#soft pink cufflinks

[jimxnslight]

Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook. 

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises. 

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month. 

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence. 

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again. 

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence. 

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously. 

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again. 

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?” 

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him. 

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, ��you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer. 

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery. 

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now. 

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love. 

Only power. 

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white. 

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands. 

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle. 

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did. 

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too. 

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin. 

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head. 

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone. 

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him. 

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you. 

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month. 

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof. 

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there. 

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words. 

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be. 

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention. 

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you. 

So he tried not to be unsettled. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground. 

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

-

-

-

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance. 

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him. 

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely. 

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax. 

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat. 

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids. 

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly. 

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded. 

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought. 

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly. 

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on. 

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. 

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding. 

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons. 

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two. 

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them. 

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information. 

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant. 

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful. 

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open. 

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead. 

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space. 

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you. 

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance. 

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well. 

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him. 

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her. 

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now. 

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed. 

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights. 

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee. 

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze. 

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other. 

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything. 

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well. 

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief. 

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne. 

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous. 

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak. 

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster. 

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side. 

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands. 

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later. 

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway. 

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment. 

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again. 

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you. 

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him. 

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer. 

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look. 

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud. 

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes. 

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink. 

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions. 

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold. 

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form. 

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest. 

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

 “P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air. 

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke. 

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout. 

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now. 

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression. 

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation. 

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more. 

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous. 

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability. 

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow. 

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it. 

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment. 

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly. 

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump. 

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone. 

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak. 

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him. 

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew. 

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick. 

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation. 

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare. 

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response. 

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony. 

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing. 

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze. 

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness. 

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce. 

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.  

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do Part 25

WC: 3,537 Masterpost CW: Canon typical violence

“I can’t believe I’m in a custom suit,” Danny said as he admired himself in the mirror.

“It is really weird the first few times,” Jason agreed as he did up his own cufflinks.

Danny twisted so that the very faint blue on blue pattern sewn into the suit caught the light. It gave the impression of rolling waves. “So how many fish things did you manage to fit in?”

He watched the reflection to catch Jason’s lips tick up into a pleased smile.

“Well there’s the fabric itself, deep ocean blue.”

“And patterned like waves,” Danny finished. “I caught that.”

“Your shirt and tie are sea foam white.”

“Okay, that one might be a stretch,” Danny said, but he touched the fabric gently.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m counting it. The pocket square, very nontraditional, is a Japanese indigo linen in a pattern that is a historic representation of waves. The buttons are abalone, the cufflinks red coral, and the tie pin is mother of pearl.”

“Six, if I give you sea foam white.”

“You better, I worked hard on this. And it’s actually seven, one last thing,” Jason said. He picked up a blue velvet jewelry box off his side table and held it out.

Danny took it curiously. It was bigger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace case. He brushed his thumb over the soft covering before he snapped the lid open. His breath caught.

Inside was a set of earrings. Simple silver studs for for his cartilage piercings, a pearl earring for his left ear, and then the show stopper: a crystal studded and delicate woven silver betta fish on a chain for his right ear. Its black pearl eyes were bright. They almost made it seem alive.

“Jason…”

“I tried to stay subtle with the rest, but this I couldn’t resist,” he said. “You’re my fish, and everyone at the gala should know that.”

Danny carefully closed the box before he flung his arms around Jason’s neck and pulled the other down for a kiss.

“Careful,” Jason murmured when the kiss broke, “if we show up late and mussed Tim will frown at us the whole night.”

“That would be a shame,” Danny whispered back before kissing Jason again.

“I can’t believe I’m being the voice of reason,” Jason said, “but you have to let me get dressed.”

“Fine,” Danny said, even if it made him want to pout. “Maybe… I can take it off after the gala then?”

The pink that Jason blushed was more than worth being bold and Danny took a moment to admire it before he turned to put in the earrings.

Behind him, Jason knotted a white (or sea foam, Danny supposed) tie and shrugged on a matching jacket. The suit looked bright, almost glowing, against the rich blue dress shirt that complimented Danny’s own suit. He couldn’t be sure what it was from this distance, but Danny thought he saw the glint of white on white embroidery on the cuffs and lapels of the suit. It was the silver fish bone tie pin that made him laugh.

“People are going to have questions.”

“Let them,” Jason said with a cheshire smile.

“I’m starting to get what going to a gala with you will be like,” Danny said.

“Oh, this is tame for me,” Jason said. “I’m behaving.”

“I know, it’s part of your charm.”

“If only the press thought that,” Jason said, grabbing his phone as it beeped. “That’s our car.”

“I wish we could just take your bike,” Danny said, watching Jason put his phone back down, “and our phones.”

“Suit lines. I’ve got a connection to the family,” Jason assured Danny.

“Still. But I guess those suit lines do really great things for your ass and it would be a shame to ruin that,” Danny agreed with a put upon sigh.

“You’re incorrigible tonight,”Jason said (not that he seemed to mind if his smirk was any hint).

“Maybe it’s just that new years mood,” Danny said with a little shrug, lacing their fingers together as they left. “This year turned out pretty great, and I bet next year is going to be even better.”

“Yeah? Any reason for that?”

“Well, I happened to move to a city that’s pretty weird but also pretty awesome,” Danny said.

“Good reason,” Jason agreed. “What else?”

“I’m finally in the degree for what I want to do, and I’m kicking ass at it.”

“Of course you are, you’re brilliant,” Jason said, holding the door open to the town car after he subtly checked the plates. “Nothing else?”

“Well,” Danny drew the word out as he slid into the car. “There’s this guy I met, maybe you know him? Tall, dark, and handsome?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t sound real,” Jason teased and leaned into Danny’s space.

Danny leaned up and pressed Jason into a light kiss. “He is pretty magical.”

-

“The red carpet, less than magical,” Danny said once they were through the sea of reporters and photographers. “I’m going to be seeing camera flashes for weeks.”

“Only a few hours at most,” Jason said.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, your whole being is just one blinding white blur,” Danny said, motioning at Jason, who laughed and caught Danny’s hand.

Jason pressed a quick kiss to the fingertips. The cameras went off in another round of flashes, apparently not having enough of the lost Wayne and his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s head further in away from this circus.”

“Is your family here yet?” Danny asked as they headed into the gala proper. Jason was skilled at keeping them moving without getting caught up by any one group, even as he greeted some of them.

“Bruce, Damian, and Duke arrived pretty on time so Bruce could greet people. Tim is around here somewhere too, networking I’m sure unless Bernard has distracted him. He’ll have arrived with Cass and Steph, who you haven’t met. Steph isn’t family, but she’s family, you know?”

“I think so?” Danny at least assume that meant she was in the Bat life.

“And Dick should be around here or will soon, likely with Barbie.”

“Barbie?” Danny took one of the drink glasses that Jason had snagged. The tart tang of cranberry bloomed across his tongue followed by the burn of alcohol and lingering taste of sugar. It was good.

“Yeah, but don’t call her that. Her name is Barbara, but she goes by Babs.”

“But you can get away with Barbie?”

“He was a very cute kid,” a voice behind them said. “Somehow he convinced me to let him.”

Danny spun and then had to look down to meet the gaze of the red headed woman in a wheelchair. He couldn’t help but feel a pang for Jazz, but it was softened by the fact that he’d get to see her soon.

“Bull,” Danny said with a smile, offering his hand. “I refuse to believe that Jason was ever not a little shit.”

“Oh, no, he was still a little shit,” Babs said, returning the handshake firmly. “But he was a cute little shit.”

Danny sighed dramatically and looked over at Jason. “Where did you go so wrong?”

“Hey, I believe it was you who were extolling the virtues of my ass in this suit not that long ago,” Jason said with just the hint of a pout.

“I think most of the press will be doing that too, so I’m not sure how much weight that has,” Babs said, painted lips ticked up in clear amusement.

Jason just sighed while Danny laughed.

“I like you, Babs. Is Babs okay for me to call you?”

“Of course, you’re Jason’s man, so you can call me Babs. And I really do prefer it to Barbara. The name is just a little old fashion, you know?”

“And you’re a modern kind of woman?” Danny asked with a smile.

“In so many ways,” Babs said. “But I better go make the rounds, or at least find where Dick is. He got distracted.”

“Isn't he always?” Jason said and bid Babs farewell.

“Are they together? Dick and Babs?” Danny ask as he watched her wheel away.

“Not anymore, but they were,” Jason explained. “They’re still really close. And Babs has been close to the family for a lot of years, so she’s special to all of us, you know? She’s a real inspiration to Cass and Steph.”

Oh, that sort of friend. “Wait, was she?”

“Yeah. So you know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Danny said. The wheelchair meant something a little differently now. He took a breath and looked around the gala, which was already swarming with beautiful, laughing people. He felt out of place without Babs’ friendly face distracting him.

“Come on, I bet we can find some family to talk too,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “There are a few people who I’ll need to hit up tonight for the Foundation stuff, you know, try to get some donations from them or build up the start of that, but you don’t have to hang with me during any of that. There's plenty of siblings around for you to chat with and use as a distraction. Hell, could always introduce you to Lucius or some of the other inventors we have and you all could talk nerd shop.”

“Nerd shop,” Danny repeated with a sigh. “You say Lucius who I’m going to assume is the Lucius Fox and call it nerd shop like that man is not out there breaking barriers and changing the world with his inventions? And that’s just the stuff that’s been announced to the public! Who knows what else he’s been doing behind closed doors! It must be mind blowing.”

“Well, thank you, but I have a lot of very smart people working for me, so it’s hardly just my work that’s out there making waves,” a silky voice said from behind them.

Danny spun and couldn’t help the little squeak he gave.

Jason chuckled and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Lucius, how are you doing? Did you manage to drag any of your family to tonight’s event?”

“Just my lovely wife. The rest found excuses, you know how it is.”

“I do. Sadly I’m in a position of note now,” Jason said, the words practically had air quotes around them, “so I’m afraid that my days of excuses are gone.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you can still find a few when you truly need them. You’ve always been mighty good at that.”

Jason just shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Well, you know. But anyway, Lucius, this is my boyfriend Danny. Danny, this, as I guess you know from that sound you made, is Lucius Fox.”

“Of course I know. Really, sir, the work you and your teams have done… amazing.”

“Just Lucius, Danny,” the man said, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand. “If you’re dating Jason I expect that we’ll run into each other from time to time and I am too old for formalities like that.”

“Alright, just Lucius then. I can’t wait to tell my friend Tucker I met you.”

“Another one for, what was that you said Jason, ‘nerd shop talk’ like you are?”

“Totally. He’s in computer sciences, but he’s not bad at engineering some hardware when he needs to. Mostly to be able to get his software to run on, but I always make fun of his soldering.”

“So you must solder a lot then?”

“Yes s— er Lucius. Aerospace engineering, but I grew up always tinkering and things. I still do it some, but it’s harder here when I don’t have the space, you know? First dibs on tables and tools go to the other majors, which I get, since they need them more than us.”

“Still, hard not to be able to get your hands dirty when you want to. Are you going to be in Gotham for the summer? Not sure where you call home.”

“Well, at the moment, home is Gotham. I want to visit some friends and my sisters, but I’ll be here, yeah. I might take a summer course and get an advanced math knocked out or something.”

“A good plan. You should reach back out to me around early May then. I bet we can find a corner of one of the labs for you to at least use on the weekends when no one is around doing work much.”

“Really?” Danny said, hands twitching at just the idea of getting into a space where he could do some inventing. He had so many new ideas from his time at Gotham U on to improve some of his parent’s inventions or even make new things.

“Really. There will be the usual red tape and all, background checks and paper work and hours you’re allowed in, but those things can be worked out. Can’t keep a curious mind and skilled hands stagnant, now can we?”

“I know I can’t,” Danny said with a little laugh. “Thank you Lucius, really, I’ll definitely take advantage of that again. And start planning! I mean I have plans, of course I do, but a lot is just rough sketches, you know? I need to do some proper diagrams for a few things.”

He didn’t want to waste a moment once he had access to tools again— especially not the tools that were available to him at a place like Wayne Enterprises. Danny idly wondered if it would be out by summer that he knew about the Bats. Lucius had to be involved in that work and it would be so cool to take a look under the proverbial and the literal hood of those gadgets. Did they store the Batplane here?

Lucius chuckled and smiled. “Yes, I think you’ll fit right into that corner. You two boys behave now.”

“Never,” Jason said with a laugh and shook Lucius’ hand one more time as they parted ways.

The night turned into a slew of little meetings like that— people coming up to talk to Jason. Some of the conversations were enjoyable like with Babs and Lucius (Steph was overwhelming, but cool), some were with the many family members Jason had, and some were with the tpyical the socialite crowd. Those people seemed either to be there to get their claws in Jason or to observe Danny like he was some curiosity. Danny really could do without that type. Luckily, Jason seemed to know this, and Danny was passed off to Dick a few hours in and then freed to the food table after some teasing.

Really, even with the gawkers, the night was pretty fun.

-

“Hey Barbie, have you seen Danny recently?” Jason asked as he crossed her path at the party.

“No, but I’ve been talking tech. Have you tried over by the food?”

“That’s where I just came from,” Jason said with a little frown. These things were really too busy, one of the many reasons that he hated them. “I guess I’ll go try another sibling. Dick hadn’t seen him in a bit either, he got distracted by one of the people from the foundation that works with kids.”

“I keep waiting for him to join you there, you know. You could try Tim if he hasn’t been co-opted by Bernard yet,” she suggested. “How long has he been schmoozing?”

“Too long, Tim is worthless to me I’m sure. Cass would be—”

Jason dropped instinctively to cover Babs before he even registered the sound of shattering glass.

“Jason—”

The all to familiar muzzle of a gun pressed into the base of Jason’s head. “Turn around slowly. Try anything and I’ll shoot through you to get your lovely friend.”

Jason locked eyes with Babs, a thousand messages passed in that look as he slowly raised his hands and turned around.

It was one of the waiters.

Okay, it was a number of the waiters, Jason mentally corrected as he took in the room. Each of them with a gun pointed at some portion of the party. Jason spotted Bruce and Damian where they were being rounded up and Steph over on the edges of the room, but he couldn’t find Tim, Dick, or Cass on the quick glance at the space.

He snapped his focus back to the gunman at a popping sound. The man raised his left hand to his face and smeared the popped paint pellet across his face, coating half of it in a splotchy blue.

Guess they knew what Two Face was up to now. Speaking of the man of the hour, Two Face walked through the shadowed window, black and white suit spotless and fit for the event, and flanked by henchmen. He was clapping. Head tilted so that the bright lights caught his good side.

“Lovely event Bruice! Really, a shinning light in Gotham to ring in the new year. Don’t mind us, please, we’re just here to pick up the usual, jewels, watches, money clips, wire transfers. I’m afraid we need the extra funding…” He twitched, twisting so that the scarred side of his face was tilted forward. “Because the damn Bat made sure we lost it all! I’m hoping he shows tonight. I’d like to make sure he doesn’t make it to the new year!”

Dent cleared his throat; his right hand smoothed back his hair, tipping his head back the other way. “Sorry about that. Just some… linger resentment. You all know how it is. But let’s not get too serious yet! Brucie! And his adorable little spawn! Some of our guests of honor too! Behave if you don’t want to be shot in the head.”

Jason watched helplessly as Bruce, Damian, and several other social elite like the mayor were lashed together with rope. Two Face walked over after they were trussed and slapped a bomb to Bruce’s chest. While the the henchman secured it, Two Face turned to the crowd.

“Where is he? Our darling lost prince of Gotham?”

The gunman stuck the cold metal back to the base of Jason’s neck and pushed him forward.

The bomb started ticking down.

“There you are! When I heard you returned to us, my heart swelled, truly,” Dent said, looking up with his good eye as if praying to heaven. “And now! Now I hear you’ve found love!”

Dent bent over, cackling. The enlarged, yellow eye looked up at Jason from under the white bangs. “So let’s play a game while we count down to midnight.”

Two Face’s goons dramatically rolled out a podium. Two bright red buttons were mounted to it, right below a large television.

Danny was on the screen.

He was tied to a chair in some building’s basement. A bruise was already blooming to life around his right eye, deep blue as his suit. He had clearly caught a fist to the lip too. The fish earring was bright silver, catching light reflected from the pool of water that the chair was sat in.

“As you see, we’re giving your boyfriend some hospitality,” Dent said, smooth side of his face to Jason as he walked around the podium like some perverse Vanna White. “So you have a simple choice: decided what type of love is more important to you. Do you press the left button and save your boyfriend, letting your family and these other lovely people die to the bomb…”

He rounded the screen, scarred open eye starting at Jason accusingly. “…or do you press the button on the right and save the people in this room, but fry your boyfriend to death with electricity?”

Two Face snapped his fingers.

Danny’s head jerked up, unfocused eyes staring just to the right of the screen.

“Hey, dead boy,” Danny rasped. Just talking made the split on his lip crack and bleed again, adding another line of blood to his chin. On the screen the red was bright, bright, bright—

Jason clenched his hands. He was going to kill Two Face. “Hey, fish.”

“You know, the irony of this whole thing is that it does make me realize I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”

“Yeah? That's convenient. I've been in love with you for weeks.”

Dent cackled and motioned grandly at the trussed up people. The bright, bright red of the bombs’ timer counted down another tick. “Looks like you're all out of luck! True love always wins.”

He twisted to Jason with the scarred side of his face and growled, “Forty-five seconds left.”

“You know what you have to do, don't you?” Danny asked.

He was smiling at Jason, a soft calm thing. But Jason didn't know if he could trust it. He didn’t know Danny's limits. He didn’t know if this would kill him the rest of the way.

But he did know what Danny would never forgive him for. He knew he didn't really have a choice. “I do. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Jason lunged and hit the right button. On the screen, the wires sparked bright with electricity, lighting up the pool of water. And Danny screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

The camera cut out.

---

AN: We're finally here! To the scene I wrote last year! Aaaaaah~

I would say I'm sorry, but this time I truly am not. (Please don't stab me.) ._.

It will be fiiiiiiiine... right?

[lynnettys-world]

CALM AFTER THE STORM |BTS OT7 X READER| HYBRID AU (M)

{Chapter Fourteen - The Acts Of Power}

Pairing: OT7 BTS!HYBRID X FEM!HUMAN READER

Kim Namjoon: Black Mackenzie Valley Alpha wolf

Kim Soekjin: White Alpha Lion

Min Yoongi: White Alpha Jaguar

Jung Hosoek: Alpha Snow Leopard

Park Jimin : Alpha Albino Cobra

Kim Taehyung: Alpha White/ Bleached Tiger

Jeon Jungkook: Alpha Black Panther

Reader: Heaven Valentino Human

Status: Ongoing

RATED (M) FOR MATURE

words: 4.9K!

WARNING: EVENTUAL SMUT, BLOOD GORE, DETAILED GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION, ABUSE (ALL FORMS), PROFANITY, VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, CHARACTER DEATH(MINOR), SADOMASOCHISM ACTS, MENTIONS OF BDSM, ETC...

CHAPTER WARNING: This chapter includes degradation and hate. (Mild/non-triggering)

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MATERIALIST

Jungkook's POV

The evening sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow through the large windows of our home. It was time for a celebration, and nothing felt more appropriate than a lavish dinner to mark Heaven's recent success.

As I walked down the hallway, the excitement buzzed in the air like static electricity, each of us gearing up for the evening ahead.

I stepped into my room, glancing at the mirror as I began to pull on my tailored suit. The fabric felt luxurious against my skin, the deep black color reflecting my inner strength. I buttoned the crisp white shirt beneath, adjusting the collar to sit just right.

The jacket was a perfect fit, tailored to accentuate my lean muscles, giving me an aura of confidence that I hoped would carry through the night.

After securing my watch, I ran a hand through my dark hair, tousling it just enough to look effortlessly stylish. I felt a spark of pride as I glanced at my reflection—a fierce black panther ready to take on the world.

I heard a commotion from down the hall. Namjoon Hyung's deep voice rumbled, echoing through the house, accompanied by Jin Hyung's melodic laughter. I couldn't help but smile, knowing that my brothers were just as eager to make an impression tonight.

I made my way towards Jin Hyung's bathroom, where the sounds of shuffling and playful banter greeted me.

Inside, Namjoon Hyung stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the lapels of his midnight blue suit. The rich fabric clung to his muscular frame, emphasizing his broad shoulders and imposing stature. With his black shirt and a silver tie that sparkled like stars, he looked every bit the alpha wolf he was.

His expression was serious, but a flicker of excitement danced in his eyes

"Ready to show these humans how it's done?" He asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Always," I replied, throwing him a wink as I grabbed my phone, snapping a quick picture of the moment to capture the anticipation we all felt.

Jin Hyung stepped out from behind the door, his appearance immediately stealing the spotlight. The white lion had chosen a tailored cream suit that highlighted his soft features and golden mane. His shirt was a light pastel pink, contrasting beautifully with his warm skin tone, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

He ran a hand through his hair, a playful grin on his face as he admired his reflection.

"I'm definitely winning 'Best Dressed' tonight," Jin Hyung announced with an exaggerated flair, posing dramatically before us.

Hoseok Hyung entered, fashionably late, his suit a crisp white that highlighted his lean frame. The fitted jacket hugged his shoulders perfectly, and the subtle silver accents in his tie and cufflinks added a touch of elegance.

He flashed a charming smile, his energy contagious, "You all look fantastic! Let's make them remember us."

In another room, Tae-Hyung was already clad in a stunning black tuxedo. The jacket was adorned with intricate white diamond patterned strips that echoed the stripes of his tiger form.

He turned to us, his playful demeanor radiating confidence as he posed in front of the mirror, showcasing the fitted pants that accentuated his long legs. "Aren't I just the definition of fierce?" he asked, winking at himself.

As we made our way downstairs, we could hear Jimin Hyung's laughter echoing from his room. When he emerged, all eyes turned to him, our charming albino cobra hybrid. His sleek black suit was complemented by a striking silver shirt that gleamed under the soft lighting.

The contrast made his pale skin almost luminescent. His hair, styled perfectly, framed his face, enhancing the striking features that made him look every bit the enchanting seducer he was.

"What? You all thought I wouldn't look good?" he teased, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Yoongi Hyung entered last, his aura cool and detached, embodying the essence of a white jaguar. His all-black suit was minimalist but incredibly sharp, matching his enigmatic persona.

The way he carried himself exuded confidence without arrogance, a blend of power and mystery that was impossible to ignore. His gaze flickered to us, a small smirk on his face as he assessed our attire, "Are we ready to make a scene?"

With a collective nod, we headed towards the door, the anticipation building with every step. The soft hum of the car engine greeted us as we climbed into the vehicle, the plush leather seats enveloping us in comfort.

As we approached the restaurant, the shimmering lights reflected off the glossy facade, illuminating the entrance like a beacon. The lavish exterior promised an evening of luxury, but we were more than ready to step inside.

The car doors opened, and as we stepped out, I felt the eyes of the world on us. The night air was cool against my skin, invigorating and electrifying. We moved in unison, heads held high, confident and proud. This was our moment.

As we entered, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations faded as the patrons turned their attention towards us, whispers echoing through the opulent space.

The murmurs carried a mix of shock and disdain, the uncomfortable recognition of hybrids dressed in expensive suits, striding through the realm that had always considered us beneath them.

I could feel the tension in the air, a tightrope stretched taut between us and the humans around us. Namjoon Hyung led the way, his presence commanding respect, while I felt the subtle shifts in our group—the way Jimin Hyung clenched his fists and Tae-Hyung's posture tightened.

"Table for Eleven under the name Heaven Valentino," Namjoon said confidently to the maître d', who stuttered slightly as he gestured for us to follow him. Our footsteps echoed on the marble floor, each step a declaration of our defiance against the prejudices that surrounded us.

The restaurant was a tapestry of elegance, with lavish chandeliers hanging overhead and plush seating that screamed opulence. We were seated at a large table adorned with crisp white linens and glimmering glassware, the perfect setting for our celebration.

As we settled in, I could see the humans around us casting wary glances, some with overt disdain.

My heart raced with an unfamiliar mix of exhilaration and tension.

Tonight was not just about celebrating Heaven's success, it was a chance to defy the societal norms that sought to belittle us.

The tension in the air was palpable as we settled at our table, the rich aroma of gourmet dishes swirling around us. But it wasn't just the food that filled the space, it was the heavy weight of judgment and disdain from the surrounding patrons.

I could feel their eyes on us, dissecting our every move as if we were a spectacle meant for their amusement.

At first, I tried to ignore it, focusing on my brothers and the camaraderie we shared. But as I glanced around, I caught sight of a group of wealthy humans at a nearby table, their laughter hollow and mocking. I could see their sneers, the way their lips curled in disgust at our presence.

They were used to having hybrids on leashes, conditioned to view us as mere possessions, and now that we stood before them—dressed impeccably and exuding confidence—it made them uneasy.

"Look at them," one man sneered, loud enough for us to hear. "Dressed like they own the place. Pathetic."

I clenched my fists under the table, my instincts urging me to respond. But I held back, waiting to see how my brothers would react.

Author's POV

The atmosphere shifted dramatically as the comments echoed around the restaurant, the hushed whispers rising into a crescendo of derision. It was a blatant display of arrogance from those who thrived on the suffering of hybrids.

One particularly pompous figure, dressed in a tailored suit that screamed entitlement, stood up from his seat, pointing a finger at the boys.

"You think you can just walk in here, acting like you belong? Fucking lab rats" he spat, his face twisted with contempt. "You're nothing but glorified pets. Know your place!"

The tension in the room was electric as the boys exchanged glances. Jungkook, Namjoon, and Taehyung stood tall, their expressions calm yet fierce. An invisible line had been drawn, and they were ready to defend their dignity.

"Do you really want to test that theory?" Taehyung replied, his voice smooth and dangerously low, a chilling calmness radiating from him that seemed to fill the space. The air grew heavier, and even the humans nearby felt the shift, their bravado faltering.

The man's eyes flickered with uncertainty, but he quickly masked it with arrogance. "What are you going to do? You don't even deserve to sit at this table!"

His friends chuckled nervously, but there was an underlying tension that suggested they recognized the brewing storm.

Namjoon leaned forward, his expression shifting from calm to predatory. "Careful who you mess with. You might find that we're not as easy to handle as you think."

The words hung in the air, thick and charged. The man's bravado cracked slightly, the glimmer of fear seeping through his facade.

The scent of his anxiety wafted through the air, and Jungkook, ever attuned to the nuances of emotion, could feel it. The other hybrids picked up on it too, their predatory instincts kicking in.

Suddenly, one of the man's friends, emboldened by liquid courage, pulled out a taser, the metallic glint catching the light.

"Let's see how tough you are when you're shocked," he taunted, taking a step forward, a smirk plastered on his face.

Before Jungkook could react, Yoongi's instincts kicked in. With a swift movement, he rose from his seat, eyes narrowed, and lunged forward, knocking the taser from the man's hand in one fluid motion. The device clattered to the floor, and the air became thick with tension.

"Try to touch him again, and you'll regret it," Yoongi warned, grabbing the man by the collar and dragging him against the wall with surprising force.

The sound of fabric tearing and a gasp of shock echoed in the room, silencing the chatter. The fear was palpable as the man's friends stepped back, shock replacing their bravado.

"Is this how you treat hybrids?" Yoongi's voice was low and menacing, sending chills down the spines of those watching.

"With violence and humiliation? You have no idea who you're dealing with."

The man's face paled as he realized he had crossed a line.

"I—I was just joking," he stammered, trying to maintain some semblance of pride, but his voice wavered, betraying him.

"Jokes can cost you," Jin interjected, stepping forward to stand beside Yoongi, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Especially when they involve us. We are not toys for your amusement."

The tension crackled in the air, a storm ready to unleash itself. Namjoon, standing close by, kept a watchful eye on the situation, ready to intervene if things escalated further.

Just then, the door swung open, and Heaven entered, her presence instantly commanding attention. With her brothers—Andre, Marcus, and Dante—flanking her, she cut an imposing figure, radiating authority and strength.

Her elegant dress flowed around her like liquid silver, the fabric hugging her curves and accentuating her stature.

"What the hell is going on here?" Heaven's voice sliced through the tension, sharp and unyielding. Her eyes darted to Yoongi, still gripping the man's collar, and then to the rest of the group, assessing the scene.

The atmosphere shifted as the people around realized who had just entered the fray. There was an immediate fear that rippled through the crowd, they knew Heaven was part of an influential family, her connections far-reaching.

The rumors of her empire—powerful enough to make anyone rethink their actions—echoed in their minds

"Let him go, Yoongi," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. There was a simmering intensity in her gaze as she turned to the trembling man. "You should be careful about who you pick fights with."

The tension in the room hung thick, but the boys remained grounded beside her, their collective strength pulsating through the space. Heaven's brothers took their positions, ready to protect her and their family, the bond they shared unbreakable.

The man, realizing he was in the presence of people untouchable, released a shaky breath, his pride crumbling under the weight of Heaven's authority.

"I—" he began but faltered, his words dying in the air.

"Consider this a warning," she said, her voice steady and unwavering. "If I hear about any of you mistreating my boys again, you'll have more to worry about than your pathetic jokes."

The remaining patrons watched in awe, the sight of Heaven standing her ground an example of her power and resolve. The air was thick with drama, suspense, and the undeniable tension that had now become the backdrop of the evening.

After the tumultuous confrontation, Heaven strode confidently to their reserved table, a serene smile adorning her face. The boys, still buzzing from the earlier encounter, settled back down, the tension dissipating like mist in the sun.

The surrounding patrons, many still in shock or hurriedly leaving the restaurant, faded into the background as Heaven's calming presence filled the space

"Sorry for the disruption, boys," she said sweetly, her tone light and playful as she took her seat beside Jungkook.

"I hope you didn't scare them too badly." Jungkook smirked, his confidence renewed. "Maybe they deserved it," he replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"It's not every day someone gets dragged against a wall by a hybrid."

"Or threatened by a white jaguar," Yoongi added, a hint of pride in his voice. "You should have seen the look on his face. It was priceless."

Heaven chuckled softly, her laughter brightening the atmosphere. "You boys certainly know how to make a statement. I'm proud of you," she said, her voice filled with warmth.

Dante, leaning back casually in his chair, interjected with a cheeky grin. "Just wait until you see how we dance after dinner. That'll really blow their minds.

"Oh please, no," Jimin laughed, feigning horror. "The last time we danced in public, we nearly broke the floor."

"Hey, that was a one-time thing!" Taehyung protested, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "And it was just a little enthusiastic."

"Just a little?" Namjoon shook his head, a teasing smile on his lips. "More like a lot, and I'm still recovering from the embarrassment."

As the waiter approached, they placed their orders—exotic dishes that showcased the rich flavors of Italian cuisine. Heaven made sure to order something special for each of them, her thoughtful nature shining through as she asked about their preferences.

"Alright, but if you get anything with extra cheese, I'm going to judge you," Jungkook teased, poking Taehyung with a playful nudge.

"I'm not ashamed of my love for cheese!" Taehyung shot back, grinning widely.

"Just remember, you'll need to bring the breath mints," Heaven chimed in with a playful wink, and the table erupted into laughter, the camaraderie palpable.

Amidst the banter, Marcus leaned in, his expression suddenly serious. "You really showed them, sis. I'm glad you were there and that the guys stood up for themselves."

"Of course, me too" she replied, her smile softening. "I'll always have your backs, no matter what. Just like you boys." She glanced around the table, her eyes shining with affection.

After their orders were placed and the conversation flowed freely, the laughter echoed around the table, blending warmth with the remnants of tension from earlier. They shared stories, light-hearted jabs, and laughter that was bright enough to overshadow any lingering tension.

As their meals arrived, Heaven clinked her glass against the others. "To family," she declared, her voice steady and firm.

"No matter what we face, we'll face it together."

The boys echoed the sentiment, their voices blending harmoniously. "Together," they chorused, raising their glasses.

Once dinner wrapped up and they quickly left and headed back home upon arriving, Heaven felt a buzz in her purse, signaling a message from her assistant, Jay.

"Boys, I need to step away for a moment. Please excuse me," she said, excusing herself to her room.

The boys nodded, understanding her need for privacy. Heaven took the elevator to he room, her heart racing as she answered the call.

"Jay, what's going on?" she asked, her tone shifting from light-hearted to businesslike.

Meanwhile in the living room, the boys lounged comfortably, the mood still buoyant. "So, what movie are we watching?" Jungkook asked, leaning back and stretching his arms.

"Something scary, I hope," Taehyung replied, his eyes glinting with excitement. "I love a good scare!"

"Only if you promise not to scream and bleed our ears out," Jimin teased, nudging him playfully.

"I make no promises," Taehyung shot back, grinning widely. "You should be grateful if I don't jump into your lap!"

Yoongi rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, right. You'd just want to take the whole couch for yourself."

"Just admit it, you're all scaredy-cats," Jungkook teased, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

As they bantered and debated their movie choices, Heaven stood in her corner, her attention entirely on the call, ready to tackle whatever news Jay had to share.

Heaven's POV

The moment I excused myself, I could feel the weight of the night pressing against my chest. The boys' laughter still echoed behind me, a sweet reminder of the calm we'd managed to create amidst the chaos. Yet, as I raised the phone to my ear, my serene facade tightened, bracing for what was to come.

"Jay," I greeted, my voice steady, though my pulse quickened. "What have you found?"

"It's not good news, Heaven," Jay replied, his tone grim. "We've identified another player in the kidnapping. It's someone close enough to make a move without drawing too much attention."

"Who?" My voice dropped, dangerously quiet. The calm before the storm.

"Park Jisoo." Jay's words were like a blade, sharp and cutting.

"She's behind it. We've confirmed her involvement."

I clenched my jaw, my fingers gripping the phone tightly. Park Jisoo. A spoiled, entitled brat who thought her wealth and connections made her untouchable. My mind flashed with memories of her, her arrogance, her constant need to flaunt her power and money that didn't even belong to her.

In a different scenario I wouldn't even pay attention to her not only, is she beneath me but I respect her even less. Like I said I don't tolerate nonsense.

But the fact that she dared cross me by touching the ones dearest to me she had another thing coming.

"Understood," I murmured, keeping my voice cool, though inside, a storm brewed, raging and relentless. "Thank you, Jay. Keep me updated."

"Will do. And Heaven... be careful," Jay cautioned before hanging up.

I lowered the phone slowly, inhaling deeply to steady myself. The rage simmered beneath my skin, but I couldn't let it show. Not yet. Not here. My boys didn't need to see this side of me tonight. They'd been through enough.

I took a moment to compose myself, smoothing out my expression I quickly changed and made my way downstairs. By the time I returned, the boys were still chatting, their energy contagious.

"Everything alright, Heaven?" Marcus asked, his eyes flickering with concern.

"Perfectly fine," I lied effortlessly, a smile gracing my lips. "Just some business I had to attend to."

As I approached, the youngest three—Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung—immediately sprang up, their eyes lighting up with playful competition.

"Move aside, Tae-hyung!" Jungkook declared, lunging toward the couch. "I get to sit next to her this time!"

"Not a chance, you spoiled panther!" Taehyung shot back, throwing an arm around my shoulders protectively. "She's mine."

"Oh, please," Jimin chimed in, slipping to my other side. "You two couldn't handle being her favorite."

I laughed softly, shaking my head at their antics. "Boys, there's enough of me to go around," I teased, settling between them as they jostled playfully for space.

Namjoon, watching from his seat, smirked. "You three are hopeless."

"And jealous," Yoongi added, his tone dry but amused.

"Don't worry, you're all my favorites," I assured them, patting Taehyung's head affectionately. "Now, can we focus on the movie?"

They finally settled down, each finding their spot around me. Jungkook leaned his head against my shoulder, while Jimin rested a hand lightly on my knee. Taehyung sprawled out, his legs draped over the armrest.

"Alright, let's get this movie started," Hoseok said, grabbing the remote.

As the opening credits rolled, the room filled with a peaceful warmth. The earlier tension felt like a distant memory. I allowed myself to sink into the comfort of their presence, the storm within me temporarily quelled by their light-hearted banter and laughter.

The movie played on, but my mind lingered on Jay's words. Park Jisoo wouldn't get away with this. The storm within me would find its release, but not tonight. Tonight was for them. My boys. My family.

For now, I'd keep the darkness at bay, holding onto the light we'd fought so hard to reclaim.

~One Week Later~

A week had passed since the tense dinner, and life had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Today, the house was quiet, the boys scattered in their own spaces. With no meetings or pressing obligations, I found myself in the kitchen, deciding it was the perfect day to spoil them with a homemade brunch.

The gentle rhythm of chopping vegetables filled the room, the scent of fresh herbs and sizzling bacon wafting through the air. I hummed softly to myself, enjoying the rare tranquility.

Just as I reached for another tomato, strong, warm hands slid around my waist, pulling me back into a firm chest.

I froze for a heartbeat, feeling the heat of his breath against my neck. His scent was unmistakable—musky, with a hint of something sweet. Jimin.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and velvety, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Jimin," I whispered, my breath hitching as his hands tightened slightly on my waist. "You startled me."

His chuckle was soft, almost predatory. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself." His lips brushed lightly against the sensitive skin of my neck, making my pulse quicken.

I tried to focus on the task at hand, the knife trembling slightly in my grip. But Jimin wasn't making it easy. His hands roamed slowly, tracing gentle circles on my waist. His nose buried into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply.

"You smell... intoxicating today," he whispered, his voice a delicious mix of teasing and something darker, more primal.

I swallowed hard, my mind swirling with conflicting emotions. This was Jimin—the same Jimin who would pout when I didn't give him enough attention, who would beam like sunshine when I called him "honey." But today, there was an edge to him, a simmering intensity that made it hard to breathe.

"Jimin," I managed, my voice trembling. "We can't... I'm trying to cook." He hummed softly, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

"You're tense, Heaven. Let me help you relax." His teeth nipped lightly at my earlobe, making me gasp.

I turned quickly, placing my hands on his chest to put some distance between us, but he didn't budge. His dark, dilated eyes locked onto mine, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You're blushing," he observed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's... cute."

"Jimin," I warned, though my voice lacked conviction. "What's gotten into you today?"

His smirk widened, and he leaned closer, his lips inches from mine. "Maybe it's just you, sweetheart. You're hard to resist."

I opened my mouth to respond, but a sudden voice from the doorway shattered the moment.

"Well, this is cozy," Yoongi drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. "Didn't mean to interrupt... whatever this is."

I jumped back from Jimin, my face heating as I turned back to the counter, pretending to focus on the vegetables. Jimin, completely unfazed, chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in my chest.

"Just helping Heaven with breakfast," Jimin said smoothly, his voice dripping with casual charm.

He called me Heaven not Noona. Jimin freaking called me by name!

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "Right. Looked more like you were about to devour her."

I busied myself with the chopping, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to shake off the lingering heat from Jimin's touch. Behind me, I could feel his gaze burning into my back.

"I'll get the plates," Jimin offered, his voice still carrying that teasing edge. As he moved past me, his fingers brushed against mine, a fleeting touch that sent a spark shooting up my arm.

I dared a glance up at him, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes. He winked, his smirk deepening before he turned away, leaving me flustered and breathless.

What the hell was that?!

The rest of the morning continued in a blur of casual banter and playful teasing, but my mind kept drifting back to those few stolen moments in the kitchen. The tension between us lingered, unspoken yet palpable.

As I served up the brunch, I couldn't help but steal glances at Jimin, my thoughts tangled in the memory of his touch, his words, and the way he'd made me feel. There was more to him—more to all of them—than I had ever dared to explore.

And somehow, I knew this was only the beginning.

Author's POV

The kitchen buzzed with life as the boys filtered in, one by one, drawn by the tantalizing aromas and the promise of a homemade brunch. Heaven, though still a bit flustered from her earlier encounter with Jimin, managed to maintain her composure, slipping into her role as the heart of their home.

Jungkook appeared first, his hair still damp from a shower, ruffling it lazily as he sniffed the air.

"Something smells amazing," he said, his eyes lighting up as he spotted the spread on the counter.

"Yeah, it's called effort," Yoongi quipped, entering with a smirk and a lazy stretch. "Maybe you should try it sometime."

Jungkook rolled his eyes, grabbing a piece of fruit from the counter. "I do plenty, thank you very much."

"Like what?" Taehyung teased, sauntering in with his usual grace. "Sleeping in until noon doesn't count."

"Exactly," Hoseok chimed in, his sunny grin brightening the room as he grabbed a plate. "Kookie, your talents are truly unparalleled."

"Leave him alone, guys," Heaven interjected, a fond smile playing on her lips. "He helps in his own way.

"Jungkook shot her a grateful look. "Thank you, Noona. At least someone appreciates me."

"Only because you're the baby even though you're older than her," Namjoon teased, ruffling Jungkook's hair.

As the teasing continued, laughter filled the room, a warm, comforting sound that echoed through the house. They gathered around the table, passing dishes, sharing stories, and savoring the rare moment of peace and joy.

"Remember the time Taehyung got stuck in that tree?" Hoseok asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Taehyung groaned, covering his face with one hand. "Do we have to bring that up every time?"

"Yes!" Jimin laughed, nudging him playfully. "It's a classic. You were up there for hours, and we had to call Heaven to get you down."

Heaven chuckled, remembering the scene vividly. "You were so stubborn, Tae. Refused to admit you needed help."

"Because I didn't!" Taehyung protested, though his grin betrayed him. "I was... observing the view."

"Sure you were," Yoongi deadpanned, drawing more laughter from the group.

As the day unfolded, they drifted through the house, enjoying each other's company. They played games, shared more stories, and basked in the warmth of their bond. Heaven watched them with a content heart, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for these moments.

But as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the floor, a quiet tension settled over her. The laughter and lightness of the day couldn't erase the weight of what she knew—what she was planning.

Later that evening, as they lounged in the living room, Heaven found herself lost in thought. The boys were sprawled across the couches, watching a movie, their laughter still echoing from earlier jokes. She glanced at them, her heart swelling with affection.

But beneath that affection was a simmering determination.

Her mind drifted back to the conversation with Jay, the name whispered over the phone—Park Jisoo. The shedevil who dared to touch what was hers. Heaven's smile remained soft, but her eyes darkened, her thoughts a sharp contrast to the warmth around her.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the couch as she stared at the screen, not really seeing the movie but instead plotting her next move. The world saw her as a calm, composed heiress, one who ruled with an iron fist, but they didn't know all about the storm brewing beneath.

They would soon learn.

As the night wound down and the boys started to drift off, one by one, Heaven stayed awake, her thoughts a swirling maelstrom. She glanced at each of them, their peaceful faces, and silently vowed to protect them, no matter the cost.

Her lips parted slightly, and in the quiet of the room, her thoughts whispered the chilling promise she carried in her heart.

"They've taken from me once. Never again."And with that, she leaned back, closing her eyes as the weight of the day settled over her, the darkness of her resolve a stark contrast to the warmth that had filled their home.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Hey there, lovely readers!🌸

Sorry for the super delayed update, life has been a rollercoaster lately. I've been neck-deep in adjusting to a new country, getting into the swing of school, and mastering those crazy class schedules because, yup, I'm studying abroad! 🌍

I've been low-key freaking out about this chapter, but hey, it's finally here. 🎉 It might be a tad shorter than usual, but I hope it still leaves you hanging and hungry for more. 😊

I had a mini existential crisis thinking I lost my writing mojo, so I'm crossing my fingers you guys feel the balance. Did I hit the sweet spot with this one? Let me know your thoughts! 🤔

Oh, and that little steamy scene, did it make you blush? 😘 I know you've been rooting for some tension between the boys and Heaven, and trust me, there's more where that came from. Slow burn is the game, but I couldn't resist sprinkling in a dash of heat as a peace offering for the late update. 😉

Big love and gratitude to all you fantastic readers. Your support means the world to me, seriously. 🌟Thanks a ton for sticking around and showing love to my work. Y'all rock my socks off! 💫💗

Smooches and bear hugs to each one of you! 💋💕

Your eccentric and incredibly drained Author-nim💕🥲

Please don't forget to like and comment!

TAGLIST OPEN!

TAGLIST: @strxwbloody, @strawblueberrys, @taetaeheart22, @canarystwin, @drenix004 , @ghostlyworld, @loumin908, @rinkud, @nikkiordonez12, @taekritimin123, \\@mnguyeeen7, @danielle143, @welcometomyworld13, @avadakadabra93, @kiaralynn3838, @sugathy, @anaspectoflife, @juju-227592, @mygagustd93(I can't tag you)

[winniemaywebber]

It's Been A Long, Long Time

(sage said "imagine this guy meeting his baby son for the first time and I couldn't get it out of my head)

(@sagesolsticewrites @liebgottsjumpwings @trashbag-baby666 @ginabaker1666 @precious-little-scoundrel)

You survey yourself in the mirror for what feels like the one thousandth time, nerves bubbling up from your stomach and reaching your throat, threatening to spill out like fire from a dragon's mouth. You smooth your dress with your hands, a soft rose pink color that compliments your dark hair perfectly. You smile at yourself, the memory of trying it on in front of your husband comes back to you, when he was home on leave all those months ago, and the way his soft brown eyes had lit up the second he'd seen you in it.

“Oh, darling,” he had murmured in your ear as he held you close. “I think this is my new favorite,” his pretty hands suddenly all over your body and his lips upon yours, the touch you'd been craving for years.

You come back to yourself, your knees weak at the memory of that wonderful time, finding your hand clutched to your chest to slow your heartbeat. Tiptoeing quietly about the bedroom, you make it to your dressing table, adding a silver necklace and bracelet set that Harry had gifted you on your wedding day - you'd given him a pair of cufflinks, your initials engraved upon them, him smiling sweetly at you as he'd opened the black box in which they were wrapped. Grinning, you stab an earring into your ear, dropping the back of it as you attempt to move your hair out the way.

“Oh, bother,” you whisper, bending down to retrieve it from where it has dramatically rolled underneath the table. You bend with all your might to grab it, scrambling on the long pile carpet, when suddenly you lose balance, grabbing on to the table to try save yourself. The table slams against the wall, and you brace yourself, lips clamped together, silently hoping that the baby could sleep through it.

A loud, long cry from across the room makes it obvious that the sudden sound was too much, and your son in the crib next to your bed is wailing so hard that his little face is turning beetroot red. You pick him up and attempt to soothe him back to sleep. “Shhh, little man. It's okay,” you coo, kissing his warm face and wiping his tears away. “I'm so sorry. Mama is just a clutz!” You laugh, an attempt to diffuse the tension that's crawling through your body. Seeing the signs that your baby may be gassy, you carefully hold him upright, his body on your chest and his head over your shoulder.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let's get this burp out.” You pat his back 1-2-3, 1-2-3, maintaining a steady rhythm, all while bobbing up and down. A large burp ripples through your infant, shocking him so much that his sweet little head bobs back a little. As if in slow motion, you hear another airy burp leave him - followed by a stream of warm spit up dripping down your shoulder and ruining your dress. You hold the baby out at arms length, inspecting his clothes. He's clean, of course he is. It's just you, the pink material of your dress now spattered with white mottled liquid.

“Darn it!” you whimper, placing the now much happier baby back in his crib, his eyes heavy again from all the excitement. “Little guy,” you say mostly to yourself. “You know this is papa's favorite. Couldn't you have saved all that for the hideous yellow one I wear to church?” You giggle as you catch sight of it, the yellow so bright that it makes you slightly nauseous, not just the smell of your current self causing your nose to wrinkle. With a sigh, you pull off the pretty pink material and unceremoniously try and throw it in the laundry basket. You miss. Of course you do.

Pulling a cornflower blue number over your head and hoping your son keeps the milk to himself this time, you eventually get back to pushing your delicate diamond earrings through your earlobes, taking a deep breath and basking in the success that your outfit is finally complete. Adjusting to being a new mom is hard by itself, but going through the whole experience alone with just letters from your husband was excruciating. The morning sickness with nobody to soothe you and hold you, nobody to place a cool washcloth on your head after you'd been hugging the cold porcelain, your knees red raw and bruised from kneeling over the bowl for what felt like hours. No strong hands being able to rub your tummy, placing one there gently to feel his baby kick. You'd imagined it, though, his doe eyes wide as saucers as he'd stifle his emotion, trying to stop the tears. “Wow,” he'd say, looking at you in amazement. “This is incredible.” You think he'd kiss your growing bump, then kiss you, before placing his head on your chest, his hand remaining on your stomach. The thought of all this lost time is enough for a sob to catch in your throat and cause hot tears to stream down your face. Wiping them away as fast as they come so as not to ruin your makeup, you try and get it together and catch a glimpse at the clock on the wall: 11am.

You run downstairs, hoping for just a few minutes of peace before the baby inevitably wakes up to eat and have a clean diaper again. You want to sit down with a book, but you can't seem to focus, the words all blending together on the page and making your head swim. Trying to shake the nerves, you begin to pace your living room, taking deep breaths every time you reach each end of the room.

You don't know how long you stay like that, basically catatonic as you go back and forth. Feeling like it could be hours, you jump when you hear a loud rap at the door. Rushing toward it, trying your best to smooth every wrinkle from your outfit, you try and compose yourself before opening the door to see your husband for the first time in almost a year. He's in his uniform, the hat slightly bent out of shape at the top. He looks extremely handsome, his pretty mouth spread in a grin at the sight of you. You run towards him, leaping into his arms and wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms wrap around your back, pulling you in as close as he possibly can.

“Darling,” he whispers in your ear. You feel his whole body relax under your hands as you hold him, your hands going up to stroke the back of his neck, your face buried in him to breathe in his delicious scent that you'd missed so terribly. “You look–wow, Jean. So so beautiful,” his eyes softening when he takes you in, just like you knew they would. He leans forward and plants a soft kiss on your lips, his hand cupping your cheek.

“Hi, honey,” you say, as you wipe your tears. “Welcome home. There's someone upstairs you should meet.” The realization dawns on him, and his mouth drops open, nervous. You take his hand and pull him inside, smiling at him all the while. He pauses, gripping your hand a little tighter.

“W-wait, Jean,” he stutters, his eyes downcast and his teeth clamped nervously to his bottom lip. He breathes out, his shoulders sagging slightly. “What if…what if he doesn't like me?”

“Oh, my darling. Don't think like that. He loves you already.” You walk back toward your husband, wrapping him in your arms. “I've shared so many stories with him already, Bing. How we met, how wonderful you always are. Where you've been all this time. The fun times you shared with his Uncle Bubbles…and the newer good times with Uncle Rosie, too,” you pause, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, your hand remaining on his cheek. “And, every time I tell him a story about his Papa, he listens so intently. His eyes are as sweet and pretty as yours, my love, and I see how focused he is on me when I talk of you. He coos whenever anyone says his Papa's name. He looks just like you, Harry.” You pause, surveying the emotion etched on his face. “Please, come and meet your son. He's been kept waiting long enough, darling.” You both giggle at one another, him leaning over and kissing you gently on the cheek.

You lead him from the hallway to the bedroom, the baby cooing, for once wide awake and not crying. You feel your husband take a deep breath, the exhale quivering as he catches sight of the tiny bundle in the crib next to your side of the bed. He walks towards him, instantly scooping him up into his arms.

“Hi, buddy,” he whispers, his lips clamped together to try and stop the tears from pouring out of him. He is, however, unsuccessful, a sob escaping from his mouth as he takes in every feature of his son. “He's so small, honey,” he whimpers, looking between the two of you. You walk over to join them, relieved that your family is now finally together. You hold your husband as he keeps looking at the baby, trying to memorize every part of him. His hand reaches out and strokes the baby's face, the little guy relaxing under his father's touch instantly and his eyes closing, the baby falling asleep without needing extra help for the first time ever.

“Wow,” you blink in amazement. “That usually takes me about an hour. You're magical, my love.” He smiles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I'm so happy to be home, Jean. So darn happy to be with you, and our son. Now, let me change and I'll make sure you get some rest. You've been doing this all alone, honey. It's my turn now.”

Soon enough, you're all in your most comfortable clothes and laying on the bed together. Harry had only put the baby down for a moment to change, before scooping him back up in his strong arms, once again cooing at him, already telling him stories of B-17s, airsickness and England. You lay on your pillow, watching your husband with his son and savoring the beautiful moment. You drift off to the sound of his voice, the comfort you've craved for months.

“Wow, buddy,” he exhales, his words shaking slightly. “We sure do have a lot to catch up on! But first, let me start with telling you about your uncle, Bubbles Payne…”

part two

masterlist

[earls-wife]

The reposts have begun! The Wife and Earl have been married for a few years in this one.

As always female reader only!

Warnings: aesthetic appreciation of body parts, memories of sex, mentions of claw marks/bites and hickeys, stripping, possible food reference, the Earl speaks French to you

Mon bijou- my jewel

Tarts

"Why are you so anxious Mon bijou? Did that head of yours start telling lies again?" The way his voice caressed me was a blessing, as was the way his gloved hand traces my back in gentle strokes.

Poised over a letter I had ruined yet another piece of paper with dripping ink from a quill he had gotten me.

Crumpling the mess I threw it to the side haphazardly to join the others. "Yes and no, it's difficult to say really." His gentle smile and sapphire eyes met me with comfort when my head rested on his stomach to peer up at him.

"I understand. We both are cruel to ourselves are we not?" His soft lips and sharp jaw move eloquently as he speaks.

"Indeed. We should learn to do better."

"And we will, in time." In a fluid motion I'm lifted from the chair and into his arms, skirts billowing about us. "As you tell me, a break will do you good, so let us spend some time together away from our minds."

I laugh cupping his cheek to kiss the prickled skin. He would need to shave soon, for appearances sake. "And what does my lord have in mind? We are creatures of habit after all, our minds are our palaces."

"A primal practice."

"Primal?" My brow lifts wondering if he was insinuating what I thought he was as he carried me to the day room. There I found tarts of different delights to welcome me.

Setting me down on the lounge he leans over me, hair falling in his face as he chases each breath I take. "Did you have something else in mind?" He purred.

"Not at all." I smirk, brushing our noses along each other while a hand strokes his white cotton sleeve. His arms weren't bulky like most men I saw work the kitchens or garden where we stayed. His arms were lean and precise, chiseled from marble with great care by a master carver. Those cufflinks at his wrists were an enemy to my wandering fingers. He knew this of course, delighted in the games we played despite the many years we had known one another.

"Pity. I was so excited to eat these off you." He challenges my bluff, pulling away to serve himself a tart of a deep red. The red I wore for him across my lips.

Those lips pursed as I had been had by him. Again. Most of the time he won our games since he was so smart. Intelligent really, more so than any man I'd known.

Watching his posture relax an idea came to mind and I acted.

"Indeed what a pity. After all, I do believe it's your turn to be my plate." Bracing myself on my arms I smiled as he stilled and looked over. Setting his current pastry down he spoke.

"Is it now?"

"Yes."

The word came out boldly and his eyes widened. For a second I wondered if I had gone to far, his past always a gorge between us.

To my surprise I watched him wipe his hands on a wet towel and start to loosen his clothes. Lucky, lucky me.

His fingers sliding against a tiny button forcing it back through the shapely fabric of his shirt drawing my eye. I could get lost in those fingers. I could recall their taste on my tongue when he stuck them between my lips. His praise as I cried out in ecstasy when he'd been pounding into my core. Those fingers prying music from me that even I hadn't heard before. But he was ever expectant to pull me down into the throws of passion with him everytime we made love.

That porcelain skin, I knew the texture of it. Reveled in it when it caressed my own. Never rough, no facet of his body ever was despite the sharp lines his structure created. That stark white shirt fell away to reveal the supple muscles beneath. Tongue longing to lick the divets of each shadow cast, the pink healthy glow of his skin reminded me of a blossom in spring. Untouched and ready to be devoured.

The bite marks across his neck and collarbone make me smirk. Still bold and bright as the claw lines down his spine from the night before. Mine.

"Distracted already?" He teased undoing the buttons on his pants knowing where my eyes lingered.

I lick my lips. "Not at all. Just eager to eat."

[angeldustlover1]

A Dive Into Romance A HuskerDust Underwater Adventure

Angel: "Clothes good, hair looks good, make up good." "Everything has to be perfect tonight." "I can't afford to mess this up.", he muttered to himself as he stood in front of his ornate vanity, staring at his reflection with an uncharacteristic look of uncertainty.

The soft glow of the lights above highlighted the nervous energy that crackled in the air around him. His usually confident smirk was replaced by a small, anxious frown as he contemplated his outfit for the evening. He had spent the last hour agonizing over what to wear, tossing aside one ensemble after another. Should he go for something flashy and bold, something that screamed "Angel Dust"? Or should he try something a little more understated, to show Husk that he could be more than just the show-stopping diva?

After much deliberation, he finally settled on a sleek, fitted blazer in a deep navy blue, reminiscent of the ocean at dusk. The blazer has a subtle sheen, catching the light just enough to give it a sophisticated edge without being overly flashy. Underneath, he sports a crisp white shirt with a delicate, seafoam green tie that adds a pop of color, echoing the hues of the ocean and marine life.

His pants are a matching navy blue, tailored to perfection, and he pairs them with polished black dress shoes. A pair of silver cufflinks, shaped like tiny starfish, glint on his wrists, adding a touch of charm and whimsy to his look.

To complete the ensemble, Angel dons a light, airy scarf in a soft, iridescent teal, reminiscent of sea foam. It drapes elegantly around his neck, adding a touch of casual sophistication. His hair is styled neatly, and he opts for a subtle touch of shimmer on his cheeks. His heart pounded in his chest. It felt almost ridiculous to be this nervous—he'd been on countless dates, charmed more people than he could count, and yet, somehow this was different. The thought of actually going on real date with Husk all people was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.

Angel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he sat back at his vanity to do his makeup. His hands shook slightly as he applied a light layer of foundation, followed by a subtle blush that highlighted his high cheekbones. He chose a soft pink lipstick, a departure from his usual bold reds, hoping it would convey the right mix of sweet and sincere.

Angel: "Get it together, Angel.", he muttered to himself, his voice a mix of self-reassurance and desperation.

But every time he thought about Husk, about how he wanted this date to go perfectly, a wave of nervous excitement washed over him. Angel Dust took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

Angel:  "I've flirted with Husk and talked with him plenty of times.", he muttered to himself, his voice trembling slightly. "It's not like he's a complete stranger." " Just because we're going on our very first date doesn't mean I have to panic, right?" He forced a reassuring smile, attempting to steady his nerves.

He reached for his favorite bottle of perfume, a delicate floral scent that wasn't too overwhelming. A few spritzes on his wrists and neck, and he was almost ready—at least physically. His mind, however, was still a whirlwind of thoughts. Angel Dust groaned, pacing back and forth.

Angel: "Oh, who am I kidding? It's Husk!", he exclaimed, his anxiety escalating. "Of course, I should panic." "What if the date doesn't go well?" "What if he gets cold feet and bails? What if he thinks I'm trying too hard? What if—"

His worried monologue was abruptly interrupted by a gentle nudge from his beloved pet pig, Fat Nuggets. The small demon piglet let out a soft squeal, as if to soothe his frantic owner. Angel looked down at the reassuring sight of his pet, and a reluctant smile began to form.

Angel: "You're right, Nuggies.", Angel said, chuckling nervously. "Daddy's just being silly. It's just a little bit of first date jitters." He glanced down at Fat Nuggets, his voice softening. "It's just that I really like Husk a lot, and I want him to really like me too." "It would be nice to be with someone who doesn't just want me for my money, fame, or looks."

He gestured to himself with his bottom set of hands, a mix of self-deprecation and humor in his tone.

Angel: "I mean, look at me. I'm the definition of a disaster—albeit a sexy disaster." "Not too many people can handle my... loud personality, you know?" He sighed, rubbing his top set of hands together. "I just don't want to scare Husk away, that's all."

Fat Nuggets responded with a comforting grunt, giving Angel's hand a gentle lick in an attempt to soothe him once more.

Angel: "I know, I know.", Angel murmured, scratching the piglet behind the ears. "This is Husk. He's known me for a while now." "He's seen me at my best and my worst.", Angel sighed, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But that's kind of the problem." "I want Husk to see me as more than just a friend, more than just the flirtatious, larger-than-life character I often portray."

He carefully adjusted the bow on his head, catching sight of his own reflection again. His cheeks were flushed, not just from the makeup but from the anticipation. He looked at himself for a long moment, then took another deep breath.

Angel: "You got this, sugar.", he whispered, this time with a bit more confidence. "He already likes you, just... be yourself."

But even as he said it, Angel couldn't quite shake the nerves. He was excited, yes, but also terrified. This wasn't just any date; it was with someone he genuinely cared about, someone whose opinion really mattered to him. Angel looked down at Fat Nuggets with a bright smile.

Angel: "Welp, time to go meet up with Husk.", he said, giving the little pig a playful wink. "Wish Daddy luck, Fat Nuggets."

Fat Nuggets oinked in response, wagging his curly tail excitedly. The little pig's enthusiasm was contagious, and Angel felt a rush of confidence as he prepared to leave. With one last affectionate pat for Fat Nuggets, he took one last glance in the mirror. Angel grabbed his purse, checked his reflection one final time, and headed out the door, his heart racing with every step closer to Husk.

Meanwhile, Husk sat in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel, his fingers drumming nervously on his knee. Despite his usual air of nonchalance, there was a flicker of anxiety in his eyes. He had always been good at hiding his feelings behind a gruff exterior, but tonight was different. This was his first date with Angel Dust, and he couldn't help but feel a bit on edge.

He glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to shake off the butterflies in his stomach.

Husk: "Get a grip, Husk. He'll be here.", he muttered to himself, adjusting the collar of his outfit.

Husk had opted for a smart-casual look that balanced comfort with style. He wore a crisp, light gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with a navy blue blazer that added a touch of sophistication. The blazer had a subtle, understated pattern, just enough to catch the eye without being too flashy. His dark jeans were well-fitted but not overly formal, giving him the freedom to move comfortably. Husk completed the look with a pair of black loafers, polished to a shine.

He had chosen a sleek, black belt with a silver buckle and a slim, silver watch on his wrist, both of which added a touch of elegance without being over the top. Husk had even made the effort to style his hair, a rare but appreciated touch. As he waited, he took a deep breath, trying to project calm and confidence.

Despite his attempts to stay composed, his mind kept wandering back to Angel Dust. He couldn't help but wonder if he was making the right impression. Husk was used to dealing with rough and tumble situations, not the delicate balance of a first date. But he genuinely wanted this to go well—he wanted Angel to see him as someone who was worth more than just a casual fling.

As he waited, Husk's nerves seemed to ebb and flow, but he held on to the hope that this evening would be the start of something special.

Angel Dust descended the grand staircase of the Hazbin Hotel, his heart still racing with nervous energy. As he reached the bottom step, his breath caught in his throat. There, waiting for him in the lobby, was Husk—and he looked absolutely stunning. The sight of Husk's polished outfit and the way he carried himself made Angel blush deeply, unable to stop himself from admiring the older demon.

For a moment, Angel just stood there, taking in Husk's appearance, before finally gathering the courage to speak.

Angel: "Hopefully I didn't keep you waiting too long, Husky.", he said, his voice softer than usual, a hint of shyness seeping through his normally confident tone.

The moment Husk heard Angel's voice, he immediately stood up, his usual composed demeanor faltering slightly. He turned toward the staircase, expecting to see Angel with his typical playful grin, but instead, his breath caught in his throat. Angel looked absolutely stunning, more beautiful than Husk had ever seen him. For a moment, Husk couldn't tear his eyes away, completely awestruck by the sight before him.

Husk: "No, you're fine. I was kind of expecting you to..." Husk's voice trailed off as his gaze met Angel's.

He was suddenly at a loss for words, his usual confidence replaced by a wave of admiration and nerves.

Husk: "W-Wow.", he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

Angel's blush deepened, and he fidgeted nervously.

Angel:  "W-What?! Is the outfit too much? I c-could change if—"

Before Angel could finish his sentence, Husk quickly raised his hands, waving them frantically.

Husk: "No, no, no! It's not the outfit at all!", he exclaimed, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "You just... you look really... p-pretty.", he stammered, his cheeks flushing as he awkwardly looked away, unable to maintain eye contact.

Angel's heart skipped a beat at Husk's words, his own nerves momentarily forgotten.

Angel: "R-Really? Y-You think so?", he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of hope and disbelief.

Husk nodded, still unable to meet Angel's gaze directly.

Husk: "Yeah... I do.", he admitted softly, his voice sincere. He finally glanced back at Angel, and for a moment, their eyes locked, a quiet understanding passing between them.

Angel: "W-Well t-thank you and you look amazing.", Angel added, his voice almost a whisper, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink, but he didn't care. For once, he wasn't playing a part or putting on a show—he was just Angel, hoping beyond hope that this night would turn out as perfectly as he imagined.

For once, there were no teasing remarks or flirty banter—just a shared moment of vulnerability and admiration. Angel felt his anxiety ease a little, and he couldn't help but smile, genuinely touched by Husk's honesty. Husk cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

Husk: "You ready to head out?", he asked, offering his hand to Angel, the gesture both old-fashioned and endearing.

Angel nodded, a shy smile playing on his lips as he took Husk's hand.

Angel: "Yeah, let's go.", he replied, feeling a warmth spread through him as they walked out of the hotel together, both of them more hopeful about the night ahead.

As they walked through the winding streets of Hell, Angel Dust held Husk's hand, the warmth between them a comforting contrast to the cool night air. Despite his earlier nerves, Angel was starting to relax, the simple act of holding Husk's hand grounding him. But curiosity was quickly taking over as they moved further away from the hotel, the destination still a mystery to him. Angel glanced at Husk, unable to keep the question from bubbling up.

Angel: "So... where are we going, Husk?", he asked, his voice tinged with playful curiosity. "You didn't exactly tell me—you just said it was sea-themed."

Husk smirked, his grip on Angel's hand tightening slightly in a reassuring gesture.

Husk: "Patience, Legs.", he replied, using the affectionate nickname with a teasing tone. "You'll see soon enough. I want it to be a surprise."

Angel: "Hmph, fine. Guess I can wait.", Angel pouted slightly, but the excitement in his eyes was unmistakable.

He loved surprises, but he loved trying to figure them out even more. Still, he knew better than to press Husk too hard. Instead, he simply smiled and allowed himself to be led, the anticipation growing with every step they took. As they continued walking, the chaotic streets of Hell seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of them and the promise of whatever Husk had planned. Angel couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement—whatever the night had in store, he was ready for it, especially if it meant spending more time with Husk.

Husk: "Alright, Legs, we're almost there.", Husk said with a smirk, pulling a small hanky from his pocket. "Cover your eyes—I'll lead you the rest of the way."

Before Angel could protest, Husk tied the hanky over his eyes.

Angel: "H-Hey! Husky, wait! I can't see!", Angel exclaimed, a mix of excitement and nervousness in his voice.

Husk: "Don't worry, I've got you.", Husk reassured him, his tone gentle but firm.

He took Angel's hand in his, guiding him carefully down the path. "And no peeking.", he added with a smirk, glancing over at Angel to make sure he was following the rules. Angel stumbled slightly, but Husk was quick to steady him, his grip both strong and reassuring. The playful banter between them continued as Husk led him along, making sure Angel didn't bump into anything. Angel's heart raced, both from the thrill of the unknown and the sensation of Husk's hand holding his so securely.

Angel: "You better not be leading me into a trap.", Angel teased, trying to mask his nervous excitement.

Husk chuckled, the sound low and warm.

Husk: "Trust me, Legs, you're gonna love this."

With each step, the suspense grew, and Angel's mind buzzed with possibilities. Husk's careful guidance and the way he seemed to be genuinely enjoying the surprise made Angel's anticipation skyrocket. He could feel the atmosphere around them changing, the air growing cooler and more still, as if they were nearing something special.

Finally, Husk slowed his pace, coming to a stop.

Husk: "Alright, we're here.", he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. He gently positioned Angel so he was facing the right direction. "You can take off the handkerchief now."

Angel hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in anticipation. Then, with a deep breath, he slowly untied the handkerchief, eager to see what Husk had planned for their special night.

As the fabric fell away and his vision cleared, Angel's eyes widened in pure excitement. The sight before him took his breath away. He stood at the entrance of a grand, otherworldly aquarium, its towering glass walls glowing with the ethereal blue light of the water within. Exotic, otherworldly sea creatures floated gracefully on the other side of the glass, their colors vibrant and mesmerizing. Angel placed his top set of hands on his cheeks, his eyes sparkling with joy.

Angel: "No way! The aquarium? Husky, this is amazing!", he exclaimed, his voice filled with childlike wonder. "I've always wanted to come here!" He turned to Husk, his excitement radiating off him in waves. "This is perfect, Husky. Thank you!"

Husk gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away from Angel.

Husk: "Yeah, I remember you mentioning how much you love aquariums and that you had a favorite type of fish.", he said, his voice tinged with a touch of embarrassment. His cheeks turned a light pink as he shifted his gaze, feeling a bit bashful about the effort he'd put into the surprise. "I just thought it would be a nice way to spend the evening."

As they walked into the aquarium, the world around them seemed to transform. The entrance led them into a softly lit hallway that gradually opened up into an expansive underwater tunnel. The tunnel was made entirely of glass, curving gracefully overhead and on either side, giving them the sensation of being completely submerged beneath the ocean.

A serene, blue light filtered through the water, casting gentle ripples of light on their faces. Schools of colorful fish swam leisurely around them, their vibrant scales glinting like gems in the dim light. Angel gasped softly, his eyes wide with wonder as he took in the breathtaking sight.

Angel: "Woooow! This is so pretty!", he exclaimed, his voice filled with childlike wonder. He turned to Husk, barely able to contain his excitement. "Are you seeing this?!"

Husk couldn't help but chuckle at Angel's enthusiasm, finding it incredibly endearing.

Husk: "Of course I am, you idiot!", he teased lightly, his tone affectionate. "I'm right next to you."

The way Angel's face lit up made Husk's heart swell, and he found himself smiling more than he had in a long time. Angel's genuine excitement was contagious, and Husk was glad he'd been able to bring him here, to share in this special moment together.

The tunnel was filled with the soft sound of water flowing and the occasional swish of a fish's tail, creating a peaceful and almost magical atmosphere. The dim lighting added to the intimacy of the moment, making everything feel dreamlike. Angel's eyes lit up as he spotted a familiar fish swimming gracefully by.

Angel: "Hey look, Husky, it's an angelfish!", he exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the delicate creature gliding through the water.

Husk squinted, trying to follow Angel's finger.

Husk: "A what?", he asked, his tone laced with genuine curiosity as he scanned the tunnel aquarium for the fish Angel was pointing at.

Angel: "Angelfish, ya dummy.", Angel chuckled, giving Husk a playful nudge. "It's a type of fish."

Husk: "Oh.", Husk mumbled, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Excuse me for not being a fish specialist." "How was I supposed to know that? Fish all look the same to me."

Angel rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress his smile.

Angel: "Nope, not even close." "Did you know that if you turn an angelfish sideways, its silhouette closely resembles the head, wings, and dress of an angel?" "Their unique shape helps them swim and twirl underwater with ease."

Husk raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the little factoid.

Husk: "Really?", he asked, tilting his head sideways to get a better look at the fish.

Angel's smile turned into a bemused expression as he watched Husk trying to match the silhouette with the fish's profile.

Angel: "Uh... Husk, whatcha doing?", he asked, barely holding back a laugh.

Husk: "I wanna see if what you said is true.", Husk replied earnestly, still scrutinizing the angelfish with his head tilted.

Angel couldn't help but laugh, a warm, genuine sound that filled the tunnel.

Angel: "You're such a dork, Husky," he teased, but his voice was soft, full of affection.

Husk shrugged, finally straightening up with a small grin.

Husk: "Maybe, but at least I'm learning something new." He glanced over at Angel, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a rare, genuine smile. "You know, if you're an expert on fish, I guess that makes you even more of an angel."

Angel blinked, momentarily taken aback.

Angel: "I-I mean, I wouldn't say that! I just happened to read a magazine or two and—wait, hold up! Did... Did you just attempt to flirt just now?!"

Husk's lips curled into a mischievous smirk as he shrugged, playing coy.

Husk: "I don't know, Legs, did I?", he replied, his tone teasing but with a hint of genuine affection.

Angel's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing to process what had just happened. Husk, of all people, flirting with him? He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks again, and he couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, his usual confidence slipping just a little in the face of Husk's unexpected charm. Husk raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he leaned in slightly.

Husk: "What's wrong, Angel?", he teased, his voice low and playful. "Don't tell me the Angel Dust can't handle a little flirting?"

Angel quickly spun away from Husk, his face still flushed. He crossed his arms defensively, trying to hide the light blush that stubbornly remained on his cheeks.

Angel: "S-Shut up! Y-you just caught me off guard, that's all!", he stammered, his usual bravado slipping in the face of Husk's teasing.

Husk chuckled, clearly enjoying the rare moment of seeing Angel flustered.

Husk: "Sure, Legs. Whatever you say.", he replied, his tone still dripping with playful sarcasm. Despite Angel's protests, the moment felt strangely sweet, the easy banter between them deepening the connection.

As they continued their stroll through the underwater tunnel, they eventually reached an area designated for feeding the fish. A sign indicated that visitors could purchase fish food and enjoy the experience of interacting with the sea creatures up close. Angel's eyes lit up with excitement as he eagerly volunteered to try it.

Angel: "Look, Husky, let's feed the fish!", Angel exclaimed, his enthusiasm evident as he approached the small counter where bags of fish food were available.

Husk followed, a bemused smile on his face.

Husk: "Sure, go ahead.", he said, watching with mild amusement as Angel received a small cup of fish food from the attendant.

With a beaming smile, Angel eagerly sprinkled some of the food into the water, watching as the fish swarmed toward it. His excitement grew as he felt the tiny fish nibbling at the food—and, much to his surprise, nibbling at his fingers as well. The sensation made him jump slightly, causing him to instinctively grab Husk's hand for comfort. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he realized what he'd done.

Husk chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. He looked down at Angel, whose blush was now a bright shade of pink. Gently, Husk squeezed Angel's hand, his touch both comforting and tender.

Husk: "Easy there, Legs.", he said, his voice a soothing murmur. "It's just the fish. They're harmless."

Angel's heart raced at the closeness, and he glanced up at Husk, the warmth of his hand adding to the fluttery feeling in his chest.

Angel: "I-I know."Angel stammered, trying to steady his breath. "It's just... surprised me."

Husk's smile softened, and he kept his hand firmly in Angel's, the gesture filled with a quiet, comforting affection.

Husk:  "It's alright.", he reassured, his voice low and gentle. "I'm here."

Angel nodded, feeling a swell of happiness as he looked back at the fish and the shimmering, peaceful surroundings. The intimate moment shared with Husk made the experience even more special.

As they moved to the next room, they entered a section where playful sea otters frolicked and tumbled in the water. The otters floated on their backs, using their paws to play with small toys and each other. Their antics were irresistibly charming, and Angel's eyes widened with delight.

Husk glanced over at Angel, a grin tugging at his lips.

Husk: "Ready for the next one?", he asked, motioning to the section with the otters.

Angel: Angel nodded enthusiastically. "Mhm, let's go."

As they approached the otter enclosure, Angel watched the sea creatures with rapt attention. Inspired by their playful behavior, he couldn't resist trying to mimic their antics. He floated on his back, using his hands to "play" with imaginary toys, and rolled around in an exaggerated manner, trying to mirror the otters' playful moves.

Husk couldn't contain his laughter, the sound warm and genuine. He watched Angel's earnest attempts with amusement, clearly entertained by his partner's antics.

Husk: "What the hell are you doing, Legs?", Husk chuckled, finding Angel's effort both endearing and hilarious.

Angel, hearing Husk's laughter, felt a surge of satisfaction. He continued his playful mimicry, thoroughly enjoying the moment. Angel grinned widely, striking a playful pose as he squeaked, grumbled, and barked like an otter.

Angel: "Look, Husky, I'm an otter!", he said, fully embracing the playful spirit of the moment.

Husk glanced over at Angel, his fond smile widening.

Husk: "You do make a cute little otter.", he muttered softly, genuinely touched by Angel's enthusiasm and charm.

Angel's ears perked up at the compliment, and he tilted his head, looking at Husk with curiosity.

Angel: "Hm? Did you say something?"

Husk blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Husk: "Huh?! Oh, I said the otters are cute.", he said quickly, his cheeks flushing as he tried to cover up his slip.

Angel's eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and warmth.

Angel: "Oh, okay.", he replied with a playful smirk. "Thanks, Husky."

Husk blushed a light pink, his ears lowering slightly as he turned away, trying to hide the warmth spreading across his face. But despite his efforts, a small murmur escaped his lips.

Husk: "Y-you're welcome."

The two of them stood there for a moment, surrounded by the playful sea otters and the soft, glowing lights of the aquarium.

As they moved on to the next part of the aquarium, a sudden blast of cold air hit them, making Angel shiver slightly.

Angel: "Brrr, it's freezing in here.", he said, rubbing his arms for warmth.

Husk, noticing Angel's discomfort, took off his jacket and draped it over Angel's shoulders.

Husk:"Better?", he asked, his voice gruff but caring.

Angel smiled warmly at Husk's gesture. "Thanks, Husky.", he said, pulling the jacket tighter around himself. "You're such a real gentleman.", he winked.

As they continued walking, they entered a section dedicated to penguins. The area was designed to mimic the chilly environment of the Antarctic, complete with ice and snow. Penguins of all sizes waddled around, some diving into the water while others huddled together for warmth.

Angel's eyes sparkled with excitement as he noticed a sign announcing a special event: visitors were allowed to feed and hold baby penguins today.

Angel: "Oh my god, Husk! Look!", Angel exclaimed, practically bouncing in place. "We get to feed and hold the baby penguins!" "This is going to be so adorable!"

Husk rolled his eyes and shook his head, not too keen on the idea. He wasn't exactly fond of holding animals or small things, but couldn't help but say yes, noticing Angel's enthusiasm. Maybe if he was lucky, he wouldn't have to hold on himself.

Husk: "Alright, Legs, let's go see those baby penguins.", he said, following Angel as he eagerly made his way to the event area.

When they arrived, a staff member handed Angel a small, fluffy baby penguin, and Angel's eyes widened with pure joy.

Angel: "Aww, look at you!" "Are you just the cutest little thing?!", Angel cooed, gently cradling the tiny penguin in his arms. The little bird chirped softly, snuggling into Angel's embrace.

Angel beamed as he looked up at Husk.

Husk let out a groan, feeling a bit cornered by Angel's insistence. The last thing he wanted was to handle something so delicate, but Angel's joy was too contagious, and the thought of disappointing him gnawed at Husk's conscience.

Husk: "I-I don't know, Angel.", Husk muttered, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Those things are pretty delicate." "I don't wanna hurt it. You know I ain't the soft and gentle type." He looked at the tiny penguin chick in Angel's arms with a wary expression.

Angel tilted his head, his expression softening as he smiled warmly at Husk.

Angel: "You're gentle with me, and you're gentle with Fat Nuggets too.", he pointed out. "He's always so calm and happy." "Don't think I didn't notice you holding him while he was asleep."

Husk's ears drooped slightly as he averted his gaze, clearly flustered by Angel's words.

Husk: "I-I don't know what you're talking about!", he stammered. "A-Anyway, with you, it's different!"

Angel's curiosity was piqued, and he couldn't resist teasing him a little.

Angel: "Oh? This ought to be good. Please do tell," he said, still cradling the baby penguin and giving Husk a playful smirk.

Husk hesitated, his words catching in his throat as he tried to figure out how to express what he was feeling.

Husk: "It's because..." he began, trailing off as his nerves got the better of him.

Angel: "Because...?", Angel prompted gently, his teasing tone replaced by genuine curiosity.

Husk: "It's because I care about you!", Husk finally blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. "I don't want you to think that... I'm like everyone else."

Angel was taken aback, not expecting such an earnest admission from Husk. The surprise softened into something tender as he gazed down at him.

Angel: "Husk..."

Husk: Husk sighed, as he continued, "Look, I know you're used to others only wanting fame, money, or... other activities from you." "But I want you to know I don't want any of those things from you." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Even though you're egotistical, immature, and stupid, you've grown on me."

Angel: "Hey!", Angel pouted, though there was no real heat behind the protest.

Husk gave a small, rueful smile.

Husk: "Despite all that, you've grown on me." "That's why I feel like I have to be careful." " So you know I'm serious and not just some random fling."

Angel was deeply moved by Husk's honesty. It was rare for someone to see beyond the persona he put on, and even rarer for them to care about him despite his flaws. Without thinking, Angel wrapped his bottom right arm around Husk, pulling him close while still holding the baby penguin in his top arms.

Angel: "Husk, you definitely mean more to me than just a booty call.", Angel said softly, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. "I know I flirt and tease a lot for fun and jokes, but... sometimes they weren't always jokes or banter."

Husk's eyes widened in surprise.

Husk: "Huh?!", he exclaimed, completely caught off guard by the revelation.

Angel let out a small, amused chuckle.

Angel: "Oh, for fuck's sake. You seriously didn't know?", he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Husk: "No! Why would I? I thought you just did it to annoy me and piss me off," Husk admitted, feeling a bit foolish.

Angel: "Well, that's part of the reason, yeah.", Angel confessed, grinning mischievously.

Husk: "Of course it is.", Husk sighed, his ears lowering as he let out an exasperated hiss.

Angel: "But can you blame me?" Angel teased. "You're pretty adorable when you get all grumpy and angry at me."

Husk shot him a look of mock irritation.

Husk: "I wanna hit you right now."

Angel: "Kinky!" Angel replied with a sly wink and a seductive waggle of his eyebrows. "But seriously, the main reason I did it was because I liked you." "I just... never thought you'd like me back, you know?" "So I played it off as a joke. I mean, I'm a lot of work and I can be a real bitch sometimes."

Husk couldn't help but laugh at Angel's self-deprecation.

Husk: "Yeah, I know."

Angel: "Oh, fuck you! That's not what you're supposed to say to your date, Husk!", Angel pouted, turning away in mock offense. "You're supposed to say that's not true or some other cheesy shit!"

Husk chuckled softly before reaching up to gently grab Angel's chin, turning his face back towards him.

Husk: "You didn't let me finish, Legs.", he murmured, his voice dropping to a deep, sultry tone. "I was gonna say that I can't judge because I'm no better." "That's why we're losers together, ain't we?"

Angel's face immediately flushed a deep red, his usual bravado crumbling under the weight of Husk's words. He quickly pulled away, turning his back to Husk as he carefully placed the baby penguin back down. His top hands flew to his cheeks, trying to cool the sudden rush of heat.

Angel: "Shut up!", Angel exclaimed, his voice a mix of embarrassment and flustered delight.

Husk tilted his head, confused by Angel's response.

Husk: "What? Was that not right?"

Angel: "Enough already!", Angel huffed, clearly struggling to regain his composure.

Husk, still confused, continued questioning hoping for an answer.

Husk:"Not good enough? I thought you would've liked it."

Angel: "You idiot! Obviously, I'm flustered! You make it so goddamn easy!", Angel shot back, his voice muffled by his hands as he tried to hide his embarrassment.

Husk: "I know I'm bad at this. But I think I know how to make it up to you."

Angel didn't respond immediately; instead, he peeked over his shoulder, curious to see what Husk was up to.

Husk had picked up a baby penguin, gently cradling the tiny creature in his arms.

Husk:  "For some reason, you want me to hold this thing." "And even though I'm not exactly thrilled about it, I'll do it. Just for you.", he said, his usual gruff tone softened.

Angel watched, his heart melting at the sight. Seeing Husk—a tough, no-nonsense guy—tenderly holding the little penguin made Angel's chest swell with affection.

Angel: "You look so cute, Husky.", Angel said, his voice soft and genuine, completely devoid of his usual teasing.

Husk blushed slightly, looking down at the penguin in his arms. "It's... kinda nice. I guess.", he admitted, his rough exterior momentarily giving way to something much gentler.

Unable to resist capturing the moment, Angel quickly pulled out his phone.

Angel: "I have to get a picture of this.", he said with a grin.

He snapped a few photos of Husk holding the baby penguin, loving how the contrast between Husk's tough demeanor and the tiny, fluffy creature made for such an adorable image. Angel looked at the pictures, smiling to himself.

Angel: "These are perfect.", he murmured. "I'm keeping these as a little memory."

Husk glanced over at Angel, noticing the fond expression on his face.

Husk: "You're really into this cutesy shit, huh?", he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Angel nodded, his eyes still on the pictures.

Angel: "Yeah... I am. It's moments like this that make me really happy.", he said, looking up at Husk with a warm, genuine smile. "And seeing you like this... it's even better."

Husk felt a warmth spread through his chest at Angel's words, and he couldn't help but return the smile. They both knew that this was a moment to cherish—a sweet, simple memory that perfectly captured.

After a while, Husk began to shiver slightly, rubbing his arms.

Husk: "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starting to freeze in here. Ready to go?", he asked.

Angel nodded in agreement, rubbing his own arms to generate some warmth.

Angel: "Yeah, don't get me wrong, these little guys are adorable, but I'm starting to lose feeling in my hands.", he said, chuckling as he tried to warm up. "Besides, they're no Fat Nuggets."

Husk let out a laugh.

Husk: "Let's hurry and get out of here before we become part of the exhibit.", he joked, shaking his head.

Angel grinned. "Yeah, I'm too beautiful to be a penguin treat.", he replied with a playful chuckle.

As they made their way out of the penguin exhibit, Husk glanced around and noticed that most of the other exhibits had already closed for the night.

Husk: "Looks like that's all the exhibits that are open."

Angel: "Aww, but I was having so much fun.", Angel pouted slightly but quickly perked up as they walked into the gift shop at the end of their visit.

His eyes lit up when he spotted a stuffed animal—a cute, soft sea creature sitting on one of the shelves.

Angel: "Oh my god, Husky, look at this! It's so cute!", Angel exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement.

Husk watched Angel with a fond smile.

Husk: "You really are just a big softie, aren't you?", he teased, but there was no malice in his tone—just warmth.

Angel blushed slightly, still holding the stuffed animal close.

Angel: "Shut up! No, I'm not!",  he protested shyly, though the smile on his face made it clear he wasn't entirely serious. "I just like cute things, that's all."

Husk chuckled, shaking his head.

Husk: "Yeah, sure.", he said with a smirk, reaching for his wallet. "Come on, I'll buy it for you."

Angel's eyes widened, and his blush deepened.

Angel: "Y-You don't have to do that, Husky.", he stammered, but Husk was already handing the cashier the money.

Husk: "It's no big deal. I'm the one taking you on a date.", Husk replied casually, though the small smile tugging at his lips showed how much he enjoyed spoiling Angel a little.

When the transaction was done, Husk handed the stuffed animal to Angel, who hugged it close to his chest, his blush still prominent.

Angel: "Thank you, Husky.", Angel said softly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.

Husk couldn't help but chuckle again.

Husk: "You're welcome, you big softie.", he teased lightly.

Angel pouted, but couldn't help smiling as they walked out of the gift shop. Despite Husk's teasing, he couldn't deny how happy he was to have a little reminder of their special night together.

As the date drew to a close, Husk walked Angel back to his room in the Hazbin Hotel. The night air was cool, and Angel clung tightly to the stuffed sea creature, his cheeks still flushed from their earlier conversation.

When they reached the door to Angel's room, a nervous silence fell between them. Angel fidgeted, unsure of how to end the evening, his heart racing in anticipation.

As the date drew to a close, Husk walked Angel back to his room in the Hazbin Hotel. The night had been full of laughter and moments of tenderness, and Angel clung to the stuffed sea creature, a soft smile on his face. Husk's hand brushed lightly against Angel's as they walked, the warmth of their shared time together lingering between them.

When they reached the door to Angel's room, they paused. Angel turned to Husk, his eyes shining with happiness.

Angel: "I had a wonderful night.", he said softly, his voice tinged with genuine affection.

Husk, feeling a mixture of shyness and sincerity, nodded.

Husk: "I'm glad to hear that." "I hope we can do this again sometime.", he said, his own voice softening as he looked at Angel.

Angel's cheeks flushed a gentle pink.

Angel: "I'd like that.", he replied, a shy but hopeful smile spreading across his face.

They both stood there in the quiet of the hallway, their eyes meeting as a comfortable silence settled around them. The moment was tender, filled with unspoken feelings and a shared understanding. The connection they had built over the course of the evening hung in the air, palpable and intimate.

After a few moments, Husk took a deep breath, moving a step closer.

Husk: "Goodnight, Angel.", he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Angel: Angel, his heart racing, replied softly, "Goodnight, Husk."

Without another word, Husk leaned in, closing the distance between them. His lips brushed gently against Angel's, a tender and sweet kiss that spoke volumes more than words ever could. It was a kiss that promised more moments like this, filled with affection and the potential for something deeper.

Angel's eyes fluttered closed, savoring the warmth of the kiss. When they finally parted, both of them were blushing deeply, the soft glow of the hallway lights accentuating their flushed cheeks.

With a final smile and a lingering look, Husk watched as Angel opened his door and stepped inside. As the door closed, Husk turned and walked away, his heart full and a contented smile on his lips. Angel stood at his door, still holding the stuffed animal close, a dreamy smile on his face as he replayed the kiss in his mind. The night had ended, but the feelings it stirred would stay with them, promising more beautiful moments to come.

Once Angel was in his room and quietly shut the door behind him, he slid down until his bottom hit the floor. His face was still flushed from the evening's events as he let out a deep, contented sigh.

Angel: "Best... most romantic date... ever!", he squealed to himself, unable to contain his excitement. A broad smile spread across his face as he looked at the plush Husk had bought for him. He hugged the soft toy tightly, the warmth and joy of the evening still radiating through him.

Angel's eyes sparkled as he glanced at the stuffed sea creature, feeling a giddy thrill at the thought of Husk's affection. Holding the plush close, he leaned back against the door and closed his eyes, replaying the tender moments of the night in his mind. The memory of Husk's gentle kiss and their heartfelt exchange made his heart swell with happiness.

He sighed again, a soft, dreamy smile on his lips as he snuggled the plush tighter.

Angel:  "Tonight was perfect.", he whispered to himself, knowing that this was a night he'd treasure forever.

The End

[thepastisalreadywritten]

This Saturday, at St James's Palace in London, the man most of us have known all our lives as Prince Charles will be officially proclaimed King following the death of his mother, Queen Elizabeth II.

The fact he will be the oldest man in history to accede to the throne has been much remarked upon; the fact he will also be the most stylish, less so.

Those of us who care about such things can play an easy game. What is your favourite King Charles III style moment?

Maybe it’s the time he wore a western suit (in a jazzy shade of millennial pink) with a check shirt, a bolo tie and a quartz-hued ten-gallon hat on an official tour of Canada in the late 1970s.

Or perhaps it’s the time he wore a short-sleeved baby-blue safari shirt with a pair of chinos and some riding boots to the polo.

Our personal favourite? The time he brandished his considerable wealth with no shortage of rakishness by pairing a yolk-yellow Hermès sweater (complete with cartoonish “Happy Hermès” logo) with a chambray shirt and a pair of skintight white jeans to, you guessed it, a polo match at the Guards Polo Club in Windsor.

What people tend to forget about Charles is that he was a bit of a style icon back in the day.

But it's something that will be brought back to our collective consciousness as the outpouring of grief and tributes from around the world slowly give way to looking at the future of the monarchy, which Charles now leads after the longest wait in royal history.

Take the forest-green and cherry-red shirt Charles wore to play in a charity polo match in the late Seventies.

Imbued with a prepped-up, Eton-boy-gone-bad vibe (not least because Charles chose to wear it quite so close-cut), it wouldn’t be difficult to imagine Frank Ocean – or even the fash pack’s favourite skater Blondey McCoy – wearing the same thing today and looking every bit the wavy young disruptor doing it.

Then there’s that full-on, Yves Saint Laurent-inspired taupe safari suit he wore on a state visit to Australia in 1985.

Both of those looks exemplify Charles’s acute understanding of the soft power demonstrated by an excellent cut.

The King so often opted – and still opts – for muted shades over showier ones and tends to pick garments that focus on function over form.

This attention to detail is something those studying the King have often remarked on.

The man who played him in the The Crown, Josh O'Connor, said:

“Whenever he gets out of a car, he checks his cufflink, checks his pocket and then waves. [It’s] the same movement every time.”

It’s this sense of consistency that defines Charles' unique personal flair.

“In every photo you see, he has great style. The shirt, tie and pocket square combinations are put together so well, with a great eye for detail,” says Steven Quin, retail director at Turnbull & Asser.

“He’s not afraid of colour and he clearly wears what he feels comfortable in and does not follow trends. HRH has always worn a double-breasted jacket.

I remember reading a quote from him where he stated that his style 'comes back into fashion every 25 years’. That still rings true. His elegance is timeless.”

The other important thing to note about Charles’ very specific mode of dressing is that he’s loyal to the brands he likes and, perhaps most importantly, he invests in quality.

He has his shirts made at the aforementioned Jermyn Street shirtmaker Turnbull & Asser.

He wears handmade shoes from Northampton shoemaker Crockett & Jones.

He gets his ceremonial gear from Ede & Ravenscroft.

He alternates having his suits made at Gieves & Hawkes and Anderson & Sheppard. It’s a roster of loyalty many British men will probably relate to.

“[King] Charles is a total inspiration. His taste is impeccable, almost always in double-breasted jackets, looking resplendent but totally at ease with a tie and pocket square,” says John Harrison, creative director at Gieves & Hawkes.

”He’s also done more than anyone in the public eye to promote the idea of bespoke garments and handmade shoes being investments, to last forever with proper care and the odd repair or patch-up. He makes us all want to dress like a better man.”

Ultimately, though, it’s the confidence King Charles displays with his wardrobe decisions – a certain ruffled indifference – that makes his style so covetable.

Though today he’s best known for wearing a double-breasted suit better than any man on earth (fact), once upon a time his collars were curled, his shirts were French tucked, his jumpers were oversized.

Such flourishes are beyond him now, and not just because he's a man of 73.

After Saturday's official proclamation will come much more pomp and ceremony to sit him on the throne: a second meeting of the Accession Council in which he must swear an oath to preserve the Church of Scotland (a tradition dating back to the early 18th century).

A fanfare of trumpets from the balcony above St James's Palace, gun salutes in Hyde Park and from naval ships at sea, and the national anthem sung with the words “God Save the King.”

All of these before the coronation itself, at which Charles will have the crown placed on his head before a global audience of millions.

He will dress according to tradition throughout, in suits of impeccable shape and cut.

But as he goes forward in the role he has waited a lifetime to play, something of the King's fastidious but playful character will come back into what he wears and how he wears it.

It will be part of his legacy, wherever that may lead us.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 23: Suit

They had all dressed up so nice.

Papalymo, traditionalist that he was, wore a formal white Sharlayan archon’s robe in lieu of his usual adventuring outfit, though the Aurifex was still strapped to his back, freshly cleaned, its gold gem gleaming. A family heirloom as well as a powerful magical focus, he had told her.

Yda’s white and red dress was made to complement her own red and black, the similarity in cut, with the bared arms and the knee length of the skirt, intentionally similar to her own dress for the occasion. They had laughed together as they worked with the Toll’s tailors to quickly create them. Yda kept her mask, attaching it to a lighter turban that showed more of her hair and matched the dress. Her thigh-high boots were subtly reinforced, as were her long gloves, especially over the knuckles, so she didn’t have to worry about having her clunky Gutwrenchers with her.

Y’shtola had declined to join them, opting for a white and blue dress that evoked the sense of those formal archon robes, but of a lighter fabric and swishier flow. She kept her wand on her fancy new belt.

Alphinaud was in a long blue jacket, dark pants, knee-high blue boots, and black gloves. His grimoire hung at his side as well, the gift from his famous grandfather never far.

Minfilia had a new dress in her usual pinks and soft purples, in an Ala Mhighan style. A dress for festivals and fighting both; sleeveless, but one flowing armlet attached to one side (the other, Yda told her, was often a gauntlet), open space between the breasts and on the back and midriff, straps attaching the skirt, open in front to show  the loose pants worn, sandals on her feet. She wore her softly-glowing dagger to appease Thancred.

She had expected Thancred to wear the fancy Ul’dahn style outfit again, as he had that time—gods, was that really over a year ago, now?—when they were first acquainted. He was, after all, their usual Ul’dahn representative, for all the Scions had distanced themselves from the city’s politics.

So his white and black suit left her blinking, and perhaps staring enough to be teased gently by Yda, making her damnable blush worse. It wasn’t quite a tuxedo, but it was of a more formal cut than she recalled him wearing since that first celebration, and in a very different style. He fiddled with his cufflinks and gave her a teasing wink, when he caught her looking, for all he had been watching down into the Gold Court with a frown just a moment ago. She didn’t see his blades, but had no doubt they were there. He gallantly offered Minfilia his arm as they made to enter the Fragrant Chamber.

She was diverted to the Sultana’s Suite.

Everything went to hells.

She had the feeling the conspirators weren’t expecting the scholars to show how and why they had earned those marks on their necks, especially while in formal clothing, chosen for comfort and movement as much for appearances.

Yda, in her matching dress, smiling as she chose to stay behind to cover their escape.

Papalymo in his formal robes, staying with Yda to close the gate.

Y’shtola, her lovely skirt skimming the rank waters of the tunnel, ordering them forward.

Thancred dropping the jacket of his handsome suit, giving them another wink and reassurance as he stayed to defend the conjurer.

Minfilia, her Ala Mhigan dress whirling like flower petals in the wind, running back down the tunnel while urging her forward.

Alphinaud, in his tattered blue jacket, panting next to the Marshall as they found her.

Aeryn, at the Falling Snows a week later, throwing her fancy dress into the fireplace, unable to look at it again.

--

(ARR time and budget means we didn’t get the Scions dressed up for the Banquet, alas. Gotta hit up that end of expac angst at least once a challenge, it seems.)

[count-alucard-tepes]

Headcanons: The reason they dress the way they do…

Kizaru💫

He wears a pin striped suit because it looks classy and he like the mob-style flare with a fedora. He likes bright and soft colors for his suits, ties, shirts or turtlenecks. He once hurt his eyes with his devil fruit abilities and someone suggested he wears glasses as a joke…next thing you know, he’s wearing sunglasses all the time even though they do nothing to protect his eyes and the younger marines always said he looked cool…swagger for life.

Akainu🌋

He always favored the color red and since wearing suits is kind of a norm for higher ups. He likes a floral shirt because he enjoys growing plants and flowers at his home, the pattern brings joy to him. The pink rose on his jacket is made from fabric to resemble a rose as he doesn’t like to pick flowers from his private garden. He doesn’t like ties or to button up his shirt because it’s constricting and it makes him feel too hot. He did wear gloves before just to make sure he didn’t accidentally burn things or anyone but after he became Fleet Admiral, he didn’t think they were necessary anymore. He tends to always wear a cap when he’s at work or even when he’s away from work…unless he’s at his home, he just likes it and always wore it.

Benn Beckman🔫

He likes loose pants and the military style pants never seem to go out of fashion so he tends to always get tailored clothes in this style which the usual camouflage color for obvious reasons. Benn wears his regular tight black shirt to show off his body even though he’s aged, he still thinks he looks pretty good for the ladies. He didn’t bother to color his hair once he started greying and just let it be. The cloak that he wears is a gift from Shanks and he always treasured it.

Sir Crocodile 🐊

He likes expensive clothes and shoes that are all tailor made with fabrics from all over. He doesn’t like ties because they’re not his style and are not too classy for him. He prefers ascot ties or scarves of various colors and patterns. He likes expensive furs on his coats from various animals too. His shoes are alligator skin and the rings he are gold just like his hook, what can I say? He likes to match his accessories. He never had a lot of luxuries as a child and wanted to make sure he always was well dressed…even if he was a pirate.

Doflamingo Donquixote 🦩

He was born into luxury and is a firm believer of comfortable, sexy and bougie. He lives pretty much on the beach and in hot and humid weather. So there’s no way he’s gonna button up shirt, he needs to show his hot body of course! He wears traditional tragje de luces aka bull fighting inspired pants which are made from rich silks and satin with black flats. The bright colors because they are the color of a flamingo and it does mask the color of blood spatters too. The color pink in Spanish culture is considered good luck and Doffy wants all the luck with his huge feather coat. He has Jolly Roger cufflinks and his sunglasses are more because he doesn’t like brightness too much. It’s probably also because he might be blind in one eye or he is hung over most of the time… or both. (I loved research this btw I’d love to do more character analysis soon).

Katakuri Charlotte 🍡

He always thought he needed to dress up as a biker because people seemed to fear them when he was a child so in his case, judging a book by its cover worked out in his favor. On the inside, we all know Katakuri is a sweet heart…literally and figuratively. He doesn’t like shirts because he thinks they’re too constricting and when he fights, it’s easier to just take off his vest. The scarf was something that was gifted to him by Brûlée so he likes to wear it with pride to cover up his mouth. His tattoos go all the way from his shoulder to his ankle and he also thoughts tattoos make him look badass, they also have significance to him which are jail bars in the front and wings in the back, take it anyway you want to interpret it.

Killer🔪

He tends to favor the color blue when he’s getting his clothes and since he recently got quite muscular, he likes to wear a T-shirt to show his new body. He likes wearing jeans even though it’s not that comfortable but it’s a strong material and lasts for a long time. He painted his helmet by himself and drew the design, he usually gets a few upgrades every now and then but not often. He was once told by a girl that he liked that his hair was beautiful and so he just kept on growing it but he doesn’t really take care of it. He naturally has really pink lips and was teased he looked like a princess with his blonde hair, blue eyes and pink plump lips…so that’s why he covers his face all the time.

Kaido🐉

He doesn’t really care too much about his clothing but he does favor purples or dark colors for the fabric. His theme seems to be quite rustic, badass, not giving any fucks which goes to his style as well. His nio dasuki belt is very much like Oden’s, I guess for admiration of such a great opponent. This belt also said to evoke power and majesty of sacred warriors which Kaido is very much about.

King 👑

He likes wearing leather as it’s fire resistance due to his abilities, he wouldn’t want his clothes burned off (even though we all want this to happen) . He likes the badass look with straps and spikes to make him look more intimidating along with his mask. He doesn’t like to show his face because it’s a constant reminder that he is the last of his race and it hurts him deeply. He wears a float whiter shirt under because it’s classy and he likes that even though he doesn’t really show it. When he’s alone, he usually just wears a dress shirt and leather pants. Queen made fun of him for wearing all leather and that he looks likes a BDSM enthusiast which pissed him off a lot because he’s not like that at all.

Queen 👑

He wears vertical black and white stripped overalls, these colors usually represent prestige and success. Being the star of the beast pirates means he’s got to stand out like his loud personality and his look definitely indicates this. The infinity signs that he has on his overalls symbolize love, beauty and power. The number 8 also means power and success so these are elements that Queen wanted to manifest through his style.

[dangantums]

If you're still doing asks, can we get to.gami doting on preg!nae.gi?

I am so sorry for the delay omfg,,,, but I finally got to it,,,,

Boutique

this fic contains: mpreg, fluff, belly rubs

ship: n.aegami

TLDR: b.yakuya and m.akoto go shopping for baby clothes.

Byakuya adjusted his cufflinks with precision as he stood inside an upscale baby boutique that Makoto, his heavily pregnant partner, dragged him to. The heir wasn’t necessarily a fan of shopping – but, for their baby girl on the way, it was… worth it.

The blonde began to walk down the clothing aisle with an air of unmatched pride and elegance. Beside him, Makoto waddled slightly, cradling his round belly with one hand. His pregnant belly protruded prominently from his usually slender and small frame, rounded and firm beneath the fabric of his maternity shirt. Every curve and contour of his abdomen was accentuated, the swell of his belly stretching the fabric to its limit. Despite the overwhelming heaviness of his round belly, Makoto was glowing with excitement. He couldn't wait to pick out adorable outfits for their little princess.

"Makoto, are you sure you're up for this?" Byakuya asked, his concern veiled behind his usual stoic and uptight facade.

"Of course!” Makoto beamed, glancing up into Byakuya’s icy blue eyes. “I've been looking forward to this all week!” He waddled to the rack, shuffling through it for a brief moment. "Look, Byakuya! Isn’t this just the cutest?" Makoto eventually cooed, holding up the obnoxiously frilly and pink dress he spotted in the rack.

Byakuya examined it with a critical eye, his lips forming a slight frown. "It's... acceptable."

Makoto let out a playful snort, putting it back. He then continued to peruse the racks. Byakuya approached from behind, standing next to Makoto, his discerning eye scrutinizing each garment for quality and style. Lithe fingers ran over soft fabrics and patterns, yet none spoke to him. 

"Byakuya, what about these?" Makoto asked, holding up a tiny pair of silk pajamas embroidered with delicate flowers. “Aren’t they nice?”

This time, Byakuya couldn't deny the appeal. "Indeed. Very well, we'll take it. Put it in the cart.”

As Makoto placed the pajamas in their cart, he glanced at Byakuya with a tender smile, his heart swelling with love for both Byakuya and their unborn daughter. "Thank you for doing this with me, Byakuya. I know shopping isn't exactly your favorite activity."

Byakuya's expression softened ever so slightly. "It's... tolerable, when it's for our daughter." Makoto could’ve sworn he saw the corners of Byakuya’s cheeks twitch, threatening to form a smile.

The pair continued shopping. Together, they carefully selected a variety of onesies, sleepers, and outfits, ensuring each piece met Byakuya's high standards of sophistication while still being comfortable for their precious bundle of joy. As time went on, Byakuya found himself surprisingly invested in the process, his heart softening with each tiny garment he imagined their daughter wearing. And with each item they chose, Makoto's excitement grew, his smile infectious as he imagined dressing their daughter in the adorable outfits they had selected together.

As they continued to make their way through the store, Makoto's steps gradually slowed, his hand instinctively resting on the small of his back as he winced slightly and a wave of fatigue washed over him. The weight of their unborn daughter pressed heavily against his abdomen. Byakuya noticed the change in his demeanor and turned to him with concern etched in his features.

"Naegi, are you alright?" Byakuya inquired, his voice laced with worry.

Makoto forced a smile, though beads of sweat dotted his forehead. "I'm okay, just feeling a bit tired… and achy.”

Without hesitation, Byakuya guided Makoto to a nearby bench, helping him ease down with careful hands. Makoto gratefully sank onto the bench with a sigh, his swollen belly protruding prominently. Byakuya sat down next to him, his hands instinctively resting on Makoto's rounded abdomen. He gently rubbed circles on the stretched skin, feeling the baby's movements beneath his fingertips. Makoto leaned back, closing his eyes as he savored the comforting sensation. Byakuya's touch was soothing, easing the strain that pregnancy had placed on his body.

 "Oh, that feels so good..." Makoto murmured.

Byakuya felt the slight flutter of movement beneath his fingertips. He marveled at the sensation, a swell of warmth filling his chest.

"She's quite active today, isn't she?" Byakuya remarked, his gaze softening as he looked at Makoto. The brunette nodded in response.

They sat there for a moment, basking in the intimacy of the moment. Byakuya continued to rub Makoto's belly in slow, soothing circles, his touch a comforting presence amidst the bustling activity of the store. He whispered words of reassurance and love, his voice a soft murmur that only Makoto could hear. Then, the heir placed gentle kisses along Makoto’s cheek.

“Hmm, Byakuya?” Makoto asked gently, fatigue prominent in his voice.

“Yes, my love?” Byakuya replied softly.

“I love you. Thank you for being with me.”

“I love you too. And our little girl.”

[thoughtsaboutsnape]

Professor snape is the best dress professor in hogwarts he doesn't care about gendered clothing or gendered roles. the professor likes the style of historybounding colors in darker rich tones it's always fashion week in professor snape class

One of the things Severus learned from Lucius Malfoy was the art of fashion.

His wardrobe was a thing of beauty and he was always immaculately turned out.

For official events, like the Sorting he would wear Slytherin colours. His robes would be a beautiful dark green with a subtle silver trim and if you looked close enough, you'd see little snakes at the collar and cuffs.

For class, he'd go for the more dressed down look, a button-up shirt, waistcoat and trousers. Although seemingly simple, the shirt was always of the highest thread count.

His waistcoat changed often, a favourite of his classes was the dark pink with tiny little flamingos embodied on it.

His accessories were always perfect as well. From his Slytherin cufflinks to the charm on the pocket wait chain.

His shoes were of the finest leather, soft and shined to perfection (he didn't trust the House Elves with this task).

[gointothevvater]

@m3gahet got me thinking on the cheelie wedding and:

"I'm not supposed to see you before the wedding." Judging by the radiance of Charles's smile, though, he didn't mind in the slightest. He was already dressed and ready to go, snapping the second of a pair of ruby-eyed skull cufflinks into place at his wrist. The boys had given them to him the night of his bachelor party, and they'd insisted the consequences would be dire if he didn't wear them for the wedding.

St. Cecilia mirrored Charles's smile, though her golden eyes rolled. "You're not supposed to see me in my dress before the wedding," she said. She shrugged her silken white robe off one shoulder to show there was only bare skin beneath. "I'm not wearing it yet." Bryony and Niamh were probably cursing her right now, but it was her day, and she'd do with it as she pleased. She'd been waiting for this day for years; They could wait another few minutes. "Besides," she said, curling her arms around Charles's shoulders, "I missed you."

"You saw me less than an hour ago," Charles replied, laughter in his voice as he lifted his hands to her hips.

"So?" And she kissed him. Her lipstick was likely to be ruined, but she could always just reapply it. Kissing him was worth it. It was only after she'd kissed him thoroughly breathless that she pulled away, nuzzling at his throat, careful not to get her lipstick on his tuxedo. It was deep red to match the roses in her bouquet. A pale pink king protea was the centerpiece, and the roses looked glorious beside them.

Charles was the one to pull away, thumbing at her smudged lipstick until it was perfect again. He was the one to speak first, too, saying, "It's, ah, gonna be strange not calling you Miss Jameson anymore."

"I've been wanting to be Miss Offdensen for twenty fucking years, Charlie." There was a softness at the edges of her voice that only he got to hear, and he shivered a little in the wake of it. "I don't ever wanna be called anything else."

[casuallivi]

The Midnight Kiss

Yes, I decided to put silly movie references in the chapters because this is who I was as a person when I rage-brainstormed 15k of pure chaos in a doc where I now suffer trying to heave coherent chapters from 🙃🙂🤪😵‍💫 warning to my future self: stick to oneshots your dumb b-

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 3: She’s thirty, she’s flirty, she’s thriving

“Coffee orders, everyone!” Miguel cheerfully announced. He slid the conference room glass door to the side, balancing drink-carriers in both hands, a particular orange and pink drink standing out from amongst the steaming and cold coffee brews. "E tu juguito."

"Oh Miguel, you are my angel!" Elain thanked him receiving her juice, orange and strawberry dancing in her tongue as she took a long sip.

“Nah. Tu que eres la angelita, Elain.”

“Is that something naughty?” she wiggled her brows at the curly-haired and green-eyed Assistant Editor, his face relaxed and his smile casual.

“You bet,” he winking at her. Then he turned to Azriel, extending him an iced americano. “Here you go, boss man.”

Azriel mumbled “later”, signaling for him to leave the coffee there, focused in revising the documents he held.

Elain planted an elbow at the table, her chin in her hand and sipped her drink, focused in watching her boss from under her lashes. He flipped a page, long fingers with clean and trimmed fingernails – no sights of that ridiculous long-nail-in-the-pinky thing some man liked to do, thank you very much – catching her attention. His hands were big and bronzed, thick vein pumping up as he flipped another page. She knew from experience the were able span the size of her face.

Elain swallowed a big gulp, continuing her inspection, eyes following up to his wrists, the navy button-up perfectly cuffed around it by elegant sapphire squared cufflinks. She went on from the sleeves to his large shoulders, his collar perfectly buttoned, the nice navy material stretching from his chest to his stomach. She wondered what was the situation there. Did he keep a smooth chest as he did his face? Did he had those perfectly carved abs like underwear models? Elain knew Cassian did, his perfectly shaped abdomen ending a sinful V that made her mouth water. She thanked the gram for blessing her eyes with pictures of his vacation to the Maldives.

There she goes again, thinking about his gorgeous brother, thinking about Cassian. Damn it. She warned Azriel this would happen. Did he listened to her? No! He only pleaded his case with renewed strength.

"You're his brother." She hushed astonished. "Wouldn't it be weird?"

"Only if we make weird."

"I can't simply stop thinking about him in the snap of my fingers."

"You think is easy for me to let her go? To make you this offer? I’m taking my shoot at our mutual obsession. It will be easier for us to understand each other since we are going through the same shit."

Elain cocked her head slightly, comparing the men. Azriel was a tad shorter than Cassian, leaner too, nowhere near the lumberjack trapped in the deep wildness thing that his brother had going on, still, he was fit and muscular, his clothes shaping his perfect figure, the grey slacks hugging his behind in a way that wasn’t forbidden but was starting to feel like it. Her hand landed on the soft pouch hidden beneath a pair of high-waisted jeans, her conscience grilling at her for comparing their bodies when hers had not seen the inside of a gym in forever.

Hypocrite. 

So what? She was a visual person. Elain admitted that Cassian was an anomaly in the biotype she usually went for. To her sister's dismay, Elain wasn't a physical activity enthusiast anymore, her physiotherapy days had sucked the joy out of that. Now she dated man who like to laze around on the weekends. Her last two boyfriends were homebodies, more on the skinny, short and mediocre side of the scale - they even had mediocre personality, yikes. 

Azriel did not fit in her nerd quota either... At least he didn’t ressembled a bodybuilder as his brother did. No, Azriel kept his body fit without his muscles threatening to rip his clothes off at any second. The man was beautiful without trying, regal, etheral. She blamed his face. There was something about that face, a symmetry that was hard to come across, his eyes a mesmerizing shade of hazel that appeared almost green at times, making her hands itch to snap some photos of him. His lips were pretty too, plump and kissable.

Her teeth sunk in the straw a little harder than necessary as she remebered just how kissable they were, Elain asking herself why she hadn’t noticed his beauty before, and what she should do now that she had. 

As if he could feel the racy direction her thoughts were going, Azriel side-eyed her.

“No coffee?”

Elain wondered if he noticed how his voice had changed around her, the usual snap of irritation on the back on his throat replaced by casualty, familiarity. A white flag, she supossed. As a result, her fighting instinct was triggering lees around him.

“I’m naturally energetic. You don’t want to see this fueled with caffeine.” She gestured to herself, Nuala, who was passing behind her, promptly agreeing. “No one does.”

Elain stretched her leg to trip her. Ignoring her, Nuala stopped beside Azriel, at the head of the table, taking a deep breath to announce,

“Ms. Gio latest collection is here. I told the guys to store it on the usual storage.”

“Good.”

“But we have a small problem.”

“What?”

“She will not send the jacket.”

Azriel’s hand paused mid-flip, the rest of the team stopping their idle conversation to look at their manager. The jacket was supposed to be the flagship piece of next month issue, the most import item ever created, according to Gio, who would not shut up about how revolutionary she was. Finishing her drink, Elain put her cup on the empty holder.

“Did you tell her we are photographing the entire collection on Friday?”

“Yes.”

"That I need everything here?"

"Yes."

"That I have no other day to spare for the shooting?"

"Yes."

“What did she say?” Edgy, Nuala changed her stance from one foot to the other “Words Nuala, I want her exact words.” He pressed, her friend clearing her throat to her best Bela Gio impression.

“She said, “This is my most import collection in a decade! You really think I’ll delivery my killer piece in the hands of a staff? Child, if this one leaks, I’ll drown you people in so many lawsuits your next three generations will still be paying me instalments. The jacket will be there in time for the shooting, not before, not after.” then her assistant took over, giving me the same hour-long instructions about how to keep the clothes stored.”

Azriel ran a hand over his hair, ruining his perfect side part, as he usually did when stress threaten to best him. Oh boy. It was brewing now, the big sermon the team would have to hear because of something that was out of their control. He blew an exasperated breath and Nuala’s shoulders hunched a little.

"I'm sorry." She said in advance.

Azriel ignored her for a moment, signing the last document, his assistant efficiently collecting the neat pile of documents in front of him, and scurrying away from the room. She knew better than anyone when his tantrums were about to come. 

“I don’t like delays, Nuala.”  He gritted his teeth.

“I know.”

“...”

“...”

“Get me Rachel. Tell her I’ll need an addition of six girls in standby.” 

Surprised, Nuala reached for her tablet. "Any particular spec in mind?” She wanted to give him no reason to lash out.

“No one taller than 5’5. No bleached blondes. No tattoos.”

“On it.” She returned to her chair, at Elain's left, already emailing Rachel, their usual booker.

Azriel messed hair, stressed. Bela Gio was a Diva with capital D and a short girl complex, who detested tattooed tall blonde girls since her husband left her for one. The last time she delivered a piece last minute, his model received a dress with sleeves that ended halfway on her forearms. Needles the say Gio annoyed him immensely, being one of the reasons why he hated last minute planning. When she was involved, the odds were against him.

Azriel sipped his coffee, cursing the watered down brew. His ice was completely melted. He pushed it aside, sharing an inconspicuous look with Elain, who quietly clapped her hands without making a sound, complimenting him for not blowing up. Azriel didn't feel accomplished. For a second there, he almost lost it.

“This won’t work.” Elain shook her head vehemently, golden-brown strands begining to curl where they stayed in contact with the nervous perspiration in the back of her neck.  

“Why not?”

“I can’t date an overly explosive asshole.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I’m not overly explosive.”

Elain made an ugly snorty sound. “Please, you can’t go a day without yelling your heart out.”

“It’s not my fault people are constantly stressing me.”

“See?”

“Fine. Let’s say I yell less,”

“You can’t.” She interrupted.

“I can.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“You can't. I bet,” she fished a wrinkled note from her back pocket, “five bucks you can’t.”

He slapped her hand away.

“Gambling is a terrible habit. I’ll prove to you that I can tone down, and when I do that, you’ll say yes to me. Deal?”

“…I’ll think about it.”

“Since there's no point in discussing with Gio, I'll consider February done. Any addendums?" He asked no one in particular, heads shaking negativity in both sides of the table. "Good."

Azriel liked to be ahead of the schedule. The January issue had come out on the 5th, exactly fifteen days ago, and the February issue was nearly done, the only thing left to do being Gio’s photoshoot. Now he wanted to get starting on the following month, before Briar and Wendy headed for maternity leave and the team shortened.  

“Let's proceed with March issue. Nor the main interview, nor the cover are defined yet, so if you have any suggestions that you want to get out of your chest, the time is now."

Three chairs down to his right, Miguel lifted his hand. Azriel gave him the word.

“Vera Wang is celebrating thirty years as a designer in March. She's cover material.

Elain made an excited noise.

“You like Vera Wang?” Miguel asked her, and Azriel couldn't hide his surprised.

He honestly had no idea Elain even knew who Vera Wang was. Having known her for more than a year, Azriel was no stranger to her fashion taste. Elain had a particular style which matched her whimsical self, her clothes a mix of colors, patterns and fabric that somehow ended up going well together. At work, she usually favored t-shirts, paired with jeans or overalls. Sometimes she’d put a gypsy skirt or maxi dresses. For her feet, the choice laid in flats, sandals, sneakers and occasionally docs -  avoiding heels since she busted her knee in her teens. None of the items she wore were designed.

“No idea who that is, but thirty is a good number, don’t you think?” She twirled her pen in the air, pointing at Azriel. “She’s thirty, she’s flirty, she’s thriving.”

Azriel stared at her as if she had grown a second head.

“Thirty, flirty and thriving," she tried again.

Silence.

"You don't know that?"

Annoyed silence.

"Jenna Rinks catch phrase!"

Utterly annoyed silence.

"Really?!"

Nothing. Absolutely nothing on that face, on his posture. She saw no recognition going on for him.

Azriel only said coldly,

“Elain.”

All the eyes in the room subtly turned to him. They had only heard him calling her Archeron during office hours.

“Yes?” she said sweetly.

“Shut up.”

Beside her, Nuala snickered, well used to their blunt back and forth. Azriel would tell Elain to shut up at least 15 times a day. Elain, on the other hand, would front him for being explosive at least 20. Sometimes she’d fear for her friend’s job, but no one took pictures as lively as hers, and Azriel seemed to have noticed that as well. Although, judging by her sister’s party, Elain’s photos were not the only thing he was interested in. Nuala pretended not to see the two of them disappearing upstairs after their midnight kiss, but if Elain kept mummy any longer, she'd forget all about respecting her time and privacy.

Azriel gesture for Miguel to continue.

“We could do a pictorial of Mrs. Wang, interview her about her top 3 three collection; one for each decade of her work.”

On his left, Briar raised her hand. “Bluebonnets will be blooming soon. We could take her photos there. Mrs. Wang has favored blue many times in the last decade.”

“Flowers?” Azriel asked.

By the distaste in his voice, he wasn't happy about it. Briar lost her confidence, stammering,

“It will be spring by them, and,”

“Flowers. For spring?” he repeated with sarcasm, that particular tone he used to call someone stupid, without calling them stupid, coming through. “Flowers for spring." A single disdainful handclap. "Groundbreaking Briar, simply groundbreaking. We’ll certainly surpass Vogue now.”

Briar grow red in the face, sinking in her chair.

Nuala spied Azriel slide his tablet towards Elain, an old article about Vera Wang’s first collection opened on it. He must have like the idea of interviewing her. She raised her hand.

“International Women's Day is in March,” she began carefully. “We could mix a complimentary section in her interview to escape te boring "congratulations", select a few ladies in the industry who were inspired to pursue career because of Mrs. Wang."

"Which criteria are you using to select them?"

"The Revelation Designer Award will be announcing the winner on February 1st, and two strong names being quoted for the winner were Wang’s assistants.”

“Where is the award this year?”

“New Orleans.”

Azriel scratched his chin, pensive. Elain pushed the tablet to him, he scribbled a few words on it, then returned it to her.

“You up for a trip?" He asked their photographer.

"Sure."

"I want pictures of the event and a portrait of the winner. You do Wang afterwards."

“I can do better than portraits,” Elain said confidently.

She tapped the screen, sharply scanning photo after photo of Wang’s first fashion show, quickly absorbing the theme she had going on. Black vs. white, good vs. evil

“The cover can be all about her, shining solo. In the interview we recreate her origin. I’m talking double pages, elements from page one slipping into page 2, memorable light and dark juxtaposition as she did in her first collection. Seduction with a hint of forbidden. Nuala said the girls were her assistants, right? If one of them wins, the theme constructs itself; a pupil coming out of her teacher’s dark shadow to glow in the light. Nothing disrespectful of course, I’ll portrait Wang’s students as the fruit of her passion.”

Nuala let out an excited squeal. “That sounds amazing, and you know what. I received a call from Jammela last week, they are interested in sponsoring in exchange for exposition to their lastest gold collection. The ladies can wear the jewelry. Gold, black and white being the edition's theme."

“I like how you think.” Elain smirked, already constructing a scenario in her mind.

“I like how you think.” Nuala smirked back.

They both turned to Azriel expectantly. Everyone in the team was encouraged to participate in the decision of articles, themes, sponsoring, ad and interviews for the magazine. The problem was, if Azriel didn’t like the suggestion he would make sure to enumerate the reasons of why he thought you were stupid, loud enough for everyone in the room to listen. He usually accomplished that by yelling.

"You don't like it?" His muteness was like an itchness impossible to scratch. "We can adapt the parts you don't like..."

“No. I like it.” And he really did. “I’ll assign a team with Miguel, Nuala and you. You two seem to be on the same page, so pin us a mood board to visualize the idea better, and you,” he pointed at Miguel. “Draft me the interview.”

"You got it, boss man."

Azriel glanced at his watch, the numbers 20:45 glowing back at him, their clocking-out hour long past. He postponed the other decisions for later, dismissing his overworked team.

Yawns and tired groans were shared as they existed the conference room. Back in the common area, the employers went on to turn off their computers, and gather their personal belongs before heading for the elevators, except for Elain, who Azriel signaled to wait for him.

He went straight to his assistant, giving her the last instructions before she faxed the documents, the girl doing her best to pretend not to be looking from him to the photographer curiously. Failing miserably.

Azriel grabbed his wallet and keys, meeting Elain outside the headquarters, their steps echoing on the empty hall all the way to the elevator.

“Your car done?” He asked casually.

“Nope,” she pressed the button. “The mechanic said the missing part is coming from Maine, so it will take a couple more days. Do you think he’s trying to rip me off?”

“Probably.”

“Damn it.”

The elevator stopped in their floor, Azriel and Elain sliding inside. She pressed the “G” for ground floor. He pressed the “P” for parking lot, and un-pressed her “G”, saying “I’ll drive you.”

"You don't have to,"

"I want to."

“...oh...thank you.”

The floors pinged on the panel on top of the doors, a nervous kind of tension filling the elevator as it went down.

35.

34.

33.

32.

Elain cleared her dry throat.

“What did you really think about Nuala’s idea?” Her friend had been ecstatic about her cover suggestion getting accepted. Elain hoped he was not leading them on, to replace the cover later on.  

Azriel dived both hands in his pants pockets, perching his ass on the safety bar behind them. “It’s solid, yours a good addition to it. If you can pull it off.”

“You bet I can pull it off.” She scoffed crossing her arms over her cheat, mildly offended he was doubting her skills.

“Gambler,”

“Doubter.”

16.

15.

14.

13.

Unexpectedly, she jerked her head towards him.

“Are you gonna kiss me again or what?”

A soft rouge tinted Azriel’s cheek. Elain thought it was funny how he kissed and dragged her to a bathroom, making the most absurd proposition she had heard in her life, but blushed when she was the one being blunt.

“Does anything make you embarrassed?”

“Lots of things.”

“You hide well.”

“Thanks.”

Azriel straightened himself, chuckling. “You make me childish with this crazy train of thoughts of yours.”

“I’ve noticed. Liberating, isn't it?”

"To be childish?"

"To be freer."

Azriel didn’t answered. Instead, pulled her closer by the waist.

Elain timidly raised her hands to his shoulders, grabbing them this way and that. Every way she touched him seemed uncomfortable. Feeling him up in the spur of the moment was one thing, getting ready to be kissed was another. Sighing, she went on her tiptoes in attempt to equal their heights, settling for linking her wrists behind his neck, her heart beating a thousand miles per hour. Karma was bitch, she barely finished laughing at him for turning red, now she was the red one, and nervous as hell!

Azriel had promised to take her on a date after New Year. Elain knew exactly  why he wanted to do that, knew his intentions weren't pure. He didn't want to take her on a date because he fell head over heels for her. He wanted to wine and dine her, to convince her she had no need for another man when he was right there, available and interested. His appeal was undeniable, and he was willing to let her use him to get over his brother, so Elain didn't feel like someone signing to a looser's deal.

To her disappointment, the date proved impossible to schedule with his January agenda insanely full. Elain had no idea her boss was such a busy man, but she refused to wait another day for this man to kiss her. The month was approaching its end, and since he kissed his way into her mind, she had fantasized about repeating the dose. The desire was strictly professional, of course, nothing but research to reach a conclusion. I need to know if we really have chemistry, she told herself. I can’t date a man I have zero chemistry with.

Nervous, Elain licked her lips, Azriel a breath away from her.

“Are you saying yes?” his heated whisper fanned her lips.

“I’m saying I want a kiss.”

“I’ll kiss you when you say yes.” His hands covered the width of lower back, Elain gasping when he brought her impossible closer, his thumb drawing iddle circles over her shirt. “I only kiss my girlfriend.”

6.

5.

4.

3.

How would she decide after the kiss when this man only wanted to kiss her after her decision? Damn him!

The elevator doors opened to a quiet parking lot at her back, Elain nodding shyly, lids fluttering shut.

"Words."

"Yes!" She half-snarled, annoyed with rigid way of getting her consent. Was it too much to ask him to swipe her of her feet unexpectedly as did for the first time?

She missed tipsy-and-oversharing-Azriel. This one could rot!

Azriel kissed her cheek, his nose sinking on her soft skin, inhaling her scent. He kissed the corner of her mouth, a hand venturing up to her neck, bending her. He kis–

"Lainy! My favorite photographer."

Brown eyes flew open in the speed of the light, feet dropping back to the floor, Elain bumping her forehead painfully against Azriel’s chin.

Cassian hissed at the same time as her, Elain furiously rubbing her forehead, stomping on Azriel's foot in her hurry to turn around. “You okay?” he sounded worried.

No, she wasn't okay. She was anything but okay! Someone, please, open a hole and bury her in the earth, now.

“Yeah… I’m fine.” My God. Nuala always joked that Azriel's jawline could "cut a bitch", and now Elain had first hand experience that she was right.

Cassian patted her hair. 

“There, there. Good girl.”

Oh my, he called her a ‘good girl’. Elain went to theaven and back in a second, the hidden meaning of those two little words paired with his deep voice turning her legs to jelly. Her head pounded. Ignorant to her lustful gaze, Cassian settled his attention to his brother, a sneer forming on his lips.

"Azzy, I need a lift. I have a flat."

[ravendruid]

Giving Gifts

Vex’ahlia has never loved the warmth of the sun more than she does as the heels of her boots clack on the sidewalk and the hem of her dress rustles the ground. It’s not rare to have bright, sunny days with light blue skies in Whitestone, but being so far north in the continent of Tal’Dorei, the cold is almost always a given, even in the summer, and the sun rays aren’t always warm enough to tinge anyone’s cheeks pink. Because Percival has spent the entire week deep in meetings to overlook the safety and development of Whitestone, Vex finds herself bored to death on several occasions since the clerics forbade her from setting foot in the meeting room with her watermelon-sized belly, lest she become too stressed and give birth too early. Instead of wasting away in the library, Vex has taken to spending the days taking short strolls through the castle gardens, admiring the beautiful flowers in bloom this time of the year and the intoxicating smell of roses in the air that, more often than not, bring back the nausea she felt during her first trimester. Some days she descends the long, winding path down to the city proper, where she peruses stores and establishments, stops to share words with her neighbors, and allows her legs to extend, always in the company of her fearless bear, Trinket.

During one of those strolls amongst the streets of Whitestone, Vex’ahlia finds herself at the window of a boutique with many pretty ballgowns on display (not that any of them would fit her current state). Something within her wills her to walk inside the small shop, so Vex asks Trinket to stay while a kind lady greets her. The shop isn’t massive—it is a smaller town, after all—but several mannequins wearing different types and colors of dresses adorn the room. Further back, just slightly past the counter, is a small section of male suits that Vex ponders over for a moment. Percy doesn’t usually shop for clothes at the boutique since the family has their own tailor, so Vex doesn’t spend too much time browsing them, but she has to admit a few of the suits would look fantastic on her husband. 

Just as Vex is turning to leave, something catches her eye at the counter. She feels herself being pulled towards a glass display case with a few pieces of jewelry inside, but what piques her curiosity is a pair of round silver cufflinks with a royal blue circle in the middle and a bear engraved. They remind her of Trinket, and Vex knows they will look perfect on the new jacket she just got Percy last week. Vex’ahlia buys the cufflinks without effort, and the lady places them in a small brown envelope that Vax keeps close to her heart—quite literally, as she somehow stuffs it in her cleavage with a wink. 

Vex’ahlia doesn’t dwell further in the city, so Trinket trots at her side as they make their way back to the castle. Excitement builds up inside her like a balloon, and she can’t wipe the smile on her face imagining Percy’s reaction to her impromptu gift. Vex won’t tell her husband how much she paid for the cufflinks, not because he would scold her for spending the money, but because she knows he will tease her until the end of the world about how she never bargains when it concerns him. As much as Vex has tried telling Percy that it feels wrong to take from people who have had so much taken away from them already, they both know she would not hesitate to bargain for something for herself. 

You are worth every copper, dear. Percy always tells her with that soft voice that drives her insane. So are you, darling. Vex always replies in the same manner. They still have a long path to walk, but she knows in her heart that they will both get there one day, together, as it is their wont.

—

Percival de Rolo is not the same man that once walked these long hallways. At this moment, he is an exhausted man whose mind swirls with thoughts, plans, and formulas for myriad contraptions and necessities to keep the city and its people safe. The back-to-back meetings have drained his resources, but he knows they are necessary since the Chamber has been discussing and planning the expansion of Whitestone. But all Percy—as his friends call him—can think about is his wife and her rounded belly that still grows larger as months go by. Percy wants to advance as much work as possible before the baby arrives because once the little one is screaming their lungs out, Percy has no intention of spending every waking moment surrounded by work. It pains him, though, not to be able to spend time with Vex’ahlia. They both know it’s for the best, but Percy’s guilt is still heavy on his conscience. 

By some miracle of a god Percy doesn’t care for, one of the town developers he was supposed to meet that morning fell ill, which means he now has a free morning with plenty of time to work on the project he has been keeping a secret from Vex. He sneaks into the basement area—not that he needs to since he knows Vex is probably out in the gardens or strolling through town like the free bird she is—and locks himself in his workshop. The project is almost done. If Percy pushes through during lunch hours, he should be able to have it finished by nightfall if no one bothers him. Just in time.

With a victorious smile on his face and anticipation in his heart, Percy sets out to work, grabbing his tools and moving the large, old sheet from where it hides his most secret possession. He pauses for a second to admire his handiwork: it’s not perfect, but he built it himself. Percy is not a carpenter by any means, preferring to work with metals and gears, but Keyleth helped him during a few of her visits to Whitestone, and Pike found him some books he could read about woodworking. 

The polished wooden crib sits in the corner, its locking mechanism laughing at Percy’s face. He never once thought that he would be bested by a mechanical part of all things, especially not after building a wooden crib with his hands, but the pesky contraption refuses to do what it is meant to do.

As he starts working on the mechanism, Percy remembers the day a solution to another crib-related problem fell at his feet, quite literally. It happened at the beginning of the pregnancy, shortly after they found out about it when Percy and Vex were out for a stroll in the center square of Whitestone. The city wasn’t fully healed yet, a few looming signs of the Briarwoods still crept around the darkest alleys, but everyone was working to repair that. The couple had paused underneath the rebirthed golden canopy of the Sun Tree, taking in the sight of its beautiful colors, when a branch fell at their feet. It was unusual—one might say rare—for the tree to lose limbs, considering its significance and the divine energy radiating from it. Vex’ahlia saw it as a sign of Pelor, an offering to the couple, Percy, not so much. 

“Tree branches fall all the time,” Percy had tried to argue.

“But this is the Sun Tree, darling. This tree was planted by Pelor,” Vex had tried to counter-argument. 

They didn’t reach a consensus on the matter. Instead, Percy called for Keyleth to check in with the Sun Tree to be sure Delilah’s influence was completely gone (or that the spinning orb of death underneath the Sun Tree wasn’t the cause of losing limbs). It was only after her confirmation that the branch had indeed been a gift to the couple and the upcoming heir that Percy relaxed. After all, it was helpful having a friend who could talk to plants.

In the present, Percy’s hand brushes the slightly different colored wood of the headboard where the de Rolo crest was carved. His eyes glint with pride at being able to incorporate such an amazing gift into the crib, and while he doesn’t care for the gods, he knows this baby is a blessing of one. But there is no time to lose. Percy has a crib to finish if he wants to eat supper with his wife.  

—

“How was your day, darling?” Vex’ahlia asks, removing the few pieces of jewelry she bothers to put on each morning. 

“Uneventful,” Percy replies with a smile. “And yours, dear?”

“Oh, you know. Boring as usual.”

“Well,” Percy stands behind Vex, looking at her reflection in the mirror. He presses a soft kiss to the top of her head and helps her undo her braid with gentle movements. “Soon enough, that won’t be a problem any longer.”

Vex’ahlia snorts and looks at the little wooden box on her vanity. She had hidden the cufflinks inside it earlier that afternoon, waiting for this exact moment to present them to her husband.

“Percival, darling.”

“Yes, dear?” Percy’s eyes meet Vex’ahlia’s in the mirror. Her face is radiant, and her skin is smooth and clear, with no eye bags, dark circles, or imperfections. Vex’ahlia is a beauty beyond compare to Percy’s eyes, which makes it even harder for the man to see himself reflected right next to her. His face is paler than usual, thanks to not getting much sun, his hair is in a disarray of knots that needs to be cut urgently, and the round, gold spectacles barely do anything to cover the dark circles underneath his eyes from not getting enough sleep. Overall, Percy’s face is just an expression of exhaustion.

“I have a gift for you.”

“A gift? For me?” Percy stands straight behind his wife. He watches her movements as she opens the small wooden box in front of her and picks up something he can’t see just yet. 

“Here,” Vex turns in her chair, sliding her legs to the side. Percy kneels in front of her—Oh, the sight of her husband on his knees in front of her makes her legs tremble—and waits patiently for her to extend her closed fist to his open, expectant hands. 

“Vex’ahlia,” Percy brings a cufflink close to his glasses, smiling at the little carved bear. “These are beautiful, darling. Thank you.” He moves closer, placing a soft hand on one of her knees so he can kiss her.

“I happen to have a gift for you as well,” He chuckles. Vex’ahlia arches an eyebrow in amusement. Giving each other gifts for no apparent reason is common for them, but both having the same idea at the same time is usually rare. 

“Come,” Percy gets on his feet and offers a hand that Vex gladly takes. Suspicion builds in Vex as Percy leads her to the wooden door connecting their bedroom to the nursery. 

At first glance, the room is still the same, covered in darkness in its mostly unfinished state, but then Percy lights a candle nearby—more for his vision’s sake than Vex’s—and she sees it more clearly. In one corner of the room sits a wooden crib, roughly made with curves and notches. 

“Percival, did you make this?” Vex asks, lightly brushing her fingers on the object. Percival standing bashfully behind her is all the answer she needs. “It’s beautiful, darling. It must have taken you so long.”

“Ah, yes. I have indeed poured many hours into it,” Percy replies, wrapping his arms around her and holding her large belly. The relief is instantaneous, and Vex can’t hold in the sigh at the weight difference. 

“Look here,” Percival momentarily removes one hand to point at the part of the crib with the different kinds of wood.

Vex’ahlia leans in and lets out a gasp as the flickering light of the flame reveals the de Rolo crest. But not just that. The wood tone is different and almost looks like its knots and grains shimmer in gold hues by the light. It can’t be.

“Darling is this—”

“Yes. The Sun Tree branch.”

Vex’ahlia spins in her husband’s arms, her hands cradling his stubbled cheeks, and she smiles brighter than the moonlight coming in from the opened curtain.

“It’s beautiful, darling. I love it so much.”

“It’s the least I could do for them,” Percy looks down at the bump between them with fondness in his eyes. 

“They will love it just as much as I do.”

No matter how long it has passed, how many kisses they have traded, whenever Vex kisses Percy, he still feels the same electricity he felt the first time they kissed. Her lips are still the same softness and still taste like honey. 

“We should go to bed, darling,” Vex says, holding Percy’s hand and leaving the nursery behind.

“We should,” Percy replies, blowing out the candle and closing the door. 

The cufflinks aren’t the first gift Vex’ahlia offers Percival—the first gift was given to him years ago in a dark room far beneath the castle—nor are they the last. For as long as they are together—whatever many years Percival has left on him—there will be many gifts waiting for him, either to celebrate special occasions or just because. The same can be said for Vex’ahlia. Even after Percy’s body is one with the earth of Exandria, he will still find a way to give his wife the most beautiful, touching gifts she has ever received, either in the form of fond memories and smiles or of their children running and laughing around the castle, reminding Vex of Percival’s love for her and their family.

[Read it on AO3]

[pinkpoppii]

what was going through jordan's head seeing bella again after so long? did they keep up with everything she did or was she put away in a box in the back of their mind? I need mooore

glows up from the inside like the sun

jordan forced themselves not to keep up with her over the years, and it was fucking hard too, at first. They'd want to know what she was doing, who she was with, if she'd eaten enough that day, if they'd been to harsh the last time they'd spoke, if they should reach out. Then they'd remember how she looked when jordan kissed her and asked her to be with them, how her lips had turned down and her eyes had gleamed with tears and how resentful those tears had made jordan feel, always their weak spot, always aimed right for their heart. they'd remember how much strength it took to walk away, how it felt like pulling out a fucking lung, half of their heart severed off forever to be where they were now. and one look, one google search of her name, would send them back. they'd fold, and they'd message her, and they'd ask to see her again. they couldn't.

so they wrap everything up, a shitty job, the wrapoing job, there are paper cuts and memories of bella still falling through the cracks - a flash of blonde hair in the summer sun, the smell of honeysuckle after the rain - but they shove it all down, shove it back back back, into the corner of their mind they dont allow themselves to wander towards.

so when they see her again its like - well its a gutpunch, really. even if they don't outwardly react much, inside its a cataclysmic event. walls becoming tumbling stones smashing into their ribcage, beating against their heart, pummeling it over and over because she's fucking beautiful. a soft pink rose surrounded by snow, she's petal soft and lovely and it hurts so fucking bad they feel sick with it. because it wasn't just their heart bella broke that day, it was jordans very being.

they've spent years building to who they are, to becoming the untouchable jordan li. #2, they're that bitch, that fucking guy, that cunt that is smarter, hotter and cooler than you, and yet just one glimpse of Bella and they're a teenager again. awkward and stuffy and their fingers twitch at their sides because the urge to touch her is so strong. but they dont.

they collect themselves, down two, maybe three, glasses of champagne down the fucking hatch they go before they fix the cufflinks around their wrists and adopt and air of winter that'll freeze her before she can try to warm them up to her.

because they can see it in her eyes, big and imploring when they look at jordan. puppy dog soft, she wants to talk. reconcile, probably. and maybe if jordan was a better person they'd have that talk, suffer through the awkward small talk of it all, squeeze bellas hand and tell her they were kids then and its all in the past.

but its not in the past, not for jordan. that cut still bleeds red, the hurt still runs a river through their chest every day. and fuck her for batting her lashes and throwing them her baby browns like she didn't fucking take jordans heart out of their chest and crush it in her perfect hands.

seeing bella again is a fucking tragedy, but the curtains haven't closed yet. and jordan plans on making her regret letting them go.

[samuhelll]

things your muse will notice about mine. ( repost, don't reblog. )

what they look like. human appearance: smart, bold, eye-catching. sam likes good suits and doesn't shy away from in-your-face patterns or colors, being no stranger to brights blues or pinks or yellows, his ties often geometric or, his personal favorite, paisley. he wears matching pocket squares and cufflinks. a gold watch. it's funny, because if you were to see his agency or home, you'd think every dime he made went into his wardrobe.

as a human, he has thinning reddish-brown hair and a receding hairline, looks 50s with blue eyes. 5'10", about 170 lbs. very average. he's bob ode//nkirk as jimmy mc//gill.

what they smell like. vapor rub. head & shoulders. hotel lotion. a mild calvin klein cologne, something you'd get off the sale counter. if you can imagine a recently divorced and middle-aged, middle-class salesman trying to look bigger and more successful than he actually is, then imagine what that would smell like, then that's sam.

what they taste like. if you'd kissed, you might catch cigarettes (sorry, he smokes), and, being that close, maybe his aftershave since scent plays a roll in taste. you may catch his coffee, too—he prefers a colombian light roast—and i know cigarettes + coffee is not the holy grail to taste for a kiss, but look! it is what it is. otherwise, if he hasn't smoked or had anything to drink/eat he'd just taste like? mouth. tongue.

what they sound like. croaky and craggy. sam sounds like a smoker, which he is. at lower octaves, his voice goes from croaky to a terrible rumble, and when he screams, it turns rocky, shrill, and strained - almost as if his vocal chords are being pulled taut. sam is expressive in his voice, so you'll hear the roller coaster journey. american accent. also: bob ode//nkirk.

what they feel like. he feels feverishly warm—if you shared a bed with him, you might find yourself sweating—and his skin isn't rough like someone who works under the sun. on the flip side, it isn't exceptionally soft, either, like someone younger who habitually exfoliates or lotions. so: average. also tends to be dryer. his hair, too.

tagged by: @miidnighters ty! tagging: @lcvnderhazed (any or manny), @bellecosebabe, @abysswarden, @cartelheir, @starlyht (any or mal), @escapedartgeek