#so that and how they are together otherwise just makes me go. Yea. They Buds.

[engagemythrusters]

honestly I think Kanan and Fenn Rau should be buddies

[tigerseye46]

Random idea, but secret relationship Spicynoodles, except nobody's figured it out by the time S3 rolls around. So Red joins the crew somehow and he and MK have much more time together... except there's a ton more people around so they can't be too romantic otherwise questions will start coming.

Oooo, I’ve seen this around! My turn! MWAHAHA >:D! Sorry this took so long.

Red pushed MK against a wall, their hands and mouths exploring each other, sparks flew between them, an undeniable passion ignited.

They had barely anytime to kiss and cuddle as they had been constantly surrounded by the others on the flying ship and they hadn’t exactly told the others about the nature of their relationship.

Since New Years, the two had gotten to know each other. Along the lines a friendship had formed then a romantic relationship which became long distance when the Demon Bull King decided to take Red out of the city and away from the madness.

They hadn’t seen each other until they appeared at Red’s home, asking for help.

And Red accepted. After all the White Bone Spirit had messed with his father, this was personal and getting to see the Noodle Boy after so long was a plus.

They agreed to keep their relationship under wraps for now since they were afraid that the group would make them break up in favor of focusing on defeating the White Bone Spirit.

They didn’t want that to happen so they kept quiet. Well they tried to, it was so difficult not to touch each other and cradle the other in their arms after so long.

They took every opportunity when they were alone to shower each other with affection, careful not to get caught.

Red peeled back MK’s jacket so one side of it rested on half of his arm. “I love you,” he proclaimed in between kisses.

“I love you too. I love you so much,” they replied as they hastily ran their fingers through their partner’s hair.

The kisses grew hot and heavy until it was broken by a “MK!”

They separated with Xiaotian quickly pulling up the jacket, softening the creases and Red fixing his mussed hair.

The two tried to hide their red faces as Mei walked up to them. “Hey, Red, MK.”

The human waves at his friend. “Hey, Mei! You called?”

Mei grinned as she looked at them. “Yea, I did! I was wondering if you wanted to play a game with me!”

“Sure! Want to join, Red?”

The demon hid his scowl, angry at being interrupted. “No, I’m fine. I have to help Sandy with something anyway. Bye, peasants.”

He walked away, hands in pockets. MK felt a bit sad at that but he had no time to comfort the demon as Mei pulled him to the couch to play a game.

While the game was fun and he enjoyed hanging out with his friend, sadness lingered at remembering his partner’s expression. Eventually he and Mei separated. He made his way to find Red who was leaning against an invention he was working on with Sandy.

“Hey, you two,” he greeted with a wave.

“Hey, little man,” Sandy greeted in return in the middle of tightening a bolt on the latest invention.

“Hi, Noodle Boy!”

“Hey, Red! I wanted to know if you were done.”

“Oh, ummm… are we done, Sandy?”

“Yep! Go on!”

“Thank you.” He grabbed his partner’s hand and dragged them away into the other’s room. Once he locked it, he pressed a kiss against his lips.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, Noodle Boy. Why would I not be?”

“Because Mei ruined our moment.”

“It’s fine,” they repeated. “Not as if I’m not used to it. I wish I could flay that White Bone Spirit myself and save the day.”

“Like a hero?” MK interrupted with a smirk.

“No! Just… just so we could announce ourselves as a couple with the possibility of being split apart.”

“I know. I know. One day. I promise.”

“I know.”

They sighed together, the same conversation happened day in and day out about the nature of their relationship and revealing it.

Red settled the human in his lap, wrapping his arm around his waist and burying his chin in the other’s hair.

Time passed where their relationship continued in secret as it always had.

They had fought a myriad of demons, gotten injured a bunch of times, made memories and enjoyed each other’s company. The others always looked as if they had something to say when one of the two had a strong reaction to their partner’s injuries but remained quiet.

Even if they suspected the two had feelings for each other, there was a silent reassurance they weren’t going to act on it.

“So, kid, how do you feel about Red?” Pigsy asked one day when he, Pigsy and Sun Wukong were in the kitchen, the two helping the pig make some red bean cakes. Well Xiaotian was doing most of the helping while the Monkey attempted to steal pieces of every batch.

The king had an arm around the pig’s waist, sitting on the counter.

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

The Monkey King and Pigsy exchanged glances before turning to the younger. “We just want to make sure you’re okay with him being here, bud. Since you two were rivals.”

He raised a brow. “Well, Red is good now so I don’t mind.”

“He treat you well?” The king nudged Pigsy as if silently telling him that he was supposed to ask that in a more subtle manner.

“Yes?” The response came out as more of a question than a statement. “Why?”

Another glance between the older adults. “We noticed you have you know feelings for him.”

They waved their arms in dismissal. “No! No! I do not have feelings for Red! That’s crazy! If I did, they would impede our goal so I do not have feelings for Red!”

They stared as if they didn’t believe them. “It’s okay if you do, bud.”

“Wait. What?”

“Yea, we don’t mind. We think it’s sweet and he seems like a good fit for you.”

A wild grin. “Really?”

“Yep,” Sun Wukong responded. “In fact, we wouldn’t mind if you two dated or anything but you don’t like Red so.” He shrugged.

“I wasn’t being completely honest about that.”

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “We could tell.”

“It wouldn’t hurt our goal if I said something?”

“Nope,” they replied.

“As long as you’re happy and safe, bud. That’s all that matters and we don’t think confessing would hurt our mission at all.”

He gripped both of them in tight hug. “Oh thank you! I’ll uhhh confess to Red one day! Bye!” They skipped off, beaming ear to ear to tell Red about it.

The two elders laughed. “Are we goin’ to tell them we already now?”

“No, it’s more fun this way,” Sun Wukong said as he reached for a red bean cake. Pigsy slapped his hand. “Hey!”

The pig rolled his eyes for the second time. “I give you two weeks before they say something.”

“I give you three.”

“Shake on it?” He took the king’s hand.

The king bobbed his head and shook it. “Shake on it.”

[ofmythsandmadness]

stop moving | d.h

you do diego’s eyeliner. 2k words.

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NOTES: gender neutral. long haired diego. i don’t know why i’m writing this and i kinda hate it lol, i rarely write this sort of thing but y’know. i’m going to check all messages, notifs & messed gems in the morning, i’m really only posting this and ghosting again, bc i know otherwise i’ll never do it. and y’know, i want to feel productive about something. take care folks <3

BUY ME A COFFEE HERE. | CHECK OUT MY OTHER WRITINGS HERE.

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"CAN YOU PLEASE STOP MOVING?!”

Hot breath stings your trembling fingers as Diego huffs a laugh; it’s barely a sound, a mumble of a chuckle, but you feel it vibrate through your body and hit your hand and it almost does you in. You almost just give up and confess your undying attraction, right then and there. And as though you need more contact, even more of him pressing against you, egging you closer to the precipice that will surely be your infatuated doom. 

“You’re the one who asked to do this, you don’t get to complain.”

“Well, you wanted it. You agreed to this!”

“I--” another exhale against your hand, another peal of laughter following shortly. You've half a mind to clamp his mouth shut with it, if it wouldn’t ignite yet another ill-thought fantasy of yours. “This was still your idea.”

Your smile buds and blooms despite your brain begging your lips to be still. You can’t help it; he’s too good at weaseling into the cracks of your composure. One look, one soft chuckle and you’re set for life. It doesn’t help that you’re basically on his lap, cradling his face in your hands like he’s a baby, and his own fingers tap-tap-tap away on your hips, creating a rhythm no one else but you can make out. Honestly, you’re surprised you haven’t totally cracked yet, this close and this personal.

“Shut your eyes.”

“They are shut.”

“No they’re not!” you poke lightly at the fluttering lids. Your lip snags on your bottom lip; a poor attempt to hide a giggle. “I can’t do this with your eyes open.”

“D'aww…” his lids shut as he groans. “So I’m just supposed to sit here? Let you draw on my face in total darkness?”

You click your tongue, half in disapproval in his exaggeration, and half because you’ve won yet again against his stubbornness. “I won’t be long. Suck it up.”

“Sure. Y’know, I have siblings; I know how long it takes them to do makeup, and-”

“-stop moving, asshole!” Your free hand tugs ever lightly on a strand of hair, one of the many that’s slipped out of his ponytail. Repressed thoughts flash in sultry red across your thoughts and you swallow, quickly letting the hair go. “I-I need you to stay still, or this will take forever.”

Diego sighs and his grip tightens around your hips. Before you know it, he’s moving you. “Then stop wriggling,” he grumbles, flattening you against his legs. You’re basically straddling him, at that point, and your mind goes absolutely blank at how much more intimate this feels. Does he notice? Or is this just another friendly motion you’re yet again reading into?

Your mouth tastes of cotton balls and it’s dry as an Arizona summer. Still, you manage an ‘okay’ before readying your pen again. All you can hope for is a steady hand, though by the way he still holds your waist, and how your mouth lingers mere inches from his lips -- well, you’re coming undone.

It’s just eyeliner, you tell yourself. Your hand rises and swipes; black begins to pool its deep colour against his lashes, low and thin. The line builds taller, thicker as you work, extending out to the corner of his eye. As he breathes, and you try to remind yourself how to, the eyeliner pen works its shaky magic and draws the slightest tinge of a wing against his skin. 

“How’s it going?”

At least he’s kind enough to mumble it, though his face still shifts under your hold. Once more your tongue clicks. 

“It goes better when you don’t speak.”

He swallows his laugh; you know, because you feel his throat work as you hold his head steady. It’s strange and exhilarating, to be so close and still so far away. You want to cradle his cheeks gentler, to hold his face with the heart of a lover, but you’re terrified he’ll recognise your touch and realise your feelings. So you barely touch him and remind yourself to be professional about this.

It’s eyeliner, not a rom-com.

“I’m bored,” he whisper whines. 

“Shh.”

“It’s too quiet.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, patting his cheek gently. “M’working.”

“Y/N...”

You pull away and sit back on his thighs. His left eye doesn’t look half bad, but if he keeps talking… “You can’t talk, ‘else it’s gonna look bad!”

“Then you talk!”

You baulk. “What?”

“I’ll be quiet,” he swears, pouting up to you with eyes still shut, “but please, say something before I lose my mind.”

“Well, I-I-what about?”

“I don’t know. Anything.” He smiles softly. “I like hearing you talk. Don’t care what about.”

You could die right then and there. It’s a simple compliment, it’s really the bare minimum, but you’re already head over heels. And just a couple of soft spoken works are all you need to do you in and nearly keel you over, still straddling his muscular thighs.

“Uh…” you cough, forcing out the giddy tremble that threatens to take your voice. No lovesick teen voice today, thank you very much. “Okay. I don’t have much to...well, the other day, I saw my coworker totally wipe out leaving work.” You pause, expecting some reply, but he stays silent. “And he... he ate so much shit, he might as well dunked his head in a gas station toilet. And - and you know, normally I’d try to sympathise, but when you always make a point to park in my parking spot, I don’t care. Brett’s such an ass. And I don’t blame him, cause he’s got an asshole name -- Brett can’t be anything else but an asshole. So it's his parents fault probably but still, I…”

You continue on, slipping from the topic of your coworker to the free muffin you got with your coffee last week, to the prospects of buying a pet to keep your apartment less lonely, and to what probably felt like a thousand and one things ranted at him. All the while your hands continue, making neat work of a task that had just felt impossible.

And miraculously, aside from a chuckle thrown now and then, Diego stays silent. Maybe he actually means it. Maybe he does like your voice -- or he’s so bored he’s falling asleep, you don’t know. But it’s okay, you don’t let yourself linger on that, too content with taking in his relaxed features and the gentleness of the afternoon sun on the two of you.

“Aaaand….there!” With a triumphant shout, you throw the eyeliner to the side and your hands plunge towards the sky, fist-pumping like you’d just won the lottery. Your body bounces up and down on his lap like a child meeting Santa; in your excitement, you barely notice. “You’re done!”

“That’s it?”

“Yup.” You grabble for a mirror, looking away from him for a moment as you reach for the handle. Wiping it off, you’re focused solely on making sure the glass is clean enough for him to see himself in, and your brain is distracted enough to totally forget what you’ve even done, enough so when you look up, all you have is,

“Oh.”

Look, you know Diego is an attractive man. You’ve known since the day you met; he’s a beautiful guy, a handsome asshole who wormed his way into your befuddled heart before you could even learn his name. He’s pretty enough that if he wasn’t so set on his weird vigilante career, he could probably shoot for being a damn supermodel. He’s a catch! But all those years of knowing that and feeling like that could not prepare you for the sight in front of you.

Diego squints at you, cocking his head. “Is it okay?”

“I…” Delicate black lines his upper lash line, making his deep brown eyes stand out even more. He’s smiling still, full lips curving up to only make your heart pound faster. A strand of his hand falls across his face, painting the gentlest of shadows but it doesn’t bother his pretty face. “I...no, no, yea-ah…”

“Wow,” he laughs, jabbing a finger into your side. “Eloquent.”

“I-I-shut up,” you stammer. You force the mirror into his hands and look away. You’re still on his lap, still straddling his lap and the logical part of your brain begs you to get it together and fall off, already. But the stupid, foolish, absolutely idiotic part leaves you paralysed. “Just look for yourself.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and wait for him in the silence. There’s nothing, though, for achingly painful seconds, until the mirror shifts down. “Huh.”

“Huh, good? Or bad?” 

“I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Really? What’s wrong?”

“It’s not bad,” he assures you, his smile evident in his tone. “Just different. Don’t know how to feel about it.”

“O-oh...well, if it makes you feel better, I think it looks great.”

“You do?”

Oh, dammit. That came out with way too much enthusiasm, didn’t it? Your legs are concrete as you shift, face angled towards the floor. Hopefully he’s strong enough to push you off him when your body literally catches flame from humiliation. 

“You look good man,” he mocked back to you. But he’s grinning, egging you on like a child who knows he’s got you twisted around his pinky finger. “Come on, say it like you don’t have a gun to your head!”

And maybe you do, maybe you’re holding the revolver to your temple, just asking to get screwed if you dare speak beyond the most stilted compliment you’ve ever extended to someone. He’s a friend, you remind yourself; friends are allowed to compliment the other. They’re allowed to say they look good and not make it a thing, even if they wish it was a thing, and--

“--hey? You in there?”

“Sorry,” you say to the floor. You swear a thousand curses before looking back to Diego. And, yeah -- he still looks impossibly good. The ageing afternoon sun falls just perfectly against his skin, flushing him into the being of a god, standing in your apartment while you, a mere mortal, remains stuck to his thick thighs.

You gulp in air desperately, trying to catch your gaze on something, anything else -- but nothing sticks. He’s still there, inches from you, desperately aching for you to stare at.

“No, uh, yeah. You look - you look hot.”

Wait.

That wasn’t--

“-I look hot?”

That isn’t what you were supposed to say.

“I,” you have literally nothing to save yourself. This is the end! You’re young Leo and Rose is shoving you off the door and into the icy waters, and you’ve just got one last look at pretty Diego to satiate the freezing burn before you succumb to it. “I...wasn’t...that wasn’t what I meant.”

He has no right to look so smug. But he does it anyway. He leans away from your hands as they flutter through the air on their own accord, looking at you through half-lidded pools of caramel. “You don’t think I look hot?”

“Don’t,” you warn, with little strength behind it. “Don’t twist my words.”

“I’m just asking.”

He leans back in. You’re almost touching again. 

Is this weird? This is definitely weird.

You swallow back the lump in your throat and stare back at him. This all feels like fifth grade all over again -- awkward, sticky and like every move is the wrong move. But you can’t stop yourself from playing into his hands, because that sly, shameful part of you wants this more than will ever be admitted. You want him to look at you like this, like you could hang the stars if he asked you to...and you want him to pull you closer, as he does, and mean it.

Could he?

“Would you hate me? If I thought you looked hot?”

Diego head cocks to the side as he seemingly contemplates your words. A nudge meets your side; you look down to see his hands once again reaching for you. Though it's on their own accord this time, gently landing on your left hip, then the right. You shiver.

“That depends,” he says slowly. His eyes narrow, black wings just barely crinkling in. “D’you mean it like, ‘oH, that’s so-oo hot, woW-’”

Your laugh is hardly a whisper. It cracks even before your lips. “Come on.”

“Or, do you…” his fingers dig in a little more. They nudge at the fabric of your top, daring it to move enough so they could cradle the flesh hidden underneath. “You mean it the other way?”

Heart in throat, all the courage you can possibly muster with it, you mutter, “the...other way, probably.” Then a second later, “is that okay?”

“Mm…” His fingers finally reach your skin. You shiver under his touch, warm and unflinching as they brush against the soft curves. Diego’s face comes towards your own and you force yourself not to move. But he doesn’t stop, instead he goes past you, brushing his plush lips against your earlobe. “I would say...that if all this took was making you do my eyeliner, I shoulda asked years ago.”

“I, okay...don’t play with me, here--”

“--I’m serious,” he protests lowly. His lips leave your ear but they don’t run far. Instead, you find them a brush away from your own, just as you were minutes before. Only this time, you don’t try to clamp your mouth shut and skirt away from the touch. You nudge your nose against his own, exhaling softly as more skin meets the heat of his own. “You think I just let anyone sit on my lap like this, without thinkin’ it could be more?”

You shrug like this is normal. Like you’re perfectly at peace with the universe and the way you’re wondering how his tongue would taste, pushing back against your own. “I mean...do you?”

“No,” he chuckles low. “No, I’m...not into friendly lap dances, actually.”

“O-oh. Mm.”

He pulls you closer. He wants you closer.

“Diego…” You’re unravelling. You’re fucking unravelling, unnerved by his voice and his hands and you’re putty in them, all inhibitions sliding away like you’re three drinks in. His hands by your sides leave their marks against your skin; you can feel the pads of his fingers, burning into your skin like they were molten iron and not just mere brushes. “I...”

“Tell me.” He sounds cocky. He has a right to be, even if you’re damned to admit it. “Tell me what you think.”

Your hands shiver up his forearms, clinging to his bare shoulders as he pulls you impossibly closer. Your mind’s going a mile a minute and you refuse to listen to a single thought. You’re only feeling him.

“Y/N…”

“Fine,” you huff, with a smile. Your noses brush again; your eyes flutter shut with his image imprinted against their lids. “I think you look...hot as hell, Diego.”

“Yeah.” He’s grinning; you can hear it in his voice, that smirk that makes your gut flip like a damn rollercoaster ride. “S’what I thought, baby.”

And then he kisses you.

A/N: i normally hate writing oblivious characters but this wasn’t even intentional really. every time i try to write something remotely sexual i just lead the reader into ‘oH tHiS iS jUsT wHaT fRiEnDs Do’ and ‘iT’S wEiRd rIgHt’. to my defense...i doubt you’re on this page reading this expecting good sexual tension. i’m not the tua writer for that; let me know if you want recommendations for that because trust me, there are better authors for that. for now, you get this. <3

[pars-ley]

Until Tomorrow | Part two

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Summary: You’re a happily single magazine editor in London, that is, until you’re set up with a handsome musician, who’s not exactly forthcoming about being in the biggest boy group in the world. But with your days together numbered, will this blossom into something more or crash land, leaving your heart broken.

Genre: Idol!au / Fluff / Romance / Comedy / Slight hint of smut 

Rating: 15+ (sfw)

Warnings: Mentions of sex and sexual activity / Kissing

Word Count: 6413

Part one | Part two Notes: Beta reader @ditttiii​ Thank you so much for your help, you are such a queen! 

I knock lightly against the boss’ door and wait. 

Janelle Rogers is the editor-in-chief for our magazine, she’s brilliant but also a bit eccentric. She always has some kind of wacky blazer on and yet, somehow always manages to look professional. She’s also the messiest person I know, resulting in her desk always being untidy, but she claims it to be organised chaos instead.

Who am I to argue with that kind of logic? 

She’s tough and a lot of her employees are terrified of her, but if you work hard and do a good job she usually notices and shows her appreciation in some way, which makes her quite pleasant to work for. 

I get on with her well on a personal level too. We’ve been out to dinner a few times and it’s always fun. It also always turns into a late night drinking session. Going out with her, usually means I am in for a two day hangover, which is why it doesn’t happen all that often.

“Come in!” She calls.

Swinging open the door, I step in. 

Janelle is pacing back and forth, phone tucked under her ear, as she searches through the papers in her hand. Hearing me enter, she looks up and removes the phone from her ear, before she says, “Y/n, I heard you wanted to speak to me, please come in. I won’t be long.” 

She indicates to the empty seats across from her desk. 

I sit down and cross one leg over the other, trying not to listen to the heated discussion she’s having. 

“I appreciate that I do, but I need that piece before the end of the week.” She says, her tone clipped. I see her jaw tense as she grits her teeth to whatever response she gets. “And I understand that, nonetheless, you’ve had plenty of time to figure it out. Your story needs to be in by the end of the week, otherwise I’ll use someone else’s. End of discussion.”

She hangs up the phone, almost slamming it back down onto the base unit and sighs. 

Sitting down, elbows on her desk, she gives me her full attention. “Some people will use any excuse to avoid a deadline.” She shakes her head and then meets my eyes. “Please tell me you’re here to give me some good news.”

I grimace slightly. “Well the magazine is on track...mostly. The music segment however…” I pause. “It’s unfinished.”

Her face drops. “What?” She mutters, her voice low, brimming with anger. “What do you mean, it’s not finished?”

“Only half of it is complete.” 

She slams her hand on her desk. “God Dammit, Toby.” She runs her hands over her hair, smoothing her tight, black curls. 

Toby was one of our writers, mostly for the music assignments. He did interviews with the artists, went to gigs, reviewed albums but recently had gone on a holiday for some kind of meditation retreat. ‘No phones permitted and no contact from the outside world’ kind of place, not my type of holiday but who am I to judge?

“Can’t we just use one of our other music pieces?” I ask, knowing the answer before she gets the chance to respond.

“No, we need that segment. Our sales were up last month because we featured that story about the k-pop group selling out Wembley, now we need to report what the shows were like.” She sits back in her chair. “BTS are very current, it’s what we need. They’re our ticket to the younger generation buying our magazine.”

“Well, that’s why it’s not finished, the concerts are this weekend and Toby’s obviously not going to be here for them. He didn’t seem to have tickets for them either.”

She lets out a long, drawn out breath. “Ok, well we need to get our hands on a ticket.”

I put my hands up to stop her. “I’ve already got people on it but I need another writer to rewrite the segment.”

She nods. “Toby won’t like it but that’s not my problem. I’ll get George on it.” She picks up the phone and within seconds it’s all arranged and passed over. 

I stand and make my way to the door.

“Y/n?” She calls as I open the door to make my exit. I turn back to her. “Good work, keep me posted, we need this story.”

I give her a sharp nod, not sure how possible it will be to achieve this but of course I’ll try my hardest to make it happen.

I head back to my desk, sending more emails and making more calls, when my personal phone vibrates against the wood. I glance down at the screen and my stomach flips when I see who the message is from.

Taehyung [14.09]: So, how’s your day going?

A wide grin spreads across my face. He’s thinking about me. My chest swells at that thought alone and I type a quick reply and press send.

Y/n [14.10]: So far? It’s a day from hell. What about yours?

His reply is  immediate.

Taehyung [14.11]: 😥 I don't like to hear that. My day is fine. Will be better later, hopefully I can cheer you up...If you’re still free?

I smile at my phone. I couldn’t wait to get out of here and meet him. It’s the only thing keeping me going through all of this work, knowing that he would be there at the end of it. And clearly he was looking forward to seeing me too; my ego was quite inflated. 

Y/n [14.11]: Of course, can’t wait. What time?

I put my phone down and carry on clicking through my emails, relieved to discover that I’ve sent and replied to all I needed to, for now at least. I decide to take a much needed break. I put my earphones in and shuffle my Spotify playlist of metal and rock songs that I had put together and turn the volume up to as loud as it can go. 

The ear buds thrum inside my ears as they blare out classic 80’s rock sounds with ‘Pour some sugar on me’ and I lose myself in Def Leppard. Turning in my seat, I look out of my office window. 

The landscape of London is truly something to marvel at, and I would never tire of this view. The way the entire city reflected in the windows of the high-rise buildings, the way the sun bounced off the river and the classic style of our oldest landmarks. London is a remarkable place. 

I sigh and put my feet up on the low window ledge, crossing my ankles. My phone vibrates in my lap and I smile as I see his name on my screen, reading the message.

Taehyung [14.21]: I’ll be working for a while, is 7 too late for you?

I sigh, I had another early start tomorrow but I can’t pass up the chance to go on a date with the only guy I've been interested in for two years. Who knows how long he’ll be over here for? I can deal with being tired for a few days.

Y/n [14.22]: I can make an exception for you. Let me send you the address.

I sent him the link with all the info of Yoshi’s restaurant. If he was anything like me, he’d be looking over the menu and planning his meal.

Taehyung [14.25]: Then I am flattered. See you there :)

I grin at my phone like an idiot. God, how old was I? I’m sitting here embarrassing myself, acting like a seventeen year old love sick teenager over a guy I barely know. 

I kept picturing his face, his smile, the way he raises an eyebrow so seductively, or the way he runs a hand through his dark brown hair. I’m not sure if my memory of him does him justice. 

I pause my playlist and quickly dial Yoshi’s number, waiting for him to pick up.

“Yo! What’s happening, jelly bean?” His usually cheerful voice rings out.

“I’m wondering something?” I ask hesitantly.

“Wondering...if I’m as good in the sack as people say? Why yes, I am.” He quips.

I roll my eyes. “No one says that and I would never be wondering that.” 

His laugh vibrates my ear. “Your loss. So what are you wondering then?”

“Well, do you have a table for two for tonight at seven?” I bite my lip, waiting for the response.

“If the table’s for you, for sure! Who you bringing with you this time? Taylor?” He asks, mentioning one of my oldest and closest friends who has been with me to his restaurant many times.

I hesitate. “...No. I’m bringing a...date, actually?” I hold my breath as I wait for his reaction.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!” He exclaims, so loud I have to quickly turn the call volume down before he deafens me. “Hold up, you can’t just drop a bomb like that on me! Who is it? How did you meet? It’s the tourist guy you bumped into, isn’t it? I told you y/n, I told you he thought it was a date.” He bombards me, laughing out of excitement.

“Actually,” I cut in, “It’s not him.” I hear the groan of disappointment on the other end. “It’s his friend.” I laugh.

“Well damn girlfriend! I’m impressed. I can’t wait to hear more about this. Your table will be ready at seven, don’t worry, I got you.” 

I smile. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. And Yoyo?”

“Yea?” He waits, the grin in his voice audible.

“Please, nothing embarrassing.” I practically whine.

He gasps. “Would I ever?” He pauses. “On second thoughts, don’t answer that. Heart crossed and hope to die, I shall be on my best behaviour.”

My shoulders relax a little. “Thank you. See you later.”

I hang up and remove my earphones, releasing a long, slow breath. That didn’t go as badly as I had imagined it would, he let me off surprisingly easy. Maybe going there tonight won’t be as mortifying as I’m imagining.

My work phone rings and I push the thoughts of Taehyung and tonight’s date out of my head and get back to work.

The afternoon goes slow, my eyes constantly finding the clock to see how much time has passed; counting down the hours till I could leave and meet him. 

I wade through my workload; like trudging through mud. I haven’t had any luck with finding a ticket to the BTS concert at the weekend. Any hope I did have was fading fast, well aware of the fact that I was running out of time. I had 3 days until the concert took place, I couldn’t give up; my boss wouldn’t allow it. 

I work past my usual time, wanting to get as much as I can done today, so it might allow me some more freedom for the rest of the week.

At six o’clock I am strutting out the door, after touching up my make-up and fluffing my hair in the washroom. I had decided to take the underground to ride the few stops to the restaurant. Once out of the stuffy tube station, I send a message to Taehyung letting him know that I’m walking from the station and will be there shortly. The text I get back however, has me practically running to the doors of the restaurant.

Taehyung [18.47]: I’m inside :)

My heart drops. But surely Yoshi wouldn’t have any idea who my date was or what he looked like, so Taehyung should be safe.

I yank open the heavy, double doors frantically searching for him. When my eyes finally find him, I gulp. Him and Yoshi are both sitting at a table, deep in conversation. I quickly rush over, interrupting them.

“Taehyung, I see you’ve met my friend, Yoshi.” I smile nervously, as they both stand up to greet me.

Yoshi gets there first, pulling me into a tight hug and squeezing me hard. I pat him on the back. “Ok, I tap out.” I wheeze,and he releases me. “Try to not injure me before my date, will you?” 

He laughs. “Introductions have already been made, so you don’t need to worry. I was just filling  Taehyung in here, about some of our adventures.” He winks.

I scowl at him. “Ok, ok, enough embarrassing stories.” I take my bag from my shoulder and put it with my blazer onto the far side of the seat in the booth. 

Yoshi grins. “Ok, I’ll leave you to it. Taehyung, very nice to meet you. Someone will be over soon to take your order. Enjoy guys!” He says with another wink, before he quickly proceeds to leave us alone.

We both stand there smiling at each other before I lean in, kissing him on the cheek. I linger there for a moment but I stiffen when I feel his breath at my ear. 

“Nice to see you again.” He greets softly. His deep voice like silk, doing things to my body I didn’t expect. 

I pull away, blushing slightly. “Shall we?” I indicate to the seats in the booth. He nods and we slide in. 

One of the best things here was the decor, it gave us a lot more privacy than other places I’ve been to. The booths had partition doors which I could close completely or leave open slightly. The partitions behind our seats were completely covered with painted japanese murals and there were beautiful, pink blossoms hanging from the ceiling.

“Were you here very long?” I ask, trying to gauge how much time they would have had to speak to each other.

He shakes his head. “Long enough to hear how you met each other and the story about the time you spilt a drink in your lap at a theme park and he told everyone you walked passed, that you had wet yourself.”

I laugh and roll my eyes at the memory. “That’s Yoshi for you. Never passes up the chance to embarrass me.”

Taehyung smiles. “He also said some very nice things about you.”

“That is good to hear but he has to, he knows I’d bully him otherwise.” 

He laughs at that. “You two seem very close.”

I nod. “We are. He’s been my best friend for a long time.”

“It’s good to have someone like that.”

I nod again, agreeing. “Do you have a best friend?”

He smiles. “Yes, his name’s Jimin.”

“And would he embarrass you like Yoshi does to me?”

He shakes his head, then leans in closer. “Worse, much worse.”

I chuckle. “Well in that case, I hope I get to meet him one day.” I reply, a smirk playing across my lips. 

He fights his smile. “Perhaps you will soon.”

I raise an eyebrow at him quizzically. “Is he over here also?”

He nods slowly. “Yep and yes, he’s another musician.”

He answers my unasked question and I lean back in my seat, surprise evident on my face. “Really? I’m guessing you still don't want to tell me about your job?”

I notice a flicker of sadness flash in his eyes, before they look down and away from my questioning gaze. I feel immediate guilt in my gut. “Hey, it’s ok, you don’t have to tell me anything, you just seem quite secretive about it. I was saying it more as an observation.” I reassure.

He looks up, eyes wide, “I’m not secretive!” He exclaims, shocked. “I want to tell you but—”

“Hey,” I cut him off, “No need to explain. Don’t worry, you can tell me whenever you’re ready.” I give him a reassuring smile and a gentle pat on the hand he had placed above the table.

I see him stiffen for a moment and my response is to do the same, until he turns his hand over, so we're palm to palm and gives it a little squeeze. His shoulders relax and so do mine, even though my heart hammers wildly with excitement. I can feel my palm starting to sweat the longer his touch lingers on me, it feels like a lifetime before he finally lets go and pulls his hand away. 

I can breathe and think straight again.

While I was more than happy to wait for him to tell me about his work, I found myself growing increasingly curious about the subject. He’s so mysterious, I can’t understand why he won't talk about it. I would assume that being a musician would be a  cool profession to divulge about,  most would probably gush till their heart's content, given the opportunity. 

But, in a way I’m glad he’s not like that, I don’t think I would be able to  stand the egotistical bragging.

“Can I take your drink order?” A sweet voice asks, stepping in between the sliding doors. I look up and recognise the server as Emiko. She’s worked here for a while now, and is always pleasant

“Oh, hi y/n! So nice to see you.” She beams her usual toothy grin.

“Nice to see you! How have you been?” I ask.

“I’ve been good!.” She giggles. “I won’t disturb you too much, what can I get you two?”

I order a lemonade and Taehyung orders a coke. I did contemplate an alcoholic beverage, but I don’t want to be the only one drinking on a date, that’s how I'm sure to embarrass myself.

I pick up the menu and skim through it, even though I'm sure I know it by heart by now. 

Glancing up as he too studies the menu, my eyes rake over his broad shoulders, the light beige shirt he wears falls flatteringly over his broad chest, clinging to all the right places. His black cap conceals his hair, but I can tell it’s all swept back off of his forehead. I watch the way he juts his jaw to the side as he mulls over what to order. His tongue dances across the inside of his lips, my eyes trained on it, mind drifting off again to wondering how soft his lips would feel. How that tongue would feel moving against mine...or other places. He looks up at me and instantly a flush of red travels up his neck. 

“What?” He asks quietly, giving me a bashful smile.

“Nothing,” I look back down at my menu, feeling flustered myself. “What are you going to order?” 

“Hm, maybe the Yakitori chicken skewers, any recommendations? Yoshi told me you’ve tried everything on the menu.”

I laugh. “That is true; I'm a big fan of his cooking. And yes, you should get that, it’s—,” I give a kiss to the tips of my fingers, chef style. 

He laughs and leans back in his seat. “So tell me, why was your day so awful?” He frowns, genuine concern on his brow.

I roll my eyes and groan. “Work is a joke at the moment, I’m covering for someone so I have twice the usual work load and that’s not even the worst of it.”

Emiko returns with our drinks, interrupting me. I pause as we order our meals and some sushi to share, then she leaves in a rush.

He raises his eyebrows at me and leans his chin on the palm of his hand, listening intently and waiting for me to continue. 

“Ok, so, my boss is hellbent on this particular story. The writer of said story has gone off on an unreachable holiday and it's only half done. So, now I have to try and get a ticket for a show that is apparently so high in demand, it seems impossible, so we can finish said story.”

He frowns. “I’m confused. What’s the story?”

I sigh as I fiddle with my napkin. “About some boy group and their shows at wembley.” I have a realisation then. “You’ve probably heard of them? BTS? They’re from South Korea too.” I’m not sure but for a brief moment I think I see him stiffen out the corner of my eye. His expression unreadable. 

“Yes, I’ve heard of them.” He says, nonchalantly. 

“You don’t like them?” I ask, wondering why his face suddenly looked so solemn. “Don’t tell me they’re your musical rivals?” I tease attempting to lighten his mood.

He smiles and some of the tension seems to leave his body. “No. They’re cool. So why do you need a ticket?”

“So the writer can review the show and tell the readers all about it. Our boss is trying to appeal to the younger readers and she’s convinced this is the way to do it, through this group.”

“What will happen if you can’t get the ticket?” He asks, eyes wide with worry.

I shrug. “My boss will be very, very pissed. I don’t plan on finding out though. I’ve got a few more days, it always works out in the end, one way or another.”

He watches me carefully. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”

I grin as our meals arrive, steaming hot and smelling incredible. We eat in silence for a while, enjoying the taste. I watch as the noises and faces Taehyung pulls assure me of the fact that he’s very impressed and my chest swells with pride for my friend. 

I do, however, let my mind wander into thinking about hearing those noises of appreciation in other aspects. Like me...on my knees...underneath this table. Snapping myself out of less than innocent thoughts, I focus on my meal. 

Why couldn’t I control myself? Why did everything about him appeal to me in such a powerful way? Is it because I haven’t had sex for over a year? Or is it simply that he is just the perfect specimen of a man? Maybe both.

“That was amazing. I’m blown away.” He sat back in his seat, wiping his mouth with a napkin. 

“I’m glad you liked it! Yoshi will be thrilled.” I beam and take a long drink of my cold lemonade, hoping it cools the heat inside me. I could feel tiny beads of sweat forming down my back and along the nape of my neck. 

We sit and talk until Emiko returns to clear our plates and Taehyung asks for the check. 

“I’m afraid, I cannot stay out late with you tonight.” He says solemnly.

I try to ignore the disappointment I feel; not ready for this date to be over. “Ah, that’s ok, I know you’re busy.”

He shakes his head and puts his hand on top of mine, leaning forward. I mirror him automatically. The warmth of his palm slowly flows through me and my eyes can’t help but float down to our touching skin. His hand feels soft and yet strong with his long, delicate fingers enveloping mine. I look back up to his intense eyes blazing into mine.

“It’s not that, It’s just—” He pauses looking away, my stomach drops as I’m left wondering as to what on earth he’s going to say. He doesn’t want to see me any more? He’s not attracted to me? He sees me more as a friend? What excuse is it going to be this time?

“...I turn into a pumpkin at midnight.” He says, his face so serious it takes me a few moments to register the words that have just left his mouth. Relief swamps me as I feel myself relax back into my seat and laughter vibrate through my body. He joins me, his boxy grin spread across his face but as he does, he lifts my hand, turning it over and laces his fingers through mine. 

My laughter fades, and I look down at our entwined fingers. Normally, an action like this so soon after meeting would have me running for the hills, but with him, it just felt...right.

“Is this ok?” He asks hesitantly, a crimson shadow forming on his cheeks.

I nod and swallow; my mouth suddenly dry. “Yes.” I reply simply, frozen in shock.

He relaxes a little and leans forward on his elbows, his thumb gently tracing small circles on the back of my hand.

“I should go back to my hotel…”

“But?” I query.

He side smiles, looking up at me seductively through long lashes and the sight is enough to make my belly clench. “I really don’t want to.”

My heart knocks violently against my ribcage at his admission. “I don’t want you to either.” I blurt out, surprising myself.

His eyes widen slightly before he side-smiles again and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad it’s not just me. I cannot tell what you think about me.”

I let out a small, slightly nervous laugh. “Is it not obvious?” I raise an eyebrow, surely he must be joking. I have never been so red, flustered and embarrassed with a guy in my whole laugh.

He shakes his head. “Not really, sometimes I think I know where your head is and yet at other times it’s hard to read you. I wish I knew what you were thinking.”

It's almost a question; giving me the option not to feel obliged to answer, but I don’t want to leave him hanging and wondering. Maybe laying my cards out on the table wouldn’t be such a bad thing, before I get in too deep.

I lean on my elbows that rest on the table and angle myself towards him slightly. “Ok, just so you know where my head is at…” I shift slightly under his now intense stare, as he hangs on my words. “I like spending time with you, and even though we’ve only just met...I feel I’ve known you for a long time, which is rare for me, to have such a sudden connection. I find you insanely attractive that it’s hard to think straight when I’m around you.” He beams at that and a deep crimson glow burns his face. 

“We seem to have a lot in common and I’m definitely enjoying our time together and getting to know you. You have an air of mystery about you and to be honest, it just makes me more intrigued to find out more about you. Since I met you at the museum, you have been on my mind more than I was expecting and this…” I lift up our joined hands. “would have frightened me to the point of running and hiding, if it was with anyone but you.” I say, quite fast, the words leaving me in a rush, as the urgency of having to say them takes hold of me. 

I exhale and hesitantly meet his stare.

His boxy grin is wider than ever as his eyes sparkle with excitement. I find myself mirroring his smile.

“I’ve got to admit, I was not expecting that but a part of me was hoping you felt that way.” He beams. “When I’m with you, I feel like I can completely be myself, no personas, no hiding, just me. I’m not too experienced in matters of the heart and this is a first for me; feeling this way. You’re so beautiful that it’s distracting especially because I find you fascinating and I want to know every little thing about you. Every story, every thought, everything but when you talk or smile, I can’t help but want to kiss you.” He stops, leaving that last part hanging heavy in the air.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips while he watches me. My stomach tightens with anticipation, hoping he will, waiting for him to lean in and do it. I stare at his mouth, heart beating so hard that it’s all I can hear pounding in my ears. 

He leans forward until he’s just inches from my face, his scent swirling around me, his soft, plump lips inviting me, calling to me, when the screen doors to our booth open abruptly. 

Taehyung is back against his seat in a flash, his hand no longer touching me and I suddenly feel cold without his skin against mine. 

My head snaps up, only to be met with Yoshi’s grinning face.

“Hey guys, I hope you were happy with your meals?” He asked, eyes eager for approval, completely oblivious to the moment he just disturbed.

I slump back in my seat. “Perfect as always, Yoyo.” I smile, trying to hide the disappointment that swells inside me.

“Yes, it was amazing. I will definitely be returning before the end of my trip.” Taehyung says softly, offering a bow of his head.

Yoshi slaps him on the back, the action making Taehyung’s eyes pop with surprise and I muffle a laugh behind my hand.

“Thanks man, I really appreciate that. You’re welcome here anytime, just drop by and I'll make sure you’re taken care of.” 

Taehyung smiles and nods. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.” 

“Here’s your bill.” He places the little, leather book with the paper inside on the table. “Well, I’ll let you two love birds get back to your date, we have a ‘no fondling, foreplay or sexual activity’ rule here though, so be sure to take that outside if the mood strikes.” 

My icy glare burns into him as he grins and closes the doors before I can throw something at him. I hear his laughter and his footsteps as he leaves.

I look over at Taehyung who is fighting a laugh himself. 

“Don’t you start.” I warn, resisting the smile that twitches the corner of my mouth. 

He laughs out loud. “I love it when you scold me.”

I shake my head at him, feigning shock and unable to hide my amusement anymore. “You’re not supposed to enjoy it.”

He shrugs and gives me a bashful grin, then checks his phone and groans. “I really do have to go. I’m really sorry.” 

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s fine.” I grab my bag as he glances at the bill. 

“I’m getting this, no arguments.” He says sternly. I smirk at the authority in his tone, wondering if he’s that commanding in bed too. Mind out of the gutter.

He places his cash down with a very generous tip, that has my eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

I grab my blazer and slide out of the booth. “Lets go.”

I lead the way over to Yoshi, who is busy entertaining the customers sitting around the counter where he cooks and chats away. I wave to get his attention.

“We’re off Yoshi!” I call out. 

He nods, drops everything and rushes around to us. He pulls me into a quick, tight hug and before he’s even let me go he’s reaching around to shake Taehyung’s hand. I squeeze out of his grip and return to Taehyung’s side.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Yoshi waves.

“You too, thank you again.” Taehyung replies.

“My pleasure. Call me later, doll.” He points gun fingers at me and waves as he returns to his station. 

We head to the doors, opening them to the heavy, night air; warmth swirling around me in a complete contrast to inside. I hear Yoshi’s voice behind me call out. “Use protection!”

I put my middle finger up behind me without even looking in his direction. His laugh bellows out before the doors shut behind us. God, I really hated him sometimes. 

We walk to the car that had arrived to pick up Taehyung, the driver waiting patiently behind the wheel. 

“Jump in and we’ll drop you off.” He said, opening the door for me. 

I slid in across the comfy, fabric seats. Taehyung spoke to the driver then climbed in next to me. I was surprised to see the black partition between us and the driver and the small, dark curtains covering all the windows. I’ve never seen a car with these before, how odd.

My thoughts are interrupted by his hand on mine, the heat from his soft skin, searing through me. I look over to find he’s watching me from the corner of his eye, he gives me a side smile and I thread my fingers through his.

“You know, Yoshi did say something before you came in…” He says into the quiet. 

My stomach drops, nervous with apprehension. “What?”

“He...mentioned your ex.”

I felt a small flare of anger course through me. How dare he speak to Taehyung about him. Why bring up my past with someone I might have a future with? I let out a long breath. “What did he say?”

Taehyung looks hesitant. “Not much, honestly. Just said you dated a real arsehole, who broke your heart in the worst way. Then you came in, he didn’t get to finish.”

Thank god. This was my business to talk about, not Yoshi’s. I nod slowly.

“I think...” Taehyung cuts in quickly, worrying he’s upset me. “I think he was warning me not to hurt you, that’s why he brought it up.”

That was probably the case but I’m still pissed off at him. “That does sound like Yoshi.” I reply, quietly.

“And while I would like to hear about your past, including past relationships, I will wait until you’re ready to talk.”

I nod again, mulling that over. “Tomorrow. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, if you want to hear it.”

He squeezes my hand. “Only if you’re sure.”

I smile at him, my anger slowly extinguishing, not wanting to ruin the moment with Taehyung because of something Yoshi said.

“Do you get a lunch break at work?” He asks, randomly into the silence, breaking any tension left.

I nod and my brow furrows. “Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”

“I have a packed schedule tomorrow evening, so I cannot see you but I need to.” He hits me with that intense stare again. If I weren't already sitting, my knees would be trembling trying to hold me upright. “Are you free to meet me on your lunch break?” His pleading eyes melt my insides.

I feel heat race from my chest to my cheeks as my blush spreads. “For you? Of course.”

He smiles, genuine excitement in his eyes and he looks down at our joined hands. Sitting this close to him, arms and thighs almost touching, so close and yet, so far. The urge to shift closer to him is almost overwhelming but for some reason I resist. There’s an invisible current I can feel from his body to mine, almost electric, sending tingles through my body.

“Taehyung, we’re here.” A voice sounds out from a speaker somewhere making me jump and interrupting my thoughts. I realise then, the car has stopped, too focused on the sheer magnetism I could feel towards him.

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.” He climbs out, hand only leaving mine for a second before he’s grasping it again to gently pull me out the car. He leads me up the steps to my door and when I turn to him to say goodnight, we’re suddenly face to face, inches apart. 

My heart knocks rapidly against my ribcage, even as my lungs seem to stop working and my breath stills. His hand comes up to push the hair off my shoulder and I feel him linger on my neck. Warm, long fingers slide up to hold each side of my face, as he tilts his head and suddenly, before I can think, his lips are on mine. Gentle, soft and magical. 

My senses go crazy for a moment, overloaded with stimulation before I reciprocate eagerly. The taste of him like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, I want more. 

He pulls away suddenly, still close enough for me to feel his harsh breathing against my face. 

“Sorry, I should have asked first.” He says breathlessly.

My core is on fire, I feel ready to explode as I grab his light shirt by the collar and pull him against my lips again. My hands find their way to his neck, as I grip to keep him close to me and yet it’s not close enough. His hands wind around my waist holding me tight against his body. Heat and fire replace my thoughts, as I can only focus on my erratic heartbeat and the painful throbbing between my legs as his perfect, angular lips dance with mine. 

He breaks away to breath, sending a trial of kisses across my cheek to my ear.

“Until tomorrow.” He whispers breathlessly, before gently releasing me and taking a step back. He captures my hand, brings my fingers up to his lips, like he did that first night and places a gentle lingering kiss against them.Then he’s turning abruptly, dashing down the stairs and into the car. 

I stand there, dazed. Wow. Did that just happen? 

I fumble with my handbag, my head feeling fuzzy and unable to control the rest of my body.

I eventually find my keys and clumsily let myself in, walking through my apartment in a trance. I mechanically get ready for bed, my body on autopilot while I replay the kiss over and over in my mind, unable to think of anything else. As I lay in bed, my phone vibrates against the top of my nightstand, pulling me out of my Taehyung daydream.

Taehyung [22.30]: Made it back in time, no pumpkins here—

I laugh. Attached to the message is a close up photo of him laying down in bed, resting on an arm, his almost ebony eyes wearing a smile and staring straight through the phone into me. He looks gorgeous. Did I just kiss him? How on earth did that happen? 

My grin starts to hurt my cheeks but I can’t seem to stop it. I try to force it into just a regular smile, nothing too over the top or creepy, I fluff my hair out on the pillow and take a mirroring selfie, hitting send after.

Y/n [22.32]: Good to know, none here either 😊

Taehyung [22.33]: Haha! Good. I’ll let you get some rest, see you tomorrow lunch time. Goodnight! 😉

I reply, wishing him a goodnight in return, just before my eyelids finally start to droop. As I drift off to sleep I replay the images of his lips moulded on mine, my fingers in his hair and his warm hands on my face, hoping he will appear in my dreams tonight.

Thank you so much for reading, if you could leave me some feedback it would be much appreciate, even if it’s just a little comment to tell me what you thought 🖤

[thelioncourts]

title: the mannequin gallery fandom: captive prince pairing: damen/laurent rating: mature words: 6081 for chapter seven (7/?); 41468 all together

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Both Damen and Nik jolted at the sound, Nik almost knocking over the glass of water on his nightstand in the process.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

They shared a sleepy and startled look from their beds and Damen could see the words forming in Nik’s mind before Nik actually said them.

“Not again.”

Knock knock knock.

Damen stood from the bed and wandered barefoot across the floor to where someone was knocking on their door too early in the morning. Again. He was expecting Laurent because — well, because that’s who had been knocking yesterday. There wasn’t any other reason, really, especially given how things had ended, but Damen couldn’t think of anyone else that would know which room they were staying in and, even if they did, what they would want from them at 6:30 in the morning and —

Jord stood on the other side of the door, dressed in his usual clothing that seemed to be made as to not draw attention to the man wearing it, and he was holding two large black garment bags over one shoulder. Like Laurent, he didn’t react to Damen’s state of undress upon opening the door and Damen, for his part, felt a bit like he had yesterday as he tried to find words at the unexpected intrusion.

“Hi,��� is what he ended up going with.

“Good morning,” Jord said. “I apologize for the early morning wakeup call, but Charls demanded I bring these to you to try on. He’s worried they might not fit and, in which case, he would need to do some alterations before the luncheon event this afternoon.”

Damen took the bags from Jord and tossed them over his own shoulder, concealing his bare torso from the otherwise empty hallway. “Thanks.”

There was a pause, a long one, in which Jord stared and Damen stared back, and it wasn’t until several agonizing minutes (note: about twenty-two seconds) that Damen’s sleep-addled brain finally caught up to what Jord was waiting for.

“You mean to try them on right now?”

“Yes. Charls doesn’t have a lot of time before the luncheon event and there’s still much to do.”

Damen wanted to say that this was something that should have maybe been handled earlier then, and he wanted to say that he had a perfectly fine suit that he used for every black and tie-esque event he and Nik attended while traveling, but he didn’t say any of that. Instead he looked back at where Nik had already crawled back under the covers of his bed and said with a sigh, “Sure.”

He turned to go back into the room when he realized he’d be closing the door in Jord’s face and he faltered at the awkwardness of it all. It felt like that had been happening often since they had gotten involved with Etoile. “Would you like to wait inside?”

Jord didn’t say yes, but he did look around the hallway once before nodding and stepping by Damen and into the room. Damen was making his way to Nik’s bed to smack him awake when the other man groaned under the blankets. “Was it that blond bitch again?”

[Continue on AO3]

“No, but it’s someone that works with him and they happen to be standing right here,” Damen said, shooting Jord an apologetic look. Jord didn’t seem bothered by the words as he stood at the door, hands clasped behind his back. Nik sat up slowly.

“Hi.”

Jord repeated the same thing he had said to Damen in the hallway and Nik came to the conclusion of his statement faster than Damen had. “You mean to try them on right now?”

“He does,” Damen said, tossing the bag with ‘Nikandros’ written on it in fancy gold script at the foot of Nik’s bed.

It was a slow process, Nik stepping out of bed, unzipping the suit, grimacing at what he found inside, and trying it on in the bathroom. He was in there for some time and when he did finally emerge, it was in a gold colored fitted blazer with no buttons, notched lapels, matching gold pants, a white button-up shirt buttoned to the base of his neck, no tie, and shiny black shoes.

“There wasn’t a color more,” Nik started, tugging at the white collar of the shirt, “subtle?”

“Charls was informed to stick with golds and reds, I’m afraid,” Jord said. “Does it fit?”

“Yes, but —”

“It looks great, Nik,” Damen said, and he shoved Nik out of the way and went to try on his own suit. Nik stood there, taking in his reflection in the lamp-lit room on the mirror that made the closet door and Jord nodded once at him, like a mission accomplished.

Damen took less time than Nik to try on his Etoile designed outfit and when he came out, it was in a bright red double-breasted blazer with peak lapels and a singular button with a white turtleneck underneath, matching red pants that ended at the beginning of his ankles, and white dress shoes with red lining around the soles.

“These are a little blinding,” Damen agreed with Nik’s earlier sentiment, but he definitely seemed less put out about it than Nik had. “It fits good though.”

“Charls is quite good at sizing people up, even at a distance.”

Damen went to stand in front of the mirror Nik had glanced at moments ago and he adjusted the left lapel that was folded over near the top. Then he tugged at one of the sleeves, trying to loosen its grip around his bicep.

“Well, if they fit,” Jord said after clearing his throat, “I’m going to be on my way. Remember that the luncheon is at the gallery and starts at eleven. No one at Etoile likes to be kept waiting so early arrival to mingle is encouraged.”

“Right,” Damen said slowly, sharing a look with Nik.

Jord actually smiled. “They want everyone filling the seats in time for their heartfelt speeches.”

“Of course it’s one of those kinds of luncheons,” Nik mumbled.

“Thank you, Jord,” Damen said loudly over Nik’s mumbling. “We’ll see you there, right?”

“I’ll be working security so yes,” Jord said. He had one hand on the doorknob.

“And are you going to be wearing a suit like ours?” Nik asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Cheers to you then.”

Jord left after that, but not before smiling just a little wider at Nik’s continued grumbling, and that action left Damen and Nik to change out of their suits and place them back in the garment bags.

“Well,” Damen started with a sigh, “there go our plans for the Louvre.”

“Yeah.” Nik looked at the clock. “It’s already after seven, we’ll need to get ready sometime after nine.”

Damen flopped back on his bed. “What do you want to do then?”

“There’s not much time to do anything,” Nik said. “We could just go get coffee.”

Twenty minutes later they were walking down the street wearing their usual casual clothes to not feel cramped and contained the entirety of the day. It was nearing eight by the time they left and the streets were full of people on their way to work. Damen and Nik sidestepped a group of men in business suits.

“Where are we going?” Nik asked, getting himself center on the sidewalk again.

Damen looked up and seemed to pay attention to where they were going for the first time since they exited the hotel. They were walking down a road where some of the buildings’ intricate designs rang as familiar and there were several flowers that were only budding yesterday that were already showing a new petal.

They were going to the coffee shop Laurent had taken him to yesterday morning.

“It’s a nice place,” was all he said aloud.

He was right, of course. It was a tad bit busier as it was later in the morning than it had been yesterday, but the line wasn’t all that long and the baristas seemed to recognize Damen. They didn’t say anything, of course, but there was something in the way they both looked at him and then one another that screamed familiarity. Damen didn’t say anything either, just ordered and paid with a polite ‘Thank you’ when he got his espresso.

“So,” Nik drawled as they took a seat at a table next to the one Laurent had led him to yesterday, “this where Laurent wanted to go for coffee yesterday?”

Nik said the name like it was painful to do so and Damen fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah. It was close enough and had good seating so I figured we’d give it a try.”

They both grimaced as they took their first sips of their espresso. “Well, it’s better than what the hotel gave me, but not by much,” Nik said.

“You would think a city with such great pastries would want better coffee to pair them with.”

Nik hummed in agreement, then took another sip.

They spent some time people-watching, taking in what truly made each place they visited unique, and they did that in comfortable silence until their espresso cups were empty. Then Nik cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair.

“I’ve got to ask about yesterday,” he started. “I mean, Laurent wasn’t my ideal person to spend one of our few free days alongside, but I thought, overall, it had been going quite well. Then all of a sudden, right at the end, he stormed off. What happened?”

Damen had known Nik was going to ask about this today. They hadn’t had much time to talk yesterday because, even with the weirdness of the end of their tour, Nik had been beyond excited to go through his camera roll and to even post some of the photos unedited to his Instagram story. He had spent the whole night doing that while Damen spent the same time searching for these accusations Laurent said had been levied against his uncle. He hadn’t found anything and that only had frustrated him more than their final conversation had. Or maybe it had added to the frustration. Either way, it had left him feeling more frustrated than he had thought he could possibly be toward someone he hardly knew.

Damen began with a sigh. “It was just too much time with him, honestly. Had our tour been cut in half, things would have been fine, but he’s,” Damen ran a hand through his hair, “the worst.”

“Damen, what did you say?”

“Too much. He got all high and mighty about how what we do isn’t work at all and I threw it right back at him, telling him that his team that’s around to make him beautiful do all the work and he’s the prop and,” Damen sighed again. “Yeah. There was more that had happened earlier, and not all of those words were used verbatim, but I couldn’t let any of it go by the end. He’s entitled and rude and has never been told no a day in his life. Vannes had been right about that.”

“Damen,” Nik said with a sigh of his own. “Damen. You have to apologize to him today. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“No, I mean, I need you to plead. On your knees, begging for forgiveness from that entitled and rude nightmare.”

“I know.”

“You can say whatever you want about him, to him, as soon as my photos are published. But right now, today, I need you to beg for his grace and mercy in any way you can.” Nik pushed his espresso cup across the table. “If he says he needs a drink, I want you scrambling to get him one filled to the brim. If he goes to sit down, I want you running to pull his chair out for him. And if he tells you to fuck off, I want you to pretend you don’t even exist in this world. Okay?”

“Okay,” Damen said, putting his hands up in defeat.

They stood up after another few minutes of people-watching to put their cups inside and then they were off. For them, it wasn’t hard to fall back into normal after a conversation like that because that kind of honesty was foundational in the way they were raised, in the way they communicated with one another always. It wasn’t a surprise then when Damen double-backed to a bakery they had just passed, yelling out in explanation at Nik’s questioning outstretched hands, “I’m grabbing as much as I can. I know those models are going to eat like birds and I don’t want to be the singular person stuffing my face while we’re there.”

Back in the hotel, they did exactly what Damen had intended and stuffed their faces with croissants and pain au chocolats and spent as much time as humanly possible lounging in their comfortable clothes before they had to get ready. But when it was time, they donned their suits and did their best to do something professional with their hair. For Nik, that meant brushing out his long hair, running some kind of oil he got as a sample once while getting a haircut in Spain to add shine, and then pulling it into a low bun that would inevitably let a few strands escape at some point during the event. For Damen, it meant trying to find a way to tame his curls and, like Nik, he had some oil from a hairdresser (Damen’s was in Brazil) that he ran through each twist and turn of hair to give it a more defined shape.

They paused before leaving and took in each other’s appearances.

“You ready?” Damen asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Nik said, and he opened the door for them to leave.

The gallery was the same as it had been, only now there were round tables covered with white table cloths lined with thick gold and six chairs per table tied with gold sashes in spaces around the statues, underneath paintings and in pathways of sunlight. There were waiters and waitresses in mostly white already walking around with trays full champagne, white wines, and amuse-bouches, and there were security guards at every exit, every entrance, and two stragglers walking around the east and west parts of the room. Damen saw Jord by the exit that led to the rest of the gallery that wasn’t in use by this event.

It wasn’t the statues, paintings, overflows of gold, waiter or waitresses, security, or food and drink that was worth paying too much attention to, not when there were so many attractive people walking around in one large room. Everyone was dressed in bright reds, golds, white, or some kind of combination of the three, and the room was brimming with color and loud professional laughter.

The first person Damen recognized in the crowd was Ancel who, once again, was truly embracing any and all things red. His red hair was down and in long red curls, and he was wearing a bright red skirt with a slit up to one freckled hip and a long-sleeved shirt that clung like a second skin. Damen went to point him out to Nik, to ask if Ancel was as difficult to work with as he appeared, when they were interrupted by their first Etoile acquaintance.

“Wow, you two clean up nicely,” Vannes said. “I’m surprised Charls had enough fabric to get around both of your shoulders.” She herself was wearing a red and gold jumpsuit, mostly red, with gold pinstripes that made her look long and tall and like she herself could be on the runway at any moment.

“They’re great suits,” Nik said.

“Yeah, Charls is a real talent,” Damen said, subconsciously adjusting the lapels of his jacket.

Vannes took an appreciative up and down look of the both of them. “Indeed.” One of the waitresses walked by and, after giving her an appreciative look as well, Vannes grabbed two glasses of white wine and handed them to Damen and Nik with insistence. “I encourage alcohol early at events like these. You will enjoy the speeches much more this way.” Then she was off, eyes still on the waitress that was now serving wine to Aimeric, his green eyes shining with the gold decorating his shoulders.

Nik was turning to say something to Damen, no doubt something about how every person they had met at Etoile had the air of wanting to eat everyone alive, but he didn’t get the words out before Charls was rushing over, clapping his hands once in excitement. “You two! I apologize we haven’t been properly introduced, it’s been quite a hectic few weeks. I am Charls, the head designer here at Etoile, and I wanted to see how your suits turned out. I must say, and I mean this humbly, they look extraordinary.” With the confidence of a man that worked with fabric most of his life, Charls took a step forward and ran a hand down the fitted sides of Nik’s gold suit and pulled at it as if testing the quality of the fabric. “Yes, very nice,” he muttered, unaware of Nik’s wide eyes boring into Damen’s smiling face.

“I must say,” Charls began as he pulled back and immediately moved his hands to the stitching at Damen’s shoulder, “I don’t think I have ever customized two suits for such strapping specimen. Thank you for the opportunity, gentlemen.”

“Thank you,” Damen said, holding in a laugh at Nik’s inability to hide his feelings on his face. “We really appreciate you thinking about us, even with all you all have going on.”

“We always want everyone to look their best here at Etoile,” Charls said with a blinding grin and then he was gone, snapping excitedly at a woman in a severely laced up corset dress. “Genevoit!”

Damen ran a hand down Nik’s side in jest, laughing as Nik shoved him away. “I feel like we’re in another dimension when we’re around these people.”

“Tell me about it,” Nik said. He huffed as he adjusted his own suit jacket for what was hopefully the last time today. “It’s as though none of them have ever talked to anyone outside of the fashion world or, if they have, they’ve been brainwashed into forgetting how to talk to anyone outside of their own worlds.”

“There must be a linguistics school of some kind that teaches them how to talk to people because there’s no way that’s….”

Damen was going to say that speaking to people the way everyone at Etoile did wasn’t natural and definitely couldn’t be instinctual, but he was distracted by something, or somebody, across the room and right next to Jord, and he trailed off instead.

It was Laurent, because of course it was.

In Damen’s defense, however, Laurent truly was more distracting than usual. In a sea of bright reds, golds, and white, Laurent was wearing an all black suit. It wasn’t any suit though; it was a shiny pair of black shoes with heels that gave him an extra two inches of height and made his already long legs go on for miles with black pants that exposed his ankles and went up and up to his thin waist where his suit jacket began. The jacket was all he was wearing on top and it wasn’t any regular suit jacket either. It had a gleam to it, the material satin, and it was buttoned to the place right where Laurent’s breastbone ended. Because of that, it gave the jacket a plunging neckline that exposed the fine skin of Laurent’s collarbones, skin that was so fine one could see the blue veins underneath. The most striking part of the outfit, and not the man wearing it, was the one-shouldered satin cape that fell over Laurent’s right arm and ended near the same spot the plunging neckline did.

Nik was flicking Damen’s ear just as Laurent turned and Damen caught sight of his slicked back blond hair and kohl-rimmed blue eyes.

“For fuck’s sake,” Nik muttered, flicking Damen’s ear again. Pain seemed to process then for Damen because he gritted his teeth and smacked Nik’s hand away. “Are you going to be able to apologize or are you going to be too busy hiding your hard-on?”

“I can apologize,” Damen said. He rubbed at his ear. “Watch. I’ll go right —”

Once again, Damen’s words died off before he got them out, but not because of ethereal beauty. Instead, Damen was interrupted by the tinkling of a piece of silverware against a tall champagne flute. At the front of the room, at the largest table, stood Laurent’s uncle in a bright red suit with swirling gold stitching. He looked regal standing up there with a hundred pairs of adoring gazes from his Etoile employees. In fact, the only person that seemed to truly be put off by his standing there was his only family member, Laurent.

“Before we begin this luncheon in the next few minutes, I would like to welcome you all here. My thanks at your attendance today cannot be said enough. As I’m certain anyone here knows, the weeks leading into Paris Fashion Week are some of the most stressful weeks of the entire year and yet, with all of you, it goes on without a hitch.” He inclined his head toward Charls and continued. “To my designers in fashion, set, and all the cosmetics, such as our hair and makeup crew, I couldn’t do this without you. You are so very much like family.” Charls and a handful of other attendees all raised their glasses in the air, many of their faces full of gratefulness. Herode even had a quivering hand on where his heart lay. “I won’t continue, for you’re all going to hear more from me today, I’m afraid, but I wanted you all to know how much I appreciate each and every one of you.”

There was a cacophony of clapping and even a few loud cheers, but Damen didn’t miss Laurent’s blatant eye roll before he snatched a drink off of a passing tray and held it loosely in one hand.

Conversations commenced only seconds after Laurent’s uncle was done speaking, but it all seemed louder and more joyous. It was so loud that it took a whole minute before both Damen and Nik could make out the yelling coming from somewhere to their right. When that specific yelling finally began to register, the two of them could hear the repetition of “Nikandros!” Talik and Jeurre, the two other photographers that had been chosen to photograph the show, were standing alongside Genevoit, one of the makeup artists, the one Talik had had her eyes on, and Vannes once again, and they were all motioning for Nik to come over to them.

“I’m going to go,” Nik said, raising a finger for ‘one minute’ at the raucous group. “Can you apologize now so it doesn’t become an afterthought after another few glasses of wine?”

“That’s what I was getting ready to go do.”

Nik was welcomed into the huddle of people with open arms and an already rousing conversation, and Damen began walking over to where Laurent was standing on the outskirts, observing all the people in the gallery like an art critic would observe the statues and paintings on the walls. Damen wasn’t stopped by anyone as he walked because he wasn’t a model, wasn’t a designer, and wasn’t recognized by anyone too focused on all things Etoile and only Etoile.

When he was just a table away from where Laurent was standing, he slowed down to try and take time to think about what to say first. By the time he was finally in front of Laurent he had it all planned out, from how he was going to greet to how he was going to apologize, and he was ready to say it from the top when Laurent made eye contact with him, quirked a brow, looked him up and down before speaking first to say, “That ensemble is horribly two seasons ago. What on earth was Charls thinking? Please tell me your friend lucked out better.” Laurent stood on his tiptoes, searching for Nik somewhere in the crowd. Quickly, he went back down on his heels and clicked his tongue in disappointment. “It doesn’t appear so.”

Damen swallowed down what he wanted to say, opting to focus on something positive, something good, he could say instead. It took a moment before he could get it out. “Well, your suit is stunning. You look great.” Laurent’s eyebrow quirked again and he watched Damen out of his peripherals. “You do stand out. I mean, you would wearing anything, but with everyone else in these colors,” Damen motioned out at the mingling crowd and trailed off.

“My uncle hates black suits,” Laurent said, shifting the champagne flute from one hand to the other. “He says it’s the most boring color of suit a man could wear and, as you know by now, Etoile is anything but boring.”

There was a pause. It was an awkward one, at least for Damen, because he didn’t know what to say to that. Laurent looked unbothered, his eyes still surveying the crowd, and it was in that awkwardness that Damen decided to just go for it.

“I feel as though we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. And at the photoshoot. But mostly yesterday.”

For the first time since Damen had come over to converse, Laurent turned to face him with his entire body. Those blue eyes were electric lined with smudged kohl liner and Damen didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until Laurent responded back to him.

“I fear one is always going to be behind when they get off on the wrong foot. We are proof of that, are we not?”

“Maybe,” Damen said, shrugging his shoulders. “Perhaps we could refind our footing though, just long enough to start over anyway.”

“If you’re afraid your friend is going to face any repercussions for your inability to keep your thoughts to yourself, hold your breath.” Laurent said this after a perfunctory look at Damen’s face. Damen, irrationally, wondered if Laurent could read minds. All things considered, it wouldn’t be that surprising. “Even if I had truly been offended I wouldn’t punish a man for the words of another.”

“It’s not just that,” Damen said honestly. Laurent didn’t need to know that that was 90% as to why he was apologizing. “I don’t typically pick fights with people, especially ones I don’t know all that well. It was out of my character and I truly do apologize if I caused any upset.”

Laurent let out a loud sigh of discontent and his mouth twisted into something almost cruel. “Do quit groveling. It doesn’t suit you at all, much like how your two-season old suit doesn’t suit this event.”

Briefly worried, for it seemed Damen’s plan of a quick apology was going haywire quite fast, Damen tried to think of something to continue apologizing but to not appear groveling when an apostrophe took the place of that cruelty. He was smiling. “If you did know me, however, you would possibly pick a fight with me?”

Damen breathed. “Probably.” The word came out with a laugh at the end.

Laurent turned to fully face Damen once more and Damen thought he was going to say something else, though he didn’t know what it could possibly be. But before Laurent said anything he held out his still full champagne flute and waited for Damen to clink his own almost empty one to it. “To starting over.”

“To starting over.”

Damen downed the remainder of his drink while Laurent shifted his to his other hand. Before the moment could even properly settle, before Damen could ask why Laurent wasn’t drinking his champagne, Laurent was taking a step away, his shoulders back.

“I’m going to find Charls before everyone sits down to eat. He must know how dreadful I find your outfit and he must know to not put you in such a thing come next week. If a reporter saw you in that,” Laurent stopped to impress the seriousness of such a thing, “it would be an embarrassment to us all.”

“Of course,” Damen said, feeling a degree of whiplash. He watched Laurent walk away (if Nik would have been standing next to him he would have no doubt said something about how Damen watched too intently), watched as he tapped Charls on the shoulder, and watched as Charls enthusiastically greeted Laurent like an old friend making contact for the first time in years.

After a minute more, Damen walked back over to where Nik was only just escaping the group he had been dragged in the middle of, and Damen couldn’t help but grin as he watched Nik pull at the sleeves of his suit jacket again and mutter, “Restrictive nuisance of an outfit.”

“Trouble?”

“Yes, I’m having trouble lifting my arms because it feels like every thread could rip at any moment,” Nik said, giving one last hard tug at his left sleeve. Then he flicked his brown eyes to Damen. “How’d the apology go? You did apologize, right? You didn’t spend the entire time showering him in compliments and thinking that was you apologizing?”

“The apology went fine and, yes, I did actually apologize. Have some faith in me, Nik, I do know how an apology is supposed to go.”

Nik looked at him, his eyes searching, but then he tugged at his sleeve once again. “Good.”

They could have said more, but like earlier there was the tinkling of glass and there was Charls standing at the head of the largest table next to Laurent’s uncle to announce that it was time for everyone to find their seats as food was getting ready to be served.

Damen and Nik found themselves seated at a table with Jeurre, Talik, and each of their managers (who were actual managers), and the food came out in courses, the first course being brie en croute, the second mushroom bisque, the third Beef Wellington with a spring green salad, and the last a ginormous tray of cream puffs delicately over brimming vanilla cream so light it was almost like lifting air. Each course had their champagne glasses topped off by one of the waiters and both Damen and Nik leaned in more than once to the other’s side to proclaim how odd it was getting drunk before noon.

Half right and half wrong, Damen watched as some of the models truly did eat like birds, dipping into the brie once, taking two or three spoonfuls of bisque, hardly touching their Beef Wellingtons and annihilating their greens, and not bothering to look at the cream puffs. Laurent didn’t appear to eat much, but he did eat a cream puff as he talked to his uncle.

Time went by quickly with food to look forward to over and over again, and as the now-empty tray of cream puffs was being cleared from the table, someone called out for a last round of champagne and Laurent’s uncle was standing to make a true speech.

“Without trying to sound repetitious, I would like to thank you all for coming. This upcoming week is incredibly important for all of us at Etoile and beginning such a week with great food and greater company is the only way I can imagine getting through it all.” He nodded his head once as his glass was topped off from a nearly empty bottle of white wine. “I know how much work has been put into this show as I’ve been there to watch all the sweat and tears and even blood that has been shed over every article of clothing, every thematic decision -- whether it be the runway or the makeup on our beautiful models’ faces.” Then, with a heavily ringed hand, he motioned for someone to stand, the demand a subtle curl of his fingers. Damen was surprised to see Laurent push his seat back from the table’s edge and stand.

“Laurent, my dear nephew, and the face of Etoile, has been patient as we have tested each look on his face, each stitch of clothing on his frame, and he will be radiant in this year’s line.” Laurent’s uncle stopped, waiting for the doors that Jord had been standing in front of the entire luncheon to open wide for fabrics made for royalty to come flittering through, assistants of Etoile carrying them for display. “I present to you all The Regency.”

There was thunderous applause from everyone, so loud that some of the silverware on the troubles danced in place. The Regency line was a work of art, and though it was hard to take in each outfit individually, the effect of such a sight wasn’t lost whatsoever. As the applause died, Damen could hear multitudes of voices crying out at the beauty of the outfits, each one the color of what everyone in attendance was wearing, colors seen on the crowns that topped the heads of kings. Laurent took a step toward his uncle.

“Yes, thank you, uncle,” Laurent started, his voice immediately quieting the lagging voices and claps from the tables. All eyes moved to Laurent, his black suit impossible and shimmering as he moved. “Etoile truly is one of a kind and so much of that has to do with the talent we have in our presence. My uncle has always had an eye for the finest of things and this year’s display showcases that with grace and resplendence. But, as he so perfectly stated, it would have been made unfeasible without all of you, and you have my eternal gratitude.”

The charming speech was met with even louder applause and Damen watched Laurent extend his champagne glass to the crowd in the same careful manner he had extended the same glass to Damen earlier. Then Laurent’s uncle put that heavily ringed hand on Laurent’s shoulder, the shoulder without the cape from the blazer, and he kept it there as he said, “There is work yet to be done and I am looking forward to working closely with each of you as we navigate the press, the fittings, dinners, and, most imperatively, rehearsals of next week.”

Applause. Cheers. Whistles that reverberated off of all the glass. Damen and Nik shared a look.

The largest ring on Laurent’s uncle’s hand, a rubied ring encased in gold and engraved with something impossible to see from far away glittered as he stepped close to whisper something in Laurent’s ear. Damen saw Laurent’s shoulder rise and, briefly, thought Laurent would shrug off the touch, but Laurent didn’t. In fact, he smiled instead, a smile that was blindingly beautiful and would have taken Damen’s breath away if he wasn’t so confused by what was happening in the drowning sounds.

Still watching, Damen wasn’t certain if he was seeing things, but he would have sworn he saw the man’s undecorated thumb brush Laurent’s earlobe as he leaned down to whisper something once again. But whether that was a trick of the light or something Damen didn’t quite understand, it didn’t change that Laurent turned now to face him, blue eyes reflecting the gemstones, giving his eyes a dangerous hue. And though he was still smiling, there was a challenge there that was obvious in the set of his jaw and the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Laurent’s uncle leaned back and joined the crowd in its clapping.

As everyone began to leave just minutes later, Laurent was the first to walk out the doors, Jord trailing.

“You ready?” Damen asked Nik who was fiddling with the fork in his hands.

Nik laughed suddenly, the sound quiet and real and not entirely normal. “For more events like this? No.” He stood up, laughing again, and looked at Damen with such earnesty as he said, “Next time I do a gig, remind me to not do it at a place like this.”

They received a handful of looks as they too were leaving and Damen laughed so loudly that he doubled over as Nik muttered, “I didn’t even know people could be that pretentious.”

"Want to put money down on how bad next week will be?"

[perozoso]

Cherries ~ [18+]  Part 1

Pairing: Bakugou x OC (female character) x Kirishima (part 2)  

Genre/warnings: Smut, Fluff (if you squint), Pro hero GZ at work

A/N: this my first time posting a smut please lemme know how you liked it (or not lol)

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She scurried through the narrow, winding alleys, clutching her purse close to her body. She glanced back and saw the man fast approaching her. She suspected him following her ever since she got off the train. Her suspicions were confirmed as he kept following her even when she took a few sudden turns. And that is how she ended up in this alley, far from the main street, which turned out to be a dead end.

She pressed herself against the wall trying her best to blend into the dark shadows. 

“You can’t hide from me now sweetheart”, he licked his lips at the sight of the woman backed up into the corner. 

She crouched down covering her eyes and prayed with bated breath for someone to rescue her.

She felt her heart thump in her ears as she heard his footsteps approach her. She felt her consciousness slipping away but before she hit the ground she saw a bright light followed by an explosion. 

She felt strong arms wrap around her as she was lifted off the ground. Her eyes fluttered open and saw a pair of crimson eyes staring back at her. Nuzzling closer to the warmth, she gave in to her exhaustion and she fell back asleep. 

She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. Adjusting to the lack of light she looked around and observed that it was some sort of office. Stepping tenderly on the cold floor, she made her way to the desk near the floor-length window. She looked at the contents on the desk in an attempt to learn about the owner as her eyes caught on the nameplate. Lifting the glass slab in her hands she traced the name engraved with her fingertips, ‘ground zero’ 

                                                               ...

Katsuki was on his usual patrol when he spotted a woman running on the other side of the street and a man following her. Knowing the situation a little too well, he rushed to follow them and thankfully made it in time before anything could happen. 

He secured the low rate villain and handed him over to the local police. He turned his attention to the unconscious woman and tried to wake her up. Even if he was on duty, he was still a man and couldn’t help but be aware of her curves underneath her soft dress. He felt his heart tug as she nuzzled into his chest and decided that he had to take her to his office instead of the police station. 

                                                             ...

She swiftly turned around hearing the door lock click. She held her breath as she watched the blond saunter towards her. Nervous, she clenched the glass slab so hard her knuckles turned white. 

He reached out and rubbed her fingers, easing the object out of her grasp. 

“I am so sorry … I promise did not touch anything on your desk”, the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think otherwise. 

He chuckled softly as he put the object back, “its okay don’t worry about it.”

He shuffled across the room, unlocking his gauntlets.

“It was you who saved me?”

He smirked as he removed the rest of his support gear, “what do you think?”

She giggled softly. “I can’t thank you enough for tonight… I have no idea what would have happened..” she stared at the floor shuddering at the thought of that.

He moved to his coffee machine. “Take a seat miss-”

“Amara”

“Amara …” she shivered as her name rolled off his tongue. “Would you like some coffee, Amara?”

She took a seat on the couch and shook her head and hands furiously. “No no no I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

“It won’t be an imposition... I am making one for myself anyway”

He handed her a warm coffee mug and took a seat next to her, his observant eyes raking over her nervous form, inspecting her for any possible injuries. 

“My little brother is a huge fan of yours you know” she laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Mhm”

“Yea!!! he is obsessed with collecting all of your merch and posters” 

“What about you? Do you not like me?”

She bit her lip, pondering over the question. “I do ! … I do like you as well”, she answered blushing, avoiding his eyes.

He drummed his fingers on the coffee mug as he observed her erratic breathing, the rise, and fall of her chest, the way her skirt rode up to expose just enough of her thighs without giving away anything more precious. 

She raised the cup to her lips to take a sip, instantly recoiling away from it, hissing in pain as the liquid burnt her taste buds. 

She jumped as she felt some of the coffee fall on her bosom leaving behind a deep stain. 

He sprung up and took away her coffee, “are you alright? … did you burn yourself?” 

He rubbed her back in circles as she coughed and sputtered trying to nod back to him. 

He held her against his body and guided her to the bathroom in the back of his office. 

As a pro, he found having a shower in his office very convenient given how dirty he gets in some of the battles. 

“It is alright...take a shower here if you like.”

She accepted his offer, bowing and apologizing to him frantically. 

He shut the door as she stepped into the shower and went to fetch her his spare shirt and towel.

As he raised his hand to knock he heard some bottles knocking down. 

Without realizing it, he opened the door and stepped in. “Amara?” 

“NO !!!! please don’t come inside.” 

He saw her silhouette behind the shower curtain, hugging herself. 

“A little clumsy aren’t you?” 

She chuckled nervously, “I’m sorry… but umm... may I use your shampoo?” 

“Oh, yea sure go ahead. I brought you a towel and one of my spare shirts.”

“Thank you so much could you please leave those on the counter.”

“Sure” he smirked as he placed the fabrics on the sink and proceeded to seat himself on it as well. 

He sat back unable to take his eyes off her silhouette knowing she’s bare naked... In his shower…

He felt his pants tighten as more lewd thoughts filled his head. He stroked his clothed erection looking at her perky breasts… even if it was just a shadow…unable to contain his groan.

“...ground zero ..?”

“Bakugou Katsuki”

She peeks out from behind the curtain “you’re not leaving?”

He flashes her a crooked smile and shakes his head.

Gasping at his reply, she put her hand out, “fine… at least give me the towel?”

He again replies by shaking his head, his scarlet orbs full of playfulness. 

“Hey come on!!! Please give me the towel… I’m getting cold”

“Say my name”

“Ground zero please?”

“Not that one”

“Bakugou?”

“Nope?”

“Ka...katsuki-kun please !!!”

“Drop the honorifics sweetheart” he climbs down the counter and approaches her.

She trembles, part due to cold and part due to the male approaching her with a smirk glued on his face.

“Katsuki please would you give me the towel???” 

He holds out the towel nearly within her reach. 

“stop toying with me please” she whines as she stands on her tiptoes to grab it.

“Come and get it, sweetheart, it’s right here”

As she finally manages to secure her hand on it, he tugs at it causing her to stumble flush into his chest.

She struggles to get away from him and cover her decency with her hands. He wraps the towel around her body, pulling her into his arms. 

He pokes his nose on her cheek and places a kiss on her jaw, drawing out a strangled moan from her. 

She places her hands on his shoulders to support herself while she tries to stabilize herself.

But she’s denied any time for that as Bakugou scoops her in his arms and exits the bathroom. 

He places her gently on the couch and wanders back to the coffee machine. Amara pulls the towel closer in a feeble attempt to shield herself from the cold.

He returns back with a mug in his hands and crouched down to her level. She presses her thighs closer together to conceal her exposed core. Her brief action caught by his vigilant eyes.

“Be careful this time. This should warm you up.”

He digs his elbow on the couch, resting his chin in his hand and watches her cautiously sip the liquid.

“I’m sorry...Katsuki”

“For ?” 

“All the trouble I caused”

She fidgeted under his intense stare and tried flattening the towel to cover her exposed thighs. He grabbed her wrist, snapping her attention back to him. He took the empty mug from her hands, placing it on the nearby console. 

“Then maybe you should make up for it yes?”

She felt his warm breath caress her skin before he pressed a kiss on the inside of her wrist. 

“Wha..what do you mean?” 

He pressed his body between her legs, forcing them to spread to accommodate him. He placed his hands on either of her sides, caging her between the couch and his body. 

He caught her surprised whimper in his kiss, his tongue demanding her to open up. His chest rumbled as he groaned at her for pulling back. Placing his hands on the small of her back, he pressed her closer to him.

As if to punish her, He bit on her lower lip, eliciting a breathless moan from her. He traced kisses from her jaw to the base of her neck, halting just before her cleavage. 

She looked down at him with anticipation and instinctively arching her back towards him. 

He pressed his lips on her chest and murmured, “you’ll be a good girl for me tonight… yes?”

The vibrations sent tingles all over her body. 

She wrapped her hands around his neck, one hand tugging at his hair; she nodded silently. 

Growling at her nonverbal reply, he nipped at her collar bone leaving a deep red bruise, “answer me kitten.” 

“Yes”

“Yes?”, he squeezed her thigh with a bruising grip.

“ yes I will be a good girl for you tonight”

He grabs the towel with his teeth and yanks it open. He pulls away from her to savor the sight of her wet naked figure. He watches the water droplets fall from her hair, trailing down her chest and resting on her rosy nipples.

 “Cherries...,” he murmured as his thumb and forefinger gently pinched the sensitive tip, earning shy whimpers from her. Her nipples felt like ripe berries rolling between his fingers, and suddenly he was overwhelmed by the need to taste her, to draw her nipple deep into his mouth.

He sucked the lithe skin of her breasts, making sure to leave his marks on her. He showered her body with kisses as he slid a finger between her pussy lips. 

He holds her chin making her look at him as he presses the finger at her entrance. Dipping it in slightly, he strokes her slit and scoops her juices on his finger. He plunges the finger in her mouth before grabbing her in a deeper kiss, reveling in her sweet-salty flavor. 

He lifted her leg above his shoulder as he settled between her legs. He pressed painful kisses on her inner thighs knowing they would be visible whenever she would wear skirts. 

She mewled under his ministrations and curled her hand around the nape of his neck, drawing him closer. She squirmed trying to get him to touch her where she needed it the most. 

She felt his warm breath caress her leaking slit when he said, “you are an impatient little slut aren’t you? Beg for it kitten”

“Katsuki please…”, her words slurring in the frenzied state as he pressed his fingers on her clit. 

He increased the assault on her sensitive spot and demanded, “please what sweetheart?”

“Katsuki please suck me… I need -”

She whined as he buried his head between her legs, lapping at her juices. He plunged his tongue in her heat, relishing the feeling of her walls clamping down on him. She threw her head back on the couch, her hands grabbing his hair as he ate her out hungrily.

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of the door being slammed shut.

“Well well well…. What do we have here?”

[deans-baby-momma]

Past Haunts-Part 20

A/N: Guys! This is the last part. There is an epilogue that will be posted next Sunday but after that, no more Past Haunts. I enjoyed seeing everyone’s reactions as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. I am sad to see it go too!!! 

'He's lying,' I thought to myself. 'He has to be lying. No way, someone who looks like him was a virgin at 17 years old.'

"Dean, don't lie to me."

"I'm not Becks, " he tells me sincerely. "You were my first and I never regretted it."

"Really?" I tried to fight the smile but it crept onto my face.

Dean huffed a half laugh. "You think I would have been that damn clumsy otherwise.  Hell, I as nervous as a whore in church on Sunday morning."

*FLASHBACK (Rebecca's POV)

After Dean had kissed me, we went back to watching the movie. Toward the end of All Saints Day, I reached over and placed my fingers with his. He didn't acknowledge the movement other than the grin he got on his face. When the movie was over and the pizza and popcorn was all gone, Sammy began being the irritating little brother I had heard other kids complain about. He kept asking a million questions and I could tell Dean was getting annoyed. I pull some money out of my pocket and give it to the whiny kid.

"Here ya go. There's an arcade down at the end. Go crazy!"

Sammy's whole face lights up as he jumps off the bed. "Can I, Dean? I promise not to go any further."

Dean looks at me and then to his brother. He gets a serious look on his face and tells him, "No further. And if you see anything….suspicious come back here. You know the codeword. "

"Poughkeepsie, " Sam says with a nod. He grabs his jacket and heads out the door.  

Dean turns to me then. 

*END FLASHBACK*

"You weren't the only one! As soon as Sam left the room, I realized what I had done and, to be honest, I seriously thought I was going to be sick."

"I'm glad you didn't. Would've put a damper on the mood."

I laugh and notice Dean scoot closer on the couch.

"So you didn't get rid of my brother to seduce me Becks?"

*FLASHBACK (Dean's POV)*

As soon as the door shut behind Sammy, my whole body went on alert. I was alone in the room with a girl. What was I supposed to do? What was she expecting me to do? Do I just pretend that it's no big deal or do I try to kiss her again? Honestly, I want to kiss her again

And again and again, and more. But I don't know what she wants. What if Sammy had just been aggravating her too? 

I take a cautious step closer to her and she mimics me. A few more steps and she is right there in front of me. I can smell her strawberry shampoo, see her kiss-swollen lips. I lick mine as I tentatively reach for her.

I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her to me. She loops hers around my neck and I go for it. This kiss is even better than the first. I take a chance and swipe my tongue across the seam of her closed lips. She gasps and it gives me just enough room to lick into her mouth. 

She tastes like heaven,  if there was a heaven. Our tongues wrestle for dominance. I revel in the feat as I lightly suck on hers, causing her to moan.

Next thing I know, we are laid out on the bed in just our underclothes,  her in her bra and panties and me in my boxers and socks. 

*END FLASHBACK*

"No," I answer him breathlessly and move towards him. "I had no idea what I was doing."

"Me neither," he confesses  as he reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear. 

"Do you now?" I ask without thinking,  just looking into those green eyes. I cringe as I realize what I said. I really didn't want to know how many women he has been with all this time.

"I've gotten better," he says smugly. "I know not to use a sandwich wrapper as protection."

We both bust out laughing at that memory.

*FLASHBACK (3rd person POV)*

Dean nervously pulls Rebecca's bra straps over her shoulders.  As soon as there was slack in the bands, he reached around and unclasped her bra, having trouble with the fastener. He pulls the material from her body and drops it to the floor. He slowly lowers his head and places a gentle kiss to her pink nipple, flicking his tongue lightly across the hardening bud. 

He pulls away and sets up on his knees.  His dick thickening in his shorts. Rebecca lays on to her back and looks up at him. He hooks his fingers into her panties and leisurely pulls them off her hips and down her legs. Stepping backwards off the bed,  he drops the lingerie into the floor and, never taking his eyes from hers, drops his boxers and steps out of them.

Climbing back up the bed, he claims her mouth. He can feel his dick growing and rubbing against the outside of her thigh.

"Dean," Rebecca breathes out. Their eyes meet and they both realize that this is actually happening. They are about to have sex. 

"Do you have a condom?" she asks him and Dean internally chastises himself for not replacing the one in his wallet that his dad gave him when he became a teenager. A four-year-old condom probably wouldn't do the job properly.

He looks around and sees the cellophane wrappers from the sandwich he had for dinner the day before. He grabs the plastic wrapper and shake the crumbs off it. It keeps sandwiches fresh and dry so it should work, right? He wraps it around his length, making sure the tip is covered. Once he is confident that he is protected, he slides between Rebecca's legs and grabs the base.

"Ready baby?"

Rebecca is biting on her bottom lip but nods. Dean runs the tip along her slit and stops right at her entrance. "This might hurt and I'm sorry."

"Okay," Rebecca answers timidly.

Dean pushes past her folds and right into her body. Only the head though. Rebecca is so tight he knows it's going to take some work before he can get all the way in.

He leans down and captures her mouth in a kiss, thrusting his tongue between her lips. Slowly he pulls out and pushes his dick back into her body, getting an inch or two further. They resume kissing as he continues the task of pushing and pulling until he is finally fully seated inside her. She whimpers and he looks at her, fearful he had hurt her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yea, just keeping doing what you're doing. It'll get better."

Dean begins pumping into her as she becomes vocal with moans and grunts; he does too. Her tight channel squeezes him so deliciously that in no time he is cumming and he feels her body clamp down on him as she throws her head back in a wail. "Oh God! Dean!"

*END FLASHBACK*

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed with a laugh.  "I totally forgot about that! No damn wonder I got pregnant!"

Dean laughs along with me for a minute then becomes serious, "You know,  I really thought it would work. Rebecca, I didn't mean to…"

"I know," I assure him as I move next to him and turn to look at him. "And if I had had  a way to contact you when that test was positive, I would have." I look up at him and the expression on his face and in his eyes takes my breath away. The display of complete adoration and love is evident.

"I don't have any plastic wrap but do you-" I begin but am cut off when his mouth covers mine. I willingly open my mouth when his tongue sweeps across my lips. We kiss until we both need air and part ways,  panting. 

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Absolutely, Dean. I have loved you for 14 years. I want this. I want you."

Dean picks me up bridal style and I direct him to my bedroom. 

As we undress each other, we both take notice of the changes in both of us. He traces a fingertip along the stretch marks that litter my body and I observe the muscles and scars that weren't on him before. I kiss each one as if he is made of glass. 

When he drags his boxers off, I gasp. "You're,  um… bigger than I remember."

He smirks and leans down, kissing me softly. "Don't worry baby. I'll go as slow as I did the last time."

He grabs his jeans and pulls out his wallet. I see the foil packet as he rips it open and rolls the condom down his length. 

He crawls over me and hovers above my body. "I love you Rebecca Quentin. I always have." His kisses distract me completely as he enters my body. The feeling of being full overwhelms me and I have to disconnect from him to catch a breath. 

"Fuck Dean," I exclaim. "I forgot how good this felt." We lock eyes and breathe each other's air while my body adjusts. As soon as I adapt to him inside me, I speak up. "Ok, move."

For over an hour we are connected until both of us find our release, together. He reluctantly pulls out and away from me to discard the used condom as I glance at the clock. 

"Oh shit," I utter, clambering to get up and get dressed. "Whitney will be home in 15 minutes.”

When our daughter comes through the door, Dean and I are sitting at the kitchen table, as if just a few minutes ago we weren't in the throes of passion. Dean only stays for a few minutes after she arrives, saying he has to go pick Sam up and head out of town.

He gives Whitney a hug and it pulls at my heartstrings, seeing them together. He approaches me and hugs me. I can tell he doesn't want to let go; I don't either. Ultimately he pulls away and heads for the door, looking back at us one more time. We follow him to the door, watching him get in the car and back out of the driveway.

I hug Whitney to my side as we watch the taillights of that black car from my past disappear. The boy I loved, the man I love now, disappear with them.

"That was him, wasn't it?" she asks, timid and quiet.

"Who, hun?"

"My dad. That was my father, right?"

I look down into her usually bright green eyes, this time though they were dull and tear-filled.

"Yea," I sighed out. "Yea it was."

@vickiq9761​ @flamencodiva​ @mysteriouslyme​ @travelingriversideblues-x​ @akshi8278​ @keymology​ @hoboal87​ @squirrelnotsam​ @spnbaby-67​ @natura1phenomenon​ @drakelover78​ @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @tftumblin​ @blacktithe7​ @lilulo-12​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @cpag7​ @austipoppa​

[hitchell-mope]

(First film. Auradon prep library. 11:00 at night)

Evie: need some help?

Ben: yes please

(She uses magic to get Ben and the four books he’s got under his arms down from the ladder)

Ben: thank you.

Evie: anytime. Now. These are the ones you think can help

Ben: the ones I’ve read. Magic lore of the past century. Four volumes. 25 years each.

Evie: this could work. Still can’t believe fairy godmother let use the magic section. Thought it was off limits.

Ben (not entirely paying attention): it is.

Evie: Benjamin you shady little bastard

Ben (now kind of flat ignoring her): yes I thought so

(Evie looks momentarily annoyed. But then she sees he’s staring at jay)

Evie: you will not get far with jay

Ben: hm?

Evie: well. You don’t have freckles. You’re hair’s not curly. And you weren’t effectively raised by Mal from the age of six. Sorry. (Now fully entering the role of sibling). Now Mal on the other hand. I think she would love to date you.

Ben: I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair. I don’t even know if

Evie: she does. Trust me. She does.

Ben: ok.

Evie: does anyone else know or...

Ben: no. Just Doug Lonnie and Jane. Please don’t tell anyone else. Please. Especially my parents

Evie: hey hey. I won’t tell. I promise. I won’t tell

Ben: thank you

——————————————————————————————

Doug (sitting down next to Mal): hey.

Mal: hey bud. Sorry about the rat man

Doug: eh. It’s ok. I’m used to it

Mal: if it helps I’m rooting for ya

Doug: not really cause Evie’s made up her mind.

Mal: yeah well she’s wrong. You’re much better than that fake ass bastard. Soon she’ll see. She will see

Doug: you kinda sound like a super villain at the start of his origin story

Mal: I’m not super Doug my friend. Just a villain.

Doug: you know he likes you right

Mal: huh?

Doug: my best friend.

Mal: ah...yeah

Doug: and?

Mal: I like him too.

Doug: but

Mal: he’s him. I’m. Me

Doug: if it helps I’m rooting for ya

Mal (chuckling): it does actually

——————————————————————————————

Lonnie: whatcha drawing

Carlos: Jay

Lonnie: ahhh. May I?

Carlos: yeah sure

Lonnie: wow that’s really good

Carlos: I learned at Mal’s knee

Lonnie: cool.

Carlos: you’re scared of me aren’t you?

Lonnie: no. No. Yes. Yes. A little

Carlos: eh I don’t blame you. I grew up being protected by a dark fairy and a genie. So people know not to mess with me

Lonnie: ah. Question

Carlos: yeah?

Lonnie (pointing Mal then Evie): what’s their damage? They say their friends but they don’t act like it. What happened?

Carlos: I happened

Lonnie: heh?

Carlos: long story involving a heart rip, shrimp, Evie saving my life and Mal punting her into the barrier when they were thirteen

Lonnie: wow. That um

Carlos: sounds absolutely cockamamie and insane

Lonnie: yah

Carlos: buuuut every word of it is true

Lonnie: and you’re

Carlos: family. Mal’s essentially my mother. And Evie’s the sister she wants to throw in a sack and dump in a river. But she keeps her around cause otherwise I’d be upset. They don’t think I know but I do.

Lonnie: and you don’t blame Evie?

Carlos (scoffing): god no. You try denying your parents when they can control you through your literal heart. I don’t blame Evie. But Mal does. And that’s something she’s gotta work through herself

——————————————————————————————

Jay (plopping down next to Jane): god I hate reading. Do you hate reading?

Jane (looking terrified): uuuuhhhhmmmm....

Jay: wow. You really are scared of us aren’t you?

Jane (tiny little voice): yes

Jay: why?

Jane: because you’re

Jay: vks?

(She nods shamefully)

Jay: ohhhh. You don’t have to be.

Jane: I know. But

Jay: it’s difficult to look past the stories. You think I’m gonna turn into a snake and trap you in an hourglass.

Jane: well I do now!

Jay: I won’t though. Even though it would be really, incredibly, ridiculously easy. Just a snap of my fingers to be honest and the venomous fangs come out to play full force

(He hisses. Jane squeaks in terror. And Jay let’s out an enormous belly laugh)

Jay (still laughing): oh I’m sorry. Ahem. I’m sorry.

Jane: that was mean

Jay (feeling a little guilty): I know

Jane: could you teach me magic?

Jay (cracking his 1000 watt smile): certainly

——————————————————————————————

(Midnight. They’re all packing to go back to their dorms)

Carlos (feeling tired and whiny): jaaaaaaaaaay?

Jay: yeah?

Carlos (throwing his arms up): carry me?

Jay: do you even have to ask?

(He hoists Carlos up in his arms, Carlos buries his head in jay’s neck and they leave)

Lonnie: how long have they been together

Evie: oh they’re not

Mal: not yet anyway

Lonnie: why?

Evie: Carlos is waiting for jay to make the first move

Mal: and Jay is completely oblivious

Lonnie (looking at Jane): oh I’ve been there.

Doug: night guys

Mal and Lonnie: night bud

Evie (purposefully ignoring him): yeah night

(Doug leaves but not before he looks longingly at Evie)

Lonnie: hey uh Evie can I talk to you?

Evie: sure

Lonnie: So you and Chad

Evie (smiling happily): I know. He’s so handsome. And funny. And

Lonnie: a user. And a cad. And a cheater

Evie (smile faltering): what?

Lonnie: chad. he cheats on his girlfriends. Then moves on when he gets bored or they find out. He’s ghosted at leat two we know about. He may have “Charming” as a last name but that’s it essentially

Evie: oh my god. I don’t believe it.

Lonnie: I’m sorry

Evie: I don’t believe that Doug put you up to this

Lonnie: what? No! Nononononononononono! He didn’t

Evie (venomously): Chad is a prince. I am a princess no matter what that taffeta wearing pink bitch says! I deserve this

Lonnie: you don’t deserve someone who won’t treat you right

Evie (voice breaking): if not him then who

Lonnie: literally any other boy

Evie: it has to be a prince. It HAS to be. Anything else is not an option. It has to be him

Lonnie (“mom” mode activated): no. It doesn’t. Oh honey

(She goes to hug her but Evie rebukes her)

Evie (absolutely incensed): you don’t know me. You have NO IDEA WHATS GOING ON IN MY HEAD! I need this. I have no choice I need this. And I’m not going to let you or anybody else take it from me. So keep your pathetic after school special bullshit to yourself and don’t you DARE interre with my love life

(She poofs away in sapphire blue smoke)

Lonnie: I. I’m sorry

Mal: I’m not. She needed to hear it. He’s a dick. Doug isn’t. She should pick Doug

Jane: why?

Mal: because Doug’s my friend. And if she’s with him. Then I don’t have to deal with her

Lonnie: I knew your reason would be altruistic

Mal: ohhhh I’ve never been one for altruism. Back home it’s eat or be eaten sometimes literally

Lonnie: hey funny question. Has Evie ever...

Mal: been interested in girls? Don’t make me cackle kid. Quinlan tried to get her to join her gang sometime last year. But queenie caught wind of it and this is Sparta’d the poor girl. (Fake simpering voice) a prince is only good enough you see

Lonnie: poor girl

Mal: then Antony came along. But Grayson Clayton caught his eye and they joined together. Evie still doesn’t know.

Ben: I’m sorry. That you had to live like that

Lonnie and Jane: I’m sorry too

Mal (smiling in spite of herself): well. My friends and I are here now. And if the plan works. Then me and Jay never have to constantly look over our shoulders to protect Carlos again. I know he knows by the way

Lonnie (aghast): I’m sorry. I swear I tried to

Mal: honey. Relax. I can read minds. Part of my magic. By the way. The compliments very much appreciated but I don’t deserve it Lonnie. The only thing I know of that can repel my magic is iron Jane. And Ben. Think of the arctic. That should help

(Jane looks like she wants the ground to swallow her up. Ben looks guilty. Lonnie looks curious)

Mal: it’s easier to use telepathy here then back home. Nobody’s on constant guard here

Lonnie: the island sounds awful

Ben: QUEEN OF HEARTS!

Jane: huh?

Ben: I uh. I made a notary list. Keeps track of all the children on the isle of the lost

Mal (cocking an eyebrow): impressive. But there’s no use in fetching Quinlan. Once you get sent to Bald Mountain you never return

(An awkward silence follows until Jane looks at the clock and squeals)

Jane: half past pumpkin time!

(She leaves hurriedly)

Mal: pumpkin time

Ben: curfew. Jane’s gotta be back at fairy godmothers suite by midnight

Mal: what’s a curfew?

Ben: oh um. Uh. It’s the time when you have to be in. If not

Lonnie: you get your phone taken away for a couple of days

Mal: what about you guys

Ben: we all have them. Ours were extended for today

Lonnie: it only takes ten minutes to walk back to my room. Hopefully sleeping bitchy’s out cold

Ben: that’s not very nice Lon

Lonnie: you know she’s your ex now. You can badmouth her if you want

Ben: only if I were the dumpee. I’m not. She is. So she can say whatever she wants about me.

Lonnie (not at all buying it): well. Alright. G’night

Ben and Mal: night

(Lonnie leaves)

Mal: and then there were two

Ben: yeah. Heh heh. I liked today

Mal: I liked today as well. Ah

Ben: yes?

Mal: your bloods black. You look like you got attacked by a doctor who monster

Ben (overjoyed): you watch Doctor Who?

Mal: black blood

Ben: right uhhhh. Oh yeah! I chew pens. The ink cartridge must’ve burst and leaked. Can’t believe I didn’t notice it.

Mal: it looks lit it dried about an hour ago. What were you doing then?

Ben: uhhhh (flashback to 11:32 pm when he was chewing on his pen and tuning out Evie waxing poetic about chad in favour of watching Mal talk with Doug). I...don’t...remember

Mal (reading his mind but deciding not to embarrass him): ok. (She takes out a handkerchief) there you go (She starts wiping at the corners of Ben’s mouth. Then pulls away abruptly) here (She hands him the handkerchief and gets up)

Ben: thank you (he finishes cleaning his mouth). Are you ok?

Mal: yea ahem yeah. Always. No. Actually. I’m not.

Ben: why?

Mal: I really don’t wanna say

Ben (realising): oh. Oh god. I’m so sorry. If I’ve ever made you feel uncomfortable I wasn’t my intention

Mal (going up to him and hold his face in her hands): Ben. Listen to me. You did nothing wrong. It’s me. You can safely assume that whenever I’m gloomy. It’s my fault

Ben: why are you gloomy

Mal: because I want something that’s contraband. To me specifically

Ben: not everything’s off limits.

Mal: I’m not here to have fun. Or be happy. I have to. You know what I have to do. And you being here all...we can’t. No matter how much either of us want to.

Ben: ok.

Mal: I’m sorry. But. It’s not your fault. Just remember that it’s never your fault

Ben: but it’s not yours either. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something for yourself. You are allowed that.

Mal: I’m not. That’s just the thing. I’m not allowed anything. That could interfere with her... (practically spitting) plans

Ben: oh.

Mal: you know what I think of you. You know how much I. You know. And that’s all it can be

(This is when “Rewrite the stars” happens)

[gaspbrat]

Senior Hues

part twoes.

ch. 1 pt. 2

Reddie!

Promposal!

Sonia meets Bev!

Sh*t hits the fan!

Stan!

Absolute Fluff with a chef’s kiss of jealous angst.

the shortest of this series, maybe, wc: 2600+

♡

Stanley was amazing at most things:

Observing, Listening, Responding with a gentle harshness.

He was not the best at some other things:

Not telling Eddie to shut the fuck up right now.

“Eddie, listen to me,” he grasped his friend’s shoulders tightly, speaking through gritted teeth, “Richie is an asshat and I can’t understand why the fuck he is so damn important to you. He just dicks around all the time. Dicks with you all the time.”

Eddie begins to retreat from his soap box of anxious paranoia. Stan loosens his grip and his eyes soften.

“But he’s not dicking with you, this time,”

Beautiful strawberry blonde curls danced in the winter evening wind, caressed by the setting sun. Stan would consider this poetic if it didn’t involve the trashmouth, mozying over to the awaiting Melissa. She was tossing her hair and smiling obscenely over her shoulder.

Stan was ever grateful he could always find the best vantage point to watch the birds go at it. He knew meters away Eddie was already attempting to piece together what was unfolding right before his privileged eyes.

“Melissa,” Richie called with a rigid awkwardness, “Your glasses. You left them.”

“Oh! Silly me!” she hesitated over his hand taking her glasses back.

He did not savor the touch.

“Hey, um,” she begins twisting her lip between her teeth as he made a move to escape.

Richie wants to roll his eyes but really doesn’t want to piss her off in uniform on the main street.

“Prom’s coming up and I can’t go unless I go with a senior. Some stupid fuckin’ bet I have with Avery,”

she nods her head over to one of the vultures watching this scene.

“You know what,” Richie feels particularly evil today. He honestly belives half-truth she was giving him. She might actually have a brain in there.

“Yea, I’ll go with you.”

Melissa nearly cries out loud.

“Shit, um, okay! Yea, just,”

He brings up the sharpie in his right hand and asks for her palm. She hands it over. He scrawls some numbers between the three lines.

“Call me.” he turns with a wink back to the arcade, sauntering back to work.

Leaving Melissa to squeal with her posse moments later.

Stan scoffs before kicking his bike off and finding his friend.

“He is absolutely fucking with your whole heart right now, dude.”

Eddie’s jaw hangs open while his heart droops further.

“Stan, what the fuck, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” He croaked out, suddnely defensive of his other friend.

“I saw him write his number on her hand after you bolted in gay panic.”

He wasn’t sure whether to dignify Stan’s offhanded insult with a response or be discouraged by the thought of Richie going with someone else.

Stan watched a piece of Eddie’s heart fall to the floor and he wondered if he really made the right choice.

“Look,” he started backpedaling,“He could have just given her a fake number-”

“Why on the fucking earth would he go and do all that extra shit?”

“I don’t fucking know? You know him as good if not better than me!”

“Clearly I don’t.” Eddie’s tone hushed. He turned away from Stan, plunging himself into thought.

“Hey, Eddie, come on. Don’t go there.”

“Where else can I go, you DROVE me here?”

“We biked.”

“Not the point! Really?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

Silence settled over Stan’s room as they hoth contemplated the true facts.

Stan’s eyes don’t lie. Eddie knows to trust him more than he trusts the others. He isn’t super sure about all this, though.

He assumes only time will really tell.

The next few months were spent in an unfortunate game of tug-o-war between Eds and Rich. They would only be around the losers if for sure the other would not be present. In the absolute worst case scenario they both end up sitting at the same table for a brief second before realizing they were at odds.

Richie was afraid to say anything to Eddie and Eddie was frustrated by his presence. They both feared the uncertainty the other brought with them.

Valentine’s day came and went.

Both Richie and Eddie called in sick that day. If their friends had no idea of the circumstances they would call them lovesick. One of them was working and the other was distracting himself. They both shared in longing, that much was obvious.

Saint Patrick’s Day yielded Eddie in no green claiming he forgot the holiday. Everyone had a field day. Richie snuck a pinch in while they passed in the hallway. It would have worked if he had been a few inches shorter.

Eddie spotted him instantly and bolted after him only to lose him at the main hallway.

After what felt like an eternity to everyone involved, April came. It brought the feeling of spring and budding young misguided romance.

Also, promposals.

Ben asked Beverly right before April fool’s just to make sure she couldn’t prank him instead.

Stan and Mike just started declining every offer, fake or otherwise, making sure to give each other a glance after each attempt.

Bill fixed his sights on one of Melissa’s friends, Avery Ann, whom enjoyed all of the short stories he told in his advanced literature class.

Richie gagging upon hearing Bill recant the tale of his proposal and nearly fainted at the thought of double dating with BILL AND all that noise.

Eddie had been avoiding their lunch table for a few weeks straight at this point and his sudden presence that Wednesday afternoon caught everyone (Richie) off guard.

“Woah! Hey short stack! Where’d you come from?”

“Bio, what’s it to you?” he set his bag down and squeezed in opposite his current rival.

“Nothing, I was just wondering.” Richie returned to his passive silence as per late usual.

Eddie saved the expression he was given for future reference.

“What’s new, Eddie? I feel like I haven’t see you in a week now!” Mike questioned with his warm and welcome tone to break a part of the tension.

“Nothing too crazy. Just some weird shit.”

They all stopped grazing to stare at him with expectance.

“What weird shit?” Beverly asked.

“Fuckin’ Melissa called my house twice.”

Richie froze. Everyone else held their breath.

Stan leaned back in his seat knowing all too well the screaming match to follow. He glanced at Rich to assess his mood and noticed the color had vanished from his cheeks.

“Asking for YOU both times!” he was standing, accusing the pile of messy black hair across from him, pupils darting away from eye contact.

“My mom nearly crucified me, asshole! What the fuck?!”

Richie kept his gaze on the juice box at the center of the table. He wondered whose it was. Maybe he could have a sip.

“HELLO?! Earth to shithead!” Eddie was getting loud. He knew it. He recognized his level of rage but at this moment nothing mattered but making a fool of him in front of the others. Proof he wasn’t jumping to conclusions.

He was, though, he learned from Stan.

“Why the fuck did you have your girlfriend call my home phone? Twice?!” he was shrill now.

Richie could not believe his ears.

“Wait what?”

“Did you guys fuckin’ prank call me after you got done making out or what!?”

Richie could feel this only getting worse so he got up from the bench.

“Hey, what wher-”

Eddie was cut off by a rough ‘let’s go’, led out of the cafeteria by Richie’s grasp.

This needed to be settled somewhere immediately.

Eddie expected to be escorted to Gretchen but his heart ached when Richie’s didn’t slow at the parking lot.

They kept walking in uncomfortable silence for a good three blocks before Eddie stopped, flabbergasted.

“Wait, what the fuck, where in the shit are we going?”

“Just follow me.”

He begrudgingly pursued with a groan.

They ended their journey at the local mechanic.

“You need a tune up, Eds?”

The smaller boy responded with a fury in his gaze, “No.”

“Gretchen did,. . does.”

He released the breath he held captive in his chest.

Eddie was silent behind him for a moment before squeaking out, “I thought you were getting rid of her.” he had not called her anything besides 'it’ until now.

“I was yea,” he rubbed his forehead with the back of his arm, “I wanted to surprise you for pr-” he cut himself off.

“Prom?”

Richie hissed. It was all in the open now, sort of.

“Yea, Eddie, I didn’t want to take you without her.” Richie slapped his forehead with the realization he could not lie to his closest friend.

“What do you mean? I thought you asked Melissa.” he sheepishly trailed off and toed the crack in the sidewalk. After finally looking back up to meet his taller friend’s gaze he noticed Richie had disappeared.

“In here, Eds.” he heard a voice call him from around a corner, leading into the shop.

Eddie followed the voice to find Richie, kneeling, holding a small bouquet of tickets taped to look like daisies.

“Would you,”

Eddie’s blood was fickle sometimes. Running to all these body parts for no reason. This was one of those times. His face burned with the amount of red he was probably sporting.

“Edward Gaspbrat,” Rich croaked out from his awkward seat on Gretchie’s hood, a smirk peeking through his words.

Eddie’s eyes saw his brain for a good three seconds giving his boy friend the eye roll of the century. It gave him enough reprieve to recirculate his blood flow from his cheeks back to where it belonged.

“..Bemydatetoprom?” Richie sputtered out in almost a whisper.

They both paused, watching each other for a minute. Crickets chimed in almost on cue.

Eddie did the sizing up.

“Are- Are you asking me to prom? Rich, don’t fuck with me,” the younger boy stuck his finger out at the other, instinctively scolding him even now. In this moment.

Richie could not believe his eyes.

“Maybe… yes. I am.”

He shrugged but his choice was concrete. The flustered little man before him made sure. “so, please?”

Eddie took a good four seconds to respond. Richie took this time to assess how good they would look in matching suits and ties in front if all those fucking twats. Melissa included. Melissa especially.

“Of course?“

The effect of gravity seemed to have left Eddie and he started to freak before he realized it was Richie picking him up into a gangly bear hug.

“OkayOkay! Put me down!” he started to squirm, “You’ll crush my snickers!”

Richie finally listened when he heard the word snickers.

“You have snickers? Hidden in those tiny things?”

He pointed to Eddie’s pair of very short jogging shorts he would always wear but never jog in. After four years you’d think someone would change style but no.

Richie then took a second to remind himself he was currently wearing an open tommy bahama shirt before criticizing Eddie further.

“I don’t dummy.”  he quickly readjusted his fanny pack to his right hip. “I keep them in here.”

He pulled two snickers bars from it.

“Was this,” Richie takes a snicker and turns it over just to be extra sure that : yep it’s a snickers, “a reward or some bullshit? Did you know I was gonna ask you?”

Eddie started to look upset and opened his mouth for a reply.

“No I-”

“You little shit, you wanted me to look like an asshole in front of the losers and ask you and this was, what? Your gift in return? What the fuck?”

“Dickie! Shut. The Fuck. Up!” he screeched. “They were for you. For us? Like a bribe or some shit when I-” Eddie realized his train of thought was derailing so he cut himself off. His gut turned, however, when he saw the twinkle in those deep brown, enlarged eyes.

“When you what?”

Shit.

“Uh.. Nothing. Just, saw you. And I did, so… Just eat it.”

“No, no, I want to know what you saved these for. These are the special ones your mom hides in her table next to that dil-”

“Beep, fucking, BE E P!” Richie fell shut his mouth tight.

“I-I wanted to go to that hill we went to in eighth grade after I was gone for two weeks, right before spring break.”

“Oh shit, I remember! I kissed your cheek and you slapped the fuck out of me.”

“Bill was right there you fuckin-” he closed his eyes and sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That was the last time I felt happy, for a long time. My mom went apeshit the next morning about me being out so late right after being in the hospital.”

“I was going to ask you to prom and these were a bribe since I thought you were into Melissa.” he hissed through the ‘ss’.

“You thought I’d need a snickers to pick you over that?”

“I didn’t know what the fuck you were gonna do! I did what I could to prepar-” he was cut off by Richie’s mouth. He instinctively jumped but then succeeded into his touch.

Richie pulled away right as Eddie’s kissed him back.

“Eds, sometimes you just need to sit back and relax, daddy’s got you.” he patted the other boys back a little too heavy handed before leaning in to kiss him again.

When he regained his balance Eddie put his pointer finger to the other’s lips, preparing to scold him.

“First of all: Eddie, second: don’t eVER call yourself that or we aren’t going.” he waved his finger at him while withdrew it from his mouth.

“Fine, but after prom I can say what I want?”

“We’ll see how prom goes first, bubba.” Eddie noticed Richie start to open his mouth and figured there was really only one way for them to shut each other up.

Richie would be lying if he said he hadn’t figured that out seconds before Eddie.

I’ll never be quiet again.

He thought as Eddie kissed him senseless.

Saturday came quicker than he had expected.

Eddie hit the button on his alarm clock and stopwatch before groaning and throwing the covers over his head.

Prom is in 12 hours… Get fuckin’ ready.

He went through his daily morning routine swiftly but reluctantly. Beverly would be at his door in less than an hour and he hadn’t even had breakfast yet.

“Eddie-bear! Breakfast!”

He fist pumped for the amazing timing; ignoring the childish nickname it accompanied.

“Coming!”

Maroon Stacked Doc Martens skipped up the steps towards Eddie’s house, stopping on the austere “welcome” mat.

Not super welcoming.

She rapped on the door.

Mrs. Kaspbrak sighed at the interruption and made her way towards the culprit.

She looked through the peephole which just showed her empty porch. She assumed it was some dumb ding dong ditcher and returned to the living room before hearing another knock on the mahogany.

Fed up, she unlocked the door to figure out who was behind this disturbance.

She came face to face with none other than the she devil herself, Beverly Marsh. That dirty-

“Hi Mrs. Kaspbrak,” she said cheerily.

“What do you want with my son?” her eyes seared through Beverly’s.

“He wanted me to help him go prom shopping this afternoon I’m here to take hi-”

“Hi Beverly, sorry to keep you waiting,” the man in question popped out from behind the doorway to their kitchen.

“Hey Eddie.” Beverly smiled with pain in her eyes.

“Well bye mom, gotta go seeyoulaterloveyoubye!” Eddie shoved past his mom and followed Beverly down the steps to her car.

“Did my mom say anything too awful?” he asked after they were in the car.

“Nah, she didn’t have time.” she laughed into the back of her hand, other resting on the wheel.

"Okay.” Eddie sighed, shaking like a branch in the spring wind, “Let’s get this shitshow over with.”

*Cue prom shopping montage*

Thaks for reading!! 💖

[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Ring and The Cure: Part 5

Pairings: Crowley x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff

Word Count: 2,467

A/N: Repost to spread it out the way it should be.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Daddy! Daddy!” Crowley had just enough time to spin on the spot before the little girl leapt off the stairs in the throne room and into his arms. “It's park day!” She squealed as her father grunted at the impact of his four year old slamming into his ribcage. 

“Yes, my little Candi Cane, we are going to the park today.” He huffed as he caught his breath and settled Candice on his hip. She giggled at the sound of her nickname and waved bye to the couple demons that had been in the throne room as her and her father headed back toward your bedroom. 

Crowley absolutely adored his daughter, giving her everything she could ever want or need in spades and he never once mentioned her true lineage nor did he let on to the few and far between moments that he saw when he would look at her and see a hint of your past mistake for a couple seconds. You had both been grateful that Candice was nearly your spitting image and that the only major thing that wasn’t yours was her eyes. If you were to judge by her eye color alone; however, you would think she was Sam’s daughter.

“Mommy it's park day!” Candice called out as your daughter and husband walked into the room; chatting up a storm about slides and swings. You looked up at her from the day bag you had been packing with a laugh.

“Yea baby, we are going to the park.” She squealed in joy and threw her little arms in the air in celebration for a full day out of your home in hell.

“What are you feeding her? She nearly knocked me on my bloody arse.” He chuckled as he set his daughter down on your bed, holding her hand in his knowing full well that she was going to jump on the bed like she always did no matter how many times you both told her not to.

“Oh, you know… c-a-k-e and i-c-e c-r-e-a-m.” You spelled out, not wanting to start a 4 year old hissy fit over not getting her favorite desserts at that exact moment. Crowley chuckled as he turned his body slightly to make sure his little girl didn’t accidentally jump off the edge of the bed and you pointed at him and picked up the bag. “You spoil her rotten.”

“I do nothing of the sort. I treat her as a princess should be treated.”

“Yeah, yeah. You tell me the same thing and you still won’t let me eat chocolate in bed.” He glared at you as he picked up Candice in his arms to take you all to the park.

“That is because for the sake of everything unholy, you cannot eat chocolates in bed without feeling the need to wipe your smudgy little fingers all over my pillow case because you find it amusing.” He smirked and walked over to you and you looked at the ceiling with a shit eating grin on your face. “Yes, that would be you, my Queen. Do not attempt to deny it.”

“I plead the 5th on that one your Majesty.” He laughed whole-heartedly as he pulled you into his chest; his hand coming to rest on your back side and he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Plead the 5th all you wish. You know if I really wanted to I could fuck the answer out of you right here and now.” He stood up immediately and forced a cough to cover up the moan that escaped your lips. “Ready my little monkey?” He asked. Candice crinkled her nose the same way you did for a moment and gave him the only thing she inherited from her biological father; the signature Winchester pout. 

“I not em monkey, daddy!” She told him as her bottom lip poked out. Crowley didn’t draw any attention to the face no matter how much it stung and he thumbed her bottom lip to make her smile instead.

“Do this.” He said as he puffed out his cheeks with air. Not knowing what she was getting herself into, Candice mimicked her father. Crowley let his cheeks fall flat and smiled at her. “See you're a monkey.”

“No daddy. You’re em monkey.” Crowley scrunched up his nose at her, making Candice giggle adorably as he put his arm around your shoulder. He gently blew in his daughters face to get her to close her eyes so she wouldn’t be sick. She squealed in laughter at the slightly weightless feeling she got as Crowley brought the three of you to a random park by a lake. When he stopped blowing, Candice looked around, screeched like a monkey as she always did twice a month on park days and began to wiggle out of her father’s arms. He had just enough time to drop her “special park necklace” (a pink hex bag) around her neck before she dashed off to the playground to enjoy the beautiful day.

“You’re an idiot.” You told him as the two of you walked over to a bench to enjoy a day without phones or distractions with each other.

“She set herself up for it.” He chuckled and you laughed and looked at him.

“Baby, she’s four! Of course, she set herself up for it.” Crowley simply shrugged and draped his arm over your shoulder.

“She will learn one day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“What do you want for dinner, princess?” Your husband asked as he held the children’s coloring menu up and you smiled at him lovingly as he pointed out the various food choices. This was your favorite part about park days; sitting down at a local diner as a regular family. It was your way of keeping a sense of normality in your daughter’s otherwise extravagant life and to keep her humble. She pointed at her choice politely and held her hand out for her crayons, taking only a moment to remember to say ‘pwease’ when her daddy held the crayons just out of her reach.

“What are you havin’ baby?” You inquired as you stretched your legs under the table and rested them on the booth in front of you between your husband’s thighs. He pursed his lips as he looked over the menu and his free hand fell into his lap to lazily rub your ankles.

“Darling you know I am not a fan of diner food.” He said as he read over the menu with a smirk. He looked up at you through his lashes. “I must watch my girlish figure after all.” You laughed and tapped your foot gently on his thigh. You sighed in contentment and leaned back against the booth as the love of your life gently massaged the back of your leg while you waited for the waitress to come over to take your orders.

“Part of me wishes we could do this every night but the other part of me could never give up real Italian pasta or fresh Turkish baklava… You spoil me, baby.” He smiled at you and opened his mouth to respond when the happiness fell from his face and was replaced by pure rage.

“Well it’s always interesting to see you outside of business hours, Crowley and in a shitty diner, no less.” Dean mocked as he leaned against the back of your booth. You sat up straight, dropped your feet to the floor and looked up at him; unsure of how you felt about his sudden appearance. His mouth dropped open when his eyes fell on Candice and you watched the color drain from his face. You didn’t even get the chance to blink before Crowley jumped up and grabbed Dean’s arm to drag him from the restaurant; his eyes bright red in anger.

“Daddy, where you goin’?!” Candice squeaked with terror in her voice. She was a daddy’s girl through and through and hated being left behind. Crowley forced himself to put a calm mask on to not scare his child and turned back to look at her with calming brown eyes.

“Daddy has to go talk to his friend, sweetheart. I’m coming back; don’t you worry, little one.” She nodded, satisfied with his answer and went back to her coloring. His eyes flooded red once more and he turned back to Dean. “Walk. Moose; stay with them.” As Crowley dragged a terrified, angry and mortified Dean out of the diner, Sam stepped around them and came over to you.

“Well that ought to be a fun talk.” He said, relieving a smidge of the tension that lingered at your table. You stood up, gave him a hug and shrugged your shoulder.

“I take it he doesn’t talk about her when he’s around y’all, does he?” Sam shook his head as he looked at your daughter with a small smile on his face.

“She looks a lot like you.” You nodded and sighed softly.

“She has your hazel eyes.” Sam looked down at you and you smiled. “I know. I was surprised too.” He hummed and looked back at the little girl trying to commit her to memory. “Don’t tell Dean or Crowley that I told you because it would only hurt one or both of them but you have the right to know. Her name is Candice MacLeod. Her birthday is Christmas day so she will be turning 5 this year.”

“Has it really been that long?” He asked and you nodded slowly. The both of you stood in silence for a moment before Sam cleared his throat. “Thank you.” You nodded with pursed lips and glanced up at him.

“You don't have to thank me, Sam. Shit, we had only met twice and we made the agreement together because of that. Dean was too drunk to remember not doing it and with the Mark and their budding bromance it was the smarter move to make. We both knew I would go back eventually, both knew that you and Crowley weren't on good terms and we both agreed that if this was the outcome of your one night stand with the future Queen of Hell, it would have gone over a lot smoother with Dean as the culprit over you."

“Are you ever going to tell him she’s mine?” He whispered and you shook your head.

“No, it’s too late for that. But just so you know, he does right by her. He's treated her like she was his from day one. I know that doesn't make this situation any easier for you but I figured you would feel a little better knowing your daughter was healthy, happy and loved.” Sam nodded and brushed a stray tear off his cheek.

"Honestly, (Y/N) for what it's worth... with everything Dean and I have gone through in the past 5 years, it is actually comforting to know that she is safer with you and Crowley. That's all I ever wanted; to know that my child was safe from the evils of this world and didn't have to be raised in this lifestyle like I was. I could never give her that." You gave him a weak smile before both of you turned back to Candice. You had an idea pop into your head and you took his hand, stepped toward the table and crouched down, pulling Sam down with you.

"Hey Candi Cane..." You said gently and she looked at you and smiled. You heard Sam breathe deeply at getting to see his daughter's face and his eyes completely for the first time and you squeezed his hand in support. "This is mommy's friend from a long time ago. His name is Sam. Can you do mommy a favor?" You asked your daughter, knowing that this move would be risky but worth it. She nodded and you squeezed Sam's hand in an attempt to prepare him. "Can you look him in the eye and tell him that you love him for me. He doesn't believe mommy when I told him you loved everyone in the whole world." Sam squeezed your hand tightly as a giant smile lit up his little girl's face and her eyes changed slightly from a total hazel brown to a slightly more bluish color the same way Sam's did as she looked at him.

"You gots ta listen to my mommy, Sam. I luv all the peoples in the whole wide world; specly you cuz your mommy and daddy's fwiend!" He smiled broadly at her; lost for words and visibly fighting back tears. With a smile, you told her to go back to coloring her picture for daddy as you and Sam stood up.

"Fuck... that… thank you." Was all he managed to get out before you stepped in and gave him a hug.

"I hope that didn't make this harder." You said as you pulled away and he shook his head as a few tears fell from his beautiful kaleidoscope eyes.

"Seeing her so happy with both of you proves to me that we were right in what we did. I would love to be in her life, but I know this way she's happy and safe and that's all that matters to me in the end.” 

“Sammy, let’s go!” Dean shouted as he ripped open the diner door, a look of terror and anger on his face as a very smug Crowley strolled past him. You and Sam exchanged a quick smile that said everything it needed to and he took a second to wipe away a couple stray tears before he looked at his daughter one last time. With an appreciative pat on your shoulder, he turned around and left the diner and you forced yourself to tuck your thoughts about that night to the recesses of your mind once more.

“Have a nice chat?” You asked, with a smile on your face as you and Crowley sat back down in the booth. He nodded and kissed the top of Candice’s head who was thankfully lost in her coloring once more.

“Just had to remind him of his choices is all.” You huffed a laugh and glanced out the window as the Impala pulled out of the parking lot. You caught Sam’s eye immediately and with an appreciative nod from him, the two of you said your silent goodbyes. You looked back at your husband and put your feet back up between his knees on the booth, feeling a little freer despite the lie that was told all those years ago.

“So what is Mr. Girlish figure having?” You teased as you picked up your menu again; already forgetting about the real one night stand you had in Costa Rica.

Part 6

[wicoppi]

I’ve Got a Date with a Squirrel

Inspired by this and this

Keith, Hunk, and Lance all work at the local library. Keith shouldn’t be trusted alone, Lance is filled with contempt, Hunk is the only one who actually does his job, and Pidge is a closet enabler. 

Hunk is generally regarded as the best worker only because he keeps his head down and actually gets work done. 

Keith really shouldn’t be trusted alone with books. He only took this job because it meant he would get paid to read. His new mission in life is to read every book in the building. He’s found the perfect corner to camp in- no one EVER visits the astrophysics section. 

Lance isn’t good at the job he’s paid to do, but he’s really good with the kids. He reads to them and helps them find cool new books. He’s even got a little side-gig going where he tutors some of the kids. 

Allura is the Chief Librarian who mostly stays holed up in her office surrounded by paperwork. 

There’s a small park tucked away behind the library. Keith likes to eat his lunch on one of the benches when the weather is nice. He accidentally made friends with a squirrel and they’re buds for life now. Keith even makes sure to pack a little extra food for it. 

Lance joined Keith for lunch one day but ran screaming back to the library when the squirrel showed up. Something about childhood trauma from when his sister tried to adopt a baby squirrel. When Keith returned from lunch he found Hunk making squirrel noises at Lance through the bathroom door- “Squeaky, uh, squeak squeaker squeakin’.”

When it rains, Keith eats his lunch at the book return while he sorts through the day’s stack. But he’s still got a date. The squirrel manages to find Keith and is let in through the book drop drawer. 

Lance reaches his wits end the day he finds that squirrel perched on a copy of The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe reaching for a piece of food from Keith’s hand. 

Thus begins the Library Memo’s- “No Wild Animals Permitted Inside Library” | “Lunch Breaks Must Be Taken In Staff Breakroom Or Off Property” | “All Staff Must Wash Their Hands Before Returning To Work Lest They Contaminate The Library With Squirrel Rabies”

Pidge runs tech for the library. Lance roped her into helping him make the memos because he’s convinced the machines hate him- “Lance, it’s literally just a word doc on a letter sheet of paper. Pick a font, hit ‘ctrl+P’, and leave me alone.” 

But she secretly loves helping him with the signs. Pidge may have created an instagram account dedicated to the library shenanigans. It’s a weird sort of propaganda but it actually keeps people invested in the library. 

Meanwhile, Shiro is a suffering grad student in need of a thesis muse. 

He’s honestly not even sure how he ended up in the program. All he knows is he joined the astrophysics club as a sophomore in undergrad, Matt started talking to him one day, and the next thing he knows, Shiro is drowning in papers and student debt send help please.

Shiro is really at a loss with his thesis and he’s running out of time to come up with a topic. He’s already exhausted the campus library and this strange community library is his last hope. 

After some poor directions from Allura and clarification from Hunk, Shiro manages to find the section he’s looking for: Astrophysics. Que the dramatic sigh as he stares into the void otherwise known as a wall of books hoping for any glimmer of inspiration. 

Keith, setting his current read on the pile of books in the corner- “Did you come for the view or do you need help finding something?” | Shiro- “Yea actually, a thesis topic and a will to live would be nice.” 

After a bit of snarking, actual conversation, and the hunt for a ladder to reach the top shelf (”really after all the time it took us to get this ladder I could have just climbed you instead.”) Keith has managed to help Shiro figure out a thesis and settle the poor guy’s anxiety. 

Shiro- “Did you study astrophysics?” | Keith- “No. But I basically own this corner of the world so of course I’ve read every book here.” 

Shiro ends up setting up shop in this corner and works on his thesis while Keith brings him books and coffee. 

One day weeks down the road Shiro is pretending to take a 20 minute power nap on the floor while chatting with Keith. | Keith- “You can’t talk and sleep at the same time.” | Shiro- “Watch me.” | Keith- “You should get some actual rest so you can finish your thesis proposal.” | Shiro- “I actually turned that in last Friday.” | Keith- “Then why are you here? Go home and rest.” | Shiro- “I like it here... you’re here.” 

After Keith collects his jaw from the floor, he winds up hovering over Shiro and leaning in for the best First Kiss of his life. 

...just in time for Lance to round the corner- “Oh no no no! I knew it. No one spends that much time ‘studying.’ You too are down here way to much. Of course you’ve been hooking up. In the LIBRARY! Keith! You took an oath! -no i didn’t lance- How could you?! Turning the library into a house of sucking face! There are children here! First the squirrel and now this?!”

Shiro- “Well at least we were only sucking face.” 

And at that a new era of Library Memo’s is born: “Absolutely No Dick Sucking Permitted In The Library!!!”

Blushes abound and these two nerds finally ask each other out. 

Shiro- “This library coffee isn’t very good is it? What do you say to me treating you to a proper cup? There’s a great place next to campus.”

Keith, with a huge grin on his face- “Yea, that’d be great.” 

Shiro- “Good. Then you can tell me all about this squirrel.”

Keith- “Oh. Yea. His name is Bucky; we eat lunch together almost everyday; and Lance is scared of him. If you’re lucky I’ll invite you on a lunch date one day and you can meet him.” 

[cuthie]

Omru: Dazar’alor Roleplay

(( This is just copy/pasted discord roleplay that I’m archiving for my own records. Might be a boring read or too long for most. But then again, who’s reading my short stories anyways, right? Just me. :p ))   Dazar’alor, city of gold, capital of Zuldazar and once the center of the world spanning Zandalari empire of old. The ancient troll home somehow survived the Sundering, survived the prophesied sinking of the island, the Cataclysm, the Burning Legion and threats both foreign and domestic over thousands of years. In modern day it was a melting pot of all Troll races, each tribe carving out it’s own nook, bringing new cultural celebrations, rituals and perspectives. Trade was booming, crime was at an all time low, and the King was beloved by all… Most.. Many… Even with the loss of Rezan, Loa of Kings, the empire withstood the power of the gargantuan C’Thraxxi warbringer, Mythrax. Furthermore, the city banded together with the Horde to rid Azeroth of the Old God Titan experiment, G’huun the blood God. Nothing and no one could keep this city nor it’s people down for long.

  And then came the Alliance. Jaina Proudmoore led the Kul’tirans and the factions of the Alliance into the city, tricking it’s armies into leaving the King’s side for the swamps of Nazmir. Neigh defenseless, the Zandalari lost thousands. Their soldiers, their navy, and even their king. It was a bloodbath the likes they had never known.

  Time passed, people trying to move on with their lives, and the former Princess now Queen of the Zandalari formally joined the Horde, seeking retribution. From those descended of royal blood, all the way down to the most lowbourne of guttersnipes, depression and anguish was palpable in the once bright city of riches. Joining the Horde would provide a small comfort, but the Bilgewater Cartel seemed capable of stimulating economic growth. Their own goblin designed ships weren’t as glamorous nor dependable as the Zandalari fleet had been, but with them they brought imports and money. It was one such merchant vessel that Omru had made contact via Goblin engineered walkie. His ticket to the lush jungle paradise of Durotar.

  For a brief moment the people near the docks had a flicker of, not hope, but at least mild curiosity and entertainment. Off in the distance, a topless Zandalari man held onto a viney set of reigns attached to not one but two large speckled sea turtles as he stood atop their shells. Wind rushing through his beard, the troll laughed, accompanied by loud acoustic music. On the troll’s shoulders was our beloved fox boy, Omru, strumming away on his father’s guitar. As zany as the idea had been, Om knew that the only way to combat his family curse was to, of course, hire a navigator. That man’s name was Ja’ku. Ja’ku Spearo.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_b_53XplhZE

  By the time the duo had made it to the docks, a small crowd had gathered to see what the spectacle was all about. For the first few minutes, the pair were all smiles, Omru hopping down onto the wooden floorboards, still playing his music. Then came an untimely, “Ey, dat mon owes me money!”

  Then another. “Ja’ku, you mudda fugga, ya dare show you face round’ere!”

  Ja’ku raised his hands defensively, “Now, now. I dun mean no ‘arm in- Oh, what be dat ova dere!?”

  Predictably, a handful of accusers turned to look and in that split second, Ja’ku was off on foot, running further into the city, leaving Omru there to suffer the eyes of the crowd.

“Uh… I’m not with him. Just.. Passing through…”

-- “No… I don’t get it. Please explain to me again why this is ‘proper animal husbanding’ as you put it?”

  The ebony haired Sin’dorei boy blew an annoyed breath out through pursed lips and rolled his eyes dramatically. Returning his haughty glare to the Vulpera girl with the deep red fur and too much eyeliner sitting on the crate, he shook his head.

  “Listen fuzzball, there’s a lot of things someone like you just won't understand. It’s not your fault, you’ve basically been frying in the desert forever with nothing but bugs to play with. Sure, all that sun can make for a great tan but too much can rot your brain. Just like too many vegetables. Here’s a live lesson for you. If someone like me.. Well, there’s really no one like me but I mean a Sin’dorei tells you something you should just listen. We’ve been around for a billion years, maybe longer. We’ve seen everything, tried everything, are smarter than most, better looking than most and basically just better at everything.”

He leaned down to look her in the eye and winked.

“And that includes animal husbanding tricks.”

  The Vulpera girl’s left eyebrow rose as she took the guy in. Her eyes flicking from his ‘better than you’ expression to the large black bird he had pinned under one arm as he went on. “…You mean life lesson?”

He rolled his eyes again.

“No.. Live lesson. Because you live the lesson, duh.”

  She looked to the huge bird again. Intrigued by how it seemed to make eye contact with anyone paying attention, as if pleading for help. It’s eyes were locked onto her, beak parted slightly as it panted from the struggling she had interrupted. She spoke to it, if anything just to get under the guys skin a little.

“Is he always this spectacularly unintelligent and conceited?”

  To her surprise, the bird let out a croaky sound as if to answer. The boy’s face lit up and he beamed at her.

  “Aaaw, you didn’t have to say that. I am pretty spectacular, aren’t I? You know, you little guys aren’t so bad. I mean, you have that whole cute thing going on, I’m sure that helps.” Giving her another flash of his pearly whites, he reached for the scissors again. Seeing the flash of metal, the bird flew into a fit of struggling again. Pecking, kicking, clawing and doing anything in its power to get out of his iron grip. One enormous wing popped free, causing him to drop the scissors to wrangle it with both hands again. The flaps from just that single wing were enough to knock over a stack of smaller boxes and send dust and debris flying about. “See!?! I have to clip its wings! It’s nuts and it’s gonna fly off before I can get it home to give my wife!”

  She squinted and held up a hand against the torrent of dust, watching the scene with mixed feelings. She had traded critters before, plenty of times. What were the odds any of those had ended up in the hands of someone like this? The more the poor thing struggled, it’s eyes pleading with her, the more she felt sick about it. Maybe living things should be off the list going forward.. Unless it was food stuff anyway. Trade, that’s it! She quickly pulled her pack off her back and into her lap, rummaging through her things. “Hey Cinder-eye! What about this? I got something way better than some dusty old unruly bird for your wife. You know they carry parasites, right? Kind of a gross gift if you ask me. But this! This would surely win you some brownie points, buddy.”

  With much flair, she pulled an ornate looking scroll case out of her bag and held it up. With tiny practiced movements, she twisted it this way and that. Just enough for the sun to glint off the golden embossed lettering along the side that read Old “Pirate” Map, in fancy scrawl. “You two probably like date nights, right? How about an adventure?! When’s the last time you two went off into the wild blue yonder together and had some fun, eh? I’ll trade you this for that ratty old bird, straight over. No haggling or anything.”

  The boy’s eyes were locked on the thing, he and the bird both no longer struggling. After a long moment of staring, he finally blinked and looked to her with suspicion. “Wait… Why would you trade something like that for a bird if you think it sucks so much?”

  She blinked, having honestly pegged him for being too dumb to think that far into it. Thinking quickly she looked down at the case, ran a finger over the thick gold (plated) carving on its cap and nodded. “…Yea… Good point. I know a good place for a bird like that is all buuuuut… Yea, I’m not sure it’s worth the fun this might lead to. You’re right, I should pro-“

  Before she could finish her sentence he snatched the case out of her hand and shoved the huge raven into her arms.

“Nope!! You said straight over! A deals a deal, no take backsies!” As if expecting her to put up a fight he quickly grabbed up his pack, turned on his heel and rushed off towards his ship. Mumbling something about cute, dumb Vulpera idiots..

  She watched with a smirk as the guy walked off with her most worthless item. Sure, he might get a little money for the case. But the map itself was just directions to some rundown tavern her and her buds made as a joke one night. “Dumbass…”

  It was then she realized she was still holding the bird in her lap, cradled like a toddler. A large toddler.. It was damn near as big as she was but oddly enough, wasn’t struggling. Instead, the two just eyed each other for a long moment, neither moving. Somehow the look in it’s eyes as it stared back seemed.. thankful? She carefully slid off the crate she had been sitting on and set the creature down.

“Uuuh, there you go bird. You’re welcome.”

  The thing flicked out its wings a little but otherwise just sat there, it’s head tilting left and right as it watched her. She made a shooing motion, suddenly wondering what exactly a bird that size might eat.. Smaller furry creatures maybe? She shuddered, remembering more than one run in with the vulture flocks back in the sands. One large red ear twisted then at the sound of music coming from farther down the docks. She glanced back to the bird and gave an uneasy nod.

“Heh, yeeeea… So, see yu!”

  Tossing her pack over her shoulder she quickly trotted off towards the strumming then shoved her way through the crowd of knees and butts to see what was up. A grin crawled across her face as she eyed the strange duo coming to shore.

“What in the sands?!”

--

  Omru looked around, noting that there were just as many oddball races down at the docks as there were Zandalari, maybe even more so. A set of glowing yellow eyes stared down at him from a rotting face, it’s urine colored skin peeling off to reveal white maggots squirming underneath. Gulping, he changed the strumming of his guitar. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fN57L9HcZsQ

  “Listen… We don’t need to make a scene here, in fact.. ~Something told me long ago, there’s a calm before the storm and I know! It’s been comin’ for some time.” Giving a confident smile and wink, Omru began to half walk half dance as he continued playing and singing, “When it’s over, so they say.. It’ll rain a sunny day, I know! Shinin’ down like water!”

  Tauren, Trolls, Zombies, Orcs, Tortollan and even talking Bears all seemed to nod at him or tap their feet. Well, those who had feet anyways. Regardless of the few who seemed to be enjoying the show, at least half of the crowd had already lost interest, and another quarter just stared at him before running after Ja’ku.

“I wanna kno-  OW-FUCK!”

  Omru rubbed at his head, a rock having hurled it’s way right between his ears. The small sect of listeners that were less parted, revealed four very tall Zandalari women. Everyone knew that the women were the most fierce fighters of the empire, making up the majority of their guards. Or was that the Naga? Omru squinted his eyes up at them as they approached, towering over him.

“Ey, fox boy. You dun sing on our turf. We be de Bang Drum Gang, de only ones what be allowed te perform on dese docks. So take ya geetar an beat it, befo we beat you.”

  As if to emphasize their point, the three drummers standing behind their leader began to bang on their drums, harnessed over their shoulders and down to their waists. Simultaneously they would beat their drums twice, then stomp the ground with their feet. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onJQ1dpsAF8   The snarling leader sung out in a gruff albeit totally in tune voice, “Foxy be a boy, makin big noise, playin on de docks, gonna be a big Mon some day. Ya got mud on face, ya lil disgrace, dun make us kick ya ass all ova’ de place!”

  Wadding up her fists, the three drummers began chanting, “We will, we will, rock you! We will, we will, rock you!”

  It was his calling. It was beautiful, it was amazing, it was destiny. Before he could even think, Omru began to shred on his father’s guitar, grinning at the crowd and wiggling his eyebrows. For ten seconds, he was a rock star and all of Dazar’alor was his stage. And then a two toed dirty foot connected with his jaw, sending him and all of his stuff flying through the air to land with a plop in the ocean water below.

The drumming stopped, “Ey, dat weren’t no invitation! We told ya ta scram, Vulpera!”

  Grumbling and slightly humiliated, Omru swam back to shore as the Bang Drum Gang continued their song, parading down the docks and further into the city, crowd at their heels. Making his way back onto the wooden walkway, Omru dumped the water out of his guitar. His pack was enchanted to be waterproof, no worries there, but water could certainly warp the wood of his instrument.

“Assholes…”

--

  “Man, you got it in weird with these trolls, buddy. How are you gonna come riding in on the shoulders of one, who’s riding in on freaking sea turtles no less.. then immediately get booted back out to sea by others? You have a rep around here or just bad luck?”

  She watched as he tidied his things and fiddled with his now soggy guitar. Moisture damaged instruments wasn’t something she had much personal experience with. Not a lot of risk of that in the sands and she had only recently been venturing out past that to the isles. Her first rescue mission, impromptu as it was, delivering her all the way here to the Zandalari city of Dazar’alor. But.. She had seen people dry out waterlogged driftwood next to a fire so maybe…

“Hey, I got a thing that’ll help dry that out!”

  With a wide grin spreading across her ‘of course I have something for that’ expression, she pulled her pack off her shoulder and squatted over it to dig around inside. After a moment, she pulled out a metallic canister about as long as her forearm and held it up triumphantly.

  “I traded some goblin guy a ride for this thing. He was desperate to get out of the desert ASAP so was all for the trade when I asked about it. They may be a bit weird, funky looking and kinda suspicious but those guys have the best toys, let me tell you. Cool thing was, the girl with the wagon I set him up with owed me anyway so it was basically free. It’s called a dragon gun, or dragon’s breath gun or something like that. Sounds awesome right? Just uh, hold out that soggy guitar of yours a moment while I fire this thing up. Maybe away from your face, just to be safe. I know it’s small but this’ll be the first time I’m using it and I’m not up for BBQ’d boy.”

She aimed the nozzle at the guitar and fiddled with the little red valve knob, then flicked the two switches on the side up and down. As nothing happened, she repeated the process a few times, trying to maintain her ‘let me show you something amazing’ face. Nothing… Not even a burp of heat..

“Sssssshhhit… That little butthole, no wonder he traded it so willingly, its broke!”

  With that, she chucked the thing aside, teeth momentarily bared with a growl of frustration. The metallic -clang- as it hit the stone ground a little ways away echoed off nearby surfaces and a couple heads turned to look. It bounced once then landed again with another clang, this time smacking down on the valve end. Upon impact the nozzle blasted out an enormous cone of fire, the heat of it felt even yards away where they stood. Despite the items diminutive size, had that been aimed at the Vulpera boy and his guitar, it would have engulfed him fully and anyone else standing too close to him…

  Eyes wide, the little red vulpera girl just stared as the flames bellowed out for a full ten seconds before cutting off again. Luckily nothing of note and no one had been in front of it. What grass, flowers and small plants had been in its path were now gone. Only a bit of wafting smoke and a wide scorch mark left in its wake. Somewhere between amazed and horrified, she turned back to him. Remembering to close her mouth finally, she cleared her throat and scratched at the back of her head.

“Uh yeah.. Sooo… What, umm, what brings you to the city?”

--

  Saltwater still dripping from his fur, Omru stared at the red Vulpera girl as she began chatting about her stuff. A smile instinctively formed. He hadn’t exactly been welcomed into the city, but almost right away he had found someone who understood him. Someone who got him, someone with stuff.

  “You want me to hold my most precious family heirloom out while you blast it with that goblin thingy?” Omru looked from the girl, to his guitar and back again. He then nodded his head, trusting in this stranger fully as he held out the instrument with both hands, “Letterip!”

  Anticipation bubbled, coursing from the back of his head down to his shoulders as he gripped his guitar tight. Click. Click-click. Nothing. Omru’s bright orange eyes flickered to the side as he tried to maintain a good natured smile. Sometimes people’s stuff, just wasn’t up to snuff. It happened to the best of Vulpera, right? But should he say something comforting, should he just ignore it like it’s no big deal, should he avert his eyes and pretend he didn’t notice?

“Uh.. You know, I think-”

FWOOSH!

  The goblin contraption had been carelessly chunked over shoulder, only to trigger a moment later. Fortunately they were near enough the streets and away from the wooden docks, where the blasts of fire only seemed to damage the greenery. If that had been directed at him, his guitar would have been toast. He would have likely been toast too, even with his depleted sunstone. At the thought of the stone, he stowed the wet guitar away and rummaged about his pack. As much as he collected things, people might expect him to take on hoarder tendencies. Nope. Everything either server a purpose or was just really cool. And everything was organized. It never took him more than a moment to rummage through his pack to find things.

  Regardless of how fast he had managed to procure the stone, by the time he was ready to use it, the fire expulsions had ceased. The small grey rock in his hand was cool to the touch, and had darkened carved runes all around it. “I uh.. Was gonna use this, but unnecessary now. It absorbs flames and heat, storing the energy so that you can use it again later. In theory.”

  Om placed the stone back in its place, then tossed his knapsack strap back over his shoulder. “I’m actually just here to catch a boat. The Horde, I’m sure you’ve heard of them, come from a tropical paradise with engineered vehicles and super models, whatever those are, in a magical place called Durotar. I was gonna go check it out, meet with a friend there. Buuut, I guess now I need to find a shop that can work guitar repairs. This city is coastal, can’t be the first time something was flung into the ocean, right? What about you?”

  Om paused to look around, validating his assumption, “Not many Vulpera here at all. Might be just us and one or two more in the entire city.”

--

  Glad to see the guy wasn't running for the sands or ready to give her a load of crap for the honest mistake of nearly frying him, her attention was drawn to the little stone. Curious, she cocked her head to try and get a better look at it just before he tucked it away again. As he spoke, she turned her attention back to the city around them, nodding.

  "Yea, this place is HUGE too. I've been here three days and have only seen the lower section of this one side. Can you imagine building something like this? What if they get sick of the spot? And yea, I've only seen a trio of us waiting on a ride back out and one boy waiting in line for a ship last night. He was all suited up in the hordes red and black too. Like they had recruited him for some big face bashing gig. Honestly he might have looked pretty good if it weren't for the spiked shoulders.. Those just kinda made him look dumb and out of place. Eh, still, I'm sure he'll have some awesome stories when he comes back, though."

  She glanced at his guitar then back up at the city steps nearest them, thinking a moment.

  "Well, I guess it's a good thing you bumped into me then. I'm one of my family's best pathfinders. I guess you could even say the best now. Well, I mean if my grandma could still get around well and my dad wasn't stuck helping out Last Wind they would be the best but you know how it is.."

  She seemed to pause to consider that thought. Shrugging it off just as quickly, she shot him a sideways look and a confident smirk.

"C'mon, I'll find you the place you need, no problem!"

  Without waiting for the soggy boy to respond, she turned on her heel and marched for the stairs leading up into the lower merchants area of the city, fully expecting him to follow.

"Like I said, I've only been here three days so it won't exactly be a direct route. Buuuut I know a guy that'll help. He lives here."

--

  Omru fell in line as soon as the help was offered. He didn’t really consider himself biased, but he just naturally felt more trusting of his own kind. This girl who hadn’t even introduced herself yet had almost roasted him like a desert lizard on a pike, yet here he was following her through the sprawling streets of the Zandalari capital.

  “Well, they did get the inkling for a change in locale. The sands have plenty of their old homes and temples from thousands of years ago. According to legend, they used to rule the entire world, the first conquistadors of Azeroth. Then there was war with.. Uh, someone. Bugs? I don’t really remember. Point is, they ruled the world, built everywhere, lost it, then the world split in two.. Twice. I dunno if you remember it, but like six years ago or so Zandalar was rumored to be sinking. Lots of shaking, tectonic plates of something-something. I think they fixed that too, the Zandalaris. I’m not exactly a history buff, but I’ve been around a Tortollan or two, you know?”

  Bright orange eyes darted from left to right as his black furry ears twitched, listening to the crowds around them. Om’s nostrils flared out in quick little sniffs. This place was a cacophony of sounds, sights and smells. It was a little overwhelming, honestly. Oooh! The fox boy grinned wide as he spotted something magnificent at a corner stall.

“One minute!”

  It was a small round mirror, neatly polished. Seeing his own reflection, he had to take the opportunity to primp just a little. It was nothing compared to what the sin’dorei had been doing since their arrival many months before, and so the merchant just shrugged the gesture off. “You buy, Vulpera?”

  Hearing the offer, another stall merchant called from across the street, “Ey dere rich mon! Ya tink ya look good now, wait til ya get some’a my wares. Come take a look!”

The first merchant didn’t seem to mind the intrusion at all, “Good idea, bruddah. Listen ‘ere shortie, you buy dis mirror full price an my friend dere will give you a deal.”

  In the span of fifteen minutes, Omru had traded in a dozen trinkets, knick knacks and old coins. In return he had the silver zandalari mirror, and a full set of horde themed leather armor.  Rushing back to his new Vulpera friend’s side, he did a little spin in his new hooded attire, “This is an authentic Horde militia armor, fitted for goblins. It’s a little snug in the buttocks, but the Zandalari back there is a leather worker and made room for my tail. Way better than what I had been carrying around. We should see if they have any enchantments, never know when you’ll need to get revenge on a Drummer girl for kicking you into the ocean, you know? Ha, just kidding.”

  It then dawned on Om that the two of them hadn’t even made proper acquaintances yet. “Oh, sorry, the city’s so big and distracting I almost forgot. I’m Omru, by the way. And you?”

--

  Nohko leaned against the carved stone archway that marked the entry to that section of vendors, waiting patiently for the boy to eyeball whatever he was after. Lifting a large claw that dangled from a strap of leather around her neck, one of many such adornments, she used the thing to clean under her fingernails. Suddenly, a loud rather juicy sounding splat on the ground next to her made her jump and dodge away from whatever it was.

“SHIT! FU-“

Her startled cursing halted and a look of confusion set in as she registered what she was looking at. A half rotted fish carcass that had splattered into a sloppy mess on impact next to her. Brows furrowing, she looked up to see where it had fallen from. There, sitting high up on the arch was the huge black bird. It’s head was cocked to the side, one dark eye staring in her direction. Were such a thing common here she would have simply dismissed it. Some feathered sky rat turd who can't keep a handle on their lunch. But birds didn’t come in solid, shiny black like that around here. None she had ever seen anyway. The closest thing were the darker colored vultures back in the sands but most around here were bright blues, reds and greens. So what, was it following her? Attempting to bomb her with rotten fish? What the sands, all she had done was help! She narrowed her eyes at the thing, pondering for the briefest moment reaching for the tiny hand crossbow she kept tied to her pack. Naaa, why save it just to-

“…never know when you’ll need to get revenge on a Drummer girl for kicking you into the ocean, you know? Ha, just kidding.”

  The thought was interrupted as she realized the Vulpera boy was back and had apparently been trying to show her his new stuff. She turned her attention back to him and eyed the outfit up and down, offering a smile.

  “Heeeey, nice getup. Wait, you didn’t go get that just because I said that other guy looked awesome in it, right? Not that you don’t look good. Better in some ways even, since you didn’t go with the dumb oversized shoulders he had. He was super ripped though so could probably have made an old barrel look good..  Anyway, yeah sorry, Noh, nice to meet you Omru.”

  She stuck out a hand to shake. The bright red of her fur darkened into a deep purplish color from wrist to fingertip. Rings decorated just about every finger, some sporting more than one. Some were typical looking while others appeared crafted from miscellaneous things she had apparently liked enough to turn into jewelry. Her wrist was likewise covered in jewelry and trinkets. From solid, etched metal cuffs to tiny hand carved scrimshaw dangling on loose chains or straps to braided.. hair? Was that hair? ..well some kind of braided organic, -hair like- material with bits of glass and such woven in..

--

  “Oh, you -were- just talking about another vulpera in Horde armor, huh? Nah, I got this because that Troll was a good salesman, honestly. I mean, he had me pegged for an explorer and adventurer, someone who risks his life for great treasure. Read me like a book, told me my armor was scuffed and in need of repairs. I had a lot of stuff on me reserved for trading anyways, plus I dig the black and red. Maybe that other guy wasn’t exactly affiliated with the Horde either. Mayhap they just talked him into upgrading his armor like they did me. I’m not a big fan of the skull and bones aesthetics, though. Cultural thing, I’m sure. Proud of their kills, wear it as jewelry or something. I dunno.”

  Omru snatched the extended hand, giving it a squeeze and a shake as proper etiquette called for.  He himself had a single black ring on his left index finger. It didn’t really have a meaning or purpose, and in fact it blended in with his fur, so it wasn’t very noticeable. Still, he liked it and that was all that mattered. In the little three second handshake, his fingers had felt the rigid bands on Noh’s fingers and the clatter of her wrist ornaments was audible. “Whoa, cool. You gotta lotta jingly jangles, as my Uncle calls them. Where’d ya get’em?”

  Continuing through the city, Om looked around from shop to shop. The streets weren’t packed, but the architecture and pathway spacing certainly felt designed for such high foot traffic. In more than a few places there were still crimson smears being scrubbed away by Zandalari trolls dressed in rags. Blood? How long ago had the city been sacked? A few months, right? He wasn’t really one to keep a calendar nor an appointment. Everything he had ever signed up for, he had been late. So why disappoint people when he could just commit himself to being obligation free. Heh. Despite the sparse customers, the shops still lined the streets, merchants seeming to outnumber clientele for the time being.

“Imagine what this place was like before the Alliance attacked it. They said they lost thousands, including the King. Mm. I’ve heard tales of them burning our wagons down for even being friendly with the Horde. Haven’t met any besides a few drunks, but so far they all sound like total scum. I hope the Zandalari wipe them out.”

--

[sue-bts]

 It’s Two in the Morning- Vmin (A/F/M)

Anonymous requested: May I request a Vmin smut where Tae tops and Jimin bottoms? And they’re friends with benefits?

Pairing: Jimin x Taehyung 

Warnings: smut mentions, the slightest tad of angst, some fluff, melodramatic rantings by me :)

Words: 3,402

-a self indulgent little fic 

Jimin likes to say he's a moderately innocent person. And while the test grades in pretty red ink can say he’s driven academically, or his tidied dorm room would say he’s neat- the panties that stretch over his silky skin and the delicate yet gravely moans Taehyung is all too familiar with would test any accusations of his innocence. 

Taehyung lets Jimin say what he’d like about himself, that he’s good and clean, that his studies go above any cravings or bursts of lust that sputter within him. But the rushed and sloppy texts that illuminate Taehyung’s dark room as his phone lets out a soft ding, in the late hours of the night- or more accurately, the early hours of the morning- would say otherwise of Jimin’s earlier statements. The messages usually say something like: “can i come over?” or “come to my dorm,” but on the nights it’s clear that he's had something to drink, or the nights he’s desperate, without worry over how needy he may come off as, he says things like, “horny for you daddy,” or “all i want is your cock in me right now.”

Taehyung doesn’t have any complaints. If anything, he occasionally wonders if he should be thanking some higher power for Jimin’s company. He needs Jimin just as much as the older needs him. College is taxing, relationships are just as taxing, and to try to manage both of those things at the same time? Tae would either flunk out for dump the poor guy. Jimin is that perfect compromise to satisfy all those primal desires that arise within Taehyung after studying for some godawful amount of time. He’s the answer to all those lurking questions in the back of a young teenager’s mind: what would it be like to be seduced by an officer, what’s the feeling of being handcuffed and played with like you’re a toy, what does it feel like to sink your cock into a boy sporting a collar to tug on and a harness to pull? And Jimin finds solace in being scooped up by Taehyung, pushed against the nearest wall or pressed so his stomach gurgles against his desk and the table leaves imprints along his abdomen. Taehyung’s deep voice always so close to Jimin’s ear, so that Jimin can hear every breath, every little whisper of a noise and the loudest arches to his words. 

They were friends through freshman year of college, Jimin wore overalls to the first day of class but the legs were just a bit too long, even after being rolled two times, and he ended up tripping up the isle of seats. Taehyung was sat at the edge of the row and quickly went to help the boy up. It hadn’t been love at first sight or anything, they were friends first, but it had been something of a looking into each other’s eyes and seeing something. Taehyung still mocks Jimin for his description of the moment sounding so cheesy, to him it’d been more like: Jimin fell and I went to help him up and then after that we were familiar faces and from that we started talking occasionally. Whatever did or didn’t happen, they were close friends, taking terns studying in each other’s dorm rooms, their roommates finding their closeness intoxicating. 

They’d gone to party together a week before sophomore year started, the air was still sickly warm with summer, but the nights arrived earlier. A girl had said that they looked cute together, “how long have you two been dating?” She’d asked. They’d shared a glance before bursting into laugher. “Oh no, we’re only friends,” Jimin had said through his fit of giggles. She’d given a nod but a smirk was still poised at her lips before she had wandered off. Though Taehyung tried to play it cool and keep himself calm, her glance to him had left him unsettled the rest of the night. 

When the party had slowed down and people were beginning to lose their interest, that same girl had suggested they play spin the bottle. 

“Jesus, we aren’t sophomores in high school,” some guy had said, nonetheless,  he walked forward to sit with a few others who were making a circle. The girl had laughed, then turned to look at Jimin and Taehyung who were standing awkwardly far apart. 

“Come join, love birds!” 

Jimin had given an irritated sneer in her direction, to which her grin only grew in response. Taehyung, while still sick to his stomach and his mind swarming with a budding headache, began to approach the circle. Jimin stood behind him slack jawed, “Wait, you’re actually joining?!” 

Taehyung gave a glance behind himself to Jimin, eyes trying to seem playful and light but the weight of the world at his shoulders. “Maybe I’ll earn a kiss from the prettiest girl at this stupid party,” he’d said, his words aimed at that same, irritating girl who started this all, but his eyes not shifting away from Jimin’s. Jimin gave him one last irritated look before following Tae to the circle and sitting down beside his friend. 

The girl span the bottle first and landed on some random guy with a patchy beard and baseball cap on. Then the terns went around counter clockwise, so Jimin was next. He gave a huff, and span. He landed on a girl with big, blushing cheeks who nervously twisted her brunette hair that fell messily over her shoulders. Jimin began to lean in, and her giving a small giggle as she did too. Taehyung felt a strange sense of jealously boil his veins watching them inch closer and closer until he sat there helpless as Jimin’s plush lips cascaded over the girl’s thinner ones. He just sat there, boneless and hopeless as the kiss depended and the crowd around them cheered with the sight of their tongues entangling slowly but surely. Jimin pulled away first, his eyes blinking quickly and pupils dilated.

It was Taehyung’s tern next, and he span with a flick of his finger, harsh against the bottle and the clink sound echoing. He watched it circle until slowing down to point at Jimin, it was nearly itching to point at the irritating girl but Taehyung stopped it where it was before it could. Jimin looked up from the bottle pointing at him, to his best friend Taehyung, who didn’t seem have a shred of surprise or embarrassment across his expression. Jimin was nervous though, he bit his lip and watched Taehyung through his lashes. Their kiss was slow, Taehyung allowing himself to explore Jimin’s lips, the ones he’d fantasized over for longer than he'd ever let himself admit. The kiss depended, and the rest of the people dissipated into a foggy blur. And the kiss was too deep to be something casual they’d forgot about after a few more beers or a few more hours of hanging out. It was just a bit too deep to be nothing. 

;

It’s two in the morning now, Taehyung is convincing himself that he’s trying to fall asleep, that he isn’t waiting for Jimin to text him. But he is waiting, and he is terrible convincing himself of things. His eyes are open so he’ll catch the light from his phone when a new text arrives, his ringer still off from when he turned it off in his 8 o'clock class. He taps his fingers along his opposite arm, and then that arm’s fingers tap along the other arm. And then the dim blue light fills his side of the dorm room, and he scrambles to grab his phone off the nightstand. 

Taehyung finds himself smiling at the text even in its bare simplicity.

Jiminie 👼

you up??

You 

yea 👅

Jiminie 👼

my dorm or yours, or somewhere in-between ?

You

my roommate is home rn 

Jiminie 👼

mine isn't cum over ;))

You

i’ll be there in like 10 ok 

;

And Taehyung scoops up Jimin, so his soft skin can meld with his, and all the cold of the room can grow warm with them. 

“I thought you’d never get here,” Jimin says, combing Taehyung’s hair and pulling him closer to his lips. 

“I thought you’d have to wait forever for me,” Taehyung replies. He sighs, he doesn't like when he sounds like he belongs in some young adult novel, he finds it a grotesque abuse of words. 

Jimin giggles, letting his head fall back and Taehyung licks up his neck. 

They do their best to make it easy to do what they’d come here for. Jimin’s bed is made and Tae sets him down on the sheets, leaving no time for Jimin to be alone on the bed before he is over the elder. His bangs fall over his eyes and tickle over Jimin’s bare chest. They don’t kiss, that’d be risky. But it’s allowed to kiss down each other’s bodies, that makes it about the skin and not the touch. Taehyung’s mouth is warm, how it always is, and wet, god, his lips are plush and seem to let everything else fade away from Jimin’s conscience. A melody of sin and a familiarity like a recurring dream that you’ve only had once. 

But it isn’t supposed to be so kind, as it is, so smooth with no worries or such flowing words. It’s supposed to be wrong and needful, and something dirty to make the sheets regret ever enduring such sounds or smells. 

Jimin’s cock is throbbing, and his little fingers scatter across the sensitive skin until Taehyung’s mouth slowly runs down his abdomen until it’s taking in Jimin’s length and choking on it with an ugly sound. This is how it’s supposed to be, quick and separated, with thoughts that deny ever doing such a thing as this. They’re only bodies to play with, only lust to torment until granted its request. What they want from each other is not warmth, nor romance, they want their deepest desires to be fulfilled, and within that, be left limp and used and their emotions disobeyed. It’s to be wrongful, and with scrunched eyebrows, dirty. Taehyung slobbering over his lover’s cock, with his drool drowning him and his minor grunts being their soundtrack. Jimin lets out his breathy whines, that are what Taehyung denies he lives to hear, and pretends to nearly despise. Deep base plays, Taehyung puts on some song to drown away their heavy breathing and the faintest whimpers Jimin lets out which are just too soft to be ignored. 

The sex is detached and sad, Tae feels himself falling into a pit, and only Jimin could pull him out from it. He despises his attachment and his absolute dependence. This is his own story, he’s not one of those warnings his roommate would give on how he’d get feelings or that he’d want more than just the late nights and the wrinkled sheets. This is its own night, its own set of lips and rocking hips, not the recycled scenes to play out as it has before for other people. 

Taehyung slowly pulls out of Jimin’s heat, his sweat sticky and smelling rank, and his hair plastered so his skin. Jimin whines with the emptiness, warn out and finally feeling the heaviness of the hour in his tired eyes. 

“I guess I’ll go now?” Taehyung says, he frames it as a question, but he knows he should go without needing Jimin to answer. 

“You could stay..?” Jimin says, moving to have room beside him on the bed. Taehyung stares at him in the darkness, his eyes lidded and eyelashes faint. 

“That’s not how it’s supposed to go.” He feels himself mourning the words and regretting every second of the silence that’s between them. But then he does go, and he gets up with his clothes feeling sick on his skin. And his fingers can’t help tapping to the rhythm of Jimin’s skin on the steering wheel home. 

;

Taehyung remembers their first time together, after they’d agreed to it being strictly a ‘sex’ thing. They’d wanted to remain friends, but on occasion, let themselves give in to the lust that’d sometimes flare. It wasn’t easy from the beginning, their first night was already strange. It was strangely kinky to make it less romantically inclined, but even in the moment it felt forced and strict. No kissing, no touchy foreplay, no cuddling after, no staying the night, no glances the wrong way, no words just a bit too soft, no nothing. It was harsh and bitter on Taehyung’s tongue, and Jimin felt himself pull away while pulling Tae only closer. 

While their nights of playing together grew, their hang outs and study sessions decreased. Now it’s October, and Taehyung only sees Jimin when he’s fucking into him, or occasionally in the class they share. They don’t sit beside each other, they’d tried it once and it’d been so incredibly awkward that Jimin had gotten up and sat with someone else in the middle of class. 

“You don’t have to go,” Taehyung had said, but apparently the words had never even escaped him, only rattling inside his head as he’d watched Jimin stand and slowly wobble away in the cramped isle. 

Taehyung doesn’t regret their first kiss, if anything, it’s the one thing he regrets the least- but he regrets what it did to them. Jimin with his texts growing dirtier and dirtier to make up for how much he craves Taehyung’s heated skin to pull him closer until he’s cradled in the younger’s embrace. He makes it dirtier and wronger each time they’re together, as an excuse for his sick addiction that shouldn’t take control of him so easily. Taehyung hates how he sees through Jimin’s schemes, he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it, because he plays along with the elder for sharing the exact same feelings. 

;

Jimin is pulling on Taehyung’s arm that clutches to his hip. Jimin rocks back on Tae’s cock, his little fingers tracing the pulsing veins of Taehyung’s forearm, his breathing uneven and raspy. There are faint gasps of Taehyung’s name off Jimin’s lips, and the younger feels himself drowning in the feeling of Jimin around him, moving with him, like a boat rocking with the sea. He doesn’t want the feeling to end, to have to pull away from Jimin, to have to leave and not here from the elder until the next time he grows hungry with lust. With his other hand he grips to the base of his cock, not letting himself grow close enough to cum each time the heat rises in his abdomen and tensing thighs. 

Jimin grows bored with the same position, flipping himself over to fucked missionary style. He wraps his arms around the back of Taehyung’s neck, the eye contact burning and unendurable. 

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? Taehyung asks himself, Is love supposed to feel like you’re drowning until the other person brings you just that little bit closer to them and you find air again?

Tae doesn’t want this to be love, because he doesn’t want to be the one to admit he’s weak enough to fall. Maybe it isn’t love, it’s just his weakness to Jimin’s scent, and the slight dip of his heart each time he blinks and Jimin is still there, under him, his cheeks still blushing and his lips still parted. Maybe it isn’t love at all, just the familiarity and warmth of seeing Jimin, and all the rushing happiness in that alone, and all the crushing weight of the world that goes along with it.

;

;

Jimin is grabbing a quick coffee in between his classes, his back is turned from Taehyung he stops walking when he sees him. It’s been a summer since they’d last seen each other. On the weekend before their Junior year finals, they’d said this would be their last time together. Taehyung had been curled against Jimin’s back, his breathing still heavy from sex, his smell still contaminated with Jimin’s. 

“This can’t keep going,” Jimin whispered, and Taehyung knew already he’d say this. So all he did was nod and his chin brushed against Jimin’s shoulder. He took a deep breath of Jimin’s smell and left a soft kiss behind on the back of Jimin’s neck, before he got up and didn’t look back. 

God, did he want to look back. 

And going 3 long months without a single text from Jimin, a whisper of his voice, or the even the mere sight of him had Taehyung’s mind going in circles. The withdrawals were tedious and painful. And now, the first day back to the same old campus but the new schedule to a new class. The same old Jimin there, with his back turned, in a striped shirt and black skinny jeans. Tae is stiff, his books gaining pounds to have his back ache. 

And he can’t save himself, he just stands there as Jimin turns and his eyes lock on the other boy. 

His eyes are as round as they always are, his face round too, lips in a pout with his coffee burning his palm. A graze of a smile flickers along his mouth, just the slightest little flicker for Taehyung to latch onto. 

And then Jimin is gone, walking in the opposite direction and leaving Taehyung there, grieving all the waisted moments that he hadn’t just fallen to his knees before the elder and confessed to all the words that had drowned his mind but not his mouth. Now they don’t drown him, but pile in mounds of the letters and the words and the sentences until Taehyung is berried alive in his regret. 

;

Taehyung sits on his made bed, his fingers scratching the too neat sheets, the ones that he remembers Jimin on, with his strawberry lips and his peach blush. Why hadn’t he just leaned over Jimin, letting his lips find the older’s and kissing all the words he hadn’t said into Jimin, until the boy could know exactly what he had felt before it’d been a day too long on the calendar and he had to push Taehyung away. 

Tae stares at his phone, it’s black, and his fingers beg to touch it and find Jimin’s contact name, the one he’s all too familiar staring at for hours until the notification would light up. Hours pass, the room growing darker and Tae’s roommate turning off their light finally, so the room is pitch black. Taehyung feels safer in the dark, so his eyes don’t keep burning holes into his phone with how much of a coward he is. Jimin’s skin had been so soft, and his body had been so warm, and sometimes they’d put on music that was just a bit too romantic to have played while being together. But Taehyung had known it was the right music for them, maybe Jimin had known that too, that’d had been why he’d let it keep playing. 

Things weren’t too clear back then, everything had been under the title of ‘Friends with Benefits,’ and within that they had to abide by the thick rules that came along with such a title. Strict and yet foggy, clear and yet unknown. Is it wrong to neglect the title and make it his own? Neglect all those budding feelings that had quickly been torn to shreds and burned with the summer’s rich heat. 

Taehyung picks up his phone, at first his hand, sliding over the duvet, unable to find it in the dark. When his fingers do slide over its thin surface, a shiver of fear cascades through Tae’s veins. He doesn’t think as he punches in the letters to make the words, doesn’t let himself regret. 

What he says is better than saying “I love you,” or at least he thinks so. He’d hate too be too cliche with such a confession as this. 

iMessage to Jiminie 👼

it’s nearly two in the morning. you’re all i have left. you were all i had, and i know i’m stupid for saying this now, but i want you back 

;

Taehyung gets a text back at 9 in the morning the next day.

iMessage from Jiminie 👼

that’s a silly way to say i love you, tae. but without having to decode anything like i had to for you, i’ll just say it to you straight, i love you too. maybe some coffee and a scone could make it all better? meet me at 10?

;

;

(sorry for this being so melodramatic and flimsy and totally not like a hot smut ‘oooh yea im wet’ kinda deal. sometimes i just can’t write like that and i got this idea for the au and just didnt feel really steamy stuff would fit into it? idk i hope people still like it tho. also like 0 editing so excuse errors lol)

[sibatrash]

Happy birthday! Request for some nsfw Jean x Armin pls?

Okay let me tell you about this little AU I created!

Jean and Armin met at college and immediately fell in love their freshman year. Jean is a chemistry major and Armin is an English major, so their majors don’t really match up. They just happened to meet by accident in an introductory philosophy class where Armin ended up being Jean’s tutor for a while before they got together! So this is set sometime during their senior year, where Jean is coming to finally meet Armin’s scary dads for Easter :) I hope you enjoy!

The click of a closed door had never sounded so sweet to Jean’s ears as it did in such a moment where he was finally able to be with the man he loves, in a peaceful silence that had not existed in many hours. The silence had been killed, the moment they walked into the Smith-Ackerman household, and was bludgeoned to death by none other than Papa Levi for the rest of the evening. The silence, the comfortable silence that Jean was so used to enjoying with armin, was now replaced by an interrogation by the small, angry man who seemed to have so much rage for a man who raised such a peaceful son. But then again, Armin’s other father, Erwin, and he shared more than just platinum blonde locks, bright blue eyes and a love for knowledge. Despite Erwin being a former marine, he had this certain quality of calm, a serene expression that was usually accompanied with a smile. It was an expression Jean had seen one too many times on Armin, when he had resigned to staying up all night to study for finals with Jean, or when they decided to be dumb and try to find a pizza place that was open at four am around campus. Erwin’s smile was calm, but Armin’s was beautiful. It was the kind of smile that Jean knew he wanted to see for the rest of his life, but first, he had to gain the approval of both Erwin and most certainly Levi before that could even be considered-

For several seconds, his thoughts drifted off into oblivion and left him to watch as Armin slipped off his dress shirt. His nimble fingers worked to undo all of the buttons of that white cotton shirt. In the back of his mind, he registered that Armin was talking. But upon looking at his boyfriend’s face, in the hopes of discerning what he was saying, Jean found himself staring at those rosy pink lips, how they moved and curved with every syllable murmured. How long had it been since they had kissed? At least six hours, a length of time that Jean truly didn’t think was healthy for two healthy, young men who were absolutely, maddening in love with one another. He could easily make up some excuse about kiss withdrawals that would somehow excuse a sudden kiss, then Armin’s cheeks would become red and he’d probably hit Jean’s chest again in that teasing way he always did when embarrassed-…

“Babe? Are you listening?” Armin pulled Jean away from his fantasy, just seconds before it became too lewd for his own good. That would have resulted in an excruciating walk of shame to the bathroom.

“Uh huh-”

Armin knew immediately that Jean was lying based on the sheepish smile that suddenly took over his expression. Jean’s lips curled up on one end while a breathless laugh escaped him. The indication of his guilt, was the fact that he began to rub at the back of his neck. Despite that he knew Jean was lying, a warm smile curls up the ends of Armin’s lips until he was left grinning at his stupid boyfriend.

“I was saying that Papa and Dad are going out to buy groceries tonight, They said they would pick up some wine for Easter dinner tomorrow. Are you going to be okay with red?”  Armin runs a hand through his shoulder length hair, tugging on the ends of his hair and letting it fall around his shoulders; a golden curtain that framed his face and illuminated the man as if it was his own personal halo.

“Hell yea. Does that mean I can get drunk with your dads?” Jean steps away from where he had been gaping by the door a cheeky smirk lighting up his eyes, he was making a beeline for the space in front of Armin that would allow him the perfect access to caressing those toned hips. Black dress pants covered Armin’s waist, yet Jean could still make out the slight bump of those hips. It was a bump he had memorized during many late nights, whether cuddling or indulging in that which was much more carnal.

“Absolutely not, you’re a terrible drunk-” Just as Jean predicted, his boyfriend slapped at his chest playfully. Not that the motion hurt him through his maroon polo shirt, he still faked a flinch. His acting would have been perfect, had he not had that shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Come on baby, I’m not that bad.” In reality, Jean was even more of a blabber-mouth as a drunk man as compared to when he was sober. After all, years ago it only took two beers for him to blab to Armin that he was the hottest piece of ass that ever walked on their university campus. The amount of progress he had made in controlling his tongue when intoxicated, was minimal at best. The only thing that had changed, was that Armin had somehow convinced Jean never to tell him the endings to movies they watched when drunk.

“You are, I worry that you would say something that would make Papa mad.” Jean raises a fine eyebrow, watching his boyfriend begin to blush at the mere thought of what embarrassing stories his boyfriend could blab and tell his fathers about. “Like, ‘Hey Mister Ackerman, I plowed your son once in a movie theatre.’” It was rare that Armin admitted that he and Jean had done anything more than kisses to the cheek, even around their closest friends he would refuse to talk about what happened behind closed doors. Perhaps it was the sheer absurdity of hearing Armin say such a thing out loud that made Jean burst out in boisterous laughter, a smile breaking his teasing expression as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. It didn’t help that Armin decided to playfully slap him chest and attempt to hide his cerise cheeks behind a curtain of golden hair that had fallen around his face upon looking down.

“It’s not funny Jean!” Despite his protests, Jean continued to chuckle, “Babe, I only let that slip once.” He pauses and brings his hand up to cup Armin’s soft cheek, tilting his bright blue gaze back up to meet Jean’s own. “Besides, that was a pretty good time.” Even with his hand intruding on the otherwise perfect view of Armin’s face, he was a sight to behold. Cute button features, long blonde hair, glimmering bright blues that Jean could easily lose himself in yet again; all of which came together to make a man Jean would never describe as anything but perfect.

“It was.” Armin pauses, lips pursing ever so slightly as Jean recognized his expression of curiosity and contemplation. Although it was an expression that was rare to see outside of homework time, “You know, it has been a while.” Armin spoke in a hushed manner, so much so that his words were barely able to be heard unless Jean were to strain, “…and dad and papa will be gone for a while. They always take a long time grocery shopping.” At first, Jean’s mind was struggling to comprehend what it could be that his boyfriend was suggesting with a faint blush to his cheeks and a bit of a timid nature. All too quickly, the pieces fell into place, clicking in Jean’s mind and bringing forth an onslaught of lewd fantasies that he would love to enact in those few hours of peace. But he would play along by teasing and giving in to Armin’s wishes to make sure to please Armin as he deserved to be.

“Oh really?” His hands migrated back to where they had been previously, clinging to the rounded curves of Armin’s hips. The only difference was that Jean now tugged gently at his beloved’s dress pants, allowing a smirk to come to his lips as the action brought Armin closer. Frankly, Jean was glad he didn’t have to think of another snarky thing to say in order to tease his boyfriend yet again. Instead, Armin yanked Jean forward by his shirt in a sudden movement that brought their lips together, sealing a passionate kiss between them. There may have been some bumping of foreheads and the click of their teeth together by accident, but Jean chalked it up to how worked up Armin must be. It was not common to see Armin pining, digging his fingers into the back of Jean’s neck and dragging Jean forward until they tumbled back on his small bed. All too quickly clothing that had been so proper and outfits that had been agonized over, were thrown to the floor in heaps. Jean would much rather focus on how that cerise color trailed down Armin’s neck, beginning in his cheeks and continuing down his body like a mist that only grew darker with every kiss by Jean.

Years of learning and being a partner in crime as well as boyfriend meant that Jean knew every crevice of Armin’s body, every spot that would make his beloved wiggle and moan until they both couldn’t handle it any more. Likewise, Armin knew exactly what to do in order to get what he wanted from Jean. In that moment, where they were both struggling to slip off what little clothing remained between them, it was apparent that there was no plan between the two of them. There was no grand gesture or indication that this has been staged in any way. That contributed to the fire in Jean’s groin, that which made it that much more difficult to focus on anything besides the breathy moans leaving his lover. He made sure his hands lead the way, caressing down Armin’s body before his lips could cover the smoothed skin with soft kisses. Jean kissed over silken skin, stopping only when rose buds seemed far too alluring to ignore. Even in those moments, he wasn’t entirely consumed by the flick of his tongue against Armin’s nipple, rather what consumed him from the inside out was a flame, ignited in his abdomen and travelled over every nerve in his body due. The wildfire that jumped across his skin was ignited by those lewd sounds coming from Armin, as well as the protruding erection surrounded by golden curls that pressed against Jean. A flick of his tongue was a splash of gasoline between them, a jump of Armin’s erection, another moan filling the space between them. A soft bite to the skin surrounding Armin’s abused bud was a jerk of hips, a hand finding Jean’s hair and massaging his scalp. Pleas for more, both verbal and physical were nearly too much for Jean. His mind was fogged, his body moving on instinct as he kissed back up Armin’s chest to meet those needy lips and hopefully calm the flurry of kind curses against Jean’s life if he didn’t do anything to relieve the tension building.

Armin no longer tried to hide how physical he was with Jean, in the beginning he used to try and hold himself back for Jean’s sake. He wouldn’t dig his fingers into Jean’s back, nor tug on his hair and demand from Jean. Rather he would just submit, lay there and be the perfect boyfriend while denying his own pleasures. Although, Jean made it hard to not be physical. He teased Armin, nibbling on his bottom lip and coaxing those actions from him. His fingers dug into Jean’s scalp, gasping as curious hands roamed down over his erection, ghosting over tense nerves as a means of teasing Armin. That is, until Armin got his revenge by biting Jean’s bottom lip and bucking his hips forward into that grip, demanding with a breathless voice, “Touch me-”

Jean was more than happy to oblige, stroking Armin’s shaft and watching how his body contorted, hips jerking forward to meet the thrusts of his hand and hands twisting his hair all over the place. Armin was the epitome of perfection, everything about him was flawless. But in such a moment where tension was high and their desire for one another was unrivaled, Jean knew that they both needed something more. It was almost physically painful to remove himself from their embrace to search amongst their things quickly, in hopes of finding what was needed. Luckily, the box of condoms and bottle of lubricant Jean had hidden in his suitcase were still in place so that by the time he turned around, he had the corner of a condom between his lips and a small bottle in his hand. It seemed Armin was far more impatient than Jean had imagined for when Jean turned around once again, a slender hand had slipped around his own erection, continuing to pleasure himself in the absence of his boyfriend.

If he were allowed Jean would have gladly sat back and watched Armin finish himself off, but he knew that would leave him in the dog house for far too long than was to his liking. Rather than risk a potential punishment, he begins to slip on the condom, adding a fair amount of lubricant to the condom as well as stepping towards his beloved boyfriend. From that moment on, the rest of their private evening was a bit of a blur. Moans, grunts and flushed skin swirled together for what seemed like forever, encasing Jean and Armin in a bubble that wouldn’t allow them to see outside of their own love making. The steady shake of the bed, rocking of hips, names moaned out, skin bitten until distinct red hickies littered both of their necks and shoulders, it was all so much to handle.

Post-coital cuddles and kisses was perhaps the best part, moments where tenderness was never enough and affirmations of love were never doubted. It seemed their two hour refuge had done them both well for when Armin’s fathers returned to the house with groceries in tow, the young men were both more chipper than before their departure. Except for a slight gimp to Armin’s step and some tenderness on the back of Jean’s shoulders, they thought their escape into one another had gone unnoticed. That is, until Levi caught Jean’s eye while unloading the rest of the groceries.

“If you’re gonna have hickies, hide them better. I don’t want to see that shit at Easter dinner.”

“Uh, Yes sir-”

[tweakerwolf]

Family Christmas (Isaac Version)

My first ever Reader-insert story! I got a request to do one a few days ago and, well, I hope it’s to your liking!! It’s pretty basic, since like I said, it’s my first ever attempt at reader-insert. Feel free to send me requests on my Drabble blog ( @twdrabbles it’s run by my friend but she forwards all requests to me in a very timely manner! I just don’t have the time to do my blog and a drabble specific one and she’s awesome like that). I’m willing to try my hand at just about anything (some kinks I know nothing about though, sorry) and any pairing is game!

Prompt: Dad!Isaac at Christmas time with reader-insert as mom (I kept it vague and added (Mom/Dad) in certain spots so really, I tried to keep it neutral); 2 kids- 1 boy (5) and 1 girl (2).

Approx 1300 words (present tense), under the ‘read more’

“Daddy! Wake up Daddy! Chrimmas!” a voice calls out, right before Isaac feels someone clambering up on top of him.

“Santa!” a second voice calls out.

Isaac groans a bit as the two small children climb into the bed. “Santa came already? It’s only 7 o’clock… is the sun even out?”

“He comes in the middle of the night, I’m surprised they slept in this long,” you mumble, smiling. You roll over and grab your young daughter, hugging her close. “Are you excited to see what Santa brought you, Ellie?”

“Yea, yea!” she cries out, smiling at you.

From the other side of the bed, Isaac smiles at the sight of you two. Even after all these years together, he’s still amazed at the life he built for himself, with you. “How about I make everyone breakfast and then we can open presents.”

“But presents!”

“Ben, breakfast is important,” Isaac reminds your son.

“Oooookay, food first I guess,” he grumbles. He wants to open his presents now but, if Dad says to wait, he’ll wait.

Isaac tussles his hair and climbs out of bed, swinging Ben up onto his shoulders. “C’mon Bud, you can help. Omelettes okay with you Dear?”

“Yea,” you reply, grabbing Ellie and following your husband into the kitchen. Isaac makes the best omelettes, not that you’d turn down any breakfast he’d make for you. You set Ellie down in her booster seat and get her a sippy cup of juice. Then you sit down at the table beside her and just watch Isaac cook.

“Okay kiddo, can you get the milk out please?” Isaac asks. He watches Ben out of the corner of his eye, just to make sure he doesn’t have any trouble. But since Ben had been aching to help out in the kitchen anyways, Isaac kept a small bottle of milk on the lower shelves just for him. “Thank you, do you help (Mom/Dad) out like this in the mornings too?”

“Of course! (Mommy/Daddy) lets me stir sometimes too!” he answers proudly.

“That’s a good boy,” Isaac says, tussling his hair lightly.

It doesn’t take long for him to get everything chopped up and in the pan, making two small plates for the kids first. He knows that the kids would both scarf down their food and run into the living room, so it was best to feed them first. “Try not to make too big of a mess Ellie, those pajamas are still clean.”

You laughed, “No pair of jammies lasts her longer than a night. I’d say those get dirty by the 4th bite!”

“Well now that you’ve said that…” he groans good-naturedly.

“Nooo!” Ellie pouts, frowning at both of you.

“It’s okay to be messy Ellie, you’re 2. Plus if you get food all over your face, we can take pictures to send to Grandma,” you reassure her.

“Gramma, yea!” Pacified, Ellie grabs her large plastic fork and starts eating.

You watch, easily scooping up all the bits of egg that miss her mouth as you wait for Isaac to finish your breakfast. Considering that both kids were in a hurry, neither of them really made too large of a mess; both of them were done by the time that Isaac was plating your omelettes.

“How about we eat in the living room and watch the kids open presents,” he offers.

“Yea, that sounds like a good idea, I don’t think we can talk them into waiting any longer.” You lift Ellie out of her booster seat and let her and Ben run ahead while Isaac carries the plates into the living room. You sit on the couch, cuddling with your husband, happy to eat your eggs. Ellie and Ben were both bouncing around the room, needing a moment to let out the excitement before they actually sit down by their presents.

Isaac leans down and nuzzles your ear with his nose, “I’m glad we separated out the presents last night, that was a good idea.” Now each child has their presents in a separate pile so there was no need to read out and distribute the presents. He can sit and relax with you while the kids made a mess.

“Oh yea, otherwise the kids would be opening all the presents, not paying attention to if it was even theirs or not. Heaven forbid if Ellie opens up one of Ben’s presents and then doesn’t want to give it up.”

“Or they open something for one of us and break it… or lose it.”

You are inclined to agree as you watch the kids scream and tear apart the wrapping. Bows and scraps of paper were all over the floor but the kids were so excited. Despite the mess though, seeing them so excited just warms your heart. Especially since Ellie was old enough to really get into the holiday spirit and understand the joy this year. “Don’t forget, after this, we’re going to my parents’ house,” you remind Isaac as the kids opened the last if their presents. It will probably be another hour before they’d be ready to leave the house though.

“Well, before we even try to get the kids ready, I have a present I want you to open,” Isaac whispers to you. He had been keeping this one in his nightstand, not wanting to take the risk that the kids would find it. He moves both of your empty plates to the coffee table and sits facing you. “I know that we agreed not to get each other super expensive gifts, we had the kids to think about but… I still found something within our budget and I wanted you to have something special.”

You cover your mouth as he pulls a velvet box out of his pocket- when had he grabbed that, you never saw him put anything in his pocket! You reach out and take it while pretending to glower at him, “We agreed on inexpensive.”

“How else would I show you that I love you?” he kidded.

“Oh please, Isaac, I know you love me-”

Isaac reaches out and cups your cheek, “I know, I was kidding. But I saw this and knew I had to get it for you. Don’t worry, I didn’t have to get a loan against the house or anything.”

“I would certainly hope not!” you cry out. Thankfully neither of the kids were paying attention, both of them still playing with their new toys. Slowly you open the box, grinning warmly when you see the necklace- a large circle with a crescent moon set in the middle. Etched along the outside rim are the words ‘I love you to the moon and back’. “Oh, it’s so beautiful Isaac!” you exclaim as you take it out of the box. You shift on the couch so he can help you put it on; you run your fingers over the pendant and smile. “A moon huh? Should’ve known something like that would catch your eye.”

“Har, har.”

“Seriously though, I love it.”

Isaac pulls you into hug, hands running down your sides as he nuzzles your neck. “Now I’ll have even more reason to think of you on the full moons.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you kiss his hair; you’ve been together for years now but it isn’t like you talk about it often. It always surprises you to be reminded just how much you mean to Isaac, that you’re his Anchor. “I love you too Isaac,” you whisper.

The two of you manage to get a few more minutes of cuddling time before the kids climb up and decide they want hugs too. Not that you mind, you hug each child close, calling out Merry Christmas as you do so. Two happy children and a loving husband, you wouldn’t trade this for the world.