#inappropriately timed dramatic dance moves Part I

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mouth Othrys

Axel: Into the Lion’s Maw III

A thunderous crack startled Axel out of sleep. At first, he thought Hecate had darkened the Mist into onyx.

His memory kicked in: black marble walls. Jack had moved Pax and Axel to their own room in Mount Tamalpais. Jack attempted separate rooms, but, of course, Pax ended up in Axel’s room within twenty minutes of being split, fifteen more minutes than the Sabotage unit had bet on, leaving Prometheus with a score of 7 to 1 on prediction.[1]

Mementos from the dead scattered and clanged all over their carpet. Axel had left all other decorating to Pax. That was why Praetor Julian’s medallions, a centurion’s unicorn necklace, and other items clattered onto a pink shag carpet with paint splotches. Axel hoped they were paint splotches. Pax had, allegedly, found the carpet dumpster-diving with Matthias.

Panic hadn’t set in yet. Axel sat up, clutching something to his chest: the Triple A Chimera helm. A hiss erupted from the top of the plumes, something far too weak to be the helm’s gravely tones.

Honey, the weasel, appeared quite distressed by the movement, hissing and squirming to find comfort.

Above Axel, he could see Pax peering over his bunk, his amber eye glistening in their room’s night light. Matthias had installed it at the same time he installed Pax’s bunk. Axel had replaced the original cover: a British aristocrat’s glowing ass, the monocled and top-hatted man peering over his shoulder while mooning them. Now, it was a winking dryad. Still inappropriate but a massive improvement.

“Baller is upset,” Pax said, his voice trembling, “Was that an earthquake? Like, did Poseidon just take a massive shit? Imagine if that is what took out the titans—”

“Axel! Pax! My boys!”

Their door flew open.

The scene was a flashback overlapped into real time. Jack stood in his pink, monogrammed PJs, the back of a toilet seat raised like a baseball bat to attack potential intruders. The only difference from the first time was that the walls and toilet seat were black. Prometheus often quipped that Kronos might have an aneurism if their new camp didn’t have the right SS aesthetic.

“You’re okay!” Jack exhaled, lowering the lid with a thunk. The effort had made his arms shake. “The room next door collapsed. I thought—”

“You were going to dig us out where a toilet cover?” Pax asked, voice quivering.

“Yes, next best thing to a shovel—”

“Jack,” Flynn’s snap quieted Jack. He took a step back.

The Leader of Assault and Battery was mid-tugging a shirt over her chest as she came into view. Axel averted his gaze. “Luke is hurt,” she said. There was a faint jingling noise, signaling that she must have been wrapping her bun. She’d taken to wearing the goofy hair trinkets Pax made for her. “Ajax with me. We’re mobilizing to dig Luke out. Axel, with Kampe. She’s decided she’s leading the charge to camp Half-Blood while Kronos is occupied under rumble.”

Axel’s gaze shot up. “She’s what?” Her command was already taking effect. Axel sat up fully, careful to assure the helm and weasel stayed safe against his chest.

“She thinks they might be able to beat Percy Jackson back to his camp—”

“He was here?!” Pax yelped. He, too, appeared under Flynn’s command. He scurried down from the top bunk, only pausing to collect Honey from Axel’s helm. She squeaked indignantly. Axel appreciated it: a battlefield was no place for a newborn Mistform, no matter how fierce.

Flynn glowered. She liked to be interrupted (especially by children) as much as the soldiers of Mount Othrys liked doing Monster Laundry Duty.

Fortunately, Jack had no such reservations. He picked up one of their newly minted Orpheus Metal shirts from the ground and slipped it over Pax’s head. As if he were five years younger, Pax obediently lifted his arms to make it easier. Jack’s motion was frantic, and Axel had to wonder if Luke could get hurt after receiving the Curse of Achilles. “Well, kiddo, unless some other demigod’s parent has earned the title of ‘Earthshaker,’ then that’s our perpetrator—”

Someone’s words overtook Jack’s. It was Luke’s voice, but not. A second voice reverberated under the first, the same way Kouta, Axel’s older brother, made announcements for the circus, but maybe if Kouta was hyped up on some demonic energy drink. It was a two-toned cacophony, rusty and vile. As it roared, the building shook again, a hateful scream of, “Percy Jackson! After them—after them—”

Everyone froze. Even Flynn’s hold on the boys snapped.

Before, when Luke and Axel used to meditate together or when Luke had convinced Jack to allow Axel to join them at the Horizontal Monster Mash, Luke had described that voice. Between Luke’s gulps of beers, the color would drain from his face and his eyes would go hazy. He recalled the sublime and awful tauntings that haunted his nightmares, that would seep into his waking hours to remind him he was useless, merely a vessel, a stuffed animal disemboweled of its stuffing. (That last one, Axel knew, would upset Pax immensely.)[2]

That voice made Luke feel small, the way Axel’s father’s voice had for him. He didn’t need to ask why Luke followed its orders. It was impossible to resist when it was in your head all day.

Now it was Luke.

Axel couldn’t help but think of Pax, pitching their cause to new demigods: Have you heard the good word of Kronos? Overlaid with a blasphemous verse from his days at a Catholic elementary school: he has risen, just as he said.[3]

Kronos had risen.

Axel didn’t realize the Luke-Thing was still screaming. Not until Lucille stepped into their doorway.

She wore her battle armor. Her blonde hair was neatly braided back, and she carried a Greek-style helm under one arm and a pilum in the other. With her frail frame, she looked like a costumed Barbie. Their training taught Axel otherwise.

“Flynn. Axel.” Her tone was grave, the same way it always got before battle. “The strike force is moving out.” Her icy blue eyes shifted. “Jack, Pax, I’m sorry.” Giving them a fragile smile. It failed to comfort anyone.

Flynn’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not leaving Jack alone.” Ever again, Axel thought he could hear. Maybe with another faint echo of, Especially not with that thing. “What if the Ol’sissies double back while Luke is out of commission? A child of the Big Three? Maybe two if that earthquake wasn’t from Jackson?”

Lucille nodded. The half-sisters had a respect for each other’s combat intuition.

Despite trembling at Luke’s shrieking and the fear of angering Flynn, Pax whimpered, “B—but Mercedes said—”

That she could make Axel and Pax be part of the Sabotage Unit, away from the main battles. But, Axel knew it would be futile after his second cage match had gone so well, especially after the assault on the lab.

Lucille explained this gently, “I know, sweetie. But, Axel has proven himself over and over. It will boost everyone’s moral if he’s there.” She pressed her lips together. “And gain him favor with any new… changes in command.”     

Axel had a gut-sinking feeling Lucille was right. The helm hummed in his grip. Now, more than ever, he needed to be seen fighting along the monsters’ side. If they were to survive assassinating Kronos after the war, they needed the full backing of Alabaster’s monster family.

Axel stumbled to the armor at the base of their bunks. His legs felt leaden. The fingers touching the helmet buzzed with painful anticipation, an electricity that made him lightheaded and eager. The opposite sensations left him disoriented. He needed to focus on one. He unwove a strip of leather from his armor and tethered the helm around his neck. That would need to do for now. He should leave it. They needed to test these in a controlled environment. But, instinct—

You’ll need me, Lieutenant.

Axel wanted to snap that he didn’t need anyone. A glance around the room proved no one had heard that but him. Maybe it couldn’t talk outside of Hecate’s realm.

Lucille had already lifted his breastplate to offer it to him.

Jack tugged at his hair, frantically looking from Axel, to Flynn, to Pax. “Oh, Lucille, keep my boy safe! He’s too young and pretty to die! We haven’t even gotten him a girlfriend or a solo in one of our concerts!”

Lucille giggled weakly. She couldn’t cover her mouth with a pilum in hand. “I’ll do what I can.” As Axel finished strapping on his armor, she turned to Pax. “Can you do me a huge favor?”

Three sets of eyes were intent on her: Pax’s multicolored ones, and the beady eyes of the two weasel kits.

“Go to the nursery and check on Charlie and Ethel for me.” Her eyes softened at the names. 

Oh, Fortune bless Lucille. That would get Pax out of harm’s way. Besides, he was an excellent playmate for Charlie.

They walked as Axel finished strapping on his armor. Lucille led him out. Goodbyes—did they properly say goodbye? He remembered ruffling Pax’s hair, trying to ignore how Pax’s eyes welled with tears, the same way they always did before his cage matches—Don’t you dare die—and ducking under Jack’s attempted hug.

Their hallway was an offshoot from the main one. The main one had descended into chaos. Monsters and demigods jostled past each other. The Luke-thing’s howls left them panicked, disorganized, and disoriented. Its order was so primal: after them.

“Please proceed to battle in an orderly fashion. Please keep your voices low so you can standby for more orders!” Lucille’s charmspeak was sweet and kind. She never had the projection that Flynn’s snarls had, but all the soldiers within hearing distance slowed, relaxed, and fell more into military lines. The calming effect rippled to the others rushing by.

With the mob partially tamed, Axel could see down the hall towards Luke’s quarters. Part of the ceiling was collapsed. Krios, one of the Titan lords, stood beside the rubble with his arms folded, tapping his left bicep. “If you can’t ask nicely for help,” he said, voice booming, “then you needn’t bother asking at all.”

“Imbecile,” the not-Luke snarled back.

Krios rolled his eyes. “Some things never change.”

At least the Titan Lords seemed unbothered by Luke’s and Kronos’ unholy matrimony.

Something about seeing Krios standing there left Axel confused. “Kampe is leading us?” he asked. Hadn’t Luke mentioned something about Krios leading them through the labyrinth? Axel finished strapping on his old helmet. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it would keep his skull intact. His own confusion at the chain of events—going to Hecate’s realm, Flynn’s charmspeak, Kronos’ screams—was clearing.

Lucille nodded, helping up a demigod who had fallen in the chaos. “Yes.”

The younger camper blushed, thanked her, and darted after the others.

Axel felt skeptical. “But, she’s a jailor.” Did they give battle lessons in Grecian jail school?

“Luke gave her Ariadne’s string,” Lucille said, “The others are going to follow her.” She nodded to the disciplined line up at the labyrinth entrance. Because of newly established order, support was able to come through. Matthias could be seen walking down the line, chest puffed up and shoulders pulled back, as he handed out goody bags of ambrosia and, if Axel had to guess, fart bombs. He and a dracaena checked monster and demigod armor and handed out extra weapons.

Lucille continued, “She’s known to be a powerful entity—like Atlas. Why do you think Luke wanted Atlas when he had the other Titans?”

Recognition meant a lot to mythological beings. Axel clenched his jaw. Just another mythological aristocracy, as Alabaster would say. “Being a famous jailor doesn’t make a good strategist.”

They were approaching the labyrinth entrance. Axel had steered clear of this place, especially after Chris Rodriguez never came back. Selene Beauregard had told Luke that he was alive at Camp Half-Blood, but that he’d been left to babbling incoherence. Chris was the only one who had come out alive.

Another foolish scheme to send a demigod when a monster could thrive in the labyrinth.

Axel could see the mark of Daedalus. Alabaster had explained the symbol to him: a glowing blue D above the labyrinth entrance. Any time he walked in the hallway, it stuck out sorely: an exploitable security risk that had, indeed, been exploited. He didn’t understand why everyone had treated it like a kitty door for coatimundi to wander in. Jack and Pax had given him a weird look the day he’d growled, “It’s like no one else can see it.”

Watching how the others felt along the wall until finding a grip on the door, Axel realized the others really couldn’t see it.

Lucille glanced at him. “Are you nervous, Axel? It isn’t like you to protest so much.” She reached over to squeeze his arm. With Lucille’s status in the Attack and Battery unit and Axel’s recent rise to fame, no one minded how they cut in line. From the queasiness on some of the demigod’s faces, he assumed they wouldn’t have minded either way.

Axel stared at the entrance as they stepped up to it. He couldn’t stop his ears from twitching. Something felt wrong about this place. The strategist in him screamed. They were going underground—underground­—chasing after a demigod that could cause earthquakes. “What if Percy doubles back and collapses the tunnels on us?”

“Recent rumor has it, Percy sprinted away from Luke and did not look like he was coming back. He was scared of Kronos. We’re in his army and I’m scared of Kronos….” Her brow furrowed. “I’m glad Pax agreed to check on Charlie. I can only imagine how terrifying those shouts are for them.” She frowned, and reached to twirl a lock of hair that was tucked too far back to reach.

Axel winced. Them. She meant Charlie and Ethel. Ethel didn’t handle this kind of shouting well, and Charlie was only a kid. “If there’s one thing Ajax is good at doing, it’s distracting people from terror.” And he and Lucille both knew Pax would be a she (instead of a he) if it would make Ethel more comfortable.

Lucille might have been about to thank Axel.

“Move it,” a quivering voice came from behind them. Feigned bravado. Axel suspected the waiting was about the same as waiting for a delayed tooth extraction: sometimes you just want to get something over with.

Axel took a deep breath. “If I lose my mind and forget who I am, promise me you won’t let Ajax convince me I’m a famous weasel catcher on Discovery Channel.”

That earned a real giggle. Axel remembered how cute he thought Lucille was the first time he met her at Monster Donut, before he knew about Ethel. That seemed so long ago.

“Oh, don’t make me promise that! I think you’d make a charming show host.” She suddenly hopped onto the tips of her toes, coming close to his height. She rearranged her pilum, so she could hold it and her helmet in the same hand. With her hand freed, she gracefully lifted it up and lowered it towards Axel.

It took Axel a heartbeat or two to realize she was offering her hand the way she might for a ballet partner to spin her. Or for a partner dance? It was called something in French that Alabaster would have known.

Axel took his friend’s hand, sheepish at how scarred and rough his looked compared to her dainty fingers. The absurdity of it—a ballet pose before battle—made him laugh.

Axel had no delusions. She was holding his hand for his sake. A return laugh for the one his joke incited.

He and Lucille stepped into the darkness, hands held high, into one of the most dangerous places of the mythological world.

___

Thank all of you for reading! I think I rediscover my footing a bit better as a writer in the next chapter. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy! (AND THANK ALL OF YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMENTS, ASKS, REBLOGS, AND SWEETNESS! You're making it so worth coming back! <3)

____

    

[1] Jack, “You’re old enough now that you can have your own room where your fanclub will know how to find you alone and, potentially, underdressed—“ Axel, “Ajax and I are still sharing a room.” Jack, “B—but your fan club!” Lou Ellen, “But your fan club!”

[2] Pax, “ARE YOU INSINUATING LUKE WAS ONCE A BABY PANDA--?!”

[3] Mathew 28.

[peaceofflights]

Being in a Relationship With Wally Clark Would Include:

A/N: Someone asked me for a part two to “Falling in love with Wally Clark” where reader confesses their feelings to Wally. For that, and to understand some of the context I suggest going back and reading “What’s Three Years in the Eyes of Eternity.” which is bookmarked on my page!

Warning: this one delves a bit more into your physical relationship, nothing is too explicit. However, if you don’t like don’t read.

Being in a relationship with Wally Clark would include:

•You expecting things to change a lot, but in reality they don’t. You still do pretty much the same things as before… with some added perks.



•Holding hands everywhere you go. If Wally thought you were a hand holder before, he had no idea. It makes you feel connected to him to hold his hand, even if you’re doing absolutely nothing.

•If you’re in a conversation with other people holding pinkies, that way you aren’t too on top of each other.

• Coming up with the most ridiculous nick names for each other. They start off cute, but eventually just start getting really weird.

“Awe, my honey bear”

“Life is short puddin’ pop.”

“My adorable little doo doo”

“The cutest Sasquatch in town.”

•All of the forehead kisses. It started because your friends wouldn’t stop making gagging noises every time you two kissed. So now every time he has to part from you he leaves a very sweet but overly dramatic kiss to your head.

•He’s kind of the obsessed with you. When you’re across from each other either in the cafeteria, Football Field, or Theater you can often catch him staring at you. I mean he did this before your started dating, but instead of pretending to look away or do something else if you catch him; now he’ll give you a wink that of course leads to a lot of blushing on both ends.

•You’ve taken to calling him your puppy dog, since of course he is! At first it was just to other people but once he accidentally heard it come out of your mouth he couldn’t stop beaming. So from that moment forward he was to referred to as puppy.

•If you don’t call him puppy when your alone he’ll get mad.

“Um excuse me!? Who is Wally? Do we know a Wally? I am your puppy? I’m a good boy.”

It’s absolutely ridiculous, and he’s mostly kidding, but it’s just really adorable.

•The two of you do a lot of the same activities you did before you started dating; trying to find good movies to watch in the library, playing endless games of hide and seek, creating your own secret language. However, there are also some new things you do too…

•Yeah… LOTS of new things.

•It starts out pretty innocent, but after the homecoming dance things moved a little faster than they should have.

• Clothes were removed, hands were found in inappropriate places.

•Which brings you back to today. Neither of you by any means are blushing virgins, your college years were good to you. But you both agree that you have your entire after after life to spend together, you don’t need to spend every moment jumping each other’s bones.

•However, you two definitely aren’t saints and your new found physical relationship is one you love exploring.

• Though sometimes Wally’s age and slight less experience leads to some interesting situations. It doesn’t matter how many times you remind him, it feels like every morning you wake up to find some sort of new bruise highlighted on your skin. Which then leads to the never ending bullying of your friends.

•Look he’s your puppy and adore him, but also it would nice if you could go anywhere without being covered head to neck in hickies.

•Though his smirk when you bring it up you helps you realize it was in fact NOT an accident.

•He brings you gifts to make you smile. Sometimes it’s a poorly painted canvas he made in the art room or him serenading you to your favorite song, but it made you realize that you need to step up you girlfriend skills. Which leads you to finally letting him teach you to play football.

• It’s the first time you really focus and attempt to learn the rules and even if you aren’t very good you’ve never seen him so happy.

[sleepymarmot]

Mamma Mia (2008)

This year’s winter holidays started with Glass Onion, so it was only right to continue them with another Greek island comedy as my first movie of 2023. Mamma Mia is as silly and cheesy as I expected, and I spent most of the time grinning, clapping, and singing along.

One of my first reactions was: “Wait, Hollywood knows how to have fun?!” The singing is sometimes downright terrible, but who cares? I’m too busy vibing with comical misunderstandings merrily resolved by the end, familiar songs put into new contexts (as a fan of fanmixes and fanvids, It was delightful and validating to see the same approach to lyrics in a real movie), dramatic musical/dance performances, shiny disco costumes, terrible and hilarious flashbacks where all of the dads look sooo bad, and the power of friendship/love/horniness. It’s a fantasy where men are willing to take responsibility for surprise fatherhood and to become a part of life of a child they can’t even be sure is theirs. It’s a celebration of non-standard family structure blurring the line between biological and found family. Donna worries that her hard work as a single mother will be upstaged by a man who did nothing but donate genetic material — but the men become Sophie’s dads because they decide to commit to that role, not because of the biological relation. This premise had a lot of potential for humor based on secondhand embarrassment or judgemental approaches to sexuality, and the film avoids both. There’s even an entire scene declaring that real friends don’t let friends slutshame themselves!

Unfortunately, not everything in the film was as heartwarming and cheerful as I hoped. Here are a few things that ruined the vibe to some extent. Naturally, there are spoilers and, more importantly, negativity here, so if you don’t want your mood ruined by several complaints and one particularly paranoid reading, please skip this section.

- I know this is necessary for the plot, and this is the smallest of my complaints, but reading your mom’s diary without permission isn’t cool. There’s not even an excuse that she’d be fine with her daughter knowing about her sexual escapades, because the movie tells us she’s not.

- Super weird to have two of the dads get dragged into a PG-13 pseudo-orgy by girls of their daughter’s age, and one of them be enthusiastic about it. I can only guess this was meant to reinforce the “nothing wrong with partying hard” message, but by not keeping it within the same generation, the scene instead opened a huge can of worms. Elsewhere, the film acknowledges that sexual relationships between these two generations are inappropriate: that’s Tanya’s entire storyline. However, the film that is surprisingly feminist at times defaults to a sexist double standard here. Apparently, older woman/younger man is wrong, but older man/younger woman (women, even!) is entirely normal and unremarkable. Harry quickly escapes, but that’s because he’s gay and not interested. The heterosexual womanizer Bill, “naturally”, enjoys it.

Were it any other film I would have simply noted the sexism and moved on. Unfortunately, this film is about older man-younger woman relationships — parental ones. And this one weird directorial decision suddenly casts Bill’s relationship with Sophie in a different light. (Warning, you might want to skip to the next point if you don’t want to read my very uncharitable interpretation of the subtext I saw here.)

Earlier there’s a scene where a pretty young woman chases three middle-aged men and spends hours bonding with them, and in a story where the plot isn’t about them being close relatives, that could have been the beginning of a very different kind of storyline. We don’t need to go far for an example: Pierce Brosnan’s Bond had two romances with women young enough to be his daughters, with age differences at 17 and 18 years. I watched these three men hang out with a young woman who, by the sexist standards of pop culture, could be a valid partner for them, yet in this case very much could not, but the men didn’t know that — and I had to tell myself these men just had to happen to be the exception and have no interest in someone young enough to be their child. Except now we find out that Bill actually is into the, uh, attention from girls that age (which will be later reinforced in the sequel when “Angeleyes” is sung about him). The next scenes are: Bill’s shock and disorientation at the realization that Sophie is his daughter (as if it’s incompatible with the way he’d been thinking about her, or as if he feels guilty or ashamed), then Sophie chasing after Bill onto the beach in the moonlight to desperately plea with him (a set of cliches that are usually associated on screen with romantic rather than familial relationships). Then there’s the bit where Harry and Bill think they’re on the same page but the former is talking about Rosie and the latter about Sophie, ending with the “You don’t have to marry her” joke. I’m not saying that the film actually wants the viewer to think there’s something unpleasant going on — it’s still a feel-good family reunion comedy. But between all that, I got the impression the film stopped just short of joking about it, and I didn’t like that one bit. (Here’s my version of that joke: “Angel Eyes”, more like [movie name redacted to avoid major spoilers, iykyk.]) Alright, huge squicky rant over; I feel awkward about making such a big fuss over a few unimportant seconds, and I haven’t seen a single person point this out which makes me suspect I’m the pervert here, but I committed to recording my honest reactions and it’s too late to back out. And to think that all of this could have been avoided if the women in these scenes were Donna’s age instead of Sophie’s!

- Frankly, “Does Your Mother Know” made me similarily uncomfortable about the age dynamics even though (or maybe because) that’s exactly what the song is about. Why does Tanya have an entire musical number about her admirer being just a child and not an appropriate partner, but imply in a line of dialogue that something did happen last night? (All of this is a shame because this is one of the best performances in the film, and I’d never heard the song before so then it was stuck in my head for a day or two.)

- It pains me to say it, but Bill’s the weakest link among the dads (which is darkly ironic, since he’s supposed to be the real one). Other than what I said above, he’s the only one not to immediately respond positively to the idea of fatherhood, and he shows zero interest in his Pair the Spares Government Assigned Hetero Love Interest until he suddenly does at the very last second. Which is especially striking because everything else — including the sequel — points to him being the pervy womanizer of the group, so if he doesn’t notice this woman at all she must really not be his type. Writers, directors, actors, did you know: the characters you’re putting in a romantic relationship should be mutually interested, actually! And “middle-aged woman pursues someone, oblivious to their attempts to escape because she refuses to face the fact she’s undesirable” is a particularly misogynistic variation of an already unpleasant trope. At least she isn’t going after a younger man in this one! A really weak pairing that diminishes both characters.

Negativity over! Random notes:

Something that’s neither positive nor negative: Sophie looks and acts like a teenager, especially in the opening scene where she and her besties seem more like high school students than an adult and her bridesmaids. I felt relieved when she cancelled the wedding she clearly wasn’t prepared for. So I was surprised to see people describe “Lay All Your Love On Me” as their bi awakening, because my own reaction was “Oh no, they’re too young for me to look at them in this situation, this is awkward”.

Amanda Seyfried’s delivery of “Honey Honey” is great, she sounds so amused and embarrassed at the same time.

Why did they use “Voulez-Vous” for a completely nonsexual scene and how in the world did they make it work?!

I’ve already mentioned this but it bears repeating. I’m not familiar with jukebox musicals as a genre — Wikipedia suggests Singin’ in the Rain is one, but that is news for me because I haven’t encountered its songs in the original context; also there was Glee I guess… but that’s all — so maybe this is how most of them usually work… But the way pre-existing songs were recontextualized to fit characters and their relationships felt more familiar and relatable than anything I could have expected from a Hollywood production. “Honey Honey” was great for that: oh, I know the struggle of applying a song about sex or romance (because that’s what most relationship songs are) to a platonic relationship and hoping that the listener doesn’t take it the wrong way — and turns out, professionals do this shit too!

I love how supportive Bill is when he thinks Harry is coming out to him. In a 2008 movie it feels like it really is coming from the heart and says something about his character, while in the 2020s it would simply be the default attitude. (Also they should have been the third romantic couple, see the sequel for more evidence.)

Colin Firth gets a wet shirt scene and there’s a line referencing James Bond (which I totally missed, thanks for telling me, IMDB), but whoever wrote (what I assume to be) a Star Wars joke for Stellan Skarsgård really had future vision, considering he only appeared in it in 2022.

See also: my review of the sequel, in which I make a lot of comparisons with the original.

[assortedvillainvault]

Hello! Would you please select at least two villains of your choice and then please explain how they would flirt with the reader? Thank you for your time!

Hello! Thank you for dropping by, hope you don't mind but as you asked for my choice it's about to get NICHE up in here:

Pitch Black (Rise of the Giardians) x Reader:

This Dramatic Ass HOE

Ok there is no two ways about it Pitch is creepy, it's kind of who he is, it's his job, he doesn't know how else to be ok??

First he's going to Observe, so I hope you like the feeling of being watched becuase now it's Happening.

Then he's going to wait until you're alone (Pitch istg this is why no-one wants to hang out with you) and attempt to speak with you from the shadows

Good god I hope you're a spirit so you at least have a starightforwrd explanation about the 7 ft weirdo in the tights attempting to compliment your hair, and not some poor human wondering if they're developing schizophrenia

ONCE WE ARE PAST THE DOUBT Pitch becomes a lot smoother once he's semi-sure you're not going to run away. He can let his act/guard down a little and let some of his true personality shine through

He's a dork who dances, cracks puns and knows all his nightmare steeds by name, he likes bugs and the dark and scary movies, and his enthusiasm is infectious

He's also old as balls, has seen some shit, and would be delighted if you asked him about the things he's seen. Man loves to monologue, but also to instruct and entertain, and to see you so earnestly paying attention is going to make him giddy to the tips of his hair.

Physical contact is where he gets Serious, once the hand kisses come into play it is over for the both of you, he is officially Down Bad.

Vulgrim (Darksiders) x Reader:

"Surely you can't blame me for taking pleasure in the presence of my most...valued customer."

Vulgrim is a merchant of dubious reputation and even more dubious interests, he's also tight fisted as a clam and internally at war with himself.

I HC him as a gift giver in terms of love language (once we get through the 400 year slow burn of accepting his feelings), he's been a merchant for millenia so a huge part of his self image is that he provides things no-one else can or is willing to provide, but this goes right up against his urge to get as much money as possible Y/N this is Valuable Merchandise-

He's genrally also silver tongued and very observant. Man's going to be throwing military grade compliments as soon as he's sure you're alone, which is uh, disconcerting at first.

Once we have laid the ground rules of no kinapping, no attempting to steal or bargain for your soul and no on-the-job dates, Vulgrim is actually surprisingly touchy. Nothing technically inappropriate but those claws are all over your shoulders and back and yes yes you are blushing, thank you Vulgrim that was lovely of you to point out you dick-

He's also just. Wonderfully pleased to be the more powerful entity in this relationship (assuming you're human). The other realms are full of muscle bound beefcakes that dwarf him in width, his skinny arms cannot compete. Compared to a human average height he's 14ft and climbing, which is a lovely change of pace.

He can be flustered by many things. His flirting only works if he moves first: give him a genuine gift, visit him for quality time and initiate affection and he will melt into a confused, flustered, but certainly not unhappy pile of demon.

[alaskasmonsters]

Chapped lips | Shigaraki Tomura

after that night, the night he'd first reached out for your hand, you and shigaraki had gotten a lot closer, even if that only meant you were holding hands a lot. or did it?

part 1

pairing: shigaraki tomura x gn!reader

w.c: 2.651

warnings: head empty just tooth-rotting fluff, also shigs being insecure about his skin, he’s still touch-starved :c

a.n: @hufflefluffslytherin�� asked for a part two and i really really really adore touch-starved shigaraki (and writing him) so i just had to comply!🥰🥰 (also if you’ve never seen fanart of shigaraki with his hair tied back i am so sorry, but you’ve been deprived)

Holding hands had become somehow normal between Tomura and you, although it usually ended up being in the privacy of his room. If Kurogiri noticed how close you’d gotten after he sent you to his room that one time he didn’t mention it. He’d only smile gently at you when you caught his...floating orbs. You weren’t sure if you could call it a smile when the guy didn’t have a mouth, or eyes….or a face. It was more like a vibe that you got from him.

The rest of the league had noticed the two of you had gotten closer, too. They were not stupid, after all. Well, they were all idiots, but they were smart idiots. You’d spent a lot more time at their lair now in consequence of you spending more time with Tomura. And of course every one of them had to give their two cents to the situation.

Toga would beam at you, teeth flashing and eyes sparkling with excitement, whenever the both of you were in the same room. When Tomura wasn’t present the girl would dreamily stare into the air, planning your wedding in detail. It was cute, almost endearing, if it wasn’t so embarrassing. You’d turn red as a beat and Toga would giggle at your flustered state.

Dabi turned to relentless teasing, constantly making jokes, some of which were so beyond inappropriate you’d loved to wash his mouth and your memory out with soap.

Compress was surprisingly soft on you, never once mentioning the new undetermined relationship between you and the boss, although you were certain he sent you winks from beneath that mask of his.

Spinner was being a little shit like always.

Tomura and you had grown closer in the process of your occurring hand holding sessions. Often you just sat next to him on the bed (yes, you’d gotten the privilege of being allowed on there), you would scroll through your various social media while Tomura explored the skin of your arms and your hands with his fingers.

You would have never expected he could be so...soft...quiet...calm...innocent. Just silently sitting next to you, staring at the ceiling or somewhere else (anything but you) while he let his fingers gently glide over your hands until you’d end up with your fingers intertwined.

He didn’t like talking a lot, you realized. Still private, still unrelentless.

It had taken weeks between then and now before you’d even gotten to this point. A point where Tomura felt comfortable enough to request your touch whenever he felt like it. Sometimes he just sent you the blank faced cat emoji and you knew that your presence was requested. You didn’t comment on it, just silently complied, sitting next to him in silence until he initiated the contact.

You knew he was still in disbelief about your nonchalance whenever he did reach out to touch you. He always did it so carefully, barely gracing your skin. As if he wanted to leave you enough time to react and pull back.

It was endearing.

Sometimes he tested you, brushing his fingers over parts of your upper arms, shoulder, leg, stomach, watching you out of calculating eyes, expecting, awaiting you to flinch back. You never did. Like you said, you didn't have it in you to mistrust Shigaraki in that way. All remaining resolve had crumbled the moment he’d first reached out for your hand.

When you knocked on his door that night, you were already buzzing with excitement, clenching the little item in your palms, something you’d brought for Tomura. You didn’t wait for his answer, already opening the door and slipping a moment later since he had sent the cat emoji earlier.

Tomura was sitting on his bed, game controller in his hand, the screen of his tv showing a shooter game was the only light that illuminated the room.

You had quickly realized Tomura enjoyed quiet and dark places.

He didn't look up, just glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, as you approached him and sat down next to him, already smiling. The item you brought was securely hidden in your palms.

The man hummed in greeting, scooting closer until your legs were touching slightly, barely brushing.

That was another thing you had noticed about him. Tomura wasn’t only enamored by holding your hand, but he craved the simplest of touches. It didn’t come as a surprise to you, considering most of his life everyone had been avoidant of him. You had figured he must be incredibly touch-starved, searching your warmth now that you’d willingly given it to him already, taking whatever he’d get.

It was cute.

You watched him play for a little while, supporting your weight on your hands as you leaned back onto your palms. But quickly your attention shifted, your eyes settling on the side of Shigafaki’s face. Eyes wandering from the scars around his eyes, to his dry lips and then to the sensitive skin on his neck...you could imagine it must hurt a lot.

You were a little familiar with impulsive behaviour like that, you’d bitten your fingernails for years, picked at the skin around them, too. It was a bad habit, one fueled by stress. Something you sometimes went back to whenever it would get too much. But you knew that was hardly comparable.

“Why are you staring at me?”

You were pulled from your thoughts by his hoarse voice, soft despite the scratchiness of it. You didn’t reply immediately, watching the ways the shadows danced across his features.

“Does it hurt?”

You didn’t have to point out what exactly you meant, he understood immediately.

“I’m used to it,” his answer was curt and you noticed how he lowered his head to let more of his hair fall into his face.

You hummed, not mentioned how tragic that truly was or how badly you wanted to hug him. He probably didn’t want your sympathy, perhaps even mistake it for pity.

You sat up instead, smiling widely in hope to ease the sullen mood as you raised your hand to finally uncover what you’ve been hiding all along.

“I’ve brought something,” you declared proudly.

Tomura glanced at the little item you held up to his face, eyes narrowing to read the name of the product. When he recognized what it was, he glanced up at your face, eyebrows furrowed in scepticism.

“Don’t tell me you want me to put that on my face.”

You laughed at the look of disgust in his eyes.

“It’s just ointment, don’t be so dramatic.”

He didn’t seem all too convinced by your words, face settled into a scowl.

“It’s really good, if you want to know my expert opinion,” you ignored the amused snort, “It’s moisturizing and helps with itches as well.”

He glanced at the object again, not very enthusiastic about the idea of it, you noticed, his face still purposefully lowered, his red eyes peeking out from beneath his white strands.

You cocked your head to the side.

“I could heal some of it, too, if it bothers you,” you suggested, although you knew you could really only do something against the recently damaged skin, nothing against the several small scars collected at the corner of his eyes or the base of his neck.

“Why, does it bother you?” he murmured, a sudden edge to his voice.

The grip around the game controller had tightened, although his pinkies were still skillfully spread to avoid disintegrating the piece of plastic.

“No,” you replied sternly.

Tomura hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between the tub of ointment and your face a few times before he made a choice. He paused the game and carefully placed the controller on the nightstand.

“Fine,” he mumbled, head angles towards you, “You can put that shit on me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, itching to ask him to repeat himself, because you weren’t sure if you understood him correctly, if he really just agreed you could put ointment on his face. You. Not him, you.

But then he turned, until he was facing you completely, his legs crossed, knees bumping against the side of your legs and he watched you expectantly. You turned, too, positioning yourself so you were cross-legged as well and directly in front of him, trying to ignore the tingling in your stomach at being so intensely stared at by Tomura. You inched closer, bumping your knees more and the man leaned forward, almost expectantly, awaiting.

You stopped him with a raise of your hand and Tomura halted in his movements, squinting at the small object that you were now holding into his face. His forehead scrunched up at the sight of the hair tie in between your fingers and he gave you a sceptical look.

“Tie your hair back, Tomura.”

He grumbled, but complied to your request, lazily binding his hair together. A few strands fell out and back into his face and you softly pushed them behind his ears, not commenting on the way Tomura stilled at your touch.

Opening the tub of ointment, you put some of the substance on your fingers, glancing up at the man in front of you for approval. He was already looking at you with awaiting eyes.

Okay, if he didn’t make it weird you shouldn’t make it weird either.

You reached out to hold his face in place, cupping his left cheek gently. Tomura closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into your hand a little. You smiled slightly, raising your fingers with the ointment to the area around his eyes and started to carefully apply it to the skin.

The skin was rough under the pads of your fingers as you moved them over his face. He let you work in silence, the only sounds coming from him was the occasional hum whenever the cool ointment touched a specific sensitive area.

You moved on to the other side quickly, switching hands to apply the ointment with your left hand and hold Shigaraki’s face with your right, instead, to accommodate.

“Do you feel a difference?”, you asked softly, massaging the substance into his cheek.

He hummed.

“It’s nice.”

You smiled softly.

“Is it itching?”

He shook his head.

You moved on to his neck, occasionally glancing up at his face. It was relaxed, his eyes still closed, the corners of his lips slack. You smiled at the smoothened out features, your eyes getting stuck on the way down until you were staring at his lips. Dry and chapped but still kissable.

You froze in your movements.

Hold on, what.

Tomura had noticed you had stopped moving and cracked his eyes open, watching the expression on your face with interest.

“Why are you staring at me?”

You shook your head, desperately fighting the blush on your cheeks.

“Just thought you might wanna put lip balm on as well,” you replied calmly.

Good save.

The man scrunched up his face.

“You’ve brought that, too?”

You shrugged, spreading the last bit of ointment across his neck before you pulled back, massaging the leftovers of the substance into your hands.

“Well, i’ve got some with me,” you suggested, pulling it out of the back pocket of your pants.

Shigaraki eyed it suspiciously, raising his hand towards his neck before he halted in his movement, as he remembered your treatment, before he let it sink back into his lap.

“Don’t look so sceptical. It’s just a chapstick,” you laughed at the way he scrunched up his face in disgust.

To demonstrate you opened up the cap and rolled it up. Lifting it up to emphasize the plainness of your action before putting the lip balm on your lips. Smacking them together when you were done, presenting them with a grin.

Tomura looked thoughtful before he suddenly started smirking, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gave a nod of approval. You frowned in confusion but didn’t get the chance to ask him what he was being so cocky about before he suddenly leaned in and caught your lips gently between his.

Despite the tenderness behind his touch you felt like the air was just punched out of your lungs. You were completely frozen against him, not moving, not knowing how to move. The line connecting your brains and limbs, the one that was supposed to exchange signals had been cut off the second Tomura’s mouth had touched yours. The man’s lips moved against yours just before he pulled back again.

You blinked up at him, mouth agape in shock as a warmth, a burning heat, spread through your skin, your face turning red.

He watched you in amusement before he smacked his lips together, loudly, a wide grin spreading over his features when he saw your eyes widen in shock.

“Like this?” he asked innocently.

You choked on your spit at the boldness of...literally everything.

“You! I...” you stuttered helplessly.

He chuckled slightly, strands of his bangs falling back into his eyes, which made him look even better than before. You huffed in mock offence.

“I can’t believe you, Tomura,” you grumbled, playfully hitting his knee as you tried to calm down your fluttering heartbeat.

The man just cocked his head at you, calculating eyes trained on your features. His stare was so intense you felt your face heat up again, just as you had started to calm down again.

He chuckled slightly, slowly leaning forward again, which led you to stop breathing for a second or two...or longer. He came to a halt right before your lips would have touched again, innocently glancing up at you through his lashes.

“Why? Do you want to kiss me?” His voice was deep and alluring.

You didn’t answer, the words got caught in your throat, the trust in your own voice vanished.

How could he turn from an innocent touch-starved gamer boy into this in a matter of seconds? It didn’t seem very fair to you. Especially when you were the one on the receiving end of this behaviour. Worse of all, Tomura seemed to enjoy your sudden speechlessness greatly, eyes drilling into yours as he inched even closer, the look in his eyes dared you to make a move.

He was close enough so you could feel his hot breath on your lips, so close the fruity smell of the ointment (you’d chosen a peach scent) assaulted your nose. All you could think was “Fuck it.” and throw caution out of the window.

You closed the remaining distance, planting your mouth on his and gained a satisfied hum in response. You smiled at the reaction, grabbing his face and pulling him more into you.

Tomura gave into your touch with ease, leaning in even more, searching your touch. He held your wrist, his pinky spread.

His lips were chapped and felt rough against yours, but you didn’t mind, not even a little bit. The kiss was heated, both of you getting more passionate as you deepened the kiss, the feeling indescribable. Your whole skin was tingling, your brain surely turned into mush.

Tomura wasn’t allowed to be this good at kissing, you thought. Did he kiss someone before or was this his first kiss? It couldn’t be...or?

The two of you parted when you ran out of air, both of you breathing heavily into the small space you’ve left between you. Tomura squeezed your wrist and chuckled breathlessly, shaking his head in disbelief as he stared you down. His eyes were sparkling with an emotion you couldn’t quite pin down but knew enough about for you to feel a little dizzy being looked at with.

“You really are crazy, you know that,” he whispered, a tone close to astonishment in his voice.

You just smiled, thumb brushing over the warm skin of his cheek.

Crazy for you, Tomura.

Taglist: @crystal-lilac​  @hufflefluffslytherin​  @duf3h6237​  @chucky-26o1​

[cerises-amoureuses]

Firstly, what we need to realise is that Harry was incredibly attracted to Ginny throughout HBP, to the stage where seeing Ginny kiss another boy drove him up the wall. He spent a better part of the year wrestling with his emotions, which is something he didn’t go through with Cho Chang. Of course, this could be because Ginny, being Ron’s little sister, posed an interesting dilemma, but also because Harry’s feelings extended beyond a simple crush. The easiest way to deduct this is to go back to Harry’s infamous first kiss: he did not enjoy it, nor did he express any sort of desire to do it again. But in Ginny’s case, he had barely worked out his feelings for her when he started envisioning himself kissing her. Harry only ever thought Cho was nice-looking, but he experienced a very typical, boyish sort of lust and want when it came to Ginny.

“She began popping up in his dreams in ways that made his devoutly thankful Ron could not perform legilimency.” – Harry, HBP.

It does not take a genius to figure out exactly what he and Ginny were doing in Harry’s dreams. This inneuendo is remarkably suggestive; Harry had begun having sexual, inappropriate dreams about his best friend’s little sister that made him feel guilty and embarrassed. Moreover, note the instances when Ginny and Harry came in contact; they were often punctuated with Harry either feeling a “swooping sensation” or getting so tense that goosebumps erupted on the back of his neck. There is no evidence of Harry ever feeling jumpy by a girl’s slight touch before, which begs the question why it flustered him so physically in the first place. All evidences point to the thick sexual tension that Harry was feeling between himself and Ginny.

Simply put, Harry’s attraction to Ginny had permeated the boundaries of innocent crushes and gone straight to lustful thoughts and wild dreams.

“… He had received a lot more Bludger injuries during practice because he had not been keeping his eyes on the Snitch .. “ - Harry, HBP.

There is little room for argument for one trying to say that Harry was admiring Ginny in all innocence from a broomstick suspended in midair. This is another not-so subtle allusion to Harry’s burgeoning sexual attraction. Being a sixteen-year old boy, it is fairly plausible that Harry was being highly inappropriate, possibly undressing Ginny with his eyes, and he needed the force of a Bludger to snap him out of it. It is ridiculous to insinuate that Harry wasn’t looking a little intently than he ought to at Ginny; how else could he have ignored a Bludger speeding at him?

Quite apart from the fact that Harry described his impromptu mid-common room snog with Ginny in a remarkably heavenly fashion, he also explicitly went on to say that if they had time, they would talk about the Quidditch match. This does not specifically point to anything too scandalous, but it does make very clear that Harry intended on taking Ginny to a deserted area for more kissing. This seems a terribly bold step for two people who haven’t even started dating yet. It speaks a lot about their relationship that they started things off with a good, (presumably) lengthy snog, and jumped headlong into the opportunity to snog some more. It insinuates that the two were already very comfortable with each other, and already moving very fast in their relationship.

If that didn’t scream CLUE!!! enough, the next sure indicator was Harry’s feelings while they were dating. His narration was light, airy and genuinely happy – a dramatic change from the teenage angst that readers had been dealing with since GOF. It might be in my imagination, but I have always thought Harry in that period to be all kinds of insufferable, walking around with a goofy grin on his face and not paying much attention to anything – that lovestruck behaviour is largely hinted at in the books,after all. Hadn’t Professor Slughorn attributed Harry’s detoriating Potions grade to “lovesickness”? This obviously meant that Harry had been displaying visible symptoms of the same, which prompted that line of reasoning. What else could make the Boy-Who-Finally-Got-A-Girlfriend “happily impervious to gossip”?

On a particularly striking instance, Harry states that he was reliving a happy moment spent with Ginny in the grounds – if it was “happy” enough for Harry to dwell on it later, what could they have been doing, one wonders? (Cough, cough). Harry expressed explicit frustration that he could no longer spend time with Ginny, and there a very choice things that would, per say, “frustrate” a sixteen-year old boy.

Perhaps it isn’t overly obvious on skimming HBP, but if one analyses Harry’s narration, as I have, it becomes laughably clear that Harry and Ginny were almost definitely being adventurous. Ginny, for her part, is described as fiery and passionate – nothing in her character suggests restraint or holding back. A war, of which Harry was a main part, was going on in full-swing outside the cosy walls of the castle. It is additionally suggestive that JK Rowling also wrote in a specific conversation where it was revealed to Harry that people often elope during times of war. Ginny herself had commented playfully on it. If taking that step as such a young age wasn’t exactly responsible, the could hardly be blamed for it.

Another compelling argument is the fact that Harry, in particular, was, for want of a better word, especially well-equipped. For goodness’ sakes, the boy owned a legitimate Invisibilty Cloak, the Marauder’s Map and was an active user of the Room of Requirement. While Harry made use of these magical items for relatively noble and innocent purposes – in a non-Voldemort dangered world, what else would students want to make themselves invisible for? Ginny, in particular, doesn’t seem the type to ignore the dual potential of items like the map and Cloak.

Lastly, the dealbreaker was the stiflingly unbearable encounters between Harry and Ginny in DH. If there was slight sexual tension in the air between them in HBP, this was magnified about a hundred times in DH. Not many people choose to dwell on this, but I invite you think for a moment – imagine being boyfriend and girlfriend scarcely two months ago, and having a blissful, perfect relationship. Now, imagine being forced to live under the same roof – two teenagers – when they were so unwillingly forced to break up. They had barely spent a month dating, only to be brutally separated, and then made to live together again? Forget Crucio, there’s nothing more torturous than that.

Every time Harry made eye-contact her, he starts to recall moments spent with Ginny in secluded parts of the grounds, which is possibly the least subtle reference in the entire franchise. Again, he experiences acute, agonising frustration, to the point where he is actively trying not to brush against her while they eat dinner – it sounds almost as if he doesn’t trust himself. Another extremely suggestive moment is when Aunt Muriel makes a comment on the scandalous, revealing quality of Ginny’s bridesmaid dress, and the latter turns around and winks at Harry.

No explanation needed.

Need I dwell on Harry’s absolutely endearing jealousy while Ginny danced with other boys at the wedding? He, quite literally, leans against a pillar, folds his arms, (presumably with a glare on his face) and stares fixedly at Ginny.

One confusing instance, however, was Ginny’s – ahem – birthday present to Harry, in which he says, “And then she was kissing him like she had never kissed him before ...” This could somewhat serve as proof that they never progressed farther than snogging, but this greatly contradicts that aforementioned alusions to the same. It also seems a little naive to assume that they were exceedingly good little children while they disappeared for hours to secluded corners and fondly dwell on those instances to the point of distraction afterwards. No, it is my belief that it had been so long since Harry kissed her that he was automatically prone to over-exaggerating their sudden reprisal.

As I come to my conclusion, a few worthy mentions – Harry’s thoughts just before Voldemort struck him in the Forbidden Forest in DH: “And Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his –“ Alas, he never completed his train of thinking, but it does leave considerable food for thought.

Therefore, one can comfortably assume that in at least one area of his life, Harry acted like any normal boy his age. He had strong, passionate feelings for Ginny, and she unquestionably felt the same about him (“I never gave up on you. Not really. I always hoped …”), and those kind of things are recipes for teenage intimacy. However, anyone clinging to childhood beliefs can also safely predict that they waited. We may never know, but the evident has always been there, just as JK Rowling intended.

What are you thinking? 🤔

[misslilli]

I tried some things 🙈 Hope you like it ❤️ Thank you so much for likes and reblogs, they're very much appreciated!

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 43 - A New Year's Reunion

I really got swept up in the excitement that's Mamma Mia 2's Super Trouper video and I highly recommend you watch it first before reading 😄

[ DS ]

"Aaaah look at all the lonely people!," Holly all but screams into the hairbrush that dubs as her microphone tonight, arm thrown out dramatically sending us all into a fit of giggles at her impeccable performance.

We're half-way dressed, half-way made up, half-way buzzed, half-way through our Party Playlist, partly deaf and hoarse and all the way through our celebratory pre-party bottle of Prosecco. Dancing and singing into hairbrushes in my bedroom, just like we did all the way back when we were little girls.

Taking our stances for the next song, a personal favorite of mine, we grin at each other, we all know which one it is and it has us shaking our hips to the intro excitedly. The lead vocals are mine, not only out of habit but because the lyrics are more true tonight than ever.

"I was sick and tired of everything, when I called you last night from Boston" The girls throw up their arms and squeal at my changing of the lyrics to fit, taking over the back vocals. "All I do is eat and sleep and sing, wishing every day was the last day." I did, I couldn't wait to get back home in time for this party tonight.

"So imagine I was glad to hear you're coming, suddenly I feel alright." The girls get their hairbrushes ready for their big part in the chorus, jumping in a silly way, totally inappropriate for our age and profession, all around me. They've been so excited to hear about the recent developments yesterday, out of their minds with joy.

"So it's gonna be so different when I'm on the stage tooniiiiiiight!" Like a true performer, I put all my voice behind the tonight and the girls whoop appreciatively, years in the church choir have definitely paid off!

"Tonight the Super Trouper lights are gonna find me, shining like the sun!" Sarah's doing the harmonies with me, she's the Agnetha to my Anni-Fried, not only because of our range of voice, she's my best friend, the Christina to my Meredith, the blonde to my red, which comes in handy at costume parties. "Su-papa Trou-papa" is Holly and Alex's part, not so much singers but amazing performers, putting all their energy into their moves.

"Smiling having fun, feeling like a Number One!" Right now, I do feel like a number one, having the time of my life and I'm so happy, I feel like I am shining like the sun.

"Tonight the Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me, but I won't feel blue, like I always do" I'm so done with being blue, I'm giddily excited about seeing the person responsible for my happiness and the girls know it as well who I'm talking about when I smile at "Cause somewhere in the crows there's youuuuu!"

"Facing twenty thousand of your friends, how can anyone be so lonely" The girls make such a show of sad faces, it makes me chuckle for just a moment. "Part of a success that never ends, still I'm thinking about you only." And have been for the past six months, every hour of every damn day. There really are moments when I think I'm going crazy, but it's gonna be alright! "Everything's so different when I'm on the stage toniiiiight!"

With an exaggerated flourish, I end the second verse, getting up on the bed to jump up and down at the chorus, now making the girls giggle at my dramatic performance.

"Tonight the Super Trouper lights are gonna find me, shining like the sun, smiling having fun, feeling like a Number One!" To anyone walking by on the beach outside, who happened to look in the window, we have to look positively out of our minds, jumping around on the bed in the performance of our lifetime, hairbrushes in our happy faces.

"Tonight the Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me, but I won't feel blue - like I always do - cause somewhere in the crowd there's Youuu!"

Abandoning our brushes, we grasp each others hands in a tight circle, making me a little afraid that the creaking bed might give out under our combined weight. The last verse is the most important one of all though. It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling when I think it might actually come true tonight.

"So you'll be there, when I arrive, the sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive and when you take me in your arms, and hold me tight, I know it's gonna mean so much toniiiight!" Despite this all being a secret to be kept from everyone, especially Felix, who'll also be there tonight, I'm holding out high hopes for at least a dance, if not the slim chance of a kiss at midnight.

We finish out the ending strong, throwing our arms up at the end, laughing breathlessly.

"Oh my God, that was so much fun guys!," Sarah's still grinning when she jumps off the bed.

"Yesss, it was Su-papa-Tru-papa, if this is how the party's going to go, we're in for a goooood time!," Holly agrees, wiping the stray hairs from her flushed face, throwing a cheeky grin in my general direction. "Especially with someone in the crowd for youuu, D!" Sarah adds in a few kissy-faced sounds for effect, just to pull my leg a little. I'm just as surprised at my squeal as they are, they're still not used to the whole little-girl-with-a-crush thing. Frankly, neither am I, it's very new and exhilarating.

"I know, I'm so excited!"

Alex puts an arm around my shoulder, giving me a squeeze. "I'm so glad to see you this happy, D, we haven't seen the real you come out to play much post-Steve, it's good to have her back!"

We all gather around the mirror in my bathroom to finish getting ready and the girls are obviously not done with the subject yet.

"Sooo, are you going to kiss him at midnight? Or before? Or after? Or all the time in-between?" I sigh at her questions, trying not to mess up my mascara with my eye-roll, this being the only thing putting a damper on my happiness.

"We've been over this guys, no kissing allowed tonight, Felix can't know and neither can everyone else who's going to be there…"

Sarah and Holly share a mischievous grin, there's some sort of joke coming on, I can feel it, especially when Sarah holds up her hand to mimic someone she's talking to. Oh Jesus.

"What do you think, Whackus Bonkus?" She opens her hand to make it talk, trying hard not to burst out laughing. "Kiss him!" (Actually, Holly quietly says "Fuck him in the back office", but I'll pretend not to have heard that!). Pushing her hand away, she loses the fight to keep a straight face. "Oooh, you naughty Whackus Bonkus!" gets her a snort from me and a full laugh from Holly, Alex has absolutely no idea what is going on.

"Guys shut up, you're ruining my good mood, I'm just excited to see him tonight! Now get a move on, or we're going to be late!"

————

[ FM ]

In my mind, I'm back at the park, thinking back to our conversation as I wrap the carefully selected tie around my neck in front of the mirror in my bedroom. Opening up to me about her past just like I did the night before, is not something we both do on a regular basis and certainly not to people we'd like to go out on a date with. You put your best foot forward in the first months of dating, not share your emotional baggage before you even share your first meal together.

I thought she was going to bolt right out of the gate, spooked by the things I told her, but she continues to surprise me. Felix is right, she really is a good listener and I tried to do the same for her. How easy it is to share even the most difficult things with her makes me think that there might be more of a connection there than just simple attraction.

But I'm getting way too far ahead of myself here, I need to put this into perspective and not jump head-over-heels, fooling myself into thinking I've found The One by just a few encounters is dangerous territory and will only get me into trouble. Believe me, I've been there, several times, only to end up with a broken heart and broken dreams.

Buttoning the vest over my tie, I'm almost ready to head out and even if I'm decidedly not trying to get ahead of myself, I'm still madly excited about seeing her again tonight.

"Daa-ad! I can't find my other shoe, can you help me look?" My son appears in my doorway with a panicked look on his face, looking so adorable in his little suit that he'll probably grow out of way too soon. We do find his shoe after a while, hiding out in the mess under his bed. All wardrobe issues cleared, the Mulder boys are ready for a night on the town.

—————

[ Felix ]

My dad is the worst company to a party I can think of. He's great, don't get me wrong, but he's awfully awkward at parties. I don't know why, he's funny and smart and he's very charming when he wants to be, but in big social situation, he just clams up and ends up standing at the edge of the party, clutching his drink and watching other people having fun. Me, I'm very different from him in that department, I love talking to people and I'm not shy about making new friends. Could also be because I'm seven and very cute, or so they say.

Anyhow, I'm enjoying myself very much at this party, everyone is here, my friends, my parents and just now, my teachers walked in. I'm so excited to see them, so I don't wait around and drag my dad over to them to say Hi the minute they come through the door.

"Hi, Miss Scully!" I give her my very best toothy smile, which reminds me of something I've been dying to show her. "Look, I got my third loose tooth, it's so cool, watch what I can do!" She looks a little green around the nose when I make a show of waggling my loose tooth but she gives me a smile nonetheless. Yay!

"That's awesome, Felix, you should try tying a string around it and a door handle, if you slam the door really hard, it'll fly right out of your mouth like Whoosh!" Her idea makes me giggle and shake my head.

"Nooo, that's gross, I'm not going to do that! My dad told me the same thing, you adults and your ideas… " I give Dad a nudge with my elbow, he's so awful at making conversation, he hasn't even said Hello yet.

"Uh, yeah we do have some crazy ideas. Hi, Miss Scully!" He sounds like he's swallowed a frog, what the heck Dad, this is not how you talk to people, tell her she looks nice, or pretty, or something to make this less awkward. Because she does, she looks really pretty tonight, her dress sparkles when she moves, like a rainbow!

"Hello, Mr. Mulder…" I roll my eyes at the two, exasperated. Two people who are so bad at conversation should not be allowed to talk to each other without my supervision.

"So Miss Scully, I hope you'll have a wonderful evening, you look very lovely by the way! We'll see you around!" I need to drag my dad away from this to save him from further humiliating himself, or worse, me! See Dad, this is what you say to a lovely lady to make her smile, not stare dumbly at her with a dopey look on your face!

——----

[ FM ]

'Mamma mia, here I go again!' I never knew what it meant that a person can light up a room for you by just walking through the door until tonight. I always thought it was silly, when people talked about hearts leaping and butterflies fluttering in their stomachs.

Standing at the edge of the party, holding onto dear life to my cocktail, it suddenly all makes sense, because my heart does leap whenever our eyes meet across the room and I can definitely confirm the presence of butterflies as I watch the party unfold before my eyes. I've always really liked to just people watch, to notice the little interactions between them that otherwise would be missed, like the elderly couple first bickering over something or other, gesturing wildly until she says something to make him laugh and concede, and he ends up putting his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, like probably many times before. The shy teenagers standing in the corner, looking like they're on their first date, tugging on their clothes terribly unsure of what to do with their hands. The kids playing hide and seek under the tables, hidden underneath the tablecloths to disrupt the conversations of the adults at the table.

The four friends dancing on the dance floor like no-one is watching, just having a good time, their school kids flocking around them, vying for their attention.

And if a by-stander happened to look really closely, really looked, he'd notice the longing gazes that pass between two people, the silent conversation held over the other's inconspicuous heads, I miss you's and Just get over here so we can talk's exchanged across the dance-floor. He'd realize that they're standing a little too close in conversation, smiling a little too shyly, dancing with just too little space in-between betraying the just-friends they're trying so hard to pretend to be tonight.

He'd follow Tall-and-Dark holding Short-and-Bright-Sparkles's hand, giggling giddily at their successful escape from the crowd, into the low light of the wrap-around porch, partially hidden between last summer's umbrellas, torn between the thrill of getting caught and the thrill of a stolen, premature New Years Kiss.

He'd see the reluctance of having to part close to midnight, a gentle swipe of a thumb to wipe away the tell-tale traces of bright red lipstick and the return to the party, one well before the other as not to raise suspicion at what just happened outside.

At the strike of midnight, upturned faces illuminated with the colors of the rainbow from the fireworks over the harbor, the unsuspecting by-stander would see the awestruck, beaming little boy holding his dad's hand tightly in his own and he'd have to look very closely to notice two other hands finding each other in the darkness, partly obscured by the sleeves of two coats and the silent conversation that holds the promise of next New Year's Kiss.

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt. 2

h. jisung x reader | netflix teen rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNINGS: nopee, well ji looking at readers butt?

A/N: are u team Chan or team Han?

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

After your afternoon class with Jisung, he quickly noted that you were absent for the rest of the day.

Sure, you didn’t have any other classes, but normally you would be hunkered down in the library with your nose stuffed in some sort of book, or wandering around campus with Felix at your heels. You were either cramming due to your procrastination or roaming around procrastinating. Jisung also knew you weren’t a fan of staying in your small dorm room since your roommate loved flaunting the fact that she had a boyfriend and how she wasn’t shy about anyone witnessing their ‘acts of love’.

So he really had no idea where you were, and it bugged him a little more than he would like to admit.

But outwardly, he didn’t want to show just how worried he was. You were his best friend’s sister, it wasn’t his job to make a fuss about something so trivial. It would be weird if he went looking for you… but if Minho just so happened to get word of his little sister’s sudden disappearance, Jisung would have to help his dear friend search for you.

It was only common courtesy.

“Minho, I think Y/n was kidnapped.”

“You WHAT?!”

Okay, starting the phone call with that probably wasn’t the best choice, but what other choice did he have. Jisung was an impatient guy.

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened.” He replied casually, already able to hear the panic on Minho’s end of the call. “She was here and then she wasn’t.”

Not only was he impatient, he was a(n idiot) songwriter; his words articulate and poetic.

Minho was silent for a second before cutting back for the call.

“I texted Changbin and he said she just ran off.”

Jisung frowned. “Do they know where she went?”

“Apparently to beat some sense into me.”

The two friends knew then where you were and a rush of panic filled their chests all at the same time.

“Fuck—”

“—Chan.”

Jisung nearly dropped his phone in the process of hanging up, immediately taking off towards the familiar apartment.

His worst nightmare was coming true—Chan was an unknown in Jisung’s mind. He was handsome, charismatic, and an older guy, so it was realistic to imagine you falling head-over-heels if you were to ever meet him. Unfortunately, it seemed like fate wasn’t in his favor and he was in deep shit if you were really at the apartment alone with Chan.

Alone with Chan.

He shivered at the thought.

The only brightside to the ordeal was that Minho was also aware of the dangerous situation. Out of everyone, he would be the only one to prevent any feelings from sprouting between you. Jisung counted on Minho every time and he never once failed to preform.

Dear god, he hoped he didn’t decide to stop now.

Arriving at the complex, he almost rammed full speed into Minho, who was also going as fast as his legs could take him. They only shared one glance before trampling over their feet to get up the stairs, no doubt bothering the neighbors along their way.

Minho was the one to swing the door open, his head on a swivel as he walked in. He was ready to break up any inappropriate business with as much force necessary—he didn’t care if Chan’s bicep was twice the size of his head, he had leg power on his side. And if he saw your tongue anywhere near Chan’s, Minho was going to be swinging.

“Chan?”

“Y/n?”

Thud.

There was a crash behind the closed door of the office, and both heads perked up at the sound.

Minho hurried forward, arm outstretched to grab the door, “No. No no no—”

Jisung never wanted in his life to see you involved with someone else. With your pretty eyes hooded and shining with desire, and your chest heaving heavily against the tight fabric of your blouse. It had been difficult enough to watch you fill out and grow into an attractive woman, he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that you were old enough to meet other guys and moan their names.

He certainly didn’t want to hear you moan Chan’s name—of all people, why Chan?

“Shit, Chan—”

Jisung felt his face heat up as Minho pushed the door open, ready to pull his friend away to avoid the scene on the other side.

“—get your head away from my ass! The power strip isn’t even near there you prick!”

“Hey,” Chan defended with a laugh. “In my defense, all you said was it was over here somewhere. How do I know that somewhere isn’t next to your ass?”

The position that the two of you were in was compromising—though not in the way that Jisung had originally expected. It caused the two newcomers to freeze, their brains struggling to really understand what was happening.

The two of you were surrounded by thousands of cables and wires, black foam scattered across the floor as well. You were on your hands and knees, the only visible part of you was your bottom half with your head tucked underneath Chan’s mixing table doing who knows what. As for Chan, he was crawling around same as you, on his hands and knees with an extension cord wrapped around his shoulders.

“Uhm…” Minho gaped, eyes unable to focus on one part of the scene.

Jisung had no trouble at all, his eyes locked solidly on your raised ass.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder, eyes locking with Jisung’s and immediately widening. You couldn’t be in a worse situation—fucking hell.

In your haste to get out from under the table, you slammed the top of your head against one of the sturdy table legs and winced as Chan cracked up from your side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class—Jesus, ow…” You asked, your hand moving up to rub the forming bump.

“What’s going on?” Minho asked, his eyebrows brushing his bangs.

“Y/n wanted some help with her stats class and I needed someone to help me upturn this room and make it into a recording room.” Chan snorted at your little dramatic groans, completely unfazed by the growing frustration on Minho’s face.

But before Minho could say anything to Chan’s statement, Jisung stepped in.

His lips twisted sourly, “I thought Seungmin was going to help you with your stats stuff?”

You shook your head with a huff. “I will not subject myself to that kind of torture and I refuse to let anyone convince me otherwise.”

“Well you could’ve asked me.”

Defeated and jealous; Jisung could no longer hide it.

The two older boys could see it clearly in the way he looked at you with big sad eyes, though neither of them said anything. Chan’s brows furrowed in thought, it looked like you had someone else infatuated with you.

You laughed. “Uh-huh, because you’re the resident genius here. Jisung, you dropped two of your classes last semester because both professors were minutes away from giving you an administrative failure.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jisung’s head is full of rocks—” Minho dismissed, unsympathetic towards the scandalized boy next to him. “Why the hell are you turning my storage room into a junkyard?”

Chan finally stood, pulling the cord from his neck and throwing it to the side in favor of helping you up.

“It was already a junkyard, bundle-boy.” You said, voice clipped and annoyed. Who wouldn’t be after smashing their head against a solid piece of metal? “We were renovating.”

“Like hell you were. I thought I said no to the recording room?”

Minho’s rage was just about completely directed towards Chan, but to your surprise, the guy gave minimal to no reaction. His face stayed indifferent, wide shoulders relaxed and eyes set.

You’ll be dammed, the fucker wasn’t scared.

Chan wasn’t afraid of your brother.

There was someone on the planet who didn’t go running when Minho looked at them funny, and he was standing right next to you in his beautiful sleeveless glory. If you weren’t currently suffering from a possible concussion you would be dropping to one knee and popping the question then and there.

“Oh, so what you said earlier was a no?” Chan (very unconvincingly) feigned innocence. “Sorry, the phone connection must’ve been bad.”

“I was yelling to you from the other room.”

“These walls are very thick, Minho. It’s your apartment, you should know that.”

“Do you want to be homeless?”

“Define; home.”

That was it, he was your one true love.

As Minho began to cross his arms over his chest, squaring up to Chan with the glare of a certifiable killer, you slid out of the way to avoid the oncoming fist fight.

Or explosion, whichever route Minho decided to take.

But then the unthinkable happened—Minho sighed, dropping his arms to his sides and turning towards you.

Both you and Jisung stood speechless, because you just witnessed someone give Minho an attitude and not get beat down afterwards. Hyunjin had once attempted the same thing and had been chased around the quad for a good forty minutes until the taller man had gotten tired and your brother had become uninterested.

Felix told you that they were both reemed during dance practice that night for being too tired to execute their choreography.

Minho shook his head, “You and Changbin were probably going to convince me anyway. Might as well save the wasted time and get it done now.”

Either your brother had a fat crush on Chan, or the Lee Minho was afraid of someone.

You knew Chan was older than him, but someone had to have some sort of super power to keep Minho from kicking their shins and shoving a knee in their face.

“What is happening…?” Jisung wondered, eyes wide and mouth open.

Chan smiled, striding over to clap Jisung on the shoulder, making the shorter boy jump in surprise.

“Good news. We’re getting a recording studio.”

And you would like to get married to one Bang Chan please.

You joined Chan’s side.

“Now you can finish that song you were working on.” You said, nudging Jisung’s shoulder.

He was just going to ignore the sudden wave of excitement at the fact that you remembered that he was working on a song.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Jisung laughed tensely. “Looks like I’ll be around more often.”

“Yeah, definitely…”

You nodded absentmindedly, eyes locked on the exposed skin of Chan’s arms. Chan himself didn’t acknowledge your stare, but couldn’t help the smug smile that slid onto his face.

Jisung watched the exchange and groaned, looking over to glare at Minho for failing him the only time it truly would end badly for him. Because of course Minho had to be soft for Chan and of course Chan had to be moving in.

Why couldn’t Chan just be ugly?

“Okay,” Chan sighed, placing all the wires he held into a pile on the floor. Suddenly, he turned to you, “You held up your end of the bargain. Let’s work on some stats, huh?”

Your eyes widened for a second, caught in headlights.

“Oh,” was your smart reply. “But we didn’t get to finish?”

Chan waved it off. “The only reason we tried to get it all done was to make sure Minho couldn’t say no. Now that he’s accepted it, we don’t have to rush.”

As much as it bothered him not to finish a project.

You laughed at the little punch Minho threw at Chan’s shoulder on his way out of the room, mumbling something about “going to bed before Changbin comes home to beg for food”. He also made sure to pinch your cheek before leaving.

After swatting at Minho’s hand, you grinned.

“Okay, well… Let’s figure out how we’re going to do this.”

Chan mimicked your smile with a nod.

No way, Jisung thought as you followed his older friend out into the living room, no fucking way.

You just left him without an acknowledging glance his way, and all of a sudden he had a really terrible feeling about leaving you and Chan alone together. Anything could happen—kissing, fucking, god forbid you talk to him. You could become closer and gain feelings for the guy, which would not be a hard task considering Chan was basically the human embodiment of the sun and every damn person seemed to be pulled into his orbit after the first meeting.

Dammit, it was even difficult for Jisung to be mad at him. The guy was too lovable.

Cursing under his breath, Jisung all but ran into the living room to prevent any and all touching or deep talks, because heaven knew how much Chan talked about deep shit.

Ew, he sounded like Minho.

“You don’t have any notes at all?” Chan asked, eyebrows raised. “What do you even do in there?”

You let out a sigh.

“Stats is where I usually do my biology work.”

“Then what do you do in biology?” He questioned bluntly, his eyes skimming all the lost files on your computer that you had given up on ages ago.

“That’s where I write all my essays. The teacher—”

“—never stands up from his chair.”

With wide eyes, you laughed in surprise. Your mouth formed many words but nothing stumbled out, perhaps for a good reason because what you had in your head wasn’t very coherent on its own.

So you just pointed at the snickering Chan, “You…?”

His head shook and your mood dropped.

“I don’t do work for other classes,” he corrected, the mischievous smile slowly sliding onto his lips giving you a little hope back. “I actually produced a whole song in that class.”

Was Jisung dreaming or were you looking at Chan with those big bewildered eyes? Was that what was happening right in front of him? Could he be seeing things?

For once he really hoped he was going insane.

“I knew I wasn’t the only one that slacked off in that class!” You chirped, bouncing a little in your seat.

“And I still got a one-hundred on my exam.” He told you pointedly before passing on the laptop and leaning back on the couch.

Normally, smugness wouldn’t have been attractive to you but on Chan it was something else. His eyes lit up in a way that was almost pretty.

There was a pull towards him as he just sat there and looked at you. It was something that set you on edge in the same way it put you at ease, he just had such a conflicting presence and you really didn’t know how to process it. So your body pushed you forward on it’s own, and with no complaints from him, you felt your hand come to rest on his knee—

But out of the fucking blue, Jisung was throwing himself between you two, his thinner body fitting snuggly in the unfilled space. You sputtered and Chan nearly yelped, holding his hand to his chest to placate his thudding heart.

“Jisung—what the fuck?”

“Did you just jump over the back of the couch?” Chan frowned looking over his shoulder to really determine the path Jisung took to get there.

Jisung smiled obnoxiously, “I just figured I’d help you guys out. Considering I’m also in that class.” He wiggles a little more to separate the two of you even more. “And three brains are better than two.”

“Not when yours is nonexistent.” You quipped, feeling your lips pull into a pout at the intruder.

“Ah, how I love your humor.”

Jisung poked your nose with a tight lipped smile.

Sending Chan a look of apology, he shrugged, falling back further into the couch.

“Sure, why not?” Was his response, shoulders lifting up and falling back down with a huff. “Let me help you set up some proper notes.”

Jisung brought his hands together once to create a near deafening sound that had you even more irritable. His happy-go-lucky mood wasn’t funny when you were on the receiving end of the annoyance.

One nice thing—you couldn’t have one single nice thing ever.

Between your brother and his dumb best friend (that you may or may not have sorta feelings for) you couldn’t do anything. Your prime years were being wasted on sucky romance movies with Felix and Hyunjin and cat fights with Jisung. You couldn’t afford such bullshit for much longer.

“You know I love you, Y/n.”

“Stuff your love up your ass.”

The rest of the week passed by smoothly with minimal conflict on your end and grades that didn’t have you contemplating slamming your face into a wall. On weekends you usually spent most of your time at Minho’s apartment while Changbin dicked around at the gym and your brother slept for the forty-eight hours that he had to himself. You could watch movies and finish your homework with no distractions.

That was until Chan decided to move in and steal your attention every moment he could. You were even starting to suspect that he was doing it on purpose after the time he walked out of the bathroom in only a bath towel and responded with a “oh, I didn’t notice you there”.

You also concluded that Felix was a snitch and no longer deserved your friendship, because once you shared with him your encounter with Chan, everyone in your group of friends was wired in to everything that concerned you and Chan.

Especially Jisung. Which eventually caused—

“Jisung why the hell are you following me?”

The boy in question didn’t bother to acknowledge you, instead he simply continued to walk at your side, hands stuffed deep in his pockets and hair just a little messier than usual, “What do you mean? This is how I get to my next class.”

You snorted. “Last time I checked, you had dropped your two-thirty class. And even then, it was on the other side of the building.”

Jisung couldn’t help but roll his pretty brown eyes.

“Stalker…”

“Says the guy who’s been up my ass all day.” You chirped, taking pride in the way he glared at you.

Jisung threw his hands up in frustration. He knew what he was doing was out of character, sure. But did he want to be called out on it?

“Can I not hang out with you? God, Y/n. We’ve known each other for years, I’d think you’d get used to me being around.”

You merely shook your head with a laugh, continuing forward.

“You’re really something else.”

He snorted, “So you’re being an adult now?”

“When am I not the adult when I’m with you? There’s no room for stupid energy with you around.” You replied cheekily

“Well I’m sorry for hogging all the ‘stupid energy’, damn…”

The way that Jisung held up the air quotes for “stupid energy” had your cheeks aching from how hard you smiled.

“Well, I’m going to lunch with Felix and Hyunjin right now. So unless you want to be subjected to their combined stupidity, I would suggest you go back to your dorm.” You sent him a small smile over your shoulder, just barely missing the way he tripped over his feet because of it.

Felix had called you in a rush right as you were getting out of your last class of the day and asked you to come eat lunch with him and Hyunjin. It was a one sided conversation that lasted almost ten seconds but you figured you had no other choice but to comply. Whatever reason he had for being in such a hurry was enough for you to listen.

“But you can come if you want, Sungie. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

Sungie.

It had been a while since you last called him that nickname—possibly way back when you were in primary school. It sent chills down his spine to hear you call him that again.

Jisung caught up to you easily, slinging his arm around your shoulders just as he used to when you began calling him Sungie. Over the years it had started to put a strain on him since he found it hard to differentiate what was friendly and what was too friendly. He had a girlfriend after all, and there were only so many things he could do with other girls that was acceptable.

But of course you were just Y/n. The little sister that bothered them all day and called him Sungie.

He didn’t have to feel embarrassed to hug you or tease you or hide his insecurities behind stupid pick up lines. Now matter how much it made his heart pound in his chest, you were still Minho’s baby sister—you were Jisung’s baby sister.

“I’d like that, my dear.” Jisung said, stuffing his free hand into his pocket and pulling you closer.

So close that it almost felt domestic.

Y’know, as domestic as it could get with someone who was like a little sister to him. He had a beautiful girlfriend too, so the domestication was more like a… family comfort and less like how it would feel if you were married and he was allowed to hold you as close as he wanted—

“Ah, you’re warm,” you hummed, making a small fuss of tucking yourself further into his hold. “It always looks like it’s going to be nice outside, but it seems like the weather changes its mind just as much as Hyunjin.”

You didn’t notice but Jisung was completely lost to everything you said after “you’re warm”. He just continued to hum and nod as if his brain wasn’t completely fried.

Jisung was in the midst of a mental breakdown when you somehow managed to lead him to the small restaurant right outside of the university. It was a popular place since it was so close and dolled out cheap food in a matter of seconds, which definitely appealed to its main demographic.

You spotted Felix’s head of purple hair immediately, a bright smile etched onto his face as he spoke animatedly to the waiter standing at the ready. The boy was cute, black hair and pretty dimples that made him appear younger. He also looked friendly with Felix with how he spoke with a wide smile that showed his perfect teeth.

You approached the table, shrugging Jisung’s arm off of you and ignoring his whine in protest.

“I made it,” you announced, gaining the attention of your friends—

And fuck.

You met eyes with Seungmin sitting in the seat beside Felix, and felt your shoulders slump as he flashed you a smirk.

“Glad you could come, Y/n.” Seungmin all but sang at your visible distress.

But Felix had a hold on your arm before you could respond with attitude, tugging you dangerously close to the waiter at your side.

“Y/n, this is Jeongin—” Felix gestured towards the boy who lifted his hand to wave. “He’s a school friend of Hyunjin’s.”

“It’s my last year.” Jeongin added with a shy laugh.

Peeling your eyes away from Seungmin, you got a good look at the boy in front of you. The unexpected cuteness both startled you and made your stomach flip. You really had to withhold from squealing and pinching his cheeks. He was so cute.

You smiled genuinely, “It’s nice to meet you, Jeonginnie.”

A small wave of red covered his ears at the sudden nickname, his long eyelashes fluttering in surprise.

Jisung just about combusted in his spot. He was getting pretty sick and tired of keeping tabs on all the boys you managed to hook around your finger, it was starting to get out of hand. Okay, maybe he was the stalker.

In a bout of frustration, Jisung grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, sliding into the booth beside Hyunjin and tugging you after him. You made a noise of surprise as your ass connected harshly with the cracked red cushion of the booth, sending Jisung a glare.

Though, he kept his eyes on the table, avoiding the amused looks on everyone’s faces, even going as far as swatting away Hyunjin’s poking fingers. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to release your hand from his.

Jisung’s palm was sweaty in your hold, but strangely enough it was something that you didn’t mind.

Jeongin looked between you and Jisung for a moment before quickly coming to some sort of realization that only Felix seemed to understand. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and a small smirk was suddenly on his lips as he asked what drink you would like.

Whatever that was about, you didn’t like it.

“I’ll just have a water.” You answered skeptically, finally managing to pull your fingers free of Jisung’s grip.

“Water for me too.”

Jeongin didn’t bother to write down your orders, instead he just nodded and left with that same goofy smile on his face.

Why did your friends have to corrupt the poor kid?

You sent a glare towards Felix, ready to grill him about what the hell just happened but his eyes were on something else above your head, his lips forming into the same smirk that Jeongin had on. Whatever what’s either above you or behind you was either a stupid compilation video of League of Legend funny moments or your next victim.

“Care for one more?” Came from behind you.

And both your and Jisung’s heads swiveled around at a dangerous speed to see the beautiful image of Chan, and damn was he beautiful. He was dressed for the weather, arms now covered in a long black sweater that hugged every one of his muscles so so nicely, and instead of sweatpants, he was wearing jeans. You could definitely tell the difference between a casual day around the house and one where he was going to be seen out in public—was that makeup?

And Jisung frowned. It had been going so well.

It was his turn to send Felix a glare.

The purple haired boy mouthed something along the lines of “girlfriend”, but Jisung couldn’t (could) really make it out.

“Sit down.” You managed to choke out, motioning toward the table.

“Hey!” Felix greeted, standing up to fully embrace Chan in a hug.

You were floored.

“You know each other?”

Felix’s eyes flickered towards you, “We both grew up in Sydney.”

And you thought your eyes were going to pop out of your skull.

“You’re Australian?” You gaped, watching Chan as if he had sprouted a new head.

He then proceeded to spout off some heavily accented words that you could barely make sense of, and you could feel your heart practically flutter in your chest. After meeting Felix, you never thought you’d ever find an Australian accident sexy as hell—but Chan’s was, in fact, very sexy as hell.

“Wow,” Hyunjin whistled. “What does it take for one to become Australian, because fuck.”

You didn’t think you would ever agree with Hyunjin so much in your life.

Chan snorted. “I think you have to be born in Australia unfortunately.”

“Or you know,” Felix tossed sarcastically. “Live there.”

“Damn. Always the catch.”

You sighed, almost going as far as face-palming yourself and/or slamming your forehead against the table.

Instead you just sent Chan an embarrassed smile. “You can sit down if you aren’t planning on running away.”

“Thanks.” He laughed.

Unfortunately for you, there were already three people in your booth and he wouldn’t be able to fit beside you.

Fortunately for Jisung, there were already three people in your booth and Chan wouldn’t be able to fit beside you.

But when Chan began to slide in the seat next to Felix, Hyunjin suddenly jumped with a yelp, glaring at the suspicious looking Felix in front of him. The two had a very strange conversation with their eyes before Hyunjin was huffing a sigh and maneuvering himself to slip under the booth and (clumsily, you may add) pop out on the other side of Seungmin, ignoring the spectacled boys' complaints as he sends Chan a smile.

Stupid plotting assholes.

“Just wanted to sit next to my… uh—”

“Boyfriend?” You supplied, blinking at him dully.

“Yeah, my boy—hey, fuck you!”

“Sorry, were you waiting to tell people?”

He took the liberty to be the kicker instead of the kickee and sent his foot into your ankle, making you hiss with a glare.

Felix nudged Chan’s hip to direct him into the spot beside you, his mouth open in a wide smile as you are further squished between both Jisung and Chan. With one boy being very broad and the other being very clingy, you barely had any room at all.

“Y/n, you look a little cramped, why don’t you scoot over here a little more—?”

“Jisung, if I get any closer to you, I would be on top of you.”

Hey, he wasn’t completely opposed to that plan.

Jisung certainly would rather have you on his lap than Chan’s. He couldn’t even think about that without grasping for your hand again, though you were too fast and managed to wiggle out of his grip.

“Yeah, Y/n. Why don’t you just scoot over?” Hyunjin sang, his mouth curled up in a coy little smirk that he always had carved onto his face.

“You scheming little—”

But your words were cut off by the clearing of a throat.

Seungmin leaned over the table, and the way his sleeves were rolled to his forearms was suddenly very noticeable. He looked at you with the intention to kill, and had he not been a prudish reincarnation of the devil, you would’ve thought he looked hot as fuck.

“Do you want me to retell the little incident that took place at last year’s Christmas party?”

A collective gasp went around the table, Chan being the only one who was absolutely clueless.

Felix whispered something under his breath about how “that was sworn to secrecy”, and Hyunjin’s wide eyes stuck to the side of Seungmin’s face like glue.

Even Jisung broke out of his jealous stupor to gulp.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.”

That was the true form of Kim Seungmin. 

“What? Do dinners like this happen all the time?” Chan asked. “Do you ever actually eat?”

As if on queue, Jeongin stepped up to the table, notepad in hand and wide eyes sparkling. “Are you guys ready to order—?”

But Felix was dragging the boy down to his height, whispering something quickly into his ear, causing his eyes to widen. After enlarging, his gaze flickered back and forth between you, Jisung and Chan. 

“I… will give you guys a few more minutes.”

Jeongin scurried off and you wanted to kill everyone at the table. 

“Well, I’m going to answer my own question here and say no. There will be no eating food today.” Chan hummed, tossing his menu onto the table similarly to a petulant child. 

You huffed. What did you ever do to deserve any of this?

With both boys at either side of you, it seemed to create a visual representation of the conflict in your mind. And Seungmin looked like he was ready to pass out with how hard he was trying to hold in his laughter as Felix and Hyunjin simply smiled your way. 

To say that the two boys were completely clueless, would’ve been an understatement—

With Chan too busy thinking about all the food he wouldn’t be eating and Jisung preoccupied trying to grab ahold of your hand, they didn’t once notice the way that the three little devils stared holes into their heads. 

“I literally can’t stand any of you.”

[multiverseoffandoms-blog]

Infatuation // G.W pt.1

A/N: This is part 1 of my George in love with his brothers girlfriend series. Let me know if you guys enjoy it. Warnings: Maybe angst, fluff? Poor writing, I dunno haha.  Paring: Fred x female!Reader, George x female!Reader

If George was certain of anything in his life, it was of his infatuation over you. From first year watching you stumble down the Great Hall steps to the Gryffindor table after being sorted into your house, all the way up to the present. He was undecided about a lot when it came to choices, but he had be certain about you since the moment he laid eyes on you. And his first glance was never his last. 

He tried to keep to himself, but he would be lying if he said that whenever you graced a room with your presence that it didn’t bring him an unbelievable amount of joy. If he noticed you in the court yard, laughing with some Hufflepuff friends, his steps would falter as his orbs fixated on you; your hair that seemed to dance against the evening breeze, the sun hitting your eyes at just the right angle to make them sparkle. You took his breath away almost every time he saw you.

Of course, his twin brother, Fred, would you be paying attention and would collide with his brother back, unknowing that he had stopped in his tracks. And Fred would follow his brothers gaze, grinning widely before dragging George over to you.

And why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t Fred be excited to spend every waking minute with you.. his girlfriend.  -

It was another excitement filled Friday evening at Hogwarts, with most students still riled up from the arrival of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students all here to try their luck at becoming a representative champion for each school during the Triwizard Tournament. As Dumbledore had announced at the assembly — much to everyone’s objections — because of the severity each task held, no student under the age of seventeen had been permitted to enter their name.

A small group gathered in the Gryffindor common room, “inner circle only” if you will, as everyone fussed and chattered about the upcoming tournament. Most of the people sat in the room consisted of under seventeens, including George who wasn’t impressed with the rule at all, so majority of the conversations were souly based off “what if!”

George was sat on the arm rest of the hideously red couch that was placed strategically in front of the fire place, a few other chairs being dragged around to fit everyone. His arms sat crossed against his chest as he listened to the chatter around him. From the place beside him, Fred spoke.

“Absolute rubbish if you ask me!” He shouted, earning a few cheers around him. The two brothers had agreed to enter their names into the goblet as soon as they heard about it, so it was safe to say that their plan was a bust.

“I guess it’s a good thing no ones asking you then is it, Weasley!” George nearly fell to the floor when he heard your voice carry through the room. Most of his peers seemed to laugh loudly at your comment, but all he noticed was the light that drew itself to you as you bounced down into the common room. Fred moved slightly, lifting a couch cushion before throwing it in your direction. George watched you dodge it with ease, before bringing yourself over and plopping yourself practically into his twins lap. “Serotonin gone,” He thought to himself as he got to his feet, deciding that the far wall would be much more welcoming.

“I’ve seen that look before,” Hermione spoke from beside George. She had unknowingly frightened him, causing him to jump from the sudden conversation.

“Merlins beard Granger, do you think you could make yourself known next time?”  “I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t moping around like a wounded animal!” She grumbled, snapping her book closed and turning her eyes onto him. They said nothing, George refusing to break first and speak what he was sure the young witch already knew..

He was in love with his brothers girlfriend.

“Boys,” she spat it out like she already knew everything there was to know about the male species. Being the smartest witch of her age, George didn’t doubt that she did — or was fairly close — to knowing everything.  George gave himself only moments to weigh the pros and cons of his situation and how it could go wrong if he were to speak the truth out loud. He thought about what would happen IF she were to tell anyone, but the voice in his head reminded him of why Harry and Ron trusted her so much; she could keep their most deepest truths to herself.  “Okay, fine,” George finally spoke, and when he did Hermione turned her whole body to him. She looked up to him, a sad smile setting itself on her lips.  “Harry looks the same way when he sees Ginny with Dean,” she added. George sighed, nodding his head as he crossed his arms over his chest again, kicking absentmindedly at the floor. He felt stupid, harbouring a crush on his twin brothers girlfriend. Hogwarts was filled with so many beautiful women that he couldn’t even explain it, and yet the only one he had ever wanted was with his brother. It was completely wrong on so many levels..

“I heard they’re not “together”” she was sure to put air quotations around the word ‘‘together.’ George huffed as a sort of half laugh, turning his attention back to you. He watched as you sat beside Ron, laughing loudly as you tried to convince him to take the sweets you had offered him. From where he stood, he could tell they were hiccough sweets, and he couldn’t fight the smile that crept onto his face.

He sighed again, turning back to Hermione. “Even if they’re not.. together. That doesn’t mean they’re still not.. involved.” He cringed at the thought.

“And how are you so sure that what they have just isn’t a comfortable friendship?” The two Gryffindor’s turned their attention back to where you and Fred danced around, the crowd laughing loudly as Ron exploded into a fit of hiccoughs.

-

“Have I upset you?” You asked out of curiosity when you found George. He was sat tucked away by the restricted section in the library, books sprawled over the desk in front of him. He pulled his attention from his parchment, before meeting your eyes with a confused frown.  “I don’t believe so, but if you know something I don’t know then please-” George gestured to the spare seat beside him. “-do take a seat and explain my dear,” he grinned up at you, giving you a wink as you challenged his stare. Finally, you caved and plonked yourself down in the seat beside him, pivoting your body so you faced him.

“I do know, that you’ve been lacking on your pranks, and have been less annoying that you usually are. So, what’s the deal Georgie? You sick?” You reached out and placed the back of your hand against his forehead, not missing the way he relaxed at your touch. You pretended to study his features for a bit, before pulling back and sitting upright. “Just as I suspected, you’re completely fine. Which leaves absolutely no reason as to why my best friend has been avoiding me!” Your voice had raised a level, and you were only just aware of how dramatic you were being.  George seemed to panic, and for a split second you thought you were actually right and that he had been avoiding you. It made no sense, George was your best friend and together yours wrecked havoc on the stud not body together, not to mention the professors. You two had a bond unlike most, it was actually George who you were friends with first. You loved him, just as you loved the rest of the Weasley family.  He pulled out his potions book, flicking it open to a random page before turning it to you, indicating that this is why he had been so distant. You frowned, sitting forward to take the book from him. A moments silence passed, before you brought your attention back to him.  “And what does an ageing potion have to do with anything?” You asked. For the second time that evening, his eyes widened as he searched his mind for an excuse.

“I’ve had a theory, and it’s probably so dimwitted that it’s absolutely brilliant!” You nodded for him to continue.

“Dumbledore cast an age line around the goblet. Well - and again this is just a theory - if I make this potion correctly, it’ll age Fred and I and we’ll be able to add our names into the tournament!”

He spoke so casually, like it wasn’t probably the most dumbest idea he had had. You eyed him, before bursting into laughter. Tears fell from your eyes as you tried to contain your laughs, but every time you looked at George you would lose your composure all over again. George smiled beside you, his eyes on you, watching every move.

“I’m sorry George, really. I didn’t mean to laugh.” You told him, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks. “In retrospect, an ageing potion does seem like the correct way to go - if your trying to make yourself older. But this time, there’s obstacles in the way of just a simple ageing potion, what once was a simple task, could now be rather dangerous George. This could have serious consequences.” 

George propped his arm up on the desk, before leaning his head onto his palm. He pouted his bottom lip out at you, and you tried to ignore how his sweet puppy dog face made the butterflies in your stomach stir.

“Are you worried about me, y/n?” He teased, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ears so he could see all your face. You were vaguely aware of how inappropriate the situation was, knew that any bystander would definitely mistake the situation for something it’s not if they happened to pass by at this moment.

“Would they be able to tell that George isn’t Fred?” As soon as you thought it, you wanted to backhand yourself.

You watched as George dropped his hand from your hair, his knuckles brushing gently against the side of your face, as he let his hand fall to rest on your knee. The energy in the room seemed to shift almost instantly, the tension so thick it almost chocked you.

You swallowed against your drying throat, your eyes locking onto the boy in front of you. He was a mirror of his brother, and yet at the same time almost everything was different about him. To the small freckle on the side of his neck, all the way down to his face structure. George was a few mill shorter than Fred to. 

“George..” you warned, your voice barely above a soft whisper.

“I heard that you and Fred aren’t together-” he started.

“You’ve heard wrong, George.” Okay, it wasn’t a complete lie. Although you and Fred weren’t exactly official, the two of you were still respectively loyal to one another. You couldn’t tell people that though, especially not George. Imagine the rumours that would circulate if you jumped from one Weasley to another!  “If I’m so wrong, then why haven’t you moved?”

He was right.

This was wrong.

Everything about it was so completely messed up that you knew you had to stop it.

And yet you made no move to do so.

“Tell me to stop,” George almost pleaded, like he was fighting with himself to. He had to know that every aspect of this situation was wrong. You sat in silence as you watched his slender fingers dance along your thigh, the feather touch he had causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. His hands were warm, his palm resting against the inside of your thigh while his fingers fiddled with the bottom of your skirt.  You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, and you were sure George could to. He had shifted closer to you, his long orange locks falling over his face as he watched you through his lashes. It would be a lie to say you weren’t attracted to him, that his movements didn’t cause a wetness to pool just behind your clothed core. You felt his breath fan across your face when you shifted in your seat to try and relieve some of the friction building between your legs. He was so close to you, nearly close enough to..

You sat back, reaching down to take his hand in yours. George’s lust blown eyes met yours, and he was reminded instantly just who you were and the severity of the matter. What was he thinking?

Better yet, what were YOU thinking?

“I’m flattered George,” your voice was harsh, probably due to the fact that every bit of saliva had dried from your mouth and made it nearly impossible for you to speak. “But we shouldn’t,” you stood, holding his hand a second longer before releasing his hold.  “I look forward to seeing how your ageing potion turns out.”

-

He wanted to throw himself off the astronomy tower, his face was nearly as red as his hair. He was so embarrassed. He hadn’t known what came over him, one moment he was looking at you, admiring how beautiful he thought you were, and the next he was trying to cop a feel right in the library. And the most absurd thing; you hadn’t acted instantly to stop him!

He pulled himself to his feet, hurriedly shoving his books into his bag before leaving the library to find Fred. The ageing potion had been an irrational thought souley conjured in that moment to impress you. If he was being honest, he had no idea the repercussions the plan could have. He just wanted to seem cool to you. Never would he think that you would actually want to see it. So he set off to search for his brother and fill him in on his idea - leaving out the part about you of course - and hoping that you hadn’t told him what his brother just tried to do.

He needed to sort out his priorities. 

[herstarburststories]

Wedding Dress

Kinktober day 13: Cunnilingus

Pairing: Domestic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean is hiding under your wedding dress— he can have some fun while he's in there, right?

A/N: I'll admit that my mood isn't high today, and writing this one was kind hard at some point. So, @theicariantouch helped me a lot more than they usually already do and I'm so glad. Thank you, hon! This is co-written.

Warnings: oral sex (woman receiving), cute, kind public sex

“You look beautiful!”

You rolled your eyes at your mom's obvious lie, although the look on her face told you that she truly believed that adjective could be used properly there. Perhaps that was the 'perfect child' syndrome again when mothers saw their newborns — the unfinished, strange little creatures as they were — as the cutest beings in the galaxy. No one would have the heart to tell them that their baby looked like an old knee, and neither did you about the clearly ugly clothing.

The inordinately puffy dress was more beige than white with a massive bow laced to crown at the small of your back, no cleavage, and sequins embossed with an opalescent gleam trailing along the waistline. It wasn’t in an elegant way like Cinderella’s, but in the most démodé, antiquated manner possible. You'd never wear it for any party, much less your marriage — plus, you just tried it on because you imagined it'd be funny to twirl and watch the skirt flutter, maybe feel like a princess for a hot minute. 

There was something those movies didn’t tell you about the dresses like this, and that was the fact they were heavy. You only wore it for a couple of minutes, and you already wanted to cut it open with scissors and walk around naked for the rest of the day.

After all, this wasn't really your color.

You replaced your wrinkled nose with a playful grimace followed by a shrug. “I guess I'll try another. The siren cut one is really pretty.”

“I'll ask for them to get it.” She nodded, getting up to summon Cecilia — the unfortunate worker that had fetched at least fifteen different dresses for you by now — and the third glass of champagne for herself. She quickly got lost in the lavender-scented castle of dresses, high-classed scenery marked with the quiet lull of Celine Dion playing in the background. You scoffed, turning around to meet the mirror again just to make sure this one was a definite no until your eyes found something way more interesting.

Dean Winchester — the man you made a home out of — was looking at you through the large glass window. It was so easy to spot the smile on his face while he observed you with a lionized intensity as if you were his favorite movie that he couldn’t get enough of watching. Dean's vivid green eyes were almost glossy with adoration and loyalty — because that was the only way this magnetic man knew how to love. And he loved you; oh, how much he loved you and the life he never thought he'd get with you. That marvelously dazed look on his face almost fooled you into thinking that this was the right dress.

Sweetened seconds of longing looks soon shifted, changing into a frown of yours as Dean stepped into the fancy boutique. You moved your body to glance at him, the skirted ends of the dress dancing around your legs as the subtle woosh of fabric echoed. Fortunately, it seemed to break Dean's focus as well, his eyes now sharpened on your confused expression.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was out for lunch with Sammy, so I decided to drop in.” He smirked, approaching you. You placed your hands on your hips and glanced at him. Your bridal instinct — which, funnily enough, sounded a lot like your mom — screamed for you to cover yourself up, but what was the point? He had already seen it, and that definitely wouldn't be your dress.

Nonetheless, you arched your eyebrows and wore an accusative tone as you spoke, “You aren't supposed to see me in a wedding dress before our marriage, Winchester.”

“I don't believe that.” Dean rolled his eyes and placed his hands on your hips.

God, that puffy beige abomination had enough cushiony material to suppress the sensation of Dean's hands on you. Yep, big no.

Childish joy was spreading across your face with a beam as you put your arms around his neck. “You, of all people, a skeptic?”

The Winchester pulled you closer donning that lopsided grin that often made you want to drag him to the nearest bed, but, before he could even speak, you heard your mother's voice nattering to Cecilia about shades of white steadily growing louder. 

She would kill you and Dean both if she saw him there.

“Hide, now!” You pushed his chest only to gain a confused look from the retired hunter. “My mom's coming. You know how crazy she is about matrimonial traditions and whatever! You need to go, now!”

Dean gulped as though just now noticing your mom's echoing voice and high heels clicking against the floor. How was that more threatening than the howls of the werewolves he used to kill?

“Dean!” you pleaded when he didn't move.

He glanced at you with desperate eyes, suddenly paralyzed with fear. “What? I can't go through the front door, she'll see me!”

“Are you afraid of my mom?” you say incredulously, a frown abruptly sharpening your painted features. 

Dean glared at you in exhaustion. “You aren't?” 

“That's not the point!” You groaned. Dean seemed to finally catch up to the idea, abruptly making a beeline to the dressing room encircled with thick velvet curtains the color of spilled wine. “What are you doing?”

He gestured wildly, clearly with only one goal in mind: hide. “Getting in the dressing room!”

“All the others besides mine are occupied!” you hiss sharply, because you’ve been trying on gowns of all shapes and sizes long enough now to know the drill. You pointed to the ostentatiously large gown you were wearing. “They’ll see you once I go back in to change out of this.” 

Dean looked you up and down, a completely inappropriate smirk growing on his lips when you were about thirty seconds away from getting caught violating the imagined laws of matrimony. “I wouldn't mind seeing you change this. I can even help you to-”

“Dean!” you hissed as an idea struck. What else could you do? You weren't signing up for a two-hour-long lecture about the importance of tradition for your own wedding, but there was no other place you could hide Dean in. Your mom's voice was progressively getting closer and closer. What you did next was a desperate yet necessary measure. “Get under me.”

Dean's brows knitted together incredulously. “What?”

“You heard me! This thing is so big it’ll hide you,” you exclaimed in a lower tone than your nervousness desired, denoting the excessively billowy dress. You lifted the smoothly flared skirt just enough not to show your panties and barked: “Get inside, now!”

Dean shot you a wink before dutifully doing what he was told. “That's what she said.”

You just rolled your eyes at his muffled retort, beginning to question why you had agreed to marry him in the first place. 

It didn't take longer than ten seconds for your mom and Cecilia to pop up. The latter held a bundle of dresses in diversified shades of white before settling them on the Victorian-esque marble top table, sighing in relief at the final release of her admittedly heavy burden. 

“Honey, we brought you five siren cuts!” Your mom, though, had an excited smile on, already grabbing one of the many dresses and pushing it into your arms. “Try this!”

Cecilia gave you a friendly smile, gesturing to the long, silken dress you’d just been given. “This one is from Mattel's new collection.”

Dean shifted under your gown, his spiked hair tickling your leg. He was a big man, so you knew this was difficult for him too. You gulped, heart pounding like a drum inside of your chest while you tried to come up with a request to keep them away long enough for you to get rid of Dean.

Glancing around the classy room, your eyes caught a myriad of vibrantly colorful dresses swaying on a rack next to the wall of mirrors. This was it. This was your out.

Your gaze landed back on the two women in front of you. The icy current from the air conditioner combing through your hair didn't help the blood running cold in your veins. You swallowed the lump in your throat and wore your best poker face. 

Was this how Dean felt when he had to lie for a job when he was a hunter? You didn't know, but what you knew for sure was how his greedy fingers felt pulling your panties to the side when he was hiding under your improbably enormous wedding dress in the middle of an ostentatious clothing store.

“They all look so pretty,” you said, suppressing your scoff as Dean pecked your thigh, “but I was thinking about red ones?”

Cecilia opened her mouth to respond, but your mom was quicker. With a shocked expression and her hand resting dramatically on chest, she said: “Red?! That's not a color for a ceremony in the church.”

You were ready to offer her a swift retort as this was your wedding, not hers, but Dean's kisses kept rising higher and higher. Son of a bitch! You’d kill him if it didn't feel so good. You were already wet, momentarily losing track of space and time. Everything with him felt like the comfortable warmth of afterglow.

That is, until your mother brought you back down to earth with an admonishingly chide tone: “Y/N!”

“I just want to see how it fits me. Please.” You knew he was purposely ignoring your pussy, kissing near it but never getting to the point. You placed you hand on the part of the dress that his head would be, pushing him a little closer. The next word wasn’t meant for your entourage, but it made sense anyway: “Please.”

Cecilia curved the corner of her lips in sympathy. “Of course. We just got a new package a few days ago. I think they will fit you perfectly!”

Dean's lips kissed your heat. You bit your bottom lip to control a moan, summoning a nod interlaced with a tight smile for Cecilia. You doubted you were able to come up with anything else more coherent than Dean and more right now.

“I'll make sure it isn't too red!” You mom huffed, following the worker as she turned away to grab what you asked for.

Dean's hand held onto your leg as he started to lick in slowly, savoring your taste. He had to be controlling himself carefully, staving down his own desire to go deep and eat you out hungrily like he usually did.

You watched the pair leave, impatience fraying your scattered thoughts. You clenched down tightly, trying to force his tongue out of you as you waited for your mother to leave. Unfortunately, she stopped in the middle of the aisle to abandon Cecilia in favor of another worker swathed in a collection of bridal veils. Too risky. Maybe pushing him to the door would be better long term than having Dean to go down on you right now, but it certainly wouldn’t be as pleasurable. 

You decided to consider this one of the little adventures pre-marriage: the eldest Winchester was now licking his way inside you, fingertips sinking into your skin as he pressed his mouth and tongue against your wetness.

God, you loved that man.

“Thought you'd like to see some options without your mom.” Cecilia's voice out of nowhere almost made you jump, but you were able to restrain yourself. The fear of getting caught suddenly putting your body in place again, but Dean wasn't having any of it. As soon as you forced a giggle out to answer her, his mouth was on your pussy again.

“Yeah, she can be a little controlling.” You coughed. At least you could use the subject to excuse your discomfort.

You could practically feel Dean's smile on your pussy as he sucked your clit, wriggling his finger inside you. You pressed the hand on the other side of the thick curtain of fabric of his head down harder — for anyone else, it would look like this gesture coupled with your heated expression meant that the dress was uncomfortably hot.

At least, Cecilia thought so. With an understanding, saleswoman grin, she asked: “Do you want help to take the dress off?”

“No!” you almost screamed. It felt good to actually expel the noises you were withholding, even if it was on accident. “I mean, no. No, thank you. I'll take it off myself and try this red one — Can you keep my mom distracted for a couple minutes? She wouldn't like to see me in this.”

Coming up with a lie while your fiancé was sucking your clit and fingering you, checked.

“All for the bride.” Cecilia winked at you and left.

It took a couple seconds for you to regain some self control. With every ounce of willpower you had, you forced yourself to lift your dress and push Dean away from your trembling legs.

“What are you doing?” you asked, glancing at his face. That idiot wore a cocky smile on and had the audacity to lick his lips.

“What? You can't tell me to get between your legs and not eat you out. I'm a good soon-to-be husband.” He winked.

“You're unbelievable.” You sighed, shaking your head. “Hurry up and make me come, and don't get the dress dirty. Cecilia might be able to keep my mom away for like, five minutes. Do a good job.”

Dean chuckled, not able to discern if he was confusing reality and porn again or if this was actually happening, but your taste on his lips was evidence enough to make it uncontestible. He gave you a loving gaze despite everything before coming back to finish what he started. This was it, that was his girl.

“I can't wait to marry you.”

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[pugh-bug]

Scott Lang x reader

Chapter 1

This is going to be a series I’m not sure where it’s gonna go but we shall see! This is quite an angsty chapter but expect light heartedness after this. Smut. If I’m feeling frisky I might bring in more mcu men for the reader to have a relationship with but I think it’s just gonna be Scott. Atleast for now. He’s insanely underrated. anyway hope you enjoy :)

You grumpily hiked up your tights and felt them rip at your thighs. For fucks sake. Leaning over to straighten them over your toes just made the hole larger. Brooklyn baby had come on your Spotify playlist, which was rich seeing as you were dressing sexy in hopes of impressing a divorced 51 year old. How sweet.

‘That’s what you’re wearing?’ Tony’s voice interrupted your music video moment.

Tony knew about your ‘crush’ on Scott. He wasn’t supposed to. No one was. Somehow you’d let yourself spill everything to the playboy at one of his parties. You’d told him how your heart had raced so much the first time you met Scott Lang you had to excuse yourself and check for pains up your arm. You told him about how much you wanted to fuck him. Be held by him. How he’d almost become a priority and you knew how fucked that was. How obsessed you were becoming. How any attention from him felt important. It was embarrassing but time made you less guilty. Impatience made you flirtier and boredom made you stupid.

‘Yes. What do you think?’

Tony had arrived just as you had gotten your skin tight dress to go over your tits. No easy task. You gave him a quick spin in your revealing outfit and heals. A slight mischievous grin formed on your face. He knew what you were doing.

‘I think Scott might have a heart attack.’

That made you laugh excitedly.

‘You’re not supposed to want that Y/N.’ Tony’s tone was warning you but he couldn’t help but smile at your so called ‘antics’. He couldn’t help but route for you. Despite the age gap. He’d dated many younger women in his time and you and Scott would make a hilarious endearing couple. To say the least.

‘Well,’ you sighed, fiddling with your bra strap before looking up at him. ‘I’m not wishing him anything bad. He’s my friend. I just want him to have a good time tonight.’ Was he your friend though? The two of you spent time together alone sometimes but he didn’t know a lot about you. Not as much as you knew about him.

‘Oh how noble of you.’ Tony smirked.

You knew how you sounded. Maybe you’d be happier if your type was young men. Men/boys like the ones that smiled at you on nights out and went to University and hadn’t grown up in the 70s. No. That just wasn’t you. It was naive and the whole thing made you feel younger and older, braver and more anxious at the same time. Scott had such a strong affect on you. He was everything you admired in a person. Intelligent. Caring. Hilarious (he’d made you cry laughing several times). Honest, loyal and sexier than anyone you’d ever interacted with. When you’d first met him he smiled at you so brightly you weren’t sure if you’d imagined it. Everyone liked him. How could they not?

All you could focus on as you finally went downstairs was how much you wanted to talk to Scott and be near him.

‘Don’t get too drunk and pass out on me okay?’

You ignored Tony’s unreasonable request and scanned Stark Tower for Scott. Wanda looked gorgeous in her classic red stood beside a tipsy smiling Clint. There was a Thor, already requesting drinking games, and two soldiers shamelessly flirting. Lucky. Nat was pouring herself and Bruce a drink whilst Vision stared at one of Tony’s odd abstract paintings. Where was he?

‘Who’re you looking for?’

Oh. You must have said that last part out loud.

‘You got a drink yet?’

Scott. You instantly smiled. It was so childish. He’d asked you two questions and you were just stood gazing. Scott moved closer to you looking for an answer. He smelt of the Earth and oil. It took a lot for you to not just sink your face into his clothes and fuck he looked good too. As always. ‘I was looking f- you know I’m a bit cold..’ you trailed off not sure what your plan had been in the first place.

Sometimes speaking to him was easy, on those days you’d think of him as a friend, but if you thought a bit too much you’d go over the edge and turn pretty useless.

As if he hadn’t noticed before, Scott took your appearance in. He seemed slightly shocked at first but not as taken aback as Tony assumed he’d be. Bit disappointing. Maybe you hadn’t looked as ‘sexy’ as you’d hoped. You caught his gaze pause at your legs and hips. A slight smile crept up on you - you had a feeling Scott Lang wasn’t a chest man. Not that it really mattered. One glance didn’t mean much, Tony had stared at you inappropriately more than once and Banner.

‘I mean- you aren’t really wearing a lot. I have a jacket if you want something warmer on..’ just like you Scott trailed off. Wearing his jacket sounded appealing but being kissed by him would be so much better. Deep in inappropriate thoughts about the ‘friend’ in front of your face, you sighed. God this would all be easier if you were atleast tipsy. You were especially anxious that night which you just hated because Tony’s parties were normally when you let loose. Thor had had to peel you off the floor last time while you mumbled something about how ordering fast food was more nerve wracking than ordering from sex shops.

‘Y/N!’ Thor’s booming voice cut between you and Scott as did his massive frame. You didn’t mind. He was like a huge teddy and just as inviting. Scott greeted him but you could sense his discomfort. The former criminal wasn’t overly fond of people he didn’t know much about. You were an exception. He knew enough to know you weren’t a threat and enough to like you. Thor on the other hand- well Scott had seen him lift Nat, Wanda and you onto his shoulder pretty easily. He’d also met Loki and had a tendency to judge people off their family. One of his bad habits.

‘Starks got these drinks but they’re not just drinks... they’re full of colours. Rainbows Y/N,’ he slurred his words but the man was so excited about colours it was adorable, you happily humoured him.

‘No way! rainbows!’

‘Yes yes! I don’t know what’s in them.’

‘Yeah maybe it’s just vodka.’ Scott raised his eyebrows and then walked off grumpily. You didn’t blame him, Thor tended to take everyone’s lime light, but he could have been nicer. It wasn’t as if the two of you had been chatting for long, or about anything serious. He saved that for his ex wife and you could only imagine how those interactions went.

Then you realised what day it was. Shit. Scott had told you his anniversary was coming up so he might be more serious that usual. The poor man was probably ripping his hair out wondering where he’d gone wrong. All you could do was selfishly hope he didn’t want his ex wife back. You couldn’t even remember her name despite him reminding you. What you did know was that a loud party was either, in his mind, the best place for him to be or the worst and going off what you’d seen so far you suspected the latter.

‘Have any of you seen Scott?’ You paved your way through the dance floor where you cracked a smile at Sam’s dad dancing and Nat’s horrified expression. No one had.

‘Bruce?’ You looked at the scientist with worried but hopeful eyes. ‘Have you seen Scott anywhere?’ Not only did his seem worried too but he actually looked as if he felt sorry for you. Why? Maybe he suspected things. Out of everyone Tony invited, Bruce was the most diplomatic and the most observant and you were not exactly subtle (Tony liked to remind you of that).

After pleading with Bruce to let you know where he was you went to the roof and found Scott. He was sat on the edge, his legs dangling over like he was Parker. Did not bode well.

‘Scott?’ Your breath seemed to clog before it reached your lungs when he turned around to meet your eyes and say your name. It never seemed to feel old hearing it. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. You straightened your short dress, the cold air reaching deep into your skin. Damn this man and his dramatic going-outside-when-sad routine.

At first you brain told you to leave before you overstayed your ‘uninvitedness’ (if that wasn’t a word your brain had invented it) but your instincts told you to stay. You were stood rigid on the opposite side of the roof to Scott. But he was close enough for you to see his face clearly. Pretty. Pretty but sad. The same could objectively be said about you.

‘I thought you might want company.. but I can g-‘ before you could finish Scott smiled his usual welcoming smile. It told you to stay. You approached him as if he was a frightened deer and it felt strange to do so. After all he had fought Thanos and many powerful beings whilst your arguments seemed to just be with technology.

‘Company’s good.’

You paused as you thought about whether or not to sit down beside him. Sit and you risk falling to your death. Sit and you risk saying the wrong thing to an emotional Scott and wanting to jump to your death. Stay stood up and feel too far away. He seemed to sense your predicament.

‘Sit. You’re not gonna fall.’

But what if you did?

‘Y/N I won’t let you fall. I haven’t bumped up your life insurance.’ You laughed, slightly too much as usual. It was finally dark. Normally darkness didn’t sit well with you. It made you nervous and anxious for everything you hadn’t done for the next day. It made you overthink. Why did the night do that to you and everyone you knew? But from Stark Tower’s roof you could see the entire city and it’s bright unnatural lights. They weren’t as pretty as fireflies or that one scene in Tangled that made Bruce cry but it was still nice.

‘I don’t even understand how life insurance works to be honest.’

Scott widened his eyes at your comment but he was facing the view of New York. Not you. You focused on it too and fought the urge to talk about it. ‘I forget how young you are sometimes.’ That was a stinging thought. His eyebrows were knitted together and his dark eyes were blank. His lips were slightly agape making his expression a mixture of realisation and sorrow. He was probably thinking about his ex wife as he looked at New York’s views. There was a long weighted pause where both of you remained still and watched the city.

‘She was-‘ just as it felt like Scott could fully open up to you he stopped himself. His eyes met yours (finally) and he suddenly cracked his sorrowful expression into a wide but brief smile. ‘Should we go back?’ You didn’t answer. ‘I don’t loveee the idea that the cake might be gone.’ He stood up and stretched his hand out for you to grab. You took it after a moment of hesitation. ‘There was cake?’ Both of you had returned to your childish selves. Enough maturity and worrying. It was meant to be a fun night! You looked down at your dress remembering why you’d dressed so ‘sexily’ in the first place. How could you still be so naive ?

Scott was sad about his ex wife. His 45 year old ex wife. You must have seemed high school aged to the man. Why just why couldn’t you fancy someone younger and more available? Sigh.

[ejzah]

Can you do a fanfic of everybody or some doing a toast at densi’s wedding + include Kirkin please.

To The Happy Couple

Deeks shared a glance with Kensi, feeling remarkably more relaxed now that the reception was underway and the majority of the Russians were gone. The 3 or 4 glasses of champagne he had probably didn’t hurt either.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, particularly Callen, who kept clinking his glass at random intervals. Each time, Deeks and Kensi willingly leaned in and kissed to enthusiastic applause.

As the last of the meal was cleared away, their DJ stood up and announced,

“Ladies and Gentleman, Kensi and Marty’s family and friends would like to say a few words.” He passed his microphone to Julia, who sat next to Kensi.

“Hello, I’m Kensi’s mother,” she started a little shyly. “I’d just like to say that I’m so happy for you and glad that you found each other. Marty, thank you for making Kensi’s world a brighter, warmer place. No one else has ever been able to do that for my little girl.”

Deeks felt his throat tighten at her words and saw Kensi looked close to tears.

“I wish you many wonderful years together and I love you so much. To Kensi and Deeks.” Everyone drinks and then Julia leaned across the table to give them each a hug, tears leaking down her cheeks.

Someone passed the microphone to Roberta and she stood, smiling at them in a way that made Deeks slightly nervous. After several drink, he just hoped she didn’t go on a rant about all the terrorists the team captured.

“You know, I thought this day would never come,” Roberta said, earning a few chuckles. “Most of you probably know Marty didn’t have the easiest childhood. He worked hard to move past that part of his life, but I knew it would still take someone real special to get through his walls and understand him.

“From the moment Marty introduced me to Kensi and she turned down a cooking lesson from me, I knew she was the right one. I know she loves him more than anything but isn’t going to put up with any of his crap. She winked at Deeks to take the sting out of her words. “I couldn’t ask for two better kids. To Kensi and Marty.”

Everyone raised there glasses again and under the clink and murmur of voices she added in an undertone,

“And I better get some grandchildren.”

Nell was the next to stand, eyes shining bright with love and happiness.

“Like Mrs. Deeks said,” she started, “we are all really glad that this day actually happened. Like really, really glad.” There was another round of chuckles and Kip shouted something from the back. “Seriously though, Kensi and Deeks, I am so happy for you guys. You have been through so much together, yet you’ve remained so strong and figured out a way to make it work. I’m constantly amazed by your love and commitment to each other. I think we all aspire to have the kind of love you have. To my friends, congratulations.”

A few more people from each side spoke, including Kip-who Deeks had to cut off midway through a highly inappropriate story-and Kensi’s bridesmaids. When it was Sam’s turn, he faced them with a bittersweet smile.

“Stay strong together and cherish every moment.”

Deeks nodded to him, gripping Kensi’s had all the tighter. Cupping his cheeks, Kensi drew him towards her, kissing him deeply. There embrace was cut short by a familiar voice.

“I just have a few words to say.”

“Oh my god, you have to be kidding me,” Deeks groaned, pulling away from Kensi as Kirkin stood up from one of the side tables. Deeks had honestly forgotten he was even present somehow. Either Eric or Nell had apparently decided to take his hand cuffs off and was making use of the freedom.

“Who gave him a microphone?” Kensi demanded.

“More importantly, what is doing at our reception in the first place?”

Adopting an affectionate expression, Kirkin extended a hand in their direction. Deeks could see a few guests whispering to each other, clearly wondering who he was.

“Marty is a very dear friend,” Kirkin said, staring directly at Deeks like he was a long-lost love. “We met several years ago and he’s held a special place in my heart ever since.”

Deeks was honestly a little impressed that Kirkin had the audacity to act like he hadn’t nearly destroyed his and Kensi’s wedding. A glance at Kensi indicated she was in the same state of disbelief.

“Naturally I am interested in whatever makes Marty happy.” He pressed his hand over his heart, an underlying note of sorrow in his tone as he addressed Deeks directly. “I know our...relationship may not be as it once was, but I hope you still think of me fondly and know that I’m only a call away.” He raised his glass dramatically and added, “To the happy couple.” His voice wavered as he said the last part.

Kensi glanced at him, apparently not sure how to respond. Shrugging, Deeks raised his glass, drained it, and slammed it back on the table. The rest of the guests had started chatting once more and were slowly leaving their tables.

“Yeah, I’m definitely going to need something stronger than that,” he decided.

“I guess I should be glad he didn’t ask for the first dance,” Kensi teased.

“Oh, you think it’s funny now, but Kirkin just walked over to your mom’s table. And...she is totally smiling at him.”

“Oh hell no,” Kensi muttered. As she ran off to save Julia, Deeks leaned back in his chair. Maybe it wasn’t your typical wedding, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

***

Thanks for the prompt!

[contradictions-of-iron-and-lace]

So on my old blog, I would occasionally give my unsolicited thoughts and opinions on shows or movies (usually ones that either had a lot of hype or were just straight up bad). I just watched "365 Dni" aka "365 Days" because I had a couple hours to kill so be prepared for mental spewage because it's my blog and I do what I want.

Wait I thought this was a romantic thriller. They're talking about human trafficking. This is already gross.

Michele Morrone is very good looking though and I've been obsessed with his face for the last few weeks.

This whole conversation about these girls getting trafficked is gross.

Yes. Let's be extra pervy during a pervy business meeting and check out the girl on the beach with our binoculars.

Hold up. Why did they get shot?

I don't know what's going on. Freaking Italian mob, man.

This song about being addicted to someone that's playing while people are bleeding out on the ground seems tonally inappropriate.

So far we've seen Italy, San Francisco, and Warsaw. I didn't know we were globetrotting.

And we switched from Italian to Polish to English. Sure.

Yeah. Michele Morrone could get it. Also he survived being shot.

Is that the same girl from the beach? Probably. Why not.

They do a lot of spinning shots and it's making me dizzy.

So far this is a very expensive foreign Lifetime movie.

Yes. Because everyone takes boob shots in the back of their Uber while sober.

Homegirl's boyfriend looks like they picked him out of a burly henchman catalogue.

Yup. Michele Morrone is stupid hot. Even just sitting down he's hot.

Oh good. We've transitioned from potential human trafficking to cocaine.

Well damn. This is fairly explicit for a "mainstream" film.

Cool. I share a name with the female lead.

Still don't know the male lead's name yet.

Everybody in this movie is either stupid hot or stupid ugly. There is no middle ground.

Yes, Michele. Creeping up on this girl on a darkly lit path saying "Are you lost, little girl?" is definitely going to win you all the points.

I don't understand why writers insist on putting powerful women with schlubby dudes. It's tired and cliched and inevitably leads to annoying arguments.

Yes. Let's wander around Sicily at night all alone. That's totally safe.

And my point is proven.

I hope if I ever get kidnapped and holed up in some random ass castle in Sicily my makeup looks as good as Laura's.

So this just turned into a horror movie.

Called it about Laura being the girl on the beach.

Yeah, that's not creepy at all, dude. Let's obsess over a girl we might have hallucinated for five years and then kidnap her and give her a year to fall in love with you. Solid plan.

This is literally making my skin crawl.

Ah yes. "I won't do anything without your permission" he says as he literally grabs and sexually assaults her.

So basically this is trying to be "erotic thriller, Beauty and the Beast style".

Her pulling a gun on him has been the best thing so far.

I'm so confuuuuuused.

That's nothing new though. I live in a state of perpetual confusion.

Why the hell is there a man chained to a rock in this dude's basement.

I have many concerns.

Also his name is Massimo so that's good to know.

Besides the man chained in his basement his house is pretty cool.

Just kidding the man is no longer chained in the basement since he now has a bullet in his head.

I'm only 30 minutes in and this has been a wild ride.

"I'm not a bag of potatoes you can move without my permission!" is very Polish and as somebody who's family is Polish I'm living for it.

I'm going to need him to stop laying hands on her.

Whoever chose the music made some odd choices.

He keeps watching her sleep and it's creepy.

And there he goes grabbing her again.

I do like that she's giving him a lot of attitude and isn't putting up with his shit but you know that's going to change 🙄

Yes. Go spend all his money, honey.

He is disrespectful as hell.

I don't care how hot he is, he's creepy and abusive and I don't like it.

"I am not the monster you think I am." You would be incorrect, my dude.

Like, she went on vacation with her boyfriend and friends, and I can't for the life of me figure out why they aren't looking for her unless they explained it and I missed it.

Pierogi. The most romantic of Polish foods.

"I do business." He's a drug trafficker, honey. Run away. Run far, far away.

Honestly I would turn this off if I wasn't so far in it already.

I feel like I have to see this trainwreck through to the end.

"I would like you to show me how to be gentle for you" would be more appealing if HE LITERALLY HAD NOT KIDNAPPED, ABUSED, AND ASSAULTED HER.

Ew. Did he sneak in her bed while she slept?

One good dinner and now she's all "let's gently touch him in bed and take a shower in front of him" 🙄

Why is this bathroom set up like a communal shower? It's weird.

Although to be fair if he hopped in the shower with me I'd check him out too 🤷

They tied her to the seat in the plane. What the hell.

I'm so uncomfortable.

Ugh. Why. Why is this a thing.

So far this has been creepier than 50 Shades and 50 Shades is creepy as hell.

Hold on. I thought they were at a hotel. Why does he have a giant ass portrait of himself hanging up in his room?

I. Am. Uncomfortable.

Oh man. He has a nice butt.

Don't get distracted by the pretty man, Laura.

Onscreen Laura too.

He asked her to teach him how to be gentle, then handcuffs her to the bed and makes her watch while he hooks up with another woman.

Yup. Doing a great job there, Massimo.

Cool I'm back to being confused.

She can't walk in her heels and I'm dying laughing. Same, girl, same.

"What are you wearing?" "A couple thousand euro of yours." GET HIM.

Now we've entered the Scarface phase of the movie because there was just a copious amount of cocaine snorted.

Where did he pull two guns from??

So I don't know how long she's been with him at this point. I feel like that's something that needs to be clarified.

And she fell off the boat.

Of course she did.

Oh man. Why's he gotta be so cute with his fluffy curls and stubble and tattoos?

Also I'm pretty sure he only owns like two shirts because he's walked around shirtless for most of this movie.

We are now in the part of the movie where we've screamed awful things at each other and now we're going to bone it out.

All over the boat. Like every surface of the boat they have now banged on.

If y'all were dissatisfied with the raunchiness of the 50 Shades series, this is the movie for you because it far surpasses that.

Of course they're going to a ball. They always do in these rich people movies.

Makeover montage because why not.

Oh no. He's hot in a tux.

It always cracks me up in movies when people just automatically know how to ballroom dance like professionals without any training.

Every time I think this movie can't get more cliched, it does.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I subject myself to bad movies?

I take it back. I know why I did it this time. The reason is 6'2" and looks damn good in a button up shirt.

"I thought you were kidnapped!" She was. You were a good friend for thinking that.

The switching between languages is giving me whiplash. It's very jarring going from Italian to Polish to English to Polish to Italian.

Her friend seeing through her bullshit is giving me life.

Also loving the fact that she's acknowledging she has Stockholm Syndrome. But because it's a movie it won't change anything.

Another makeover montage? So soon?

Also her friend keeps calling Massimo Mozzarella and it's hilarious.

That wig looks like it's about to crawl off her head.

Of course the ex shows up.

Honestly just knee him in the nuts and be done with it.

Why does Massimo think it's okay to break into her apartment and wait in the dark for her?

I don't know who thought using a blue light for her apartment was a good idea but it just looks like they're in a giant tanning booth.

"I don't need 365 days... Because I love you." GIRL NO.

I mean it was inevitable but it's still gross.

Yup. That's normal. Let's marry our kidnapper.

I want to snatch that wig off her head.

"What are your intentions with our daughter?" You don't want to know what his intentions are with your daughter, sir.

I will say that I love all her clothes in this movie.

Also she's pregnant. Calling it right now.

Called it.

Also good to know they've only known each other two months and they're going to get married and have a baby 👀

Her best friend is my favorite character and is the only likeable person in this whole movie.

Plot twist. Shocker.

This is so dramatic.

I will give them credit for the ending because that was unexpected.

In summary, this movie is trash and while the "love" scenes are pretty hot, it's not worth the time or effort that I clearly put into this.

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

Ashhun E

For the love of all things golden, you have absolutely no idea how fricking excited I was to write this!!!!  *SQUEAL OF DELIGHT*  Also, I really love Dwalin in this...  I really need to write for him more.

Part 24 of ‘A Deep Misunderstanding’.  Link to Series Masterlist.

Thorin falls for a Dwarrowdame raised by Elves, and tries to make know his feelings, but accidentally offends her, which leads to another and another misunderstanding between the two.

Based off of @immawriteyouthings​ ‘Falling Stars’

Note:  If you wish to be tagged for certain stories, just let me know and I can add you to a tag list!

Tags:

@kumqu4t​​ @pixierox101​​ @elvish-sky​​ @ladylouoflothlorien​ @vicmackeybullshxt @lothloriien​  

MASTERLIST

OC(s) Used: Estel

Word Count:  1,232

Warning(s): Swear words.  I don’t think there are any insinuations in this one...  I think.

Translation(s): Ashhun E:  Marry Me

~~~~

The next day found Thorin with dark bags underneath his eyes and his two best friends and advisors watching him with concerned eyes.  As my gaze swept over his drowsy appearance, I frowned, walking over to lay my hand on his broad shoulder.

"What were you doing last night, Thorin?  Surely you didn't take two shifts again..."  I questioned softly, my words carrying an accusatory undertone, and Thorin looked down at me with a tired smile.

"No, Estel.  I just had some thoughts that wouldn't let me rest."  He murmured quietly, and my frown deepened at the hoarse sound of his voice.  

Propping my hands on my hips, I gave him a look.  "Well, I don't think we're going to move on till you get some semblance of sleep."  I stated firmly, making Thorin frown and open his mouth to protest.  "And no 'buts'!  I don't want to hear another word out of you until you've gotten some rest."  I continued, and looked over at Balin and Dwalin for backup.

Balin caught my eye and stepped forward to stand beside me.  "Aye, Thorin.  We won't make much ground today if our leader is falling asleep on his feet."  He said, giving Thorin a hard look.

Thorin's steely-eyed gaze swept over the three of us standing before him, and he let out a sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat.  "Something tells me that none of you will take no for an answer..."  He grumbled, and I nodded.

"You have that right.  Now, dig out your bedroll and roll it out."  I ordered, and Dwalin stifled a snicker beside me as Thorin gave an exaggerated sigh, but did as I told him.  

"Mahal, ye've got quite a hold over him, lass."  Dwalin murmured, leaning in to whisper in my ear.  A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth and I let out a soft laugh.  "He's never listened te any of us when we try te order him around.  Always pulls that bloody 'King' rank, the royal pain in the arse..."  

I laughed at Dwalin's descriptive words.  "Really?  I've always thought that you handled him pretty well."  I commented, making Dwalin chuckle and shake his head.

"Nay, if one of us told him to dance a jig, he'd go tell us te--well, ah probably shouldn't say that te ye.  Bit inappropriate.  But if ye asked him, he'd do it without question."  He said, and I shot him a look.

"Now you've got me curious as to what he'd tell you to do, Master Dwalin."  I teased, and he coughed, shuffling his feet.

"S'not something that a lady should hear..."  He muttered, but I only laughed, waving away his words.

"Come on, I'm no lady, Master Dwalin.  I mean, what lady wears trousers and doesn't bathe for three weeks straight?"  I asked, and Dwalin nodded reluctantly.

"Aye, but ah really don't think--"

"Oh, alright, if you don't want to say it, I'll let it go.  I'm just teasing you."  I chuckled, winking at Dwalin.  

He looked at me with an expression that alternated between amused and frustrated.  "Ye're a cheeky little thing, lass."  He grumbled, crossing his arms across his broad chest.  "Don't know how Thorin'll keep ye in line..."

"He won't be able to.  I'll be the one keeping him in line." I murmured back, trying to hide my smile at Dwalin's words while watching as Thorin walked back towards us, his bedroll tucked under an arm.  "Now, what does this stubborn Dwarrow want now...?"

"Probably ye, I wager."  

"Undoubtedly.  Now if you'll excuse me, my royal pain in the arse calls..."  I said dramatically, just as Thorin stopped in front of us.  I heard Dwalin choke back a laugh as I gave Thorin a smile; looking up into his tired blue eyes.  "Need something?"  I asked, and he nodded.

"Aye."

"What is it?"

"You."

I rolled my eyes at his blunt words, looking over at Dwalin with an exasperated glance.  "I suppose I'll see you around..."  I murmured, allowing Thorin to grab my wrist and lead me away from the burly, smirking Dwarrow.

Cheeky bastard.

Turning my attention to Thorin as he led me, I grew confused as we began to walk away from the Company; going far enough into the meadow we were traveling through to be out of sight, but not too far that they wouldn't hear us if we called.  Or the other way around.

"What are we doing out here?"  I asked, watching as Thorin began to roll out his bedroll.  He didn't bother to answer me right away, and I crossed my arms impatiently.  "Thorin."

"I cannot sleep with the racket they make."  He muttered gruffly, motioning for me to join him as he settled himself down on the ground.  I smiled fondly, unable to hide my amusement at his words as I made myself comfortable.

"Ah, so the great King Under the Mountain is a light sleeper?"  I teased gently, my heart beginning to flutter in my chest as Thorin reclined back into my lap; his dark hair cascading across my legs as he settled his head in my lap; sapphire-blue eyes fluttering shut.

"Only when there is constant noise and chatter.  It comes from living on the run."  He murmured, and my expression sobered slightly.  I knew of the pale orc that sought to destroy his lineage, of how the Elvenking had refused them help in their time of greatest need, and how he--the Crown Prince and heir to the throne of Erebor--worked as a blacksmith for many years, just barely scrapping by.  

"I would imagine so."  I replied quietly, stroking back the hair on his forehead.  "Some things are not so easily forgotten."

His eyes opened and he gazed up at me.  "No, but that is not a bad thing," he murmured, "you asked me yesterday why I was so driven to have you know the ways of the Dwarves."  

I eyed him curiously, wondering if he would answer my question or just leave me in suspense a little while longer.  "Yeah..."  I drew out the word.

Hesitance began to edge onto Thorin's features as he sat up to look over at me.  "Have you ever considered the role you would play once we reclaim Erebor?"  He asked, and I shook my head silently.

Thorin let out a deep breath, reaching out a hand to gently grab mine and rub his thumb over my tattoo.  "Estel, behind every great King is a Queen.  They are almost as important as the King in many matters, and their opinion and advice is crucial for the King when he makes his decisions.  And you as my betrothed--the future Queen--need to know of the culture of your people."  Thorin paused, his eyes anxiously searching my face.  "Estel?"

I swallowed hard as I stared back at him, trying to process everything he said and the meaning of his words.

He saw me as his Queen, his pillar of strength and confidant.  His closest advisor and the love of his life.  Eru, I was going to cry.

Blinking back the unwanted tears welling in my eyes, I nodded at Thorin.  "Yeah?"  I choked out, watching as Thorin hesitated on his words.  Then his eyes grew bold as his features became that of a leader and King.

Strong, bold, courageous, fearless, compassionate.

"Marry me.  Today."  

[gloryofluv]

Traditionally Obscure Chapter 31

Oh, fun. Marius, you jealous gadfly.

Previous Chapter

Vyn turned the horse and stretched his arms during the small lapse of time before the final round for the day. His mood was spectacular for practice, and he enjoyed the feeling of the skirmish. He had been glanced at a few times by his teammates. Was he wearing a particular smile this late morning?

Possibly. It could be the most apparent transition, considering, despite his lack of flamboyant perfection for what he wanted for a courting proposal, it still met marks. She still said yes—different things cluttered around the concept of the present ever-moving into the future.

Then like a beating of wings, the thoughts cleared. His eyes touched on a familiar form in the stands—one of which he wasn’t expecting to see.

Vyn directed his horse toward the railing and paused with a tilt to his head. “I wasn’t expecting you here today,” he smiled.

Rosa beamed and leaned on the railing toward him. “You told me you had practice. I figured after I had breakfast, I would come over to catch a portion of it.”

He laughed and pivoted the horse, so he was closer. “You surprised me. How long have you been here?”

Her smile grew, and his heart fluttered in his chest. “Long enough to see you’ve been a bit lazy, Dr. Richter,” she teased.

He groaned, and his body leaned closer to her. “Well, I’ll have to actually try now that I know you’re watching, Rosa.”

She leaned further and kissed his cheek before returning to her secure position with both feet on the ground. He was glowing, and it could be seen lightyears away. Suddenly, his age was far more apparent. Youthful and excitable.

“Richter!” One of the players shouted.

He chuckled and gripped her hand, kissing it. “I’ll see you after this last round, my dearest.”

Rosa smiled and blew him a kiss before he raced off toward the game. A fire was in his gut. With her by his side, he could triumph any task handed to him.

It could have been her clapping for him or just the renewed vigor of hearing her voice. He dominated that round, ruining his teammates playing opposite of him. Truly, he felt on top of his game. Claps on the back, the usual farewells except for the chin nudges and eyebrow wags. They noted his change in demeanor, and he didn’t blame them.

Vyn paced the horseback toward the stands, and Rosa came down to meet him. A few whistles from his teammates riding by, and Vyn ignored them as he offered his hand. “Join me on the ride back to return my horse?”

She nodded and took his gloved hand. “Of course.”

He assisted her onto the horse as he bent and slid back. Rosa was careful and managed to maneuver onto the slick saddle and closer to his frame. Vyn knew he should care that she was pressed close to his chest in such an inappropriate manner. He even confirmed that he was on a chemical high from the match. However, knowing these facts didn’t lessen his happiness when she smiled back at him.

“How was your morning, Rosa?” He questioned as they began their trek to the stables.

She rocked her head and adjusted her position in her black pants. “It was decent. I wanted to see you before our week started. The first one back.”

“Yes,” Vyn agreed. “I was going to see if you wanted to accompany me to lunch today, but I also didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“Was I presumptuous?” Rosa glanced back.

“You were exemplary,” he clarified and leaned closer. “Thank you for the nice surprise.”

When they arrived at the stables, Vyn assisted Rosa off the horse before returning it. It gave him a chance to cool down and breathe. Stripping off his gear, he counted backward while reviewing the chemical process of love. Rash actions after finally receiving what you desire would only be a plight of impatience.

Vyn felt the dopamine rush. He experienced the addictive properties of seeing the object of his affection without hindering actions. Well, to a particular level. Vyn inhaled as he reached the single digits and rubbed his face under his glasses. That kiss. Vyn zealously wanted more. He chided himself, and that gave him enough composure to recover.

Time. The timing was everything. Yes. Control.

Gear stripped off and bagged; he strolled out of the stables to see her chatting… with Marius. Vyn immediately felt frustrated at the intrusion. What was he doing here? When approaching, Marius waved and grinned.

“Good morning, Professor,” he smirked.

“Good morning, Marius. I’m interested in finding out what you're doing at the equestrian center today,” Vyn declared as he shifted the bag in his hand.

Marius straightened his jacket and shrugged. “Rosa said she was going to get some fresh air; I figured it was to come to see the horses since she shared such a fondness for them from what she said.”

Vyn allowed his lips to rest pleasantly as he gestured toward the path. “Shall we?” Seething. Frustration. Illogical, but human. Vyn breathed through his nose and allowed the steam to settle.

“Of course,” Rosa nodded. “Marius, I’m starting to think you have a trace put on my phone.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you, Missy,” Marius laughed.

She rolled her eyes as they reached the gravel path toward the parking lot. “I didn’t tell you anything this morning in our texts that would elude me coming here.”

“But Vyn’s polo practice was today,” Marius shrugged.

He was fishing about the date. Which, all things considered, wasn't horrible but an unneeded annoyance. The envy was clear. He only wished this would have been a bit of time away from their bubble. Rosa didn’t need the exposure just yet. Well, a mistake on his part for his pride.

Vyn ignored the probing Marius was subconsciously tossing out and turned his attention to Rosa. “Did you walk over?”

She nodded. “It was a pleasant walk.”

He smiled and pointed to his car. “Then shall we take the car?”

Before she could answer, Marius, wrapped his arm around Rosa. “Oh, we could use the exercise, right?”

“Stop it,” Rosa groaned and shoved his arm from her.

“Now, Miss Attorney,” Marius snorted. “You’re never this annoyed.”

“Maybe she’d prefer not to be touched,” Vyn declared as he opened his trunk, setting his bag inside.

Rosa exhaled and straightened her sweater. “Where were you thinking of eating?”

“Possibly that lovely cafe that serves crepes on Sunday?” Vyn offered as he shut the trunk and walked toward his passenger side.

Rosa grinned as she rocked her head. “That sounds delicious.”

“I thought we were having lunch?” Marius hummed and glanced up from his phone. “I just booked a reservation at the bistro down the street.”

Vyn adjusted his black t-shirt and slid on the buttoned shirt. “Marius, why don’t you go eat at the bistro then? We aren’t on your time today.”

“Oh, Dr. Richter,” Marius tutted. “I’m just trying to do something nice. It’s great food, and I would like to go over a few things.”

Vyn breathed and walked around the car to continue with his buttoning next to Rosa. “Do you feel partial?”

Rosa smirked and reached over, assisting with his shirt. “If he’s paying, then at least we can order whatever we want.”

Marius arched an eyebrow as he observed the pair. “Who said I’d be paying?”

“Me, because you're interrupting my Sunday,” Rosa voiced.

“I suppose that’s settled then,” Vyn smiled.

“Rosa, what were you busy doing last night?” Marius asked.

The woman turned around as Vyn finished situating his shirt and tilted her head. “You’re awfully involved in my personal life, Mr. Von Hagen.”

“Of course I am. You’re going to be my future girlfriend,” he winked and waved her along.

“I never agreed to such nor would ever. Besides, as I’ve always told you, it isn’t your business,” Rosa declared.

Was there some signal Vyn needed to read in this situation? He walked up next to Rosa as they began their trek toward the sidewalk. Her hand grazed against his as Marius smiled over at them.

“Missy, why are you so grumpy today? Do you need me to brighten your day with some good news? Vyn’s practice must have bored you,” He teased.

She huffed and shook her head. “Marius.”

Vyn took her hand in his, and her fingers knitted perfectly. There was a bit of tension in her grip, and Vyn could see that her jaw had a bit of tightness. Had he made an error in not being decisive? He had a summary of courtship behavior from his uncle quite a few months back when he first mentioned Rosa. However, this wasn’t Svart, nor was it clear as to how comfortable she was vocal.

The man tends to lead with dancing. It’s a performance of confidence, and the premise is to allow the flower to be admired among the blooms in the garden. In courtship, the similarities were as to such a statement. In modern dating, however, Vyn found himself at a bit of a loss, unfortunately.

“So, have you both eloped?” Marius asked.

Rosa coughed and stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“Isn’t hand holding a bit bold for you, Vyn? I thought you were rather boring,” Marius continued with a wave of his fingers in front of him.

Envy is a silly thing, even for a confident man. Vyn arched an eyebrow as his pleasant smile remained. “Marius, if I didn’t know any better, I would suggest you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” Marius was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Of you? Or of her?”

Rosa gasped and poked Marius with her free hand. “Don’t be so snide. Just say what you need to say.”

“Okay, Rosa,” Marius nodded. “You both are likely the worst couple I’ve ever seen. He’s rigid and boring, and you’re too sweet to tell him otherwise.”

“Only those who have a deficit for those without the ability to retain conversation, Marius. It’s a shame you would speak so poorly of yourself,” Vyn responded.

Rosa covered her mouth. “Vyn.”

Marius laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Miss Attorney. He’s not a morning person.”

Rosa revealed her smile as she peeled away her hand. “I wasn’t worried about it, Marius. I’ve debatably regretted represented you at times, but that’s all.”

Marius scrunched his nose and stopped. “Well, that’s such a horrible thing to say,” he sighed with a dramatic pout, and then he smiled and waved when looking in front of them. “Seems Artem and Luke are here. Excellent.”

What? Both Vyn and Rosa glanced at each other and then toward the pair waiting outside the restaurant. Von Hagen… Vyn bit into his cheek to press down a sour retort and melted into a masked appearance of mild indifference.

“Why? Why would you do this?” Rosa hissed toward Marius.

He grinned and tilted his head. “Well, I thought that since all of us work so closely together, it would be important to get this out of the way! Vyn understands the complexities of secrets among us, don’t you? Wasn’t it you who was upset at Neil for keeping a few to himself as well?”

Vyn traced his tongue along the ridges of the back of his teeth. “You’re absolutely correct, Marius.”

“Great, then let’s all have lunch,” Marius said as they closed the distance on the two men.

Artem’s eyes bounced between them, and his brow sunk at the vision of Vyn holding her hand. “Good afternoon,” he hummed.

Luke smiled and ran a hand over his hair. “Well, that was quick.”

“What do you mean by quick?” Artem asked as his frown grew.

“Lunch, everyone?” Marius beamed.

“Lunch sounds great,” Rosa sighed and released Vyn’s hand.

He likely would have been upset had it not been for the glowing smile and shrug she sent his way. The conversation was light as they walked into the restaurant, but the stares were not to be missed. Artem was scathing, and Luke seemed more than a little amused.

At least there was one out of the three that seemed adjusted. It was a start. By invitation, it did seem that Marius was still a competitor, despite some physical form of solidarity to their relationship. Vyn had to admit, his jab yesterday might have provoked this. However, the error margin was minuscule, and there was merit to open communication.

Just not yet. Not when there was still a twirl of newness to it. He wanted to keep it perfect and secluded for a bit longer.

As everyone sat down at the table, Rosa turned and gazed at Vyn. “So, how was practice today? You appeared in good form, and the weather was pleasant.”

“Yes, it was productive. A few of my teammates had improved their technique over the last two weeks, and it brought more enjoyment from the skirmish.”

Luke leaned forward and set down his menu. “Oh, yeah, you play polo too, right? That’s what your aunt alluded to, at least.”

“Yes, I do,” Vyn agreed.

Rosa caressed Vyn’s arm. Well, that wasn’t unusual for them. However, the context of her subconscious behavior was certainly a request for assistance. The anxiety wasn’t visible, but Vyn could sense it. “Yes, he’s actually quite stellar on the field. I don’t know as much about polo as I should, but I’ve seen his previous matches.”

“Do you have an interest in professional polo?” Artem questioned.

Marius chuckled and pointed at the pair. “I imagine Vyn dragged her along.”

Luckily the conversation wavered at the appearance of a waitress. She introduced herself and took their drink orders with ease. Vyn noted the familiarity immediately. However, it wasn’t until she reached him with her vision that she gasped.

“Oh, Professor Richter! I almost didn’t recognize you!” She giggled and shifted.

Not ideal. He rocked his head with a smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Higgens.”

“Are these your friends?” She questioned with her notepad and pen hanging in the air.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“I never imagined you out of your professional attire. A bit odd, I suppose. It’s quite unusual,” she explained and beamed.

“It’s not unusual to segregate collegiate life from social.”

This coiling conversation caused a bit of constriction. Vyn breathed and retained his neutral disposition as she chatted. He finally was about to give her his drink order, and she skirted off. Rosa glanced over, and relief tinted his emotions. She was smiling.

“It’s pretty remarkable that all of your students thoroughly enjoy your class,” she conveyed.

“Thank you, Rosa,” he said.

“That is quite shocking. Maybe they’re able to get into their extra hour of sleep,” Marius teased.

“As much as I don’t mind the free meal. What’s with the family lunch?” Luke questioned.

Marius laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “I just thought after their date last night. We wouldn’t mind getting clarity. I thought we all agreed that secrets were an issue in the past and shouldn’t be now.”

Artem straightened his tie and scowled at Rosa. “You went on a date... With Vyn?”

“The very!” Marius laughed.

Luke shrugged his shoulders. “Not surprising. They were close in Svart.”

“Wait, more happened after his little hand-holding when his father showed up?” Marius prodded as he gestured to Luke.

“She pretty much said this was going to happen when I arrived there. It’s not a shock,” Luke laughed, and his smile grew.

Rosa was pinching the bridge of her nose. “Can we not talk like I’m not here?”

“I would like clarity on the subject. I thought we agreed this was unsound for what we do,” Artem voiced.

Rosa peeled her hand from her face and scowled. “I was never a part of this conversation.”

“Of course you weren’t, Missy. You were the subject matter,” Marius chuckled.

Vyn inhaled and relaxed in his chair. “I never agreed to such terms, Artem. You suggested such, and nobody concurred. The fault lies with your concept of agreement. Silence isn’t agreement.”

“It’s not an objection either,” Artem voiced.

“Wait, just hold on a second,” Rosa groaned. “This actually was a topic when I wasn’t there?”

“No,” Vyn shook his head. “Artem had brought up his feelings in a rather indelicate manner. It wasn’t engaged in conversation.”

Artem’s jaw grew tight as he narrowed his eyes at Vyn. “Your argument in the matter isn’t valid, Vyn.”

“Are we really going to argue about this? So what if I’m seeing Vyn? Why is that even any of your business? Any of you,” Rosa huffed as she glowered at each of them.

Quite the declaration. Vyn let the tension in his chest subside. This was a rather large hurdle to jump, and in her finest form, Rosa was tackling it. He could easily have plucked at the situation for favorability, but it served little purpose if it wasn’t known that this was her choice.

“Rosa,” Artem sighed. “It’s vital that we,” he paused and scrunched his eyebrows. “Contort our business with possible private matters.”

“Artem, I’m an adult. I made this decision for my personal life. It has nothing to do with my working relationships with any of you. Mr. Von Hagen, as usual, had a hand in dragging my privacy through the mud.”

“I wouldn’t say through the mud, Missy,” Marius pouted. “It moreover is bringing developments to light, so we don’t have to be shocked later when you dump him,” he laughed and grinned.

“Wishful thinking?” Vyn asked.

Luke snorted and shook his head. “His aunt was practically begging him to get her a ring. You didn’t see it, Marius. It actually was quite entertaining. Also, I think Rosa didn’t mind him dueling for her honor either.”

“Luke,” Rosa snapped.

“Dueling?” Artem asked.

“Swords and everything. Real knightly stuff,” Luke chuckled.

Vyn held his tongue as the waitress came back and delivered their drinks. She stopped at Rosa and beamed. “I just love your necklace. That’s beautiful!”

“Oh, thank you, it was actually a gift,” Rosa smiled.

“From Professor Richter’s aunt,” Marius snickered.

The girl gasped, and her cheeks tinted. “Oh, well, that’s nice.”

Vyn smiled and rocked his head. “Yes, it was quite generous. Deservingly so. Thank you, Miss Higgens,” he said as she set down his glass.

Miss Higgens bounced her head a bit too erratically and took their lunch order. Well, it was an unfortunate mixture of work and social life, but it couldn’t be helped. Not with the grinning violet-eyed annoyance at the end of the table.

She disappeared, and Marius grinned. “Oh, how many broken hearts will suffer.”

“What do you mean?” Rosa asked.

Luke arched an eyebrow. “I don’t think Vyn will ever have to worry about jealousy, Watson. You’re pretty dense about this stuff,” he finished with a laugh.

Rosa gasped and turned to Vyn. “She was flirting with you?”

“No,” he huffed.

“I just thought she was nice,” Rosa frowned and touched her necklace.

“She was one step from flirting. No wonder you’ve never accepted my dinner dates, Rosa,” Marius teased.

“No, I didn’t accept them on purpose, Marius,” Rosa grumbled before reaching for her glass.

Artem was silently staring the pair down. It didn’t go unnoticed by Vyn. He had hoped for an average week for her after the events for the prior fortnight. However, the senior attorney was quite put out.

“Oh, I came across something today,” Luke said and set down an antique bauble.

The conversation shifted, and Rosa engaged him on the item, leaving the other three men to trade glances silently. Marius and Artem were frictional. The defeated often were. Vyn felt the calm of the tense afternoon subside when she caressed his arm while she spoke. That was enough for him. Whether they approved or not, she did.

[random-imagines-blog]

All the Love {Thranduil x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @queenofmankind​ Wordcount: 3296 Summary:You show up uninvited to a grand affair, hosted by King Thranduil. There’s been some things left unspoken.

No matter how ornate your gown, or how beautifully braided your hair was, attention always went to the necklace that rested between your breasts. Silver, twisted into branches to make a teardrop like shape, framed the four pointed star within. It hung off of a delicate looking chain, but it was one which was extremely hard to break. Throughout your long life, it had never broken once, not even when you were a child and not as careful as perhaps you should have been. It was not only a beautiful piece of jewelry, but it was a sign of your life force. It was realized that if you were ever seen without it, it meant that you had fallen in love. Many elves had tried to have the privilege by courting you, but you remained stubborn and so the necklace had stayed. There was no one you had yet met who you would give your heart, your life to. The keyword in this being yet.

The rain was falling when you reached Mirkwood. You never minded the rain, but nonetheless, it was a relief when you were under the thick canopy of trees rather than out in the open. It was only when you saw the lights floating among the trees that you even realized you had reached your destination. A blonde haired elf approached, his hair as straight as the tree trunks around you. “Welcome, Lady y/n,” He said with a bow of his head. You chuckled, your fingers playing at your bottom lip.

“After all of the playing that we had done while you were a child?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “You should know better than to call me a Lady. We both know I’ve never acted like one.”

“Calling you a mudcrab wouldn’t have been as nice a greeting,” Legolas said with a smile, welcoming you into his arms. He still smelled of the deep forests, you noticed. Your oldest friend had not changed much over the years, though perhaps he had gotten a little more serious. It seems like it had just been yesterday when you had been one of his carers, and walked him through these very woods to help him appreciate nature. It was something that he was born with, but you had helped him to look beyond the trees. To respect the soil as well as the roots, and the birds as well as the leaves.

“Might have gotten a few looks for that, you’re right,” You smiled. You weren’t opposed to getting dirty when you went on your little adventures. It was why he called you mud crab - because you would wander into the lakes and come back looking like some sort of creature. He let go of you, and you let go of him, once the timing was on the verge of being inappropriate. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“He’d want you to be here,” Legolas said, taking you from your guards to lead you to where you would be staying.

“He still has no idea, does he?”

“He might. One of his spies might have already told him that you’re here.” Legolas was, of course, talking about his father. Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. The most noble and regal elf that you had known, except for perhaps Elrond. “He claims to know everything that goes on in here, but we still have some secrets.”

“That’s good. I would hate for him to know what we used to call him,” You whispered the last bit in case there were, indeed, spies about. Legolas smiled, and stopped in front of a archway.

“This will be your room,” He told you, bowing his head as you walked inside. It was a bit dark, but airy. Little fireflies were buzzing their way around, landing on the wooden headboard. Not much had changed in the millenia that you had been away. You could well recognize that it was the same room you used to use.

“Of course,” You said, your guard coming behind you, bearing your things. He started to unpack on your behalf. Gowns came out of your bags and were hung from a thin but strong branch, coming in from the outside. An owl flew in and perched on it, keeping its wide eyes on what was happening. “Where is your father now?”

“There’s a concert in the main hall. The first of many, I expect. I remember the celebrations for his 6000th birthday, and there was a lot to sit through. This year is meant to be more spectacular.”

“Well, it’s not everyday that a King makes it to seven thousand years old, now is it?” You said with a faint smile. You had come for the last large birthday, and the one before that. Back in the days when there was a Queen, Legolas’s mother, before she had passed. You had been a friend of hers from childhood. That was why you were selected to be one of her son’s caregivers after she was gone. You could tell him stories that Thranduil could not, and help him to forge a relationship with his dead mother. “I’ll freshen up and then I’ll go down. See if I can give him a little surprise.”

“I’ll be watching for you,” Legolas said with a grin. He left you and your guards to prepare for the night ahead. The first thing that you did was change out of your traveling attire into a more respectable gown. You chose something in a muted gold, floor length, with a slit in the front to make walking easier. It was a bit low on the chest to show off your necklace, but had long sleeves so it was still modest. With your hair tumbling down, you thought it was most appropriate for the beginning of a long birthday festival. Your guards gazed as you finished getting ready, bringing on a sort of confidence in you. You weren’t one one of the royals, but rather the daughter of a noble and thus you didn’t get much attention. You were only invited to this because of Legolas but - perhaps, you might look like you belong.

“You look beautiful, y/n,” Your closest friend and bodyguard told you, taking a seat on the floor. There would be more than enough protection in the concert hall. He and the few others would stay in your room until you returned, then find lodgings as close as they could be.

“Thank you,” You said with a curtsy. You wished them all a good night, then followed the few stragglers left to the grand hall. It was the sound of the music that guided you more than the elves. It was far from happy, but rather, a tragic sort of song, a longing sound coming from violins. Leave it to Thranduil to be dramatic.

You spotted the King as soon as you walked inside. He was sitting on his throne, hair draped over his shoulders, attention on the band in front of him. Standing to his right was Legolas, with his hands clasped in front of him, playing the part of the Prince. He caught your eye and let go of the facade for a second, sending you a smirk which you returned before standing on the sidelines to watch the band. You nudged yourself in beside Haldir, who smiled at you, and indicated that he was pleased to see you without verbalizing in it. It would be a very bad idea to interrupt the music.

The song came to an end, then something more upbeat started. “Would you like to dance?” Haldir asked, holding out his hand to you.

“I would be delighted,” You said, taking a hold of it. It was not a slow dance, but it was not as if elves were known for jigging the way that other races did. But you gave it a little of your energy, eyes sparkling bright as you did a spin. He was a beloved friend from years ago, but it had been centuries since you had seen him last. It was wonderful to be in his presence once more.

“First, you show up uninvited,” A voice drawled, bringing your attention to a figure standing beside you. You stopped mid-spin, frozen in spot at the stares this brought. “And then you don’t even come and say hello when you do get here. I must say, you are one of the rudest houseguests that I have had in quite some time. And to my birthday, of all occasions.”

“Now now, Thranduil,” You said, letting go of Haldir’s hand so you could give a proper curtsy to the King. You noticed his eyes trail to your cleavage, but stopped at the necklace. It made you feel a little warm. “I wasn’t going to interrupt the experience of such a lovely band. I plan to stay for as long as you will have me, and would have come to you at an appropriate time. And as for being uninvited, I think you should ask your son about that.”

“I think I will,” Thranduil’s eyes flickered to his son who was still standing by the throne. I noticed him look uncomfortable at the glance, and walk to find someone to dance with. Some things never change. “You look well.”

“I am well, thank you,” You said with a smile. Haldir excused himself from his position beside you and went through the throngs of people who were still dancing. Even with the music still playing, some of the elves looked a little antsy for the King’s attention. It was a special celebration in his honor after all. “And you - you haven’t changed at all.”

“Older and wiser, though perhaps those are things that you cannot see,” Thranduil snapped his fingers and the band began playing another tune. One that you recognized as his favorite. You had heard it many times while you worked under him. “Would you care to dance?”

“It would be an honor,” You accepted his hand and fell into a perfect harmony with the King. And an honor it was - he could dance with anybody here. No one would dare to reject him, even if they had wanted to. They were all here for him, and here he was, picking you. The uninvited former nanny. A singer came onto the scene and gave a powerful performance of some passages, which you noticed Thranduil singing to as well under his breath. Where his hand and yours were clasped, you began to feel warm. And where the necklace sat upon your breast, that too was beginning to feel warmer. When the song came to a close, he bowed his head to you, and you curtseyed back to him.

“I’ll be just a few moments,” He said, barely moving his lips as he told this to you. No doubt you were the only one who could hear it, even with the enhanced ears of the others in the room. “I expect you to wait here for me.”

“Years, if I have to,” You risked saying, the tips of your ears growing red. A smug smirk went across Thranduil’s features, and you had just enough time to catch a glimpse of it before he headed back towards his throne to make a speech. He thanked everyone for coming out, he was honored to have them in his home, enjoy yourselves but follow the rules - the same speech he had given last year, you recalled. An elf came to you with a glass of sparkling water, which you accepted and sipped at while watching the display. Thranduil really was a good speaker, keeping eye contact with the adoring crowd throughout. He spoke about how everyone here was vital to his success as a ruler, and you thought - perhaps it was an illusion - that he looked at you as he said those words.

After the speech, the music picked back up, and finger foods started to arrive from the kitchens. You looked at the snacks with a sparkle in your eye but did not venture forth to take anything. You had been told to wait here and thus you would. You were as obedient as a perfect child, you thought, and your heart beat inside of your chest as you thought of what he might want from you. Elves were known for being aloof, nonchalant, emotionless.  Some certainly were, including the King that you were waiting for, while others had more man-like emotions. Like Legolas, who was still discovering his own. You were in the latter sort. You felt, and you felt things strongly, and you weren’t ashamed of that. Standing here, feeling like your heart was going to beat out of your chest - you never felt more alive.

You remained silent as you waited, though a few had asked you to dance. You only shook your head politely and sipped at your water, smiling softly at anyone who tried to get your eye. Thranduil had disappeared briefly, as had his son, but when they reappeared, it was not to the throne but it was to beside you.

“Why don’t you find someone to dance with, Legolas? I do recall that I had Lady y/n here give you lessons as a boy.”

“Yes, I hope you’ve kept up with those lessons,” You said with a mischievous look. Legolas looked a slight bit uncomfortable but he did give you a smile and a nod.

“I am a prince, of course I remember how to dance,” He protested, before going through the crowds to find someone to partner up with. Thranduil lightly touched your arm, the bell sleeves of his cloak almost enveloping it from sight.

“I wish to speak with you alone,” He commanded rather than asked. He turned on his heel and walked out of the grand hall, leaving all of the food and friends alone. You looked over your shoulder to see if anyone was paying attention to you now, but everyone was so excited over the delicacies, you didn’t even get a second glance. So you left as swiftly as the King did - for you knew that it was far easier to do as he said than deal with his temper tantrums. There was a reason that you and Legolas had called him King PrissyPants.

You saw the tail end of his cloak spin around a corner, and so you followed it cautiously until you found yourself by the dungeons. “Are you really this upset that I came uninvited?” You asked, feeling nervous.

He finally turned to look at you, with eyebrows furrowed. Why, it even brought a wrinkle to his otherwise ageless appearance. “Yes,” He started. “Tell me - do you know why I didn’t invite you?”

“I didn’t really think about it much,” You admitted. “I didn’t take it personally, is what I mean. Perhaps because I’m just a former nanny?” You weren’t regretting coming at all - seeing Thranduil and Legolas was worth this grief, but you were starting to think it might not have been the best decision you’ve ever made.

Thranduil took a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. It was really weird seeing him out of sorts like this. “No - that is not why,” He stared at you, hard. You could physically feel it. “It is because I do not plan on getting married ever again because of how heart breaking it was to lose...” He couldn’t even say her name, and you could not blame him. You felt sorrow for him, until you remember how this conversation had come about.

“What has that to do with my being here, Thranduil?” You addressed him by his name, rather than just his title. It felt more personal. This whole conversation felt more personal.

“When I watched you raise my son, it brought something out of my heart that I was never ready to admit to. Even now, I do not wish to say anything out loud. To me, the years since I’ve seen you last were long, but I was ready to move on, to attend to my duties as King. To focus all of my energies on Mirkwood. But then you came along once more, ready to ruin all of that.”

Damn your human-like emotions! You were close to a faint with all of the words that he spoke. Never had anyone come across as so romantic while so angry before. And angry he was - you could see that he blamed you rather than his own heart for these feelings. “I know you have cared for others in your long life, so you are more than capable. But has it really become so foreign to you that it infuriates you? Have you forgotten that love can be such a beautiful thing?”

“I have not forgotten, but neither have I forgotten the feeling of losing it.” Thranduil’s thumb grazed against his lower lip. It took restraint not to kiss him there and then. You weren’t just here for a good party, you were here to see him, and what he was saying - why, they were things you felt when you lived under his canopy centuries ago.

“As a King, I understand that you sometimes must dwell on the shadows for it helps you to find the light once more,” You said, your own hands going to the back of your neck, fiddling with the chain. “The sun always rises again, you know this as well as anyone. So I am going to give you a little something which I hope brings the dawn.”

The necklace fell loose against your chest. You kept hold of the chain, and held it out to Thranduil to take. He did not do so, but regardless, it wrapped it around his wrist with the pendant resting on top. “I’m not sorry that I came back for the celebration. I’m not going to apologize for coming back to you. I think that she would have wanted me to take care of you, as well as Legolas. So take this, and know what it means.”

You patted his hand, leaving the necklace with him, then turned and quickly went back to the party. You couldn’t make eye contact with anyone when you returned, your nerves were buzzing with the possibilities. Thranduil was a King - surely he would not want the heart of someone like you.

“Where is your-?” Legolas asked upon approaching you, but you hushed him, just like you had done when he was a child. You didn’t want any of Thranduil’s subjects hearing what he was going to ask.

“Hush now,” You said, taking his hands and leading him into a dance. “We’ll find out sooner or later, won’t we?”

It was sooner rather than later. Thranduil returned to the party after a few more songs. Around his neck, in a place of high honor, was your necklace. The pendant that meant your life, your love, your being, was close to his heart. He saw you dancing with his son and sent you a rare smirk as he took his seat upon the throne. That alone was enough for now. That was a serious sign that feelings were returned. If he did not return them, the necklace would have been sent discreetly to your room.

“I’m not calling you mother,” Legolas said seriously, once he saw what you had been looking at.

“I wouldn’t expect you too. Mud-crab is always fine by me.”