#AND THE WAY OLIVER ACTED IT SO PERFECTLY LIKE I COULD FEEL THE RELIEF

[thesinglesjukebox]

PINKPANTHERESS FT. ICE SPICE - BOY'S A LIAR PT. 2

That's a wrap on Day 1! And we're just getting started...

[7.09]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The last time we talked about PinkPantheress I called her music "aural wallpaper" -- and I stand by that! It's just that "Boy's a liar" is exquisite aural wallpaper, the kind of endlessly loopable pop hit that has just enough variation to sound fresh even after most of a year's worth of overplay. Part of that comes from her guests. Ice Spice's verse is the most genuinely affecting she's ever been, and Mura Masa's assist on production varies the UK Garage-nostalgia formula just enough for it to work, bringing in faux-8-bit synth lines to cut through PinkPantheress' still-simple melodies. Yet the PinkPantheress of "Boy's a liar" is herself an artist evolved, one more driven towards actual sing-along hooks rather than just moods to ruminate in. The change works -- that chorus will be embedded in my head for the rest of my life, which I have to assume was the goal. [9]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: PinkPantheress riffs on UK dance music in a way that's antithetical to why I was drawn to it -- her diaristic lyrics and hushed vocalizing subtly position the music as a singer-songwriter's work, steering any breakbeat or 2-step jitter away from maximalist dancefloor pleasures. Her latest album Heaven knows assuaged some of my skepticism: "True romance" is tasteful in its momentary adoption of jungle, "Feel complete" brings her work in conversation with turn-of-the-millennium Shibuya-kei, and "Ophelia" is a hefty conceptual gambit that could only work with a sound so diaphanous. Before all this, though, was "Boy's a liar Pt. 2." It was the first track that made me appreciate the sketch-like nature of her craft. The song hinges on Ice Spice's nimble maneuvering of the beat, whose harpsichord-like melody and chiptune blips place this sorrowful recounting of a shitty ex as a truly timeless phenomenon. Ice Spice arrives mid-confession to act as the supportive friend -- if it's not completely felt in the lyrics, then it's there in her playful yet acerbic tone. She provides necessary relief; PinkPantheress' "good enough" chants feel slightly more hopeful by the time the song ends, like she knows she'll come out the other end soon. [6]

Jonathan Bradley: Ice Spice lays down 16 frothy bars that feel like eight, yet everything about this track feels twice as insubstantial as it really is. PinkPantheress contributes a burble-chirrup that in pixelated patterns of toy piano and ringtone synth and a back-and-forth loop that sounds most like a digital fish blowing bubbles. Suitably, Ice Spice's vocabulary abstracts into a "duh-duh-duh" that she still manages to rhyme with "shouldn't have." [8]

Oliver Maier: Big year for these two. The "good enough/duhduhduh/should'nt've" three-piece is amazingly silly, the axis around which the song (and most of the memes it has produced) spins and a great distillation of what is appealing about Ice Spice as a rapper. Not much else jumps out, though. PinkPantheress has a good ear for feathery beats, but this one feels paper-thin, and the chiptune flourishes get grating quick. [4]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: In which the value propositions of two emerging stars are perfectly merged. Effortlessly flexing and trashtalking, Ice Spice plays the foil to the cutesy but wounded and contemplative PinkPantheress. This is what shit talking a boy with a friend should sound like. [8]

Katherine St Asaph: Mura Masa called this single "borderline misandrist"; if so, that border is the size of a moat. The song isn't about boys as a group but one particular boy, whose crime isn't being a liar necessarily but being hypercritical. And "Boy's a Liar" isn't a breakup song so much as an epiphany: a celebration of the first tentative tendrils of renewed self-confidence. "You only want to hold me when I'm looking good enough" should not feel quietly radical, but after hearing "actually, beauty standards are primarily enforced by other women!" horseshit for seemingly decades, it does. Maybe that's why this diaphanous little single has gravitas beyond its weight. Or maybe it's just because I'm job hunting right now, and "Boy's a Liar" has been a great soundtrack for my (at time of writing) 194 autorejections. (damn) [9]

Michelle Myers: The original "Boy's a Liar" is two minutes of vibey perfection, but calling it a song feels like a reach. The addition of an ill-fitting verse from Ice Spice is a step in the wrong direction. [7]

Jackie Powell: Ice Spice's feature not only helps the song's flow, but it establishes the track as a feminist call to action. The verse that Ice Spice replaced on the original "Boy's a Liar" sounded out of place and it slowed down the tempo that PinkPantheress established in the hook and opening verse. Lyrically that verse was also weaker. Without Ice Spice, PinkPantheress continues to plead with her lover to stay. She asks what she should do without him. Ice Spice's verse in Pt. 2 specifically calls out the liar in question and places accountability. Pt. 2 transforms the song from more of a woe as me track into a song telling a story about someone who should just buzz off after lying. He's clearly not good eno-o-ough, good eno-o-ough. [7]

Alfred Soto: Rounded up a notch for Ice Spice's rap and the insidiousness of the tiny, tinny synth hook. As much as I appreciate a 2:15 pop single, "Boy's a Liar" needs ballast. [6]

Will Adams: The original was carbonated and pleasant, like the first sip of a seltzer whose flavor turns out to be quite nice. With Ice Spice, there's added dimension; she lets slip a hint of vulnerability ("I don't sleep enough without you") and a hell of a lot of charisma. The brief run-time will probably bother me less and less as time goes on. [6]

Crystal Leww: I heard every kind of edit of this on the dancefloor, this year and it didn't matter if it was a UK garage version, Jersey Club, or baile funk -- you could hear the girls of New York City rap along to every single bar in the Ice Spice verse. I think my favorite part is the moment of quiet, pleading pause in Ice Spice's "But I don't sleep enough without you." She's seemingly all New York bad bitch, I'm-Tougher-Than-You big balls energy up until this point but yeah, bad bitches need a little love, too. [8]

Aaron Bergstrom: Reads like someone spent a long time trying to explain the concept of self-doubt to Ice Spice and she didn't quite get it, but the ideological odd couple bit actually works pretty well. [6]

Brad Shoup: The remix rap feature is a delightful gamble. Maybe you're just getting the name you paid for: the personality, the ad-lib. If it's a collab, maybe you get a couple bars that nod at your theme. Ice Spice's feature is precisely designed to complement the track: smash-cutting between bravado and insecurity. At the very end -- where those contractual wrap-up bars tend to go -- PinkPantheress and Mura Masa drop the skittering dialtone so she can plead in second-person. It's pretty devastating! [7]

Nortey Dowuona: It's always a delight to hear the taunting song title out of PinkPantheress's honeycomb soprano cuz it comes after a deeply anguished and frustrated first verse in which she feels the wrenching despair of not being good enough for her to be loved, cared for, trusted. It stacks depressed and tired line after depressed and tired line until she throws up her hands, deciding to wash her hands of him, letting go of his stated feelings to tend to her own coalescing into a stone, which Ice Spice hurls at another unnamed him, until she briefly considers her spite, then admitting to herself she does still care, worse, consider his presence important to her life. But "don't like sneaky shit that you do." [10]

Alex Ostroff: I'm still a little lukewarm on the concept of PinkPantheress as a pop star. The idea of the UK Garage revival actually topping the US charts this time around is something I'm 300% in favour of happening, but when niche scenes have their crossover moment I usually want the artists to really make a serious play for taking over the centre of culture and release songs that give us their unique take on Pop Music. (To be fair, this is likely because I am now An Old who missing the TRL era when all charting music seemed to exist in the same universe, whereas the charts in 2023 seem more like a way of ranking the relative popularity of different niche music scenes that remain hermetically sealed off from one another.) Too often for me, PinkPantheress' songs -- even after Boy's a liar" -- don't push beyond the slight UK garage-influenced TikTok bops she started out making. Ironically, this Pt. 2 with Ice Spice (which now feels like an early success from a previous era of her career) is one of the few times when her promise feels entirely fulfilled -- dragging Ice Spice in from the parallel universe of New York drill and putting her in a new context of chiptune bleep-bloops and PinkPantheress' vocals pivoting from wistful to joyous. That said, if the UK Garage revival crossover actually takes over the charts in 2024, I humbly request that we get more songs with gloss and big choruses and big emotions. [8]

Taylor Alatorre: Perfect timing aside, a key reason why "Pt. 2" took off the way it did is that Ice Spice displays an intuitive grasp of what this extended dance mix of a ringtone is really about: not middle-fingers-up misandry, but the torments of an ongoing fixation. PinkPantheress flits between the present and past tenses like she's reading from a jumbled diary entry, but amidst all her self-protective cooing, the line that lands the hardest is "you're not looking at me, boy," which is really more of a suggestion for improvement than a burning of bridges. So it's entirely fitting that Ice Spice end her characteristically efficient verse with an uncharacteristic airing of regret: "I don't sleep enough without you, and I don't eat enough without you." Nothing groundbreaking for the top 40, but it's these seamless transitions between expressions of superiority and vulnerability that have kept "Boy's a liar" from a lifetime sentence in the social media buzz bin. [6]

Tara Hillegeist: It's not that I'm against a song being useful as a TikTok soundbite, much less predisposed to think an artist who has primarily existed in that format cannot be interesting outside it, but... damn. If you set this against the original, to say nothing of "Mosquito" or even Ice Spice's own "Deli"... it's tempting to condescend in all good faith and write off the rehashtagged gestures as some attempt at a victory lap, maybe, but if this is the sound of #winning, it's awful perfunctory against either of their best, if not outright insulting to both. Preemptively remixing a perfectly good piece of Carly Rae-&B like "Boy's a liar" into nothing more than a half-rasped TikTok-ready clip reel, to say nothing of a guest verse that tries for above-it-all styling and lands on slumming-it-all tiresome -- from Ice Spice, an artist with more personality than panache to begin with -- is a gesture beneath the ability of any performer and flattering to none. But yesterday's leftovers will suit tomorrow's fancams just fine, won't they, so it hardly matters if there's hardly any marrow left on these bones, does it? [4]

Andrew Karpan: One wonders what the future holds for the seminal record of 2023, a charismatic bounce of emotional longing that was seemingly heard everywhere but that I can't imagine ever wanting to hear again. [7]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: Pillowy, lightweight, more notable for Ice Spice's continued ascendance than PinkPantheress. One of these artists gets their lines coloured in and it's not the British gal. [7]

Ian Mathers: This is great, but I'm still holding out for us to review Pt. 3 where it's just the "Weird Fishes/Arpeggi" mashup, which has pretty much replaced this one in my earworms' songbook. [8]

Leah Isobel: A fax machine beeps incessantly in the American Embassy in London. A horde of 22-year old secretaries, outfitted in earth-toned Juicy Couture, jewel-bright nails click-clacking on the cracked screens of their iPhones, wait with bated breath as the message comes through. Urgent meeting with the Ambassador requested, it reads. Serious matter: the boy's a liar. Before the fax is even finished, Ice Spice is in the car, her driver careening through the city on the wrong side of the road. She mutters a few tentative thoughts into her voice memos: "He never drops his location, like..." Ambassador Spice arrives at Prime Minister Pantheress' office to find that news crews are already present, ready to capture a meeting of historic import, with implications international. The duo's regal bearing -- shaped by a lifetime of political service -- never falters, and their smiles never seem false. They are each truly beloved of their people. But they can never undo what has already been done: they cannot make the boy tell the truth. The flow of information has sped up over time, hastened by shimmering tentacles of fiber optics snaking under the Atlantic, heralded by jingly ringtones and text alert sounds, but it's never fast enough. Regret and grief attend every belated realization, every decision made, every path not taken. In the US and UK, millions of citizens watch their representatives come to an unprecedented agreement, one that future generations will look back on and think, "That could have been worse." The relieved masses, content to know that the truth has finally been revealed, hum and sway in agreement: "Good enough-ough-ough." [8]

Rachel Saywitz: sorry can't properly blurb this one, too busy shaking ass [7]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox ]

[oftelltalehearts]

[ colin ford, cismale, he/him ] whatever you think you know about OLIVER WILSON, the 25/190 year old, DEMISEXUAL, LOCAL, it is likely time for you to start reconsidering. the rumored LIGHT FAYE is often described as DUTIFUL + KNOWLEDGEABLE, but don’t let them fool you; they can also be STUBBORN + ABRASIVE, which often has them regarded as THE HISTORIAN. they are a CASHIER at GEEKS&FREAKS, but it’s also said they are a NOBLE within the LIGHT FAYE COURT. whatever you hear, you can’t deny there’s more to them that meets the eye, and it’s time we start uncovering the truth. 

» 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗 . ( updated 10/21 ) starters owed ; 00 . threads owed ; 00

» 𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖘 . visage . musings . soundtrack . answered . memes . tasks . all threads . events ( 1 , ) . headcanons . all things oliver .

» 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝖘𝖔 𝖋𝖆𝖗 .

second born and to a higher than average noble family that had ties to the queen , isn't necessarily something to sneeze at . even from a young age oliver understood what was expected of him and what his role was meant to be in life . he was meant to be the day to his older brother's night .

oliver was all too eager to play a part that had been written for him before birth just to avoid being disregarded or tossed to the side . he threw himself head first into studying everything he could and proving his worth to both his parents and the court . proving he wasn't going to be like his brother but his own person , he held his breath at the idea of possibly having an arranged marriage like marshall but his fears have almost been put to bed for that idea .

while marshall is marshall and oliver is oliver , he adores his brother (he's his brother after all!) though he'd never outwardly show or say it . he belives his brother is so much more than what the rest of the court writes him off to be and when brought up in conversation he refuses to speak down on him .

while his parents were relieved when marshall had given up his rights to being the heir oliver didn't feel the same sentiment . he was holding out that his brother would be whacked by some cosmic force to take up the mantle so he was less than thrilled to be named heir after his father .

following the same footsteps as the rest of his family in claiming to be his own descendant , finding relief in the ability to use his own name again . oliver is known to be a job collector and he figured he'd try yet another new task and see where it grows to .

» 𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖘 .

i . knows an unhealthy amount about human history (having lived through short part of it) and faye history alike and is like a walking history textbook . his last time around he was in school to be a teacher but - for once - gave up on it because of claims the teachers were incompetent and getting things wrong .

ii . vegetarian , he once made himself sick on strawberries and cheese . he can easily be won over with dark chocolate and maybe a stroke to his ego .

iii . oliver seems to be something strictly for his parents to say , he prefers to be called oli .

iv . either acts like an old man or a bratty teenager . he let's his pride get in the way and sometimes finds it difficult to ask for help .

v . he's growing to slowly resent his parents for shaping how he is , he feels like he doesn't have a voice of his own just a perfectly response formed by them and their set of ideologies . is also slightly envious of his own brother because of how he just enjoys life .

vi . doesn't believe in marrying for power , and hasn't been in any stage of courtship for a hundred years .

[venicebixch]

Relinquish

jealous!vinnie smut. a little bit of slapping, degradation, praise. i’ll warn you now this does have some CNC themes! nothing too crazy but if that makes you uncomfortable, do not read! otherwise, enjoy :)

I can’t deny, I’ve always been the type to get a thrill out of causing some heartache from time to time, especially when it comes to men. Never without good reason, though. I’m not sure why I am this way, but I am. I don’t plan on changing, either, because the feeling is too good when I know I’ve got a guy right where I want him. Perfectly wrapped around my finger, like a puppet. And I’ve never had trouble getting guys into that situation - at least, until I met Vinnie. 

Vinnie acts like he could care less about me or what I’m doing half the time. It’s why our relationship didn’t work out, I simply can’t be with someone who doesn’t worship the ground I walk on. It’s conceited, I know, but it’s true and I’m willing to admit it.

I’m also willing to admit that nearly everything I’m doing lately is meant to draw out the worst in that man. I’m hellbent, on a mission to make him react to me; get angry with me, get jealous over me. Anything to prove he feels something for me because I’ll damned if he doesn’t.

After our breakup, it started with me wearing extra short shorts and crop tops around the house, especially around his friends. It seemed as though it was working the first few times I did it, but his friends haven’t been over much lately so I moved to posting things on instagram; bikini pics and other pictures that leave little to the imagination but then, to my surprise, my account got suspended and I’m too afraid to push the matter on another platform.

So, I had to find another way to provoke him and I finally turned to Tinder. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t catch me dead on that app. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but I’ve never been the type to go looking for someone. But these are special circumstances. 

It didn’t take long for me to match with a guy, Oliver. He’s cute enough and nice. The athletic, rescues animals, picks up trash on the beach kind of guy. Hell, if I wasn’t so stuck up Vinnie’s ass, I might have actually really clicked with the guy.

Anyway, I got straight to work setting up a date and today was finally the day we went out. It was a fine experience, we even had a little bit of a makeout session, but I was eager to get back home the whole time so I’m relieved to finally be walking back into the house now. 

I peek my head inside, looking around for any sign of life - it’s pretty late, almost 3:30am, so I’m not surprised when I don’t see anyone and the house is mostly dark. I switch my phone light on and start to make my way upstairs.

As I walk toward my own room I take special note of Vinnie’s room. The lights must be off, they’re not shining from under the door. This really pisses me off. The whole damn reason I went on this stupid date was to make him mad and the asshole is already asleep. 

I sigh loudly and slam my bedroom door behind me, flipping on the light. I unzip my dress, sliding it down and undo my bra, feeling the relief of getting the tight fabric off of my body. I know it’s late, but soaking in a hot bath sounds good right now. I pick my clothes off the ground and turn around to toss them in the hamper when I see a figure laying across my bed making my heart stop for a moment. 

“Jesus, Vinnie! You scared the hell out of me,” I scold him.

I bring my hands up to my chest to cover myself and look him over, gauging the expression on his face. He looks calm and he’s fully clothed minus his shirt, laying with his back against the headboard as he sits on top of the covers. An odd sight to see.

“What the hell are you doing in here? And why are you just laying in the dark?” I ask.

“You went on a date tonight?” He asks.

I try my hardest to bite back my smile, but I can’t. “Sure did. Had a lot of fun, too.” 

“Did you fuck him?” 

A surge of adrenaline rushes through me at his question - I’m not sure if it’s excitement or anger at his prying. Or maybe I’m just a little surprised he’d ask that so outright.

“That’s none of your concern, Vin.” 

He sighs, then a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Answer my question, Y/n. Did you fuck him?” 

“I’m not telling you,” I shake my head. 

He stands. His posture is stiff and tall, almost intimidating and I feel myself recoil a little as he approaches me. My eyes meet the floor and within seconds, he’s towering over me.

His hands are balled into fists at his sides as he leans down to speak quietly in my ear. “I asked you a fucking question and I’d like you to answer it. If you don’t, I promise you I’ll find out one way or the other so you may as well come clean,” he pauses for a moment. “Did you fuck him?” 

My breath catches in my throat. I can feel the heat radiating from his body - I never expected a reaction like this from him, I’m not sure if I love it or hate it.

With a pout on my face, I look up at him. “How? You don’t have any way of finding out,” I say. 

A wide smile spreads across his face and his hand wraps itself around the back of my neck as he pushes me toward the bed. “Oh, I have ways baby,” he says. 

He bends me over the bed, my cheek pressed firmly against the mattress as his free hand works its way into my thong. The feeling of him touching me for the first time in weeks instantly breaks me and I melt into the bed, burying my face into the fabric to muffle my moan. 

“You’re soaking wet,” he says, then slides his finger inside of me. “You’re still so tight, though. You never felt so small when I was done with you so he’s either got a small dick or you didn’t fuck him,” he chuckles.

“Stop Vinnie,” I say softly, still in outer space from his hands on me. I start to reach around to push his hand away but a sharp smack to my ass catches me off guard and makes me stay still. 

“You gonna make me hunt his sorry ass down and ask him?” He says.

That’s enough to make me come back to reality. “What?”

“You heard me,” he reaches forward, wrapping his hand around my throat and pulling me against him, my back against his chest. “Answer my god damn question, Y/n, I won’t ask you again. Did you fuck him?” His voice gets harsher at the end of the sentence.  

“No!” I push against him. 

“No, what?” He pushes back, harder.

“No, I didn’t fuck him you asshole.” 

He chuckles. “Thank god, baby. I don’t know what I would have done if you had… it wouldn’t have been good.” 

His words instantly trigger something in me, nanking me angry. Frustrated. Annoyed, even. As much as I’m thrilled I’ve obviously gotten to him, I can’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he won something here.

I push back against him again, this time he lets me move. “I should’ve, though,” I say, walking to the head of my bed and climbing in, getting comfortable under the covers.

“Should’ve what?” He says. He looks confused. 

“I should’ve fucked him. He was a good kisser,” I smile wide. “He had soft lips and was the perfect combination of rough and gentle as he grabbed me and pulled me toward him, sliding his tongue in with mine. God, it took my breath away.”

His eyes narrow and his demeanor turns from spiteful to cold. 

“He was cute, too, did you see him? Green eyes… you know I’m a sucker for green eyes. Perfect eyebrows. Good guy, too. Volunteers places, helps out the community. Spoiled me all night. I bet he’s a gentle lover, the type to really take his time with his girl. I definitely plan on seeing him again,” I giggle. “I can’t wait.” 

“Shut up,” he says sternly but quietly. 

“What? You jealous? Don’t like the idea of his hands on my body, his mouth on me. Licking me and sucking my clit, my tits, my neck… Cock deep inside me, sending me to magical highs while I moan his name, grinding against him, lost in the feeling like it’s just me and him in the whole world -“

“Shut the fuck up,” he storms over to me. I seal my lips, not daring to speak another word as I try to figure out just how far he’d go with his anger. I trust him not to hurt me or anything awful like that, but I’ve never seen this side of him before. 

He reaches down, yanking the covers off of me and pulling me to the side of the bed. 

“Vinnie, stop!” I say.

He doesn’t listen as he rips my thongs off my body. I might be protesting on the outside but if I’m honest, I’m secretly loving this. This is exactly what I wanted - for him to take control, show me some intense emotions, and show me how crazy I drive him. 

One of his hands takes hold of my wrists, holding them together as his free one slides his pants down along with his boxers. I try to get out his grip, ready to continue my objections but the look on his face catches my attention.

I can’t tell if it’s lust or anger or heartbreak in his eyes, but the look he’s giving me knocks the wind out of me and I can’t do anything except lay here for him. 

His cock is getting harder by the second as he takes it into his free hand, running it along my soaked slit. “Tell me if you don’t want this,” his grip on my wrists gets a little tighter. “You better tell me now.” 

I bite my lip, staying silent. I can’t lie to him and tell him I don’t. 

“Okay,” he says, sliding himself inside of me. 

It’s been weeks since I’ve had anything more than my skinny little vibrator in me so his cock sends a shockwave through me and evokes a loud groan from my throat. 

“Shhh,” he hushes me harshly. “You’re gonna wake the house up.” 

“Vinnie,” I whine. Waking the house up is the last thing I care about right now. He finally releases my wrists, grabbing my thighs to pull me closer to the edge of the bed. He pushes my legs back until my knees are nearly against my stomach. 

“You really wanted to fuck him?” He asks me, pressing his lips against my neck. 

I stay silent, focused less on his words and more on the pressure building rapidly between my legs. 

He pulls away and lays a sharp slap to my cheek. “Huh? You really wanted to fuck him?” He repeats a little louder. 

“Yeah,” I say. I don’t know why I said that, I’m in enough trouble as it is.

“You think he could fuck you like me?” His voice gets louder. He looks down and watches as he slides in and out of me. “Look at you, you pathetic girl. Literally a dripping mess for me, giving yourself to me even when you’re trying to convince me you don’t want me. You might be able to lie but that pretty little pussy is always gonna tell me the truth. Wet, clenching, and swollen around my cock.”

Oh my god.

I can’t keep up this act anymore, and I melt again, closing my eyes and letting him take complete control over me. Only cries mixed with little moans leave my throat as I relinquish myself to the pleasure. 

“I hate to break it to you, baby, but you’re never gonna get rid of me,” he picks up his pace, I swear he’s about to break me in half. “You’re mine,” his hand grips my chin. “You got it?” 

I nod yes. 

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at me and tell me you’re mine.” I look up at him, his eyes look like they’re glistening.

“I - I,” I try to speak but the waves of ecstasy washing over me are scrambling my brain and I can barely understand him, let alone form a coherent sentence of my own. 

“You’re such a brat and you drive me fucking insane, you know that?” He says. “But you’re mine. My girl. No one else’s,” his thumb meets my clit and rubs it just enough to make me weep. 

“You’ll never, ever belong to anyone else. I worked too hard to get you, and I tried so hard to keep you,” he admits, his tone turning softer. “I’ve done my best to control myself when it comes to you, didn’t wanna scare you off. But I heard you talking to Mia, saying you wanted me to… what? Act crazier for you? I’ll show you fucking crazy if you want it baby.” 

“Fuck,” I whine. His words are exactly what I needed to hear to push me over the edge. My orgasm consumes me almost instantly, making my eyes roll back. Pure fucking bliss. I’m his. 

“Good girl,” he chuckles through his own heavy breathing. “Cumming for me like my good little girl.” 

Another groan escapes my throat and I open my eyes to look at him as I realize he doesn’t plan on stopping yet. “Vinnie… sensitive,” I mumble. 

“Yeah, what about it? I should make you cum so many times you cry,” he says. His voice is full of spite. 

“Please let me just…” my sentence trails as I moan. 

“Be quiet.” 

I nod, keeping my mouth closed. 

He laughs with a hint of sarcasm. “Like it or not, I’ll be fucking you until the sun comes up. Gonna ruin you for anyone else, make you remember who you belong to and remind you why you’ll never belong to anyone else.”

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here!

A/N: I apologize for all the profanity in this part ahead of time. I think I’m going to do M/W/Sat updates, as long as my writing permits, and then maybe Wed/Sat updates. I got the day off because it snowed so I thought I would post this since it’s ready haha

* Well you’re royally f*cked

* There’s a big stupid smile curled on your face, and every time you try to hide it, it just comes back wider

* You really shouldn’t be happy right now

* “What has you in such a good mood?” Edward’s got a matching smile of his own.

* Oh shit. It’s fine, you’ll just play dumb.

* “How do you know I’m happy?” How about the dumb grin you’ve got on your face you stupid b*tch.

* You would have smacked your own forehead if you weren’t aware Edward was watching your every move

* You’re lucky Edward’s nice and he doesn’t call you out on it

* “Whenever you’re happy it kind of radiates off of you,” his voice lowers “you know because of your powers”

* Ah, you didn’t know you did that

* “So what do you think about the new girl?” You blurt it out like it’s an intrusive thought

* F*ck. Just-okay just play it cool. Play it cool.

* F********ckkkkk what’s wrong with you.

* Is being happy making you act like a moron?

* He shrugs

* “Just another human, I kind of wish everyone would shut up about it though. Having to hear people talk about her and think about her is getting annoying. It’s like being in a tunnel with one too many echoes.”

* Ah, so he hasn’t noticed yet.

* “I wonder what she’s thinking about.”

* Edward just shrugs again.

* What the f*ck Edward take a hint!

* “Edward?”

* “Yes dear?” He has the nerve to grin after using that pet name. The criminal is teasing you. Some best friend.

* And still it makes you outrageously happy

* You have to force your smile into a straight line

* “What’s the new girl thinking?”

* He looks over to her, Tyler and Mike are fighting for her attention, both of them a moment away from tugging on each arm and shouting “mine!”

* You see him search, you’ve heard enough about his powers to know right now it’s like mall food court level of chatter for him, but in a few seconds he’ll focus on her and realize he can’t hear her thoughts.

* Knowing how prideful he is though, he’ll probably deny it.

* “I don’t know I can’t read her mind” he says bluntly. “Do you think the school music teacher would teach me how to play violin if I asked?”

* “What?!?”

* “I know it’s kind of inconsiderate to ask but-“ you click your tongue

* “No not that!” You gesture towards Bella “you can’t read her mind?!? Isn’t that kind of a big deal?”

* His eyebrows thread together

* “I can’t read your mind either”

* Yes but you’re from a completely different world, in a body that radiates despair (and apparently joy now). You’re basically like some type of eldritch being from another dimension. 

* Edward doesn’t see it that though

* “Honestly it’s a relief, one less mind I have to tune out.” He walks ahead of you as you stay motionless in the middle of the hallway

* What the f*ck is happening?

* “Are you coming? We’re going to be late for Biology if you keep lagging behind like that.”

* How could you forget? The whole story starts because Edward is super into Bella’s blood! He fantasizes killing her for like- the entire class period.

* You were worried for nothing, just because they didn’t have the cafeteria moment isn’t that big of a deal

* The thought makes you both relieved and a little sad

* Still it’s for the best, this is the way things are supposed to be

* And who knows, if you have to leave maybe you can poach Rosalie and Emmett to leave with you

* And maybe Jasper, he won’t like having a human around the house all the time

* “Mr. Cullen, Ms. Eleazar” Mr. Banner hands you each a worksheet.

* Oh right the onion cell worksheet. Ah right the mitosis crap. Well hopefully Mike remembers enough that you both can hobble through

* “New year means new seating arrangement!” He tells you both excitedly. The seating arrangements on the projector.

* “Why am I next to Edward isn’t the seating arrangement supposed to be alphabetical?”

* “I decided to go by grade this time, you should be happy! Aren’t you two...friends?” You can tell your teacher is confused by the nature of your relationship, almost as much as you are. 

* “Super happy Teach.” You mumble taking your seat next to Edward who’s grinning like an idiot

* “You can’t say he’s picking favorites when it’s merit based.” He grins and you roll your eyes

* Angela’s sitting next to Ben Cheney, they seem to be discussing the trigonometry homework, and how it’s basically impossible

* Oh right, he’s supposed to be her boyfriend this year. 

* Personally you think Angela could do way better. But love is blind, you’ll ship it if you have to. 

* And right on cue Mike walks in, Bella following close behind. He takes his seat on the table behind you while Bella talks to Mr. Barnes

* “Why didn’t you guys sit with us at lunch today?” Mike is practically leaned over the entire width of the table.

* Before you can say anything Edward snorts

* “Because (Y/N) was getting lectured for staying out all night again”

* Mike looks like his eyes might pop out of his head

* “W-what? Out all night?! Without inviting me!” You roll your eyes.

* “He’s making it more dramatic, I went out for a run early in the morning because I couldn’t sleep and everyone was freaking out because they thought I got kidnapped.”

* Like any vampire or human stood a chance against you and your violent mood swings

* Mike’s so caught up in lecturing you about how you need to be more careful

* “There’s a lot of weirdos out there!” Yeah you live with them

* That he doesn’t even notice Bella’s taken a seat next to him

* Now that you get a better look at her, she is kinda pretty. She’s the kind of person who probably always looks good in photographs, no matter what the angle. Nice cheekbones and big brown eyes. Modest on boobs and butt, but she’s skinny so it works for her.

* “Hey, you’re Bella right?” You give her your friendliest smile, and you don’t miss the light blush that blooms on her face.

* You’re not sure whether it’s from your beauty or because she’s just not used to so much attention. She just nods.

* “Have you already seen the three whole things there are to do in Town on a Friday night?”

* Bella actually laughs at that. She’s got dimples, and little wrinkles that show up at the corner of her eyes. It’s cute.

* “One of those things is going to the library, so really it’s only two things.”

* She giggles again.

* “Is the other one going over to your house to play monopoly?” Mike asks, a grin arching onto his face

* “No my house is out of town, the other thing is to go to the school football game”

* “I’m not really a big fan of football” Bella hesitantly says, and Mike and Edward laugh

* “Yeah no one here does, everyone goes for the half time show, or just to hang out.” 

* You’re pretty sure your entire friend group only goes to the games to see your cheer routine, especially this year since you’re captain now. The first junior captain in a long time apparently. The news actually made the local newspaper.

* Everything is going good, and you’re starting to think maybe you and Bella might be friends.

* “Why don’t we have a board game night at our house again? Last time was-“

* You stop sentence, you were having so much fun you almost forgot why Edward was so obsessed with Bella.

* The slight breeze from the air conditioning brings her scent to you.

* You cover your mouth and nose with your hand

* Her scent is REVOLTING

* “(Y/N), are you okay?” Mike asks

* You vaguely feel Edward’s hand on your shoulder, has he not caught her scent yet?

* It’s pretty hard to miss

* Like gym socks, with a overly sweet base, it’s like-

* Your head snaps up, and your hand clamps over your mouth and nose even harder, but not because the scent is revolting

* She smells like cheese, perfectly aged Gorgonzola cheese, or maybe Brie?

* You smell the sweeter undercurrent stronger now, it’s like warm juicy peaches

* Roasted peach salad tossed with Gorgonzola and olive oil

* How many times have you dreamed about eating that while basking in the warm sunlight

* “I knew you shouldn’t have eaten those leftovers at lunch,” Edward says, but you know it’s performative, thank god he’s still got some sense after smelling her.

* “Mr.Banner, I think (Y/N) ate something bad, is it alright if I help them to the nurses office?”

* “Yes and hurry!” He’s practically shooing you out as Edward pulls you by the arm

* Nooooo, you wanna smell her moreeee

* You have the sense to not wine and keep your mouth covered.

* Edward doesn’t take you to the nurse, you both don’t stop walking until you’re at the parking lot

* “What the hell was that?” He asks, it’s the first time he’s seemed even remotely angry with you

* He seems more confused then angry though, you’re so shocked you actually sit down on the curb.

* And after a moment of hesitance Edward sits beside you, placing his hand over your own

* “She smells good Edward, like really good.”

* Edward laughs

* “Yeah I gathered that” he shakes his head. “I thought you were supposed to be a picky eater”

* “I aaaaamm” you moan, your head is cradled in your left hand. “She’s like one in a million”

* “You’re one in a million” you lift your head to see Edward looking at you with that stupid sh*t eating grin.

* “Really Edward my life is falling apart because I want to eat someone, and you think the appropriate response is to flirt?”

* To be fair, he’s always flirting, it’s basically apart of his personality at this point

* “You’re being melodramatic.” He chuckles and throws an arm over your shoulder. “Worst case scenario you kill her, Carlisle doles out his funeral punishment-don’t ask, and then we have to start over as freshman again somewhere else.”

* You groan, you finally worked your way up to a junior, you were just starting to get used to this crappy town, you don’t wanna start all over again in a new one

* “What’s the best case scenario?”

* Edward thinks hard for a minute.

* “Best case scenario...the music teacher agrees to teach me how to play the violin and I impress you with my magnificent playing.” You smack him on the arm.

* “Not the best case scenario for you!” You know he’s doing it on purpose. He just wants to make you laugh

* It works, you do laugh. How much more absurd could this situation get?

* “Everything’s going to be fine, if Jasper can handle having to smell 300 students he thinks smell good, you can handle 1.” 

* He’s got a point

* “Wait-didn’t she smell good to you?” Wasn’t that like, the whole d*mn point?

* His eyebrows thread together and he shrugs

* “Um, she smelled alright, no better or worse than the others. I’m not sure what you smelled-“

* What you smelled? The rich but refreshing flavor profile is sublime

* The f*cking heathen doesn’t even know what he’s missing

* “But to me she smelled like peaches”

* Well he kinda knows what he’s missing

* “She’s definitely anemic though, there’s a sever lack of iron in her scent” ah that must be that cheesy smell you’re getting

* Well ain’t this ironic. The girl who’s going to steal your best friend is only getting noticed because of you.

* “I don’t know, personally I prefer Henrietta the 3rds blood, but that’s just me” he’s lying, your blood is good and all, but it’s definitely still not on par with a humans blood

* He’s just trying to make you feel better.

* He rubs your shoulder, before patting it and moving to stand up.

* “Now come on, we have to make you eat some human food so you can throw up in front of the nurse and she lets us leave school early”

* You roll your eyes, anything to leave school early huh?

* “Yeah all right, lead the way Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Brooding”

* “Why do you always say that? I don’t brood that much anymore!”

* “You know how some people have resting b*tch face? You have resting brood face.”

* “Says the person who literally radiates despair” you shove him as you both walk towards the vending machine

* You take a deep breath as you watch Edward fumble with the vending machine

* The dork literally sticks a credit card up to the glass and demands the machine give him chips. 

* (Y/N/N) why isn’t this working? Am I supposed to insert my card through this slot?” 

* You laugh. You’re pretty sure he’s not doing this on purpose.

* “You’re supposed to use cash Edward.”

* You watch as he fumbles with his wallet muttering:

* “Do you think it’ll take a twenty dollar bill?”

* You watch in amusement as Edward tries - and fails- to use a twenty dollar bill, and then proceed to use obscure profanities to curse “this vile wretch of human technological advancement” 

* You feel a sigh of relief escape you.

* Yeah, everything is going to be fine. 

Tags:  @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @xxxmuxxx @puritanicalhypocrite

[sweet-s0rr0w]

Fic: Dangerous

Written for @drarrymicrofic's song prompt, Dangerous.

WC: 1121, rating: T.

***

He’s in Apulia when they catch up with him, renting a dusty trullo from an ancient Italian woman a half mile down the track. The timing couldn’t be worse, with the neighbours’ sideways looks finally giving way to tentative nods; even the occasional chuckle at the posh accent cutting through his rough, colloquial Italian. His delicate skin is no longer blistered scarlet, beginning to darken at last under the dry sun, and his hair curls around his nape, long enough these days to tie out of his eyes when he has to bend forward to feed the chickens. And then there’s this place, surrounded by olive trees – nowhere near the furthest he’s run, although it feels as though it might be – his little hut on the edge of the world.

He hasn’t used magic in ten months now. He should be untraceable.

And yet.

He wakes, and he’s sweating, and nightmarish shapes are dancing across the stones; old foes brought back to life. He’s never lit that fire, not even in the depths of winter when the cold seemed to seep straight through the walls and into his tired bones, and he’d crawled into bed straight after sundown every night just to escape the chill.

The man stooped before the flames is cast in shadow, although Draco doesn’t miss the glint of a bronze badge in his pocket. A Hit Wizard, then: alone, by the looks of things. Unfamiliar words run through Draco’s mind as he inches his hand under the edge of his mattress, feeling for the wand he keeps taped to the frame. His fingertips have barely brushed the wood when it rips itself out of his reach and flies through the air, Sellotape and all, straight into an outstretched palm. Draco almost laughs with relief. He’d know that cast anywhere.

“Christ, Draco, it’s freezing in here. I don’t know how you cope.” Harry’s eyes are twinkling in the firelight as he turns towards him. Draco tries to hide his joy; the way his heart has taken up residence in his throat, the way his body starts to shift, automatically, to accommodate Harry in his bed.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” says Draco carelessly, his first language suddenly a stranger to his own ears. “Besides, I can usually find some nubile young shepherd boy to share body heat with.”

“Really?”

“No, you absolute pillock. Are you getting in or not?” He lifts the pile of blankets so Harry can slide in, fit their bodies together perfectly. Icy hands slip under the back of Draco’s jumper even before their lips meet.

Afterwards, they throw the covers off and lay pressed tightly together. Harry’s thumb absently rubs over Draco’s where their hands lay on his chest. It’s what Harry does – what they’ve always done – this silly game; play-acting intimacy, as though they didn’t belong to two entirely different worlds. It’s always like this: awful and wonderful both together, and sometimes it’s too much for Draco to bear, but he gets so little human contact these days he can’t bring himself to stop.

It takes a while, but eventually he gathers the courage to ask. “So, how long have I got this time?”

Harry squeezes his hand. “Oh, no. You’re fine. Trail’s completely cold; they’ve all but given up.”

“But you managed, somehow.”

A quiet huff of laughter. Harry brings their joined hands to his mouth, kissing the tips of Draco’s fingers one by one. “To be fair, it took me three months. And the Ministry don’t quite share my level of… motivation. It was a trace – barely even that – of your magic at the Portkey station in Naples. That was all I could find.”

“Ah.” It made sense. He’d had a Glamour on for travel; hadn’t known whether removing it as the Portkey activated would work. It had been his only option at the time.

A foot hooks carefully around his ankle. “Hey, don’t worry, I erased it. The guy there too; he didn’t seem to recognise your picture, but I Obliviated him anyway: safe side, y’know? And I’ve thrown up a few wards outside; nothing too crazy, but you should be able to cast Warming Charms to your heart’s content.”

Touched beyond words, Draco rolls away. His eyes are stinging now – probably the smoke from the fire – and he takes a few steadying breaths. Harry seems to understand, snaking an arm around Draco’s chest, burying his face in the tense muscles of his back.

“So what d’you get up to around here, anyway?”

Stubble scratches at Draco’s skin as he speaks, making Draco squirm away, suddenly ticklish. “Bit of this, bit of that. Farming, mostly. Back in the autumn I helped out with the olive harvest. The beach is about ten minutes away – I cycle, can you imagine? – and one of my neighbours brings me English novels when they come in to the local library. It’s not much, but –”

“No, sounds perfect.”

“Well, it’s a damn sight better than that fishing hut in Greenland, anyway.” He turns back, traces the curve of Harry’s smile with a gentle finger.

“God, Draco, I can’t believe it’s been fifteen years. D’you ever get tired of all the running?”

“I don’t know,” counters Draco, eyebrow raised. “You’ve had fifteen years of chasing me – what about you?”

Harry’s face turns serious, and his muscles tense, and Draco realises his mistake even before his mouth opens. “Oh, believe me, I’m tired, Draco. I’m really tired. In fact….” He pauses, taking a deep breath. Draco squeezes his eyes shut, pressing a single finger against those treacherous lips.

“Don’t.”

“Draco.” Harry’s voice is steady and sure. “There’s no-one else. I’ve tried, believe me, but it’s true. And I think maybe it’s time to stop trying.”

“We’ve been here before, Harry. A life on the run – we both know you couldn’t do it.”

“Running? Perhaps not. But farming? The beach? I could do that, Draco.”

Something ignites in Draco then, something rash and dangerous, sat just behind his breastbone. Unaware, Harry grins. “Maybe we’d need a bigger house, but –”

Draco rolls over, pressing his lips to that infuriating mouth, hating him just a little: the way he thinks nothing of barging straight into Draco’s careful, uncomplicated life, kindling hope in his chest where it doesn’t deserve to be. He does it every time.

In the morning, Harry tucks the blankets around him carefully, pushing Draco’s curls aside to drop a gentle kiss on his forehead before he leaves. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” Helpless, he watches him duck on his way out, the flimsy wooden door swinging shut behind him.

Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t.

The flame flickers, licking away at Draco’s insides.

***

You can find it on AO3 here!

[binniesthighs]

can u do an enemy to lovers au with han jisung where they are in a hidden fwb relationship? thank u~ 🥺

I really look some creative liberties with this one HA but the product...hehe, I hope that you enjoy it love! I also kinda accidentally made it a period piece??? Like 50′s-60′s? Idk how this happened but the vibe and the music I was listening to while writing really put me in that mood haha

blue velvet | reader x jisung |

Paring: self insert, gender neutral reader x han jisung

Genre: smut n’ angst

Tags: stripper!jisung, stripper!reader, bi!jisung, enemies (competitors) to lovers, secret relationship, friends with benefits, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, degrading names, choking, spanking, v mild spit play, unprotected sex (wrap it before you slippity slap it friends), creampie, cum eating, scratching, oral (reader receiving) semi-public sex, hello yes this one is kinda filthy ooooops

Word count: 3.2k

Recommended listening: Blue Velvet by Bobby Vinton

Fuck. It’s hot in here. Too fucking hot.

Reconnaissance. That’s what you were doing. It was fucking disgusting. Everyone in the room was just as fake as the pleather belts that held their guts in. You had never seen anything more embarrassing in your whole life. Desperation was sweating off the walls and sunk into your skin. It made you feel sick.

You scoffed and took a long sip from your drink.

“One more?” An attentive maître d' asked you--if he could even been called that in a place like this.

You covered your hand over your glass. You refused to pay for any more of that cheap tasting shit.

Next to you a rapt group of men in suits wagged their tails at the view. She wasn’t even very pretty.

Rolling your eyes, you scoped out the rest of the room, adorned in red velvet and gold nearly everywhere. What was this? A high school musical? Even those had more class than this place.

You checked your sliver wristwatch lined by dainty diamonds. You always did like gifts. Too bad rarely anyone would get anything in return.

The girls on the stage twirled around, giving the audience the best view that they could, tiger-prowling to those waving bills in their grabby hands. They were tanned and fashioned into strappy and lacy pieces that looked like they all must have shared them. Pathetic.

“You come here often?”

He swirled some clear looking liquid in his crystal glass, the little string of olives clinking the side.

“Are you speaking to me?”

“No, I’m talking to them.” He head nodded to the same group of greasy businessmen. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time...and likely my last.”

“Huh. Tough critic.”

He didn’t look like the rest of them. Younger, reeking less of starved attention. He had golden blonde hair, and a silk white shirt unbuttoned far into a deep V. He was toned: the muscles on his arms were visible under the thin fabric and his abs made a show thanks to the abandonment of buttons. He wore dress pants perfectly fitted for his thighs. He was...attractive...but not your type.

“What’s not to like? Beautiful people, drinks to make you forget your mistakes? Not your scene?”

You rested your chin in your palm. “It’s my scene, but not this scene.”

“Suit yourself.” He took another swing, pivoting his body towards you, legs spread wide. “I think I know someone who can change you mind though.”

“In this place? Unlikely.”

“Come on...just stay a little bit longer and they’ll come out. They’re the last act of the night for a reason.” He signaled to the maître d' and whispered something into his ear. “Drinks on me. If you’ll stay?”

“Free drinks?” You put down your empty glass. “I suppose I can’t say no to that.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

It was thirty minutes till closing, and you had stayed much longer than you had liked. After all the drinks you had to pass the time, you were starting to feel a little buzz, but nothing much really phased you these days. You started to wonder if he had been pulling some kind of prank. Nothing you had seen was what he had hyped it up to be.

The lights dimmed behind you, making the room dark enough for the tiny white candles at the tables to provide the only light. Spotlights flashed on from behind you too, illuminating the U shaped stage. With the lights, the music faded into something much more sultry.

The first two girls stepped out, both of them wearing white sets that were nearly identical with sheer robes. Two others stepped out after them, this time wearing red and black. It was the same thing you had been seeing all night.

The spotlight tightened.

It was him.

He was wearing a button down and those same pants, everything seemed so tight on him, accentuating every curve of his body. Strangely, when he walked out, he was greeted with wolf-whistles and hoots. He winked back at his spectators, nearly falling out of their chairs to see him better. It was even stranger considering the audience was filled with men.

He walked around the girls on stage as if he was inspecting them, his eyes eating up every bit of their skin. He confidence was unparalleled. He would run his hands down their sides, digging his fingers into their hips. They circled around him until his body was covered with their hands, teasing the audience, just barely touching around his dick, which with his pants...there was little room for imagination.

Silent moans left his lips once they started undressing him giving him their full attention. The cheers grew even louder. Before long, he was nearly fully undressed swaying to the music. He wore nothing special, just some briefs, like any normal person would. It was...confusing.

He took turns “giving attention” to every girl, looking at them like he worshiped the ground the walked on. They would grind their bodies together, or he would pick them up in his arms, and they would wrap their long legs around him. He would pantomime fucking them from behind, screwing up his face as if he really was. Everyone went crazy for that.

It didn’t last for very long and the lights soon went all the way down, leaving the stage scattered with sweating bodies, panting as if they had just cum, entangling themselves all in eachother.

You were a bit unenthused, but it was different. There was something about him that was different.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Were the drinks enough for you?” His voice called to you just as you were about to leave. This time, he returned wearing the same silk shirt.

“I hope that I didn’t make you pay for too many.” You pouted with faux empathy.

“And the show?” He grinned a little.

“Interesting. Considering a place like this.”

He laughed a little. “I help with...the imagination.”  

“So they pretend that you’re them. I’ll admit, it’s smart.”

“You’d be surprised, somedays I get more male customers compared to most of the girls here.” He bit his lip as if recalling a memory. “They pay well too, pay for whatever they aren’t getting at home. Who am I do deny them that when it’s my job?

“You sleep with them?”

“The ones I like.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Can be. In a good way.” He let out a sharp laugh. “So. Did I prove you wrong?”

“Hmmm. I could do better.”

He popped his brows up. “You could?”

He was intriguing. You decided to give him a bite. “I dance at La Rose Rouge.”

“You dance at that overpriced, snotty ass place?” His words turned poisonous.  What’s it like dancing for a guy who’s got a stick so far up his ass--”

“--The price is right, and you get what you pay for there...especially if its me.”

“How am I not surprised?”

“I need to go, I’ve seen all I could here.” You bowed at him a little.

“Wait.” He grabbed at your arm. “I’ve still got one more thing to show you. Follow me.”

 ╚ ——————————————— ╝

Your insides were on fire as he fucked into you. Every time that he thrust into you, he was relentless and unforgiving. He was going so fast you could barely catch your breath. You were bent over some dusty old sofa in an equally dusty dressing room. You would kill him if he left bruises on your hips from how hard he was holding you.

“fuck. shit.” He panted, then reached one of his hands around to rub at your sensitive sex, slick with your excitement.

He was so fucking cocky, but he knew what the hell he was doing. He bent over your back, sucking into your skin, wrapping his arms around you to tweak your nipples. He was wrecking you from the inside out, devouring you like he had never tasted anything like you.

He kicked your legs open even farther. “Fucking moan for me, slut.”

You had barely let him hear more than a few gasps, he didn’t deserve it. You wanted him to moan for you.

“Who are you calling slut?” You said with venom.

You shoved off of him, and he looked devastated. He was cute. He even frowned regretfully like he had done something wrong.

The metal of your rings dug into his neck when you grabbed it, squeezing as hard as you could. Your hot breath snuck into his ear, “No, you fucking moan for me...slut.”

You attacked his lips, tracing the insides of his mouth with your tongue. He moaned right into you and grabbed handfuls of your ass with his two hands. Your teeth bit his lip and pulled. His dick trembled between the two of you and he rutted against your stomach to get some kind of relief.

He took one of his hands to your hair before resting his glossy brown eyes on you. “I’d do anything for you.” His voice quivered. “You ruin me.”

“Get on the floor.” You commanded him, and he did as he was told without a question, laying his bare body on the cold concrete.

The chill of the stone stung your knees, but that didn’t matter, you just wanted to see him unravel. You straddled down onto him, taking him in as you sunk down.

“oh shit,” slipped off your tongue without you having much control over it.

You rolled your core over him, back and forth, circling yourself and bouncing up and down as he rolled his eyes back, licking his lips while you did everything that you wanted. As you bounced he held on to your ass, digging his fingertips in. You had your eyes closed, so you didn’t see it when he rose is hand to slap you hard. It burned beautifully.

“—Jisung? Are you done yet? The rest of us are going out.” A female voice called, and rattled the locked door.

“FUCK OFF.” He groaned, and held onto your ass even tighter.

You let out a unamused tsk. “Jisung? That’s your real name?”

He didn’t say anything, but instead swiftly took you in his arms to lay you down. The chill of the floor startled you into wince, but it felt amazing compared to how hot you were. He entered you immediately again, then slung your legs over his shoulders. His blonde hair appeared to bounce a little with each thrust.

You knew exactly what you were doing when you dragged your nails down his arms, waterfalling pink, perfect, lines. His whole body seized at the sensation, sending him into a fury. He licked his hand from palm to fingers, not breaking your gaze as he used it to rub relentlessly at you.

You were on the edge.  

“Want my cum, you whore?”

You were close as well, and it clouded your senses--you felt yourself slipping into him after holding back for so long.

“ye-yes, I want it.”

He came in seconds, doubling over you when he did, panting like a dog, with you gasping just as hard from your own orgasm. He seemed to shake a little as he came down, nearly suffocating you with his body weight. You jiggled your hips just a little to get a rise out of him. You had guessed correctly, someone like him couldn’t take overstimulation.

“Fuck, wait, wait. I-I can’t take anymore.”

You laughed a little and stopped. “You’re no fun.”

“I thought I literally just proved to you that I’m loads of fun.”

“Mmm, I suppose.”

“You liked it?” He ran his hand through his sweaty roots.

“You made me cum, so...usually I have to fake it.”

“Really?”

You nodded.

“I’m honored.” He grinned a little pridefully.

You reached down to your hole to catch a few drops of his cum on your fingers, stretching it out a little and playing with it. He watched you as you did so, eyes wide. You stood to grab his jaw, sticking your fingers in his mouth which he eagerly sucked.

“Where have you been my whole life?” He looked up at you in wonder.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that...Jisung.”

He watched you then as you dressed, careful not to forget your gorgeous silver wristwatch.

“I won’t be coming back, so don’t expect that this will happen again.”

“Wait--” He stopped you before you grabbed the door handle. “You didn’t tell me your name--”

“--That’s something you don’t need to know.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Darling, is there anything that I can get you?”

Your manager swept a caring hand to hold you by the small of your back.

“No, thank you though, love.” You shone brightly back to him.

“Just let me know? So far we’ve got a queue for you. Four gentlemen and three ladies. I expect that the tips tonight will be generous...it’s payday.”

You politely nodded. “Of course.”

“Have you been having a hard time with any of the new faces?”

You took a sip of your brandy. “Some of them have some mouth, but I’ll make them dignified. You can trust me.”

“I always do.” He gently kissed your cheek. “Ah, I forgot to mention, one of your customers brought you a gift. It’s in your dressing room; he wants you to wear it for your dance tonight.”

“I do love gifts.”

“Go get ready darling, you haven’t got much more time.”

Once you were in your dressing room, a medium sized white box waited for you on your vanity. There was no labels; no indication that it was from a luxurious brand. You opened it, and the shirt was wrapped in light pink tissue paper. It was too short to be a robe, but it was silk and white with buttons that looked more decorative rather than useful. You figured it must have been your customer’s: many of them got off to you wearing their clothes. It wasn’t your usual style, but you knew how to make anything work.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“And for our last act of the night: the wonderful, the illustrious...”

You walked out to the silent stage: meant only for you, the stage lights yellow, shrouding you in their brilliance. Your chest was bare, save for the silky shirt falling off your shoulders. They were cheering for you, throwing paper bills at you and calling your name, but you couldn’t hear them at all. You had never felt so whole in your life since being on the stage. It seemed like the rest of your days were just spent chasing some kind of feeling that merely resembled that.

Barefoot, you pranced along the stage, twirling like a ballerina even, letting the shirt billow up just so they could see your perky bottom. With all of their eyes on you, you felt like an absolute vision--like an ethereal being, desired, but impossibly attainable.

The jazz song played on by the live players, a muted trumpet and violins accompanied you. Your eyes swept across the blue velvet curtains of the booths, to every man and woman looking at you in awe. You let the shirt slip just a bit farther, revealing your back, winking. You never had to show them much. It was your charisma that they thirsted for--and that they could only get a small taste of.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Darlin’ you’re a catch, an absolute catch.” Your manager snuck up behind you taking your makeup off to hand you the ridiculously fat stack of bills. “You keep us afloat baby, you know that I can’t thank you enough.” He bowed.

“Stop flattering me.” You remarked with a smirk. “I know.”

Your manager left, then the curtain to your room screeched again. He slowly stepped into the light, applauding slightly.

“He’s right you know? Even I can’t get enough of you.”

It was him, cocky smile, swept blonde hair and all.

“You again? I’m surprised that you even made it in here at all. Considering who you are.”

“What? The competition? You didn’t tell them about me, did you?”

You patted some serums into your face. “Better leave soon before they rid you of that handsome face of yours.”

“You saying that I’m handsome?” He snarked.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Seeing you, I thought I made that clear? Isn’t that what you were doing when you came to my club?”

“Like what you saw?”

“I stand corrected.” He let up, advancing towards you at your vanity. “And you look just as stunning in my shirt as I thought you would.”

“Your...this is yours? How the hell did you mange that?”

“I have my ways.”

“I suppose you want it back then.”

“No...you can keep it...if you promise me one thing.”

“And what would that be?”

He reached out for your hands, which you tentatively took. He swept you up, pulling you into his chest with eyes dipped in lust.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” He spoke onto your lips with heated breath.

You would’ve been lying if you had said his lips didn’t look appetizing.

“One more time.”

“Bold of you to assume that I’d want to fuck you again.”

“You haven’t been thinking of it too? My hands on your body...”He caressed your body down, “My lips on yours?” He pulled you in by the chin to carefully part your lips with his. “My dick filling you up?” He pulled you in closer to feel his pulsating dick. “You don’t think about it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you want me. All you have to do is say it and I’m yours.”

“You’re looking to get killed if they know you’ve touched me.”

“I’d happily die for you.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that...Jisung.”

His lips fell to your neck where he pressed slow kisses onto it. “Just say it...”

The cool of his saliva on your skin met the air, tingling. You couldn’t believe you found yourself considering...

“I know you want to...”

“This won’t be a common occurrence.” You got out, suppressing your moans.

“Is that a yes?”

“...yes.”

“And we’ll see about that.” He slyly grinned, meeting your lips once again.

He swept you up, and your legs naturally wrapped around him. He carried you out of the dressing room to the main hall, pulling you both into the nearest booth, drawing the blue velvet curtains behind him. His eyes devoured you, casting aside his silk shirt that loosely clung to you. You threw your weight onto the table, opening your legs for him, inviting him. He chuckled a little at the action.

“I can imagine you must’ve been thinking of this as well then.” He kissed down your stomach, removing what underwear you were barely wearing. He kissed and sucked at the skin in your inner thighs, kindling your excitement. Spit gathered on his tongue, which he let drip down to your sex which glistened for him.

Your core begged for that feeling once again, that feeling only he could give you: the one that made you feel alive, like you weren’t just chasing some impossibility.

He lapped at you slowly with his tongue, awakening your whole body.

“I fucking want you.”

[aprilsrant]

Honey Honey! | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

PAIRING: oliver wood x slytherin!fem!reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s friend takes his plan one step further, determined to get the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and the overthinker slytherin together. 

WORD COUNT: 2,032.

PREVIOUS PART: Lay all your love on me.

NEXT PART: When I kissed the teacher. 

REQUEST: literally one person asked for a part two and I had to do it. I have in mind another part, and possibly last one, so if anyone is interested let me know!

WARNINGS: I don’t think so.

A/N: Please remember English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, you can always correct me and I’ll fix it. And yes, the title is another ABBA song because why not? 

I still can’t believe the first part got like 150 notes. Thank you so much! 

Masterlist.

Gif below it’s not mind, credits to the person who made it.

Three days after the party in the Ravenclaw Common Room, that same one in which she almost killed one of her best friends, the unexpected happened.

His mouth lifted in a grin, white teeth showing, eyes sparkling with excitement and, at the same time, craziness; Dorian, the one who barely escaped his early death, sat beside them, leaning his body on the big root of a tree near the Black Lake, orange and brown leafs beneath him. The other tree exchanged glances. 

The afternoon was about to take an interesting turn. It’s not like he was never happy, but this particular kind of happiness came with blaring red lights, screaming and alerting everyone close enough.

Silently agreeing to ignore the boy’s strange, but not new, behaviour, (Y/N), Isla and Ethan kept working on their assignments. Before any of them could write something on the pieces of parchment, Dorian fakely cleared his throat. None of them looked at him, suppressed smiles on their faces.

(Y/N) had finished writing a sentence for her Charms essay when he tried to catch his friend’s attention again. But now using a different strategy. After the third long sigh that left his mouth, Isla, with lips pressed in a thin line, finally turned her head in his direction.

“Yes, Dorian?,” she said. Her harsh tone rivaling Professor McGonagall’s. 

In an impossible way, his grin grew larger, resembling the Cheshire Cat from the classic Alice in Wonderland. Dorian fixed his position, making himself more comfortable against the root, legs stretching (a few inches away from Ethan’s ink bottle), eyes closed and fingers gently hitting each other, taking that typical stance of someone who’s planning something. 

“What is it?,” asked Ethan impatiently.

“I come here bearing good news, no, excellent news and you treat me like this?” Always the exaggerated, Dorian feigned a hurt expression, right hand going to his chest and grabbing the part where his heart was placed.

Having enough of his games, (Y/N), who wanted nothing more to finish her paper and take a nap before dinner, decided to step into the conversation. “What excellent news?”

Dorian dropped the wounded act and smiled at her, glaring at the others as if he was saying ‘this is what good friends are supposed to be like’. He changed his posture once more —he really couldn’t stay still—, now sitting closer to them with his legs crossed, hands playing with one of the chocolate sweets Ethan had been trying to transform. The corner of his mouth never lowered. 

“Nice to hear you’re interested, my dearest (Y/N), because this concerns you directly.” She regretted ever asking him the minute that answer rolled from his mouth and his dark brown, almost black, eyes shined with mischief. Ethan’s and Isla’s confusion showed through their faces. “I just, like just, saw you know who and he,” Dorian stopped talking when he saw his friend’s disturbed expression. Rolling his eyes —how could they be that dumb?—, he explained. “Not that You-Know-Who, the other one… Ugh, I’m talking about Oliver Wood.” 

Their mouths took the shape of an O, realisation finally coming to them.

“He asked me what day you would be free to tutor him, so now, thanks to me, you have a date with Oliver this Saturday morning.”

(Y/N) and the other two stared at him. While Isla and Ethan broke into a fit of thrilled laughs and big smiles, high-fiving Dorian for his “work”, she was trying to control her anger and the words —the majority of them being insults— ready to leave her throat.  

Why was he so keen on her and Oliver being together? Why couldn’t they understand that she was not the kind of person who would act on her feelings? 

Yes, she had made it obvious that she liked the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do something about it. She had always been awkward and, of course, situations with strangers (did she consider him one?) tended to go that way. The girl knew that if something, anything, went wrong with him she would overthink nonstop.  

Saying nothing, (Y/N) quickly grabbed her things —a dark blue bag with white dots forming the constellations, the parchment on top of it and the quill on her hand—, stood up and left with a quick step carrying her body, ignoring her friends screaming her name to come back from near the Black Lake’s shore. 

Entering the castle, bustling with cheerful students making their way outside to enjoy the warm and sunny afternoon, she decided this was the perfect moment to take that much needed nap, even if she hadn’t finished her assignment yet. 

The Slytherin was walking down one of the corridors, this one less transitaded, when she saw the particular crimson fabric of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team’s robes. She lowered her head, hoping it was one of the Chasers or any other member that wasn’t him.

Noticing the person wearing the uniform passed right beside her and didn’t say anything, she sighed in relief.

“(Y/N)?” said a disembodied and sweet voice from behind her. Even if she couldn’t actually see the person calling her name, she knew perfectly who it belonged to. 

Bloody hell.

Before turning around to face him, she closed her eyes, preparing herself. She’d never mind his presence, or him calling for her —hell, (Y/N) dreamed of that happening every now and then—, but now was definitely the wrong time for this. She was angry with Dorian for trying to set her up, exhausted from not being able to get used to the routine again and annoyed because of the amount of homework. 

Finding his black shoes extremely interesting and intriguing, she murmured a small response.

“Fancy to see you here, I’ve been trying to talk to you since the party but I didn’t want to bother you in class, you always look so focused on the lessons, and with Quidditch practices I couldn’t find you in your free time,” Oliver continued. He had been trying to reach her? Her? “I found Dorian instead and he said you were free to tutor me on Saturday morning. If you can’t or don’t want to or whatever, you don’t have to. I know I should have talked to you first, but I didn’t see you anywhere and I was getting desperate because I can’t lose this opportunity and… and I’m rambling a lot, sorry.” He stopped tapping his thumb against his broomstick’s handle.

All at once, the feeling, more like an intuition, that he could be nervous around her engulfed (Y/N), spreading a warm sensation through her body. 

She wanted to say no, even when this was the chance she’d wanted for too long but (Y/N) knew herself. The endless overthinking that she’ll have to endure before, during and after their “study date” —what if she was a horrible tutor?; what if he didn’t understand anything she’d said?; what if she wasn’t good enough?; what if he never wanted to speak to her again after it?; what if he failed and blamed it on her?; what if all this was a big and cruel joke?, would he do that to her, to anyone?—.

She really did want to say no, but how could she when he looked like that? Upper lip biting nervously on the bottom one, his cheeks of a rosy colour, constantly shifting his body’s weight, fingers fidgeting. 

“I, um, of course, no problem,” she assured. 

Why did she have to be such a people pleaser? 

And why did she have to like him so much that when he smiled, relieved because of the answer, her heart stopped for a second and her stomach turned upside down?

|||

(Y/N) was sure Oliver had never wanted to revise Transformation so early on a Saturday, especially when his team was just a few hours away from playing their first Quidditch match of the season. She wasn’t so thrilled either, weekends were the only days she had to sleep till lunch, her roommates knowing that waking her up before one in the afternoon would lead to a pissed (Y/N) and no one liked that version of herself.

“Look, we can reschedule if you want,” she said after watching him fail once more at conjuring birds from the tip of his wand, “you are worried about the match and that’s making it impossible for you to focus on this.”

The Gryffindor glanced at her through his eyelashes, a frustrated look in his eyes —(Y/N) couldn’t figure out if it was because he was losing his time here with her while he could be training with his team one last time or because the only thing coming out of his wand were yellow feathers—. 

Running both hands across his face, he replied, “I-I don’t want you to waste your time, but I suck at Transfiguration and we haven’t even started with Potions, which is worse, and you make it seem so easy because you’re amazing at this. But I’m not and Professor MgGonagall said that if…”.

For someone who had a brave and confident exterior, Oliver Wood did ramble quite a lot.

“I know what MgGonagall said,” (Y/N) interrupted, choosing to ignore the part where he complimented her, “and you are not wasting my time, Oliver. I agreed to help you, remember?” He nodded his head slowly, watching his hands. (Y/N) thought he looked like a kid getting reprimanded. “Now, try one more time.”

And one more time he failed, yellow canary feathers falling down to the floor,  joining Oliver’s past attempts at mastering the Bird-Conjuring Charm. 

She saw him scratch his forehead with his eyes closed and lips barely visible because of the way he was biting on them. 

“You’re not doing the correct hand movement, I think that’s why it isn’t working,” (Y/N) noticed, “look, give me your hand.” She grabbed his right hand, the one holding his wand, delicately, fingers barely touching the skin. Taking his wrist and positioning herself on Oliver’s side, she showed him how to do accurate motion. “And you just say Avis.”

The next time he did the incantation, a loud blast, pretty much like the sound of a gun being fired, resonated throughout the place. Once the smoke dissipated, several yellow birds flew from the tip of his wand to the empty classroom they were practising in. Twittering and chirping filled the room, but as quickly as they did, they became background noise when Oliver let out a loud laugh at his achievement. 

He turned around, a big grin on his face and brightness in his eyes, now a completely different person. She smiled at him, his excitement starting to feel contagious.

“See, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself,” (Y/N) murmured. If only she’d take her own advice. “I think you’re good to go and-and do whatever you do before a Quidditch match.”

“Thank you, for agreeing to this.”

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth slightly going up. “No problem.”

Oliver walked towards the door and before he opened it, the boy asked, “will I see you at the match?”

“Maybe.”

“Nice, it’ll be good to see you there,” he’d smiled at her one last time and left the unused classroom. 

Biting down the nail on her thumb, (Y/N) let out a silly giggle, one of those that only escape people’s mouth when they are drunk or can’t get that one person out of their minds. Perhaps she was reading into this situation the wrong way, but for just a tiny moment she didn’t care. She enjoyed the warm feeling on her stomach, as if a ton of thestrals had suddenly decided to fly across it, and the erratic pace of her heart every time Oliver would glance at her or say anything remotely kind. 

Then the realisation came and with it, tangled like some kind of broken and dark creature, her severely damaged pride. She had to admit to Dorian’s face that he was, in fact, correct and that his ridiculous plan may actually work.

TAGS: @peeves-a-legend​ (amazing person and writer, read all of her work!).

[themanip]

alternate routes

SYNOPSIS — how do you go throughout life? well, you find someone you like. get to know them. start dating. break up a few times, get back together. get married. have some kids. die old. typical. fucking in a back room of an awards show, not once, but twice as complete strangers, was definitely not how most relationships start out.

PAIRING — taehyung x metzi (oc) WARNINGS — descriptions of cheating, fliphones, mentions of getting laid, really bad intros tbh, the introvert line being introverts, and girls who are rlly bad at timing, an asshole named ryan, cursing WORD COUNT — just over 3.1k AUTHOR’S NOTE — hi! i am so fucking bad at writing the first chapter or two, i promise if you can bear the beginning of this story, it gets better. i have two and a half chapters written so far but i am writing super often! once a few more chapters get published i will create a masterlist. please enjoy and if you have any comments or recs don’t hesitate to let me know!! :)))

𝟏: 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐄 

𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖 ⇥ The universe known to man is a labyrinth—an irregular maze, a passage that cannot be routed—and to understand that took more than an average mind. The matter was far too complicated than any obsolete man to comprehend on a whim. Millenia passed before galaxies were formed, planets were created, all unbeknownst to the stars bursting just miles apart.

From early amphibians, to the ice age, to cavemen, evolution has made great strides in every species. Humans in the past were variants called homosapiens, and most likely came from chimpanzees. Great strides like this were something to be proud of, you'd think.

When Metzi Ludovic realized that birds can fly with natural evolution, while humans had to industrialize it (thanks to the Wright brothers) she was pretty distraught. As an imaginative and critical eight-year old, fifteen years later, not much had changed. Currently, she was pondering over the fact that humans are one of the few species with opposable thumbs.

Majority of animals had not yet evolutionized to create opposable thumbs. While frantic over this, she also imagined her beautiful Pomeranian, with thumbs popping out of his paws. Her thoughts were quickly subdued, thanks to her coherent thoughts making an appearance. As cool as it would be, all other animals would devour humans if they gained that ability.

Is that the only reason humans are all mighty? They can industrialize and aim properly due to their adaptations, so that they somehow became top of the food chain?

Thankfully, she was redacted from her thoughts as her manager, Emmy, let out a distressed sigh. "Wren, we cannot change your outfit again. You look beautiful," At this point, looking at Wren, she knew that she would look good. Somehow, she couldn't convince herself.

"Wren, we can switch. I don't hate green, so you can take blue if you want it. I really don't mind," Metzi smiled softly, and she knew it was the right thing to offer as Wren's face lit up, a few tears being wiped away. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, just do me a favor and loosen the ties on that, please. I have had way too many tacos yesterday to fit into it with the strings that tight," a small laugh left her mouth, and as she laid on the comfortable sofa. It was plush, but somehow offered no lumbar support. Who the hell makes a couch so soft, yet so unbearable for convenience of naps?

Selfish, she thought.

This dressing room was beautiful, so you'd think they'd have enough funds to make a decent couch. She could enjoy the aesthetics of the room, anyways. A luxurious baby pink covered the walls, and was bordered by pristine white. Plush gray carpet was under her feet, and was stain free. With Malorie in here, that probably wouldn't last long.

She was over by the double mirrors, applying powder over her face. She was so beautiful, Metzi couldn't fathom why she insisted on so much makeup. The same could be said about herself, so she kept her somewhat inner misogynistic comments at bay. She was pretty quiet, but something was off. She wasn't usually this quiet, so Metzi shot her a text.

She was very personal, and barely talked about what bothered her. Occasionally, Metzi would get her to open up, which she could physically see the relief on her face as she broke down. A brief, but to the point was written out on Metzi's phone.

you don't seem okay. wanna talk about it? Read 2:33 PM

The three dots popped up, and Metzi's attention was quickly brought to Vida, who sat down next to her, letting out a sigh. "How much longer until Olive gets here? I'm so close to taking a nap," Vida quickly put her hair into a makeshift ponytail, and leaned back, closing her eyes.

"It's only two, so I imagine not for a good hour or so, a nap sounds kind of nice," Wren commented, stood in the other corner of the room, with Emmy helped her undo the straps of her outfit. Her green silk top complimented her skin perfectly, but Metzi knew it was too late to convince her.

"Well, I'm out, wake me up when she gets here," Vida quickly blurts, and her head is now comfortably laying on the arm of the sofa. "I'll get up, I have to go to the bathroom anyways," Metzi commented, sighing before getting up.

Silence followed, and the blonde decided to take a look at her phone. A text was sent back on Malorie's behalf, and she widened her eyes momentarily. Standing still, she turned back to look at her. A face of guilt was evident, and she tried her best to hold her breath.

i have something to tell you, i'm not supposed to. i just feel so bad knowing while you don't i really shouldn't have said anything forget it

meet me in the bathroom

Read 2:37PM

Metzi's mind was in a whirlwind, and she couldn't think of anything she'd be referring to. Of course, it was useless, because clearly she wasn't meant to know about it. She hurried out of the room, the last thing she heard was Wren complaining once more about her outfit.

The hallways were empty, mostly because they'd came so early, and Metzi took her time reaching the bathroom. It was communal, so she really hoped that nobody else was here yet. The awards were meant to start in a few hours, and considering they had three faces to paint with makeup, early was a necessity.

"I hope you won't be mad at me," A small, timid voice aired behind her. The blonde turned around, and clutched her phone in fear. "I'm not, please tell me what's going on,"

As Malorie opened her phone, Metzi tapped her foot anxiously.

God, she really had to piss.

The brunette looked up at her, and showed her a photo.

"What is that?"

"That, was Ryan. On Saturday."

Ryan was her boyfriend of six years. An anxious cramping formed in her stomach at the mixture of his name and the tone of Malorie's voice. The photo she was now staring at made her want to vomit. Her stomach was now doing somersaults.

In the photo, it was indeed Ryan, in Metzi's own bed, with a mop of curly red hair under him. Most was covered by the sheets, but it was enough to come to the correct conclusion. He was clearly enjoying it too, judging by his face. Upon further inspection, she noticed something odd.

Grabbing the phone out of Malorie's hand, she zoomed in. On her nightstand, where a picture of the two usually sat, was now face down. While he fucked another woman in her bed, he turned her face down.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she took a deep breath in.

What happened Saturday? She was home mostly all day, so when did he have time to do this?

"What—how did you get this?"

"I came to give you your present, and I heard something. Y'know since you gave me keys? I figured it was okay to come in, and your bedroom door was open. I knew Ryan would try to make me the liar, so I took a picture. He told me that if I told you," Malorie pursed her lips, "well he threatened to do something pretty fucked up."

"Holy fuck," Metzi whispered, "I just—I had no fucking clue. This entire time, and who knows how long he's been fucking her?"

One lonesome tear fell down her cheek. In anger or sadness, Malorie didn't know.

Opening her phone, she opened Ryan's contact. "Hey," Malorie whispered, her voice now soft. "If he tells you anything about me, promise you won't believe him?"

"Of course, you come first. Always."

She debated on whether or not to call him, but instead opted on a text.

I hope you enjoyed fucking merida, we're done. get your things out of my house by tomorrow. delete my number.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and a smile adorned her face. Her bladder problems now the least of her concerns, she started back for the dressing room. Emmy now sat at the vanity, on her phone, and Vida and Wren were basically cuddling.

Surprised at the sudden intrustion, all eyes landed on the pair standing in the doorway.

"Ryan cheated on me, so now we're all single." Metzi gave nobody the chance to respond, as if anyone could think of what to say, and took a deep breath in.

"I haven't been fucked in months, and now I know why. So, I'm gonna get laid tonight, feel free to join me."

All seven of them had their faces beat to perfection, their outfits tailored and steamed of any wrinkles. They looked absolutely impeccable, as if the world around them kissed their feet. Hell, some reporters actually acted like that.

The members of BTS were now known worldwide, and it seemed that they were sought after by nearly everyone. Each member was so unique—so captivating in every aspect. Personalities somehow intertwine perfectly, yet polar opposites sometimes.

Proud but humble men, they basked in the warmth of positive attention. All eyes were on them for now, and they proudly understood it. As they walked on the red carpet of the music event, Yoongi and Jungkook both hated what they would be forced to do in mere minutes. As self-declared introverts, social interactions were about to start, and they honestly would rather sit in the corner and get this over with.

They would meet a few smaller artists, an occasional household name, (which they would fawn over for the rest of the night) and then be on their way. It would probably be in a few news articles, and some artists would insist on pictures, and they would be spread around within minutes. It was the same routine, and almost every time they would speak as little as possible, save for Namjoon, and would discuss it later. Hollywood was English dominated, and they despised it.

"Right now we only have to meet one group, and then we're okay for a few hours," Namjoon spoke quietly and quickly, and they piled off of the red carpet into a building. The hallways were scary, dark and empty, but a light above them quickly lit up.

To their surprise, the hallway was beautiful. The walls were an navy blue, white accents on top and bottom. Numerous gold paintings and records lined the walls, and it seemed to go on forever.

"Who is it we're supposed to be meeting? This hallway is a bit sketchy," Jimin perked up, and Namjoon chuckled. "WB,"

"Who is that?"

"I can't remember what their name stands for, but they sing that one song," Namjoon goes on to hum the tune to a familiar song that got pretty big, and all of the members start singing along. Of course, the lyrics are completely off and the tune is absolutely horrid, but they all recognize it vaguely.  

All numbly following Namjoon, he was taking rough instructions from their manager to get there. This was not how it usually happened, but he had said something urgent came up. He had told Namjoon how to get there, and he knew that they were smart enough to make it without breaking a couple ligaments.

"Group? I thought it was one singer," Jin commented, and Taehyung nodded in agreement. "I would have never thought it was more than one. Are they American?"

"I guess we're going to find out," he snickered, and they all stopped at the corner. The door was slightly creaked open, and soft laughter could be heard. It was feminine, soft. It sounded like pure happiness was inside that door.

To double check, Namjoon eyed the sign on the door.

A large, black WB was written so even the partially blind could read. It was odd, the only dressing room out of probably at least a hundred, was all the way back, alone. They had no time to question it before Jin took a few strides forward, and boasted his English abilites.

"Come on-uh, guys."

The rest of them burst into laughter, and Namjoon quickly followed suit, knowing Jin would not be the prime candidate for introductions. He would simply utter a few English words, turn to Namjoon for help, and in panic, make a really bad play on words in Korean.

Timidly, Namjoon's knuckles rapped on the already-open door, accidentally pushing it further open a bit. "Come in!"

They were met with three girls stuffing their faces with chocolate cake, and another laying on the floor, fiddling with a.. flip-phone?

Jin grimaced at the reminder, glad it wasn't pink.

All eyes awkwardly met at the realization, and two of the three muffling down cake choked a bit. "Emmy, I thought you said 5:30?" Malorie was the one to ask, but none of the boys knew that.

"It is 5:30,"

The cake was swallowed within seconds, the flip-phone was now laying on the table, untouched. Four girls scrambled up simultaneously, and watched as the rest of the men piled in. An awkward stout of silence followed, and this so called Emmy, rose and met the boys first.

She had a firm grip, and introduced herself as their manager. The situation was humorous to say the least, these girls who could pass off as teenagers, were standing in single file in shame. The first was a beautiful girl with a large afro, and she kept a tight smile. She did not know who they were, nor did she really care. She introduced herself as Wren.

Next, was a taller woman, who seemed a hint older, with large winged eyeliner. She was Vida. Jin's first instinct was that she reminded him of him, she was definitely the oldest. Then, a smaller girl with a thick smile and soft curls was next. Soft hands, gentle grip. Her name was Malorie.

The last, was a young woman with blonde hair. Realistically, she didn't have any defining features besides her hair, she was the average American-looking girl. She introduced herself as Metzi, and to their surprise, bowed.

"It's really nice to meet you guys," Emmy let out a soft chuckle, and Namjoon nodded tightly. "Are you performing tonight?" It was Malorie who had asked, a soft question. "Yes, actually,"

"I heard you are as well," Namjoon replied, hoping to end the small talk quickly. "Yes we are! I'm surprised you've heard of us, I mean we're not huge."

She wasn't lying, but they definitely weren't small, either. Sixth biggest girlgroup of all time by album sales just behind TLC. Thirtieth on the most followed Spotify artist. Their debut album was certified Gold in six countries. Humble was the key to success, though.

"I'm not sure how big they are in the States, but aren't they pretty well known in Korea?" Yoongi spoke, but of course he wasn't talking to the girls, he was talking to his bandmates. He also spoke in Korean, which is why he nearly had a heart attack when a very feminine voice responded in Korean as well.

"We're big in Korea? I knew we were pretty well known in Japan, but I never really knew about that," It was the blonde one, Metzi. All seven members were in shock, the way she spoke it so effortlessly. If she didn't look the way she did, she could pass off as Native Korean by language alone.

"I know South Korea is very conservative and insistent upon how they operate things, and we're probably the farthest thing from it. I just was under the impression that we didn't fit the mold to do well there," Metzi continued talking, and Wren, Vida and Malorie had absolutely no clue what was going on or being discussed.

Had this been in Spanish, all the girls could have participated. Metzi just insisted on learning Korean, though.

They didn't seem too bothered, though, instead more humored.

"She's been waiting to use that one, huh?" Vida whispered, laughing lightly. "You're not wrong, Korea is known to be very conservative, however, that doesn't mean you have to fit stereotypes to break Korea or any other Asian country for that matter," Namjoon spoke in English this time, and finally the other three girls got a whiff of the conversation.

"We are the farthest thing from ideal boy-groups in America, and we broke it for the most part. Obviously a lot of it is due to our fan base, but point still stands." Seokjin broke in, the conversation now half Korean, half English.

"Good to know," Metzi said softly, a grin on her face.

"How did you learn Korean?" Taehyung spoke up in curiousity, and crinkled his eyes. "I started learning a few years ago before we kind of blew up, and when we visited Korea a few times, I just picked it up a bit. Still a lot I don't know, but I can speak pretty fluently now."

Taehyung nodded in understanding, silently applauding her ability to simply pick up on a language. He doesn't think he will ever gain fluency in English, no matter how hard he'd try. It was a lot harder than he imagined it to be.

"I'm gonna be honest, from media portrayals you guys are made out to be asshats, but you seem pretty down to Earth. Nice to know the fame doesn't get to your head, you know?"

Now it was Wren speaking, and a few snickers sounded from Jungkook and Jimin's mouth. "Asshat," Jimin repeated softly, and they broke into more laughter.

"We appreciate that, thank you. Ignore them," Hoseok spoke this time, a large smile adorning his face. "We will watch your performance tonight, and cheer you on."

"Ditto," Metzi responded in English this time, and Hobi's eyes crinkled in confusion. "Same to you," she clarified in Korean, and he nodded.

They said their goodbyes, and Metzi told all the girls to bow. Namjoon and Vida had a brief talk, and it was no time before BTS and WB were now separate, discussing the events that had just taken place.

The talk of the night was the mysterious blonde girl who spoke fluent Korean. 

taglist: @princessoftheroad​ <3

[lizacstuff]

Another very good episode despite the sad ending which was very well executed by hande. What did you think of the episode?

Very good episode. One nice thing about these new writers, so far, is that the episodes flow a bit better than they used to flow. I think the prior team had trouble putting 2+ hour story without it being disjointed.  These guys seem to be able to manage the format better. 

So much to love in this chapter. So much comedy. So much fun. So much ripping my heart out and stopping on it and then kicking it a little and then throwing it into a fiery lava volcano pit for good measure. 

All those emotions were felt. 

Edser to come, but let's start with Babaanne and the Prince.  It really feels like these characters were introduced with another story in mind, and then the show pivoted. Perhaps the new writers wanted something else, or maybe Fox wanted to renew but wanted the show to get back to basics so they changed course to this reset of sorts? It all feels unfinished.

(continued under the cut)

I think we were all expecting more trouble from both characters.  Not that kidnapping Eda isn't causing trouble, it clearly is, but the fact that it was resolved in the first 5 minutes is notable. What was the point? It did give them a cliffhanger, a chance for Serkan to be a hero, a reason for Serkan to fire Balca, and a reason for Babaanne to change her tune, so it wasn't completely pointless, it served some plots, however it was very anticlimactic. 

Babaanne was pretty anticlimactic too. She comes on like a house on fire in 25, having Serkan arrested on serious charges that could have stuck, framing Alptekin, ruining the project the team had won via the tender. She manipulates Eda into breaking Serkan's heart, goes full matchmaker with the Prince, but then when Eda decides, "Nah, I'm not only not going to give up on Serkan, I'm gonna marry him." she backs off all her threats? 

It does make me wonder if both or either (offscreen) the Prince or Babaanne have something to do with Serkan's plane going missing.  Just so they can fulfill their evil potential. Either of them is powerful enough to pull that off, and it makes more sense than either of them giving up so easily. 

As for Aydan and Ayfer, they made for some pretty good laughs this episode. I think the friction caused by their inherent differences is much more funny, than the fighting over Chef Alexander. As I said in another ask, Ayfer worked my last nerve in her very first scene this episode. She wakes up after being dosed by her mother's choice of life-mate for Eda, but immediately blames the Bolats. Fuck off with that. She enabled her mother, she is more to blame for this situation than anyone but the villains. If she would have stood up to her mother and supported Eda instead of choosing to further Babaanne's agenda by opposing the wedding, maybe Eda's life wouldn't have been put in such danger.  I can't with her. She would deserve it if Eda puts a little distance between them.  

GO DETECTIVE MELO! Love her tenacity in putting together the pieces of Henna night and rightly figuring out Balca's duplicity. For a second there I thought they weren't going to tell Serkan what they found, which made me nervous, but then at the first opportunity she blurts it out. Well done!  We should have known Serkan would be two steps ahead of them except that he's been two steps behind when it comes to Balca since the very beginning. It was very satisfying to watch him fire her. Though, I do wish we would have seen him find out she purposely put strawberry in his drink.  Good riddance!   The ILYs between Serkan and Melo were very sweet, it speaks so well of Serkan that he has such a soft spot for her. Of course it is only natural since Melo has been an unwavering supporter of his since the beginning, Serkan picks his allies well. 

Now onto the couples. The tension between all the romantic pairs this episode was fun, and obviously done for over-the-top comic relief, but also very silly, lmao. Those boys are so DUMB!  Engin has the sensibility of a preteen boy and Ferit never knows when to shut up, he's so naive and he can't read a room.  

However, who didn't love the friendship growth between Serkan and Ferit?  They planned a 15-day bike trip? I'm dying! And crying! However, I fully believe that Eda-broke-up-with-me-I-have-a-sad-and-need-a-distraction Serkan planned that trip and I found it preposterous that Serkan would have any desire to still go right after he got married.  We're supposed to believe that schmoopy, smitten, horny Serkan is ready to leave his newlywed bride for that length of time? Puh-lease he's planning every way he's going to sex her up over the next 6 months, and it's going to take every free minute. Also they can't even find time to get to Paris for the night, but he's going away for that?? NOPE.  Maybe next year, Ferit... but also invite the girls to the bike portion.  

The tension between Eda and Serkan in the first half hour of the ep was a nice little truncated story of the stress wedding planning and a looming, giant life change can put on a couple. Edser started the day in a very schmoopy place, but by the time they left Aydan's they were already starting to feel the pressure. The bickering between Ayfer and Aydan felt typical, and I felt myself being more sympathetic with Aydan.  They're rich, why wouldn't they hire a wedding coordinator? That's a helluva lot of work to do in 3 days!  Why would Ayfer want to spent that time doing centerpieces when she could be enjoying the pre wedding festivities? Dumb. The gems as favors do seem a little over-the-top, but I'd like to take home one of those aquamarines when I attend their wedding, so I won't complain. As far as where they're going to live, both ladies need to step off! They need to be at least 15 minutes of driving distance from both of them.  Not living on the Bolat property and not living in Ayfer's neighborhood. Geez. I'm stressed just typing it up, no wonder it set the betrothed couple on edge.  Obviously, they were having a major disconnect when they got to work. Serkan was dealing with a crisis and probably should have just told Eda that instead of burying himself in work, ignoring her, and getting irritated with her. Meanwhile, Eda should have noticed he was more focused than even the typical workaholic robot, and that meant something important. 

The misunderstanding that fueled their full day stand-off was so silly, and preventable, but also led to hilarity and one of my favorite scenes ever so I won't be too hard on how manufactured it was.  Each of these things-- family wedding planning stress, Serkan being inattentive due to work crisis, and Serkan acting a little "the old ball and chain" when Ferit was blundering along about guys trips and postponing the wedding-- all led to an Eda who was already feeling a bit insecure, so when she overheard Serkan's phone conversation it's not shocking she took it the wrong way.  However, it takes a bit more handwaving to believe Serkan took the conversation the wrong way and went right to freezing her out. Come on, Serkan, you're less emotional and have less reasons to be feeling vulnerable at that moment. She was in your office trying to get your attention on wedding planning and your home and future. You were the one too busy to engage!  Though, I suppose it's believable that these two stubborn souls would allow the misunderstanding to fester out of pride, rather than confront it head on and clear it up right away. It's pretty consistent that when one of them gets their feelings hurt and feels rejected by the other, their defensive walls go up and they both revert to pretending they're just fine and the other's rejection can't hurt them. They need to get over this asap.  

That poor wedding planner. She has a couple insisting they get married in 3 days, they're entirely unhelpful and now they aren't even speaking to one another?  I understand her frustration and don't ding her for asking if they're sure they're ready to get married, but her saying that was definitely one of the things that contributed to the insecurities they were both already feeling. They were both so sad when they had the last conversation in the office, each one suggesting the other to take time to think and rest. Their video call that night was equally as fraught and sad. Sweet, dumb babies. 

The entire sequence of the girls stealthing into the hotel and hiding on the couch was hilarious. I love that Eda doesn't realize that crashing the bachelor party could be embarrassing until she's flat on her back on that couch, hiding behind lobby foliage.  As for the boys, they redeemed themselves a little bit, by being too upset to enjoy themselves.  

One of my favorite parts is Eda trying to be breezy as if the girls being there has nothing to do with the bachelor party. I laughed at Melo taking the blame for suggesting the resort. The single gal always takes the blame, just like the unmarried/not engaged Ferit gets the blame later.  This moment (click here) is one of my favorites of the episode. I still am not sure what she's trying to say with her looping gestures and pointing upstairs and then her haughty pose, and I don't think Serkan knows either, but yet he just gets a kick out of her. The guy who Engin said never smiled, smiles pretty damn easily these days. Also j’adored the wardrobe that had them matching perfectly in shades of cream and olive. In sync and gorgeous. 

Speaking of wardrobe, during that fireplace conversation Serkan looked so huggable in that fleece pullover (more casual Serkan, please!) that I felt terrible that they were not in a place where she could cuddle up to him in front of the fire. Come on! We deserved to see that. That was the biggest tragedy in that scene, slightly ahead of them postponing the wedding. As for that, they were both so convinced that the other thinks they're going too fast, that neither of them was listening to how the other positioned it. Each positioning it as the other's preference. That illustrated the trouble that a little insecurity and a lot of pride can cause.  

Now on to my favorite scene of the episode! Seriously, immediately after watching it I mentally vaulted it to my top 10 scenes list (no such list exists, and if it did it would change all the time, lol).  First, can I say how I appreciated that the friends were all shocked at the news they were postponing the wedding? Ferit and Engin couldn't believe it, and Melo, Ceren and Piril all actively questioned the idea that Serkan would want to postpone. Thank you! You just know if Ayfer were there she would have tried to say "Oh, that's too bad, but really for the best, let's celebrate!"  

Anyway, I loved every second from the moment Serkan says, "Eda, can we talk?" until the apology. Finally, instead of being led by their pride, they both show some hurt which is the catalyst for the heated conversation that clears everything up.  

It's impressive how consistent they've been with some characterizations and how Serkan and Eda yin/yang each other. Eda has always had trouble saying, "I love you." It just doesn't come easy to her. She illustrated that in episode 12, she can handle the sentiment and agree with it, "our feelings are mutual" but it's hard for her to say the words. 

Conversely, Serkan has never had that problem. From the minute he confessed he has told her how much he loves her many, many times and in many, many different ways. What Serkan has trouble with is "I'm sorry". It is so hard for him to say those words. In episode 9, all it would have taken to get Eda back was a simple apology, instead he spent an entire episode doing everything to get her back, but the very simple act of saying, "I'm sorry. That is some next level aversion to apologizing. Whereas Eda doesn't have that problem, she can own her mistakes and apologize pretty easily. 

These scenes outside showcased this dynamic beautifully.  After the misunderstanding is rectified, Eda very easily apologizes, but Serkan goes with a "me too" type of response. The sentiment is there, but he doesn't say the words. A few minutes later, after the crew joins them, Serkan goes all romantic robot and tells her how much he loves her, then prompts her, but instead Eda teases and teases until she finally whispers it. 

Obviously, she loves him and obviously he is sorry about the misunderstanding, but I like the consistency that they both still have trouble vocalizing these specific things.

The fact that Serkan was ready to chuck the guys and his bachelor party in order to have a romantic night with her is very sweet, and also points out how silly the notion of him wanting to travel extensively without her right after they get married. I don't mind things that are exaggerated for humor, but still humor shouldn't need you to completely change the attitudes of the characters in order to hit. And playing on jokes about how marriage and a wife might be viewed as a burden, especially in context of a couple who aren't even married yet, isn't awesome. Which I get, the fact that it is a shitty attitude and a crappy joke fueled the fights between the couples, so at least there was that. It wasn't accepted. 

The lovely montage by the lake was a wonderful way to show us some quiet, romantic moments between them. That's one of the great things about this format, they have time to occasionally gift us with scenes that don't drive the plot, don't move forward any story or character development or even have dialogue, they just exist to make us swoon and fall even more in love with this couple. Mission accomplished! The fact that Kerem is the one who found that location just makes it sweeter. 

Engin, Engin, Engin. What makes you think it is a good idea to judge a beauty pageant?  Your wife is in the hotel! Not that she would be jealous, but, you know, assigning a number value to women based on their looks... it's not great. Also I realize that it's a necessity while shooting with Covid, and we just have to suspend disbelief in scenes that should have tons of extras but are barren, but the hotel holding a beauty pageant and the only people in attendance are three dudes who just happened to be bored in the lobby is funny in and of itself.  But glad the girls got a chance to take their revenge and make the boys feel what it's like to be judged in such a way. Plus it was worth some laughs and gave us a way to unite the bachelor party with the pajama party. 

For me the next scenes only exist to have Edser draped all over each other in the bar.  I didn't really pay too much attention, I think Piril/Engin and Ceren/Ferit all made up, but I do know Serkan wanted to ditch everyone and go back to the room and since we know what happened next.... we know why!  Though I did wonder, did he have a massage appointment for like 10pm?  Or was it the next day? It matters not at all, but it did strike me while watching. I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH WE GOT OF THEM IN THE TUB!!!  *flings self into the sun*  That was quite something.  Bless these new writers and their willingness to go there.  I love that scene so much. Serkan's smile is just... something else. 

One nitpick is the lighting. Obviously, with the timeline they shoot on, some production value will go by the wayside, though mostly I think they do a decent job despite all the constraints. However, one place that is consistently lacking is lighting in indoor, one-off locations.  The coffee shop in ep 12 is an example, and this was another one. I can understand they need to get in and out quickly. In this case the crew wouldn't have been able to probably prep as much as they'd like, because you're probably not going to put any stand-ins in the water, and you can't take time to perfect it once your big stars are in the tub, mostly naked, submerged and pruning, but the harsh shadows across each of their faces is distracting. Where were the bounce boards? Even those lines out. 

But obviously we don't care. WE GOT THEM BEING SEXY AND PLAYFUL IN THE TUB! What a bounty. That's all that matters.  Loved all the wedding prep, especially the lovely Aydan and Eda scenes. There was SO MUCH JOY... until there wasn't. 

I'm not going to spend much time on the contrivance that led us to the final scenes. I mean, first, Erdem... why are you so incompetent?  And, second, do they not have E-signature in Turkey? Or scanners? Or even fax machines? The idea of having to fly to Italy just to sign something is ridiculous. Oh well, whatever drives their plot, I guess. 

The final Edser scene was brilliant and beautiful and heartfelt and romantic and ominous and painful. All the things it should have been for what happens next.  Poor Serkan! Poor Eda! Why can't they catch a break? 

[beauregardlionett]

littered kisses

AO3 Link

The soft puffs of breath against Yasha’s clavicle were the first thing to register upon waking. She hummed low and soft at the sensation, eyes fluttering open where she was wrapped around Beau and cocooned in blankets. Golden, late morning light spilled in through the window by their bed, sun motes drifting in lazy spirals through the sunbeams as Yasha’s consciousness slowly filtered into further wakefulness. Beau had one leg thrown over Yasha’s hips, so the taller woman was careful about stretching her legs long. She grunted with the satisfying pull in her muscles that only came after a restful night, ankles and knees cracking.

Beau huffed against Yasha’s skin with the light jostling and shifted closer, nose bumping against Yasha’s chest. Smiling small and fond down at the woman in her arms, Yasha leaned back just enough to admire Beau without completely dislodging her sleepy clinging.

The monk’s hair was still tied up, but rumpled and loose, messy from being pressed into a pillow all night. Her features were smooth in her peace, making Beau look soft as grey shadows slanted gently against the sunlight on Beau’s olive skin. Yasha could just see the curling jade edges of filigree from Beau’s tattoo that peaked around the back of her neck. Unable to help herself, she reached out to trace reverent fingers over the sparkling pattern. Touch trailing up into the tight shave of Beau’s undercut, Yasha’s lips quirked with a grin when Beau twitched in her sleep and grunted as she woke up.

Yasha continued her gentle ministration, brushing her fingertips over the fuzz of hair near the base of Beau’s neck. She watched as the woman’s eyes fluttered open, those stunning, bright blues—blurry with sleep—locking onto Yasha almost immediately. The simple action sent a jolt of adoration through the Aasimar’s chest, her ribs seeming too tight for her heart.

“Mornin’,” Beau said, voice rough with her half conscious state. It felt like a gift to witness her like this, because Beau was always awake with the dawn. Before any of the rest of them even thought of waking up, Beau was up and about long before the colors of sunrise had even faded from the sky. Yasha was never the first one to wake up between them, so she took this gentle moment and tucked it carefully among her memories.

“Good morning,” Yasha murmured, hand coming around to cup at Beau’s cheek that wasn’t smushed against Yasha’s arm.

“What time’s it?” Beau mumbled, even as she leaned into Yasha’s touch and seemed ready to fall back to sleep.

“I’m not sure,” Yasha whispered, fighting a smile as Beau yawned and tucked closer to the Aasimar. “I haven’t been up long.”

“Don’t wanna get up yet,” Beau groused, as if Yasha were trying to pull the monk from bed. On the contrary, Yasha felt perfectly content to stay tucked up like this with Beau for as long as she might get away with it. At some point she expected the rest of their party to come knocking, eager to go about the day and move on to wherever their feet carried them next. They hadn’t had a period of aimless wandering without a goal for a while now; so they were happily taking advantage of the lack of expectation weighed upon them for the moment. Perhaps everyone slept in this morning, because they had been out late last night drinking and reminiscing and relaxing for the first time in months.

Yasha stroked an absent thumb over Beau’s cheekbone and felt finally settled. It was a strange sensation. For so many years there had been this restless itch beneath her skin, like a storm on the verge of breaking, like humidity climbing without relief. Before the Mighty Nein, before Beau, Yasha had been a storm on the cusp of breaking, with no relief in sight—stuck in a limbo of longing and grief. But now the jagged pieces of herself felt washed smooth, and she wasn’t a storm, but a gentle rain.

She felt finally herself.

Overwhelmed with affection, Yasha carefully pushed Beau away from her, rolling the half asleep monk onto her back so that Yasha could lean over her. Beau blinked up at her with sleepy confusion, mouth halfway open to likely voice either a protest or a concerned question, but Yasha acted first. Leaning down, braids and dreads cascading over one shoulder and tickling at Beau’s skin, the Aasimar pressed a careful kiss to the tip of Beau’s nose, fighting a smile as she did. As she pulled back just enough to look at Beau without going cross-eyed, she couldn’t help but give a soft laugh at the startled look on Beau’s face.

“What was that for?” Beau asked, sounding breathless.

“Because,” Yasha murmured even as she leaned down to press another kiss to Beau’s cheek. “I care for you.” Yasha passed the words between the first kiss to Beau’s cheek and another to the opposite. She didn’t have the words to explain everything she was feeling. She wouldn’t even try, honestly, because she was not eloquent at the best of times—and she would just end up a flushed and stuttering mess, anyway. She was always better at doing than explaining. So she shifted her weight to lean a little more comfortably over Beau and continued to pepper adoring kisses across Beau’s face.

She repeated the kiss to the tip of Beau’s nose, then trailed up to her forehead, gentle fingers brushing aside loose strands of hair. Moving to Beau’s temple, her lips lingered long enough to press a kiss there with a brief smile. Continuing her path, Yasha’s lips dragged down the line of Beau’s jaw. These kisses were just a touch more open-mouthed than before as Beau tipped her head back with a soft noise of appreciation. Yasha smiled against the curve of Beau’s chin and pressed several kisses to the underside of the woman’s jaw. Detouring down the captivating planes of warm skin that was Beau’s neck, Yasha nipped at Beau’s clavicle before making her way back up. Yasha fluttered kisses all over Beau’s jawline and cheeks, pulling sleepy laughter from her victim before Beau lost the battle with her impatience and tugged Yasha down.

Beau initiated the press of their lips, but Yasha set the pace. Littering a worship of brief kisses to Beau’s mouth, Yasha indulged them both with a deep, lasting embrace after a few moments.

They were both just shy of breathless when they finally broke apart, barely any space between their kiss-sore lips as Yasha pressed their foreheads together. She stared down at Beau with a quiet peace lining her expression. Beau was looking up at Yasha from where she was pressed into the mattress with smitten awe. Her fingers were tangled and clutching at Yasha’s baggy undershirt, almost like she was afraid letting go would mean Yasha might disappear. Or like she was on the verge of pulling Yasha into another kiss.

“I care about you, too,” Beau whispered, sounding even more winded than before. “Like, a lot.”

Yasha laughed, bright and quick, as her eyes crinkled with fondness. She swooped in to dot a few more kisses over Beau’s cheeks before laying down at her side again, smiling as Beau rolled to tuck herself into Yasha’s chest.

“That was great,” Beau murmured, trailing her lips lazily against Yasha’s collarbone. “I vote we stay in bed for a while.”

“I’m perfectly fine with that,” Yasha agreed without hesitation. She wrapped her arms snugly around Beau’s wiry frame, relishing the way Beau fit against her. They watched the morning grow old together, bundled in blankets and perfectly content to do nothing else.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter 18 - What We Leave Behind

“Listen carefully, my love. You don’t get a say about your life. You don’t get a say about that baby’s life. You don’t even get to decide where you go. I’m the one who decides who stays and who goes, and I decide who gets to live. Let me tell you what I have decided.”

I tried to focus on the file again, trying to let the numbers printed on it grab me. It was useless, I couldn’t concentrate on work. I put the file aside and turned on the TV. I let my eyes zone out on the image, I had no idea what was on. My mind was somewhere else already.

Victor didn’t tell me much about the conversation he had with Gavin after the double date, acting evasive every time I asked, trying to distract me with other subjects. I knew that I wouldn’t get a lot from him, at best a censored version of the truth, so I went straight to the horse’s mouth. I called Mia. Although she seemed very uncomfortable talking about it, most likely coached by Victor to keep silent about it, I managed to pull from her whatever I needed to know.

Apparently, Daniel had seen the article about my engagement and planned his crime very carefully. He bribed one of the caterer workers to gain entrance to the venue, posing as paparazzi. He climbed the tree next to the reception tent, and waited, rifle in hand, hiding from the commotion. His plan was to shoot me as we entered the reception tent, and then run to his hotel room and kill himself. If not for Mia’s careful eye for details, spotting some of the tree decorations fallen on the ground, and if not for her cool head, calling Gavin discreetly and sending us away from danger without as much as a peep, I would have been dead. I owed Mia my life. From that moment on, I was more than willing to give her any interview, any article she could ask for, without hesitation. She was the reason Victor still had a wife, and I lived to see the day I would become a mother. She was the reason Daniel was in prison, unable to hurt me anymore.

It didn’t really surprise me that Daniel would try something. To be honest, I was more appalled as to how I could forget about him. The last time I had seen Daniel, I had faced him for once and practically humiliated him, and Victor had made some very real threats. Obviously he wouldn’t just quit, especially now that his ego was hurt. He wasn't the kind of person to just let that go.

Despite my best efforts to build myself a new life, Daniel had become my curse and I would never be able to get rid of him. It was like I had been invisibly branded, and every time I would find relief and happiness, he would come to remind me that he could still hurt me, that he still owned me in some way. No matter how many roles I played in my life, the happy wife, the mother, the successful career woman, a part of me would always be the battered girlfriend. That was my burden to bear, and I felt like I would have to carry it until my very last breath.

However, there was a silver lining: Daniel was in jail for attempted murder, and he would remain there for at least a couple of years. For now, I was safe, and I could go on living my life. And that’s exactly what I planned to do: live the present and leave the past behind the best I could.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

I jumped from my seat on the sofa, surprised to see my husband looking at me with an amused expression.

“Jesus, where did you come from?”

“Where did you come from?” He chuckled. “You were so distracted you didn’t even notice I sat down beside you.”

“Nowhere in particular.” I took a good look at Victor, noticing his ruffled disheveled hair, the loose tie on his neck, the dark circles under his shiny eyes. “How was work?”

“Are you still worried about that piece of scum?” Victor insisted. “He is in jail, and he won’t leave for a very long time. You have nothing to worry about, I will not let anyone hurt my family.”

“I know.” I moved closer to him, combing his hair with my fingers. “It just… reminded me of old wounds.” I downplayed it. “Now tell me, what was so important that I had to spend my evening minus a husband?”

“A meeting with the board of directors.” He pulled me closer to him. “How did it go with Olive? Do you have a date for releasing the final study?”

“Yeah, we decided to do it next year. There is still a lot of data to be analyzed and there are some cases I want to follow more closely.”

“That’s excellent news.” He gave me a mischievous smile. “I plan on making you a very busy woman this year.”

“Sure, since I’m so tired of twiddling my thumbs.” I joked. “What’s on your mind?”

“I want your educated opinion on creating a branch in Europe. In France, to be more precise.”

“You’re thinking about expanding?” I leaned back, surprised. It was the natural next step, business was going well overseas, but he never mentioned it.

“Do you think the timing is wrong?” He frowned.

“As your consultant, I think the timing is perfect.” I answered, putting on my CEO shoes. “LFG is investing more and more in Europe, it’s only natural that it localizes the operations there. Additionally, companies will trust us more if we are neighbors, even if distant ones. And France is a fertile market for the foreseeable future. It’s a brilliant choice of location for a first branch.”

Victor studied my expression.

“And my wife, what does she think?”

I raised my eyebrows, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Things will be pretty hectic.” I looked down. “You will have to travel a lot. We just got Owen.”

Victor’s lips curved in an understanding smile as he ran his hand softly on my hair.

“Not as much as you would think.” His voice was warm and hushed. “I will always find time for us, no matter how busy I get.”

“Promise?”

“You have my word.” He gave me an earnest look, followed by a playful nudge. “Although it will be nice to not always have an ankle biter bossing me around.”

I pulled him closer, my lips almost touching his.

“Admit it, you can’t live without me.” I whispered.

He brushed my lips with his, his eyes dark with passion.

“Got me there.”

Business in the financial world runs fast, but when it came to LFG and CEO Victor Lee, it surely ran faster: my husband wasn’t one to spend his time on something unless it gave him some kind of advantage. Since LCG was LFG’s consultant, and I already knew the market very well, it was no surprise when, a few days later, I found myself surrounded by folders of potential French clients and my schedule packed with meetings for LFG France. In fact, everyone was a lot busier than usual, and it would be normal for some exhaustion to start to show, but surprisingly, there was more of a feeling of excitement in building something new. My team was clearly up to their heads with work, but they were also happy and willing to help out in whatever way they could.

“Alright, so this is it for today. Go home and get some rest.” I concluded yet another meeting with my analysis team. “If you have any questions, either look for me, or Diane, if I am stranded in a meeting. Do not hesitate to ask for help when in doubt. These clients are crucial for us now and we can’t allow for any slip-ups. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, while they gathered their belongings and left the room. I also took my things, going to my office to answer some last minute emails until Victor came from picking Owen from school. At my office door stood a very nervous Kenny.

“You have someone here to see you.” He announced, looking jumpy.

“Well, it can’t be Victor, he left to pick Owen up.” I joked, knowing how nervous my husband made him.

“No… Actually… The lady says she’s your son’s grandmother?”

I felt the blood freezing in my veins. The woman my son’s mother had run away from all her life, the one she had tried to hide her son from, had found us. And God only knew what she had in mind.

I took my phone and stared at it for a moment, wondering if I should call Victor. He was probably driving to Owen’s school, he wouldn’t be much help, and all I would manage was to worry him. The best would be just to talk to the woman and find out what she wanted.

“Send her in.” I prepared myself for battle. I didn’t know what she wanted, but it was probably no good.

From what I had read from Rebbeca’s letter, I imagined her mother much differently than how she presented herself. She was elegant, well dressed, hair impeccable and sporting perfectly natural make-up. She didn’t seem like someone who had given birth in an old car, or who had lived in a trailer park with a drunken boyfriend that molested her daughter. If anything, she looked like my mother.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Lee.” She calmly extended her hand. “Pamela Cole.”

“How can I help you?” I cut to the chase, uninterested in pleasantries.

“I heard you are going to adopt my grandson, Owen.” She looked at the chair in front of my desk, waiting for me to invite her to sit. I didn’t sit either. She wasn’t welcome there, and I wanted to make this visit as brief as possible.

“That still doesn’t tell me why you are here.” I retorted, unwilling to let my guard down.

“I want to see my grandson.” She asserted.

“No.” It came out before I could stop it.

“He is my grandson. I have the right.” She shot back.

“Why now? He spent a year in an orphanage, you never tried to see him once.”

“I didn’t know my daughter had passed away. It was only when I hired a private investigator to look for her that I found the truth.” Her voice caught on her throat. “My poor baby.”

I kept silent, looking at her, my walls fully up. She fidgeted with her purse.

“I imagine Owen is doing well with his new family, and I will be the last to interfere with that.” She continued with a pleading tone. “I just want to see him once. I want him to know that I exist, that he has a background. So one day, when he is older, if he wants to find out more about his family of origin or his mother, I can tell him all about her.”

“His mother spent her very short life trying to keep him away from you. She specifically said the social services shouldn’t look for the next of kin.” I gave her my best hard look. Her eyes instantly filled with tears.

“I can’t say I was a good mother, I was not. I was a terrible mother, because I had a terrible mother myself and I didn’t know how to be a good one.” A tear escaped her eyes. “I became a monster, with a heart filled with hatred and selfishness. But if I didn’t give, it was because I didn’t have anything to give.”

She paused for a moment, trying to compose herself. Despite my best efforts to keep my defenses up, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“All the mistakes I made, I paid for them.” Tears kept rolling down her face. “I have lost my child, can you imagine a greater price to pay? She was all I had left that was good in my life, and I sought her out to ask for her forgiveness, only to find out she was dead. Owen is all I have left. Let me at least see him once, and ask him for forgiveness.”

I didn’t know what to say, torn between protecting my son and giving him a chance to meet his real family. I looked at the time, it was 5:50. I took my coat from the hanger, moving towards the door.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Cole, but I need to ask you to leave, I-”

“You are a mother now, you know what it feels like.” She held my hand. “If you did wrong to your son, and his son was the only thing you had left of him, wouldn’t you do everything to make it right? Owen is my last chance. A visit, that’s all I ask.”

My phone buzzed, it was a text from Victor.

We are almost there. Get ready.

“Mrs. Cole, if you want to do right by your daughter, respect her wishes. Stay away from Owen. Now, If you’ll excuse me, I have to leave.” I opened the door of my office, waiting for her to exit.

I was suddenly out of breath, my mind reeling with the new events. I tried hard to make sense of what had happened, tried to reach a conclusion but none would come. I just could feel the tightness in my chest. When I looked at my hands, they were shaking.

For some reason, I couldn’t tell Victor right away. On the drive home, I let myself sit on the luxurious leather upholstery, go only where my mind wanted me to go, watching the city lights outside, the banter between Victor and Owen as background to my thoughts.

“Mr. Sawyer called me to his office again today.” That piece of information quickly took me out of my stupor.

“Again?” I couldn’t help the venom in my voice. “What did that idiot want?”

Victor glanced at me sideways, surprised by my sudden outburst.

“What did he want?” He asked, his tone way calmer than mine.

“To apologize for accusing me of stealing the geode.” Owen chirped, happy. “I said it was ok, that Mom always says we should be forgiving with ignorant people, they don’t know better.”

Victor let out a hearty laughter. Me, on the other hand, could feel the blood rise to my cheeks.

“You said it like that?” I turned to my son, stunned. “What did he say?”

“He got really red and sent me to recess.” Owen shrugged. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You did absolutely nothing wrong.” Victor chimed in. “You didn’t say he was ignorant. If the shoe fits, it’s his problem.”

“So you support this?” I glared incredulously at Victor. “Like father, like son: no filter whatsoever.”

Victor was too amused to care for my scolding, still chuckling at Owen’s boldness. I resumed my meditative state. I felt exhausted.

“It wasn’t that bad.” He took his hand from the gear shift, lacing his fingers with mine. “But Mom is right, Owen. Although some things may be true, doesn’t mean we should say them.”

“Thank you.” I pretended to be upset, but couldn’t help my smile. “I wish I was there to see it.”

“To be a fly on the wall…” Victor declared, making us both laugh.

Back at home, helping Victor cook dinner and hearing about his day, I was able to relax a little. Victor in the kitchen was a totally different person, relaxed and witty, making silly puns to make me or Owen laugh, or humming some tune while he prepared the food. It was a treat to see him like that, juggling spice jars and tapping the lids of the pots with spoons, letting all his silliness come out for us to see. I couldn’t help but watch him in endearment, laughing to myself when he would catch me staring and blush slightly, my heart slowly letting go of all the problems, focused on feeling this bliss instead.

However, as we were kissing Owen goodnight, the tightness in my chest returned. I had to tell Victor about the unexpected visit I got, and I had no idea how to go about it. Whose side was I on? Part of me found that Owen had the right to know more about his family of origin, his culture, his heritage, and even build a healthy bond with his grandmother. If she really had changed, if she saw the error in her ways, they both deserved that chance. But what if she didn’t change? What if I would open a door, only to have a lot of ugliness coming into our lives, into my son’s life? I couldn’t risk that.

I went to the kitchen under the pretense of making us tea to give my heart some time to figure out all it was feeling. And to build the courage to tell Victor. My guess was he wouldn’t like it one bit.

“Are you listening?” He startled me once again, making me drop the wooden box I was holding, sending tea bags everywhere.

“Bell. You definitely need that bell.” I snapped, while I arranged the tea bags back in the box. “What were you saying?”

“You’ve been acting strange since I picked you up from work.” I could feel his eyes studying me as I turned to get the boiling water. “Something is clearly upsetting you.”

“Upsetting me? No, what makes you say I’m upset?” I played dumb, trying to buy myself some time.

“You rub your forehead when you’re upset.” He said matter-of-factly. “Will you tell me why?”

“Which flavor do you want?” I showed him the box, unable to look at him for some reason.

“Why are you upset?” He insisted. “Is it still because of that spineless prick?”

I sighed in resignation, knowing all too well Victor would not drop the subject, especially knowing he was on to something. Apparently he understood that I was about to spill the beans, as he patiently waited for me to finish preparing the tea and sit on the counter next to him.

“Someone came to visit me today.” I started.

“Can you please get to the point already?” He was starting to get exasperated. “Who visited you?”

I braced myself for impact, not really sure why.

“Owen’s grandmother.”

Victor stared at me for a moment, although I knew he wasn’t seeing me at all. I could almost hear the wheels turn inside his head, analyzing all the implications of such a visit. In a second, his relaxed expression was gone, replaced with a steely look and his characteristic poker face.

“What does she want?” Victor’s eyes were set on the counter as he spoke, cold and emotionless.

“She says she has changed, and was looking for her daughter to reconcile, when she found she was dead. She wants to see Owen.”

“You told her no.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a statement. It almost felt like a warning.

“I told her Rebecca didn’t want her seeing Owen, and that she should respect her wishes.”

“Did she say anything about the adoption?”

“Only that she knew we were adopting him and she knew he was safe, and that she wouldn’t interfere with it.” I sighed. “Victor, I think she has really changed. She wants to do well by Owen.”

“You want to let her see him?” He frowned at me.

And there it was, the reason why I had been so nervous the entire time. I was indeed inclined to facilitate things, and I knew Victor wouldn’t be. I was afraid we would fight.

“You believe in her?” He raised his voice, seeing I was hesitant to answer.

“I believe people can make terrible mistakes, but they can also change. I’ve seen it countless times with my mother’s patients.” I kept my tone calm, hoping Victor would adjust his. “Besides, it’s his grandmother.”

“Correction: it’s his abusive grandmother, who his mother tried to keep away from him. In fact, we have a letter stating exactly that, that she doesn’t want her mother near her son. So no, she doesn’t get to visit him.”

I suddenly remembered the reason why I came to Loveland, to make a life for myself, to let go of my past, and still it followed me wherever I went. And even though the circumstances were different, even though Pamela was the abuser and not the abused, I couldn’t help but feel angry at the thought that she was trying to do the same thing I did, make a better life for herself, only to have her past following her as well. And that, I could not tolerate.

“So what? She gets endless punishment for her sins? She doesn’t have the right to turn her life around, correct her mistakes?”

“Not this again, Andrea.” He shook his head. “This is just like my father, you wanted us to allow him to get closer, look where it brought us.”

“So now I’m supposed to take the blame for your father’s actions?” I raised my voice. “All I wanted was for you to have a good relationship with him! All I did was for your happiness!”

“I almost punched my father on our wedding day! How much happiness do you think that brought me?”

“Well, I’m sorry, Victor, I really am!” I threw my hands in the air. “I’m sorry I convinced you to give your father a second chance, and I’m sorry he didn’t take it! I am really sorry that he was such a prick, but that is not an excuse to act like one!”

My voice echoed through the apartment, only to be met with silence. Victor stared at me, eyes wide, surprised at my outburst, while I paced back and forth, trying to calm myself down.

“We are going about this the wrong way.” He spoke softly after a while. “Come here.”

I kept on pacing.

“Andy, come here. I don't want to fight.” He pulled me by the wrist to stand in front of him. I couldn’t even look him in the eyes, still feeling somewhat frustrated.

“Look at me.” He held my chin softly, coaxing me into looking at him. “I don't blame you for my father’s actions, and I don’t blame you for trying to bring us closer. I know you meant well.”

Victor pulled me closer to him, enveloping me with his strong arms. I couldn’t help but melt in them, my anger suddenly gone.

“See, this is the exact reason why I fell in love with you, and incidentally why you fell in love with me. You have this ability to see the best in people, their potential, even if they can’t see it themselves.” He spoke into my hair, gently, while one of his hands laced its fingers with mine. “But sometimes, there is no best. There is no potential. Some people simply won’t change, even if they try to convince you they will. It’s just wishful thinking.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his chest. He wasn’t being a prick, he was being protective, like he always was. And I loved him for it.

“So maybe instead of a final no, we can decide for a not yet.” He continued. “I will do some research on the grandmother, see if she really turned her life around like she says she did. But until then, we respect Owen’s mother’s last wishes. What do you say?”

“I say I’m sorry.” My voice trembled slightly. “For calling you a prick. I don’t know why I’m so invested in this, but I am. I got carried away.”

“Because you have a kind heart and you believe in happy endings.” He smiled warmly at me. “There is nothing wrong with that.”

He was right. I did believe in happy endings. More than that, I desperately needed to believe in reinvention, and in becoming a better person, worthy of a better outcome. Because, in fact, that was all I was hoping for me. To let go of my past fully, and embrace my future with my new family. To fully let go of the Andrea I was before, and be the Andrea I fought so hard to be.

[musedblues]

Born To Love You [Part: 2]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there's no telling if he even has a clue.

a/n: Lads. I can't possibly thank you lot enough all the lovely wonderful feedback. 💖 I hope you'll enjoy the second installment of all this drama! Please don't be afraid to keep sharing your thoughts, feelings, and/or predictions?! And if I forgot to tag you, or you'd like to be tagged, let me know!

w/c: 4k

Part 3

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Oh my God." You chuckled, raking your eyes over Gwilym's figure. He was dressed in ivory clogs, velvet bell-bottoms, a silk button-up, and a wig of black curls. You couldn't help but giggle.

"What, does it look bad?"

"No, no... not bad!" You eased, laughing still. "Just... so not you!" You nodded his way. Olive clung to your side, trying to figure out if the man standing before you was really her father. He really did look like Brian May, didn't he?

"Well, that is the goal," Gwilym waved you to follow close behind, the sound of his clogs heavy against the concrete floor. He rested his palm on the small of your back, then. The way he did when guiding you through big crowds or supermarkets anytime Olive was in your clutch. So it felt normal. But you all too suddenly realized the act was officially starting.

Ben was walking toward the trailers too, shrugging on a dapper camel leather coat when he noticed you.

"Well, Hello! Is the famous Mrs. Lee really gracing us with her presence on our set, today?" The striking blonde flashed a brilliant smile your way as he stepped in time with your fake husband.

So now, not only were you going by a name that wasn't yours at all, but you were famous for it? You realized then that if you wanted to change your mind, to confess, it was already too late. There was no time to heave a sigh, you were already playing along...

"Hello, Ben. Nice wig." You rose your brows, noticing the strands of blonde around his pretty face. Long hair suited him.

"That's not fair!" Gwilym chuckled. You let out a playful wince because no matter how hard you tried to take Gwilym seriously with a 70's perm, you couldn't.

"It's the clogs, mate." Ben joined forces with you, giving you a sly smirk. You just had to snicker once more, because Gwilym looked like a completely different person.

"I'm to meet Anita tomorrow, you know?" Gwilym fretted in a high pitch.

"Aye, then don't wear the clogs." Ben countered.

Even Olive giggled like she was in on the joke. Gwilym scrunched his nose in her direction as everyone went on poking fun at him.

After last night, neither of you addressed his slip up, or your decision to stoop to his level. You simply went on with some kind of unspoken understanding that if anyone asked, you'd give the same false answers about your relationship status, every time. That had never been true to this degree. Till now you'd given varied answers, revolving around the truth of your relationship. Now, you were flat out lying. Now you were pretending to be married.

So, you'd been nervous, prepared for some kind of overblown press conference where this new group of friends would dig for details about your life as a couple. But you hadn't seen many of them yet, and the ones you had were busy anyway, lost in their own roles.

You spent a while patiently lingering in Gwils trailer while he was called to set, hoping your time here would remain just as easy going as it had been. When he came back for a costume change, you left the space to Gwil, and let Olive wander around behind the scenes, meandering slowly by her side as she stumbled every few steps or so. And like she knew where she was off to all along, the girl led you right toward some of her father's castmates, who were mucking about on a makeshift stage.

Joe was doing some dance that had Ben doubled over with laughter. It was the first time you saw his perm in all its wonder as he jumped from a platform, noticing you. He was already smiling at the way he'd made Ben laugh, but his grin reached his eyes, crinkling a little when your gazes met. When you smiled back, unabashedly, you realized that you were treading very dangerous waters.

You'd been so blindsided by Gwilym's blunder that you'd nearly forgotten just how dazzling Joe's presence was.

Don't look right at him. There's nothing to worry about. You told yourself. He was just apart of the cast.

"Hello, ladies." Joe mused, sauntering toward you as Ben shook off his laughter and followed close behind. Olive reached out to Joe, and attempted to say his name after you greeted him kindly. You'd spent the morning listening to her practice the words she'd already perfected, and hoped a new one would stick out among the few others.

You scoped Olive up out of the way as both actors stopped before you.

"No, no, say Ben! Like before!" Ben coaxed your child to like him the best. She almost had said his name the night before. Now, Olive listened to Ben's plea with a bashful grin, and then shook her head, deciding against obliging the blonde.

"Joe!" Olive leaned away from you, pointing to the actor whose name she spoke clear as a bell.

"Oh my God! Yes! That's me!" Joe laughed, giving Ben a playful jab to really establish his excitement.

"Joe." Olive giggled at these antics and said his name perfectly a second time.

"She'll never stop now." You laugh in realization. You and Gwil called them 'words of the day.' She only knew about four others, but once she'd gotten one just right, she'd say it for hours on end.

"And here I've worked so hard to be your favorite." Ben shook his head at Olive, who looked at him but was still giggling and pointing to Joe. She'd clearly taken a sudden liking to him. Maybe it was his perm, you thought. Joe continued to dance around victoriously until the boy's names were called by some PA. You took the moment to rush back to Gwilym's trailer, but couldn't help and glance over your shoulder to catch one last glimpse of Joe as he frolicked the opposite direction. As he danced away, you noticed Joe looking behind too; casting a small wave you missed as you whipped your head back around and hurried away a little faster.

///

Brian May seemed more like a cheery grandfather, than the musical legend you'd known him to be through screens over the years. It was hard for you to understand that the rosy-cheeked, white-haired man with a kind smile was responsible for some of rock and rolls most iconic sounds. He was standing before you with long arms outstretched, and you'd be a fool not to embrace Brian for all it was worth.

You saved fawning over his legacy in exchange for expressing your excitement that this opportunity gave Gwilym. Your fake husband was on cloud nine at the mention of Bohemian Rhapsody, and stepping onto the set with him another morning in a row was like watching the sunrise.

The next time you saw him, he was clad in the silly black wig and a shining silver button up. Olive was still unsure how to handle seeing her father all dolled up, but she released her death grip on you as Gwilym spoke to the baby in a familiar way. He shook some of the curls out of his eyes and that scored a giggle from Olive; you practically breathed a sigh of relief. It was then, as you were successfully functioning as co-parents, that Brian May brought his lovely wife Anita into the room.

You weren't sure what Gwyilm had told Brian, but even if he'd never mentioned you at all, you knew how this scene looked. You'd seen the faces of strangers in passing as they watched you and Gwilym minding your own business, pushing a strolling through the park. Brian May and his lovely wife were looking at you and Gwilym like that now, albeit, Anita was seeing Gwilym as the younger version of her husband for the first time.

For a moment it was all gasped laughter and starry-eyed stares as Brian snapped photos of his beloved with his clone. Gwilym was a pro at bantering with the lady, almost as if his nerves leading up to this moment never existed at all. Anita spent a moment smiling at Olive in your arms, making your baby smile.

Gwilym took her from you, walking toward the craft table when Joe called his name. The sound of the man's voice caught your attention all the same. Against your better judgment, you stared past everyone and glued your eyes to the actor whose auburn curls were hidden below a giant hooded coat.

"Oh, you lucky girl. What more could you ask for?" Anita gushed. It was then you tore your gaze from Joe and watched Olive pull at a couple of Gwilym faux curls. It was a sweet sight, but Anita's pure swooning made your heart sink.

Between Gwilym and Olive, you were the picture of perfection. You appeared to have everything you'd ever wanted, but you had your sights on someone you'd never have a shot with in a million years. And for what? Just because he was so damn pretty? A pang of terrible, horrible guilt seeped into your being as you watch Brian approach Gwilym with some joke. You had everything you'd ever wanted. A whole family. How could you possibly think you deserved someone else, someone all your own? You were lucky enough as it were.

When Gwil scampered onto set, leaving you and Olive in the craft service area to mingle with the leftover stagehands, you took a deep breath and watched him walk away. You realized that even if your heart didn't hammer for the father of your child, he was always there when you needed him. And Gwilym obviously wanted you around all the same. You realized that you didn't have to be in love with him to be happy to have him.

Then and there, you decided that you were going to give this whole fake marriage deal your most real shot.

///

You traveled back to the home you'd made of your Airbnb around lunchtime, taking the long way to enjoy a pocket park you spotted a day ago. While you pushed Olive in a swing, your thoughts about your current situation kept wandering further away from logical sense as you tried to understand them.

You spent the rest of the afternoon reading books to your daughter and kicking yourself for sulking over selfish desires.

Gwilym finally arrived back long after bedtime, apologizing in a whisper when the commotion of his arrival stirred you from sleep. He looked well exhausted, rubbing a spot on the back of his neck with a wince as he kicked his shoes off.

"Come here, sit." You patted the edge of the queen-sized bed as Gwylim monitored your body language. He was a bit hesitant but because of the assured look in your eyes, he felt comfortable enough to follow your directions.

"Take that jacket off." You suggested. You'd done this once, but the circumstances were different. If Gwilym was put off now, you couldn't tell as he rid himself of a layer, only a thin white shirt between you and his tense muscles. You placed either hand on either of his shoulders and that was a green enough light for Gwilym to start talking.

He told you about his unusually long day and the little things that kept going wrong. You massaged his broad shoulders the best you could and felt his body relax under your touch.

You listened to his rambles of annoyance and exhaustion. The castmates he'd made fast friends of seemed to be beacons of bright white light over the long evening of work.

"Rami is just electric. It's impossible to feel poorly in his presence- I mean the guy just has this way about him." Gwilym laughed, humming in pleasure when your fingers dug into just the right spot of his back.

"Lucy is one lucky gal. They're a perfect match." You mentioned, slowing your massage when your fingers started to ache. Gwil went on after agreeing to your comment...

"And Ben is just so easy going. It's like, if he's doing alright then I should be doing alright." You agreed and admitted how you'd already felt close to Ben. Gwilym admitted to feeling the same when they'd first met, then he kept going... "And then there's Joe. He's just... Hey! He told me Olive said his name, today." Gwilym turned to you with a proud grin. "Why hadn't you mention that?"

Because, you'd promised yourself you wouldn't keep thinking of Joe, in order to avoid the way your palms grew sweaty when you did. So you'd forgotten to mention the incident, knowing if you spoke Joe's name it would probably come out through an embarrassing saccharine sigh.

Now, you just gave Gwil a nervous hum as you slipped your hands away from his shoulders. He kept a studying gaze set on you while you moved away, hoping he couldn't read your expression.

But Gwil knew that look. He'd only seen you pull that face a couple of times, during rom-coms you watched together, and once at a wedding he dragged you along to. And then, like some kind of psychic vision, Gwilym realized, that was the expression pressed among your features when you'd met Joe. When Gwilym was too busy sneaking up to steal his friend's hat to register your longing gaze, then. But everything seemed clear now...

"You like him." Gwil let out a bright laugh, like a kid at a slumber party who was way more excited to play truth or dare than anyone else.

There was no use lying to Gwil, he was the only one who'd been in on the whole truth, anyway. Complicating things by denying what he'd found out was pointless.

But there was also no point in having a conversation about it, like you could tell Gwilym wanted to. There wasn't anything to discuss.

"Go get cleaned up and get some sleep, Gwil." You spoke quietly, turning away from him completely.

He kept a watchful eye on you for a beat, before slowly floating toward the bathroom. And when he was alone with this new realization, Gwyilm felt a pang of regret for being so selfish. Who was he to hold you captive here in this rented flat? To call you someone you weren't? Why was his pride a priority? Why didn't you care about your own wants and desires? He hoped you realized you could call this thing off anytime you wanted...

As you turned off the bedside lamp your mind kept racing. Had you ever even been in love? How did you know what you wanted? Through the fog of your scattered thoughts, came a clear vision of the man you ran into a few nights ago.

You thought of Joe and the way he looked at you, how his glance said just as much as his carefully chosen words, when you met.

Why did Joe feel so compelled to greet you with such a loaded statement? Could he have possibly felt the same buzz in his chest as you felt when your eyes met? Did it even matter?

///

"We have a guest!" Gwilym called as he pushed past the front door.

You sat up a little from your slump on the floor where you'd been sorting through playing blocks that your daughter wasn't even paying attention to anymore.

You shouldn't have been surprised to see Joe walk in behind Gwil, both men laughing at something as they entered the room. Of course, you were expecting one of the cast- but, you still hadn't managed to quell the silly little feelings that fluttered in your chest for Joe.

"What a lovely surprise." You smiled, because it was still true that you were glad to see the guy. It had been a couple of days.

"Everyone went their separate ways today, I thought Joseph might enjoy some company outside of the studio."

Gwil reached for his friend's shoulder as you stood to your feet to meet them. It was a nice gesture. Rami had Lucy, and Ben had his family in the city. Even Gwil had someone to end each day with. Joe must have felt lonely, here on his own. And you hated to think he might have been.

"Well, you're just in time to fight over what's for lunch." You chuckled, gazing at Joe. It took all of your focus not to bask in the sparkle beaming from his deep colored eyes.

Gwilym went on saying apologizing for still not having gone grocery shopping, hating the thought of dining out again, but listed off all the best restaurants in the area.

Then, with a look that let you know he knew exactly what he was doing, Gwilym took Olive into the other room for a change, leaving you and Joe alone.

"I bet it's nice to have an early day off. I hear the shoots are getting more intense." You started in on a polite conversation, all while putting a few toys back where they belonged so you wouldn't have to look right at Joe.

It was easier when Gwil and Olive were around, they were your barrier. Now, you had to keep total control of letting your feelings show, without anything to project them toward.

Joe seemed none the wiser, leaning against the door frame of the small balcony, glancing out of the glass doors to the trees that reached above the iron of the railing.

"Yeah, you could say that." He let out a breath of a laugh. "Telling this band's story, the emotions run high."

Your conversation floated on like that, quite seamlessly. Joe eased into rambles about acting that saved you from speaking up and making a fool of yourself. You listened fondly, and nearly let yourself stare at his mouth as it moved to speak. But that's when Gwil reappeared with Olive wobbling to catch up with him, as he boisterously asked who was ready for lunch. Your daughter raised her little arm, and everyone's focus shifted to how freaking sweet she was.

The next thing you knew, you wound up on the terrace of some hip bistro. You settled into a conversation as quickly as you ordered meals and proceeded to have a surprisingly good time.

Gwil persuaded Joe to do most of the talking. Joe was good at carrying on, but it wasn't an annoying drone. He spoke about things he had a clear passion for. And when he paused to ask your own opinions, you pushed for him to keep speaking, instead. You could have listened forever, and not just because it was easier that way. The sound of Joe's voice was like music to your ears, something about him you could enjoy without giving yourself away.

When Gwil left to get drinks at the bar. He asked what either of you wanted, and you said nothing, hoping he'd come back sooner that way.

You weren't just going to blurt out a confession to Joe, but you were so afraid of chipping your resolve. Letting your gaze lingering too long. Saying the wrong thing when no one else was around to hear.

Thankfully, Olive was occupying the space between the two of you. And the second Gwil left, the kid threw her head back with a sorry groan.

"He'll be back." You reminded, reaching over to cease her whines as she melted into a puddle in her highchair.

As you attempted to assure your babe that there was no reason to fuss so theatrically, Joe leaned over on the other side of the table disappearing for a beat and popping back into view with something in his grasp.

It was Olive's favorite toy bat. Joe handed the plastic animal to Olive who took it as she sniveled. Your daughter must have dropped the thing during lunch and you hadn't at all noticed. But Joe did.

"Jesus, thank you." You let out a small laugh.

Joe grinned, shooing away your thanks. But his attempts at saving the day were barely passable- Olive had almost disregarded the toy completely.

"She's probably due for a nap." You sighed in all honesty, explaining how the surprise trip out had disrupted that schedule. 

"Me too kid." Joe looked at Olive like they were on the same page.

"Joe." Olive perfectly and pathetically whimpered, reaching out to him. And without missing a beat, the guy reached back and let her fingers latch onto his. The sight of Olive holding Joe's hand would have melted your heart if it wasn't beating so fiercely.

"You don't have to- ya know," You began to give Joe a way out of his attempts to give into Olives demands of him, but he was already shaking his head before he cut you off.

"I don't mind. She's adorable." He chuckled warmly, watching Olive bring her favorite bat to her chest while her other hand stayed attached to Joe's.

And while your mind seemed to still and capture every little detail of the scene, he spoke up again.

"She looks a lot like you." As if that was a reason he was endeared to the baby.

And if the comment wasn't enough, his tone was all too reminiscent of when you'd run into meeting each other. You wondered if he'd meant any of what he said to you, that night.

Gwil floated back to the table with a drink for himself and his pal. You shot him a look, hoping he realized you were begging him never to abandon you with Joe ever again. Especially if he wanted this whole lie to work.

The alarm bells that whirred louder each second you'd been in left alone, faded when Joe started rambling to you and Gwil as a pair.

And then it was easy as ever, sharing stories, ideas, and laughs. Were you more yourself when Gwil was around or were you just better at hiding behind him? Whatever, you were having a good time.

In fact, Olive fell asleep in your lap while the three of you went on chatting for another hour or so.

When the afternoon was pushing into the evening, you decided to head home since the boys had another early day on set. And when Gwil walked ahead of everyone to fasten Olive in her car seat, your eye caught Joe's. His forest colored gaze on you was evocative of the first time you'd met. Maybe it was because Gwilym was so far ahead, and no one else was looking. Or maybe it was all in your head.

///

Gwilym dropped you at the Airbnb and left to drive Joe back to his. You settled in for the evening and went about your regular rountine; all while you wondered what kept Gwil so long.

He made it back as the night turned black, looking rather pleased with himself. If you had it your way; you would have gone to bed without speaking too directly. But as became the norm this week, Gwil was on another page, annoucing his way through the rented flat...

"So I've invited Joe on our next day off. I know we've been talking about going out for the day, I thought he'd like to tag along again." Gwil reported as he entered the room with a happy smile.

You knew Gwil's heart was in the right place. You knew he was only attempting to be a good friend. But you also knew Gwil knew of your feelings perfectly well, how they could threaten to turn this whole pretend game upside down. And he hadn't even asked you before he'd invited Joe dangerously close, again.

"Well alright." You grinned through a confused sigh, entirely busy rocking Olive to sleep to get too upset.

Gwil knew you were though. And he hadn't expected you to be.

"What's the matter? I thought you liked Joe." Gwilym wondered as he collected his bedclothes. Surely you'd be glad for the excuse to hang around the guy, right? That was the whole reason he invited him over today in the first place...

"That is the matter." You laughed, feeling defeated and defensive all at once.

If Gwil was so insistent on bringing his newfound friend around, you were going to really need to hone in on your connection to your fake husband. You were going to have to make it seem like you had with Gwil, what everyone really believed came naturally. And you were going to have to act like something spectacular didn't occur when Joe turned his attention to you.

And that sucked.

You shushed Gwilym for carrying on the conversation as Olive started to fall asleep. He left for the bathroom with a strange look on his face, like he was trying to solve an impossible equation.

Gwilym was in the shower, and your daughter was silent in her cot, and you couldn't stop thinking of Joe. It made you sick. The harder you tried to shake his image from your brain, the brighter it became. You shuffled into the kitchen for a glass of cold water but only ended up staring at the wall.

Gwilym found you there, in the middle of the kitchen, fixated on nothing. He spoke your name to grab your attention and shuffled cautiously to find out what your deal was.

"Andy said something to me once," You spoke up in the quiet. "After I had a real shite first date. I excepted the night to be magical. But it was shite. And Andy said, 'What if your love takes time? What if you fall for someone so slowly you don't even realize, till your eighty and sharing a house by the sea?'"

You waved your hands around, trying to connect dots with a tethered, imaginary string. It was a long shot. But you had to take it.

"Y/N, what are you saying?" Gwilym cautioned, pressing the heels of his hands down on the counter behind him as he calmly tried to rationalize your blabbering in the dark.

"I think you should kiss me." You looked toward Gwilym as an imaginary lightbulb flickered above your head. "Maybe... maybe we have what we didn't think we did before this whole thing started. And we won't know till we kiss. Until we try again."

You stood as if to challenge Gwil, and he was looking at you like he'd already watched this whole scene play out and was waiting for you to catch up. But you didn't dare blink until he did.

"Gwil... please. Just once." You practically begged, like a kid.

"Will that seriously make you feel better about this?" Gwil's face subtly twisted into concern, but he was moving toward the middle of the room, toward you.

You nodded quickly, looking up to Gwil as he stood to face you. You zeroed in on Gwilym's ocean colored eyes, searching for something you'd seen the likes of in there, before. Right when a familiar sheen flooded his gaze, Gwilym closed the gap. He cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

Gwilym proceeded to kiss you like a Disney prince trying to wake up a damsel. His soft lips melded against yours, and your mouths both opened like clockwork, like back when you used to practice this together. You rested your palms on Gwilym's broad shoulders as he kissed you breathlessly. When his movements slowed, your grip ever so slightly tightened on his shoulders, trying to hold onto the moment.

Gwil's lips moved away from yours, but he held your arms in place, like trying to steady you after a big fall. Your insides mimicked the plummet from great heights, but you were on both feet and there was a draft where something warmer should have burned.

"Was that... what you wanted?" Gwilym asked wearily. Because he really must have already known the answer. You kept your grip on his shoulder and leaned your head against his collarbone; the world's most pathetic hug.

"You're a damn good kisser." You sighed, but not longingly. You handed this statement out like a congratulatory honorable mention ribbon. There were no winners tonight. Gwilym slowly enclosed you in a real hug, smoothing back your hair and heaving his own sorry sigh. He brought either of his hands to the sides of your head and pressed one last lingering kiss to your forehead as a sadly bubbling frustration brewed inside you.

"Maybe... we better come clean, yeah?" Gwilym lightly suggested, rubbing your arms and looking to you as if nothing had just happened, as if nothing changed. It hadn't. "And then, maybe Joe-"

"No." You really couldn't let him finish that sentence. "No, Gwilym. You have to finish this movie without any drama. I'll just get over myself and by the time we leave for home I'll be fine, and no one will have any reason to believe otherwise."

"Y/n." Gwilym seemed to warn. His grip loosely fell away from you as you started to leave the kitchen.

"Just come to bed, please." You gestured toward the quiet room. "We can't be normal, Gwil."

But you could go on pretending, like always. Because Gwilym was an actor. And you wanted what you saw in him badly enough to keep playing along.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

taglist: @sonic-volcano​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @redspecialty​ @itscale​ @stardust-killer-queen​ @joemazzelo​ @dancetohotspace​ @kiwi-hardy​ @joeneslee​ @borhapqueen92​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @johndeaconshands​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @beepbeephardy​ @slutforbritdick​ @joemazzmatazz​ @almightygwil​

[science-lings]

Hey I saw you were asking for prompts/AUs, so I thought I'd send one in! Could you write an Irondad Foster Kid Peter and Foster Parent Tony AU? Lots of hurt/comfort or fluff?

There were few things that motivated Tony more than the need to become better. Better than he was, better than he was treated, good enough to deserve the praise that he was given so freely. Normally he wouldn’t even consider becoming a father. He felt as though he was doomed to repeat his own father’s sins. His heart always sunk when someone told him how similar he was to his late father. There was no one he hated being compared to more. Well, that wasn’t quite true, he also hated being compared to Captain America when he was a kid. Still, Tony’s father wasn’t exactly his hero. 

It started when he began to visit orphanages when he couldn’t sleep, restricting himself to rocking babies, and occasionally when he was left alone with them, he sang lullabies. He liked the feeling of helping someone, a very small someone who didn’t know who he was or that he was important. He liked it when they fell asleep in his arms. 

That expanded to him telling stories to older kids on days that he had time. He found himself buying hundreds of picture books to read to them, starting out slightly awkward and flippant but turning more animated and dramatic as he discovered which voices made the kids laugh. 

When he ran out of books to read and songs to sing, he created his own. Making up stories of heroes and bad guys, the kids loved those ones. Full of epic battles and cameos from the other avengers, when he wanted to switch it up he told the stories in different settings. He portrayed himself as a golden king with a dragon, fighting monsters with his knight friends for his kingdom, as a zombie killing ninja trying to find a cure for the zombie plague, and when requested, he was a Jedi knight fighting Darth Vader. 

Sometimes the kids asked dumb questions about the story, and sometimes they’d ask very smart questions phrased only in the strange way that only a child can. 

Over the years, Tony got closer to the kids, but one in particular really piqued his interest. The boy was one of the oldest there, almost fourteen. He was very quiet and almost crazy smart. Tony didn’t know how smart a junior high student was supposed to be but it was nowhere near this kid was. He loved science books and any high tech Tony brought near him. There were almost visible stars in his eyes when he got to see the Iron Man suit up close. 

Tony never wanted to be a father but this nerdy kid, Peter, was really tugging at his heartstrings in a way that he had never really experienced. Not many kids could sit through his purposefully complicated explanation of the arc reactor but Peter did so with such enthusiasm that he couldn’t help but dig the old one out of storage to show it off. 

He learned about Peter, that his parents died when he was six and he was taken in by his uncle and aunt, who also died a few years after. That he used to wear glasses but had grown out of them, that he had always wanted to be a hero like Iron Man. Tony made sure to mention to the kid that being a hero is not as great as it looks on TV and Peter just looked at him and whispered that he knew. Tony had a weird feeling when he said that. It was too understanding.

Pepper had suggested it, after hearing him talk about the kid for weeks and seeing him look pensive at the sight of alcohol and become more responsible instead of pretending to be a larger than life celebrity that the world saw him as. She could tell that he was ready. 

It took a lot of paperwork and time but eventually Tony was able to become a foster parent for Peter. Tony wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea to go as far as to adopt the kid, he knew that there would be someone better for him out there that knew more about actual parenting but at least he was extremely well off and had the stability that would be very helpful for a genius child. The closest he had to a parenting guide was a mental list of Howard's behaviors and a promise to himself that he would do the exact opposite. 

The adjustment period was weird, neither of them really knew how to act but after enough movie nights and long periods of time in Tony’s lab, they got used to their new normal. They just fit together like perfectly placed gears, they understood each other so well. Sure, Tony wasn’t the perfect dad-figure, but he tried so hard and cared so much. He did his best and he truly knew Peter like he was his own kid. 

This was why he knew exactly when something was wrong. Peter came home bruised, he would try to start a conversation as if it were something important then chicken out after bringing it up. He would sneak into the lab when he knew Tony was busy and spend whole afternoons after school “with friends” even though Tony was fully aware that there was only one of those. 

At first Tony thought that Peter was getting bullied. But the pieces didn’t quite fit, so he decided to confront Peter about it. 

It was late, Peter had tried to hide a limp when he got to the penthouse like he had twisted his ankle and was treating it as gently as possible. Tony was waiting for him. Peter looked at him nervously before trying to shuffle to his room. 

“You know kid, I’m trying to give you your privacy and all but I’m really starting to get worried about you.” Tony held out Twix bar like an olive branch. An offering of sorts. 

“I’m fine... is this about P.E.? You know I’m trying to get my grade up...” Peter took the candy bar and sat down carefully next to his foster father, still trying to hide whatever was hurting him. 

“No, no. I’m not worried about school for you, You’re probably as smart as I was at your age and you actually care about your education. No, I’m worried about you. I want to know what’s going on with you. Are you being bullied? Is someone hurting you? Did you try to kick a steel pillar? What?” Peter seemed to go a little pale and he was quiet for a minute. Tony just waited for any sort of reply. 

“I uh...” Peter started after a long pause, “Can you promise that you won’t be mad.” Tony thought for a moment of his own father's outbursts of rage when he wasn’t perfect when he didn’t live up to Howard's astronomical expectations. 

“I don’t think I could ever truly be mad at you Pete. You could probably kill someone and I trust you enough to realize that they deserved it somehow and take you to therapy or something. Being angry never really helps anyone, I mean aside from Bruce Banner, he has some benefits from being angry once in a while.” He saw Peter sigh in relief. 

“I... I’ve been lying to you. I’m not who you think I am.” He said quietly. 

“What, are you like a jock or something. Do you play basketball and want to audition for a musical? I think you would be pretty good in a musical.” This caused Peter to crack a little smile but normally he would laugh at a joke like that. Tony realized that this might actually be serious. 

“No, I’m not Troy Bolton, I... something happened to me a while ago. I know it sounds crazy but I-got-superpowers-from a-radioactive-spider-and-I-kinda-became-a-small-time-vigilante-that-thwarts-like-bank-thieves-and-creepy-dudes-that-stalk-women.” He said the last part quickly like if he said it fast enough Tony wouldn’t completely process the information or not hear it completely. Tony did in fact hear all of the information. 

“You know... that’s not what I thought you’d say but I’d be lying if I said that I was completely surprised by the fact that when you gained superpowers you immediately turned to helping people,” Tony said after a few seconds of processing what had been revealed. “I do think you need to reevaluate my standards for crazy because I work with spies and a Norse god and a guy that survived being frozen and patriotic for seventy years and that isn’t even it. Out of weirdness standards, spider super-kids are not even in the top five. I mean we had an alien invasion not too long ago this world is full of weird shit. Don’t tell Pepper that I said a bad word in front of you...” 

“Yeah and I think I broke my leg.”

“WHAT!” 

[eirabach]

Risky Business [1/1]

Here’s the rest of yesterday’s six sentences. They grew. For @olliepig and @onereyofstarlight, with love.

Yes, I wrote fluff. I feel weird about it too.

AO3

He asks her after a rescue, adrenaline and relief making him brave -- far braver than he'd had to be to dive into a bottomless chasm, anyway. Though part of him wonders if it isn't pretty much the same thing.

It's not like he's going to casually date Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, is it?

It feels a bit all or nothing, this. A risky business. And yeah sure, so she’s kissed him. Twice, actually. Three times. He hasn’t actually lost count of the number of times she’s thrown her arms around his neck, obviously. It’s just he’s replayed them all so many times, so very many times, that maybe they’re kinda blurring into one long, beautiful moment and really -- really he’d like the chance to lose count, that’s all.

First he has to actually get the words out. It’s easier said than done. 

"So, what do you think? Would you -- would you like that? With me?"

She smiles across the holocomm, wide and genuine and yeah, all or nothing. All or nothing and he's betting it all on the curl of her lips.

"Dinner? Yes. Yes I rather think I would."

---

“You’re not serious?”

Scott prowls around him, dark brows pulled low over narrow eyes. Sweat prickles at the back of Gordon’s neck, some evolutionary response finely honed by twenty five years of little brotherhood. 

“Uh, yes?” he manages, any other words choked out by the way Scott steps forward and pulls on his collar.

“It’s orange.” 

“I like orange.”

From the couch Virgil makes a strange, whining sound. “It’s dayglo, Gords.”

“So I’m gonna be easy to spot, yeah?”

Above them John hovers, arms folded, judgement clear. “Are you taking her to Coachella?”

“Maybe.” He bats at Scott’s hands. “Will you -- geroff, Scott!”

“It’s no good,” Scott sighs, radiating disappointment, “he’s a hopeless case. Virgil?”

“I have to concur.” Gordon scowls at his supposed wingman, but Virgil just shakes his head, “No hope at all.”

“Maybe Lady Penelope’s like a dog though?” Alan pipes up. “Like, what if she can only see super bright things? She likes pink, right? Maybe that’s why!”

“Please,” John again, a floating Greek chorus to Gordon’s ever mounting misery, “don’t compare Lady P to a dog. You’ll give him ideas. And anyway the canine eye only has --”

“Enough already! Ugh! Fine!” In one swift movement he whips the offending shirt -- his best  shirt, as it happens -- over his head and tosses it to the floor. It lies there, a crumpled, accusatory heap, while Gordon crosses his arms over his bare chest and glares. 

“You win,” he snarls. “I’ll go like this, yeah?”

Scott shrugs. “Could work.”

“Not very subtle though,” Virgil says.

“Just about right then,” mutters John.

“Won’t you be cold?”

Gordon grits his teeth and blows out, hard. “I hate you all.”

“No you don’t,” Scott says mildly. “You love us. And --” He steps forward, squeezes Gordon’s bare shoulder with a grin. Against his will, Gordon half leans into it. There’s an unsteadiness to him, deep down and working its way out, and as much as he wants to slap his brothers sometimes -- sometimes he really doesn’t. “You can even borrow my shirt.”

---

Parker is practically vibrating as he hands over the keys to FAB 0. Well, sort of hands. Really Gordon has to practically unfurl the man’s death grip then snatch them away. Parker’s eye twitches, and it’s probably just as well that Gordon isn’t the supernaturally concerned type because if there was ever a man willing a curse on another he’s pretty sure he’d be screwed.

“You look h’after her,” Parker spits, and Gordon would toss him a salute, he would, but he thinks he might get punched. And Scott will kill him if he gets blood on his borrowed shirt.

“I got it,” he says, then, shooting for reassurance, “you taught me to drive, remember?”

Despite the deathglare, Parker visibly pales. “I remember.” Then, leaning in just a touch too far to be comfortable, “I weren’t talkin’ about the car.”

Penelope, already ensconced in the front passenger seat, leans out of the open window with a sigh. “Gentlemen, if you’re quite finished?”

Parker snaps back to attention, and Gordon fiddles with his shirtsleeves, abashed.

“Of course, your Ladyship.”

“Sorry, Pen.” 

He slips into the driver’s seat and tries very hard to ignore the flames he’s sure Parker is burning into his back. After a moment of confusion -- why are there so many keys on this thing? -- FAB 0 judders into life and makes somewhat lurching progress down the manor’s driveway. He brakes at the end, looking both ways as Parker had instructed, then almost jumps out of his skin as Penelope’s hand comes to rest on his thigh.

“Gordon?” He doesn’t look at her. There’s a dark mark in the distance. Could be another car. Could be Thunderbird One. Could be his heart which appears to have leapt straight out of his chest and made a run for it. “Are you quite all right?”

“Yeah, yeah -- fine, uh -- are we clear left?”

He hears the way she exhales, and his heart returns only to sink into his very shiny shoes. 

“Clear left.”

God, he hopes the rest of the night is smoother than his clutch control.

---

The restaurant is -- nice. It’s small, perhaps ten tables all topped with stems of roses and unlit candles, and cosily intimate even without the dimmed lighting that makes every plate a mystery. Nor is it a place that’s registered on her radar before, tucked as it is into a narrow backstreet of a nowhere sort of town. There are no paparazzi at the windows, here, FAB 0’s arrival greeted only by the twitching of blinds and the hushed exclamations of a gang of teenage boys who’d been lingering on the corner. 

There's something a little furtive about it, about the way the door is locked behind them, the way she feels more than hears Gordon's intake of breath as she removes her furs. It gives her a little thrill, the way she can still feel the imprint of his hand on her lower back as he pulls her chair out, and she smooths out her skirt as she sits, once, twice, three times. Wills herself steady.

The kitchen door is slightly askew, the single waitress polishing the same wine glass over and over, and it occurs to her that everybody seems to be waiting for something. Someone. Across the table Gordon concentrates on the candle with enough force to set it alight. 

Oh.

“This is rather lovely,” she says, loud enough for the waitress to relax her grip on the wine glass slightly, “however did you find it?”

“Oh!” Gordon looks up, as though he’s surprised to find her sat there. “Bit of a -- work thing. You know. Gas leaks and -- yeah. You know.”

Penelope doesn’t know, actually, but she hums in agreement anyway and picks up the leather-bound menu.

“It’s all right though, right? You like it?”

He’s fiddling with his shirt cuffs again. They’re perhaps half an inch too long and a little too loose, so that the cufflinks he wears clink against the tabletop. It’s a nervous, silvery sort of sound that has Penelope dropping the menu and reaching out to cover both his hands with her own. 

“Of course I like it.” She smiles. Squeezes. “Don’t you?”

He half snorts, an undignified little thing, but then he’s turning his palms up, fingers coming to rest perfectly in the space between her own. 

“You’re here aren’t you? What’s not to love.”

She smiles, lets the tip of her tongue peek from between her teeth, “Well, obviously.”

She expects to feel satisfaction as the high colour of his cheeks spreads to the tips of his ears, down his throat, she doesn’t expect the thrill as his eyes darken, as he runs his thumb across the pulse point at her wrist.

“Hungry?”

Well then. Two can play at that game.

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

---

Gordon notices her inbetween mouthfuls of honeyed aubergine, blurred by the semi-frosted window glass, hopping from foot to foot before ducking away only to reappear half a moment later at another window. He tries to ignore her, concentrating instead on Penelope’s latest escapades with the World Council and offering, as best he can, ever more involved acts of vengeance she could turn to her advantage against the besuited middle aged idiots that fill most of the council seats. 

“There’s somebody behind me,” she says before taking a sip of her wine. “Isn’t there.”

The figure at the window shifts again. Gordon blinks.

“N-no?”

“Your eyes have been darting about as though they’re fit to leave your head for the last ten minutes, darling. Either there’s something behind me that has you concerned, or you are undergoing some form of medical emergency.”

Gordon groans. “My sister is insane. You know that, right?”

“Your sis- ?” Penelope twists round in her chair. The shadowy figure freezes on the spot, a rabbit caught in piercing blue headlights. “Tanusha,” she hisses, then, polite as can be, “Oh, pardon me?” She beckons to the waitress who scuttles over immediately. “There’s a young lady outside, and the weather is rather inclement. Would you mind inviting her in?”

The waitress looks at Gordon. Gordon shrugs the shrug of the damned. “Might as well. She’ll end up in the ceiling otherwise.”

Clearly perturbed by this oddest of statements, the waitress unlocks the door. Kayo sashays in as though she’s actually been invited.

Penelope’s smile turns wolfish. Gordon tops up his glass and wishes fervently that it contained something stronger than soda water.

Kayo, who is clearly a woman with no sense of self preservation whatsoever, drags a chair over from another table and, snagging an olive from Penelope’s plate, grins at the waitress. “Aren’t they cute? I think they’re super cute.”

The waitress makes a noise that Gordon translates as you’ve just lost me my tip, and returns to the relative safety of the bar at the end of the room.

“Who put you up to this? Was it Scott? Alan, I bet it was Alan. I’m going to leave anchovies in his boosters.”

“Try again.”

“Virgil?!”

“Nuh huh.” She reaches for another olive. Penelope snatches the plate away.

“John wouldn’t dare," she announces, and Kayo bows her head slightly in agreement.

"Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I let you see me didn't I?" She offers Gordon a sly sort of smirk. "Though your observation skills are appalling, Tracy."

"Maybe I had better things to be looking at."

Penelope giggles, and it's a dangerous sound, a dangerous sound that travels through every one of his nerves to settle at the base of his spine.

"You've been behind us since the last junction on the motorway, Thunderbird Shadow." This time when she smiles Penelope shows her teeth, and Gordon wonders exactly how much of a blood alcohol level it will take to get him grounded. "If you plan to spy on us at least do me the honour of doing so properly."

Kayo's expression sours.

"I wanted you to see me."

Gordon sighs. “Knew we shouldn’t have let you take a rotation on Five, they all lose it up there.”

"No -- I," Kayo pauses, almost flustered. "Would you believe I just wanted to make sure you things were ok? With you two?"

Gordon looks at Penelope. Penelope looks at Gordon. Kayo flicks at an olive stone with her nail.

"I meant it. You guys are super cute. I didn't want anyone messing it up."

"She's cracked." Gordon says, bemused. "Completely Space Crazy."

"Nonsense, darling." Penelope tuts. "We're adorable."

"Well I mean obviously I know that," he scoffs, "but Kayo?"

"Hey! I'm right here."

"Yes," says Penelope drolly, "so we can see." 

"Look, so I ship it, ok? You should be glad! Virgil only gave you a week max!"

"What are you shipp -- hey! A week?!"

Penelope shrugs apologetically in his direction. "I believe that's seven times longer than Parker would prefer."

"Um." The waitress hovers behind Kayo, tab in hand. "Will you be uh, eating too? Or would you like the bill?"

Gordon's suddenly, painfully aware of the silence from the kitchen, the air thick with held breath. Spectacle. The actual last thing he wanted, and here it is compliments of his own socially inept family.

"The bill, please."

Well. That’s that, then.

--

They make a rather awkward trifecta, gathered around the trunk of a bright pink Rolls and all trying quite hard not to look at the gawking, and now much larger, group of young men from earlier.

“All right,” Penelope says, “you’ve had your fun, how much did he pay you?”

Kayo attempts a look of innocence, but it’s the same one Gordon himself had taught Alan and it never, ever works. Especially not on people who’ve met them. Any of them. And especially especially not on Penny. She proves his point with a single arched eyebrow.

“He promised to take me out safe cracking,” Kayo mumbles, then, insistent, “we weren’t going to take anything.”

Penelope scoffs. “Have you met Parker?”

“Hang on.” Gordon steps in, irritation and not a small amount of hurt rising to the surface. “Parker sent you to spy on our -- on us. And you did it?”

“I’ve just been really bored since we got rid of the Hood,” Kayo wheedles. “It’s nothing personal.”

It is personal; it’s probably the most personal thing Gordon can think of, and he’s about to tell her so, loudly, if necessary, when the trunk of FAB 0 pops open with a click of Penelope’s fingers.

“If you wanted to go lockpicking, Kayo, you only had to ask.”

A twist and a shove and a -- slam, and Kayo lies like an upturned turtle in the mink lined trunk of the Rolls.

Against his better judgement Gordon lets out a low whistle of admiration. “Whoa -- sticky hand technique?”

Penelope hums, delighted. “The very same.” Kayo stares up at them, shock written in every sprawled limb. “Now, do have fun, won’t you?” Another click, and the trunk lid drops, muting Kayo’s protests behind a shield of steel. 

One of the onlookers gasps, and Penelope throws a becoming smile over her shoulder at them. “Keep an eye out, gentlemen, won’t you?”

“She’s going to kill me,” Gordon manages as an unpleasantly metallic clanging begins to emanate from the car. “She can’t kill you but she is absolutely going to kill me, Pen. She’s going to murder me.”

“She chose her side,” Penelope says, “and besides, there are air holes.”

“Why do you have air holes in your trunk?”

“Why do you ask such obvious questions?” She spins on her heel to face him, rubbing her hands over his biceps and briefly, very briefly, Gordon forgets that he’s going to die very, very soon. “Take me dancing?”

FAB 0 rocks, there’s the clatter of bicycles swiftly mounted from the other end of the street, and well, if he’s going to die anyway --

Penelope skips lightly from foot to foot, chilly even in her furs, and if he’s going to die anyway;

“Yeah, okay. Yeah.”

---

(She means to only leave Kayo for twenty minutes to stew. She truly does. She's contrite, later, when John tells her off and Parker is left to hammer dents from the antique steel. She even apologises to Kayo, despite the destruction wrought upon both car and date.

But the floors were sticky and the drinks were cheap, and she'd laughed as he'd swung her around and around, laughed until she could catch his mouth on the upswing. 

And kissed him until she lost count.)

[peter-pan-on-neverland]

Why don’t we share?

Summary: Pan and Felix walk in on you.

Pairings: Pan x Reader x Felix

Warnings: not full on smut, just oral, lol, Some really and I mean REALLY bad dirty talking. I'm sorry if it's bad.

**This is to say thank you to everyone for 500 followers and also for sticking with me**

His piercing blue eyes were like slits, eyebrows knitted together and lips slightly parted as he focused on the wooden target hanging from a tree limb, it was that expression on his face which made him look adorable. Felix had always been a reserved and emotionless, trying not to let anything show on his cold, untouched features, but that expression made him look vulnerable for once. Slender fingers tightly hooked themselves around the wooden bow as he stretched the arrow back as far as he possibly could before the thin string would snap. In one quick motion his fingers lost there grip, wishing fair well to the arrow before it soared across the sky, spinning and twirling in delight as it flew and berried it's sharp head into the now splintered wood.

"Not bad, Felix." Our leader proudly commented, his arms folded as he leaned his body against the rough bark of a tree.

His broken emerald eyes scanned his surroundings, searching for his next pray that he would pluck out of the group and force to come up and shoot. They darted from: Ed, to Liam, to Noah, to James, Oliver, then Elijah. I silently let out a breath of relief which I didn't know I was holding in as his eyes skipped over me, I hated shooting in front of the boys, I wasn't any good at it. Those evergreen orbs danced along the crowd of boys before he had spotted his next victim.

"Devin," he pointed, "why don't you come up and have a go?"

With a smug expression the boy proudly made his way towards Felix, yanking the strong bow out of his hands, but my eyes were wondering else where. They lingered over the king of the island, Pan, there was something about him which drew me in. The way his jaw locked and eyes flooded with determination made me fall for him, his chestnut brown hair swept perfectly over those green eyes, but the power and authority he had made him even more attractive. 

If falling for the Demon king himself wasn’t bad, there was also another person on the island I had seemed to take an interest in: Felix. If I were to stick you in a room with these two boys and asked you to identify one as a Devil and one as an angle I am almost certain you would get them the wrong way round, Felix's intimidating scar and dark eyes would put you off at first sight and even make the bravest people a little uncomfortable. He towers over people like a sky scraper and the heavy, wooden club he always had slung over his shoulders wasn’t doing his caring side any favors, but even thought he seems mysterious and dark like a twisted magician he’s actually the sweeter of the two. The boy who would never grow up looked more like the sweet, innocent angle at first glance, but the devil never comes dressed as your worst nightmare, he comes dressed as everything you’ve ever wanted.

Devin raises his arms and focused of the target ahead before letting the arrow cut through the air and bury itself in the target, landing just below Felix's shot.

"Dammit." Devin quietly cursed to himself before angrily stomping up to the wooden target, like a three year old, and bitterly pulling the arrow out. Gripping it so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, he made his way towards Pan, handing the tools back to him before standing with the crowd once more.

“You’ve done well today boys.” He announced with a proud grin, “I think it’s time we had a little fun.” 

The boys roared in excitement, eager to play a game and unwind for the day, after all the island is basically one big playground. They all argued among themselves over what game to play as my eyes sank to the dirt floor, occasionally I would look up. Seeing the happy smile on Pan's face as he and Felix watched the boys, once in a while their eyes would meet mine but only ever do often, until it became frequent. Every time my eyes flicked towards them they would already be staring back at me, an attractive smile played in their lips before diverting their eyes once again. I could feel my face flush red at their actions, did this mean something or am I reading into it too much?

"Hide and seek!" A boy from the crowed yelled out, snapping me out if my thoughts.

"No! No! Truth or dare!" Another bellowed, the boys seemed intrigued but the look on Peter's face told me he was far from impressed.

"What about..." he trailed, a slender finger resting in those pink lips of his as he pondered, "truth or dare or die."

I could feel my blood run cold, I was in no mood to be doing dirty dares or spilling secrets, let alone die.

Hollers and cheers could be heard from every nook and crannie on the island, the boys all rushed back to camp in a hurry, excited and ready to play. I on the other hand trudged along, not fully aware of the tow boys which were quickly following after me.

"Y/n." The sound of Felix's husky voice pulled me out of the little world inside my head.

"O-oh... um hi." I stuttered.

His thick eye brows knitted together, "Are you ok? You're acting strange."

"Yeah, I-I'm fine." I responded, maybe a little too fast for the second in commands liking.

"Are you sure, love?" Peter cut in, his thick British accent ringing in my ears, "you're face is a little pink, are you sure you're not sick?"

Before the pair could bombard me with anymore questions we had reached the camp, the lost boys waiting patiently in a circle on the floor. Pan and Felix strolled over, squeezing into the crowd of boys as they got ready to play.

"Y/n, are you not going to join us?" James piped up, casting a glace in my direction.

"Not tonight, I think I'm just gonna turn in early." I spoke up before my feet began to guide me towards my tree house.

"What's the matter?" One of the boys chimed in a mocking tone, "are you scared?"

"No, what's there to be scared of its just a stupid game." I shot back.

"Then come and play." They demanded, acting high and night in order to make the other boys laugh.

"Just one round Y/n," Felix chimed wearing a sweet smile in his pink lips, "please."

"Fine." I angrily muttered, making my way over to the boys before plonking myself down in between Noah and David.

And so the games began, James went first, "Nick, truth or dare." He asked in a sinister voice.

"Dare." He replied without hesitation, sitting up a little taller and a little prouder.

"I dare you to... remove your socks with your teeth!" The lost boys laughed at the strange request as Nicks legs flailed around in the air. Grabbing his foot he bought it as close to his mouth as he could before stripping his feet from them.

"Easy." He cockily proclaimed, his eyes scanned the crowed searching for his victim, "Josh, truth or dare."

The curly haired boy looks startled, looking up with a confused look etched into his face, "um... truth?"

He pondered for a minute, tapping his slender finger on his chin in thought, "if you were a girl for one hour, what would you do?"

The poor boy couldn't say a word, he only blushed in response.

"Well we all know what he's thinking." Pan laughed, the rest of the crowd quickly joining in, even I had to suppress a little giggle.

"Ok, ok, I want to ask a question." Pan insisted, "Felix, truth or dare."

"Dare." He bravely spoke, not skipping a beat.

"I dare you to fill your mouth with water and each person in the group must tell the funniest joke they know. If you spit up the water, you have to eat a spoonful of dirt." The boy grinned.

One by one the boys took it upon themselves to try and make the stone faced second in command laugh, each and everyone one of them failing miserably, until it got to Lucas.

“Two elephants meet a totally naked guy.”  He begins, already the rest of the lost boys are shooting him weird glances, “after a while one elephant said to the other: ‘I don’t get how he can feed himself with that thing!’”

Sure enough Felix spat the water out of his mouth laughing so hard he was almost crying. After he had calmed down he soon remember that consequence, is eyes hopped over to Pan, silently pleading with him.

"A dares a dare Felix." He smirked and the blind boy shoved a spoon full of dirt into his mouth, Felix's features scrunched up in disgust and distaste as he swallowed.

As the game continued the dares became more and more dirty, Danny was forced to admit that he had a crush on Noah and after that they got bombarded with dares such as: "sit on his lap for the rest of the game", "kiss" and "make out". Of course they didn't seem to mind, but I sure did when I was dares to kiss Elijah, I wasn't sure if it was just my eyes playing tricks in me but two particular boys didn't seem very happy about it.

"I want to ask a dare." Oliver enthusiastically proclaimed, "Y/n, truth or dare?"

I could feel my blood run cold, I didn't expect to get picked again and I certainly didn't want to make our with another lost boy, well those who weren't Pan or Felix.

"Truth." I happily stated.

He thought for a moment, wondering what to say, "which would you rather sleep with, Pan or Felix?" He asked.

No.

No way this is happening to me.

I don't even know which one if them I prefer, a pink dust coated my cheeks as I though about it, just for a moment.

"Aww, look at that, she's blushing." Noah said, his arms still wrapped around Danny's torso.

"Maybe she has a crush on one of them." Someone from the crowd spoke up.

"Or maybe both." Another yelled out.

Pan raised an eyebrow at the boys remarks, "You think so boys? Well then, Oliver I grant you permission to change the question."

"What! That's not fair!" I bellowed.

"My island, my rules. Besides love I think we all already know the answer." He stated and by the way I had been acting he was probably right.

"Yes, I like both of you." I mumbled under my breath, but it was too late, the boys were already silently waiting in anticipation, my words cut through the air seeming more like a speaker on full volume rather than a barely audible whisper.

"There's no need to be shy, love." Peter exclaim sending a quick wink my way before letting out a low chuckle and licking his pink lips.

"O-ok... well I'm going to bed now.... night boys." I rushed to my feet and sprinted to my tree house before anyone could protest.

I shut myself in, slamming the heavy oak wood door behind me, the feeling of dread and embarrassment washed over my tiny frame as I leaned against the door. I would no doubt endure teasing tomorrow in the following days to come, and on top of that I had to see Pan and Felix everyday.

Without saying a word I quietly climbed in between the crisp, untouched covers of my bed, closing my eyes and letting my thoughts take over.

My mind played back to the two boys, as if often did, and the question Oliver had asked me. I didn't need a mirror to see I was as red as a tomato just from the thought of it.

Imagining Pan's hands gripping my hips and Felix's fingers trailing over my body sent shivers down my spine, as goosebumps littered my arms in excitement. I could feel that pleasant tingly feeling grow more and more intense as my fantasies continued to play out in my head, my hand slipped inside my underwear, lightly toying with myself before I heard a creek outside. Swiftly scanning the area, I saw that no one was there, quickly I discarded it as my imagination, the boys were too preoccupied with their game.

Soft moans escaped from my lips as I pushed my fingers in and out, letting myself get taken over by bliss.

"Hello, love." A familiar British accent rung clear in the air as I grew still, not daring to move it even breath while the hairs on the back of my neck stood tall and proud.

When I mustered up enough courage to meet his gaze I saw he wasn't the only figure leaning against my wooden door frame, there the leader and his second in command stood, smirks on there faces with lust clouding their dark eyes.

"Um...." I blushed bright red, trying desperately to cover up my exposed skin but it was already too late, their eyes had already danced across my body, drinking every inch of it up, I had never felt more embarrassed in my life.

“There’s no need to try and hide princess.” Felix spoke, his voice growing huskier by the second as the two boy’s made their way inside my room, sitting beside me on my bed like I were a trapped animal with nowhere else to go.

“Tell us, love...” Pan began, combing his fingers through my h/l h/c hair as he softly spoke before staring at me with those evergreen eyes, “Were you thinking about us?”

I was unable to say anything, I just sat there shocked at the leaders words as he continued to stare at me.

“Well?” Felix chimed in, placing a hand on the part of my thigh the blanket didn’t quite cover.

“Y-Yeah...” I managed to breathily stutter out, what is happening? They had never shown any interest in me before, so why now? Is it because I know seem like an easy target, or is it something more?

“You know,” the blonde angle to my right gently whispered, his warm breath tickled the side of my neck, “this is an island of imagination...”

soft, wet kisses were littered up and down my neck as long blonde hair brushed upon the side of my face, his hands travelling higher and higher until they just about reached the placed I wanted him to touch me the most as my breath hitched in my throat. I was practically begging them for it, for anything, but just as quickly as this had all happened, it stopped.

“But we’re not going to do it unless you want us too, love. We’re willing to play nice and share, but only if you’re willing too.” Pan spoke, his breath tickled my ear lob, sending shivers to dance up and down my spine, “What do you say?”

without uttering a word I nodded at them, giving them all the consent and confirmation they needed. The king started to attack my neck, leaving love bites and hickey’s all over my s/c skin like a tattoo while is second in command lightly traced his fingers over my entrance.

“She’s so wet already.” He smirked to his friend who returned the favor, swiftly sliding his hands down to feel for himself.

“Naughty girl.” The leader whispered, those two, simple words were enough to make my cravings for these boys intensify as I bit my lip.

Without warning Pan slipped his fingers inside, causing a moan to tumble from my lips as he pumped in and out at an agonizingly slow pace while Felix massaged my breast sending waves of pleasure to course through my body. The second in command leaned in closer, hungrily smashing his lips to mine as Pan worked his magic.

“Fuck.” I whined, missing the way he made me feel, as the king pulled his fingers out of me. They glistened and dripped before he placed them in his mouth licking them clean.

“It’s not fair if we’re giving all you the pleasure darling, don’t you think?” he British boy asked me, 

A smirk spread on my face as I licked and sucked on the boys neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses all the way down to the hem of his shirt before removing it. my journey of kisses continued all the way down his toned chest until I got to the hem of his trousers. Hooking my fingers around his waistband I slowly pulled them down, letting his cock spring out and hit his stomach before taking it into my hands and licking it from base to tip. sharply inhaling at the pleasure it gave him, his fingers tangled themselves into my hair as I continued to tease him a little. My other hand was working on Felix’s trousers, unbuttoning them and taking his dick to my hands, slowly pumping him as he blissfully grunted.

“Stop teasing me.” Pan exclaimed with heavy breaths, I took him into my mouth, circling around the tip and licking up his shaft while grunts poured out of his mouth, “Fuck.” 

Giving the king of Neverland one final lick before before switching to his trusty second in command, the blonde boy moaned as my tongue ran round and round his tip in circles before taking all of his cock into my mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ok so I'm going to be posting this in two parts because I don't feel like this is that good tbh and Idk how the smut thing is going..... help please?

I hope you liked it so far and I'm sorry it was a little slow in the beginning! ❤😘 xxxx

[elleonmybeloved]

Field Day

Title: Field Day Author: PinkPerfume Fandom: Shall We Date? Obey me! Pairing: Asmodeus/MC Rating: Teen & Up Chapter: 1/? Tags: Demon & Angel Blood AU, Demons are slightly larger than in cannon by about a foot or two each, Secret Crush, Awkward pining, Asmodeus is hoe-rny as usual, Flirting, Leading up to that explicit rating in the second chapter cause you know me Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145122/chapters/60926767

Summary:

Once a week, the human exchange students, accompanied by the seven demon brothers as well as Lord Diavolo and a few of his subordinates make a trip to a rocky place out in the wilderness of the Devildom to conduct physical testing on the humans’ developing abilities. Mary-Catherine and her fellow once-humans aren't sure why Lord Diavolo injected them with the demon and angel blood that gave them their abilities, but participation in the testing is mandatory. But if you forget the part where they're being tested like lab rats, it feels a lot like a fun school field day! Complete with packed lunches and a friendly sense of competition.

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

“I hope you’re ready to eat my dust this time. I’ve grown two inches since last week.”

“Don’t get a big head. You got dog demon blood, not speed demon. Besides, not being able to spit acid at obstacles in your way is gonna slow you down.”

“I’d really appreciate it if you stopped doing that. Just because you look a lot more like a snake now doesn’t mean you need to act like one.”

“- Demon cobra. Not just a snake.”

“I know you’re proud of that, but honestly, I’m more jealous of the girl who got hawk demon blood. You know she has wings now, right?”

“What?! They shouldn’t let her participate in the race, it’s totally not fair.”

“It’s not actually a race, you guys.”

“Just because they’re testing us doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun with it. Lord Diavolo encouraged us to be competitive.”

Excited chattering and the rumble of the vehicle’s engine made for a charged atmosphere that Mary-Catherine was enjoying listening to, leaning her head against the glass of the window to hide her amused smile at the antics. Choosing to survey the odd shapes of plants and pigmented rock passing by outside as she listened, she angled her head so that the small tightly curled horns at her forehead weren’t scraping against the glass.

Once a week, the human exchange students, accompanied by the seven demon brothers as well as Lord Diavolo and a few of his subordinates made the trip to a rocky place out in the wilderness of the Devildom to conduct physical testing on the humans’ developing abilities.

Piled into some kind of all-terrain vehicle with such ridiculous ground clearance that Mary-Catherine had needed assistance to haul herself up into it, they were shuttled to the testing site. The vehicle was huge and had several rows of seats, so everybody just called it “The Bus.” Before them on the long straight road, the Demon lord’s sleek black limo - driven by Barbatos - led the way down the path.

Turning off on the dirt path, they pulled up to the site. As the passengers - twenty-five strong, counting the brothers - filed out of the vehicle, they cordoned off into groups like a separation of oil and water.

Mary-Catherine confidently placed herself next to the people she knew best. Donte - a young man with horned-toad demon blood who she’d never seen not dressed up in attractive punk outfits that suited his dark brown curls and yellow-green striped horns perfectly. Despite all the purple dust out here, she had yet to see any of it attach itself to his outfit.

Meanwhile, both her thick cargo pants and her usual red tank top already had a few purple smudges.

To his left, Emma, a curvy young woman in all black whose sharp feline teeth glinted against her dark lipstick, and though the pair of furry black ears at the top of head twitched invitingly, you’d have to be stupid to touch them - or any part of her - without her explicit say so. Her claws were just as sharp as her eyeliner and stung quite badly.

Mary-Catherine had never heard her give anyone that say so. Only repeated threats to anybody who would listen about just exactly the kind of dark apocalypse she would continuously rain on Diavolo and the demon brothers & co. until they returned her cat Lucy to her, or vice versa.

Standing aloof with a familiar thoughtful expression to her right, a picture of elegance and maturity that M-C only hoped she’d one day achieve, was Annika. The blonde witch had a silent strength and seemed the least phased about her residency in the devildom of all the humans Mary-Catherine knew. She even stood up to Lucifer on a regular basis.

Mary had to avoid flinching like a startled lamb every time he looked in her mere direction. In her defense, she was part sheep now, and she had no reason to believe demon sheep were any braver than those in the overworld. Though as recent months had attested, they had the same urge for salt and were about 5 times faster than a regular one running at full tilt.

Once given their instructions, and oddly-shaped “evaluators” to attach to their D.D.D.s, the four of them plus a few she was less familiar with made off for the climbing ground. As usual, the groups moved around three areas in a rotation. A rock-littered circuit of road for testing speed, agility, and endurance, a level field of purple grass and several small, dead-looking trees with painted orange Xs on them that served as a combat ground for testing offensive abilities, and a large outcropping of porous green rock to test their ability to scale rough vertical terrain.

Something of a makeshift security team, the demon brothers spread out to stand their usual guard over the three groups. Considering their powers and how each demon towered at least a foot over any regular human even in their “human” forms, on their very first outing Mary-Catherine had foolishly assumed none of the other occupants of this realm would dare try to attack the group.

Grimacing as she tied up her hair and prepared to climb, she tried to blink away the image of the explosion of goop and gore and the charred remains that had been left of the few dissenting demons who’d scarcely touched her human companions before Satan had reduced them to pulp. Though unsure of how Lucifer had torched the ones who’d gone after his group, she was pretty sure she’d never get the image of their blackened skulls out of her mind.

“What’s with the long face? You’re still the reigning champion of this rock, goat-girl.”

Looking up, she recognized the self-proclaimed “cobra” guy from earlier on the bus. Despite his competitive statement, the grin on his face was friendly. His curly black hair and olive skin tone made for a vivid contrast against his vertical pupiled green eyes. She’d seen him a few times at breakfast and wasn’t certain but she thought his name was Kevin?

“Oh nothing. I was just wondering if they were going to make me lick more rocks today. Kind of reminds me of when I used to chaperone church summer camp and all the kids would collect rocks and dare each other to hold it in their mouth for twenty seconds or eat a worm.”

Mary-Catherine paused, “-But my horns alone would’ve been even more scandalous than the time one of the adults caught someone with a Harry Potter book sooo I guess it’s not really that similar!”

“Oh trust me I doubt my mamá would be happy to see what I look like now, but that doesn’t mean I would say no to a chance to become spiderman.”

“Hey, if anybody is becoming spiderman, I think it might be me.” Donte spoke up from behind them, looking incredulously at his hand which was pressed against the wall of rock. “Check this out.”

He then demonstrated how with an odd suction noise, his hands clung to the rock of their own accord. Prying them off and then repeating the motion, he got better at the detachment process with each press.

“Maybe poisonous demon frogs can stick to things?” Mary-Catherine mused. “I watched this discovery channel episode on tree frogs once that explained how their secretion of toe pad mucous-”

“-Mucous?!?” Donte scrutinized his hands in dismay, but after finding no such secretions he breathed a sigh of relief. “The only thing getting on my hands is this rock while I climb it’s ass. See you at the top!”

Pressing the start button on her evaluator, she climbed up after him, hearing Kevin start his descent as well. She’d gotten a bit of experience with this sort of outdoors stuff at previously said church-camp, but that was nowhere near her current condition, as she easily overtook both of her human companions with no regard for the steepness of her path. Back then, she’d needed a hardness and ropes. Now, she sought out each handhold instinctively like the top of the rock was calling her.

“At least I’m not bleating.” She sighed, and from below her Kevin barked out a laugh.

“I imagine it would come out sounding more like a warbled growl.” He said. “I’ve seen the pictures you know.”

“Hey- don’t go looking at a girl’s demon pictures!” A girl lower down on the rock called up to them.

Mary-Catherine blushed and hastily pulled herself up the remaining few feet of the rock and rolled to the side as she clicked stop on her evaluator.

“Not her pictures, the pictures of whatever they injected her with!” Kevin complained, but M-C could hear the mirth in his voice.

Walking over to a smoother patch of rock, she sat down to wait for the rest of them to finish their climb. Gazing at the ground far below her, she noticed Emma and Beelzebub talking next to a couple of camp-chairs.

She had noticed before that as an act of cat-less mutiny, Emma often refused to take part in the tests, but as M-C watched her speaking amicably with the demon beside her, who was eating… something round and dripping a brightly colored liquid she could make out from here, Emma gestured towards the rock several times with a wistful expression.

Rising to get a better look, Mary-Catherine began absent mindedly stretching, catching her ankle and bending her leg with a gentle pull.

It was a bit too far for her to make out exactly what they were saying - though some of her genetically enhanced fellow humans probably could - but M-C imagined that Emma was saying something along the lines of how much she wanted to climb the ‘actual shit outta that rock’ but wouldn’t budge an inch until they gave her back her precious Lucy. Beel seemed to nod sympathetically and despite not halting in his eating process, continue the conversation.

And then he moved to grab another of whatever it was he was eating, revealing the other demon who had come to watch over the climbing group. Having used the absolute swole unit of his demon brother’s body to provide him with shade, the Avatar of Lust reclined elegantly in - well it wasn’t really a camping chair, but it looked like it could be collapsed and relocated - his seat, meticulously painting his nails.

Freezing awkwardly midstretch, both arms clasped high above her head, she was for the hundredth? thousandth? time struck by just how gorgeous of a man Asmodeus was. Not a man, she reminded herself, a demon. Good Lord in Heaven, those arms… he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows to avoid getting nail polish on his shirt, and it exposed the beautiful lean muscle of his forearms. Burnt amber eyes focused intensely on his handiwork, his pale perfectly shaped lips pursed in concentration… he had an angular face that made him look like both like the dangerous being he was, and a sculpture of an angel at the same time.

As if aware he was being ogled, he paused his preening and turned his head, looking up her way at the top of the rock. Panicking, she hastily looked elsewhere, pretending to continue her stretches as if she hadn’t been meaning to glance in his direction…

Nothing to see here!

Soon the others joined her at the top of the rock, and with the protection of anonymity, Mary-Catherine risked another gaze his way.

Oh good, he’s back to working on his nails.

Getting caught looking at people was so awkward, hopefully he hadn’t thought anything of what he saw of her brief gaze. She was pretty sure she was safe, it was unlikely he was that interested in any measly humans anyways.

“So what was your score?”

Mary-Catherine spooked so hard she jumped, turning to give Kevin a wounded look.

“You’re a jumpy one, huh? Must be those prey instincts. Well, what was it?”

“A minute and forty three seconds.” Mary-Catherine said, wondering what kind of predator hunted sheep demons. Probably had lots of teeth.

“Guess I just need to be a minute and fifteen seconds faster next time.”

“I’m sure you can do it.” She said, giving him an encouraging smile. “If they ever decide to hand out a prize, you’ve got it in the bag.”

“Now there’s an idea.” Donte piped up, moving into step beside them as the group began to descend the smooth sloped side of the rock. “I already know what I want as a prize.”

“What do you want?” She couldn’t really think of anything a demon would have to give as a good present. She’d seen their food. And the mall. They had weird taste.

“Not telling.” Donte said in a cheeky tone that even she could read as being… salacious in nature. Annika gave him one of her disapproving mother looks and it just made him sprout a mischievous little grin.

“I’ve had my eye on a spellbook in Satan’s library I would very much like to have.” Annika said, as if trying to steer the conversation off the downhill path it was otherwise going. It was a good thing Emma wasn’t here or that’d be a moot effort.

“Uhhh, boring!” Kevin crossed his arms. “Come on guys, we’re practically in hell. I want a weapon or something with strong dark magic powers.”

One of the other girls agreed with him, and began a very enthusiastic conversation about swords and axes and other sharp pointy things. Mary-Catherine considered the question herself for a few moments, but the only thing she could think of was for Lucifer to give her her Bible back. He’d taken it away a couple weeks ago after she’d done something he hadn’t approved of and used it as an excuse to confiscate the book. She wasn’t even sure how he’d known she had it, but maybe he’d been under the false impression that she was religious?

Normally she wouldn’t have been upset about such a thing, but even though she was no longer the good devout Catholic girl her parents had raised her to be, her grandmother had given her that Bible. They’d been quite close before she passed away five years ago to lung cancer. She was much too terrified of the fallen angel to even try to get it back though. Regardless, as far as prizes go that was a bit more personal than she was comfortable with sharing.

“I think a week off school would be nice!” She said instead, and was met with a resounding murmur of agreement from the crowd.

“How about a whole month?”

---

Under the protection of Belphegor and Leviathan this time, Mary-Catherine and her group took turns sprinting on the track. Unsurprisingly, Kevin’s dog demon-blooded friend blew all competition out the water. Once that guy got started he was like Usain Bolt on steroids. Though she put in the effort expected of her to avoid getting chided, M-C didn’t bother to run full tilt. She didn’t really like this part anyways. It was the most like a test, grueling and repetitive instead of fun, and reminded her of how she was here against her will.

She was grateful when they broke for lunch, gathering around a few hastily erected plastic tables. Taking the brown bag and two water bottles, she found a somewhat shady spot to sit under a scary looking tree and redid her sagging ponytail, lamenting the state of her side braid. She downed a whole bottle of water before getting into her food.

It was kind of funny, it was the same typical sandwich chips and apple combo she was used to on outdoor events like these, but the meat was purple and the lettuce that poked out at the sides was bright red. The fruit looked like an apple, but tasted like an orange and was the color of a banana.

She’d learned to just trust Lord Diavolo to know what humans could eat, and didn’t ask what everything was anymore. One of the transfer students had been curious at breakfast and as a result she had become aware of the fact that on several occasions she had ingested eggs from a reptilian demon species called an angiphore which looked like a cross between a platypus and one of those monstrous looking fish that lived really deep in the ocean.

The thought made her choke on her mouthful of water and most of it escaped out her lips down her throat to soak into the fabric of her top above her breast.

“Oh, gosh darn it.” Of course she had nothing to dab at it with. Well, at least the cool water felt kind of nice dripping down her neck, as hot as she was after such rigorous exercise.

“Oh my, looks like someone overestimated how much they could swallow~”

Mary-Catherine scarcely had time to process that someone had managed to approach her so silently before, bending elegantly at the waist, Asmodeus himself was already pressing a handkerchief against her neck with a chiding tut.

At her stiff reaction, he smiled, looking very much like the cat that ate the canary. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of sweetie, you’re not the first one to do such a thing.”

Mary-Catherine flushed and searched for a sufficiently indignant reply, realizing he was making fun of her. But before she could come up with something, he moved in closer, dragging the cloth against her bottom lip. It was such a shamelessly demanding motion, silencing her with ease.

“You must’ve been thirsty, poor thing.” He crooned, and M-C decided to swallow her pride and just enjoy the opportunity to get such a close up look at his gorgeous face. At this angle, she could see how long his strawberry-blonde eyelashes were as they brushed the smooth, immaculate skin of his cheeks.

“It’s… pretty hot.” The words were already on her mind, so unfortunately that’s what came out of her mouth instead of denying such an obvious trap.

It was worth it for the delighted, full-teeth grin he made. “I agree.”

His fingers skirted the hem of her tank top, and with a gentle pluck, he lifted the fabric to dab a few times at the wet top of her breast. But instead of lingering, with a simple wink, he retracted the handkerchief and stood up before she could even begin freaking out about it.

“Thanks.” She said when her brain caught up, as he started to leave.

“Any time, honey.~” He replied without turning back, and was soon out of sight.

Mary-Catherine gave a dry swallow and reached for her water bottle.

~~~

The rest of the afternoon proved uneventful. Oviumalum, or the certain species of demon sheep blood she’d been injected with, apparently had the ability to rapidly elongate and thrust out their 4 sets of horns in front of them like some kind of projectile impaler. Their horns were also a key ingredient in a certain type of hallucinogenic drug, when ground to a powder.

The meager set of horns on Mary-Catherine’s forehead was sharp, and made of the same components, but so far showed no signs of developing any projectile abilities. As such, she simply had to hold still while they took a sample of her horns, ears, and tail and then was free to sit on the sidelines for most of the hour.

Lucifer had handed her a textbook about the properties of various demonic plants and encouraged her to study during the downtime.

“Like many here, you would do well to improve your academics. Here.” He’d said in that aloof tone, like she was some filthy human bug under his boot.

“Oh…” She’d said. “Well, actually, that’s-”

“You’re welcome.” He’d cut off her attempt to decline with a glare. “I hope I see an improvement in your grade reports soon.”

Mary-Catherine couldn’t help but shut up after that and bitterly open the book in obedience. His crimson stare, like the blood she was sure he was not hesitant to shed, was just too frightening. But, more interested in watching the increasingly bizarre developing abilities of her fellow humans, she’d just skimmed the pages and pretended to read.

Beside Lord Diavolo’s delight at Donte’s newfound ability, nothing else of note happened. It was amusing to watch Emma claw several inch deep scores into a variety of materials she’d never assume could even be scratched, so that’s what she’d done until they’d blown their whistle to announce that it was time to return to the House of Lamentation.

Now, she was trailing after the gaggle of tired, test-tried students, thinking about whether she was going to bathe, sleep, or eat first when they got home.

“Heeyyy, M-C!”

Looking up from where she’d been zoning out staring at her D.D.D, she glanced around. Had somebody called her name?

“Mary-Catheriiiine!!” A girl was jogging towards her, waving a hand to get her attention. It took her a moment, since it wasn’t someone she was very familiar with, but she connected the face to a name before the girl reached her.

“Yes? - Um, Hoya, right?”

“Yeah.” The girl said, smiling with a - ah. Shark demon blood. - large set of teeth. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course! What is it?”

“I lost my ring up on the rocks.” Hoya said, pointing to the climbing wall. “I can see where it is but I can’t reach it myself. Can you get it for me?”

“Sure!” May-Catherine chirped, but then bit her lip. “Uh, did you tell Lucifer? It’s time to go and I’ll be fast but we’re going to make them wait…”

“Don’t worry, I told him. He said it’s fine as long as I hurry.”

“Oh. Okay!” M-C said, but couldn’t help squinting a little skeptically.

“...He said they’re leaving in ten minutes with or without us.” Hoya admitted. “But it won’t take us that long!”

Mary-Catherine was already moving. “Oh gosh, well I hope you didn’t mention my name…”

Hoya jogged next to her, long smooth grey tail wagging oddly like a dog. “Uh, I did. Sorry!"

Mary-Catherine groaned and high-tailed it to the rock.