#'SKIRTS are so IMPRACTICAL-' always? every time? for everyone?

[marzipanandminutiae]

why are skirts inherently evil and oppressive in historical fiction until men are wearing them

I've never heard anyone going on at length about how Universally ImpracticalTM the garb of a Scotsman or an ancient Roman politician are

suddenly everyone has a concept of situational practicality that previously was not there

[misc-obeyme]

So I was thinking Barbatos is a busy demon and probably has a tight schedule as a butler, plus his duties in RAD. So dating him means the two of you don't see each other often. So what if you started working at the castle as a maid? (Or as a butler, but i was thinking Maid as in gender neutral since everyone regardless of gender can wear a Maid dress) So that you could be closer to him and you'll get to work with him! 

This thought occurred to me while i was thinking how barbatos might react seeing his beloved in a Maid dress since he's a butler and all. He would probably silently stare at you, taking in every detail of you dressed up and teasing you for it.

But if you actually started working at the castle, you would probably be tasked with doing small things that won't be draining for a human such as typical stuff like Making beds, Mopping, Cleaning interior windows, Run personal errands, Dust surfaces, Ironing and so on. Bonus, you get to work with the cute little D's by your side! On the other hand, Barbatos would still be strict with you even if you're his significant other, and he would take it seriously to teach you how to behave as the perfect Maid, and if you do mistakes you might get punished. Remember, this dude is a perfectionist.

Now, this is more NSFW, but imagine with his constant staring that you decide to make a game out of it by teasing him by doing little things such as pulling your skirt just a little higher, ‘accidentally’ keep dropping things to bend over and pick it up while His eyes are all on you, observing from afar or when he's near.

Now, after a long day of teasing and making a game out of it, Barbatos pulls you inside his room for some privacy. Lingering touches, his hot breath on your skin, and before you know it, you find yourself underneath him on his bed while he's on top of you staring down at you with his green eyes glowing in the dark. He would whisper in your ear what a naupthy maid you are or how you didn’t do a good job. He would go down on you and edge you for hours to come. Only when he thinks you've had enough, with your cute moans bouncing off the walls and your begging for release, he might give in and give you the sweet release you've been begging for, with your thighs clenching around his head and your cheeks flushed.

NSFW MDNI

Oh my, anon. This is exactly my favorite thing - Barbatos losing control because you're making him crazy lol.

I certainly have thought about all of the characters in a maid dress, so I think it could be considered gender neutral. Though when it comes to actually working I think a maid dress would be somewhat impractical. Like how am I supposed to move around in something like that huh??

But I realize that is not the point lol.

Do you suppose the punishments would always be of that nature? Because I think if being a naughty maid and getting punished results in having Barb's head between your thighs you might just deliberately be terrible at your job.

I think Barbatos would play along. Ah yes, MC, you're so naughty~

Ah I can't decide exactly how I think it'd go. Because on the one hand, Barbatos cares about doing a good job, but on the other hand I think he'd be unable to resist you. Maybe in the end he has to cut back on the hours you're working because every time you're around in that dress, he loses focus.

I've thought a lot about what it'd be like to date someone so dedicated to a job that is essentially their entire life. Being a butler isn't just a 9-5, he's working continually. I like to headcanon that a lot of the things he does can be delegated to the little Ds or other such castle staff. He just prefers to do things himself because he knows he'll do the best job. But if he realizes that he has to choose between having everything in the castle perfect and spending time with you, I think he'd let the others do a little more. I also think Diavolo is a good wing man and would demand he take more time off to be with you lol.

[bucci-cookies]

Jealousy - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

This was a commission I did a couple months ago!

If you'd like to support me, please consider leaving a donation on Ko-Fi or commissioning me👉🏿👈🏿

Wc: 13,098

Ao3 version

Enjoy!

“You should be more considerate of the weather.”

You looked up at Bruno with a raised eyebrow. He simply sighed and pointed to your legs.

“Your skirt is too short, didn’t you hear the weather forecast today?” He shot you a disappointed look as he adjusted his deep red turtleneck. “You should have at least worn some tights.” He turned back to face the street ahead.

Yeah, he was right, maybe a short tennis skirt that cut quite high above your knees wasn’t the best option for such a windy day.

The wind blew harshly, causing the leaves of the large birch trees lining the pavement to shake and rustle against each other, adding a second layer to the bustling noises of the people around you. The working day was drawing to a close, cafe chairs were being folded and packed inside while various store owners locked up for the evening. Across the street you saw a flock of people, each holding the hand of a little kid, presumably coming from some sort of extracurricular club or birthday party.

In Bruno's hand was a white bag with several little tubs of ice cream, each with a unique flavour. Some were fruity mixes of various berries, while others were more classic, sweet flavours like toffee and caramel. They were for the rest of the team as the two of you had already had your fill at the dessert shop, indulging in dark chocolate cake and thick, soft pieces of cheesecake. Once a week, you would try to get together as a group to watch a movie, have dinner, or just sit and talk and both of you were usually on dessert duty.

The wind blew once more, pulling the hem of your skirt up slightly.

“Ah, but I have a sweater on at least!” You tugged on the pastel pink woollen sweater that shielded your upper body from the cold and shot him a wide grin, to which he shook his head and smirked.

“I guess it's better than nothing.” He pinched your cheek sharply with his free hand.

“But Brunooo,” You sang as you wrapped your hands around his arm, feeling his muscles flex under his thick clothing as you held onto his biceps. “I thought you said you liked my outfit.” You pressed up against his body as you looked up at him.

“I can like your outfit and also think it's very impractical for this weather.” He patted the back of your hands, not reacting to the way you hugged his arm and pushed yourself up against him.

But what did you expect?

For years you had been trying to get his attention, but every attempt just solidified the platonic relationship between the two of you. Even with all the hints, the advances, the not-so-subtle trip to the dessert shop where you sat so close to him that the scents of your perfume and his cologne mixed; he still didn’t so much as reciprocate an inkling of what you felt towards him. He was sweet to you, of course, you talked frequently, you knew each other like the back of your hands. But he seemed to treat you no different to how he treated everyone else. That busy schedule of his didn’t make it easier, he had cancelled more plans than fulfilled recently, but you couldn’t blame him. The higher his rank in this organisation, the more was expected of him and the tighter his free time became. Across the three years that you had been affiliated with the group, Bruno was always a hard and consistent worker, something that both impressed and infatuated you.

Any normal person would give up after the first few months of failed attempts, not wanting to still keep giving their time to someone who wouldn't see them as they wish to be seen.

But you liked Bucciarati so much, too much for your own good. He was just so beautiful, so sweet, so breathtaking, like the colours of the ocean that sparkled with a tempting allure that captivated everyone, but could never be physically touched. The first day you met him, he already caught your eye. The way he carried his lean body under the open-chested suit he wore, his perfectly trimmed hair that framed his jawline. His deep blue eyes were mesmerising, though not as hypnotic as that deep voice of his or that laugh that made your heart flutter. There was a perfect blend of playful youthfulness and maturity about him, he was 28, but the smoothness of his skin and the brightness of his eyes made him look no older than 23.

A sharp flick to your forehead snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Hey?!” You exclaimed, slapping Bruno’s fingers away.

He scoffed in response and opened up the passenger door to his car. “Would you rather walk all the way back?” You realised that you had been standing in front of his car absentmindedly for the past few minutes.

You smiled awkwardly and slid into the passenger seat, taking the bag from Bruno’s hand and placing it on your lap while Bruno closed the door behind you and made his way to the driver’s side. He placed a hand on the back of your seat and looked behind you as he backed out of the parking space. The car felt smaller as his arm brushed yours and the proximity made you nervous every time he reached to change gears.

You wanted to say something…anything…maybe just tell him that you have feelings for him, now was as good a time as any. Maybe invite him out again tomorrow?

"So I heard Mista saying that there's going to be a week-long fair next week." You said, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. "Something to do with donations for the Children's hospital I think." Bruno hummed in response as he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. "You wanna go check it out on Monday? See if there's anything cool?" You said, as nonchalantly as you could while you stared out of the window by your side, watching the kids cycling down the street.

Bruno clicked his tongue and hummed. "Ah, I’d love to…” A ‘but’ was coming . “But,” bingo “Giorno wanted me to oversee something.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” You sighed. Bruno told you he would be free this week, so this must have been a recent development. However, a big part of you already knew he would be too busy. “Maybe I’ll ask one of the others to go with me.”

The rest of the journey continued in silence as Bruno remained focused on the road while you focused on him in the corner of your eye. His large hands gripped the steering wheel as he tapped on it lightly with his index fingers. He tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear and hummed to himself absentmindedly.

Red suits him. You thought to yourself.

The deep scarlet turtleneck contrasted his cerulean eyes perfectly and brought out the tan of his skin. The thick material clung to his broad chest, curving around his defined pecs and cinching at his small waist. He shifted slightly in his seat which made it twist around his torso and reveal a mere glimpse of his abdomen in a way that made your face go warm. You looked away shyly and cleared your throat, choosing to focus on the birds flying between the trees that lined the street of your home.

It almost annoyed you how flustered he made you, especially without knowing. You were confident, articulate, beautiful, someone who knew how to grab the attention of a room with a glowing aura and a charming outfit. You weren’t a stranger to flirting or receiving compliments from other people. In fact, with the playfulness of some members of your team, it wasn’t unusual to innocently flirt back and forth with the others. But to think that one man, one excessively handsome, generous man, could make your knees weak and cause your stomach to flip inside out with so much as a hand on your shoulder, was embarrassing to you.

He pulled into your driveway, parking right by your door. You both got out of the car and made your way into your home, stopping off at the kitchen to put the slightly melted ice cream away in the freezer.

Like almost perfect timing, there were several raps on the door, the rhythm instantly letting you know it was Abbacchio. Bruno walked over to the door, swinging it open to reveal none other than the man himself.

“I brought drinks.” He raised a white plastic bag, the clear outline of a wine bottle poking through.

“Awh no cakes?” You pouted. Abbacchio always made the most amazing baked goods, they were always so light and fluffy with such sweet icing and creamy filling. They would almost melt in your mouth, especially when he paired them with a serving of warm custard or chocolate sauce.

“You know I’m not your personal baker right?” He said as he placed his shoes on the rack. “You should at least pay me for my services.” His purple lips curved into a proud smirk. Abbacchio wore a tightly fitted white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, revealing the prominent veins on his forearms. The top few buttons were undone, exposing his muscular chest, while his long hair flowed just past his shoulders.

He made his way to your fridge, placing the drinks in his bag on the bottom shelf, before pouring himself a glass of whiskey from your cabinet.

“Oh sure, help yourself.” You rolled your eyes as he sat down on your kitchen island, facing you.

“You barely drink it anyways, at this point, it's just for me.” He sipped his drink and leaned back into the chair. He was technically right, the bottle (and others) had been a present from a civilian you helped a few weeks ago, as you weren’t an avid drinker of whiskey, it sat at the back of your cabinet gathering dust. Abbacchio, on the other hand, immediately jumped to open it the first time he saw it.

The room was suddenly filled with the sound of Bruno’s ringtone coming from his pocket. He looked down at the name and sighed loudly. “Please excuse me.” He walked out of the room, presumably sitting on your staircase, to answer the call.

“So…” Abbacchio turned to face you, leaning on his hand with a playful grin on his face, you groaned internally, already knowing what he was going to ask. “How was your little date with Bucciarati?” Abbacchio asked, rotating his glass in his hand, making the drink swirl around the edge.

You poured yourself a glass of water. “It wasn’t a date.”

“But you wore this?” He said, eyeing your tennis skirt as you moved to sit on the island opposite him. “In the wind? Were you hoping to seduce him with your legs?” Abbacchio teased before drinking the last of his beverage and placing the glass on a coaster.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, clearly a little irritated by him bluntly pointing out your outfit, before taking a sip from your glass.

He placed both hands on the marble surface of the island and pushed himself to lean towards you. “Ooh, you did more make-up today.” He pointed at your eyes. “I like your eyeshadow, it compliments your outfit.” He laughed and sat back down on the stool. Your eyelids were a soft shade of pink that matched your sweater. Your eyes were lined neatly with bold black eyeliner and your lips were coated with a glossy layer. While it wasn’t unusual for you to have a light layer of make-up, this was a slightly flashier version of you, one that Abbacchio knew was reserved for Bucciarati’s attention.

You sighed heavily, not even bothering to play along and give an excuse or come back. Instead, you gave a brief smile and a slightly soured “thanks”.

Leone groaned and stood up, causing the stool to be pushed back with a scraping sound. “You should just tell him you like him, don’t beat around the bush.” He washed up his empty glass in the sink. “Bucciarati is too dense to know when someone’s interested in him.” He dried his hands and sat back down. “Don’t waste sex appeal on him.”

“And who are you to tell me how to deal with Bucciarati?” You snapped back, sharper than you expected, and placed a hand on your hip with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay sheesh.” He raised his hands in defence. “Didn’t mean to strike a chord.”

You let out a deep breath  “No, it's fine. Maybe I’m just not his type?” You leaned onto the island, a dejected expression on your face.

A large hand patted your head before ruffling your hair lightly. “Oh come on…everyone loves a good femme fatale. You're very attractive, you're smart, good at packing a punch." You snickered at the last comment. "I think Bucciarati is crazy for not reciprocating those feelings back."

"If you say so…" You exhaled again. "I asked him to go to the fair with me next week." 

"As a date?" Abbacchio’s voice perked up as he took his hand off your head.

You waved your hand. "He said no, he was too busy.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” Abbacchio patted your head once more. “I would go with you, but Bucciarati asked me to help him out with some stuff tomorrow.”

You sat up properly again and smiled. “No worries, I’ll ask Mista.”

Bruno returned shortly from his call and the three of you conversed, with Bruno sitting by your side. Not long after, another set of knocks on your door was heard, this time, it was Mista.

“Hey!” Mista hugged you from the side, placing a kiss on your cheek while he held the side of your face. “We got snacks.” He lifted a large green bag stuffed to the brim with a bag of popcorn poking out of the top.

“Hey, guys.” You kissed Mista on the cheek back. “No Giorno or Fugo?” You looked around for the blondes, expecting them to come in after Mista and Narancia.

“They couldn’t make it.” Narancia took off his shoes and placed them next to Mista’s. “Giorno said something family related, came up. Fugo was helping him.”

“I see,” You locked the door behind them. “Oh, Narancia!” He turned to face you. “I got you that ice cream you like, bubblegum and mango right?” Your words were followed by a loud ‘thank you’ from the kitchen as Narancia rummaged through the fridge looking for the tub.

Once everyone was settled and the lights were dimmed, the CD was placed in the player and everyone gathered around the coffee table. Today’s pick was “Cujo”, as suggested by none other than Leone Abbacchio. The man was an avid Stephen King fan, of course, he wouldn’t waste the opportunity to show the cinematic rendition of one of his favourites.

The sounds of the family screaming as the dog barked violently outside the door flooded the room, sending chills down everyone’s spines, sucking up everyone’s attention.

“Hey, Mista?” You leaned in slightly towards the male and whispered.

His eyes remained locked on the screen as he tilted his head up slightly to listen to you. “Hm?” He asked, reaching his hand into the bowl of popcorn.

“You free tomorrow?”

His head snapped round to look at you, before pulling a puppy dog face. “Are you inviting me on a date?” He pouted, placing his hands on either side of his cheeks.

“No silly,” You scoffed and ruffled his loose brown curls. “The fair, I would rather go with someone than go alone.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “I thought you wanted to go with Bucciarati?” When you and Mista talked about the fair, it was under the impression that you and Bruno would go together, Mista was merely suggesting as he knew him better than you did.

“He can’t make it.” You said through gritted teeth, emphasising the “t” at the end.

“Oh…” He paused and frowned before giving you an empathetic smile and patting the back of your hand. “I’d love to go with you.” He grinned widely. “I’ll pick you up at noon?”

“Mhm!” You smiled back before leaning back into the sofa as you were before.

The movie ended but the lights remained dimmed as you talked to fill the time. The bottles of wine were exchanged between everyone as its volume quickly diminished. Jokes were shared with light giggles, playful teases, and the occasional flush of the cheeks. Narancia’s head found its way to your lap as he sat on the floor and hiccuped under the influence of what seemed to be his 100th glass. Ordinarily, the idea of your home being littered with wrappers and crumbs would drive you insane, but the relaxing aura of being with your friends, especially with the stress of your work, made you forget about the mess.

You turned to the side and noticed that Bruno’s hair was tied up in a small ponytail with two locks on either side of his face.

Ah…he’s just so cute.

His lips were pouted in a cute expression as he pressed the rim of his cup against them. He turned to face you with a wide smile, before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in close. You steadied yourself against him with a hand on his chest. The scent of alcohol in his breath would have bothered you slightly, if not for how flustered you felt against him.

“Cara…” His deep voice hummed in your ear as he buried his face in your neck. Bruno was quite a touchy person when intoxicated, not just with you, but with everyone, but of course, you were the only one to get so worked up. “I’m very drunk, I don’t think I should drive home, can I stay here tonight?” He moved to cup your face and pressed his face against yours. “Pleaseee?” He asked with such a babyish voice.

“Of course, you can, Bruno.” You patted his back. He gave you a long kiss on the cheek before standing up and wobbling over to the sink for a glass of water.

Abbacchio left first, planning on taking the bus back home as he was the least drunk and able to make his way to the station. Narancia and Mista followed soon after, they lived together, just a couple of streets away from you and were able to walk back.

That left you and Bruno alone. Of course, he had been in your home before, and you in his, but something felt different. You stood up and began picking up the bags of snacks, throwing away the empty packets, while clipping and folding the ones that weren’t.

Bruno joined you later as he helped discard the empty bottles and cans, leaving the last full bottle on the coffee table.

“You don’t have to clean up Bruno!”

He smiled sweetly at you as he brought the glasses to the sink. “It’s the least I can do to say thanks.” He turned on the tap and began washing up the glasses while you packed up the rest of the leftover snacks.

The two of you worked quietly as whatever soap opera played in the background and filled in the gaps. Once your living room was back to being spotless, the two of you settled on either side of your L-shaped couch, light glasses of wine in hand as you cleaned up the rest of the bottle.

Bruno swirled the deep red liquid in his glass, occasionally taking a sip. His right leg lay across his form with his ankle on his left leg. His arm stretched out across the back of the couch, fingers stroking the material and occasionally rubbing it with his hand as his eyes focussed on the television screen.

For what felt like the millionth time this day, your focus lay with Bruno. His hair was still tied in the same small ponytail as before and you suspected he forgot to take it down. Just a slight change in hair made him look different, he looked cute, sweet even. It brought emphasis to his soft cheeks that had started to flush a soft shade of pink as he poured himself another glass.

“What did Giorno want you to oversee?” You said, trying to initiate a conversation before the butterflies in your stomach drove you insane.

He paused. “A couple of guys were caught selling to kids,” Bruno replied with a slight frown, his voice less chirpy than usual.

“Ah, I see.” You knew how much the drug abuse epidemic bothered Bruno, especially when it extended towards those most vulnerable, like children and people who were just scraping by. You didn’t mean to dampen his mood and you tried to turn the conversation around. “I think it's great that you care a lot about things like this, you’re a really good person.” You shot him a smile as you topped up your glass.

He let out a short breath. “You’re flattering me too much.” He looked up at you with a soft expression as his thumb grazed the rim of his glass. You released a mental sigh, thankful that you managed to pull up the conversation before it spiralled into an awkward moment.

“I’m just being honest.”

He placed his glass on the coffee table and leaned towards you. “Well, you’re a better person than I am.”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head to the side.

He nodded with a wide smile. “You care a lot about other people, especially the people in our team. It’s nice that you also remember people’s interests a lot.” He remembered how you specifically chose flavours that everyone on the team liked. “I like that you have a big heart. It also means that you stand firm when people cross boundaries.” He looked down and played with his fingers. “You know how to make your presence take over a room and get others to listen to you.” He recalled how even the way you carried yourself, your walk, your expressions, could gather the attention of even the rowdiest people. “You’re confident in yourself and what you believe in, I think that’s very admirable.”

These words flowed out of Bruno’s mouth smoothly and naturally, as if it was nothing, but they had such an impact on you that you could feel them in the depths of your chest. 

Of course, you would expect him to say something nice, you had been friends for years, but the idea of Bruno analysing and pointing out these specific sides of you was on a whole different level. Receiving such a spread of praise from someone as wonderfully put-together and admired as Bruno Bucciarati felt like the highest honour.

But a tiny part of you was hurt, upset at the fact that Bruno saw you in such a way and didn’t have feelings for you. Almost like it proved that despite how much you tried, Bruno may never have a romantic interest in you. He wasn’t misinterpreting you, nor was he viewing you just from the surface, he knew how you wanted to be seen, but that wasn’t what he was attracted to. 

“And you say that I’m flattering you?” You scoffed as you felt your cheeks heat up and your stomach twist even more.

“I’m just being honest.” He gave a teasing smile as he mimicked your earlier phrase. He took a final swig from his glass and placed it back on the table. “Did Mista say he’ll take you to the fair?”

“Yeah, he did, though I’m sure the free doughnuts tomorrow are what’s making him go.”

The corners of his lips turned upward before flattening into a frown. “I felt bad about not going with you.” He exhaled.

“You shouldn’t, you’re just busy.”

“Well, I’m always busy…Does it not bother you sometimes that I have to cancel plans a lot?” Bruno leaned towards you.

“No.” You said earnestly. “You have duties to fulfil and those should come first.” You exchanged an understanding nod between the two of you.

Bruno looked up at the clock above your TV, realising it was already past 3 am.

“I should head to bed.” He stood up and stretched, making the bottom of his turtleneck ride up his body slightly. You nodded in agreement, before standing up and making your way to the kitchen to wash your glasses and dispose of the empty bottle. You switched off all the lights and made your way upstairs together before bidding each other goodnight.

*********************************************

You stirred your coffee idly, mixing in the two sugar cubes you added, as today’s weather report was read on the radio. Thankfully it was expected to be a relatively warm, sunny day, perfect for the summer dress you wore. It was a simple white dress with tiny black polka dots and puffed sleeves. The front was cut a little low, giving space for the pearl necklace you wore and you paired the dress with a pair of black platforms and a small purse.

“Good morning,” Bruno whispered as he walked into the kitchen, rubbing his head slightly.

“Morning!” You pointed to the coffee machine. “Care for a drink?”

He shook his head and sat by the island. “I’ll have one when I go home, thank you.” He looked up at you as you drank from your mug. “You look lovely by the way.”

You paused with the mug up to your mouth, slightly shocked by his sudden compliment. “Thank you.” You put your mug down and smoothed the sides of your dress.

“You have a very exquisite taste, your clothing and colour palettes always fit you so well.” He beamed, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Bruno…” You placed your hands on your cheeks. “You know, you can be a tease sometimes.” You waved a hand at him and resumed drinking your coffee.

“A tease?” Bruno tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Is it teasing to compliment someone for being glamorous?” He chuckled, pushing the seat back and standing up. It was times like this that you felt like Bruno just gave you mixed feelings, his words dangerously trod the line between playful flirting/compliments and genuine attraction. 

“I need to head home now, so I’m not late.” You didn’t notice when he walked over to stand beside you. “Thank you for letting me stay,” He kissed the back of your hand and cupped the side of your face.

“It’s no problem, what are friends for?” You smiled back at him.

With a wave at the door, he was off.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you slumped onto one of the island chairs, the feeling of Bruno’s lips lingering on the back of your hand as you tried to finish your coffee. Once the white mug was empty, you walked over to the sink and washed it up.

The sudden loud honking of Mista’s car horn startled you slightly, making you jerk and drop the mug in the sink. You cursed out loud as the water splashed on your dress.

“Hey, beautiful!” Mista shot you a toothy grin as you walked towards his car.

You slid into the sleek black vehicle, taking in the overpowering scent of his cologne. “Beautiful?” You raised an eyebrow quizzically as you put on your seatbelt.  “Since when were you so polite?” You and Mista’s relationship was built on anything but pleasantries like that, while he had joked around and called you things like “hot” or “smoking”, something as innocent as the word “beautiful” felt suspicious.

“This is how I am to all the girls,” He said with a proud tone as he pulled out of the parking space. “You should have faith in me.”

You pouted and put on a fake sad voice. “Oh, so I’m just like one of your other girls Mista?” You placed a hand on your chest and looked at him with puppy eyes. “And here I thought I was special.” The dramatic tilt of your head with the back of your hand on your forehead made him smirk.

“No no bella, you’re very special.” He pinched your cheek harshly with no regard for your pain. “You’re one of my favourite people.” He patted your cheek before returning his hand to the steering wheel.

“So does that mean I get to see what Guido Mista is like on a fake date?” You tapped your bottom lip.

“Maybe,” He turned to face you as he stopped at the red traffic light. “But I don't want you to fall in love with me. It might make it hard to work together, my charisma is too strong.” He patted your thigh and gave you an apologetic look. In as much as you were playing around, Mista genuinely wanted you to enjoy today as much as you could as he knew how badly you wanted to go with Bucciarati.

“Ha!” You snickered. “We’ll see about that.” You leaned back into the seat and watched the street pass by as Mista drove towards the coast where the fair was set.

The wind blew a little as you stepped out of the car. Mista held your hand in his, clearly going through with the idea of a fake date, and led you towards the entrance.

The sound of kids running around, enjoying the first day of summer as they pushed and tugged each other and ran from one attraction to another. Behind each set of children was a group of adults, hands full with various snacks, drinks and toys for the kids.

Mista pulled you over to a massive ride that swung the riders in circles on swings. It was currently in motion, causing the sound of screaming kids to spread through the air as it began to tilt side to side. “We have to go on this!” Mista shook your shoulders violently, more energetic than the kids around you.

You laughed at his enthusiasm and nodded in agreement. Once the current cycle was over, you rushed to get seats next to each other, close to the edge. Your hair blew in the wind as you spun around, the height of the ride giving you a view of the entire fair. Mista, on the other hand, was screaming throughout with a massive grin on his face.

You went on that ride 3 more times before Mista had enough and pulled you towards another ride, and another, and another. Somewhere during the House of Mirrors, you grew tired of walking around and latched onto Mista’s arm.

“Let’s get something to eat.”

Hand in hand, you walked through the various food stalls before settling on a food truck selling takeaway kebabs. You took a seat on one of the benches overlooking the sea as you ate side by side.

“I think I should give up on Bruno.” You sighed, picking at the salad in the box.

“Why?”

“I don’t think he likes me, or that he will anytime soon.” You took a sip of your drink. “I can’t keep getting hung up on him. But it's so annoying because I really do like him, he’s amazing.”

You found yourself venting to Mista, explaining all your feelings towards Bruno and how he acts in response. Mista sat quietly and listened to everything you said, occasionally nodding or giving a short response to let you know he was paying attention. Before you knew it, you had gotten everything off your chest.

“Urgh I’m sorry, you didn’t need to hear all of that.” You groaned, embarrassed by what you said.

“Don’t be.” He patted your back and hugged you. “I’m not that good with things like this, but I know that anyone would be lucky to have you, and even IF Bucciarati isn’t interested, maybe it's for the better. There are so many people out there and you never know your options unless you look for them. You are one of my dearest friends, the last thing I would want is for you to beat yourself up over this.” He cupped your face. “You can hang out with me, call me, text me whenever, I’ll always be free for you.”

“Mista…” You hugged him tightly. “When did you get so mature with words?” You mumbled into his shoulder. Mista was known for being nonchalant and high-spirited, you rarely saw this calmer, more mature side of him.

“Hey hey, don’t tell me you’re already in love with me, I warned you!” He teased and poked your back.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. You looked at your phone and saw that it was almost closing time for today. The brightness of the summer evening had masked how late it actually was. You looked around and saw that the area was almost empty and stalls had begun to close.

“We should get going.” Mista nudged you and stood up. “Actually, I have one thing I want to do.” He took you to a stall with bows and arrows and a row of targets along the back wall.

“ € 2.50 to play. Hit a target, pick a prize.” The owner stated, handing Mista a bow and arrow. “Three tries.”

To the shock of the owner, Mista not only hit the target three times, but one of his arrows managed to shoot right through the other. The owner’s jaw dropped as he watched Mista pick out three items from the stall, a stuffed octopus, a goldfish and a toy boat. He handed the octopus to you with a bow, to which you graciously accepted with a kiss on his cheek.

“Who’s the goldfish for?” You asked as you walked to the car.

“Been thinking about getting a pet.” He handed it to you as you got into the car. “Relax, I’ll take care of it, I’ll get it a nice tank and everything.”

“And the toy boat?”

“That’s just for the bath.”

You both laughed as Mista pulled out of the car park and drove you back home. You pressed your head against the window, reminiscing on today’s adventure. Excluding the talk with Mista, you hadn’t thought about Bruno all day…it felt… nice . Mista was a sweet person to you, you had been good friends for over a year, but something about today felt different, a good type of different. A feeling that you wanted to experience more of.

Mista took you to the market again the next day, and the next, each more fun-filled than the previous. Mista was good at getting you to relax and enjoy the day, washing your mind clean of stress and worry. The two of you had developed a routine. Thursday evenings were your trips to Rhode Island Coffee, a quaint cafe not far from Mista’s home, while Friday afternoons were for brunch at a large bed and breakfast with a surprisingly high-quality buffet for a very low price.

You and Mista had always been friends, he was the first person you met on the team, even before Bruno. He helped you loosen up, and you helped him calm down, perfectly complementing each other in the middle. But you felt like you were getting to know each other all over again, especially now that you found yourself with Bruno less and less.

Everyone had noticed that your time was slowly shifting from Bruno to Mista, but no one thought much of it.

Well,

Everyone but Bruno.

He laid on his back in bed, staring at his phone, the lack of activity making him frown.

She hasn’t said anything to me.

He thought to himself. Not just today, but in days . Usually, the two of you would talk every day, small talk at the minimum, but he hadn’t received as much as a “hi” from you. It left an uncomfortable taste in his mouth and a sort of discomfort he couldn’t pinpoint.

It wasn’t just the texting, it was everything. You would no longer hold onto his arm when you walked together, you stopped sitting next to him in Libeccio (now choosing to sit between Mista and Narancia). You never really seemed to want to hang around him, as much as you did with Mista. Of course, you weren’t Bruno’s pet, you had no obligation to be by his side 24/7, but the less you were around, the more Bruno realised how much of his routine consisted of you.

It felt like he was losing you and he didn’t know why.

Though it's normal to feel sad if two people drift apart isn’t it? He was getting worked up over nothing, this was natural.

She must be busy, she must be working on something.

He reassured himself, standing up from his bed and putting his phone aside. In fact, why was he waiting for you to message him, he should say something first. He was free today, all day, maybe you could visit that dessert place you liked again?

Hey, would you like to visit Brambilla’s today?

One minute passed, two, ten. No response.

His eyebrows furrowed, your profile said you were online. Maybe you left your phone online? 

Or maybe you were just ignoring him, too busy having fun with Mista.

No, no.

Bruno shook his head, confused as to why Mista came into his mind. You were friends, you wouldn’t ignore each other out of the blue, he would hope that you would feel comfortable talking to him if you were going through a stressful time.

He locked his phone and attempted to continue with his day, helping himself to a nice lunch downstairs. His phone rang, just as he put a forkful of carbonara in his mouth, immediately he scrambled for the device and checked the name.

Oh.

It was Mista.

“Hey, Bucciarati!” He chirped in a completely different mood compared to Bruno.

“Mista…” Bruno felt a weird twinge in his side while talking to him, he ignored it and swallowed his food. “Can I help you?”

“Just wondering if you’re coming out tonight.”

“Tonight?”

The sound of Mista’s bed creaking was heard in the background. “Mhm…that club that guy…what was his name again?” Mista rubbed his chin and hummed.

“Puddu?”

“Yes, Puddu!” Mista exclaimed. “He invited us to that club, the VIP section.”

Clubs weren’t Bruno’s scene, he didn’t like the eardrum-bursting, migraine-inducing music, or the waves of drunk people cutting off the air and humidifying it with sweat. He was about to decline the offer until Mista spoke up.

“Y/n is so excited, it's cute.” He laughed. “She’s been dying for an opportunity to enjoy a VIP lounge.”

Bruno paused when Mista called you cute…it felt weird, it rubbed him the wrong way.

“So she’s going?”

“Yep, planned an outfit a week ago.”

“I’ll come too, just text me the time and address.”

“Sweet, see you later!” Mista said in a cheery tone.

Bruno hung up without a response and scratched the back of his head. There was an unusual…almost burning feeling, just below his chest that made him squirm in his seat. Maybe it was the regret of agreeing to go to the club.

Why did he even agree? Maybe because they would be in a separate VIP section? Away from the large crowds and in an area more enjoyable?

He shrugged his shoulders and accepted his fate as he tucked back into his food.

*********************************************

Evening rolled by, as did the event Bruno dreaded. He could just say no, change his mind and stay inside. But something in his heart told him he had to go.

Mista had sent the address and Bruno was already on his way. As it was summer, the streets were more crowded than usual, even for a Friday night, as more people decided to indulge in more late-night…activities.

The building was quite large and modern looking, sticking out in the modest neighbourhood. By the entrance was a large crowd, filled with various people dressed in a range of clothes, from casual clothing to more seductive outfits. Among the crowd were a few people donning high-end designer items, stepping out of luxury cars. Bruno assumed they too were guests invited by Puddu, the man was trying to rub shoulders with as many influential and powerful people as he could after all.

“Ah Bucciarati, right this way.” A woman in a low cut, sparkling dress held his arm, guiding him towards a room on the second floor. He noticed that this floor had its own bar and mingling space, smaller than the general area downstairs. She opened it to reveal the rest of his teammates sitting around a round table, small plates scattered across it. This room had its own stereo system set up, at least he wouldn’t have to listen to the trashy music being played downstairs.

“Surprised you came.” Abbacchio nodded at him, pointing towards an empty chair next to him.

“Well, I might as well see what he has to offer.” Bruno accepted the seat and looked at the drinks menu in front of him.

He scanned the list of cocktails, thumb pressed against his lips as he pondered what to order. He didn’t even notice the presence next to him.

“Narancia…how many of those have you had already?” You said softly, your voice catching Bruno’s attention. He looked up and saw you standing right next to him, leaning on the table slightly with one hand.

You wore a silk dress that hugged your body tightly, cutting low on your chest and held up with thin straps. The hot pink paired perfectly with your skin tone and eyeshadow. Your neck was adorned with a gorgeous gold necklace, and your wrists with matching bracelets. There was a certain allure about you, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it had to do with how he hadn’t properly seen nor spoken to you in a while. Bruno’s face turned a warm shade of pink as he realised that your cleavage was clearly in his view from this angle.

Bruno didn’t know what it was, but you looked different, there was something new about you.

It wasn’t unusual for you to dress in a way that caught everyone’s attention, nor was this the first time you wore anything revealing, but something about what you wore today made his throat close slightly as he tugged on the collar of his shirt.

“I haven’t had that many!” Narancia slurred, waving his hands in the air.

“When you’re able to separate your words, I’ll believe you.” You shook your head. You sat down next to Bruno, the only other spare seat. Bruno was about to turn and say something to you before Mista cut him off.

“Where’s the guy you were talking to? Did you leave him at the bar to wallow?” Mista leaned into you. Your conversation was unheard by everyone else as the music covered up any dialogue.

Everyone except Bruno that is.

“He’s charming…but I don’t know…he’s rubbing me the wrong way.” You folded your arms over your chest as you recalled the man that came up to you while you sat at the bar. He appeared slightly older than you, long black hair tied back, dark eyes, muscular build. He bought you a drink and took a seat next to you, revealing that he too was part of the organisation. You were usually quite good at spotting another person’s intentions just by looking at them, you explained to Mista that the look in his eyes made you feel unsettled, like he was hiding something from you behind that charismatic presentation. “But anyway, he went to the bathroom.”

Bruno felt that burning sensation in his body again, this time it spread up into his chest and neck, making his leg bounce under the table.

“Oh well.” Mista draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you close. “Plenty more fish in the sea, might as well enjoy yourself.” He stood up and held out a hand to you. “Let’s go dance!”

You took Mista’s hand without hesitation, letting him lead you out of the room.

Bruno didn’t notice how much he was staring as you left until Abbacchio slapped his back.

“Jealous much?” The older male scoffed before eating the piece of scallop on his fork.

“What do you mean?”

Abbacchio huffed and turned back to his plate. “No one stares at someone like that, with such an expression unless they’re jealous.” Bruno didn’t answer, instead, he poured himself a glass of water as Abbacchio kept talking. “Y/n this, y/n that.” The older male sighed. “Oh she hasn’t messaged me, she hasn’t spoken to me, she’s always with Mista, has she said anything about me to you?” Abbacchio mocked Bruno’s voice, much to his dislike. “Go tell her you like her.”

“I said I’m not jealous.” Bruno pushed back his seat loudly and stood up, an angered expression on his face as he exited the room.

“Bucciarati, I was only playing!” Abbacchio yelled back.

Well only partially playing. Abbacchio had known Bruno for 7 years, he could read Bruno’s expression like a book.

The private bar was busier now, more people gathered, ordering drinks and mingling. Bruno managed to squeeze himself onto a chair and ordered a drink from the bartender, trying to wash the sour taste Abbacchio’s words left in his mouth. 

“Mista don’t!” Your laugh caught Bruno’s attention, just down the table, blocked slightly by the crowd of people, you were sitting next to Mista, grinning at whatever he said to you. His arm was draped once more over your shoulders, while his free hand held a dry glass with ice cubes in it.

Something in Bruno’s mind wanted to know what you were talking about. What was so funny that you had to give Mista that starry-eyed look you usually gave Bruno?

You rest your head on Mista’s shoulder, ordering a drink while you hugged his waist.

Bruno looked away, clicking his tongue. It dawned on him that this was probably the first time in a long time you had been at an event like this and the two of you had been separated. Normally, you would be sitting next to Bruno, arm in arm while you talked, making even an unbearable situation feel more hospitable.

“I’ll be right back!” Bruno heard Mista’s voice and turned towards you, watching him leave down a hallway. Without thinking, Bruno walked over to you, taking Mista’s seat.

“Oh hey…” You smiled, a little confused as to when Bruno appeared by your side.

“Hey.” He beamed, an expression that would usually leave you flustered and embarrassed. But this time it didn’t, the lack of time you spent around Bruno made it better to deal with your feelings towards him. You simply turned back to your drink and took a sip.

“I sent you a message this morning….but um…no reply.” Bruno cringed heavily on the inside, mentally face-palming himself. It made him sound so petty and needy to bring it up.

“You did?” You checked your phone, he was right. There was an unopened message from him. “Ah, I’m sorry, Mista and I were-”

“I get it.” Bruno cut you off and cleared his throat. “No problem.” The burning came back again, this time he could feel it in the tips of his fingers as he stared down at you. Was he angry with you? Upset? He couldn’t tell, nor could he fathom why he felt that way.

It was probably something in his drink.

Yes, of course. The drink. Bruno had ordered something called a “Poison Dart”, not knowing the ingredients.

Well, at least the name was fitting.

You were taken aback slightly by Bruno’s sharp response, the tone rubbing you the wrong way even though he maintained his usual outward composure.

“So you and Mista…” Bruno swirled his drink in his glass. “You guys seem really close.”

Your eyes lit up, making Bruno grit his teeth. “Yep! I’ve known him for so long, but it's nice getting to know him better. I think I understand why Narancia likes living with him so much!” You snickered.

“That’s…nice,” Bruno mumbled behind his glass, setting it down rather loudly on the bar table. “Though it seems that we haven’t had a chance to hang out in a while.” He tried to play it off as a light-hearted comment, but he could feel an unintentional weight to his words.

He should probably get rid of this drink.

“Yeah, I guess we haven’t.” You sighed, running your index finger around the rim of your glass. You weren’t ignoring Bruno, not at all, but after your conversation with Mista at the fair a few weeks back, you felt like you couldn’t force yourself to catch his eye anymore. While your feelings towards Bruno were still strong, it wasn’t fair to continue this one-sided charade.

You hoped that if he did have feelings for you, he would make them a little more obvious.

“Maybe we should-”

“Oh hey, Bucciarati!” Bruno looked up to see Mista standing behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Hey.” Bruno’s eyes remained locked on Mista’s hands, how they stroked your bare skin and how you didn’t so much as flinch under his touch. “I’ll leave you two be.”

“You’re leaving? At least stay and have a couple more drinks.” Mista tugged the sleeve of Bruno’s shirt. He would have left if he didn’t notice you looking up at him.

Maybe he should stay, after all, he was complaining about not being able to see you.

He sat back down and ordered another drink, making sure to avoid the Poison Dart and anything that appeared similar.

“I got tickets to that horror movie by the way.” Mista resumed his seat next to you, gathering your attention once more. “Previews!”

You grabbed his shoulders enthusiastically, making Bruno squeeze his glass. “Mista, how did you get these?!” Bruno raised an eyebrow, he never knew you liked those types of movies, you had never once shown any interest in them around him.

But somehow Mista knew all about you, knew everything about what you liked all of a sudden.

Suddenly Mista’s the one you like to share things with.

“Had to pull some strings, but it was worth it!” Mista’s words snapped Bruno out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the proud expression spread across his face. “I got them for everyone.”

“Ah but…” You turned to look at Bruno briefly before looking back at Mista. “Bruno doesn’t like horror fi-”

“No, I do!” Once more without thinking, Bruno cut you off.  “I do like them!” He cleared his throat and sunk into his drink. He squirmed internally, realising he knew barely anything about the genre.

“Oh?” You looked back round at Bruno, tilting your head to the side. “You always told me you hated them, that they were all so unrealistic and had too much convenient plot armour.”

Ah shit.

Bruno nearly choked on his drink.

“That was before…I like them now!” He gave a wide smile, hoping, no, BEGGING for no further questions.

“Fair enough.” Mista shrugged before poking your cheek. “I’ve been making y/n watch all my favourites, I guess they’re rubbing off on her a little. You should come along then.” Mista returned the expression to him.

Though Bruno wasn’t looking at Mista…rather he was looking at how your fingers laced through Mista’s brown curls.

Bruno never liked people touching his hair, though, for some reason, it never bothered him when you did it.

The conversation faded into the back of Bruno’s mind as he watched the two of you engrossed in whatever movie you talked about. Mista said something to you that made you giggle and lightly slap his shoulder. He could tell from here that you were tipsy, not too much, but enough to make you more exuberant.

Ordinarily, this would be when Bruno would hold you up and take you home, letting you rest on his arm and lie in the back of his car as he drove you home. You would tug on his clothes and slur on every other word, in a way he thought was somewhat…endearing.

“Brunoooo.”

“Yes y/n.” Bruno smiled, moving you towards your bed.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, almost pulling him on top of you. “Yourereallypretty.” Your words rolled as one, making Bruno laugh.

“Well thank you, you’re very pretty too.” He pulled your hands off his clothes and kissed your knuckles. “But you should get some sleep now, you’ve had way too much to drink.” He ruffled your hair and tucked you into bed before leaving.

The memory brought a warmth that spread across his chest, a familiar fondness that made his lips curve upwards.

Too bad that warmth was quickly replaced with a numbing cold that spread to his head as he looked once more at you and Mista.

He didn’t like how closely Mista sat next to you or how focused you were on him. In his gut, he wanted to join in the conversation, say something so you could finally pry your eyes away from Mista. But he had absolutely no idea what he could possibly say.

Abbacchio’s earlier words returned to his mind, this time with a bitter taste.

He wasn’t jealous, absolutely no way. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, he wouldn’t be so petty over jealousy.

To Mista of all people, absolutely not.

As he said, he just felt a little off because he hadn’t seen or spoken to you in a while. You were both adults, he was 28, you 26 (the same age as Mista - though that didn’t matter), you were allowed to live your own life, as was he.

Did he particularly like the fact that you hadn’t been around each other as much? No.

Did he like the fact that Mista seemed to be everywhere like a leech? No.

But did that mean that Bruno had suddenly become jealous and had romantic feelings towards you? Definitely not.

Bruno dropped his glass with a loud bang on the table, you didn’t notice, not that he was trying to make you. He left silently for the bathroom, swatting out the guys smoking there. He turned the tap to cold and splashed water on his face, trying to get his head together. His brain was causing him confusion over nothing.

He rubbed his cheek slowly, fingers digging into his skin as water dripped onto his shirt. After a long, heavy sigh, left the bathroom, making his way back to the bar.

“Mista…”

The music was loud, but Bruno could still make out your voice, though softer than usual, and of course, you were whispering Mista’s name. He clenched his fists, and walked into the bar, stopping in his tracks when he saw you and Mista.

Mista’s hands were on you, one on your thigh, the other cupping your face, while both of yours were on his chest. But that wasn’t what caught Bruno’s eye.

No, what caught Bruno’s eye was your lips, your plush lips were pressed against Mista’s. Somehow in the few minutes Bruno took to clear his head in the bathrooms, you and Mista had started making out.

Bruno didn’t know what he felt, or how he should. It was a sting to his chest, the kind of sensation one would get from a stinging nettle. He didn’t say anything, and neither did he watch the two of you anymore. He silently walked past you and made his way back to the private room, only Abbacchio was there now.

“Bucciarati!” Abbacchio waved him over as he slumped over the table. Bruno pulled up a seat next to him and immediately Abbacchio poured him a drink of whatever it was he had been drinking.

“No, I think I’ve had more than enough to drink today,” Bruno said with a bitter tone through gritted teeth.

The tone didn’t go unnoticed by Abbacchio. “Have you accepted that you were in fact jealous?”

“No, because there is nothing to accept.” Bruno contradicted his word and chugged the glass in front of him. “I don’t know where you get these silly ideas from, you’re 29, not 19.”

“Ouch, no need to bring up my age.” Abbacchio placed a hand on his chest in a dramatic display of hurt making Bruno roll his eyes. “Besides, this has nothing to do with age.” Abbacchio picked up a piece of garlic bread from the centre table. “It’s to do with you being all mopey because y/n spends all her time with Mista and not you and now you’re regretting not saying anything sooner.”

“That’s absurd.”

“But is it a lie?”

Bruno paused and clicked his tongue before scoffing. “Whatever happened to two people just appreciating each other platonically? Everything has to be labelled as romantic.”

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with close platonic relationships.” The older male shrugged as he leaned into his seat. “But that isn’t really what’s happening though is it?”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink.” Bruno stood up, pulling Abbacchio’s arm simultaneously and dragging him out of the room. He made sure to not look towards the bar, in case you and Mista were still there.

“Hey look, y/n is a very beautiful woman, and the two of you are very close, there’s nothing wrong with having feelings here and there.”

Bruno completely ignored him as he waved down a taxi, neither of them was sober enough to drive all the way home.

The pair sat at the back, keeping the barrier between them and the driver up and the windows rolled down.

Abbacchio made it his personal goal to ensure Bruno accepted his jealousy towards you and Mista, hoping to play matchmaker and finally get the two of you together. He was well aware that you and Mista were platonic, but it was fun watching Bruno squirm and try to keep his cool.

He figured out Bruno’s true feelings just a week ago when Bruno complained yet again about you being with Mista. Everyone had gathered at a restaurant for dinner and when it was time to leave, you found out that your car had a fault and would need to be fixed the next day, meaning you couldn’t get home. When Bruno realised this, he jumped to your aid, offering to drive you home, but you told him that you were going to leave with Mista.

Now that was purely coincidental, Mista happened to approach you first. But Bruno didn’t know that, to him, you had chosen Mista over him.

He stared at you the whole time, watching you converse with Mista and get into his car, disappearing into the dark streets, with that pensive look on his face. From then, Abbacchio noticed more and more things about Bruno’s demeanour towards you and Mista.

Like how he had a scowl every time you hung out with Mista, and the irritated look on his face every time his name was brought up. Or the way Bruno’s eyes lit up when it was just the two of you together, his hands itching to hold yours and how he started copying Mista by giving you kisses on your forehead and cheek instead of the hand.

Bruno most definitely had feelings towards you, but Abbacchio couldn’t tell if he was being stubborn, or just plain dense.

Though the irritation on Bruno’s face from Abbacchio’s comments implied the former.

It would have been a lot easier if Abbacchio told Bruno that you had feelings for him and not Mista. But a. it wasn’t Abbacchio’s place to tell Bruno that and b. Bruno should be able to understand his own feelings by himself.

The taxi pulled up in front of Bruno’s home, but before he could leave, Abbacchio tugged on his arm. “If you want to keep lying to yourself, no sweat, but don’t complain if she and Mista get in a relationship.”

That ought to do it!

Bruno stood in his driveway, his back facing the taxi as it continued its route to Abbacchio’s home, and his fists clenched tightly. First, he sees you and Mista kiss and now Abbacchio plants the idea of you and Mista in a relationship in his head.

He sighed heavily, dragging his feet into his home and up to his bedroom. He lay defeated on the covers, too tired to take a shower or change. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out, the bright light blurred his eyes before focussing on the caller ID.

It was you.

Bruno answered without hesitation, putting his phone to his ear.

“Bruno!” You sounded relieved.

“Yes y/n?” He cleared his throat and answered.

“Ah I was worried, you left without saying anything, you’re okay right?”

He smiled to himself. You were worried about him? It made his lips curve into a wide smile. “I’m fine bella, Abbacchio and I took a taxi home.”

“Ah okay!” You exhaled loudly. “I’m glad you got home safe, sleep well Bruno.”

“You too.”

You hung up and he dropped his phone on his bed.

His head felt slightly clearer now as he pushed himself off his bed and changed his clothes. He found a cosy black sweater stuffed in the back of his wardrobe and tucked himself into his sheets.

Despite the comfortable sheets around him, Bruno lay awake in bed that night against his will. His mind was clouded by the conversation he had with Abbacchio.

He’s crazy

He thought to himself, turning over under the sheets.

He didn’t have feelings for you, you were his friend! You had known him for years, it was natural to want to be around each other.

You were friend material! You were nice to him, fun to talk to, adorable.

Adorable?

Well, that’s a harmless compliment, nothing wrong with being adorable. There are a lot of normal things that are adorable, animals, babies, clothes, it didn’t mean anything.

Bruno just thought you were cute, sweet, pretty, that’s all. Friends see the good in other friends, no?

You were stylish, confident, polite, all just admirable attributes. Nothing to do with feelings.

Yes, you had a lovely laugh that made Bruno smile, and there was a way you held his arm that made him feel calm and stable.

His mind drifted to the time he spent the night in your house, how generous you were for letting him stay with no sign of grudge or inconvenience, your generosity and hospitality towards the people you cared for was something Bruno noticed about you. It was then that he realised that it hurt him a little when you said you didn’t mind that he cancelled plans. It seemed that a part of him wanted you to care, wanted you to miss him, wanted you to enjoy his presence.

Ah, shit.

He pulled a pillow over his head in shame.

Abbacchio was right.

*********************************************

“Y/n this is amazing!” Narancia shouted, stuffing his mouth with a large forkful of cake.

“Really?” You smiled, a toothy grin lined with red lipstick. You gave a relieved sigh as you cut yourself a slice of cake. “I was so worried I added too much sugar.”

It was Giorno’s birthday, and while it was expected that the young Don of such a large organisation would throw a lavish party, he instead wanted something quiet, a day with friends having good food and pleasant conversation.

Part of your gift to Giorno, alongside a set of luxury, handwoven, silk neckties, was his birthday cake. He kept telling you not to make anything fancy, you of course ignored that and applied all the baking lessons Abbacchio had offered you to create an extravagant 3 tier cake covered in sky blue and lavender icing, decorated with edible gold balls and flowers. On the very top was the number “23” in large gold writing.

“No no, it's just perfect!” Giorno smiled, a pink blush on his cheeks as you pinched them. “But you really didn’t have to do this.”

You pouted and took your seat next to him. “Anything for you Giorno.”

Bruno sat opposite you that day, squirming in his seat because every time he looked at you he felt his cheeks flush.

Recognising his feelings for you should have made things easier, but instead, it just meant he got flustered anytime you were around him. He would trip over his tongue, his voice would crack, his palms would get sweaty and he would overthink any interaction with you. Having you sit directly opposite him, wedged between Giorno and Mista, wearing that fitted, long-sleeved black shirt and that short plaid skirt made him want to stare at you longer. Your jewellery was subtle, pulling more focus to your outfit itself and the way your hair was styled.

Bruno felt a nudge in his side, he looked over to see Abbacchio giving him a sly smirk.

“Don’t.” Bruno mumbled, bringing his glass to his lips.

Abbacchio snickered, stirring his glass of tea. “Well, I’m glad you’ve finally accepted it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So when are you telling her?”

“I…” Bruno hadn’t thought about that, telling you his feelings. “I don’t know.”

“Well do it soon, don’t let Mista steal your thunder.” He said in a sing-song voice.

“Guido, you got icing on your cheek.” You sighed as you wiped his face with a napkin.

“Guido?” Fugo raised an eyebrow, looking over at you. “When did Mista start going by ‘Guido’?”

Bruno didn’t even listen to your explanation.

You called him Guido ?

No no no, that was the only thing left that was special between you and Bruno. No one else called him by his first name, and you didn’t have a special name for anyone else.

Abbacchio was Abbacchio.

Narancia was Narancia.

Fugo was Fugo.

Bucciarati was Bruno to you.

And Mista was Mista not Guido.

Bruno ignored the conversation around him as he stood up and left the dining room, heading to the upstairs balcony of the Don’s home.

He sighed and pushed himself against the bar, groaning loudly at the knot in his stomach. Did this mean that you liked Mista? That the two of you were a couple?

He and Mista were complete opposites.

Mista was extroverted, Bruno was introverted.

Mista had curly hair, Bruno’s was straight.

Mista was hairier than Bruno was.

Mista was more nonchalant.

More playful.

Funnier.

Maybe that was just what you liked. He couldn’t fault you for having a type, after all, you can’t always control who you’re attracted to.

He rubbed his head, annoyed by just everything, embarrassed by how he overreacted over a simple word. He turned around and paused, surprised to see you behind him.

You smiled, waving at him. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” He swallowed, watching you move to stand next to him.

“Are you okay? You slipped away without saying anything.” You asked, your fingers brushing against his hand.

He pulled away sharply, already feeling tense from being so close to you. “I’m fine, just needed some air, I think I ate a bit too much.” He joked.

“Ah okay.” You laughed awkwardly. “Guido-”

“Are you and Mista dating?” Bruno cut you off as soon as Mista’s name left your lips.

You were taken aback, stunned by why Bruno would even ask such a thing. Lately, your friendship seemed to be unstable, somedays it would be like Bruno didn’t want anything to do with you, other days, it would be like all he wanted was to be around you. He had been giving you mixed signals and that only made you more confused with the feelings you had towards him.

“Bruno, why would you ask that?”

He didn’t face you, instead, he scoffed and pushed himself up on the balcony bars and looked at the view.

“Maybe because you can’t help putting your hands on him and letting him touch you as you please.” Bruno would never say something like this to you, but there was a pain in his abdomen that gave him the confidence to do so. “Or maybe because you had his tongue down your throat the other day.” Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped at the comment.

“You saw that?”

“Everyone probably saw that.”

A chill went down your spine as you lowered your head in humiliation at the condescending tone in his voice. Bruno saw you and Mista kiss…

Ah, now he would never want to be with you.

He thought less of you.

If any of the other guys said this to you, you’d shut them down in an instant.

But this was different…this was Bruno for goodness sake. The guy you were head over heels for, the guy you looked up to the most.

Yes, you and Mista had kissed, but it was a drunken mistake, something the two of you laughed at and brushed under the carpet. It didn’t mean anything other than give evidence of what happens after you pass your limit of drinking. Mista was chill about it, he knew you liked Bruno and that you wished it was Bruno you kissed instead of him. There was no confusion, nor any mixed feelings regarding that night.

Is this why he had been acting weird around you recently, why he had that scowl on his face at the nightclub? Why he would swing from one extreme to the other? Because of Mista?

“Bruno,” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him. “It’s none of your business what happened that day and I see no reason for you to hold it over my head and look down on me!” You said through gritted teeth, not wanting the conversation to be heard downstairs. “We are adults Bruno! Shit like this doesn’t need to be a big deal and it isn’t, it meant nothing to either of us, there is nothing between us! I didn’t think my life would turn into petty gossip.”

Before he could answer, you left the balcony and went back downstairs. Bruno couldn’t hear anything from the dining room, but it didn’t take long for you to come out from the entrance and drive off.

Bruno cursed to himself, a hollow abyss forming in his gut as his ribs became heavy.

What is wrong with me?

*********************************************

Bruno had tried for 5 days in a row to contact you, phone calls, texts, hell, even emails!

But no response, nothing.

He didn’t blame you, not in the slightest, he would avoid himself too. But he would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. Seeing someone he grew such feelings towards, completely cut him out like that, do everything in their power to not be around him.

But he deserved it, he had no right to speak to you that way and all he wanted to do was apologise. Today was his only chance to do so.

“Hey.” He waved at you as he stood by the booth. He noticed you sitting in at the back of a cafe as he ran errands. You were alone, which gave him an opening to talk to you.

You looked up at him briefly, not uttering a word.

Your heart was heavy, his words rang in your head and you felt a knot form in your stomach.

When you didn’t respond, Bruno decided to make the next move and sat opposite you, both hands on the table with tense shoulders.

She won’t even look at me.

The silence from your table managed to drown out the sound of the cafe as customers chatted away over cups of coffee and cakes.

“Y/n.” He mumbled, letting out a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” His hands tightened into fists as he looked down with a dejected expression. “It wasn’t my place to act that way about you and Mista, it was none of my business, I apologise for how I acted and for hurting you.”

You poked your slice of cake with your fork, nodding at his words. “Well, I’m glad you realised that.” You looked up at him. “But that’s not all, is it Bruno? Why did it bother you so much that I was hanging around with Mista?”

Ah…he was hoping that you wouldn’t bring this up. Bruno was still ashamed of his jealousy and how it made him lash out. It made him feel childish.

Well, he was childish.

“I talk to everyone here, but you only got annoyed when I was spending time with Mista.” You stirred your cup of tea with a spoon, prodding the teabag. “You’re meant to be my friend Bruno…I would like to think that you would be the last person to judge me.” You looked deep into his eyes. “You know I would never judge you.”

Bruno swallowed the lump in his throat, dropping his hands to his lap.

“The least you could do is offer an explanation.” You bit your lip, almost regretting what you were about to say. “Is it because you…had feelings for me?”

“How did you know?”

So it was true. Bruno did develop feelings for you.

“Well, you always told me I was good at spotting people’s intentions.” You scoffed, taking a sip of your drink. In reality, Abbacchio was the one that exposed Bruno. The day after Giorno’s birthday, you told him about the argument with Bruno and he explained how Bruno felt towards you. You were…shocked…to say the least. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?” Your voice cracked a little.

“I didn’t know how I felt until recently.” Somehow his honesty just made you feel worse.

“But you know how that looks right? To me?” You dropped your mug on the table. “It makes it seem like you only started seeing me that way when I was around other people, like you just liked the attention I gave you.”

While all you wanted was for Bruno to see you as you saw him, if it was simply because he liked the attention from you, and not because of you as a person, you would rather you remained platonic.

“No no!” Bruno leaned forward, instinctively holding your hand in his. “That wasn’t my intention…I swear.” He squeezed them, trying to convince you that he wasn’t like that.

You could tell he was being sincere, there was a certain glint in his eyes. “Did you know how I felt about you?”

“How you felt?” His face morphed into a slightly bewildered expression.

“Jeez Bruno…” You rolled your eyes, slipping your hand out of his and covering your face. “I’ve liked you for years .”

“Oh.” Bruno’s jaw hung open, completely stunned by this news.

You liked him? For years?

Bruno’s mind drifted to times when it had just been the two of you. Times where you would hold his arm, play with his hair, and jump to sit next to him whenever the group met.

How could I be so stupid and not think there was anything there?

“Just ‘oh’?” 

Bruno was snapped out of his thoughts. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Two years and you didn’t know I liked you?” You gave a weak smile as you dropped your hands.

“I’m not that good at interpreting feelings like that.” Bruno returned the same look. “Everyone thinks I am…but I’m really not, I’m horrible without direct approaches. I didn’t intentionally ignore your feelings, I wouldn’t do that.”

That glint returned, the one that assured you that Bruno was being open and truthful.

You snickered to yourself. “Abbacchio was right.”

“Hm?” Bruno cocked his head to the side.

“That you’re too dense to notice things like this.” You gave a teasing smile as you ate a forkful of the strawberry cake in front of you.

So Abbacchio knew you liked me? Does that mean everyone else knew too?

It made more sense now, why Abbacchio kept trying to get Bruno to admit his feelings. The tips of his ears turned pink at the idea of him being the only one out of the loop about this.

“I’m sorry for making you feel strung along.” Bruno rubbed the back of his neck.

“It's okay.” You wrapped your hands around your mug, the two of you staring into each other's eyes. Bruno’s finger moved to stroke the back of your hand, watching you let go of the mug and let him hold your hand in his.

“I really am sorry, I can’t imagine how you felt all this while, especially when I-”

“Stop apologising.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “But Bruno…can you promise me that something like that won’t happen again? I would like to think that you’re the kind of person that can be upfront about things like this and won’t lash out...I will also uphold the same standard.”

“I won’t let it happen again, I promise.” He meant it, he didn’t like that side of him, he found it ugly. If he ever felt that jealous or that annoyed, he would make sure to talk to you about it before it got too bad.

You nodded with a grin as the two of you sat in silence, Bruno’s body edging closer to the table. Your eyes closed slowly as his lips pressed against yours softly.

Once.

Twice.

Before his hands moved to cup your face, pulling you forward slightly. It was a tender kiss, one that only touched the surface yet made your heart race.

He pulled away, not forgetting to kiss your hand before leaning back into his seat. His nose and cheeks were a light shade of red. He looked away shyly, an endearing expression on his face that you just wanted to see again and again.

“Bruno…” You sighed, knowing that this would be as good a time as any. You knew how you really felt for a while now and kept it secret from anyone, wanting Bruno to know first. “I love you, Bruno.”

His cerulean eyes widened, and the blush darkened and spread from his nose to his cheeks while his heart felt like it was on the brink of explosion.

“I love you too bella.”

[quixotic-writer]

Signs

request: @birdgirl1772

Summary: New York was the place she hopes new horizons would be seen with a brand new job on the set of Impractical jokers with her long time boyfriend. Things didn’t change as she hoped and signs led people’s minds down a road they didn’t know was there. Q ventured in but is determined to help her on a path of her own.

Warning: Themes and talk of ab*se

————————————————

'Everything's fine. It's all okay.'

Like a mantra I keep telling myself over and over again as I frantically try and get the apartment put into order. He'll be up at any moment and I need breakfast hot on the table for him, if not he'll just do it again.

Almost as if on cue, I hear his footsteps and I feel a chill down my spine. I straighten myself up and put on a brave happy face.

"Good morning, breakfast is hot and ready." He doesn't say anything to me, just sits down at the table and quietly eats his breakfast as I clean up the kitchen. "I have a long day at work today on set, I might not be home in time to make dinner. How about some takeout at that italian place around the block?" He huffs.

"I don't ask for much, do I? All I want from you is a hot meal on the table. You're not the only one that works, you know." He spoke in a calm pointed tone. It was always scarier like this because it was the brewing and bubbling before worse happened.

"I'm sorry they just need me on set, I can't help that today is going to be a longer shoot."

"You can open your fat mouth about not being home to do basic shit, why can't you open your mouth to get a decent schedule?" I sit at the table nibbling at my plate of food, poking around at whatever was on it with my head hung low in shame. "My family wonders why I haven't proposed to you yet, how am I supposed to marry someone who doesn't even have any traits of a good wife?" He picked up his table and loudly threw his dishes in the sink making me jump.

I sit there without any tears left to cry. I just stare at the oak table and wonder why I can't do anything right. He comes back into the room with his coat in hand, lays a hand on my shoulder and plants a kiss on top of my head.

"I'll be home at 7 for dinner. Love you honey." He steps out the door and I hear him leave. I was left to clean everything up and clean myself up as well to head out for work.

When I went into the bathroom to change, I got a good look at my bare body. I had bruises in random splotches, some more faded than others. I felt disgusting. But he loved me. He's just pointing out things that I need to improve on... Right? That's all it is. He loves me. I convince myself mentally once more, but that only lasts mere seconds until i'm back to daydreams of escapism. I feel like a rat in a cage, he gives me everything, but he doesn't give me love. I'm just a sick experiment. A mere pet to him.

I pull my shirt over my head and cover the physical incarnations of my terrible secret and I head out the door to our filming location for the day: the bridal store.

I get to work and get things rolling before the guys get in: starting their coffee, helping set up their stations, double checking all the cameras are in place, and making sure each person is accounted for. I'm running all over set that I didn't notice or hear Q behind me. As I turn around with a coffee cup in hand, he's just standing there looking at me. I jump out of my skin and end up dropping the cup. A huge puddle of coffee is all over the floor and I feel my heart sink.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I immediately go down to grab the coffee cup. Q walks over and I screw my eyes closed fearing that I might be adding another bruise to my skin. But as I wait for a second, nothing happens. I open my eyes and see he has a couple of napkins and is helping to sop up the coffee.

"Didn't mean to scare you like that sweetheart! Are you okay?" He looks in my eyes with worry.

"I-I... I'm so sorry..." I couldn't get anything else out but that.

"You don't have to be sorry, accidents happen. I'm just happy none of it got on you, that would have hurt like a bitch!" We finish cleaning everything up and things seem to be back on track for everyone else. My heart felt like it was gonna fall out of my chest with how hard it was pounding so I found a way to escape off to the bathroom in a fired rush. As I was walking, I had my head down and clumsily bumped into someone else.

"Woah there speedy! Careful there!" I twist my head and see Joe who helps hold me steady so I don't fall, "You're an important part of the team and we can't have you getting hurt on our watch." He says with a smile. His words sound almost distant as my mind is only on finding a means of hiding. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost. Let me go get you water." He disappears and I go to hide away in the bathroom.

I slam the door and lock it. My palms are drenched in sweat and I'm shaking. I didn't make one mistake. I made two.

"You IDIOT!" I whisper yell to myself as I sit on the toilet. Eventually I had calmed myself down, took a breath, and wiped the sweat off my hands. The moment I opened the bathroom door there was Joe ready to knock, staring at me wide eyed. "Jesus christ Joe! Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!"

"Sorry, didn't mean to. I was looking everywhere for ya! Got you that water, stay hydrated." He hands me an ice cold water bottle and gives a soft smile before disappearing into the maze of equipment and team members. I was almost confused. I could have gotten water myself. I shrug at the kind gesture and try to get myself back on schedule after having that huge breakdown.

Everything from there was on track, no more hiccups in the road. I watched alongside the tech team as each of the jokers worked their magic in the dress viewing room, seeing various bride-to-be's in dazzling white and ivory dresses. Lace, chiffon, satin, there was everything and so much more. The girls on the team and I would gawk at each and every one that came through on screen, gushing about how gorgeous they are and how beautiful each girl was too. It came to a close for me as a voice came over the speakers for me to fix something up closer to the guy's monitors, a minor wiring issue that needed touching up on. As always I was quick on the scene to make sure that the problem was rectified and it wouldn't stall anything. The guys were still doing their thing as Murr was up on the floor.

I worked quietly and quickly, but not quickly enough I guess. The boys started getting rowdy, yelling, shouting, and hollering. Something in me shut down and suddenly everything didn't feel real. I looked at the work I had in front of me and nothing was quite clicking in my head. I froze. I stood behind their monitor in a daze. I don't know how much time passed before someone helped me fix the last bits up and get me out of there. I went into this mental auto-pilot mode. I heard everyone's voices, but it sounded foreign and almost distant.

"Hey." That came to me clear, I turned and Q was there. He looked worried.

"Hey." Play it off. Play it cool. Don't burden anyone with your problems.

"Listen, I notice things from time to time and I think now more than ever I need to address this." He kept his distance from me, his shoulders were slumped.

"What do you mean?" Play dumb. Don't let him know.

"Are things okay at home? Like, you and your boyfriend?" Cry for help? No don't do that, he'll think you're weak. But I need help. I can't take it anymore. But you've put up with it for so long, you can change him, he loves you. My mind was racing and I felt like a chameleon caught in the middle of its color change.

"W-why?" You're making it so obvious, why are you like this? His face shifts and I think that was an answer in itself that he feared.

"You don't have to tell me anything, it's not my business. Just know that I'm here for you and that I care about you. You're a part of the team and one of the crew members I can actually classify as a friend, your safety means everything to me and the guys." He goes in to hug me, I flinch. His arms don't wrap around me but his arms remain open. I look at him, and slowly melt into the hug. Despite his large stature, his embrace was soft and comforting. I've been hugged countless times, especially by my boyfriend, but never had any of them ever felt anything like this.

'Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.' Was what was screaming in my head as he held me in his arms. But, I just couldn't. We both separated and he was back to take his turn. I just sigh and feel this aching in my stomach. Was it guilt? Shame? Fear? Anxiety for sure.

When things had wrapped up, I roamed about the bridal attire looking at all the dresses feeling as the various textures graced my fingertips and their shape creating a model in my imagination.

"Try some on! Some of the other girls on set did, I think you deserve a chance to as well." Q sneaks past me and I didn't jump out of my skin for once. My eyes lit up like fireworks and I grabbed dress after dress.

"Only if you can give me some honest feedback big guy!" I say as I skip off to the changing room. I changed in and strolled out to the mirror. I spun and got a full look of myself and I felt beautiful for the first time in a long time.

"Look at you glow! Look at that smile!" Q had said enthusiastically. His eyes had wandered, but I noticed they stopped and his expression had changed.

"Something wrong? Did I get something on the dress?!" I look about the dress to find where the stain or imperfection might be.

"No, you just have a bruise on ya. How'd that happen?" I turn and bend my neck to see where in the mirror. There it was on my back left shoulder. I felt ice shoot up my spine.

"I'm just a little clumsy and ditsy! Just being stupid little old me again!" I pick up the skirt and go back to the changing room. This time, I went into something that covered me a little more and hid everything that I wasn't ready to reveal. When I came out, I knew my smile was less enthusiastic and I had lost my spark. I looked at myself, and it was just like I had always dreamed I would look like as a kid if I ever got married. That's when my mood really changed and I just started to whimper and cry. Q was quick to be at my side as I fell to my knees and wept.

"Hey, hey, hey it's okay." He held my hand in his and spoke in a hushed tone as he knelt by me.

"No. It's not. It hasn't been for a while." My mascara was running when I looked up at myself in the mirror. I looked around to see if anyone was there. No one was.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's the dress."

"What about it? I think you look good in it if that means anything." I chuckle. Sweet even when I look like a disgusting disaster.

"It's not that. It's just, i've always dreamed of this. Any kid does, especially me. Dressed up in a gorgeous dress of their dreams for their wedding. Smiling when you find the one and the dress. I've dreamt about it ever since I heard my boyfriend say 'I love you' to me. I want to get married but I feel that dream slipping away. He says he loves me, but I'm nothing but a punching bag, a burden, inconsiderate, imperfect, unlovable. Nothing I do is right or enough. I loved him, but I just can't find anything good in him anymore and I can't live like this anymore." The tears fall fast and heavy down my face and onto the carpet of the room. Q doesn't do anything but listen, "I want to leave, but I have nowhere to go. No one that cares. I moved here for work and away from each and every one of my support systems that I had. He said it'd be a new start but it feels like a trap now. I'm scared and I'm alone. I have no one that loves me."

"I don't know what to say to make this any better but I can tell you this for certain: you are not alone in this. He doesn't deserve you. He's stooped to the lowest of the low and is the scum of the earth. A royal piece of shit. I want to help you and I want to get you out of there." My head whips to him and our eyes connect and the tears temporarily stop.

"What do you mean?"

"You have your own bank account right? You know where all your important stuff is right? Do you have a suitcase to pack essentials?"

"Yes. But Q, and I mean this in the nicest way, what the fuck?" It felt like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Hope.

"You say you have no support system, well i'm it now. So are the rest of the guys whether they like it or not really. I'm hatching a plan. Are you in or out?" Everything felt sudden and so fast, my mind was racing and so was my heart. This was my chance, my opportunity, my sign that I've been begging for.

"I'm in."

"Perfect."

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

I stood in front of the mirror brushing my teeth and I watched him climb into bed in the reflection. I look back to myself.

'Am I ready for this? Is this really what I want?' Second thoughts bloomed in my mind as my eyes kept wandering off to him. This is gonna break him and I almost felt kind of bad for it. I spit the minty foam and rinse my mouth. No more doubts for myself. This is it. I climb into bed and just lay there on my back for a while as I felt the bed shift on occasion as he settled in for the night.

After what felt like an eternity but was only half an hour, I knew he was dead asleep. I snuck out of my bed and gathered all of my important belongings. Special papers like my social security card, passport, etcetera. Quietly pulled out my suitcase and stuffed it to the gills with all my clothes and other little trinkets like jewelry and knick knacks. Once I was all quietly packed, I left it by the front door and sent a quick text to Q that our plan was in motion.

I stepped back into the bedroom to see him unshifted and unbothered. I wish he had been like this all the time. I at least wanted to have the decency to officially split us. I scribbled out a messy letter that I left on the kitchen counter as I heard a car come to a stop on the quiet streets. A peek outside the curtain revealed a red jeep waiting outside. My heart fluttered. I looked around at my surroundings one last time, taking in the last drops of memories both good and bad. With a deep breath I snuck out the front door. Q helped throw my suitcase into the trunk and gave me a hug and I began to cry.

"Honey?" I hear a strained tired voice that wasn't Q's. We both looked to see him standing in the doorway rubbing the sleep from his eyes and to see if what he was seeing was correct. My heart sunk. "Are you kidding me? Cheating on me? You've got to be fucking kidding me." He started to approach and Q shoved me into the passenger seat and guarded the door like a dog, standing tall. I could hear it all beyond the window.

"She's been nothing but loyal to you I can promise you that, maybe a little too loyal for scum like you."

"What do you know about us? Who the fuck are you anyway?" They both stood chest to chest and I was terrified of what was to come next. The fear of not knowing what will happen and being terrified at the idea of the worst thing happening left me trembling and silently crying.

"I know enough. Now step off."

"That's MY girlfriend. Fuck off tough guy." He pushes Q's chest and he stumbles back into the car but quickly regains balance. His fist reels back and I seal my eyes shut not wanting to see anything. When I opened them back up, he was on the floor holding his nose.

"If you know what's good for ya, you'll get your ass back inside and leave her the fuck alone." He begrudgingly gets up, stands there for a moment, looks to me with a glare, and backs away inside. Q adjusts himself and steps into the car.

"Are you okay?" Once again, I'm tearing up and grew to be a mess.

"You're so worried about me. I'm okay but are YOU okay?" I say with a smile.

"Well I just set that dick straight I think, and I'll be having you staying in my guest room. I think I'm doing pretty great." He says with a chuckle as he sets the vehicle in motion, "Now, let's get you to your new place of residency."

"At least until I can find a place for myself."

"Of course, but know: You're welcome to stay as long as you need. All I ask is for occasional help around the house."

"Of course. It would be incredibly rude if I just made a mess of the space you're so graciously sharing with me." We sat in the quiet of the car, adrenaline crash kicking into my system and my eyes grew heavy. "Hey. Thanks by the way."

"That's not an easy situation. It's hard to do alone. The fact that I could help you makes me happier than you know. You deserve to feel safe and loved and feel real love." I smile and he does too.

[amphtaminedreams]

The Summer of Disappointment: Lookbook no.11

Hi to anyone reading,

Welcome to an exploration of one of my favourite combinations of activities: putting outfits together and moaning. Straight off the bat-this summer has been a shitty one. The pandemic has made 2020 a shitty year all round. My feelings are best summed up in this tweet by @25lambs (I love her account but this girl changes her @ every other week so it will probably have changed again by the time I post this):

The uncertainty of when life will return to some semblance of “normality” is the hardest part. I also feel like I lost a big chunk of my life to, well, being miserable basically, especially during my teen years and my plans to make up for that in my 20s has been potentially snatched away. That being said, in the grand scheme of things, I am very lucky. I still have a job and I haven’t lost anyone close to me, which are both hugely traumatic things that many people have had to go through as a result of the pandemic. I think being sad about how the pandemic has affected your life and also recognising that there are people who are facing a far greater amount of hardship than you are not mutually exclusive which is something people online tend to forget on a daily basis. I also thought we had longer, if that makes sense, like summer came and went in such a short space of time it almost feels like it hasn’t happened yet, and being the extremely anal individual I am, of course I had a load of outfits planned that I never got round to wearing-instead of sulking about what didn’t happen, I instead decided I’d make a bit of a lookbook out of those outfits as well as a kind of diary of what I did get round to wearing.

So that’s enough rambling from me! I’ll get on with it!

Looks 1-3

Depop has been my absolute favourite thing for the last few months. I gave up fast fashion around May and apart from a slip up or two, I’ve pretty much stuck to that since. That being said, I am clearly very into fashion and styling and so it’s been a hard transition to make (yes, first world problems IK, don’t bait me), especially with me being a compulsive shopper. Wanna know how to lose weight? The jig is up guys, switch from emotional eating to emotional shopping. I’m joking, nobody needs to lose any weight, but I am 100% someone who attempts to cure feeling like shit with some good old instant gratification, and Depop has filled my fast fashion void. My favourite purchases from the last few months include this tan faux suede jacket on the left I bought from Tash_Hall’s shop, and aside from that everything here is old. It makes me feel like I’m a background extra in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and I’m into that. The movie was shit but the visuals were top tier.

-21/07/20-

(top handmade by sophieeee_1123 on Depop)

-30/09/20- 

(dress from maisiemainwaring on Depop, jacket from marinamcaleesex)

-18/09/20-

(top handmade by maddypageknitwear on Depop)

-25/07/20-

(cargo trousers from amber_thomson1 on Depop)

Looks 4-6

So I doubt anyone actually reads my fashion week reviews-I know everyone’s here for the pictures-but if you did, you’d know how much I wanted last season’s Erdem hats to happen off the runway. You know, the big boater ones that tie under the chin? Well, I got one off Ebay, as you can see on the left, I can confirm that in anything other than still life they look absolutely fucking ridiculous; I never ended up wearing mine outside the house because if I wore it for more than two seconds it would end up teetering to one side and slipping off my head, hence me trying to pass off holding it up as a fashion moment, lol. Maybe they are completely impractical, maybe I just have a big head (which is true), who knows. The beaded butterfly top however (from Depop but I can’t find the seller’s account anymore!), also on the left, was way more flattering on than I expected it to be and I am gutted I didn’t get to wear it out. If they’re right about a vaccine not being ready until July 2021 then it looks like next summer’s festival season will be cancelled too, but festival season 2022, this top is coming for ya. Optimism, you know. Other than that, the shorts are reworked Levis from Studsnstuff vintage on Ebay, which I have ALWAYS wanted and now irritatingly pair with absolutely everything and call it a look, and the two piece is stolen from my sister’s wardrobe, lol. Lastly, we have the sunhat, which reminds me of something my parents would’ve put me in when I was little and is totally adorable, from Happydais’ Depop store.

-28/07/20-

-12/07/20-

(top from tash2 on Depop, skirt from anishacassanova)

-27/08/20-

(skirt from mollie_morton on Depop)

-19/08/20-

(jeans from izziesanders on Depop)

-16/09/20-

Looks 6-10

Up there with my favourite Depop purchases of the summer is the striped corduroy trousers in the bottom right from Annasctx’s shop. I was desperate for some vintage trousers in this style but most resellers were, typically, charging extortionate prices for them, so it was a blessing to come across these for under £30. It sounds like a lot but they are a popular item on there at the moment so it’s a good price considering! Also from Depop is the red bodysuit from Alzaska’s store, the monogrammed headband from Jadexlaurenx’s store, and the PU flame print beret from House_of_erotique who do the most AMAZING custom pieces. I am waiting on a couple of things from them at the moment for an American Horror Story inspired lookbook I’m doing for halloween and I am buzzing to try them on! The bag I’m using here is my new go to-it’s a second hand Calvin Klein I found for THIRTY FUCKING POUND in a local charity shop! The woman at the tills told me that lots of people had gone to buy it and then put it back because it was too expensive which is insane! I know you go into a charity shop for cheap things but this bag was such a steal I have no idea how nobody just bit the bullet and bought it. Anyways, I’m not complaining because now it’s mine and I'm in love and I’m gonna try not to spill a monster energy drink on this one<3 

-26/08/20-

-18/08/20-

(suit from emmafisher3 on Depop)

-10/09/20-

-15/08/20-

So, that’s it for now! If you got to this point, thank you for reading! I’m sorry it’s not longer but I’m finding it really hard to motivate myself to write at the moment with everything going on-I’m only finishing this now because it’s 3:30AM and my friend’s cat that I’m looking after is keeping me awake and I’m too much of a softy to shut it out the bedroom. London has just gone into tier 2 lockdown which means I can’t visit my sister or my friends up there, and they’re not allowed to travel down here either. I get it needs to be this way and that we have to make sacrifices, but that’s not to say it isn’t tough on a lot of people’s mental wellbeing. I was really beginning to get my shit together this year, lol! Oh well! Sorry 2021, messy bitch me is getting a sequel. I know, I hate her too.

With regards to what’s coming up on my page, I’m working on the American Horror Story lookbook I mentioned this week and then a (probably non-existent this year) party season lookbook following that. I do intend to do more mood boards and a summary of the S/S 2021 shows soon. I don’t know if I’ve got it in me to do a whole ass review at the moment so I might spice it up and do a tier ranking or rating out of 10 or something fun like that, but there will definitely be something within the next couple of months! I also thought it’d be cool to do a post on the style of some incredible black influencers who are sorely underappreciated on Instagram for Black History Month, but even if I don’t get it out in October, expect that at some point.

Thank you to anyone who read this and thank you in general for bearing with me! I really hope things look up from here but regardless, if we all work together and be considerate of others, we can get through this. I hope everyone is doing okay and as always, if you are struggling, my inbox is always open. Post suggestions are welcome too, as well as feedback as long as it’s not *too* mean. A bitch is sensitive atm. 

Stay safe!

Lauren x

[pollylynn]

Title: Aloud WC: 800

“Did I stop, or did something stop me?” — Alexis Castle, A Chill Goes Through Her Veins (1 x 05) 

She has never been clear about the rules that govern her—that have governed her since she made the choice years ago to step back from the brink. No more.

The simple dictate covers—has had to cover—a tremendous amount of ground: No more running herself into the ground, day and night, going over and over shoddily collected evidence that will always lead nowhere. No more risking her career trying to skirt rules, gain access, pursue leads and contacts without sanction. 

The professional end of things had been—is still, most of the time—simple enough. She plays strictly by the rules. She channels her grief and passion into her cases. She hones her skills ceaselessly and every moment of her professional life, she strives to do better than the complacent, incurious minds that leave so many adrift on an uncertain sea. She roots out the Elizabeth Fortés and Charles Wylers of the world who cry peace, because she knows there is no peace. There are only answers if she does her job right. And she always does her job right. 

It’s the personal end where the rules get fuzzy, where she thinks she has gone astray. It’s in the quiet of her own mind that she feels lost. A memory has come to her lately—it keeps coming to her—of walking out on her therapist in the days after she’d made her decision. 

No more. 

She had left, literally, mid-session, utterly disinclined to sit there any longer and entertain an absurd version of the world in which she could talk, talk, talk about her mother’s murder—about the myriad effects it has had on her life—and not do anything about it.

The move, belatedly, seems melodramatic. The idea behind it seems flatly impractical—that she should never again speak of it, or even wonder what happened, why it happened, in her own heart of hearts? It seems impossible, childish. It seems almost comically unlike her, given the rapacious need for answers that still drives her. 

And yet this foolish insistence is part of the choice that governs her—that has governed her and left casualties along the way. She does not talk about her mother’s murder. She does not talk about her mother. 

People know. The Captain, by virtue of chance meeting, knows. The boys and Lanie because they care—because they are her friends, because they know the scars she bears. 

Everyone tangled up in the precinct grapevine knows, because she requires explanation. Even among her intimate circle of good, dedicated cops, her tenacity and dogged pursuit of the whole of things demands some kind of origin story. So people know, but almost without exception, she is not the one to talk about the murder. She is not the one to talk about her mother. 

It is enough, she has told herself all this time, to have the talisman of her mother’s ring with her always. It is enough that she has her dad and their tentative, sidelong conversations where they lay their memories of her mother out like the good silver, then pack them away again lest they tarnish. No more means not succumbing to the ravening sense of loss, and she has told herself all this time that these things have to be enough. 

Then, in an instant, by the light of the desk lamp, it is not enough. 

She does not understand why he should be the one who shifts the ground beneath her feet. She does not understand why that should matter, given the damage done over the years by her staunch refusal to run through the details of her greatest sorrow in the service of what she’s told herself is a pointless kind of performative intimacy. 

But the ground shifts, and unprompted, she becomes the author of her own story. He knows the ending. She fills in the facts, such as they are, and it all resonates to hell and back—from Raglan to Sloane, from her father to Ben Davidson, from Melanie Cavanaugh’s children to her.  

She makes a joke at the end. He makes one, too. They are kind to one another in the charged moment that follows. They let the story as she has told it settle between them. They part ways only after reaffirming their respective roles. 

I’m a writer. 

I’m a cop. 

But she has been a writer tonight. She has unexpectedly spoken, and in speaking, she does not feel the catharsis that long-ago therapist wanted for her. There is no epiphany or closure or peace. But there is . . . space suddenly within her like a welcome gap left on a shelf by a book loaned out to a friend. She has unexpectedly spoken, and here within her, is a new, tiny, curious space.    A/N: 2020 landed another painful blow today. This is pretty rocky and not a thing.

images via homeofthenutty

[kumeko]

Title: a helping hand or two

A/N: For the @featherszine! I got assigned CCS, winter, and of course I had to put in a little Meiling, Tomoyo and Kero into the piece.

…

…

…

…

Ever since he was little, Syaoran had fought monsters, battled immortal guardians, and more scarily, survived his mother’s training. There were few things left on the planet that could surprise him. 

 Yet, despite all that, nothing was as frightening as Tomoyo’s smile when she says, I’ve got the perfect outfit for this.

 Absolutely nothing. He'd even rank the fight with Yue below it.  

Tugging on his coat, he had to admit that his outfit wasn't bad for once. While Tomoyo had a gift for design, almost all of her creations were some level of impracticality, better suited for photo shoots than actual wear. Today’s outfit was no less fashion forward, a snowflake-themed outfit complete with sharp edges and inconvenient dangling snowflakes. As long as something magical didn’t happen, the ensemble was more annoying than in the way.

 “Now turn to the right,” Tomoyo ordered, stars in her eyes and a video camera in hand. A drone floated around him but she liked the personal touch of taking her own shots.

 Slightly exasperated, he obliged. They’d been at this for a good ten minutes now. He was used to this when it came to Sakura, less so for himself, and even then it had never been as public as this, in the middle of the town’s ice rink. When he’d agreed to go skating, Syaoran had expected to, you know,  actually skate. At this rate, it looked like he’d be stuck outside the bathrooms until closing.

Freed from her own photoshoot, Meiling smiled happily as she watched. “You'll send me some pics, right?”

 “A whole video package,” Tomoyo answered, shooting her a thumbs up.

 Syaoran wondered if it was too late to run. And just what was Meiling doing with pictures of him? She’d broken off their enga—she was going to send them to his sisters. A chill ran up his spine and he wasn’t sure if that was premonition or just a really good guess.

 “Ehh? Really?” Meiling brightened up more, if possible, her expression almost glowing. “And thanks for making me an outfit too!” She twirled around to show off her cheongsam-styled dress with a flared skirt. “I’ve always wanted a Tomoyo creation!”

 “Of course.” Tomoyo closed her camera and pumped a fist in the air. “A group collection, making each piece uniquely tailored for everyone’s personality but match overall as a whole…” She quivered. “It was a dream come true.” Happily, she sighed, pressing a hand against her cheek as she admired Meiling. “Why, coming up with your ribbons and accessories were the best parts.”

 Popping out of the changeroom, Kero fly triumphantly toward them. “Not as great as mine!” He tugged on his snowflake tie with a grin. “The most handsome fellow is here now!”

 “Ahhh, the stuffed animal’s escaped,” Meiling muttered in a deadpan. It was amazing how quickly her enthusiastic smile melted into a blank expression. “Put him back in his cage and remove his stuffing.”

 “Who’re you calling a stuffed animal, you annoying brat?” Kero growled, and Syaoran had a strange feeling of déjà vu as the pair argued.

 “Um, Tomoyo,” Sakura called out, interrupting the fight as she timidly stepped out of the washroom. “We’re just skating, right? We don’t need all this.”

 Syaoran tried had not stare. Really, he tried. Tomoyo had always dressed Sakura cutely, and today was no exception. With a white fluffy skirt and a ruffled, ice-blue dress shirt, she looked like a snow princess. Dimly, he was aware of Tomoyo’s knowing glance but he couldn’t do anything about it. Hell, he couldn’t even think of a word to say to Sakura.  “Y-you…” he stuttered, but it was like he’d forgotten how to speak. How did they talk before? How was he ever able to get past mono-syllabic words?

 Not missing a beat, Tomoyo cooed and turned her camera to Sakura immediately. “Nonsense! My work isn’t just for magical fights.”

 “Yeah,” Kero agreed, floating around Sakura and tugging his bow again. “And I look good!”

 “For a stuffed animal,” Meiling added snidely.

 “Besides,” Tomoyo barreled on, ignoring the interruptions. “If anything else weird happens and you have to create another Sakura card, you’ll already be dressed!” She frowned, twirling a long lock around her finger dejectedly. “I missed all your adventures recently.”

 Sakura bit her lip, friendship and self-consciousness warring on her expression. In the end, as expected, shame lost and she clasped Tomoyo’s hands. Forcing a smile, she nodded. “Of course!”

 “Great!” Tomoyo smiled gratefully before pulling out her camera. “Now, smile!”

 -x-

 “Here, let me help.” Sakura glided up to him smoothly. Even her stop looked graceful and Syaoran was reminded once more on how easy sports came to her. “You can’t skate like that.”

 Leaning against the railing, he wanted to argue that he could. Technically, he was almost halfway around the rink now, even if that was more out of a stubborn determination than anything else. Yet Sakura was leaning close, her hand out expectantly, and without realizing it, his hand was already on hers.  The second her fingers curled around his palm, he burned a bright red and resisted the urge to pull away. “T-thanks,” Syaoran managed, barely keeping his voice deeper than a squeak.

 “It’s fine!” Sakura smiled brightly at him and his heart flipped. Did she know she did that to him? She had to, right? He was a terrible liar, all things considered, and there was absolutely no way he was able to hide what he felt around her. “That’s what friends are for!”

 Then again, she’d always been some level of dense. Syaoran took a deep breath, trying to calm his speeding pulse. “Right.”

 At this point she was skating backwards, slowly pulling him along the skating rink. Both of his hands were in hers now, and it wasn’t like they were holding hands. This was all to stop him from falling but no matter how many times he repeated that, even through the gloves, his skin burned from the contact. Trying to distract himself, he commented, “You’re really good at this.”

 It was a normal level of praise, given in an entirely normal way.

 Sakura grinned, puffing her chest proudly. “It’s cause I rollerblade all the time. It’s the same thing, only the brakes work differently.”

 “They do?” Syaoran asked, curious despite himself.

 “Yeah.” Sakura slowed their pace down and gestured at her skates. “You change the angle of the blades when you stop, but with rollerblades I just tilt it back.” She grimaced. “It was scary to do that though.”

 That surprised him. He had thought the only thing that scared her were ghosts. Sakura picked up the pace again and he urged his clumsy feet to keep up with her. Every time he wobbled, she tightened her grip on his hands, keeping him steady and balanced. If there was one small mercy, it was that he hadn’t fallen in front of her.

 From his peripherals, he was dimly aware of Meiling slowly skating around the rink, her balance little better than his. Tomoyo was making circles around them, her camera in hand, and he could already picture her replaying this on her theatre-sized screen.  

 At some point, it didn’t feel as unnatural pushing one foot in front of the other. In fact, it felt kinda smooth and he peeked down at his feet.

 He was gliding.

 “You’re doing it!” Sakura chirped, echoing his thoughts, and he looked up to find her smiling proudly.

 “I-I am,” he stuttered, surprised. Straightening his posture, he repeated more confidently, “I am!”

 “Great.” Sakura loosened her hold. “I’m going to let go, okay?”

 “Yeah—wait, what?” Syaoran panicked as she let go and slipped to his side. He wasn’t ready. He definitely wasn’t ready and—oh, his feet were still moving forward, still gliding.

 “See? You can do it,” Sakura cheered, coming to a stop to watch him. “Just like that.”

 “Yeah.” Syaoran added more power to his legs, pushing off the ice more firmly. He could do this. Looking over his shoulder, he shouted excitedly, “I’m skating!”

 That was a mistake. Sakura only smiled in response, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. She didn’t feel that way about him, he knew. Her eyes were for Yukito, and she didn’t feel that way about him at all. But something about her looked bashful, her cheeks a rosy red (from the cold, he reminded himself), her eyes slightly downcast. Syaoran swallowed.

 Should he say something?

 Do something?

 He crashed into the side of the rink before he could figure it out.

 “Syaoran!” Sakura yelled, horror colouring her voice. “I’m coming!”

 “Me too,” Meiling shouted. “Really slowly.”

 “Sakura…Meiling…” Dazed, he lay flat on the cold ice. The world turned a shade of yellow: the ice, his hands, even the shadow looming over him. Looking up, he found Tomoyo giving him an amused smile.

 “You okay there?” she asked. “What happened?”

 He blinked. “I think so.” His knees and chin ached, but he’d suffered worse fighting the Clow cards. Or were they Sakura cards now? Lying flat, he closed his eyes. “I was just...surprised.”

 “Mmm…” Tomoyo hummed thoughtfully. “She didn’t teach you to brake, did she?”

 Nor did she teach him to turn, so he would have ended up like this at one point or another. Now that he was still, he could finally feel how cold it was, how the chill sank into his bones. His hands were still hot, tingling from her touch, and it was like everything he’d felt for Yukito but amped up to the max. “I didn’t think it’d be so hard,” he muttered, half to himself.

 “It’s always harder than you expect,” Tomoyo answered knowingly and he opened his eyes to catch her sympathetic gaze. It was like she knew everything and he wouldn’t be surprised if there was magic in her lineage too. “Need help?”

 She offered her hand and he stared at it. It was tempting. Beyond tempting. He was tired of feeling flustered, of trying and failing on his own. Looking past her, he watched as Sakura quickly rushed toward them, concern on her face, giving her best like she always did. Even with Yukito, no matter how clumsy she got around him, she tried her best.

 How could he do anything less? Taking Tomoyo’s hand, he shook his head as he stood up. “I can do it.”

 “Are you okay?” Finally caught up, Sakura braked hard and stopped right in front of him. She scanned him, her body bobbing up and down as she checked all of his limbs before determining there were no wounds. “I’m sorry!”

 Despite himself, his body stiffened automatically. “I-it’s fine.”

 “Really?” Sakura prodded his head gently, still looking for an injury. “Maybe we should get helmets.”

 Her finger grazed his ear and it was too much, way too much. Knees weak, he collapsed again.

 “Syaoran?” Sakura gaped in horror.

 By this point, Meiling had finally pushed her way to their side of the rink and she reached down to touch his forehead. “He feels feverish.” She frowned. “Maybe he’s sick?”

 “In a sense, he is, but it’s nothing to worry about.” Tomoyo winked at him. “Sure you don’t want any help?”

 He’d be lying if he wasn’t reconsidering his stance.

[meganshinsou-tm]

Vermilion. (m)

↳ chapter twenty: the moon on a chain

❧ genre:  pro-hero’s bakugou/kirishima, poly, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: 

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

You walked around the city, boots clicking against the pavement as you clasped your trench coat tighter around your body trying to hide from the windy and chilly air. The colder seasons were your favorite more multiple reasons, the weather in general, holidays, and the colors. You were just a brighter and happier person in those months. As you patrolled the city today though, you were cursing how impractical your hero costume became on these cold days. Today was actually only your second day back on patrolling duty, the past 2 weeks you were stuck on desk duty just like when you first started at the agency. But at your latest doctors appointment, the man cleared you as 100% recovered despite your scars and that meant you could get back in the action, but under one condition.

Working with Katsuki or Kirishima only.

“Freezing your tits off princess?”

A teasing and brash voice spoke into your ear as you felt arms wrapping around your waist, causing you to now walk awkwardly as Bakugou held on.

“Shut up Baka-gou! The thought of being outdoors in freezing weather may have slipped my mind. Now get off, we’re on the job right now! Someone might see and start going nuts,” you replied elbowing him.

“And you think I give a fuck? I wish those fucking leeches would catch us together! Then shit would really hit the fan huh?” He snickered and tickled your sides, referring to an article that was published a week ago of you and Kirishima.

You couldn’t help but giggle. Once you were showing improvements in your recovery the boys got more comfortable with taking you back out into the world. The week before, you and Kirishima went grocery shopping and an off-duty worker for the towns hero magazine happened to catch the two of you being all giddy and in love while on the train. Kirishima was all about PDA, he’d litter your face with kisses, never let go of your hand, held you tight and close to him. The paparazzi worker took advantage of this rare sight and snapped a few pictures, soon news of ‘Red Riot Under Bruja's Spell’ spread across Japan like a plague. Everyone at the agency always poked fun, wondering when someone would catch you and Bakugou together and how much of a shit show that would be.

“You’re such a fucking chick Suki, you just live for drama!”

Rolling your eyes you managed to push the hero off but were soon pulled back and into an alley. Your back was slammed against a wall and Bakugou’s massive arm gauntlets trapped your head. His crimson hues burned into you and a smirk played on his face that was nipped by the cold and pink.

“Is it wrong that I want the world to know that you belong to me as well?” Bakugou cooed before biting down on your cheek roughly.

“Hmm,” you teased, taking longer than he wanted to answer back, causing the male to bite down harder and place a knee between your legs and press it hard against your core. Your fingers dug into the brick behind you and a purr left your lips.

“I’m fucking teasing Suki! Of course it's not wrong, I want the world to know that as well! I see all the girls that drool over you on the street, they still think you’re free real-estate.”

The blonde completely released you, letting his arms fall to his sides and kissed your forehead. He pulled out his phone and looked at the time, a smirk on his face.

“Good answer, I guess we’ll let you have your gifts after all. Now come on, it’s time to head back. We got a birthday to celebrate princess!”

Back at home the three of you took turns with showers and getting ready. You and Kirishima always took the longest when it came to your hair, so Katsuki opted to shower alone and fast while you and Kirishima showered together. The red head washed your (h/c) locks for you, always adding way more shampoo than needed but you never complained. He’d just barely harden his fingers and massage your scalp each time, be playful and try to spike up your hair. Showers with the red-head were always fun and sweet. As he put conditioner on your ends you made small talk.

“I told you guys, I didn’t want to make a big deal about today, but you didn't listen! You even got the entire agency to go out for me with a party!”

“Well when do we ever listen to you mama? This is a day we get to celebrate and spoil you!”

“And how is it any different from every other day with you two,” you chuckled and hummed as Kirishima finished running the product through your hair and wrapped you in his arms, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Alright, you got me there. I know you don’t like birthdays, but this is your first one with us and we’re really excited about it, please just let us do this and if it happens to not be to your liking, then we'll listen next year, okay?”

Kiri’s voice was soft and soothing, and you nodded.

It was true, birthdays weren’t your thing. You didn’t like to think about getting old and to you it was just another day but both of the men had been having this glow about them all day long so they obviously had something exciting planned and who were you to dull that happiness.

“Alright Kiri, I’ll give it a shot!”

After a few more minutes the two of you were out, a towel wrapped around your body and one wrapped around Kiri’s hips. You bent over to wrap a towel around your hair and the man playfully smacked your ass almost making you fall over, always forgetting his strength and apologizing as he grabbed your hips before you could tumble to the ground. Standing up straight again and turning to face him you smiled and put your hands on your hips.

“So, anything special I need to wear?”

Half an hour later downstairs, the two men were fully dressed and impatiently waiting.

“I’m about to go up there, that stupid old hag probably fucked up on the measurements I gave her,” Bakugou growled and shot up from the couch.

“Whoa there, chill man, I’m sure she’s almost done!”

Kirishima laughed catching his friend by the back of his blazer.

Katsuki clicked his tongue, swatting the hand that held him back away and stood at the end of the stairs looking up and leaned against the wall. Bakugou was a mess, all day he played it cool as if he was collected but underneath the date they had in mind for you gnawed at him. The man was a sort of perfectionist, especially when it came to you. He called the place they would be taking you to multiple times, making sure that it was indeed reserved and closed to the public for the night. He made sure that Kirishima in fact brought their gifts there and set them up correctly.

“Bakugou, everything will be perfect, stop stressing man. Remember where we took her for the first date? A goddamn bowling alley! Trust me, she’ll be over the moon for this!”

“I know that idiot! I just don’t want anyone or anything to fuck up her night.”

Kirishima went to reply until he heard a door upstairs opening, both men looked, hearing the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floors. Both their hearts seemed to beat faster than humanly possible the closer the footsteps got. It felt like the first time they took you out all over again. They both straightened their clothes. Their outfits matched besides their tie colors, both wore black slacks with a black button up shirt underneath black jackets. Kirishima donned a yellow tie while Suki, after 15 minutes of begging from his friend wore a red one. Both of them stood, shoulder to shoulder with their hands in their pockets as they waited for you to descend down the stairs.

“If I’m the only one looking this fucking fancy, I will kill you both!”

Kirishima and Katsuki chuckled with each other and watched as red heeled feet made their first step down. As your ankles started to merge into your calves, black tulle could be seen bouncing with the steps you took. More and more, your body started to come into view and both pairs of vermilion eyes widened and sparkled, jaws were dropped. Looking down to watch your step underneath the amount of tulle, your fingers also held back your bangs from falling into your eyes. A black bandeau type halter wrapped and encased your chest, revealing a more than decent amount of cleavage and exposed shoulders and arms. The men could see your soft mounds bounce as you walked, making Bakugou rethink ever asking his mother to design you an outfit ever again.

A high-waisted black tulle skirt sat perfectly at your hips and hit you mid-calf. Per the men’s request you wore zero jewelry, an odd request at that. It made you feel even more naked in the chest area since your hair was in a top knot. Your eyes finally looked up to the men standing before you and a smile crossed your red lips.

“Aww, don’t I have the two best looking boyfriends in the world!”

Both of your lovers smiled and kissed your cheek as you stood before them, their eyes wondering over every inch of your body. They exchanged compliments with you themselves, making your cheeks blush violently. Apparently Katsuki’s mom had made the dress specially for you and this night. You found it odd that the blonde took your measurements a few weeks earlier, when you asked what he was getting them for he did say that his mother was designing you a dress but it was supposed to be for some hero banquet that was held every winter.

“So, I guess that excuse about a hero banquet was bullshit huh?”

The blonde smirked and shook his head, “No that was true, but we also wanted you to have something special to wear for tonight that you couldn’t find anywhere else. Fucking Mitsuki is getting an ear full tomorrow about this!”

Kirishima took your hand in his, twirling you around and whistling until you spun into his chest, your back flushed into him and his arms wrapped around you tight as he nuzzled your neck, complimenting how well of a job Mitsuki did on your dress. The blonde smirked and took a long step closer to the two of you, placing himself before you. His red eyes dark and gleaming. You felt teeth at your shoulder making you gasp as Bakugou lifted your chin with his finger. The mood in the room quickly changed from light-hearted to sexual in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t fair sometimes having two boyfriends at a time like this, trapped with no way out, not like you wanted a way out though but you did enjoy this outfit and wanted to at least spend a few hours in it before it was torn to shreds and Mitsuki's hard work would be all for naught.

“That old hag did too good of a job, how are we supposed to take you out in this?” Bakugou growled through gritted teeth, his finger now scraping down your breasts as they were pushed together, tracing the curve of the soft and supple mounds.

Kirishima’s sharp teeth dragged down your skin and one of his hands turned your face so he could plant a hot kiss to your lips. Once he broke it, another hand was on your chin, gripping and making you look forward again as Bakugou’s own lips crashed into yours with another hot kiss. You were powerless to them, already melting and feeling arousal pool between your legs.

“Damn this skirt, it’s too long and the waist is too tight for me to slip my hand into. I bet you’re already soaking wet, huh cutie?”

A quiet ‘yes’ left your lips and the two men chuckled as they both left pecks along your neck and shoulders. You were slowly getting sucked into their spells until you realized what this night was about in the first place.

“S - fuck, goddammit! Stop it! You two can wait a few more hours for this, I’m hungry and I want my presents!”

Kirishima laughed, quickly changing his sloppy kisses to sweet ones, Bakugou rolled his eyes and bit your cheek, releasing you with a smirk.

“When we get back home, we get to unwrap a present of our own!”

Before leaving the house you were blindfolded by Katsuki, you growled thinking it was another sexual advance but he assured it was just until they got you to your destination, but that the garment would definitely be used later. They each took one of your hands and walked you outside to a vehicle, both agreeing that you looked way too good for other people to see and refused bringing you on a train.

The whole ride over to wherever the fuck it was you were going was full of you guessing. You guessed DisneyLand, the beach, a few restaurants, the bowling alley that you were banned from, and all kinds of other places only to be met with harsh ‘no’s’. You also had to blindly swat away the men's wandering hands as they both tried to slip them under your skirt or into your top. It was a fun game to them since you lost your sight and would jump each time one of them whispered in your ear or squeezed you.

“We’re gonna have so much fucking fun with you tonight princess. It’ll be like it’s our birthday instead!”

You heard a clap as both Katsuki and Kirishima high-fived each other behind your head, making your eyes roll underneath the black blindfold.

“I’m dating teenagers!”

Only a few minutes later you felt the vehicle slowing down and finally coming to a stop. Your hands flew to the barrier around your eyes but were quickly stopped. Sharp teeth bit at your cheek then were at your earlobe.

“If you so much as touch these without our permission, your cute little ass is going to get it later, understood baby girl?”

Your bottom lip retreated between your teeth as your thighs rubbed together from Kirishima’s words. Another set of teeth were at the opposite lobe, warm breath now fanning both sides. On each thigh a hand was placed and squeezed simultaneously.

“Answer him princess, you know how not using your words only riles us up even more!”

Bakugou’s voice now burned on your skin and you grit your teeth, feeling the heat rising from your core and into your chest as you swallowed harshly.

“Yah! I understand! Now let off!”

Your own hands pushed away their hands and you motioned for them to get out, not sure if you were even motioning in the right direction. Your ears could hear the door opening, cool air rushing in and making you shiver. A warm hand took yours and Katsuki coached you to the edge of the seat, your feet hanging out the door before he grabbed your waist and helped you out. Something wrapped around your shoulders and Kirishima was heard chuckling behind you as you jumped.

“Calm down mama, it’s just my jacket! Take our hands and we’ll get going.”

You did as instructed, holding out your palms to have them taken immediately by a man on each side of you, kisses were planted on your cheeks and they started to walk. When you’d come to steps, the two would instructed you like a child. So far just the journey was fun to you. The three of you soon stopped and a door could be heard opening and you continued to walk again. The air wasn’t as cold and the ground turned from concrete to what felt like flat carpet. You couldn’t exactly place a finger on the smell, it's almost as if there wasn't one.

“Guys, how much further?” You whined.

“Oi, only a few more steps brat! When we say ‘now’, you can take off your blind fold.”

Sighing, you wanted to just start running but knowing your luck, you’d face plant into the ground. Once again you were at a stop as your boyfriends hands left your own and you could feel them leaving. You wanted to take the mask off but remembered their warning and let your hands fall to your sides, grabbing at the tool of your skirt as you whined out their names.

Both men looked on at you, standing in the middle of the massive room clutching your fabric and trying to contain your excitement. They both looked at each other and nodded and announced together.

“Okay, now!"

Your jaw dropped as you took in the surroundings. Miscellaneous types of fish swam around the massive tanks that made up the walls of the room you were standing in the middle of. The only light filling the room was dim, making it feel like you were indeed on the ocean floor. Quickly you walked over and pressed your face and hands to the glass, awing at the gorgeous coral reefs and plant life, the colorful fishes. Until, something dark loomed overhead making you furrow your brows and look up.

“Holy. Shit.”

Above you, gracefully floating along was a massive whale shark. How you didn’t see it in the first place blew your mind. Whale sharks were your favorite ocean animal. You only ever dreamed about seeing one in real life and going into the oceans to swim with one of the gentle giants. They were so beautiful, the underside of their bellies white against the contrasting dark color with white spots on top. Your eyes watched as the shark floated and started to descend lower and even closer into view, your heeled feet quickly walked over to it. Your fingers brushing the cool glass as if you could touch it through the thick barrier.

“That’s a pretty big fish huh?” Kirishima’s voice spoke next to you.

You looked at him with sparkling eyes and he gave one of his famous sharp toothed grins. Touching your cheek, he leaned down to place a soft kiss to your lips.

“This is … I – I don’t have any words. It’s beautiful and it’s perfect!”

“Are you happy?”

Bakugou’s voice rang in your other ear, as he leaned an arm against the glass and looked into the tank, a hand in his pocket. You smiled and lunged to hug him, almost knocking the breath from his chest. He grunted but hugged you back, patting your hair and placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Of course I’m happy Suki, I’m elated, ecstatic, over the moon, bliss –“

Bakugou placed a hand over your mouth with a chuckle, it was quickly removed and he kissed you just as softly as Kirishima had done, lingering for longer though. His red eyes were open and he saw his friend give him a nod. Katsuki broke the kiss, placing his hands on your hips and slowly turning you around, pulling you into his chest as he hugged you from behind, hooking his chin over your shoulder. You chuckled and looked before you to see Kirishima standing there with his hands behind his back. Quirking a brow you looked from him and to Bakugou, unsure of what exactly they were plotting.

“Ready for your first gift princess?” Katsuki asked, smiling against your skin.

Your eyes lit up and you nodded eagerly, making the two men laugh. Kirishima walked closer until he stood before you pulling out a small flat black box from behind his back. You looked at it closely, it was obviously some sort of jewelry box.

“We know how badly you wish to have the moon and you know if we could it would be yours in a heartbeat, right?”

You nodded in reply and Bakugou's grip around you tightened. Kirishima smiled and his fingers gripped the edge of the box, slowly opening it.

“Well, hopefully this satisfies you for now while we figure out how to get you a real one.”

You grinned and looked to see the red-head completely open the jewelry box, revealing a white-gold crescent shaped pendant with diamonds lining the curve of it. It seemed to sparkle and shine even without being moved.

“Oh w-wow, it’s so pretty. Is it mine?”

Bakugou laughed and released you from his hold as his hands reached out to remove the necklace from the box. Holding it closer his cleared his throat, making you get the hint that he was trying to put it on you. The chain wasn’t loose or tight, almost like a choker and the pendant rested perfectly between your collarbone.

Katsuki moved from behind you and stood by Kirishima, both of them looking over you and grinning.

“Well how does it look?”

“Perfect!” They both blurted out in unison.

You smiled and hugged them both, placing a kiss to each of their lips.

“I love you Katsuki, and I love you Eijirou, these gifts are way more than I deserve and this is really the best birthday I’ve had so far. Thank you so much!”

“Don’t thank us yet mama, you still have one more left from each of us. Let’s go sit down and eat, then you can open those!”

After eating the food that the guys had brought over, you were extremely full and miserable. Your face lay flat on the table as you groaned, rubbing your stomach. It was all Bakugou’s fault, he tried saying that you couldn’t possibly finish the entire steak and sides on your plate and of course not being one to back down from him you emerged victorious while also wanting to die.

“How about some cake?” Kirishima’s voice sang out.

“No! No more, I'm gonna puke!”

Bakugou laughed and pet your head, quietly mentioning something about more presents. Your head perked back up and you smiled. Both boyfriends smirked and sat two small bags on the table.

“These aren't really anything special or as extravagant as the necklace but we couldn’t resist. Open mine first mama!" Kiri so eagerly pleaded.

You smiled and grabbed the red bag, quickly ripping the tissue paper from it. You squealed when your eyes landed on two different Funko Pop boxes. Removing them you couldn’t help but smile. It was a Beast Boy and Raven. To others the small toys may have meant nothing but the guys knew you were a collector of the figures and it was even better because of the pet name the hero called you by.

“Kiri, this is so sweet and perfect! I’m going to put them on their own little shelf.”

Bakugou subtly pushed his green gift bag towards you with a smirk. You smiled and took it, doing the same as before. Your eyes went soft and you placed a hand over your heart. You pulled out yet another Funko and held it to your cheek, smiling wide at the blonde. It was a Gizmo from Gremlins. These two were really pulling out all the big guns with your gifts, making you fear for how Christmas would turn out.

“Suki, I love him! God - thank you guys so much. I’m so lucky to have you, really.”

Kirishima and Bakugou proudly smiled and leaned over to places kisses on each cheek. For the rest of the night, you spent your time marveling at the fish and whale shark again, and talking between your two boyfriends until the two decided it was finally time to end the night and get you home. There was no objection, you honestly were pleased to hear the words. Once in the backseat of the vehicle you were lured into before, you stretched out between the two heroes. Your head rested in Kiri’s lap and your legs in Bakugou’s. Hands massaged your scalp and calves, and quickly you were fast asleep.

Once home neither of the men bothered to try waking you, Kirishima gently gathered your body into his arms and exited the vehicle. Bakugou followed behind and paid the driver. Once at the front door Bakugou fished out the keys and opened it for his friend, they both sighed as they walked through the front door. It had been a big day not only for you but also for them, with having to set up everything on top of work they were pretty worn out themselves.

A soft and high pitched sigh came from your lips as you nuzzled more into Kiri’s chest. Both men looked at you, Katsuki smirked and walked over, his hand petting your hair before he placed a kiss to your cheek. His fingers moved to trace the pendant that laid on your collarbone, even in the dim light it still sparkled.

“I was honestly nervous as fuck that she wouldn’t like this thing,” he softly said as to not wake you.

“Bakugou, I think we could’ve gotten her a macaroni necklace and she would’ve been happy. She’s just that type of person.”

“Tch, we would’ve saved a shit ton of money if we took that route, huh?”

The two stared at you, smiles on their faces as you slept peacefully, Kirishima leaned down to kiss your forehead and shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s worth every single penny though.”

“Damn right she is. Come on, let’s get her to bed, I feel like it’s gonna be a two man job to get that tight ass skirt off of her hips!”

You were carried up the stairs and gently laid down on your bed. Katsuki and Kiri both removed their coats, the red-head took them, placing the garments on the chair in the corner of your room. They both started to work on dressing you down, each took one of your small feet in their hands and removed the red heels. You flinched as Katsuki’s fingers grazed the inner arch of your foot, he chuckled and started to lightly flick the skin with his fingers tickling you more. Your face started to twitch and groans came from your mouth.

They both snickered and snorted, until your leg kicked, almost nailing the blonde right between the legs. Kirishima couldn’t help but let out a laugh as he took the heels and sat them on the ground.

“Little shit, nearly clipped me!”

“Well don’t tickle me asshole,” your sleepy voice suddenly blurted.

The men looked to see you slowly sitting up on your palms and rubbing your eyes. You yawned and rubbed the back of your neck looking at them with a quirked brow.

“Were you just going to let me sleep?”

“Well yeah, why wouldn’t we?” Bakugou asked.

“You two seemed very determined earlier to get into my panties, what happened?”

They looked at each other, Kirishima shrugged his shoulders.

“Uh – I guess we just figured you were tired mama.”

You smiled and moved to sit on your knees, inching towards the end of the bed and looking between both men. Without their coats, both of them had pushed up the sleeves of their dress shirts, showing off their muscular forearms. Their entire torsos looked amazing in the snugly fit shirts along with the pants. Just the sight of them had you quickly brimming with lust, the little dream you had during your power nap also didn't help with the situation.

“I’m far from tired Red. In fact I’m all ready to go, wanna feel?”

You bit your lip, hands running up your thighs and pushing the black tulle back as one of your hands went to disappear underneath it.

“You little fucking minx!” Bakugou smirked as he started to loosen his tie even more.

“Get your cute little ass over here, now!” The red-head gleamed, licking his sharp teeth and holding out a hand for you.

Smiling, you took it as he helped you off the bed. Bakugou was quick to pull your back into his chest and attacked your shoulders with harsh kisses, his canine teeth scraping against your skin. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them back into his own, a sweet groan leaving his mouth. Your hands got to work on un-doing the yellow tie from Kirishima’s neck, his finger hooked under your chin making you look up to him so he could place a rough kiss on your lips. You moaned into his mouth as the man behind you reached his hands around and aggressively groped your breasts and bit down with sheer force on the crook of your neck and started to suck.

Your fingers curled into the button-up shirt and tugged. To undo the obstacles you reluctantly broke the hungry kiss with Kiri, making him resort to kissing your jaw and neck. His tongue darted across your now flaming skin, making you giggle while your fingers quickly undid the buttons of his shirt and pushed the fabric down and off his shoulders. You marveled at the hard and flawless chest underneath, hands running over his pecs and mouth kissing his collarbone. Your hands traveled down and undid his belt in record time and removed it to work on the button of his pants. His own hands were on your shoulders, turning you around to face Bakugou.

“Sorry mama, that’s all you get for now,” Kiri growled into your ear as he and the blonde switched roles. His own razor sharp teeth biting down the back of your neck.

You lips were soon met with Katsuki’s, you could feel the smirk and bit down on his lip harshly, payback for the bite he gave to your neck. He growled out a usual insult but shut up once your hand groped his hardening member over his slacks. Your free hand tugged on the tie around his neck, pulling him closer. Kirishima’s hands lifted and bundled up the tool of your skirt, cool air hit your exposed thighs and his hands were able to find your ass and squeeze roughly. Hardening the tips of his fingers, you could feel them digging into your plump flesh. Your hands worked on removing Bakugou’s shirt the same you did with Kiri’s but you left his tie on.

“You two still have that blindfold?”

“It’s in my pocket cutie, don’t worry we haven’t forgotten about it. We’re just being generous right now, letting you take in the sight of us. We know how badly you wanted to strip us first.”

Your head turned around to kiss Kirishima with a smile.

“You’re so thoughtful Red, use this on me too,” you tugged on Bakugou’s tie making him growl and bite your cheek with a devious grin.

Both men smiled at each other and nodded.

“It’s still your birthday princess, so your wish is our command.”

[narutxuzumaki]

for the prompt: naruhina + being office co-workers

TO DO LIST

Reschedule meeting with Granny

Write up the finance paper for tomorrow

Read all my emails

Respond to Gaara. 

 Get Hinata to do that cause she’s awesome

Pretend that I know what I’m talking about when I meet with Kakashi

DON’T

Don’t bend Hinata over your desk. You both have shit to do

Don’t waste 10 mins of your time thinking abt eating her out

Don’t actually eat her out

Don’t get nearly caught by granny again

Don’t say you love her in the office!!!! V stupid, not romantic at all. Dumb              idea

 He groans loudly and flops back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. So far, he’s done shit all except make this list. The disadvantages of working with your girlfriend: he’s barely ever productive. He snorts and pushes himself up. Who’s he kidding? Hinata’s was effective and timely, her work was always good quality and she always pushed him to work harder. She had been the one to suggest making lists to keep his day on track. Yeah, his girlfriend was awesome.

None of that stopped it from all being torturous. (Who would have thought that there was a reason why work relationships were so discouraged? Certainly not him).

Apparently getting boners when your girlfriend – was ruthlessly efficient and good or wore skirts that were short or skirts that were too long or smiled or squinted her eyes or breathed for that matter – was considered unprofessional. They could all colour him shocked at that fact.

Had been two years since Hinata had started working alongside him and nearly five months since they had started going out. It was all great, except for the fact that he could barely complete his work and that he fantasised about burying his head between her legs in all types of boring and impractical places and that no one else was allowed to know. Yay co-workers.

Which was why the list was created. He couldn’t exactly have his ways with her with all their colleagues milling about. Dragging each other into closets and the photocopier room was all good fun for the first couple of months, wasn’t so great when you very nearly get caught and threatened with HR for eating your girlfriend in the meeting room. The list was a way of keeping some of his sanity.

Sai always remind him that this is stupid and if Hinata has already figured it out that she will but Sai is also a massive dick that needs to stop mooching off him and move out so.

Except, it wasn’t working, nearly as well as it was meant to. Not now that Naruto was certain that he’s met-the-love-of-my-life-sign-me-up-for-the-first-Disney-wedding-please. It was becoming harder to avoid doing all the things on the list when Hinata’s smile is enough to make his heart swell up to double its size and now that he’s seen all sides of her. He’s seen her happy and sad and crying and insecure and angry and he falls more and more in love with her with each reveal.

“You doing another list?” Hinata asks, going over to him from his desk. He quickly covers the list with some papers that he needs to sort and give to Kakashi. She thankfully doesn’t mention his hasty cover-up of it. Instead, leaning against his desk. His hand twitches, he wants to hold her hand so badly but her hands are in her lap and it’d be too obvious if he reached out to hold one. No hand holding, he thinks vaguely, reminding himself to add to the list.

“Yeah,” he laughs sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “I have so much to do still.”

“Don’t be so embarrassed,” Hinata says tsking, “You know what my planner is like.” And he actually laughs at that cause Hinata’s planner is immaculate.

He signs into his emails, set on getting through them all but freezes at the sight of her applying a ruby red lipstick. Hinata’s eyes glitter with intent, smile amused and cheeks are flushed. He gulps hard but Hinata only smiles at him and pushes herself off his desk.

“I’ll see you later Naruto. Good luck with the work.” He swallows hard as she leaves, pulling out his list to scribble one more thing onto it. He’d need all the luck he could get if this was how his day was going to go.

DON’T

Think about kissing Hinata’s lipstick away

Think about Hinata kissing other places

THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR A BONER

*

TO DO

Pay attention to the meeting

Ask Hinata for her notes at the meeting. Her notes are better

DON’T

Stare at Hinata’s ass

Stare at Hinata’s lips

Get caught by Sakura for staring at Hinata

Think about fucking Hinata in the meeting room

Get a boner

Get threated with a sexual harassment case for getting a boner 

To say that Naruto has no idea what this meeting about is a small statement. He hasn’t listened to what Kakashi has been saying for a good hour. Too busy mesmerised by Hinata being awesome. Does anyone understand how unbelievably hot it is to have your girlfriend take charge in a meeting and being good?

He won’t lie and say that her ass in that skirt is the best thing since fucking sliced bread. It really doesn’t help with keeping his mind on track.

He hasn’t been particularly good at avoiding any of the things on his list as of late. He chalks it up to last night. Hinata had stayed the night at his. He had woken up with her in his arms, soft and sleepy and beautiful. He couldn’t be blamed for his failure to compartmentalise, not entirely at least.

The meeting ends and everyone files out until its just him and Hinata. Being alone with her like this does something strange to him. Makes him feel all hot and twists up his all his insides. He’s not a horny rag-rat. He’s not but being so close to her, alone with her and yet not even being able to hold her hand or hug her or brush her hair out of his face messes with his head.

“I liked your ass in that.” Horror fills his stomach and Hinata’s face goes all bright red and no, this isn’t the time to be thinking about following that blush with his tongue. “I meant, I like what you said in there,” he says quickly, cursing all the while in his head. Hinata’s still blushing but the flush slowly recedes and she shifts towards him. So close to him that he could just touch her.

“I’m glad you enjoyed both,” She says slowly and there’s something heady and promising in her tone. It’s enough to make his mouth go dry and to lean towards her. They’re so close that if someone were to walk in, they wouldn’t be able to mistake what was happening. That no, this isn’t just two co-workers but something much more. His senses are full of Hinata and he can’t bring himself to care. Hinata is smarter though because she gently pushes him away, hands resting on his forearm for a moment too long and pulls away. Putting distance between the two. Disappointment fills the pit of his stomach but that soon transforms into heat at her next words.

“I’ll see you in the next meeting Mr Uzumaki.” And that was hot. He would have to add that moment to the Don’t list, he thinks to himself vaguely, watching her leave the room.

*

TO DO

Prepare for the court case tomorrow

Meet with client

Call Iruka to organise meal

DON’T

Ask Hinata to move in with you when she comes in

Shirk off your work so you can tell her that you love her

His sanity is hanging by a thread. Every time he sees Hinata at work, he can feel those three words dancing on the tip of his tongue. She had been eating her sandwich by his desk and all he could think to tell her that he loved her.

It was quickly becoming a problem.

Sai and to a lesser extent Sakura had both told him to man up and tell her. But once again, Sai was a dick. Sakura was a lot more sensible and steadier but he wasn’t just about to reveal his feelings to Hinata just because fucking Sai and Sakura said to.

“You’re distracted again,” Hinata’s voice pulls him out of his reverie and he sighs, pushing his hair back. She’s been helping him to prepare for this case for the last hour but they’ve gotten through only part of the research that she’s organised. He knows she’s confused and frustrated and he feels bad. He does but right now, he just needs space. He’s too scared of what he might blurt out if he’s in her presence for any longer. They had been dating for nearly six months now but everything was still fairly new. They were still co-workers. He would never be able to forgive himself if he fucked it up cause he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Sorry, am gonna just hit the toilet,” he lies quickly. Hinata only sighs but he’s up and out before he can even wait for a response. He knows that he’s being stupid and unfair by acting like this. Knows that Hinata is probably in there worrying about him, mulling over his every word. He doesn’t want to ever make her feel sad, refuses to be anything like her dad. He just wants to make her happy but he’s been fucking even that as of late.

He’s never been one to run or hide. It’s always been his motto to face things on, to keep on going but with this stupid confession, he feels like some stupid kid again. Saying I love you to every single person that showed even the barest hint of kindness to every person except the ones that truly matter.

He fists are half clenched but he rolls his shoulder and breathes deeply. This is Hinata, good, kind, smart Hinata. There’s nothing to be scared about, he tries to tell himself but fear still settles in the pit of his stomach.

He walks back into the office but freezes at the sight before him. Hinata is behind his desk, holding the most recent list he had scribbled out. His brain short-circuits and falls into a frenzy and she’s the one blurting things out and stumbling over her words – “You love me?”

“Yes. What? Yes. Wait what?” No one knows this except Sai and Sakura and they had both just guessed. No ones ever asked before.

Hinata is looking up at him with eyes so big and bright, sparkling with happiness and tears and he moves towards her unbidden cause comforting Hinata when she’s upset is all muscle memory. Except she’s not upset. She’s blushing and there are tears even though she’s smiling as well and he just blurts out the truth because that’s the least confusing bit.

Hinata finally notices his panic, taking pity on him and explains.

“You’ve been acting strange all day. I thought you were stressed and wanted to help you sort some things on your list,” she explains this quickly, looking more and more guilty with each word. He tries his best to smile at her and shakes off her attempt to apologise.

“Don’t worry about it.” What he really means to say is – do you feel the same? He doesn’t cause he’s absolute chicken shit.

“Did you really mean what you said?” Hinata asks, her voice tiny and hopeful. He puffs out indignantly because of course, he does. Can’t imagine a time or moment where he doesn’t.

“Of course. I love you Hinata.” He says the words cause even if she doesn’t feel the same, she deserves to hear them said to her.

One moment Hinata is behind his desk and the next, she’s in his arms, kissing him, fingers twisted in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp and his hands are touching everywhere, as much as he can. Her waist, her face, hips, hair.

She pulls away and this is the moment where she’s going to push him away but his heart jumps at what she says: “I love you so much,” she says all this breathless. It’s him now pulling her closer, kissing her deeper, searching for purchase.

The kiss is heated and searing, she tastes of something sweet and his head is dizzy with want and Hinata and her confession is echoing in his head. Someone could walk in right now and he wouldn’t care. Not when she’s kissing him like this as if it’s the only thing that matters. Nope, Naruto isn’t stopping for anyone, he thinks to himself as he pushes her back against his desk.

[dovechim]

discipline and punish (m)

➾ 5.7k 

➾ sub!jeon x noona reader

➾ warnings: degradation, humiliation, chastity cage, rutting, spitting, unprotected sex, creampie, creampie eating, aftercare

➾ summary: when your brat of a boyfriend shows up unexpectedly at your workplace, you decide you have to teach him a lesson.

The air conditioning is blasting a cool breeze over your skin, and you wiggle your toes happily at your desk. Your 9-6 office job might be boring, but with the terrible job market nowadays, you’re just glad you’re managing to make a living like this. Never mind that working in a health insurance company was nothing like your ideal job that you’d imagined back upon entering university, as long as it pays the bills, you’ll do it alright.

Besides, it isn’t hard work, getting paid to sit here for eight hours. It could easily be worse.

“Hey!” Your co-worker Jennie whispers under her breath from her desk next to yours.

Barely holding back a roll of your eyes, you turn toward her, pasting a smile on your face. You’ve only been sitting beside this girl for the past three weeks, but you see straight past her fake, cute smile and cheery exterior. Everyone seems to love her, but the way her over exaggerated smile drops into a stony bitch face in the blink of an eye rubs you the wrong way.

“Have you been to the new gym yet? It’s part of our new employee benefits, we’re all getting free membership!”

Your eyes skim down her fit and slim body, clad in the tiny, skimpy crop spaghetti top and equally short miniskirt. You wonder how she isn’t freezing her ass off under the chilly air. “Oh? I haven’t heard.”

“Anyway, there’s a really hot new instructor teaching flying yoga, and he always teaches it shirtless. Rumours have it that he is such a flirt, and single too. You should really try going to the gym more often, you know,” Jennie tips her chin up at you, looking down the length of her nose. “As employees of a health insurance company, don’t you think we should uphold a healthy image more than anyone?” 

Ah, yes. Just when you begin to question your morals for disliking someone simply because of their resting bitch face, Jennie always gives you a reason to justify that dislike. Turning back to your computer to click inanely at a few emails, you can’t hold back your eye roll as you answer her noncommittally. “Sure.”

Just before Jennie can say something else about your less than stellar physique, your boss Irene strides by, out of breath and clutching several files. You immediately sit up straight in your seat, pulling up one of your excel sheets that you’d been working on.

“Hey, I need someone from marketing to come by our gym and take some photos of our new facilities so that we can generate some new collaterals. You up for it?” Irene places a hand on the back of your chair.

“S-sure! Let me just get my camera.” You’re a little miffed to have to move from your comfy seat into a sweaty, smelly gym to take pictures of people who are a shit ton more motivated than you are, but whatever your boss says, goes.

Reluctantly, you slide your feet out of your flip flops and into your uncomfortable six inch stilettos that make your legs go on for miles, and gives you an ass that makes you look like you do a hundred squats every day. The baby blue pointed heels with laser cutouts running up each side are impractical, and you nearly die getting to work every day. That’s why you keep a pair of flipflops at your desk to lounge in, and for short trips to the pantry or the washroom.

You leave your workstation after locking your computer, making your way to the lift lobbies since the gym is located one floor above the main office. Already, your feet are starting to pinch, and you shift your weight uncomfortably, hoping to get this over as quickly as possible.

You approach the counter manned by a bored looking girl fiddling around with her phone to ask for the current schedule of classes, only to find out that she can’t release such sensitive information to you. Just as you’re about to tear into her in your impatience, she directs you to one of the studios where a flying yoga class is just wrapping up, and despite yourself, there is a little flutter of excitement in the pit of your stomach upon potentially seeing this hot new yoga instructor that Jennie mentioned.

When you manage to find the right studio, you knock politely on the door, hoping to interrupt their session as little as possible. A familiar voice acknowledges you, and you open the door a tad to peek inside.

Immediately, your eyes are assuaged by way too much bare, sweaty skin for this early in the morning, but you force your eyes upwards towards safer territory, and nearly trip over your own heels in surprise.

Jeon Jeongguk’s hair is matted with sweat that drips off his porcelain skin, rivulets of them trailing down his toned, bare torso. True to Jennie’s words, he is only clad in a pair of exercise shorts that are tight around his bulging thighs, and you can see every line of his body, including his trim little waist that boasts a set of defined abs. His raven black hair has been getting long recently, but your boyfriend refuses to get it trimmed because he says he’s into the more emo vibe these days. Whatever that means.

When he catches a glimpse of you, clad in your pencil skirt and heels, he swallows hard, gaze lingering on the petite curve of your waist even as you can see the slightly panicky look in his eyes. For a moment, the two of you are stock still, both a little taken aback at seeing the other in such a setting. 

But then you clench your fist as anger bubbles up in your chest. Your boyfriend knew very well what company you work for, so it can’t have been a coincidence that he shows up to work for the very gym that has exclusive partnerships with your company. There’s only one explanation for this: the little brat is doing this on purpose.

A soft, high pitched cry of distress takes Jeongguk’s attention away from you, and he immediately dashes to the centre of the room to help out a girl who is currently tangled in the air, dangling precariously. You watch with narrowed eyes as he places his hands on her bare waist, given as she’s only wearing a sports bra with leggings, to set her upright again. She places her hands all over his bare chest as she regains her bearings, letting her touch linger unnecessarily as she clutches at him desperately, breathing hard as if she just had a near death experience. 

Over the sultry music, you can’t hear what Jeongguk murmurs to her, but whatever it is, it has the girl looking up at him with adoration. Jeongguk helps to untangle the fabric that got caught around her thigh, and a fire burns in your chest as you have to witness his hands on her.

You avert your gaze, fiddling with the controls of your camera as you look around the entire studio. The lighting is dimmed, creating a seductive atmosphere that immediately makes you feel a little sweaty yourself, despite not having moved a single muscle yet. There are about four students in this class in total, but the entire capacity can take up to ten, judging by the empty slings left over. The rest of the girls are currently upside down, with the fabric of the supporting sling tight over their toned thighs, breasts spilling out of their sports bras. You recognise them as employees from your company, Solbin from Operations, Yeri from Claims, Somi from Complaints and Ryu Jin from Sales, the one who’d had her filthy hands all over your boyfriend.

You don’t realise that Jeongguk has left his student and is approaching you till you feel his warm breath stir your hair.

“N-Noona, what are you doing here?”

“That’s my line, you little brat,” you stare him down with your arms crossed over your chest. With your glorious six inch heels, you are nearly as tall as he is, and you silently praise yourself for having the foresight to wear your tallest pair today. Being eye to eye like this certainly helps you feel less intimidated than if you were at your normal height with a face full of his sweaty, toned chest. “Looks like you’re settling into your job well, hmmm? So well that you forgot to tell me you even started working here in the first place.”

“I can explain,” he says desperately, reaching for your waist with his large hands, but you step out of his reach just in time.

“We’ll talk about this at home,” the tone of your voice immediately has him freezing in his tracks, and he knows better than anyone what it means. He keeps his hands to himself as he tucks his chin into his chest, deferring his gaze as he fidgets nervously under your imposing glare. 

“I’m here for work. I need to take a few pictures of you conducting classes for our employees,” you’re all too aware of the curious stares of his students as to why he’s stopped the class for such a long time, and paste on a professional smile, straightening your posture. If these ladies get a whiff of the news that you’re dating a younger man, gossip will spread like wildfire, and everyone in the office will know about it by tomorrow. “Please, resume with your class and pretend that I’m not even here.”

“O-okay, sure,” Jeongguk is still a little unsure of himself, but ever the gentleman, he pulls a chair from the corner of the room towards you. When his eyes drop to your short skirt, he picks up his discarded hoodie from the floor and offers it to you. “Please take a seat, miss. Make yourself comfortable.”

You almost groan in relief as you sink down on the chair, taking the pressure off your feet as you watch Jeongguk stride back to the front of the room to his own sling, eyes firmly fixed on every bulge and flex of his thighs. You drape his hoodie over your thighs to cover yourself, picking up your camera to get a few shots of the rest of the class as Jeongguk gets himself settled into his sling, sitting comfortably as he directs the class to position themselves upright again.

With everyone the right way up again, Jeongguk gets to his feet, stepping into his sling and winding the fabric around his hands twice, using it to pull himself up higher. His biceps are bulging as he lets his legs spread, hooking them around the fabric as he extends one leg behind him in graceful poise. The fabric of his shorts have ridden up to reveal the straining of his thighs, and you can see the tightening of his abs as his core works hard to keep him upright in the air.

Jeongguk spares you a glance to make sure that you’re watching before he has the gall to grind his hips into the fabric that is tight against his crotch, making your throat go dry immediately.

He turns to address the class, instructing them to mimic his actions to get into a similar position. The rest of the girls are currently sighing and cooing over his body, giggling at each other, and you can imagine their eyes wandering over every inch of him. With varying degrees of success, they attempt to copy Jeongguk’s pose, and you snap a few pictures of their faces, red with exertion. A satisfied smile spreads across your face as you capture a particularly unglamourous shot of Ryu Jin with her face all scrunched up. This will definitely be going on a poster, the bigger the better. 

Jeonguk lets the fabric unravel from his grip, untangling his thighs skilfully and stepping down from his sling in order to provide assistance to his students. Immediately, a few voices call out over the music, asking for his attention, and you can see the confident smirk on Jeongguk’s face as he goes from student to student, lithe hands moving them into position. To his credit, he remains entirely appropriate with them, never lingering his touch upon bare skin if he can help it. But the look on his face is entirely insufferable, all too confident as the women ooh and ah over him. 

Just as you’re making an effort to calm your breathing, lest Jeongguk think you might be jealous- heavens forbid- Jeongguk glances over at you, damp raven hair falling into his eyes as he checks your reaction. Solbin places a hand on his chest daringly, and Jeongguk has the guts to give you a little wink as he casts his glance down straight into her cleavage.

Your blood boils in your veins.

Ripping his hoodie off your lap, you throw it to the ground in a rage, power walking out of the studio in your heels and letting the door slam behind you.

*

You are a mess the rest of the day at work.

Jennie peers over the divide with false concern written all over her face, but you ignore her attempts at socialising, focusing on completing the rest of your spreadsheets. Your phone vibrates on the table, catching your attention.

Once the clock hits 6pm, you click save on your spreadsheets, shutting your workstation down and shoving your feet into your heels. The whole way home, your jaw is clenched, and you’re so caught up in thinking of ways of just how to punish one Jeon Jeongguk, that you don’t even notice the discomfort of your heels like you usually would.

Jeongguk is already home before you, evident from his sneakers hastily discarded at the front door. Instead of relieving yourself of your heels and leaving them at the door like you normally would, you walk straight into the living room, your heels clicking against the marble floor, announcing your return. 

Jeongguk immediately comes bounding out, having evidently just finished a shower. There is a towel slung low on his hips, once more revealing his naked torso, but it only enrages you further. It seems like your boyfriend has difficulty keeping a damn shirt on, and judging by the cocky smirk on his lips, he isn’t as sorry as he made himself out to be.

“On your knees. Now.” Your tone brooks no argument. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Jeongguk drops to his knees immediately, sitting back on his heels and waiting for your next instructions.

“Crawl on your hands and knees over here.”

Jeongguk hesitates for a moment, before complying as he lowers himself to the ground and crawls towards your heels. His back muscles ripple, and his biceps tighten under his weight as he makes his way over slowly. When he reaches you, he glances up at you with those doe eyes of his, and you settle a hand over his still damp hair.

“Look at how pathetic you are. Crawling over here like a pretty little slut. I bet you liked all those women having their hands all over you today, hmmm?” You stroke his cheek gently, letting your thumb trail down to his chin and ghost over his bottom lip. “Did your baby cock get hard when you were teaching your class? Is that why you rubbed yourself against the sling like a dirty slut?”

Jeongguk whimpers under your touch, but he knows better than to speak when he isn’t allowed to. Pleased, you pet his cheek gently.

“Good pet. At least you know how to keep your dirty mouth shut when you need to.”

Reaching behind you, you undo the zipper on your blouse, bringing it over your head to reveal your navy lace bra. You can see Jeongguk’s eyes straining to get a glimpse of your breasts as they’re revealed, but not daring to move a single inch, he can only stay put. You lower the zipper on your pencil skirt as well, and the waist slackens around you.

“Use that dirty mouth to pull down my skirt, pet. No hands, or I’ll spank that pretty ass of yours bright red.”

Jeongguk jerks his chin up immediately, doe eyes fixed on the generous swell of your breasts, eating up every single inch of your bare skin as he closes his teeth around the fabric of your skirt. He tugs in down in small little pulls, easing the garment over the swell of your hips to reveal your matching underwear. His movements bring his face painfully close to your crotch, and Jeongguk can’t help but inhale the scent of you, pressing his nose into the apex of your thighs.

You tangle a hand deep in his hair to jerk him away, hearing him whine in pain.

“Did I say you could touch me, slut? You may speak, pet.”

“N-no, I’m sorry,” Jeongguk’s voice trembles as he casts his gaze downwards. “I couldn’t help it, you’re so beautiful, and you smell so good-“

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it,” you release your grip on his hair. “Now, wait here while I slip into something a little more comfortable.”

Reaching down to pull the towel from his hips, you leave him naked and kneeling in the living room, cock straining and already dripping with precum. You make sure to add an extra sway to your hips, aided by your heels, feeling his eyes on your ass boosting your confidence as you walk into your shared bedroom.

Pulling out your favourite lace white babydoll, you shed your undergarments and slip into it, leaving your lower half barely covered by the flaps on the front of the garment. You then reach for a small little box in your bedside drawer for something you’d ordered off Amazon a long time ago for Jeongguk, but never having the guts to actually show him, you’d kept it hidden all this while.

When you come out of the room holding the little cardboard box, Jeongguk’s eyes are immediately on you, eating up the mesmerizing sight of you clad in white lingerie and striding towards him with your heels on. Every stride gives him just a little peek of your core as the flaps separate, and Jeongguk’s eyes are glued to the apex of your thighs.

“I think a naughty pet needs to be punished.” You regain his attention by opening the cardboard box and showing him what’s inside.

You can see Jeongguk’s complexion visibly pale as he swallows hard.

Inside the box is a metal contraption, a chastity cage, to be more specific, with a tiny little padlock. The entire device curves slightly to fit the shape of a penis, and you take it out of the box, kneeling down in front of him to give his cock a few strokes.

“You know your safe word, right pet? Say it for me once,” Squeezing the head of his cock elicits a whine from him.

“Yes, mistress,” Jeongguk watches as you unlock the padlock on the device, and separate the ring at the base from the interconnecting parts. “T-tracer.”

“Good boy. Babybun, you’re so wet that I don’t even need any lube, what a slut you are, just from seeing me in my bra and panties?” You coo, spreading his precum down his length and using it to slick up the chastity cage’s various parts.

You’d read the instructions numerous times in preparation of the day you’d finally get to use it on Jeongguk, so you’re more than prepared for this moment. You slide the bottom ring around the base of his cock, bringing the shaft of the cage over the head of him. It slides down without a hitch to meet the ring at his base, trapping his balls between the ring and the shaft of the device. His erection is confined in the small space of the cage, squeezing him tightly as his precum continues to drip from his engorged head, leaking from between the bars of it as you secure the lock, constantly checking in with him to make sure everything is okay.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good. Now this is what happens to naughty pets and their baby cocks,” you wipe his precum on his thighs, pushing yourself to your feet. The key to the padlock is on an elastic loop that you slip over your wrist. “Now you can’t touch your needy little cock like you’re dying to, hmm?”

His normally rather fairly sized erection looks sad and pathetic in the cock cage, its fat head being squeezed to the point of it hurting.

“Come here, honeybun, lie down on the couch,” you stroke his cheek, holding out your hand to help him to his feet. He gets to his feet shakily, thighs trembling with exertion as he grasps your hand tightly in his.

With an arm around his waist, comforting him gently, you help him lie down on the couch, bidding him to spread his legs wide.

“Look at you, all wet and dripping for me. Are you that desperate to cum? Your little cock looks so pink, I bet it’s throbbing in that little cage, hmm?” You spread your legs, sitting on his lower abdomen and feeling his muscles tighten as he feels your wet, sticky core against his skin.

Your fingers dance circles around his sensitive nipples, and Jeongguk whines low in his throat.

“You like it when I touch you here, bunbun? Answer me, pet.”

“Y-yes, it feels so good, I love it,” Jeongguk presses his head back into the soft cushion, eyes scrunched up in a delicate mix of pain and pleasure.

“What a good boy you are,” you lavish praise onto him as you kiss his cheek, your hands on his chest pushing you into a standing position. “I think you deserve a reward, hmm?

Positioning yourself beside his hips, you raise your leg and place your heel between his thighs, coming dangerously close to his trembling muscles and his aching, restricted cock.

“Sit up, baby. Rub your little cock on my leg.”

Jeongguk sits up immediately, bringing his thighs together as he struggles onto his knees. His cock comes into contact with your calf, and he begins to hump your leg like a desperate bitch in heat, breaths coming in heavy pants as his hips work furiously, chasing his high against the soft skin of your leg.

“There we go, look at how pathetic you are, humping my leg like a dog. Is this what you wanted? When you were humping that sling like a dirty little boy?”

“Y-yes, ple-ease, wanna cum, please l-let me,” Jeongguk is sobbing now, his cock so red and hard in his little cage.

“Look at how small your cock is,” you lift your thigh, placing the heel of your shoe against his inner thigh carefully, applying the lightest pressure to his sensitive skin. In the cage, your stiletto heel dwarfs his cock.��“Smaller than my heels, how pathetic.”

Confined behind the bars of the cage, rubbing against your leg doesn’t offer enough stimulation for him to get off. Panting with exertion, he lets out a frustrated little sob as he sits back on his heels, looking up at you with tear filled eyes and a wobbling lip.

“Oh, is my baby all worked up? Get on the floor on your knees. I want to see you beg.”

Jeongguk pushes himself off the couch with trembling muscles, getting on his knees with his humiliated cock between his thighs. You can see his fists clenched so hard that his knuckles are white, tear stained cheeks glistening as he bites his lower lip hard. His cock droops between his legs, weighted down by the cage when it would normally be standing proud against his belly.

“Lick my heels.”

Jeongguk draws in a trembling breath, eyes wide as he gazes up at you. You like to engage in a little power play with him every now and then, making him beg and plead to get him off, but you’ve never taken things to this extent before. Degradation and humiliation was something that the two of you had discussed before, but that was more to do with name calling and orgasm denial rather than anything like this. Jeongguk hesitates as he considers your stilettos. Your legs look amazing as fuck in them, and your ass even more spectacular, but still- “N-noona…”

“Colour, babyboy?”

“G-green.”

“Then go on. Use your dirty tongue and lick my heels and maybe I’ll let you eat my pussy. You want to taste me, little bun?” You stroke his cheek soothingly, pushing his head down toward your feet. “You’ll have to earn it.”

Jeongguk lowers himself so that his cheek is against the floor, jaw level with your heels. Sticking out his tongue cautiously, he licks up the length of your 6 inch stilettos. Glancing down, you witness the way he glides over your heels with his tongue, slicking them up with his saliva as he remains prostrate at your feet, muscles straining to keep him in position as his tears dry on his cheeks. In his current position, his caged cock rubs against the carpeted floor, and Jeongguk can’t help but rut against the soft surface in desperation.

You spread your thighs apart for him, gesturing for him to situate his head between your heels as he continues to lick at them, giving him a prime view of your dripping pussy in this position. The sight of your wet cunt spurs Jeongguk on as he switches to your opposite foot.

“Good boy, now sit up and give me your tongue.”

Jeongguk pushes himself up immediately, burying his face in between your thighs messily as his tongue fumbles at your folds. He hooks a thigh over his shoulder, hands spreading you wide as his lips close around your clit, suckling sinfully. You buck your hips into his face, wobbling unsteadily on your heels as your nerves are singed a raw pink, but Jeongguk helps to support you by wrapping an arm around your hips.

“Fuck, yes, right there, so good for me baby bun,” you gasp, running your fingers through his hair. “Two fingers, spread me open.”

Jeongguk obeys, sinking two of his long fingers into your cunt and focusing his attention on your aching clit. He curls them expertly to hit your sweet spot, fucking you open with wet, sloppy sounds as you drip all over his face. He drinks up every drop more than willingly, and with a particular suck of his lips, and a twist of his fingers, you are coming all over his tongue, arousal coating his cheeks as you whimper above him.

He helps you ride out your orgasm, cleaning your inner thighs of your juices as you push his head away.

“Shit, you’re so good, babybun,” you’re panting, thigh trembling as you lower it back down onto the ground. “Stand up, let me kiss that dirty mouth of yours.”

Jeongguk gets to his feet, lips chasing after your kiss impatiently as you wrap your arms around his trim waist, stroking his sides soothingly. Your lips clash, and you can taste your own essence upon him as you kiss him with sloppy licks. Jeongguk parts his lips, and a rush of saltiness floods your mouth. That’s when you realise he’d been saving some of your cum in his mouth, and after swallowing some of it, you pass the rest of it back to him sloppily, tongues fighting and clashing against each other as you moan against him and he swallows the rest. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking dirty, you little slut,” you draw away, lips swollen. But Jeongguk is in a far worse condition, lips still stained with your cum and your kisses, eyes dark with lust. Your eyes trail down his heaving chest, to his perky, tiny little nipples and his taut abdomen drenched with sweat, and finally to his still encaged cock.

“You’ve been a good boy, taken your punishment so well, hmm? Look at your tiny little baby cock, so hard all for me. You think any of those girls would want your small, worthless cock? Especially in your little cage?” Your words are harsh, but your touches are gentle as you guide him into a seated position on the couch, stroking his tense muscles with a soothing palm. “Answer me.” 

“N-no, my cock is only yours. Do-don’t want anyone else to touch it, only you, noona,” Jeongguk begs earnestly, his thighs spread wide as he thrusts his hips uselessly into the air, seeking out friction for his needy little cock.

“That’s my baby boy,” pleased with his answer, you reach for the key hanging on your wrist, unlocking the padlock. You slip the cage off him carefully with teasing touches, stroking his aching cock with your thumb over his weeping head as he sobs and whines under you.

“Open your slutty mouth,” you order, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Jeongguk obeys, and you spit a thick glob, remnants of your cum mixed in with your saliva landing in his mouth.

“Swallow.”

And he does, “th-thank you, Mistress.”

“That’s a good baby bun.”

Parting your thighs, you rub his head against your core, giving him a firm stroke before you sink down all the way, taking him balls deep. Jeongguk grunts and sobs under you, his hands coming to grasp your hips to pull you down onto him more firmly. Biting your lip hard, you rock against him as he spreads you apart, his generous length spearing you, not that you would ever admit it to him in this persona. You tighten your walls around him hard, making him flinch and cry out under you, and tears are flowing down his cheeks anew.

“Mhmm, does your babycock feel good in my pussy? How does it feel fucking me with a cock that’s shorter and smaller than my stilettos?” You whisper in his ear, feeling his cock throb inside of you as you goad him on. “You’re so small, I can barely even feel anything.”

“N-noona, it feels too good, I can’t hold it,” Jeongguk’s hips are smashing into yours, his voice caught in his chest as he fucks up into your battered cunt.

“One day I’m gonna fuck your pretty ass, split it open with a dildo way bigger than your pathetic little cock. Tear your ass apart as I stroke your tiny babycock. Would you like that? I think your ass would look gorgeous with a huge cock buried inside it, hmm?”

“Y-yes, I love it, I’m a slut, only for you, no-noona,” Jeongguk is short of breath, his voice almost cracking as pretty tears are streaming down his face, and his mouth stretches open into a wide o of desperation at how tight your pussy feels around him. “Guh-gonna cum, where can I cum?”

“Where do you wanna cum, pretty boy?” You stroke his cheek tenderly, pressing kisses into his collarbone and marking him up till he’s all bruised and whining, bouncing on his cock. “Tell me, pet.”

“Pussy, please let me cum in your pussy,” Jeongguk groans, fingers tightening around the flesh of your hips as he continues to drive his cock deep into you, thighs straining with every thrust. You can feel his length swell inside you, his cockhead hitting your cervix hard.

“Then cum, babyboy. Fill me up so good with your dirty cum.”

Jeongguk’s thrusts are getting sloppy, and his whines and sobs are increasingly high pitched as he slams his cock in deep, spurting ropes of hot cum into your womb. You make sure to milk him dry with every squeeze of your walls, and his palms grope your ass as he empties the contents of his balls into you.

You can feel the cum starting to slide down his length as he fucks it back into you sloppily, riding out the last few spurts with a fucked out look of bliss on his features. After a while, he pulls away in overstimulation, his softening length slipping out of you. Before the cum can drip down your inner thigh, you cup your mound with a palm, pushing yourself off him.

“You didn’t think we were done, right pet? On your back, on the floor.”

Jeongguk is still coming down from his high as he struggles to comply. With his back against the plush carpet, his chest is still heaving from exertion as he glances up at you. Your hand is still cupping your mound as you position yourself over his face, placing one heeled foot onto his chest and applying a little pressure so that the pointed heel digs into his chest. He whines in discomfort, but his hands close around your ankle, pressing your shoe into his chest. 

“What a little painslut you are. Mouth open, tongue out for Mistress.”

You position your cunt over his mouth as best as you can, and remove your palm, feeling the thick semen start to leak from your pussy almost immediately. Jeongguk opens his mouth eagerly once he catches on, tongue out to catch every drop of cum as it leaks from you. His cum drips out of you, some of it landing on his cheeks, but he manages to catch and swallow a good amount of it.

“That’s it, clean your dirty cum from my pussy. I don’t want a single drop left.”

You spread your lips for his viewing pleasure, rubbing your clit and feeling your walls clench in response, which results in a huge glob of cum splattering onto his face, and Jeongguk struggling to swallow it all. When there’s no more cum left, you collapse onto the couch, thighs spread and he proceeds to lick up the rest of his release from your folds, cleaning you thoroughly.

When he’s done, he places a tender kiss on both of your thighs, resting back on his heels in exhaustion. 

“You did so well, babyguk,” you grin at him, tugging at his wrist to get him to take your place on the couch. “Let me get you some water and clean you up.”

You kick off the killer heels, padding to the kitchen barefoot to pour him a glass of warm water, as well as a soft, damp towel with which to clean him up with. Stopping briefly to pee, you try to be as quick as possible so as not to keep him waiting too long. When you come back to the living room, Jeongguk’s eyes are drooping already, but he visibly perks up at the sight of you.

“Drink up,” you hand him the glass of water, watching him down in a few thirsty gulps as you wipe at his cheeks gently, cleaning up his dried tears before wiping between his legs, taking extra caution around his soft cock. “Was that okay?”

Jeongguk sets the glass aside on the table beside the couch, a low whine in his throat as he demands for your attention while you make sure that you clean him up properly. But he is an impatient little brat, and he reaches down to toss the towel aside before you finish and gather you into his arms, pushing his head between your breasts just how he likes it.

“Was good. I liked it,” he murmurs against your skin, eyelids drooping. “Never told me you had that hidden away.”

Jeongguk always speaks in short, incomplete sentences when he’s fucked out like this, and it’s adorable. He buries his nose into your chest, a grunt of approval in his throat when you push down the neckline of your babydoll so that he can playfully suckle on your breasts.

“I have plenty more up my sleeve in case you’re a little brat again.” 

[merigreenleaf]

World Building June 2018 - Day 18, Fashion

I’m doing this a little out of order because I really wanted to talk about fashion. I’ll get to the prompt of medicine tomorrow as I try to catch up. :) The best way for me to describe fashion in Concordia is with pictures, so here's a moodboard of sorts that's similar to how I imagine most people there dress. Concordians love color, jewelry, embroidery, and embellishment. Hair dye in unnatural colors is a common sight. Everyone has their own personal taste, but almost every article of clothing you'll find will be colorful and embellished, even if it's otherwise practical. (That top right picture is how I picture Concordia's "practical.") Pockets are a big thing here and any article of clothing tends to have multiple pockets sewn into them; bags aren't overly common for daily activities, unless someone wants the option of even more pockets. Adair wears a sling bag across his chest that's made up of a bunch of pockets- he keeps a dozen jars of paint and a handful of paintbrushes in there. Sol's favorite vest is covered in pockets where he keeps little pieces of junk that could be useful in his inventions.

Clothing isn't gendered, so the choice between, say, pants or a skirt is entirely based on personal comfort and occupation. By this I mean that some jobs and trades would make flowing skirts or floor-length coats impractical. Dray is always dressed to the nines and wears something like evening dresses or ball gowns whenever they're not in costume. No one thinks this at all strange for daily wear. Concordians like to decorate themselves just as much as they do their homes and cities.

More info about different types of fashion under the read more link. :)

Artisans: On the flip side to Dray’s flawless style, Adair almost always wears old, grubby pants and shirts and no one ever believes that he's an Artisan because Artisans always dress the most over-the-top. Their current style is gauzy, lightweight fabrics in multiple layers, resembling something like robes or dresses of whatever length the person prefers, but almost always reach the floor. They go in for long, full sleeves which is entirely impractical when they're artists, so this means long ribbons or strips of fabric for tying the sleeves up as they work. They wear light shoes or slippers rather than heavier shoes or boots. While a lot of people are going to go for nice hairstyles, Artisans take this to an extreme, too. Artisans of any gender typically have hair that reaches their waist or knees and this is done up in elaborate styles by their spouses or family members, just like the Artisans rely on family to help them dress. And gosh, the amount of jewelry. Concordians like shiny things and Artisans definitely like shiny things. They have a tradition of giving each other gifts at random of the creations they make and this often includes things like clothing, accessories and jewelry. Artisans display these gifts on their bodies as much as they display the non-wearable gifts in their homes. It doesn't even have to be fancy gifts; they're just as likely to wear something their child or apprentice or young family made as they are to wear something nicer. It's more the thought that counts than what it actually looks like and you can bet an Artisan will be showing off that macaroni bracelet.

Protectorates:  The sentinels are the bodyguard/spouses to artists, so I'll get into these next. The bottom middle and bottom right pictures are similar to how I picture the uniforms for sentinels of any gender. Usually sentinels can wear whatever they want, but on formal occasions they all wear the same thing, which is essentially a long, dark colored coat that's trimmed in the color of their artists' magics. More than just trimmed- the artist's magic is embedded into the garment so it also glows with the particular magical color of the artist. Only those with Artisan magic can see this glow, so it's entirely unnecessary since the trim is that color anyway, but I think the artists like to show that this sentinel is theirs. There's also a specific long braid that sentinels wear in public that designates their status as a sentinel.

This braid is a normal thing for the Protectorates, which is the group trained to protect art and artists. There are other braids based on what you're guarding, so it's sort of like their badge. (I haven't worked out yet what the braids look like exactly.) The braid combined with much more practical and much less colorful clothes than everyone else wears is generally a pretty good indication that someone's a Protectorate. These pictures all make me think of what Protectorates would wear.

Carnival performers: Tattoos are more common among the carnival performers than the rest of the population and I think the reason for this is that they're so permanent. This is a culture that likes change and trying out new things, so I think the idea of a tattoo is unappealing to most people. However, lots of Concordians will go for temporary makeup and stains to the skin and they certainly love dyeing and styling their hair. Carnies use tattoos to mark life events and things that are important to them, but they'll also get them just because they like them. Generally carnies dress pretty standard Concordian, although there would be some difference because they travel around the continent more often and would pick up styles from other places. A lot of the time they'll wear their costumes around, too. Of my main characters, Dray is really the only one who does this, though.

I haven’t worked out the fashion for what other people wear across the continent, so that’s something I’ll figure out later. I do know that the priest/esses in Montglace keep themselves completely covered from head to toe with heavy robes, but considering that they live in a cavern in a frigid climate, this is probably the only smart thing those people have ever done lol. 

Tagging my world building peoples. Please let me know if you want on or off this list and please please tag me in any writing thing that you share. <3 @ageekyreader @lynnafred @worldbuildingwren @theguildedtypewriter @toboldlywrite @wchwriter @ghostsmooches @lady-redshield-writes @bluemartlet @reeseweston @dreameronthewind @forlornraven @pen-for-sword @homesteadhorner @shadow-maker @loopyhoopydrabbles @emptymanuscript @madmooninc

Day 1 (Intro to my writing/series) / Day 2 (Geography) / Day 3 (People) / Day 4 (History) / Day 5 (Civilization & Architecture) / Bonus: Art Theft  / Day 6 (Gender & Sexuality) / Day 7 (Economy) / Day 8 (Government) / Day 9 (Religion) / Day 10 (Holidays) / Day 12 (Elementals) / Day 11, 13, 14 (Language, Plants, Food) / Day 15 (Technology) / Day 16 (Magic)

[max-is-drunk-at-comic-con]

DanversSistersWeek: Day 3 - Nerd Sisters

Hey folks, I’m late, I know. But hey, nobody’s perfect, eh? This thing’s weird and it’s mainly written for my beloved @ohhellothereworld-blog (this story was her idea in the first place). I hope y’all enjoy it!

Flame Con

They still weren’t quite sure how they had managed to convince J’onn to give them all off. It might have been the argument that now that Supergirl had come out as bisexual, she was a queer icon and had to be there. It might have been the fact that this would be an important experience for Alex and her journey of embracing her own sexuality fully. It might have been the Danvers sisters’ puppy eyes and the feared Sawyer pout that made J’onn’s resistance crumble into itself. In the end, he gave them all off and labelled it as a team-building-exercise for anyone stupid enough to question his decision. How wouldn’t lend them the jet, though.

On Thursday night, chaos reigned in the Danvers/Sawyer household as Alex desperately tried to bring order to her fiancée’s catastrophic packing system and Maggie made a game of throwing down said system. When the LCorp vehicle to the airport arrived, Alex snapped at the driver and Maggie couldn’t get rid of a shit-eating grin. They made up on their way to the airfield, though, to the very displeasure of their poor driver.

Lena’s jet was awaiting them and judging by the silhouettes behind the aircraft’s windows, they were the last ones to arrive. And indeed, Kara, Lena, Winn, and James had already made themselves comfortable in the luxurious seats, their luggage stowed away in the back of the cabin. Alex brought their bags to the others’ before flopping down on the seat next to Kara. Maggie curled up on a seat across the aisle.

Just as they had all fastened their seat belts, Lena returned from the cockpit and within minutes they were up in the air and heading towards New York City.

“I’m so excited!” Kara squealed as soon as they could take off their seat belts. A brilliant smile lit up her face and Alex could see her floating a fraction of an inch above her seat. “It’s gonna be so amazing!” She frantically flailed her arms, causing Alex to burst into a throaty laughter at her adorableness. The rest of the group soon joined in, endeared by Kara’s childlike outburst.

“Whose idea was going to Flame Con in the first place?” Lena eventually asked when the laughter had died down a bit. Half of the fingers were suddenly pointing at Alex who in turn firmly pointed at Maggie. Maggie just shrugged. “Hey, it’s a fabulous convention! And at least it wasn’t me who started the whole cosplay business!” She shot a very pointed look towards her fiancée who promptly ignored her. Kara received the same annoyed look from Lena.

“Cosplaying is fun!” Kara remarked. “Says the costumed hero,” Maggie shot back and rolled her eyes. “Kara’s right, though,” Alex defended her little sister. “Nerds!” Maggie huffed, another eyeroll following. “Takes one to know one, Sawyer.” “Well, I agree with the Danvers sisters on this one.” “Sure you do, Winn. Too bad no one asked you.” “I gotta admit, it does sound like it’s gonna be fun.” “Et tu, James?” Maggie let out an overdramatic sigh. “Seems like we’re alone on this one, Luthor.”

*

Three hours later, the plane touched ground and rolled out on the landing strip. By then the group was mildly drunk and the cosplay discourse long forgotten. Chatting and laughing, they unloaded their luggage and stowed it away in the car awaiting them. Lena had rented them a spacious apartment near the hotel in which the convention took place. Alex ordered food for the group while the others unpacked and made themselves comfortable. The rest of the evening was spent eating and drinking before they went to bed. It was still early, but they unanimously agreed that they needed every minute of sleep they could get.

Nonetheless, morning dawned on them faster than any of them appreciated. Within the next hour they managed to create a perfect mess in the whole apartment, littering every available surface with clothing and make up and face paint and hair products and whatnot. The apartment came with two large bathrooms, but even they couldn’t quite handle the hassle that ensued. Winn and James occupied the living room, covering the expensive carpet with fake fur as Winn helped James into his Chewbacca costume.

In the meantime, Kara had Lena perched on the rim of the bathtub and her laptop next to the sink – a hair tutorial playing on a loop – while she perfected Lena’s Lexa hairdo. She expertly wove beads into the elaborate grid of hair slowly forming under her fingers. Lena silently endured the tugging and frizzing and the abuse of her hair roots. Internally she was mourning the less of her hair’s glossy and smooth texture.

In the other bathroom, Alex was wrestling her way into a perfect replica of the Captain America uniform. “This thing is impractical and in no way combat-fit,” she ranted while Maggie zipped up the corset-like top of Alex’s costume. “You’re not the one with the skirt so stop whining,” Maggie grunted, smoothing out the fabric covering her thighs for the umpteenth time. “That never stopped Peggy Carter from kicking ass,” Alex retorted and grinned goofily at her fiancée. Maggie just huffed in return, slamming the army hat on top of her head.

*

The convention was only two blocks away, so instead of troubling their driver, the six of them decided to walk. Surprisingly few people turned around to gawk at the strange party consisting of Han Solo, Chewbacca, Wanheda, Commander Lexa, Captain America and Peggy Carter walking down the street, chatting vividly. They were by far not the weirdest thing this neighbourhood would see on this day.

The advantages of attending this with a Luther was the ability of skipping queues and shortly after arriving at the hotel, the group walked in, full VIP passes dangling around their necks. The flood of people in colourful cosplays and smart merchandise shirts was incredible and they awed and ohhed when the escalator took them upstairs and the convention floor opened before their eyes. Tables stood side by side, loaded with merchandise, books, graphic novels, works of artists, canvas and paper that were yet to be filled with expertise.

They were just around the corner of the fist aisle when a young boy – he might have been fifteen or even younger – came to an abrupt halt in front of James. His eyes widened in amazement at the big, fluffy Wookie in front of him. “Can I… can I hug you, Chewbacca?” the boy stuttered, causing the group to smile warmly at him. James didn’t answer, but let out a long, approving Wookie sound and opened his arms wide. In a heartbeat, the boy’s face was buried in James’ fur. James ruffled the kid’s blue, pink and white died hair and let out another perfect Wookie sound. From there on James was almost always surrounded by the younger convention attendants who all wanted to get a hug from the big Wookie.

In the meantime, Kara and Alex had pulled out the schedules of their must-attend panels and events they had previously prepared. Lena peaked at their elaborate flow charts, shook her head, and went back to stand next to Maggie. “They are crazy,” she simply deadpanned, eyes still widened in amazement. “They have planned everything. Down to the last minute.” “They’re nerds, Lena. That’s how they roll,” Maggie laughed and sympathetically patted her shoulder. “And that’s why we love ‘em.”

*

The whole day consisted of Kara and Alex dragging the Superfriends to every panel possible, before completely over-boarding on merchandise. Alex forced Maggie to sit for a portrait together with Lena and Kara and decided she would hang the resulting drawing in their living room. Maggie didn’t even try to argue with her and she had to admit, that the comic-y style of the drawing did wonders to her legs and ass. Later, Lena got bullied into buying an Iron Man lamp, because Kara thought it was cool and Winn got one in the shape of the Millennium Falcon for James ‘office.

When they were finally back at the apartment, Lena threw herself dramatically on the couch, draping a hand over her eyes, smearing the black face paint even more. Maggie didn’t even reach the couch, but came to lie on the fur stained carpet, face down and sprawled out over the whole thing. James’s first thing to do was tossing his mask on the next surface and wiggling out of the suit. The tank top and the thin shorts he had worn underneath were soaked in sweat and he positioned himself directly in front of the running fan. Winn collapsed next to Maggie, bags of merchandise still in hand. Only Kara and Alex seemed to still have energy left. They were already chatting about the best time to show up to the afterparty.

Kara was the first to shower and comb out the dirt and paint in her hair. She was to attend the party as Supergirl and it took a long time to get her hair back to its normal glossy state. She was halfway through the process, when the shower door opened and Lena stepped inside. It took Alex’s loud banging on the door, to make them leave the shower forty minutes later. By then, the rest of the group had gotten rid of their cosplays and changed into geek chic par excellence. They said goodbye to Kara and headed out. Kara followed fifteen minutes later, relishing her very superhero-y entrance on stage. The nerdy queer kids around her went wild and Kara couldn’t stop grinning. Alex stood amongst them, proud like every big sister would be, a single tear running down her cheek. The impression her little sister left on the community and the sheer joy in the audience was incredible, but nothing in comparison to the panel Kara held the following day.

The Ask Supergirl panel’s line up was huge and without their VIP passes, the Superfriends wouldn’t have gotten any seats even though the organizers were constantly adding chairs. In the end, people were even sitting on the floor and standing along the walls. Everyone wanted a chance to chat with THE Supergirl.

“Who’s your superhero?” a skinny girl with dark skin and a Princess Leia shirt asked. “My hero is my sister, Alex. She’s always there for me and has taught me all about earth customs that I know now.” Alex grinned as Kara’s eyes briefly met hers.

“Is there someone special in your life?” a pink-haired boy on crutches asked, making Kara blush a little. “Yes, there is and she is the most beautiful girl in the whole universe!” Lena silently whipped away a tear and Alex slung an arm around her shoulders.

“I don’t really have a question,” an elderly lady rasped into the microphone. The whole room went completely quiet. “But I want to thank you, Supergirl. Your coming out gave me the courage to finally come out to my children and grandchildren.” Kara’s choked up response went under in the roaring applause and cheering that suddenly erupted all around the room.

After the panel and a change of clothing, Kara ran towards her sister, embracing her in a bone-crushing hug. “You did great, Kara,” Alex said, burying her face in Kara’s hair. “I am so, so proud of you.” “Thanks, Alex.” “Always, little sis. And now let’s go check out that Harry Potter panel!” Kara squealed and linked their arms and together they sprinted towards the other side of the convention floor. Maggie and Lena just stood still, shaking their heads, whispering in unison, “Nerds.”

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11929077/chapters/27026868

[joseyfeli1-blog]

Camren is Endgame Pt.3

Here is the last part of this alternate universe I pictured and wrote down and published, and I thank you everyone that read any amount of it. I wrote this to get through some bullshit of fifth harmony as I felt indifferent to the happenings surrounding them all, I feel a whole lot better because of this. All this was to escape our reality and stare into a picture of how it is for another dimension closely like ours. I hope anyone that read this feels close to the same. April 8, 2024 -You ready Camz?- -Kinda have to be right? We only got, like eight minutes to get this finished perfectly right?- She turned and ruffled her dress and walked towards Joseph. -You know the memories will be so worth it right?- He says as he takes Camila's arm with his and fixes his tuxedo for the twentieth time that day, but when it is a wedding that first is two people who truly love each other, two happens to be two people that went through too much crap to not end up with each other and lastly under the eclipse! You want to make sure you're perfect. Which Camila and Lauren always are. -Oh! Stop you're perfect- Camz says while hitting his arm. -We aren't talking about you in that dress, camz, we about me. And,- he turns to see himself in a mirror and moved his black and purlpe slightly- I truly am.- the both let out a chuckle. Camila would be loved if her father were able to be there and give her daughter away, but sadly his work caused him to get an injury that has left him bedwritten, but through technology availabilities he is able to watch from Sinu's phone. Even on his bed a few hundred miles away he wore his best tux, or more like just the top only. Joseph was more than honored to be considered to give one of the greatest women he ever met and had the joy of living part of his life next to her. To be chosen made very happy and he was very happy to do so. They almost exit a double door small makeshift building, but stop to grab special goggles so the won't be able to see everything perfectly, but they needed to be safe. The walk out to slow music, and vocals of Maimi's high school choir. They walked the length of a long carpet that in the middle a preist and the girls best friends waiting in anticipation of this magnificent event. Somewhat arena placement for the chairs, so everyone is circling around this large moment. Everyone is wearing beautiful clothing and a pair of special spectacles as everyone stands and their breath is taken away as both beautiful women are exiting their respective changing areas. Their eyes meet, Camz and Lolo are entirely speechless at the sight of their soon to be wife. They both have elegant dresses that are the best to their curves. They are both in awe as the notice that the sun and moon are also coming together right above them. As they near closer and closer together the same can be said about the glorious celestial beings miles and miles away from this moment. As the finally arrive at the patch where friends and families are joined to enjoy Joseph hugs and kisses Camila's cheek before sitting down in his seat. As dies Mike Juaregi tears fall ever so gently as he lets the hand of his daughter into the hands of someone he believes to be trusted with his young ones life. They met up with their bridesmaids As the are standing yet in a twist way capturing the couple with love that their friends are marrying each other. There stood Ally, Dinah, Normani, Keanna, Veronica, and Little Sofi. All wearing generous bridesmaid dresses. All wearing pretty light make-up. As everyone took their seats as the priest starts to state, -We are all here, friends, family, fans,- that creates a small laugh from a few people who are or aren't crying already.-To be gathered in this momentous moment and special wedding to enjoy the creation of a strong marriage. Now this is a very special ceremony so now the brides have made their own vows and are now going to say them.- Camila turns a bit to grab her lette Sofia is handing to her. Camila hands off the bouquet to Sofia as she is struggling with too many thoughts in her mind. -Ahem,- Camila looks down and then stares deeply into the green eyed woman, no her green eyed woman and was going to start but needed to her hand so she went out and grabbed her hand now she held her letter and Laurens hand. Lauren then rubbed the brown eyed beauty, no, her brown eyed beauty, hand as Camz read her vows to the love of her life. -I like your Shirt,- Everyone couldn't handle already, anyone with dry eyes had now been tearing up. -with that one sentence, that somehow I had enough courage to say aloud to you, I felt flips in my stomach as you answered and even complimented me back. Lauren I love you, it is downright awful we weren't able to be in love as the children we were, but we knew, we always knew. But nothing else matters now, not the rough, the hardships, the tough, the worships, but that we always felt down, down, down in our hearts. We couldn't help our souls being touched how we felt safe with each other, felt scared away from each other, confused when we couldn't show it. But now, nothing stands or sits in our way, we now can scream our love to the heavens, to the last levels of hell. They will hear our souls finally be officially together, and will be happy that such caring people will be together, finally.- Camila ended looking up to her wife to be. Lauren had a big dumb smile and campassionately rubbing her hand on Camila's as her eyes gleamed with tears on their way out the station. But she kept her composure as she turned to her maid of honour, Ally. The older woman on the edge of tears had been brought back into the world after listening to the beautiful speech that was made by the woman of perfect beauty. She was started a bit, but gave Lauren hew letter that contained her heart on paper ready to be spilled in front if everyone and the magical, crazy amazing celestial beings themselves. Ally holds onto Luaren's bouquet and hands her the letter gingerly. Luaren opens it it with such obvious shaking hands that she is confused when Camila takes Luaren's pale small hand away to place a simple kiss swiftly. They both feel their cheeks warm up with such emotion and compassion. Lauren slowly brings her eyes to Camz kissing her hand and beams at the woman she knows will never hurt her intentionally, a woman who can bring so much love into the world, a woman who has the decision to be with whom ever she pleases and it seems Lauren is that lucky soul. Bringing her attention back to the important heart-felt speech she has prepared for weeks now. She always going to say these words in front of the woman that she wants to be with for the rest of her life. Truly she felt off the ground and the only weight she felt was that she hadn't spoke yet, paper ready in hand, unintentional liking her lips, and trembling hands holding the sheet of folded paper. She started. -Camz,- No monster could hold back how teary they would get as this was nearly the last time the Cuban woman would say that to her finance, but would then call her wife that. -I think it is better said when you love someone it is described as the best feeling, that being happy with someone in particular is the only feeling that can be comprehendible, as the world and every one of the infinite stars and planets and galaxies stop in movement, that every thing falters and only only perfection can be seen in front of that one person that makes you happy. Well I know something that feels even better, the understanding from your lived one. The complete reciprocated love. The radiating compassion from their eyes. The heart beats in synchronization. The moment you know no one will make you feel more you than that time you realize you don't want anything else, you won't need any impractical things anymore, you will never feel ungrateful when you feel it. Being understood, is something I feel with you Camz, and I don't want anyone else by my side fighting the good fight, the fight to love only. To being the injustice down from power, to show everyone their real beauty, to grow out of racism, sexism, misogynistics, and violence. With you with me, all of you, I know that those horrible things won't sting as bad as they do. So in a few days when we are watching Netflix and u have my head tucked into the nook of your neck, just know, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.- No one was able to handle the state of their goggles steam and cheeks deplorable status of water running down. -Oh!- Lauren adds,-Thanks, I like your skirt- As a large muscle-hurting smile spurs on Luars face as the sight of a younger beaming girl in front of her. -Your first words to me, aww Lo.- -For you Camz. Always, always for you.- They return from their gaze to pay attention to the priest who then states,-Now the rings,- the maid of honours are in action to take the letters and respective envelopes while handing them their beautiful perfect diamond cut rings dazzling under the sun and moonlight. They would be blinding everyone in sight if it weren't for the protective spectacles. Seems they made a great decision on this already perfect wedding. -Lauren repeat after me, I Lauren,- -I Lauren.- -take this ring,- -Take this ring.- -and place it onto you, my love, Camila.- -And place it onto you, my love. Camz.- As she gently led the ring to Camila's hand, everyone attending the ceremony couldn't stop a harmonious aww leave their mouths. The priest continued.-Camila, repeat after me, I Camila,- -Camila, repeat after me, I Camila.- creating a very quie, yet uproar of sly laughter. -Take this ring,- -Take this ring.- -and place it onto you, my love, Luaren.- -And place it onto you, my luuv, Lolo.- Still feeling the confidence of the laughter from earlier gingerly set Lo's hand and steadily put the ring onto her finance's hand. No, her wife. -You may now, both, kiss the bride.- The moment couldn't feel more right, the atmosphere, the people, their loved ones, the earth, the whole galaxy! Wanted this, wanted true-spiritual love to find themselves, In the cold never-ending sight of black space, darkness blanketing them both, the sun and the moon, at this moment and many more to happen, no matter what, will in fact kiss.

[sonderrow-moved]

Confession of just one man. 06/??.

I would have done everything for her. Even if the whole world would fight against her, even if she wanted the whole world destroyed, I would have done it. Or at least, I would have died trying, give it my best shot.

Love isn’t something you can imagine, it is not something you can make up or picture if you’ve never experienced it. Men and women from all around try to express it, communicate it, even animals. It is too intricate, too unique, and too destructive to be given a form, or else it would decimate everything. Or so I believe. I cannot talk for everyone, even if I would like to to give my feelings more power. But I loved her. I truly did. And I think I always will.

I was always destined to be married. It was decided even before I was born, and just like everything I didn’t mind. Every practical and even impractical advantages were lined up for us to meet. Unlike what fiction gives, arranged marriage are not as bad as one might think. I learned quickly from my parents how versatile humans are, even in matters as pure as love. That you could learn to love someone, and they could love you back. Respect and communication were key, and so with those tools in mind since I was only a boy was I on the lookout for a partner. Thankfully, I still had a last say. I knew myself, or, at the time, I thought I knew. I had every bits of my routine down to a peg, and I needed someone who could match my own pace, and give me my own space. I met a lot of suitors, yet none of them gave me the spark I needed, the tiny fickle of infatuation which would lead me in only a matter of a few weeks to become engaged. If I took too much time, I resolved myself to pick the one who fitted the profile I needed most.

I met Oriana in a wide Chinese garden, I don’t even remember if it was in a hotel or at her own place. I don’t especially like the place, as much as my roots come from my mother. Too much ego, not enough pure air. I was born in America, and will remain an American to heart. Still, my rougher ways didn’t seem to bother her. She was both so polite, but what I liked most about her was her honesty. Not a brutal, impolite one, but I could tell how genuine her character was. A hard worker, although she was so human. The garden was the most cliche place to be, the traditional building had room for our parents to discuss arrangement, and a place for us to walk around. I held her umbrella so her skin wouldn’t be hurt by the sunlight while she was feeding the fishes in a pond. We soon realized near half of them were dead, but we didn’t bother.

I didn’t want to kick around the bush and opened up to her, see if like so many sensitive noble ladies she would back away from someone people liked to picture as cruel, when really I just disliked numerous matters. She told me I was refreshing, like some, but also replied to me. Shared her own thoughts, which were so ambiguous, both in a bit of a naive hint, but spoken like an intellectual. One who happened to become one through nurturing their intellect, and not by a sense of vanity. To this day I never spoke so openly to someone again, and I don’t think I ever will.

She was an artist. Though I enjoyed the modern art, its brutality and impracticality, she was a romantic, finding her passion in neoclassicism and impressionism. She didn’t discriminate, and loved every bit of those even painted by the most misogynist of man. Her family was so traditionalist, they always looked ashamed whenever she would speak of Caucasian artists instead of her local ones, even if her own half of the family was English, but she didn’t bother. It was the first time I thanked my mother to be of the East, if not I would have probably never met Oriana. It just made me fall more in love with her. Less than a year of engagement later, we were married.

I made love to her for the first time at the end of our marriage and not the wedding. We both didn’t like it. The wedding, I mean. The grandiose ceremony. It was not of our taste, yet mandatory, like a business event, that is how we decided to digest it. However, we both shared the thought that, if this was a matter so personal as a life partner, we didn’t want it to be mixed with whatever professionalism brought. For one month, we were actually married without anyone knowing, as we exchanged rings and signed the papers at the city hall.

She made me regret I threw away my first time, I didn’t even know real shame until now. It was so simple, laying down in a hotel room we shared afterwards, called it our real honeymoon. She laid down on her back and I took her hands, intertwined her fingers with mine as I undressed before I helped her out of her long skirt and blouse. I took her in my arms and pressed my forehead against her as I traced her pale skin with my fingertips, whispering softly, asking her how it felt here, stopping whenever I felt she was becoming a bit tense.

At some point I thought she was too stressed and pulled the blanket above us, and I embraced her. Skin to skin, each centimetre of our body against another, and I didn’t mind if it would have stopped at that, but Oriana, she wanted to keep going. She rarely ever touched herself, not like I minded so much. It took at least a good hour, given how inexperienced she was and a few cramps of the wrist, but I wanted her to reach her limit before I did. With only my touch. So she would both get to know herself and me before becoming one. She held onto me so tightly when we did, I think I melted. It was the only time we slept together, I don’t think we needed more than that.

A few months later, we found out she was pregnant. We didn’t even have to talk about it and we secretly went to an abortion clinic the same day.

She understood my love for the little things, which were to me everything that mattered. We never made anything grandiose, but sometimes I would notice how she liked to change the flowers in our house depending of her mood. As neutral as the place we lived in was, it was those flowers which made home feel new every once in a while. I’d feel like I was in Europe one day and in Australia the next one. She knew I liked lotus flowers, and so she’d put fresh ones at the middle of the dinner table.

I don’t think anyone can say they have ever lived real love if they didn’t share the same home and amazement for one person for time and time again.

I found out she was sort of a show off. We didn’t mind if we were accosted by someone during public events, we trusted one another, but I saw the spark in her eyes when she would play along with a man, and then hop back at my side, wrapping her arms and going to her tiptoes as she held me by the neck. I always smiled from the inside. So much. Not because I was boasting about my wife, but because of how this cocky side of her, I was the only one who knew it.

I don’t remember how much time we spent like this, I didn’t count it, I couldn’t, or I didn’t want to. I don’t want to remember.

Oriana was always an odd one, behind her smiles and her kindness. Her own cynicism, but also her innocence. It was something I appreciated, but not more than that. It made her unique, who she was… only it became worst with time. The flowers would be kept unkept, or she would change them too often, not even wait for them to be a bit wilted. She would get lost when coming home from the grocery store, accidentally and constantly forget how to dress herself properly, when she normally was almost impeccable. Little things which didn’t matter, like me asking for one of those small details, as her being the one adding milk to my coffee, would cause her to tremble and, subsequently, hours later, cry when she would randomly remember it. I would find her by the window, staring not even outside but at the wall, looking grim in the morning. I would come back home and find her in the same state. Bruises and scratches started to appear on her body, even on weekends we didn’t leave the house. She stopped reading novels too. When I asked her why, she told me she couldn’t read anymore. I took it as her losing interest in them.

Whenever she was in bad shape, I put my forehead against hers and held her chest against mine. I liked to put my face towards her collarbone, the depth of the embrace she said reminded her of a warmth long lost. I knew her family. I knew how they were and I… never wanted her to come back to that.

One day, she asked me if I could meet her on a bridge, the green metal one made for pedestrians, just above the lake. I was in the middle of work, but as she sounded like it was urgent, I cancelled my schedule and met her right away. Then I watched in horror as she looked at me, smiled and then jumped above the fence to the waters below.

Dementia is an illness that mostly develops as someone ages. However, in rare cases, it happens before. It comes with a variety of symptoms, ones I just do not prefer to think about, including depression. It didn’t matter the hormones, or whatever the doctor said, what mattered is that my wife was unwell. Doctors said it was a miracle she survived, and I held her hand the whole way through her recovery. I fed her even when she didn’t want to eat, held her when she was about to fall while relearning how to walk.

I don’t remember how much time we spent like this, I didn’t count it, I couldn’t, or I didn’t want to. I don’t want to remember.

She didn’t talk to me about it. There was only something between us, not exactly a wall. But the connection between us which I felt made me keep going, even as she kept silent. Then the official story started, after her recovery when I found her with another woman in our hotel room. I thought it would do her good to go on this business trip with me, like a bit of a vacation. See the Mediterranean coast, where Renoir spent his last years. I packed her medication and checked to have a doctor readily available if needed.

She broke down after this, fell to the ground in this room which felt smaller and smaller the second we were left alone. Tears fell down her cheeks and her round face contorted in sorrows and anguish. She screamed and held onto me so tightly, like she was falling. She told me how much she wanted to die, how much she hated this, everything. From her face to her feet, to how she breathed and whoever else. I could feel her nails digging in my back, like when I held her so intimately, only with more blood going down my skin. It was like she wanted to rip the flesh off my skeleton.

She told me how she never loved me. How she dreaded being forced into a life not chosen by her and how she couldn’t keep up with this act anymore. I knew. I knew. How it was possible that she may have not felt the same way I felt about her. She told me how horrible I was, with a clarity in her eyes I never saw before, one full of truth, and not just the demons in her head talking, I didn’t question a word she said. She was too smart, and I couldn’t start to even think about what she knew about me I never told her about. She told me how disgusting I was, how my willingness to give on everything and not twitch a bit, how I processed it, how inhuman this could be. And yet she cried so much. Because she was crying for the both of us.

She muttered how much she hated her life, over and over again before she buried her face on my chest, her nails still clawing at the meat of my corpse. I held her as tightly as I could.

I don’t remember how much time we spent like this, I didn’t count it, I couldn’t, or I didn’t want to. I don’t want to remember.

The official story is that I was too much of a neglectful husband, that I didn’t take care of a devoted wife who needed love, and that she was still the best of party when she would remarry, that a dozen times should my honour be tainted before hers, and that I would not known to be such an unsuitable candidate for espousal. The story I tell some is that I caught my wife cheating on me, because of my own neglect. The real story is that we were just meant to be a tragedy.

Mr. Kessler

I would like to thank you personally for the generous donation you gave to our institution. As always, we pride ourselves in giving our people a safe environment when they can flourish. We will make sure to use the funds wisely.

It is with pleasure that I tell you that your friend, Ms. Liu, has been improving greatly in our facility as her condition has been stabilizing over the past few weeks. Just like you asked, she was given the right the use safe gardening tools to tend to the courtyard and she has been lovely to both our stuff and pairs.

I am, however, sorry to tell you that Ms. Liu still doesn’t allow any visitor or gifts and it is important for us to respect our patients’ wishes. However, if the situation were to change, we would contact you as soon as possible.

Although, I do not only write for you as a formality. I wanted to inquire you about Ms. Liu’s situation. We recently had visitors from the Liu family, which is asking to take Ms. Liu into their custody. She is, of course, a legal adult and has to make the decision. We have greatly advised Ms. Liu to remain with us as I do believe she needs constant medical attention. However, this will be the last of message I can send you as the papers of your divorce will be completed as of next week, making you not related to Ms. Liu  and unable to access the rights to be informed of her condition since Ms. Liu asked expressly for her information to not be shared and our institution only disclaims those to legal family.

With gratitude and sincere thanks, I wish you good luck, 

Dr. Auguste Lupien, of the Vance Mental Institute

Less than a month after I heard she had moved back in China with her family. And I never saw her again.

I don’t remember how much time we spent like this, I didn’t count it, I couldn’t, or I didn’t want to. I don’t want to remember.

[jaeminlore]

Thief Pt 8 // Park Jimin

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7

- Part Eight: Love

summary: in which prince jimin doesn’t know that his future wife is not only trying to steal from him, but is also trying to kill him.

words: 4,434

category: prince au, fantasy au

author note: nct has given me the vitality i needed to finish this. share your thoughts with me please, even if it’s criticism!

- destinee

-

You stood on the lifted podium, your arms stretched out from side to side. Your shoulders ached from the strain and the weight of the dress on your shoulders. White silk ran across the curves of your body, ending in somewhat of a heap around your feet. The seamstress had yet to hem the bottom, after finishing the bodice and sleeves of the dress.

Minah stood to the side, smiling proudly as she looked at you. “You look amazing. Jimin will be speechless when you walk down the aisle.”

“I hope so,” you mumbled to keep up with your little game, although your mind was elsewhere. You were thinking of Chanyeol, and how to go about finding him. He had to live in the castle, didn’t he? After all, he was the king’s nephew and favored heir. “Minah? Why haven’t I met Chanyeol?”

Minah snapped her head up at the name. “How do you know about Lord Chanyeol?”

“Everyone in Krull does,” you mumbled. “I kind of wanted to meet him before the wedding, you know?”

“Oh, well no one ever knows where he is. He’s kind of a loner. Jimin usually knows where he is. Shall I ask him?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” you said. Then, to hide your suspicious answer, you continued: “He’s already told me that he doesn’t know.”

Minah hummed in thought. “Well he sometimes works at Kim’s Bakery. For fun, you know? You can go after the dress fitting. Ask for Taehyung. He knows everyone.”

You nodded in thanks. As the two of you spoke, the seamstress had reentered and began the hem.

“Oh, and Y/n?”

“Yeah?” You steered your attention back to Minah.

“Remember that His Majesty comes back tomorrow morning. If you’re going to go back to Krull, it needs to be today.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “I completely forgot about the king. Will Jimin be okay if I leave again?”

Minah shrugged, “He’s used to it, I suppose.”

You didn’t like her answers. You never liked the answers around the castle. They were far too vague. Far too mysterious. It was as if there was this huge secret no one really knew about, but everyone seemed to sense. Call it intuition, but you could feel it too.

There was something rather eerie about the way only a few people in the castle would speak to you. If ever Jimin told you about workers who had been around the castle for a few decades, you noticed they were always… distant.

They averted eye contact with both you and the prince, especially the male officials of the castle. While Jimin walked you around the garden, you would often see them walking by. Jimin would bow and you would follow in suit, though no one would bow back. They wouldn’t look at Jimin, let alone you. You found it strange, but perhaps it was normal around the castle for the workers to be so distant. Jimin did say he wished for better treatment for them. Maybe they were distant because they were unfairly paid and overworked. That seemed like the only logical explanation you could think of. That was what you hoped it was, at least.

“Tell the prince I’ll be out again today and don’t require his company.” You were getting pretty good at being commanding around the castle. After Jeongguk explained that the guards definitely wouldn’t respect you if you didn’t command respect from them, you knew you had to step up your game. So to solve this problem, you used the same voice you used when drunk people refused to get out of the inn.

Once your wedding dress was hemmed, you crawled out of it very delicately, leaving you in just your underwear. You walked over to your clothes, which had been thrown half-hazardously onto a nearby chaise. Minah was against the idea of you constantly wearing clothes deemed “unfit” for a future queen. You wanted to argue back that you weren’t the future queen so it didn’t really matter, but you kept your mouth shut and instead wore the dress given to you.

It was beautiful, although impractical. The sheer bodice clung to you, showing off what figure you had. It was made of fabricated pink flowers, so detailed that they seemed to be real. They draped down your shoulders and around your torso, yet disappeared in other areas, creating a sensual yet innocent look. The skirt of the dress was fancy tulle, and although you would hate for the mud to get on it, it was the only dress Minah would let you wear. Of course, she thought you were only going to visit a bakery, not plan a rebellion in an abandoned shoe shop. She couldn’t be blamed.

-

Kim’s Bakery was a nice little shop in Eden, that looked shabby enough to be a part of Krull. In fact, it nearly was, since Krull technically started only a few yards from the bakery. It looked like a typical Krull shop: two stories high with the business on the first story.

Soft music came from the wind chimes that hung outside the windows. You could smell fresh bread through the open windows, and suddenly wished you had money to buy some with. As you entered, the smell only became more prominent. In your moment of bliss, you took time to look around the bakery. There were no tables and chairs, only a tall wooden counter with a glass display under it. There were two window seats, covered with fluffy cushions so that one could sit and people watch if they so pleased. Otherwise, it could be used as a seat to wait upon while the bakers took whatever fresh pastries out of the oven in the back and prepared them.

Behind the counter was a handsome man, around Jimin’s age. The first thing you noticed about him was his smile, which was boxy but not unhandsome. “Welcome to Kim’s Bakery! Would you like to sample some sourdough bread?”

Although your first instinct was to accept any free bread he offered you, you denied. “Actually, I’m looking for Kim Taehyung? My friend said he could help me find someone.”

“That’s me,” he smiled again. “Who are you looking for? Someone high up, I assume.” He eyed your outfit.

“Oh,” you blushed. “No, I’m from the castle, but I’m not rich or anything.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“I know, I just want you to know that I’m not like them.” What was compelling you to say those words, you didn’t know. However, this was your first time in Eden’s village, and it felt vital that these people know you weren’t the same as their monarchs.

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows, “Who told you?”

“Told me what?” You asked.

Taehyung blanched. “Nothing. Who are you looking for.”

“His name is Park Chanyeol. He’s the prince’s cousin,” you said, pushing the doubt away from your mind.

“Ah, Chan. He might not want to meet you, Princess.”

“Oh? Is he mad at me?”

“Not you,” Taehyung clarified as he moved towards the back. “And not necessarily angry, just guilty.”

As you waited, you pondered his words. What did he mean by that? Why would he feel guilty?

Suddenly, Taehyung came back, followed by a tall man. He looked at you, his bright brown eyes similar to that of a puppy’s. There was something very endearing in his appearance, and you found yourself doubting that this was the nephew who planned wars and fought against the king. He looked like a king. He looked like he should be on a throne. So, you bowed. “I’m Y/n. I need to talk to you.”

Chanyeol cocked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. “How did you find me?”

“Minah,” you answered, and Chanyeol cursed.

“She always knows. Her and the guard.” Chanyeol walked around the counter and stopped in front of you. “What do you need to talk about?”

You eyed Taehyung casually. “We have to talk in private. I know a place, so follow me.”

Chanyeol was complacent, and followed diligently. The two of you walked the road in silence, even when they turned into the dirt roads of Krull. “You’re taking me to Krull. Why?”

“I can’t say until we arrive. I was told I could trust you.”

You arrived in front of the familiar inn you had grown up in, and entered with the lord on your heels. Hoseok was behind the counter as usual, only this time Yoongi was sitting on one of the stools. He came out of his large hood every once in awhile just to sip from his pint, only to go back to silently listening to Hoseok’s loud rambling.

“Oh, good. Everyone’s here,” you said. “Let’s go to Hobi’s room. I’ve brought Chanyeol.”

Hoseok looked up and smiled brightly. “Y/n! Yoongi and I were just talking about you!”

The four of you bounded up the creaky stairs of the inn and entered the room Hobi had long since claimed as his own. There was an old table in the corner, most likely stolen from the inn itself, and you settled into one of the chairs. Surprisingly, Chanyeol was still following you loyally. He sat down next, followed by Yoongi, then Hoseok.

“I’ve brought Chanyeol here to explain the plan, and how he can help us change it.” You explained before turning to the lord. “You and Jimin are friends, right? He listens to you?”

Chanyeol snorted. “Jimin hasn’t talked to me in years. He’s afraid to.”

You blanched. Your entire plan had been to get Chanyeol to encourage Jimin to be brave. “What do you mean? Doesn’t the King like you?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Perhaps that’s what he tells Jimin, but he’s not very nice to me either. The thing about the king is that he’s a coward. Anyone who stands up against him is going to win because he doesn’t know how to handle that kind of situation. His entire staff is brainwashed because he has convinced them that he will take action if they disobey. He won’t. The only person he’s ever hurt is Jimin, and that’s because his son is his scapegoat. Get it?”

You frowned. “The king lies to Jimin to make it seem like he has the upper hand?”

Chanyeol nodded fervently. “He’s crumbling, and so is his kingdom. His entire generation has only stayed on the throne due to fear. That’s why Krull will never believe us if we say Jimin is a good man. They’ve been told constantly that the new king will be good, but the truth is simple. The new king will be brainwashed by the old king, until he has the personality of the old king. It’s a pattern, and Jimin is the only one who hasn’t followed it yet.”

Hoseok spoke up. “So the king is trying to beat the niceness out of Prince Jimin.”

“Technically speaking, yes. He wants Jimin under his control, so that even when Jimin is king, it’ll be King Park who pulls the strings.”

You sighed. “Look, Yoongi, you have to stop the assassins then. You heard Chanyeol. You believe him, don’t you?”

Yoongi shrugged, his eyes rather sleepy as he watched everyone around the table. “I suppose I’ll stop them. If what Chanyeol says is true; if Jimin proves himself after the coronation to be an independent king, I’ll only call for an assassination on King Park.”

Chanyeol looked perplexed. “You were going to assasinate Jimin?”

“The raffle was rigged,” you admitted. “Everything was a plan to kill the king and prince and put you on the throne. It was for Krull.”

Chanyeol ran a hand through his curly hair, “You don’t look like a murderer.”

“I’m not,” you admitted. “I’m a thief. I’ve been lying to Jimin more or less this whole time to try and get information out of him.” You suddenly felt tears behind your eyes, “It wasn’t until I got him drunk did I understand the truth. Since then I’ve been trying to prove his innocence.”

Yoongi sighed. “You’re paying me back for all the money I’m losing through this deal.”

Hoseok turned to him. “Didn’t you start this plan because of a vision? What was it about?”

“Oh. I dreamt that a king loved by everyone would reign. The only one loved by everyone is Chanyeol, so naturally assumed it was about him.”

Hoseok scrunched his features and gave Yoongi a disgusted look. “You were going to kill the prince based on your own interpretations? Are you a prophet? No. You’re a dark mage who has been around so much negativity that your first instinct was to kill someone. I’m ashamed.”

Yoongi flushed red. “I genuinely thought Jimin was just like his father. Everyone else thinks that too, you know.”

“It’s a good thing we talked about it,” you said. “Now we know each side of the story. All we have to do is get Jimin to stand up to his father.”

“Do you think he’ll do it?” Hoseok asked Chanyeol.

“If he believes in something strongly enough, I don’t think he’d let anything stop him.”

-

Chanyeol offered to buy you lunch, and while you would’ve rather had food from Jung’s Inn, he knew of a quaint little restaurant a few blocks down from the inn. Upon entering, you could smell some kind of stew boiling over a hearth. A kind woman stood at the giant pot, stirring the stew. She turned to smile, and you found her features rather familiar, although you couldn’t quite place them.

“Hello! I’m Mrs. Jeon! Sit down and I’ll get you two some stew and mead.”

Chanyeol bowed in thanks and gestured for you to sit on one of the overstuffed sofas by yet another fire pit. The place was warm and comforting in comparison to the frigid winter outside. Especially since you had forgotten your cloak at the castle.

You held your hands out in front of the fire as Chanyeol gave you the history of the place. “Mrs. Jeon lives here with her husband and her eldest son. They all work to make food for families that are out of money. It’s one place in Krull that the poverty-stricken people can come and not worry about loans and having to pay back in any way. Donations are welcome, of course, but the real payment is just talking to Mrs. Jeon. Since her husband and son are out a lot finding work, she can get lonely.”

“Ah,” you answered, understanding quickly. “Well then it’ll be nice to talk to her.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said. “She gets a lot of thieves and brawlers so it’s nice for her to get some normal people.”

You stared at Chanyeol, “I’m a thief.”

Your new friend’s ears turned a bright shade of red as he looked down at the table top. “Yeah… I forget sometimes.”

“Me too,” you spoke honestly. “Living at the castle has given me a look at how people live comfortably. I sometimes forget that I used to fight grown men for dinner.”

Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t remember you. All my times visiting Krull, no one ever mentioned a Y/n.”

“They protect me,” you countered, “If anyone in the castle found out how much I stole from Eden, I would be put to death immediately.”

“Do you know Mrs. Jeon?”

“No,” you said. “She’s never asked me for anything. I suppose she knows about me, though. Most people in Krull know about the plot to kill the king and the prince. We’re just good at hiding things.”

Chanyeol picked at his fingernail. “I can’t believe I’ve been visiting all this time and everyone just… They all wanted me to be their king but they never told me about it. They never asked if it was what I wanted, or if I thought it was a good idea.”

Two bowls of steaming broth were suddenly placed in front of you both. You looked up to see Mrs. Jeon smiling down at Chanyeol. She reached out to ruffle his hair, “We don’t converse with leaders due to previous experience with them, Darling. You should know that.”

Chanyeol scowled at her and grabbed a spoon. “I’m just glad the plan is ruined so I don’t have to become king. I don’t know if I could ever have courage to fight against all the twisted laws our ancestors have brainwashed every royal to believe.”

“Why don’t you believe them?” you asked.

At the same time, Mrs. Jeon frowned and asked, “The plan is ruined?”

Chanyeol answered you both casually, “Jimin’s mother was good about teaching us the trials of Krull. She was from here too. Of course, she spent more time with me since I’m older. She died when Jimin was young, so I doubt he remembers any memory with her. The plan is foiled, Mrs. Jeon. Y/n believes that Jimin can really turn everything around, and as do I.”

Mrs. Jeon sat down with a fretful glance at the door. You studied her appearance, struggling to find any reason why she looked so familiar to you. Her bangs were plastered to her forehead with sweat and grime, but her eyes were kind and focused as she observed the room. Her skin was fragile with wrinkles and laugh-lines, and her bones were hollow and small. You thought just one hug would crush her. Still, she didn’t seem weak or unable to get around. “I wish I could believe that. Honestly, I would feel better if it was you, Chanyeol. However, I’ll trust your word. I can’t say my family will do the same. Nor will Krull find this change in plans very pleasant.”

You licked your lips, “Mrs. Jeon, please trust me when I say that Jimin will help everyone.”

Mrs. Jeon nodded slowly, although her eyes seemed to be somewhere else. “Speaking of my family, don’t mention a word of this to them.”

You and Chanyeol looked towards where Mrs. Jeon had gone. In the doorway, two grown men were discarding their boots, but keeping their coats around their shoulders. The winter cold was still harmful and strong. The son, much younger and healthier than his parents, looked at you, and everything suddenly made sense. That’s why Mrs. Jeon had looked familiar.

Her son looked exactly like Jeongguk.

-

When you returned to the castle that night, your first thought was to get to Jeongguk and tell him where his family was. Throughout the many talks with Minah, you knew he had no idea where his family was, and whether they were alive or not. So, after dropping Chanyeol off at the bakery, where he was apparently living for the time being, you walked the familiar road to the castle.

King Park would return the next morning, and you knew whatever freedom you and Jimin had felt would soon disperse as quick as a morning fog. Still, there was some kind of hope left in you. Yoongi was on board, Chanyeol was on board, and Mrs. Jeon was on board. The very fact that more people were trusting in Jimin gave you hope that this was the right thing to do. Jimin would survive, no matter what. You would do everything in your power to make sure the throne was his.

The hallways were dark as you walked to your bedroom, where you were genuinely hoping Jeongguk would be guarding for the night. Instead, no one was outside. This led you to believe that Minah might have already shooed Jeongguk away, as she did every night when you went in to bathe.

You were surprised to see that it wasn’t Minah in your room, but Jimin. He was still dressed in his day outfit, and your eyes lingered on his torso in his white, form-fitting shirt a bit too long as you watched him. He was sitting hunched over his hands, focusing on his fingers as they tapped against each other. He hadn’t heard you come in.

“Jimin?” you said.

The prince jumped at your voice, his eyes widening as he suddenly stood up and wet his lips. His dark hair was freshly trimmed, perhaps for the king, or the upcoming wedding. Either way, his eyes were no longer hidden by a curtain of hair, and you could see the clear emotion in them. He seemed troubled, once again, and the fact made you shuffle in discomfort. “Are you okay? You seem upset.”

Jimin shook his head and advanced towards you, “I was just thinking about you. About us, really. Because we’re getting married in two days and I’m afraid you don’t want it. I’m afraid you’ll leave when I say what I’m going to say, but I have to say it.”

Jimin sighed and leaned forward, his hands curving around your waist. “I love you, y'know? It’s not artificial love because of the raffle, it’s an overwhelming emotion that has been building in my heart since that day in the library. I’m in love with you, Y/n. I’m just afraid you don’t love me back. I’m afraid you’ll fake your vows to me and be part of an unhappy marriage because I’m not who you wanted. You say you won’t leave me, but this is forever. This is a marriage: for the rest of our lives.”

“Jimin…” You cupped his cheek with your hand, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. “I’ve already told you that if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here. That goes for love as well. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

It was a bit blurry as to who leaned in first, but suddenly, you could feel the softness of Jimin’s lips against yours. Your hands fell down to clutch the fabric of his shirt, until there were wrinkled bunches of fabric in your fists. Jimin’s hands crept into your hair as he kissed you harder, his breath becoming more labored. You pulled him closer as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. There were hushed confessions, though neither of you could quite remember whose mouth uttered them first. There was a hazy feeling in your brain as Jimin finally let go and pulled back, his eyes heavily lidded and his lips parted slightly. He slowly wet his lips as he looked down to catch your expression.

“You… You’re really going to marry me? For me? With all these horrible responsibilities and problems?”

“I’m marrying for you, Jimin. I don’t care about anything else,” you managed to whisper, since frankly your breath was still taken from the kiss. “Together we can unite Eden and Krull and make this kingdom one that people are proud to be under.”

Jimin bit his lip to stop from smiling. “Have I told you just how much I love you? Because… wow.”

-

You woke up alone the next morning, rather disappointed that Jimin couldn’t stay over like all the nights before. No, he had to get up early and go greet his father as he returned from his voyage.

Your mind still felt a bit tingly when you thought of having finally kissed the prince. You felt giddy at the fact that he actually loved you. However, there was a heavy layer of guilt that came with confessing to the prince.

You were a thief, a criminal. You had come to the castle in an attempt to kill him and his father. He had no idea that you had been this close to killing him. He had no idea how much trouble you had gone through just to stop the entire plan. He had no idea that you had completely lied your way into his life. There was so much he had no idea about, and yet he was going to marry you.

You had fallen in love with him, without a doubt. It had taken a lot of time and a lot of doubt, but you were finally sure. He had fallen in love with you as well, but how strong was that love against all your lies and cover ups? How forgiving was Jimin?

The more you thought about it, the lousier you felt. You never meant for this to turn into the giant mess it had turned into.

One thing was for sure: you couldn’t change anything. The past had been sealed, and there was nothing you could go do to change it. There was no way to go back. Besides, if you had gone back, and someone else took the offer, Jimin would be dead by now. So, there was some comfort with that. If Jimin left you in resentment, it would be okay, because he was alive. You had successfully deterred any plan to kill him. You had given him a chance.

With that disturbing, yet comforting thought in your head, you dressed yourself and went to search for Jeongguk. Around this time, it was probable that he was around the kitchen, keeping Minah company as she made breakfast. You walked to the kitchen rather quickly in the hopes of avoiding anyone who might wish to speak to you.

No one tried to speak to you. In fact, people seemed to avoid you even more than usual. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up unwillingly at the wonder you felt when it came to their behavior.

Jeongguk was outside of the kitchen, nibbling on a slice of toast as he watched everyone walk by. “Hey, can we talk?” You asked as a way of greeting.

Jeongguk’s eyes widened, and he hastily swallowed the food in his mouth before throwing the rest of the toast away. “Sure. What’s up?”

You slipped a piece of paper into his palm. “It’s the address to your family. You should go see them.”

Jeongguk looked at you, then down at the slip of paper, tears blurring his vision. “It’s really them? The king banished them so long again I can’t even remember what they look like.”

“They own a restaurant in Krull, a few blocks down from the inn. I’ve never been until Chanyeol took me yesterday.”

“What were you doing with Chanyeol?” Jeongguk suddenly asked, his demeanor changing. “Did he say anything?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “No? We just went to talk about Jimin’s coronation. Is there something I should know, Jeongguk?”

The guard cleared his throat. “No. No. Everything will be fine.”

You let it drop, but you couldn’t quite shake the looming feeling of fear off of your shoulders.

- to be continued -

[jayykesley]

I want to ask all the things for all the ocs but I'll stick with even numbers for lorelai and odd for carson

Lorelei;

2: their smile

Lorelei has a nice, bright smile with lovely white teeth because she is agoody-two shoes who always brushes her teeth twice a day. Her smile is usuallyaccompanied by red or pink lipstick.

4: their insecurities

She’s a bitof a worrier and a more control-oriented, so she seriously panics if things don’tgo according to plan. She’s insecure about the way she handles changes in planand her inability to improvise.

6: how they deal with grief

In a prettyhealthy way; cry if she needs to, talks about it with her parents, Violet, or Carson,but she can get frustrated with herself if she doesn’t start to feel like she’s“moved on” after a certain period of time.

8: what they like to eat

Anythingthat can be prepared quickly because she has other things to do, so she eats alot of tv dinners and instant microwave meals

10: their fashion sense

Skirts anddresses and high heels and sparkles every single day! She also tends to alter alot of the things she buys so they’re more “her”, which usually means addingtulle and pockets to everything.

12: their romantic life

She’s hadcrushes and playground-boyfriends as a child, but now that she’s older she morefocused on meeting her soulmate: Benjamin Lewis. Lorelei knows it’s best not torush fate, but she’s a romantic as heart and can’t help dreaming of theirperfect life together.

14: how they react to burning theirtongue on food

Like themanner-mindful lady she is, she politely spits her food into a napkin.

16: their dreams

She hasalways dreamed of opening her own tailor shop, which would be co-run by her andBen while their children play with the ribbons and mannequins

18: how they sleep

She sleepsalright alone, but she sleeps best with her little sister snoring like alawnmower next to her.

20: their reaction to a mystery loveletter

Loreleiwould probably be flattered, but ultimately would much rather her admirer beupfront about his affections and intentions .

22: what they're like on two hours ofsleep

After onenight of only two hours, she’s okay. A tad slower, but okay. After severalnights of only two hours of sleep, she’s cranky, irritable, and demands thateveryone sit down and shut up.

24: what motivates them

Protectingher family is her greatest motivator, but she’s also motivated by her naturalinstinct to follow the rules as best she can without endangering herself or her loved ones.

Carson;

1: theirvoice

Regular guy’svoice, naturally speaks fairly loudly, his singing voice is Bad and off-key buteven louder than his speaking voice.

3: their greatest achievement

He’s particularly proud of the fact that, when he was seventeen, heclimbed to the tallest Blue Wood tree near Uncle Victor’s cabin. Halfway downhe fell and broke his arm, but he considered that a trophy for hisaccomplishment.

5: their shortcomings

Tends to usehumor to deflect confrontational situations. Feels uncomfortable when hisleadership abilities are called into question, as he’s somewhat insecure aboutit and compares himself to his own parents and Victor. Has a hard timeadmitting when he’s afraid, sometimes will even flat out deny it.

7: how they like to dress

Carson isvery confident in his appearance and dressing up a bit. Suits and ties areexpensive and impractical to wear in the Burjeok forest, so he settles for anice blazer and shiny shoes

9: their theme

Doing dumbthings because he’s bored, Rosalyn suggested it, and Lorelei isn’t around totell him to Not

11: their family life

Hisbio-parents died in a hail of gunfire to protect him, and then his close familyfriend Victor Pike took him in and raised him as his son, so his family life ispretty good.

13: their embarrassing memory fromyears ago

Listen,Carson does not get embarrassed, so much so that it’s taking me a really longtime to figure out what would actually embarrass him.

15: how they react to a brainfreeze

Depends onif Lorelei is around. If she is, he would keep drinking or act out a veryelaborate death sequence in order to make her laugh

17: their ambitions

Liberatingthe oppressed Lackings and their families/supporters from under ChancellorWoods’ iron-grip. He’d also like to marry his soulmate and have a family of hisown one day.

19: their reaction to betrayal

Carson wouldbe deeply hurt, as he places a lot of faith in other people and is generallyvery trusting.

21: how they react to pain

Physicalpain, he’d try to laugh it off as best he can while receiving treatment.Emotional pain is more difficult; depending on what it is, he might bedistraught enough to forget to take his medication for a while, which ends upsending him into a deep depression.

23: how they act when they're sick

Again,depends on if Lorelei is around to take care of him. If she isn’t, he’ll takesome medicine and go about his day. If she is, he’ll let himself be fussed overby her with minimal objection.

25: why you enjoy them

BecauseCarson is exactly the kind of humorous, semi-flirtatious, kinda-full-of-himselfcharacter that I always end up favoring in media, and I wanted to try my handat writing my own.

Thank youvery much for letting me talk about them!