#so you’re like um hey that’s fucked up and sometimes a crime?

[thatrandomblogsays]

Annabeth: I, a child, had to earn Thalia’s love, that’s how the world works! I have to earn my moms love. Love is transactional, you gotta be worthy of it first silly :)

Percy, listening to this on the train

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

[screaminglygay]

Hop on.

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: when your brother’s bike breaks down, you turn to natasha´s shop for help, what starts as a simple repair leads to a whirlwind of teasing banter. sometimes, fixing a bike can lead to mending more than just machinery.

warnings: bike accident, but nothing horrible, then just FLUFF!!, mild teasing, brother being an ass hehe

word count: 8.9k

an: i wrote this a while ago, but i still really like this one a lot, so i hope you´ll do too:) also yes, i don´t know anything about bikes:D

"What can I help you with?" The receptionist asks, but noticing you´re worried look right away.

"Um… my brother, he- had an accident," you mumble out to her.

"Can you tell me your name, miss?" She looks down at her computer.

"(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you show her your ID.

The lady gives you the ID back, makes a few clicks and looks back at you, "he is in the room number seven."

You basically sprint there, slamming the door open, thankfully your brother was the only person in there. But the sight of him made you confused, he was sitting on the bed, smiling as usual, just few bruises on his face and a bandage oh his leg.

"Hey, sis," he makes the peace sign, while your heartbeat is going milions per seconds.

"Hey, sis?! Hey, sis?! What the hell?!" You walk up to him and smack him.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He scratches his head.

"What was- are you kidding me?" You pull out your phone, "25 minutes ago, I got this message from your friend: 'hey, don´t freak out, but your brother is going to the hospital, bike accident.' I rush here, committing like thirty-seven crimes…and you´re here smiling and saying 'hey, sis?!'"

"Oh… Kevin´s idiot," he shakes his head.

"No, you are! What the hell happened?!" You move your hands around.

"Can you just chill for a second? Jeez." He stratches, "We were riding, normally, but then one of the cars cut me off and I slipped. I´m fine, but bike was pretty fucked up." As he tells you the story of what´ve happened, you scan his face, obivously you´re glad he is okay, but deep down you´re angry that he still rides that thing.

"Are you sure you´re okay? You look down on his leg.

"Yeah, nothing that didn´t happened before. But uh… I need ride back home." He shifts in his position, even when he tries to mask it, he is still in some visible pain.

"I figured. Stay here, I´ll get someone…"

After two hours he is finally let out of the hospital, you help him into the passenger seat, careful not to jar his injured leg. As you close the door, you mutter, “I swear, one day that bike is going to be the death of you.”

He rolls his eyes as you start the car. “You worry too much. It’s not like I haven’t crashed before.”

“Yeah, and you’re still riding that death trap.” You grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. “Why do you even keep that thing? It’s not like you can ride it anytime soon.”

He winces as he shifts in his seat, not meeting your gaze. “I just… I need it fixed, okay? I’ll be careful next time. Can you help me with that… pleaseee?

You let out a sigh. “You’re lucky you didn’t end up worse. Fine, I’ll take care of it, but you’re not driving that bike again until I’m sure it won’t fall apart under you.”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he says, softer than before, like he knows you mean well even when you’re pissed. He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “You know, there’s a mechanic not far from here, Red Guardian.”

You nod, making a mental note. “I’ll check it out. But you, mister, are on bed rest.”

"Aren´t you three years younger than me?"

You glance at him, "and yet I´m the smarter one, so bed it is."

“Whatever you say, mom.”

...

Two days later you finally arrive at Red Guardin, a place that looks far more organized than you expected for a bike shop. The sign is simple, but the place has a charm, just like you’d heard. You park your car and walk inside, the smell of oil and metal hitting you as you step through the door.

A woman with fiery red braided hair is leaning over a motorcycle, hands deep in the engine. She doesn’t look up as she says, “Be with you in a sec.”

You clear your throat, trying not to be too obvious as you check her out. “Uh, take your time.”

She straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag before turning to face you. Her green eyes meet yours, and she gives you a small, confident smirk. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here about my brother’s bike,” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Your brother? The guy who got cut off and ended up in the hospital?” She chuckles lightly, shaking her head. “Yeah, I heard about him. Of what I´ve heard that bike’s a mess, but there is nothing I can´t fix.”

You blink, a little taken aback. “You already know about it?”

“Word travels fast in this town,” Natasha replies, that teasing smile still on her lips. “Plus, your brother’s been in here before. He’s not exactly subtle.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course. He didn’t tell me that part.”

“So, where’s the patient?” Natasha smiles as she takes some gloves.

You fumble with your words for a moment, feeling a little awkward. “Uh, it’s in my car. Or, well, in the truck bed."

You lead her outside to where you´re parked. Natasha walks around it, examining the damage with a critical eye. She’s quiet for a moment, then looks over at you. “Well, the frame’s a little bent, and the engine’s definitely seen better days. But it’s not totaled. I can fix this.”

You nod, relieved. “Thank God. I had no idea what to do. I mean, I know a bike has wheels, an engine, and all that, but that’s where my knowledge ends.”

Natasha gives you a teasing smile. “Good thing you came to the right place. I’ll need to take it inside and get a closer look. Mind helping me unload it?”

You quickly agree, and the two of you start unstrapping the bike. Natasha shows you where to hold it and how to carefully lower it down. As you work together, she starts explaining what she’s looking for.

“See this here?” she says, pointing to a section of the frame. “It’s bent, but not too badly. I’ll have to realign it, though. And this,” she taps the engine, “will need a rebuild. Your brother’s lucky it didn’t crack.”

You listen intently, trying to follow along even though most of what she’s saying goes over your head. Natasha notices your blank expression and laughs softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. By the time I’m done, it’ll be good as new.”

You can’t help but smile at how confident she is. “Thanks," you look down for a name tag, but there isn´t one,

"It´s Natasha," she smiles.

You nod, "Natasha, I really appreciate it. My brother would lose his mind if he thought he couldn’t ride again.”

She gives you a quick wink. “No problem. I’m used to fixing things, especially when they mean a lot to someone.”

There’s a warmth in her voice that makes your heart skip a beat. You swallow nervously, trying to focus on the bike and not the way Natasha is looking at you with that confident, playful smirk.

You´re glad that you found the right place.

…

As you pull up to your house, the sun already dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard. As you step inside, your brother is lounging on the couch, leg propped up on a stack of pillows, flipping through channels on the TV. He looks up as you walk in, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“Well?” he asks, cutting straight to the point. “Is it fixable? Am I ever going to ride again?”

You set your bag down and kick off your shoes, feeling the day’s tension start to melt away. “Natasha said it’s fixable, but it’ll take some time. The frame’s bent, and the engine needs a rebuild. But she’s confident she can get it back in shape.” You repeat what she told you earlier.

He visibly relaxes, “Natasha is fixing it? Good. I was worried it’d be a total loss."

“Yeah, well, you got lucky,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorway. “You’re not exactly gentle on that thing.”

He scoffs. “It’s a bike, not a porcelain doll. It’s meant to be ridden hard.”

You roll your eyes. “And that’s why you’re here, with a busted leg, instead of out riding. You should really be more careful.”

He shoots you a teasing grin. “You sound like mom agan.”

“Someone has to, since you clearly don’t listen at all.”

He chuckles, then winces as he adjusts his leg. “Okay, okay, point taken. But when it will be ready?”

Your expression softening. “Natasha said she’ll have it back to you in no time. She knows what she’s doing. It’ll be like new—maybe even better.”

He sighs, relief washing over his features. “Great-" you cut him off.

"You´ll take it easy when you get back on the road. No more stunts, no more pushing your luck. You got off easy this time, but next time you might not be so lucky.”

He rolls his eyes but nods. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful.”

“I mean it!” you say, your tone firm but caring. “I don’t want to get another call like that.”

His teasing expression fades, and he nods more seriously. “I know. I’ll be careful. Promise.”

You give him a small smile, reaching over to mess up his hair. “Good. Now, get some rest."

"I will, but can you promise you will check on the bike, when you can?" He gives you the best innocent look he possibly can.

"I will check it out tomorrow after work." You nod.

“Thanks, sis. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you reply, “and don’t forget it.”

As you walk away, you hear him mutter, “I won’t!”

…

The next day, you find yourself back at the shop, unable to shake the feeling of curiosity or maybe it’s something else entirely, that pulls you there. The familiar scent of motor oil and metal greets you as you step inside. Natasha is already hard at work, leaning over a bike with her back to you, her hands moving expertly as she adjusts something under the engine. You can´t help, but stare. Her toned hands are someting you can definetly look at forever.

She glances up as you approach, a smirk playing on her lips when she sees you basically drooling. “Back again? You know, most people don’t check in this often. Are you here to make sure I’m actually working?”

You snap back out of your thoughts, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that. My brother’s just obsessed with that bike. He’s convinced it needs constant check-ups or it’ll fall apart. Honestly, he probably cares about it more than is healthy.”

Natasha straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag as she walks over to you, a teasing glint in her eye. “Sounds like a lot of work, keeping up with all those concerns. You know, I could make it easier for you…”

“Oh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “And how exactly would you do that?”

She leans casually against the counter, that familiar smirk tugging at her lips. “I could give you my number. That way, you can check in on the bike whenever you or your brother want. Get updates straight from the source.”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered by how smooth she is. “Right, for the bike.”

“Of course, for the bike,” Natasha says, her voice dripping with playful innocence, though the mischievous sparkle in her eyes tells you she’s enjoying this. She pulls her phone from her pocket, handing it to you. “Here, you can add your number.”

You take her phone, typing in your contact details, and then you pause. Instead of handing it back, you grin and ring yourself right away.

Natasha chuckles, clearly impressed. She takes her phone back and glances at the screen. Her expression shifts into one of amused surprise when she sees what you’ve entered. “Finally, I get to know your name. Pleasure to meet you officially, (Y/N).”

You feel your cheeks warm slightly as she says your name, her voice low and smooth.

She grins, leaning in just a bit closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. “Well, I like to take my time with the important things. So tell you brother it will take some time, just to make sure his bike is ready for his awful riding."

You swallow, trying not to get too flustered under her gaze. “I´ll tell him that." You nod.

With one last shared look, you turn to leave, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. As you step out of the shop, your phone buzzes. You glance down to see a new text from Natasha: “Just in case you need another excuse to visit. See you soon, (Y/N).”

You can’t help but smile as you tuck your phone back into your pocket, already looking forward to the next visit.

...

Over the next few days, you find yourself returning to the shop more often than you’d care to admit. At first, it’s just to check on the bike, of course, but then you don´t even care to hide, that there is one more, bigger reason to come into the shop.

One afternoon, she catches you watching her as she tightens a bolt on the engine. “You know, you’re here enough that I should put you to work.”

You laugh. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

She gives you her usual smirk. “I could show you. How about a crash course in motorcycle basics?” Before you can protest, she’s grabbing a helmet off the wall and tossing it to you. “Here, put this on.”

“Wait, what? I don’t even know how to ride.”

“Don’t worry,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “I’ll take care of you.”

"I- won´t this get you into a trouble?" You frown a bit.

"My dad owns the shop, I think I´ll be fine." You feel your cheeks heat up as you put on the helmet. Natasha swings a leg over the bike, patting the seat behind her. “Hop on.”

You hesitate for just a moment before climbing on, wrapping your arms around her waist. She revs the engine, the sound vibrating through you as she takes off, the wind whipping past your face. She’s almost intoxicating at everything she does.

When she finally stops back in the parking lot next to the shop, your heart is racing for more reasons than one. Natasha turns to look at you over her shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not bad for a first ride, huh?”

You can’t help but smile. “Not bad at all.”

Natasha swings her leg over the bike, smoothly dismounting and turning to face you. Ugh the stupid smirk on her pretty face. “You handled yourself pretty well back there. I think you’ve got some natural talent.” She helps you take off the helmet.

You laugh, still feeling the rush of the wind and the hum of the engine. “I was just trying not to fall off. But I’ll take the compliment.”

She steps closer, close enough that you can feel her parfume mixed with oil from the repairs. “You know, riding isn’t just about holding on. It’s about trust. Trusting the bike, trusting yourself… and maybe trusting the person in front of you.”

Your breath catches slightly at her words, and you realize she’s no longer just talking about riding. You meet her eyes, and there’s a tension between you, a pull that’s hard to ignore. “I guess I did trust you back there.”

Natasha’s smirk widens, and she tilts her head, studying you with a gaze that feels like it’s seeing right through you. “Good. I like that.”

You try to steady your breathing, but it’s difficult with her standing so close. “Do you do this with all your clients?”

She chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “I don’t take just anyone for a ride, (Y/N). Consider yourself special.”

The way she says your name makes your heart skip a beat. There’s a moment of a silence between you, making you aware of how close she is, how her eyes seem to linger on yours, searching for something.

Natasha’s gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and your breath hitches. “You know,” she says softly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “there’s a lot more I could show you. If you’re interested.”

Your pulse quickens, a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through you. The air between you feels charged, every second stretching out as you weigh her words. You know she’s definetly not just talking about bikes anymore, and the realization sends a thrill through you.

“I think I’m interested,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s smile deepens, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Good.” She steps even closer, her presence almost overwhelming now. “Because I don’t do half-measures, (Y/N). If you’re in, you’re all in.”

You feel a nervous flutter in your stomach, but it’s not enough to hold you back. “I think I can handle that.”

Her eyes darken slightly, her voice taking on a more serious note. “Are you sure? Because once we start, I don’t plan on stopping.”

The intensity of her words makes your heart race, but you don’t back down. Instead, you meet her gaze head-on, the challenge in her eyes only spurring you on. “I’m sure, Natasha.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves, the tension between you almost unbearable. Then, as if making a decision, Natasha leans in, her hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch is brief but electric, sending a jolt through you.

“Glad to hear it,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin

Before you can respond, Natasha finally pulls back, though the look in her eyes tells you that this is far from over. She glances at the bike, then back at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You should head home. I wouldn’t want to keep you out too late… this time.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding. “Right. I should… probably get going.”

“Probably,” she agrees, though there’s a teasing edge to her voice that makes it clear she wouldn’t mind if you stayed longer.

As you walk back to your car, Natasha watches you with that same unreadable expression, like she’s already planning the next move. You reach your car door, pausing to glance back at her. “So… I’ll come check on the bike tomorrow same time?”

Natasha crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe of the shop, her smile turning into something almost predatory. “I´m counting on it, (Y/N).”

You give her a small smile in return, feeling that same mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. As you start the car and pull away, you can’t help but glance at her going inside the shop once more.

The cool night air feels refreshing on your flushed cheeks as you step out of the car going back home, the smile on your face almost impossible to hide. As you approach the front door, you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. But the excitement from the evening is still buzzing inside you, making it hard to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

When you walk inside, your brother is sprawled out on the couch again, a half-empty bag of chips beside him and a game paused on the TV. He looks up as you close the door behind you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You’re home late,” he remarks, his voice dripping with curiosity. “What’s got you all smiley?”

You pause, trying to wipe the grin off your face, but it’s no use. “Oh, nothing,” you say, attempting nonchalance as you shrug out of your jacket and hang it up. “Just, you know… checking on your bike.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your casual tone. “Uh-huh. And since when does checking on my bike make you look like you just won the lottery?”

You shoot him a look, but it’s playful, and he knows it. “Since today, apparently.”

He narrows his eyes at you, sitting up a bit straighter. “Okay, spill. What happened?”

You hesitate for a moment, debating how much to tell him. But then you decide it’s harmless enough. “Well… I rode it, you know a test ride I assume.”

He blinks, clearly not expecting that. “Wait, what? You rode my bike? The same bike you’ve always refused to even sit on?”

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah. Natasha let me try it out.”

His expression shifts, realization dawning as a smirk spreads across his face. “Natasha, huh? So, you finally decided to take the plunge… because she asked?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the blush that creeps up your neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, sure it’s not,” he says, leaning back with a smug grin. “You always said no to me, no matter how many times I tried to get you on that bike. But one pretty redhead asks, and suddenly you’re Evel Knievel.”

You try to play it cool, but you can’t help the smile that slips out. “Well, she made a good case. And besides, you know how scared I am.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, so scared until Natasha Romanoff turns on the charm. I see how it is.”

You grab a throw pillow and toss it at him, but he catches it easily, still grinning. “Shut up.”

He throws the pillow back, missing you by an inch. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m just saying, I knew something was up when you walked in all smiley. I didn’t expect it to be this, though.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress your own laughter. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yep,” he says proudly, then adds with a wink, “So, when’s the next ‘check-up’ on my bike?”

You roll your eyes again, but you can’t help the small smile that lingers on your lips. “Goodnight, dork,” you say, turning to head toward your room.

“Goodnight, bike thief,” he calls after you, his voice filled with playful teasing.

As you close your bedroom door behind you, you lean against it for a moment, your smile growing even wider. Just as you’re about to lay in bed and snuggle with your blanket, your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a notification.

You reach over and grab it, your heart skipping a beat when you see who the message is from.

Natasha: Hope you didn’t get into trouble for coming home so late. Wouldn’t want to get you grounded ;)

You can’t help but smile at the playful tone in her text.

You quickly type out a reply: No, just had to endure a bit of teasing. My brother thinks he’s hilarious.

You hit send, still smiling as you stare at your phone, waiting to see if she’ll reply. It doesn’t take long before your phone buzzes again.

Natasha: Sounds like he’s got a good sense of humor. He’s probably just jealous you rode his bike.

Your smile widens as you think about her words, and the memory of the ride flashes in your mind. The wind, the speed, the way Natasha’s laughter had echoed in the air, it had been more fun than you ever expected. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you type your response.

You type out: Maybe. But I think it was more because of the company than the ride.

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you wonder if you were too forward. But then your phone buzzes again, and Natasha’s reply makes your heart flutter.

Natasha: I was hoping you’d say that. Maybe next time, we can make the ride even more interesting.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your giddy excitement in check. There’s something intoxicating about the way she flirts, the way she effortlessly mixes teasing with sincerity. You decide to match her energy, your fingers dancing across the screen as you craft your response.

You: I’m all for interesting;)

A few seconds pass before her next message arrives.

Natasha: Challenge accepted, (Y/N). Sweet dreams.

You grin at the screen, feeling a warm, fuzzy sensation spread through your chest.

You: Goodnight, Natasha.

You set your phone down and curl up under the covers, still smiling as you think about her last text. The excitement from the evening lingers as you drift off to sleep. Whatever happens next, you’re ready for it.

…

A couple of days have passed since you lastly check up on the bike, some work got stuck up and you weren´t able to see Natasha as much as you´d like. Thanfuly the texting between you and Natasha has only gotten more frequent, filled with light-hearted banter, playful teasing, and the occasional flirty remark.

Then, one evening, just as you’re settling down after dinner, your phone buzzes with a new message. You pick it up, your heart doing that now familiar little flip when you see Natasha’s name on the screen.

Natasha: So, I was thinking… how about we do something that doesn’t involve bikes this weekend?

You blink at the screen, your pulse quickening. It’s not exactly a date invitation, but it’s close enough that your mind immediately starts racing.

You: What do you have in mind?

Her reply comes almost instantly.

Natasha: I know a nice spot for dinner. How does Friday sound?

Your stomach flips with excitement. This is definitely a date. You type back before you can overthink it.

You: Friday sounds perfect.

Natasha: Great. I’ll pick you up at 7.

You stare at the screen, a grin spreading across your face. A date. With Natasha. Suddenly, Friday can’t come fast enough.

…

When Friday finally arrives, you’re a bundle of nerves and excitement. By late afternoon, you’re standing in front of your closet, pulling out outfits and discarding them almost as quickly. Nothing seems right - too casual, too dressy, not “you” enough. You groan in frustration, tossing yet another dress onto the bed.

“Uh… what’s going on in here?” your brother’s voice cuts through your frantic search, and you turn to see him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"Shouldn´t you be in bed?" You look at his leg.

He shakes his head, "what´s all of this?" Your brother nods towards the mess in your room.

“Nothing,” you mutter, but your flushed cheeks and the mess of clothes around you betray the truth.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he says, hopping into the room and picking up a discarded top. “Who are you getting all dressed up for?”

You hesitate, then sigh, realizing there’s no use hiding it. “Natasha invited me to dinner. She’s picking me up in an hour.”

His eyes widen in surprise, then narrow as a grin spreads across his face. “Natasha? Oooo (Y/N) has a date, (Y/N) has a date!"

You nod, biting your lip as you rifle through your clothes again. “Yeah. So, I need to find something that says ‘date,’ but not ‘trying too hard.’”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this. “Wow, you must really like her if you’re this worked up.”

You huff, grabbing a simple but flattering top that you haven’t worn in a while. “Maybe I do. But it’s just… I don’t know, I want it to be perfect, you know?”

He watches you for a moment, then his teasing demeanor softens. “You’ll look great, no matter what you wear. Just be yourself, and she’ll be into it.”

You pause, then smile gratefully at him. “Thanks.”

"But don´t wear that," he points at the top you´re holding, "take the black shirt over there." He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, but to be honest you´re really glad, that you have your brother there, to ease your nerves. When you look in the mirror, you feel a little more confident. You can do this.

Right on time, there´s a buzz from your phone. You grab your purse, take a deep breath, and head downstairs. Your brother, ever the nosy one, is already at the window, peeking through the curtains. “Your ride’s here,” he says, smirking. “And I gotta say, she cleans up nice.”

You roll your eyes at him but feel your pulse quicken as you reach the door. Sure enough, when you step outside, Natasha is waiting for you, leaning casually against a car. But tonight, she’s swapped out her usual work clothes for something a little more polished - dark jeans, a fitted leather jacket over a crisp shirt, and boots that complete the look. The sight of her takes your breath away.

“Wow,” you manage to say as you walk up to her. “It’s nice to see you in something other than grease-stained coveralls.”

Natasha grins, her eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. “You look pretty well yourself. But don’t get too used to this, I’m usually more comfortable getting my hands dirty.”

You chuckle, feeling the tension ease a bit. “I like both looks.”

She steps closer, her gaze warm as it meets yours. “Good to know. Ready for dinner?”

“Definitely,” you reply nervously.

As she opens the passenger door for you, she suddenly glances over your shoulder and smirks. “Looks like we have an audience.”

You glance back to see your brother peeking out from behind the curtains, grinning like an idiot. He gives you a thumbs up, then waves cheekily at Natasha, who waves back with a teasing smile.

“Sorry about him,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat up as you climb into the car. “He’s… enthusiastic.”

Natasha just laughs as she slides into the driver’s seat. “He’s alright. At least he approves.”

“Yeah, well, he’s probably just happy I’m not yelling at him for riding that bike,” you reply with a grin.

As Natasha starts the car and pulls away from the house, she glances over at you, her voice taking on a playful tone. “Guess I’ll just have to make sure this date is worth the teasing you’re going to get when you get home.”

You meet her gaze, feeling the spark between you light up again. “I’m sure it will be.”

Natasha drives you to a cozy restaurant that you’ve never been to before. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard but still manages to be effortlessly charming. She leads you to a table by the window, where the view of the city lights adds a romantic touch to the evening. After you’re both seated, Natasha gives the server a nod, clearly a regular here, and within moments, two glasses of wine are placed in front of you.

“Do you come here often?” you ask, taking a sip.

“Every now and then,” Natasha replies with a shrug. “It’s one of those hidden gems. Not too crowded, good food, great wine. Figured it’d be a good spot to… get to know each other better.”

You smile, appreciating her thoughtfulness. “It’s perfect. And I agree, it’s definitely got a vibe.”

Natasha leans back in her chair, her gaze settling on you. “So, what else should I know about you, besides the fact that you’re fiercely protective of your brother and apparently a quick learner when it comes to riding bikes?”

You laugh, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, I don’t usually make a habit of riding bikes. That was… a first for me.”

Her eyes glint with amusement. “I’m honored to be your first, then.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck but decide to match her playful tone. “What about you? I know you’re amazing with bikes, but what else is there to know about Natasha Romanoff?”

She takes a sip of her wine, her expression thoughtful. “Well, I wasn’t always a mechanic. I’ve had a few different jobs over the years, but I’ve always liked working with my hands. There’s something satisfying about taking something broken and making it whole again.”

“Did you grow up around bikes?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Sort of,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips, "my father worked on bikes since I can remeber, but I learned a lot on my own, picked up skills along the way and after some years I was kinda stuck with it in his shop."

You nod, sensing there’s more to her story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. “I get that. I’ve never been big into them, but I can see the appeal. The way you talked about them, showed me around your shop… it made me see them differently.”

Natasha’s gaze softens, and for a moment, the teasing edge in her eyes fades. “Less scary? I’m glad I could share that with you. I don’t usually open up about that stuff with just anyone.”

You nod, feeling comfortable and curious about discovering who Natasha really is, beyond the confident, flirty exterior.

“So,” Natasha says, breaking the silence with a smirk, “I have to ask… what made you say yes to this? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but still…”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re definitely confident, I’ll give you that. But honestly? It’s because you’re… different. Not what I expected, in a good way.”

Her smirk softens into a genuine smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I was hoping I didn’t scare you off with the whole ‘let’s ride a bike together’ thing.”

“Not at all,” you say, meeting her gaze. “In fact, I think that’s what intrigued me the most. You challenge me, in a way that’s exciting. And I like that.”

Natasha holds your gaze, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. “Good,” she says quietly. “Because I like it too.”

As the evening progresses, with ordered food, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about your lives, your families, your dreams - sharing stories that are both funny and revealing. Natasha opens up about her past, hinting at the difficulties she faced growing up, while you share some of your own challenges. There’s a comfort in the way you can both be honest with each other, even if not every detail is fully revealed.

At one point, the conversation turns to your brother, and Natasha leans in, clearly curious. “So, what’s the deal with you and your brother? You two seem pretty close.”

You smile fondly. “We are. He’s a pain sometimes, but he’s my best friend. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s always had my back.”

Natasha nods, her expression softening. “Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have that kind of bond.”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m grateful for him. And it looks like he likes you, so."

Natasha grins, the playful spark returning to her eyes. 'Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, though I think a 50% voucher to the shop might earn me some bonus points with him.

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Don´t worry, you’re in his good books. You ride a bike and you know everything about it, plus the voucher sounds amazing. Trust me, I´m the one who is on thin line here. He’s already convinced I’ve got a crush on you anyways, so…” You talk faster than you think.

Natasha arches an eyebrow, leaning closer. “And do you?”

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Maybe I do.”

Her smile widens, a mixture of satisfaction and warmth. “I´ll take a maybe." You take another sip of wine, your heart racing in the best way possible.

Eventually, the dinner plates are cleared, and the conversation winds down. Natasha pays the bill, despite your protests, and then you’re back in the car, driving through the quiet streets. The tension that filled the air earlier has softened into something more comfortable, more familiar.

When she pulls up to your house, she turns to you with that mischievous smile that makes your pulse quicken. “So, did I live up to your expectations?”

You smile back, unbuckling your seatbelt. “More than that.”

She chuckles, clearly pleased. “Glad to hear it. I’ll see you soon?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Definitely. And I´m paying next time!”

"I don´t think you will, but it´s cute that you´re figting for it." Natasha chuckles.

Before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss her cheek, lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of her skin. When you pull back, her eyes are sparkling, and there’s a pleased smile on her lips.

“Goodnight, Natasha,” you say softly, stepping out of the car. Even though the inside of your brain is just a big mess and your body is full of butterlfies that are buzzing through your body.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” she replies, watching every step of yours. You walk up to your front door, you glance back and see your brother peeking through the window again, grinning like a fool. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you give him a little wave before stepping inside. As soon as you close the front door your brother is standing in the hallway, arms crossed, with a grin that can only be described as infuriatingly smug.

“So…” he starts, drawing out the word with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How was it?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool as you kick off your shoes. “How was what?”

He snorts, clearly not buying your act. “The date. You know, the one you spent an hour agonizing over an outfit for? The one with the gorgeous redhead who just dropped you off?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you maintain a casual tone. “It was fine. We had dinner, talked… no big deal.”

“Oh, sure,” he says, nodding along in exaggerated agreement. “No big deal at all. That’s why you’ve got that goofy smile plastered on your face.”

You try to suppress your grin, but it’s no use. “Okay, fine. It was… great. Happy?”

“Very,” he says with a smirk. “But I need details. What did you guys talk about? Did she kiss you? Are you two going on another date?”

You laugh, shaking your head at his barrage of questions. “Slow down, detective. We just had a nice dinner and got to know each other better. And yes, we’re definitely going to see each other again.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No kiss, though?”

You pause, remembering the kiss you gave Natasha on the cheek before you got out of the car. “I´m not gonna discuss that with you."

“So that´s a yes. Ha! I knew it!” He points at you triumphantly. “So you like her. Like, really like her.”

“Okay, okay, yes, I do,” you finally admit, exasperated but still smiling. “But you don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“Oh, but it is a big deal,” he says, leaning against the wall with a grin.

“You’ve never looked this happy after a date. I’m telling you, this Natasha is something special.”

You bite your lip, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah… she really is.”

He watches you for a moment, his teasing grin softening into something more sincere. “I’m glad, you know. You deserve someone who makes you smile like that.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his unexpected seriousness. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“Don’t get too mushy on me now,” he teases, but there’s warmth in his eyes. “Just… if she hurts you, I’ll break her bike.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I think she’d rather face anything else than that.”

“Damn right,” he says with a chuckle. “But seriously, I’m happy for you, sis. Just remember, I still expect you to help me with my bike.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, waving him off. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

“Sure, go dream about your redhead,” he calls after you as you head up the stairs.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you think about Natasha.

…

It’s early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as you arrive at Natasha’s shop. The garage door is partially open, you push it up and step inside, where you find Natasha already at work on a different bike. She’s focused, her hands busy, but when she sees you, her expression brightens instantly.

“Hey, didn’t expect you so early,” she says, wiping her hands on a rag before tossing it aside as always. There’s a faint grease stain on her cheek, adding to her usual rugged charm.

You shrug, trying to appear casual despite the flutter in your chest. “I figured I’d take you up on your offer. Plus, I wanted to see how the bike’s coming along, of course.”

Natasha grins, nodding toward your brother’s bike. “Your brother’s baby is coming together nicely. A few more tweaks, and it’ll be as good as new.”

You walk over to examine the bike, but your attention keeps drifting back to Natasha. The shop is quieter than usual. As Natasha finishes up what she’s doing, you lean against the workbench, watching her with a mix of admiration and something deeper. She catches your gaze and raises an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

You bite your lip, then decide to be bold. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that ride we took… and how you said you don’t take just anyone out.”

She steps closer, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What about it?”

You smile, heart pounding. “I was wondering if that’s still true.”

Natasha chuckles, the sound low and warm, as she moves closer still. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were special, (Y/N). But what’s really on your mind?”

There’s a pause, a moment where you´re trying to calm your thoughts. You look up at her, realizing how close she’s standing, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of oil.

Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you say quietly, “I think you know.”

For a split second, Natasha’s confident facade wavers, replaced by something more vulnerable. But then she smirks, closing the distance between you with a deliberate slowness that sends a thrill through you. “You sure about this?” she asks softly, her voice a low murmur that makes your breath catch.

You nod, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

And with that, Natasha leans in, her lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s gentle at first, testing the waters, but the moment your lips meet, it’s like a spark ignites. The kiss deepens, turning into something more intense, filled with all the unspoken tension and longing that’s been building between you this whole time.

Natasha lingers close, her forehead resting gently against yours, a smile playing on her lips. But then she pulls back just slightly, glancing down at her hands still resting on your waist. “I should stop before I get grease on you,” she murmurs, her voice teasing but with a hint of genuine concern.

You glance down at her hands, noticing the faint smudges of oil and grease, and can’t help but laugh softly. “A little grease never hurt anyone,” you reply, feeling warm all over, both from the kiss and from the way she’s looking at you.

Natasha chuckles, giving you a playful grin. “True, but I don’t want to mess up your clothes. You look too good for that.”

You roll your eyes affectionately, feeling a flutter in your chest at the compliment. “So do you, grease and all.”

She smiles wider, the expression softening into something tender as she gently brushes a thumb along your jaw, careful not to smudge any grease. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Is that a good thing?” you tease, leaning into her touch

“Definitely a good thing,” she replies, her voice low and warm. There’s a comfortable silence, where the weight of the moment sinks in. But Natasha, being who she is, breaks it with a playful grin. “So, does this mean I get to take you on another ride?”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “As long as we make some more stops like this one.”

She chuckles, pulling you in for another quick kiss, this one softer, sweeter. “Deal.”

Just as you’re savoring the warmth of the moment, the shop bell jingles, signaling the arrival of a customer. Natasha glances over her shoulder, then back at you with a smirk. “Looks like I’ve got work to do.”

Before she steps away, she gives your waist a quick, playful squeeze, leaning in close to murmur, “I’ll be with you in a second, (Y/N). Don’t go anywhere.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying softness that makes your heart flutter.

With one last lingering look, she turns to greet the customer, her demeanor shifting effortlessly into professional mode. The customer, a man who looks like he’s in his mid-40s, nods at Natasha, holding a small bike that clearly needs some work. “Morning. Got a bit of a problem with my kid’s bike here.”

“No problem,” Natasha says, flashing him that easy smile. “Let me take a look.”

As she moves to inspect the bike, you can’t help but notice how her muscles flex with every movement, her toned arms and back on full display as she lifts the bike onto the workbench. She handles the machine with practiced ease, her focus entirely on diagnosing the issue. You watch, a little mesmerized by the way she works—effortless, strong, and undeniably attractive.

It’s only when Natasha finishes up with the customer that you realize you’ve been staring the entire time. She thanks the man and sees him off, then turns back to you, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Catching the look on your face, she strides over, a teasing grin spreading across her lips. “Need me to grab you a rag for that drool?” she asks, leaning against the workbench with her arms crossed, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat, but you manage to keep your composure. “I wasn’t drooling,” you protest, though the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

Natasha steps closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Sure you weren’t.” She reaches out to gently tap your chin with her finger, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But just in case, I’ll keep a rag handy for next time.”

You laugh, swatting her hand away lightly. "Ha ha ha, funny."

Natasha grins, clearly pleased with herself. “What can I say? I’m good at observing poeple.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade. “You’re also good at being a tease.”

“Guilty as charged,” she admits, her gaze never leaving yours. There’s a moment where the teasing drops, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “But seriously, I like seeing you here.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sudden shift in her tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice quieter now, more intimate. “Makes my day a little better.”

You frown playfully, "just a little better?"

She makes your chest tighten in the best way, "maybe a lot more than a little actually." Before you can respond, Natasha leans in, her breath warm against your cheek as she says, “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I might have to kiss you again.”

Your breath catches, and you look up at her, eyes wide. “Is that a threat?”

“More like a promise,” she whispers back, her lips curving into a slow smile.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you, and without thinking, you close the gap, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that’s tender, sweet. Natasha responds immediately, pulling you closer, her hands firm on your waist.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless, and Natasha’s smile is brighter than ever. “Now that’s how you shut me up,” she jokes, her voice still soft, tinged with affection.

You laugh, feeling light, like you’re floating. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out to see a message from your brother: “Hey, need a hand with something. SOS!" You can’t help the small sigh that escapes you, your excitement tempered by responsibility.

Natasha notices the change in your expression and raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

You nod, a little reluctantly. “Yeah, just my brother. He needs help with something. Guess I should head out.”

She offers a soft smile, understanding but with a hint of disappointment in her eyes. “Duty calls, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say with a small laugh. “Sorry to bail on you.”

“No worries,” she replies, her voice warm and reassuring. “Family first.” Natasha gives you one last quick kiss, her hands squeezing your waist, before stepping back. “Take care of your brother. I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” you say softly, and with one last shared glance, you head out of the shop, already missing her presence.

When you get home, you find your brother lounging on the couch, his leg propped up with a couple of pillows. He grins when he sees you, clearly not in any dire situation.

“Sorry for interrupting your fun time with the redhead,” he teases, his tone light and playful, “but I really could use some help with this stupid remote.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Really? I rushed home for this?”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” he says with a chuckle, holding up his hands in mock defense. “You’re the one who insisted on being so overprotective.”

“I-” you say, grabbing the remote and throwing it at him. He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “So I assume I ruined something nice, huh? Sounds like things are getting serious with Mrs. Redhead.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck, but you just shrug. “And you ruined it.”

He laughs, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh please, don´t tell me this is the last time you´re seeing her.”

It´s not, he knows it´s not. You do too. Everyone knows it is not.

“Now behave yourself, or I’ll leave you stranded next time.”

"Are you really just going to see her again?" He raises his eyebrows.

"No, I´m going to buy us some dinner, since you ate everything we had here!" He can´t help but chuckle a bit at your words.

…

It’s been a few days since your brother started walking without much pain, and he’s eager to visit Natasha’s shop to finally see his bike. You agree to take him, sensing that he’s also curious about the woman you’ve been spending so much time with.

When you arrive at the shop, Natasha greets you both with a warm smile. “Look who’s finally back on his feet,” she says, nodding at your brother.

“Yeah, feels good to walk again,” he replies, trying to sound casual, though you can tell he’s excited. “And to finally check on my bike.”

“Come on, I’ll show you what I did,” Natasha says, leading him to the back where the bike is stored. As they walk, you hang back slightly, watching them interact.

As they approach the bike, your brother takes in the sight of it, clearly impressed. “Wow, it looks brand new.”

Natasha grins. “Took some work, but it’s as good as ever. You’ll be back on the road in no time.”

He looks over at you for a moment, then back at Natasha, his expression turning a bit more serious. “Listen, Natasha, I like you. You seem like a good person, and it’s obvious my sister likes you too. But, I still have to do this.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, curious. “Do what?”

“The talk,” he says, crossing his arms. “If you hurt her, I will come and get you.”

There’s a brief pause as Natasha considers his words, then she glances down at his still slightly injured leg and smirks. “Sure you will,” she says with just the right amount of sarcasm.

Your brother chuckles, appreciating the banter. “Okay, fair point. But seriously, she’s my little sister. I’ve gotta look out for her.”

Natasha’s playful expression softens, and she nods. “I get it. And for what it’s worth, I care about her a lot. I’d never hurt her.”

Your brother studies her for a moment, then finally gives a nod of approval. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to hobble after you.” You laugh, stepping forward to join them. “You two done with your little standoff?”

Natasha chuckles, “I think we’ve come to an understanding.”

Your brother nods, "sooo when can I take my bike back home?"

"You can take it today if you´d like," this sentence makes you groan.

"Hell yeah!" Your brother states.

"Oh my god-" you exhale deeply.

"I´ll get it for you," Natasha smirks at you and goes to the back for the bike.

He winks at you, completely unfazed by your glare. “You should thank me for falling off the bike. Seems like it led to something good.”

Natasha chuckles softly as she overhear the conversation, clearly enjoying this. You resist the urge to smack your brother’s arm. “Don’t push your luck.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter. “You’re welcome, sis. I guess we are even now.”

Hehe thank you for reading!

[nkirukaj]

vVv is for Voe (3)

Pairing: StaticBeau & RadioBeau

Warnings: Swearing; Sexual Acts

Genre: Humor! SMUT!

Word Count: 4K

<Chapter 2

3. High Maintenance

“So who is this Radio guy, that has Vox in such a tizzy?”

Vinny is quite nervous hearing that question from Voe. His body shakes and his eyes dart around the room “I’m not sure that Mr. Vox wouldn’t want me to divulge that information,”

“Oh come on, I won’t tell. I just want to understand him better, is that a crime?”

He swallows and pulls on his collar as she enters his personal space

“Nobody has to know,” she puts her hand on his shoulder

“Um, you promise that you won’t tell?”

“I promise!” She lies

“The Radio Demon is one of the most powerful Overlords. He just appeared and started taking down other strong Overlords. He’s Mr. Vox’s mortal enemy. Their rivalry is one for the ages. They disagree on their views of technology,”

“TV vs Radio,” she moves back “I see,”

“Mr. Vox and he had some kind of a fight before the Radio Demon disappeared for 7 years. I don’t know anything else, okay?”

Voe blinks at him “Thank you for that information, Vinny. The secret is safe with me,”

“Well in my opinion TV is the clear winner, but I’m not an ancient fossil,”

“Vox. Vox!”

“What?” he rubs his forehead with his fingers

She steps closer to him “So here’s the deal. I need a nail technician, a hair stylist, a makeup artist, and my own assistant,”

“For your appearance on my show?”

“And if you want me to keep doing LIVEs hereafter,”

“Okay, you were getting those things anyway,”

She sets her brows “I just want us to be clear,”

“Is there something you actually wanted to talk to me about? Or did you want to tell me about more things that I already did?”

She looks back and forth on his face “Is poaching each other’s employees common?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Valentino approached me, telling me to work for him and not you. Is that normal here?”

“Oh yeah, that’s pretty normal,”

“So that doesn’t bother you?”

He groans “Look, sometimes we trade employees back and forth,”

“So you wouldn’t mind me doing porn?”

He sits up “Hmmm, now that’s an angle I didn’t think about. An influencer and a porn star?” 

“Oh, I bet you would love that,” 

“All of Hell would love that,” Vox smirks at the idea

“Well unfortunately for you, I prefer for my sex to be up close and personal,”

“Soooooo are you not gonna do it? I need to know these things,”

“No,” She leans forward “But we can talk about something just as good,”

“What’s just as good as an influencer porn star?”

“How about topless photos?” she crosses her arms

Vox raises an eyebrow “I’m listening,”

“I am very confident in my body, so I’d be happy to do a semi-nude photoshoot to raise my star meter! I mean, my brand on Sinstagram is being sexy after all,”

“Hmmm, I guess that wouldn’t be bad but I want you to tease ‘em. Don’t just full-on show your nips.”

“Of course, and I assume you’ll be reviewing them?” She smirks

“Yes, but you seem smart Voe. Don’t do anything that will embarrass this company. Or we’ll have a problem,”

“Like what?”

“I think you know what. Make us look good and make the enemy look bad,”

She tilts her head “Who’s the enemy?”

“That old-timey prick Alastor and Lucifer’s bimbo daughter, and everyone else in that rancid Hotel,”

Voe nods “Noted,”

“Good girl. Now go, I have things to do and you have something to get ready for,”

“Hey guys, I’m getting ready to be on Vox-2-Nite. As you can see I’m getting my hair done!” She whips around “Not like that!” she snaps to the stylist “Have you never worked with curly hair?”

“Umm, should I get the flat iron?”

Voe snaps “You’re dismissed!”

She pouts and leaves the room

“VINNY!!”

“Yes?”

“Tell Vox that I need another hairstylist. Pronto!”

“Yes ma’am” he rushes off

Voe checks out her hair and is disgusted

nah she about to look stupid as fuck

yo somebody save her

she look like she just walked out the zoo!

“Okay, racist,” she tells the chat as she checks out her hair “I swear Vox must have been white when he was alive because what the fuck is this?” she flips the lamp in front of her on “and this foundation doesn’t even match my skin tone. I am Black, people!” she tells the LIVE before going back to fuss over her hair.

The entrance hears the click of Velvette’s shoes. The door is ajar, so it’s easy for the doll to see in. She hears the groans and scoffs of Voe inside struggling and decides to enter the room, being gretted by the sight of her hair all over the place, and her makeup looking clown-like “What the bloody Hell is going on in here?”

Voe glances up at her in distress “Whoever that sorry excuse for a stylist was, she needs to be fired!”

Velvette grabs her shoulders and looks her in the eye “Don’t stress, it’ll cause wrinkles, and what happened to your face? Have you always been this light?”

“Uh, no!”

“Okay, tell Vox that I’m taking care of this!” she screams to Vinny as he comes back into the room “Don’t touch it!” She smacks Voe’s hand away as she’s trying to flatten it.

Velvetted immediately summons a spray bottle to get Voe’s hair back to its normal state of curls. She brushes them from the ends up, placing just the right amount of product to define the curls and style them nicely and gracefully.

Voe is giddy, not knowing what the result will be, but knowing that it will be phenomenal “This is what I’m talking about! This is why you need Black women!”

Velvette hits her again “Stop moving!”

Velvette’s assistant Melissa enters the room with a garment bag “Miss, where should I put this?” she asks the Overlord

“On the bed Melissa, duh!” 

Melissa timidly drapes the bag over Voe’s mattress and stands awkwardly waiting for more instructions

“Melissa! You’re freaking me the the fuck out just standing there. Kindly fuck off!” she exits with a grimace

“What’s that?” Voe asks

“It’s your clothes obviously. I will not always do your hair and makeup, but I will pick your outfits. If I leave it to one of the boys, you’ll either end up looking like a housewife or a stripper,” she says as she adds some color to the doe’s lip

“And what will I look like with you?”

Velvette turns her toward the mirror “A star,”

Voe emerges onto the set of Vox-2-Nite with her hair half up and half down, her hair in perfect spiral curls, and a nice evening look with simple eyeshadow, a neutral lip, and highlight; while wearing a shimmering pink spaghetti strap dress with matching shimmering heels, ready for her close-up. She approaches Vox who is busy staring at his phone.

“How do I look?” she asked him

He looks her up and down “Late,” he says 

“Well, that’s your fault,”

Vox raises his brow “My fault? Watch yourself missy,”

“If you had given me a stylist that understood my hair type and my skin tone, then Velvette wouldn’t have had to step in,”

“So it’s my fault that you’re high maintenance?”

She furrows her brows “High maintenance?”

“Yes, high maintenance,” he mocks her and walks away, clearly done with the conversation, stepping out onto the set in front of the cameras 

“In 5…4…3…2…” they countdown to the beginning of filming

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to Vox-2-Nite! Brought to you by VoxTek, trust us, with your entertainment!”

Voe stood and waited for her entrance. This had to be perfect, this was the beginning of her stardom, her rise to fame, and absolutely nothing would screw it up for her.

“Next up we have Hell’s next big thing…or maybe not. Let’s welcome Voe the Beau” Vox grins and presses a button that lights up a sign saying ‘CLAP LOUDER’, Voe steps on set to thunderous applause. She waves to the crowd and blows them kisses before sitting down opposite Vox. He pulls the chair closer to his desk.

“So, Voe,” he starts “How you feeling? They treatin’ you well backstage?”

“I feel quite well treated Vox, just wish they knew how to handle my hair and skin!” She laughs

Vox alongside her and presses his button again the sign saying ‘LAUGH LOUDER’ and they do, but when they die down Vox says “We’ve seen several of your LIVEs and I’ll say you have quite the following. And you’ve only been here for what two or three weeks, was it?”

She nods “Yes, I have been here in Hell for three weeks, and I don’t know about a following. How does 50,000 sound?”

“50,000? How did you manage to get that kind of following?”

Voe crosses “Now Vox, a magician never reveals her secrets!”

He laughs “His secrets!”

“Well, not all magicians are male!”

“Hahahaha! Anyway! How are you liking here in Pentagram City? Met anyone special?”

She laughs off the question “No of course not! I am not thinking about romance!”

“Awww,” came the crowd

“Not anyone? Not even a quick glance?”

“It hasn’t even crossed my mind!” she waves him off

He picks up his mug “So what are your plans huh? Any plans to get more followers?”

She takes some time to think about it “I don’t know. I never went in with a plan, and things just worked out for me. I mostly just follow my instincts”

“Ohh, so you’re a lucky doe! Another question, how do you feel about your fans calling you the Billboard Doe?”

Voe scrunches up her face “What? Why would they call me that?”

“This is why,” Vox presses another button, pulling up a screen with a hung billboard in the middle of Pentagram City, completely blocking another billboard. The billboard reads ‘Voe the Beau; a sinner you’ll love to see’. Voe can’t see what’s on the other billboard but she doesn’t care. “You sure stop traffic Voe,” he grins at her

Voe covers her mouth in shock, the audience whooping and applauding at her reaction “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Are you serious?!”

“Am I serious? Am I serious ladies and gentlemen?”

“HE’S SERIOUS!!!” the crowd screams

“And you’re gonna be in Velvette’s next runway show!!”

Voe has to stop herself from standing up. She flaps her hands in front of her face in joy and surprise, then calms down for a moment “Wait, where did you get that picture from?”

“Ho ho ho!” Vox chortled

“Seriously, I don’t remember posing for that picture,”

“Isn’t she a beauty folks?!” Vox changes the subject, to the crowd that claps away “We are so happy to have you here Voe. Thank you all for watching Vox 2-Nite! Play us out!” The audience plays swing music as Voe can’t help but ask

“How did you get that picture?”

The cameras turn off and Vox drops the grin immediately “Everyone, go the Hell home! You’ll get your checks in the mail!” he walks off the set and Voe follows

“Vox, where did you get that picture from?”

“I have eyes everywhere my dear. Some you can see, some you can’t,”

She goes in front of him “Why did you put up that billboard? What do you get out of it?’

“Can’t I just be kind to a friend?” He sips his coffee “Like I said, I know you’re a good girl, and good girls get rewarded,”

A blush rises up her cheeks “Oh, well I do deserve it,”

“Yes, you do. And keep it up and I will give you so much more,” he cups her chin with his fingers

Voe jerks her head back slightly “Keep your fingers to yourself,”

Vox chuckles “Oh Voe, I’ll put my fingers on or in whatever I want,”

____________________________________

Voe tossed and turned in her bed. Something didn’t feel right. No matter how she moved her body, she knew there was something off. She feels a tuft of cool air directly on her neck and shoulder, causing her to remove her eye mask and sit up. When she places her left hand down on something warm and rock-hard.

“Ooh my!”

Voe flinches and turns to look at the space next to her. She can almost make something out, but turns on her lamp just to be sure “Valentino!”

“Hola,” he winks

She pulls off her bonnet “What are you doing in my bedroom, much less in my bed?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your first broadcast, and a billboard bigger than mi pene,”

She furrows her brows “Yeah, I’m pretty sure any billboard is bigger than your dick,”

He chuckles and slowly drags his long body up “I wanted to reward you,” he trails his hand down her face

Her core warms up a bit “Are you naked?” Val takes the cover off of his bottom half, showing his thick purple dick “You are. What makes you think I’d want to fuck you?” she crosses her arm

“You’re right, you’re right. You probably don’t want all of this,” his accent flossed through her body

“I didn’t say I didn’t,”

“Mmm, then why are we wasting time talking? Get undressed for Daddy,” he reaches for her buttons “Why are you so covered up going to bed? I need to go shopping for you because,” he unbuttons her top buttons until the tops of her breasts are exposed “These babies,” he caresses her skin, then cups and squeezes her breasts “Need to breath,” He grins, drool dripping from his lips.

Voe smirks back at him, unbuttoning the rest while keeping eye contact with the moth, slipping her arms out of their holes. Her breasts fall with a little bounce. “Better?” 

“Much better,” Valentino motions for her to come to him and she scooches forward. He places his bottom hands on her ass, groping each cheek and the top pair are on her waist. He pulls down her shorts and panties in one go, rendering her bare “Ooh, so you’re not shy, why don’t you want to be on film with me?” he purrs as her brown skin collides with his purple one. 

“I like to keep my body private,” she holds his face and throws off his shades

“This body shouldn’t be kept private,”

“You’re lucky you get to see it,” she whispers “Bite me,”

“Whatever you like,”

She can feel his saliva on her throat, his long tongue taking its time wrapping around her neck. She yanks on his nipple chain as she feels his teeth sink into the skin of her throat feeling the mark he was leaving there. She throws her head back in pleasure, holding his bald head in place. She wraps her legs around his torso and flips them so she’s on top of him. 

“Oooh, I didn’t know you were so freaky,”

Voe chuckles “Can you feel this?” she breathes out, and lowers herself onto his dick, feeling it spread her walls apart. She pulls on his nipple chain like the reins on a horse, as she rocks back and forth on his cock. Hearing him growl in response sets her off her speed. She leans down and twists his nipples. He bites his lip and groans, pushing himself as far as possible up into her cunt. She yanks him back up by his chain and tells him “Wrap me in your wings,” turning around and bouncing herself, her hand on her own throat, she feels the warmth of his wings around her body, the fluff grazing her nipples. Val growls and with a grin, grips her waist tightly to the point of pain and forces her head down into the mattress, his last hand around her throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. He rams into her cunt with a torpedo’s force as he looms over her, grinning evilly as he gets more and more aroused by his aggression. Voe pounds on the mattress, the pain slowly overwhelming her, pushing her head up and being pushed back down until she forces her way back up. She breathes heavily and turns back around, choking him with all her strength. He seemed to like it though, growling while cumming all inside her and pulling out when he’s finished. 

Val sits up and caresses her cheek “Did you cum baby?”

She stares up at him “No,” she pushes him

“Then it’s time to keep trying; Daddy doesn’t stop until he gets the job done,” he lays her down and begins rubbing her clit with his palm. Up and down, then side to side. Faster and faster he rubs with his fingers until the knot in her core snaps and the cum covers his palm, which he promptly licks off like tasty icing.

“That was delicioso,” he said popping his fingers into his mouth “Let’s repite? Hmm?” he winks as he leaves the room, butt naked and all.

_______________________________

“Why aren’t you the one in charge?” The doe asked the doll “You’re so much smarter and well put together than the boys are,”

Velvette smirks “Who says I’m not?”

“Well Vox walks around like he’s the big man in charge so, I guess he says so?”

Velvette paces around comparing swatches of fabric and looking at garments “My biggest piece of advice is to let the boys think they’re in charge when in reality, you’re the one running the show. You think this place could run for even a second without me? Absolutely not. And to me, a leader is someone that a place can’t function without. That’s me,”

Voe leans over a desk “You’re brilliant Velvette. And clearly, we’re very similar. That sounds like something I would’ve said before getting some CEO to drain his bank account to give me all that I need,”

“Oh, is that how you got here?” Velvette smiles, clearly impressed

Voe smirks “That and, fucking with their wives,” she checks her nails 

Velvette throws her head back and laughs “Oh that’s priceless!” She claps “Sweetheart you are definitely in the right place!” she walks over to Voe “Try this one,” Voe tries on the skirt she was given, and Velvette purses her lips “Hmm, no. That makes you look like you have rolls, and I don’t like the texture up against your skin. Take it off,” Voe does and watches Velvette work. She eventually notices her eye “What?”

“I think I might admire you,”

Velvette scoffs “You think you admire me?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure yet,” Voe chuckles as she steps back to admire the studio “This is honestly incredible, and it is not easy to get a compliment out of me,” She looks the doll in the eye “You are basically what I kept in my mind whenever I thought of the ideal version of myself,” Voe’s heels click on the marble floors “Though I am more of a performer myself,” Velvette just chuckles in response

There’s a beat of silence before Voe breaks it by saying “I am so glad that I’m not doing Vox’s dry cleaning anymore. Last time I ran into some old-timey dude who wasn’t watching where he was going,”

“Lots of old timey pricks down here that still haven’t gotten the hint that God won’t let them up if they’re a bit more racist,”

“Do the racists think they’re down here for a different reason?”

Velvette turns to her with a grin “Apparently Lucifer himself has a ‘waitlist’ for them and they’ll be waiting for eternity,”

Voe claps as she laughs “Nah, but this guy helped me up. It was still annoying though,”

“Was he at least good-looking?”

Voe thinks about it “Yeah, I guess so,”

“Hmm, don’t tell Vox or Val that. They’ll get jealous,” she grins devilishly “What did he look like?”

“The biggest thing I remember was that he had on. a bunch of red,”

“That’s like everybody down here,”

“Right, but his eyes were red too,”

Velvette scrolls on her phone “Mhmm,”

“And his hair was like the same color as my clothes, like a hot pink?”

“Mhmm, what he sound like?”

Voe put her finger on her chin “Like…..his voice was higher pitched, but it wasn’t normal. Like it sounded like he was talking into a synthesizer or something,”

“Synthesizer? Hmm….”

“Yeah, like there was a voice filter as he was talking, in person. Like what the fuck?”

“I don’t think old-timey and synthesizer go together. Do you remember anything specific about him?”

Voe pops, remembering “Yeah, his hair looked like ears!”

“Uhuh? You could be talking about any sinner here,”

“Like my ears,” she points to her ears on top of her head

“Welp, It’s no one I’ve fucked!”

Voe laughs “You know what’s funny?”

“Hmm?”

“I haven’t seen any other deer, but he looked like one,”

“Deer?” Velvette scrolls through her phone and shows Voe a picture “Is that him?”

Voe nods “Yeah!”

“You had an encounter with the Radio Demon?”

“That’s the Radio Guy?”

“The Radio Demon is the second most powerful Overlord, after the Vees,”

“Wouldn’t that make him the 4th?”

Velvette shakes her head “We are one, sometimes we share one shower, one bed, one sex partner. I told them we don’t have to do that off camera, but Vox says,” she mocks his voice “I have cameras everywhere,”

“Wait, so is this the guy Vox thinks is prettier than him?” She runs her tongue over her teeth

“Yeah,” she leans into Voe’s ear “Pretty cute isn’t he?”

Voe chuckles and nods “Rawr” she jokes

Both she and Velvette laugh when Vinny bursts into the room out of breath.

“What? WHAT?”

He takes his time catching his breath, both women getting more and more annoyed

“What do you want?” Voe asked him, her arms crossed

“Mr. Vox wants to see you two,” he breathes out

“That was it?” Vos snaps “Ugh,” she walks past him with Velvette behind her, leaving him there clutching his knees 

“What do you want Vox?” Voe asks

“You heard us didn’t you?” Velvette put her hands on her hips

He stands “In fact, I did you traitor!”

Valentino shakes his head in disapproval “Mmmm,”

Vox turns to the doe “Voe, you’ve met with the Radio Demon?”

“I didn’t meet with him. I ran into him. Well, he ran into me!”

“And how did you feel toward him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you uh…seduced by his charm?”

She scoffs “Seduced? Of course not, I was pissed!”

Vox stands with his hands behind his back, he turns with his back facing them “How interesting,”

Velvette smirks “What’s that face for Vox? You have a thought?”

Vox turns back around, with a giant grin on his screen “More like an idea, my dear,”

“Oooh, I’d like to hear it,” Val said

“Voe, my dear, let me ask you something. How about instead of just being Hell’s biggest influencer how would you like to work alongside us as an Overlord?”

Voe’s jaw drops “An Overlord?” 

He nods “Yeah,”

“What are you on about Vox?”

He ignores her “I need more of those ‘accidental run-ins’ to happen between you and….Alastor,”

“Is that his name?”

He nods again. “Yes,”

“Okay, how am I supposed to make that happen?”

“You, are going to spend some time at the ‘Hazbin Hotel’,”

“What the fuck is that?”

He puts the hotel on his screen “Hell’s new shitty Hotel, on the edge of Pentagram City. Alastor stays there, and you are going to as well for the next month, you get some info on the the prick and report to Velvette, I’ll give you whatever you want,”

“So like a spy?”

“Not like a spy, a spy,”

“A sexy spy,” Val grins

Voe leans over the table, thinking about the offer “What kind of info do you want?’

“Something to shatter the Radion Demon. Destroy him,”

“Which means you’d have to get to know him love,”

“She doesn’t have to get that close to him,”

Velvette whips her head around “How do you expect her to get the information? Do you think he’s just going to give it up?”

“He certainly didn’t give it up to you,” Val snickers and Vel joins him

“Shut up!” Vox snaps and turns back to Voe “So, do we have an understanding?”

“Sure, why not? I did things like this for fun on Earth,”

“Excellent,”

Chapter 4>

[3tosocs]

Coroner/Trickster incorect quotes

Should this be a blog for the three OCs I am roleplaying? Yes. Am I doing quotes for totally different reasons because I got a brainrot right now? Also yes Also, I use a generator and just take them from the vibes (which is just "oblivious idiots in love") (@gh0kiaha, @shrimplefriedrice, @ariniekat: the three of you can be the witness of this brainrot AGAIN lmao)

Trickster: We should be partners. Coroner: You mean like, partners in crime? Trickster: Yeah... that’s precisely what I meant. ------------------

Coroner: My crush isn’t picking up on my hints. Trickster: What hints have you given them? Coroner: Well, I think about them a lot. Coroner: And sometimes I even think about talking to them.

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

Trickster: I’m in love with you. Coroner: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork. Trickster: I know. Coroner: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

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

Coroner: Ugh, crushes are so dumb. Trickster: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid. Coroner: But you’re always acting stupid? Trickster: ... Trickster: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

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

Coroner: Are you ready to commit? Trickster: Like, a crime or a relationship?

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

Coroner: Do you love me? Trickster: We’re literally married. Coroner: Yeah, but as friends or—

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

Coroner: I owe you one. Trickster: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

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

Coroner: I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response. Trickster: Wow. They sound stupid. Coroner: But they’re not. They’re really smart actually. Just dense. Trickster: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!” Coroner: I guess you’re right. Hey Trickster, I love you. Trickster: See! Just say that! Coroner: Holy fucking shit. Trickster: If that flies over their head then, sorry Coroner, but they're too dumb for you. Coroner: Trickster.

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

Trickster: My hands are cold. Coroner: Here, let me hold them. Trickster: My lips are cold too. Coroner: *covers Trickster's mouth with their hand*

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

Trickster: Just a minute. I need to go take out the trash. Coroner: Oh. We're going out? Trickster: Wh...

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

Trickster: I think I'm falling for you. Coroner: Then get up.

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

Trickster: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized. Coroner: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely* Trickster: That one. I want that one.

[sephirthoughts]

Just Like Honey: Chapter 10

big vincent lore-drop ahoy

AU: organized crime, cabaret, sex work

SHIPS: MULTIPLE! rufus/cloud, vincent/cloud, sephiroth/cloud, reeve/cloud, rufus/cloud/tseng, cloud/other characters as clients because that's his job, weiss/nero, background aerti

RATING: this chapter is teen and up i apologize and will make it up to everyone by making the next one extremely filthy

WARNINGS: sex workers, prostitution

Chapter 10: The Head of the Family

Strife: hey i wanted to give you a heads up. i won’t be available all next week. going out of town

Tseng: How far out of town? Give me an address, in case he needs you.

Strife: sorry i don’t think that’ll work. i’m gonna be in Wutai with a client

Tseng: Unacceptable. Cancel.

Strife: um. no?

Tseng: But have you even considered how this will affect me?

Strife: not for one second

Tseng: He’ll throw a massive tantrum, if he needs you and you’re away.

Strife: why do i feel like we have a child together

[Several minutes passed, then Cloud’s phone vibrated again.]

Tseng: Andrea has also refused to cancel. It seems this client is rather important. I’m not pleased, but business is business. 

Tseng: This may be too much to ask, but don’t do anything stupid. 

Strife: hey fuck you 

Tseng: If you get into trouble, call me. Wutai isn’t outside my radius of operation.

Strife: what seriously?

Tseng: I’m always serious.

Strife: ok mr. rainbow jelly girly boba

Tseng: 😑

Strife: you know you’re really sexy when you’re expressionless

Tseng: Don’t flirt with me unless you mean it.

Strife: WAIT A MINUTE WHO IS THIS

Strife: GIVE TSENG’S PHONE BACK TO HIM

Tseng: Very funny. Enjoy your trip.

Strife: fr tho does that mean i CAN flirt with you if i DO mean it? 😳 

Strife: ????

Strife: ???????

Strife: you’re really gonna drop some shit like that and then leave me on read

Strife: prick

When the driver opened the door, and Cloud saw Vincent sitting in the limo, waiting for him, looking like an overbearing-CEO-slash-tragic-gothic-beauty, his heart gave a giddy little flutter.

Not that he ever forgot how gorgeous Vincent was, in theory, but the man’s actual face was always so much better than the image in his head. Now, after a stretch of several weeks without seeing him, it was downright stunning. Despite the fact that he was covering half of it with dark-lensed sunglasses. 

That was admittedly, a little odd. He usually wore them during the day, but today it was pouring rain above the plate, and the visible sky was heavily overcast. It was also four in the afternoon, in winter, so it was nearly dark, already. Was there something wrong with his eyes? 

“Little devil,” Vincent said softly, as he climbed into the car. “I have missed you.”

“Obviously, you have. I’m amazing,” Cloud sniffed. Then he dropped the brat posturing and looked sheepish. “Um, also, part of my amazingness is that I get carsick, sometimes. Are we going a long way?”

“The airfield is on my family’s property, in the outskirts of the sector, which is thirty minutes or so, by car.”

“That should be ok, then.” He looked up into Vincent’s face, but was only met with his own reflection, on the dark lenses, and frowned disconsolately. “I haven’t seen you in forever and I still can’t see you. Can I take off your sunglasses?”

He reached for them, then huffed petulantly as Vincent caught his hands, to stop him. 

“Excuse my impoliteness, little devil. My eyes are particularly sensitive, this afternoon.”

Vincent’s pale lips curved up, ever so slightly, at the corners, but it didn’t look like a real smile. It was taut and wan, and his skin was even more ash-white than usual. His low-toned voice had a hoarse quality to it, too, that made Cloud think he’d been sick. 

Finally, it dawned on him that Vincent was in pain. He wanted ask about it, but unless Vincent brought it up specifically, he didn’t feel it was his place to press for details. 

“Have it your way,” he sighed, concealing his concern behind his bratty persona. “I think you’re just being a dramatic edgelord, wearing sunglasses in the rain and all this black and red, all the time. And carrying that cane, like you’re sixty years old. It’s silly for a guy your age to be dressing and acting like an old man.”

Vincent tightened his arm about Cloud’s waist, as the car pulled out into the street. “How would you like me to dress and behave?”

“Tch. Don’t pretend you even care what I think,” Cloud scoffed. “You’ll just keep being an edgy vampire, no matter what I say.”

“That is most probably true,” Vincent agreed. “I am rather set in my ways.”

As they turned out of Wall Market, onto the old highway, four big, black SUV’s came out of nowhere and proceeded to flank the vehicle, one pulling in front, one on each side, and one following, completely boxing them in. 

Cloud’s eyes widened. “Vincent—”

“Not to worry,” Vincent said. “Those are my people, in light-armored vehicles. They will escort us to the airfield. This vehicle is also armored. The windows are bulletproof, and the body can resist a direct hit from an anti-tank missile.”

“Oh. Is all that really necessary?” Cloud asked, uneasily.

Vincent looked unconcerned. “It is unlikely that I will be openly attacked, within this sector, but it is always a possibility. I would prefer not to risk your safety.”

The idea of being attacked hadn’t even occurred to Cloud, but he didn’t want to bring down the mood, when Vincent was already feeling unwell, so he swallowed his anxiety and asked about their journey, instead. “I’ve never been on a plane, before. Will we fly over the ocean?” 

“Indeed, we will,” Vincent answered. “Wutai is a chain of islands.”

“Why do the Valentines own a bunch of hotels, there?”

“My mother’s side of the family is Wutaian. I was born there and spent my early childhood there, until I was old enough to learn the family trade.”

The drive flew by, as they made chit-chat, and soon they were approaching the Valentine property.

Cloud knew this without being told, because suddenly there were high cyclone fences, stretching out in front of them, as far as he could see, topped with razor wire, and with guard towers spaced out along the length, like battlements on a fortress of massive scale.

The gates were heavily guarded by black-uniformed men, carrying assault rifles. They swung open, to admit the convoy, and all the guards stood to attention and saluted, as Vincent’s car passed by. 

Once they were inside the fence, the other vehicles fell back to a less suffocating distance, and Cloud could finally look at the scenery. 

It was the same flat, brown dirt, as all the land around Midgar, for a while. Gradually, though, it gave way to low hills of strangely striking colors. They seemed to be composed of some kind of rough, black gravel, and were streaked all over with red, anywhere from deep crimson, to a rusty orange color.

“These are volcanic hills,” Vincent explained, observing Cloud's curiosity. “The rock and scoria are rich in iron, which oxidizes over time, creating that look of rust.”

“They’re beautiful. And they match your color palette,” Cloud grinned.

He was dying with curiosity to see what the Valentine family home was like, but apparently the airfield wasn’t close to it, so he had to stay curious, for now. 

Waiting outside one of the multiple aircraft hangars, was a sleek, hyper-modern private jet, along with another small army of men and women, in black combat gear, carrying various automatic weapons. 

There were a few people standing close the plane, who all wore black suits and gloves, and weren’t openly carrying weapons. Cloud spotted the bulges of concealed holsters, though, and knew the hard, cold eyes of professional killers, when he saw them. He surmised that these must be the Valentine Syndicate’s elite enforcers, similar to the Turks. 

Speaking of the Turks, he had to admit, it felt a bit strange, being surrounded by all this Valentine power, considering his connection to Rufus Shinra. Also Tseng’s offer to send help, if he got into trouble, in Wutai. As for Sephiroth, Cloud wasn’t obligated to inform him of his whereabouts and wouldn’t know how to get a hold of him, anyway. 

The uniformed people all saluted, as Vincent and Cloud emerged from the vehicle, and the suited ones came forward to bow and give respectful greetings.

Cloud couldn’t help but stare at Vincent, standing tall and monolithic, with his long, black coat and hair blowing in the wind, and all these heavily-armed people, treating him with reverence due more to the king of a nation, than the son of their boss.

He was just thinking that everyone here looked Wutaian, when a blonde, white man, with ruddy skin and bright-blue eyes popped out from behind the plane’s landing gear, rubbing his hands with a shop rag.

He was wearing a rather eccentric pilot’s outfit, complete with scarf and goggles on his forehead, like an aviator in an old cartoon. He also had a cigarette sticking out of his mouth, which he did not remove, to speak.

“She’s all ready to go, Vinnie,” he announced, using a very casual manner of address, which stood in stark contrast to the strictly formal way Vincent was being treated by all the others present. “Hey, that your fella?”

“Cid, this is Cloud Strife,” Vincent replied tranquilly. “Cloud, this is Cid Highwind, my friend and personal pilot.”

“Cid Highwind,” Cloud repeated, as the blonde man shook his hand affably. “As in, Shinra’s famous ace pilot, Cid Highwind?”

“Tch, not anymore, I ain’t,” Cid sneered, puffing out a plume of cigarette smoke. “Shinra fucked me over one too many times, so I work for Vinnie, now.”

“But, I’m not a Valentine,” Cloud pointed out. “I even have friends at Shinra. Aren’t you worried that I’ll tell them where you are?”

Cid laughed heartily. “Trust me, kiddo, they know. Ain’t a damn thing they can do about it, is all. Anyhow, it was nice to meet ya. I’m gonna get strapped in and do a final instruments check. Whenever y’all are ready, we can get goin’.”

“He defected from Shinra, and you trust him to be your personal pilot?” Cloud asked Vincent, in an undertone, as the blonde man walked away. 

“I trust Cid with my life,” Vincent replied gravely. 

He didn’t offer any further explanation, so Cloud let the matter drop. It was none of his business, anyway. 

Overall, Cloud found air travel on the jet quite a bit less jarring than his helicopter rides. The takeoff was smooth and gradual, and once they’d reached cruising altitude, and the pressure was no longer making his ears pop and his stomach do flips, it was pretty comfortable. 

Turns out, he was unprepared for just how long a journey of several thousand miles was. He had wanted to see the ocean, but it was dark by the time they were flying over it, so all he could see was a vast and eerie expanse of blackness, far below. He shuddered and pulled the window shade down. 

Partway across that unsettling void, the plane suddenly jolted and shook, like it had been struck by a missile. At the same time, lighting flashed outside the windows, and thunder boomed. 

Gripping the arms of his seat in terror, Cloud looked at Vincent. Incredibly, the man was reclined in his seat, apparently asleep, with his sunglasses still on, despite the low lighting inside the jet. 

Cloud grabbed his hand, just as the plane rocked again. “Vincent! Vincent, something’s wrong!”

When he lifted his head and saw Cloud’s stricken face, he only smiled softly. “Turbulence, little devil.”

“What? What’s that?” Cloud panted, not letting go of him. 

“Cool air descending interacts with warm air rising, creating pockets of irregular currents. It’s perfectly normal.”

“But that didn’t feel normal, it felt like—ah!” Cloud yelped, clinging to Vincent as the plane bucked and reared, like an out-of-control chocobo. 

“It will be alright,” Vincent reassured him. “Come here. I’ll hold you, till it’s over.”

Cloud fumbled to undo his seatbelt, which he still had on, despite Cid’s announcement that they could take them off, and crawled into Vincent’s lap, burying his face in the crook of his neck. 

Normally, he would be extremely embarrassed to show Vincent such childish behavior (out of character), but he was too freaked out to care, at the moment. 

The lighting flashed and the thunder rumbled, and the small jet rocked and shuddered, tossed about by forces of nature, far beyond human control.

Strangely, however, Cloud’s fear quickly faded, and a deep sense of calm settled on him, as if arms like the bones of the earth, stronger than any storm, held him securely, in their embrace. 

He woke, to Vincent gently shaking him. “Wake up, little devil. We’ve arrived.”

“S—sorry. When did I fall asleep?” Cloud asked blearily, as he clambered out of Vincent’s lap. “There was that storm and then…I don’t remember what happened after.”

“You fell asleep during the storm,” Vincent said, with a trace of an amused smile. “I was quite surprised, considering how frightened you were, by the turbulence.”

“I was, but I didn’t feel scared, anymore, when you were holding me. I guess I drifted off, without realizing it,” Cloud yawned, while he stretched his arms, blithely unaware of the effect this offhanded remark had on his host. 

The sun had already set, in Wutai, and it was still cloudy and raining, but the atmosphere was thicker and more humid than in Midgar. Awaiting them on the tarmac, were yet another army of Valentine people—some in suits and some in traditional Wutaian clothing, but all in black. 

They made low bows, as Vincent came down the stairs, and two ran up with large, black umbrellas, which they held over Vincent and Cloud’s heads like a canopy, despite the fact that it was only lightly sprinkling. For some reason, Cloud was reminded of the scene in Junon, when he’d seen Rufus on television, addressing that crowd.

The vehicle they were shown to was a glossy, black and chrome Rolls-Royce, built in a flashy, retro style, and even outfitted with a gasoline engine. To Cloud’s surprise, Cid followed them to the car, and climbed right into the driver’s seat. Huh. Guess he was his pilot and driver.

There was another convoy, only this time, their car was escorted by much more imposing armored personnel carriers, which were far too big and brazenly militaristic in appearance, to be used on the streets of Midgar.

People in Wutai must be more used to seeing these kinds of vehicles. Either that, or there was no here one with the power to object to the Valentines using them. Cloud decided that was more likely the case, considering the way people on the streets stopped and stared. 

This was the capital city of Wutai. It was bustling with life, and looked prosperous and clean. It struck Cloud as a bit small and old-fashioned, compared to Midgar’s titanic upper city, but it was a large, modern city, nonetheless. There were a lot of gasoline-powered cars on the roads, however, which was novel to him.

“They don’t use mako-powered vehicles, here?” he asked Vincent.

Vincent shook his head. “Because of Shinra’s monopoly on mako technology, and the tension between the nations, most of Wutai is still dependent upon fossil fuels and nuclear power. There is some movement toward cleaner, more renewable energy sources, but it is a slow process.”

The city held Cloud's interest, but once they left its bounds, he was too groggy to pay much attention to the tree-covered landscape, and wound up falling asleep on Vincent, again.

About an hour’s drive out of town, the large and sumptuous Valentine ryokan was perched high up on a lush, green mountain, surrounded by vast miles of other lush, green mountains. 

Behind the stately walls, it was a modern update of a traditional manor complex, surrounded by tranquil, well-ordered gardens, complete with little footbridges over babbling streams, ponds full of fat, jewel-toned koi, and fountains with bamboo sozu, which made that pleasant knocking sound, as they filled with water and tipped over, to tap on the rocks. 

At the main entrance, they were greeted by what appeared to be the entire staff of the ryokan, who had turned out in their neat, black and white kimonos, to pay respects to Vincent. 

Cid took the car away, after they got out, and the armored vehicles hadn’t followed them up the gravel drive, so it was just Cloud and Vincent, at the moment. As a result, Cloud stood by, smiling and bowing and feeling awkward, as Vincent accepted greetings and spoke to people in Wutaian.

Chief among the staff, judging by her position in the group, and the richness of her clothing, was a middle-aged lady, with her greying hair in a neat bun. She was apparently related to Vincent in some way, that was vaguely explained to Cloud as a cousin on his mother’s side. 

She greeted Cloud with effusive warmth and even told him to call her auntie, before speaking to Vincent, in Wutaian. Cloud understood quite a bit of the language, but couldn’t follow the low, rapid tones the two spoke in. She seemed to be urging Vincent regarding something, and he appeared to be refusing. 

Twice, though, Cloud thought he heard the woman refer to Vincent as ‘oji-sama’. He decided he must’ve misheard, or maybe he didn’t understand this dialect that well, because that would be an excessively polite way to address one’s uncle, let alone a younger cousin. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, for a little while,” Vincent said, at last, turning to Cloud. “The staff will take good care of you. Make yourself at home, and be sure to tell them, if there is anything you need. I will return, once I have seen to this matter.”

“Is anything wrong?” 

“Nothing you need trouble yourself about. Only a bit of unavoidable family business.”

“Alright. See you later, then,” Cloud said cheerfully, not wanting to make things difficult for Vincent. 

Vincent walked away with the older woman and a cadre of attendants, and Cloud followed the young ladies, who were smiling and beckoning to him. 

The first thing he discovered, was that he had been given his own room, rather than sharing with Vincent, but he consoled himself with the fact that it was right across the hall from Vincent’s. Also, he’d have his own space, if he needed it, which was always nice.

The attendants explained all the features of the room, as well as the many amenities of the ryokan, and highly recommended the on-site restaurant, with its five-star chef, before they finally went away. 

Honestly, the room was pretty spectacular. It was actually a suite of rooms, decorated in the traditional Wutaian style, with tatami mat floors, and sliding, paper-paneled doors. 

The large main room had a low, lacquered tea table, with luxurious cushions for seating, as well as a modern sofa and coffee table. The second room was a simple but tasteful bedroom, with a huge, soft futon. In both rooms, the sliding doors opened on the cypress-wood deck and serene little private garden. 

Cloud’s personal hot-spring bath was carved right into a big boulder, and was fed by a fountain, pouring down a stack of smaller boulders, on one side. The blue-green water was steaming invitingly and smelled strongly of dissolved minerals. He was tempted to take a soak right now, but he wanted to do that with Vincent, so he decided to wait. 

Instead, he showered in the Wutaian-style bathroom, with a shower nozzle one removed from the wall, and a little bamboo stool to sit on, right in the middle of the fully tiled room. After he’d brushed his teeth, he dressed himself the navy-blue yukata and wooden geta they’d prepared for him, stuck his phone and room key in his pocket, and set out to explore.

To his surprise, there were two guards posted outside his room, and another two outside Vincent’s. He wondered if it was awkward just standing there, staring at each other across the hall, all day. The ones at Vincent’s door bowed and said ‘Strife-sama’, as he approached, and apologetically explained that the master had not yet returned.   

“That’s alright, thank you,” he said. “If he comes back, please tell him I went to have a look around.”

Cloud wandered about, for a while, looking at traditional brush paintings and beautifully shaped bonsai trees, but his stomach was starting to growl. Having no desire to sit in his room and eat, he decided to go see about that much-lauded restaurant.

The serene, candlelit dining area was deserted, from what he could see, and he was informed by the obsequious host, that he should sit anywhere he pleased, or if he'd rather sit at the bar, it was right over there.

From around the corner, Cloud heard a hearty, deep-throated laugh. He went and peered in the doorway, and sure enough, Cid Highwind was seated at the bar, in conversation with the bartender. 

“Howdy, kiddo,” Cid greeted, as he spotted Cloud. “Care to wet your whistle? My man Kashiwagi here makes the best damn cocktails in Wutai.”

“Sure, thanks,” Cloud said, coming to take the stool beside Cid’s. “What do you recommend?”

Cid rubbed his chin. “Hm. You’re a little fella, but I reckon you can hold your liquor. Brown or clear?”

“Anything but gin. Upsets my stomach.”

“Gotcha.” Cid turned and spoke to the bartender in Wutaian. 

The bartender, a handsome, older gentleman, with dark grey hair and spectacles, nodded and went to work making the drink. 

“You probably hear this a lot, but I seen a coupla your shows,” Cid said to Cloud. “You’re damn talented. You come from a circus family, or somethin’?”

Cloud actually laughed, which was rare for him, on a first meeting with someone new. “A circus family? Is that even really a thing?”

“Never know,” Cid grinned. 

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t come from a circus family. I came from Nibelheim. My mom’s just a seamstress.”

Cid looked surprised. “Nibelheim, huh? I come from thereabouts myself. You musta worked hard, to learn all that acrobat stuff, way the hell out there.”

“Yeah, pretty hard. But I love it, so it was worth it.” 

The bartended set a drink before Cloud. It was golden-orange colored and served in a coupe glass, with a candied citrus peel garnish.

“What is it?”

“Yuzu martini,” Cid said. “How d’ya like it?”

“It’s really good,” Cloud smiled, after he took a sip. “Thank you, Kashiwagi-san.” 

The bartender replied with a polite half-bow, and went away to dry some glasses, or something. 

“So, how did you go from Shinra to the Valentines, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Cid made a sour face. “Fuckin’ Shinra. I dunno about the kid, but the old man was a real son of a bitch. I was headin’ up the all-new aerospace program. My rocket, my flight, leavin’ the Planet’s surface for the first time. Woulda went down in history. Last minute—and I mean last fuckin’ minute—old man pulled the plug on the whole thing. Said manned space exploration wasn’t lucrative. Wanted me to switch the focus to drone-piloted rockets. And he wanted me to put weapons systems in ‘em.”

“He wanted you to do it?” Cloud asked, bewildered. “But you’re a pilot.”

“Well, it ain’t brain surgery, it’s just rocket science,” Cid quipped, chuckling at his own joke. “Most folks only heard of me as a pilot, but I’m an aerospace engineer, too. I designed most of Shinra’s aircraft.”

Cloud nearly choked on his drink. “You’re a fucking rocket scientist? What the hell are you doing chauffeuring Vincent around, then? No offense.”

“None taken. Like I said, Vinnie’s my friend. I don’t trust anyone else to fly him, so I do it. He funds my R&D, in return. Works out pretty good for me. I got a better workshop with the Valentines than I had with Shinra, and I still get to fly.”

“That’s impressive. But how did he get his father on board with funding an aerospace R&D department for the family?”

“His father?” Cid squinted. 

“Vincent’s father, Grimoire Valentine. He’s the head of the family. Right?”

“I dunno how outta date your info is, but Vinnie’s the head of the family.”

Cloud felt like he’d been struck by lightning. “He’s…he’s what?”

“Vinnie’s the patriarch, don, capo, big boss, whatever you wanna call it,” Cid explained blithely. “I never met his daddy. Reckon he’s been dead and gone, a long time.”

“But, Vincent’s so young. How could he be the patriarch?”

Cid snorted, over the rim of his highball glass. “So young. That’s a good one. You’re pretty funny.”

Cloud was still reeling, and didn’t really process that comment. “I suddenly feel like I’m being kept in the dark about a lot of things.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Cid shrugged. “Vinnie don’t talk about himself much, but he ain’t secretive. Y’ever try askin’ him?”

“Well, no. Not really,” Cloud admitted. “It’s not that I’m not curious, but I’m just a whore. It’s not really my place to pester a man like him for personal details.”

“Wow, kiddo. What’s it like livin’ in that head of yours?”

“What do you mean?”

“You really think ‘just a whore’ gets invited to ride on the boss’s private jet, to the family vacation house, overseas?”

“I thought…this was one of the Valentine operated hotels.”

“It is. But this one’s only for Valentines. No guests outside the family allowed.”

“What about you?”

“I’m sworn in. So’s everyone who works here.”

Cid unbuttoned his collar and pulled his shirt to the side, to reveal a strange circle of arcane symbols, tattooed in scarlet ink, on the left side of his chest. It was small—only about the size of a baby’s palm—but it looked extremely ornate and detailed.

“What’s that?” Cloud asked, peering at it curiously.

“Mark of the blood pact,” Cid answered, as if that were a perfectly normal thing to say. “Makes me a Valentine, far as the family is concerned.”

“Do they all have one of those?”

“Anyone who’s taken the oath.”

Cloud’s face lost a shade of color. “They won’t make me take the oath, will they? Since I’m here?”

Cid scratched his head. “Uh. If Vinnie didn’t say nothin’ beforehand, I don’t think he’d spring it on ya. Seems like you’re an exception to a lotta rules, anyhow.”

“I am?”

At that moment, they were interrupted by a politely cleared throat. They turned to see one of the female attendants from earlier, bowing and smiling. 

“What’s up, Ai-chan?” Cid asked. 

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” the young woman said demurely. “Valentine-sama hopes Strife-sama is enjoying his time, in our humble hotel, and that he finds the accommodations satisfactory. Strife-sama is welcome to visit him in his suite, should he desire advice on the most enjoyable leisure activities.”

“Um. Thank you,” Cloud said awkwardly. After the young lady glided away, he frowned. “Advice on leisure activities? What’s that about?”

Cid burst out laughing and patted his back. “The boss is tellin’ ya he’s in his room and he wants you to come see him.”

“Oh, right,” Cloud said, with a sheepish smile, remembering that directness was considered rude in Wutaian culture. “I better go, then. It was nice talking with you, Cid. I hope we get a chance to hang out again, soon.”

“Likewise. See ya later, kiddo.”

Cloud hurried back to their hallway and went to Vincent’s room, where the guards bowed and opened the door for him. He felt a little weird about all this bowing, but everything about this trip had been weird, so whatever. He was entirely, absolutely, and in all other ways unprepared for the state in which he found Vincent.

The man was reclining in a low-framed easy chair, near the open back doors of his main room, which also looked out on a private garden, only much larger and more spectacular than Cloud’s. His gorgeous hair hung loose about his shoulders, and he was dressed in a long, black and crimson Daoist robe, which somehow managed to look extremely comfortable, and evoke ancient royalty. 

His sunglasses were finally off, but he kept his eyes closed, when Cloud entered, only smiling softly. “Little devil. You have come.”

“You…you look so…holy shit,” Cloud said, swallowing hard. “You should dress like this all the time. No, wait—strike that. Never dress like this, except when you’re with me.”

Vincent held an arm out, indicating Cloud should come sit in his lap. “I am glad you are in good spirits. I apologize for being a poor host.”

“It’s no problem. I ran into Cid at the bar, and we chatted for a bit. I like him.” Cloud glanced around, as he came over to sit. The room was lit only by a couple of lanterns. He couldn’t imagine such soft lighting could bother Vincent so much. “Are your eyes still hurting?”

Vincent hesitated for a beat, then he opened his eyes and slowly raised his black lashes, to look Cloud in the face. 

It was only Cloud’s years of hard-won experience playing an array of roles to perfection, in various dangerous situations, that saved him from reacting like he’d been hit with a stun baton. 

He was well aware of Vincent’s heterochromia, which meant one of his crimson irises had a ring of gold color around the pupil. He liked the vampiric look it gave the man, and never thought anything of it.

The difference, right now, was that the ring had grown to nearly encompass the entire left iris, and was actually emitting a faint, golden light.  

Heretofore, Cloud had only seen Sephiroth’s eyes glow, and that was under the influence of his heavy mako abuse. Fortunately, that also meant the idea of a person’s eyes glowing was already something that existed within his realm of accepted possibilities, so he wasn’t all that psychologically shaken by it. 

Honestly, it was more stunning, than anything. It actually made Vincent look even more rakishly beautiful. Like some kind of heavenly demon, from a xianxia novel. Especially with the dark-sexy Hanfu robe.

Mistaking his reaction, Vincent smiled ruefully, lowering his eyes again. “I apologize for appearing before you, in this condition. I’ve no wish to frighten or disgust you.”

“Disgust me?” Cloud said, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“I normally wait until the mark of the demon has left my body, before I visit you. But the signs have lingered, this time, far longer than usual. I’m afraid I’ve been selfish, and prioritized my own desire to see you, above your comfort.” 

“The mark…of the demon,” Cloud repeated. “What does that mean? Is it something to do with that sacrament thing? Did something happen?”

“It is related,” Vincent answered evasively. “But this is not unusual, for me, so you needn’t worry. Though, I must admit, I do find your concern for me a bit gratifying.”

“But I don’t understand why you think this would scare me or disgust me. I play a bratty kid for you, because you like it. Do you think I’m really that closed-minded?”

“Of course not. It is only my own internal turmoil that makes me reluctant to show you this part of myself.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cloud ventured, remembering Cid’s advice.

“It is a painful and humiliating experience. Not something with which I should trouble you.”

“If it’s painful and humiliating, why do you do it?” 

“It is my duty, little devil,” Vincent said quietly. “The blood oath binds me as firmly as physical chains.”

Cloud balked. To him, this was the equivalent of someone claiming to be bound by an oath to Odin or Minerva. It was just something people said. It wasn’t real. “Isn’t that stuff all make-believe, though? I’ve heard what people say about the Valentines serving a demon, but it’s just some old religious tradition, right?”

Vincent regarded him from beneath his long eyelashes. “Would it ease your mind, if I were to say it is make-believe?”

“Would it be true?”

Vincent remained silent.

“If it’s not true, then no. It wouldn’t make me feel better. I don’t like being told comforting lies.”

“Very well. Here is the uncomfortable truth, then. My family bloodline, in perpetuity, is bound by oath to a demon-god. Long ago, our forbears agreed that in exchange for certain power, we would carry its curse, in our blood. Those who take the oath nowadays, do so of their own free will, but for my direct line. I became bound by the oath, simply by being born my father’s son. Now, the duty of bearing the curse has fallen upon me. That is the truth.”

Vincent watched Cloud, as he processed this information. Far from pity, or fear, or disbelief, or any of the reactions he expected, he found the brilliant blue eyes glittering with righteous indignation.

“I know it’s not my place to say this, but you deserve better. You shouldn’t be forced to sacrifice yourself, no matter how much power your family gets. If they really cared about you, they wouldn’t ask you to.”

Vincent smiled and stroked his smooth cheek. “Your straightforward way of thinking is certainly appealing. I only wish it were so simple.”

“Hey, wait. Are you calling me stupid?”

“Moral directness is not the same as stupidity. But in this case, where one needs a fine blade to dissect the complexities, it is too blunt a tool.”

With the things Cid said earlier weighing on his mind, on top of all of this, the question that had been welling up inside Cloud, finally blurted itself out. “Is immortality part of the curse? Is that why you look young and act old, like a vampire? Which is exactly what you seem like?” 

“You think I seem like a vampire?” Vincent asked, sounding amused.

“Um. Yes?” 

“But I don’t drink blood.”

“You’re right,” Cloud said drily. “You only look, act, talk, dress, and have taste in décor exactly like a vampire. Otherwise, you’re nothing like one.” 

“I suppose I would take umbrage to that, only I’ve long known that the commonly accepted vampiric aesthetic was borrowed from my family.”

Cloud blinked. “You’re…joking.”

“Not at all. Some centuries ago, one of my forbears had befriended an intrepid author, who then wrote of our family in caricature, for his vampire novel. Thus the Valentine peculiarities were canonized in popular fiction, making those traits appear vampiric, to the general public.”

“Wow. You’re actually sitting here claiming that vampires are copying you. Just wow. I thought you were a dramatic edgelord before, but now I see that I’ve just been a frog in a well.”

“Now that you have seen the size of the sky, are you pleased with what you have learned?”

“No,” Cloud said, crossing his arms.

“What troubles you?”

“I’m fucking pissed off about your family curse, Vincent. That’s what troubles me. They’re using you to keep their hands on their power and wealth, and you’re suffering for it. That sucks.”

Vincent sighed. “You misunderstand. No one is using me. The oath goes well beyond acquiring power and wealth. It is a guardianship. A burden of responsibility, to keep the other powers in this world in check, and maintain balance, between them. Power and wealth are necessary evils, to accomplish our tasks.” 

“So, what…you’re telling me that the Valentine crime syndicate are secret guardians of the Planet?” 

“It is not a secret, it is only that no one believes in us, anymore. The world has changed. We have not. On the outside, we appear to be a criminal organization, because we respect no authority above our own, and obey no law that conflicts with our ordained duties. We do control some aspects of society, in order to keep others in check, but our goals are neither acquisitive nor destructive.”

“When you say others, you mean Shinra, right? Cause, no offense, but they seem pretty out of control, to me.”

“They are pushing the limits, of what we will tolerate,” Vincent admitted. “But they’ve yet to cross the line into upsetting the balance of the world. When they do, we will step in.”

“What about the Remnants?”

“They are…more difficult to deal with,” Vincent frowned. “Their intentions are still unclear to us.”

“Sephiroth’s up to something,” Cloud said abruptly, before he could talk himself out of it. “Normally, I’d never betray a client’s confidentiality, but I trust you. Also, if he’s planning something bad, you might be the only one who can do anything about it.”

“We have been keeping tabs on him, as well as we can. He hasn’t appeared to make any suspicious moves, since he has been back in Midgar. What do you think he is planning?”

“I don’t know. He’s usually wasted and talking nonsense. But the last time I saw him, he was sober. He wants me to look for a woman, for him. He said she’s somewhere in Shinra Tower.”

“Who is she?”

“He didn’t say. He just had a picture. He also said the time hadn’t come for him to move openly against Shinra.”

“Hm. That does sound ominous.” Vincent thought for a moment. “Thank you for alerting me. I will look into it. I’ll not ask you to compromise your safety by defying him, but please be careful, little devil. Shinra is a dragon’s den. I would not have you devoured.”

“Vincent, are you the head of the Valentine family?”

“Ah. Cid seems to have been quite forthcoming, with you,” Vincent observed, arching a black brow. 

“Oh, no no, he didn’t say much of anything, really,” Cloud said hastily. “He just, um…mentioned it casually.”

“It is not well known outside the family, because I conduct business in my father’s name, for various reasons, but yes. I have been the head of the family, for many years.”

“How many?” Cloud asked gingerly. 

“Since my father died, in 1977.”

“B—but…weren’t you a little baby, back then? How can a little baby be the head of the family?”

Vincent smiled again. “I was twenty-seven.”

“But that would make you…how can that—”

“You have already hit near the truth, yourself. My body stopped aging at twenty-seven, due to the curse. Chronologically, I am fifty-six years old.”

“Holy shit,” Cloud muttered. “No wonder Cid laughed at me when I said you were young.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “He has been chatty, this evening, indeed. I wonder what else he told you.”

“Nothing about you, really! He mostly told me about why he left Shinra.”

“Did he show you his oath mark?”

Cloud choked. “H—how did you know?”

“He only reveals that mark to those he considers to belong to the family. I suppose that means you’ve gained his approval. And in such a short time, too.”

“Uh, ha ha…about belonging to the family. I’m not sure how to ask this, but…”

Vincent tousled his hair affectionately. “No one will be expecting you to take the oath, little devil. In fact, I forbid it. I’ll not have you bound to us by shackles, which you may one day wish to throw off.”

Cloud let out a sigh, unable to conceal his relief. “Thank the goddess, cause—oops, shit. I mean…thank the demon? Is that right? I don’t want to offend you.” 

“I can imagine no scenario in which you could offend me. But I’ve one more question, before we change topics. Knowing what you know, now, would you prefer not to see me as a client, anymore? If so, I would be disappointed, because I like you very much, but you have my word that it would have no bearing on your career, nor my solicitude for your wellbeing. I only want you to do what makes you happy.” 

“Are you kidding?” Cloud scoffed. “You’re about a hundred times sexier, now that I know you’re an actual old man. Also, I don’t want you to wait till the mark goes away, before you see me, anymore. That glowing eye is hot as fuck, whether you want to admit it or not.”

Vincent only smiled faintly, in reply, but his entire aura seemed to relax and soften. Cloud hadn’t ever seen him look this at ease, in fact. And maybe it was the sexy-ass robe, or the ryokan setting and golden lantern light, but Vincent was actually beginning to pull ahead of Sephiroth, for the best looking man Cloud had ever seen. 

Vincent drew him in for a kiss, and then chuckled when he pulled away, and Cloud pouted. “You’ve not eaten all day, little devil. Supper, before other things.”

“But I’m not even hungry,” Cloud lied.

“No arguments. I insist you replenish yourself.” Vincent leaned close and spoke low in his ear. “You will need it. I intend to work you hard, tonight.”

Lightning flashed and wind whipped torrents of rain against the floor to ceiling windows, of the cavernous presidential office, atop Shinra Tower. It was a grand scene for a villain, with the vast space mostly dark, but for the flashes of lightning, and a floating, holographic map screen, which bathed the faces of two men, in poisonous green light.

One of these men was in a white suit, seated at the desk, his shoulders taut and his brow furrowed, as if wavering in indecision, and the other stood behind him, in a black suit, hands clasped serenely behind his back.

“You’re absolutely certain that he’s with Vincent Valentine,” the man in white said.

“Yes, sir. Our intel has confirmed it,” the man in black answered.

“And the long range ICBMs can strike the target accurately, without visual verification?”

“Within a zero-point-seven percent margin of error, sir. The new targeting systems use satellite triangulation. They are extremely precise.”

The first man steepled his fingers and gazed even more intensely at a little flashing dot, on the map screen. Minutes inched by like continental drift.

Finally, he shook his head. “I have a doubt.” 

“Shall I call them off, sir?”

“Mn, do it.”

The man in black put his phone to his ear. “Stand down. Repeat, stand down.”

“Standing down,” a voice answered, from the phone's speaker. “Launch aborted. Weapons cold.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the rolling thunder and beating of rain on the windows.

“It’s not because I care about him,” the man seated at the desk said, apropos of nothing.

“Of course, sir,” said the man standing behind him.

“This just isn’t the right time, to make such a big move against the Valentines.”

“Understood, sir.”

As he said so, the man in black leaned over the other’s shoulder and tapped a keypad on his desk, causing the holographic map to flicker and wink out. 

The man in white gave a sigh that sounded half relieved and half exhausted, and slumped forward on his elbows. “When will he be back?”

“One week from today.”

“Book a session for then. My neck is…starting to act up.”

Unseen by him, the man in black smiled. “Yes, sir.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

if Square put Vincent in Wei Wuxian's outfit from MDZS i think my soul would actually leave my body 🫠

this outfit

[marriage-and-equality]

marriage-equality

My marriage ended after 20 years this is my vent.

I’m currently on the same street as the old house but she still lives there. I get to see the new relationship every day and it’s killing me. I feel cheated and disrespected every day.

In the recent past we were trying to work it out. Both of us were guilty of similar crimes and no one was innocent. New rules and boundaries were set and agreed to. And I thought we were okay.

on a random day I was called and accused of cheating that second…. Fighting anger loud shitty words etc and again both of us. No innocent people here. Multiple offers to watch the ring camera videos and prove “your mistaken im telling you the truth” verification is refused. No one watched the video….. but its ok no worries… we just agreed that if we are offended proof of innocence and we refuse to look at it then we are innocent by default. And we both know that is the case….

time passes space is given contact or communication is refused for weeks and weeks.

when communicating starts again it’s been a month. But hey sometimes it’s just hard and like that. We talk regularly for about 3 weeks. And completely by accident only because I said things that were upsetting (but only because I didn’t know what had changed about the situation) i am finally told that my marriage has ended and that in under 2 weeks she had a boyfriend. It took 6 weeks for me to find out. Awesome!!

but why and what happened???? I was told that I wasn’t willing to tell the truth even when I was caught…. Uuuhhhhhh I offered to show you a video and you could see that I was telling the truth. Well I still haven’t seen that video. Um??? I’m confused right now. You set a rule—im innocent by default. You refused and when you were still angry I figured it was knowing that I was innocent and not a big deal. It has a 2 week loop before it’s lost. You knew it was offered why not say anything in the 2 weeks? Call me out watch it yourself and tell me you’re eyes are lying for me… im sorry it’s gone now but you made the rule. I’m innocent by default.

well I told you I was done with this before I hung up that day so you knew…. Uhhh not to be a asshole but you made a rule that if we argue and something is said it’s words of anger and nothing changes for us until we are both calm and have a conversation about it. So we were together until we talked 5 weeks later. Nothing changed for us at all until 3weeks after you had a boyfriend. I really feel like you have been actively committing adultery for the whole time and you don’t care. I am told that she will go to her grave feeling like I am guilty unless I can prove myself innocent with the videos I offered to show and are now gone. OK baby I get it. I understand out of curiosity if I can actually make some phone calls and retrieve this shit from some server and a dark room somewhere and have them emailed directly to you so I don’t even get them before you do and you can watch them or we can watch them together, and you know I’m innocent what happens? Absolutely nothing happens because we’re past that point. I’ve already moved on. I’ve already this I’ve already done. OK I understand. I’m not stupid but if you moved on because you’re wrong and I didn’t do that, and I can prove it a guy that you had never met before the day we got into this fight and you were actively a couple and less than 14 days And is now moving into the house prior to me even knowing I don’t have a marriage. That guy is more important than over 20 years of your life really I’m so worthless. I can be thrown away because someone thought I did something and then wouldn’t look at a video , they refused to be wrong about something I didn’t do and I can go fuck myself I guess….. it took two more days but I did get an apology. It was wrong to not make sure or do what she wanted done herself and move on and start something fresh without even making sure I knew.

Hooray for me. So the point I really felt worthless and down desirable pretty much like a meal ticket like I wasn’t even intelligent enough to know what made me happy or what I wanted or what I found attractive or what was enough for me I am not even intelligent enough to have any idea about what those things are to me, someone has to tell me so that I can know that I’m supposed to be unhappy or want something else or what have you thank God I was told.

and there have been talks since then where I have been told we are toxic for each other and maybe I really am stupid because I don’t understand how we can be completely fine not toxic and actually in a good place and pretty much through it and ready to live together again if we can be there and no shit three minute text message later I can be lying. We can have this fight this blow out get pissed off and be pissed off because you’re completely wrong about something at that point when you’re wrong we toxic for each other. Am I following you????? Well of course we were actually toxic before that fight and again OK how far before were we toxic because two days before we spent the night together we spent the whole next day talking about how great it was and we both missed it and you know like I think we’re gonna be OK and you know I really needed human contact and the closeness back-and-forth all day the next day happy after spending the night together? It didn’t feel very toxic to me. Of course we were toxic on the day of the fight because that fight happened while she was at work and I was home and she knew they lost her job. So she knew we were toxic we had to get away from each other. I mean that’s OK if you feel I can take that I would rather take that day or maybe the day after not the month and after months, but I can take it. I was annoyed and got really loud and obnoxious feeling like you wouldn’t watch the video that prove I was innocent and I got shitty and I own it and I’m sorry I wish I could change it, but I can’t regret it but it is I’ll give you all that you’re right you don’t need to tell me all that I agree But please at least give me it. 50-50 blame no offense but as obnoxious and shitty as I was, you made a decision to call me while you were at work. Yell scream me out. Call me a liar refuse to let me show you you were wrong just pissed off, angry and bitching And after a little while, I got wound up and I got shitty because I felt like I was wrongly accused and you didn’t care 50-50. If you hadn’t called me there’s no fucking way I would’ve gotten shitty and pissy and called you and started bitching at you about something that had not happened , we’re both guilty. And that is pretty much been my life ever since we can talk we can be adults about stuff when we have to, but almost always evolves into how much she wishes. It was different how much she wishes it happened a day later anything she still loves me and she still even wants to be with me Right now she’s far enough along. It would be bad for her. After that we get, he’s really helping me heal. I could be doing that right now. I don’t trust you. You don’t trust me for a bullshit reason and you know I am innocent at least by default. Well, I really felt like you didn’t care and you didn’t want me so I decided to go ahead and move on but again, nobody asked Me! Well, it would just be wrong and cruel and shitty to do that to him. He doesn’t deserve that think about how bad it hurt you. Again days, a couple months nothing timewise over 20 years. It would be wrong to her. A guy who is so invested there is only us no individual fuck him. Some dude has been around for a couple of months. That guy can’t hurt him because it’s been a couple months. He’s not that invested and he will get the fuck over it real quick altering bullshit from 20……

[c0ffinshit]

Lust For Life (Robert Renfield x Reader) PART ONE

a/n: since yall liked my headcanons so much, i thought “why not” and decided to write this. after a while (aka like four days), i finally finish this fic wooooo! i hope yall like it!

word count: 1,264

warnings: blood, swearing, renfield is such a bottom lol, fake dating (if you squint )

New Orleans was a place I would not have thought to live in; hot and filled with crime, it's basically a waking nightmare. The worst part is seeing those teens crawling along the walls of the Whole Foods near my home. Their large, garish video cameras; records them as they walk into the building, shouting loudly about what they plan to do there. Honestly, I forget why I moved here in the first place. I had been a retail worker for a year, making ends meet. It was a cold night, and I had just gotten off work when I saw a man walking toward me. His hair was dark against his pale skin, and his suit was filled with holes and rips. His fingers were long and covered in a dark, smooth texture.

"Can I help you?" I ask politely.

It almost looked like he didn’t hear me. The man continues to slowly walk toward me.

"Hi-yes, please help me," he quickly said.

I noticed that the man looked even more different up close. He seemed very chipper but timid. His icy blue eyes felt as if he was looking right through me. He looked great, better than I expected.

"(Y/N), you know this boy?” one of my coworkers yells.

"Um, yeah, I do. This man is my-" I pause, looking at him. "Boyfriend." I spit out.

Suddenly, the man entered my field of vision again. His hair followed above his ears, forming a shaggy comb-over on his head. He looked at me with a curious look in his eyes.

"Really? What’s his name?" he asks suspiciously. I look over at the man, looking for an answer.

I, of course, dodge the question. "Yes, we talk all the time. We’re best friends."

"I wouldn’t say that," the man mumbles in reply.

"Seriously? You call this poor boy your boyfriend, and you can’t even tell me his name." my coworker replied.

"Shut up, Jim." I replied, "I do know his name."

"Don’t you think you should say it then?"

A long pause. "C’mon. Can we not fight in front of your so-called boyfriend?" Jim looked past me, and I could feel the man’s eyes fall toward the ground.

"No, you’re right, Jim. This boy has intrigued me as she did all those months ago. Let me talk to him just a bit longer." I say.

"Aw, fine," he rolls his eyes. As I got closer, I noticed even more stains and holes on his shirt. His shoes seemed like they were too big for his feet. He seemed ancient.

"Listen, man, I am so sorry about that boyfriend thing. My coworker is so nosy sometimes and doesn’t know when to keep things to himself."

He turns around and looks at me. "It's fine; I can find help elsewhere. It’s no worry."

"You don’t get it. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help." I say, letting my bag fall to the ground. "What can I help you with?"

The man’s eyes slowly look at my body. "It is hard to explain-"

"Hit me. I’ve done some fucked-up shit before."

I tried to sound rigid when the “fucked up shit” in question was clean-up blood from a bloody nose I got yesterday.

He nods slowly. "Alright, follow me."

This is fucked. Here I am, following a man I just claimed was my boyfriend mere seconds ago, probably to a murder warehouse where I live out my final moments.

But I can’t help but want it. Wanting that danger and desire in my life. So, I followed him. His hands flex and tense as we walk to an alley a block from my job. Inside, he leads me to a man who appeared dead, covered in his blood. My body reminds me to keep up the edgy girl persona, but that all leave my body the moment; I see the blank expression on the body.

"JESUS CHRIST!" I yelp, covering my eyes.

The man is quick to hush me, covering my mouth. "Hey, it's okay. I didn’t kill this guy. I just found him."

He wipes his hands on his coat and holds my wrists gingerly. I drop my hands, briefly looking at the body again and at the strange man.

"Who are you?-" I ask, my voice shaking.

"Robert Montague Renfield, and everything is going to be fine-"

"THIS IS THE OPPOSITE OF FINE ‘BERT!" I scream, my eyes trying to look away.

Renfield is quick to cover my mouth again. I want to scream even louder or maybe try and bite his hand. Nothing could’ve worked, though. We continue to stand like that until my breath slows. Renfield removes his hand, still worrying that I might scream again.

"Hush, you said you’d help. Please…" his eyes went soft, so vulnerable.

I nod my head. This is the scariest moment of my life.

"Okay… fine. I’ll do it." I say, giving in to defeat.

"Also, not that it matters, but it's Robert, not ‘Bert.’"

"That’s what I said, but okay. What do you want me to do?"

Renfield looks at the body and back at me, scanning me. His pupils dilate for a moment, looking at my face.

"You grab your feet. I’ll take the head."

I nod again and pick up my feet, picking up the corpse. People don’t exaggerate: dead weight is the heaviest. Renfield grabs the head by its hair and slowly moves it into the palms of his hands, covering the ears. He jerks his head, ushering me to move with him. I stumble along with him to what I assume is his car. Starting with the hair, we shove him into the trunk. Renfield takes one final look and closes the door.

"Thank you for helping me… I’m sorry I completely forgot to ask your name." Renfield lets out a long sigh. "It's been a long night."

I giggle. "It's fine, really. It's (Y/N)."

"(Y/N)..." he repeats. "What a beautiful name."

"Well, it's no Renfield." I laugh.

Renfield extends his hand to me. I look at it puzzlingly. I believe he wants me to shake his hand.

Suddenly, his eyes go wide. I look down to see that I’m sparkling under the moonlight. My body glitters as if I was a diamond.

"It's body glitter… like Twilight. Y’know sparkly vampires… Edward Cullen."

"Oh." Robert places his extended hand over his chest. "I thought you were really oily or something. I get what you mean."

"No, but I’ve always wanted to meet a vampire." I picture a strong and kind-hearted vampire man covered in blood. I wanted to meet a vampire and fall in love with a vampire.

"Well… I know a guy. I mean- he’s my boss, but I don’t think he’d mind." Robert mumbles.

My eyes go wide. Yes, finally! I will have time to live out my own Louis from Interview with a Vampire moment. Maybe I’ll become a vampire. That would rule!

"Yes, I think it’d be cool to meet him… if he’s available."

Renfield eyes me for a second, "Okay, do you want to drive, or shall I?"

"I’ll drive. It's alright. Now, gimme those car keys."

As he tosses me his car keys, I take note of what he has. A small, white cat keychain hangs off what looks to be an apartment key. Taking a closer look, I notice that if I move the keychain, the cat’s eyes look in my direction. Before getting too distracted, I hop in the car and turn on the engine, slowly backing out of the parking space.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Caught in the Fire 27 - Crowded Places [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves ❤ Here’s the new chapter, I hope you like it and please don’t forget to tell me what you think of it! kisses!❤

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Past catches up with people.

Warnings: Violence, death, crime, explicit language, dysfunctional relationships, drinking, kidnapping, mentions of sex, murder, blood. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

 Sometimes, you suspected that your friends came to your bakery only to create chaos, and this was one of those times.

You really didn’t have time for this. You had barely had any time to process what had happened in the last couple of days and each night you had nightmares that woke you up breathless.

But it wasn’t as if you could tell them you had killed someone, so you ended up humoring their absolute chaos.

“And why exactly do I have to come to that goddamn party again?”

“Because you’re a great friend?” Hunter suggested, taking a cookie out of the cookie jar Jace was currently holding in his lap, but dropped it back when Jace smacked his hand away.

“Hey!”

“This is my jar!”

“That’s no one’s jar!” you said as you put down the cupcake you were decorating on the tray. “No seriously, why are you guys dragging me into this?”

“Well, lots of reasons,” Summer stated. “Jace has been talking to this guy and he invited all of us, apparently he’s working there.”

“He’s working at Sam’s brand new club?”

“Working for Sam,” Jace corrected you and you gawked at him.

“Jace, please tell me you’re not dating a mobster.”

“The hypocrisy and the audacity in this bakery—“ Jace pointed between you and Summer. “You dated a mobster, Summer is probably fucking Rogers—“

“I’m not fucking Rogers!” Summer defended herself and Hunter scoffed.

“Are you going to keep calling him Rogers in bed too?”

“Like a regency couple?” you added and Summer rolled her eyes.

“I’m not fucking him.”

“Is he fucking you then?” Jace asked and she flipped him.

“I’m not touching a mobster with a ten foot pole, unlike you.”

“Oh I’m touching him alright.”

“Jace.”

“Y/N, you might want to sit this one out.”

“She broke up with the guy okay?” Hunter said, making you motion at him as if saying here you go. “That doesn’t count.”

“Uh, no it does count when the said guy is wreaking havoc all over the city because his heart is broken.” Jace said, munching on the cookie and you shifted your weight.

“That has nothing to do with me.”

“And Hunter, don’t think I haven’t seen you stealing glances at Romanoff when she dropped by the bar the other day.”

“I was looking respectfully.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’s in love with some doctor, Hunter.”

“To repeat, I was looking respectfully,” Hunter said. “Also, I’m the only one in this group who hasn’t slept with a mobster so—“

“I’m not fucking Rogers!” Summer said loudly and you grinned.

“But are you guys flirting?”

“That doesn’t—that’s—“ Summer stammered, “That doesn’t count. I’m pretty sure the guy is flirting with like one hundred other people so…”

“Not really, he’s a romantic. Wait,” you stopped and turned to Jace. “Is Bucky going to be there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Probably not?” Summer said, “Ste—um, Rogers mentioned the other day that Barnes is quite busy.”

You arched a brow and she shifted her weight.

“He happened to invite me to the party, happy?”

You scrunched up your face and looked at Hunter. “So we’re the only ones who don’t have a date to the prom?”

“I’m bringing someone too.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Y/N, why don’t you bring Alex?” Summer asked. “You said you bailed on him the other day, so it could be a nice gesture.”

You thought for a moment. “Are we sure Bucky won’t be there?”

“What do you care?” Jace asked, popping another cookie into his mouth, “Didn’t you say that you were done?”

“Well yeah but…” you trailed off, then paused for a moment. “I guess.”

“Besides, who cares if he’s there? You’ll be there with Alex.”

“I’m not using Alex to get back at Bucky.”

“That’s not getting back at him though,” Hunter pointed out. “It’s just you moving on.”

You pursed your lips, deep in thought and shrugged your shoulders, then grabbed your phone.

“That jar better not be empty when I get back,” you pointed at Jace who made a face at you, then you walked out of the kitchen to the backyard, then found Alex’s name on your contacts and touched it.

It rang twice before he answered.

“Hey there.”

“Hey,” you said. “Is it a good time? Are you busy?”

“Depends. Do you count ordering twenty rolls of crepe paper busy?”

“What do you need twenty rolls of crepe paper for?”

“Little monsters like those.”  

“Right. So I’ll invite you somewhere if you promise you’ll leave your rolls of crepe paper at home.”

“It’ll be difficult but I think I can handle it for one night,” he said, even from his tone you could tell he was smiling. “Where are we going?”

“You’ve heard about the opening party of this new club?”

“Uh huh.”

“My friends are going and I figured maybe you’d want to come along?” you asked, shifting your weight from one foot to other. “We could leave if we get bored or something.”

“Sounds good. What time should I pick you up?”

“Oh we can meet there, it’s fine,” you said. “I’ll text you the time and location. One thing though.”

“Hm?”

“There might be mobsters involved.”

“Jesus, there too?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are these guys everywhere?”

“Welcome to my life,” you muttered. “If it’s a problem I totally get it—“

“No no,” he said. “Will your jerk ex be there too?”

“Unclear,” you said. “Why?”

“No reason, just curious,” he said. “I’ll wait for your text then.”

“Okay,” you said, smiling. “See you there.”

You hung up and flipped the phone in your hand, biting down on your smile to control your expression and walked back to the kitchen.

“He’s coming?”

“Yeah.”

Jace and Hunter exchanged glances.

“Is he going to be our new stepdad?”

“Jace, I’m going to take that jar from you.”

Jace’s jaw dropped and he clutched the half empty jar tighter, looking at you as if he was scandalized.

“I’m telling dad!”

                                         *

Judging by just the opening night, it was obvious that the club was going to be very popular. The music was blasting, there were people everywhere and as soon as you walked in the club, you were taken aback by how beautiful it looked.

Sam Wilson had great taste, that was for sure.

“Does it make me old if I say this is too loud?” Alex shouted into your ear through the music, making you let out a laugh as you both made your way through the crowd.

“Not your type of fun, Mr. Teacher?”

He held up his hands “No no, I didn’t say that.”

“Come on,” you said, nodding towards the bar. “We need to get you a drink so that you won’t look this tortured for the whole night.”

He followed you like a lost puppy as you approached the bar to order two drinks, your eyes scanning the crowd to see Hunter, Jace and their dates already dancing. You didn’t have to wonder where Summer was because she was by your side as soon as the bartender gave you your drinks.

“Danger danger, I’m losing my shit—hi teach.”

You took a sip of your drink. “What’s going on?”

“I saw Rogers.”

“….Okay?”

“He looks—“ she flailed her arms around. “He has this suit thing on, and even his stupid beard looks good and I’m like—“

“You like Rogers?” Alex asked and Summer gasped.

“No!”

“Yeah she does.”

“We need to keep me away from him when he looks like that.”

“Summer, why don’t you just go talk to him?” you asked, exasperated. “He’s a nice guy, and it’s obvious you’re attracted to him—“

“I’m not talking to him!” she exclaimed. “I’m just going to stay away from him and drink and I’ll keep my mouth busy so that I can’t talk to him.”

“Or kiss him.”

“Y/N!”

You grinned, taking another sip of your drink.

“You know what?” Summer said. “This is a crowded place, I’m sure he has some enemies here. Maybe he will murder someone and everyone will see that and he’s going to do life for murder so I won’t have to see his stupid face again.”

“You have such a unique approach to having a crush,” Alex mused and Summer’s eyes widened.

“Shit, I think I just saw him, excuse me.” she was gone as soon as she came, bolting through the crowd and you shook your head.

“Unbelievable.”

“She’s a very determined woman.”

“She’s nothing if not—“ you were cut off when your eyes caught the sight of the corner of the club. It was a secluded area, probably VIP and as soon as your gaze fell on the person who was sitting there looking completely bored even though he had a girl sitting on his lap—

Bucky.

Oh.

You could feel the acid burning your throat as the anger ran through your veins, making you clench your jaw. The girl said something to him but she didn’t even seem to have gotten a reply from him as he exhaled the smoke before sipping his drink.

Jesus, the nerve of the guy…

“We can leave if you want?” Alex’s voice shot through your thoughts and you managed to drag your gaze from Bucky to him.

“Hm? No, why would we?”

“Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders and downed your drink, then motioned for another one.

“What? Bucky doesn’t own the place, Sam does.”

“How does a person even get into that…line of work? They seem to own the city itself.”

“They kind of do,” you murmured. “Mostly family, but there are a bunch of other ways.”

“And Barnes got it through his family?”

“His father, yeah.”

“Huh,” he said. “Must be nice to have someone who hands you things.”

“You wouldn’t want that life,” you said, shaking your head. “Trust me.”

“No I wouldn’t,” he replied quickly. “I can’t even imagine that— oh he just saw us.”

You managed not to turn your head, instead just raised your brows, keeping your gaze on Alex.

“I don’t care.”

“It looks like he cares,” Alex pointed out. “How do I piss him off in a way that’s respectful to you, I wonder.”

You scoffed a laugh. “You’re way too sweet.”

“Can I whisper something completely random in your ear?” he asked as your smile widened. “Because he’s a dick and he needs to be jealous.”

You wiggled your brows. “Whisper away, teach.”

He held you by the waist to pull your closer, making your stomach do a flip and he leaned in so that he could murmur into your ear.

“This is going really well, I would say.”

“Uh huh. So what exactly are you going to be whispering in my ear that is random?”

“Uh…” he said. “Anything? The only thing I can think of right now is that song for the school.”

“What song?”

“I… Jesus this is lame,” he said, making you giggle as he tightened his grip, his pleasant scent filling your nostrils. “Did Emma not sing you the song?”

“No, what song?”

“It goes like; we know our alphabet and numbers too,” he sang through the club music blasting through, “We all can write our names and tie our shoes…”

You burst into a laughter, holding onto his arm for support as you clutched at your stomach.

“Oh my God…”

“I know, it’s lame but kids love it so we sing it basically every week,” he pulled back to shoot you a sheepish look. “I bet no one whispered that in your ear before.”

“No,” you shook your head, still laughing. “No they haven’t—God, I haven’t laughed like this in a long time…”

“Anytime.”

“Thank you,” you said and looked up at him. “Really, Alex. I—it means a lot.”

“Hey, don’t mention it,” he said. “Em seriously never sang that song?”

“I don’t think so!” you said. “Oh speaking of, I need to check up on her and say her goodnight. Will you be okay here?”

“Sure thing, tell her I said hi.”

You nodded and walked out of the club, then went to the back alley so that you could get away from the music and touched the contact on the screen.

“Hi honey.”

“Hi dad,” you said. “Is Emma awake?”

“Yeah, I was just putting her down to bed. Do you want to say good night?”

“Yes please,” you said and there was a shuffle on the other line before Emma’s cheerful voice reached you.

“Hi!”

“Hi sweetheart!” you said. “You’re going to bed?”

“Yep! What are you doing? Are you dancing?”

“Not yet but I will,” you said. “Did dad read you a bedtime story?”

“Yeah but he can’t do the voices like you do.”

You grinned. “Tomorrow?”

“Deal.”

“Okay, I won’t keep you up then,” you said. “Good night Em, sweet dreams.”

“You too!” she said and hung up, then turned the phone in your hand. Leaving Emma somewhere –even if it was your father’s place- was getting more and more difficult especially after the whole kidnapping. You felt like you needed her to be at your place to get a good night’s sleep but Josh had called it helicopter parenting and you had to admit that he had a point.

“There’s no way he’s that funny.”

You didn’t even have to turn around to recognize Bucky’s voice, but you did anyway. You raised your brows, tilting your head.

“What?”

“That asshole you came here with. What is he, a comedian now?”

You rolled your eyes. “I mean he’s funny and sweet and polite. Makes a nice change.”

“Sweet and polite isn’t what you want.”

“It actually is,” you said. “You were a bad exception.”

He bit inside his cheek.

“Can we talk?”

“Nope.”

“Peaches-“

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

He heaved a sigh, running a hand over his face. “Y/N, can we please talk?”

“I honestly don’t want to talk to you and that girl inside is probably missing her chair, so you’d better go back there.”

“Who?” he asked, confused for a moment before he scoffed. “You were the one who told me that night meant nothing to you.”

“It did mean nothing to me,” you stated. “You’re free to take whoever the fuck you want home so don’t let me keep you.”

“I’m not taking her home.”

“Makes one of us because I’m probably taking Alex home,” you pointed out, the words leaving your lips before you had a chance to think them over and for a moment, he looked like you had just slapped him.

“You wouldn’t.”

Well no.

No you weren’t going to, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Why not?” you shrugged your shoulders. “I like him a lot. He makes me laugh.”

A shadow crossed Bucky’s eyes and he clenched his jaw.

“That’s what you want?” he asked. “Or are you just trying to take revenge?”

“I don’t care enough about you to take revenge.”

“Bullshit.”

You tilted your head, smiling slightly. “Sorry,” you said, “But hey, if anything, I’m sure your date for the night is fun too. Did you get to ask her name or-”

“Alex is not your type.”

“And you know my type because…?”

“I know you.”

“Oh you don’t know shit about me,” you let out a laugh. “You said it yourself, a relationship with me wasn’t the same as it was in your imagination.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Why are you here?” you cut him off. “Seriously. What is your game here?”

He took a deep breath. “Listen, I really need to talk to you. I need to explain—”

“I don’t want an explanation, I want you to leave me alone.”

“Peac—Y/N, please. This is not the place, I don’t want to have this conversation with you in some back alley, can we just go somewhere quiet?”

“Fuck no we can’t.”

“I know that I broke your heart, I know but—”

“Good for you but you don’t seem to understand,” you said. “You don’t see it, do you? You or your…whatever it is you’re going through is not a priority for me, I have more important things to worry about and honestly, I’m getting really tired of your bullshit here.”

“If I could just—“ he started but stopped talking when his eyes found something over your shoulder. He blinked a couple of times before his gaze snapped back to you and he took a deep breath.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice almost too gentle. “I’m going to need you to be very calm right now.”

You were damn sure that someone was probably pointing a gun at you but you should’ve known.

Bucky would’ve pulled his own gun if that was it, he wouldn’t have been frozen on his spot.

You turned around and as soon as you did your breath got caught in your throat, your heart slamming against your chest. The shock spread through you and for a second you couldn’t even say anything, but eventually you managed to find your voice, staring at the woman in front of you.

“…Mom?”

Chapter 28

[tuulikannel]

Development of Karushuu with incorrect quotes

(some of these are possibly done before, but they're part of the story, so... sorry?)

Karma: Hi, I'm Akabane Karma. And you are? Gakushuu, thinking: *questioning my sexuality*

Karma: My love language is being irritating. Karma: *proceeds to annoy Gakushuu*

Gakushuu: You're really campaigning for Asshole of the Year, aren't you? Karma: As the defending champion, are you nervous?

Gakushuu: I'm not looking for trouble. Karma: What a horrible way to live.

Gakushuu: I feel bad for whoever is going to end up with you. Karma: It’s too early for self-pity Gakushuu: ...what? Karma: what?

Ren: Why are you claiming you're not interested in anyone? We all know you’re in love with him. Gakushuu: I am not in love with Akabane, shut up! Ren: I never said who. Gakushuu: ... Gakushuu: Fuck, ok, hold on, listen here-

Karma: Just to clarify Karma: Is this considered fighting or flirting? Gakushuu: My hands are literally around your neck. Karma: ... Karma: You know that tells me nothing right?

Gakushuu, thinking of Karma: it’s like a game of Fuck, Marry, Kill, and he’s all three.

3-E and 3-A are playing truth or dare: Gakushuu: Truth or dare? Karma: Truth Gakushuu: I dare you to kiss me Karma: *leaning in for a kiss* Ha, you better believe I'm not about to lose to you, ace-kun The rest of class A: The rest of class E: What the hell, he didn't even choose dare

Gakushuu: I’m in love with you. Karma: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, idiot. Gakushuu: I know. Karma: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

Gakushuu: Akabane, your legs look great in those jeans. Karma: You should see me without them ;) Gakushuu: Gakushuu: Why, and how, would you take off your legs? Karma: ...you're misunderstanding on purpose, aren't you? Gakushuu: Don't be grammatically vague if you don't like that.

Gakushuu: You know, Ren gives his girlfriend flowers every other day. It'd be nice if you did that too sometimes... Karma: ok *the next day* Karma: *gives Ren's (current) girlfriend flowers* Ren's girlfriend: ??? Karma: I don't know, I'm confused as well (Gakushuu, to Ren who's mad about Karma hitting on his girl: Did he misunderstand on purpose or is he really that dumb? I don't even know)

Gakushuu: Karma, can you do something for me? Karma: I would literally cover up a murder for you, plant my DNA at the scene, and take the blame for the crime. Gakushuu: Great. Can you do the dishes? Karma: No.

Karma, on the phone: Nagisa, can I come over right now? Nagisa: Why? Karma: Shuu is passive-aggressively doing the dishes he asked me to do yesterday Karma: this ship isn’t safe anymore

Gakushuu: Why is there a tube of wasabi in the shower? Karma: Oh, that's just my shower wasabi.

Gakushuu, walking into the kitchen: Is something burning? Karma, leaning seductively on the counter: Just my love and desire for you. Gakushuu: Gakushuu: I can see the fire on the stove behind you.

Gakushuu: Hey, I was just wondering... what would you do if I broke up with you? Karma: I would go back to my ex. Gakushuu: Gee, thanks. I see I mean a lot to you. It’s over. Karma: Hey, wanna go out? Gakushuu: Go with your ex. Karma: You are my ex.

Gakushuu: Karma and I- Gakuhou: Are getting married!? Gakushuu: No, we- Gakuhou, pulling out a giant binder: Sit down. I’ve planned out the entire thing.

Gakushuu: I was attracted to you first. Karma: I kissed you first. Gakushuu: Only cause I told you to. And I said I loved you first. Karma: *gets down on one knee* I proposed first. Gakushuu: Well, I... wait whAT.

At the wedding: priest: you may now kiss Karma's mother: *looks at her husband* we did good Karma's father: damn right we did Karma's mother: *starts crying * sorry it’s just- Gakuhou: *tearing up too* they grow so fast Karma's mother: *full on bawling* I know, I know Karma to Gakushuu: ...what exactly do they think they did?

Karma: Have you given any additional thought to killing our parents? Gakushuu: ...Karma, don't.... Karma: I'm just rather fond of the idea. Gakushuu: Could we please just enjoy our honeymoon without plotting patricide? Karma: Don't marry an assassin if you can't handle a little bit of murder before breakfast

Karma: We need more excitement in our lives Gakushuu: Being married to you is all the excitement I can handle.

Nagisa: So how's it going, being a father? Karma: Better than I thought it would. I didn't expect this much crying, though. Nagisa: Don't worry, it's normal with babies. Karma: What? The baby's fine. I was talking about Shuu. Gakushuu, sobbing in the nursery: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

Karma: I'm sneaking broccoli into the mac and cheese so the children don't know they're eating vegetables. That's what being an adult is all about. Helping children... through lies. Gakushuu: Well, it's not just the children. I've been sneaking vegetables into your food for years now. Since even before we got married. Karma: What?!

Teacher: Your child was in a fight. Karma & Gakushuu: Did they win?

random person: The way you two bicker, one could think you're an old married couple! Gakushuu: We are an old married couple. Karma: Did you just call us old?

Gakushuu: What’s the point of being old if you can’t beleaguer the young with your vast stories of wisdom? their grandchild: What’s the point of being young if you can’t ignore all the advice? Karma: That's my girl. :)

(I was supposed to do stuff. Then I started working on my wips. And then I started doing this. Procrastination on procrastination. Go me.)

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

best laid plans, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the middle of the night. You’re asleep next to your model boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, who is jacking off while touching your tits. Wait. Hold on a second. What? (He is still your model boyfriend though, even after all that.)

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; actually low-key crack and fluff; smut (fem reader, m-masturbation, handjob (while sucking on JK’s balls, lucky guy), tiny bit of nipple play and pussy slapping, edging, cowgirl, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts and i did make a Dynamite lyric reference with JK’s dick and you can’t stop me

yes, the title is a pun, channeling my inner seokjinnie it’s what you think it is and it’s also not

–

Your dreams were always vivid and intense. 

Was it normal to have movie-level, hyperdetailed, sometimes not even involving you or anyone you knew (at least consciously), insane storyline dreams on a constant basis (without medication causing them)? You know, maybe not. You should get that checked out. But not today, because this is not the story about that (you really should get that checked out).

This is the story about you dreaming about your boyfriend jacking off next to asleep you and then realizing it was not a dream. 

At first you were like, man, that sure sounds like Jeon Jungkook breathing hard. Was he working out? Why are you having dreams about Jungkook working out? That's literally the most pointless, mundane dream you could ever have. Also, you weren't seeing anything, just blackness. What was the damn point of this dream you couldn't even look at him?

(To be honest, that’s very rude of you, brain.)

Jungkook always asked you to work out at home with him but, one, he was annoying as fuck to work out with because all he did was stare at you ("oh yeah, my bad for thinking you're sexy, holy shit, what a crime to think my girlfriend and future wife is hot!"); two, you literally had zero motivation to work out (not lazy, just, you know, didn't give a shit and Jungkook called that your great flaw of being his perfect girlfriend – but he loved all your soft bits so he was sending you mixed messages, tsk tsk); and finally, three, it always led up to fucking, so why go through all that trouble hyping yourself up in your leggings and sports bra, only to spend five minutes in them and forty-five doing a whole different kind of workout that didn't require clothes?

Exactly. 

Just skip that shit and get to the naked part. 

Oh, right, back to the whole deep-breathing Jungkook and you seeing darkness thing. 

Sometimes you had dreams with only sound and very little visual. It was disorienting, giving you the feeling of being trapped in a maze with no way out (dream analysts would be all over that shit) and once the images returned, you were usually naked (psychologists would have a field day with that). But this time, you were unmoving. Listening to tense inhale, drawn-out exhale, over and over, and you only recognized it as Jungkook because he did that thing where he sucked on his teeth a little, making that almost inaudible hiss noise. 

You felt heavy, tired, sluggish, as if you were dragging yourself through mud, in between the brink of conscious and subconscious, in that brief moment where you could control the dream but not your body, that little pocket of utopia. You searched for Jungkook in the darkness, curious to find him, and you couldn't, but he seemed to be beside you, to your right, where he usually was when you slept. Next to you, sometimes snoring so you'd have to smack him in the chest and he'd snort and stop (for a hot second, then you'd roll him to his side so at least he wouldn't be snoring in your ear). His pectoral muscles were bigger lately (you hated working out but you sure as hell didn't hate Jungkook working out) and the slapping sound was pretty satisfying now, palm to hard muscle. 

Kind of like the sound right now. 

Wait. 

You weren't slapping Jungkook's pecs.

You furrowed your brows. Huh? Why were you hearing that soft smacking sound over and over, Jungkook's low hiss and then your name in a deep hazy whisper and why was your front cold? You usually slept with only panties, no bra, but you weren't usually cold up top – that's what the linen duvet was for (you paid way too much for that, but you saw it on Instagram and, hey, it's your money, go off) and, to be honest, you used to be a cute pajamas person but, ever since you started living with Jungkook, he wanted you to wear as much as he did when he slept (read: literally only his boxer briefs). Lots of begging (and him being on his knees for you) later, and now it was your habit to strip before sleeping.

Anyway, back to being cold. 

You scrunched up your face and listened to the labored breathing in your right, a hand drifting on your stomach, tracing your bellybutton, moving up, light, delicate touches, the sound of skin on skin. A gentle fingertip brushed your nipple. 

You cracked your eyes open.

There was a tiny bit of light from your computer, the RGB keyboard casting a faint rainbow. You shifted your eyes to your right.

Jungkook's left arm was in an awkward position, softly caressing your nipple as he violently pumped his dick. 

On the bed. 

Underwear gone.

On the floor? Probably. 

He looked pretty damn hard. (Nice.) 

Your eyes floated to his face and his eyes were closed, mouth open, trying not to make any noise, gasping your name. Shapely jaw, soft cheeks, dark lashes, ash blond hair framing his handsome features, so beautiful it was unreal. His head turned towards you and his dark brown eyes slowly opened, purring your name lovingly. 

"Yeah, Jungkook?"

You saw the single blissful second it took for Jungkook's brain to catch up. 

Then he choked.

On air and his dick by squeezing it far too hard in complete and utter shock. 

"HOLY FUCK!"

He yanked his hand back, off your chest (feels bad man) and released his cock, causing it to bounce a little in the air (kind of sexy, not gonna lie), both of them shooting up to cover his rapidly reddening cheeks, one tattooed, one not, his inked right arm tense and his hand glistening with points of pre-cum.

You blinked innocently at him. 

"Oh, shit, fuck, I'm so sorry, um, l–listen," he sputtered, dick still sticking straight up, completely oblivious to Jungkook's embarrassment (ignorance is bliss). "I... I have a good reason, I s-swear."

You rolled onto your side and squished your tits together. Jungkook's brain seemed to implode a little, staring at your squashed breasts and hard nipples like it was the first time (even though you knew he literally sees them at least once a day).

"You're horny?" 

Your voice cracked a little from sleep and you coughed to clear your throat (not sexy, but such is life). 

Jungkook's shaking pupils were too busy staring at your titties. "Y-Yeah, I just woke up randomly horny as fuck, but I know how much you hate having your sleep disturbed so I was just going to edge myself a little... well, maybe finish…"

"You masturbating while touching my tits is not going to disturb me?"

"I... I've done it before..."

???????

???????

"Uh..."

"I don't touch you very much!" Jungkook blurted, grabbing your hands. "P-Please don't be mad! I only touch you a little and always very carefully! I never try to take advantage, I'm just horny, please, please, please don't be mad!"

He grabbed you by the shoulders and hugged you tightly. You grimaced, not because of the hug (Jungkook’s hugs were top tier), but because his hard dick jammed right into your thigh and smeared a giant line of pre-cum onto your skin (a little cold and not nearly as sexy as internet smut stories make it out to be, but maybe that was because you literally woke up to Jungkook jacking off without giving you so much as an invitation, rude). You gasped and retreated a little, but that made Jungkook try to grab you tighter and his cock bent upwards and jabbed you in the lower belly. 

Still leaking everywhere, by the way. 

"Oh shit–"

"Look here Excalibur, I'm not the stone waiting for the king," you winced, swiping your hand across your skin and wiping it on the side of his ass (hey, it's free real estate). Jungkook yelped, letting go of you. 

"Hey!"

"If you're horny, let's fuck, not joust. I don't have the proper equipment for that and I'm not an undercover Lancelot, as dope as that would be."

"I should be turned off by now," Jungkook muttered under his breath (probably cursing your poorly timed King Arthur jokes – you did have a tendency to wear your mind on your sleeve). "But I'm not because, fuck, look at this body..."

His hands were already running all over your skin and, if there was one thing Jungkook had an extra zest for, it was fucking you – all the time, twenty-four seven, rest in peace responsibilities if you ever decided to become a nudist, but thankfully you had self-control (not when it came to terrible jokes at inappropriate times though, that was your vice). However, sleepy you had less self-control and let him do whatever he wanted, running his fingers all over your chest, making you shiver and slide closer to him, rubbing your thigh against his length and he sucked in a breath, whispering your name hotly against your cheek.

"S-Stop, I'm going to get horny..."

"You're already horny," you hummed into his chin, running your fingers through his blond hair, closing your eyes again, listening to his soft moan against your cheek (he always sounded so good, so fucking sexy, it was sinful), your left hand sliding down between you both. his palms pressed into your breasts, squeezing them roughly as you cupped your hand around his length and balls (Jungkook was really warm and your hands were kind of cold, this turned out to be a win-win situation, sweet). You wound your fingers around his length with two fingers hooked around his balls, bouncing them lightly as you rubbed his velvety skin, sighing against his neck.

"Pog."

"Do not Twitch chat talk to my dick," Jungkook muttered. "Also, what kind of weak-ass handjob is this, are you just warming your cold-as-fuck fingers–" (well, shit) "–oh, fuck!"

You gripped his cock with your left hand and buried your fingers in his hair, tongue between your lips as you roughly stroked his length, making Jungkook squirm and gasp above you, jerking back. You kept your hold on him, tighter, feeling him swell and get harder, grinning, your eyes still closed, working him fast and firm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jungkook swore repeatedly, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers (damn, he was making you work to keep this smirk on your face, but it was worth), tendrils of pleasure snaking through you. You bit the side of your lip, increasing your pace, squeezing just under the head the way he liked, pre-cum pooling around the pocket of your index finger and thumb, adding lubrication.

"Stop, s-stop, I'm gonna e-explode," Jungkook moaned, planting his hands onto your tits and sinking his fingers in the softness once more (hello? where's the titty love, this ain't all about you, Jungkook). 

"I like dynamite," was you answer, cracking one eye open. "Light it up." 

Jungkook growled in his throat, glaring at you. "I swear to God, if you weren't so fucking hot, I'd be so fucking limp right no–aah, d-don't, oh fuuuck, please..."

You slid down the bed, switching hands, attaching your mouth to his balls (he was probably grateful for that, can't talk with a mouthful of nuts, sad) and put your breasts on his thigh, rubbing your nipples all over his hard muscle as you sucked, starting off slow, then faster and faster, one to the other, tongue all over, Jungkook loudly rambling nonsense above you (you weren't paying attention, you had a dick to jack off and some balls to rearrange with your masterful tongue) until Jungkook squealed at your firm grip on the head, cutting off his orgasm once again.

"Stop edging me," he hissed angrily above you.

You blew a raspberry on his nuts.

"A-ah, fuuuuuuuuck!"

Oh, that turned out to be more pleasurable than either you or Jungkook imagined, because his eyes were gigantic and his hips were furiously humping your hand, but you weren't holding him tight enough for him to cum. You raised your eyebrows at him and Jungkook gave you the most displeased expression he could muster (he looked cute as fuck, a complete fail), ash blond strands clinging to his forehead, nose scrunched up.

"That was for jacking off without me," you tutted.

"You would have gotten pissed if I woke you up to fuck," he pouted.

"I need beauty sleep to be beautiful."

"I hear facials actually help quite a lot."

You burst out laughing and Jungkook followed suit, his rich, full, almost wheezing laugh, until he realized you had swiped a condom from the nightstand (yup, they were casually in a little moon-shaped dish by the bed next to the chap stick and phone charger, says a lot about you two), fitted it on him, and then you sat on his dick.

"W-Wait – oooooooh, fuck!"

You waited a second for your body to adjust, forcefully stretched out by his thick girth, but it wasn't that bad when you were controlling your muscles and expecting it, so you started rocking your hips after the second, sighing in satisfaction. Jungkook's eyes rolled back into his head, his long fingers bunching up on his chest, raising his ass to get deeper with every slap of hips to hips, your body talking to his, heat rising through you, branching out your spine and to your limbs, the best kind of workout (your only workout, be honest here), clenching your core, making Jungkook snap his head back in panic, shaking his head furiously.

"I'm g-gonna cum if you keep going l-like that..."

You leaned down, brushing his hands away and spreading your fingers over his pecs, running your nails over his hard nipples. Jungkook whimpered, chewing on his lip, you turning the tempo from a fast one to a longer, slower, more complete stroke from head to base, soft ass smacking his soft balls. He looked up at you, moaning softly, pupils blown wide, rainbow shadows over his face (damn, he's pretty, eleven out of ten, for sure), gasping your name, his hands finding your forearms and caressing them, eyelashes fluttering.

"O-oh, fuck, p-please... faster... wanna cum... you're so fucking sexy... ah, fuck, wanna cum for you..."

No one could say no to that, especially not you.

You slid your arms down to the bed, right beside his head, and increased the force, intensifying it all, Jungkook's fingers flying up and holding onto your nipples, the sheer wildness of your own pace tugging and pulling on them, your breathing deepening, panting hard, wispy and hot, his name on your lips, pleasure all over, passionately fucking him into the bed, and him jutting his hips back into your soaked walls, throbbing against the tightness, so hot, fire coursing through you, your juices soaking his crotch and balls.

“Jungkook, oh, fuck, yes...”

You squeezed him hard and Jungkook thrust into you with a groan, all hardness and thickness violently burying itself into your overwhelming heat and you moaned lustfully, pussy shuddering around his wonderful cock, feeling it shiver repeatedly, his orgasm filling up the condom so much that you felt the latex stretch inside you, jarring jerks with each of Jungkook's soft cries, his head shoved into the pillows, blond hair fanning out like a halo and practically wearing out your name with how many times he was chanting it.

You reached and held down the condom as you unsheathed (the beast), collapsing against the bed and laying down, wheezing a little, greatly satisfied at your work.

"Boom."

You weakly reached up and mimed a firework with one hand.

"Like dynamite."

"Oh, my fucking God," Jungkook muttered, peeling off the condom and immediately snatching the towel next to the bed (also says a lot about you two) and another condom, yanking off the other one (trash can next to the bed already, again says – never mind, you get it) and cleaning himself off before putting on the new one. "On your back."

You rolled on your back, snickering. "Three parts dynamite, with a nitroglycerin cap–"

Jungkook clapped a hand on your mouth and it smelled a whole lot like his cum. "This is not the time to be quoting the Addams Family, you animal."

You nuzzled out of it, grinning. "I'm just saying I want an orgasm equivalent to blowing up a small house."

"Oh, you'll get it," Jungkook growled, yanking your hips to the center of the bed, pushing your legs up to your chest, almost bending you in half. "You ready?"

You bit your lip, still grinning. "Of course."

One hand left your leg and you were confused for a split second.

The next you were gasping, Jungkook rapidly smacking his hand into your clit and pussy, not hard, but constant, swift smacks that got you wetter and wetter, quivering and struggling for breath.

"J-Jungkook, oh f-fuck, Jungkook..." you whined, fingers digging into the sheets, twisting them, bouncing your hips towards him. He inhaled sharply, fitting his finger onto your clit and raising himself.

"W-wait – oh fuck!"

Jungkook chuckled and thrust into your wet warmth, rubbing your clit at the same time. Your body squirmed, trying to alleviate the sudden high rush of pleasure, but Jungkook was stronger (was this the reason he worked out? no complaints here), his free hand pressing your leg down into your chest, your other leg crammed against his shoulder, his hand snaking in between and stimulating your clit, not having to move because you were moaning helplessly, rutting against him repeatedly, pulsating all around him, so good, so good, throbs of desire against his callused fingertip, eyes rolling back. Hard cock, engorged clit worked into a frenzy, your own hips fucking him back so hard that Jungkook was moaning with you, your name tumbling out from those pink lips.

"Cum for me, fuck, you sound and look so sexy, come on, come on..."

You would have praise for him too if you could breathe, but you couldn't, pleasure so overwhelming that your eyes closed, getting there, getting so close, and Jungkook he kept going until you wailed his name, back arcing, your tits hitting your thighs, forearms taut and straining, lower body lurching towards him and leaking out slick juices all over his crotch and yours, so much so that his finger slipped and his nail nicked your clit, turning your moan into a howl of ecstasy.

"Oh, shit, are you ok–"

You grabbed his hips, ignoring whatever the fuck he was saying, and slammed him down into your pussy, making Jungkook lose his balance and put his hands on the bed, yelping, and you hissing in his face, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please, Jungkook, give me your cock, and Jungkook was saying something but your body gave no fucks, ears mysteriously broken at that specific moment, raising your hips to meet his as he sank down, Jungkook's face scrunching up and his pleas finally reaching your ears.

"H-Hold on, I want to last, stop, stop, stop..."

"Who cares about that, I need dick," was your very impatient response, but Jungkook grabbed your thighs and pinned you down, stopping you and him from moving, you whining and clenching around him.

"This is not p–"

Jungkook immediately fitted his hand over your mouth, narrowing his eyes at you. "No. Bad. Shush."

(How did he know you were going to say 'this is not poggers'?)

You wiggled your ass and Jungkook growled, pulling out and slamming back in, not fast, but powerful, cock getting harder and harder with your whines and cries behind his palm.

"This is what you need," he panted, deep and gravelly, one hand on the bed and one on your mouth, fucking you so hard that your ass was bouncing on the bed, creating a wet spot on the sheets with how drenched you were for Jungkook's lust-filled, husky voice. "Need me to fuck you silent, fuck, you're so tight and wet, come on, cum for me, cum for me, you sexy, sexy woman..."

Your body was already complying, pleasure wrapping all around, body so hot from the fire within, tongue pressed against his palm, moaning lewdly around his fingers as you came again, and he was so hard, fuck, Jungkook was so fucking hard right after he woke up, always, (a fucking mystery and eighth wonder of the world and your pussy was thoroughly investigating), so deep and so thick, your muscles clutching him tight, sucking him back in. His fingers separated a little, loosening his grip, and you heard your needy whimper mildly muffled by his digits.

"You're so good Jungkook, I love you, fuck, I love your cock, Jungkook..."

You looked up into his eyes, at his long hair hanging around his face, jaw clenched, smirking as he saw your gaze, biting the side of his lips in concentration.

"I love you too," he breathed. "You're the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the world."

You clamped around him and Jungkook groaned, eyelids fluttering, grunting as he forcefully thrust into you, your name mixed with a moan as he came again, fully sheathing himself in your quivering, abused heat, warm pulses soothing him and you all over. The sheets stuck to your ass, covered in your sweet-smelling cum.

(Good thing that was on his side of the bed.)

His hand glided up your face, pushing back your hair, shuddering as he rutted into your core a few more times, savoring your tightness.

"You alright, my dude?" you whispered nonchalantly, gasping slightly.

Jungkook cracked one eye open. "Yeah, I'm fucking fantastic, bro."

"Pog-"

Jungkook shoved two fingers into your mouth and you choked a little, pouting around his fingers (you weren't surprised though, you knew it was coming).

"I will whip this dick out and slap you in the face with it."

"That's kinda nasty, but also sounds kinda hot," you gargled around his fingers.

"... You're right. Damn, he's asleep. Shit."

Jungkook pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the towel, frowning as he glanced down.

"Only him and not us, something seems a little inverted here."

Jungkook chuckled and leaned down to kiss you (another reason why he was the perfect partner, still being affectionate, regardless of your loony antics).

"I love you."

-

in which you anger jjk by being annoying - wait, that’s every day well, he still wants to bang you counter point

--

masterpost

[ptergwen]

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

-

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

[rafescoke]

Crime ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Part #1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader would do anything for the boy she loves from a summer ago.

Warnings: Story takes place at the start of season 2 (and some flashbacks from season 1), swearing, angst, death penalty, gaslighting, reader just needing help

A/N: i don’t think this is my best work at all :( but i’ll post the part 2 straight away!! didn’t know tumblr has a word limit now wtf

p.s; tell me what do you think of this fic!!

(Y/N) had begged for somewhere else to spend the Summer. She couldn’t go back to that place, not when there were too many memories that awaited her. No one seemed to listen to her, and her father continued to check something online.

“Rafe Cameron.”

“(Y/N),” she had smiled, and she thought about how gorgeous a boy could be. This man before her; with his hair messily parted and that goddamn blue eyes had her holding her breath, and she wasn’t in her usual demeanour.

“You come down here often?” Rafe asked, raising his eyebrows. (Y/N) watched as he chugged on his beer, and gave her another sly smile again.

“Um, not really. This is my first summer here.”

“That’s nice,” he shrugged, “Welcome to Obx.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, liking how Obx already is. She made a mental note to tell her friends back home about this island, and most importantly; Rafe Cameron.

“Do you wanna take a walk?”

(Y/N) never really accepted any boy’s invitation for a walk, because all the boys in the city never had good intentions with her. She never dated anyone, never bothered to do so.

“Sure,” she smiled, and walked alongside the dirty-blonde boy to the far end of the beach. He sucked in a breath, glancing at her from the corners of his eyes, and laughed.

“You look nervous.”

“You could be a mass murderer.”

“Isn’t that just the perfect person to spend the summer with?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, the moonlight from the sky illuminating his features. God, he really is beautiful. “I guess.”

“So would that be a problem if I killed someone before?”

(Y/N) laughed easily at the joke, bumping her arms against his. She felt a jolt from the touch, and swallowed her saliva. “No.”

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah. That’s more like it.”

(Y/N) had thought of that moment as nothing but a joke. A playful joke, meaning to flirt with her. The next few weeks were spent with only them two, sometimes in his house or (Y/N)’s stay. They were inseparable; always attached by the hips morning and night, and (Y/N) knew about all of his problems.

“Try it.”

“What? Coke?” She asked, bewildered. She looked down to the table, her hands fidgeting, and she quickly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up to Rafe again, “I don’t know how.”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” he smiled, pulling her by her wrist and seated her beside him. She felt the jolt again, but she had gotten better at ignoring it.

Rafe lowered his hand, a finger placed on his left nostril, and snorted the line of white powder. He grunted, throwing his head back, and after a few seconds, he gave her a smirk.

“Your turn.”

(Y/N) smiled back, reaching for the rolled up bill before lowering his head to the last line. She took a deep breath, still so shaky, and snorted the powder before she could change her mind.

Her heartbeat quickened, and her mind was all over the place. She could feel her forehead getting clammy, and before she could do anything, Rafe cupped her face in his large hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he expressed, looking straight into her eyes. (Y/N) didn’t realise she was starting to cry, and stared back into his eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” he said suddenly, rubbing comforting circles on her temples. (Y/N) relaxed under his touch, “Such a pretty girl.”

“I thought you’re friends with that Cameron boy,” her father suddenly said, shaking her out of her memories. (Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to push away the thoughts, and gave her father a grimace.

“So? I don’t want to see him.”

“What happened between you two? You used to ask me to move to Obx,” her father laughed, still clicking on the mouse to the laptop.

“People change, dad,” she muttered, and made her way back to her bedroom to be alone with her thoughts.

“Rafe! You don’t have to do this,” (Y/N) gasped, her hands around her mouth. She looked around the gazebo by the lake, her eyes brightening against the beautiful fairy lights and veins decorating the railings.

“It’s your last week here,” he shrugged, helping her to her seat before sitting for himself. He pointed to the food displayed before then, “Steak. Your favourite.”

“You are amazing,” she expressed, her eyes suddenly glassy. The lake never looked so calming, and (Y/N) wished she could capture this exact moment in her head.

“Just thought you should see the other side of Rafe Cameron,” he shrugged, his lips forming into a smile. “I’m glad you came down here to Obx.”

“Me too,” she breathed, and went for the food. “I’m so glad to have met you.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, cutting his steak into small pieces before biting into one. “Didn’t you called me a mass murderer the first time we met?”

“It was a joke,” she rolled her eyes, “But I’ll still like you even if you are.”

She didn’t know the truth behind her words.

“You will?” He looked up to her, grinning. “And just like?”

“Just like. What are you playing at, Rafe?” She faked groan, putting her cutleries down and clasping her hand together. “What? You’re going to propose to me or something?”

Everything happened so fast; Rafe chuckled, awkwardly running his fingers through his fair, messing with his slicked back hair. She liked this messy hair better, but she liked anything about Rafe Cameron, messy hair or not.

“No.”

Rafe held out the tiny velvet box in his hands, and (Y/N) never saw a prettier smile than his.

“No,” she repeated, her breathing heavy. She was too shocked by this, only meaning the proposal part of her speech as a joke, and looked into his sincere eyes again.

“I’m not proposing to you,” he laughed, getting down to one knee and opening the box to a beautiful diamond ring. (Y/N) sucked in a breath, mesmerised. “I will though, in the future.”

“Oh my god, Rafe, I can’t accept this,” she gasped, watching as the diamond glinted under the bright light. “You’re too much.”

“It’s a promise ring,” he smiled, “And a proposal to ask you to become my girlfriend.”

He sucked in a breath, and (Y/N) swore her heart stopped. She never thought of herself worthy as these kind of moments, but here she was; all teary eyed, her hand against her heart to calm her crazy heartbeat.

“Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”

She laughed, wiping the tears that had rolled down to her cheeks, and cupped his face into her hands. “You’re so fucking dumb. Of course I will, asshole, without this whole dinner thing. You could ask me while we’re in the swimming pool and I’ll say yes.”

Rafe laughed, melting into her hands, before taking out the ring he had saved up for (by not buying anymore coke) and asking for her permission to slide it over her ring finger.

(Y/N) nodded, holding her breath, and the diamond ring slid to her finger, and she gasped at how pretty it looked. She wondered about how much it had cost Rafe to buy the ring for her, but pushed the thought away when Rafe tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“We haven’t even kissed yet.”

(Y/N) laughed, “I told you you’re too fast, Rafe.”

Rafe smiled, inching closer to her, and (Y/N) just instantly stopped thinking. He was so beautiful, so angelic, and she wished she could stay at Obx forever.

“I love you, (Y/L/N).”

“Rafe,” she expressed, placing her forehead against his, “I love you too, okay?”

(Y/N) groaned, deepening her face against the soft pillow. She felt like screaming, but she didn’t have the energy to do so.

She would do anything for Rafe, and the next few days after that proposal went too fast that she felt like God was being unfair to her. He made her feel so good, and no one had made her feel the way he made her feel.

She felt like she was in heaven.

Until that one, certain Friday; the day before she went back to New York.

“Rafe, please,” she cried, pulling him by shirt as he pointed the gun at the sheriff, his eyes flaring up in anger. “Rafe, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

She looked at Ward, who looked afraid as well, and sucked in a breath. “You told me-”

“Shut up!” He grunted, his own fingers trembling on the trigger. “Fuck! Shut up.”

She didn’t know what to do. Sarah was looking at her for help, but she had tried her best to console him. She tried to reach for him again, to which he quickly pushed her away.

“Do that again, and I’ll kill you next.”

“Rafe-”

“Shut up!” He yelled again, and before she could do anything the pulled on the trigger, and the sheriff fell to the ground with widened eyes.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) jolted from her position at the knock, and groaned when her mother came in. She scooted away, giving her some space on the bed, and laid with her face planted against the pillow again.

“You never told us about what happened with you and Rafe,” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, so why don’t you want to go to Obx for the summer?”

“I want new boyfriends.”

Her mother laughed, “Okay. Then find new boyfriends in Obx. The blonde boy who helped us carry our bags the first time we arrived there can be one.”

“JJ?”

“He’s always around the island too, helping people for money,” she shrugged, “That’s a good kid. Doing honest work for honest money.”

“I’m not actually looking for a boyfriend, mom,” she rolled her eyes. “It was a figure of speech.”

“Well,” she stood up, “You better be looking for one. We’re spending the summer in Obx, and that’s final.”

. . .

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes against the glowing sunlight of North Carolina, her body screaming with pain from hours of sitting in the same position. She heard the pilot said something, her mind still woozy from only being caffeinated, and placed her head against the seat again.

“It’s a bright day, like it’s waiting for us,” her mother exclaimed, fixing her sunglasses before walking down the stairs to the road. (Y/N) groaned, still so tired, and she wished for nothing but to stay in her room with Netflix to watch.

“Hey, Mr (Y/L/N),” JJ smiled, and (Y/N) noticed the fake exterior he was trying to portray. “Come down here for another summer again?”

Her mother, who admired JJ’s ‘honest work’ gushed out to beside him, asking about his school and his works. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, not interested in making any new conversation, and she looked back at the area where the incident took place.

JJ caught her looking, and when her parents and the little brother had entered the car, he went to her to help her with her bags.

He crouched down, wrapping his fingers around the handle, and quickly whispered. “You saw, right?”

“Huh?”

“What Rafe did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, and went into the car before he could say anything else.

God. Just how she expected her first moments after arriving in Obx.

“Hey! Welcome back!”

“You called the Camerons?” She groaned, looking at her father for some kind of useless explanation. After the brief conversation with JJ, she wanted nothing that could remind her of Rafe and hoped she could stay in her room for the whole 2 months.

“(Y/N), wait-”

She barged into her room for 2 months, noticing the old posters she had put up the year before, and thought about how happy she was at that time. She felt nothing now, and she couldn’t wait until the end of summer.

“Fuck!” She yelled, her head feeling so light, and placed herself before the naked bed. She sighed, trying to calm herself down, and thought of the ways to ignore the certain boy a few miles away.

Maybe he’s in college.

Maybe he’s going to leave her alone.

Maybe he has found someone new.

She felt a tug at the thought of the last sentence, and she couldn’t explain why she would even be devastated over him finding a new girl. That’s good, she guessed, at least she doesn’t have to think about staying away from him again.

Maybe she should spend her time with the pogues; JJ’s friends. They looked fun to hang with.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“I’m not in the mood,” she grunted, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. “What do you want?”

“Can we go to the beach?”

“The beach?” She huffed, “We just arrived. Shouldn’t you clean your room or something?”

“Okay. But can you bring me to the beach after I’m done?”

“I’ll think about it,” she expressed, but after a few hours of sweeping and mopping the dusty room, placing the new bedsheet over the mattress and taking down her old posters, all she wanted to do was get out for some fresh air. She had slept most of her time in the plane so she wasn’t feeling like taking a nap at all, and she guessed it would be appropriate to bring her little brother to the beach.

She walked to her room, her hands around her waist. “Hey, you’re- where the fuck did you get that?”

“What?” He asked, raising the frame with his sister’s arms around Rafe, smiling happily at the camera. “This? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“Throw that away!” she yelled, “I said throw that away!”

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, throwing the frame into the big plastic bag before dusting the dust off of him. “Can we go to the beach now?”

“You’re an asshole, do you know that?” She huffed, watching as he changed into his swimming shorts, “And we’ve been cleaning for 3 hours. You’re not half done yet.”

“Whatever,” he said, and closed the door. “Just wait for me downstairs.”

The ride to the beach didn’t take long, and (Y/N) actually felt peaceful riding the bicycle and letting the breeze hit her square on the face. She had laughed at a stupid joke by her little brother, and she thought about how she could do this for the next 2 months.

“I wanna learn how to surf,” he said, letting the water soaked his feet and dumped his feet into the sand. “Do you?”

“You’ll forget how to when we’re back in New York,” she mumbled, gazing at the sky, “Also your body’s too weak to fight the waves.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued, “What are you going to do for the summer, (Y/N)? Are you going to be with that-”

“No,” she quickly said, curling her toes at the feeling of the water soaking her feet. “I’m not going to be with anyone.”

“Isn’t that your friend?”

“Ha-ha, nice joke,” she laughed falsely, still closing her eyes against the bright sky. “Who’s the friend? Is it Rafe?”

“Hey.”

(Y/N) sat up straight, her heart beating wildly, and what greeted her sight sent shivers down to her spine, and she quickly clutched onto her little brother’s wrist before pulling him away.

“Ow! What are you doing? (Y/N), let me go!” Lucas groaned, looking back at the boy who wanted nothing but to talk to his sister. “Rafe, help!”

“Shut up, you bitch,” she groaned, still pulling on his wrist. She knew about the possibility of leaving a claw mark on his skin, but she wanted nothing to do with the boy.

“Help me, Rafe! She’s going to kill me!”

“I said shut up!” She yelled, her chest heaving now, and she didn’t care about her hair that was hanging loosely from her hairclaw.

She didn’t know if Rafe was chasing after her, and she didn’t dare to look back.

“Ride your bike home,” she fumbled with the handle, “Now. Please, now!”

“Okay,” Lucas groaned, “What’s wrong with you? It’s just Rafe.”

“Go!” She yelled, already set to cycle back home, with her clothes all wet and sticking against her skin. She couldn’t breathe, and she hated the sight of him. She cycled back home hurriedly, tears streaming down her face, and she wished she had stayed home.

The night after the day on the beach she didn’t bother to come down for dinner, only staying in her room and browsing through Netflix. She didn’t feel like doing anything, and she hated how quick her mood was ruined.

She didn’t think about seeing him that quickly, especially after just arriving on the island that morning. This was exactly the problem; she couldn’t face him, not after what he did, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn him to the authorities. She was pushing him away, but at the same time protecting him.

The next morning, she felt shittier than ever. Being in the small island, where everywhere she goes could remind her back to Rafe, she decided to stay in bed and browse through more movies, only going downstairs for a glass of water before going back to her room. She was glad Lucas and her parents were enjoying most of their time here in Obx, and she would do the same if it weren’t for what happened last year.

She was scared. She was mad at herself too, because she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about what she saw. As much as she hated him now, a part of her still loved him.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

“Get the fuck away from me!” She yelled, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“No, no, baby, please-”

“Don’t call me baby, I swear to fucking god!” She yelled again, getting into the car and watched as Rafe desperately banged against the car window, pleading for her to hear him.

“It’s not what you think-”

(Y/N) cried, her head painful, and slowly slid the diamond ring from her finger before lowering the window by a slit and throwing it outside. Rafe watched the ring roll away but didn’t care to fetch it, only trying to speak to her through the tiny slit.

“I had to do it, please,” he begged, “Please. Baby. I can’t do this-”

“Go to hell,” she hissed, and sped away.

That was the last time she had ever seen Rafe, and she knew he tried to contact her with different phone numbers every day, but she had blocked every single number. The trouble stopped after a while, and (Y/N) realised how much she had been missing him.

Who could she confront about this?

Who could she tell?

She couldn’t. She loved him too much.

A week after settling in their summer home, (Y/N) was tired of all the screaming and nudging by her mother for her to get out of the house, and ‘get a life’. She didn’t feel like having a whole summer of just hanging out at the beach, not when the last time she had went there and bumped onto Rafe, so she decided to keep her distance off Figure 8 and made her way to the other side of the island.

She had only been there twice with Rafe before, to pick up something at Barry’s (he told her not to worry about it), so she never really quite get used to the road around here.

She stopped the jeep by the side of the road, glancing at the signboard and the road behind her. Did she go too far? Or was this just the wrong way?

She rested her back against the car door, already tired, and decided to just wait until she was good enough to drive home.

It was half an hour later when she heard the roaring of a motorcycle, and she quickly got to her feet, her chest suddenly heaving.

“Yo? You’re okay?”

“Huh?” She fixed her hair, “Um- yeah. Just resting.”

JJ nodded, “You should turn off your engine. You don’t want to-”

Just right on cue, the engine stopped completely and (Y/N) groaned, getting into the car to turn the engine again. It made some noise, until silence fell between them.

“That’s what I’m saying,” JJ said, “Where are you heading to?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular,” she sighed, getting out of the jeep and shutting the door angrily. Good. Just like how she wanted her day to be.

“Let me send you back home,” he offered, pointing to the black ride behind the jeep. She shook her head, her mouth forming into a tight smile.

“That’s alright, I can-”

“Walk back home? Come on, you’re far from Figure 8, and you’re 50 minutes away from The Cut on foot.”

She didn’t exactly wish for this, but it would help.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, helping her up to the motorcycle and placing her hands on his shoulders for some balance.

“You’ve never ridden a bike before?” JJ asked, half-amused. “No, no, because you look nervous.”

“I’ve just never ridden a bike with you driving,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Can you send me to the taxi stop or anything?”

“Really? Why can’t I just drive you home?”

She groaned, “Just send me to the taxi port, Maybank.”

He laughed, putting his helmet on, and (Y/N) placed her hands against her ears at the loud sound of the engine.

(Y/N) hate to admit it; but the ride to The Cut was the most thrilling thing that she had ever felt in months. She felt a smile slowly forming onto her face, and JJ swore he could see it too from the side mirror, and when they finally stopped at the taxi port, she was so happy she felt like buying a bike for herself.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “Minus one point for no helmet.”

“I didn’t know I would see you laying by the side of the road,” he rolled his eyes, a hint of teasing in his tone. “But where’s the fun when you’re all safe?”

She hummed in response, “I’ll see you around then.”

“So you’re just going to get an expensive ride back to Figure 8? Why wouldn’t you let me send you off?”

She knew exactly why, but she didn’t want to admit it. She was scared of Rafe seeing her on JJ’s bike, knowing that he’s not on good terms with the pogues, and the last thing she had ever wanted was to make him feel like he was being replaced.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much, JJ,” she sighed. “Besides, you can see me for the next 2 months everyday if that’s what you want.”

He grinned, “Good offer. Will think about that soon.”

(Y/N) laughed, tilting her head to one side before making a move to reach for her phone. JJ watched as she filled in her passcode, went straight to Contacts, and handed him the phone.

“What’s this?”

“Oh god, you’re annoying,” she rolled her eyes. “Put in your McDonald’s order.”

JJ laughed again, his fingers sliding over her phone screen easily to fill in his number, and he handed her the phone back after saving his name as ‘Handsome pogue’.

“I’ll see you around, (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N) smiled, this time sincerely, and she thought about the possibility of spending her summer in The Cut with JJ where she knew there would be no troubles awaiting her.

It was safe to say that JJ and (Y/N) were inseparable after spending so much time together the next few weeks. Everywhere JJ goes, (Y/N) would be there with him, either by helping him with his work in the restaurant or running for groceries to deliver with him. She liked it with him; he took her mind off Rafe, and that was everything that she needed.

JJ knew about the girl’s relationship with Rafe last year, but he was careful not to cross the invisible line. He was gentle with her, always studying her reactions at certain places (he was sure Rafe had taken her to those places before) and in return, she knew everything about him.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she bit her lips, letting the water soaked her jeans as they laid on the sand, gazing at the view. She felt sorry for the blonde boy after knowing the truth about his father, and wished she could help him in any way.

“That’s okay,” he replied. “Hey, I’m bringing you to meet my friends. Would you like that?”

“Your friends?” She raised her brows, “Like Kiera and Pope?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Would you like to meet them?”

(Y/N) thoughts went back to the many times Rafe had told her about the pogues, but she always saw them as a tight group of friends who always had each other’s backs. She never had that kind of friendship before, especially living in New York where almost everyone is fake, and sometimes wished she could have something like that.

“Okay, yeah,” she nodded, “Would they like me?”

“You’re kidding? You’re amazing!” JJ gushed out, throwing his arms onto the air before slapping the water, resulting in a splash across her face.

She gasped, “Fuck, you’re fucking dead.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it-”

The conversation turned into a water fight, their screams filling the air and attracting everyone’s attention, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She was enjoying the moment, with JJ, and she wished she could do this forever.

“Stop it!” JJ laughed, pushing her down to the sand before pinning her arms on top of her head. He watched as her chest heaved, a smile playing on her lips.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

(Y/N) pulled him into a kiss, her fingers wrapping themselves around his jawline and allowing the water to completely wet their whole body. JJ softened into the kiss, still so shocked, but he never felt better than ever.

(Y/N) pulled away, giggling. “You’re red in the face, JJ.”

“Huh?” He smiled, and quickly pulled her up with him. “Let’s go to the Chateau. Get you cleaned up.”

“I’m not meeting your friends looking like this, J,” she rolled her eyes, pushing him away slightly. He pulled her close, placing a soft kiss against her forehead that left her all breathless.

“Why not? You’re still pretty.”

She made a face, but let her body be pulled away by JJ to his bike. She was nervous, of course, to see his friends, but she decided it was time anyways.

If she was to date JJ, then she would have to meet his friends and talk to them eventually.

When (Y/N) first entered the chateau, she didn’t know what to expect. Pope and Kiera were friendly to her, but she could feel the strange vibe between her and Kie, but they were both trying to be polite not to mention anything.

(Y/N) knew there was somebody missing from the group, but she didn’t dare mention it to anyone. JJ had hinted about this to her before, something about John B getting convicted, but she had tried her best to stray away from the topic.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Kie smiled, clasping her hands together and laying her back against the chair. She watched as JJ whispered something to (Y/N), feeling her heart tightened when she laughed, and shook her head. Kie would never let anyone like her trouble her.

“JJ, truth or dare,” Kie said, crossing her arms. Her question was directed to JJ, but she watching (Y/N) intently.

“Dare.”

“Come on, we’re short of one person who could think of the best dares,” she said, and (Y/N) realised the piercing tone and attention towards her. She sucked in a breath, not sure if she was just stating or directing the statement to her in a satirical manner.

“Okay, truth,” JJ rolled his eyes.

“Do you miss John B?”

“Kie-” Pope groaned, “Not the time.”

(Y/N) watched as he glanced at her, but quickly pulled away when he realised she was staring at him too.

“Okay, since you guys wanna be such assholes,” Kie sat up straighter. “(Y/N), truth or dare?”

“I’m not playing.”

“Of course you’re playing,” Kie laughed, “You’re fucking with JJ now right? You gotta show-”

“Shit, Kie, what’s your problem?” JJ sighed, throwing his arms up into the air. “She’s a friend of mine.”

“She’s not your friend!” She suddenly exclaimed, “She fucking saw Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin but decided to keep her stupid mouth shut because-”

“Stop it!” JJ yelled, pushing her against the seat. “Kie! Not right now!”

“What do you mean not right now?” (Y/N) asked, disbelief lacing in her tone. What was even happening? She was having the best time of her life a few hours ago at the beach, and now this?

“Oh, did your boyfriend not tell you?” Kie laughed. “It’s all an act for you to confess to him that you saw Rafe kill Sheriff Peterkin. Don’t fucking act dumb with me, (Y/N), you saw, and you didn’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gritted her teeth, “I never saw him kill anyone.”

“Bullshit!”

“Kie!” JJ yelled, using all of his power to hold off the struggling girl. He motioned for Pope to take over and tried to reach (Y/N), only for her to walk straight towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, I don’t mean it-” he sighed, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before pulling her close. “I don’t-”

“You betrayed me,” she said. “Are you that stupid? So you planned about helping me to the taxi stop so that I can confess whatever it is about Rafe? Is that your fucking plan?”

“No, oh my god, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck! I know I can never trust you guys,” she hissed, pulling her hand away before walking towards the door. She groaned again when she realised the lack of a vehicle to drive home, but she rather walk back home than be in the same distance as JJ or Kie or anyone else.

She walked alone all the way to the main part of town so that she could hire a cab, and just to make her day any better; the rain suddenly decided it was time to cool the island, and (Y/N) was left to soak.

She put her arms around her, shivering slightly, looking back at her previous way and wondering how much time she had spent walking from the Chateau. If only she had driven all the way from Figure 8 to The Cut, she wouldn’t have had to waste her time walking mindlessly.

A few minutes after, she saw a car pulling up beside her. She decided to ignore the black vehicle in hope for whoever it is to finally give up.

“Get in, (Y/N).”

Part #2

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

-

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

-

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger).  Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

[tellmenauineo]

colored by you

pairing: mingyu x reader, vernon x reader

genre: soulmate!au, angst, fluff, smut, comedy (at some points)

warnings: mentions of alcholol and weed, language, unprotected sex   

summary: eventually, we fall in love with people who the universe destined us to. but there are complications sometimes. 

word count: 11k (i refuse to comment) 

a/n: tell me what you think even if you found it bad 🤧🤧 i’m in NEED of feedback,, stay safe during the pandemic and feel free to talk to me!! i’m sorta back 🤠🤠

“I'd prefer if you showed more enthusiasm about it. Success is never an accident,” your mother reads you a lesson, a reproach can be heard in her voice. Your sigh, wishing this conversation to be over so you’ll finally be able to hang up your phone. 

“Some people aren't built happy, or cheerful, or forever excited, you know,” you mumble. “I'm satisfied with my academical success – but maybe it isn't a thing I want to achieve now. I don't know.”

“Of course, people aren't built happy – that’s why the Universe made a soulmate for each of us. To make us happy. That's how it works.”

“Uh-huh.”

“One day you’ll understand,” your mother continues. “And you will be happier, happier than ever. Your time will come.”

You won't understand.

The Universe made a soulmate for each of us. The Universe made sure we’ll be aware who is the one, the one, as your mother says, who’ll make you happier and complete, too. It's pretty simple. First words addressing you that you would hear from your soulmate get imprinted on the skin of your ribcage. Close to your heart.

The mechanism of The Universe is perfect. But, sometimes, even perfect-made things get broken.

You won't understand because you already have words tattooed on your skin.

“I guess, we can say love is an accident, isn't it?” you say. “Anyway, I gotta go, mom. I'll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Take care of yourself. And don't stay up late.”

“We both know I'm gonna stay up late,” you smile. “Bye!”

It happened in cold January, four months ago.

“Shrimp Pad Thai?” Chan asks you.

“Mm, yes,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. Chan gasps and raises his eyebrows in a fake disbelief, but you don't let him open his mouth to say something very sarcastic about you and your habits in eating. “I'm your customer, where are your manners? What if I leave?”

“Then you'll leave and won't have our Shrimp Pad Thai which you order five days a week,” he shrugs.

“I'm older than you – pay me respect!”

“I do? Always? Our very important customer who always eats the same,” he playfully sing-songs and you roll your eyes, trying your best not to give him a smile.

“Go and get us food already,” Momo says. “Both of you better not play on my nerves when I'm hungry.”

When the orders are made and Chan leaves to the kitchen, you get up from your seat.

“I'm going to wash my hands,” you announce, and your friend nods at it.

On your way to the restrooms you recognize a bunch of boys sitting at the window booth. Kim Mingyu, Wen Junhui and Jeon Wonwoo – all of them are in Soonyoung’s group of friends. Wonwoo smiles and waves his hand and you return the gesture. You nod at Junhui and Mingyu – who looks incredibly soft and cute in his light-gray hoodie with his rose cheeks – seems that the ramen he is eating is too spicy for him. He gives you a little “hey”, smiling at you, and you immediately feel how your own cheeks turn blushy. To prevent your embarrassment in front of them, you try to speed up, but, suddenly, collide with someone.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You look up at the source of the voice, Chwe Hansol, the new Soonyoung’s roommate you heard a lot about (and you’re aware that Soonyoung not just can’t stop telling embarrassing stories about you to his roommate, but also shows him your pictures, because yes, in Soonyoung’s words, it’s a crime if you don’t put on display your best friend and your wonderful, a movie-worthy, friendship) and, apparently, there is no bottle of chilli sauce in his hands. A smug smile is playing on his lips and his chocolate eyes are glistening with a mischief.

“Nice try,” you don't hide a hint of a wipe in your voice as you start moving towards the restrooms – you swear a trip to them never took that long.

You catch Hansol's gaze on you on the way back to your and Momo’s booth and you have nothing to do but narrow your eyes at him, making him smile even wider.

“He's cute, though. The Hansol guy I mean,” Momo concludes after you finished your dinner. “But no shit they're loud.”

You cast an eye at their boost. Mingyu is the loudest and the most talkative among them – but, somehow, looking at him telling something, wildly gesticulating, makes your heart melt a little.

Stupid, you think, it's almost close to feeling happy. 

You spot the tattoo when you go to take a shower that night.

Your heart sinks at the sight of the words.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You don't tell anyone.

“I can take it as an offend, you know,” Soonyoung whines. “You've been turning down my home party offers for more than a month!”

“Um, you haven’t had any,” you say.

It’s true – you try your best to avoid Hansol, and it works even despite the fact he lives with your best friend (sometimes you’re wondering how Soonyoung and Hansol, the pair of complete opposites, rub along okay together, but maybe opposites indeed attract?). You’re not fond of the idea you reduced all your social interactions, but at least you do your huge amount of homework in time – that’s why Soonyoung once called you a homework-doing machine.

Yes, that’s lame.

“It’s because you didn’t come!”

You’re clearly under pressure. You can crack under it a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“Because I-” you forget what you want to say to explain yourself. Or, rather, to fudge up an excuse to trick Soonyoung and keep staying from Hansol as long as possible. “It’s complicated. Besides, your roommate sticks at home for days on end, and if I want to spend time with you I want us to be alone,” you point at him with your pen.

His eyes are getting wider and wider with each millisecond and finally he gasps,

“Are you in love with me?!”

Well.

“What if I am?” you challenge. At the end of the day, that’s the words of the woman who has nothing to lose.

“I-” it’s Soonyoung, who is under pressure right now. “I love you, you know it-”

“But, there’s always a but,” you sigh in a fake manner. “I understand. Maybe I haven’t yearned it yet,” you place your hand over his, and his eyes are glued to your hands. “But, Soonyoung, I want to hear ‘horanghae’ from you someday. Will my dream come true?”

He lifts up his eyes to you. Soonyoung’s known you for over a decade and he clearly can say you’re on the verge of bursting into a hearty laugh despite your dying attempts to keep your face straight. He snaps his hand away and stands up.

“Yah! You betrayed me!” he points a finger at you. “Yah!” he continues in a voice that is a few octaves higher than his usual. “You are gonna pay for your betrayal!”

“Sure thing,” you manage to say through your laugh. You’re well aware that almost all eyes in the campus cafeteria are on you, but it was quite common when the two of you were together. “I’ll see you in court, horangi.” 

You wish you were in court.

Instead, you’re in Soonyoung and Hansol’s kitchen, mixing the sickest possible cocktail ever – and you’re not proud of yourself.

“Why it looks like wiper fluid but tastes like lab alcohol?” Seungkwan asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Your mirror his expression.

“Um, the creator would like to take to his own grave the secret receipt of this… shit,” you say.

By the creator you mean Soonyoung. You’re on duty tonight – it’s Hansol and Seokmin’s double birthday party and you’re in charge of everything – your best friend had no mercy for the cafeteria joke.

“Don’t tell me the upcoming birthday cakes have the same creator,” the boy says, patting his blond locks back into place. You assume he was dancing, or, more likely, slamming in the living room, while you hide in the kitchen, still avoiding Seokmin co-star of this night, Hansol.

“Nah, I ordered them in the bakery. Customized ones!”

“You should’ve asked me to bake the cakes,” the third person enters the room, and your heart skips a bit. Mingyu walks towards you and Seungkwan and leans on the counter, still having his eyes on you. “I need to improve my baking skills.”

You feel how your cheeks flushing up. Shit, you curse in your head, he just made an appearance and you’re already turning into mush.

“Next time maybe?” you ask, your voice is much more gentle than usual. “Whose birthday is next?”

“Mine,” smiles Mingyu. “But I don’t want to hold a party this year – wanna share a dinner tete-a-tete with someone.”

“Such a great plan! Except for one thing – you don’t have ‘someone’,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“I’ll find one,” Mingyu’s words are steady but his movements are not. His right elbow slips off the counter, and the boy hisses. “I’m already working on this.”

“Sure thing, tiger,” you smile despite feeling that something is scratching your guts in your belly – disappointment? jealousy? sadness? Maybe all of them and maybe none.

You have a soulmate for fuck’s sake and it’s not Mingyu.

“Whatever,” Seungkwan mutters. “I’m going back to the party and I strongly recommend you to stop hiding here,” he says, looking you right in the eyes. “He won’t bite you, you know?”

“What are you talking about?!” you exclaim, but Seungkwan only shrugs.

“Have no idea.”

You want to follow him, take him by the shoulders and ask about everything he knows about – did Hansol tell him about you? Seems so. Has he, Seungkwan, launched the making of the two of you a couple campaign? If yes, you’re doomed.

Mingyu stops you from storming out of the kitchen – you’re back to the reality with his warm hand wrapped around your wrist and you turn to him in surprise, your cheeks already flushed.

“Yes?” you manage to mumble.

“Who are you hiding from?” he asks, and you almost hear concern in his voice. Or maybe you imagine it all.

“Um- no one? He’s being delusional like always, you know?”

“You sure?’ his hand is getting lower, and unexpectedly you find your fingers intertwining with his. Mingyu’s hand is much larger and warmer than yours, his hold isn’t tight, but it magically makes you forget about the whole the soulmate and his wingman thing.

It makes you forget about everything except for this particular moment – Mingyu’s dark eyes on you, your hand in his and the echo of the music playing in the living room. His bronze skin’s glowing in the dim kitchen light (one of the bulbs is dead and neither Soonyoung or Hansol wants to do something about it), his face is innocent and the only thing you can think about – your uncontrollable desire to kiss off two worry lines between his perfect eyebrows.

You don’t even notice that you’re holding your breath, too afraid to interrupt the moment.

“I’m sure,” you whisper and he nods. Mingyu probably can hear the beating of your racing heart, and you don’t mind at all – you would eagerly tell him how he makes you feel if he wants to know.

He leans closer to you, his breath is tickling the soft skin of your cheek and you hear him ask,

“May I?”

But before you can nod, Seokmin’s piercing voice, like a bolt out of the blue, is calling your name,

“Soonyoung’s trying to kiss me!”

He is louder than any bomb, you think, and that’s enough to take you out of the trance. You slowly turn to him, letting go of Mingyu’s hold on your wrist.

“It’s his way to wish you a happy birthday,” you negotiate, but Seokmin’s gaze is wandering between your and Mingyu’s bodies. His hand follows his eyes, gesturing at the two of you.

“Are you-”

“No, no, no,” you cut him off.

“Man, you need me to get the thing squared away?” Mingyu sounds irritated. You turn your head to steal a look of him. You never saw him like that – at least, not with his friends. Even when his team was defeated at the bowling a month or so ago he seemed worn out, but no hint of irritation on his face – just an exhausted smile combined with a self-mockery behavior. That night you almost regretted saying your wrist was injured so you spent the whole game sipping bubble teas instead of helping your team from sinking to the bottom.

(Jeonghan didn’t buy that spectacular performance, by the way)

“I came to complain?” he looks at you, the eyes so innocent, calling for help, so you smile in response – it’s always like this with Seokmin – the boy can melt even stone hearts.

“Let me check on him,” you say to Seokmin, and he eagerly nods. You pat on Mingyu’s right forearm, your fingers stay on his hard bicep for a little too long, and it makes you lick your lips. “And if he needs to get into bed, I expect some help from you, Mingyu.”

His face softens, and he chuckles, closing his eyes for a second.

“Let’s get it then.”

“I ain’t leaving till I help you with this,” Mingyu says, referring to the apartment that looks like a battlefield (of beer pong). “You already look tired.”

“I’m tired,” you admit. “But you have classes like in…” you check your watch. “…four hours.”

“I’ll sit in the back of the classroom,” seeing the question in your eyes, he adds. “I’ll catch some sleep, don’t worry.”

“Sounds stupid, but I guess nothing would change your mind,” you give up, and a proud smile appears on his face. “The living room is yours then,” you give him an evil smile, your hand lands on his firm chest, patting it twice. “Have fun!”

When you step into the kitchen, a sigh of disappointment leaves your lips, despite your vain attempt to suppress it.

Hansol sits in the white plastic chair, mindlessly scrolling through whichever app is it’s feed. He looks up at you, but he next second his eyes are back on the screen.

Your body feels stiff, like you’re made of wood, but you force yourself to approach the counter. The desire to disappear is so strong that you find yourself not breathing at all – like if you make less noises, the more Hansol is unaware you’re in the same room with him.

You grab a handful of orange peels to throw in the trash can under the sink when you hear Hansol voice, “Why didn’t you throw out all of them?” You turn to the boy, cheeks already red, and anger is bubbling in your stomach. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he lets a hoarse laugh.

“I’m joking, jeez. No need to sulk.”

You don’t return his smile, instead turning away from him to take the leftovers, and say,

“It couldn’t fit in my hand.”

He coos at your words, and you feel stupid.

“Soonyoung was right. You’re an absolute doll.”

“Not impressed,” you roll your eyes, but you feel no confidence in your voice. You face Hansol again, a mischievous glint in his big eyes can be spotted even from across the kitchen. “Your eyes are red,” you notice. “Are you stoned?”

“Maybe so,” he yawns, stretching out in the chair that is about to crack under his weight at any minute. “I don’t mind you tucking me in, though. You seem to be a pro.”

“Well, don’t overdo it,” you say. “The scientists say weed makes people stupid.”

“And affects their memory,” he adds. “But it makes me copy.”

“With what?”

Hansol shrugs and his gaze falls to his knees. He radiates hesitation, and you gulp the pulse in your throat, afraid to hear the truth.

“With me being avoided by my own soulmate like I’m sorta of a plague? Sorta.”

A wave of pure heat that feels like a fever, a bad fever, runs through your body. The whole soulmate thing was supposed to be a blessing, but it feels like a curse. Without thinking, you pathetically mumble,

“I thought you don’t care.”

You really did. For the last few weeks you’ve been living in the bubble made of your own sorrows, disappointments, and self-pity, and the thought of what Hansol feels and thinks about it never crossed your mind.

“Whatever,” he says. “I got your point.”

Hansol doesn’t wait for the unspoken words that are stuck in the back of your throat, ringing in your ears over and over as you watch him leaving the kitchen. He stops at the doorframe with his hand in his dark locks – it’s so odd to see him not wearing a beanie – and slowly turns to you.

“Leave this shit to Soonyoung,” he says.

“Okay,” you mutter.

He calls your name, shooting the arrow of guilt right into your heart.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

When Mingyu returns to ask where he can find another bag for trash, you cling to the boy’s chest, and skipping all the questions on the tip of his tongue, Mingyu clasps his arms around you. His chin is snuggling upon your head and you feel pressure inside of the bubble reducing a little.

But a tremendous guilt envelops you with each minute.

Momo stares at your figure as you sit across her – your hair cascading down onto your hunched shoulders, your face is covered with your hands, and the girl only huffs.

“Should I expect some fake sobs?”

You spare a fiery glance at her, but she just waves you off in dismisal. Momo doesn’t even trying to hide her irritation with you – the first thing she asked you after you finally had decided to spill the whole situation to her was ‘Could you have taken any longer to tell me?” and you can’t blame her.

“Yah, leave these tricks for your future sweetheart Sollie. I’m not buying it.”

“He is not my future sweetheart,” you argue. “It doesn’t work!”

“Because you never gave it a chance,” she isn’t convinced, and her stern tone makes you consider the words more carefully.

“He hates me now!”

“First, you deserved it. No offense. Second, he seems like a crackhead, such people don’t hate other people, they just don’t care about them.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” you exclaim, and her face breaks into a triumphant smile. “What?”

“Look at you, already defending your soulmate,” she says in a saccharine voice. “Ask him out and fall in love. Choose life. Choose a loveseat coach.”

“Isn’t it from Trainspotting movie?” you question, narrowing your eyes.

“And what about it?” she huffs once again. “It doesn’t make me wrong. It always starts with a crush. Just let it happen.”

A crush, huh? A crush that makes your heart beats harder; that sends you floating in your daydreams; that makes you the happiest person in the whole universe, but at the same time has the power to make you sadder than the most distant and loneliest star from the Sun?

Just like the one you have on Mingyu?

Momo still doesn’t know how you feel about the tall, black-haired boy, and you aren’t ready to tell her the truth. Partly because you want to protect this thing from the outer world, make it special, make it a secret that can be kept by the two only, and, partly because you’ll face the wall of misunderstanding. You could fool around with the boys before, but now you’re certain with the one who is destined for you. And you can’t – you shouldn’t – seek for another lover. It’s wrong.

The ability to make all your problems yourself will never fail to amaze you.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “If you’re so smart.”

“I could’ve been your mother, though. You should follow my every word.”

“Momo, we literally were born in the same decade,” you sigh, but the girl has no intention to follow any of your words.

[mingyyuu 17:13] it’s so cold today!! stay inside  🖤

[you 17:14] too late :// plans!!

[mingyyuu 17:16] any plans for tomorrow?

[you 17:16] not yet

[mingyyuu 17:17] now you have some!

 The boy continues to type, but you have to put the phone in the back pocket of your jeans – you’re awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other at the doorstep, not able to say anything – even a small ‘hello’.

“Soonyoung’s at the dance practice,” Hansol breaks the silence.

“I know his schedule better than he does,” you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I came for your soul.”

Hansol raises his brows, his eyes never leave yours as he steps aside to let you in. The boy helps you with your jacket, and you mutter a small ‘thank you’, hoping he’ll take the initiative, even despite the fact it’s you who came to talk.

“How are you doin’?” maybe it’s a soulmate thing to read each other’s mind? You look at Hansol and you have a feeling that you’ll never be able to go through the guard around him and straight to his head. His expression is neutral, and you admit that he doesn’t even need to try look beautiful.

“Nothing much,” you response. “What ‘bout you?”

“Okay. Wanna drink something?”

“A pepsi please?”

“We only have a few cans of coke, do you wanna?”

You already feel strange of that crazy amount of questions for the beginning – the situation becomes more and more awkward that you’re able to feel the pressure of the air in the room. Your temples pulse a little, threating a headache.

“Nah, I’m fine then,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I came here to say I’m sorry and-”

“And?”

“Do you think we should be together?”

“It how it works,” he lets out a dry laugh. Hansol looks down to your face, his hand reaches out to stroke your shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

The grip on your temples is too tight to bear, and you let out a heavy pant.

“My head hurts,” you explain, squeezing your eyes shut – the light is too bright.

“You need to lie down,” Hansol says. “It’s probably because the temperature difference between inside and outside. I’ll bring painkillers to Soonyoung’s bedroom.”

You nod, heading off to the bedroom. What a great wat to talk - show up at someone’s doorstep just to say you have a headache. Great. Not bothering yourself with discarding your clothes, you collapse stomach-down onto the bed without removing the cover, your face is buried in the soft material.

“Shit, you’ll suffocate if you stay like this,” Hansol’s deep voice wafts on your ears. You slowly lean on your elbows to steal a glance at him. After placing the glass of water and the blister of painkillers at the night stand, he gets down on his haunches, his eyes at the same level as yours. You stay like this for some time, not saying a word, mesmerized by his face.

“What did you do before I came?” you ask out of sudden. Hansol seems to be taken aback with your question.

“Tried to make some music,” he gawks, blinking at you.

“Really?” you ask in a low voice.

“Mostly checked the mic with some ‘yeah’s’ and ‘yo’s’”, he admits, an amusing laugh escapes his mouth. “I’ll try to do something while you’re resting, good?”

You nod you head and smile at him. He gently squeezes your shoulder and stands up. Before he disappears out of the bedroom, you say,

“Do you have any siblings?”

He turns to you, leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah. I have a little sister. You?”

You shake your head no and he nods.

“But it was easy to guess you’re not the only child, though,” it’s difficult to see his face in the darkness, but your eyes never leave him.

“How so?”

“You offer a compromise when it's unnecessarily,” you sniggle. “A man of settled habits.”

You see his wide smile in the dark.

 You force your eyes open and sit up in the bed, your hair disheveled and slightly damp at the back of your neck. Headache has gone, at least for now, but your throat feels dry. When you come to the kitchen, you see the note in Hansol’s infamous unsteady handwriting left on the counter:

you can find pepsi in the fridge!

You smile at the gesture and inside you sense warmth.

 You knock at Hansol’s bedroom door twice and after the boy calls out for your entry, you slip through the door.

Hansol sits at the table, bobbing his head in time with the song that hums from the speakers. His eyes are glued to his laptop, the headphones rest above his ears.

“Does the work go smoothly?” you ask, sitting at the corner of his bed. He turns to face you; a soft smile is playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s okay. There are many things that I think I’m lacking in, but I work on them,” he says in a serious tone. “But I’ve finally finished the song that had been haunting me for weeks.”

“Oh, that’s great!” you beam at him.

“Your snoring from the next room inspired me,” he places his hand over his heart. “I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

You lightly kick his calf, and the boy laughs. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes, he draws his attention back to you.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. Nodding, Hansol notices your gaze focusing on the screen of his laptop. There’re the unknown for you tools placed on his table, except for the microphone, of course, and you’re wondering what kind of music he’s into.

“Wanna hear it?” he asks, once again showing his amazing ability to read your mind.

“Yes!” you hearty nod. “Want my headache to be back.”

Hansol rolls his eyes, muttering a small ‘sure’ under his breath, and places the mouse cursor over the play button. The speakers are small, but even despite it you sense the music vibrate through your body. The beat is harsh, his voice is piercing, and it feels like the most Hansol’s thing he could’ve ever done, but at the same time you’ve got an inkling that the tune and the lyrics were created by his mysterious twin.

“You really made this?” your eyes are wide and your hand clutches hold of his wrist.

“Yeah,” he hums nervously, bringing his free hand to rub at the back of his head.

“It’s good! I can’t believe you haven’t signed a ten-million dollars contract yet!”

“You heard just one song,” he smiles in a protest. “Thanks anyway.”

“I’m right, though,” you say, your hand leaving his as you smile at him. “You should be a star! I can’t say what I liked about it ‘cause I don’t know anything about music, but the whole thing is perfect!”

He looks up to you, your cheeks flushed with passion and your eyes glisten as candles burn bright, and it brings a proud smile on his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts.

“You’re beautiful too,” your words are sincere, filled with pure appreciation you have for this melted chocolate eyed boy. The idea of you frightened of meeting him a few hours ago seems like a pure absurd right now – when the two of you sit that close to each other, you having a string of questions to ask him about his life, interests, hopes and dreams, and on your tongue the whole story of your life is tingling to be uttered at the same time.

“It was unexpected,” he chuckles. “Thanks again.”

“Thanks for the pepsi,” you return. “I thought you had only coke?”

“Um, I went to the convenience store across the street while you were asleep,” he says, his eyes are wandering on the wall. You can hardly take a breath.

“You shouldn’t have,” you say.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugs. Nodding, you slip off his bed and go toward the window. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a deep breath.

“Is Soonyoung still at the practice?” you ask, your voice is low.

“I guess,” Hansol perches at the windowsill. “I kinda lost track of time.”

You feel the heat his body radiates. Theoretically, you think, you find him somewhat sexy, really manly. His long scraggy neck, broad shoulders, a spectacular torso you can notice even under his oversized t-shirts, and athletic thighs. A month ago, your informant told you that Hansol barely shows up in the gym, and you wonder if the boy was gifted with capability of being perfect without even trying.

And still, he isn’t Mingyu, who makes you feel being in love.

You want to tell Mingyu the truth about your wrong destiny, your aching heart that can be healed with his smile only, and the feeling of your stomach filled with butterflies. You want him to hold your hand, pushing all the doubts and fears away, and make you his. His, despite the cruel joke The Universe played on you.

You think, you have a feeling, he would understand it, because he believes in strength of choice. Mingyu is in a constant state of moving forward, overcoming all obstacles he might face.

Would it be the first time when he stops?

 You and Hansol both stay silent till the whole apartment echoes with Soonyoung’s ringing voice.

“Woah, I like the pictures!” Mingyu approves with a hum, adjusting something on his camera. “They’re perfect.”

“Because they’re pictures of me or because it’s you who took them?” you smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you nudge him.

“Let me think,” the boy stops in his tracks, his brows furrow in a fake manner, indicating he is absorbed in his thoughts. “Both.”

“Wow,” you play along, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. “Groundbreaking.”

He giggles and slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Wish I could tickle you right now, bit your jacket doesn’t give a chance.”

You shove off his hand and see a small pout forming on his plush lips.

“It’s my protection from pervs like you, Mingyu,” you smile innocently, casting sheeps eyes on him.

“Pervs don’t ask for a permission,” he opposes matter-of-factly. You raise your brows at him in question, and it doesn’t take long for him to explain. “Let me kiss you.”

You raise your head at Mingyu to see him smiling down at you with shining eyes, his cheeks are glowing from the frosty air.

“Go ahead,” you smile, and he leans down and kiss you. His lips are warm and sweet, and you never expect to feel care through a kiss as his mouth is covering yours. His hand cups your cheek while the other is placed tightly at the base of your neck. You trace your tongue against his lower lip, his tongue is eager to meet yours. You tease the inside of his mouth, and Mingyu lets out a small groan, which is enough to bring you to senses, and you break the kiss.

“We’re outside, Guy,” you softly remind him, your grip at his forearms is loosen.

“And so?” he whines, tugging at your sleeves to keep you body close to him.

“And we’re late,” you try to reason, but frankly speaking, you better would have stayed in the previous position you shared with Mingyu than going anywhere. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner we leave.”

The idea of karaoke night seemed promising, to say at least, but with Seungkwan occupying the microphone and Seokmin taking the guise of being his bodyguard, preventing any attempt of borrowing the tool out of his hands, ebullience faded into despair.

Jun is scrolling through his phone, and you find it okay; Soonyoung is busying himself with fourth bowl of ramen in a row, and it begins to worry you; Jihoon is yawning in thirsty eight second intervals, and the fact of you really counting begins to worry you; Mingyu’s playing with your hands, his head rests against your shoulder, you find it normal too.

You toy with his dark hair and lower yourself to whisper in his ear.

“Take me out.”

“Your wish is my command,” Mingyu smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He straightens up off the sofa and extends his hand to you. You stretch out your own hand and place it in Mingyu’s warm palm.  

After wrapping everyone, except for Seungkwan who is too absorbed in the singing and waves the two of you off in dismissal, for a goodbye hug, you go downstairs to put the clothes on.

“Stop staring,” you say to Mingyu, catching his gaze in the mirror, a smile parts your lips. You pull up the hood of your jacket and turn to the boy.

“Can’t help it,” he admits, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb is stroking your cheek gently, and he leans to steal a kiss from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” Seungkwan says, puckering his face into a frown. “Came to say my goodbye, but this,” he gestures at the two of you.

“Grow up,” Mingyu shrugs his shoulders. Seungkwan’s glare bores a hole right through your head, and you can only silently pray for him to not allow his anger  upstage his reason.

“Seungkwan, please,” you say. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Sure,” the younger boy rolls his eyes. “It’s not me who you should talk to, though.”

“What’s the problem?” Mingyu groans in frustration.

“I don’t know. What’s your problem?” Seungkwan scoffs, shifting his gaze from Mingyu to you and back to Mingyu again.

“It’s none of your business,” you snap. “I’m not in the mood for one of your soap operas.”

You storm out of the building, your blood is boiling with the mixture of anger, fear, and realization of all things you used to have fell to pieces in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, wait,” Mingyu grabs your hand, and you stop, too afraid to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

You’re struck by an incredible sense of fear, of confusion, of vulnerability, but you finally have to face the reality.

“The problem is,” you sigh. “Hansol is my soulmate.”

“Don’t cry,” Soonyoung tries to conciliate you, his hand is rubbing against your back, and he tightens the embrace. “I’m here for you.”

At this point, you even hate yourself for the damp spot on his sweatshirt made with your tears. You want to concentrate on Soonyoung’s words uttered in a small voice, almost whispering, but as you think about Mingyu, about how on his face thoughts and feelings seemed connate – his pained stare said everything, – standing in front of you, you feel a sharp pain in your heart.  

“Do you despise me?” your voice sounds desperate.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t ask such a shitty question to my best friend,” he says. “You’re the best.”

You laugh bitterly. Soonyoung treats you too nicely – without asking why you’d been keeping so many secrets from him till this night, rebuking Seungkwan for standing guard over Hansol’s feelings, promising Mingyu will pay dearly in the nearest future for his superior sense of morality or whatever.

“What about Hansol?” you ask him, your eyes still are full of tears and pain, but you force a small smile.

“Will kick him out,” his voice is firm, and you sink your face into the soft material of his cloth, suppressing a bigger smile that threats to appear on your lips.

“Soonyoung, I’ve made four enemies this year, and it’s only the end of February,” your voice is muffled as you keep pressing your face onto the boy’s chest. “Momo, Mingyu, Hansol, Seungkwan – all of them hate me for being stupid, for not telling the truth, for being a bitch, for-”

“Shh. It’s their problem, not yours. It’s them who won’t survive ‘cause they made enemies of us. Listen to me,” he calls your name, making a passionate appeal. “We’re undefeatable, you and me.”

You lift your head at him, finding him keeping his eyes on the ceiling in a dramatic way, and you snicker. His lips twist into a broad smile, and he looks at you.

“They don’t hate you,” he says. “Life is complicating, so are we. They know about it.”

You meet Mingyu at the library. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and he’s surprisingly quiet.

“Seungkwan said Hansol fell for you only after Soonyoung’s countless ramblings about you. He indeed stared at your pics, I suppose.”

He’s in pain.

You feel empty inside; a terrible anguish seizes your heart.

“Do you feel the same about him?” an involuntary question slips off his tongue.

You want to say it’s him, it’s only him who made you fall, who made you feel at ease, who made you want to give and not just to take, but you can’t.

He waits for a response you’ll never be able to come up with.

This night you cry yourself to sleep.

Weeks go by.

The three of you – you, Hansol, and Soonyoung – glue your eyes to the television set placed at the wall of the boys’ living-room. Watching different tv series with them somehow has turned into therapy sessions – despite experiencing triggers at almost everything that is shown, you feel you’re not alone. The two of them act like nothing happened, and all of you are ready to meet your soulmates someday.

But, if nothing happened, why Mingyu’s name is forbidden from saying out loud because it would fill you with pain?

“You have popcorn crumbs on your shirt,” you notice, pointing at Soonyoung with the remote in your hand.

“I preferred watching tv to reading books when i was younger,” the boy says, dusting the crumbs off his torso and lap.

“And it shows,” you tease. Soonyoung gives you a light pinch on the side and straightens up with a huff.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. “The bathroom is occupied for the next thirty minutes.”

Hansol nods and bids Soonyoung goodnight as you blow him a kiss – his laughter never fails to boost your mood.

“Resuming?” you ask Hansol. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Neither am I.”

It’s completely dark apart from the television’s dim yellow glow. Somehow, you find yourself being distracted by almost everything – the pattern of the wooden floor, the material of the couch, the streetlamp right outside the window, the plant that is going to die soon due to Soonyoung and Hansol’s lack of care.

Hansol.

His eyes flicker in your direction, catching you staring at him. You don’t look away.

“Am I more interesting than the show?” he asks, not expecting you reply with a quiet ‘yes’. A blush coloring his cheeks can be spotted even in the poorly illuminated room.

“You’re so shy sometimes,” you remark in a low voice. “You didn’t seem so when I first met you.”

“I felt some courage out of nothing,” he shakes his head, his long and slender fingers tapping his knees. “When I saw you.”

You sigh. How the Universe can be broken? Maybe you’re broken?

“I read that if you’re dealing with schizophrenia your emotions are mixed up – you feel something you shouldn’t have felt and express something you don’t feel.”

“Scientific facts again, huh? You’re referring to me?” he grins.

“To myself, I guess,” there is no smile at your features as you sigh. “Or maybe it’s – I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Hey, I know its not gonna work but I’ll say it anyway,” he reaches out his hand to yours and gently squeezes it. “Don’t think shit about yourself. Don’t say shit,” he pauses. “When the words appeared I was surprised, no shit. But as I find out more and more things about you, all of it start to make sense. I don’t want anyone’s words but yours on me. That’s it. That’s the thing I feel.”

He’s beautiful, you think, very beautiful.

Your eyes wander over his face and finally stop at his lips. The contour of his mouth is perfect – Hansol’s lips aren’t plump, but neither are thin – just perfect – and the little bruise on his lower lip makes you unable to brush your overwhelming desire to have a lick over this exact spot. You hesitate – and even now the image of Mingyu settles on you.

But when you feel Hansol’s lips on yours, you let him in. He claims your mouth passionately, and you slide your hands into his hair, pulling on his locks, and he groans in your mouth. When you pull back for a moment, your eyes flooded with haze, Hansol traces his thumb over your slick with his spit lips, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans onto you again, his lips ghosting over yours, the redolent scent of his musky cologne makes your head even more dizzy.

“I want you,” he whispers into your lips, his voice is cracking.

“You can have me,” you breathe out, closing your eyes as his lips decorate your neck in sloppy kisses.

You can have me, but can you have my heart?

The question finds lodgment in your mind.

You might lose the thing you love the most, but life goes on… and here we stand.

You’ve discovered you’re an excellent pretender.

Pretend you think nothing of going without sleep for several nights and then attend your classes. Pretend you’re not tired. Pretend you like the tasteless dish in the restaurant Momo brought you to. Pretend it’s not painful to be in the same room with Mingyu. Pretend you love Hansol back.

“My legs are killing me,” Seungkwan whines. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take.”

Same, you think, fucking same.

“Wait a little more and I’ll buy you a hotdog,” Mingyu promises, looking over his shoulder to see you wearily stagger behind them. The combination of the three of you is weird, you find, but life goes on, isn’t it?

It’s May, and the three is you are stuck in Ikea’s mazes – Mingyu needs to buy some new furniture – this is what brings him to the mall, but also Mingyu needs someone to keep him company – and this is what brings you and Seungkwan to the same place. Mingyu calls your name, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in a question.

“You good? How ‘bout a few hotdogs after?”

“And milkshakes,” Seungkwan adds.

“Just an ice cream please,” you mumble, and he nods. Sometimes it’s so awkward – to be around him. Sometimes it’s natural. But mostly it’s painful.

 Standing in the parking lot, waiting for Mingyu and Seungkwan while they’re stuffing the things Mingyu bought into the trunk of his car, you dumbly watch the ice cream steadily dripping down your hand.

Damn.

No ice cream can help you feel good even a bit. 

You enter Hansol’s bedroom and find him at the wooden floor, lying on his back, eyes closed. With his arms and legs splayed out, he reminds you a giant starfish.

“Are you even breathing?” you chuckle, bending over him.

“I am,” Hansol smiles, his eyes stay closed, and he taps slightly on his chest. “C’mere.”

You oblige, your head nestle against his chest, and you hear his steady heartbeat. He wraps his left arm around you and inhales deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes out of sudden, and you turn your head to look at him. “The first words were stupid, and you’ll have them for forever.”

“Suit us very well,” you poke, and he sniffs, reaching out to slightly pinch your cheek. “Hey! Stop!”

Hansol laughs, squeezing you tighter, and the sound of his slow and steady breathing lulls you to sleep. Your gaze is directed at the ceiling as you try to fight against sleep. “You’re so composed, but also so goofy, but also so delicate,” you sigh, thinking out loud as your fingertips trace up and down the soft skin of his wrist. Hansol’s warm. “But the first words were wacky,” you chuckle. “What’ve done to deserve them?”

“It was Russian roulette, baby,” he hums, and you can hear him smiling.

You fall asleep like that. You dream about buying the beige sofa you saw in Ikea and Mingyu’s endless attempts to change your mind – the green one is a way better, he insists. The green one would suit the interior perfectly, you agree with him, but the beige one is so classy, and maybe even a little obligatory? Every apartment should have one, but Mingyu only shakes his head in frustration.

“I'm not sure you’re one hundred percent positive about what you’re convincing me of,” he purses his lips.

Dreams that are hardly can be distinguish from reality are exhausting. You wish there was a way to put this worry to bed once and for all.

“Okay, so the concept of your birthday party is dubstep,” you verify. “And the main dish excepted for a barbeque duck is an ice cream cake?”

“I scream, you scream, gimme that ice cream,” Soonyoung’s enjoyment is evidenced by his wide smile. You playfully roll your eyes, not really hiding the excitement you share with him.

“Why do I feel that we’re constantly hanging out at birthday parties?” Hansol asks, peering at his phone screen, not bothering to straighten his head from its bending position.

“Because our friend group is too huge for people our age,” you make a point.

“It’s so expensive to have a lot of friends,” Soonyoung complains, but when he meets your questionable gaze, he adds. “But for you, my bestie, money’s no object.”

“Good to know,” you laugh, your fingers leisurely run above the rim of the empty cup of matcha latte. “I’m more upset about my dear boyfriend didn’t show any interest in volunteering at preps for the party.”

Hansol smiles, tapping on his phone, his eyes are anchored on the screen, and you narrow your expression at him, shaking your head in a scolding manner.

“And now he pretends he doesn’t hear me,” you say. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Hansol’s face brightens and broadens out into a beaming smile, and the sound of Soonyoung’s giggles fills the air.

“I’ll ask Seokmin to help you,” the older boy suggests, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

“I know you’re saying it for the best of reasons, but Seokmin rather is a distraction than a help,” you debate, and Soonyoung raises his small hands in surrender, his eyes becoming crescent-shaped due to his laugh.

“Okay, I’ll send backup,” he promises. “At the end of the day, Mingyu’s good at cooking and cleaning.”

It would’ve been hard for him not to realize he put his foot in his mouth mentioning Mingyu as the mood tensely shifts. You freeze, alike Hansol, his thumb is hovering over the phone screen for seconds. Soonyoung offers you an apologetic smile, and you smile at the boy back, reassuring him it’s okay – he really did nothing wrong. Hansol’s avoiding your questioning gaze, hiding his eyes behind his curly bangs, and you gently brush a section of his hair from his face, wanting to see him clearly.

“Are you jealous, Sollie?” you try to joke, a soft smile playing on your lips, your hand placed on his cheek. As he raises his eyes at you, nerves are evident in them, your heart sinks, and you feel breathless. He won’t ask you if he should be, he won’t make any scenes – but he may shut himself off, locking his feelings deep inside, and you fear it the most. You don’t mean to hurt him, but you’re still providing him a good amount of pain – he isn’t an idiot who can’t figure out that Mingyu’s never really left your heart.

“No,” he simply says. “I’ll help you with everything.”

“You’re a bigger distraction than Seokmin for me, but how can I say no to my sweet boyfriend?” you take his offer, your thumb is stroking his cheek, and the action soothes away the tension he has. Hansol smiles gently at you, and for a second, you’re wondering if he is as good at pretending as you are.

“How did you manage to rent this beach house?” Soonyoung asks in a pure awe. “Such places are always booked!”

“Nothing’s impossible when you love your friend,” you muse. “Besides, thank Hansol – he used his “music industry contacts” to make you happy.”

“Hey, you insult me using air quotes around ‘music industry contacts’,” Hansol slides his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him, and places a quick peck on the tip of your nose. You stab him in the chest with your index finger, and he fakes a gasp.

“Eavesdropping?” you ask.

“Learning a lot about me,” he grins and draws his attention to the birthday boy. “Like the party?”

“No shit,” Soonyoung laughs. “I’ll like it better if you dance with me,” he says your name, his eyes sparkle brighter than colorful lights blasting through the house.

“Anything for a five stars rate.”

You’re out of breath, the clothes stick to your covered in sweat body, and you wince.

“I’m done,” you announce to Soonyoung, his batteries fully charged as he continues his active dance.

“Get some fresh air and come back!” he yells over the music, and you nod. Crossing the room to the back porch, you spot Hansol in the corner, talking to Joshua and showing the older boy something on his phone screen. Unnoticed, you go directly to the shore until the music of the party drowns in the sound waves, and inhale warm salty air. The water seems so tempting, calling you to step into the waves, their rhythm is hypnotizing you, and you kick your shoes off, perfectly understand the night water is too cold for swimming.

A familiar voice stops you, calling your name. You turn around, greeted with Mingyu’s tall figure, shining like a bronze statue, his tanned skin sheens magical when graced by the evening sun.

“Why do you always tend to sneak out?” he asks, once he made it up to you, a warm smile already crept onto his mouth as he saw you.

“I don’t know, maybe I just like being in crowds,” you shrug your shoulders – it’s true. You really don’t know the answer. He moves closer to you, and you finally spot a small bouquet in his hand. His eyes follow yours, and he chuckles.

“It’s for you,” he shyly passes you the flowers, his teeth press into his bottom lips. “I passed by those wildflowers on my way here and picked them for you.”

“It’s not my birthday,” you laugh. “But thank you, I love it,” you say, nuzzling your nose against the tender petals. You look up at the boy and lock your eyes with his, a tickling feeling spreading in your chest. The waves are lapping on the peaceful and quiet shore, but you feel electricity surging through your body. You stand on your tiptoes and place a delicate kiss on his soft cheek, the action is innocent, but for Mingyu it’s like hearing a starting whistle.

“You’re still in my thoughts,” he breathes. “Still here,” he reaches over to grab your hand and place it over his chest, and through your fingertips you’re able to feel his rapid heart. Tears are starting to form at the rim of your eyes, and your vision becomes blurred. Your fingers crawl into the flowers he gave you, pressing against the vulnerable stems. “It’s egoistic, I know, you’re dating my friend, your soulmate, but why does it feel like you’re mine?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. The next second you find yourself against his firm chest and you inhale his scent that feels like home. Not a place where you live, but home. He plants a kiss to the crown of your head and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Look at me,” the golden boy suddenly says. “Please.”

You look up at him and see his eyes briefly dropping to your lips, and despite yourself you feel that familiar tingling in your gut, wanting him to kiss you. He reads you like an open book and he is kissing you, his lips softly press against yours, a tender flavor on your tongue.

“Mingyu,” you whisper in a small voice, pulling out from him. “I can’t. I can’t do this to Hansol.”

The boy looks at you with a pained expression, and in his eyes you can see that he wishes he didn’t have a heart at all.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters, and you nod your head, your heart is swelling at the nickname.

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

You lock yourself up in the bathroom, hoping no one saw your state while you were hurrying upstairs. Suddenly, someone tries the handle, but it jingles with no success.

“It’s occupied!” you try your best to sound calm, but your voice is trembling.

“It’s me,” Hansol’s muffled voice leaks through the door. “Let me in.”

You turn the lock and face Hansol, your eyes are all red and watery from crying. The boy locks the door behind him and turns to face you, his piercing eyes burn right into your soul.

“You love him,” he says, too delicate to torture you with questions, and you feel even worse – if it’s possible – paralyzed with fear and regrets, guilt eating you inside out, and you swallow the lump in your throat. You let out a wet sob, not being able to look into his sad eyes.

You broke his heart.  

“I’m sorry, Sol,” you say, feeling powerless, loss for words to say to him, to explain yourself, to apologize. “I don’t know what should I do. I don’t know what should we do.”

“If he makes you happier than I could,” he looks above your head. “I’ll accept it someday.”

“You don’t deserve this,” you say, feeling so stupid, only wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Maybe soulmates aren’t bond only by romantic shit,” his deep voice comes to you through the mist. You don’t ask him to give you a chance, don’t change his mind – maybe this painful reveal of the truth will make your heart feel a little bit lighter one day, even if right now you’re sure this is never going to happen.

You don’t complain and do not want pity from anyone – you’re sick and tired of Soonyoung tiptoeing around you, trying to keep you from collapsing; of the silent treatment Seungkwan gives you, scornful looks he spares you every single time you see him get you to another level of anger; of a constant scratching sense of guilt you’ve been racked with since your break-up with Hansol, but somehow he never blames you even if he should; of Momo dragging you to the shop malls and making you keep shopping until you cheer up.

Of you can’t getting up the nerve to answer any of Mingyu’s calls, too afraid of something you can’t even describe.

Momo’s straight face catches you off guard, and you only gasp,

“He what?! No, no, no,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re making this up.”

“What for?” the girl rolls her eyes back deep into their sockets. “Mingyu invited you to his picnic party or whatever through me cause you’re too deaf to pick up your phone, nothing special.”

“Will you come with me?” your eyes meet hers in the bathroom mirror, your expression makes Momo give you her infamous crinkly-eyed smile.

“He didn’t ask me to come – only you,” she purrs, taking her lip gloss out of the small bag. “He’s so fucking in love with you, you little witch.”

“I-” you stutter, the crimson red blush spreads across your cheeks, and Momo laughs and gives you a playful shove.

“Don’t you dare to say no,” she warns. “You’ll deal with me.”

“What would I do without you, Momo?” you smile at her. Even if you asked playfully, you really mean it – and the warmth in your chest proves it.

Mingyu seems nervous as he clumsy steps into your apartment, his chest is tensed with the breath he holds. The boy is dressed in a loose white t-shirt and high-wasted velvety pants, and you sigh in relief – the picnic party - as Momo called it - obviously wasn’t planned as something fancy.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you smile.

“Thanks for coming. Means a world,” he says, poking his cheek with his tongue, a shy smile follows his words. You missed him. Missed everything about him – the small giggles he lets while talking with that slight lisp to you, the shake of his head when he can’t understand something, the pout appearing on his plump lips when he realizes the item he wanted to buy is out of stock, the bright smile beaming on his face while he spills out his ideas for photography, the warmth of his palm holding yours in the pocket of his woolen coat.

“Who else is gonna be there?” you ask during your drive to the beach – Mingyu found the place perfect for a picnic, especially in the hot summer.

“Um,” he hesitates for a moment, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you. “It’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” you breath. “I see. Momo didn’t tell me.”

“Blame yourself for leaving me on read,” he grins obnoxiously and you roll your eyes defensively. “Now you’re stuck with me. I forgot to mention one thing, though.”

“Which one?” you rake your eyes over him, admiring how the sun’s rays paint his skin in a golden glitter. “It’s a date.”

You dig your toes into the cool sand, glancing into the evening sky. Mingyu follows your eyeline.

“You can’t see the stars for reflected light from the city,” you notice. “But here we have a chance.”

“No way,” Mingyu protests. “And you know why?”

“Why so?” you turn your face to him, a big smile spread on his lips.

“All Seoul’s stars are in your eyes,” he is smiling so wide that his cheeks must have hurt and he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you, tugging you into his lap.

“Shut up,” you laugh, smacking him on the chest, your fingers touching the soft fabric of his shirt. Mingyu’s lips are ghosting over your cheek for a moment before he speaks again,

“But I have lots of things to say,” Mingyu murmurs, biting softly at your earlobe, and a very familiar feeling creeps up into the pit of your stomach.

“Like what?”

“Like, let’s swim,” he takes you aback with the suggestion and you blink at him dumbly. “I didn’t bring my swimsuit with me,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “We’re alone here. No one’ll see.”

You push up from his body and meet his eyes glossy with playfulness and challenge, and you nod at his words. Mingyu grinning at you mischievously, while he removes his clothes – his shirt and pants find their place at the sand – as you see each piece of his skin revealing itself. You inhale deeply, and he leans his head closer to yours, the warm palms rubbing up and down your arms.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and you’re surprised he can tell this just from your body language, and it makes your heart flutter, pounding even faster against your ribcage. His words encourage you, and he silently watches you removing your dress, the only pieces of clothing on your skin are your bra and panties. Mingyu gently squeezes your hand, his thumb softly strokes back and forth over your knuckles. “Catch me.”  

And within a couple of seconds, he is already pushing into the water, everything below his waist out of sight.  You slowly step onto the sparkling waves, a lazy smile playing on your lips, as you see Mingyu splashing over to you with a childish pout on his face.

“You’re supposed to catch me, but you don’t even try,” he whines and steps closer to you, pressing his hands to either sides of your neck, his thumb rubbing the hollow of your throat. He looks dreamlike with his skin stick from the water, making him glisten in the soft evening light.

“It’s not the only thing I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I was born to live without you, remember?” you whisper against his wet lips as he leans over you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he hums, letting his fingers brush against the words inked on your side. “I don’t need to be told who I love.”

You’d been feeling like you were drowning for too long, drowning in the cool water of sorrows, doubts, and self-destruction for too long, but only now you can breathe -

“You love me?” you say in a quiet voice, almost as if it was a secret, and the soft look on his face makes your heart skip a beat, overflowing with love and affection.

“I do. So I ask you to stay with me,” he pleads. Not just for tonight, not for tomorrow morning, but-

“Take me home.”

Rattling keys, the sound of giggles stopped with the kisses, Mingyu’s hot mouth on your pulse point, your hands tugging at his black silk locks, and the heavy weight of the wall meets your back.

“Right in the corridor?” you hum, panting into his ear. “Where is your decency, Kim Mingyu? Not bringing your lady to the bedroom is-” Mingyu doesn’t let you finish, forcing his leg between yours. He is grinning at you with his bottom lip between his teeth as he guides your hips into motion against his thigh, satisfied with the garbled moan ripped from your throat. Bringing his lips to the side of your neck again, Mingyu plants wet kisses on the soft skin. He licks your ear, gently tugging the lobe between his teeth. When the boy releases the tender flesh, he hisses,

“This… you made me forget about my good manners,” Mingyu drawls and attaches his lips to your throat. His voice is sweet, but the material of his pants is rough and the combination drives you crazy, whimpering into the air between you, your clit aching.

“Please,” you whine, grinding yourself harder against him.

Suddenly, Mingyu smiles, brightly and happy, before his lips press into yours, his tongue mapping your mouth. The boy lifts you up and it gives you an opportunity to kiss his neck in return, biting red marks into his tanned skin. Then, ever so carefully, Mingyu places you on the soft surface of the bed, kissing you passionately, but slower, trying to find out what you like the most.

“Can I take your clothes off, please?” he whispers in your mouth and you moan, your hands gripping into his biceps.

“Good manners are back,” you coo. “Go ahead.”

Mingyu helps you to sit up, undoing the upper buttons of your summer dress, kissing the skin it exposes, and finally pulling it over your head.

“Don’t forget to take the rest off too,” you breathe, and his lips stretch into a smile. His arms twist behind your back and then he is sliding the fabric down your arms and tossing it away.  

“Do you want me to touch you, princess?” Mingyu murmurs, the tip of his nose traces the side of your neck as his fingers are ghosting over the wetness of your panties.

“Like you don’t know the answer already,” you hiss and he chuckles, his hands move to palm your breasts. You bite your lower lip when he rolls your nipple between his fingers before slowly circling it, a blush slowly creeps down your neck. His mouth finally covers your nipple as his warm palms are parting your thighs, his fingers firmly pressed against the skin. Without being told, you rise your hips to help him remove your soaked panties.

Mingyu sits back on his haunches and marvel at your spread thighs and the pretty wet curves, and your legs separate to make room for him beyond your control.

“You’re so pretty,” he admires, his eyes – glassy with desire and adoration – don’t leave your face. His palm slides up from your hip over your stomach and further still, gently cupping your breast.

“Gyu,” you plea, but before you can even think about the words, Mingyu tosses his shirt somewhere behind his back, already yanked his slightly ruined with your wetness pants and the underwear to the floor.

Then, he is putting his fore and middle fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before slowly bringing them to your pussy, the pads of his fingers ghosting over your slit. You moan and he takes it as an invitation, drawing a circle around the hood of your clit. Craving for more, you shamelessly grind your hips into his palm, your fingers grasping at the sheets.

“Baby, I want to taste you so bad,” Mingyu purrs, thrusting his fingers into your pussy down to the knuckles. You moan at the sensation of his fingertips dragging against your pulsing walls, and he increases the pace of his digits inside of you. “You smell so good.”

His words only sending you near delirious. But his tongue feels even better.

Mingyu runs the flat of his tongue up to your clit, humming happily at the moan escaped through your red and swollen lips, your fingers tangled in his hair. His grip on your thighs is firm, screaming lust in big neon letters. He sucks on your clit, focusing his hot mouth on the swollen bundle of nerves, as he is pulling and pushing his fingers through your entrance. 

The boy groans deeply, nuzzling his pretty face deeper into your core. The delightful pleasure clings to your stomach, swells at you abdomen. Your eyes screw shut and your chest heaves, the back arching off the bed with a high-pitched cry. Mingyu is leaning over your, adjusting his body on his elbows supporting him either side of your body. His breath is tickling the skin of your neck and you giggle, your hand lazily draws some patterns onto his back. The boy silently observes your features while you reach down to his cock, lubricating it with his pre-cum. Mingyu groans, but you swallow the sound with your mouth, your tongue catching on flesh of his mouth that tastes like you. He is desperately grinding against your stomach, the tip of his dick leaving a wet trail over your skin.

“I love you,” he says against your lips and, slowly and carefully, positions the reddened head to your entrance. You wrap your legs around him, heels pressing into the ample swells of his ass as Mingyu buries himself deep inside you. He presses his teeth on your collarbone as he hitting your sweet spot with every single one of his delicious thrusts.

Mingyu is here – his arms caging your face, his mouth never leaves yours, and his chest is pressed tight against yours – Mingyu is here and you love each other.

He rolls his hips against you, sinking his cock into your heat, his fingers toying with your sensitive clit. Suddenly, he speeds up, pulling an extremely loud moan from you. Feeling you clench around him, Mingyu groans and lowers himself to suck on your nipple, muffling the sounds he makes against your skin.

“Let it go,” he pants out and you oblige, a gasp tumbles from your lips as your fingers curling in his hair. Your walls spasm around his cock, enveloping it with your release. He thrusts in you, his cock twitching inside of you before he lets out a drawn moan. He stills in you as his cock milking your pussy, panting loudly. He opens his dark eyes and his face softens for you as he places a gentle kiss on the side of your jaw.

“We weren’t meant for each other,” you whisper, your hand playing with his damp locks. “But I love you more than anything.”

“We are meant for each other,” Mingyu is persistent. “Since our first meeting.”

“Okay,” you give in.

“I win,” his smile is radiant in the night, and his eyes hold the whole universe in them.

You never thought of you as a rule breaker. No one did.

With each day Mingyu helps you realize you shape the universe you live in.

And you ask him to make your nose look smaller at the portrait of you he have been painting for two weeks already. 

[descendantofthesparrow]

Regained Passion - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 2 - proper meeting

=

Harry let out a slow breath as he stared into the void in his history class, it had been a full week since he started the dance classes, and almost every day Bert mentioned putting him into a higher experienced class due to his flexibility and the fact that Harry was already a good dancer. But again, Harry wasn’t into the dance class that much, he liked dancing, it's just he didn't like being forced to dance.

His counselor had tried to ask about his first week but Harry was stubborn as usual, even glaring at her during it. She had sighed and rubbed her nose “I can't help you if you don’t open up to me Mr. Hook” Harry had only glared again, he didn’t want or need her help, yeah, he was a little fucked up in the head but if he wanted therapy or a consular, he would get it, not something FG forced on him.

After history finally ended, Harry grabbed his backpack and walked out of the room, sighing in relief as he realized he only had one class left, and it was his favorite, history of sailors and the seven seas. It talked all about pirates and sailors, particularly one of his favorite pirates, Jack Sparrow. One of the few pirates that had escaped isle imprisonment, due to him being pardoned of his crimes after it was discovered that his branding of a pirate had been connected to his freeing of hundreds of slaves.

Harry froze as a now very familiar face stepped into the hall he was walking in, she was looking down at her book, her black backpack hanging off her shoulder, bringing her denim jacket down with it off her shoulder, revealing her gray t-shirt. She suddenly looked up, her sparking (e/c) eyes once again locking with his.

Harry felt the butterflies flood his body again and he ducked into the next hall, away from his class, and pressed himself against the wall, sliding down as he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands ‘what am I doing?’ he thought, gritting his teeth ‘hiding from a pretty girl? What the hell?’

“Are you hiding from me?” Harry jumped and slammed his head against the locker behind him, looking up to see the girl, who had covered her mouth in shock from Harry's sudden motion “Are you okay?”

“Me? Hiding? No-no I don’- I don’t hide” Harry laughed off his embarrassment, standing from the floor and rubbing the back of his head, wincing slightly “I don’ hide from anyone” the girl smirked and rose her brow as she tilted her head.

“I looked up and as soon as I made eye contact you leaped behind the wall, and then stayed there until I came around the corner, I think that classifies as hiding.” Harry pouted at her, his heart going crazy as she laughed. “Now why would you hide from me? Im, not my brother mind you” Harry rose his brow at that.

“Who’s yer brother?” Harry asked, smirking as she made a sour face.

“Chad” Harry grimaced, relaxing a bit as she laughed again.

“I’m so sorry” her eyes widened a bit and she laughed even harder.

“I accept your condolences, he’s not a fun person to be related to, it took me a month to convince half the school that Chad and I are very different even though we're twins” Harry looked at her up at down, she didn’t look like Chad? “I know, fraternal twins though”

Harry hummed, nodding along, he remembered a couple of sets of twins on the isle, and even when they were “identical” twins, they didn’t look exactly like each other sometimes. “You’re Harry Hook, right?” Harry nodded again, ignoring the flutter of his heart as she said his name “I’m (y/n), (y/n) Charming” (y/n) held out her hand, giving Harry a warm smile.

“Dinne think yeh would even say hi ta me, considering wha’ yer brother has probably told yeh ‘bout meh” he took her hand, stilling for a moment as he felt a small shock ran up his arm and through his body. Shit what the hell was going on with him!?

“Well,” (y/n) laughed, once again sending butterflies through his gut “after almost 18 years of dealing with his dumbass, I've learned to not trust his word, if he says you’re a ‘filthy pirate’ then you aren’t all that bad” Harry smirked and shook his head, not seeing (y/n) freeze for a moment and stare at his lips.

“Yer somethin’ else I’ll tell yeh tha’” he laughed, biting the inside of his cheek as (y/n) looked away from him and fixed her backpack strap. “What’s yer next class?”

“Um-“ (y/n) started, pursing her lips a bit as she thought “Oh! History of sailors and the seven seas!” Harry couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips.

“Same ‘ere, shall I escort yeh yer highness?” (y/n) gave him a look, then smiled.

“You may” (y/n) laughed, taking his arm as he offered it and they chatted quietly as Harry walked them both to class.

-

Harry threw his pencil on his table as he finished his English homework, leaning back in his chair and sighing. “Hey, Harry?” Uma started, looking up from her magic homework (a new class that FG had made for the magic endowed vks that needed to learn how to control their magic safely)  “You made goody-goody with Chad's sister right?” Harry looked over his shoulder to her, raising his brow.

“Aye? Why?” a devious look overcame Uma’s face, and Harry sat up “Uma” Harry started, a warning tone to his voice, they had just gotten to Auradon two months ago, at the start of the school year, and he loved Uma with all his heart but if she was trying to plan to overtake Auradon by using (y/n) he would have to put his foot down (which he didn’t know why he would defend the girl so eagerly, even turning against his oldest friend like that)Auradon was a lot nicer than they thought and he’d rather not lose the comfy bed and fresh food he had just gotten.

“Oh chill!” Uma scoffed, waving her hand and rolling her eyes “I’m not planning any takeovers or whatever, I wanted to know if she gets along with her brother or not” Harry mentally sighed in relief and leaned back in his chair again.

“Um, no, I said sorry to her that she was his sister and she accepted my condolences, called him a dumbass too” Uma smirked again, a glint in her eye…he knew that glint, it was the glint of pranks “Oh! Do yeh want me ta-“

“Yes,” Uma interrupted him, rubbing her arms together as he saw a plan forming in her mind “ask her if she wants to help us prank Chad, fucker decided to ‘accidentally” Uma used finger quotes “spill grape juice all over my new jacket, and we all know that shit stains, didn’t even apologize either” Harry grit his teeth. Chad, one of the very few teens at Auradon prep that still harassed the vks, he was a bully and a thief, something Harry could respect on the isle but even on the isle you didn’t bully Uma without getting Harry’s hook to your face.

“I’ll ask ‘er when next time I see ‘er, we don’ have a lot of classes together, and her dance class ends after mine” Uma smirked at that, leaning into her hand.

“How are those going by the way?” Harry just let out a raspberry, and Uma fell back on Gil’s bed, laughing away.

-

The next day, after Harry's dance class, he waited outside (y/n)s room, standing awkwardly and out of place as others passed by him, some looking at him oddly while others ignored him or simply glanced at him.

There were one or two flirtatious looks but Harry ignored those, continuing to wait for (y/n). about fifteen minutes of waiting, the class finally ended, and as (y/n)s fellow dancers exited the room, many of them stared at him, whispering amongst themselves for a moment before one turned to him. “(y/n)s talking to Esmerelda, she’ll be in there for a moment” She had a strong French accent and Harry nodded in thanks, the group finally moving on as the girl who had spoken up pushed them away from the room.

After a couple more moments of waiting Harry got impatient, walking up to the door and peeking in, seeing (y/n) standing in front of Esmerelda, looking down at her feet “(y/n) your posture is perfect, your leg is always perfectly straight during the Penché, everything you do during practice is perfect but…there's just no…passion (y/n), where is it? You are only doing the steps, you aren’t feeling the music, where is the love, the sorrow, the yearning? This is a dance to convey two people falling in love (y/n), and I don’t see any of it coming from you” Harry felt his chest hurt as Esmerelda sighed, looking away from (y/n) who stayed silent. “(y/n) if you can't find the passion I need for the piece…I’m going to have to switch you out, I’m sorry” (y/n) looked up at that, and Harry couldn’t see her face but he could tell there were tears in her eyes “You are one of my best dancers (y/n), but without passion, you are doing nothing but following the steps.” (y/n) nodded slowly. Esmerelda smiled and took her chin “You just have to find your spark again, I know you can do it…I’ll see you tomorrow” (y/n) nodded again, turning to grab her bag.

Harry ducked out of the doorframe and went back to lean against the wall, looking down at his converse as he waited for (y/n). “Harry?” he looked up, (y/n) walking toward him from the door and tilting her head “What are you doing here?”

Harry smirked, it turning to a smile as (y/n) smiled back. Good, that meant she wasn’t super down from her talk with Esmerelda. “I was wonderin’ if yeh wanted ta help Uma n’ I prank Chad~” Harry had hardly finished his sentence before (y/n) grinned, stepping even close to him.

“Hell yes!” Harry shared her grin and offered his arm again, walking her out of the building and back to the dorms to Uma’s room, where Uma would tell them her plan.

-

Two days later, Chad’s hair was puke green. And he didn’t suspect a damn thing, even as (y/n) held her laughter as she stood next to him, sharing a sly thumbs up with Harry and Uma as they cackled at him.

“You’re definitely cut from a different fabric princess” Uma chuckled, Harry moving to the side of the bench he and Uma were sitting on as you walked over to them when Chad bolted off screaming after realizing his hair was green (for someone who stared at himself almost all day it took him a while to notice his hair) (y/n) grinned in thanks and plopped down next to Harry, not noticing Uma’s smirk as Harry scooted closer to (y/n).

“I’ll take that as a compliment” (y/n) laughed, leaning against the table and looking towards the door “How long do you think it’ll be before Chad suspects us?”

“Three days” Gil decided, suddenly appearing and sitting down next to Uma. And as usual, holding a bowl of grapes “I give it three days”

(y/n) hummed at that, tapping her fingers on the table “Well Chad is smart,” (y/n) laughed a bit at Uma and Harry's look of ‘really?!’ “I know shocking…well less smart more cunning, but I say he’ll either figure it out by the end of the day or he’ll bolt up in the middle of the night and then figure it out, can't say which or when, but it’s one of those”

“By the way,” Gil interrupted (y/n), pointing his finger right at her “who are you?” Gil had been out of the room every time (y/n) came over to Uma or Harry and Gil's room to plan for the plank, so oddly enough he had yet to meet (y/n) before today.

“Gil!” Harry hissed through his teeth, Uma smirking once more at his reaction. (y/n) laughed and held out her hand.

“I’m (y/n), (y/n) Charming, Chad’s sister” Gil took her hand and shook it, giving her a sympathetic look.

“I’m so sorry” (y/n) laughed again, unknowingly sending a flurry of butterflies through Harry again.

“Harry said the same thing a couple days ago, I accept your condolences” Gil released (y/n)s hand and went back to his grapes as Uma intertwined her hands and looked at (y/n)

“So you and Harry go to the same dance school, right? Do you ever dance together?” Harry felt his cheeks turn red at the question and he pouted at Uma, not really wanting to bring up the topic of the classes he hated so much.

“I guess? Different classes but same building, I’m a ballet dancer, been one since I was a kid. Harry, I think is still in the beginner class but Harry?” He glanced at (y/n) with a raised bro and a hum “You said Bert’s thinking of upgrading your placement?” Harry huffed and leaned on his hand.

“Aye, somethin’ bout me being a higher level than beginner, I dinne kae I din’ listen more than tha’” both Uma and (y/n) hummed at that. “I din’ even wan’ ta do the damn classes in the first place so I don’t see why I should level up or whatever” Harry grumbled, pouting at nothing.

Uma forced the grin off her face. Harry, ever since he had made friends with (y/n), started to be more…enthusiastic when going to the studio, no longer dragging his feet. And after the first time he picked up (y/n) from her class he did it the next day, and the next. Uma knew Harry and she knew he was catching feelings for the princess, even if he himself didn’t realize it yet.

Harry had only known the princess for about a month now, but Uma could tell when Harry liked someone, and he really-really liked (y/n), he wouldn’t admit it until he knew what words to connect his feelings yet but, Uma could wait.

Now, Uma wouldn’t do anything to push Harry and (y/n) together yet, she didn’t know if (y/n) shared any feelings about Harry, but once Uma did find out? Oooh, it was going to be fun.

But for now? Uma watched (y/n) and Harry talk, smiling behind her hand at the sparkle within Harry's eye, she would sit and watch their relationship bloom.

-end of part 2-

part 2~ hope yall enjoyed and like (y/n) so far, and i do want to put a *sprinkle* of angst in this so it'll come with (y/n)s struggle to show feeling in her dance and maybe some Chad shenanigan's anyway~ yeah i think this will be a 10 part series at most, and im liking where its going atm.

anyway im gonna draw a blue ballgown now because i don't like any of the designs i found on google or Pinterest

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