you catch thor’s eye and you spend the whole evening with him. Thank yew, stay safe😽😽

A/N: You have no idea how much I've been wanting to write this!! This is a Thor x F!Reader (anon requested businesswoman uwu)

Warnings: Slight harassment from Thor, implied only. Also a slight kidnapping. Non-threatening

Summary: Above!

Tags: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword 

You had picked the perfect evening gown. It billowed behind you, and you received many compliments from it. It was your favorite color, and it matched your complexion. You had done up your hair. You carried your clutch tightly to your side. Although you were sure the rumors were only rumors, if there was any place they’d be disproved, it was at the Marvel Gala.

It was hosted every year by Tony Stark. He took business seriously. On top of the Asgardian mob rumors, you had heard he had some deals with the Odinson family. Whether or not the Odinson family ran a mob, they were still dangerous in court. Their lawsuit could mean the loss of your entire company. You shivered to yourself, glad that you had yet to make any sort of dealings with Valaskjalf Enterprises. 

You grabbed a flute of champagne off of a tray. You tried not to down the whole thing at once, but this was a nerve-wracking experience. You could make acquaintances that could — no, would — change your entire career. You smoothed your dress out in hopes of wiping your clammy hands away.

“Miss? Would you like to dance?” a deep voice asked behind you. You froze, slowly turning around.

Before you was a tall, broad, blond hunk of handsome with a thundering presence. He wore a crisp suit, and his face and hair were kept in an almost pretty manner. He was elegant, yet bold. He was massive, but perfect. You tried not to stare, but you found you couldn’t blink. The man smirked, extending his hand.

“Miss?” he laughed.

You shook yourself out of your daze, remembering why you were at the gala in the first place. “I apologize; who are you?” you asked, smiling awkwardly. “I don’t like to dance without knowing someone’s name.”

“My name is Thor,” he said. You set your flute down on an empty tray passing by, taking his hand. He tugged you to the dancefloor. “What is your name?”

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you say. “I’m the CEO of—”

“I know what company,” he cut you off, his eyes lighting up. “I was rather impressed when Father told us how far your little company had been progressing. Had I known the simple surname I’d been hearing was yours, why, I don’t even think we would be standing here.” He chuckled darkly. He began swaying with you as the music swelled. You shook at his tone. What could that mean? Who was Thor? “The other family business would have contacted you. You have a lot of potential at L/N Advancements.”

Oh.

Of course.

“You’re... Forgive me, I should have remembered. Thor Odinson,” you said nervously. You shook your head, unable to meet his eyes. Of course, the mobster would find you. Of course, the mobster would find you! Of course!

“Yes. I’ll assure you, no rumors you’ve heard are quite like the real deal.” He snaked his hand to the small of your back. “My brother often likes to... exaggerate our side company’s deals. I should really get you back to the business talk, but I want to keep you to myself a little longer.” Thor grinned a model’s grin. “Unless you’re scared of me, that is.”

“Oh, I’m not scared of you,” you said. You realized you still had your clutch in your grasp. That alone disproved your point. Thor took it from you, setting it on an empty table.

“You aren’t?”

“Maybe I was scared of getting mugged,” you admitted. “It’s silly.”

“I think the only thing you should be scared of is how you’re getting home tomorrow,” he flirted, pulling you closer. Much, much closer.

You put distance between yourself and the heir of Valaskjalf. “I don’t do that. I won’t. Sorry. I barely know you, and I’ve worked too hard to slip up or give in. I hope you can understand.”

Thor, who was taking the rejection as if it never happened, only smiled brighter. “You’re scared that I’ll take L/N Advancements away from you with just a night together?”

“I’m scared your father might decide I’m not worth trading with once he finds out I’ve done a little more than speak with his son,” you said in your firmest tone. Thor laced your fingers. You didn’t pull away from that.

“But he might decide you’re worth keeping around.” He stroked your cheek, moving to his own beat now. The music didn’t match your rhythm, but it was still as intoxicating. “I could get rid of all your enemies, you know. I could make you untouchable.”

“I’m not interested,” you said. You shook your head. “I need a drink.”

“You just downed a whole flute of champagne!” he tsked. 

“I still need one.” You lingered in Thor’s presence. He smelled of petrichor and fine cologne and a tiny bit of sulfur and something else that you couldn’t pick out. He hummed happily, as if he were drunk. He didn’t smell of alcohol, but his behavior could fool you in a second. 

“You’re quite the prey,” he murmured. “I’ll get you a drink. I’ll get you multiple.”

“I can get my own drink,” you insisted. “Please, Mr. Odinson, I’m happy to be by myself.”

“You should relax,” he, too, insisted. He gripped your upper arms, taking you in once again. “Really. Don’t let your fear stop you from having fun.”

“I’ll do what I like.” You tore away from Thor. “Thank you fror the dance, but I have to go talk to Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.”

“Have fun mingling!” He caught your hand and kissed it. You felt your belly set itself on fire. Did Thor want one night? Clearly. But what did he want from a night? Did he want information about your business? Or did he want to take advantage? Did he want to use you, and let you use him in the same manner? “I’ll see you some other time, darling.”

“Don’t clear your schedule,” you warned. 

Thor chuckled, “I’ll remember that.”

That didn’t stop him from following you around all night. He was by your side as if he was your partner. Whatever he had decided, it wasn’t going to change without a piece of paper signed by a judge...

Given that he was admittedly not only part of the city’s biggest mob, but a higher member, you couldn’t obtain that.

+-+-- 

Months later, and after many calls from Thor Odinson (who you did not offer your personal number), you finally started to cave. You let him have dinner with you. You took walks in the city during the daytime. You found he was a sensitive person, and almost three years of talking and dancing and Marvel Galas came and went before your first kiss.

Thor took a small sip of white wine, staring at you with electric blue eyes that you always got lost in. “Did I ever apologize for our first meeting?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so,” you answered. “I didn’t think you cared enough to remember it...”

“If I wasn’t in love with you,” Thor began, “I wouldn’t have stayed for as long as I intend to.”

“It’s been three years,” you whispered. “How long do you intend to stay?”

Thor wet his lips. “As long as you let me.” He reached over, cupped your face, and brought your mouth to his.

That was when the first kidnapping happened.

The room was dark. Your hair was being pulled back by meaty hands behind you. Your clothes were torn, and your eyes wouldn’t stop shedding tears. 

“Ms. L/N,” a deep voice mused. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m glad my brother has someone to entertain him that doesn’t include a mortal injury... Since that nurse hit him with her car, he hasn’t quite been the same.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked the voice, wheezing and stifling a sob. You sniffled. “I don’t know why I’m here...”

“You’re here so we can talk.” A small light switched on. You saw a raven-haired man sitting in a small chair, one leg crossed over the other like the Joker. “Do you intend on strengthening your company with my family’s conglomerate?”

“No,” you said. You were shaking. You tried to look back at the meaty hands that held your head, but whoever it was made sure you watched the man. “No, I want to make it with my own merit. I don’t want to be absorbed...”

“Do you plan on staying away from legal trouble by making my brother dearest your... intended?” he continued, pulling a gun from behind him. He cocked it, keeping his cool eyes on you. He aimed. “If I think you’re lying, I’ll shoot. And trust me... I know a liar when I see one.”

“No!” you said again. “No, I don’t!” 

His expression never changed. He rolled his neck, then studied you some more. “Name your favorite thing about Thor.”

“His laugh.” You gulped. “I love when he laughs... really laughs. When he doubles over, cries, and then giggles about it hours later.”

The man sat back, turning off the safety. “Name his favorite drink.”

“Locally brewed beer.”

“What’s my name?” His forefinger slipped in front of the trigger.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice came from outside the room. You sobbed again. The door swung open, and the man stood from his chair. Thor gripped his brother’s lapel, throwing him on the wall. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

Loki growled, dropping the gun on its side. “It wasn’t loaded! Calm down! Jane only wanted to stay for the secrets, I was simply—”

“I don’t care!” he snapped. “You have no right to kidnap her!” He was nose-to-nose with Loki, shaking him as he spoke. 

“Thor!” you cried. He swerved his head, letting go of his brother to come and rescue you. He shoved the meaty hands off, throwing a solid punch.

“Come with me,” he said, lifting you into his arms. You wrapped your arms around him, shaking and trying not to cry too much. He held you tightly. He took Loki’s gun off the ground. “Don’t touch her. She’s nothing like Jane, and if you’d listen to me when I talk to you, Father wouldn’t have put you on lackey duty!”

“Take me out of here,” you whispered.

“I can’t,” Thor said. He kissed your head. “This is my life... I love you, but if you can’t handle this...”

You held him tightly. “We should talk about this later...”

[solarwonux]

Sangyeon x f!reader

W.C: 6.2k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, arguing, mentions of cheating

For the 12 Months I Loved You Collab by: @sunlightwoo

Note: um...better late than never right?? This was supposed to go up in February but things happen. It’s one of my favorite ones that I’ve written, but I feel like I say that for every single thing I write lmao. I hope you like it plsssss let me know your thoughts. Thank you.xx

A long exasperated sigh left your lips at the sight of Sangyeon in the corner of the reception hall, chatting up a pretty redhead. His arm draped around their waist, clutching their body close to his, their faces close enough to smell the expensive champagne lingering in their breaths. A palm was placed on his chest as he leaned down to whisper something in their ear. Earning a flirtatious giggle from them, along with a sultry nod.

Their delicate fingers wrapped around his black tie as they pulled him close to whisper something against his plump lips. It was your cue to look away, but something inside of you—maybe the five flutes of champagne you had indulged in when the night was still young, prevented you from looking away.

Gripping the body of your sixth flute you prepared for what was to come, though when he smirked and unraveled their fingers from his tie, you let out a sigh of relief. Sangyeon still hasn’t broken rule number three of your friends with benefits arrangement.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstance you are to hook up with other people.

Though when he ran his fingers down the side of their arm teasingly making them shiver at the feather-like feeling. One you had relished in for many nights on end, you knew he would not only be breaking rule number three but rule number four as well.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to hook up with other people, especially when the other party is in the same room.

The anger flourished inside of you like an unwelcome weed. And you knew green was definitely not your color, but you couldn’t help but feel the jealousy take over, running along your veins like bitter poison. Your grip on your champagne flute got tighter. So much so that if you were destined with superhuman strength you would’ve shattered it into pieces, especially when his knowing eyes met yours. A glint of something sinister sparking behind them while his fingers laced with those of the red head.

He turned away before giving them a shy whisper and then tugged them gently towards the door of the reception hall. Leaving you behind in the middle of his best friend’s wedding reception, on your sixth flute of champagne, while you broke rule number six.

Don’t catch feelings for the other party involved.

To be fair when you and Sangyeon had agreed to the terms and conditions of your new no strings attached relationship. You were positive, even overly confident that you weren’t going to be the one to fall for your brother's asshole friend.

You had known him for years, grew up with him. He always made it his mission to make your life a living hell. Whether it was purple food coloring in your hair conditioner back in middle school (you had an odd mixture of purple and red that had somehow turned a nasty shade of burgundy in your hair for almost a year as you grew it out enough to cut off the damage,) or calling you ugly while simultaneously including all the the synonyms. He had made your life a living hell, he had been the reason for your tears whenever your insecurities took over. And he had been the reason for your newfound jealousy now as you sat on your couch a week after your brother's wedding still replaying the scene back in your head like a bad old timely movie.

It had started when two of you got drunk on Christmas Eve, laughing boisterously at your nonexistent love life’s.

“Who knew the reason we would be bonding is because we haven’t gotten laid in months.” He said, throwing his head back, gulping the remnants of his beer.

”For your information, I got laid last week. But I’m not bringing my one night stand to meet my family.” You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his.

He sets the beer bottle to his side, before leaning his elbows on his knees and gazing over at you. “How many people asked you where your date was tonight?”

“Too many.” You sigh, running your finger along the condensation of your own beer bottle. The memories of yours and Sangyeon’s family coming up to you asking you the million dollar question still prevalent in your mind. “You?”

“Not as many as I expected but still a lot. I just wish maybe they can back off.” He leaned back, placing his elbows behind him. He tore his eyes from your form and focused them on the night sky. “Maybe I should’ve hired a date or something.” He comments.

Your family's holiday party was still bustling behind the front door of your childhood home. Yet, the thought of ever going back in, earning judgmental looks from your single aunts was keeping you away.

He was right, maybe you should’ve hired someone as a date for the night.

Sangyeon bumped his knee against yours gently, “Want to date for the holiday’s?” The question came off as a joke, his sweet and gentle laugh following it. But as you sat there contemplating the idea, you realized that it wasn’t as bad. He was practically family. Your parents and his parents had been trying for years to set the two of you up. If you were to show up on New Year’s with your arm looped in his, no one would bat an eyelash. In fact you were willing to bet money that your mom and his would start crying pure tears of joy.

“Why not?” You shrug, “Our parents have been planning our wedding since we were kids, and as much as we don’t like each other. In some twisted sense of the word I do trust you.” Sangyeon did a double take, sitting up straighter and leaning in just enough to be in your line of sight.

“Are you sure?” Concern washed over his features. His bottom lip found its way in between his teeth as he waited for your response. “Like, you want to date me for the holiday’s?” He asked pleading for reassurance. Despite the relationship between the two of you not making sense to anyone outside your friendship circle, the level of trust and respect for each other’s boundaries was evident. You two pushed each other, got under each other’s skin, but you also knew when to stop. Which is why this plan was perfect. Foolproof.

“Yes.”

And somehow the two of you agreed that from then until further notice you would be each other’s dates for every holiday in the near future. Yet, if you had known the outcome of it you wouldn’t have agreed, especially not when the thin threshold had been crossed on your birthday.

He had showed up with a cheap bottle of vodka, all the romantic comedies he could find at the gas station and a boyish smile. His lips were on yours after five shots of the drinking game you had invented and you were naked underneath him after seven.

“I’m just saying, adding sex into the mix wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” He proposed with a shrug during a very awkward hang over filled coffee talk at the rundown cafe the next day. “We can even add some rules so it wouldn’t be so weird.”

“Adding rules is the weird part, Sangyeon.” You rolled your eyes before taking a sip of your herbal green tea and then cringing at the taste. “But they would help...you know to keep things from getting messy.”

“Then it’s settled.” He smiled widely grabbing the kids menu you had ordered from and a red crayon, scribbling down messily in his almost indescifrable handwriting:

Holi-date No Strings Attached Rule Book

Can I come over tonight.xx

Your eyes roll to the back of your head in annoyance, upon reading the text from Sangyeon. Of course, he hadn’t contacted you for over a week and the only time he decides to do so is when he’s in need of a good fuck. You throw your phone down on the table, resting your forehead against it. An annoyed sound falling out of your lips.

“Hello there negative nancy,” Kevin says, slipping into the seat in front of you. “I got you your favorite.” He sings, placing the iced matcha green tea latte in front of you and flicking the top of your head to get your attention.

You whine, lifting your head up a pout evident on your lips as you break the seal of the plastic lid with your paper straw. A poor attempt to reduce the consumption of plastic. Changing the straw wouldn’t do anything for the Earth when your whole cup is made out of non-biodegradable plastic. Maybe it’s the effort and the thought that counts, either way you take a sip from your drink, savoring the taste as it coats your tastebuds. Letting the false promise of a full six hour surge of energy run down your throat.

“Thank you for buying today.” You nod.

“It’s the least I can do for helping me with the web design project.” He smiles an award winning smile before bringing his hot mug of black coffee up to his lips. Hissing from the heat and cringing at the taste. Just like how he couldn't phantom how you liked the vibrant green liquid, you couldn’t understand how he drank five cups of black coffee daily. Indeed, he was not human, you concluded that a couple years ago.

You shrug, wrapping your fingers around the cup, “I had time to spare, but don’t get too comfortable with my help. It’s rare that I finish my work early.” You point an accusatory finger at him, furrowing your eyebrows before breaking into a wide smile.

“Ehh,” Kevin shrugs, “we’ll see about that when you’re begging me to buy you one of those nasty vomit colored drinks in a week.” He finishes sending you a wink that usually has all the girls and guys weak in the knees. You on the other hand have been so accustomed to his flirty ways after years of working side by side that it did nothing to you but annoy you slightly, yet in some odd way it comforted you.

Since day one everything between you and Kevin was comfortable and easy. He sat next to you in your digital marketing class Sophomore year of college and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. For a while you harbored a fat silent crush on him, his flirting being a point of confusion for you back then. It wasn’t until you experienced first hand what dating Kevin would be like that your crush dissipated into nothing but a platonic kind of love.

It was awful, the two of you had only gone on two dates. Two very disastrous and nightmare inducing dates, that sent shivers up both of your spines when just the mere thought of it entered the front lobe of your brains. It was then, while attempting to wash out a red wine stain out of your white dress in his and Jacob’s kitchen that you both agreed to just being friends. Eventually leading up to being coworkers as well.

It was a shame, you could always see yourself possibly loving Kevin and it would be easy too. And as much as you’d like to imagine it sometimes, he wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted and vice versa.

“How’s the boyfriend, trouble in paradise yet?” He raises his eyebrow at you, hitting your calf lightly with the tip of his dress shoe.

You groan, running a hand through your hair, “Sangyeon is not my boyfriend, we just hang out sometimes.”

You quirks an eyebrow, smirking, “That’s what I said about Jacob and I, and look at us now.” He raises his left hand wiggling his ring ringer, letting the gold band catch the light of the setting sun. “Till death do us apart or something like that.” He shrugs, taking another sip from his coffee.

“Yeah but you two are perfect for each other, Sangyeon and I are like water and oil we don’t mix unless, well...you know.”

“Unless the two of you are fucking? Yes I am aware, the horror of me walking in on the two of you last month still keeps me up at night.” He shudders, pushing his half empty mug away from him. A disgusted look on his face.

“Ugh,” you put your head in your hands in utter despair, “I thought we agreed to forget about that and move on.”

“Fine I won’t bring it up again,” He rolls his eyes and sits back, crossing his arms in front of him. “But I know there’s trouble in paradise, does it have to do with what happened at the reception?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. It wasn’t just the events that took place at the reception. It was everything before the reception, during the reception and after the reception. You swore to yourself and him the morning after the two of you first accidentally slept together that you would never fall for him. But as it turns out, you had fallen for him long before that, a moment lost in time. A moment you couldn’t pinpoint but you just knew that what you felt for him was more than platonic. It sucked.

“Maybe,” you shrug, stirring the contents of your drink with your paper straw, distracting you and avoiding Kevin’s look of concern. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s just so frustrating. We agreed to have rules to make this whole fucked up situation less of a mess, but he broke two of those rules that night, purposely. I could tell that he was enjoying it.” You let out a defeated sigh and push your drink out of the way, bringing your arms to rest on top of the table, crossing them and hiding your face in them. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion you were feeling, but you just knew it was bad from the way your throat closed up and the tears that were brimming in the corner of your eyes.

Kevin hummed and leaned forward onto the table, ruffling your hair in the process. “And what rule have you broken?” He whispers.

“The one in which I wasn’t supposed to fall for him.” You lift your head, digging your palms into your eyes forcefully. “I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I can’t stop. It’s like he’s casted some kind of love spell on me. Maybe it’s part of his evil plan to destroy me once and for all.” You sigh, grabbing your phone and turning it over. The text sitting there unread, haunting you.

“Don’t answer it.” Kevin covers your screen with his hand. The sadness he held for you is evident behind his soft eyes. “I know you want to but don’t answer it. It’s only going to make you feel worse and frankly I still hate seeing you cry.”

He’s right. Answering him would only make you feel smaller than you already do. You didn’t want to see him, but you longed to have him hold you even if it meant nothing to him. You push Kevin’s hand away, swiping your thumb over the text, hitting reply. You know you should listen to your best friend, but there’s a reason why the two of you would’ve never made it far in a romantic relationship.

You were stubborn and never listened.

8pm, don’t be late. I have to wake up early tomorrow.

Kevin sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, falling back in his chair, scoffing. “Last time, tonight will be the last time and then we break it off.” You say, avoiding his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I said and I ended up having a shotgun wedding.”

Can’t wait, miss you.xx

“My job’s having an event for Valentine’s Day.” Sangyeon broke the silence, his chest still rising rapidly, matching yours. As you came down from your highs.

The second he had walked in through your front door he was pinning you against your poor excuse of a dining room table, without a proper greeting. He barely gave you a second to think before he was peeling your clothes off in a haste and carrying you off to your room.

“And you want me to go with you?” You turn your head to face him. He was laying down on his side, his head resting on his arm, watching you cautiously.

“Mhm,” He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you close. “I need a plus one, I have this annoying coworker that doesn’t leave me alone. I figured if I brought you along they would back off.”

“So I’m not just your date, but also your cockblock?” You tilt your head to the side, raising your eyebrow. “What happens when they find out we aren’t actually dating?” You poke his chest with your index finger. It was smooth and muscular and decorated with the beautiful marks you left behind a few minutes ago.

“They won’t.” He smiled leaving a light kiss against your neck, trailing his lips up and sucking on the spot he knew would have you moaning in seconds. “What do you say?” He bites your earlobe, pulling it before sitting up again.

You sigh and bring your sheets up to your body, sitting up. “I can't, I have plans already.” You lie hugging your knees up to your chest. You wanted to go, pretend once more that you and Sangyeon were more than holiday dates and fuck buddies. But you couldn’t put yourself through that anymore. You were getting used to being by his side, living out a fantasy in your head. When all he wanted was a quick fuck and an easy pass.

“I have a date, Kevin and Jacob’s friend.” You shrug, closing your eyes, mentally apologizing to the couple for dragging them into your problem’s once again. “We’re going out to dinner.” You finish, opening your eyes and looking over at Sangyeon who laid there, messy hair decorating his pillows, stunned. You knew what he was thinking and you were just waiting for him to say it. To get it over with so he’d leave as fast he came in.

He chewed on his bottom lip and then scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, what about rule number seven or whatever.” He quickly got up from your bed, letting the sheets covering his lower half fall down to your carpeted floor.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to date other people, until officially calling the deal off.

“Well, I don’t know. I like him. We’ve been talking for a while now and he’s sweet. He likes me.” You shrug, watching as he walks around your room looking for his discarded clothes. “And I haven’t broken the rule, yet. I was hoping we could talk about it and just call this whole thing off once and for all.”

“No but you broke rule number one or something.” He puts on his boxers fast and digs through your scattered clothes on your floor for the rest of his clothes.

You sat there silently watching him, running through your memory files as you recalled the rules and what rule number one consisted of which had nothing to do with what you had done. Or lied about doing.

As common courtesy for the other party, always use protection.

“That’s not what rule number one is, it’s -”

“Whatever, you broke a rule before calling it quits, you were basically cheating on me.” He yells, leaving his white washed jeans unbuttoned as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. You were floored, witnessing an angry Sangyeon wasn’t rare for you. In fact, growing up you had been the product of many of his angry outbursts while inducing your revenge, but it was never serious. This was different. This felt different. This was serious, he was accusing you of something you didn’t do. He was accusing you of doing the one thing you saw him do at your brother’s wedding reception. It made your blood boil.

“That’s fucking rich coming from you, when you cheated on me first, but I never brought it up because although you fucking did break a rule. We are not together so who am I to get angry at you?” You threw your hands up in the hair, before pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Who are you to get angry with me?”

“And they were a good fucking lay, much better than you in every single aspect.” He spits out, angrily putting on his shirt. His words hurt. He was hitting you where it hurts the most and he wasn’t even aware of it. You held his gaze, refusing to break down in front of him.

“Why not ask them instead, why didn’t you go to them tonight instead of coming here?”

He shrugs, looking around your room, focusing on the polaroid pictures you kept on your mirror. Anything was better than looking at you, and the tears pooling in yours in which he undoubtedly was the cause of. But he was hurt too, you let him come over, you let him in and he had given you everything. Poured out his unwarranted feelings into every kiss he left on your body and every pattern he painted onto your skin with his delicate fingertips, just like he always did whenever the two of you got together. He knew he had broken rule number six a long time ago. Back when the two of you were still in high school, when the rules didn’t exist and his crush on you was nothing compared to what he felt for you now. But he was scared of telling you, and it had gotten him nowhere.

His heart still broke just like he feared, and even worse he had broken yours too.

“Maybe I should, this was a mistake. Being with you in the first place was a mistake and I knew it was going to bite me in the ass one day.”

“Get out, I never want to see you again.”

“With pleasure.” Sangyeon turns around and walks out the door. It wasn’t until you heard your front door slam shut that you finally let yourself cry.

You should’ve listened to Kevin.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jacob pulls his scarf around his neck. Though, it was February it had snowed last night. The winter clothes that you had slowly started putting away, swiftly made their comeback when you woke up shivering that morning.

You shake your head, stuffing the heart shaped cake you had made for both him and Kevin the day before. Be mine inscribed in sparkly purple store bought icing as per request from Jacob, “It’s Valentine’s Day, you should spend it alone together.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively at the two men in front of you.

Kevin leans forward, one hand on his waist while the other one moves up and flicks your forehead, “get that pretty head of yours out of the gutter, Jacob and I are gonna romantically eat our weight in this beautiful cake you’ve made us, while watching the Bring it On series.”

“I’m trying to get him to realize why the third one is the best.” Jacob says pointedly, bumping his shoulder against his husbands. “Solange Knowles steals the show, but he doesn’t want to admit it.”

Kevin scoffs and turns to face him, “I love you and I love your love for the Knowles family but face it babe the best Bring it On movie is the first one, it sets the precedent for all the other movies.” He finishes painting the picture out with his hands in the air before kissing the others cheek.

You shake your head, silently giving Jacob a knowing look. Of course the third Bring it On was the best one, but you won’t ever say that out loud. At least not with Kevin present, he won’t ever let you live it down. Will go on and on about how both you and Jacob were wrong until he was repeating himself.

“It sounds tempting but I’m going to pass, I have my own date with my couch and heart shaped pizza and -”

“Your vibrator.” Kevin interrupts, raising his eyebrows, smiling smugly at you. The embarrassment taking over your body and rising out of your ears. Jacob rolled his eyes, hitting his husband’s upside the head, and a warning look. Kevin pouted, “What? I’m not wrong, that's what she does every Valentine’s day, I’m just stating the truth.” He complains rubbing the back of his head.

“We’re going to go now.” Jacob places both of his arms on top of Kevin’s shoulders, mouthing a sorry in the process. You brush him off, “the offer still stands, if you get bored you can join us.” He opens the door and pushes his husband through the door frame.

“I’m good, have fun and no Kevin you can’t sleep on my couch after Jacob’s kicked you out again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, last time, I walked in on you and San -”

Jacob covers his mouth with wide eyes as he continues to push him out of your front door, Kevin shrinks at the realization that he almost slipped. It had been three weeks since you last met him, since he last reached out to you. The only thing you knew of him was that your mom had called you to tell you that he had finally gotten the promotion he had been desiring for almost a year. Doting over him like she always did. It had gotten worse when the two of you showed up hand in hand at New Year’s last year. You were proud of him. You wanted to hug him and celebrate his achievement in every which way you could. But you meant it when you told him that you didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t trust yourself or your heart when it came to him.

“We love you, call us if you need anything.” Jacob said, sending you a kiss and shutting your front door. You smiled, listening to their bickering out in the hallway, standing there until they were far away and you couldn’t hear them anymore. They were characters, the two of them and even worse when they were together. It was why they were so perfect for one another, they completed one another in every sense of the word and it made you insanely happy, but also sad.

Sometimes you wished, whenever you were alone at night and staring up at your popcorn ceiling that you could have what they had with someone that loved you to the point in which they couldn’t live without you.

It will come, at least that what you told yourself whenever the tears stopped. You just had to be patient.

You were halfway through an episode of the Vampire Diaries, and your fourth slice of pizza when the knocking on your front door sounded. You rolled your eyes, quickly pausing your show and setting down your half eaten pizza slice in the box, before standing up. You obviously weren’t expecting anyone but you figured it was Kevin after getting kicked out again. It was never serious, this game both he and Jacob played. It was some form of twisted foreplay thing they did to keep things interesting. They had explained it to you once when you shared your concern for their relationship. Sometimes you wished you hadn’t asked. You could’ve gone living your life peacefully without knowing the details of their sex life.

“I’m going!” The knocking became more desperate the closer you got to the door, and it confused you. Maybe this wasn’t part of their roleplay fantasies and something had actually happened. It worried you. You could feel it all over your body as you grabbed hold of your doorknob. “Kevin is something wro-” You stopped mid sentence when you swung your door wide open revealing a very drunk and disheveled Sangyeon.

You brought your hand up to your chest, holding onto the necklace his family had given you back in highschool as a graduation present. You never took it off, it brought a sense of comfort whenever you were caught in situations that had your anxiety spiraling out of control. Situations similar to this one.

“What are you doing here?” You step aside to give him room to enter, inviting him in without a shadow of a doubt. You shouldn’t have done that, but the part of you that will always care for him was stronger than the part of you that wanted nothing to do with him.

“We agreed to be together every single holiday season and it’s Valentine’s Day.” He say, his voice slurring slightly at the end, evident that he had consumed more alcohol than what he could handle. “I can’t leave you alone on Valentine’s Day.” He finishes, his voice turning small at the end. He ran a shaking hand through his hair causing it to stand up in different directions as he paced through your living room.

You pressed your hands up to your cheeks, letting the coldness of your palms relieve the heat that had suddenly overtaken your body. “B-But we broke things off, we don’t have to do this anymore.” You drop your hands down and point at him and then at yourself, swallowing the lump that was forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t you have an event at work? What are you doing here?”

Sangyeon looks down, taking his lips in between his teeth, “I didn’t go.” He whispers before raising his head, his eyes welling up with tears as he stuffed his trembling hands into the pocket of his white washed jeans. You swore he didn’t own another pair. “I couldn’t go without you. I-I want to spend Valentine’s Day with you and the rest of upcoming holidays...But I also want to take you out on dates and binge watch shows with you and make love to you and hold you while you sleep. I want to wake up with you in my arms, and kiss you while you’re complaining about morning breath and make you breakfast.” He takes a shuddering deep breath before sitting down on the armrest of your couch, digging his thumb into the palm of his hands. “I just want to be with you forever.” He says, clearing his throat before letting the few tears he had been keeping fall.

“Sangyeon I-” You looked around your living room frantically. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The words that had fallen out of Sanyeon’s lips with ease were the last thing you had expected to ever hear him say. It was everything you had longed to hear him say for almost a year now and you didn’t know how to react. Should you tell him to leave to give you some space to take everything in? Or should you run up to him and kiss with all the love and passion you harbored for him? You were caught at the crossroads. was overwhelming.

Sangyeon scoffed, shaking his head before raising it again, turning his head to focus on your tv, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same way, I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and I don’t know when you told me that you were seeing someone. I was so angry at myself for never being able to just confess and hurt that I had been too late.”

The air in your lungs caught itself in the back of your throat. You walked towards him quickly crouching down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “Sangyeon look at me.” You swallowed, placing two of your fingers underneath his chin and guiding his head to face you, finally locking eyes with you. You felt so weak and full of energy, ready to kiss him until the two of you died from lack of air and you wanted to laugh. “We’re so stupid Sangyeon. This entire time I thought you only wanted me for sex while I slowly fell for you and now you’re telling me that you had the hots for me since we were kids...wow.” You smile, swiping your thumb underneath his eyelids wiping away his falling tears. “I’ve loved for a long time. I don’t know when I started to love you. Just that when I realized it I couldn’t stop.”

“‘I’m sorry.” He hiccups, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “I’m sorry for what I did at your brother’s reception, but I swear on my grave that nothing happened between us. They were drunk so I called them an uber and walked them to their ride when it arrived.” He confesses, leaning down and circling his arms around your waist, guiding you to stand up.

He rests his forehead against your stomach sighing. “There’s never been anyone else for me other than you. You make me feel so stupid and frustrated sometimes. I know I shouldn’t have said the things I did that night, like you said I had no right to bud into your love life and being angry is no excuse but I was scared of losing you.” He looks up, his bright eyes pleading. “I’m still scared of losing you.”

You sniffle, bringing your hand up to his head, letting your fingers thread through his already messy hair, “I’m sorry too for lying. Clearly I had no plans.” You laugh lightly, pointing around your living room. “I had somehow convinced myself that lying about seeing someone else would be an easier way to end things, but it hurt so much seeing you leave knowing that there was a possibility I would never see you again.”

Sangyeon laughs, his shoulders shaking gently before he leaves a chaste kiss against your clothed stomach. “Honestly, that would be impossible, we’ve been practically married since the minute we entered this world.” He stands up, towering a couple inches over you, “If I hadn’t come tonight our moms would have forced us to talk sooner or later, I just got a little too drunk and beat them to it.” He presses a kiss against your head before pulling you into a tight hug, sighing happily. “I never want to be without you.”

You nod against his chest, “Will you remember this tomorrow?” It was a thought that had been running through your mind since his confession hit you full force knocking the wind out of your body. Though the few times you had a drunk Sangyeon in your presence he remembered every single tiny detail the next day. This was just your fear taking full charge at the thought of him waking up next to you confused, and walking out again.

He hummed, smoothing his hands down your back. “I’ll write everything that happened down and in detail. I’ll even describe the look on your face when I told you that I loved you. Which by the way have I told you that I love you...a lot.” He teased, leaning back and wiggling his brows.

You leave a light kiss on his chin before pulling away, unraveling his arms from your body. “I love you too.” You walked around him and sat on the couch picking up the remote. “Want to join me?” You tilt your head, your thumb hovering over the play button.

Sangyeon pouts slightly, copying your movements and sitting down next to you. “I haven’t asked you to be my official girlfriend yet.”

“Ask me in the morning, I want you to ask me when you’re sober.” You smile, kissing his lips lightly and wrapping your arm around his waist, leaning your head against his chest.

He makes a sound of approval, placing his arm around your shoulder, “Okay but I have another confession before you press play.”

“What is it?” You press your cheek against his chest before looking up at him confused.

“I already watched this episode, Elena and Damon get into a fight.”

“Don’t they always.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to watch it again.”

You shrug and press play, “Unfortunately, you have infiltrated my Valentine’s Day plans so you’re stuck watching.”

“I did it in the name of love.” He groans, shifting and pulling one of your legs over his lap, holding you closer, as the snarky remarks between the two characters start, sounding loudly through the speakers he had helped install when you first moved into your place three years ago. He almost told you he loved you that day, but then you had put an ice cube down his back and his mind instantly started thinking of ways to get his revenge. His confession hiding away again.

But now it was out in the open and finally he could love you the way he knew he could. The way you deserved.

“And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

“your turn”

Harry Styles was a romantic. He hated weddings. Rori Williams was practical. She hated weddings, too. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue.

A story of two semi-strangers to lovers with weddings, drunken confessions, and girls with two names.

gif has nothing to do with it but he looks fancy and i like it :) tpwk

Hi! this is for @meetmeinfleetwood to lovers fic challenge! and it’s a little cruel of me to post it today after those wedding pics came out but i have been working on this for awhile and tomorrow’s the deadline so if it’s too soon im sorry and if its just what you need enjoy! I used prompts 12 and 15! It’s my first ofc story which is a little strange for me but i wanted to use a name for this, but besides her hair and eye color and a name she’s pretty generic,,, idk thank you all for always reading and all of that. lmk what you think and reblogs are always really appreciated

Word Count: 9.3k | Warnings: drinking, swearing, implied? smut (couldn’t bring my heart to write any my apologies), harry being a silly drunk, mentions of being afraid of someone taking advantage of someone under the influence but ofc no! actual any misconduct -- a SITCH wedding!!! so cute ::))

Harry Styles was a romantic.

He loved love songs that professed their undying love for their significant other. He loved romance movies, rom coms especially, because they were happy and in love and he got to cry and laugh all in one. He loved writing his own songs about love and he loved spreading the idea of loving and treating others with kindness. He loved first dates and the relationships that sometimes sprouted out of them. He loved reading books about love and how to make it last. He loved poetry that waxed eloquent about love. He loved love.

He hated weddings.

Well, he hadn’t always hated weddings. In the beginning, they were like every other aspect of love, he loved them. But slowly, as he kept receiving announcements of engagement and wedding invitations and he kept not sending out letters of his own, his aversion grew.

Sure, he still loved going. He still wept for the happy couples when they committed themselves to each other. He still clapped profusely and danced to the dj or live band. He still tried to enjoy it. But with weddings he had a nagging sense in the back of his head reminding him that he still hadn’t found it yet. Each of his relationships had fallen short in some way as to not lead him to this destination. So when he sat at his assigned table at these various gatherings, he held a bit of apprehension, a bit of envy, about everything going on. He knew that his smiles were all a little forced and his laugh not quite genuine. His thoughts always managed to be controlled by his green-eyed monster that he always attempted to keep locked away. But at weddings, especially when the alcohol started flowing, he had a harder time controlling it.

Seeing all his friends getting together, getting married, and having children wore on him. Wore him thin more than he ever let on to anyone but his therapist. And his therapist couldn’t seem to give him a better answer than to be patient and not give up hope.

By 2021, Harry had decided that maybe he was just meant to be alone. Love was something he could admire, but it wasn’t meant for him. He could chase it, but it would never let him have it. He was unlucky in love and by Sarah and Mitch’s wedding in the Spring, he had come to terms with it.

He had even been optimistic for it, being Mitch’s Best Man and all had gotten his hopelessly romantic heart all aflutter. He was introduced to Sarah’s Maid of Honor, Renee Williams and she had been lovely. She was 31, a little older than Harry - but age wasn’t something that deterred him, and she had worked with Sarah in Los Angeles before Harry recruited Sarah for the band. They were best of friends and Sarah had known for a long time that Renee would be her Maid of Honor.

When Harry met Renee, he was sure that she was meant to be his person. She was beautiful and hilarious, her beauty mark at the side of her lip was so utterly unique he called her a “right Marilyn”. She insisted she was not a Marilyn Monroe type at all and had laughed. Harry had charmed her with his expert flirting and claimed that just because she was a brunette didn’t mean she was a Marilyn. She had smiled and bantered through the rehearsal dinner with him at her side. He was entranced, it had to be Renee, he had been so sure of it.

When Renee had walked down the aisle just before Sarah, Harry had been sure of it. When Renee had smiled at Harry as Mitch slipped on Sarah’s wedding band, Harry had been sure of it. When he had hooked his arm around hers as they walked down the aisle and into a foyer, Harry had been sure of it. When she laughed at his jokes while they waited for their wedding party photos to be taken, Harry had been sure of it.

When Renee walked up to Harry at the reception with another man wrapped around her, Harry wasn’t so sure of it anymore.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Corey,” Renee smiles giddily between the two men.

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’ and he swallows harshly before blinking and putting on a sweet smile. He thrusts his right hand out for Corey to shake.

“Hullo, mate,” Harry says happily.

Corey greets Harry, extending his hand to meet Harry’s with a warm smile and a “how are you”. Harry laughs boisterously and takes a sip of his champagne flute. They shake hands with a firm up and down motion.

“Planning on getting really drunk,” Harry says in response to Corey’s question. “Have a great night, you two,” he finishes and stalks off for a refill.

Renee watches him go with a little bit of a confused look on her face. She sees him tilt his head back and finish his drink before turning to face her boyfriend and peck his cheek. She mumbles to him, “He’s a really nice guy, wouldn’t stop chatting my ear off the past few days. All these people must make him antsy.”

He nods back to her, “They must.”

Harry sidles up to the open bar, discarding his empty flute and exchanging it for a much stronger drink.

“Tequila. Neat...Please.” He sighs and runs a hand through his curls that are slowly becoming less and less coiffed. His fingers slide to the collar of his shirt and tug, attempting to loosen it a little.

“Rough night already?” Someone asks from beside him.

His face turns to them and sees a smiling brunette. Her eyes are big, larger than most eyes he’s come across. They’re brown with tinges of gold and green, likely making them hazel by her standard since most people prefer saying hazel eyes to brown. Her smile is bright and clean and if Harry hadn’t already heard her speak he would assume she was American from that smile. It was perfect, too perfect - the teeth both straight and blindingly white.

He raises his eyebrows at her and thinks about his response. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them parted, but he remains silent when the bartender hands him his tequila. Harry wraps a specifically less ringed hand tonight, he had forgone his ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings as well as the rest of them actually on his left hand. His right hand still had two: the large flashing lavender gemstone encrusted in a gold casing from Stevie Nicks on his middle finger and then a clean gold signet ring with little crosses on the sides on the adjacent ring finger. Every other finger was noticeably empty. So when he picks up the glass there is no familiar clink which draws the attention of himself.

The woman doesn’t pay any attention to his hand, she’s still waiting for him to respond to her question, as well as waiting for her other drink to be made. She was taking advantage of the two drink system and getting two for herself right now, so she didn’t have to come back until much later.

“You have no idea,” is how Harry decides to respond and then turns to leave. He forgets about the woman and sits at his assigned table for his entire drink, talking casually with the people who come to speak with him.

When he's finished, he goes back to the bar to order a second tequila. He thinks about the girl who had stared at him with her big brown eyes. How she had seen him and thought to ask how his night was when it seemed to be going to shit. And how he had blown her off with barely a glance. God, he could be such a prick. After he receives his drink, he forgets yet again and continues to drown his sorrows in the golden liquid that helps him numb the pain that he had once again missed out on his fairytale love story.

The girl Harry had run into sat in the corner of the ballroom for the majority of the night. She settled on just having that first round of drinks for herself and one glass of obligatory champagne during the toasts. Other than that, she had promised herself she wouldn’t get drunk and go off with a random stranger. This was not a wedding for that. This wedding couldn’t be for that. She just needed to keep her head low and try to have a semi-pleasant time.

When she was nursing her champagne through the toasts, the man at the bar caught her eye again. She knew who he was. He was the Best Man after all. Sarah talked about him a lot, even Renee after the past few days, but seeing him at the bar had been the first time she’d ever seen him up that close. It was strange, he was so human. So tangible in that moment. His shoulders shook with each breath he took. His fingers tapped as they waited for his drink. His green eyes blinked and darted around as he took in his surroundings and even looked at her. He simply was and it had startled her to see him in a slightly bewildered state at the bar, but again, she wasn’t one to judge.

Get through the wedding. Try to have a semi-pleasant time.

It was time for the Best Man’s speech. Renee had just given the Maid of Honor’s and now Harry was up. He stood up and wavered a little as he tried to stand up straight. The neat tequila likely makes his stance a little harder to maintain. Mitch looks up at Harry at his side and smiles fondly.

Harry raises one hand in an awkward wave while the other is planted firmly on the table.

“Hullo,” he starts, “I’m Harry and I’m the Best Man, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

The entire group of guests laugh wholeheartedly, taken by the talented young man.

“To start,” he stutters, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol he’s had, and his smile slithers into a smirk. “Let’s hear it for the bride and groom, the lovely Sarah and Mitch Jones!”

Queue the laughter again. Harry laughs too when Mitch slaps his arm playfully, he turns to look at him with a mock ‘what did I do wrong’ expression.

“I had a speech written out, took a week to write, made it nice and poetic for these two lovebirds, but it seems I’ve misplaced it,” he pats at his pockets and sighs before rubbing his forefinger at his bottom lip. “I hate weddings.”

Everyone laughs again, thinking he’s joking. Harry grimaces but it passes as a smile even though she can tell it doesn’t meet his eyes.

He rambles on for a few minutes about love and commitment, how this is just the beginning for Sarah and Mitch and everyone laughs at the appropriate times and just when he’s wrapping up, successfully stumbling through his messy mind, everyone begins to clap.

“To the happy couple…” queue applause, but she sees him say something else, it’s drowned out by the crowd cheering and clinking glasses again.

He sits back down, downing his champagne glass that’s been refilled twice already during the speeches. Mitch leans over and whispers something in Harry’s ear as he twists a hand through his hair. Harry shifts away from Mitch and gives him a look, telling Mitch that he’s fine.

The party goes on, a few more speeches, a few more glasses of champagne for Harry, a few more sighs from the girl in the back of the room.

She watches the first dance of Mitch and Sarah but once that part is over she slinks off. She’s got half a drink left and all she wants is to be alone. Tired of the party, tired of the people, tired of having to try to have a good time. The Rowland-Jones Party had rented the entire place out, so she wanders out of the main room and down a hallway until the music is a faint buzz in her ear. The air grows colder as the amount of people dwindles from over a hundred to one.

There’s a door to her right that has an intricate golden handle that she pulls down on. It opens quietly onto a similar ballroom that is slightly smaller than the one the party was going on in. It’s quiet and spacious, her steps echo as she enters on heeled feet. The clicking of her satin stilettos resonate against the linoleum. She walks to the center of the room and turns around herself, lifting her head to the light in the room. An ornate chandelier is still above her, it’s the same gold as the handle that let her in. Her eyes travel to the walls that contain swirls of gold as well, everything was encrusted in gold and splotchy vintage mirrors. It was beautiful and she saw herself in the reflection of one of those splotchy vintage mirrors and actually felt beautiful in that moment.

No one else saw her but herself and she thought she was beautiful, a fleeting thought as she watched her body move. No one to watch as her reflection swayed with her. Her lavender dress swished back and forth, the end of it brushing around her ankles. The tulle fabric climbed her torso, cinching at her waist and draping over her breasts. The sleeves fluttered over her shoulders and ended midway down her upper arm. The somewhat sheer material made her tan skin look all the more carmely in the golden light of the chandelier. Her pendant necklace was silver and glinted in the light as it sat evenly over her exposed clavicle and decolletage.

In the corner opposite of the door there was a single table with three chairs. It seemed whoever was meant to put things away had grown tired and left these out. She wasn’t complaining as she crossed the floor to take a seat. It was the perfect escape. It was quiet and not too cold in the room, which was especially nice since she had left her jacket in the coat room. What wasn’t so nice is that her phone had died and she had nothing to do in the room. It wasn’t horrible though, she had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She just feared what would happen if she sat alone too long with no escape of the internet to drown those thoughts.

That contemplation was squashed with an unwitting solution not ten minutes later. She had been sitting at the table, sipping her drink occasionally and staring at the chandelier. Sighing with content that it was finally silent beside the clink of her melting ice cubes. The house mixed drink was strong, but with each passing second it grew more and more diluted. She considered herself completely sober.

She only questioned that when she noticed a second person in the room. She hadn’t heard them open the door, but she heard their loud footsteps shortly after.

He all but stumbled in and was entranced by the chandelier like she had been. He walks to the center in a similar fashion and twists around, only this time his balance isn’t as good as hers. He ends up on his ass, legs splayed in front of him and hands behind him only cushioning his fall a little. He lets out a huff, “Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face before bringing it down to look around the room again. His eyes are foggy with alcohol, everything hazy and slightly blurry. It feels like he’s moving with superspeed but as she watches him with a tilted head she wonders why he’s moving so slowly.  

He squints while looking around after a moment, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair. His tongue comes to wet his lips, but this time it's for a touch too long like he’s genuinely tasting the liquor on them. She raises her brows, observing him, her presence seemingly unknown.

“Oi, you!” He slurs the words and points lazily at her reclined in her chair. “Are you real?”

She half smiles and replies with a simple ‘yes’.

“I like your dress,” he says merely like he was stating a fact rather than giving a compliment. His hair falling into his eyes again despite him just pushing it back.

“Thanks.”

He makes his way to standing, his process rather ungraceful. He twists onto his hands and knees and begins to push himself up. He slips once before making it to full standing, he sways slightly and looks around again like he’s forgotten why he stood up. His eyes land on her again and he decides to make his way over to the table.

“You should probably sit,” she says, watching him splay his arms around him to keep his balance. She had seen him an hour and a half ago and he seemed fine, but now he seemed absolutely and utterly pissed.

“Thanks, mum,” he says as he thunks into the seat beside her, his hand waving off her suggestion.

Her brows raise at the slightly rude comment, but she leans back in her seat still observing him.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She asks once he’s settled and has his head propped up with one of his hands. She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him scan her face again, trying to see if he recognizes her.

His mind must come up empty, a vague memory of the bar slipping away without a second thought.

“It was a joke,” he shrugs.

“No it wasn’t,” she replies easily.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward a little shakily, “Who are you?”

“Aurora.” She licks at her own lips, a stray bit of liquid lingering on her lips.

“That’s a Disney princess name,” he says, unconvinced, how most drunk people were when you told them the truth.

“And my great-grandmother’s and mine,” she responds, a grin playing on her lips as she watches him think it over. “It’s wild how multiple people can have the same name. Did you know people can share a last name as well?”

He leans back in his chair now, unhappy with her snarky response.

“Isn’t that why we’re here, two people joining together and sharing the same last name now?” He threads his fingers as he speaks, mimicking something coming together.

“Yep,” She perks at the question he poses. “You still didn’t answer my question.” Her brows raise once playfully.

“What?” Harry seemed to have lost the plot, his fuzzy drunken brain choosing to forget the first thing she asked him while in this private ballroom of theirs.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She repeats, louder and with emphasis, the words echoing this time.

“Oh,” he looks up to the ceiling and blows air past his lips harshly, “S’ a long story.”

“We got all night,” she offers, and raises her glass to her lips once again.

“A night wouldn’t even cover half of it,” he ponders seriously, his mind reeling. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“Why me?”  She laughs like she’s just received the most delightful surprise.

“Because,” He starts and then sits quiet for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the table as he peers at her, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You only just met me,” she responds. “Not to mention, you’re drunk as fuck, Best Man. Just minutes ago I watched you stumble in here and truly fall on your ass.”

“Then tell me about yourself and I’ll explain my hatred for weddings.”

“You’re awfully good at bargaining for being this inebriated.”

“I never lose my charm, no matter how pissed I may be,” he smirks and gives a sloppy wink, hair falling in his face yet again.

She scoffs, but she is rather amused and intrigued by the man beside her. His tie now completely loosened, hair falling every which way, and his green eyes set on her. The shiny shoes he wore slipped around on the ground as he shuffled his feet below him like a child wanting to go play. She figured it was just his drunk brain trying to amuse himself or something. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue. She at least had to entertain the foolish notion that maybe he actually was interested in getting to know her. If anything, it would help pass the time until she could go home.

“I’ll bite,” she relents.

The smirk doesn’t leave his face, it only widens, “Only if I can, too.”

“I wasn’t saying-”

“Shush, sh-sh-shush. I know that,” he holds a hand up at her, trying to get her to be quiet. He sways again, even in his seat he looks as if he could fall over at any moment. She wondered if he might not remember this tomorrow. “I was bein’...” he licks his lips in a pause, “suggestive.”

She laughs again, knowing his sober brain probably would have chosen a more articulate and suave word since ‘suggestive’ was rather tactless and more straight to the point. If she learned anything from all the conversations she overhead about him, Harry was definitely one for tact.

“You were something, that’s for sure,” she wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist, she draws the hand down from its hovering state and lays it against the table again. She withdraws her own hand back to her glass, her drink almost completely gone now.

He smiles, pleased with himself, but unaware that his charms had worn off with his exorbitant amount of alcohol consumed. At least on this girl they weren’t working. She had never been attracted to people who were too drunk to help themselves and she always hoped that’s how others felt too. She was thankful he had stumbled in on her rather than someone who didn’t feel the same way. It made her sick to think of what someone with evil intentions might do if they came across a babbling drunken version of Harry. Pushing those thoughts away since that wasn’t the case, she decided to pat his hand once just in reassurance to herself and him that this was really happening.

“I’m twenty-five.” She states.

Harry nods, a small smile on his lips now rather than a smirk as he watches her again. He liked how smoothly she moved rather than the rest of the world in his drunken eyes, everything else was choppy and fast. She was elegant and fluid, calming even.

“I love love,” Harry says, eyes remaining on hers, no trace of a joke in his tone, “And it hates me.”

“That can’t be true,” she squints at him, a frown gracing her face for a moment at the sadness she sees in his watery eyes. Not crying watery, just watery from his drunken state.

He says nothing, waiting for her to offer more information about herself before he says anything else. This was the deal after all. She quickly realizes why he isn’t responding and sighs, conversation with drunks was tedious already, but Harry seemed determined to make it even harder.

“I’m from California.”

“They always are,” Harry mutters to himself. He ignores her hum of a question, asking what he just said with a simple sound. “All my friends, they’re either getting married or they’re already married and got kids on the way or whatever. They all found love and I’m just here with fuck all.”

She sincerely doubts what the drunken man is telling her right now, but she knows how to play the game now to get more information. “I hate my job,” she states.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm cursed, like I fucked up one too many times and now I’m doomed to never find love.”

Her eyes widen at this, he sounds so damn sad and she wishes she could take his pain away. She knew what a good guy and she couldn’t imagine why he would deserve to feel this way. No one deserved to feel like they weren’t worthy of love. His sad state truly almost brought her to tears. She’s there in a stunned silence and Harry is confused why she hasn’t said anything more about herself. It was her turn.

“What’s something else about you?” He asks, his hand fiddling with itself on the table. She notices once again that there aren’t as many rings on his fingers as what she thought was usual.

She licks her lips and reaches her hand forward. She grasps Harry’s fiddling hand and stops his movement. “I feel sorry that you feel this way, no one deserves the kind of pain you’re inflicting on yourself. I’m very very sorry for you, Harry.”

“That’s not really…” He trails off, losing his focus on her face and instead looking at their hands touching. The feeling is so intense in his buzzing body. Her touch was so calming compared to the electric feeling in his body. It felt nice.

“Can I ask you a different question and then I’ll tell you something no one knows about me?”

He nods eagerly.

“And you can’t dodge the question, you really have to answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did you say at the end of your speech? It got drowned out by applause, but I saw you say something.”

“You noticed?” He asks kind of surprised, then scratches at his eyebrow. He sees her slight glare and knows to get to his answer. “Asked when it’d be my turn…like to fall in love, y’know.”

She sighs, saddened yet again by his words. “Okay, well, here’s my secret... I hate weddings, too.”

Harry’s eyes light up, maybe he really was in love. She purses her lips and pulls back from him.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he breathes out, again making a false confession. His drunken brain wants it to be true. He’s desperate for his search to be over, for her to be his person.

She smiles that same sad smile that she keeps getting when he says these sad things to her.

“I assure you, I am not, Best Man.”

He looks at her confusedly. She was beautiful, she was clarity to him. Her brown hair was straight with a little wave in it, like it was straightened for the occasion but never truly that way otherwise. It flowed around her head and shoulders, but she had it tucked behind both ears. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she just simply was beautiful. Her sun tanned skin looked soft under the golden glow and Harry was sure she was an angel or something.

“Why not?” He insists, leaning forward.

She stands up from her seat. He follows clumsily behind her, standing as well. He was still taller than her even in her high heels. He smiled like a lovesick child down at her, his eyes as big as the moon. She bites at her lip as she sees him look at her so lovingly, so misguidedly. Then she leans up towards his face, up on her tiptoes and past his lips. Her hands hold him straight with them curled in his suit’s lapels. She presses a sweet and gentle kiss to his cheek, closer to his jaw than anything.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispers against his skin before pulling away.

His eyes flutter open, his looks at her confusedly, slightly unaware that he had closed his eyes at all.

“Good night…” He had already forgotten her name, something with an A...or was it an O? He’d have to ask Sarah and Mitch about the girl who had talked to him in the empty golden ballroom, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was certain. She was the one - if only he could find out her name. If he remembered this at all or if he just thought it was a dream.

She leaves the room before him and as she leaves she wonders if she maybe should have made sure he was alright, but she figured their talk was sobering enough. The night was ending and she had a sneaking suspicion that there were plenty of people here tonight looking out for him.

-

Harry forgot about the girl in the ballroom. Or at least he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. He had woken up at Tom’s place where he had said he would stay after the wedding reception so he hadn’t gone home with a girl. He couldn’t remember her name so he couldn’t really ask anyone about her and he didn’t exactly have a lot of people he could ask. He wanted to ask Sarah and Mitch, but they were already off on their honeymoon and he was one of those people who would never bother a couple on their honeymoon. He was too embarrassed to ask Renee and anyone else for that matter.

So, instead, he forgot. Harry forgot about her for three weeks until Sarah and Mitch returned. He had called them for a hike and lunch the moment their plane had landed. He had missed some of his best friends. It was a lull in the year, where he wasn’t touring or in the studio, just living and writing when he felt like it. So maybe he was in need of some inspiration.

“Ah! The Jones’!” He exclaims as he walks up to their parked car at the head of the trail.

Sarah laughs and Mitch rolls his eyes, half-heartedly since he’s just as happy to see Harry as Harry is to see him.

“I missed you,” Mitch says as he brings Harry in for a hug.

“Don’t let the missus hear that,” Harry tuts while he sends a wink over Mitch’s shoulder to Sarah.

“It’s all he could talk about for the past few weeks,” Sarah jokes as she goes in for a hug with Harry. “How do you think Harry is? Hope he’s eating? I miss Harry.” She mimics Mitch’s voice.

Mitch shakes his head shyly, a smile spreading on his face after a moment. “That. Is not true at all,” he assures Harry, “But you do look a little thinner. What have you been eating?”

Harry elbows him with a grin, “I’m fine. Been bored so I’ve just been filling the time with working out.”

They start their ascent up the hill and into the canyon. Mitch nods, his worry for his friend subsiding momentarily before he says something strange.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, but you’ve been gone, about a girl at the wedding.”

“Oh?” Sarah gives Mitch a knowing look.

“Yeah, well the thing is, I’m not sure if she was real or not. I think she was real, but I was so drunk, there’s so many bits missing in my memory.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh. “You were very drunk, H,” Mitch confirms.

Harry ignores him, “I even asked her if she was real and she said yes, but y’know people can lie in dreams. All I remember is she was amazing and she had a princess name, I think.”

Sarah thinks about the guest list. “No princess names that I can think of. What did she look like?”

Harry squints ahead of them, his sunglasses pushing his curls back on the top of his head. “She had straight brown hair, not long or short. She said she was, uh, twenty-five. She was in lavender, I think.”

“You think a lot,” Mitch interjects which earns him a glare from Harry.

Harry thinks about this part that he remembered vividly, how she had been so confident that he wasn’t. He adds, “...And I told her I was in love with her.”

“Oh god, Harry,” Sarah sighs.

Mitch gives Harry an apologetic smile.

“She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t run off either. We talked for awhile.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Sarah says.

“Okay, let’s see,” Mitch grows to be the leader of the investigation, wanting everything for his best friend to find the love he knew he deserved. “Twenty-five year old brunettes at our wedding who are single. C’mon there weren't that many people there.”

Sarah thinks about it again. “Renee’s sister is twenty-five. I don’t remember what she was wearing, I hardly saw her all night,” she pauses, “Which is strange since she wasn’t on the job for once.”

“What do you mean ‘on the job’?” Harry asks curiously, remembering his girl saying she hated her job.”

“She’s a wedding planner,” Sarah says, glancing at him because she was almost sure that Renee’s sister was not who Harry was talking about. “But she had referred me to someone else for the wedding, she consulted sometimes and got us a discount, but said she didn’t like working with people she knew personally.”

Harry nodded, how could Renee’s sister be his girl? How could a wedding planner hate weddings? And wouldn’t it be all the more awkward if the girl was Renee’s sister? Renee’s little sister, could it be? He had no clue.

“I don’t think it’s her, though,” Sarah gives a half-smile, “She’s not super...uh, how do I say this?”

As Sarah says “touchy-feely,” Mitch interjects.

“She’s pretty cold-hearted. She’s relatively nice, but what makes her such a good wedding planner is she doesn’t get caught up in the sentimentality of it, she just understands other people’s emotions and knows how to make them feel amazing.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Sarah looks at Mitch with a strong glare. After all, he was talking about her best friend’s little sister.

“Well, what’s her name?” Harry insists, semi-off put, but knowing her secret made him think it was possible for Renee’s sister and his ballroom girl to be the very same.

“Rori Williams, think it’s short for something else, but I don’t know, as long as I’ve known her she goes by Rori.” Sarah gives Harry a sad smile and it reminds him of his mystery girl.

“Do you think I could meet her or something? I just want to know if it’s her.” Harry says as they reach the first peak on their hike. He looks out at the view from there, Los Angeles was green for once, but he knew it would quickly fade to brown and tan as the spring plants died off again from the summer heat.

“Pretty sure she’s off working on some destination wedding right now. She doesn’t like being bothered when she’s working,” Sarah gives Harry a look for two reasons as she says that. One, because she knows his next question would be to contact her anyway. And two, she’s saying how he is exactly the same, hates being contacted when he’s busy with work. “I can text Renee to see what’s up.”

Harry nods, “Please…” He begins to imagine Rori as his ballroom girl and mutters to himself, “A June Wedding…” getting lost in a silly little daydream.

-

“Harry Styles is asking after you,” Renee snickers over the cellphone line.

“What is this? The 1800s?” Rori sighs, as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She tries to brush her hair from her face with a flick of her head, which makes for a rather silly sight as her head and shoulder move awkwardly. “People don’t ‘ask after’ anyone anymore.”

She was in Hawaii, Maui specifically, steaming a sneaky last crinkle out of the latest bride’s wedding veil.

“Well, he still is doing it. You know how he is.”

“I actually don’t,” Rori responds, easily, ignoring the memories of her two encounters with him. “What does he want?”

“Wants to meet you or something,” Renee says easily. “Thinks he met you at Sarah’s wedding, obviously impossible since I know you scampered off half way through the reception and he was falling down drunk at the half way marker as well…” she trails off.

Rori knows her sister well and expects the next thing to come out of Renee’s mouth.

“Oh my god! Did you hook up with him?!”

Expecting this, Rori responds quickly and calmly, “No, we did not hook up, I would never... I did watch him fall on his ass, though.”

“So it was you!”

“What was me?” Rori squints her eyes at her sister over the phone and finally straightens from her steaming task. She feels like she’s only half paying attention to the conversation, especially since she had no intention of meeting up with Harry. He had been so sweet and sad, and she truly wished him the best, but she knew she wasn’t the answer to his problem.

“You!” Renee all but yells into the phone, “Are his dream girl! He’s been wondering if you were even real for weeks.”

“I’m real,” Rori sighs and crosses the room she’s in to sit at the desk she was using as a work space. She flicks through the planner she was using for the Hearst wedding, set to take place tomorrow. “But I’m certainly not his dream girl...I told him that when he said he was in love with me.”

“He what?!” Renee exclaims and hears her sister sigh once again, she knows Rori is growing tired of the conversation and is ready to offer an excuse to hang up any moment now. “Nevermind that, I’m going to tell Sarah to give him your number and the date you get back to Los Angeles. Keep next weekend clear.”

Before Rori can open her strawberry pink lips to reply, Renee is squealing a goodbye and hanging up. She felt her shoulders sag with the empty line, she reclined into the nicely plush swivel chair. This is why she stayed out of love and relationships when they didn’t relate to work, they were exhausting. Too much ‘he said, she said’ going on at all times. Color palettes, seating arrangements and menus were simple, they made sense, they could be arranged and put into place. Relationships were messy, the actual event of a wedding could even be messy, but when she planned them out, for a single moment everything was orderly and simple. She was in control. She knew she couldn’t be Harry’s dream girl because she knew she couldn’t control that situation.

-

Upon arriving back in the continental United States, at the end of June, Rori ubered immediately to her apartment in Silverlake. Well, it was a converted garage behind a house of a friend of Renee’s. Like most apartments in Los Angeles, it was funky, but it was Rori’s until she decided where she wanted to move. She never wanted to buy in LA and she never wanted to upgrade from the place she had called home for the past four years.

Almost immediately after dropping her pink work tote bag and worn backpack on the floor next to her medium sized navy suitcase, her phone rang through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting with an unknown number. A New York number. Possibly a new client, she picks up quickly and shuts the window-paned door behind her. The days were long, the longest day of the year had almost arrived, yet the sun was still beginning to set in the sky and turn the light blue into a painting of oranges pinks and purples.

“Hello?”

“Is Rori Williams there?” A British voice asks, almost timidly.

“Who’s asking?”

“...Harry.”

“I was told you’d be calling or something along those lines,” she smiles to herself.

Harry sat in his room, chewing at his lip, still unsure if the voice on the other side of the phone call was the woman he had talked to previously.

“Can we go for a drink sometime? How’s tomorrow?”

“Someone is quite enthusiastic.”

“It’s just...I’m trying to figure something out.”

“So I’ve heard,” she chuckles slightly.

“So you won’t tell me whether you’re the girl I talked to at Sarah and Mitch’s wedding will you?”

“What would be the fun in that?”

“So it’s a right Cinderella, if the shoe fits situation,” he mumbles, slightly to himself, but she hears him clearly.

She laughs.

“I don’t really care for Cinderella, I’m not really one for Disney princesses at all, actually.”

His breath catches, a foggy memory of something having to do with princesses tries to break into his mind. He couldn’t remember still and he vowed time and time again that he would never get that drunk again. Too much time lost.

“Alright, Harry. I’ve just gotten home from a work trip so I’m planning on a bath, some wine, and some terribly raunchy TV to get my mind off of my life. How about you pick a time and a place for drinks and hopefully I will show up? Great! Goodnight.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just clicks the red button that hangs up the phone and goes on with her professed plans. Harry sits in stunned silence for a few moments, whatever he had gotten himself into was going to be a ride of a lifetime.

-

At a quarter past six, Harry sits anxiously at the bar top of a semi casual, semi fancy, totally cool bar he loved. It was private so he wouldn’t be bombarded with people, but it was still lively enough that it wouldn’t be dead silent if conversation lulled between him and Rori. That is, if she showed up.

His foot begins to tap, ever so persistently against the silver footrest at the bottom of the bar. His eyes shift from right to left, not wanting to order a drink before she arrives, but also not wanting to wait much longer and not order a drink. He’d waived off the bartender twice already.

She walks in, right on time, Harry had just arrived early. Her lips part into a happy smile at his anxious stance at the bar, he mirrors her expression at the sight of her.

She’s wearing a billowy white button down, the sleeves cinching perfectly at her petite wrists, cinched beneath a brown corset-like tank top. Her breasts showed their true size today in this outfit. She had the collar pulled out and the corset made it so that her cleavage was perfectly sculpted just beneath the crisp white cloth. Her pants were sleek and black, understated to draw more of a focus to her top as well as the lavender jewel inlaid pendant hanging just above the swells of her breast. Harry’s eyes dipped to that level for a moment, but quickly recovered to focus on her face. The night of the wedding had been blurry, but he was sure Rori’s face was the one of his mystery girl.

He’s shy tonight and a little more reserved than last time. He’s out of his comfortable bubble, what could anyone expect from a man so constantly watched. He fidgets with the top most button of his shirt that was buttoned and thinks about unbuttoning it to reveal a little more of his chest, but he refrains. At a friend’s wedding he feels safe, but in public he’s always watching, always aware of the possible prying eye. But like he had said drunkenly to Rori, he always maintained his charm, no matter the circumstances.

“Lavender was gorgeous on you, but this…” he gives a graceful sweep of his hand to gesture at her outfit tonight, “is extremely enchanting.”

“So you remember me in lavender? I thought you couldn’t remember me at all.” She grins as she stands directly beside him, similar to the first time they had chatted at a bartop.

Harry clears his throat at her tease, “I knew once I laid eyes on you, I would know. So now I know.”

She smirks at his reasoning and orders a vodka cranberry, both not wanting to get off her ass or look any certain way. Vodka cranberries were acceptable mature drinks, but not overly pretentious in any way. Harry tells the bartender to make it two. She looks at him with a discerning eye.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asks as she slides into the bar seat that seems to be trying to look vintage but was likely made no less than five years ago.

Harry sits too, more easily since his legs are longer than hers. “We met in the ballroom for the first time, did we not?”

“No...we met at the bar in the reception room.” Her hand splays to feel the stone of this counter, cold unlike the wood of the previous one. “We were about this close after you’d rudely stepped ahead of me and ordered before I could...not that you noticed. I asked if you were having a rough night and you pretty much dismissed me.” She bites her lip as she tells him the story, her eyes widen as she watches the distress roll over his features at what she says.

“Oh god,” One of his hands reaches to grab her hand to emphasize his apology, “I’m so sorry, that’s so rude. I was having quite a rough night as you would eventually see.”

He stares at her face, trying to meet her eyes, but she’s glued to the sight of their hands intertwined. He was so smooth and it was making her melt, making the walls she had purposefully put up for this date weak. She had rules, especially for guys like Harry - not that there was anyone that compared to him in her life, but she had them and she knew she couldn’t just be swept off her feet by his sweet voice and gorgeous face that has the most puppy-dog look on it.

She knows she shouldn’t but the extra ice she had added to her personality melts away, her eyes going slightly moony as she watches him visibly relax again. “No worries, I enjoyed your company upon the second meeting, even if you didn’t even remember my name after it.”

“Well,” he finally catches her eye, “That’s where I have a bit of a bone to pick.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t tell me your real name...gave me some fake name I can’t even remember, but it certainly wasn’t…” His eyes shift to her pendant again and he looks back at her brassy eyes in the bar’s lighting. “If your name is Rori Williams, why is your pendant an ‘A’?” He says slowly, another foggy memory trying to break the surface of his knowledge but still failing.

She finally feels in control of the situation, calm and assured of herself, which was maybe unfair since it seemed Harry really had a hard time remembering that night and she could really fuck with him if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t - couldn’t - with those earnest eyes looking at her.

“I told you my real name the first time we talked, Harry. It’s Aurora,” she retracts her hand from beneath his grasp and touches at the necklace, “I go by Rori both socially and professionally, but officially it’s Aurora and this had been my great-grandmother’s. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Almost as beautiful as its wearer,” he smirks, his gaze stuck on her face, attempting to convey something specific. She thinks she knows what he’s saying with his look.

“You’re quite the flirt,” she rolls her eyes playfully before specifically choosing to take a sip of her drink through the little straw the bartender had put in it. It draws Harry’s attention to her lips, and after a moment they were wet with a bit of excess vodka cranberry and Harry felt himself grow a little hot at the tips of his ears when her eyes meet with his. She had caught him staring, but he recovers easily.

“I remember telling you I never lose my charm, it’s true is it not?” Harry inquires, head leaning closer to her as he takes a sip of his own drink, making a show to lick his lips after removing them from the edge of the lowball glass.

Her laughter is loud but not overbearing, Harry thinks it’s the best laugh he’s ever heard even if she’s laughing at him. She’s true in that laugh, she’s not trying to make him fall for her with that laugh, it’s just her enjoying herself.

She responds with something sweet and the two begin the back and forth of a successful date. They both drink around three drinks as the night persists, but it’s enough for her to feel the burning pull inside the pit of her belly for Harry. His hands stay relatively to himself besides a few subtle touches at her hair and hands every so often, his feet are the ones to blame. At one point in the night, he hooks his loafer covered foot around her ankle and she is quick to lean into it, reciprocating the footsie with ease. Each brush of his leg against hers is electrifying, every nerve in her body was beginning to go crazy. She was buzzing in a way that she hadn’t when she had first encountered Harry. Tonight he was more suave, but with a tinge of timidness that made him irresistible.

Harry made sure he wouldn’t get drunk tonight, ordering only as much as Rori. He didn’t want to be the fool who couldn’t remember their time together, again. Plus, he didn’t want to forget any of their time together, he wanted to remember it all. Everything about her was amazing, the feeling he had about her, the nagging desire to meet her was for a reason, he was sure of it. If her voice was a melody, then she was the most beautiful love song he had ever heard.

At 11:30, he leans in close to Rori, his nose brushing at the hair tucked at her ear and asks her if she wants to leave. She looks at him confused, the warm feeling in her stomach falls because she thinks he wants to end the night.

“Oh,” she says dejected, she swore it was going well. “Right..That’s it.”

Harry’s brows crinkle at her sad face.

“No, love, I was saying,” he raises his brows, “Y’know.”

“Oh! Right! You just sounded so...I don’t know, serious.” She sinks in her seat, realizing her presumptions had been wrong.

“I was trying to be,” he twists his lips trying to find the word, as blush rises on his cheeks. “Seductive.”

The two of them are quickly realizing they can’t pretend with each other. Rori can’t keep up the harsh facade against love with him, he sees right through it. Harry can’t play his old tricks with her, she sees right through them.

She laughs again, “Well, it just sounded like you were bored. Sometimes your moves fall really flat.” She offers a sweet wink in consolation for his failed attempt at trying to really get her weak in the knees.

They were a lovesick mess together as they clambered off their bar seats and exit the bar that had gotten increasingly loud.

“So what’s next?” She asks on the warm summer night.

He steps closer and takes the liberty of fiddling with the strap of the corset she has on. His head is tilted down as he towers over her. “You know me Rori, I’m a hopeless romantic so I desperately want to take you out for dinner sometime and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but,” his breath fans over her face now as he shifts impossibly closer, “I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me. Just tell me what you’d prefer and it’s all yours.”

Her breathing has become a slight pant as his words wash over her. His nose brushes over the ridge of hers and she takes the moment to put her hands on his shoulders and pull him onto her. They were in the alleyway beside the bar, away from prying eyes except a few people too drunk to recognize Harry's face that is all but hidden in Rori.

“Harry,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she makes the decision to cross them into the point of no return. She wants this too much. She hadn’t thought this would be how her night would go, thought she would brush him off and never see him again, but god, she needed his warm body everywhere. Needed him to touch every part of her.

“Rori,” he responds.

“I want the second one first,” she whispers, feeling a little too eager, but feeling Harry press excitedly against her reassures her.

His lips press a searing kiss to her and she makes a sound of happiness at the contact. Her hands fist at the fabric of his shirt as she presses her lips feverishly back onto his. Harry’s quick to grip at the back of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her tight to him as he licks into her mouth.

“Can still taste that last vodka cran,” he notes before kissing her again.

Their tongues rub against each other, sloppily but with a tenderness hidden there as well. She snorts at his words which makes him smile and they’re kissing is becoming more silly as they try to contain their laughter. He pulls away, finally giving up trying to maintain the kiss while they both laughed.

“Would you like to come back to mine?” Harry asks as he leans his forehead against hers.

Rori’s eyes flicker open and stare into his, the focus only on his eyes and the sprinkle of light freckles and beauty marks below them. She nods her head, making his move with it. They both smile, trying to contain their laughter once more.

She presses her lips against his once more for a small peck and then lowers her head into the crook of his neck. The skin warm and smooth against hers as she whispers happily to him.

“It’s your turn now, Harry,” Rori says blissfully.

She had been the answer to all his questions.

-

[deannaroxannewrites]

Tropetember Day 5 - Accidental Confession / In Vino Veritas (Drunk Confession/Drunk Dial)

Unrequited love? Bite me

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x GN!Reader

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Rating: Teen and up

TW: Drinking/alcohol, language, vampirism/blood mentions, FWB mention

AN: Day 5 of @tropetember. Not my best work but hope you enjoy. Might rework this slightly at a later point.

A visit to the Salvatores in Mystic Falls should be pretty fun, until Damon decides to drag you to a party the Originals are throwing.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.5k

“Damon, you cannot be serious.”

Your best friend just gives you puppy dog eyes. Bright blue and sad as can be. It’s kinda pathetic.

“Pretty please.”

You huff, knowing you won’t win this argument. You’ve known him since you were both children, through him being turned by Katherine and later Stefan turning you (long story), and then on and off in the intervening century and a half. You even had a casual friends with benefits arrangement when you were both lonely/bored. Knowing him so well, you decide to save everyone the time and give in.

“You’re paying for my outfit Damon! I can not believe you’re making me go…”

He scoops you up and spins you, making you squeal as he thanks you. Stefan, who has been observing from the couch being absolutely no help, just laughs.

“You won’t regret it. It’ll be fun and we can learn some things at the same time. We’ll be the most attractive spy duo in history.”

You just roll your eyes and go to grab your keys before stealing Damon’s wallet. If you’re going to have to face the Mikaelsons again, you weren’t doing it in something you’d worn before. And you were going to buy something expensive out of spite.

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

The entrance to the Mikaelson’s house was the same as any other house in Mystic Falls: opulent, excessive and with far too much marble. You’d take a cosy cabin over this nonsense any day.

Clinging to Damon's arm, you enter the space and, thankfully, Klaus is the only one of the family greeting guests.

“Darling, it’s been a while.” You can’t help the reactionary smile as you embrace him. He could be bat shit crazy at times, but he’d always been kind to you.

“Klaus! I’ve missed you.” Out of your eye corner, you can see Damon giving you both evil eyes. Had you accidentally on purpose forgotten to mention you knew the original family? Oops, your bad.

Klaus doesn’t let you go far, holding you at arms length to admire your new outfit. You do look stunning in it, if you do say yourself.

“Beautiful.” He leans in to whisper in your ear “My brother really doesn’t realise what he’s missing.”

You laugh him off, ignoring the implication. You knew better.

“Now boys,” you say, glancing between them, “I’ll have no part in whatever this little competition or measuring contest is, and I expect you all to leave me out of it.” They both look a little guilty as they nod. “Marvellous. If you need me, I’ll be somewhere out of the way with a glass of champagne.”

And with that you head further into the party, leaving them to bicker.

-----

"Urgh, I've missed you so much! I can't believe you left us."

You and Rebekah are both waaaay too many glasses of champagne deep at this point. You’d been there a couple of hours by now and it had only taken Rebekah 30mins to realise you were there and take you hostage. You're currently sequestered on a sofa in a corner and are both a bit sloppy.

"What do you want me to say Bekah? It's your arsehole brother's fault."

"Wait, what? What did Klaus do?"

You laugh, just a tad hysterically and fortify yourself with another sip out of your glass.

"Wrong one. Go older"

A look of understanding comes across her face and she wraps an arm around you. You, sadly, don't have enough of your wits about you to realise that this isn't the best place for a drunken heart to heart.

Everything starts to spill out of you. How you and Elijah had spent so much time together. How you thought he liked you back, only for him to turn up with what's her name wrapped around him. How he'd laughed when you'd expressed your surprise that he was dating, and how it made you feel like nothing. It was too much for your heart to handle. So you’d left, had a fun rebound weekend with Damon and tried to move on.

Rebekah pulls back slightly, wiping a tear that had escaped without your permission.

"You're too good for him anyway," she says and you laugh.

"I wish that were true.” You pull yourself together a little and put on your best fake smile. “For now, I'm just going to don an air of indifference and pretend I'm not in love with your oldest brother."

Your mirth leaves you instantly as you hear a refined voice behind you ask, "now why on Earth would you do that?"

It’s amazing how panic can sober you up.

You turn slowly and meet the eyes of the oldest Original. He’s in a suit, as always, and has a confident smirk plastered across his face. That pisses you off.

“Cos he’s an asshole” you coolly reply before turning to Rebekah, pressing a kiss to her cheek and walking swiftly out of the room to find Damon to take you home. You’d embarrassed yourself quite enough for one night.

You’d never admit that you were disappointed that Elijah didn’t try to stop you.

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

One of the advantages to being a vampire was that you very rarely got a hangover. Instead, you just slept in a little, made a cup of coffee and did some yoga before heading out to treat yourself to lunch. You didn’t need to eat but you enjoyed the taste, there was much more variety in food than blood.

You'd only arrived in Mystic Falls a couple of days ago for your visit to see the Salvatore brothers and as such hadn't had a chance to try out the Mystic Grill. This seemed like a perfect fit opportunity. Something greasy would be perfect right about now.

The grill was a bit dingy but it worked for the place and you were happy to learn that they have a pretty good menu selection. Your excitement was soured though when Elijah decided to join you for lunch.

Dressed in yet another suit, no tie and the top buttons of his shirt undone, he oozes charm and money. Add in the handsome features and knockout smile and you were lost. You're sure back in the day the ladies with delicate constitutions had to keep their smelling salts close. You could easily have fainted over him.

But he wasn't interested in you, as he had made very clear, so you were just annoyed that he was existing in your space.

Elijah watched you eat for a few moments, clearly taking note of your reluctance to acknowledge him.

"For someone who's in love with me, you don't seem particularly happy to see me darling."

You groan quietly and lower your utensils. Wishing him away wasn't working.

"What do you want Elijah?" You sound bitter, even to your own ears. So much for attempting to sound neutral.

"One of my favourite people, who I haven't seen for a long time, has reappeared and I want to spend time with them. Is that too much to ask?"

You start eating again, using it to buy time. You had honestly missed his company. You just weren’t sure if you could bear him breaking your heart again, even accidentally and unintentionally. Luckily, he had more to say.

“Klaus told me off after you left, you know?”

You look at him in surprise.

“Told me that I’d wasted my best opportunity at happiness. Which is especially concerning considering who it was coming from.”

You nod your agreement. Klaus wasn’t exactly known for his sentimentality.

He continues, “would you believe that I really thought you were too good for me? That I really thought you weren’t interested?”

“Elijah, you can not be serious.” You pull a face at him. “I literally spent all of my time with you, hanging on your every word. I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth. How could you not have known?”

“I just thought you were being your usual effervescent self. I started dating again to try and let you go.”

Miscommunication. You shake your head. 30 years of heartbreak all because of miscommunication. God, you could bang the pair of your heads together. It’s basically a crappy romance novel. Ok, this is ok. You can fix this. You have pretty much forever left, after all.

Taking the initiative, you lean forward and grasp Elijah’s hand. His eyes fall to where you wrap your fingers around his. A hopeful look takes over his face as he returns to your eyes.

“Elijah?” You smile. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

He laughs. It’s a beautiful sound. You’re going to make it your personal mission to make him do it more often.

Lifting your knuckles to his lips, he places a gentle kiss on them.

“I can think of nothing else I’d rather do.”

[thesmokingguns]

Wedding Season

Tommy

-Welcome to the Wedding Date expert

-Getting ready together and he matches his bow tie to your dress

-“Can you help me?” Helping him tie his bow tie and he uses the moment where you’re so close that he can kiss you

-Well you’re finishing getting ready he makes sure the car is out front.

-“Wow, babe, you’re going to make the bride jealous”

-Double checking to make sure that you have the gift and adding more money to the card

- Hes so excited to go to this wedding together and have a good time celebrating people

-Hes going to talk about all his favorite parts of the ceremony and things that he enjoys or would want in the future

“I love love”

-He is a wedding guest expert. He seems to know all the wedding coordinators and people working the event

-“Hey Sherry, another beautiful event!”

-He brings you a glass of champagne during cocktail hour and wants to talk about the vows

-“I don’t want to get married in a church. Maybe a cool Japanese garden or on the beach. I’d write my vows too. None of that obey shit. What do you think, babe?”

-He tips the band at cocktail hour and drags you out, making you laugh as you dance

-Introduces you to all his friends

-“I can’t wait to see you in a white dress”

-He is slamming his silverware against the glass to have the couple kiss all night

-Tommy will wander off to talk to someone so he’s not by your side all night but he waves at you and sends smiles your way

-He comes up with a plan so you catch the bouquet and he gets the garter

-“Throw some elbows of you have to”

-He breaks a chair jumping off it to catch the garter and almost lands on some guys.

-He offers to pick you up and give you extra height so you catch the bouquet

-“THATS MY FUCKING GIRL!” he’s amped that you caught the bouquet

-He thinks he’s going to something so sexy putting the garter on you but as he gets a view at what would be your underwear he sees you’re not wearing any.

-“Babe!”

-Laughing because you knew exactly what was going to happen as he slides the garter on you in front of his family. He’s blushing and it’s both cute and hysterical how flustered he is

-Tommy putting his jacket over your shoulders as you head up to the hotel room after

-“We should get married this summer”

-You’ve been dating for two months and it’s March

Vince

-Imagine that you’ve just spent two hours getting yourself fully ready and you’re about to leave for a wedding and down the stairs comes your man child boyfriend fully dressed in a three piece tuxedo complete with a top hat alll in white

-“What do you think?”

-He does a spin, pulls the lapels of his jacket and is smiling proud of his outfit.

-Dragging him to his room to change into a new suit

-Pouty Princess in the passenger seat of the car as you drive to the wedding

-Trying to reassures him that when it’s his wedding he can wear a white suit

-“You’ll let me wear white to our wedding?”

-He’s so sincere when he says it’s so he is holding your hand you agree even though it’s been over four years and he hasn’t really showed any interest in settling down

-Vince will talk shit about everything that he doesn’t like

-He keeps referring to “our” wedding

-he takes full advantage of the open bar and he just is getting hammered

-“I think I want pink and white roses. Like a whole fucking garden of them.”

-Having to tell him to stop talking about a fake wedding at a real wedding

-Pouty Princess gets really mad and goes to pout at the bar

-He gets up on stage and starts singing because he hates the live band

-Coaxing him off stage promising that you’ll dance with him

-“I want to go home. This club sucks.”

-Just reminding him that you’re at a wedding for your close friends

-Vince goes outside and you spend twenty minutes looking for him. You follow the sound of someone puking and find him wiping his mouth

-“they gave me the cheap stuff, honey. it’s not my fault.”

-He won’t be dragged out of the garden easily and you’re fucking horrified when he gets down on one knee at a wedding

-“Honey, I love you so much. I’ve been trying all week to figure out the best place to do this-“

-he suddenly is patting his suit and realizes that he changed before they left

-“We need to go home.” He’s standing up and you want to die of embarrassment as he’s dragging you through the wedding where a few of these people just saw him on one knee

-Anxious leg bouncing in the car, window down because he might puke again

-He’s falling up the stairs when he gets home ripping apart his white suit.

-Running down the stairs he finds you and gets down on one knee again

-“I have the ring this time.”

-Hes kind of a huge idiot but you like that he has a plan. Also you’re worried because you’re going to marry bridezilla

Mick

-If it wasn’t one of his bandmates weddings he wouldn’t be going

-If he wasn’t in the wedding party there is no way that he would wear a suit

-When he is waiting with one of the bridesmaids he’s paired with hands him her flask

-“I’m trying to stay sober to keep everyone in check”

-She scoffs and he turns to see her chugging it down before giving him another chance go to take it., which he does downing the rest of it.

-Trying to make sure all the guys are doing the right thing and keep everyone alive

-Taking pictures he finds out that the mystery bridesmaid is the brides best friend from childhood

-“I’m going to the bar.”

-He decides he needs to just have sex with someone at the wedding as a reward for actually coming here

-Looking at the wedding guests and wondering if he’s going to be alone forever

-Thinking about what a waste weddings are and how they should have saved their money

-Knows that bride shouldn’t be in pure white

-The flowers make him sneeze

-The bridesmaid is at the end of the bar and he is suddenly handed a drink she has bought him. He watches as she cheers the airs downing the three fingers of white alcohol in one sip before walking away.

-“Oh no you fucking don’t.”

-He is trying to find this girl who keeps showing up with alcohol

-Mick keeps loosing his clothes. His jacket is lost, his vest is unbuttoned and the bow tie is untied

-“Fucking Women”

- he spots her headed into the elevator and frowns when it closes. When it reopens he sees red lipstick kisses around 7

-“If she put her mouth on that...”

-He’s slamming the lucky number 7 as fast as he can

-When the door open he sees a shoe and a few paces away another one.

-As he’s walking and sees her dress and her underwear is hanging on the doorknob

-“Women like this is why I’m never getting married”

-He opens the door and he’s glad he made it go the wedding

Nikki

-“Angel, you’re going to make us late!”

-He is indiffernt about going to weddings. One part of him likes socializing and seeing people and the other part of him hated leaving the house

-Checking his watch and getting ready to go through you over his shoulder so they could leave

-When he sees her coming down the stairs he doesn’t want to go to the wedding anymore and he lets her know

-Nikki kind of is a huge show off so we plans on pulling up in this Porsche

-He wants to spend the entire time with his lady

-Even as they sit through the vows he’s reaching out running his hand over your hands

-Leaning over to whisper, “This reminds us of our wedding.”

-kissing your knuckles

-Always touching you and seeming almost anxious whenever of you steps away

-Hand on your back when you’re talking to other people, holding your hands when you’re walking and just a weakling his arms around to kiss as much as possible

-“I’m so happy you’ll always be my wedding date, Angel.”

-Checking in throughout the night to make sure that you’re okay and having a good time

-“excuse me, I’m going to steal her for this song”

-Has requested your wedding song and is slow dancing telling you all the reasons that he loves you

-Nikki loves holding you when you dance even if he hates dancing

-Taking you out to cool down and walk along the beach together

-He throws down his jacket sitting on it and pulling you into his lap

-He had literally scoped out a place where you two could make out or go further

-“you looked so beautiful, Angel. I couldn’t wait until we got home”

-Going back to everyone at the party and he’s just giving you this look the whole time like he can’t get you out of his mind

-Nikki talks to the groom about what makes marriage so great

-“You wake up to the most beautiful view every morning no matter where in the world you are”

-Being at the wedding just reminds him how happy he is to be married

-Watching his wife dancing with the girls and smiling at how she always has fun

-When Nikki’s at the bar with the guys he sees you bent down talking to the flower girl and starts thinking of you as a mother

-Nikki knows it will be a few years away because he can’t share you yet

-Smiling when you slide into his lap, holding you to him and knowing you’re going to leave soon

-“I love you.”

-Wedding season is the best for this sentimental gummy bear

[mandoalorian]

Red Carpet [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Summary: you attend an awards ceremony with your fiancée, Maxwell Lord. It’s nerve-wracking, but he knows how to comfort you, and you even meet a few celebrities along the way.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: alcohol mention, allusions to sex

Word count: 2000

A/N: I wrote this while watching the BAFTAs and got inspired! Pedro looked so cute. Anyways there’s nothing better than some tooth-rotting fluff on a Sunday night. REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Your heart was racing. You weren’t sure how he did it, or where he got the confidence from, but when you see him all suited up in his tuxedo and hair perfectly coiffed, you feel nothing but pride swell in your chest. You bite down on your lower lip and wrap your arms around him as he stands in the mirror and adjusts his black bow tie.

“You look amazing,” you coo, nuzzling your head into the crook of your neck but being extra careful not to rub your makeup on him. “Smell good too.” you hum, taking in the notes of sweet honey musk with a hint of spice.

He spins around and his hands immediately find your waist as his dark eyes rake your figure. You’re wearing a silver glittering gown that hugs your body in all the right places. “You look… breathtaking,” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning over your neck. When he pulls away from you, he sees the way you happily scrunch up your nose and his entire face lights up. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he asks.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat and you look down at the floor. You and Maxwell have been together for years now, but you still get a little shy whenever he compliments you. He finds it endearing though and his fingers tap at your chin, pushing it upwards so he can look you in the eyes again. He’s completely enamoured by you. You could do absolutely anything and it would capture him into a trance. 

Not once did he ever believe that he was someone capable of falling in love. That was, until, he met you.

“Are you nervous?” you ask, swaying your hips slightly. You’re nervous. You don’t want to say anything to worry him, but he can probably tell none-the-less.

“Not really.” he replies, checking his hair one final time. You’re glad he’s feeling okay. He’s always been good at talking to big audiences. You’re proud of him too. Knowing just how far he’s come.

“If there was a category for best infomercial, you would win.” You assure him and he lets out a laugh.

“Oh I agree,” He cheekily grins, linking his arm with yours. He’s not been nominated for an award, but he was hosting a category. Maxwell wasn’t exactly a A List Hollywood celebrity, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t famous. Everyone in the world knew his face and he was most certainly a household name. If it wasn’t from his commercials or speeches, it was from the lavish parties he held and all the reality TV guest appearances he starred in. “The limo is waiting. Are you ready?”

You grab your purse and nod your head. When you make your way downstairs to the car, his hand doesn’t leave yours once. You’re lucky enough to live in a pretty private enclosed neighbourhood with him, but the second you’re both in the city, there are flashing cameras everywhere.

The bright lights are overwhelming, and you wince as they blind you. He’s used to it though, and he makes full effort to shelter you from it. 

First thing on the checklist was to complete the red carpet. Knowing that there were so many cameras on you, and that your photographs would most likely be in the tabloids tomorrow, makes you feel uneasy. But Maxwell always knows how to calm you down. His hand rests on the small of your back and he whispers a few jokes in your ear now and again which force your lips to curl into a genuine smile.

If it was up to him, he’d spend every moment relishing the limelight and garnering attention. However, he knows you aren’t the biggest fan of it, so as you duck your head down, he makes it his goal to get you inside as fast as possible.

They’re all shouting his name and he politely waves. But once you’re inside, he makes sure you’re okay, and gives your arm a little squeeze. You can see him though, trying to take a peek outside. There are cameras and press waiting for him, you know that, and it was a big night for him. You’d hate to be the thing keeping him from enjoying himself.

“They want to see you,” you tell him. “You should go out and see them.”

“No,” he firmly states, shaking his head. “No. C’mon, I’ll take you to the bar.” He slips his hand into yours and goes to take you across the lobby. You dig your heel into the floor, refusing to move. When he looks at you, you’re smirking playfully.

“Just go. It’ll be good press for Black Gold. I’ll be fine.” you insist, flattening the palm of your hand against his chest. The material of his white shirt is soft and feels so luxurious.

He hesitates slightly, not wanting to leave your side, but he knows that there is no point in arguing. Besides, you have point. “I won’t be long.” he promises before kissing you. When he pulls away, you can’t help but grin, seeing your red gloss smudged against his own soft lips.

“Oh wait!” you laugh, licking your finger and wiping it off for him. “Okay, now you can go.”

When he heads back outside, they go wild for him. They’re asking him all these questions about what charities he’s considering donating to at his next fundraiser, or what his own personal thoughts are on the latest celebrity gossip. But, all he can think about is you.

“I always love chatting to you,” Maxwell flashes his charismatic television smile as he charms the journalist. “But my fiancée is inside waiting for me so I must be heading off.”

Maxwell realises what he’s done immediately after the words leave his mouth. Neither of you had come out and announced your engagement yet. Of course there had been rumours, when the paparazzi had caught shots of the enormous diamond rock on your finger, but nothing had ever been confirmed. The journalist looks overjoyed when he realises he’s the first to learn this information.

“Oh Mr. Lord!” he cries. “Congratulations. This is just terrific news. Do you have a wedding date yet?”

A pink blush crosses Maxwell’s cheeks at the thought of you on his wedding day. “Uh, no,” he answers. “But she wants a summer wedding.”

Maxwell finds himself gushing about you for a little longer than he intended, but he’s really not out there for too long. He’s inpatient to get back inside with you, and grab a drink. You already have a glass of whiskey waiting for him. 

You’re waiting at the high rise bar, your feet dangling from the stool you’re sat on as you sheepishly eye up all the famous guests who are waiting in the lobby. Maxwell jumps up from behind you and you almost fall off your chair, but in one swift movement, he steadies you and holds you tight.

“Maxie,” you mumble, thankful that he’s back with you. “I think I just saw Elton John.”

Maxwell gasps and looks around. “Where?”

You shyly point your finger into the corner, where a Elton John is standing, nursing a cocktail and speaking to--

“Is that Madonna?!” you practically yelp. 

Maxwell adores how excitable you get. “Why don’t we go say hello?”

You look at him as if he’s crazy.

“Max… that is Elton John and Madonna. I can’t--, we can’t… I’m--”

He shushes you and takes your hand. “But imagine how amazing it would be if we could get them to play at our wedding?” 

You feel your heart blossom at the thought but you’re still unsure. “I don’t know…” you trail off but he pouts and you take a deep breath. “Okay. Okay fine.” you sigh, giving in to his puppy dog eyes.

As it turns out, Elton John and Madonna were lovely people.

The awards ceremony is about to begin and you sit around a table which is relatively close to the stage. The seats are warm and made out of crushed velvet, and each guest is given a glass of the finest champagne. Around the table sit other celebrities.

Sure, being around Max means that you’ve met a lot of famous people in your time, but being in such close proximity to them would never not be scary. You weren’t born into wealth or success like the majority of people here were. As someone with a habit of being clumsy and easily flustered, you knew this lifestyle wasn’t for you, and you didn’t think it ever would be. But Maxwell was a natural and he fit in so well around these people. You’d always be there to support him.

You anxiously twist the engagement ring on your finger when he stands up and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I won’t be long,” he utters under the music. “Will you be okay?”

He’s due to go on stage in fifteen minutes and the crew has requested that he goes behind the curtains to prepare. You wish you could go with him. As long as you’re with him, you’re fine. You silently nod and he brings his hand down to your cheek, gazing at you with sparkling brown eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Go,” you laugh, swatting his arm playfully and then quickly rubbing out any crinkles you might’ve put in his suit. “I’ll be fine.”

He grins and kisses you one final time before disappearing into the crowd. When he’s out of sight, you decide to take a sip of your champagne, hoping the alcohol would relax you just a little bit. But then George Michael from WHAM! taps you on the shoulder, and you feel like your heart is in your ass.

“May I sit here?” He asks, pointing at the chair next to you. It’s unoccupied, other than your purse which was sitting on it.

“Oh! Sure!” you blurt out, doing your best to stay calm. The two of you sit in silence as you wait for the lights to go down.

“Do I know you?” George asks eventually, folding his arms across his chest. He looks somewhat bemused. “I feel like I recognise you.”

“Um, no. I mean-- you probably don’t know me. But I’m here with my fiancee, Max Lord,” you explain. “He’s presenting the ‘Best Actor’ category.”

“Oh!” George grins, slapping his thigh. “Of course I know Maxwell! He’s the oil guy!” George clears his throat before pointing his finger. “Life is good, but it can be better!” He impersonates one of Max’s most famous one-liners, and you laugh, nodding your head.

“Yep, that’s him.” you confirm.

“I actually invest in his business.” George tells you and you smile politely.

“Oh, well he’d be thrilled to know that.” you tell the star.

Not long after your brief conversation with George, the event begins. You’re so nervous for Max, but you know he’s going to do great. When he comes on stage, he’s just as bold and charming as you anticipate, and you have no doubt he’s swooning audiences all around the world. He winks at you before announcing the nominees, and you feel a flurry of butterflies erupt in your stomach. He’s in his element and you love nothing more than to see him do the thing he was best at.

Max announces the winner and offers her a hug when she comes to collect the award, but all he can think about is heading back to the table so he can be with you for the rest of the night. Sure, he enjoyed all of this. But he loved being with you even more.

When he sits back down next to you, his hand travels under the hem of your dress and up your thigh. His fingers trace loving patterns into your skin. “I was thinking…” he hums quietly, the vibrations of his low voice enough to make a shiver run down your spine. “What if we just skip the after-party and go straight home?”

You’re baffled by his suggestion and shoot him a bewildered look.

“What? But you love parties.”

“But I love you even more,” he reveals, grinning at you dork-ishly. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to get that dress off you from the moment I saw you in it.”

You giggle and lean your head on his shoulder. Events like this were always nerve wracking, but as long as you were with Maxwell, you were in your happy place. Still, the thought of getting out of here and spending some one on one time with your soon to be husband was more than appealing.

“Let’s ditch.” you tell him, and you live for the smile he gives you.

You couldn’t wait to marry Max and be with him for the rest of your life.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[doubleleoenergy]

Whatever You Like

Yeah, I want your body, I need your body. Long as you got me, you won't need nobody.

Pairing: sugardaddy!Sam Wilson x latina!fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, daddy kink, pet names (bonita, mi amor), passionate sex, wall sex, mentions of impregnation

Summary: Newly engaged y/n and sugardaddy!Sam are celebrating their enagement party with their loved ones.

Notes: This is my submission for @balenciagabucky​‘s/@dulceslibrary  3k writing challenge.

“Here comes y/n.” Tony announced, cocking his head in the direction of the glass staircase. 

Sam turned at Tony’s statement, excusing himself from the group as he waltzed across the floor to meet her at the end of the stairs. His eyes followed her every move as she sashayed down the steps, her hips swaying as she walked. Her body was enveloped in a tight red sparkly dress, a plunging neckline and thin straps drawing attention to her voluptuous breasts. Her nails were freshly manicured to match her toes peeking out of her strappy black stilettos, clicking against the glass steps as she walked down towards Sam.

She flashed one of her million-watt smiles at him, his hand reaching out to grab hers and help her down the final steps. 

“Stunning as ever, my bonita.” Sam gushed, moving his hand up high to give her a spin, his eyes running over her entire body as she did a 360 turn for him.

“You’re not so bad yourself, mi amor.” Y/N purred, the words rolling off her tongue before she leaned up on her tippy toes to kiss his lips.

Sam hadn’t met y/n in a conventional way, the only people who knew the truth were Sarah and the team. He knew that there were plenty of women who would die to be with him, with Captain America, but he wanted someone special. Someone he could trust with his crazy life. After swiping through multiple dating apps and going on a few horrendous dates, he saw an ad for a sugar baby dating site.

He signed up on a whim, more so curious as to what a sugar baby lifestyle entailed. There were lots of women on the site and even some men, most with profile pictures of them in scantily clad outfits with large fur coats and diamond jewelry. Searching through the profiles he came across one that stood out among the rest. Y/N’s profile included a picture you would see on Facebook; y/n in a baby blue bodycon dress, standing by the countertop of a bar holding a beer and smiling that infectious smile. Her profile read: “Not sure how any of this works, my friend told me to sign up. Just looking to put myself through nursing school. I’m not going to respond if you’re super old. I also know self-defense so don’t try anything.”

Sam liked that she was different, that she had ambition, that she was a normal twenty-one-year-old just trying to make ends meet. He knew what that was like in life, and so he asked her out for a coffee date. That coffee date turned into a second coffee date, and then a dinner date. And one year later it turned into an engagement. Y/N was everything he could’ve ever wanted and more. She was selfless, intelligent, a feisty Latina who with a bat of her long lashes could get him to bend in any argument. She was a great cook, an amazing nurse, and phenomenal in the bedroom. 

He never felt taken advantage of in their relationship, she was always up front and honest about what she wanted, and when things turned into more, he never for a second thought she was using him for money. He spoiled her with clothes, jewelry, and flowers, despite her protests on only needing money for school. Sam wanted to offer her everything in the world and would continue to do so for the rest of their lives together.

Sam led y/n over to the team, grabbing them each a glass of champagne from a nearby server, his hand on the small of y/n’s back as they walked.

“There’s the happy couple!” Steve cheered, patting Sam’s shoulder as he stood beside them. He raised his glass high in the air, gesturing for the rest of the team to do the same. “Y/N, I’ve never seen Sam as happy as he has been over the past year with you. Just having you in his life has made him a better person. Plus, he looks much better with you by his side.” Steve teased. “To a lifetime of happiness for you both.” Everyone clinked their glasses together, Sam smiling proudly as he took a sip from his glass.

“Couldn't have said it better myself.” Bucky added, crossing his arms over his chest, his metal arm shining in the light of the chandelier.

“So, have you guys decided on a date yet?” Nat questioned, grabbing a mini muffuletta off a nearby tray and chewing thoughtfully on it as she made eye contact with y/n.

“We’re thinking sometime in the spring, possibly April, back in Louisiana. Sarah already offered to make all of the food for the reception.” Y/N responded, looking up lovingly at Sam.

“That way we don’t get as much of the Louisiana heat. Nothing worse than wearing a full suit and sweating through it within twenty minutes of being outside. It’ll be small, mostly just the team and some family friends from back home.” With y/n and Sam’s parents both deceased, they didn’t have much family to attend. To them it was more than okay, the day would be filled with love regardless.

The celebration continued late into the evening, everyone leaving on their own accord besides the team, who had gathered sharing stories of the good old days and successful missions. Y/N sat on the armrest of the couch; her legs draped over Sam’s body. Her nails ran up and down his chest absentmindedly as she listened to their stories.

Her eyes focused on Sam’s body, the way his navy button up clung to his arms, his muscles taut against the fabric. His black slacks were tight enough to reveal the outline of his cock, teasing and taunting y/n all night with just the sight of it.

Y/N’s lips danced against Sam’s ear, her voice a low and seductive whisper. “Meet me upstairs in five minutes. Don’t make it obvious.” And with that y/n excused herself, letting the group know that she was headed to the restroom. 

Stepping into the elevator, y/n headed up to the second floor, leaning against the wall as she waited for Sam. Five minutes passed, the ding of the elevator making her lips curl into a bewitching smile, the doors opening to reveal Sam, his eyes blown wide with lust. Y/N tilted her head in the direction of a nearby door, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she turned the knob, walking into one of the many guest bedrooms on that floor.

Sam followed close behind, shutting the door behind them and locking it. He wasted no time, pushing y/n against the bedroom wall, his hands sweeping over her body as his lips crashed against hers. His lips trailed down the supple skin of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating perfume as he kissed down her collarbone. He peppered kisses along her exposed cleavage, a whine escaping her lips.

“We’ve don’t have much time mi amor, been thinking about your cock all night, I need it.” She pleaded, her hands moving down to unbuckle his belt and free his thick cock.

A low hum vibrated deep in his chest, helping her push his trousers down, kicking them aside as his left hand snaked under her dress, a dark chuckle leaving his lips. “You’re not wearing any panties, my bonita.”

His fingers swiped against her slit, feeling them coated with her juices, pushing her dress up to bunch it around her waist. “Soaked already for me, I need to fill this tight pussy.”

And with that Sam parted her legs with his thigh, his hands moving to grip the back of her thighs before tugging her up. Y/N wrapped her legs instinctively around his waist, crashing their lips together again as she felt his cock rub against her folds.

“Please mi amor,..” She panted, trying to buck her hips down on his cock.

“Say it.” Sam commanded, teasing her folds with the tip.

“Please daddy.” The words send shivers down Sam’s spine, lining up his cock and sliding her down onto him, filling her pussy. He felt her stretching around him, letting her adjust to his size before pulling her up off his cock and slamming her back down.

“So, fucking tight, how are you so tight when I fill this cunt day and night with my cock?” He continued to bounce her up and down, her back rubbing against the wall with each thrust. Her hands were wrapped tight around Sam’s neck, her nails digging into the skin.

“Can’t wait to marry you, to fill you up with my cock for the rest of our lives. Want to fuck a baby into you.” Y/N mewled, peppering kisses along his jawline.

“You like that idea, huh? My bonita.” He can feel her walls tightening around him, a sign of her orgasm building up. “Cum for me, make a mess on daddy’s cock.”

He thrusted once, twice, three times before she came, her legs shaking around his waist and her eyes rolling back into her head as she released. Sam continued to fuck her through her high, his own orgasm following quickly after hers. He stilled inside of her, holding them against the wall for a moment before he gently pulled her off his cock, a mix of their cum dripping down her thigh.

“I love you so much Sam.” She cooed, kissing him once more. He cupped her face, resting his forehead against hers. 

“I love you too, bonita. Now let’s clean up and get back down to the party, we’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

[peachoony]

hold your heart

Genre: criminal/mafia au

Warning: mention of guns and alcohol, cheating, smut, basically violent subjects

Pairing: jooheon x fem!reader

Word count: 4.8K

Summary: just when you were ready to let go of the past your ex-lover re-enters your life bringing a dark secret with him.

A/N: uh hi im here with an mafia au because they are my biggest weakness ugh, also idk if this will have another part, but if you guys want one let me know. it may be a little confusing at the start but you will understand with time,, enjoy!

“Today is the charity gala, you remember right?” Hyunsoo asked you, while he put on his tie. You looked up from your book and watched your fiancé get ready.

If someone would have told you a year ago how you would be engaged to someone who you don’t even love you would’ve laughed and praised their crazy fantasie, but the only thing you are laughing at now is you. Hyunsoo is the son of your fathers best friend and well what father doesn’t want a good boy as their son-in-law? Your father saw the opportunity and took it and since there wasn’t anything to lose for you either what was stopping you? You closed your book before standing up.

“Yes. I remember,” you answered.

As the CEO of his company your father decided to plan a charity gala, but this was only what everyone else thought. The real reason behind all this was a trap for the most wanted thief in Korea right now. Hyunsoo was a criminal detective and this gala was just his mission.

What attracts a thief? Money.

Where do you find so much at one spot? The bank and a charity gala.

Bingo.

“I will see you at the gala, since we still have a meeting regarding today.” You nodded as he grabbed his badge, before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. When the door closed you let out the breath you were holding in.

Hyunsoo was a great person. He was mature, understanding and very caring for someone who didn’t love you, not only that but always made sure you had a good time with him. He was basically everything a girl wanted in a man.

But Hyunsoo wasn’t him.

“Hey,” someone said and you looked up from your notes just to roll your eyes. “What do you want?” You asked and he chuckled.

“Why can’t you just say hey back like everyone else?” He asked you and you huffed while raising your eyebrow.

“Do you annoy other people like you do with me?” You asked locking back down to your notes. “You’re the only one I annoy,” he smiled with heart eyes and you sighed before packing up your books as he gave you a confused look.

“Where are you going?” He asked you. “Away from you.” You answered before walking out of the library followed by him.

“Stop playing hard to get y/n,” he laughed, grabbing your arm gently. “Eventually you will fall for me,” he continued making you scoff.

“Yeah whatever fills your boat, now let go of my arm or you won’t be able to hold anything for the rest of your life,” you said and he did with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry, the only thing I’m planning on holding is your heart,” Jooheon winked.

“Dr. Y/n, should I send Mr. Park in?” The officer asked and you nodded. “Yes, thank you, officer.” You gave a short smile. You almost scoffed at the thought of you being a criminal psychiatrist and your soon to be husband a criminal detective, a match made in heaven.

You cringed at the sound of the handcuffs, when the man in front you sat down. The officer left and you looked over giving your patient your attention.

“Good Morning Mr. Park,” you said but he stayed silent just like the last three times, however you were used to it. Criminals are psychopaths and they don’t like the feeling of vulnerability, especially someone from the ‘other side’. They don’t like talking nor showing any kind of emotions other than anger.

You took off your glasses placing them on the table in front you before looking up again.

“I know it’s hard to talk about this and I wouldn’t want to answer these questions either, but I need you to cooperate.” He looked down to his handcuffs and you continued.

“We are not against you, we are just trying to help you.” It was silent before he took a deep breath.

“I don’t wanna be in jail,” he said and for some reason a dusted memory flashed through you.

“Thank you y/n,” Mr. Jung said as you gave him the file your father asked you to deliver to the police station. “No worries Uncle,” you smiled but it faded as soon as your eyes landed on Jooheon.

Wait Jooheon? What is he doing here?

He called your name and waved while his other hand held the cell bars in front of him. “What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him but he just smiled.

“I always wanted to know how it is in jail,” he said and you rolled your eyes.

“Do you know each other?” Mr. Jung asked and you immediately replied with no, while Jooheon replied with yes at the same time. You sighed rolling your eyes. Of course.

“He is a student at my University,” you said after he gave you a confused expression. “Yeah we are very close friends,” Jooheon added and you clenched your jaw.

“He punched a guy,” Mr.Jung replied nodding into his direction, which left you confused. You may not be a lawyer, but you surely don’t go to jail for punching someone.

“He broke his jaw. He is in the Hospital.” he added and you turned to Jooheon who just gave you a nervous smile.

“Officer, I already told you he was cat-calling girls in front of the cafe with his friends. I would have broken more if you’d give me the chance,” Jooheon said pouting and you blinked a couple of times.

After that your view changed on him and suddenly he wasn’t that annoying.

You put your pearl earrings on, before giving yourself a last look in the mirror. The off-shoulder, deep blue satin dress complimented your skin. The door opened and Hyunsoo walked in with his phone against his ear. “Yeah we’re about to leave,” he informed the other person, before sliding his phone into the pocket.

You picked up your purse and phone as his eyes trailed over your body. “You look…” he frowned searching for the right words, “breathtakingly gorgeous.”

You smiled at his words. “You too, Hyunsoo.”

He stared at you and when you said his name to get his attention he blinked a couple of times. “I’m sorry I just...never mind let’s go.”

The drive was silent, but you felt him look over to you a couple of times and every time you turned your head he would just clear his throat and look away.

“You know it’s rude to stare?” You said jokingly and he chuckled.

“You know it’s rude to look this good and not even let your fiancé admire,” he answered, making you shake your head at his attempt to flirt.

You took a sip of the champagne, looking around the hall as your parents were talking to Hyunsoo’s parents.

“Hyunsoo told me about your promotion,” his mother spoke up and you gave her a smile nodding.

“Oh yes, just recently.” You nodded looking down, hoping she would stop talking to you and luckily she did. After your fourth glass of champagne you felt your bladder calling.

“I’ll go to the bathroom,” you informed your mother before grabbing your purse. The elevators were so pretty and the roof had a mirror making you stare in awe. When the doors opened you noticed the floor being oddly quiet, but you brushed the thought side walking to the bathrooms with your heels giving off a satisfying noise. After you were done you gave yourself a last look in the mirror before walking to the elevator as your phone vibrated. It was Hyunsoo, but you didn’t have the chance to speak up as you heard his panicked voice.

“Y/n, listen to me carefully. Leave as fast as you can and take the stairs.” You frowned at his words and an uneasy feeling started spreading inside of you.

“What’s the matter?” You asked looking around, if he could see you.

“He is on the same floor as you so leave now!”

“Who is on the same floor, Hyunsoo? No one is here.” You answered pressing the elevator button. You waited for a moment but the floor was dead silent and you turned back around.

“Hyunsoo no one-“

Your breath hitched and you could swear your heart stopped right there in then the moment your eyes met his. Hyunsoo’s voice already faded away as you stared at Jooheon for a moment before your fiancés voice pulled you out of your state of shock.

“Y/n do as I tell you and stop arguing!” He said sternly and you gulped, muttering an okay. Your eyes fell on the gun in his hand and you stood there unable to to even speak up.

He said your name casually, giving you a small smile and the way it rolled off your tongue made your heart flutter and skin tingle.

Two years. It's been two years since you saw Jooheon and you didn’t know what to say. He looked so different, so...manly. You whispered his name, like you were making sure he wasn’t an illusion.

After Jooheon disappeared two years ago without any letter, call or even message, you were devastated. You couldn’t function for months and it did take you up to a year to accept all that, but seeing him now in front of you made your brain malfunction and you weren’t sure if you wanted to kiss or kill him.

You heard footsteps and Jooheons eyes widened.

“Hands up! Now!” You heard your fiancé’s voice, which pulled you back into reality. A bunch of police officers with guns stood there pointing at you and Jooheon while all this felt so unreal and for a moment all the voices faded and you looked at Jooheon not wanting to believe that he was standing right in front of you.

Not as your sweet Jooheon, but as a criminal.

You felt someone pull your arms and suddenly your back was pressed against Jooheons chest as you felt something cold and hard pressed against your temple.

Hyunsoo's eyes widened and he instantly dropped the gun, knowing exactly what he wanted.

“Weapons down. Now!” He said and slowly raised his arms. “Leave her alone, she has nothing to do with all this,” he added.

You turn your head to Jooheon, shocked at what he was doing. That was not your Jooheon. That was not the Jooheon you knew.

“Press the button,” he said nodding to the elevator and you raised your shaking hand pushing the button, before he slowly walked back into the elevator with you still pressed against his chest. “Underground parking,” he whispered again and you did as he told you, hands still shaking. You knew Jooheon wouldn’t hurt you, but right now you really were doubting that.

“Don’t you dare follow me and if I see my face in the news, your little fiancé is dead.” You gulped at his harsh words and tone and the moment the elevator doors closed he removed the gun taking a step back. You blinked a couple of times before turning around, letting out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding in.

“What the fuck Jooheon! How dare you point a gun at me?” You yelled at him with a shaking voice, while he removed his bowtie followed by opening a couple of buttons of his shirt.

“I wouldn’t hurt you y/n,” he said and you took a step closer scoffing.

“Clearly you would.” He frowned at your words before pointing the gun against his temple and when he pulled the trigger you gasped protecting your ears with your arms, but nothing happened. A click sound was heard and you slowly opened your eyes standing up straight as you looked at the gun then him.

“You didn’t actually think I would point a loaded gun at you,” he chuckled, stuffing the gun at the back of his suit. The door opened and you walked out of the elevator.

“I’m going back,” you scoffed but he grabbed your wrist pulling you back.

“Said who?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Me, now let go of my hand-“

“or I won’t be able to hold anything for the rest of my life. Right?”

You felt his hold soften and he pulled you closer. “But don’t worry baby, the only thing I’m planning on holding is your heart,” he said quietly and you didn’t even notice the tear before Jooheon wiped it away. You didn’t realise how much your heart needed him these two years, until now that you had him this close.

“Where are we going?” You asked after a while you were on the highway.

“Somewhere,” he said, still looking at the road in front of him and you rolled your eyes. “Wow, very helpful,” you replied, making him chuckle. He promised you to explain everything once he got away from there, and for some reason you wanted to get away with him. You were still mad, but your feelings didn’t change for this man and probably never will.

“How is he?” He asked after a while and you looked away. “Is he treating you better?” He added and you scoffed now.

“You left me, Jooheon. Don’t you dare ask that. Do you even know what I went through when you decided to disappear and rob innocent people? You put me through hell.” Your voice cracked and he sighed.

“You wanted a break,” he said and you laughed. “I wanted a break not whatever the fuck you did after that.”

“Okay listen let me explain,” he said and you leaned back into our seat. “Go ahead.”

He took a deep breath, before activating the auto-pilot.

“Remember I told you that my father died?” He asked and you hummed. “Well I lied. He is alive. The reason why I did that was because he was a bad person, at least that’s what I have been told.” You gave him a confused look and sighed. “My father is Lee Mingyu,” he said after a while and your jaw dropped.

“You mean…” you trailed off and he hummed.

“The mafia leader Lee Mingyu.” He ended your sentence and your breath hitched.

“A week before I disappeared, my father contacted me asking me if I’m dating someone and I was confused on why he was asking that,” he continued his story.

“He told me that a rival gang targeted you, in hope to take revenge on me. So in order to protect you and your family I did what I had to do. I was lucky when you asked for a break, so I took that as a sign from the universe.” He explained and you blinked a couple of times processing everything he just told you.

“You’re safe now y/n,” he assured you after he saw your expression.

“I’m safe with a thief? With the son of a national criminal?” You asked him and the affliction was clear in his eyes as you felt his heart throb. “Don’t say that,” he whispered and you scoffed softly.

“I have never spent one coin on myself and neither have I robbed an innocent person. The people that I rob are the ones that use their money for the wrong purpose,” he said sternly.

“The mafia is not as bad as the society tells you to think,” he continued and you raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? How will you sugar coat killing innocent people?”

“See! This is exactly what I’m talking about.” He groaned leaning back into his seat.

“Do you know how many innocent people have died from the hands of police officers? But of course no one talks about that, since they are the good guys, right?”

You looked down thinking of an answer, clearly taken aback at how accurate he was.

“Have you asked your Mr. Perfect on how many people he has killed?” He looked over to you and you stayed silent. You indeed were curious now.

“The government is manipulative y/n. They are not as good as they show themselves to be, because I can assure you that there is so much dirty stuff going on. They are so fixated to wipe us out, so the truth doesn’t get exposed.”

You gulped still unsure on how to form your own opinion on this.

A vibration pulled you out of your thoughts and you pulled your phone out just to see Hyunsoo calling you.

“What the fuck y/n!” Jooheon said, before grabbing your phone and throwing it out of the window making you gasp as he closed the window again.

“Don’t you know they can track us with your phone?!” He explained.

“What if they track us with that car?” You scoffed and he sighed.

“They can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because this is your fathers car,” he replied and you sat up. “WHAT?” You yelled out and he gave you an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry y/n, but that was necessary,” he added and you sighed.

You saw him exiting the highway and you were honestly glad after a two hour drive in that dress.

“Will you tell me now where we are going?” You tried again and he gave you a genuine smile. “Patience, baby.”

“Don’t call me that, I’m still mad at you.” You rolled your eyes and shook his head amused by your behavior.

Jooheon pulled up the car in front of a bigger mansion, leaving you confused. “Where are we?” You asked him when he opened the door for you, offering you his hand which you accepted.

“My home.” He smiled and your eyes widened. “Wait...what?” You gasped and he laughed at your reaction.

“Just trust me. I want you to meet someone,” he explained while walking in with you and you were still confused but did as he said, following him with your hand still in his.

“Make sure nothing goes wrong during the shipment.“ You heard a voice which instantly stopped talking as soon as you walked into the living room. You turned your head to a man your fathers age. Lee Mingyu you assumed.

“You’re back.” He stated and Jooheon nodded.

His eyes drifted to you and he gave you a small smile, which you almost didn’t notice. “Jooheon told me a lot about you, y/n.” He looked down to your hands and you wanted to pull it away, but Jooheon just grasped it tighter not giving the chance to.

“Only positive, of course,” he added chuckling and you gave him a nervous laugh.

“Jooheon, what are you doing standing here? Let her rest. Is this how we treat our hostage?” He said and your eyes widened at his words.

Hostage?

“Dad stop, she’s already scared.” Jooheon shook his head making his dad laugh. “I apologise. Treat this like your own home y/n.”

You looked around the room silently, absorbing the dresser as something catches your eye. Jooheon’s Parfum. You picked it up holding it close to your nose inhaling his smell. You always used to tell him how much you loved how he smelled. Like home. The door opened and you hastily placed the bottle back, before turning back.

“Why am I here?” You asked him as he took off his jacket placing it on the bed.

“Jooheon I have a job, a life. You can’t just kidnap me to your house in god knows where and expect me to just happily leave my whole life behind,” you said, making him stop in his tracks before a deep sigh left his chest.

“You’re right and I know,” he said, turning around to face you, “but I can’t spend another day without you, y/n.”

He gently took your hands in his, before placing kisses on both of your knuckles and you sighed.

“You weren’t the only one who went through hell. I lived everyday with the guilt of not only putting your life in danger but also leaving you without any explanation.”

He slipped his fingers into yours. “Do you know how much I just wanted to leave all this behind? But I couldn’t, not while knowing that going back to you can lead to me losing you,” he continued leaning closer to your face, with his brown eyes staring longingly into yours and there goes your plan to not get weak.

“I did it all for you.”

You lowered your gaze to his chest not wanting to look into his eyes, before your knees would lose their last strength.

“Look at me,” he said after a while and you bit down on your lower lip, looking back up. Your heart was beating heavily against your chest, while his eyes only made your heart flutter

“You’re so beautiful baby,” he said quietly like these words were only meant for you to hear. His breath fanned over your lips and when you couldn’t take it anymore you closed the gap between you two, pressing your lips against his pillow like lips. He instantly tilted his head, deepening the kiss while one of his hands gently rested on the back of your head guiding you. You sighed into the kiss like you finally could breath after those two years, as if you were drowning and his hand finally grasped yours pulling you to the surface. Finally he saved you from suffocating.

When he felt the tears on your cheeks he pulled back with a worried expression, gently wiping them away.

“I missed you so much, Jooheon. I won’t survive it again without you.” You sobbed into his chest, grasping his shirt tightly. “Please don’t leave me ever again.”

“Hey it’s okay baby, I’m here.” He placed a kiss on your forehead, before pulling you closer. “I’m here now, and I’m not leaving again,” he whispered, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.

He pulled your lips into another kiss, putting all his feelings and emotions into it.

“I missed you too,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

It felt like your body was on fire, as the fluttering only intensified. You felt your knees get weaker and you were sure that he felt your heart against his chest. Maybe time stopped, because the only thing you could focus on was his lips devouring yours in such a passionate way, clouding all your senses. It was still hard to believe that all this was happening and if it wouldn’t have been for the way his hands tightly pulled your body against his, you’d think this was a dream.

“The stars are pretty, right?” You said awkwardly trying to ignore the way he was looking at you.

“Can I kiss you?” He suddenly asked and you turned your head to your left.

“W-what?” You stuttered, making sure you heard him right.

“Can I Kiss you, y/n?” He repeated with a smile and you gulped. “I…” you started but nodded after taking a deep breath. He leaned forward and his lips gazed over yours, before he softly pressed them against yours. It was a short kiss, but it felt like something exploded inside of you. As if time had stopped right there, as you sat at the rooftop of your building, after Jooheon wanted to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday. As if no one else existed, like there was no risk of your parents watching his hands softly caress your waist and finger run over the exposed skin between your jeans and shirt.

A deep blush creeped over your cheeks and you looked away. “Are you blushing, baby?” He asked and you almost jumped off the roof at the pet name. “You wish,” you scoffed, turning your head away just for him to make you look back to him.

“It was your first kiss, wasn’t it?” He chuckled and you hummed, cringing at how he was pushing past your ego.

You pulled his shirt down his shoulders after your fingers nervously worked on undoing his buttons. Your hands trailed over the tattoos on his chest, clearly taken aback at how much he changed. This Jooheon was just new to you.

“You like them, baby?” He asked and you nodded slowly, pulling his swollen lips into another kiss while his hands found the zipper of your dress and in seconds it slipped down your body.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered after seeing your lace lingerie, now hovering over you and you saw his biceps flex as he held up his weigh next to your head.

He placed open mouthed kisses down from your jaw to your neck, making you whimper. Hyunsoo was your fiancé, but nothing more happened than kisses on the cheek so the effect of Jooheon’s every touch was more intense than you thought.

Your fingers slipped into his hair when his tongue gazed over your collarbones while his hand rubbed up and down your thigh. Piece by piece he was removing your remaining lingerie, carefully unwrapping you like an expensive gift and he sure took his time leaving you begging for more.

“Jooheon please do something,” you begged, while his finger trailed up and down your center.

“What does my baby want me to do, huh?”

“I want you inside me, please.” A whimper escaped your lips.

He kissed your jaw and your hands grabbed his shoulder, realizing your ring was missing.

“My ring,” you moaned out just when he finally pushed his finger into you.

“You won’t be needing that when you're with me,” he said leaning down, pulling you into a kiss and not even a second later your ring was forgotten as his touch clouded your senses.

You whined into the kiss when the feeling of his finger disappeared, but got replaced with his tip sliding up and down your folds. Your teeth sunk deep into your lower lip as he slowly pushed into you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, placing soft kisses on your shoulders. “Fuck I missed the way you grasped me so tightly, baby.” You moaned wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you, while his hips thrusted into you.

“Does he touch you like that?” His hand lovingly grabbed your breast taking a nipple in his mouth, making you close your eyes at the blissful feeling of his wet tongue.

“Tell me, baby. Does he fuck you like that?” He whispered against your lips thrusting into you harder, picking up his space as he started hitting your g-spot.

You shook your head, your heavy breathing filling the room. “No, he didn’t.”

“That’s right baby. You are mine and only I can touch you like that,” he said and you saw his jaw clench. Jooheon couldn’t help but get the image of another man touching you off his mind. His hand grabbed yours, pinning it next to your head, now chasing both orgasms.

“Be my good girl and cum for me.” He groaned when you clenched around him. You felt the knot building in your lower abdomen and he leaned down kissing you with his tongue sliding over your lower lip. You arched your back, moaning into the kiss when the euphoric feeling washed over you leaving your legs shaking against his waist.

The room was silent only filled with your heavy breathing. You didn’t open your eyes, still trying to calm down from your high and you felt him pulling you into his arms.

Suddenly a thought crossed your head. Did he really think you slept with Hyunsoo?

“I didn’t sleep with Hyunsoo,” you said quietly and he chuckled. “I believe you y/n,” he answered and you sighed.

“Did you...sleep with anyone?” You hesitated and he placed a kiss against your temple. “I didn’t exactly sleep with someone,” he said after a while, making you look up to him. “I did try to get my mind off you, after a year, when I stopped hoping to be with you again.”

You gave him a confused look. “I didn’t had sex with another woman y/n, but I did have them suck me off,” he explained and you nodded silently, “oh.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he chuckled at your expression. “I don’t even know their names.”

You honestly couldn’t get mad, since you did try to get over him too and maybe not the same way as him, but it definitely involved making out with other men. You pushed all your thoughts away pulling yourself closer to him. You could worry about going back later, for now you wanted him to cloud all your senses.

[carat-archive]

under all this

➝ prompts: 

“I wish you could be kissed, Jane,” he said. “Because I would beg just one off you. Under all this.” He flailed an arm toward the stars. — Maggie Stiefvater, The Dream Thieves 

13. “i’m not worthy of anybody’s love.” “that’s not true, you’re worthy of mine.” followed by the lover breaking eye-contact… + a love confession (source)

➝ pairing: best friend!chanhee x gn!reader, former changmin x reader

➝ genre: fluff, minimal angst

➝ themes & tropes: best friends to lovers

➝ warnings: alcohol consumption

➝ word count: 1.3k

➝ notes: this is so self-indulgent it hurts, but anyways, here’s a drabble based off one of my favorite lines of dialogue from the raven cycle + a bonus prompt i found on tumblr. (this also made me realize i rarely write friends to lovers... should do that more often). special thanks to grace & husna (@masterninjacow​) for beta-reading this for me!

➝ scan credit: @hyunjae_gif / hyunjae-gif on twitter / tistory!

You think part of you will always love Ji Changmin. Another part of you knows the two of you were never meant to be.

You realize this when you see him at the altar, a look of pure adoration on his face as he gazes at his newlywed spouse. (He never looked at you like that.) 

It stirs up a cocktail of emotions, ranging from envy to relief. Eventually, you would have fallen out of love with him, and yet, you still wish it were you up there with Changmin, about to have your first dance as a married couple. 

Maybe you’re just lonely, you muse, downing your glass of champagne. 

Someone squeezes your hand beside you, drawing your attention away from the happy pair. Chanhee interlaces his fingers with yours, smiling softly in your direction. Sighing, you rest your head on his shoulder, leaning into his warmth. 

“Thanks for coming today, you didn’t have to,” you murmur, fingering the empty flute of champagne in your unoccupied hand. 

“I’m your best friend,” he states, a laugh spilling off his lips. “You know I would do anything for you.” He pries the glass from your hand, uncurling your fingers. “I’ll go get you another drink.” 

You do your best to mingle with the other guests without Chanhee by your side, encountering old friends and exchanging pleasantries until your cheeks begin to hurt from the effort of keeping the smile frozen on your face. After what seems like your fiftieth greeting, you begin to wander around the venue, hoping to catch a glimpse of Chanhee before you stumble backwards into a warm body. 

“Oh it’s you,” Changmin says, interrupting the stuttering start to your apology. He’s alone, you notice, his spouse likely making their own rounds around the room. 

Your words pour out on their own volition, accompanied by nervous laughter. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you. Sorry for bumping into you just now. I guess I should watch where I’m going.” 

Changmin chuckles, taking a sip from his wine glass. “No worries. How have you been?” 

“I’ve been doing well! I moved back a few weeks ago and I started my new job recently. We should meet up soon, it would be nice to get the group back together,” you ramble, shifting your weight from side to side. 

“I see you and Chanhee finally figured things out,” he says, smiling above his wine glass, following your eyes as they dart around the room.

“What do you mean?” 

“You two have always been in love with each other, whether you realized it or not. It’s why we never could have worked out.” He shakes his head, looking down at his hands. ”You would always put him first, and there was never room for three in your relationship.” 

Your mouth drops open in shock, but before you can formulate a response, an enthusiastic couple rushes up to Changmin, offering their congratulations. As he turns to face them, he calls out over his shoulder, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

With that, he walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You need some air.

Pushing open the doors to the balcony, you step outside, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin. You wrap your arms around your sides, taking deep breaths as you gaze up at the stars.

Chanhee’s your best friend, your better half, the first person you talk to in the morning and the last one at night. He’s the only one who has seen the entirety of your soul and still somehow decided to stay by your side. If there were one person you had to spend the rest of your life with, it would be him. You can’t imagine a life without Choi Chanhee. 

But that doesn’t mean you like him like that, right?

The door creaks open behind you, but you don’t bother turning around. There’s only one person who would come looking for you here. As if to confirm your suspicions, Chanhee taps your elbow gently, extending your now-refilled champagne flute towards you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble sheepishly, leaning against the cool metal ledge of the balcony. You can’t help but notice the slight flush in his cheeks and the way his eyes seem to drink in the sight of you bathed in moonlight, like ill-fated Actaeon stumbling across the form of heavenly Artemis. 

Maybe your conversation with Changmin affected you more than you had thought. 

“Sorry I took so long,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I got caught up with some old friends.” 

“Understandable. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Chanhee hums in agreement, settling by your side, his elbow brushing yours. You ignore how the brief touch makes your skin tingle in excitement, as if you were a lovestruck teenager again. 

“What did Changmin want?” he asks.

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure?” He tilts his head towards you, taking in your distant expression. “You look pretty tense.” 

“I’m fine. Just thinking.” You take another sip of the champagne, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “It’s just… I thought I was going to marry this guy someday, and here I am, avoiding everyone at his wedding while they’re celebrating.” You laugh bitterly, shoulders starting to slump downwards. “The thing is, it’s not that I’m not happy for him. I mean, I’ve been over him for a while. I just didn’t expect coming back to feel like this.” Gesturing vaguely, you let out a sigh before meeting Chanhee’s gaze. For the first time in a while, you realize that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Maybe I’m just not worthy of anybody’s love.” 

“That’s not true,” Chanhee replies, his face softening as he takes hold of your hand. “You’re worthy of mine.” 

You avert your eyes as you attempt to extract your hand from his grasp. “You’re only saying that as my best friend.” 

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he pleads, drawing your attention back towards him. Dropping your hand, he rakes his hair back in exasperation. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m in love with you. Maybe I’ve been in love with you all along, and never realized it until one day I looked at you and realized I didn’t want to call you just my best friend, but also my lover, my partner. Mine.” 

Chanhee takes a deep breath before meeting your eyes again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You deserve to be loved.”

He leans against the balcony, placing his hands by either side of your body until he’s close enough that you can feel the illusion of his touch on your skin. You’re more than aware of the metal ledge digging into your back, but it doesn’t bother you—not when Choi Chanhee stands in front of you, looking like he outshines all the stars in the night sky, breathtaking and brilliant. 

“Can I kiss you? Just once?” he begs, gently cradling your face in his hands. “Just once, under all this, to show you the kind of love you deserve. And then we will never speak of it again.”

“Just once,” you breathe out, nodding your head. Just once to see what it’s like, to get it out of your system, to crush the butterflies suddenly fluttering around in your stomach.

Chanhee’s lips are soft, hesitant—caressing yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him infinitesimally closer to you, your fingers threading through his hair. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, indulging in the sweet alcohol on his lips, even as you tell yourself that it’s just pretend. 

You can blame it on the champagne running through your veins all you want, but deep down, you know that once you’ve had your taste of Chanhee, you’ll never want to let him go. 

Chanhee pulls away, a bittersweet look in his eyes. As he tries to detangle himself from your embrace, you quickly press your lips to his again, leaving him stunned by the sudden action. 

“I love you,” you whisper, placing your forehead against his. “I think I’ve always loved you, I just didn’t know it yet.”

A dazzling smile spreads across Chanhee’s face as he kisses you back, his thumb stroking your cheek softly. 

“I love you too.”

[thisisthehardestthing]

тоска, 18+ Tanaka x Reader, 2.2

Written for The Smut Pile Server Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

тоска tus-ka: Russian, noun It is a dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness.

Russian Mafia AU: Tanaka Ryu x A Reader OC Rating: E for explicit Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Masturbation, Oral sex, Public Sex, Grinding, Cheating, Denied Orgasm, Manipulation, YEARNING Word count: 9,328 Part 1 | Part 2

GLOSSARY

Enjoy the final part of this two part hell.

Special thanks to: @joyousandverywarlike for being my ride-or-die,  @pleasantanathema , @present-mel and @linestrider for hosting this collab, and everyone in the server for being amazing friends. I would not have been able to write this without any of you, and I truly mean that. @the-smut-pile​

2.2

6. Tanaka

Daichi, Sergei, Ryunoslav and Yuuri sit in the wooden banya, white towels wrapped around their waists as they sweat and speak about the Georgian trip. It smells of cedar, rich and woody, and sweat. Like men.

“Boss Vashadze is unwell,” Daichi muses, knees spread wide as he relaxes against the hot walls, facing the glass door. “It won’t be long until he retires.”

Tanaka sits perpendicular to him, on a lower step with one foot perched up and his leg bent. Yuuri is opposite Tanaka, and Sergei stands, lightly smacking his back with a Venik, the scent of eucalyptus and birch dispersing through the air with each tap against his skin.

“That is good for you, bad for connections,” Sergei says, “how is business there?”

He always talked numbers first, pleasure second. Yuuri laughs, reaching for the besom of herbs from Sergei’s hold to lash his legs.

“Fine. I am gaining more of a footing around the ministers... However it will still take some time before they trust me. There are rumors of a new political party rising. We have to keep an eye open for unrest in Eastern Europe.”

“Ukraine?” Sergei asks, rubbing some of the leaves that stuck to his arms into his skin.

Daichi nods, then his eyes slide sideways to peer at Tanaka. His shaved hair has grown out slightly, which will be trimmed tonight, and he picks at his toenail of the foot bent beneath him.

“We can discuss strategy after we eat. How was your weekend, Ryunoslav?” The Bulldog asks, eyebrows raised.

Tanaka lifts his head casually with a simple smile.

“Just what I needed, spasiba Boss.”

Daichi’s laugh booms in the sauna, and Yuuri joins in, slapping the wood next to his thigh.

“Tell us more, Ryu! When I saw the first prostitute leave after thirty minutes, I thought it was over. But then, when I saw a second one arrive at midnight, I thought you must’ve not enjoyed the first.”

Tanaka frowns, looking at Yuuri in confusion before realising who he meant. He had seen Valentina arrive late at night, although he didn’t recognise her, or so he hopes.

“She was banging on the door very loudly, woke me up. Tell me, was it the same one from before wanting a second round?”

With a glance to Daichi, who is scanning his every expression,Tanaka shrugs.

“It was the same whore. I must be very good in bed.”

All the men burst out in laughter, but Tanaka laughs the loudest in compensation. Daichi closes his eyes as he tilts his head back.

“Well, she stayed for a long time. I only saw her leave past five am.”

“Yuuri, are you stalking Ryunoslav?” Sergei questions, using the water the Venik was soaking in to rinse off his body, the liquid sizzling as it hits the warm floor by his feet.

“No, I just found it interesting that Ryunoslav will fuck someone twice in a single night when there’s only been one woman he’s ever wan-”

“Yuuri.” Tanaka growls, cutting off his closest friend who has had too much vodka before entering the sauna. The heat and alcohol is loosening his tongue too quickly. Daichi sits up at this news, leaning forward so that muscle bulge and inflate.

“Oh? Is this true? Who is this woman?”

Tanaka waves his hand dismissively as he glares at Yuuri, “I met her years ago, when I first started working for you, Boss. No one of importance now.”

“Surely she still means something if you don’t want Yuuri to talk about her.” Sergei chimes in, climbing past their heads to sit on the top bench next to Daichi. Tanaka avoids his gaze, but can feel the Bulldog sniffing at the faint nerves that climb up Tanaka’s spine, his ears blushing red from the heat. He feels closed in, backed into a corner.

“It is an unrequited love, so please, I would prefer not to speak about it anymore.”

The men all murmur in understanding, except for Yuuri, who says, “I will just have to get you drunk to tell us about her then.”

7 - Valentina

Daichi sits across from you in the chartered jet, the beige leather seats muted even further with the deep rumble of the engine and the third glass of champagne in your veins. He’s reading a newspaper, you’re staring out at the cotton-peach clouds as they pass by. To your left, Sergei Sugawarov scribbles in books filled with numbers, the taptaptap of the calculator permeating the heavy air.

“Refill, Mrs. Sawamurova?” the air hostess asks, her smile wide as she holds the Moët & Chandon bottle in her manicured hands. She’s trembling slightly, and you smile reassuringly.

“Leave the bottle, thank you,” your heavy Russian accent drips from your tongue as you answer in English, and the bottle is placed in a silver ice bucket on the birchwood table between you and Daichi.

Two hours have passed during the five hour flight from Ufa Airport to Côte d'Azur Airport, and you pour another glass for yourself as you watch Daichi turn a page. He glances up at you with a small smile, but his eyes are hard. Something happened while he was in Georgia with your father. With a small smile of your own, you turn your gaze back to the window, leaving red lipstick on the rim of the glass.

A phone rings, and you hear Tanaka’s gruff voice answer the call, the memory of last week shooting painfully through your core.

“Oi?”

Some silence, before the Khazak turns in his seat behind Daichi and whispers through the space between the leather and the wall of the jet. You can’t help the way you look at him, stormy grey eyes peering out at you as he whispers into the ear of your husband. Your brow furrows when Daichi jerks his head in a slight nod, tense.

Tanaka retreats back around and you’re left staring at the empty spot, snapping your eyes to the calculating gaze of The Bulldog.

“Is everything alright, my love?” you ask, deciding to stand from your seat and sit on his arm rest.

Daichi folds the newspaper away, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other takes a sip of the champagne straight from the bottle.

“It seems this trip will not only be pleasure,” he muses, eyes closing as he swallows. However, when they open, his face melts into the calm reassurance you���ve always known when he smiles up at you and places a kiss to the cream wool crepe of your blouse. “I have something to take care of, but it will only be a moment. Nothing to worry about.”

You nod, delicate hands stroking at Daichi’s hair, but Tanaka’s cologne wafts up, invading your nose.

“I understand.”

***

The drive to the private Villa La Vigie winds between grey and green rock mountains to your left with glimpses of the dazzling azure ocean of where the French Riviera gets its name to your right. You’re invited to stay in the home of your fathers dear friend, Monsieur Lagerfeld, situated on a private hill just outside Monaco. He will not be there, March being the month he spends in his apartment in Paris, so you and Daichi and the many bodyguards take residence for the week.

You’ve visited this house a number of times in your youth, in your adulthood, and yet it steals the air from your lungs each time you return. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon when you pull up the driveway. In front of you, the two story villa looms in it’s beautiful white-painted glory, the sun a beacon shining upon it. Light brick extends below to where there is a wine cellar, garage and access to the private beach club below.

The car parks, and Daichi kisses your cheek in the backseat before he exits the vehicle and strides up the steps and through the large glass double doors, answering his phone while bodyguards open the way for him. You see Tanaka grip the steering wheel, the leather of his gloves stretch and squeak. It is the first time you are alone with him since that night a week ago, and the heater in the car feels sweltering against your skin.

“Thank you for the drive, Ryunoslav,” you mumble, shifting to the edge of the seat to leave out of the side Daichi had.

“Val,” he starts, then his mouth shuts and his eyes catch yours in the reflection of the rearview mirror, “of course.”

The terracotta tiles of the terrace reflect a salmon pink up the walls of the villa, and you smile at the men as you pass by and find the master bedroom on the first floor. You can already hear Daichi negotiating in the connected office, and you decide to bathe. As the water runs in the porcelain tub, the water mists with the scent of lavende de provence, and you open the windows looking out over the meditterean ocean. The salt and trees wash over you as the sound of the ocean crashing against rocks floats up, and for an instance, you imagine jumping out the window and into that endless blue. The winter air trickles into the warm bathroom.

Notes of a waltz dance in from the direction of the office and you see Daichi’s shadow move around in the bedroom as he unbuttons his cufflinks and loosens his navy blue tie. He walks into the bathroom where you’ve already slipped on the linen bathrobe, your blouse and jeans folded neatly onto the clothes ladder leaning against the wall.

“Care to join?” you ask, clipping your hair up. Daichi peels his shirt off and drops it near your own in a crumpled pile, his thick muscles rippling with each movement as he undresses.

“Prosti, Gadyuka. I have to get to the board meeting before the gala tonight,” he apologises, turning on the glass door shower as he gets into it on the opposite side to the bath. You watch as the water in the faucet of the bath sputters, and your heart imitates.

“Ah yes, I forgot. What-”

“The car arrives at seven, Khazak will escort you.”

Your head whips around to stare at Daichi as he massages white suds over his body, large palms running over his chest where the Sawamurov crest is tattooed in a large circle. He raises his eyebrows. You clear your throat, standing to drop the gown and dip a toe into the water.

“Not you?”

“Unfortunately no, but I will be there waiting for you. I know the dress you are wearing and can’t have any man trying to steal you for himself.”

Daichi’s honeyed words wash over you as you submerge into the water, turning off the faucet and staring out to the sea, a stark sapphire against the lily-white of the bathroom walls and window pane. In the mirror above the sink, you can see The Bulldog get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his defined waist while he shakes the water from his hair.

You laugh as you turn to observe him while he pats on the cologne displayed on the sink, before brushing his teeth.

“I doubt anyone will try to steal me away.”

He looks at you in the reflection, a curious expression in his eyes, before he spits and rinses.

“Yes, well, you never know. You might run off with a French vineyard heir by the end of the night.”

“Never, Daichi. No one can be my Bulldog but you.”

He snorts, turning to watch as you lather yourself in Chanel shower gel, the scent mixing with the lavender already clinging to the air.

“Da, no one is like me.”

He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your lips before he exits the bathroom and changes into a clean outfit waiting for him in the Master bedroom. The made-to-measure Chanel suit hangs in a black garment bag that he carries out with him as he leaves to join the council meeting of the European Casino Association before the Annual Art Auction tonight.

The interaction runs through your mind as you mull over the look in his eyes, the way he tensed before he kissed you goodbye, the faintest flicker of jealousy in his eyes that flared when he joked about you leaving him. Suddenly, you remember Ryunoslav’s lips against your neck and you squeeze your eyes shut.  With a deep inhale, you sink deep under the water to feel it tickle your nostrils and earlobes, before submerging your head.

Your fingers find the curves of your thighs, dragging up slowly to feel how the water moves around your hands and displaces against your skin. You lift your face slightly, until the edge of the water tickles your skin and you inhale, swirling the skin of your clit. In your mind, Ryunoslav’s kisses fall hot and wet against your body, skin red and heated in the bathtub while you press hard circles against sensitive nerves. You’re not trying to take it slow, coaxing the first wave of clenches quickly as you imagine a thick cock sliding over and over inside you.

Ryunoslav morphs into Daichi, and you sit up with a gasp, fingers not slowing, your hand gripping the handle of the tub tightly as your abdomen contracts. Uncontrollably, Ryu and Daichi alternate, their bodies shifting fluidly until a faceless man fucks into you.

You orgasm on the verge of tears, confused and aching. The styling team will arrive in an hour.

You stand, feeling the cold winter air touch your heated skin. Wrapped again in the robe, you close the window and bind your hair in a towel.

A Russian Waltz still plays on the radio inside the ensuite office, and you look around to filter the channel to a French songstress crooning over the small speakers. Next to the stereo, is Daichi’s small black book, open to his to-do list, and your eyes scan over it before you can stop yourself, reading the neatly scribbled words.

14 March 2006, 1:00 am, La Serpent Fleur

That was the name of the Superyacht you and Daichi are to go on after the gala for the afterparty to the auction. You frown, thinking of the myriad of reasons what he might do there, who he’ll meet with other than the ECA board today. It must be to do with what happened in Georgia and was whispered to him during the flight.

You turn, leaving the book just as you found it and unpack the suitcase that was brought to the bedroom in preparation for tonight.

8. Tanaka

Ryunoslav waits at the front door, facing the short five-stair foyer that branches into the stairwell leading to the first floor. The golden light of the sunset filters in gentle waves through the chiffon curtains of the entry hall.

The first thing he sees of Valentina is in the reflection of the large silver mirror facing the stairwell on the landing. A single leg slinking out from a thigh-high slit, while a heart shaped pump in patent black is clasped around her ankle. The metal YSL heel clinks with each step. Next is the black, silk crepe de chine perfectly draping to the floor–not clinging to anything but the curve of her hips–and the bodice tailored to her waist in a tight structure that pendulums side-to-side.

However, what steals the very air from his lungs, stops his heart, is the bustier covering her breasts. The dress is strapless, the neckline two rounded cups that trace down the sides of her cleavage and towards her ribs before turning and meeting in a gentle hill at the end of her sternum. The dress is Yves Saint Laurent. Ryunoslav watches as Valentina rounds the stairwell and stands at the top of the foyer, opera length gloves running up her arms and with one hand on her hip while the other clasps a small black Bulgari clutch. Around her neck is a pendant necklace, emeralds glittering amongst diamonds and silver, set in the shape of a viper head. Matching emerald drop earrings hang from her lobes, reflecting the golden sun and glittering green against her neck. Valentina’s hair is pinned up, and that tattoo that curls from her left shoulder down her arm disappears beneath the gloves, reminding him that beauty is a secret poison. He swallows, blinks, then climbs up the steps to hand her the white fur coat he was holding.

“Vot eto da… You look beautiful, Mrs. Sawamurova.” Tanaka whispers, mindful of the bodyguards and staff littering the villa.

“Spasiba, Khazak,” she smiles, slipping her arms into the silk lining and fixing the collar. “Is the car ready?”

“Da.”

“Good, let’s go.”

The exchange between them feels mechanical, and Tanaka rushes ahead to open the car door, waiting until she is comfortable before shutting it and sliding into the driver’s seat. It is nowhere near the low temperatures of Russia in March, however he can’t stop the shivers that travel up his spine, and the ugly twist of jealousy that stabs at his heart.

The Casino de Monte Carlo, where the gala is being held, is a mere five minute drive from the villa, yet the silence is heavy, weighted, and slows down time.

“I missed you last week,” Valentina whispers, looking out the window at the midnight blue sky. A traffic light changes from red to green.

“Me too.”

The conversation ends when Ryunoslav pulls the Aston Martin around the fountain, waiting behind a elder couple stepping out of their black limo. The statues on either side of the Casino name look down at him as he parks and climbs out, a porter beating him to her door.

Camera’s flash, the music of a quartet floats out from the massive wooden doors up the entryway, and Ryunoslav remains closely behind Valentina’s right arm as he escorts her inside, pulling the ticket for both of them from his inner coat pocket and handing it to the doorman.

The grand foyer of the Casino is massive, ceilings high with a stained-glass skylight and the floor a white tile with black triangles in a circular pattern. Posed around the room, mostly in the center of the circles, are the artworks up for auction: a variety of paintings, sculptures, artifacts and some vintage designer jewellery. The golden chandeliers light the air with a sepia filter that softens the chatter and noise within. On the first floor bannister across the long hall, is a banner exclaiming, ‘2006 Annual ECA Art Auction’. Couples mingle, champagne is sipped and the Hors d’oeuvres are ignored in favour of the alcohol.

“I will check our coats,” Tanaka murmurs low in Russian, watching as Val slides the white fur down her arms to hand it to him with a polite smile, the kind he’s seen her wear in the public eye alongside Daichi for many years now.

“I’ll wait here, then we go find Daichi.”

His heart thumps painfully, the curve of her shoulders delicate as they flex in passing the heavy coat, but he nods and heads to the coat check just off the side. In passing, he spots Daichi at the top of the red-carpeted staircase, head bowed to speak secretly with someone Ryunoslav can not see, but knows. Daichi’s eyes find the growing storm in Tanaka’s with a smile, and he straightens to bid the woman a goodbye and descends the stairs.

“Sir,” Tanaka nods, pocketing the number for the coats.

“Ryunoslav,” Daichi returns the greeting, casually clapping the man on his shoulder. “Enjoy the evening, I will see you at the yacht later, yes?”

“She could’ve seen you, sir.” Tanaka whispers, carefully keeping eye contact with his Boss. Daichi smirks cooly, glancing back up the stairs and at a retreating woman’s back wearing a deep green dress.

“She did not see me. Thank you, again, for keeping this secret. Now, go, enjoy the party. Hell, if you see something you like, bid on it. I will pay.”

With that, Daichi walks past his Head of Security, chest puffing up as he walks towards his wife. Ryunoslav watches as she gives Daichi a gentle kiss on the cheek before wrapping a gloved hand around his bicep and following him into the crowd.

9. Valentina

The evening passes by in a blur.

The dinner and speeches take up half the evening before the auction begins, and the gala attendees disperse throughout the Casino, while you and Daichi walk to the gardens. Heaters are spaced periodically, warmth sinking below while gentle lights litter the walkways and grass. The stone steps leading there are cool, and you see your breath misting with each exhale before you’re back under the warmth.

The area of the auction outside has statues, planted with lighting that bring the romantic and violent figures to life.

“This one would look beautiful in our gardens in summer,” you muse, studying a small mermaid brushing her hair, tail flicked up and shells covering her breast.

“Anything for you,” Daichi replies, writing down a number with his auction code and placing it in the poll box besides the statue.

You just laugh politely, aware of Daichi’s two bodyguards following the both of you.

“Let’s go back inside. I want to see how our bid on the Kandinsky is doing.” Daichi offers, but you shake your head.

“I’ll walk around here for a bit longer. It’s such a beautiful night and the noise inside was giving me a headache.”

“As you wish.”

You spend a few minutes admiring the remaining statues, finding a waiter that hands you a glass of champagne. With small sips, you hug an arm around your waist, looking over the stone wall at the beautiful, glittering scenery of Monte-Carlo below. You find yourself tucked away in a dark corner of the ledge, where the lights of the gala are few, the tree branches of the gardens overhang, and the city has come to life beneath you. You can hear jazz music from a bar down the road, and you wish you were sitting on a terrace with a glass of wine instead.

“C’est magnifique, non?” A heavy french accent sinks into you, and you glance at the man that leans with his back to the view, a deep purple suit contrasting against his tanned skin and sharp cheekbones. He smokes a hand-rolled cigarette. You look back out at the city.

“Oui, trop beau,” you reply softly, taking another sip, shifting onto the foot farthest from the stranger. He turns and offers you one of the smokes, tucking it away in his jacket breast pocket with a smile and a tap when you decline. His eyes travel down your breasts, before glancing back up to your arching brows and unamused eyes.

“Je ne parle pas de la vue,” I do not mean the view, “Emmanuelle Beauchant,” he offers an outstretched palm.

“Valentina,” he lifts your gloved hand to his lips, but hovers just above contact when you continue, “Sawamurova.”

“Desolee, I did not realise you were not French, or married,” Emmanuelle apologises in English.

You smile politely, lifting the glass to your mouth to down the last of the fizzing alcohol.

“An honest mistake.”

“Your husband’s Casinos are some of my favourites. Please, accept my apologies. Let me get you a new glass.” He waves down a waiter, plucking the empty flute from your fingers and replacing it before you can reject. “I am the coordinator of this petite soiree. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Sawamurova.” With that, he leaves in a hurry, scampering off into the light much like he had appeared, leaving you alone again. Almost.

You feel the warmth of another body to your right, and you almost sigh from exhaustion when Ryunoslav’s gruff voice washes over you in comforting Russian. It breaks like the wave against the shore.

“I thought I would have to scare him away.”

Tanaka’s serious eyes beneath the shadow of a deep brow pulls the first real chuckle of the evening from your chest, and you see his shoulders somewhat relax as he leans with a hip on the stone.

“It was innocent, Ryu.”

“He wanted to fuck you.”

“He’s French,” you counter, placing the champagne glass down, sliding it away from your body and towards the party. “And everyone wants to fuck me.”

You spin, losing your balance as Tanaka pulls your hand towards him and twists you so that your back presses against the cool stone in a darkened alcove. His forehead is on yours, eyes shut, and breath fanning over your lips. Your own chest heaves with the sudden rush. His hands dig into your hips, yours into his shoulders. Your bag drops to the floor.

“You have no idea,” each word is punctuated by palms shimmying up the side of your waist, thumbs digging into the fabric, “how badly I want to fuck you too.”

He wraps his thick forearms behind your back hugging you tight and into himself as he folds over you and brings his lips to touch yours. It’s deep, and although passion usually pours from his kiss, this one is born out of jealousy, desperation, and desire.

Compliments drip like honey from Ryunoslav’s mouth as he mumbles them into your skin, words melting so that they become part of you.

“Ryu, Ryu, stop, we can’t. It’s so open.”

He shushes you, a palm snaking under the boning of the open neckline to cup the breast, nipplie erect from the night chill. “No one saw me come here.”

“But the people. They know who I am, mmpf.” A pinch to your nipple has you moaning under your breath, head tilting back against the stone, cold against heated flesh.

“They are all too busy with their own conquests, showing up one another.”

“You light a fire in my heart,” his onslaught of compliments don’t cease, and you realise that tonight is the tipping point. The intensity of his words drag you beneath his waters, much like the way his fingers find the high slit of your dress and sink into your folds. Your knee falls open to let him pull you deeper.

“Underwear?”

“Not with this dress.”

“Whore.” Teeth nip at your neck.

“Yours.”

An animalistic groan rumbles through your veins from his mouth, and you clutch at the lapel of his jacket as his fingers thrust shallow, over and over again. You want him–need him– inside you, and the thought of public sex no longer scares you. In this moment, only Ryunoslav exists, the smell of lilies and the fresh ocean fill you, devouring you with a hint of something darker that you recognise as human.

Sin. And something else.

A zipper comes down, his cock unfolds and stretches you out.

“I love you.”

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, and even then, you don’t keep them in as you whisper, him thrustsing into your aching core. You vaguely hear him mumbling it back to you. His voice low and sincere, forehead against yours, lips against yours. Your bodies become one.

“Blyat, where can I?” desperation fills his voice, and you barely utter the words before he spills inside you, keeping you warm and plugged up, panting against his face, chin tucked down.

A hand rifles through his pants pocket, and he pulls out his regular small handkerchief, stained, but comforting. You take it from him, careful to keep your face hidden as he pulls out and you wipe yourself under your skirt.

“Ryunoslav.” His name feels like lava, molten on your tongue as it rolls down your body and ignites a fire over your skin, burning you. “We have to stop seeing each other.”

He tenses against you, arms shielding you from the world so only the two of you exist.

“Why?”

“We’ve changed. We’re not just having fun anymore, Ryu-”

“What do you mean we’ve changed?”

“Us. This.” You curse, gesturing vaguely to him and yourself, feeling the fire spread to your ears and your heart.

“Nothing has changed. I have always loved you.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, turning over and over as you digest it, painfully aware of how much truth rings in his words, and how you’re sure you’ve always loved him back.

“We have to stop. Or we have to tell Daichi.”

His lips connect with your forehead. You hear him swallow.

“Tonight then. Together.”

“Together.”

Ryunoslav stays close to you as he picks up the bag from the floor, handing you the mirror inside to fix your lipstick, your hair, before you dust the stone from your back and ass.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to you a final time, stepping to the side so you emerge from the shadow, pick up your forgotten champagne glass and head back into where art dances together and people mingle.

10. Tanaka

Tanaka watches as Valentina saunters away, past the bodies to rejoin the party. With a heavy sigh, he leans against the stone, cooling his forehead and calming his thumping heart. His feet bump against something and with one eye, he squints at the ground and spots glittering emeralds in the dark. Her necklace.

Quickly, he picks it up, carefully placing it in his suit jacket pocket, and curses when he sees the time on his watch. He has to find Daichi and head to the yacht to do the final security checks before he arrives. Vines wrap themselves around his intestines, anxiety leaking into each step, the emerald necklace a dead weight in his jacket.

He finds the Boss surrounded by influential board members, holding a glass of vodka casually as they all laugh at his jokes. The Chanel suit drapes down his broad back perfectly, clean cut and sharp, the single seam a crisp line.

“Sorry for interrupt,” Tanaka apologies, English tangling on his tongue. He continues in a low Russian to Daichi, sweat beading on the back of his neck, palms clammy and therefore kept in his pants pocket. It’s better that way, his tattoos are less appreciated around the higher class of society.

Daichi nods, a loose smile along with his loosened tie. He hands Tanaka a paper that shows he won the bid on the Kandinsky painting. “Arrange this on the way out. Leave Valentina’s coat with mine.”

“Ya ponimayu.”

Tanaka turns to leave, but Daichi calls out one more time.

“Ryunoslav?”

“Da?”

“You have lipstick on your collar.”

Tanaka feels nausea bubbling up his gut, not from the proximity of your scent to The Bulldog’s nose, but from the thought of later tonight. He forces a cocky smirk and shrug, turning on his heel to head to the back office to finalise the paperwork for the painting and add the delivery address, before shrugging his thick coat on and stepping outside by the valet. The air has cooled considerably from the heat of the balcony and between your thighs. Once safely in the car, he rubs the stain furiously in the reflection of the rearview mirror, making it set even further into the white fabric. It blends into the threads like spilt blood. With a grumble, he drives to the harbor.

La Serpent Fleur is a sleek superyacht with three decks above water and one below, housing jet ski’s, a speedboat, storage and crew quarters. The middle and lower decks have outdoor and indoor seating, with main bedrooms for up to 15 couples to sleep in. The flooring and interior is light teakwood, rich brown accents amongst cream and white leather and fabric. It’s unmissable in the late night, lit up in silvery white, the name illuminated against a navy blue sky and pitch black water. It reflects stars in the meditterean sea.

Tanaka greets all staff, deploying his bratva across the yacht to inspect all rooms and inform the captain of the upcoming helicopter landing at 1:00 am. It’s not often that Mafia business mixes with Business business, but as money is always intertwined, this time, it is unavoidable. The pool on the top deck shimmers aquamarine, and Tanaka inspects that the bar is fully stocked for the upcoming meeting. Vodka and Campari. This floor is only for Daichi and a select few.

“It’s like I’m a fucking assistant,” he grumbles under his breath, withdrawing a small hand-gun strapped to his calf and securing it in the hidden shelf under the bar top. You never know, he smiles, tapping the holster against his back for comfort.

All checks are done by the time the first of the guests arrive, high-stakes rollers for the gambling about to happen. Tanaka keeps to the shadows, lighting a cigarette as he surveys the walkway leading up to the yacht, and it’s guests. They are all smiling, huddling together in their pair against the cool ocean breeze. He takes a look at the pack that was confiscated from Ukai with distaste, flicking the cigarette into the ocean water.

Daichi and Valentina are the last to arrive, and although he’s smiling, she is not, lipstick slightly faded and a smudge of mascara under her eyes. Tanaka watches as she disappears as soon as she set foot on the yacht, hurrying off to inside the cabin before anyone can stop her. Tanaka’s eyes follow her retreating figure, the white of her coat bristling, before he steps up to greet Daichi.

“Everything is ready for Kuroo Testuro to arrive, Boss,” he reports, murmuring low.

“Perfect, evening has turned into disaster. Make sure no one will disturb us except for emergency. It will not take long. What is his eta?” Daichi never lowers the corners of his mouth, but those brown eyes are hard mahogany. Tanaka checks his watch, the light above reflecting in the glass, shining in the storm in his eyes.

“Forty-five minutes. We have to set sail now, all guests have arrived and the poker tables inside have been set up.”

“I will wait upstairs.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tanaka sighs, running a hand over his shorn hair, a shiver rippling down his spine. He hears his name, and he turns to face one of his brothers, following after to inspect a stairwell.

It does not take long for the party to fall into full swing. Continuing with free-flowing champagne is the key to keeping rich socialites and underground dealers happy and oblivious. Daichi stands near the railing, ice cubes in his glass clinking while he surveys the decks below and waits. Tanaka stands to attention off the side, the cool winter air breezing through his suit jacket, the veins on his knuckles and forearms almost frozen; he stuffs them into his pockets. The cool silver of Valentina’s necklace shocks him and he remembers he has to sneak it back to her. He peers over the edge, spotting her in the distance, smiling once more, makeup fixed and socialising.

His heart thumps, emeralds and diamonds cutting a hole in his jacket pocket, beating faster until it syncs up with the incoming helicopter blades. They whir around in a steady beat that consumes the noise below and thrums through his bones. Then, the wind hits him. Air cold as ice as the machine descends, the collar of his jacket whipping up and folding into itself. Kuroo Testuro has arrived.

The blades come to a halt and Tanaka steps forward, two men overtaking him to climb up the stairs of the helicopter pad landing and open the door. Long legs dressed in a black pin-stripe suit step out, a lopsided cocky smirk plastered on the Italian boss’s face.

“Ciao Daichi, it’s been a while!” Kuroo calls over the wind, arms stretching out while he’s patted down. “Khazak, you’re looking sour.”

Tanaka scowls, not entirely sure what The Panther of the Testuro family said to him. Daichi turns to face the man completely, walking until he stands next to Tanaka, waiting for the man to descend the white metal stairs to the upper deck. The Boss’s exchange a stiff handshake, their eyes piercing as one fights for dominance over the other. Daichi wins, his hand slapping against Kuroo’s back in a hearty greeting.

“Let’s get to business, something to drink?” The Bulldog offers, but Kuroo is laughing, already walking to the leather sofas around the pool, flopping down onto it with one leg crossed over the other. He waves to one of his bodyguards, pointing at the bar.

“Always so formal Daichi, tell me, how is Valentina? Still married to you?” Kuroo’s words tumble out quickly, Italian accent thick enough that Tanaka can only pick up on a few words. He registers your name, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, ready to attack at Daichi’s order. The Boss takes a deep breath, his teeth gritting.

“She is fine. Enjoying party below.”

“Pity, I think she’d be happier up here with us. Won’t you call her?”

“Careful, Kuroo.”  Daichi warns, but the Panther just smiles his wicked Cheshire grin in return.

“Ah, I’m joking. I will just keep the fantasy of her lips around my–”

A hand darts out over Kuroo’s shoulder, interrupting any further explanation of imagination. Tanaka grabs Daichi’s arm, one that had tensed with it’s fist closed around a concealed gun in a holster on his back.

“Campari, sir?”

“Ah! Grazie!” He takes a sip, setting it down on the glass table beside him. “Now, we can talk business.”

Tanaka listens to the low conversation between the two bosses, the discussion of the new trade route of cocaine between Italy and Russia. It takes some time to adjust to the accent, but then he’s following along, standing with his hands in his pockets, a thumb gliding over the necklace. There had been an interruption along the coasts between Lecce and Albania, several different Sicillian Mafia’s holding up some of Daichi’s shipments due to unpaid ‘reparations’, a farce to ignite a turf war between the Families in Italy and their Russian connections.

“You must call off your friends in Italy. We keep up our end of bargain. I will not be so understanding in future.”

“Ah, but you see, they are greedy and believe you are not paying properly for the passage.”

“I assure you, I am.”

Tanaka stiffens, seeing how Daichi begins to inflate, irritation lacing his voice. Kuroo chuckles, taking a slow sip with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, I believe you. I can convince them but I’ll need some extra incentive from your end.”

Tanaka speaks up, eyes narrowing as he sniffs out Kuroo’s angle. “We can not give you that.”

“You are one of the largest groups in the world, surely you have some men for me?”

“No.”

Tanaka’s blood begins to boil, nails biting into the skin of his palms enough to draw blood. The gun strapped on his back heavy as it calls to be unholstered. His men are not dispensable. Kuroo sighs, then his eyes glance to the left where the noise of the party floats in the night air, and he smiles.

“Then maybe you have a woman.”

Tanaka turns to follow his gaze, and climbing up the stairs slowly is Valentina, a hand on the metal rail, the white fur coat hanging down her back as it drapes from her elbows, lipstick blood red. She’s drunk, giggling to herself but stops when a vor blocks the final step onto the deck. Then, she sobers, straightening instantly with narrowed eyes.

“Asahi,” she says, voice sharp but breathless.

“The Boss is in a meeting.”

Her makeup had been fixed, the tips of her nose and ears pink from the chill, her hair no longer pinned up but wild down her back from the wind. Tanaka glances at Daichi, his eyes muddy and lips tightly pursed.

“Oh, let her join, huh?” Kuroo grins, setting his glass down and leaning forward to interlock his fingers and rest his elbows on his knees. “Surely, you trust her enough.”

“Of course.”

Daichi and his guest battle in their stares, but ultimately the Panther wins. With a sigh, Daichi calls out to Alexei, “let her through.”

Valentina strides over to the men, coat dragging on the floor behind her. Surprising everyone, she stops in front of the cocky bastard, who stands to greet her, and their cheeks brush twice, left then right.

“Kuroo, how lovely to see you again. I hope my husband is kind.”

Tanaka holds back a wince, the feeling of her warm breath against his neck still teasing him in his memories. He has to admire her acting, even inebriated, she commands attention. Their eyes follow when she walks to the head of the table and flops down onto the chair, slit falling open with crossed legs.

“He’ll be kinder now that you are here.”

Valentina laughs, “yes, but I might not be.”

“Enough.” Daichi cuts through the jovial small talk, fists clenching and resting on his knees, his back straight. “I am tired of games.”

Tanaka thinks he catches a double meaning, heart racing as he readies himself for anything.

“You own Casinos,” Kuroo drawls, but he’s no longer smiling, still standing. Daichi gets to his feet, shorter than his counterpart, but thicker.

“We are getting nowhere. I will not be included in your battle for control, and if my next shipment continues to be held, God is not the only one that can turn water into wine. Capisci?”

Their stares are intense, and seconds tick by in eternity, before Kuroo nods with a sigh, a hand tucking into his pants pocket while the other extrends. They shake, curt and stiff, and Tanaka rolls his shoulders, loosening the knots in his upper back, eyeing Valentina curiously. She has her eyes focused on Daichi, pupils narrow and mouth pressed into a thin line; the same look she had when she boarded the yacht. She snaps out of it, lips curling up as she stands.

“It was a pleasure, although short,” Kuroo tells her, and they exchange polite kisses. Tanaka hears the rumble in Daichi’s chest, and he briefly wonders if she’s purposefully trying to anger the Bulldog. She’s always been unafraid of his bark, a viper teasing with her fangs.

They wait until Kuroo climbs back in the helicopter, until the blades whir to life with that beating drum that pumps adrenaline through his body and until it is quiet once more, the waves sloshing far below against the yacht. The air is crisp, and the silence heavy. Valentina turns to face Daichi, neck tense, mouth open but Daichi cuts her off.

“Don’t embarrass me like that again.”

Tanaka bristles, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He controls the need to step in front of Val, to shield her from his Boss. The weight of her necklace in his pocket keeps him anchored. His heart pounds in his ears, Daichi glances at him briefly before keeping an unwavering eye on Valentina’s fierce gaze. It’s odd. Tanaka always has a plan, knows what will happen next, and yet, he is at a loss. Unsteady on his feet as the boat rocks. He’s unsure of what she will do, how she will tell her possessive husband–

“I’m seeing someone.”

11. Valentina

Lightning flashes in the distance when the words leave your lips, the thunder rumbling in the silence that follows. You watch Daichi carefully, standing your ground even though parts of you scream to take a few steps back. You resist the temptation to glance at Ryunoslav. During your musings, you decided not to say who it was right away. Daichi glances down at your bare neck, the necklace he’d given you missing, lost somewhere at the gala when you finally lost yourself in emotion. You remember the fight with him when leaving the venue.

You expected Daichi to burst in anger, explode outwards and destroy everything with his fury. Yet he remains silent, eyes mattifying as he draws inward, no longer oiled mahogany but rather sanded wood. When he speaks, it’s so low you almost miss it, but it penetrates you with the next flash of lightning.

“Leave.”

White, hot anger burns through you at his command, your hands raising as though to grab his lapel. Quickly, you reroute to pulling your fur coat back onto your shoulders.

“You don’t want to know who?”

“You don’t want to know what I am thinking right now, Gadyuka.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Ryunoslav cuts you off, “take the boat, please.”

You stare incredulously at him, but he is already speaking in a low voice onto a handheld receiver, then back at Daichi, who’s body slowly begins to vibrate. However, Daichi is no longer looking at you. Instead, his eyes have shifted to Ryu, brows furrowed. Thunder claps. You feel the first spray of rain misting onto your eyelashes.

“Fine, we will talk more at breakfast.”

You turn on your heel, the sound grating against the wooden deck, and someone from the Brigade accompanies you down the stairs, walking just slightly ahead of you, silently asking you to follow.

You descend slowly, crossing the second deck with a practised smile, apologising to anyone that approaches you with an easy lie. Most of the crewmen begin to pack up and rearrange the party to continue on indoors. You enter the large cabin, and walk down another flight of stairs, to the first deck and then lower still. Here, the walls change from luxurious wooden, glass and metal to open beams, and white gritty flooring. It’s slightly wet, from the rain that batters against the open exit and the ocean water shimmering inside.

A small speedboat waits for you, not fully submerged, and a captain, yet his face is wary.

“Mrs. Sawamurova,” he holds his hat in his hands, a navy raincoat wrapped around his uniform, “wouldn’t you rather wait for the storm to pass? Please, enjoy the evening and when the water is still, I can take you to shore in an instant.”

“My husband wants me gone.”

“But not dead.”

You laugh, bitterly, feeling your intestines swirl, unsettled by those words. He’s brave.

“How long do you think it will take?”

“A few minutes, maximum. It is the winter rain, harsh but quick.”

“I will wait here.”

12. Tanaka

When the top of Valentina’s head disappears down the stairs, Daichi speaks, not looking at Tanaka. The first of fat raindrops begin to fall onto their shoulders.

“I will have to talk to her father, after I kill her.”

Tanaka’s tongue is heavy in his mouth, every bump dry and scratching against his throat. He can’t be serious. Slowly, Daichi turns to face him, eyes raking over his closest subordinate’s features, down his throat, and settles on the crisp white collar peeking out from his suit jacket, stained the same colour as Valentina’s lipstick.

“Khazak, who is it?”

“Boss–” but he doesn’t know what to say. The memories of the prison hospital bed, bare with just a sheet, an unsterilised IV drip stuck into his arm flashes in front of his mind. Daichi’s calm face that visited him before he woke up somewhere else.

“Tell me right now, or does your loyalty mean nothing?”

Tanaka winces, “nyet, Boss, you know I am loyal to you.”

He takes a deep breath, then reaches inside, fingers looping around diamonds to pull out the necklace, the viper head swaying back and forth. His heart claps with the thunder, the clouds breaking into a heavy downpour. Chill sets in instantly, his bones freezing beneath his suit.

“Supply snakes with a meal, and you will have them all by the fangs,” Daichi whispers under his breath, barely audible above the pattering of the drops against the floor, but Tanaka’s sensitive ears pick it up. “She played me for a fool.” Daichi’s wide-set eyes lift from the necklace to Tanaka’s.

“Mne ochyn zhal,” Tanaka begins to apologise profusely, but the hardened look shuts him up.

“I was wrong, Khazak,” Daichi interrupts, his hands moving to his pockets, Tanaka dropping his arm to his side. He starts to walk towards the sheltered area of the deck, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. “You are the one that is going to have to kill her.”

Tanaka’s heart drops to his stomach, falling straight into the floor and sinking to the bottom of the unruly ocean. The Boss does not joke around, but he wishes for it to be one.

“I can not, Boss,” his head shakes, body vibrates. This is the first time he has ever refused an order from Daichi. The Bulldog watches with raised eyebrows, the question evident on his face.

“I am in love with her.”

The bark that erupts from Daichi’s throat echoes above the rain, above the thunder, and shatters inside Tanaka’s heart. He holds the cigarette to his lips, and Tanaka feels the rain drip down the rivulets of his shaved hair and under the collar of his suit and shirt. There’s a flicker of orange as the Marlboro tip glows.

“And you think she loves you back? Valentina is a snake, a woman. They know only two things: how to lie and how to fuck. You have fucked her, da? It’s magnificent. Was she the second whore of that weekend? Or was she first as well? How long have you been fucking my wife, Ryunoslav?”

Tanaka wants to answer, but it catches in his throat. His tongue refuses to mould the shapes, his lungs refuse to exhale the sound. Daichi sighs.

“It does not matter. Only one thing matters. Come.”

Tanaka walks towards Daichi, each step kicking water down his shoes, his socks wet. He’s never felt more like the ocean than now, swallowed by the rain, drowning. He stops when he stands under the partition, Daichi’s large hands cupping themselves under Tanaka’s chin to lift his head slightly, wiping the rain from his skin, the gold rings cold against his jaw. There may have been tears but Tanaka can’t tell, numb and expectant of Daichi’s next words,

“Tell me, do you love her more than me?”

Cigarette smoke tickles Tanaka’s nose, and he holds his breath. Without him, Tanaka would be dead. Daichi knows this, Tanaka knows this.

“I owe you my life, Pakhan.”

“Now, you owe me a life. I am not without mercy. You have been the closest brother to me. You have tasted the sweet fruit of sin, I can not blame you. You know I have done it too. But I am expected to sleep with someone else. She has embarrassed me. I can not have that. A Boss that can not keep his woman in line? No one will respect me, her own father will not respect me.”

Tanaka remembers the conversation in the banya, the plans to take over completely, the poor health Valentina’s old man is in.

“Are you loyal, or are you just another predatel, scum like the men you erase from existence?”

The storm in Tanaka’s eyes swirl around, clashing against the hard forest floor of Daichi’s. He is loyal. Strangely, in this moment, he remembers the lilies of his home, and their sweet, comforting fragrance, his mother making dinner, and his sister who ran with him to their new life before separating. The pain of losing her no longer stabs at him, maybe this pain someday will not either.

13. Valentina

The room is white and grey, the smell of oil and rubber and metal and salt clinging to the air, to your skin. All the alcohol consumed over the evening seeps from your pores, creating a pounding in your head. You begin to wonder if it was ever a good idea to tell Daichi. You wonder what happened when you left, and you wonder where your necklace is. Your fingers brush over your sternum, feeling the ghost of the viper head and of Tanaka’s mouth.

You taptaptap your toes against the floor, the rain echoing in time, the water drawing in and out rhythmically as you wait for the storm to pass. Only a few minutes, you were told.

“Few minutes, my ass.”

The walkie-talkie connected to the captain’s hip shocks to life, and broken Russian floats up, but you can’t make out the words. He answers, smiles at you, “please, wait here. I will be back soon.”

Then, he leaves, and you’re left alone with the brat that accompanied you. He sighs heavily, as though the inconvenience to him is all your doing, and you glare.

“Is there a problem, soldier?” you ask, standing straight, arms crossed in front of your chest. They seem to forget, Daichi married into your family, not the other way around.

“Nyet, Gadyuka, prosti,” he apologises quickly.

Silence settles over the hull again, claustrophobia leaching into your veins. If you look out at the open hatch, you can see inky blackness, and far in the distance, the faint yellow lights of Monte Carlo. You are about to ask for some water when footsteps echo against the metal walls, a familiar gait.

“Leave us, pazolvste.”

Ryunoslav says to his subordinate, who swiftly salutes him and walks up the stairs. The door at the top clicks shut. You’re speechless, and he is sopping wet.

“Ryu,” you whisper, walking towards him and draping your arms around his shoulders, uncaring at the feeling of water pressing into the fabric of your dress, dripping between the open gap of your breasts. He’s stiff when you touch him, but soon melts, nose nuzzling into your neck and breathing deeply. He still smells like crisp apple and fresh seawater.

“Why are you here?”

“Daichi knows.”

You’ve never felt colder, warmer, like a fever and frostbite all at once. You feel him rustle against your bodies, and you let go to watch him pull the Bulgari necklace out, lifting your hand to place it in your palm. Your fingers close around the jewels automatically.

“I told him I love you.”

There are no words that come to your mind in that instant. Emotions, many. Relief, nausea, stillness and rage, love for the man in front of you. You ache to feel his warm, corded muscles against your skin. He looks pained, eyes tormented as he looks into your soul.

“How did he react?”

“Not well.”

“And?”

He gives no space for continuation, pulling you tightly against his body, arms snaking around your waist as his lips fall against your mouth. His skin is cool, wet, pressing to your heated cheeks, but his mouth is inviting. There is passion unlike what you’ve experienced before. It tastes like freedom, like a new day and endless night. It’s the smoke on the fire, and the salt of the sea. He’s crying, you realise, and you open your mouth to lick up a tear on the corner of his mouth.

The necklace slips from your fingers when you grab him, pushing the jacket of his suit from his shoulders to drop to the already wet floor. There’s a faint crunch, but neither one of you pull away to look at the crushed jewel beneath your heel. It’s just so right to kiss him. In this moment, the world falls away and it’s just the two of you. His taste fills you with a feeling that rivals being whole, satiated. Something hard pokes against your hip, and you smile into the kiss, lips moving to his jaw to suck on an earlobe.

But you freeze. Daichi is at the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Ryunoslav whispers.

You frown, his words not registering and when you pull back to ask what is happening, he ensnares another kiss from you, tears flowing freely, something hard, cold, now presses against your temple and–

.

.

.

End.

-----

Thank you for reading, truly. This fic honestly has so much of my heart and soul in it. I had so much fun writing it. I hope you’re not too mad about the ending lmao.

@dee-madwriter , @pleasantanathema​​​ , @lookslikeleese​​​ , @linestrider​​​ , @hisoknen​​​ , @mindninjax​​​ , @whats-her-quirk​​​ , @messwriting​

[ramzawrites]

Prince!Eret x Assassin!Reader - One Dance

GN

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: mention of death, talk of murder, very small mention of alchohol at the beginning

Series: No, a small fast drabble

Summary: You were sent to the local ball in order to get close to the heir Eret only that once you see the perfect chance for you to strike your emotions and feelings think this would be the best time to flare up.

Word count: 2119

Authors Note: I wrote this in the 2nd person which I’m not sure I like but I tried doing it anyway. I have been super busy with college but I wanted to write something for Eret since I love them a lot! Also this is really just a small drabble for fun so don’t expect too much lol

You sighed, taking another sip from you champagne glass. It was more so you fit in with every other snobby looking rich person in this ball room who where either dancing or chatting the world away than to enjoy an alcoholic drink.

Everyone was wearing these garish gowns with even more horrible looking masks. Thinking it would hide their identity and making a fun game out of this. Of course if you knew someone it wasn’t hard to recognize who was standing in front of you but if you didn’t it was apparently a charming game of who is who.

Though you weren’t here to play games. No, you had a job to do.

The good thing about this kind of ball is that it was actually not that hard to stand out. Everyone was wearing glittery, garish dresses and suits that the easiest way to stand out was by wearing something more toned down. All you had to wear was something that showed off the good parts of your body with simple garments.

That’s what you did. The only real choice you made when looking for what to wear was the color. At the end you settled for a simple wine red color. The mask you wore was covering both your eyes while also covering half your face.

There was no way anybody knew you there but it wasn’t about being recognized. The point of this mask was that you remained unknown. The Syndicate who you worked for made sure you were dressed properly for the event and wanted to give you at first a ceramic mask that would cover your whole face but you made the point then that this would probably pull a bit too much attention to yourself. The whole allure of this mask business was that you could see a hint of the real person.

This wasn’t your first job technically but this was your first job doing it alone and while being face to face with your victim. Honestly when it came to assassinations this was a classic and therefore should be treated as such, meaning people were expecting this.

Your goal? Prince Eret. The old king died a few weeks ago and he was about to be crowned the next ruler of the country but there were a lot of people who would love to see otherwise. Surprising? Not really. Especially seeing how the last king was a horrible ruler making sure to make the rich richer and bleeding the common folk dry. As far as people knew Eret wanted to do his best to undo this damage.

You sympathized with him, really, but a job is a job. To that you weren’t a big fan of any kind of government as well. You grew up with the Syndicate and got raised by them. You saw it all from the normal folk starving, getting beaten by the guards for not paying their protection fees all while the rich where eating cake and drinking the most expensive wines. So no, you held no love for this ruling system.

Everything was set. You had poison hidden in your clothes in case you get a chance to put it in his drink, got knives hidden and if worse came to worse you could use your hands. Now, of course to use all these things the damn prince had to appear but as it stood he was nowhere to be seen.

Angry you remembered how you told your mentor that honestly the best way would be for you to sneak in and kill him in his sleep but no this assassination had to be dramatic. To be fair this was the easiest way to get close to him if he would appear that is.

Repressing another angry sigh you decided to get some fresh air at the balcony. Give it five minutes and then return, if he is still not there you had to go back home. Your mentor forbid you to do anything else as it could jeopardize the whole assassination. Better to not attempt a failed murder and just regroup to find the next best opportunity.

It was already dark. The stars were up in the sky next to a full moon. A beautiful night for a sneak mission. Yeah, you were still not over that.

You took a good look over the view from the balcony. Right beneath it was a beautiful garden with all kinds of different flowers and hedges. Placed in such a way that it almost looked like a maze. In the middle was a beautiful fountain placed. Silently splashing in the night. It was then when you noticed someone sitting at the fountain, hunched over. Their back turned to you.

“That damned Prince.” You muttered. Of course you haven’t seen him in the ball room he has been hiding out there. This was perfect! He was alone!

Not trying to show your hurry you walked painfully slow back into the ball room, then out the room and snuck your way out into the garden. Before visiting the palace you had to learn the basic layout of the castle which honestly hammer back in how unnecessary this building was. So many rooms with no real use.

Outside, once you got close enough to the prince, you slowly pulled a dagger out that was hidden on your body. All you had to do was stab him. Either in the throat or heart. Easy enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Though as you stepped closer Eret tensed up. Did he hear you? You made sure to be as quiet as possible, there was no way.

“So, I’ve been found.” He spoke and turned around.

As he did you put both your arms behind your back, hiding the dagger in your hands. Trying to put a soft smile on your face to look more friendly “I am sorry, your highness. I saw you from up in the balcony and excuse my manner of speech but you seemed a bit miserable. Who would I be if I didn’t check up on the future ruler.”

Horrible.

Wait, did he roll his eyes?

“Oh, sure. I’m good. You can go back to the ball and enjoy it.”

This really wasn’t what you expected. You thought he would speak in this posh manner as all the others up in the ball room but he seemed almost normal. In fact everything seemed suspiciously normal. He wasn’t sitting up straight, his shoulders slouched, mask askew, clothing splotched by water. This prince was far removed from being what you considered princely.

To your horror you let out a chuckle. Where was your control all of the sudden? The prince eyed you with a curious gaze.

Embarrassed you tried to salvage this situation somehow “Oh, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be so-“

But Eret interrupted you “So undisciplined? Rude, even?” There was some bite to his words. Someone must have really laid in on him because of his behavior if that is how he reacted.

You shook your head “I would describe you as normal. Not snobbish like the others.”

For some reason he relaxed at that. A smile appeared on his face “Sorry if this offends you but you seem rather normal compared to the others as well if you see me like that.”

“Thank god for that.” You sighed.

The prince chuckled “Well, I’m glad to have met a somewhat kindred spirit then. I’m curious though. Can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N” you answered. Why did you say that? A blush spread on your face. Oh god, you are so screwed, oh no. Any name would have been fine but why did you blurt your real name out?

Eret took off his mask. Now you could see his genuine smile even more clearly “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Ye- Yeah.” You stammered as you tried to mirror his smile. You needed to get out of there, now.

This went downhill way too fast.

Your heart hammered against your chest, you felt rigid while also shaking out of nervousness, your cheeks were red and warm. Honestly you would love to just push your face into the fountain to get out of this shocked state.

The prince looked so genuine under the moonlight. You mentally slapped yourself as you noticed that he was looking pretty handsome under this light.

“Want to sit here with me a bit? From what you described you didn’t seem to be the biggest fan of the ball as well.”

You nodded as you inched towards him and sat down. He returned to look back up at the stars. There were no words exchanged, yet it felt somewhat intimate. At least to you.

Gripping the dagger, still hidden behind your back, you waged your options. Just a stab. Right now. It would be easy. Just stab him!

But your body refused to move. What was all that grueling training for if you couldn’t kill your target? Hell, you have killed people before so why were you now having your troubles? Was it because this time your mentor wasn’t with you? Were you really so incompetent alone?

Then the music changed. You could still hear the music from the garden. It was quiet but still audible. The change of music pulled you back out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath you finally made your decision.

You slowly opened your hand, letting the dagger fall slowly with almost no sound into the water behind you. Something in you stopped you from doing the job, no sense in jeopardizing the whole operation by making a mistake. All you had to do was get out and deal with the consequences then.

Just as you wanted to get up Eret turned to you. A blush on his face as well “I’m not good with this but would you care for a dance?”

He was cute you thought in horror.

“A dance? Out here?”

Eret let out a nervous laugh that send the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy “I mean, would you prefer dancing between the others? Of course if you don’t want to dance I understand. It’s not really something a lot of people like.”

Biting your lip you stood up “One dance. Then I have to go. It is getting late and my family is waiting for me.” Somewhat of a lie. You considered the Syndicate as your family but you weren’t blood related.

Eret’s nervous expression turned into a happy smile. He stood up and took your hand in his. Giving you a little wink as he led you away from the fountain so you both had more room to move in. Your heart couldn’t handle this.

Together the two moved in tandem to the music. Giggling every time both of you made mistakes. Stepping on each other’s toes, almost crashing into one of the hedges or just making up your own dance moves that didn’t fit to the music that was softly playing in the background.

“Would it be rude of me to wish this dance never ended?” Eret asked. His voice soft with an emotion you didn’t dare to accept to be there.

You laughed “No, I too wish this would never end.” It was the truth.

“So tell me your full name or a way to get into contact with you if that is alright with you. I would love to stay in contact.”

That blush would never leave your face, huh.

It took a moment before you answered “I will get into contact with you, that is a promise alright?”

You then moved towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and as he sucked in a breath you let go of him. Moving away back inside, leaving the place in a relative hurry, all while Eret was still scrambling and trying to understand what just happened.

He tried to follow but you gave him a warning glare, stopping him in his tracks.

As you moved away from him he softly touched his check, returning back to the fountain. He couldn’t help giggling to himself. Whatever just happened it was the first time in a long while that he truly felt happy. His heart beating rapidly as he put his hands on the side of the fountain. Staring down into the water, as his rush of emotions slowly calmed down again.

It was then as he saw something glinting in the water. Curious what it was he moved closer. Surprised he pushed his hand inside the water to get a dagger out. A small dagger, sharp as can be with a few intricate designs at the hilt.