#on the bright side i have finally figured out how to trim posts!

[alien-magnolia]

Tainted Love

Fic description: This is a dark fic. 18+ MINORS DNI. Dom!-coded Billy Loomis + hyperfeminine, sub-coded afab reader: they are married, committing crimes together <3 and having a wonderful domestic life <3 besides all the blood and murder. Smut/horror genre: kinks include service!, blood!, knifeplay!, ropes!, choking!, spanking!, free-use!, SERVICE, d/s mental dynamics, majorrrr daddy!kink, exhibitionism

If you like this post, pls engage, comment, reblog! It means so much to me, Ty <3 WC 2.7k

October 10, 1996.

The dark red, yellow, with tinges of brown leaves tumbled down the secluded suburban street. A tan cottage stood at the end of a cul-de-sac, yard neatly trimmed, wind chimes ringing on the porch where they hung. A dim light inside. A black van pulls into the driveway, scaring away a few neighboring birds. The door shuts — a young man enters the house.

——

You were just about finished with tonight’s dinner when your partner came back from college. You loved Billy dearly, and so you did almost everything for him. It was your dynamic — and he loved it as well. You served him, your Billy, your daddy.

How exactly did you get involved with a serial killer? Involved far enough to be an equal partner in his crimes? Involved enough to be so cautious and excellent at keeping first-degree murder a secret? Involved enough to live with him?

—-

It began last fall. A chilly November morning, fog rolling in on the campus. You walked in your pretty pink outfit, donning lace and frills, kitten heels, and butterfly hair clips. You were only nineteen. Young. Innocent. You were looking for your ‘Introduction to Early Modern Literature’ class, yet happened to wander over on the other, more secluded side of campus. You stumble over a rock on the sidewalk. You fall, beautiful rosy cheek now stained with a gash of bright, red blood.

Your hands, your knees, cut up from the bumpy pavement. You start crying. This was just too embarrassing!! With your social anxiety and shyness, you really hoped nobody had seen this. You did not like to be perceived by people — that is just how you were. You look around — not a soul to be seen.

Except for a man — lean, sitting on a brick bench, cigarette in hand. You couldn’t make out how he looked, yet fear overtook you as he started making his way over. You start to scramble up, hoping to run away from him, yet your bruises were just too intense for you to do so.

His deep voice asks you, “Hey, sweetheart, you okay? You nod. “Yeah jus’ a few scratches. Can’t see too well in the fog,” you sheepishly explain. “Hey, no worries. Here, I’ll help you up, yeah?” You oblige, taking his big calloused hands in yours as he helps you stand. You finally get a good look at him. God — he was handsome. More than handsome. Extremely, extremely, attractive. You got wet just by looking at his deep brown eyes and crooked smile looking down at you.

“Hey. Don’t be too shy, hun. Come. Want me to help you fix those bruises? There’s a bathroom right around the corner, he suggests. You nod silently, agreeing, following him to a door on the left.

He begins wiping your bruises with a wet towel, trying to stop the bleeding. His tongue pokes out of his mouth as he focuses. You see more of him now. He wears all black. Smells like cigarettes and a dusty old basement. “So what brings you to this part of campus?,” he asks, brown eyes focused on your bruises.

“Just got lost. Needed to find one class but couldn’t. Maybe I’ll skip today anyway…,” you trail off. “Aw. Today’s your first day huh?,” he coos at you, with a smile you just couldn’t figure out. “Um. Yes. I don’t really know the campus, so…,” you quietly answer him, afraid to look into his eyes. His voice, his face, it all made you thirst for him even more.

“I could tell. Hey. Maybe you should skip. Been looking for someone to hang out with,” he suggests, finishing up cleaning your bruises, putting a few bandaids on you. “I’m Billy, by the way.” You introduce yourself to him, a little smile forming on your face. You ended up skipping class that day, spending time with him in that secluded courtyard, smoking cigarettes, listening to The Smiths. You ended up fucking in the bathroom a few hours later. You knew that you were indubitably attracted — glued to him and everything that he was. Something did feel a little off about how he treated others — you did not care.

So it was.

——

~Present day ~

You hear the keys jingle in the doorway, heavy boots make their way towards the kitchen, where you were. You currently donned a short little black dress, fishnets, with nothing underneath. You were waiting for him.

“Hey, sweets. Looking good today,” he compliments you, as he takes your small hand in his, moving you closer to him, wrapping a hand around your waist. You giggle as he peppers your cheek with kisses. “Sweetie. Want’a ask you something,” he insists, quietly, yet confidently. Your big eyelashes blink as you wait for his question.

“Wanna play with me tonight?,” a sinister smile adorns his face, his brown eyes filled with a hint of malice, excitement. Your eyes match his. You loved playing with him, your sessions, where you gave over complete control of yourself, to him. You trusted him completely. He led, you followed.

You were his. His prey, his little girl, his accomplice. You were his, devoted completely, mind and body. The two of you even had matching tattoos: a forever symbol of your unique relationship.

“Yes, daddy. What first?” He chuckles lowly. “Glad you asked, princess. We’re going to the van.” You smile back at him, as he gives you a kiss, pulling you closer to him by your neck. You knew what to do, sticking your hands out, as he takes a rope from the nearby drawer.

The rope felt nice around your wrists, you liked to watch him tie it. You didn’t want your freedom when you played with him. “Daddy’s girl, all tied up, huh? Come sweets. Let’s go to the van,” he sneers at you in the best possible way, as he leads you outside. Still, he manages to grab a coat for you, alongside some knives. You suspected that both of you will be using those later.

“Before we leave our house, thought we might have a bit of fun in the van, what’dya say? I think it’ll be nice for my little girl, yeah?,” he croons at you, caressing your cheek, before gripping it harshly, brown eyes boring into yours.

You’re on your knees for him in his dingy van. His waffle knit white t-shirt feels nice on your bound hands, as you see him start to unbuckle his belt, dropping his jeans to the floor of the van. “Give daddy’s cock some love, hun,” you hear, and his strong arms work to push you down to the floor. You look up at him from your back, you see him towering over you, cock in his calloused hand, slowly rubbing it. He lowers his cock and balls onto your face, you love the feeling of his heavy ball sack on your chin. His cock was wide, not too long, yet wide, weeping, with three beautiful veins and a beauty mark <3

It was all red and ready for your wet throat. You took him eagerly, sucking so much pressure, you felt his silky smooth voice moan out in ecstasy. You keep sucking, swirling your tongue around the mushroom tip of his cockhead. He pulls a knife to the side of your cheek. You stop.

“Look what daddy’s got here hun. You don’t like this little toy, do you?,” he taunts. With that, he lowers the knife to your chest, where he makes a gentle cut on it. He liked to cut you with his knife. Another way to possess you, to mark you as HIS.

“Get up, sweets. Daddy’s gonna cum if you keep this shit up.” He chuckles, and helps you up, wiping that little cut he made with a towel. That same towel now goes in your mouth as a makeshift gag.

His hands tightly grip your hips, pushing you down onto the floor of the van again. Hips spread, gagged, hands still tied, you felt his finger swipe across your clit, down your labia, trailing over your wet, wet, pussy. Your hole was clenching around nothing!! He was going to fix that.

“Aww. Look at you , sweetie. Cheeks all rosy, ass up for me, ready to be bred,” he taunts. You only moan in response. “Does daddy’s little girl want to be bred, hmm? Like a little cow?” You moan in response, he tuts, and lifts your neck up gently. “What was that?,” voice low. Shit. You fucked up.

“Yes, daddy,” your voice is muffled through the gag. He smiles again, that dark smile of his. Sinister. Evil. Exactly what you wanted to see. Without warning, you feel him push into you. Wide, throbbing, filling that sweet spot exactly how you wanted. He went slow for just a little, relishing how good his little girl, his breeding cow, dumpster, was for him. Then he went fast. Too fast. You loved hearing the sound of his cock and balls slap against your ass, your squelching pussy <3

You feel so full of him, you saw stars as his wife cock drilled deeper and deeper into you. You felt him twitch inside, your favorite part!! “Take my cum, baby. Fuckin’ take it,” you hear him grunt, as his hands press your body down into a mating press, his stomach now on top of your back. He had you caged in, tied, gagged, absolutely abusing you on his wide cock. You were in heaven. You were his now, in this moment. The both of you came, and of course, he did not let you squeeze his cum out of you.

“Keep it in, hmm? Want our visitors to know that you’re daddy’s girl.” You nod and smile, making grabby hands at him once he unties your wrists, and takes the towel out of your mouth. He lifts you up into his lap, peppering your face with kisses, smiling up at you as you giggle.

He helps you get dressed, gently cooing at you as you show him the carpet burn you got from being on your knees for so long. He kisses it to make it better <3 and even puts on your white frilly socks for you, helping you with your little black kitten heels and your dress.

“Where to next, daddy?,” you giddily await his answer. “Now, we drive. To meet our special guests for tonight,” he replies, your smile now matching his level of sinister. The both of you were about to go have some fun, with some unconventional guests as well.

——-/

It was now almost midnight. After your play session in the van, you couldn’t wait to play in front of your guests!! The both of you listen to heavy metal as Billy speeds down an abandoned road, the rotting leaves blowing towards the sides from the van passing by on the road. He pulls his van up a few meters close to the woods, and parks.

“Coat, baby.” You nod, and he puts your black puffer on. He leads you to the backseat, where a black trunk with a lock is placed. He opens it. His mask. Ghostface. He puts it on his hip, putting on black clothes over his nice ones. He gives you gloves, and a knife. One for himself as well. Binoculars.

“Come, hun. This way.” You follow him up into a tree, where the both of you take turns with your binoculars. He takes out his block of a phone. How you loved the 90’s. He dials the number, telling you to watch their reaction in the windows. “Hi. What’s your favorite scary movie,” Billy's voice drawls out to his unsuspecting victims in the mansion that you were currently hiding outside of.

Billy continued to harass them on the phone, beckoning you down the tree quietly, and closer and closer to the person’s backyard. Billy stays on the phone, pointing at you to stay put, and opens the window on the first floor. You wait outside, as he slips on in.

You knew what to do. You’d wait for his signal, then follow him in. Then, came your favorite part: where Billy shows you off to his victims <3

You see his hand signal through the window. You step on inside, and see the couple tied to each other, this time with metal chains. Billy is wearing his mask. “Just in time for the show, sweetheart. Kneel.”

You do as said, loving the absolutely sadistic smile on his face right now. He puts on your leash ( only for when in front of un-consenting others) and has to crawl to sit at his knees. “You see here, my two pretties, you two are going to watch me fuck my little princess here. After that, I’ll decide if you get to live,” he chuckles in absolute glee.

“By the way, if you two decide to make a sound, or go at my little girl here, I’ll stab ya. Sounds good? My, my, what a perfect, scary movie,” he narrates to himself, to you, to the two victims, who looked like they were about to mentally lose it. <3

He skips with the foreplay, the blowjob, the fingering. He gets right to it. He wants his victims to see his pretty girl, on his own terms. He roughly pushes you down onto the floor, strong hands positioning your hips in place, giving your ass a few harsh spanks <3 you hear the belt buckle slip, and soon enough, you can feel the warmth of his already hard cock near your puffy pussy.

Your eyes are drawn to the couple. You loved being shown off, being watched. They did not want to watch you. But that is okay. Billy is going to make them. :)

They watch in horror as he starts rutting into you like a beast, bloody knife that he used on one of the victims nearing your neck, staying there. The knife soon drops, he gives it to you to hold as he starts losing control. You were too, feeling so full of him, getting an extra serving of his cum :) was your favorite thing to do.

You smiled as the couple looked on in horror. Billy pulled out just the last second before, and came all over your face. “Look so pretty with my cum all over your face, sweet girl. Clean it up f’me, yeah?” You nod.

After you wipe it off, Billy steps back in front of the two victims. “See how nicely I treat my girl? I’m her daddy, after all. Just wanted to show her to you. She’s mine, forever will be. What a nice show the two of you got,” he chuckles, before stabbing one of them, the screams could be heard from down the block.

Billy finished off the other one, not before giving her a good slap and punch. <3 The pool of blood covers the entire kitchen tiling, making it seem red everywhere. It’s on your shoes, on Billy’s. He takes his mask off, and picks you up in his arms.

“Did so good f’me today, sweet girl. So proud of you,” he praises you. “You did good too, Billy. I love how rough you are with them.” He smiles again, giving you a tender kiss. “Let’s leave, huh? Go back home, watch a scary movie?,” he asks. You nod, staying still in his arms as he carries you over the blood, and back out to the woods.

The two of you make it back to the van. They won’t catch you. As long as you’re together, everything was just fine.

[gasha40k]

Not much has happened since the last post, both regarding building and painting, but I’ve done a little bit of painting in my free time. Alas, I am the most indecisive man yet born, and as such, I haven’t made any significant progress on any one single army as much as I’ve just… painted shit that I want to paint in the moment.

Here’s my first little group of red boys. Bloodletters are super fun to paint, consisting of maybe four or five paints, and being able to do a couple coats of base paint then slap Carroburg Crimson on the model and call it a day has been a great break from the relatively more complex painting projects that Astartes are.

I’m also particularly proud of the bases I made for them. Astrogranite Technical, an industrial amount of Blood for the Blood God, and a bit of drybrushing makes for cool little Khorne-realm adjacent environments for these dudes. It’s also a relatively easily replicable process, so it’s good for a horde army.

The one thing I’m not a huge fan of is their blades. I’d love to have bright, glowing, fiery Hellblades like in Total War: Warhammer 3, but the standard steel looks grimy enough that it works, and it was done using paints I had already on hand. I’ll probably experiment a bit with various fire effects in the future, likely giving fancy Hellblades to HQs and more expensive models like Bloodcrushers while keeping stock Bloodletters basic like this.

Moving on, marines! I’ve decided on a different color palette and heraldry, although these are such minor differences that they don’t matter a whole lot in the long run. I’ve swapped from Mechanicus Standard Gray to Skavenblight Dinge, and the gold kneepads now go on the left. I gotta figure out how to get my models less shiny, dude.

Here’s a closeup of a little auspex-esque doodad that I thought I did a good job on. Tiny little details, but they add a lot of character to the model. The base is also particularly high effort, especially in comparison to the flat brownish orange planes that my Astartes stood on prior. I’m excited to see my dudes all painted up, but that won’t be for a long while.

Especially not if I keep buying new shit. Welcome the first Thunderbearers Aggressors, Squad Terastrael. Aggressors are a fun unit and the kit is awesome, not to mention how grotesquely meta they are now (which definitely didn’t encourage this purchase, trust me).

Sergeant Terastrael comes with a trusty censer and a personal servoskull for better murder capabilities. His model is simple but distinct, especially in comparison to the other two.

The brother on the left is pretty standard save for his massive aquila icon and some excessive purity seals, which has come to be a common practice in my Chapter. The brother on the right differentiates himself with a sort of ceremonial or official side cape, which is a visual motif that I plan on standardizing in my army, since side and shoulder capes are raw as fuck. Similarly to Eradicator Squad Kellam, the army’s only other Gravis unit, they all come equipped with MKIII helmets for that proper Centurion adjacent look.

And last but not least, I finished painting a Shadowkeeper. Finalizing the color scheme was pretty fun, and the light highlights on this model were also quite fun. I still haven’t decided on bases for these dudes so I’m yet to really dig into finishing the models, but besides the fucking trim, they’re nice to paint.

The World Eaters are going on preorder, so I’m sure I’ll have some more Khornate shit to talk about before long. I will be buying that Angron model, so that’ll be a fun experience.

[empathic-seer]

Sheridan felt a rush of anxiety as Neku stared at her, cheeks quickly darkening as her eyes swiftly flickered away in shyness. Most thought she was outgoing and an extrovert, but really it was just her constantly acting like she wasn't scared when socially interacting with others. It was easy when people talked about themselves, they often took the chance to vent and all she had to do was listen and empathize but being on equal ground with another person before she could redirect to him made her feel vulnerable.

Her eyes rushed back to his as she fought the urge to bite her nails, grip on her other arm tightening behind her back as she hummed in question. The apprehension filling her from him made her swallow. Her face seemed to freeze as she forgot to breathe a moment at the question. She looked around, already trembling a little in fear and dread. She'd hidden it so well for so long. No-one to her knowledge knew that she could see the UG in the RG. It was her turn to stare, it seemed. Would it hurt him to know? To have it brought up again? Was it safe to say it aloud? She never had before.

Her eyes moved to WildKat in longing. She'd never missed the protection the cafe offered more than now. She abruptly realized her eyes were burning and coughed as she tried to get ahold of herself.

"I-I-aha. I d-don't know if I'm allowed to say but- let's move over here. Away from people."

She walked a few steps to lean against WildKat, perhaps in some vague hope the building itself was blessed, but no such luck. She felt nothing but Neku's suspicion and her own dread and fear. She reluctantly looked at him and tried desperately to keep her anxiety in check. She took a deep breath and smiled weakly, voice quiet but audible.

"I've never told anyone before but...I can see the UG. Ever since I was born. Been helping out Players in whatever little ways I can for years, occasionally talking to support Reapers."

It was…surreal to hear the words. She met his eyes briefly to show she was truthful and examined his expression before looking to the floor again.

"I saw you. Saw how you fought for our home and how you changed." Her smile grew bemused for a moment. "...I can also feel others emotions as my own. So I was kinda scared to approach you at first and I couldn't find any Partners given how quickly the Noise had attacked. Luckily your first partner stepped in. I thought you were back safe in the RG with the others after the Long Game so when I suddenly saw you and Beat with Rindo and the others… it scared and reassured me all at once. When the Game changed it didn't matter how much I tried to help. Everyone was eventually erased and helping one team over another meant I was helping another be erased…it was awful. To say the least."

She shook off her darker thoughts, grounding herself through focusing more on Neku's emotions and clutching her necklace as she met his eyes.

"But that's why I kind of freaked out when I saw you. Things have still felt off for me. The UG isn't active and it's got me on edge things will be...bad, again. The first way the Game was run was flawed but at least I understood it. Entry Fees to raise stakes and facilitate change. Partnerships to help show we need relationships. The Erasure was the one thing I hated and still don't understand but at least every Player had a fighting chance. When it changed? There was no fairness in it. I thought there was at first but quickly learned after a few Games there were no other teams winning. I… hope this is enough to make you understand. I didn't eavesdrop if I could help it and I certainly didn't follow you or the others or anything like that, but given I live here it was natural I'd run into you guys. When I saw Beat join again was when I started to pay more attention, since something was obviously up, even more than I realized. I'm always drawn to those involved in the Game subconsciously. Players, and Reapers are always quieter and more peaceful emotion wise compared to the loudness of Shibuya. I...know this is likely a lot to take in. Please, forgive my rambling. I've never told anyone before like I said so this is…it's kind of a lot."

She caught her breath and looked away in shyness, praying she'd done the right thing by being honest and finally confiding in someone about her sight and empathy. Despite never talking with him before, she had to admit she wanted to trust him. She could only hope he felt the same.

                                    He ought to stop coming back here. He knew he wasn’t coming back. Hell, it seemed like most of Shibuya had forgotten about him entirely. He’d learned to like the changes in the city, but this was just too much. It was already hard enough catching up with all that he’d missed these past few years, but with Hanekoma being gone, too, Shibuya felt wrong. It wasn’t supposed to feel wrong- not anymore! He’d gone through all of that, fought to save the city all over again, and it still didn’t feel right.

Neku didn’t register the other person in front of him until they made physical contact, blinking in confusion as if he were surprised they didn’t simply phase right through him. Right. He was alive again. He had to start being a little more mindful of his own surroundings.

He opened his mouth to mutter a quick apology as he grabbed his phone from his pocket, but was immediately cut off by an onslaught of words, all too fast for him to process let alone respond to. Something about her dad and Final Fantasy?... Oh. Probably because of his text tone.

“Uh-” Before he could get a full word out she was speaking again, introducing herself in a way that felt... off. It was as if she already knew who he was, despite Neku being sure he’d never seen her before. But she had clearly seen him. Why else would it be a pleasure to meet him? She knew about him.

He frowned to himself, brows furrowing in a confused frustration as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, unchecked. Whoever it was, they could wait a few minutes as he figured this out. Who was this girl? Well, he supposed he knew that much. She’d just introduced herself, after all. Maybe a better question was what was she? She wasn’t a Reaper. She was in the RG, which meant she wasn’t a Player, nor did her vibe feel like that of an ex-Player’s.

Shit, okay, he was just staring at her at this point. Say something, Sakuraba.

“Sorry, hold on- back up a second.” He was just gonna ask. “Do you know me?” She seemed nice enough, but he really didn’t like when people knew him. He especially didn’t like it when people knew him for his exploits in the UG, and call it a hunch, but he had a feeling that that’s exactly what this was about.

[hrina]

Be Sweet, Pt. I

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M (minors dni!) WORD COUNT: 6k

hey everyone! here's part one of my new enemies-to-lovers series :) this fic will be five parts in total, but i'm only posting the first part on tumblr. you'll be able to read the rest of it on patreon if you wanna sign up!

as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated. i love hearing your thoughts! enjoy.

~*~

August 27th, 2021

“Who’s opening tomorrow?”

Ella scrubs a wet rag across the table closest to the door. You cast a furtive glance up at her, flipping absentmindedly through the jumble of papers on the counter in front of you. Nick’s messy scrawl catches your eye, and you pause, reading the haphazard comment written at the bottom of the page.

Customer requested a very specific shade of pink trim. See back for details.

You flip the order, scoffing at the Pantone strip taped to the other side. The square labelled Quartz Pink has been singled out, encircled in bright red. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Alice and Olly, I think,” you say, shoving the form to the bottom of the pile.

“That’s good,” Ella grunts, returning the napkin holder and the sugar dispenser back to their spots on the table. “And you’ll swing by sometime during the afternoon?”

“Yeah,” you say, drumming your fingers over the papers. “I’m gonna help Olly in the back. You know how much he hates dealing with fondant.”

“How could I forget?” Ella rolls her eyes, smiling to herself. You grimace when she tosses the damp cloth in your direction. It lands on the counter with a loud splat! You nudge it away with your elbow, shaking your head.

“Gross.”

“You’re gross,” Ella says.

“I’m lovely,” you reply. She grins.

“Where’s Alex taking you tonight?” you ask, changing the subject. Her eyes light up instantly, and she clasps her hands together against her chest.

“It’s a surprise,” she says, giggling girlishly.

You groan. “I hate surprises.”

“It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend, then, isn’t it?” she retorts. You snicker, and she continues: “He told me we should stop off at home to change, though, so I’m guessing that wherever it is, there’s a dress code.”

“Ooh, fancy.”

“Right?” She twists her wrist, peeking at her watch. “He should have been here by now. It’s already a quarter past seven.”

“The hospital is just down the street,” you remind her, organising the mountain of orders into a neat stack. “Give him another five minutes.”

She nods. You spin on your heel and push through the door leading to the backroom of the bakery. The large space is split into two sections: on your right, there’s a wall of ovens, and a cluster of metal racks filled with pale, unprocessed dough. On your left, tables and counters lined with all sorts of decorating necessities—piping bags, spatulas, scrapers, turntables. You make your way toward the small cabinet perched against the nearest wall and pull out the top drawer, sliding the orders inside. Olly should have no trouble locating them tomorrow morning.

When you return to the front of the shop, Ella is locked in a passionate embrace with a gangly, dark-haired man. You recognise him immediately.

“Doctor Dao,” you call out, resting your elbows on the counter. “Did you at least wash your hands before putting them all over my best friend?”

Alex and Ella break apart swiftly, but he keeps one arm wrapped around her waist. “Hey, cookie,” he says, flashing you an apologetic grin. “Didn’t see you there.”

You arch one brow, lips curling into an amused smirk. “I’ll say.”

Only then do you catch sight of the other man lingering by the door, and your smile quickly morphs into an irritated frown. Harry is watching you with twinkling eyes, like he knows the effect his presence has on you. How could he not? You don’t try to hide your disdain, especially when it comes to him.

“Harry,” you say curtly, lifting your chin in stubborn acknowledgement.

He brings two fingers to his temple—a mock-salute. “Sweetheart.”

You clench your jaw. God, he makes your blood boil. Rather than responding, you turn back to Alex, who is now smoothing his palms over Ella’s silky brown hair. “You’re late,” you tell him. “You were supposed to be here when we closed.”

“Sorry, cookie,” Alex says, and he sounds like he means it. “My last surgery of the day had a few…complications.”

You purse your lips as the annoyance melts away. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods, blowing out a heavy breath. He looks tired. “We figured it out.”

“That’s good.”

Alex directs his attention back to Ella, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Just let me grab my bag.”

“Cool,” he says. “You don’t mind if we drop Harry off at his place, right? His car is fucked, apparently.”

Ella’s grey eyes widen. She peers over her boyfriend’s shoulder at Harry. “What happened?”

Harry waves away her concerns, chuckling quietly. He tugs on the collar of his blue scrubs, and you can’t stop your gaze from trailing across the plethora of tattoos inked into his arm. Your nose wrinkles at the sight. He looks ridiculous. What kind of doctor would agree to don such outrageous body art?

“He’s being dramatic,” Harry says, shooting Alex a pointed glare. “My car’s at the shop right now, but I’ll have it back by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

“Oh.” Ella relaxes. “Okay, that’s great. Babe—” She turns to Alex. “—when are our reservations?”

“Eight-thirty,” Alex says. “Plenty of time.”

“Awesome,” she chirps. She scurries around the counter and playfully bumps her hip against yours. “My purse is in the back. Give me one second.”

And then she’s gone.

You stare at Alex, fighting a clever smile. “Tonight’s the night, huh?” you murmur, quiet enough so that there’s no chance of Ella overhearing.

He beams, shouldering his knapsack and dragging his sweaty palms down the front of his shirt. His scrubs are a light purple, you note. The shade compliments his dark skin.

“Yeah,” he replies, gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip. “She’ll say yes, right?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “Of course she will.”

Just then, Ella bursts through the door, her leather purse swinging wildly against her waist. “Alright!” She claps once, striding over to you and planting a wet, sloppy kiss onto your cheek. “I’m off.”

“Bye,” you say, wiping her saliva from your face with the back of your hand. “Have fun.”

Alex waves at you as she tugs him out of the bakery. “See you later, cookie.”

You wink. “See you.”

Harry is the last one to leave. He glances at you momentarily, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smug smile. The look makes you bristle. He’s absolutely infuriating.

“Got any leftover almond croissants?” he asks. Silent laughter taints every word.

You point to the exit. “Get out.”

He bows his chin in farewell, approaching the door. “Sweetheart.”

“Asshole,” you reply flatly. Now that your friends are out of earshot, you’re under no obligation to tolerate him. Sometimes, you find yourself actually craving his company, just so you can drop the pretence and really give him a piece of your mind. You’re a mature adult, and you won’t ruin a social gathering because of one presumptuous dickhead, but everyone has their limits. You don’t owe him shit.

Harry chuckles to himself, and you clench your fists at your sides. He shoots you one last maddening smirk before disappearing out the door. You rush forward, latching it swiftly and ensuring that the sign against the glass reads ‘CLOSED’. Once you’ve successfully locked up, you march into the back of the shop, plucking your own purse off one of the metal counters and tugging it over your shoulder. You shut the light and return to the front, scanning the clean tables, the empty display cases, the shades drawn over the windows. Shards of the sunset stream through the cracks in the blinds, casting orange stripes along the floor.

All clear, a voice in your head whispers, and you sigh.

Finally—you can go home.

August 28th, 2021

Quick, frantic knocking rouses you from your sleep. Blearily, you sit up on the mattress, knuckling at your puffy eyes. The hardwood floor is cold against the soles of your feet when you climb out of bed. You shiver.

The insistent clamour continues as you pad down the hallway. You tug at the hem of your worn, baggy t-shirt, concealing your midriff. Ella wastes no time after you open the front door, surging past the threshold and vaulting herself into your arms.

“He proposed!” she squeals as the two of you stagger backward. You freeze, remembering Alex’s plans from the day before. His apprehension, too—the way he wiped his clammy palms against his scrubs and anxiously dug his teeth into his bottom lip. Shock ebbs and flows through your veins for a fraction of a second, but then you’re sweeping Ella into a tight hug, rocking your bodies from side to side.

“Oh my God,” you say. Excitement festers beneath the murky exhaustion clouding your mind. “He did it.”

Ella steps back, brows knitting together in bewilderment. “You knew?” When you nod, she scoffs, aiming a half-hearted swat at your bicep. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?” you retort, rolling your eyes at the demand. “Come on. Let’s see it.”

A bright grin stretches across her lips, and she holds up her left hand, wiggling her fingers keenly. You spy the ring resting on the fourth digit: a simple platinum band topped with a large, clear diamond. Grey morning light bounces off the gemstone, and it winks at you as if it knows something that you don’t.

“Gorgeous,” you breathe, gripping Ella’s wrist to bring her hand closer. You scrutinize the ring carefully, smiling to yourself. “He’s got good taste.”

“Doesn’t he?” she gushes, beaming like an idiot. You beckon her into the kitchen, and she collapses onto one of the tall stools positioned in front of the marble island. A quick glance at the digital clock on the stove reveals that it’s only eight in the morning. You groan, rubbing gentle circles against your temples.

“I was hoping I’d get to sleep in today,” you say, lips curling into a wry smirk.

Ella shoots you a sheepish, apologetic smile, sliding her purse off her shoulder and placing it on the counter. “I’m sorry, cookie. I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m just kidding,” you tell her, floating around the room to prepare a pot of coffee. “So…how did he do it?”

She launches into a frenzied retelling of the night before. Alex brought her to the same restaurant they’d visited four years ago on their first date. They ordered their food and made conversation. Things proceeded as usual until the end of the meal, at which point Alex set his napkin down on the table and excused himself to the restroom. Two minutes later, the waiter arrived with the bill. Ella accepted it graciously, scanning the thin paper and pausing at the question scrawled at the very bottom of the slip. When she snapped her head up, searching for her boyfriend in the crowded dining area, she found him kneeling a few feet away from her chair, a small velvet box nestled securely in his steady hands.

“I started crying immediately,” she tells you, groaning at the memory. “I couldn’t keep it together. It was so embarrassing.”

You toss your head back and laugh. Despite the crimson blush staining her cheeks, she joins in. The coffeemaker beeps, signalling that the pot is ready. You fetch two mugs from the cupboard and fill them with dark liquid. Ella accepts her drink eagerly, blowing cool air across its surface. You grimace as she takes a tentative sip—you’ve never understood her penchant for unsweetened black coffee. Sugar and cream are a must.

“I’m so happy for you, El,” you tell her, stirring a small spoon around your mug. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”

Her eyes grow damp. You snicker quietly, reaching across the island and swiping your thumb beneath her bottom lashes. She catches your hand and kisses your knuckles softly, clearing her throat.

“Will you—?” She releases a shuddering breath. “Will you be my maid of honour?”

You stiffen at her request. Her gaze rakes over your face, like she’s searching for any clue as to how you might respond. At last, your shoulders sag in relief, and an ecstatic smile splits across your cheeks.

“Of course,” you say, voice thick. Tears gather in your own eyes, but you blink them back furiously. “I would love nothing more.”

She sets her coffee down and skirts around the counter, yanking you into another bone-crushing hug. You grin as she presses a handful of sloppy kisses to the side of your head. Her elbow knocks against your abandoned mug, and a few drops of coffee spill down the side of the cup. You laugh at her enthusiasm, pulling back and sweeping your hands over her silky hair.

“It’s probably way too soon, but have you guys started discussing anything?” you ask, arching one eyebrow.

Ella flushes pink, averting her gaze. “Um…when we got home, there wasn’t really much of a discussion going on.”

You cackle, poking at her ribs. “Oh, he gave it to you good, didn’t he? It’s a miracle that you’re not limping right now.”

“Be quiet,” she yelps, stamping her eyes shut.

You lift your hands and shoot her a teasing smirk. “I’m not judging, okay? If anything, I’m living vicariously through your various sexual conquests. It’s been months since I last got any action.”

“Maybe that should change,” Ella says, folding her arms over her chest. “You and Harry could probably fuck out your frustrations. His dick is huge, apparently.”

You balk. “Ella!”

She shrugs, grey eyes widening comically. “What? Alex told me!”

You snort, but say nothing. She watches you cautiously, examining your features for any signs of acquiescence. Any indication that you might actually be considering her lewd suggestion. You almost gag.

“Why do you hate him so much, anyway?” Ella asks, flicking an invisible speck of lint off her shoulder. “You’re not still hung up on that fiasco with the almond croissant, are you?”

“I’m not doing this with you again,” you say, and she sighs.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But can you at least try to be civil while we plan the wedding? For my sake.”

After mulling over her words, you slouch in defeat. “Fine. But only for you,” you say, throwing a stern finger in her face.

She beams. “Thank you.” Something dirty flashes behind her pale eyes. “And if you do end up sleeping with him, I want all the details.”

You shove her gently and scoff. She laughs.

“Honestly,” you start, shaking your head, “it doesn’t matter how huge his dick is. I’d rather walk across hot coals than let somebody like him climb into my bed.”

“What makes you think it wouldn’t be the other way around?” Ella snickers. You glare at her, but she just steps back, raising her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, fine. Have it your way. But I’m expecting you to find someone in time for the big day. Don’t let your plus-one go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, thoroughly unconvinced. “Noted.”

September 2nd, 2021

“Olly!” you call, sticking your head into the backroom. “Ella and I are going on our lunch break, but Leyla will be here in, like, twenty minutes. You going to be okay by yourself until then?”

Olly doesn’t even bother looking over his shoulder, too busy piping little flowers along the sides of the rectangular cake laid out in front of him. He lifts one hand, waving away your concerns before running his palm over his short blue hair. He buzzed and dyed it just last week after claiming that he couldn’t stand how the long brown curls stuck to the nape of his neck. It took a few days to get used to the change, but now that the initial shock has faded, you have to admit that he looks great.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Olly says, putting the finishing touches on the cake. He sets his piping bag down and turns toward you, wiping his palms against his red apron. His left ear bears a swirl of shiny silver piercings. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Thanks,” you say, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and then you’re spinning on your heel and letting the door swing shut behind you.

You find Ella waiting outside the bakery. She urges you along, and you squawk at her impatience.

“What’s the rush?” you ask, falling into step with her as you both amble down the sidewalk. “We have forty-five minutes.”

“I don’t want Alex’s sandwich to get cold,” she explains, holding up the small paper bag clutched in her right hand. You snort.

The two of you make it to Ridgefield Hospital in record time, mostly because Ella grips your arm and gives it a forceful tug whenever you start lagging behind. You walk through the automatic doors, ignoring the row of ambulances parked outside. The secretaries sitting at the front desk shoot you a few distracted smiles—they’ve all grown accustomed to your frequent visits by now.

Ella babbles endlessly as you enter the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor and waiting as the metal doors slide shut.

“I want to ask Alice and Leyla to be part of the bridal party, but I’m scared the guys will feel bad if Alex doesn’t choose them as his groomsmen. Like, I think they’d understand, considering I work with the girls and we’re all pretty close, but I don’t know.” She nudges you with her elbow. “What do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever the fuck you want,” you tell her, shrugging. “It’s your wedding. And I don’t think Olly, Marcus, or Nick will mind if they’re not part of the bridal party. Olly doesn’t care about that stuff, and Marcus and Nick already have their hands full with their jobs at the bakery. Plus, they know Alex has his own friends—not just the ones he’s met through you.”

Ella nibbles on her bottom lip, her head bobbing in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You lay a placid hand on her shoulder. “You’re already overthinking this. You’ve only been engaged for a week. Enjoy it.”

She shoots you a grateful smile just as the elevator dings and the doors glide open, and the two of you step out onto the hospital’s paediatric floor. It’s a stark contrast to the other sections of the building. Instead of barren white walls, these ones are painted with all sorts of pretty, colourful decorations—flowers, rainbows, sunsets, animals. A massive sign in front of you denotes the different divisions on the floor and where to find them: the ICU, the operating rooms, the palliative unit, the psychiatry wing, and the oncology department. You and Ella turn right, making the familiar trek to Alex’s office.

“He should be on his lunch break, too,” she says. “Unless they paged him for another emergency surgery.”

You hum in response.

Sure enough, you find Alex at his desk, twirling a blue pen between his fingers as he pores over the stack of papers in front of him. Ella knocks gently against the open door, and his face lights up when he spies her standing in the threshold. He moves quickly, crossing the room in five long strides, and plants a searing kiss onto her lips. You look away, rocking awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Hey,” Alex murmurs after he and Ella break apart. That’s when he notices you behind her. “Hey, cookie.”

“Hey,” you reply. You toss your thumb over your shoulder. “I’m just going to—you know, the usual.”

He nods.

The last thing you see before you turn around is Ella holding up the brown paper bag, and Alex’s face splitting into a bright, easy smile.

You meander through the halls, trailing your fingers over the rich artwork covering the walls. The end of the corridor cleaves in two; you turn left and enter a large atrium. The ceiling is high and peppered with skylights. A small cafeteria sits off to the side, clusters of families chatting and laughing together as they eat. Children sprint around the space, their arms outstretched. Some of them are dressed in normal clothes—others don pale hospital gowns, their skinny legs bared for all to see. You wrench your attention away from them, fixing it instead on the far wall.

Slowly, you cross the room, surveying the vibrant handprints stamped against the plaster. There has to be hundreds of them, you think. They vary in size—some are so tiny you could cry. Colour becomes scarcer the higher you go—the youngest children are too short to reach those levels, obviously—but still. The sight takes your breath away. You visit this mural every time you find yourself at the hospital, and every time, you unearth a new detail that you hadn’t noticed before.

You walk along the length of the wall, dragging your fingertips across the dry, smooth paint. Purples and pinks and oranges and blues. Reds, greens, yellows, browns. Each handprint is a person—a pair of little feet that scuffled over this very floor, a blank story that had yet to unfold. Briefly, you wonder how many survived whatever illnesses plagued them, and how many succumbed to their conditions. The thought makes your throat grow tight with emotion, so you quickly shove it aside.

Ten minutes pass before you’re leaving the mural behind and heading back the way you came. You’ve just rounded the corner when a strong, solid body barrels into you. You grunt at the impact, smacking one palm against the wall to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you start, lifting your head to meet the stranger’s gaze. “I wasn’t paying—oh.”

Harry smirks, his green eyes glittering with mirth once he recognises you. You purse your lips, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Harry,” you say, nodding stiffly.

He folds his arms over his chest. “Sweetheart.”

His brown hair is tousled, and his biceps strain against the white button-up adorning his torso. Black slacks cover his legs, and he’s wearing a pair of pristine leather shoes, ones that look like they might’ve cost a month’s worth of rent. Your teeth grate together noisily. The sound echoes in your ears.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, as though the two of you are old friends. You want to scoff—you’d rather stick your hand in an oven than make idle conversation with him.

“Visiting Alex,” you say tightly, stepping back. “Ella brought him lunch.”

At that, Harry straightens. “Ella’s here?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I’d run into her,” he murmurs, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

You throw him a scowl. “Asshole.”

Harry cocks one eyebrow, tilting his chin haughtily. “Forgive me if I prefer her company to yours. At least she doesn’t treat me like I’m some insufferable bastard.”

“Maybe if you stopped being such an insufferable bastard, I wouldn’t treat you like one,” you shoot back, planting your hands on your hips. You tense as Harry’s gaze rakes down your body—head to toe, like he’s sizing up an opponent. His nose wrinkles in disdain, and you fight the urge to deliver a sharp, backhanded slap across that pretty, perfect face.

Harry opens his mouth, and you brace yourself for whatever retort he has prepared. What comes out is nothing overtly nasty, but it is enough to make you want to shrink away and curl into yourself until you wink out of existence.

“You smell like yeast,” he says, and tosses in a derisive sniff just for the added effect.

You recoil as the words slam into you, blinking in shock.

Asshole. Rude, arrogant, condescending asshole.

“I own a bakery,” you grit out. Harry shrugs, but says nothing else. Your lips flap wordlessly as he pushes past you, his shoulder bumping against yours. You watch him go, massaging the tender spot on your arm with shaky fingers. Your eyes fall to his ass for only a moment before skittering away, and a hollow laugh catches in your throat.

What a fucking prick.

September 17th, 2021

“Attention, everyone!” Ella stands at the head of the table, clinking her fork delicately against her glass. “I wanted to make a little toast.”

The conversation around you tapers off into silence. You sit back in your chair, focussing on your best friend. She looks splendid in her pretty blue dress, her dark hair twisted into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck. She peers around the room, chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek. When her gaze locks with yours, you grant her a tiny, encouraging nod.

She beams, her next words imbued with renewed enthusiasm. “I wanted to thank all of you for coming here tonight to celebrate our engagement with us.” She holds out her hand, and Alex presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “We’re so grateful to be sharing this milestone with such a wonderful group of people.”

You inspect the other guests gathered around the table. To your right sit Alice and Leyla, the first employees you hired when you were trying to get your business up off the ground. It’s odd seeing them like this—poised and elegant, looking nothing at all like they do during the long, arduous shifts at the bakery. Alice’s blond hair has been fashioned into an intricate braid, and Leyla’s brown eyes are lined with dark kohl and smoky eyeshadow. They clean up nice, you must admit.

Next to Leyla: Ella’s older sister, Hillary. They have the same piercing grey eyes, though Hillary’s hair is a shade lighter. You didn’t miss the sour expression that trundled across her face when you waltzed into Alex and Ella’s condo. She’s jealous, you think. Jealous that Ella chose you as her maid of honour instead of her. You’ve been ignoring her resentful glares for the better half of the night, letting her bitterness pass over you like a cloud. Whatever her problem is, it’s clear that the issue lies between her and her sister. You’re not getting in the middle of that.

It doesn’t help that she’s been fawning over Harry all evening. Upon witnessing her coquettish behaviour, you glanced at Ella, brows raised, but your best friend just rolled her eyes and yielded a helpless shrug of her shoulders. At least the attraction didn’t appear to be one-sided—that would have been humiliating, you think—because Harry gave as good as he got, chuckling sincerely and flirting right back. You had to suppress the urge to retch, and sent out a quiet prayer of gratitude when Ella and Alex sat them as far away from each other as possible at the beginning of the meal.

On the opposite side of the table: Alex’s groomsmen—Milo, Sasha, and Connor. You’ve been in their company a few times, mainly on birthdays and other special occasions. According to Alex, they all met when Milo accidentally vomited during their very first anatomy lesson at medical school. Milo insists that the putrid smell of the cadavers was simply too awful to bear, but everyone else claims that he just couldn’t stand the idea of being so close to a dead body. No matter the truth, the story always makes you giggle. The four of them have been good friends ever since.

The five of them, you remind yourself as your gaze settles on Harry, who is lounging in the chair directly across from you.

Harry—Alex’s best friend. Harry—Alex’s best man.

You wanted to rip your hair from your scalp when Ella broke the news. Several images flashed through your head all at once. You and Harry inching rigidly down the aisle, arms linked. You and Harry donning the same colours, your gown complimenting the spry flower pinned to the lapel of his suit. You and Harry flanking Ella and Alex while they recite their vows, glaring daggers at each other behind your friends’ backs. Even now, the mere thought of it has you biting down on an exasperated groan.

You don’t realise that you’ve zoned out until the faint quirk of Harry’s mouth catches your eye. You blink once to yank yourself from your daze, and clench your jaw when you find him staring at you with an amused look on his face. He places his elbows against the arms of the chair and clasps his hands together. Unmistakable smugness emanates from him, as if he somehow managed to crawl inside your mind and saw exactly what you were envisioning. Your nostrils flare, and you fix your attention back on Ella, who has reached the end of her speech.

“Cheers,” she says, holding up her glass. The champagne inside sloshes and fizzles temptingly. Would she allow you to chug the entire bottle, if you asked?

Everyone around the table mirrors her movements, raising their own drinks and touching them together lightly. Quiet, delicate clanking fills the room, and the friendly chatter resumes. You nudge Ella with your elbow, shooting her a proud smile. “That was great, El.”

She beams. “Thanks, cookie.” She then picks up her fork and motions to the plate in front of her, piled high with seasoned chicken and steaming, roasted vegetables. “Let’s eat.”

~*~

“Are you sure you’ve got him?” Alex asks Sasha, gesturing to the very inebriated Connor wobbling at his side.

Sasha wraps one arm around their friend, letting Connor rest his full weight against him. He bares two rows of perfect ivory teeth, flashing a wicked grin. “Yeah. Besides, I’ve been meaning to pay him back for the shit he pulled at the barbecue last month. There’s a Sharpie in my car.”

“You’re going to draw a dick on his face, aren’t you?” Alex muses.

“Obviously.”

With that, Alex bids them both farewell, shutting the door and heaving a dramatic sigh. Ella approaches him after a moment, hooking her chin over his shoulder and murmuring something indiscernible into his ear. He chuckles softly.

“Didn’t peg you as the voyeur type, sweetheart,” a low voice says from behind you.

You jump, whirling around and coming face-to-face with Harry. He’s got a green washcloth slung over his left shoulder—the shade brings out his eyes, a traitorous voice in your head whispers—and his arms are folded neatly across his chest. Your gaze falls to the collar of his black button-up, where he’s undone the first two discs, leaving his sternum exposed. Tendrils of ink peek out from beneath the dark material.

You frown and take a step back, putting distance between your bodies. “You’re such an asshole.”

“So I’ve heard.” His lips twitch, and he rolls up his sleeves. “Now, if you’re done ogling them like a lovestruck puppy, I could use some help in the kitchen.”

You grit your teeth, but follow him into the other room. Harry grabs the rag hanging over his shoulder and holds it out for you. You snatch it from his fingers without a word, and the two of you take up residence in front of the sink. Harry plunges his hands into the soapy water, rinsing the dishes thoroughly before passing them to you. You stand as far away from him as possible while you dry each plate, your movements stiff and choppy. This is not how you wanted to finish off the night, but Alex and Ella spent the entire day preparing the food, and it was delicious. The least you can do is spare them the hassle of tidying up.

The tense silence eats at you, until you feel like you might explode. Unable to bear it any longer, you hastily blurt, “Saw you getting pretty cozy with Hillary before dinner.”

Immediately, you want to kick yourself. Where the fuck did that come from?

Harry snorts, shrugging coolly. “We’ve hooked up a few times, but it’s nothing serious.” He shoots you a mischievous grin. “You jealous?”

“Of Hillary?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Please. The woman’s standards are practically underground. Why else would she be interested in someone like you?”

Harry scowls, and hot satisfaction surges through your veins. Yes, the taunt was mean, but no, you don’t care. “You’re a real bitch sometimes, you know that?” he says.

You flash him a petty, insincere smile. “Only to you.”

He squeezes the yellow sponge nestled in his right hand, scrubbing it forcefully across a dirty plate. “Maybe you should find someone to hook up with. It might help get that stick out of your ass.”

“I have better things to do,” you sneer, narrowing your eyes.

“Better than sex?” He chokes on a derisive laugh.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“Like…things!” you snap, fingers curling into tight fists. “I run my own business, for God’s sake. And I’m going to make Ella’s wedding cake.” You announce the last part proudly, hauling your chin into the air.

Harry, however, looks unimpressed. He shakes his head, blowing out a heavy sigh. “Uh-oh.”

You pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs again, but you detect a hint of malice behind the action. “It’s just…I’ve seen the way you decorate cakes. Ella might be better off going elsewhere—you know, to an actual professional.”

Son of a—

“That’s rich, coming from you,” you say, motioning to the mismatched tattoos littered across his arm. “What would you know about professionalism? It looks like you let a preschooler doodle all over you.”

Harry bares his teeth in a feral grin. “Deflection. I’m not surprised.”

You bristle at his words. “Asshole.”

“You’ll need to get a bit more creative with the insults, sweetheart. I’m growing bored.”

“Is that so?” you say. “I think ‘asshole’ suits you just fine. Maybe you should have become a proctologist instead of a paediatrician.”

“At least I pursued something I was good at. I’m not sure if you can say the same.”

“You fucking—”

“Everything okay in here?” Ella asks, floating into the kitchen. You spin around to conceal your anger, placing your hands against the counter and inhaling deeply. You roll your shoulders back and slap an artificial smile onto your face before turning once more.

“Everything’s fine,” you say, and fake a yawn, covering your mouth with your palm. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m exhausted.”

Ella’s bottom lip juts out into a pout. Her red lipstick has faded, leaving only a stain of scarlet in its wake. On cue, Alex walks into the kitchen behind her, setting a steady hand on her hip and cocking his head to the side. “Hey. Everything okay in here?”

You nearly snort. Fucking soulmates.

“All good,” you tell him, nodding brusquely. “I’m just going to finish up with the dishes and head home.”

“Okay.” Alex presses a soft kiss to Ella’s temple, murmuring something about needing to get out of his stuffy clothes. You whirl, drying the last of the plates with frantic, shaky fingers. In your peripheral vision, you spy Harry watching you, but the stupid bastard must possess some scrap of self-preservation, because he keeps his mouth shut. You say nothing else as you whack the rag down onto the counter and stride out of the room.

You don’t miss Alex and Ella’s hushed whispers at the other end of the hall, but a little voice in your head tells you not to interrupt them. You halt at the front door, snatching your purse off one of the metal hooks mounted on the wall. You’re in the middle of putting on your shoes when you hear it:

“I was hoping we could arrange a truce, you know.”

You twist around, palm flying to your chest. Harry is standing a few feet away, his hands still wet with the water from the sink. He clasps them together and ducks his head, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think he was ashamed.

Something vile bubbles in the pit of your stomach. You gnaw on the flesh of your cheek, trying to reel your emotions back in. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of witnessing another outburst.

“Keep your fucking truce,” you spit, and wrench open the door. You shoot him one last withering look before stepping out of the condo and slamming it shut.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Assassins

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

 The soft light of the morning dawn slowly filtered into the room through cracks between the lavish curtains. Streaks of light bounded off the polished gold detailing of the rooms furniture and made the room appear as if the very stars themselves had come to adorn themselves upon the walls. So bright were the reflections that it managed to find their way underneath several layers of bed sheets and directly into the face of ambassador Glifin.

Roused from his seemingly peaceful sleep Glifin slowly pushed off the sheets one by one and rolled to his feet. The loud thuds of his hooves touching the floor sent a shudder through the room as he stood and stretched out, his general grogginess slowly shaking off. With a loud yawn finally leaving his throat he rose and shambled over to his desk to begin his day’s work.

Tonight he was hosting a party honoring visiting royalty from his home world on Argon. The prince had decided he wanted to visit this miserable planet he had been stationed on, though why anyone would want to visit this world was beyond him.

Glifin’s posting on the human homeworld had been sold to him as a great honor but in reality it had been a means to keep him from continuing his political rise. On Argon he had been a senator whose mere whisper was enough to make generals and minor nobles quiver in fear. His star struck ascension didn’t go unnoticed however and just before he was to be elected into the office of Artock Supreme and reside over the entire senate the royal family had stepped in and given him the position of ambassador to humanity.

Within the spam of a solar month he was shipped off the throne world and sent to this backwater dump of a world; were he had to smile and feign sincerity to these miserable sacks of flesh all the while his political powerbase slowly began to crumble in the senate.

Now fully consumed by feelings of dread over his situation Glifin did not hear the sudden knock at the door. Only after several more knocks did Glifin look up from his paper work.

“Come in.”

The door slowly opened and Glifin’s aide Jafal walked in and bowed.

“My apologies for disturbing you at this early hour, but Mr. Robinson has arrived with your evening wear for tonight’s event.”

Glifin nodded and shuffled his papers back into his desk and locked it just as a new figure entered the room.

“Say what you want about Argonian fashion, but they do have such a wonderful sense of aesthetics when it comes to room decoration.”

A slim human emerged from the doorway pushing a small cart with a metal rod built in holding up two clothing bags.

“You have a problem with Argonian styles?” Glifin said as he rose to his feet and walked over to Robinson as he pulled out a tiny box device and casually threw it down on the floor. The moment of contact it sprung open and in an instance a large set of mirrors emerged from it giving an impressive view from all sides.

“Oh far be it for me to question ones culture, “ Robinson continued as he opened the first bag and stepped aside for Glifin to see the contents, “but some would consider the amount of dead mammals your people adorn on themselves to be a tad morbid.”

From the corner of his eye Glifin saw Jafal’s face redden from anger but with a motion from his ambassador kept his tongue still.

“I would find it surprising for a human to find anything morbid with the amount of toxins you willingly consume.”

Robinson flashed a brief smile and shrugged. “You do have me there; personally caffeine will most likely be the end of me one day, but we’re not here to talk about my eventual demise.”

“An end that will come much sooner if you continue to waste my time with idle chatter.”

Humanities incessant need for small talk and idle conversation was something Glifin had never come to terms with; and this human fashion designer was by far the worst example he had ever put up with. Part of him viewed it as a challenge to see how long he could endure before snapping the tiny man’s neck, and though such a moment would no doubt bring him great pleasure the other part of him realized that Robinsons work was well regarded among prominent members of society. Not just with other humans, but with other alien dignitaries who had embassies on the human homeworld. It had been surprisingly an ambassador from the Hive that had recommended the human’s services when it was suggested that Glifin update his style to match his new role.

Walking up to the first black bag that Robinson had opened Glifin inspected the wardrobe.

Inside was a finely trimmed suit of Rygonian Leaper fur of a dark blue with a sash of Haponi tongue and a dashing pair of pants metal grey Roller Worm hide.

It was custom in Argonian culture to wear the skin of that which you have killed, thus the outfit before him was a prime example Glifin’s traditions.

“A fine work indeed,” Glifin said as he ran his fingers across the material, feeling the roughness against his skin. “For a human” he finished as he turned and smirked at Robinson.

“With the effort it took to obtain the materials you requested I would say it is nothing less than an example a miracle performed before your very eyes.”

Glifin stopped his examination of the attire and looked at the human. “For a miracle you sound so…displeased with your work.”

Robinson crossed his arms for a moment and pouted as if considering his next words.

“My work is perfection, I can assure you, but a man in my trade is not just meant to listen to the specifications of their client but their intention as well.”

“And your point?” Glifin queried.

After a moment he outstretched his hand and casually gestured to the Argonian clothing. “Is this really the message you want to be sending?”

Glifin looked at the suit again then back at Robinson. “I don’t understand.”

“If you go to the event dressed like this it will send the message that you still value your traditions, but I worry that it shows a disconnect with your current situation; almost as if you are attempting to relive the past.”

“You would appear as an old war hero trapped in past glories that the other guests would acknowledge, but not make to engage in conversation.”

Glifin opened to rebuke the human but stopped himself as he pondered the man’s words. Robinson stepped forward to the other black case. “Now this,” Robinson said as he slowly pulled down the zipper revealing the contents, “this would make you not only the talk of the party, but would make you the talk of the after party all the way back to your homeworld were many people would no doubt be very much interested in your on goings.”

“Each piece has been designed by some of the most dangerous animals on this planet, and in some cases far more ravenous then anything back on your respectable homeworld.”

Robinson went about and pointed out the specific materials used one by one.

“The body is made from a powerful species that inhabits the various swamps and wetlands around the globe with jaws so powerful they could cut you in two with a single bite.”

“Each of the buttons along the coat are the fangs of the most poisonous reptilian creatures on the planet; each one capable of killing a human let alone an Argonia ten times over with a single drop of their venom.”

“Now the pants I am particularly proud of as they are the skin of the deadliest hunter of all the planets seas. They can smell fresh blood from miles away and commonly take on prey twice their size.”

Gliffin heard Robinson go through the list of creatures but his expression remained emotionless.

“Why would these creatures be any more interesting than my own worlds?”

Robinson smiled. “Because everyone from your world already knows about them and have hunted the same creatures for generations. Yet I would be so bold as to wager my humble shop that none of them have ever faced down the black eyed stare of a great white shark, nor wrestled the deadly crocodile demons of the swamps, and most certainly have been quick enough to pluck out the teeth of rattle snakes just as they lunge to strike.”

“Neither have I,” Gliffin said with a hint of disgust in his tone, “and you would make a liar out of me for saying so.”

“My dear ambassador, who but you could say what you do or don’t in your free time?”

Robinson leaned forward and whispered into Gliffin’s ear “I am no doubt sure many of your females would find the idea of a striking Argonian such as yourself sneaking off to go hunting the unknown for sport a rather attractive quality.”

Glifin looked at the new set of clothing and then back at the original set of traditional clothes. He went back and forth for several moments before finally settling his gaze on the traditional garments.

“Take these away.”

_______________________________________

The lights outside Robinson’s humble shop slowly went off one by one as he walked between the displays straightening out garments and folding tossed aside pieces customers had casually put aside when the door rang.

“I’m sorry but we are closed for the night.” Robinson said as he returned behind the counter with a stack of clothes.

The figure slowly approached the counter and took off their hat. Robinson looked up from the register to see the figure was a Rohanan; a species known for its gel like appearance yet could collect random bits and bobs to create a sudo skeleton and present themselves as humanoid.

“That’s alright,” the Rohanan said, “I am here to pay for a set I ordered for a….friend.”

“Then they are most fortunate to have a friend such as you then.”

Robinson’s smiling nature unnerved the Rohanan but nonetheless they placed a small envelope on the table and slid it across. Robinson placed a hand on it and tapped his fingers several times against the contents inside before opening it and spilling the credit chips on to the table.

“Is it satisfactory?” the Rohanan said, their nervousness building as the human finished counting the chips.

“Oh yes indeed; I believe you have paid in full for your order.” With a swipe of his hand the human pushed the chips back into the envelope and sealed it. “Always a pleasure to deal with such an honest and upstanding man such as yourself during such troubling times.”

Robinson leaned in towards the Rohanan, his expression shifting from smiling to one of mild concern. “I heard there was a most unfortunate incident up at the Argonian embassy several nights ago.”

“Several guests including the visiting prince and ambassador himself all died from poisoning.” The Rohanan confirmed.

“How gruesome!” Robinson said as he recoiled in shock and finished putting away the remaining clothes while he talked over his shoulder.

The Rohanan regarded the human for a moment before continuing. “The strangest thing was that the poison was not native to this world, but is most common in the Hagar system under Dovorian rule.”

“A most embarrassing situation I am sure considering the Dovorian and Argonian people despise each other.”

“Indeed; one might wonder how such a toxin came into contact with them.”

Robinson shrugged and turned as he finished placing the final shirt back into the display. “With all of those fangs, bones, and animal skins I would not be surprised if someone grabbed a tooth or two that hadn’t been fully drained of its contents.”

The Rohanan laughed and placed their hat back on their head just as they stopped at the door.

“You were worth every penny, assassin.”

“An assassin you say?” Robinson’s smile returned and he casually waved to the departing customer “You must have me mistaken for someone else, as I am but a simple tailor.”

[paisley-print]

10:00pm / Happy Birthday

About: It’s Jack’s Birthday and you planned something special. 

Warnings: Marriage problems, infidelity, alcohol.

Rating: 18+

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Note: You wanna see some real speed boy? (Months of not posting and two chapters in less then 24 hours. Whack.)

Series Master List

@scorpionerd  @just-here-for-the-moment@sherala007 @jediknight122 @pintsizemama​ @kenbechillin @elegantduckturtle @hearttbreak @tintinn16 @showbuckysomelove​ @somenerdyuser @kesskirata @ohyeasam @athalien @spideysimpossiblegirl @littlemisspascal @sheresh0y​  @voteforpedro09 @greeneyedblondie44 @feel-it-on-the-way-home13

“Hi Jack, it’s....” you glance over at the clock on the stove, checking the time. “It’s ten. I’m calling to see when you’ll be home. Okay, love you, bye.” You played the message back, cringing a little at the way your words slurred together, but sent it, anyway. 

You reached over to pour yourself another glass of wine. It was your third one, but you were already feeling the effects. He said he would be home at seven. If you knew he was going to work overtime tonight, you wouldn’t have spent all day rushing around. 

Your stomach hurt just thinking about the tray of lasagna and birthday cake you spent hours working on. Still though, you wanted to wait to eat until he got home. 

This year had to be better than the last. You doubted whether you could make it through another twelve months of silence. Plus, with the whole Ezra thing, you needed a grand gesture to show that you were willing to work on this. He cared for you; he had said it. He loved you. He would always love you, and although he looked through you as if peering at a specter, you believed him. You hadn’t been the best wife these last few months, so you felt as though you owed him this. 

Tonight was just for him, and everything had been prepared perfectly. His favorite movie on the TV, beers in the fridge, birthday gift all wrapped on the nightstand upstairs. Months ago, he mentioned a pair of cuff links his father used to wear while the two of you were combing through old photo albums you had found in the attic. They were square, with yellow gold trim and two crossed six-shooter pistols set into a background of black onyx. 

Jack’s father left when Jack was nine, and one of the few happy memories he had was the day his father brought home his first suit for Sunday mass. His father taught him how to make sure his shirt wasn’t creased, how to wear a necktie, comb his hair back with gel, and finally the importance of cuff links. 

While looking over the photograph, Jack had mentioned liking the style of the cuff links in passing, but you could see they held quite a bit of emotional value. After that, you had spent weeks tracking down the exact set. With the help of a Reddit board, a few antique shop owners and one generous seller on Etsy, you secured a pair identical to those in the photograph. 

Keeping the secret had been tough. You almost let it slip a few times, but you will yourself to go on a little longer. The surprise would be that much more meaningful if you gave it to him on his birthday…. if he ever planned to show up, that is. 

As you finished another glass, you stood from the table and walked into the guest bathroom to reapply your lipstick. A few hours ago, your makeup was perfect, but it was now looking smudged. You tried to fix it as best you could while the room around you spun.

You had one of his dress shirts, with thigh-high stockings and a new lilac set of lingerie you bought specifically for this occasion, and heels you took off about three hours ago. You felt so incredibly ugly looking at your reflection, and you weren’t sure why. A few hours ago you were on top of the world, now you were willing yourself not to cry. 

Once you were done touching up your lipstick, you grabbed another glass of wine and took a seat on the couch. It was then your phone buzzed, and a number you recognized popped up on the screen.

You picked it up, becoming aware of how fast your heart was beating in your chest. “Hello?”

“Little bird?” Ezra’s voice came floating over the receiver. “Forgive me for calling at this hour, but I was becoming worried about your lack of response to my messages. Noticed your car in town today on my way to work and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You felt guilt grip tightly at your chest. He had sent you a few texts since the night of the shooting. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. This man was bad for you. It didn’t matter how much you liked him; you were a married woman trying to work on your relationship. Ezra knew that, he should respect you and understand why you weren’t jumping to text him back.

“I’m fine” your aid.

He paused, hearing the way you were slurring your words. “Little bird-”

“Stop fucking calling me that,” you snapped, anger rising out of you from nowhere. “I’m not your little bird, okay? I have a fucking name.”

Ezra seemed incredibly taken off guard “my apologies-”

“And I need you to stop texting me and calling me. Whatever the fuck you think we had, we didn’t. You were convenient, that’s all. I think it’s seriously creepy how you keep trying to hit on me when you know I’m married. Seriously, go find yourself a real fucking girlfriend and stop trying to ruin my marriage.”

The silence that followed was deafening, so you continued, “okay? Please get out of my life.”

“Understood,” he said simply. “Have a nice night.”

You hung up the phone and threw it onto the other side of the couch.

-

It was nearly 5:00am when Jack finally came through the door. The first thing he noticed was the half empty bottle of wine left open on the table, then you, asleep on the couch. He set down his satchel and locked the door behind him. Then he went around, shutting out the lights, then the tv. Once he was done, he sat next to you and rubbed your arm to wake you up. 

His patience was running thin. He had wished you up in bed by the time he got home, asleep, so he didn’t have to deal with any of this. “‘Y/n’ come on. Time to go to bed.”

You drew in a slow breath and blinked at him as you woke. You could still feel the effects of the alcohol burning bright. “What time is it?” you mumbled, sitting up. 

“Come on, I’m gonna pick you up. Ready?”

 You nodded and allowed him to stand you up and put you over his shoulder. You noticed how his shirt was untucked in the back.

Once in the bedroom, he laid you down on the bed. He moved towards the closet but took his hand and stood. He sighed in annoyance and moved his face away as you wrapped your arms around him. 

“Happy birthday,” you smiled, the heat from the alcohol making your face feel warm. 

“Not my birthday anymore,” he said, trying to gently pull away from you.

Some part of you knew you were making a fool out of yourself. “I got a gift for you-”

He shook his head. “You’re disgusting.”

The words stung. You let go, your eyes widening, like you were about to cry. Then you realized what he thought you meant by gift. He knew you were too drunk to sleep with, so implying that he would have offended him.

 You laughed, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “No, not like that. I’m sorry about - I. I drank when I was cooking because I thought you would be home earlier.” You noticed a smudge of pink on the inside of his collar. Then you noticed he wasn’t wearing a tie either. You lifted your hand, intending to touch it “What’s-”

 He jerked back, then turned, going into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him. You jumped at the sound and the way it made the photos hung on the wall rattle. You weren’t exactly sure what you did or saw to deserve a response like that. 

When you heard the shower turn on, you figured you would get ready for bed yourself, but before you did, you withdrew the gift from the nightstand and placed it on his side of the bed. After that, you made your way to the guest bathroom to take off your makeup, then back downstairs to heat up some food. Nausea was already beginning to set in. You needed something in your stomach. While you were down there, you made a point to pack some leftovers in Tupperware containers that he could grab on his way out the door in the morning.

-

You slept in the guest room that night, figuring it was best to allow him space. He left before you woke, but you could have sworn you felt the mattress dip sometime in the morning and a soft touch come up to smooth down your hair. It could have very well been a dream though. The hangover was a bad one, and it was times like this you realize your age was catching up with you more quickly then you would like to acknowledge. Your plan for the rest of the day was to clean, mostly because you didn’t know what else to do and if you sat mulling over the events of last night it would just make you sad. 

[reggiejworkshop]

"A Chat With Company"

The following passage is a slightly abridged excerpt from a one shot I just posted on AO3 and Fanfiction.net. March 2019 Thaddeus Plotz trudged his tiny feet along the dirt path before he reached his destination. At the edge of the local park was a small bench that overlooked a large pond. It was always his preferred place to sit whenever he came here. The view was nice, the shade provided by the trees nearby was adequate, but what he really liked was that many of the locals didn't come out this far edge of the park. So he'd be able to sit in solitude. His content smile soured when he noticed the bench that was normally vacant was occupied for once.

"Outta the way, you bird brained flappers!" Slappy Squirrel yelled. The old gray squirrel swung her cane at a few geese that flapped in her direction. One of them tried to peck at her green hat before getting pelted by her purse. She then turned around to face him. "Well look who it is, Rip Van Winkle! What's with you?"

Plotz knew the nickname she uttered was no doubt directed towards his appearance as of lately. The white hair he usually kept trimmed that had now grown out on his sides. A tiny white stubble had formed under his chin. And the sharp custom fit blue suit he always wore, was traded out with normal casual clothes and a sun hat.

"I thought I'd be sitting alone today, looks like that's not happening" the old man grumbled.

Slappy rested her arms against the bench. "You know, this is a public park, in case you haven't noticed"

"What are you doing here?"

"Relaxing? Its what old folks do. So, your gonna sit?"

Despite his better judgement, he sat down next her. They looked out on at the pond for several minutes, watching the lily pads glide across the water with the cool breeze. This spot always seemed to look a little different each time he came. The rose bushes he looked forward to see bloom had been replaced with some new bushes of orange poppies.  A couple of birds flew by and they fed them seeds. Even two of the Goodfeathers, Bobby and Squit, came by for a brief moment before they flew off.

"You know, since you're not a CEO. You're not an easy target for the Warners anymore."

Plotz didn't make eye contact as he tossed a few seeds to a sparrow, "That's correct"

"So, do you miss them?

He looked at her if that were a stupid question. "Of course I don't miss them! In order for that to happen they would have to go away!"

Her smile didn't change. "Yeah, sure"

"Those three were a serious liability to me! Now that they're not, they can do whatever they want at the studio, and I won't have to clean up the mess for once!"

Slappy rolled her eyes. "Sure you didn't miss them. That's exactly why you invited them to your retirement gathering."

Plotz's eyes widened. He was not expecting her to bring that up. "T-That was just to be courteous!"

She laughed. "That party was a hoot. You took that custard pie to the face like a champ!"

Plotz cheeks flushed bright red. "Thanks, for reminding me about that."

"Admit, you've grown to like those three. I can see it in your eyes!

"I haven't!" Plotz said with clenched his teeth, hating the fact that he knew Slappy was right.

So what if he was a tiny bit fond of them? Its not like they saw him as a dad or anything like that, that duty belonged to Dr. Scatchensniff. Plotz did still get the occasional email from the trio, no doubt littered ramblings and jokes. They never called often. He made sure of that when he finally learned caller I.D. Even then, he didn't really talk to anyone outside of work. And from what he heard, the trio often made jokes at his expense at the various conventions they have attended. He figured they didn't miss him that much either. Still he continued to protest.

"Besides, I'm getting a private beach house to stay far away from here! They'll never guess where it is. Not them, or even you!"

"Let me guess, Nassau?"

"Dooh! What the-?! How did you-?!" Plotz stammered to figure out what to say to her accurate predication. He couldn't never be as quick witted as her, and she knew it.

She gave a smug smile. "Relax Plotz, I'm just having some fun..." If you'd like to read the full story, the AO3 link to it is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35009218 Fanfiction link is also here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13986509/1/A-Chat-With-Company?__cf_chl_jschl_tk__=NgEs4LLVyH0xdlqBSWrk7eXVgoPJIQOzx7QjaG4dJHk-1636523055-0-gaNycGzNCRE This is the first time in a while I've done a companion picture to something I wrote. I am pretty satisfied with the picture itself, even though the sky is a little pale.. Completely forgot light blue doesn't show up well in a scan. I was really more concerned with the story and making sure both Slappy and Plotz were in character. It's been a while since I've written a full story and I wanted to try doing another fanfic using characters that aren't used as often.

[sharkneto]

Loving all the snippets!! You have fed us so well today! Especially enjoying the five ages badly bits, any more we can get a peek at?

lol at this point I should just post all of what I've got. Another snippet, though :) It’s a relief to split from the rest of the group.

Vanya fingers the money Allison had leftover in her pocket from the sixties. It’s just over twenty bucks, not enough to get them in a better place but just enough to get Five some food. She loiters outside the gym, waiting for her brothers to come back out.

Klaus sidles out first, hands in his pockets and a too big smile on his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes quite right. “Vanny!” he crows as he approaches. “Finally ditch those losers?”

She smiles despite herself. “They’re going to find us somewhere to stay for the night. We’re on feeding Five duty. Where is he?”

He jerks his head back towards the gym, smile slipping before he can pull it back up. “He was just finishing up. Kicked me out for hoveringtoo much.”

They stand for a minute together, in the shade of an awning, leaning against a lamp post.

Vanya worries her lip. “How bad is he?”

From the corner of her eye, she watches a shadow darken Klaus’ face. He swallows. She waits for a Klaus-ism, for him to make light of the shit situation like he always does. She needs it.

“He’s bad.”

Her heart sinks. She looks up at Klaus, willing him to make a joke. Needing him to make a joke. He just meets her gaze and gives her a sad smile. He uncrosses his arms and warps one around her, pulling her into his side.

“I have seen one other person that skinny,” he continues, voice vibrating through his chest and into her body. It’s comforting.

“And?” she prompts, afraid of the answer.

“He’d been addicted to heroin and god knows what else for years and OD’d a week after I met him.”

Vanya presses her head into Klaus’s chest. He wraps his arm tighter around her.

“Good news, though! Five’s not addicted to heroin! Yay!”

A snort escapes Vanya. “That is the bright side,” she deadpans.

Klaus bends slightly so he can rest his chin on the top of her head. Its point digs in a little bit.

It’s nice. Grounding.

“It’s going to be ok, right?” she asks him.

She feels his shrug through her body. “We’d have to ask Five to jump ahead and double check, which he doesn’t have the energy to do, but I think even without that we have good odds. We always figure it out spectacularly at the very last minute, which is very cool and dramatic of us. And Five is a stubborn bastard and I don’t think he’ll let us not be ok. So, as long as we’re good with his definition of ok, we’ll be just fine.”

Once she sorts through that, she bounces up a little to bonk into Klaus’ head. He snorts. It was a very Klaus answer, which she appreciates. Positive but not shying away from the truth of their situation.

As long as we’re good with Five’s definition of ok.

Her gut sinks a little.

Five thinks he’s fine right now and he’s maybe a week from starving to death, as far as she can tell.

Vanya lets the silence wrap around them. They stand, leaning on one another, and wait for their fucked up older brother to rejoin them. He does a few minutes later, slipping out the gym door and glancing behind him, probably checking that he isn’t being followed.

Five looks miles better than he did before. He’s still worryingly thin, his clothes still hang off of him, but he’s clean. All the apocalypse dirt is washed off, and he’s shaved. He has a subtle tan line from where his beard was, which accentuates the hollows of his cheeks, but he’s more familiar to Vanya. The Five she’s always known has never had a beard. His hair looks better, too; Klaus must have helped him trim it up.

[callmecallmecrazy]

Preppy 1

*****

Warning!  This is not my usual fare.  Back in college I got very into preppy clothing and wrote a few short stories that I never shared anywhere.  Figure I might as well post them for posterity.  Enjoy this 2007/8 flashback!

*****

Two athletic men hauled Shawn into a dark room with a gurney table, and strapped his arms and legs down.

 "What the fuck?" Shawn shouted, his shaggy hair covering his eyes.  His muscular body struggled uselessly against the leather restraints holding down his body.  "Who the hell are you fuckers?"

This caused the two men to stop suddenly.

"My goodness, how rude of me," one spoke.  He was a tall man.  He was wearing Sahara Sperry topsiders, pleated khakis, and a hunter green sweater. Peaking out from under the sweater was a blue and yellow striped oxford shirt.  The collar was buttoned tightly around his neck, which was adorned with a simple yellow tie.  His hair was cut in a short buzzcut.

 He offered his hand out in the gesture of greeting and smiled at the man he had strapped down. "My name is Cody Bellford, please call me Skip.  And this," he said as he pulled the other man towards him in a sort of man hug, "is Ace."  The shorter man smiled.  He too was dressed in pleated khakis, but was wearing a light blue polo with a popped collar. His hair was longer than Skip's, cut into a crisp flattop.  Both men had athletic, strong bodies that were highlighted by their attire, but still looking very dressy.

 "What the hell is going on?" Shawn screamed.

"Ugh, so barbaric," Ace sighed.

"Don't worry, we'll get you cleaned up."

"Cleaned up?" Shawn asked.

"Yes," Skip began to explain.  "Cleaned up.  Groomed. Presentable.  Your appearance and mouth reflect poorly on yourself and the school.  Wouldn't you be happier if you were groomed and proper?"

"Fuck you!" Shawn retorted.  The two preppy men just smiled to each other and began their work.

 Ace walked up to Shawn's chest and proceeded to rip the oversized t-shirt off his chest, exposing Shawn's voluptuous pecs covered in fur.  At the same time, Skip had proceeded to cut the sweat pants off of Shawn's legs.  In few more simple motions, Shawn was lying nearly naked on the table, only his privates covered by a pair of striped boxers.  His strong legs were lurching against the confines of the straps, and the veins in his arms and neck were bulging from his constant resistance. Shawn finally glanced upwards to realize that a full size mirror hung over him.

 "You have a good physique, Shawn.  You should take better care of yourself," Skip said.

"What?"

"This hair is disgusting.  You would look so much better if you were more streamlined."

"Shit, shaving body hair is for fags!"  Shawn was still struggling against the restraints but it was useless.  He was exhausted, and the reflections of the two groomed, calm men standing over him confused him.  Here he was, stressing and fighting, and they were calm and collected. In charge.

"Lots of men shave their body hair," Ace explained.  "It works for some, but you would look better trimmed." Skip handed Ace an electric trimmer, which he turned on and waved delicately in front of Shawn's face. Shawn looked in terror as Ace took the blade over his chest and began to strike down the forest of hair growing across. He could only look forward and watch as his reflection was slowly denuded across the chest and abs.  Skip made eye contact in the mirror and smiled brightly at the terrified man.

 Next, Ace continued his swarthy path on the legs, reducing the long hairs to fine fibers, highlighting the deep cuts along his quads and calves.  Beyond his range of vision, Skip had been stirring a pot of hot wax, and now sat down next to Shawn.  He took one of Shawn's hands and applied the wax on the hair covering his fingers. With a quick rip, and a tired yelp from Shawn, one finger was clean of unsightly hair.  Skip continued the process across all five digits and the back of the hand, then proceeded to do the other hand.  Ace had moved on to the arm that Skip had finished and removed all the hair from Shawn's wrist to his shoulder.  Skip went down to Shawn's feet and quickly ripped the hair off of his feet and toes.

 "Goodness, Shawn," Ace smiled at Shawn in the mirror.  "You look so much better now."

"Yes, I think so too. You should keep this look." Shawn stared at the two smiling men in the mirror, finding himself drawn into their bright smiles and amber eyes. He wanted to look away, but his face was held in place.  He tried to close his eyes, but he was constantly drawn back into the soothing haze of their white teeth and tan skin.  His skin did look good.  His skin had a natural tan and without the hair it seemed that his muscles were bigger, more cut, more defined. Maybe it wasn't, no, he hated it.  Shaving body hair was stupid.  But kind of sexy...

 "Now, about these," Skip said as he cut the boxer shorts from Shawn's body.  Shawn was shocked into silence as Ace roughly gripped his package.

"Don't worry," Ace said, again smiling.  "I'm not a pervert.  I just want you to be the best you can be."  And with those words, he once again turned on the electric trimmer and carefully reduced his pubic hair to a short stubble.  A few more quick strokes near the inner thigh, and both preppy boys stepped back and addressed Shawn in the mirror.

 "You look swell, Shawn," Ace said.  "This clean look really suits you."

"Yes, I agree," Skip said.  "I think everything we're doing you should maintain.  Weekly should be enough for you to look presentable everywhere. It's important to be groomed and presentable at all times.  You don't want to meet the wrong person looking poorly."

"Wrong... person?" Shawn stammered, he was nearly overwhelmed by the whole situation and found himself increasingly groggy and incoherent.

"Yes, there are the right people and the wrong people," Ace explained.  "If you meet a bank president, you don't want to look like a grunge band member.  You want to look like you know a Brooks Brothers inside and out.  That's how you get ahead."

"Oh, but... I ... umm.... shit," Shawn said, exerting a tiny bit of resistance in an attempt to move his head to the side.

"And don't swear, Shawn," Skip said.  "You sound unprofessional and uneducated.  Looking your best means acting your best."

"Umm, okay."

"Don't stutter or stammer.  Speak clearly and decisively.  A man."

"Okay."  Ace and Skip smiled to each other, and for just a single moment, Shawn smiled himself.

 "You are coming along very well, Shawn.  Just a tad more and I think you'll be a new man."

"Yes, I agree. Shawn just needs a few touch-ups and he will be an ideal gentleman."  Skip stepped out of view for just a second and then reappeared. Into the mirror, he held up a pair of classic y-front briefs.  He pulled on them slightly to emphasize the item.

 "These, are the ideal underwear for a conservative, preppy man.  That's what we want you to become.  That's what you want to be Shawn.  All of this is just so you can be a gentleman."  Shawn's eyes bulged as he saw the old-fashioned underwear. Ace undid the straps on his legs, but Shawn found himself too exhausted to move.  The boys gently lifted up his legs and slip down the tight, white briefs. They traced up his thighs and gently began to engulf his crotch and butt.  With a sharp elastic snap, he felt the band settle against his waist.  He had resisted looking, but curiously he peered at his image.  He looked amazing.  The briefs looked so presentable and manly.  He felt powerful and in control.  Once again, Shawn found himself smiling pleasantly.

 "Feeling a tad preppy?" Ace teased.  "Don't worry, only one thing left."

"Your hair," Skip said.  "It's so rough and wild.  Not the image one wants to send."  Shawn had nothing left inside himself to resist.  He merely nodded as well as the straps would let him.  The table holding up his head receded, and Shawn saw Ace holding his neck up while Skip brought over a pair of clippers.  They sprang to life with a low growl.  Skip wasted no time in reducing the sides of his head to nothing.  The shaggy haircut was being quickly reduced.  He ran the clippers over the sides of his head, leaving a white wall of flesh behind in its wake.  That finished, he proceeded to comb the hair back and began hacking it off.  Large chunks of brown hair fell to the floor as Shawn was shorn.  Finally, with about an inch left, Skip wet the hair and brushed it all up.  Using a small trimmer, he proceeded to flatten out his hair, until the top was a level plain identical to Ace's square hair.

 "You need something drastically different," Ace explained.  "Such a dramatic change proves how intent you are on improving yourself."  Skip just nodded as he continued to even out the top of the hair.  Shawn was nearing his breaking point, as he watched his long, mangled hair replaced with a corporate hairstyle of precision and execution. Skip applied some strange wax to the hair forcing it to stand up straight.

 "After some practice," Skip began, "your hair will hold itself up.  But the wax is still good measure."  Shawn found himself nodding as the knowledge of how to maintain his new hairstyle sunk into his freshly exposed head.  Skip pulled the head piece out from the table, and Ace let Shawn's head rest on the table.  The two prepsters stood back and admired their work.

 "You look like a decent guy now.  No more grunge or nasty college boy."

"No, you look like the prefect preppy."

"You are going places. Meeting the right people."

"I'm sure you'll get a great job and make lots of money."

"You've already met us. And there is a bunch of men back at the house excited to meet you."

"Of course, you should join the fraternity.  Men like us need to stick together."

"Don't you like this Shawn.  Being preppy. You look so much better."

"You're a born-again preppy.  We prefer you like this.  And all the brothers want you like this.  You want to be like this, don't you?"

 Staring at himself in the overhead mirror, Shawn was shocked at how much he liked his reflection. Formerly shaggy hair now stood straight up over his head, looking stiff as a board.  Whitewalls on the sides, his ears seemed to stick out a little - something else he found surprisingly appealing.  His tan, muscular body was shown to all its glory, his former resistance giving his body a sheen from sweat and muscle tension.  Without his body hair, he looked bigger, stronger, and cleaner.  He had always thought that shaving body hair was nelly and silly, but he looked much better now.  And then the briefs.  Tight, white briefs with a full cut covered his nether regions.  He had always worn boxers.  But there was something alluring about the underwear, with its clean-cut lines. Almost unconsciously, Shawn found his face slowly being filled with a charming, pleasant smile.  His dazzling white teeth began to cover more of his face as the empty grin consumed him.  Brown eyes lit up with a sort of cordial ambiance.  

 He liked it.  He really did.  Shawn was suddenly overwhelmed with a dire urgency. Something he had never felt before welling up inside of him.  He wanted to be like the preppy boys.  To be like this.  Attractive and fit and well liked and happy.  To be successful and entitled and self-assured.  And surrounded by men his equal.  Men as fit and clean and productive.  To be engulfed in their manly etiquette and mannerisms.  Better yet, be a part of group of such men.  To be part of a fraternity.

 All at once, Shawn's sudden pleasant nature began to override the rest of his personality.  So what if he wanted to dress, act, be one of the preppy boys?  If anything, being a preppy boy would be good for him.  He would get in with the right people, wear the right clothes, be the right kind of man. The kind of man Shawn would never have been on his own.  And he'd be happy.  It sounded pretty great to Shawn, who continued to sink into a cheerful bliss.

 At this point, Skip and Ace proceeded to undo the straps holding Shawn down.  He allowed the two well-dressed boys to help him off the table and he thanked them politely.  Manners were always important after all, but too much thanks sounded sarcastic or desperate - neither of which were admirable qualities in a man.  Ace gave Shawn a gentle pat on the back and a bright smile.

 "Feeling better?"

"Yessir, thank you both very much," Shawn replied.

"Of course," Skip replied eloquently.  "Here, you might want to get dressed."  

 The boys handed Shawn a pair of khaki Dockers’.  He slipped the pants up his muscular legs and pulled them high over his briefs.  The khakis sat a little higher than his normal baggy pants had, and Shawn liked it.  It was a much classier fit.  As he zipped up the fly and buttoned the top, he noticed the pants were pleated.  Actually, it was a double pleat, he was pleased to note. For some reason, he had always hated pleated pants.  He didn't know why.  Clearly, they were a much smarter look on a man.  More formal.  Next, the two fraternity boys gave Shawn a light blue oxford shirt, complete with a little polo player on the left breast.  They helped him tuck the shirt gently into his pants as he began to button the shirt up. He stopped before the very top, but Ace flipped up Shawn's collar and proceeded to button it to the very top. His neck was a little too thick for the buttoned collar, but he realized it would force him to carry his chin high, with pride and confidence.  Yes, a high collar was definitely better for his posture.

 "A proper man doesn't wear a button-down shirt without a tie of some sort," Skip said coyly as he approached Shawn, a line of fabric resting in his hands.  Shawn couldn't see what was happening as Skip proceeded to tie a tie on his neck.  At the same time, he felt Ace fumbling with the cuffs of his shirt.

 Skip stepped back and admired his handiwork and once again presented that gorgeous white smile to Shawn, who was pleased to return the cordial charm of the other man.  Ace was working away at his hips, looping a brown leather belt through the hoops of his Dockers.  Skip held up a pair of blue dress socks with a purple and yellow argyle pattern on them.  Shawn smiled and lifted up one leg, and then the other, feeling the stretch of the fabric engulf his feet.  When he set each foot down, a pair of penny loafers had been set in the way, forcing his foot to slide elegantly into the leather classics.

 "Just a tad preppier," Ace said as he pulled up the final item.  A sweater vest, with a black, grey, and white argyle pattern on it. Shawn could see thin yellow and blue lines running between the diamonds.  He lost his vision as the sweater was pulled over his hair and rested on his broad shoulders.  Rough hands began adjusting the sweater across his body.  It was a bit of tight fit given the size of his pecs and shoulders. The belt was adjusted, the tie straighten, the hair fluffed.  Meanwhile, Skip had pulled over a full-size mirror.  When Ace stepped away from Shawn, taking his place next to Skip, Shawn could finally see his new visage.

 He was a preppy boy. Pleated khakis over an oxford shirt and sweater vest.  It hadn't been a traditional tie that was put around his neck, but rather a purple and yellow bowtie.  Classic cufflinks had been used on the cuffs of his shirt.  Combined with the brown loafers and belt, he was the spitting image of a preppy boy.

 Spitting image?  Shawn thought to himself.  How inappropriate.  More like the classic construct of a prepster.

 "I think Tad is preppy now," Ace said as he looked over the new prep's outfit.

"Think you are a Tad now?" Skip said as he slipped his hand on the recently madeover man's shoulder.

"Skip, Ace, thank you both very much.  I would be pleased if you called me Tad.  Shawn is so uncouth."

"We understand, Tad," Ace said. "Neither of our names befit our preppiness.  Hence, we have preppy nicknames."

"Well, Tad, I think that it's time you went upstairs and met the rest of the men.  You are in the fraternity now, correct?"

"I would be honored to be a brother. Rush begins today?"

"Oh, you're not going to need to rush.  In fact, we would like you to greet the rushees."

"Absolutely!" Tad exclaimed.  "I am honored to represent our brothers and our fraternity."

"Great, let's get you settled in."  The three brothers walk upstairs into the house, to introduce Tad to his new life.

 Later that day, as the rushees came into the house, the brother meeted and greeted all the potential men.  Among them, was a preppy man with a flattop and a purple and yellow bowtie.  He was wearing pleated khakis and a sweater vest. And his nametag had 'TAD' written in bold letters.  It crossed his chest in the same place the little polo player did.  Aside from the nametag, he was nearly indistinguishable form the other brothers.  And in the next week, a few more good men would find themselves proud brothers of the fraternity and brothers in preppiness.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

GLOW (one-shot)

Part of the Stray Wolves Series

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Changbin (SKZ)

Warnings: language, smut, some dirty talk, mentions of knotting, and there’s fluff at the end because I can’t help myself

Genre: Werewolf AU; Marriage AU; Sequel

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: Changbin was rather overprotective of their unborn pups, but Y/N knew that he was just doing his best for his future family. However, she still has those days where she misses their nights of intimacy, and Y/N might have a few tricks up her sleeve when it comes to seducing her hesitant mate.

It was too early in the morning to deal with the dawning sunlight penetrating the floral curtains in my bedroom. I was certain that the outside world had decided to disturb the lingering effects of slumber that refused to let me open my eyes. I tried to ignore the natural alarm clock, burying myself closer against my mate as he slept next to me. For whatever reason, Changbin had figured out a way to block out the effects of the morning sun, even as the angle drew waves of light across the room. 

There was only so much that my sensitive eyesight could take before I was forced to abandon the prospect of more sleep. And I thought that it was unfair that Changbin should continue to sleep peacefully while I suffered alone. “Binnie,” I whispered, clinging almost desperately to Changbin’s outstretched limbs. I mostly blamed the pregnancy hormones because every active instinct was begging me for Changbin’s attention.

“Y/N?” Changbin answered groggily, voice thick with sleep as he squinted his eyes to look at me. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, letting him know that it wasn’t a big deal. “Hormones.”

“Yeah?” Changbin replied with a chuckle, using one strong arm to drag me even closer. 

I allowed him the close contact, enjoying the calming warmth emanating from his bare chest. It might’ve been a simple solution to my morning light predicament, especially when Changbin started to brush his fingers through my hair in a gentle rhythm. My eyelids fluttered in delight, hands finding purchase against his smooth skin. But when Changbin started to move himself into an upright position, I immediately released a pathetic whine, clawing at him to return next to my side. “What are you doing?”

“I’m scheduled for a hunting patrol,” Changbin replied, and he easily unwound my arms from around his trim waistline. And I gave up on any attempts that could’ve convinced him to return to our shared bed, finding a comfortable position on my back as I clung to the remnants of sleep. However, when I approached the precipice of unconsciousness once again, something cold and wet touched my arm, and I groaned in complaint when I realized that it was Changbin’s nose. I studied him from my vulnerable state as my mate somehow managed to crawl over top of me.

“Changbin,” I whined, feeling pressured from the overbearing warmth of his upper body as he sniffed across my stomach. “You’re gonna get them all riled up!”

“How are they?” he asked, with just a faint hint of a soothing purr at the back of his throat. The question itself was in reference to our unborn pups, growing each day as we progressed closer to my due date. 

They must’ve been able to detect the presence of their father, moving uncomfortably inside as I squirmed around on the bed. “The pups are fine,” I said, rolling my eyes playfully when Changbin pressed a hand to the swell of my stomach. 

His smile was contagious, eyes bright with pride as he felt the evidence of the little pups. “What about you?” Changbin asked, looking up at me with the dark eyes that I adored.

“Well, let’s see.” I grinned. “The morning sickness is there, and I feel bloated and sore and strangely horny...”

Changbin scoffed, sitting back on his haunches. “I can’t do much about the first two.”

“Oh?” I asked, feeling the familiar coils of desire lighting themselves from somewhere deep inside of me. “And the third?”

Changbin smirked before he crawled off the bed, leaving me to whine after him. “What am I supposed to do when I’m scheduled to hunt?”

“You can still give me your cock,” I said, and my mouth started watering at the prospect, eyeing the familiar bulge in his dark pants.

“Shameless,” he remarked, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of my head before he started for the door. “I’m leaving, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I huffed, watching Changbin until the door blocked him from my line of vision.

In the meantime, I was left to my own devices, and I found myself in good company with a close friend. Even though Chan’s mate was younger than me, I still enjoyed her comforting presence when there wasn’t much for me to handle during my pregnancy. Despite my wolf’s desire to run out into the woods and explore the territory, I was forced to withhold those urges and keep myself inside the camp. But at least I could still try to prove useful, stitching together a sweater for my unborn pup while Chan’s mate regaled me with stories of the outside world.

“That looks...interesting?” she offered once I held up the pathetic excuse for a sweater that I had just made. It turned out that my stitching skills needed more work.

“I wanted to make them something nice,” I pouted, studying the intricate sweater design and wondering where I had went wrong.

“It takes time,” she said, and I knew that it was only an attempt to make me feel better.

“Well, I have plenty of that,” I muttered, and I found my wandering gaze searching a returning patrol because I missed the familiar freedom of shifting.

Chan’s mate seemed to notice the change in my mood, offering me a helping hand as we both stood up together. “Why don’t we go to the nursery?” she suggested. “We can visit some of the younger pups.”

I nodded at the idea, brightening at the prospect. “I’d love that.”

She giggled, offering me an arm to assist me as we made our way to the other side of the camp where the nursery was carefully maintained. It provided the most protection, especially during times of potential conflict, and we nodded at our pack mates who were guarding the entrance, receiving polite bows in return. After all, we were the mates of our pack’s alpha and beta, which meant a lot considering the reliance that we had on hierarchies.

However, I still wasn’t used to seeing my pack mates show me that kind of respect, and I almost resented my position. But in any case, I was relieved to distract my thoughts with the overwhelming sweet smell of milk, and I couldn’t resist cooing at the sight of the little pups playing at the center of the room. It was definitely post-naptime for most of them, and I smiled as they shifted at whim, colliding together as they wore off their accumulated energy.

“Y/N,” one of the mothers greeted me, beckoning me closer while she held a tiny pup in her arms.

“Hello,” I said, lowering my voice so as not to startle the small pup.

“I can’t believe Changbin let you wander around the camp,” she joked, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

“Cabin fever,” I offered in return, and she laughed before nodding down at the pup who was looking at me with wide eyes.

“This is my daughter,” she said. “I think she likes you.”

“Really?” I asked, crossing my legs underneath me as I settled down on the floor. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The younger pup whined, but looked to her mother for guidance. “Go ahead! You can talk to Y/N.”

The pup still hesitated before leaving the safety of her mother’s arms to stand in front of me. “Hi.”

I smiled at the pup’s timid voice, and I instinctually smoothed a hand down the front of my stomach. “Would you like to feel them?” I asked, and younger pup nodded as I led her hand to my stomach.

At the first kick she felt, the pup immediately jumped back, holding her hand close to her chest as she looked at me with wide eyes. “Did you feel that?” I asked, and she nodded. “Those are my pups.”

There was a little gasp from the younger girl, and she looked positively mystified at the interesting development. Meanwhile, I noticed that a familiar scent had permeated the milky smell of the nursery, and I didn’t even need to turn around to notice Changbin’s return. “I helped make them,” Changbin added with a proud smile.

“Don’t say that,” I groaned, rolling my eyes as I shot the pup’s mother an apologetic look.

“It’s fine,” the mother assured me, and she opened her arms for the curious little pup who didn’t hesitate to snuggle close.

“She’s beautiful,” I told her, and she nodded in gratitude. “Changbin,” I finally said, turning around to look at my mate. “I thought you were busy.”

“The patrol ended early,” Changbin explained. “We found a lot of prey by the riverside.”

“Oh?” I grinned, holding out my hand for him, which my mate didn’t hesitate to accept. “Does this mean we can go back to the cabin and cuddle?”

Changbin laughed at my request, but his hand was firm around my waist as we both waved at Chan’s mate who was still busy playing with a rambunctious group of older pups. “Whatever you want,” Changbin said, burying his nose close to my scent gland. “But first, we need to find you something to eat.”

I groaned at that idea because my appetite had been all over the place since the start of my pregnancy. But I knew that I couldn’t skip another meal, so I allowed Changbin to dote on me, finding us something delicious as we settled next to our pack mates in the communal dining room. It was comfortable and nice, and I kept my hand wrapped around Changbin’s as I answered questions about my unborn pups, feeling my wolf’s satisfaction at having the ones she loved so close where she liked them the most.

Later that night, Changbin and I returned to our shared cabin. As the pack Beta, our living quarters were located close to the alpha’s, and we enjoyed the privacy of the secluded living arrangements. Because when we first mated, Changbin and I often snuck away to our cabin throughout the day, unable to keep our hands to ourselves.

I considered those instances as part of the “honeymoon” phase of our relationship, and I sometimes longed for the intimacy that we shared. Unfortunately, Changbin had decided that we both needed to remain celibate during my pregnancy, for reasons that defied my rational understanding. Of coure, I was also convinced that he still liked to tease me on purpose. For example, I bit my lower lip to keep myself from moaning at the sight of Changbin re-emerging from our shared bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. And I took a deep breath, smoothing my hand down my stomach. “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” Changbin said, reaching for a pair of loose black pants. I watched him drop his towel with a heavy exhale. 

“What did Chan say about his meeting with the Vampire King?” I asked.

“I think it’s a territorial dispute,” Changbin said, and he sounded perfectly nonchalant, matching the easy way that he was tying the drawstring of the same pants that were hugging his outline of his ass.

“So, everything is good?” I asked, studying the delicious lines of his muscles as he started walking towards the bed.

"We’ll have it sorted out,” Changbin said, and he smiled at me before brushing a gentle kiss across my lips. 

I moaned at the taste of him, and it was the opportunity that I had been looking for after all this time, tightening one of my hands against the back of his neck to hold him close. Changbin released a noise of surprise, and I used the advantage to run my tongue across the seam of his lips. Because the sensation was addictive, and it had been a while since I kissed Changbin like this.

“Y/N,” Changbin whispered, breaths heavy as he kissed me in return, passionate and sensual exchanges of oxygen and the warm, wet sensation of his tongue against mine.

“Please, Changbin,” I whined, palming at his cock while giving him a look that I hoped he wouldn’t be able to resist. 

He sighed in response, settling down next to me on the bed. “Y/N,” he repeated, and I could see the familiar doubt reflecting heavy in his gaze. “What if I hurt them?” Changbin asked, hesitating even as his cock started to fill out the impressive bulge in his black pants.

“Come on!” I groaned, throwing one of my legs over his hip to leisurely grind my wet heat against his erection. “I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

I traced my hands along the smooth contours of his chest, looking into his eyes while tweaking one of his nipples. “Hey!” Changbin protested, and I grinned in response before sucking on the sensitive peak. 

I pulled off with an obscene pop, tracing my lower lip with my tongue. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want it.”

I traced the outline of his cock to prove my point, tightening the fabric to create an obscene image. “Seriously, Changbin? How many times do I have to tell you that it’s okay? I’m ready to beg at this point.”

“Y/N.” Changbin sighed, closing his eyes and throwing back his head while I continued to stroke him through his pants. Soft, seductive touches, and I successfully bunched the fabric of his pants separating the two of us before adding pressure to his sensitive cockhead. Changbin moaned in response, eyes flying open as he looked at me with nothing but pure lust reflected in his delicate orbs.

I released a breathy gasp when he abruptly switched our positions, using his strength to crawl over me with a smirk. “Was I convincing?” I asked him, moaning when he started to undo the string on my shorts. The thin fabric was forced down my legs, and I watched them fall into the floor while Changbin made a show of pushing my thighs apart. 

“Does this little pussy need some attention?” he asked, raising one brow while keeping his eyes fixed on mine. It was intentionally provocative, especially when his tongue made a single stripe along the crease of my labia.

“Fuck,” I cursed, reaching down for the smooth strands of his hair, holding on for dear life as my legs started shaking. 

Changbin growled in response, flicking his tongue against my clitoris while his fingers parted my folds, studying my leaking cunt with unwavering focus. “You’re dripping for me,” he said, and I nodded while hooking my thighs around his hips, guiding his clothed erection against where I wanted him the most.

“Changbin,” I groaned, watching him through heavy eyes as he removed his pants and boxers, leaving him completely naked and on display for my eyes as I made a leisurely exploration of his powerful form. Nothing but raw and sensual power that I had seen for myself in his defined biceps, and I often found myself hypnotized by the thick curves that built his torso.

“I’ll give you my cock, slut,” he hissed, gripping himself at the base as he gave himself several strokes to full hardness. 

I started panting when he inserted just the tip, examining my face for any sign of discomfort. “It’s fine,” I huffed, impatiently trying force myself onto his cock since he was going far too slow for my liking. 

“We’ll do this at my pace,” Changbin said, and there was an undeniable command behind his words that left me whimpering. I nodded in response, doing my best to appease him, as he slowly drove his cock all the way inside until his hips were flush against mine.

“Faster,” I whispered, throwing my head back because I was feeling pleasure from my mate for the first time since I discovered that I was pregnant. At some point, a girl will start to miss moments like this, drooling into the pillow while her big, strong alpha used his cock to bring her closure to the edge. “I’m not gonna last long.”

Changbin hummed in response, reaching down to apply a powerful grip on my hips as he started moving me at his command, looking down to watch his cock penetrate the convulsing walls of my leaking pussy. There was a pleasant friction as he stretched me out around his erection, and I savored the familiar sensation that I had been denied for so long - the kind of feeling that I had discovered for myself when Changbin mated me for the first time, searing his mark into the soft flesh of my neck while he drove his cock inside at a maddening pace.

It had been so long since I had experienced the thickness of his cock, and I could feel myself growing dizzy because my body wasn’t used to the familiar coils of my orgasm building in rapid succession. I was practically choking around stuttered moans when Changbin decided to abandon his previous reservations concerning our coupling. At this point, his hips were thrusting so fast that I could hardly perceive the motion, and I could feel every inch of his thick erection sliding against my walls while his knot started to catch against my vulva. 

“Shit, Y/N,” Changbin snarled, and his leaned down to inhale at my scent gland. But the change in angle was exactly what I needed, and I could feel him hitting against my g-spot over and over again when I finally released months of built-up tension in a loud moan that I could barely contain.

Changbin followed shortly thereafter, smacking hips against my ass as he lifted me higher into the air, stuffing his cock so deep that I could feel him all the way at the head of my uterus. He then came with a loud groan, sweat perspiring against the hard planes of his chest, and he pulled himself free before his knot could trap us in place.

I could feel my mouth gaping open at the sight of his knot, watching as he continued stroking himself before tapping the head of his cock against my lips. “Open up for me,” he snarled, and I instantly obeyed his order, unclenching my jaw as I widened my mouth for his cock - taking him in until the tip touched the back of my throat and I gagged because it was borderline too much. “What a good girl,” he said, and I manged to run my tongue around the bulge of his knot as it pressed against my lips - whimpering when he used me as nothing more than another hole for his cum.  

And he tasted bitter when I finally swallowed, choking around most of his release because it had been a while since I had given Changbin head. However, it was worth the effort to hear his sinful moans, gasping for breath when he pulled his flaccid length from my mouth. “Y/N,” he said, and his voice was far more gentle. “Let me run you a bath.”

I nodded in response because my throat was still too sore to manage any sort of verbal confirmation. Meanwhile, Changbin chuckled at my condition, and I focused on calming my racing heart while I heard the sound of running water from our bathroom. “I just took a shower,” he remarked upon his return, and I held tightly to him when he lifted me into his arms, carrying me into the bathroom with absolute ease. 

I sighed in relief when I rested my head against his chest, submerged in the warm water as our hands interlocked on top of my stomach. “When they get here,” Changbin whispered, lips tracing the shape of my ear. “I’ll do my absolute best to protect all of you.”

I smiled at the sentiment, savoring this perfect moment even though I knew that there would be many more to come.

[hunflowers]

based on this i posted last night teehee and maybe i got a little carried away but enjoy! *nose boops*

you had an exhausting night. truly, it was exhausting, and to top it off, you had an exhausting morning.

you supposed it was all of your fault because you hardly let you and harry sleep, but who could blame you? your boyfriend was a godsend who also happened to know just exactly how to treat you right in bed.

so, you wanted him over and over and over and over again. then you slept for a couple of hours, and you wanted him over and over and over again.

you hadn’t seen him for a little while and what other way was there to declare your love so passionately after a leave of absence? you guys were on your third round this morning, and you both were completely knocked out but it was worth it, it really was.

with one final thrust into your aching and dripping wet pussy, harry dropped all of his weight on top of you, the both of you panting as if you had just run a marathon. a very, very long marathon.

your eyes fluttered shut as a wave of tiredness flushed through your body, leaving you practically immobile as harry rolled himself off of you. you both lay there, completely content with yourselves as you gather all air that you can, your sweaty bodies practically melting into the sheets below you.

after a couple of minutes of unspoken silence, harry slowly rolled himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, scratching at his head and neck before getting up to put on a fresh pair of briefs and sweats. you couldn’t help but bask in the sight before you. you turned to lay on your side, your eyes following the muscles of his hamstrings as he walked to the dresser, admiring his cute behind that you could just squeeze.

when he stepped into his clothing, you all but drooled at the sight of his back muscles straining against his skin as he hiked his sweats up his thighs. with a quick glance over his shoulder, he figured you were staring and couldn’t help but smirk at you with his hooded eyes as he turned back to face you, arms crossing over his chest.

“i know that look, aren’t you tired?” he shakes his head.

“never g’na get tired of you,” you answered, taking a quick glance down his front and to his groin. “and it seems neither is that one.”

harry looked down to his crotch, rolling his lips into his mouth as he shuts his eyes in dismay before averting his attention back to you, “I’m gonna make breakfast, what do you want? Eggs? Pancakes?”

“C’mere, let me help you out,” you pouted, bottom lip jutting out. He blinked at you once, then twice, then avoided your lustful stare as he turned on his heel to head to the kitchen.

You whined as he stepped out the door, flinging the covers off your body and quickly stepping into a new pair of panties and one of his shirts before following him out the door. You wanted to seduce him, maybe even have sex in your kitchen, but when your stomach grumbled, you figured it was time for a well-deserved break.

But, that didn’t stop you in your endeavors. You sat on the island stool, watching Harry go about his way, cracking eggs onto the frying pan, and inserting a couple pieces of bread into the toaster.

“Can you stop staring at my butt?”

You snapped out of your daze, which happened to be on his butt, your eyes traveling up the length of his torso before finally resting on his eyes. You shook your head with a small smile, “I wanna squish it.”

“You’re not gonna squish it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll end up pinching me and I’d rather you not,” he spoke matter-of-factly, because it was exactly what you were gonna do. He knew your game plan, but that didn’t make you want to squish it any less.

You scrunched your eyebrows in sadness, exasperatedly throwing your elbows on the counter, your chin meet the palm of your hands as you continued to stare at him with depression dancing across your eyes. Again, he blinked once, then he blinked twice, and then turned back around to finish making your scrambled eggs.

Then, you tried one last resort to get what you want, “Fine, then no more sex.”

Slowly, Harry turned to look at you over his shoulder, looking at you with a bored yet confused gaze. “I believe that’s quite an extreme for not getting to squish my butt.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, getting up from your seat and picking the now freshly warmed toast out of the toaster. “I’m petty, what can I say.”

“You’re only hurting yourself, babe. You won’t last an hour,” he laughed, turning off the stove and placing the eggs down on the counter where you were just sitting.

“I’ll last longer than you, watch me,” you smiled cunningly, sitting back down on your stool and biting down into your food. Harry looked at you, a challenging glimmer sent your way before he smirked and shrugged, biting into his own toast.

Truth be told, when that hour passed you were aching for him on the inside as you sat and watched an episode of your current Netflix fixation. His hand sat gently on your knee that was draped across his lap, him rubbing small circles into your skin. And it was difficult to not straddle him and fuck him into the cushions of your couch, but you held strong.

All of your sexual encounters over the past sixteen hours were because you were horny, but not anymore. Now, it’ll be him just begging you to have your way with him. He’s gonna lose and you’re absolutely sure of it. Especially since you just so happened to need to adjust your position on the couch, your foot accidentally grazing over his cock in his pants, and you could hear him inhale just the faintest sharp breath as you nestled back into his side.

It was going to be a walk in the park for you.

That day went on, fruitless teasing being thrown around all day and night. When you both wormed back into bed, you cuddled how you normally do, your back to his front, and of course you had to adjust your position again, your bottom rubbing against his crotch in a very blatant manner, but Harry held your hips down, hissing in your ear, “Enough of that. Keep going and y’won’t walk for days.”

When you woke up the next morning, you were met with an empty back, your butt no longer pressed against him. You were confused for only a moment before you lazily looked over your shoulder and was met with such a beautiful sight.

Harry’s sweats and briefs were pushed down to his mid thighs, his very hard erection standing proudly as his fist worked up and down in quick motions, his wrist twisting everytime he neared the tip, his thumb grazing over his leaking slit before moving back down to his base. Soft moans were leaving his lips as his eyes were screwed shut in pleasure that seemed like agony. His other hand was combing through his messy hair, tugging lightly on his roots as he worked relentlessly to get his release.

You held back your laughter, and your drool, as you sat up to stare at his form. At the movement of the mattress, Harry’s eyes snapped open, his gaze meeting yours, desperation evident.

“Good morn–”

“Baby, you gotta help me out,” he whimpered, his eyes flicking to his cock before returning back to you.

“I think your hand is doing a fine job,” you snickered at your pun, absolutely reveling in how pathetic he was being. You knew he was bound to lose, but you just wanted to hear him beg for it.

He groaned at your denial, stopping his movements – no matter how badly he needed to keep going – and reaching for your small hand. You distanced yourself just enough to where he couldn’t reach you from his laying position, smirking at him as he all but cried at his current situation.

“Are you sure you want to lose, and so pathetically?” You chided in a teasing manner, your nails scraping up the length of his leg, stopping just where the waist of his pants rest on his thigh.

“Fuck, I don’t care anymore. . . but please, please do something,” he whined, his right hand going back to slowly stroking his throbbing member.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you swatted at his hand, replacing it with your own, and slowly building up a rhythm to ease some of his discomfort.

You were so happy he lost and so quickly, because you’re absolutely itching to get a taste of him. You’ve been wanting him in your mouth since yesterday morning and now you were going to make the absolute most of it, because it’s his fault that you couldn’t sooner.

Leaning over his cock, you placed a wet kiss to his bright red tip, earning a groan of relief from Harry, before sinking your mouth down on him. You moaned at the feeling of him in your mouth, the vibrations of your throat shooting through him, causing him to whimper and thrust his hips up into your mouth. You gagged at the sudden impact, retracting yourself slightly before sending Harry a glare and holding his hips down with your hands.

He mumbled a quick apology, doing his best to keep his hips at bay. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft, your mouth picking up speed as you sucked harder every time you came back up to his tip. Every time you pushed back down you inched him just a little deeper down your throat. It was a rarity that you could shove him down completely, but Harry always appreciated the effort made. And right now, you really wanted him at the back of your throat.

You breathed as best you could through your nose, relaxing your jaw as much as you can, and counted down in your mind, before moving further down until your nose grazed his trimmed hair. A loud moan rippled through the air as Harry felt himself hit the warm muscle of your throat, stars beginning to stir in his vision.

“Shit, pet. . . shit, just like that.” It took everything in him to not grab the back of your head and fuck your face, continually hitting deep inside your mouth, but he did lightly thrust up despite your previous wishes, knowing he was just moments away from finishing.

Harry knew from the moment he woke up that he wasn’t gonna make it very far in this little bet. With your ass pressed firmly against his very, very hard dick, he knew he was a goner. And when he couldn’t make himself cum from his own hand, he knew there wasn’t anything else he could do but succumb to you and devices.

Not, that it was a bad thing though as you kitten licked his tip, sucking him dry as he released into your mouth. You swallowed every last drop of what he had to offer without a care in the world, and he knew not only was he a goner for the bet, but he was a goner for you.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy before he reached down and pulled you up the length of his body to place a chaste kiss to your lips and speak a thank you as he could feel himself relax into the mattress.

And without thinking about it, he dipped his fingers into your panties, his newly softened cock almost springing back up as he felt just how wet you had become. “That turned you on, huh?” You nodded gently, head tilting slightly as you looked at him with those gorgeous doe eyes that made him weak in the knees.

“C’mon then, sit on my face. My turn to make you feel good.”

[royallyjoon]

flower petal

credit for the gif goes to whoever made it and posted it first 🖤

yandere! jeon jungkook x reader oneshot

reincarnation au

you were once the queen married to the most well-known king of his dynasty, Jeon Jungkook. He failed to rule his kingdom properly, however, and took to prioritizing you rather than his kingdom. As a means of escape, you helped the people sneak into the palace and overthrow the young king.

centuries later, where you may have forgotten your place by his side, Jungkook will be all too sure to remind you where you stand.

note: (M/N) is for your middle name, and not your mother’s name just to avoid any confusion :) happy reading!

warnings: yandere themes, physical altercations

A.D. 1200s-1400s, North Drokest

“A king…does that mean I can be yours?”

He balked in confusion at the dark tone in your voice.

You weren’t meant to sound like this. Your voice was the honey in his tea to soothe his aching throat, the flower petals pressed between his pages in which he left a bit of his soul.

His queen would never speak to him with such a cruel, demeaning tone.

“Answer me.” Your voice got steadily louder. “You call yourself ‘king.’ You claim you rule over this sad, desperate realm but in reality, you divide. You cause turmoil. Your people aren’t happy. They starve, and they beg you for your mercy and you have none to give.”

The throne room was vast but straightforward. High walls and ceilings held up by ornate columns, decorated in every inch with the colors of the household. Red and gold banners decorated the walls, even the carpet leading to the red, plush seats of the golden throne was red with yellow lining. The tall, wooden doors of the palace stood behind you as threatening as the presence of the man before you.

 The space was empty, except for you and the king, as all the advisors and knights had been released from duty. You assumed they were happily spending their freedom buried in spirits, women, men, or something of the sort.

You stood before the king, the red and gold trim on his robes mockingly prominent.

“A king would not sit back in amusement as his land festers away with an illness, a virus that is the king himself. You poison your land, this land. You have absolutely no right to call yourself king. To me, you are nothing more than a child playing dress-up.”

He sucked in a breath, gazing at you curiously. This was the first time he was making this sort of expression to you and for some crazed reason, you thought your words were finally reaching the mind of the deranged man before you.

“As for me? I am anything but yours. My body is dust, my breath air. Everything that was given to me I intend to give back to this world. You lay no claim over me, just as you lay no claim over this earth.”

“A king is only as powerful as his people intend him to be. In accordance with your current state, the people have deemed you unworthy.”

Your words were accentuated with the crashing of the palace doors. Citizens young and old marched into the throne room, pitchforks and torches lit, clamoring for the death of the king.

His eyes never left yours as the crowds grew behind you. “So you have betrayed me, my love.”

“You lied to me. You promised that once you took the throne, you would change everything your brother and father stood for. The minute you placed yourself on their seat, you followed in their footsteps.” You had to scream over the chants now.

The crowds hushed as the village leaders climbed the steps to the throne, pausing beside you.

“This is not me enacting punishment against you, for it is not my place, but the responsibility of the people to remove a leader they deem unfit.” You said.

“This is how we end?” He asked, remaining calm. If anything, the sadness in his tone made you clench your fists tighter.

“We ended a long time ago,” you said.

Just before you stepped to the side and let the people take him away, you bowed to His Majesty one last time.

“Your flower petals lost color a long time ago,” You choked out, stumbling backward and rushing out the throne room.

Your voice was torn, he noticed. You had tears in your eyes.

That was his darling.

Breaking out of the cold, hard shell that was the woman before. You were there.

“(M/N)!” He called, watching your form retreat into the darkness. The leaders restrained him, but he fought tooth and nail to catch a glimpse of your form once more. “Petal!”

You froze, but only for a moment. You then continued on with a quickened pace, holding back sobs.

And all throughout the kingdom, up until the king’s execution, the only words that passed through his lips were your name.

In small, breathless whispers and desperate, ravaged screams.

He called for you, but you never came.

———————————————————————————

A.D. 20XX, a metropolitan city

“I don’t know why I took this course,” you muttered to your friend, sticking your phone inside your bag as you stood in line at the Treshiuan Art Museum.

The building was lined with obsidian rock, glistening in the morning sun. The steps were dark and slippery, and the glass walls that adorned the first floor reflected harshly against the material. Inside, the cool blasts of air from the ceiling didn’t make the space any more welcoming. You untied your sweater from around your waist and zipped it up.

“You didn’t want to be stuck with a science course for the optional summer colloquium,” Taehyung stated, carelessly flicking through a museum pamphlet. “You said, and I quote, ‘Memorizing old people, dates, their art, and its meaning would forever be easier than learning oxidation-reduction.’’

“But was I wrong?” you grinned at him as he rolled his eyes. Taehyung felt that you had a lack of appreciation for “the arts”. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate them; you just weren’t as interested as he was. You would never discredit the beauty (or lack thereof) and meaning artists placed into their pieces.

“Tell her she’s wrong, Jungkook.” The upperclassman pouted at your classmate, whose eyes were glued to the game on his cellphone.

“You’re both wrong for trying to interrupt me right now,” he muttered furiously slamming his fingers on his screen.

“Joumou University students, over here!” The art history teacher called your group out of the line, standing next to a tall, brown-skinned woman with dark eyes. She smiled ominously, eyeing your trio with something akin to amusement in her eyes.

“Good morning everyone,” her slightly accented voice rang through the students, causing even Jungkook to look up from his handheld game.

“My name is Ilyana and I will be your tour guide this morning. I have been told by your teacher that most of you know little to nothing about thirteenth to fifteenth century dynasty art. I am excited to tell you everything I can. Before we embark upon our journey to the past, are there any questions?”

“I like her,” Taehyung whispered in your ear.

“Same. Anything like ‘embark upon our journey’ would sound lame from anyone else, but she makes it elegant and exciting.” You whispered back.

Jungkook snorted and tucked his phone into his pocket.

“No? Then let’s begin. Our tour will cover pieces from the Drokest region.”

Ilyana led your group to the elevators spouting information about the formation of royal lines in Drokest, where you somehow managed to fit in with another group. Your stop was first, and as you stepped off the elevator, your jaw dropped in awe.

The room was covered wall to wall with blue, purple, and silver. Tapestries, silks, and paintings, all had the same colors with glittering figures and jewels.

“In this land, every dynasty had designated colors. The first family to rule, the Layvns, were crowned with shades of royal blue and purple underneath a full moon, depicted by the silver embroidery.”

You walked around with Taehyung and Jungkook, admiring the care and attentiveness put into the tapestries.

“They must have loved this family,” you noted.

“The royal line of the Drokest region, albeit short, was mostly highly favored,” Ilyana said as she moved into the next hall.

“Mostly?” Taehyung asked.

“That’s a story for later.” Ilyana smiled. 

You giggled and glanced over at Jungkook. He had his hood fully over his head, walking past all of the artwork without so much as sparing a look.

Like this, you passed rooms and rooms of bright, blooming colors. Pink and ivory for the second family, black and green for the third, and brown and ginger for the fourth.

As you passed through each room, the amount of artwork lessened. The number of tapestries decreased, the silk wardrobes became sparse, and the only consistent painting was that of the king and queen, possibly with their royal family.

You were with Taehyung, who was commenting on the horrible color choice the fourth family made when you noticed Jungkook sitting on a bench in the middle of the room. He had been downcast since before your tour of the exhibit started.

You left your energetic, argumentative friend and sat next to Jungkook. “You know, for the actual art major, you seem less interested in these pieces than me. Is everything okay?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I’m fine…the pieces are nice and everything. I just feel like…”

“Feel like what?” You gently pressed for him to go on.

“…I feel like I shouldn’t be here.” He finished. “Like someone hurt me and I don’t want to feel that pain ever again.”

Usually, you would push the feelings off with a joke, claiming Jungkook was getting in his feels because of the art and asking him if he wanted to play his hurt girl music. But the pain in his face told you a truer picture.

“Well, we’re almost done. After this next family, we can leave the museum and head back to the hotel. Or we can go to the restaurant you were excited to check out!” You said, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s only another half an hour. You’ve got this, and I’ve got you.”

Jungkook smiled weakly at you and you both stood as Ilyana called for the group to move on.

When your group entered the fifth room, it was a surprise for you to see only one painting. The room was bare of any tapestries or silks, and all of the lights were off, except for a single, dim light clearing the piece.

“Here, we have the fifth and final royal family of the Drokest region. We call them a family, but they were really just a royal couple. A young royal couple.”

“King Jeongguk and his Queen, (M/N). The two have quite a fantastic love story, full of tragedy, love, and disloyalty.” Ilyana smiled as if she had been present for the development of their story herself. “Gather for such a story, if you please.”

“King Jeongguk grew up in the palace a sheltered, careful boy. He did not have the same bloodthirsty, righteous drive his father and older brother carried. His closest companions were the walls of his bedroom; not even the chambermaids would speak to him.

“Jeongguk’s mother passed away at his birth, and he had never known the kindness of a woman’s touch. Legends say it was why he fell so hard, so fast for his future queen.”

“(M/N) was a little girl, the daughter of a flower peddler. She would stand in the streets of the capital city with her parents and older sister, charming people into buying a flower or two from her.”

“Jeongguk’s chambermaids would often purchase a bouquet of these flowers and place them in his room and the hallways of the palace. He adored their smell and look, pressed the petals between the pages of his book to save them, and talked to them in his extreme loneliness.”

“One day, the youngest prince escaped from the palace. He fled to the streets of the capital city, away from the brown and ginger flags of his father and pledged to live a simple life hidden amongst the commoners. During this short escape, he managed to meet the young girl as she and her family were selling his favorite flowers.”

Jungkook choked back a groan as he felt a sudden migraine hit. He stumbled his way to a bench and held his head in his hand as he tried not to draw too much attention to himself.

Images flashed before his eyes, with words and names that didn’t name sense. The clearest image was that of a young girl, with (h/c), (h/l) hair and the most beautiful (e/c) eyes. Her (s/c) hand extended a flower to him.

“Would you like to purchase a flower today?”

She grinned up at him, a few years younger and a few heads shorter. “I think it would look ever so lovely on your wrist or finger.”

He stood in awe until he heard the pounding feet of the palace guards.

“The palace guard found him, however, and dragged him back to the palace where he endured years of torment at the hand of his father and brother.” Ilyana continued.

Jungkook sat shaking.

How was he able to see the story in his mind?

“With every beating, the prince lost more and more of his humanity. The very viciousness that the king tried to instill in his own son was inflicted upon him and the crown prince. He slaughtered them and hung their bodies from trees in the mountains, letting the birds pick at their flesh. When nothing but bones were left, he had the soldiers throw their skeletons in the river.”

“Damn.” Taehyung whistled. You shivered, the feeling crawling down your spine.

“And once this cold-hearted prince became king, he had only one woman on his mind for him to marry. The same, precious little girl who offered to place a flower around his finger.”

“The king had her brought to the palace, where he essentially threatened her into marriage. At first, their relationship was tense but with time, the flower peddler’s daughter saw what was once in her young, sensitive prince. She brought out the best in him, hoping his kindness towards her could reflect more upon his actions in the kingdom.” Ever so often, Ilyana would pause and look you in the eye as she spoke about the queen. Her eyes carried a heaviness, a burden of emotions that you felt had no right to be turned against you.

“Unfortunately, however, it did the opposite and his reign got harsher, and the control he placed over his wife was suffocating. The citizens were taxed harshly, and corruption in the palace ran rampant. Jeongguk cared more for his wife than he did for being king. He was extremely possessive of her and forbid the chambermaids and knights from speaking to her. The queen eventually tired of this treatment and worked with the townspeople to overthrow the king. She disappeared in the night, and he was executed with her name on his lips. Thus, this was the last of the Drokest dynasty.” Your tour guide finished.

The room was hushed with the power of the story. Jungkook grit his teeth as more images flashed by in his mind.

The cracking of a whip against the air, the sting on his back and the smell of blood. His voice was hoarse from screaming.

The feeling of blood on his hands as he rid himself of his tormentors.

The joy he felt when he slipped a golden band onto his queen’s fingers.

The despair and anger that consumed him when she turned against him.

You had your eyes glued to the painting. Your chest ached painfully at the images of those two, young people. In every other portrait, the royal family is side by side staring cold and unforgivingly into the onlooker’s eyes. But in this portrait, as the queen grasps the king’s hands, she smiles gently. Her eyes are crinkled a bit, and the king beams as he turns his eyes on her.

How long must he have held his head in that position?

Since the beginning, I only ever had eyes for you. You are my saving grace, flower petal.

You turned, expecting to see someone next to you, but there was just empty space.

“Who said that?” you muttered.

Your eyes scanned the room for Jungkook, worried about how he was feeling after hearing the story. Perhaps it had hit him as hard as it hit you. Or perhaps it had made his uneasiness worse.

The young man stood in front of the painting, as close as the red rope allowed him. He scrutinized every aspect of the work.

Why did it feel so familiar?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and jolted. “Woah, are you okay?” You chuckled.

His eyes refused to land anywhere near you and his voice was currently not working, so he settled for a nod.

“The story must have gotten to you too. I was just thinking about how much love he had for her to break his neck staying in one position for the painting…” You looked at him searching for a laugh, or even a smile, but to your surprise, Jungkook had tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Jungkook?” You gasped out and reached to wipe them away.

He smacked your hand away harshly, his hood falling down to cover his eyes. Without another word, he stormed out of the gallery.

You were about to go running after him when Ilyana stepped in your path. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“What? Oh...yes.” You said. “In another life, I’m sure they would have made a great pair.”

Ilyana laughed gracefully. “I admire the way you think. Would you like to hear a little known fact?”

“Sure,” you said trying to hide your frustration as you watched your friend get farther and farther away. “Why not?”

“Rumour has it, King Jeongguk had the sweetest nickname for his queen.” Ilyana mused. “He called her flower petal.”

Your blood froze.

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

The rest of the summer was extremely hard. Ever since the travel colloquium, Jungkook had been ignoring you. Two weeks into the school year his behavior hadn’t changed. He would be with Taehyung, and once you walked up to the two he found a way to step out of the conversation.

There was a day when he stopped giving excuses, and it was the same day you stopped accepting them.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Taehyung asked as you were in his dorm room one night. The two of you were eating pizza and playing video games, as usual, relaxing from a busy, stressful week of adulting. He sat relaxing in his Gucci shirt and sweatpants. “Why are you and Jungkook so tense? Are you fighting or something? Did you two have sex over the summer and then things got really awkward, so you stopped talking?”

You spluttered, choking on a slice of pizza. “Tae, what? No! Absolutely not! I don’t know what went wrong--we were looking at that painting from the Drokest dynasty and he flipped out on me and hasn’t spoken to me since. I don’t know what I did wrong...”

“You shouldn’t let him treat you that way, especially if you don’t deserve it,” Taehyung advised. “Why don’t you confront him about it?”

“You know I’m not a very confrontational person. I don’t like getting into other people’s business. Then again, Jungkook isn’t just ‘other people’. So if he’s going through something, I should at least try to meet him halfway.” Your argument changed direction in a matter of seconds as you reconsidered your thoughts.

“Most definitely!” Taehyung cheered you on. “It isn’t too late, why don’t you go over to his apartment now?”

You hesitated but grabbed your bag. “Alright. I guess I’m off, then.”

Taehyung walked you to the door, hugging you goodbye.

On the way to Jungkook’s, you thought over everything you were going to say. Things ended so awkwardly back at the museum, you hadn’t the slightest idea what to do.

You passed by a familiar green and white sign, looking at the multiple flower bouquets and stands.

This would either go horribly wrong or horribly right, but it was going to happen nonetheless.

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

You stood, shaking for some reason, in front of Jungkook’s door. He resided in a quieter part of the university town, a considerable distance from campus. 

When terms with you two were better, he would join you and Taehyung’s  “legendary” sleepovers and rarely had to worry about the distance. Lately, according to Taehyung, he’d been shutting himself inside his house. 

Jungkook was a good student--he’d show up to class, never handed assignments in late, and was virtually passing every subject. But for the past couple of days, his teachers hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him.

You gulped. 

“Come now, (Y/N). You’re not walking into certain death here.” You spoke under your breath. “This is a friend of yours who is shutting himself away from you, and you care about him. This is serious.”

With that self-encouragement, you rang the doorbell twice and stuck the flowers behind your back.

It was quiet inside for a moment, but you soon heard floorboards creaking. The chain slid into place before the door slightly opened.

As he peered out the crack, he saw you standing there with a smile on your face. His eyes widened.

“Hey, Jungkook.” You rocked back and forth on your heels. “I know it’s been a while but...I’ve been worried about you since our museum trip...I’m sorry for anything I did to offend you back then and I would sincerely like to talk to you about anything you’re worried about.”

He eyed you for a few moments. Without another word, he closed the door and removed the chain.

“Come in.” He said quietly.

You smiled, entering with your front to his so that he could not see your gift.

Jungkook was never this demure before, you noticed.

The apartment was dark. All of the lights were off, save a single lamplight illuminating his desk. It looked like the apartment of a recluse.

“So you have willingly returned to me, my love?” Jungkook murmured.

“What?” You asked, turning your head to face him.

“What?” He replied, locking the door behind him. “I didn’t say anything.”

You laughed weakly, eyeing the lock he just turned. “Sure, okay. But on a more serious note...”

Rather than the usual doodles and pieces of artwork Jungkook would have strewn around his apartment, there were clippings of articles about the fifth king and queen of the Drokest dynasty pinned to the walls, curtains, and windows. From art reviews to historical findings, any piece of information he could find was stapped to a chalkboard near the desk like a considerable life map.

“Were you that fascinated with the king and queen?” You asked him. “I still find the ending unsettling. I kind of wish it had ended another way, you know?”

This was obviously dangerous territory, for the last time you tried to talk to him about them, he’d burst into tears.

Yet when you looked at Jungkook, his eyes were alight with a hope that had not been present before.

“Yes!” He said, beaming. “That’s why I’ve been trying to find out so much about them...I want to recreate ou-their story so that they can get the best ending possible.”

“That’s cute.” You chuckled. “I wish you all the success in making that happen.”

“What did you bring me?” He questioned. “I’m ever so curious.”

You blushed, ignoring his antiquated speech. “Funnily enough, I was coming from Taehyung’s dorm-”

You didn’t notice the way his face darkened.

“-and on my way here, I passed by a flower shop and saw these and, well,” You handed him the bouquet. “Aren’t they beautiful? I think they’d look adorable on someone’s wrist or-”

“Wrapped around someone’s finger, yes.” Jungkook took the flowers so carefully, treating them like precious glass. 

“Yes, how did you know?” You wondered.

“It was just a feeling...” Jungkook placed the flowers on his table and started preparing a vase for them. “...you know, (Y/N), when we were at the museum listening to the story, you didn’t feel anything strange?”

“Strange? No, I-actually, there was something a little weird. I thought you or Taehyung had said it to me, but after the story ended I heard someone calling me their ‘saving grace.’ But there was no one next to me the whole time.” 

Since the beginning, I only ever had eyes for you. 

Your head began to pound harshly. You grimaced and sat on a chair by his living room table. 

Your friend placed the vase in the center of the table, setting the flowers in the water. “So you don’t remember anything other than that?”

Jungkook’s voice was oddly menacing. He trembled in the darkness of his apartment.

“No, should I?” You said. 

Why is he shaking?

“You remember nothing of our past.” Jungkook lifted his head and those deep, dark, brown eyes were teeming with rage. “You remember nothing of your betrayal, yet your actions remain the same.”

“Jungkook, what are you talking about? I never betrayed you!” Your headache wasn’t getting any better and the situation had clearly worsened. 

“I’ve been using my time to find out any and all information about us,” He continued. “My death was broadcasted all over the kingdom, with the next ruler being the son of one of the village elders. You, however, you disappeared without a trace.” 

Your head was spinning too fast for you to understand. “Your death? The kingdom? ...Jungkook. Do you honestly think you’re the fifth king of Drokest?”

“I don’t think! I know I am!” He hissed at you. “I didn’t ask to remember, but now that I have do you expect it, all of it, to be water under the bridge?”

“Is that why you’ve been so angry at me?” You stood now furious, head pain be damned. “You think I’m the queen from the painting? You think I want you dead?”

“Like I said, your own actions betray you.” He gestured towards the flowers you brought him. “I can clearly see that history is about to repeat itself.”

“Those people are dead, Jungkook!” You finally burst. You had had enough of his emotional tantrum and gaslighting. “They lived, they loved, they’re gone! We are us! Here! In 20XX!”

Jungkook grabbed you by the shoulders and slammed you so hard against the wall you saw stars. But they weren’t the normal stars erupting behind your eyelids. 

The sky was lit with constellation upon constellation. A cool night breeze blew your (h/c) hair from your face. You reached up to brush it back for the hundredth time when another hand grabbed yours.

“For you, my love.” A young man with dark hair and dark eyes appeared next to you, holding out a beautiful hairpin. The flower on it was a dazzling red, and the beads that hung from it shimmered of gold and pink. 

You accepted the gift with a bow and trembling hands. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” 

When you tried to fix the ornament in place, your hands were shaking so bad it would not stay still. He gracefully took it and in one swoop, locked your hair behind your ear.

“I know that you are afraid of me,” he claimed as you stiffened. “I won’t pretend that I have not done some things others may consider atrocious...”

“Yet you have nothing to fear from me, darling. Should you give yourself to me, I promise you will see me anew.” He wrapped his arms around you so easily, as if they had always been there. “As a changed man, I will do better for you.”

You relaxed some. “Your Majesty-”

“Jeongguk.” He interrupted. “Please, call me by my name.”

You blushed and whispered his birth name. “I am afraid of you. I’m not crafty enough to lie in your presence. But there is something I have wanted to ask you since the wedding.”

“Speak.” Jeongguk rubbed his head into your shoulder. “Anything you ask of, I will comply with.”

You gently pushed him off of you so that you could look him in the eyes and it would not be taken as rejection. “Why me? My family and I have done nothing but vend flowers for years. I have no special meaning to this kingdom, I truly can not comprehend how I can be its queen.”

The king was still for some moments. “Your flowers were my only friends in this palace.” He muttered at last. “In this sad, cold place where I was confined to my room, I pressed the petals between the pages of my books simply to feel their smoothness and warmth later on.”

His arms, strong and constricting, still rested around you. They tightened as he went on, holding you to the point where you felt that you could not breathe.

“When my father and brother chose to discipline me into becoming like them every day, it was the love for your flowers that they tried to beat out of me. My love for you.” He smirked. “Clearly, it didn’t work.”

You shivered and resisted the temptation to look to the mountains, where the bodies of the previous king and crown prince were still hanging, swaying in the wind.

“I chose you because you are the reason I stay human. Since the beginning, I only ever had eyes for you. That precious day when we met on the market streets, and you offered to tie a flower around my finger. You are my saving grace, flower petal.”

With a harsh gasp, you were brought out of the memory. Your hands grasped Jungkook’s arms like a vice and your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath.

The vision..the voice...they were real.

Jungkook patiently waited for you to calm down, tsking as you slid to the floor still in his arms.

“That’s just like you, petal. Blaming me for not being able to recognize your wrongdoing.”

“So I was the...” you said. “And you were...we really...why?”

“I couldn’t tell you why, (Y/N). I hardly know why myself.” Jungkook said. “I laid here in torment since the summer, trying to find a way to prove to myself that it wasn’t real.”

“The visions?” You asked.

“Your betrayal.” He gritted out. “The way you sold me out to the villagers like some common criminal. I screamed until my throat bled, begging for you to come back and you never did.”

Your eyes widened with awakened fear. “I...it was...”

“Do you still stand by that decision?” Jungkook asked as he kneeled next to you on the ground. 

“I...had to...” You whispered. Even after all these years, your feelings hadn’t changed. He was destroying the country, you, and himself. “Everything you touched was poison.”

Jungkook let out a sickly, dark laugh. He wrapped his hands around your throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, bringing his lips to your ear.

“I suppose that alternate ending you were waiting for has arrived, then, hasn’t it?” 

You feebly kicked at the spot between his legs but he jerked back without removing his hands. “Don’t worry, petal. I’ll make sure we go back to being happy and in love. With that, we will have the perfect ending. We can start the sixth line that never got to be.” His voice was dreamy and his eyes were light, despite the fact that he was applying enough strength to your neck to choke you out.

“N..o...” you barely managed to get the word out. It didn’t matter how much you resisted. Jungkook had centuries worth of anger backing him up.

"Don’t make me break you, petal,” he brushed tears from your eyes and shushed you like a child. “Flowers can’t grow to be as beautiful as they can be if the stems aren’t intact.”

I never should have come, you thought to yourself.

“Yes, you never should have betrayed me. But it’s alright, (Y/N). As you said, those people are dead and gone. We will start anew in this century and this life...and perhaps even the one after that.” He smiled, looking down at your unconscious figure and stroking your hair.

“I don’t care how many lives I have to live if it means I can finally be with you, petal.”

[avasghost]

Crane Anatomy Update #2

(slightly outdated WIP intro here)

DISCLAIMER: this is my original work. please do not plagiarize in any way.

Hello!! I’m finally back with the second crane anatomy update!

first of all, this is probably going to be a very long post, so brace yourself for a lot of mindless rambling.

LOTS of things have changed since the last update, and its going much better now thankfully! what has happened:

i restarted the book

i changed the form

i got very burnt out

i stopped being burnt out (mostly) after making a verb list (fun verbs always help)

i figured out some stuff about my writing process

so there’s a lot to cover.

first!! I restarted the book!! This is obviously the biggest change that took place. I made a post about it here, when i wasn’t sure if i was going to restart yet, and then decided to go for it and now i’m about 4000 words into the new version. It’s going a lot better in most ways, the prose is better (somewhat), and so far nothing boring or unnecessary has happened so that’s nice! but also some things are worse: this version is burning me out a lot more, probably because i’m trying harder to make it good. there was a long period when i was hardly writing it at all, but i’m getting into it a bit more now so that’s good.

secondly, with the restart, i made a few form changes that i love and really benefit the story. first of all, it’s not in vignettes anymore (sigh of relief) because i realized that wasn’t working and the book didn’t need it. vignettes are kinda light and jumpy and fast paced, and at first i thought that was perfect for this book because of its lightness, but as i figured out more things about the characters and plot, i realized that even though the settings and aesthetic are quite sunny and bright, it’s actually a very inherently heavy story and the longer chapters will help that quite a lot with the lightness and yet also heaviness if that makes sense?? and also, the exciting part: every second chapter is a vignette flashback to Isobel’s old life.

for context, at the beginning of the first chapter, they arrive at their new house, and it’s them entering a new life, which is much darker than their old life. but the vignette chapters are flashbacks to their childhood growing up in their old house. the prose in these vignettes is very hazy and bright and dreamy and saturated, because Isobel’s memories of her childhood portray it as brighter and better than it probably really was.

and finally, in all these major changes, i figured out something about my writing process: i’m a pantser, but i like to have the first few chapters outlined, as sort of a springboard into the rest of the book, something solid to base everything else off of. i guess that technically makes me a plantser, even though everything else is pantsed.

now, onto the chapters and excerpts! i’m finished the first chapter and the first vignette, and currently working on chapter 2.

you may notice that some scenes are very similar to the first attempt, because i did keep a lot of scenes and also a lot of the same prose.

excerpts under the cut.

chapter 1: this new life

it felt soooooo good to write a full length chapter again. after trying to write vignettes for a while, writing a full length chapter was so much more enjoyable. i used to be a very serious underwriter, but (luckily) have mostly gotten over that and can write actual full chapters now, and have a hard time writing short ones!

i named the chapter “this new life” because my plan is to mirror it later in the book, when there’s a vignette flashback to right before they left their old house and its called “this old life” (if i decide to title the vignettes). i love mirroring chapter titles and lines and stuff so i’m excited for this.

ALSO i said in the first writing update (which i won’t link because it’s embarrassing) that there’s a redwood tree in the backyard, but i changed it to an oak tree lol because i realized it would be v weird for someone to have a random redwood tree growing in their backyard.

excerpts

first of all, the new first line:

(idk if this is actually an oak tree but i don’t care about tree accuracy as long as there’s aesthetic accuracy ✨)

The first time Isobel steps onto the lawn outside the new house is the first time she feels her life change in person. It’s instantaneous, like a death or a rebirth. Clouds thread across a sun-smothered sky like gossamer strands, swallows trill out of the limbs of oak trees that arrow down the sidewalk. The car only halfway to a stop, and Isobel has already clambered out. A squirrel bullets along an oak branch. A wind chime tremolos in the breeze. It’s the first day of summer. Life has never felt so dead.

a bit about them unpacking and living sad times (also i changed their mom’s name from beth to pamela because beth was too stereotypical)

Nobody speaks except to toss instructions back and forth, or ask for something to be passed to them as they unpack the few things they need to last the night. Their mother, Pamela, is quick-tempered. It’s clear she never wanted to come here, even though she always smiled when they talked about it, encouraged everybody, told them it was for the best, which it was. It was for the best, but that didn’t make it a good thing. That didn’t brighten the prospect, make it feel better. That just made it less avoidable.

Cyrus, their father, keeps up his usual attitude of encouragement, just like Pamela, pointing out every good thing: the sunlight that spangles everything in citrine, the pizza he’s about to order, the bluebird that spits music in the open window, though he says all these things half-heartedly. His faltering smiles give him away. The strands of grey hair pasted to his forehead. The woolly cable-knit sweater he only wears when he’s unhappy and has been wearing almost every day for the last two months.

and of course, margaret is having the time of her life because she’s margaret:

Margaret is the only one who shows no sign of remorse. She unpacks quickly, then spends the rest of the day ruffling through boxes and coolers for crinkly chip bags and frozen strawberries that melt on your tongue and dribble down your throat. A pocket mirror spined with cracks sits beside her on the table, in case she needs to tweak her reflection. Gold chain jewelry chimes around her throat when she moves, glints in the sunlight that pools around her.

after they eat dinner and isobel leaves (yes i’ve shared most of this excerpt before but it’s one of my favorite parts so here it is again!)

After dinner, Isobel’s throat is still throbbing and she decides to leave the house, leave her family, so if she cries no one has to see her. She doesn’t know where she’ll go, where there is to go, but at seven o’clock she lies about where she’s going, shoves out of her chair and clatters out the door without saying goodbye.

From the doorstep, this new life is just a neighborhood. A car parked in half the driveways, the others at work or school or nowhere. Hedges only trimmed on one side. Flower beds, half withering and half thriving. Marigolds are the most radiant as Isobel stalks down the road. Their fluorescent buds like blood-rimmed suns.

She walks down the middle of the road because the town is quiet at this time, no cars whisk on the pavement, swish corners because they don’t think anyone will be walking there. It’s a risk she finds thrilling because she knows Pamela would make her stop if she was here.

Isobel told them she would go explore the neighborhood, the town, maybe the empty spaces outside it. Wave hello to the skinny chiffon woman bent double over the trunk of her red Chevrolet, the man in the houndstooth jacket in his gaping garage, smoke snaking up the throat of his cigarette. Smile when they wave back.

and of course she runs into a forest because everything i write features too many forest scenes!

She runs until her breath clumps in her chest and she stops, one hand splayed over the itchy bark of an elm tree to keep her balance. It’s dark here, but she’s not afraid of the dark. It’s lonely here, but she’s immune to loneliness. Trees spoke the thin canopy, a veil of gauzy leaves. The sky is clotted with sagging clouds.

this chapter is also where we meet felix, who i love so much. i want to make a character intro for him and also his brother, miles, soon, but i’ve been planning to do that for weeks and haven’t yet so i don’t know when/if i will.

felix shows up in the forest and he and isobel talk a bit: felix is very nice and isobel is my lil psychopath wannabe <3. isobel ends up leaving abruptly because it’s about to rain, and then she gets home and talks with piper a bit and then goes to bed. i don’t like ending chapters with characters going to bed, because i do it so much! a character going to bed has a sense of closure since its the end of the day, and obviously there’s nothing wrong with ending a chapter like this, but i do it do often that it’s starting to irritate me.

first vignette

i still haven’t decided how i’m going to title the vignettes. they’re not chapters, so this isn’t going to be called ‘chapter 2′, but they’re still sort of chapters?? right now i just have them titled as roman numerals, but i’m not happy with this and am going to change it as soon as i think of something better.

this vignette is a short flashback to that morning, right before they leave to go to their new house. it features isobel and piper going into the forest and then they leave and its v sad.

this is the first flashback in the book, and then in future flashbacks it jumps back a few years and follows their childhood right up to this flashback again. the last flashback is going to end with the same line as the first line of the actual book, so it comes full circle.

excerpts

There were different types of trees. It was a different town, in a different province. Isobel and Piper had evaded Pamela’s searching fingers, hopped the fence, blotted under the trees like redwing blackbirds.

Piper slowed first, sunlight quivering over her sawn black curls, pinching out a cramp after outrunning Isobel the whole time.

same excerpt as in the first update but with an extra sentence at the end and the beginning! why share new prose when you can just recycle old excerpts galaxy brain

here’s when pamela calls them out of the forest and they leave:

Pamela’s raspy shouts wound Piper and Isobel out of reverie. They trundled to their feet, flitted through the trees back to the house. Then they left.

Isobel stared at the house through the rear window as the car clicked into motion, wheels whirring on the pavement. She watched it shrink: first it was her home, then just a house, then a dollhouse, a triangle of roof on the horizon, and then nothing. From that point on, it was just an image in her head, a lingering wish. A life lost. A life she would never get back again.

this is v sad i’m sorry characters but i had to cause you this misery for the sake of the plot (also you probably deserve it)

anyway that’s all i have for this update! bye!

- Ava

Crane Anatomy taglist (ask to be added/removed!):

@gracestowewriting​​ @flip-phones @shaelinwrites​​​

[thirstyforbishiesimagines]

Hehehe I had way too much fun trolling this ‘cold’ grumpy boii! Poor Eugene can’t catch a break! 

Also... Zion’s such a mood in this fic ψ(｀∇´)ψ 

Enjoy xx

.

Dangerous Fellows Christmas Event

Eugene x Reader

Fluff

🎅 🎄 I  Post-Apocalypse

.

.

“EUGENE! STOP… RUNNING!” Legs slowing down from fatigue, totally out of breath, you continue to chase after him.

“NO!” He calls back, zooming in and out of each room as you tail his every move.

“It’ll be cute! I swear!” You plead helplessly, holding out a fuzzy snowman costume toward him.

“HELL. NO.”

“Eugeneee! Pleaseee! We’re gonna be late!”

“GOOD! WE’LL JUST STAY HOME THEN!” He rushes past you, sprinting into the bedroom before locking the door behind him.

“Come on, Eugene!” You catch your breath before slumping against the door for support. “Stop being childish! Everyone will be dressed up!”

“I DON’T CARE!” He yells from behind the door. “AND WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE A SNOWMAN?!”

You chuckle lightly, not needing to see his face, you could already picture the cute pout upon his features as he retaliates.

“We all selected from a list! You refused to take part in choosing, so you were left with the snowman nobody wanted!”

You waited patiently for his reply. But as time passed, you were met with nothing but silence. Bringing your ear to the door, you could hear the quiet mumbles of a grumpy Eugene.

Realising you had no other choice, you decide to go with plan B to combat his stubborn resolve.

Pretending to sigh heavily, you slowly begin to walk away while putting on your best discouraged voice.

“Fine! You win! Let me go get changed and then we can go…”

A sinister smile wide upon your lips, you sneakily slip out a newly bought costume from your bag.

A couple minutes go by as Eugene continues to hide himself away.

Exhaling deep, you mask your mischievous grin and casually call out, “OK, EUGENE! I’M DONE! LET’S GO NOW!”

Eyes glued toward the bedroom, you watch as the golden-haired male exits the doorway, a bright triumphant smile upon his lips.

“We’re late now…” You sigh as you pick up your plate of freshly baked cookies, nonchalantly stepping out from behind the counters — now in clear view.

As Eugene’s eyes land on your figure, his winning smile gets utterly washed out by the overwhelming colour of crimson painted over his face.

“ARGH! W-WHAT ARE YOU W-WEARING?!” He stutters, completely paralysed as he shamelessly gawks at your outfit.

Cleavage pushed up to the nines and booty cheeks threatening a full display from the smallest of movements, you simply answer, “My costume?”

You head towards the front door; clad in nothing but lacy red lingerie, a red mini skirt with fluffy white trimming and a simple Santa hat.

As you turn the doorknob, Eugene beelines toward you and slams the door shut. Arms out wide, he shields you from the outside world.

“YOU CALL THAT A COSTUME?!” He questions, totally exasperated as his eyes scan over you in every direction.

“Eugene… we don’t have time for this…” Moving him out of the way, you reach out for the doorknob again before he quickly grabs hold of your arms.

“NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! YOU ARE DEFINITELY NOT LEAVING THE HOUSE LIKE THIS! GO GET CHANGED!”

“But… this role is important... Who else will be Santa then?” You ask innocently, tilting your head in fake concern.

“I DON’T KNOW! BUT IT SURE AS HELL WON’T BE YOU!”

“Eugene…”

He then grabs your hands tight, crouching down before looking up to meet your gaze with pleading amber eyes. “Please, (Y/N)! I’ll do anything, I’ll even wear that dumb snowman costume. Just please don’t wear this out.”

“…Really?”

“I’ll put it on right now if you want!” Eugene replies with desperation.

Got him.

Knowing you had him completely wrapped around your finger, you ultimately decide to ease him of his torturous distress. “Well… I guess I might have another outfit somewhere…”

Practically on his knees by now, he pleads once more. “Yes, please… just… anything but that.”

“Okay… I’ll go get changed…”

“Oh, thank god.” Eugene exclaims before slumping down onto the couch.

Taking a small peek at his defeated form as you leave, you witness Eugene laid back — hands covering his red-hot face as his voice is muffled within his palms. “Dammit… she’ll be the death of me.”

At last, you were dressed in the original outfit you had planned to wear all along. Unbeknownst to Eugene, of course. Stepping out into the lounge, you sport a pure white, long feathery dress with a floating halo attached above your head — an entirely opposite theme to the scantily clad fabric you had on just moments before.

Surely, he wouldn’t oppose to leaving with an ‘angel’.

Standing before your spiritually depleted boyfriend, you twirl around merrily before flashing him a glowing grin.

He stares for a moment before shaking his head. “No good… You’re still too cute.”

Astonished over his constant denial, you groan, “Eugene!”

“Fine… at least it won’t skyrocket my blood pressure this time.”

You stare at him as he avoids your eyes. “Your turn.”

Eugene hesitates slightly before sighing, finally grabbing the once abandoned costume. “Why do I feel played…?”

.

“I look stupid…” Eugene complains, his feet heavy with every step.

“No… you’re adorable!” You giggle as you excitedly skip up to Harry’s doorstep, hearing Eugene sigh for the thousandth time behind you.

Before you could even knock, Harry swings the door open. “Welcome!”

Eugene’s eyes go wide for a moment as he realises what Harry was wearing. You look back and poke your tongue out at him as he groans in defeat. Covered in red and white with a sack of presents to match, Harry gleams happily within his Santa costume. “Merry Christmas, guys!”

“Merry Christmas, Harry!” You beam back wholeheartedly.

“Yeah, yeah…” Eugene sighs once more, dreading the chaos within.

Harry gestures inside, “Come in! Everyone’s already here.”

Stepping into the warmly lit home, you’re both welcomed with an onslaught of greetings and well wishes from all around the room. Your eyes light up with joy as you reunite with the friends you now call ‘family’. Seeing everyone’s festive spirit made you feel right at home.

“HEYYY!!” Zion greets loudly from the kitchen. Stepping out into the lounge, you’re met with the brazenly exposed, half-naked redhead with a gold ribbon tied neatly around his neck. “Aww, well aren’t you guys the cutest?” Zion calls out as you break into hysterical laughter.

“…Aren’t you cold?” Eugene asks, wholly unimpressed, eyes creasing as thin as slits.

“You’re right… it DID get cold all of a sudden…” Zion wraps his arms around his bare form before looking in your direction. “(Y/N), did you HAVE to bring the snow in with you?”

“And… it starts.” Eugene mutters under his breath. Wiping the tears in the corners of your eyes, you try to question his clothing options—or lack thereof—but Eugene beats you to it. “So, what are you meant to be anyway?”

Zion’s eyes go wide with shock, dumbfounded by his simple question. “You can’t tell? Am I not a gift to your eyes?”

The room falls silent. So quiet, you could even hear the soft crackles of the flames within the fireplace.

Zion looks around the room, flabbergasted at everyone’s absent response. “I’m everyone’s Christmas present!”

“Bet you’re full of coal.” Eugene snickers.

“Only if you’ve been bad~” Zion fires back with a wink as he backs away toward the kitchen again, finger gunning the entire way back until he was out of view.

Eugene groans before sighing once more. “Today’s gonna be a long day... Can I take this off now?”

“Nooo! We need to take a family photo with everyone first!” Stopping him from unzipping himself and trying to lighten his sour mood, you nudge Eugene’s side playfully. “Come on! Everyone’s in the Christmas spirit and having fun!”

“Urgh… This is why I hate Christmas…”

You giggle at his predictable response before cheerfully waving back to Ethan and Lawrence sitting by the fire. “Ok, Scrooge. How about we say hello to everyone first and then go grab some food, sound good?”

He’ll be in a better mood after he eats.

“Fine… You know I’m only putting up with this ‘cause I love you, right?”

“I know.” Leaning up on your toes, you give Eugene a quick peck on his cheek. “Thank you, Eugene.”

“Yeah…” He murmurs, scratching the back of his golden tresses awkwardly.

.

Standing by the dining table filled with traditionally festive dishes, you lovingly feed spoonful’s of pudding to your now content boyfriend. For once, he wasn’t complaining about being here or feeling defensive over his attire. He began to actually enjoy himself as he caught up with everyone.

Well… That was until Zion came back to set down some eggnog on the table.

Coming up beside you, Zion looks toward Eugene before letting out a giant sneeze… a fake one of course. But it was enough to bring Eugene’s mood back to square one.

“WHY DON’T YOU JUST PUT A SHIRT ON, YOU FUCKING NARCISSIST?!”

“Man… the winter breeze sure is howling loud today!” Zion effortlessly ignores him as he snakes an arm around your shoulders. “You know, (Y/N)… since it’s so cold here, I heard that an easy way to warm ourselves is to cuddle each other while being stark nake-”

Before he could finish his sentence, with lightning fast reflexes, Eugene swipes a plastic butter knife from the table and places it by Zion’s cheek. His eyes now dark with murderous intent, voice seething in malice. “Hands.Off.My.Girlfriend.”

Zion immediately takes his hands off of you and raises them up as a sign of mercy. “Whoa… Chill, bro.”

“Ayeee~” Judy chimes in as she reaches out her hand for a synchronised fist bump with the proud redhead.

“Pfft-” Failing to stifle your chuckle, you go into an uncontrollable fit of laughter again, having way too much fun from everyone’s shenanigans.

Eugene snaps his head toward you, a look of utter betrayal in his expression. “Really, (Y/N)? That joke got you too?”

“I’m s-sorry… The timing… was perfect!” You manage to say as you clutch your stomach, giving in to the giggles.

About ready to burn his costume at this point, Eugene barks out, “CAN WE TAKE THIS DAMN PICTURE ALREADY?!”

.

Now cozy in their everyday clothes—after the chaotic madness of capturing the perfect group photo—the mood was tranquil as everyone chatted amongst themselves.

A moment of calm washed over the both of you as you sat comfortably within Eugene’s embrace by the roaring fire. A glass of warm eggnog within your palms, Eugene rested his chin within the curve of your neck — drained from the constant torment.

“Finally… Zion can leave me alone with his lame ass dad jokes now.”

Feeling somewhat responsible and guilty for putting your boyfriend through such turmoil, you decide to sneakily lead him away to a place that Harry secretly set up for you.

“What are you planning now?” Eugene’s eyebrow raises, underlying skepticism within his voice as you slip away from the party.

Spotting the hanging mistletoe in the hallway ahead, you eagerly drag Eugene over and situate him right underneath. 

“OK! Now, look up!”

Eyes raising toward the ceiling before settling back on your expectant gaze, he smirks roguishly, “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just asked.”

Is it too cliché?

Suddenly feeling horrified by how enthusiastic you were, you cover your rosy cheeks with your palms and attempt to run off. “You’re right! This is dumb!”

“Hey!” Eugene protests as he hastily grabs you by the hand and gently pulls you into his arms, chuckling as he witnesses your bashful demeanour. “It’s only fair if I get to tease you a little too…”

His hand reaches up to caress your cheek, thumb gliding over your mouth as it lingers upon your soft lips. Leaning in close, his hot breath inches from your skin, he whispers, “How are you so adorable?”

Without a moment of hesitation, your eyelids flutter to a close — anticipating the warmth of his lips pressed upon yours.

Just as you were about to close the gap however, a wolf whistle echoes from the end of the hall.

Both taken aback by surprise, you turn your heads to witness a sneering Zion leaning against the wall… watching in amusement. “Oh, ho ho~ Be careful, (Y/N). If this gets any steamier, Olaf over here will melt away!”

Your face burns with embarrassment having been caught in the act of such a lovey-dovey scene. Infuriated by his interruption, Eugene blows up in rage for the... how many times today? You seem to have lost count at this point.

“SERIOUSLY, ZION! DO YOU EVER SHUT UP?! I’M NOT EVEN WEARING THAT STUPID COSTUME ANYMORE!”

Waving his hand indifferently in dismissal, Zion wanders off, dusting his hands like he had just completed a job well done.

“God, he’s so irritating! How is he everywhere?!” Eugene grumbles as he massages his temples with his fingers.

“Even I’m starting to get annoyed now.” You admit, your eyes falling into aggravated slits at Zion’s retreating form.

“We should have never come…” Eugene pouts, his expression reminding you of a provoked cat.

Cute...

You wrap your arms around him, hoping to calm him again. You hear him sigh in frustration as he returns your embrace before nuzzling his face into your (h/c) locks. “You know he only teases out of love, right?”

He scoffs at the thought.

Taking his hand in yours, you smile knowingly. “Plus, you don’t need to hide it, I know you enjoyed seeing everyone again.”

His attention shifts to the side, avoiding your gaze as his cheeks grow a subtle blush. “Whatever.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his innocent response.

“Anyways…” He trails off as his fingers delicately lift your chin upwards. “The only love I need is yours.”

Leaning down a second time, Eugene’s gentle lips press together with yours. Fitting together as perfect as a puzzle, you gasp lightly as he hugs you tighter. 

His scent was... reminiscent of faint firewood.

His lips... tasting of subtle hints of cinnamon.

Every part of him consumed your senses. 

As he grips your chin eagerly, your mouth parts immediately as if by instinct — welcoming his intoxicating tongue.

Contrary to what Zion believed, Eugene’s kiss left your body melting under his every touch.

As your lips part ways with his,  Eugene’s eyes were met with your fervent gaze — his eyebrows furrowing in response. “Can we go home now?”

Misunderstanding his intentions, you fail to hide your sadness. “You hated the party that much?”

“It’s not that… It was good to see everyone. But, I just… wanna spend some time with you now, (Y/N)…”

“O-Oh…Okay.” You stutter. He wasn’t usually this forward or honest, and it left you feeling a little shy. The prior hours, as you dragged on your stay, made you somewhat apologetic toward him. “I’m sorry for making you wear that costume.”

His eyes go wide before smiling warmly. “It’s fine… as long as you had fun.”

A bubbly grin on your face, you beam, “I did! Thank you, Eugene!”

Eugene chuckles quietly in response as he ruffles your hair. “Anyways, I guess it was worth it.” He then clears his throat uncomfortably. “…You looked beautiful today.”

“Only today?” You question; your tone, playful.

Eyes closing from exhaustion due to everyone’s constant lively energy, he sighs deeply as he rests his forehead against yours. “Give me a break already… You know what I mean.”

Tittering softly, you slowly nod against him.

“Don’t even start me on that lacy shit you had on this morning…” Eugene then looks up abruptly, confusion clear on his handsome features. “Wait… You tricked me! What was that outfit for anyway? Harry was Santa…”

Giggling radiantly at the memory of your prank, you reply, “It’s a gift!”

Eugene’s eyebrows raise in curiosity before you leaned closer to clarify, “But only for your eyes…”

“Ah…” Eugene places a hand on his mouth, turning his face toward the wall and averting his gaze — hiding the faint blush upon his skin.

He then clears his throat again before looking at you in a suspicious stare. “You’re not gonna chase me around again and say you bought it for me to wear, are you?”

Although you found the idea quite tempting, you smile sincerely. “I think I’ve teased you enough for one day.”

“Good.”

Taking your hand in his, he leads you away from the mistletoe and out of the halls. Pink hues decorate your cheeks as you anticipate a festive night, spent only in the arms of one another.

.

.

x luna

[bigkyle990]

A Witchy Pirate part 1

Dumb idea I have, going along with my constant mass crossover of many characters all on the same Pirate crew in the One Piece universe. This one following some of the misadventures of Luz Noceda, both on the world of One Piece(I like to call it Great Blue) and back home on her return to the Boiling Isles (which may happen sooner than later, depending on how I feel and if I want her time on Great Blue to be in flashbacks and the like).  Hope y’all enjoy my ramblings. 

making a cut cause it would be a super long post otherwise. 

“Luz! Hold on kiddo!” Eda yelled as she was holding tightly to her apprentices hand. 

Luz could feel her grip starting to slip as she tried to hold tight onto Eda, the wind attempting to separate them seeming to get stronger with each passing moment. “I’m trying! Eda please don’t let go!” She yelled desperately trying to reach her other hand back, but wasn’t able to because of the winds. Things had gone wrong fairly quickly for the small group of rebels that had been attempting to stop Belos’s ‘Day of Unity’ and whatever his plans had been for the portal. They had been able to break through to the portal itself, ready to destroy or simply steal the reassembled door to the human world. When they had attacked though, the fire glyphs set on the machine didn’t exactly break it, but somehow had forced it to start up. 

The next thing they knew, it had broken into a vortex that began trying to draw in those close to it. Which unfortunately for Luz, was herself and Eda. Said witch had been able to use her staff and a Plant Glyph to hold herself to the ground, but Luz had no such luck as it started pulling on her far too soon for her to brace herself. Eda had just barely had the time to catch her and try to pull her back. “I’m not going too! Just hold o- LUZ!” Eda yelled as she felt her grip finally give way, Luz being drawn towards the portal itself, screaming and trying to seemingly swim her way back towards Eda. “Eda!” Was the last Luz could yell out just as she was pulled through and the portal closing shut right after, leaving only the re-damaged door and busted machine that held it. No sign of the Boiling Isles singular human witch. 

-

Luz found herself groaning as she tried to pick herself up. Her surroundings felt different, a soft rocking feeling, a warm sun beating down on her, and the smell of salt in the air. She slowly pulled herself up on her hands and knees as she tried to look around. Only to shut her eyes quickly from the bright light of the sun invading her vision. After a moment she slowly reopened them and looked on shocked. It looked like she was in the middle of the ocean, in a small dingy of a boat. Was she back in the human world? If so, why was she in the ocean and not by the shack that the portal normally leads to? She didn’t have much time to process things just as a dark shadow rose up behind her and she looked back slowly, only to scream as the massive form of some kind of sea monster tried to crash down on her, maw gaping wide to swallow her whole. Just as it came down, she screamed and felt a rush of wind. First one like she was falling and then a new one holding her up. “You know,” started the voice of a slightly older male as he approached. “If you’re going to have nightmares, it’s best not to take a nap on the figure head, Noceda.” He said with a slight amusement in his voice. Luz’s eyes shot open as she looked towards the voice, finding herself just off the side of the ship, a small vortex of winds holding her up directly over the ocean. “Right… Sorry, thanks for the save Jaune.” She chuckled weakly as she was brought back onto ship. 

The man before her was a tall blond man with blue eyes, who’s chest and part of his face was currently wrapped in bandages, covering fresh wounds from a previous engagement with a rather powerful foe. He was wearing an open black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, along with a pair of blue long pants held up by a red sash around his waist. Over his shoulders was a long blue captain’s coat with golden trimmings and tucked into his belt was a sheathed longsword with black and gold accents on the hilt and the pommel in the shape of a snarling wolf head. 

He was one, Jaune “Blood Wind” Arc, captain of the Arc Pirates, to which Luz currently belonged, and with a firm bounty of 500 million berries. As well as the wielder of the Paramecia Vortex Vortex Devil fruit, that gave him the power to control wind currents at a simple thought. 

“Any time.” he waved off her thanks. “So, same nightmare?” He asked with some concern as he leaned against the bulkhead of the ship. 

Luz sighed as she sat on the deck and nodded. She was far from the young 14 year old girl that Jaune and his budding crew had found and saved in the waters of the North Blue just 4 years ago. Now a young adult of 18, she stood much taller than she had before, both literally and figuratively. While not as tall as her captain, she was close, only about a head shorter then himself, her hair had grown out to be just past her shoulders but still kept the slightly gravity defying effect it had always had. Sticking up in ways that normally shouldn’t be possible, but around the world of Great Blue, it was hardly the weirdest. She had traded out her blue and white hoodie for a green jacket over a blue and white striped shirt underneath, tucked into a pair of dark blue shorts and her normal black leggings still coming out underneath. Much like her captain, she had made a name for herself on these seas, becoming known as “Wild Witch” Noceda. Thanks in part to what she’d picked up from Eda, but also eating a rather powerful paramecia devil fruit of her own, known as the Mage Mage fruit. It’s abilities let her continue to use her glyphs from the Boiling Isles, but without the need for paper or the Titan’s influence to do so. That power along with her own wit and cunning, had earned her an ample bounty of 300 million of her own. She sighed at the question and nodded. “Yeah, I know it’s been a long time since that day, but I can’t help thinking and even dreaming about it… How do you guys cope?” She asked, looking up, only to stop as she felt Jaune’s hand placed on the top of her head in a comforting manner. 

“Bout the same as you honestly,” He said with a small smile. “We keep moving forward and hope we can find our way back home someday. That’s the best we can do right now.” Luz nodded as she leaned against the ship’s walls, pulling her knees up to comfort herself a bit more.  

If there was one thing she was thankful for about this crew, was that it’s main group was made up of people all in similar situations to herself. Each one was from some other world or strange universe that was nothing like this one. Some more simple like the human world from her home, some far stranger than even Great Blue could hope to be. 

It gave them all something to bond over, even with how different most of them were and how little they each wanted to take orders, they all had that one aspect in common. Weirdly enough, it was all they needed to keep together as they searched for ways back. She looked up to Jaune with a slight bit of a smirk on her face. “So, should you really be up and about right now? Your fight with Sakasuki wasn’t that long ago and I don’t think that Bella would be happy to know you’re moving around with those wounds.” Jaune chuckled and shrugged. “I probably shouldn’t, but what the doc don’t know won’t hurt he-” “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU ARC!?” Came the loud voice of the ship’s doctor, one Bella Swan came yelling and crashing out of the ship's sick bay. “Me, it can hurt me…” Jaune finished, a sense of dread washing over him as he quickly ran to get away as Luz laughed at him being chased by the young brown haired woman in a doctor’s coat. “Get back here and get back in bed, damn it! Your burns haven’t healed yet!” Bella yelled as she ran by with new bandages in hand, intent on tying the man to the medical bed this time. 

Luz grinned watching them running around the ship, barreling over a few of the grunts trying to do their day to day upkeep. “Well, I guess I can’t be mad with the new weird family I ended up with.” She said as she stood and started looking out to the, momentarily calm, waters of the New World. “I’ll still find my way home… I want to see everyone again.” She said softly as she held up a hand, creating a light glyph with a simple motion and conjuring a small mote of light. With a light tap, she sent it floating away from the ship and turned to go help with things around her new home.

[yinxiong]

tonight, we’re catching fire

muse: lee juyeon x reader (2nd person perspective)

genre: revolution! au, angst + fluff

word count: 1315

warnings: none

summary: what kind of revolution had room for love?

notes: should be self explanatory, but this was inspired by tbz’s reveal (catching fire) performance bc i am so fucking gone for it !!! also lowkey inspired by this post here lol . hope y’all enjoy <3

-

“It’s almost time,” Juyeon whispers the moment you two meet in the middle of the dance floor. His face is hidden behind a beautiful mask of midnight, the black velvet decorated with glossy raven feathers and golden thread that matched the trim on his costume. You had spent days on the entire ensemble, making sure he would blend in with the aristocrats seamlessly, though looking at his bedazzled figure now you wonder if you had done your job a little too well (your quickening heart certainly thinks so). Grateful for your own mask to hide the rising blush in your cheeks, you nod, curtsying briefly before taking the outstretched hand he offers.

“I know,” you reply, settling your fingers on his upper arm as he slides his own around your waist, pulling you close. The hand that holds yours gives a light squeeze, and at the start of the violins, the two of you are gliding away in a flawless waltz, one taught by Changmin and practiced every night for the past month. “I’ve been watching the clock.”

Hanging on the far side of the ballroom, the giant golden disc in question glimmers idly, its hands moving tortuously slow on its journey to midnight. You and Juyeon have been waiting hours for that final strike, the cadence that signaled the end of a day and the start of another. Somewhere in the castle, the other Phantoms were waiting for it too— the strike that will determine the fate of the world.

Yet a part of you wishes it would never come. A selfish desire, considering all the work and planning everyone had put into tonight, to ensure that not a single thing would go wrong. There were lives at stake, after all. Except it really hadn’t occurred to you until now— spinning around a room that sparkled as if it were from a dream, held so delicately by Juyeon like you were a pair of noble lovers who didn’t have sharpened blades hidden within your gilded clothing, didn’t have a mission sitting heavy on your shoulders— that maybe you wanted this moment to last.

“What’s on your mind?” His voice is soft in your ear, a lyrical lilt that blends right into the orchestra playing in the distance. It’s familiar, one you have come to know like a dear friend over the years of working together, and right now it has never felt more comforting. Taking a breath, you allow yourself to relax a bit, to enjoy this dance that neither of you were actually invited to in the first place.

“Truthfully?”

“Truthfully.”

“Well, besides the dread that I might mess up and cause the entire mission to fail,” you laugh deprecatingly just before he twirls you, “I’m wondering how I managed to make you look so good.”

When you return to his arms, you find yourself pressed flush against his chest, his gaze peering curiously into your own through that mask so rudely concealing his flawless features. His tongue darts out briefly to wet his lips, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of how close your faces are. “How do you mean that?”

“I— I’m admiring how well your costume turned out,” you manage, hoping your painfully red cheeks aren’t too evident beneath the glow of chandeliers.

“And not the person wearing it?” There’s a gleam in his eyes, one you haven’t encountered before. While you felt unnerved, something about it made him even more endearing. Made you want to cross the borders you hadn’t ever dared cross.

Scoffing, you reach up and flick him in the forehead. “I didn’t realize you were such a narcissist, Juyeon. Maybe you should’ve been born a prince after all.”

He smirks, “Well, that might become reality soon enough.”

It was thrilling, talking about the downfall of the royal family in their very own ballroom. Their lavish lifestyles and selfish rule were heard of by many across the kingdom, but known most of all by those that worked in the palace. After years of witnessing their incompetence to save or even care about the dying country, a number of you finally decided that it was time to end their reign. With the help of some nobles like Changmin and Sunwoo, the band crafted an elaborate plan to expose the royal family’s crimes and steal the crown, to be carried out over the period of a year. The months had passed by quickly, and soon the preparations were finished. But your jobs weren’t complete yet— even if the people were now festering with anger, the fuse that would spark everything was still unlit.

And time was running out.

“For the record, you should have more confidence in yourself.” Juyeon is still staring down at you when you come back to your senses, hands falling to rest on your waist as you slowly sway to the final measures of the song. “Everything is going to go well, you’re not going to mess anything up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And why should I believe that?”

He bites his lip, nervous for a reason you cannot decipher. “Because you have me?”

“And you’re enough?”

“I mean, I should hope so.”

The violins have faded and everyone around you is bustling to join in on the next dance, but neither of you dare move, suspended in your own little bubble at the edge of the ballroom.

“You know,” he says, breath soft on yours, “You look really good in your dress too.”

“Sunwoo is watching,” you blurt dumbly, as if the duke’s son could do anything to stop the two of you right now. Juyeon pauses, eyes falling to your mouth. “I don’t care,” he declares, and before you know it his lips are warm against yours, gentle and sweet and tasting like the strawberry champagne you had passed off to him earlier.

Not once has it ever crossed your mind that something in this world could be described as perfect, because your entire life has been full of flaws up until now. But then Juyeon tilts his head for a better angle and curls his fingers into your hair and you might just pass out from how utterly right this feels. When you tug at his bottom lip, he lets out a soft moan, and that’s all it takes for you to cup his face and press closer, closer so there’s no longer a distance between that leaves your heart wrenching.

You don’t want this to end, you don’t want him to pull away, you don’t want to return to the quiet stares and awkward smiles and unfulfilled longing. Both of you have been wanting this for a while now, you realize with a jolt, and at once you kiss him harder.

Unfortunately, even the sweetest of dreams will cease, come morning.

“It’s time,” you whisper the moment you two separate. Juyeon’s eyes look pained, with a hint of regret, and you almost kiss him again. However, you both know there are far more pressing matters at hand.

There are five minutes until the clock strikes midnight. Five minutes for you to move into position. Five minutes before the country gets completely turned on its head.

Juyeon grasps your hands once more, lacing your fingers together as he memorizes your eyes. “We’re going to come out of this alive, alright?”

You nod, not daring to show any weakness in your final moments together. “Of course. Who else would wear the crown other than you?”

He laughs, pure and bright. It’s enough to light up the sky, you’re certain.

“Ready to catch fire?”

The revolution was starting. Tomorrow, the king will be no longer. Tomorrow, your blade will be stained with blood.

“I have always been ready.”

Tonight, the world will be covered in flames.

“Then let’s go reveal the true king.”

And when the day breaks, Juyeon will still be standing by your side.

-

fin.