#I don’t miss being a socialite I like staying home

[ophernelia]

i went to a fashion show today for one of my old mentees and baby… i don’t miss that scene at all. his showcase was great! he did an amazing job with his recent collection. that wasn’t the issue. that whole backstage life i really don’t miss. too fast paced. too much noise. i just was ready to go. i feel like i just got off a rollercoaster. i don’t wanna do that again.

[swallowedbymadness]

♡ a melancholy melody ♡ 

Pairing: pianist!hongjoong x writer!fem!reader

Genre: Period piece drama/romance/aka my ultimate fantasy

Summary: As a writer, love was something you naturally longed for but thought it to be unattainable. However, when a mysterious piano player comes to town one summer, you find yourself falling into a fairytale of your own.

Word Count: 10.2k (oops)

A/N: hello again, my darlings! I come bearing another romantic Hongjoong gift. I’m currently in the middle of writing another member, but this came to me like a vision in the night. I simply could not ignore it. 🥲 aka I watched a period piece drama and needed to write aristocratic Kim Hongjoong asap. 🫠 Please I encourage leaving some feedback for me. I would love to hear your thoughts, emotions, or anything really! 🤍 18+ content, so please, minors DNI. Enjoy!🥂

Warnings: ye olden times talk (lol), romantic fluff and sweet love makin’, pet names, sensory deprivation (blind fold & fabric restraints used on reader), unprotected sex, oral (f/r), if I missed any pls let me know. 🩷

Proofread: Of course! But, you know the drill. If you see a mistake, no you don’t. 💌

You found yourself at yet another party for people you really did not care to socialize with. But of course, you could not deny your dear friend the company she begged for from you. You would much rather be at home immersed in the newly acquired novel you picked up from the bookstore the other day, upset that you were almost finished with it already. 

     You lived in a small town in the countryside, so it was always the same guests with nothing special to celebrate. Usually parties consisted of single wealthy men in search of a bride, so her father was always happy to oblige in their search by throwing these lavish evenings in their ballroom. You weren’t sure why you still attended, seeing as you did not care for any of the men that made the guest list. Maybe it was the consistent nagging of your childhood friend or your parents giving you a hard time for still being unwed at your age. Either way, it felt more like an obligation to throw your best dress on for another night of mingling with socialites. But then again, this was better than sitting at home with writer’s block. You were trying to write a fairytale of your own, but life was just so dull and uninspiring. Artists needed a muse, and you simply didn’t have one. You longed to experience romance as you did in the books you read time and time again, but alas, the same boring people did not tick all your boxes to deem worthy enough for the romance you daydreamed about.

This predicament always arose when you found yourself at these parties. Every man who you became acquainted with stayed just that — an acquaintance. Half of you wished your standards would be lower so you could finally marry and have children, but you knew in your heart that that was far from what you craved. You wanted passion, risqué rendezvous at midnight, adventure, and all the in between that the novels you spent so much time reading described, but mainly you wanted something worth writing about. Maybe then you could finish the godforsaken book you’ve been trying to write for months now. 

     You were trying to pay attention to a current conversation you were having with a military official who was boasting about his assets when your eyes drifted elsewhere, his bragging tone of no interest to you. You dreamed about being whisked away by a magical force to a far away land where the flowers sang along with the breeze and the rays from the sun danced on your skin. It was so sudden, but when your gaze was shifting back on the man in front of you, they caught a pair of chestnut eyes burning into you.       

     You looked around, not sure if they were truly set on you or not, but to your surprise, there was no one else around they could be looking at. You held the stare, your interest piquing immensely. It was like a string was tied to you because you felt a tug from behind your ribs when his gaze didn’t falter. 

     “Are you alright, Miss?” The man in front of you brought your attention back to him, breaking you from your hazy dream. 

     “Ah, yes I uh, I just need some air.” You excused yourself from the ballroom and into the garden. You took a seat on one of the benches near a rose bush, the red and pink petals shining under the night sky, the sweet scent filling the air around you. It wasn’t long before you heard a soft melody erupting from the piano that sat in the ballroom. You got up and roamed back inside to see what the commotion was all about. You lingered in the corner off to the side, watching as everyone danced and laughed while others drank and talked with voices too loud. You noticed a group of women gathered around the piano, giggles and awestruck smiles adorning their faces. As you got a bit closer, you could finally see what they were fawning over.

Sitting at the piano was a man with tousled hair the color of coffee, his sharp features focused on his slender fingers as they skillfully danced elegantly across the keys. Your breath hitched in your throat when his fingers stilled and the music stopped, silence filling the room before thunderous applause took over the atmosphere. He looked up, and you swore time itself froze.

     Your eyes locked with chestnut once again, and suddenly the newly familiar tug in your chest returned, leaving you breathless.

—

     “Back so soon are we?” The bookstore owner teased, smiling when seeing your embarrassment displayed on your cheeks. 

     “The last story was so captivating. A boy who never grew up, a magical fairy and pirates? It was an adventure I couldn’t seem to put down.” 

     “Well, maybe you’ll find something that lasts you a bit longer than the previous tale.” He smiled, the wrinkles etched into his aged face a comforting sight for you. You placed the small green leather bound book on the counter and began your search for a new fairytale to be entranced by. Your fingers grazed the books on the shelf lightly as you walked down the ilse, reading the titles, waiting for something to cause that initial spark that made you giddy. You stopped over a blue book with silver color bindings, your finger buzzing as it hovered over the spine. You pulled it out and opened it to sample a page. As you felt your mind begin to wander off into the fictional world you were ready to dive into, you didn’t notice the creak of the front door open and the owner greet the new customer that waltzed in shortly after you.

     “Ah, Mr. Kim, it’s an honor. And what brings you into my shop?”

     “I’m just looking for a light read to fill the hot days with. Any recommendations?” The man asked, and the owner hummed in response, pondering over the options.

     “Well, the fantasy section might pique your interest. A good love story is perfect for the longer days of summer. It might even inspire you,” The hinting smile in his tone was obvious, but went unnoticed. The man chuckled at the old man’s words before headed towards the shelves with the recommended genre.

    “I’ll have a look then, thank you.” He said with a smile. You we’re so enraptured with the words on the worn pages that you didn’t realize the presence that lingered just behind you. 

     “Good day, Miss,” A tenor voice from behind you brought you back to the present and away from the book in your hands. You turned around and the tug instantly returned as your eyes met with chestnut once again. 

     “Oh,” you stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought with the pianist from the other night, but now he was standing before you. “Good day, sir.” 

     “It is a good day indeed, now that my eyes have stumbled upon you again.” You felt your cheeks heat up from the sudden flirtatious advances. “I believe it is fate that brought us here to find each other again, don’t you?” The corners of his mouth turned upwards into an honest grin. 

     “Hm,” you contemplated playfully, noticing how his gaze never faltered from your face. “Fate indeed that the stars wanted our paths to cross once again.” 

     “Maybe this time I will be allowed more than a few stolen glances. Perhaps I’ll have the pleasure of knowing your name?” You clutch the novel in your hand a bit tighter, letting your name slip from your mouth carefully. You saw a small flicker of something you couldn’t quite figure out in his expression, a firm smile and kind eyes still exposed to you.

     “It’s a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.” He bowed, extending his hand out in front of you, waiting for your hand to be placed into his. Once obliging, your palms met and his rosy lips brushed lightly over the top of your hand, lingering over the warm flesh for more than what was deemed appropriate. 

 “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Kim.” You hated how your heart fluttered slightly at the delicate touch. His eyebrow shot up in surprise without his cool exterior faltering as his name fell from your mouth so easily. He wondered how you’d known. Perhaps you overheard his previous conversation with the owner. 

     “Please, call me Hongjoong. No need for formalities.” 

     “Very well then. And what brings you here, Hongjoong?” You looked back over to the shelf, pretending to nonchalantly browse the titles under your fingertips.

     “Well, I play the piano, and very much enjoy writing symphonies. However, I am spending the summer away from the city to clear my head a bit. ”

     “Well, Mr. Kim. You’re quite the talk of the town as of late, and I hear that you’re currently the most eligible bachelor.” You recall from all the gossip from around town that you had not stopped hearing about since the party. You learned that he had just arrived that morning and was quickly invited to play that evening. 

     “Is that so?” He took a step closer to you, and you felt yourself subconsciously step a fraction back, not realizing the bookcase was so close behind you. “And what do they have to say?” He was baiting you, and you knew it. Kim Hongjoong was said to be one of those men who frequented the city brothels only men of his status could afford, or he would find his way into the beds of aristocratic women that you absolutely could and would never associate yourself with. Part of you didn’t want to believe the rumors, but the way his eyes trailed your body left you unsure.

  “Not much really, just how handsome you are, and how the way you play piano is a form of art all on its own.” He straightened his stance at that, a proud grin appearing across his features. But you noticed that it still seemed lacking, like the current compliment of the whole entirety of the town wasn’t enough for him or his ego. 

     “And what do you say?” His brow perked up inquisitively, eagerly awaiting another form of praise to drop from your lips. You lightly scoffed under your breath, just enough for him to hear it.

     “I have nothing to say about you.” You simply stated matter of factly. His smile didn't fade like you’d expected it to. Instead, it only grew, like you were challenging a lion waiting to pounce. 

     “I see,” he hummed in response. His eyes trailed down your body, fixating on your hands that were now crossed in front of you, your fingers slightly white at how tight your grip had gotten on the borrowed book.  “I see no husband accompanies you, and no band adorns your left finger. Why is a woman who possesses such beauty as yourself not wed yet?”

     “Because, I have yet to find a man who has any interest in what I love most.” 

     “And what would that be?” You adjusted your stance in hopes this conversation would end soon, his gaze suddenly feeling patronizing. You tapped your fingers against the book in your hands and nodded knowingly. “Books, I presume?”

     “Not just books, Mr. Kim, but the stories that lie within the pages. Fantasy, adventure, romance…it’s all so fascinating to me. It’s hard not to get lost in another world. Naturally, this is something I tend to fall victim to as I am a writer myself.”

     “Well, I see nothing wrong with that,” he claimed, his confidence filling the air around you both. “You’re a well educated woman. Any man would aspire to have a wife with that quality.” 

     “I dream in rose color, Mr. Kim, and I’m afraid no man takes a woman like me seriously.” He clicked his tongue, looking around the room before leaning forward to hover his lips just above your ear.

     “Not all men can handle a woman like you then, now can they.” He spoke low, his chest vibrating as his words rang in your ear and sent shivers down your spine, his breath hot against your skin. The breath you were holding in your lungs suddenly was lost as you inhaled, your senses being overwhelmed by citrus and bergamot. 

     “I-” you felt yourself stumble back and lose your footing, a quiet yelp escaping you. You prepared to tumble back into the shelf behind you when you felt his hand grasp the small of your back and pull you close to his chest. Instead, you found yourself crashing into the pianist, and the two of you hit the ground unceremoniously. You looked down into chestnut and swore you saw the sun when a toothy grin appeared across his face, followed by a hearty laugh. You sprung up after what felt like ages, not sure how long you lingered in his space with curious eyes trying to read him like one of your beloved novels. Once the both of you stood back up, the air turning awkward between you two, he picked the little blue book up from the floor that you hadn’t realized you’d dropped, and held it out to you.

     “Careful, people may think you’re falling for me already.” You felt your features twist into a mildly disgusted expression before a very audible scoff left your lips.

      “You’re…insufferable!” You pushed past him, not wanting to admit the way your heart twisted when you heard his chuckle from behind you.          

     “Good day, Mr. Kim.”

     “I’m sure we’ll see one another again soon.” He winked, but you pretended that you didn’t see it to avoid your face from flushing more than it already was.

—

     The days of summer were passing by in a blur, and you grew more frustrated that you couldn’t write a single thing without feeling mediocre, resulting in you crumpling the paper up and tossing it onto the floor. Inspiration still remained hidden from you, like a treasure you had to hunt down. Your days weren’t always bothersome though, seeing as you started seeing a certain pianist in the bookstore more frequently. You often found Hongjoong at the bookstore whenever you returned for another new read, but as the warm days came and went, you noticed he would sometimes be in the fantasy section browsing the books as if waiting for you to show up. Or, other days, he would be in the back at a little table with his brows furrowed and a pen in his hand as he scribbled treble clefs and b sharps to add to his stack of sheet music.

     You tried your best to stay away, you really did. Not wanting to be the next name in everyone’s mouth, but something wouldn’t allow you to keep your distance for long. It was when he was absolutely enthralled by his work one afternoon that you felt the tug again, the invisible string pulling you towards his hunched over figure. As you approached, you cleared your throat to make your presence known.

     “Ah, what a pleasant surprise to see you again!” He looked up momentarily from his jumble of ink stained papers, his hair a tousled mess and plum crescents circled underneath his puffy eyes. 

     “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” 

     “Trust me, I tried.”

     “But?” A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, his eyes sparkling like diamonds.

     “Well…you frequent the one shop in town that I do, so it’s unavoidable, I suppose.” Your excuse did not fool him, but he did not say anything about it.

     “I see…” he looked around the mess in front of him and stood up swiftly from the wooden chair, creaking slightly as it slid across the floor under his weight. “Would you like to go on a walk with me?” He blurted, as if the idea just came to him at that very moment. Stunned, you looked out the small window at the front of the shop and then back at him

     “Hongjoong, it’s nearly sundown.” 

     “Perfect,” he gathered the papers and shoved them under one arm, offering the other for you to grab onto. “I’ve been wanting to show you something.”

     You two walked not too far, the conversation light and easy as you strolled on his arm through town. Once you reached the edge, cobblestone soon turning to dirt and grass, you noticed a stone path leading up the hill and through a clearing of willow trees. You recall staring up at the aged trees as a little girl, always wondering what magic lied behind the swinging branches. You stopped at the first stone, your grip on his arm loosening as you allowed your arm to unhook from his.

     “What is it?” He turned around with a quizzical expression on his face at the loss of your touch. His eyes met yours, concern filling his dark irises as he looked into your own. 

     “Nothing, it’s just I…” you trailed off, unsure if it was appropriate to engage in such private conversation with a man you hardly knew. 

But that’s the thing. You simultaneously felt like you’d known him for lifetimes prior to this one, and it made your skin buzz at the possibility. The very thought confused you, yet you felt excitement lingering in your bones every time he laid eyes on you and the tug pulled you to him.

     “C’mon,” he held his hand out to you, his palm inviting yours to rest in his. “Do you trust me?” You weren’t sure what exactly possessed you to place your hand in his and slowly nod as a silent confirmation that yes, you did trust him. Why? You were unsure. But something inside you told you that you were supposed to go up that hill and beyond those trees that evening. So, you allowed him to pull you along behind him as you made your way up, up, up until you reached the very top.

     You felt the air get knocked from your lungs when your eyes set upon what was in front of you. A beautiful garden that lit up with fireflies, sprites dancing around the leaves of the trees as the warm evening breeze allowed the flowers to sway in time with the music of nature. 

     “Hongjoong, what…is this place?” 

     “Do you like it?” He peered over at you, the warm glow from the candles burning in their lanterns above casting the most radiate light onto your skin, your lips parting in fascination as you watched his garden come to life as the moon and her stars filled the night sky above. 

     This, he decided, was the purest form of beauty he’s ever seen — You adorning the moon’s elegant light upon you. He did not dare admit that he thought your beauty almost outshined mother moon’s in that moment.  

     “Like it? I’m captivated by it.” You couldn’t find the words, too awestruck by nature’s true beauty as it flourished and came to life in the beginning of the night.     

     “This is my home away from home,” he chuckled at the disbelief that had made its way onto your face. “I grew up here.” You looked just past the garden to see a large house with more windows than you’d ever seen, greenery overtaking the brick walls. You noticed that there was a metal staircase that spiraled up to meet a balcony, a beautiful stained glass window with florals depicted in the vivid colors.  “Would you like to take a look around?” He tugged you along, excitement flooding your veins as you walked through the various plant life, the different scents filling your senses. From roses to peonies, marigolds and tulips. They mingled together to create this Heaven on earth as magic hung in the air around you.

     You took note of the fountain in the middle, frogs ribbiting and grasshoppers chirping as the night came to life around you as you ascended up the aged metal staircase. Once utop the balcony, you ran over to the edge of the thick railing, crashing into it as you took in the whole garden from above. The wind blew your hair around your face, and Hongjoong swore his heart stopped beating in that very moment.

     “It’s like a fairytale.” You whispered more to yourself, but Hongjoong caught every word of it as he leaned against the half wall with you. “Oh Hongjoong,” you sighed dreamily, your chin falling into your palm as you rested your elbow on the marble below it. “Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” He felt the corners of his mouth turn upward slightly, his eyes falling onto your lips, his hand clenched into a fist as he fought back the urge to press his body against yours and kiss you with everything he had. Instead, he chuckled under his breath, his eyes never leaving your face.

     “Yes, indeed it is.” 

— 

     When the middle of summer hit, you did not ever dream of feeling this alive. Hongjoong had let you into a secret garden that opened your eyes to a world beyond the books you found yourself lost in. That alone made your heart soar, and you felt your heart flutter every time you were around him. 

     Small, innocent brushes of his hand against yours as you made small talk about anything and everything, feeling completely comfortable in one another’s presence once you started spending more and more time with one another.    You hadn’t experienced this feeling before, but it felt like what every book you had read had described this feeling to be…but you were hesitant at first. 

     It wasn’t until you found yourself under the August full moon in his garden, your heart trembling as the energy in the air shifted that night. Something had changed, but you couldn’t figure out what exactly. As you popped various fruits into your mouth and drank the fizzy liquor he had brought out from the house onto the balcony to make “the perfect midnight picnic” he had claimed, you couldn’t help notice the way his eyes lingered on you for longer than usual. You saw his hands tremble ever so lightly and his features displaying a softer side to him instead of his usual charming facade. Your body was slouching back against the metal as you gazed lazily up at the twinkling stars that littered the sky, feeling completely at peace as you usually did in his presence. You heard him say your name under his breath, pulling you from whatever fantasy you’d made up in your head that evening, to see him standing inches from you. You’d noticed he had trapped your figure between his arms as he pinned you against the railing, his breath warm on your face as he inched closer, sending your heart flying manically within your rib cage.

     “I-I think I’m falling in love with you…” he stuttered nervously, bluntly, shamelessly. His eyes darkened and were full of something you couldn’t understand. You felt your breath hitch, your mind fogging over in a lavender haze as you tried to dissect his words.

     ‘I’m falling in love with you.’ His words rang in your ears, your chest swelling uncomfortably as you responded with no thought behind your response, but more so you just allowed your intuition to guide you through the dangerous storm that was your heart, your feelings for Hongjoong that you had suppressed and refused to acknowledge because he was a player. How many other women did he confess to just to get them into bed with him? For so long, you refused to be labeled as one of them. But now, you couldn’t, wouldn’t, deny yourself and your emotions any longer. You didn’t care about the rumors, you didn’t care about his reputation. You only cared about acting on your feelings that had recently began to surface. 

     “Kiss me.” You requested softly. You half expected his ego to ruin the moment you reciprocated his advance, but you were surprised when his playboy exterior had not returned. Instead, if it was even possible, his eyes shined brighter than the stars above you two as an innocent smile painted itself across his face as his hands came up to cup your face sweetly. You could feel the beat of his erratic heart through his fingertips as he closed the gap between you two. 

     His lips on yours was absolutely electrifying, like bolts of lightning shooting through your veins and you could have sworn you heard the sky unleash a crack of thunder as the rain began to pour down onto you both. You didn’t care, even your mouths refused to seize their movements against each other as your tongues crossed one another in the most heated kiss you’d ever experienced. Both his hands clutched your face a bit tighter, pulling you deeper into him, sucking your bottom lip in between his own pair and making you dizzy.

     He started backing up, taking you with him through the French doors inally and led you to the fluffy bed. He backed up into the mattress and collapsed against the warm fabric with you on top of him. You stayed like that, lips never leaving one another for hours, lazy kisses and fingertips exploring every inch of your wet skin until your lips were too swollen, and the clothing was too much to keep against your skin.      

     You swallowed the foreign feeling of surrender as you allowed your heart to experience the pleasure your body was. You instead focused on the way his calloused hands worked at the soaked fabric of your dress, the material slipping from your figure and to the floor, leaving you in your slip that stuck sinfully to you, leaving nothing to the imagination as the cotton fabric exposed you as if you were bare. He removed that as well in time, his jaw going slightly slack and his eyes becoming hooded once he had you naked before him. He did not dare rush, but simply wanted, needed, to take his time with you, savoring every little detail of your curves, your dips, and your edges. He felt the dam holding in his overwhelming emotions break, once your eyes locked again and he saw your smile.      

He knew in that moment that he was in love with everything  that was simply you.

     You woke up later that night, feeling absolutely blissful after recalling how his body felt against yours for the first time, memorizing the sounds he made as he burrowed himself deep in between your legs. You felt a blush dust across your cheeks as the memories played out like a play. 

     You were soon drawn from your visions when you felt nothing next to you in the bed, the sheets abandoned long ago. You looked over across the room frantically, only to find him hunched over at a table, a lantern illuminating the concentration on his face as he scribbled onto tea stained paper. You watched him for a while, but it wasn’t long before he felt your eyes on him, causing him to return your gaze. He smiled tiredly, standing from the table and making his way over to you, a thin robe exposing his chest as he strode over. 

     “Did I wake you?”

     “Not at all, I was just upset that the bed was cold.” He chuckled, his breathy laugh sending a soothing emotion through you. 

     “I’m sorry, I just needed to get this song out of my head…would you like to hear it?” You nodded, eyes lighting up at the thought of him playing for you. “Very well then,” he grabbed the sheet music and placed it at the grand piano just next to him, the chair squeaking under his weight as he sat down. He cracked his knuckles, shaking his hands out to loosen himself up before inhaling deeply and looking over the paper one last time before he began to play.

The room suddenly filled with so much emotion, it was nearly suffocating. Your eyes watched how his fingers strategically danced across the keys, the motions seeming so effortless as he swayed back and forth in time with each key being pressed. The melancholy melody painted the room various shades of blue and gray, the music reminding you of the midnight sky and the feeling it evoked when you longingly looked up at the stars and wished for your heart’s deepest desire. It was the sound of how it felt to talk to the moon when you prayed for your wish to come true. It was indescribable with words, but Hongjoong was able to convey every emotion lingering in the air with his fingertips. 

     When he stopped playing, you came back down from the cloud you’d perched yourself on top of as you lost yourself to the lullaby he had created, and you felt tears burning your eyes. 

     “That was lovely. You play beautifully.” You commented, voice barely there as you allowed your eyes to speak for you when words had failed you. 

     “Thank you,” he gathered the pages back up neatly, placing them back on the holder before reaching for the glass with a swig of amber colored liquor left in it that sat on the table. “It’s meant to portray longing. It’s an insatiable feeling that gets deeply rooted into your soul if you’re not careful. Even if you grab hold of something so tightly and never want to let go, sometimes you feel that sense of greed that you need more, even if you have the whole world at your fingertips.” You hummed in response, feeling the ache in your chest burn as you dared ask your next question. 

     “What was your inspiration?” His eyes finally settled on yours, a sad smile making its way onto his lips before he sighed.

     “You.” 

—

     As the sun began to burst into bright hues of oranges and reds, painting the sky as it set for the day, you unlocked the gate that led into Hongjoong’s garden, the sprites welcoming you back once again to the fairytale you longed to escape into. As you approached the spiral stairs that took you to a land that seemed far far away from reality, there he was, the handsome prince of your summer romance, waiting for you at the top. 

He was bent over the railing, a bottle of fizzy liquor half empty dangling from between his fingertips as his eyes searched the sky for something he would never say out loud. A miracle maybe, that someone would someday come sweep him away from the tower he deemed himself trapped in.  

     “That’s very Romeo and Juliet of you,” you laughed from the bottom of the steps, taking one of the leaves of ivy that wrapped around the railing in your finger, the leaf turning a bright green in the sun’s evening glow. You saw him shake himself from his daydream and look down upon you. He let out a breathy laugh as his eyes focused onto you and how your aura was a bright gold at this hour. Maybe this was his golden hour, you standing in his blooming garden, the butterflies and fairies dancing around you as you looked up at him like he was some kind of god that you worshiped. He pondered on the thought.

     “I suppose, but why do I have to be Juliet? I’m not a damsel in distress.” You giggled under your breath as you began walking up the steps.

     “Are you sure about that?” He rolled his eyes, taking a swig from the crystal bottle before extending his arm out as he waited for you to reach the top. “It’s okay, I’ll rescue you. Just don’t drink any poison before I arrive.” You reached for the bottle he gripped tightly onto but willingly gave over to you. He smiled, a kind of stoic look appearing on his face. 

     “I can’t make any promises,” he sheepishly grinned as his eyes diverted down to the bottle in his hand. Your heart trembled at the way his words rang with a hint of truth and a cry for help with how his eyes flickered with a hint of sadness, but that was something you would address another day perhaps. 

     He held the door open for you to enter, the last beams of the sun’s light shining through the stained glass and creating a rainbow of color on the walls. 

     “I’m only kidding, you know.” he made sure to assure you, you not noticing that he could see the sudden panic in your eyes as you approached him. He walked past you and collapsed onto the bed, a weight filling the air that suddenly caused you to follow suit. You crawled on top of the duvet next to him, waiting for him to open the door to his secret wonderland once more. His head hit the pillow, eyes looking up at the ceiling, hands laying flat on his chest. “I just…” he sighed, trying to find the words while seeking out the courage to let you through the door to his heart. He reached over and pulled you to him, his head rolling to the side to rest his lips against your temple. You were soon thankful for him closing the space between you. 

     You tiptoed around Hongjoong, like trying not to scare a fawn away. That was your biggest fear — losing him. But when the warmth of his lips met your burning skin, the thought of him running away vanished quicker than it had arrived. 

“So when do I get to read one of your stories?” He questioned, eyebrows wiggling teasingly. You groaned at the thought as you tried to forget that you had not picked up a pen to write since you started seeing Hongjoong more. 

“I don’t have anything to show you, unfortunately.”

     “That’s alright. Maybe you just need a little inspiration.” 

     “That’s exactly what I need. It’s not easy to come by when you’re surrounded by the same things and people everyday. There’s just nothing to write about.”

     “There’s enough gossip floating around town that you could find something to write about, I’m sure.” You hummed in response, the air in the room falling into a comfortable silence before he spoke again, much more softly this time. “They’re not true you know...”

     “Hm?” You turned to the side, your eyes focused on the shape of his mouth as he spoke.

     “The rumors,” he deadpanned, the words not easily slipping from his tongue. His jaw clenched slightly, and you knew you were approaching something touchy, but if he allowed it, you would slowly walk towards that door he was willing to open for you.

     “What do you mean?” An exasperated sigh fell from his lips, but you knew it wasn’t directed towards you.

     “I’m sure you’ve heard them by now, just like everybody else. ‘Artist Kim Hongjoong, the playboy, makes his rounds into a different bed every night.’ ‘Pianist Kim Hongjoong was seen leaving the brothel once again.’” He trailed off, the annoyance seeping into his tone.

     “You can’t truly believe that anyone believes that about you.” You supplied, but you knew Hongjoong wasn’t buying it when he let out a cold laugh.

     “Clearly you haven’t been around town lately.” Even though you knew it wasn’t supposed to be a jab, you could feel the knife pierce your skin with the way he spoke his words with a hint of venom laced between each letter.  “Besides, I’ve tried time and time again to save my image, I really have. I don’t know how it even started...” he paused, feeling frustrated, with hurt taking over his soft features, hardening him like a shell that wouldn’t crack.  “It’s like, if I pretend I don’t hear what they say, it’ll all go away if I ignore it long enough. I’ll forget about it and move on. But you don’t see the way people look at me…maybe I’m not cut out to be in the spotlight. Maybe I should just stop playing and-” You sat up and took his hands in yours, your heart beginning to jump within your chest like a wild rabbit.

     “That’s nonsense, and you know it.” You urged, your words beginning to get stuck in your throat. “You’re too talented to let this dream go. You’re already so loved here, who knows how far your music could take you.” You rubbed circles with your thumbs into the top of his hands, your eyes refusing to meet his own. “Please…don’t. Hold onto it…so tightly, even if it suffocates you. Don’t let anyone or anything take it away from you.” The desperation leaked from your voice, and you weren’t sure if you were referring to his music or yourself, but with the way he pulled you closer to his chest, you knew he wasn’t sure either.

     You wouldn’t push him to say more, and Hongjoong was silently thankful for that. The words you both didn’t want to speak were dangling threateningly over both your heads the closer Autumn became. You both knew the end of the summer was your doomed fate, but neither of you dared to speak of it. You simply pushed it away from reality instead, allowing yourselves the peace of existing in a garden of mystical creatures and fireflies as the long days blurred into shorter nights. Every moment spent together was filled with glitter and magic, and every bit of fantasy you could ever ask for. You wanted to be his, gods, did you so desperately want to be his, but you would rather have this little piece of him that he offered to you willingly, than nothing at all. 

     The little fragments of himself that he chose to share with you were so precious, whether that be a tender kiss to your temple as a silent confession, or when he stayed up until the sun woke up and the dew covered the gardens outside to write something beautiful just for your ears to hear later that night. You never asked for anything, but were grateful when he let you into his inner world, a place you knew no one but him was allowed to explore, reside or dwell in. 

     There were days you would just lay together, no words exchanged between the two of you, just the steady beating of your hearts. Those were the days you laid in bed waiting for the sun to set so it would welcome the moon and her stars into the sky, the air filled with laughter and sweet nothings being whispered onto sticky skin. Once the stars littered the sky, soft whimpers and gasps would fill the hazy atmosphere when fingertips grazed sensitive spots on exposed skin, when kisses were slow and drawn out, lazy but intentional. Swollen champagne lips and strawberry kisses melted into burning flesh that craved to be touched, to be loved. Ignoring the empty liquor bottles that littered the floor from the days you were not there fueled a new fire within you. 

     You felt the need to save him from everything that plagued him, a need to save him from himself, but you didn’t even know what this was between the two of you, let alone know if he even wanted to be saved. But, as the days blurred together like your vision when tears formed in your eyes when the sun was too bright in the early afternoon, you realized it would be harder and harder to stay away from him. All of you wished for it, but you knew both of you didn’t have the strength to comply with that, nor would you ever ask that of him. So, with a heavy heart, you decided that wanting was enough. 

     For you, it was enough. 

—

     As the cool September breeze rolled through the open window and past the sheer curtains, you let your eyes wander around the space you began to think of as home, reflecting on the summer days that had passed by in such a blur. You saw the wind chimes that played a symphony of their own, the large weeping willow tree just outside the window knocking into the stained glass harmonizing with the clanking metal. You saw the way the birds flew around, singing the beautiful lyrics of nature, the grasshoppers playing their legs like a violin as butterflies fluttered around in a synchronized dance with the fireflies. 

     Your eyes finally landed on Hongjoong’s ethereal figure next to you. Some strands of his hair stuck to his forehead as his chest rose and fell to steady his erratic heartbeat underneath his rib cage. Your gaze trailed down his bare chest, the smooth skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. The delicate sheet draped just over his lower half, his hip bone peaking out slightly. One arm was stretched behind his head for support as he laid there with his fingers combing through the hair at the base of his neck with his eyes closed. 

     His other hand trailed along the soft skin on your back, both of you bare and exposed to the walls surrounding you. Paintings you had created together when the air was sticky and the fruit he brought from the garden was sticky sweet, hung on any available space, making each wall feel cluttered, but it was how Hongjoong liked it. 

     All you, always. Compressed into an overwhelming suffocation. It was beautiful and made it hard for him to breathe in the most intoxicating way. 

     Your attention was brought back to the moment when you heard him exhale contently and felt the sheets rustle next to you, his front now nuzzling into your side. You felt the tip of his nose graze across your skin, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a content sigh.

     “I wish we could stay like this forever,” he admitted into your sticky flesh, his hand coming up to caress the exposed breast that was uncovered from the sheet. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his mouth place wet kisses onto the mound of flesh that adorned your chest, his lips taking your nipple in slowly as he let his tongue rile the bud up. You sighed, feeling a wave of arousal crash into you. 

     “Tell me you love me,” you whispered breathily, the air surrounding you warming up as you felt the disbelieving and honest chuckle rumble from within his chest, as if he couldn’t believe you’d tasked him with something as easy as breathing. “I want to hear you say it again,” His mouth came off of you with a pop as he looked at you through his thick lashes. He laid his head across your chest, his ear pressed just above where your heart was wildly beating like thunder during a vicious storm.

     “I love you,” he reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, not letting the fondness in your eyes go unnoticed. “I love you with everything that one human could possibly give to another.” He rubbed his thumb lightly across your cheek, a small smile forming across his lips as he stared at you. “I love you earnestly, passionately, and irrevocably so.” He paused, lifting his hand to cup your cheek lovingly. He scooted up, putting his arm over your abdomen and supporting himself up. He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, and soon was dipping down to press a lingering kiss to your lips before continuing. “I would willingly give myself to you in any way you wish to have me.” You felt the blush dust across your cheeks at his words, as if pulled from one of your favorite novels.

     “I must admit,” you propped your head up with your chin on your forearm, eyes lazily looking into his as he laid back down beside you to get a straight on view of your features. He swore he would never tire of the sight before him. “I feel the same way.” He chuckled in response, his hand going to the back of your head as he used his fingers to comb through your hair. 

     “I would sure hope so. If you didn’t, I would be questioning your motives.” He joked, his smile spreading when you rolled your eyes and laughed under your breath. 

     “I’m serious! I have never loved another this way, nor do I ever want to.” Your eyes became glassy when you saw the sun shine in his own, the sunset painting an array of hues across his porcelain skin. His other hand reached down to grab yours, his lips pressing feather light kisses to each fingertip, his eyes never leaving yours as he did so, his gaze growing serious and intense. A shiver made its way down your spine in response to his affection. 

     “Would you die for me?” His lips stilled on your skin, waiting for your response. You could feel his hummingbird heart about to take flight in his chest the longer you let the air between the two of you stay silent. 

     “Of course.” You simply said, the words easily leaving your swollen lips to your own surprise. You weren’t sure when that had become an absolute truth in your heart, and you didn’t want to ponder on the thought for too long. “You’ll be the one to kill me in the end, anyway.” 

     “‘You say I killed you, so haunt me then.’” Your eyes darted up at him, a knowing smile making its way across his face. 

     “I didn’t know you read Brontë.” 

     “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he lightly traced patterns into your back, your head falling back onto his chest. “But I’d like to change that.” Next thing you know he is hovering back over you, his intense irises locked on yours. His strong arms pulled you into his embrace, the stickiness on his skin from your previous endeavors heating up under your touch like lava. He reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out three matching black satin ties and sitting up straight above you so he could see the entirety of you. “Do you trust me?” 

     “With my life.” You stated firmly, but you didn’t know if the answer was for him or yourself. He smiled, his eyes softening at the mere sight of your body underneath his, the sheet long gone from both of your bodies. 

     “Good. I want to make sure you never forget me.” 

     “I don’t think that’s possible.” Your eyes stared holes into his face, the passion burning your veins and begging for him to touch you. Your skin tingled, blood red hot and buzzing with adrenaline when he took your wrists in his hands and began tying a knot. Once your wrists were bound together, he sat you up straight and gathered your luscious hair into a messy pony, wrapping the second piece of satin around the bundled up hair. Some strands fell back onto your face, but he did not seem to mind. He finally held the third piece in his hands, reaching behind your head and covering your eyes. 

     “Are you alright?” He inquired, goosebumps forming across your skin as you felt his breath ghost along your ear. “Is this okay?” 

     “Yes,” you confirmed, feeling your scorching blood running thickly through your body, acutely more aware of everything around you now that you had lost your vision. 

     “Good,” you felt his fingers ever so lightly brush along you, shoved after shiver rippling through your body, your core beginning to dampen the bedding underneath you. You felt his breath hovering over your lips, and you so desperately wanted him to close the small space that separated your lips from his. Like he read your mind, he nipped at your lower lip, his tongue quickly swiping over it and backing away as you tried chasing his lips with your own. A disgruntled groan left you, the frustration only building the more he did it. 

     “Please Hongjoong, ” You whined, feeling the tension in your abdomen twist every second he denied you the touch of his lips. You felt your core tingle as his hands traveled over your body, but never really touching you. But you could feel the energy from his palms vibrating every atom within you. You leaned forward and were met with nothing, a frustrated whine slipping from your lips. You heard him chuckle, and it wasn’t long before his lips were crashing into yours feverently. You had never wanted your hands to be free more than you did in this moment. You had not realized how deprived you would feel restrained under his strong hold on your wrists as his mouth consumed yours. You needed to card your fingers through his hair, you needed to feel his muscles under your fingertips, you needed to touch.

     “I want you…” He panted into your mouth, his length hardening against you as he subconsciously began to grind on you. “So. Bad.”

     “Take me, for I am yours.” You pleaded, against his rushed kisses, your tongues waltzing with one another as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing firmly into yours. “Only yours.” You sighed into his lips, and you heard a small moan leave his own.

     You felt him grab your wrists and bring your arms up over your head, the tie in your hair loosening and soon your hair fell around you as he removed the strip of satin. You could hear Hongjoong working above you, and soon felt his grip on you leave, but your arms were still suspended above you. Your abdomen swirled with excitement as you realized he had tied you to the iron bed frame to keep you in place. 

You shuddered when you felt his breath back on your skin, this time it was much, much lower than before. His hot breath was blowing against your clit, causing you to writhe at the immediate sensation. 

     “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to taste you on my tongue.” You felt his nose brush along the sensitive skin near your folds. It disappeared just as quickly as it had come, but not without a deep sigh leaving him first as he took in the very sight before him. Your trembling figure above him, your dripping cunt waiting to clench onto something, your throbbing clit wishing to be abused.

     “To devour you, is my most absolute desire in this world.” He growled against the inside of your thigh, lightly nipping his way towards your heat once more. He suddenly licked a stripe up your center, your back arching instantly as you felt the air being ripped straight from your lungs, a gasp falling from your lips. The moan that exited his lungs was feral, and was now something you craved to pull out of his chest. Again, and again, and again.

     “No wine, no champagne, nor any fruit could ever taste as delectably addictive than you do, my love.” He said as he licked his way around your sex, making sure every drop of arousal that dropped from your awaiting pussy was cleaned up before he made an even bigger mess of you. 

He reached up and pressed two fingers against your lips, encouraging you to allow him entrance into your mouth. You allowed it, your tongue obsessively coating his digits with your saliva, sucking hard and needy. You heard a groan come from him, his dick twitching in anticipation at the feeling of your mouth on his fingers. He pulled them out and dipped back down, slowly sliding them into your soaked cunt, your walls inviting him in. You couldn’t suppress the noises that begged to leave your mouth as he reached a hand up and pressed down against your stomach, pumping his fingers in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. 

     “Hongjoong, I-I need it faster,” you panted and begged into the air, the itch to grab a fistful of his hair so strong in your fingertips it felt like an ache. At your request, his fingers plunged deeper and at a quicker pace, his fingers curling inside to feel the spongy wall he was looking for. 

     “I want to make you see stars brighter than the ones outside that window as you cum for me, pretty baby.” He confessed into your core as his tongue flicked against your clit, waiting for your release and the floodgates to open onto his awaiting tongue.

     “I can’t, I can’t hold on,” you jumbled, your eyes rolling behind the blindfold as you squeezed your hands together like you were in prayer. 

     “Let go, my love.” He cooed, his honey voice making you melt under his words. 

One.

Two.

Three.

     You counted the amount of flicks to your swollen bud and until you were gushing around him, your slick running down the base of his fingers, your back arching like your body was possessed, the desperate moans escaping you as you felt liquid hot and completely on fire, everything going numb and your body exploding like a shooting star under his touch, the pressure of his hand on your stomach becoming overwhelming as he pressed down.

     Your ears rang, you felt the earth spinning and you tried catching the stolen breath to return it to your lungs as you laid there, arms exhausted from hanging above you. 

     “We’re not done yet, darling.” He purred, coming up to you and removing your blindfold so you could watch him put his fingers into his mouth, slurping up the slick that had coated his hand. You felt another tug in your gut and the familiar warmth returned to your core as he used the rest of it to coat his dick and stroke his length lazily, his eyes blown out completely and hooded as they bore into your sparkling skin.

     “I need more,” you pleaded weakly, the emptiness your felt while your walls clenched at nothing, waiting for something to grip onto. “I need you. Please Hongjoong, I need you.” 

     “You have me, love. I’m right here.” He grabbed your arms and untied you from the iron, your wrists still bound together. He draped your arms around his neck before positioning you over his throbbing member. 

     “Now,” he held your hips firmly in place just above him. You could feel his leaking tip barely touch your entrance, a string of precum connecting to you. “take what you want from me.” He sucked your earlobe into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing the cartilage as you sunk down onto his length. You did not need time to adjust to him, your heat consuming his length effortlessly. Your rigid walls sent a shiver down his spine, the shock of your sex tightly encasing him in a safe hug brought him to near tears as he released your lobe and tilted his head back, a guttural moan shamelessly slipping from between his swollen lips.

     Your lips found his adams apple, it vibrated under your touch as you began to bounce slowly on top of him, grinding your hips in a circular motion against him. The lewd sound of your skin smacking against one another, the squelching when his member was pulled completely out and thrusted right back into your hole, your slick pooling out of any available space it could. His hands gripped your hips as he guided you to rock back and forth, his face dipping down in between your bouncing breasts as you moved in rhythm with his heartbeat.

     His nails dug into the sensitive flesh of your hips as he bucked his hips upward to meet your thrusts. The pace you had set was much too slow for his liking, but he didn’t want this moment to end so soon, the warmth beginning to build up in his abdomen. As your hips rocked and your body shook with each jab his dick made into your spongy wall inside of you, a waterfall of gasps and moans poured from your lungs, the stars in the night sky filling your vision completely with their dazzling light. 

     “Baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” he panted into your neck, his own whines and moans filling the space between you in the most beautifully erotic way. 

     “Hongjoong, I-oh,” As you both released everything you possibly could while flying through the galaxy behind your eyes, it was like a nebula of stars bursting inside of your chest, forming new constellations just for him. All the love you could ever imagine giving to someone was bursting at the seams and overflowing from your skin. It was all consuming, and you knew you would never recover from this. 

Hongjoong was your undoing.

     Satiated, he collapsed on top of you, all of his weight melting into your body as you laid there. His member softened inside your walls, still holding onto his member desperately as you were his body on top of you. You felt his hand slide up your arm and untie the satin that kept your wrists bound in place so you could finally relax the aching muscles against him. You finally were able to run your fingers through his damp hair, your lips planting themselves onto his temple as he laid there breathing heavily. 

     “I love you…so much.” Your voice broke, barely above a whisper, hot tears falling from your tired eyes as you took in the comforting citrus and bergamot you’d come so accustomed to over the summer. Now that autumn was here, you were sure you had fallen just as the leaves on the trees that laid beyond the walls you resided in had. It was inevitable, unavoidable, and almost felt fated. 

     “You’re everything to me,” he pressed his lips to your pulse point on your neck, lingering there as he took in your sweet scent and committed it to memory. 

“Everything.”

—

     Once the leaves darkened and began to fall from their branches, the air cooling and the days getting shorter, you knew it was time for Hongjoong to go back to the city. 

     “I’ll write to you,” he said, his warm hands taking yours and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. The arriving carriage outside to take him was confirmation that your time with him was truly up.

     “I’ll tell you all about the fairytales I write, but only if you promise to write a song for me.” 

     “Oh my love,” he cupped your face, eyes softening with tears brimming and threatening to spill. “You’re my muse…the reason I will continue to write from every day on. Everything I do is all for you now.” 

     “Promise you’ll come back to me? Tell me this isn’t goodbye…” he brought you into his embrace, the autumn breeze sending a chill through you. His warmth surrounded you as his cheek pressed into the top of your head as he held you.

     “This isn’t goodbye…” He adorned a sad smile on his face as he tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “Besides, how am I going to marry you if I never return?” 

     “What…?” You pulled back a little so his face came into view, your heart freezing over as his words embedded themselves into your soul.

     “Marry me.” It wasn’t a question, which sent your heart soaring through the clouds above. “When I come back, I want to take you away. We can travel the world, see the stars from anywhere you wish. Just as long as I’m with you.” He gulped, his eyes turning glassy at the sight of you.   “I can’t bear to live a life without you in it...So please, wait for me. I won’t be gone long.” 

     “Oh, Hongjoong…I-”

     “Do you trust me?” His eyes bore into yours, nothing but absolute infatuation and devotion swimming in his chestnut irises, erasing any doubt you had lingering in your heart. You closed your eyes and leaned back into him, allowing his embrace to tighten over you once more. You allowed your senses to fill with his intoxicating citrus and bergamot before a sigh fell from your lips.

“Always.”

—

     That evening, you sat by your window with fresh pages and a new pen in your lap, ready to finally write. As you replayed every memory, every touch, every whispered confession from this summer, you felt a sense of ease wash over you when you realized that you had now found your muse. 

     You took a sip of the tea you had made, placing the tea cup on the sill as you gazed up into the night sky. Even if he wasn’t with you, you sought comfort in the way you could feel in every bone in your body that you were under the same sky, illuminated by the same glittering stars. 

     As you found yourself humming the lullaby he played for you that one august morning after you had shared another sleepless night between his alabaster sheets, you lazily looked up at the stars above, chin resting on the palm of your hand as the fireflies danced for you like they did when Hongjoong was there. You felt the familiar tug you’d grown used to over the summer pull at the strings that held your heart in place. 

You couldn’t help but wonder he was looking up at the moon and thinking of you too. Another tug in your chest was felt as the thought floated around your headspace. A small smile formed across your features as you nuzzled deeper into the cushion on the sill, eyes filling with tears as your heart sang.

Yes, he most certainly was. 

[elsie-talisman]

crim be like…. (Apologies for this stream of consciousness)

emily never had anyone around her growing up. she never felt like she belonged and her family weren’t very welcoming or loving (except the one crazy grandfather recluse up the mountains)

therefore, when emily enters ‘the real world’ and is given the job of going undercover she has no trouble saying goodbye to Emily Prentiss because she has no issue abandoning herself has no ties to make her stay (out of fear of becoming her mother, or worse a bored socialite) so she shacks up with a terrorist and despite it probably being abusive, unconventional and dangerous she’s like well first time i have ever felt like i have a family or that i belong, so maybe i will create a delusional reality and pick flowers and gimmel ring marry this murderer because home is where the heart is, but god i love the irish!

basically I have got sidetracked on my normal rant of Emily didn’t love Doyle but she loved her life as Lauren aka the life Doyle provided for her!

And it is obviously so possible to still not feel like you belong with a sister or to feel as if you’re unloved!

But those feeling have always been directed at Elizabeth and the life she provided! So surely emily and her sister would have trauma bonded in their nomadic lives

It doesn’t make sense why emily would have hated her life so badly if she had someone!!!

Also her and her sister hated one another so badly she couldn’t go to her when she was fifteen!? (Further making me think they’re a similar age, but Emily is the older sibling)

And I’m assuming they’re a similar age because the actress who played Emily’s mother was too young to have had a child much older and emily herself is too maternal and caring to have hated a much younger sister!

Although, saying this… with emily being clearly very clever (Yale graduate and polyglot etc) she could have set high expectations in their household and has a younger sister who has always taken issue and resented her…

…but I don’t think that warrants missing her funeral!

Perhaps they’ll make it a slightly younger sibling (the only reality I am currently willing to accept) , but the reason they don’t talk better be amazing!!!!!

At least I can write a fic where Emily and Hotch bond over their wild younger siblings together

(Although I swear down crim writers maybe give her a dad now too, but anymore surprises in the canon and I’m throwing hands)

Thank you if you made it to the end of this rant x

[gldenhrs]

                               (—) ★ spotted !!   luciana  “ luna “  santiago  on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid ! many say that the 22 year old looks like cindy kimberly , but i don’t really see it. while the model / socialite  is known for being  passionate  my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be  irresponsible i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song crazy by aerosmith .

*   ◞  ╰   general   .

full name :   luciana kristiyana santiago .  nicknames :   goes prominently by  luna  , only her dad calls her  moon  . birthdate / zodiac sign :   april 12th / aries .  birthplace :  madrid , spain . sexual orientation :  bisexual / heteroromantic .  family :   victor “ vic “  santiago (  lead singer in Aerosmith )  &  indah prasetya  ( band’s groupie )  languages spoken :   fluent in english  &  spanish , conversational in indonesian . pets :   two cats named freddie purrcury  &   madam meow  occupation :  model / socialite . love language :  physical touch . + traits  :  passionate , adventurous , enchanting , valiant , energetic , optimistic , affectionate  &   honest . - traits  :  dramatic , stubborn , querulous , insecure , irresponsible , impulsive , impatient   &  moody .   aesthetic :  red lipstick on plump lips , freshly baked coffee , spontaneous dance parties , strawberry lemonade on hot summer nights , heart shaped sunglasses , pigmented eyelids , european music festivals , setting off firecrackers at midnight , laughter floating through a room , missed calls at 2am , ripped bralettes , bare chest in the mornings .   muse inspo :   fran fine ( the nanny ) , francesca farago ( too hot to handle ) , kelly taylor ( 90210 ) , rachel green ( friends ) , jackie buckhart ( that 70s show  ) , hanna marin  ( pretty little liars ) ,  phoebe halliwell ( charmed ) , kiara ( outer banks ) , gabrielle solis ( desperate housewives ) , caroline forbes ( the vampire diaries ) , stassi schroder ( vanderpump rules ) ,  maddie perez ( euphoria ) .

*   ◞  ╰   quick history   .

victor  “ vic “   santiago  (  aka luna’s dad  )  is a  famous lead singer in a rock band .  think steven tyler from aerosmith ! !  so basically , growing up she’s been constantly surrounded by  GOOD  80s rock music  &  being on the road which definitely shaped her personality .

luna’s mother  ,  a groupie  ,  is someone who followed the band around on the road for numerous years , but vic never took her seriously  (  only took them to bed )   &  the only reason she even got pregnant with luna is because vic wanted a child , knowing he would most likely never marry .

soooo , incomes luciana “ luna “ santiago ,  his pride  &  joy  , his  MOON .  yes , he actually calls her that bc he’s always had an obsession with the stars   &  constellations .  tbh luna’s been the love / light of vic’s life from the moment she was born , adored by not only her dad , but the band , team  &  fans too !

as for her mother * cough *  , who knows where she is now , she doesn’t stay in touch tbh , only comes in town every couple of years to  “  see her “  aka  “  ask for money “ .  

with the better part of early years where she was home schooled due to her dad’s insane tour schedule , luna was always an insanely energetic  &  menace of a child , constantly running around , causing trouble , etc !  

at some point , she realized just how much she  LOVES  traveling , nature  &  being barefoot .  yes , kind of a wanderer but who can blame her when she grew up with 80s rock legends ? ?  so , she spend almost every waking moment traveling to exotic places , going to music festivals , walking bare chested in the mornings , painting landscapes  (  SHE’S V TALENTED ) , having spontaneous dance parties at 3am , etc !

as far as doing things outside of being a socialite / a nepo baby go ,  she’s been in her dad’s music videos since she was 15  (  think liv tyler in crazy  )  ,  and in many others , which naturally resulted in a numerous calls for modeling gigs , tv shows …. she took some modeling jobs out of fun  &  recently also out of pure fun , went to a famous tv show called  “ too hot to handle “   (  think francesca farago here’s inspo hehe :  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rUY_xAF0T0  )  .  in a way , the only reason she went to that show was to show the world she can be something other than vic santiago’s daughter , so here she is ! !

*   ◞  ╰   personality & dating life   .

luna’s a bit of a spoiled brat which is a given ,  &  while she does come across a textbook example of a nepo baby with no real world problems , she’s really not bc she never cared much about the fame she just likes having  FUN  .

v v enchanting  &  can charm her way out of any bad situation  &  make u swoon .  tbh 10/10  she’ll annoy the living shit out of u or u’ll find her irresistible lol .

given her spanish roots , she can be hella’ dramatic just like her fav characters in telenovelas , but beside that she’s a truly good person with a good heart ok ! !   she just has a flair for dramatics , throwing fits , pouting   &   making puppy eyed faces whenever things don’t go her way .

can be hella hella flirtatious to a point she doesn’t even realize the effect she has on other people  &  more often than not she leads people on ? ?   she regrets it later but eh .

loves to party , drink , dance , wear skimpy outfits  &  kiss on the lips but also wear mickey mouse pajamas while someone softly combs through her hair ? ?   yeah , she needs to grow up . also kind of  LIVES  for summer  &  music festivals where she can just dress in glitter  &  fall in love with a different person every night !

v fun to be around bc she hates being bored  &  is impatient af !  she can’t stand being in one place for too long soooo catch her doing v dumb , impulsive decisions while bored like jumping on her father’s private jet to pet a koala in australia , go bungee jumping or snapping u a nude bc she’s bored at home jfnerjfgjsrgf .

some cute headcanons ? ?  ok , here we go ! !   to this day loves watching telenovelas  &  she might cancel her plans with u to binge watch them (  like rebelde , rubí ,  pasion de gavilanes , la reina del sur … ) , still cries like a baby when mufada dies or miguel  &  mia break up ,  very childish  &  dumb at times but will also surprise u with some random wisdom at 2am , will react if someone offends her or her friends best believe she’ll throw a dramatic telenovela shit in public  &  call u  “ un desgraciado “ lmao .

*   ◞  ╰   connections  .

she could use a squad  ?  like PLS .  i want her to have a squad of friends she can party with and overall do dumb shit lmao . 

also her  BFFS .  the thelma to her louise , the cassie to her maddie ! !   overall just two muses who are her family  &  they’re always tagging along w her , like vic probably treats them like his children too ! 

someone she’s  dating  atm but it’s nothing too serious , maybe he’ll end up breaking up with her or she’ll break up with him we’ll see but main thing is they WON’t last bc they’re messy af   &   luna’s heart isn’t 100% in this .

a  close friend  who party  &   hookup with other people when they’re out but always end up going home together  &  having this super open friendship where they have no problem hooking up with each other 6/7 days of the week ? ?

also gimme  caleb fuck buddies  that everyone ships  &  one of them is in love with the other while the other seems them just as a good time ?  ewfjwesbf.

also also gimme  a messy ex  plot where they are constantly on / off  &  the fans love em but they’re just so fucking toxic ? ?  maybe bc they’re too alike  &  won’t admit it’s love   &  just won’t settle down  (  like imagine cheating scandals , public fights caught by tmz ... but also cute ass insta posts when they’re in a good place )  just think of nate  &  maddie from euphoria or  francesca  &  harry ! ! 

a plot where luna  uses them  to make someone jealous but they don’t know  &  actually think it’s a  legit  relationship ? ?   then obvi they find out luna was just using them  &  y’know  :  drama .  

family friends ! !  someone who could know  EVERYTHING  about her life n be there for her like pls .

someone who is her  HOME .  it doesn’t have to be potentially romantic just someone who makes her feel completely safe , warm  &  protected  ? ?    they can also just…talk, and make each other laugh  &   smile, because they feel comfortable enough in themselves  &   with each other to be vulnerable in that way ? ?  some fluff never hurt nobody .  

someone who’s using her bc of her dad ? ?   YES .  gimme fake friends .

tbh exes she cheated on , exes that cheated on her , fwb of all kinds , crushes , childhood friends , good / bad influence on her dumb ass would be good , gossip queens n kings , party friends , enemies for whatever reason , etc ! !  

[carrved]

(LAURA HARRIER, FEMALE, SHE/HER)Oh, is that EMERY QUINN? I heard the THIRTY-TWO year old is DETERMINED. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also EXPLOSIVE. Makes sense seeing how they are a HITMAN in the THE CRIMSON gang.

tw: murder mention, child endangerment, violence, overall depressing :/

Full Name: Emery Eve Quinn.

Nickname: Em, Emmy.

Age: 32.

DOB: March 25th, 1992.

Hometown: San Francisco, California.

Familial: Gina Quinn (biological mother; deceased), Melinda Rooney (foster mother; presumed alive), Roger Rooney (foster father; presumed alive)

Hair color: Brown.

Eye color: Brown.

Height: 5'9.

Tattoos: Multiple sprinkled throughout her body. small dainty things. they don't hold a lot of meaning.

Scars: Multiple scattered around. each one has a story. she's not to keen on sharing why.

Piercings: Triple ear piercing.

Sexuality: Bisexual (leans towards men).

Relationship Status: Engaged.

Occupation: Hitman. Socialite.

tldr; Emery Quinn has a tragic backstory that makes her tough as nails. She always felt out of control of her own life. It's a lot easier to call the shots when you have a gun, which is why she does what she does. Her day job is being a beautiful, rich, NYC socialiate. Her evening job is working as a hitman for the Crimsons, which fuels her day job. She's very Lana Del Rey coded.

She had humble beginnings. A mother who worked late and a father who partied hard. He always in and out, never staying too long. When he did come around, he always brought chaos. One day, a group of men come knocking on her mother’s door looking for her father. He had some unpaid debts, her mother paid for them with her life. There was no witnesses except for scared little Emery, who was four years old at the time. She had the perfect view from the hallway closet.

Her father was never heard from again after her mother’s death. The only recollection she has of him is his name, only his last. She became a ward of the state and jumped around foster home from foster home within the Bay Area. Emery had decided at a young age, she’d never be scared again. Not like that night. She acquired some grit to her. As an elementary school student, she’d pick fights and won them. She made threats and honored them too. Part of the reason she moved so many times was because the state of California didn’t know what to do with her.

At eleven, she got placed with an older couple in the Tenderloin of San Francisco. They never had children of their own and filled that void by taking in foster children. Emery was hardly their first. Melinda Rooney was able to wedge herself inside of that cold heart of Emery’s. She didn’t see her as a menace like rest of the world did. She saw a little girl who needed a mother. That was what Melinda became for Emery. Roger wasn’t so bad either. He was a retired police officer and avid hunter. He eventually took Emery to the gun range some weekends, to teach her how to use a gun. Emery was a natural. She still remembers the first time she shot one of his pistols. That was true power in her finger tips.

Old habits die hard. When she was thirteen, Emery fell back into the wrong crowd. Doing things no thirteen year old should. One of her friends had the great idea to rob a liquor store. It’s a lot easier to steal when you’ve got a weapon. Emery stole one of Roger’s guns from the safe. When things go wrong during the robbery, Emery’s friend took the gun and shot at the store employee. They missed.

Thank God, it was her friend that shot, Roger said later that night, Emery wouldn’t have missed.

These actions had consequences. Emery got pulled from the Rooney home. It was like losing her mother all over again. This time, she kicked and screamed, trying to fight for this mother. But her efforts did nothing. She was sent off to a girl’s home. She never saw the Rooney’s again.

The entire experience hardened her. It made one thing clear t. She was never going to have a normal life. She was never going to have the things other people had. She was never going to be clean. So why even try? Through her connections, she’s exposed to the crime life of San Francisco. Scammers, drug dealers, thieves, and even a few hitmen. While they didn’t make their money honestly, they still had to put food on the table and pay their landlords every month, which Emery could expect.

When she got older, Emery joined an underground fighting ring. She fought girls her own age. She usually won. She was vicious in the ring. Though, looking at her, you wouldn’t expect much, she had enough tenacity and rage inside her that fuel her in the fights. She made enough money to support herself. She eventually made enough money to run away from her group home and live independently. Soon enough, she turned eighteen and was approached by one of these hitmen she used to know. They got her involved in their organization. Emery remembered what it was like to shoot a gun. Powerful. When she caught her first body, it was even more so.

Emery worked in SF and throughout the entire state of California. When she got an opportunity to go to New York City, she jumped at it. She begun working with the Crimsons and the rest is history.

To the naked eye, Emery Quinn is another beautiful, wealthy woman in NYC. Independently wealthy, a socialite with a trust fund, a divorcé with a generous alimony agreement. These are the lies she tells people if they ask how she affords her penthouse in Manhattan. This is how she gets into rooms with government officials. This is how she meets her fiancè. The only people who know her truth are the same ones playing the same game she is.

[sainamoonshine]

I think the only thing funnier than the Autumn / Eltanin / Knight dynamic in Married to the Evil Wizard King is the version of their dynamic in the modern AU headcanon I have for them

Where Eltanin and Knight met at university like ten years ago. Eltanin was a biochem major stressed out of his gourd, Knight was some sports jock, they both ended up alone in the kitchen at the same party. Eltanin got brought there by his asshole popular brother and immediately fled to the kitchen, Knight was legit just in there because the party was thrown by his roommates therefore was happening in his house, he was in the kitchen looking for a snack when he met the goth twink obviously having a bad time. They get to talking, Eltanin mentions being stressed because of exams, Knight said maybe he can help, he knows a few tricks to alleviate stress.

Eltanin immediately goes on the defensive like « okay who hired you. Is this a prank? A bet? My brother’s doing, I imagine. »

And Knight is like ???

So Eltanin clarifies stiffly « no one hits on me without it being a trick. »

And Knight is like « oh sorry I wasn’t hitting on you, I was going to suggest yoga. But. Do you want me to hit on you because if that’s the case I’m down for it. »

And via this (humiliating, as far as Eltanin is concerned) misunderstanding is born a sort of friends with benefits arrangement that keeps them going thru uni. And then beyond. And before they know it they end up just sleeping with each other once a week whenever they’re both single, for like ten years. Neither of them consider this dating. They don’t even have much in common and aren’t close friends but they’re chill and they like the comforting reliability of their arrangement. If pressed, they’d admit they’re fond of each other.

Then one day Eltanin — who was wealthy to begin with but now is like CEO of a biomedical research firm and would be considered an eligible bachelor if he wasn’t such a notorious asshole — meets Autumn Veld. Who is also from a wealthy family and wants to get away from her asshole mom who keeps trying to push her into « advantageous » marriages with dudes who’d want her to be a stay at home socialite, which isn’t her speed at all. She wants to be a rebellious fashion designer.

Anyway she meets Eltanin and it is immediate fire between them. And they end up making a deal to get married, a deal which will be advantageous to both families economically, will be good for his public image, will assure her financial freedom and in which he promises that aside of requiring that she appears at public functions with him, he’ll let her do whatever.

Then he calls Knight to tell him that they need to stop their arrangement because he’d about to get engaged, of course. Knight is like « okay sure » but since he and Eltanin are still quote-unquote friends, he gets invited to a couple of social events. He immediately clicks with Autumn, but doesn’t make a move because he’s not an assole.

Coming up on the wedding, Eltanin and Autumn have a longer talk about expectations, and despite the FIZZLING sexual tension between then they both seem to think the other is not that into them and this is just a marriage of convenience?? So they agree to make this an open marriage, both are allowed affairs, no jealousy. Then Autumn mentions « even if I have an affair with someone you know? Like that hot friend Knight of yours? » and Eltanin is like « ……….. sure…… »

He gives a heads up of her intentions to Knight, who is like « huh. Is that… weird? » and Eltanin of course is like « why would it be weird? You and I never dated or anything. » so Knight is like « okay, sure sure. Just checking. »

So then Autumn and Knight end up having an affair. And ofc Autumn and Eltanin are also super into each other, and they even manage to figure it out at some point and start regularly banging. But meanwhile Eltanin and Knight low key miss each other because after ten years they had gotten used to their thing, damnit.

And then one day Autumn is casually wondering how Knight and Eltanin even met and the story comes out. And she’s just like « ……. Guys. Guys, I think we’re all just stupid. »

And THEN they become a triad.

[5-7-9]

So in my Reclamation AU prequel after Bruce Wayne adopts Dick, well actually I should mention the rumors before he adopts Dick the thh ethe th. Okay when he got back, wait should I mmention before too? Nahhhh more backstory to actually further down the storyline, weirdly enough that the past and future are linked together for some reason. (TW mentions/implies of homophobia and bi erasure and pedophilia and slut shaming)

So when Bruce gets back home after being legally classified as missing and dead, he assumes a neutral persona of socialite. But the missing gaps get filled in of vacations or illegal sites or something wild. Bruce decides to use the weird playboy assumption to his advantage and uses his looks to try going on dates with people.

Then, he decided to use modeling to also hinder any suspicions, he couldn’t show his scars so he went with clothing. He somehow made tons of model friends where he got them to pretend date him for publicity. Between the models, they think he either has an ego, has a secret lover, or is gay. Now the socialites and public see the fake model dates between the few real dates. Socialites get jealous and starts making up stories like “yeah we totally slept together (fuckkkk why doesn’t he like me???)” or “y’know it’s kinda weird he never keeps any of those hotties it’s almost like he’s a bad boyfriend or there’s something wrong with him yeah? (Please please please date me instead)”

(almost forgot) I already mentioned Selina, but her rumors consisted of slut shaming, and the infantilization of Bruce. Talia is actually included for a small while (idk how to make the timeline work, so I think it’s just easier if I just don’t think about it? Intentional plot hole). So to work with my timeline, either Talia already had a baby before Bruce gets back to Gotham, or they have a fling almost right when he gets back home. Either way, the media thinks she’s one of Bruce’s foreign flings from vacation (true actually), so they kinda dismiss her as a partner candidate. She doesn’t gets brought up again until later when i figure out if she needs to meet with Bruce again before Damian. Most of Bruce’s dates include bastardization or angelification, zero in between because nuance doesn’t exist (drama is always extreme, which imo is stupid but whatever).

After Bruce adopts Dick, things take a major turn for the worst. A single father not marrying when becoming someone’s guardian??? What’s wrong with him!!! The biggest conclusion created the pedophilic rumor. “He must’ve not stayed with anyone because he likes kids!!!” This lead to the other rumor to take a twist, homophobia.

So out of pure plot convenience, Clark at some point gets in touch with Bruce to talk about the Justice League, but that gets turned into a fake relationship. See the only way to distill rumors is to use more rumors! Obviously. Idk how to deal with Clark’s reputation, so I’m making it technically a fake secret relationship that protects Clark’s identity mostly. Anyways, now the rumors leaned into the gay rumors instead of the homophobic rumors, society started saying the pedophilic rumors are homophobic. Blah blah blah and then people got “scared” of getting “canceled” so they reverted back to the average playboy stance. This has made lasting impacts towards both Bruce’s and Dick’s lives but yeah they’ve moved on.

(Honestly i just wanted to explain the fake secret relationship plot point but now I really wanna go for all the rumors)

The gay rumors including the (fake) secret relationship really got the media questioning who he’s in romantic/sexual cohorts with, male specific only. It affected some characters to distance themselves…

Jason got classist rumors and reputation, which turned into “missing or dead” rumors just like Bruce had so lots of people were expecting him to come back. Tim was basically “the perfect child” since he was already upper class and he was considered most likely to run the Wayne business in the future. Damian had two sides where one was racist and blamed Talia for existing, and the other side where they blamed Bruce for being reckless. Cass had the standard stereotypes but with ableism included. Steph never appeared in the news besides as Tim’s ex. Barbara only showed up as Gordon’s daughter.

Actually Barbara got the “dating Bruce” rumors with Bruce but that never went anywhere significant, just made things awkward between them and with Gordon. (It’s sorta related to another side plot but i don’t feel like sharing here).

Duke appeared as an adoptee but also not because he avoided the Wayne’s reputation. He gets a passing mention as someone who sometimes takes refuge in their house, as if he was never there, but he sometimes is but he just gets ignored for probably racist and classist reasons. Among Duke’s citizens group of people near him totally know him as the guy with a rich guy’s backing tho. (I have completely different ideas for him, i’ll do another post later).

Well that was fun

[ptergwen]

smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

-

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it. 

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions. 

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

[vukovich]

Blunt-Forced Drama

It started innocently enough. In May, Potter invited their entire graduating class to a house-warming party at 12 Grimmauld.

Being the gracious guest he was, Draco arrived an hour late with a bottle of wine, two tins of pre-rolls, and a scented candle that claimed to be "woodsy".

Being the highly-distractible, schedule-free dynasty heir he also was, he arrived on a Tuesday evening. Four days after the party.

Potter shrugged and ushered him in, through the house to the patio. The chair cushions smelled like mildew, but neither of them cared. He lit the candle, then lit a joint off the candle by the time Draco realized they were alone, but that was alright. Preferable, even.

Potter was different away from people. Weirder. He was downright funny after half a bottle of wine, and peculiarly sober when he chased it with most of a joint.

"Did you ever wonder if matter stays still, and our consciousness just moves through it like fingers strumming a harp?"

"Stands to reason, Potty."

Draco, on the other hand, was borderline ridiculous, and moderately obsessed with implausible scenarios and how to handle them. When sober, he'd deny having a rampant anxiety disorder.

"What if my face just... fell right off. Right now. What would you do?"

"Suppose I'd pick it up," Potter said, taking a long swig from the bottle. "But I'd probably put it on my face, take a selfie, then wash it off and give it back to you."

Draco mumbled around the filter of a joint he had to look at with one eye to light. "Generous of you."

It became a regularity.

"Did I miss the party?" Draco would ask, libations raised in offering.

"I don't know. Did you?"

"I've never mourned the loss of a social function in my life, Potter."

The patio furniture paint started to flake off sometime in July, but that was alright. Potter left the candle out in the rain, and Draco made a note to himself to replace it with a candle that actually smelled like a thunderstorm.

"What if the stars all collapsed into black holes? Just... boom."

"Even the sun?"

"Well, except the sun."

"Probably wouldn't affect Earth for a few million years. But then you'd be named after nothing."

"True."

Harry extinguished a blunt on his tongue and rubbed the ash against the roof of his mouth.

"Universal ultimate goal..."

"Yeah?"

"...for everybody..."

"Mm hm."

"....is to become who you needed."

Draco's head lolled back over the chair, and he pretended to see the stars through the humid streetlight haze.

"Go on."

"I needed somebody to, like, save me, right?"

"Uh huh. Cupboard."

"So I became 'The Saviour'."

"So... I needed... a socialite burnout?"

Harry picked the cork apart with a thumbnail onto the scalloped glass table.

"Nah. You just... you see people. Cuz nobody ever saw you."

Draco frowned at the stars hiding behind the veil of light pollution. He took a breath to ask Harry what that meant, but Harry cut him off with a soft snore. Draco blew the candle out and went home.

Harry never minded a little rain, and Draco didn't mind the humidity.

Draco shook the lighter, flicked it, and drew a slow breath. "What if you lost all your money?"

"I'd be a librarian."

"Hm," Draco hummed around a joint. "That might be nice. Wonder what I'd do."

An animal chittered in a tree, and Harry unscrewed the cap on the bottle. "You'd make wands."

"I'd make great wands."

Harry liked tart wine and indica, and Draco liked the random shit that came out of Harry's mouth.

"I hope there's no afterlife," Harry muttered into the bottleneck. "Sounds exhausting."

Draco sprawled out on a chaise lounge that smelled like wet dirt, tried to blow a smoke ring, and failed miserably.

"I thought you already died."

Harry upended the bottle and caught the last few drops on his tongue.

"Could've been a hallucination."

"What if this is a hallucination?"

"You'd tell me."

"Cuz I see people."

"Yeah, but not like in that movie. You just, like, get people." Harry's chair scraped against the patio, and he flopped down on the damp cushions next to Draco. "What did you get Parkinson for her birthday?"

"Nothing. She only wants things she needs, and she didn't need anything."

"See? What did you get me for my birthday?"

Draco tapped ash onto the ground and stuck the blunt between Harry's lips. "That candle, but that was more for me."

"See? It's perfect."

Draco curled up against Harry and sighed. "What's perfect?"

"You got me the gift of you smelling the candle."

"Didn't even wrap it."

"I hate wrapping."

"Me, too."

Harry drew a breath through Draco's hair. "I like watching you smell the candle."

"Mm."

"It's supposed to rain soon."

Draco pressed numb teeth against his lips against Harry's shoulder.

"What if I just bit you?"

"I'd let you." Harry stubbed the blunt out on the patio.

"Maybe I will."

"Yeah?"

Harry dipped his chin and pressed his nose between Draco's eyebrows.

"Mm hm," Draco hummed against Harry's chin.

They smelled rain, then heard it, then felt the patter of it against their clothes. It dripped down Draco's hair.

Harry's bottom lip slid between Draco's teeth, and he sucked it in on a relieved gasp. The storm-scented candle sputtered out, and neither of them noticed.

[pricetagofficial]

State Fair -CK

Warnings: Language, fluff, Clark is a dork, Bruce is a good brother

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.2K

Check out my pinned post if you want to be on my taglist!

A/N: Just like Sweet Tarts, whether Reader is adopted or biological is up for interpretation seeing as I never specified. Also, big thanks to Fish and Elle for reading this and helping me out!

“This has to be your worst idea yet.”

“I agree because you are clearly going to back out.”

“I will not!”

“Sure, Clark.”

With a huff, Clark crossed his arms. “You’re insufferable.”

Bruce chuckled and waved his friend off. “Just go sit down, this will work I swear.”

Clark gave Bruce a look before taking his paddle and sat in his chair. This really was a stupid idea, what would happen when it didn’t work? He hated the idea of paying for a date, letting alone having Bruce pay for it so he could ensure he got one. But all the funds went to various charities, so that was a plus.

You peeked out of the curtain, and saw the crowd gathering in the auction room. Bruce had set up an auction where various socialites would be auctioned off for a single date to the highest bidder. Being a Wayne, let alone Bruce’s sister, you were a shoo-in for some really high bids.

Each person represented various charities, and you were assigned to various orphanages across Gotham. You thought it would be good to support other kids who were victims of losing their parents considering you lost yours along with Bruce that night.

Taking another peek into the crowd, you saw Alfred sitting there with Dick, who looked too excited for a thirteen-year-old kid to be at an auction. Dick caught your eye and waved happily at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You waved your fingers at him, earning a smile from Alfred who totally caught you peeking.

Next to Alfred was Clark, Bruce’s best friend, and fellow Justice League member. Feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, you quickly hid behind the curtain and closed your eyes. What the hell was Clark doing here?

“Y/N, you doing alright?”

Turning to look behind you, you saw Bruce standing there with his signature charismatic smile. He was being auctioned off for a date a well tonight,

“Why didn’t you tell me Clark was here?” you hissed.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” he shrugged. “Dick was excited to see him.”

“That’s because the kid looks up to him, figuratively and literally,” you argued.

Bruce watched you with a sly smile. “Besides, why is it such a big deal that Clark is here or not?”

“I-- oooh,” you growled. “You know exactly why, asshole.”

Letting out a chuckle, Bruce patted your shoulder. “Go get ready, we’re about to start.”

Giving him a glare, you went and found your seat and crossed your arms. Stupid Bruce and his stupid plans. You weren’t sure what he was hiding up his sleeve, but when you’re older brother was The Batman you learned to watch out for the tiny giveaways.

Bruce was planning something, and you were going to figure out what it was.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to our annual Charity Auction! This year we are auctioning off a single date with some of Gotham’s most notable residents! The funds for this year will go to several charities predetermined by our wonderful participants! Now without further ado, let’s get on with the show!”

The announcer walked to the podium as the curtain rose to reveal a grand stage and all the participants off to the side hidden out of sight. Across the stage sat Bruce, leaning back in his seat as he talked with several friends of his.

“So, what did Bruce do to convince you to join this year?”

Looking to your right, you saw Kate was hovering over your shoulder.

“Last year, Dick was sick and Alfred was called away for a family matter.” You explained, Kate should remember why you weren’t at the auction last year. She helped come up with the cover story.

Batman and Robin had a rough time that night on patrol, thanks in no part to Scarecrow. Dick had gotten a large dose of his fear toxin, and Bruce was too injured to console him. Alfred had to make sure Bruce was alright before the next day, and left you with a hysterical Dick until the antidote kicked in.

You had decided to stay that night because Dick was plastered to your side, and Bruce understood completely. Surprisingly enough, during the auction, Clark had shown up and helped you take care of the little boy wonder, even going as far as falling asleep with Dick curled into his side.

Thinking back on the memory, you couldn’t help but smile. That was one of the first times you and Clark had any time alone together.

“And now for bachelorette number three, Y/N Wayne.”

Jerking your head up, you smiled and rose to your feet, and walked onto the stage. You must have spaced out the first two people during your trip down memory lane. Waving politely, you caught the eye of Clark who only smiled brightly at you.

Seeing his smile made you feel lighter than air.

“Miss Wayne represents the orphanage charities all across Gotham, hoping to restore the buildings and ensure a bright future for the children.”

Looking at the auctioneer, you gave him an impressed look. He was playing it up really well, not like he needed it to. You were a Wayne, and was guaranteed to rake in some serious money. You just hoped it would be enough.

“We’ll start the bidding at $500,000. Do I see $500,000?”

All at once, several paddles went up, including Clark’s. You couldn’t fight the confused look on your face, what the hell was he doing? That had to be almost five times the amount he made in a year working for the Daily Planet! So what the hell was he doing spending it all on a date with you?

You stood on the stage as the prices ranked higher and higher, Clark’s paddle not once lowering. The price was almost $2,000,000 and Clark was fighting off with another guy, all for a date with you. You would be feeling proud if you weren’t so concerned for Clark’s livelihood.

“$2.5 million? Do I see $2.5 million?”

Watching the crowd, you watched as the second guy gleaned at Clark and loosened his tie almost as if he was afraid of what would happen to him if he kept trying to outbid him. He lowered his paddle, and Clark just beamed.

“Sold for $2.5 million!”

Clark let out a sigh of relief, Dick looking at him with astonishment. “How’d you get all that money?”

Shrugging, he sent Dick a smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Maybe, this wasn’t such a bad plan after all.

It took a few hours, but eventually, the auction ended and Clark was escorted out of the room with Alfred and Dick beside him.

“You know, this could be a dream come true for you.” Dick grinned. “How long did you have to bully B into giving you the money?”  

Looking down at the kid, Clark chuckled. Of course Dick figured it out, he was living with Batman after all. “Not long, he wanted to make sure his sister didn’t end up with some creep.”

Dick chuckled, adjusting his jacket. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

The three of them waited for you and Bruce to show, ready to take you home for a well-deserved rest. The auction went off without a hitch, and it was all thanks to Bruce and the effort he put in.

Turning the corner, you and Bruce smiled seeing them. Nudging his shoulder, you looked up at him. “Are you going to tell me how Clark got $2.5 million?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Crossing your arms, you gave Bruce an unimpressed look. “Sure, but why do I feel like it has something to do with you?”

“You think everything has to do with me.”

“Do I need to bring up your nightly activities?”

Bruce didn’t get another word out before Dick came running up to you with his arms wide, diving in for a hug.

“Y/N! You did great up there! Sure beats last year right?” he chuckled.

Smiling at him, you ruffled his hair. “I don’t know kiddo, I actually enjoyed my time with you.”

“I agree, it was nice to relax for a night.”

Looking up, you saw Clark smiling down at you with his signature boy scout smile. You always loved the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and the little scrunch of his nose.

“You want to talk about relaxing? Where the hell did you get $2.5 mil?”

“Yeah, you were practically shooting lasers, Clark.” Dick chimed in.

Looking between you and Dick, Clark shrugged with a smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

***

You stood in the Batcave, by the zeta transport waiting quietly for Clark to show and pick you up. Bruce and Dick stood by your side to keep you company while you waited. Bruce was half-dressed in his Batman suit while Dick was nursing a cup of Earl Grey tea.

“What time did he say he would be here?” you asked, checking your watch again.

“Relax, Y/N.” Dick chuckled, “You know, if I didn’t know any better I would think that you have a thing for Superman.”

“Well, you do know better.” you huffed. It wasn’t the standing that bothered you, in all honestly it was the wait. What if Clark decided to cancel on you? Yeah, he already paid over $2 million for it but that didn’t mean he had to show up.

You shook the thoughts out of your head. Clark wasn’t that kind of guy, you knew he wasn’t. Clark Kent was one of the sweetest guys in the universe, there was no one else you would rather spend your night with than him.

Which brought up other thoughts. Bruce was instructed to not let you dress fancy at all, leaning you closer to casual jeans and a shirt as your attire. Whatever Clark was planning, you weren’t going to find out until he told you.

There was a bright flash and Clark stepped out of the zeta tube, wearing his normal apparel with his glasses propped up on his nose.

“Hey, you ready to go?”

You gave him a nod, grabbing your purse. “Born ready.”

Clark smiled and looked at you. He thought you looked perfect tonight and hoped you would enjoy the date he was taking you on.

“Be sure to have her home on time,” Dick scolded, grinning into his cup of tea. “And no funny business.”

Bruce looked down at him and nudged his shoulder ruffling his hair. “Isn’t that my job, chum?”

“Let’s be real here B, no one takes Batman seriously without Robin there to kick their face in.”

You couldn’t fight the giggles, covering your mouth to muffle them. Walking over, you squished Dick’s face and kissed his forehead. “Make sure you listen to Bruce and Alfred okay?”

Dick gave you a nod, hugging you tightly. “Have fun.”

Running your fingers through his hair, you kissed the top of his head before letting him go. Turning to Bruce, he pulled you tightly into a hug and kissed your cheek. “Be careful, we’re just one call away if you need us.”

“Bruce, I’m with Superman. I’ll be okay.”

Looking at Alfred you pointed at the two boys next to you. “Give me a call if none of them are listening, okay?”

Alfred smiled, “Of course Miss Y/N, now go have fun.”

Turning back to Clark, he offered you his arm before leading you back towards the zeta tube. “Don’t worry, she’ll be safe with me, and we’ll be back before midnight.”

Bruce nodded, waving you two goodbye as you disappeared into the blinding light. Coming out on the other side, you were greeted with the fresh air one wouldn’t normally get in Gotham. The scent of fresh crops, dirt, and manure filled the air as you opened your eyes to the setting sun of the Kansas skyline. It was a beautiful shade of orange with pinks and blues dusted across the sky, you never got sunsets like this back home either.

“Clark, it’s beautiful out here.” you smiled.

He watched you fondly, his eyes not leaving you for a second. “It really is.”

Turning to look at him, you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. Keeping a hold of your arm, Clark led you down the streets of Smallville towards a truck that was parked against the curb. Opening the door, Clark reached in and pulled out two plaid shirts, and handed one of them to you.

“Clark, what are we doing?” you laughed, sliding your arms into the flannel sleeves as he pulled on his own.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he grinned. “Hop in.”

Giving Clark a look, you walked to the passenger seat and climbed into the truck. Starting it up, the air was filled with an old Randy Travis song effectively setting the mood for the drive. Leaning back in the seat, you looked out the window as Clark drove off, heading out of town limits.

With the window open, you felt the wind blow in your face and embraced the fresh air. Cornfields flew by as Clark drove down the highway, towards a large empty field. Off in the distance, you could see tall structures you made out to be a ferris wheel and various tents.

Keeping your concerns to yourself, you watched as he turned into the field and parked the truck. Turning it off, Clark quickly hopped out of it before you could even open the door. Walking around to your side, Clark quickly opened your door and held his hand out to you.

With a smile, you took it as he helped you out of the truck. “Shall we?”

“A state fair?” You laughed, hopping out of the vehicle.

Once on the ground, you noticed you were practically pressed against Clark’s chest and were forced to look up at him. You were so close, you could smell his body wash and felt his breath fan over your face.  

Clark smiled down at you, holding your hand tightly in his. Brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, he pulled it up and pressed a soft kiss to it. “I thought this would be a great place to take a city girl such as yourself.”

Trying to hide your embarrassment, you pushed the bridge of his glasses up too high and huffed. “Stop doing that,” you muttered and walked towards the entrance to the fair. Clark’s laughter could be heard from behind you as he jogged to catch up with your fast pace. Slipping his hand back into yours, he paid for tickets and led you into the fairgrounds.

Walking around, you couldn’t help but admire the things around you. Banners were hung everywhere, with signs pointing to all the attractions. There were rides, games, and food stands all over the place.

Gripping his hand, you pointed at a booth selling cotton candy and grinned excitedly. “Come on Clark!” You laughed and pulled him towards the stand and watched him order a large cotton candy for you to share.

Finding a spot on a nearby bench, you sat and pulled off pieces and stuck them into your mouth humming happily as they dissolved. You couldn’t remember the last time you went to a fair like this, and the feeling excited you.

Clark watched as you ate the sugary snack, his blue eyes shining in adoration. He loved the way your eyes lit up with every bite and the cute little hum you made when you tasted it.

“Now are you going to tell me where you got the money to buy our little date?”

“You’ll just make fun of me,”

“I make fun of you anyway,” you giggled.

Clark gave you a look before taking the piece of cotton candy out of your hand and ate it with a grin. “Now you’re just being mean,”

Nudging his shoulder, you looked up at him. “Did you forget who I have for an older brother?”

Stifling a laugh, Clark nodded and leaned closer smoothly wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You’re right, being mean is a Wanye trait. I’d hate to see how mean an offspring of Bruce could be.”

Laughing along with him, you couldn’t help but agree. A biological offspring of Bruce would be a nightmare, you only hoped that the kid’s mother would be a calm and relaxed person.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume you got the money from Lex.”

Clark gave you an unimpressed look, “Now that’s not funny.”

“I find that I am quite funny,” you grinned.

Dropping his head in defeat, Clark huffed. “Bruce gave me the money,” he admitted. “He wanted to make sure his sister didn’t end up on a date with a creep.”

Taking another bite, you looked at him. “I’m going to assume there is more to this, you don’t go on a lot of dates Clark.”

If you had a dime for every time you saw Superman blush, you would only have five cents which isn’t a lot but it was worth it to see the man of steel blush.

“Clark?”

Turning away, Clark bit his lip. How was he supposed to tell you he set this up with Bruce, so he could get a date with you? But he didn’t need to say anything, you watched his expression and the sudden uptick in his nervousness. You grew up with the world’s greatest detective, of course, you would notice when he was crushing hard on his best friend’s sister.

“You and Bruce set this up, didn’t you?” you asked.

Clark’s silence only confirmed it.

“Clark, you know all you had to do was ask,” you smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. Clark turned to look at you. “I would have said yes.”

Adjusting his body, Clark turned to face you fully. Cupping your face in his hands, Clark pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

Letting out a gasp, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. After a few moments, Clark pulled away and rubbed his nose against yours with a smile. “Maybe next time, I’ll just start with that.”

“Maybe you should, watch Bruce have an aneurysm.” you giggled.

Pecking your lips once more, Clark looked around and saw it was getting dark. “Come on, I have a special place to watch the fireworks.”

Rising from your bench, Clark threw your empty cotton candy stick in the trash and pulled you down the path towards a secluded area. “Hang on tight,” he grinned.

“Hang on to wha-- ah!”

Before you knew it, Clark had his arms wrapped around you before he flew into the air. Gripping onto him for dear life, you buried your face in his shirt afraid to look at the things around you.

“Y/N, open your eyes.” he chuckled.

Carefully peeking an eye open, you saw that both of you were hovering a good height above the ground and watched as the fireworks exploded in the distance with loud pops. Once you got comfortable, you leaned your head against his chest and held on tightly watching the fireworks timing them to the beat of his heart.

“It’s beautiful up here, Clark.” you smiled.

“Not as beautiful as you,”

Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his with the fireworks going off behind you.

Taglist: @bluejay-the-geek​ @niggxrette​ @subtleappreciation​ @catxsnow​ @river-bottom-nightmare​ @bikoncon​ @screennamealreadyused​ @woahjaybird​ @littleredwing89​ @offendedfishnoises​ @lostoctaviaaugusta​ @batarella​ @battlenix​ @alienstardust​

[cinnaminsvga]

intermission • vi | moonlight

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. jungkook) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none!! it's just jungkook being a cutie!! → words: 3.7K → a/n: this intermission chapter was actually written by @jincherie!! i'm posting it on her behalf since she's currently on hiatus. she had this chapter mostly finished a few months ago and we were waiting to post it until we were both more active (lol) but yeah... things change i guess... anyway see you guys next year (i wanna say /j but really... is it really /j...)

— • masterlist | prev | intermission vi | next • —

Jungkook's strength has never been making friends.

In his mother’s words, a “pleasant and sweet boy” though he might be, that didn’t help much when it came to meeting someone new and the storm of butterflies in his stomach would grow so strong that it froze his limbs and caught his tongue. He’s not too good at first impressions.

A “pleasant and sweet, but terribly shy boy” is actually more along the lines of how Jungkook’s mother describes him, now that he thinks about it. That’s probably a little more accurate.

The sprawling complex he lives in is full of kids, and Jungkook knows each and every one of them. He might be challenged in the social area, but his mother is anything but. She says he takes more after his father, and since his father is usually relaxing inside and reading or drawing when Jungkook sees him at home, he figures that makes enough sense.

Every time someone new moves into the complex, Jungkook’s mother goes to greet them. Of course, he is graciously asked (read: forced) to come along too, just in case they have any kids around his age. This is how he normally meets the other kids on the block. It’s fine, he can’t complain. He has to admit it’s nice meeting all the new and different people that come through. His family is probably one of the ones that have stayed in the complex this long.

When the house next door is emptied of the family he knew, it’s a while before the next one comes in. By the time Jungkook peeks out his window one morning, woken by the telltale sound of a truck beeping as it reverses, and finally sees some movement in the house next to his own, his mother isn’t home. She’d moved into the hospital just a few days earlier, looking ready to pop with the little brother he’d heard so much about in her belly. He’s excited to meet his little brother, and now as he stands on his tippy-toes to get a good look from the window, he finds himself a little excited to meet the new neighbours, too.

It only has a little bit to do with the great, big, fluffy dog they have. Just a little.

It takes a few days for them to move in fully. Jungkook watches from his window every now and then, seeing all sorts of different cars come through. This family has lots of helpers, he notices. By the time they seem to really settle in, Jungkook doesn’t see much of them. Actually, to his disappointment, he doesn’t see anyone around at all. He still hears the dog, glimpses it every so often, but realised that they probably walk it in the mornings before he wakes up.

His mother is home before long, his baby brother cradled in her arms. The first thing she asks as she steps through the door is, “Have the new neighbours moved in? Have you met them yet, Kookie?”

This is perhaps the first time all week he hasn’t cared about the neighbours-- he’s transfixed with his brother. It stays that way for a few days, until the allure wears off when the tiny baby won’t stop crying at night. Perhaps his little brother is something best loved from afar for now, Jungkook surmises.

Back to the window he goes – except this time, there’s actually something to see.

There’s a child! A combination of nerves and excitement bubbles within him as he sees a kid in the backyard playing with the dog, throwing a Frisbee for the massive puppy to leap up and catch in its mouth. The kid looks a little…. feral. Like the baby from that one funny caveman movie he watched with his parents. They’re rolling around with the puppy, uncaring of the way grass and dirt get on their clothes and tangle their hair-- they laugh the whole time. It takes a second for the sound to reach him, but when it does it makes his heart do something funny in his chest.

Ah, the neighbour's kid is a girl.

It’s you.

Jungkook has always been a little more shy around girls, but has never known why. To meet you, he’s going to need his mother there for backup. This is probably the first time he’s outright wanted to go meet one of the neighbours. It’s a little embarrassing, so he elects not to think about it too much.

He thought he would have to pester his mother more to get up and go greet them, but it seems she’s a little sick of being in the house so much because she jumps up the second he mentions it. His baby brother is graciously asleep when they make the trip one morning to the house next door, nestled in his mothers arms looking like an angel wrapped up in fluffy clouds. Jungkook wonders if you’ll like his brother as much as he does. If you don’t, then he doesn’t know how good of a friend you’re going to be.

The doorbell is different, it’s the first thing he notices about the house. Your family must have changed it when you moved in. It’s a bubbly, fun tune now, and he doesn’t even realise the smile it brings to his face. His grip on his mother’s hand tightens, but he misses the fond look she casts over him.

When the door opens, Jungkook thinks his nerves just might eat him alive. He’s so stiff he’s worried he might turn to stone and disintegrate into dust on the spot.

It’s you who answered the door.

You don’t look as wild and unkempt as you did that day he saw you from the window. Actually, your hair is in two cute little buns on top of your head and there isn’t a spot of dirt or grime on your overalls.

The way your eyes light up when you see him and his mother, as well as the baby held to her chest, is enough to make him forget to breathe for a moment. When he remembers, he feels like running his head into the pole of the awning.

“Hey, sweetie,” his mother greets, that big smile on her face that normally wins everyone over. “We’re from the house next door! We wanted to come say hello and meet you. Are one of your parents home too?”

“Hello!” Your response is instant, and the smile you return is so big Jungkook can easily see the gap where you’re missing a tooth. It seems like you’re beating him, he hasn’t lost that one yet. “Yeah, my mama’s home-- you should come in! She said she wanted to meet you guys! Oh, also, we have a puppy! She’s big, and actually maybe she’s too old to be a puppy but… she’s cute. I want you to see her!”

You’re rambling, but you don’t seem to realise. Jungkook couldn’t get a word in edgewise if he wanted to, but he finds himself more than happy to simply listen as he and his mother follow you into the house.

Your mother isn’t as wild as you, but he notices the same little sparkle in her eyes that you have in yours. He wonders if he and his mother have their own matching sparkle. That would be cool.

Right away, his mother hits it off with yours – two socialites of a feather, it seems. You fawn over his baby brother for a few minutes while they talk (he knew right then that you were a good one), before grabbing him by the sleeve and insisting on showing him around. You get a full tour in, and miraculously Jungkook finds it in himself to ask a few questions as you go.

“S-so, you like it? Here?” Every time he opens his mouth the words don’t come out how he wants them, but he can’t do anything now. At least he only stuttered once.

“Yes! It’s so much better than my old house! There’s so many more kids here, and they’re all so nice too!” You’re more than happy to blabber on, a hand thoughtlessly carding through the long, fluffy fur on your dog’s back. Jungkook’s own hand is doing the same (the fur is just as soft and fluffy as he imagined). “There’s more room for Poopie to play, too.”

Jungkook still isn’t quite used to the name of your pet, but something more important in what you said is taking hold of his attention. “Wait, you, uh… you’ve met some of the other kids?”

“Yep,” you say, gaze off in the distance as you try to summon them all from your memory. “Not all of them, but some! Um, I think one of them is named…. Chanyeol…? He lives down the street. Then there’s-- …”

A queasy feeling fills his stomach. He thinks it might be disappointment. For some reason, he thought he was going to come in here and be the first kid you met, that he was going to tell you all about the complex, maybe show you down the street. If you turned out to be a real good egg, then he had even planned to show you his secret place. But now that he thinks about it, it’s a bit silly to think that none of the other families would have come to greet you by now. You’ve been here for more than a week, after all.

He had a good time when visiting you, but for some reason after that day, he finds himself hanging back a bit. He wants to go out and play with you and the other kids, but when he sees you getting along with them so well he’s reminded of that queasy feeling from that day and he stays inside. Which, oddly enough, makes him feel even worse. He feels like no matter what he does, he’s losing progress with you. Maybe you won’t even want to play with him at all, you might think he’s boring after having so much fun with the other kids.

“You gonna go out and play, Kookie?” his mother catches him staring out the living room window one afternoon. She’s bouncing his brother on her hip, the demon baby sated for the time being. “There’s still plenty of time before dark.”

“No, I’m okay,” he answers, hating himself a little bit for it. Why was it so hard to say that yes, he wanted to play, but also that he didn’t. He thinks his mother would be able to help, but he has no idea how to tell her his woes. “I think I might draw a little.”

“Okay, sweets.” She comes over and ruffles his hair. “But if you do decide to go out and play, just let me know so I know where you are, okay?”

He nods, and she leans to kiss his hair before wandering back into the depths of the house. Maybe he will do some drawing, he ponders. It might distract him from the sight of you getting along so well with all the other kids.

Jungkook’s strength has never lain in being outgoing. This proves itself over the months when his attempts to grow closer and befriend you turn out unsuccessful, without fail.

You’ve made a good space for yourself amongst the kids of the block. You’re nice, caring and understanding, and never mean – sure you pushed Chanyeol off the seesaw once, but that was because he was being mean to Suzie. He didn’t do it again afterwards, and peace was maintained in the playground in the park at the end of the complex. Your friendship is sought-after, and with the beginning of the school year looming so close he’s running out of time to establish a friendship between the two of you.

When he spends an afternoon riding his bike at the end of the street, looping around and through the park, it’s definitely not just because you’re sitting there with some of the other girls on the block. When he summons all the knowledge stored in his brain from watching those bike tournaments and attempts to do a little trick, it’s definitely not because he thinks you might be watching. If you happen to see and think he’s cool, then it is what it is. It’s not like he’s actually trying to impress you or anything.

It goes okay, for the most part. His legs are a little tired though. He probably shouldn't attempt the trick he’s thinking of next, but he swears he sees you glance his way and he feels a surge of confidence flow through him. He attempts it.

He botches it.

The bike clatters to the ground and he rolls a bit, but his knees take the brunt of his meeting with the concrete path.

Lucky he wasn’t trying to impress you, because that was pretty humiliating. Lucky you probably didn’t see, either. His knees burn and he feels tears prick at his eyes, probably not just from the pain. He feels so embarrassed, so dumb. He’s touched his bike five times since he got it for his birthday last year, why did he think he would be able to do awesome tricks on it? Dumb, so dumb. He flees the scene before anyone can notice what happened, and completely forgets his bike.

He’s made it all the way home before he even realises it, his vision blurred from the tears that just won’t stop falling and his knees still singing in pain each time he bends them. He almost goes inside, craving a hug from his mother and her gentle hands on his wounds, but then he realises she would ask what happened, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to tell her. It’s too embarrassing. He’s so embarrassed.

So he bypasses the front door, going around the side and slipping through the gate. There’s a tree that lines the side of the house where his window is, and it’s so tall it reaches well above the roof. Without pause, he climbs it, hands finding familiar grooves. He halts, hissing at the sudden sting – it would seem he’s scraped up his palms, too. His eyes burn with the added humiliation and he darts up the tree, making quick work of the climb until he reaches his special spot.

The roof of his house is mostly slanted, but there’s a flat bit at the very top on one side of the house. This is where he likes to go. No one ever looks for him here, plus the view is always very pretty. He doesn’t appreciate the sunset right now, though. He feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

The whole way home, Jungkook held in his cries. He didn’t want anyone to hear and tell his mother. But now, in the embrace of his little ‘safe haven’, he lets them out. He buries his head in his arms and sobs, the pain of moving his palms only making it worse.

He doesn’t know how his little body can handle so much embarrassment, let alone so many tears, but for the moment he doesn’t think about it and surrenders himself to his woes.

He must be up there for a while before his crying ceases. By the time he lifts his head, the last of his tears drying against his cheeks, the sun is just beginning to disappear beyond the horizon. It’s pretty, how it casts light around the shadowy silhouette of the city buildings in the distance. He kind of wants to show it to you. That thought is quickly shut down. He’s going to ask his mother if they can move cities so he doesn’t have to face you again.

Alas, the world just doesn’t seem to be working in his favour today. He hears the rustling of the tree before he sees it. By the time he looks over to investigate, you’re already clambering onto the roof, an oversized fanny pack bursting at the seams with whatever you’ve shoved inside slung over your shoulder.

“Hey!” You greet with a smile, apparently oblivious to the dumbstruck look on his face. “Man, it took forever to find you! If I didn’t see you from the window in my room, I never would have known where you went!”

That was the idea, he laments. He hadn’t wanted to be found.

“Anyway,” you say, plopping down a foot away from him, safely away from the edge of the roof. You swing the fanny pack around so the zip is at your front, and rip it open. Immediately, a tsunami of bandages and band-aids flow forth, fluttering to the tile before you. They’re all sorts of different sizes, but one thing is common across them all – they all have pikachu’s face plastered on them in one way or another. “These are my special band-aids! My mama uses them when I hurt myself, and they always make it heal really quick! I didn’t know how big your owie is, so I brought them all.”

Jungkook is still stunned into silence as you sort through them, organising the chaos at least a little. One of your buns has come loose, he notes. One pigtail, one bun. You look a little more like that wild child he first saw from his window. The knees of your overalls are smeared with dirt, too. He wonders if it got like that while you were looking for him. It makes him feel a little warm inside.

And a little warm outside – his cheeks are starting to burn. He doesn’t remember scratching them too, but maybe he did…?

“Let’s see…” you’re practically just holding a conversation with yourself at this point. He surrenders his leg without protest as you grab it to inspect his knee. “Yep. That’s a big ‘un.”

His whole face has lit on fire. Even his ears feel hot. Is that normal? Probably not. He’d have to ask his mother to take him to the doctor. Maybe he’s dying.

He notices how close you are suddenly, realises this is the first time you’ve been fully alone together (without Poopie), and suddenly he can’t think. Like, at all. He may as well not have a tongue because he can’t remember how to use it anyway.

Somewhere amongst the bandages you’d shoved some tissues. You pull them out now, gently clearing the dirt away from the wounds on his knees. You’re talking as you do it, but his brain is full of static. Your hands are even tinier than his. Is that normal? Wait, no-- they’re the same size. What is he doing…?

Is he going to get in trouble for being alone with a girl…? His mother hasn’t told him about the birds and bees like she said she would yet-- is that what this is? Will he turn into a bird if he gets any warmer? Jungkook doesn’t want to be a bird.

You are placing large plasters over his knees when he finally tunes in to what you’re saying. “… -that last trick was pretty cool, too. It would have been even cooler if you didn’t fall.”

Jungkook squeaks, “You saw that?”

You nod, apparently unaware of his utter humiliation. “Yeah! You’re pretty good on a bike. Can you teach me sometime? I want to show my dad.”

He makes a noise that sounds enough like an affirmation that you accept it, a big grin on your face. For a few more minutes, you finish patching him up.

“There! All done!”

Pikachu stares back up at him from his knees, looking a little wonky because of their shape. The band-aids are a bit wrinkled, but you look so proud of yourself he forces himself to ignore it. He looks up, the words of thanks he took so much courage to summon dying on the tip of his tongue as he sees you.

The setting sun changes the colour of your eyes a bit – it’s pretty, he finds himself thinking. Immediately afterwards, he blushes. Even more embarrassingly, he finds himself unable to help but observe that the sun suits you, actually. Bright, persistent, a little bit sparkly. In the sun’s last reaching rays of afternoon light, you look a bit like you’re glowing.

Of course, Jungkook is used to his silence, but it seems you’re only just noticing it. You seem to misunderstand it’s cause. “Oh, do they hurt?”

Your words tear him from his reverie, and the startled look on his face doesn’t exactly help his case. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realise they were that bad-- oh! I almost forgot the next step! My mum always does this whenever I hurt myself.”

Then, without a second spared for him to prepare himself, you lean over and plant a kiss on each of his bandaged knees.

Jungkook thinks he might explode. The entire neighbourhood is going to see him take off and zip through the sky like a rocket. His earlier thoughts of moving cities and changing his name come back full force.

“There, they hurt less now, right?” But you’re still grinning, still bright as ever with shining eyes hoping for a certain response. Despite himself he takes a moment to assess the level of pain he’s feeling – oddly enough, it does feel a bit better.

There’s no way he can manage to say that, though.

Instead he nods, wide-eyed. You let loose a sigh of relief, muttering about how you didn’t know what you’d do if that didn’t work. He swears he catches the slightest warmth in your cheeks, but doesn’t know whether it’s a trick of the sun.

“Thanks,” he finally manages, his voice just shy of a whisper. You hear him anyway and flash that gap-tooth smile his way.

“Of course! This is what friends are for!”

You think of him as a friend? Jungkook can’t help the dumb smile that rises to his face. He likes that. Friends. As the two of you stay on the roof until moonlight begins to filter through the tree and your parents are calling your name, he thinks he’d like for things to stay that way.

He’d like to be friends with you. Always.

[shatouto]

another sequel to @obiwanobi's ex-sith anakin au (here and here), and at this rate… yea. yea we’re gonna have to archive this on ao3 (soon)

anyway here’s 2.8k words of tonal inconsistency

et si les étoiles sont cachées

Obi-Wan barely sleeps a wink through the night. His mind turns and whirls as he battles between second-guessing his decisions regarding the former Sith sleeping in his bed and planning on what to do going forward. Anakin knows how to cloak his own signature well enough, that much Obi-Wan can observe, but he will not stand a chance if Masters such as Yoda or Windu search his presence. And then there is the matter of the elusive Darth Sidious’ death, as well - Obi-Wan can only assume that it would be classified information on the Confederacy side, but even then, the Force only knows what kind of hell would break loose once his body is discovered. It doesn’t help that he could barely pull his hand out of Anakin’s without him frowning in his sleep and stirring. He simply has to stay put, with Anakin’s very likely feverish body pressed up against his side in a bed that is only snugly enough for two.

In meditating all of those scenarios, he forgets to account for the hell that breaks loose in his own quarters upon the return of his apprentice.

“Master, what were you thinking?” Ahsoka hisses, eyes darting from him to the closed door of his bedroom, from where the sound of Anakin’s pacing is obvious. Her hand is still clutching one of her lightsabers, alert.

“He was an injured man who crawled to my doorstep for aid, young one.” Obi-Wan sighs. “Surely you cannot expect me to simply turn my back to him, can you? That wouldn’t be the Jedi way.”

“Yes, but…” Ahsoka pinches her own forehead, shoulders dropping in a harsh exhale. “He’s a Sith lord, Master. We’ve all seen what he has done and can do!”

“He was a Sith, Ahsoka. Leading him back to the Light means one less darksider for the galaxy, and no more lives lost. I have always been trying to accomplish this.” Obi-Wan realizes, all of a sudden, that he is trying to convince himself rather than his apprentice. “He came in a moment of need, with nowhere else to go. He no longer wants to remain with the Dark.”

Ahsoka blinks. “And you just trust him? Just like that?”

Well, Obi-Wan wants to say, you didn’t see him on his knees in the hallway with blood covering half his body and bruises the other half; and you didn’t see him hang his head as you took his lightsaber and then his ruined arm off before setting him to bed. Then again, nobody would ever see that: the exact devastation and distress the once-Darth Vader was in last night, at his door. “That is the case, Ahsoka. I would like to trust him, for the time being.”

Ahsoka grumbles something about tried to kill me earlier, didn’t you see that? which of course inspires a twinge of guilt in Obi-Wan - because indeed, this borders on being a foolhardy venture, that his Padawan is dragged into solely by virtue of her sharing quarters with him. She shakes her head and speaks clearly again for him to hear. “...Fine, I get it. Where do you even plan to house him, Master?”

Obi-Wan pauses. He has had plenty of time in the night to consider this, and still he cannot find any better solution than the one he is about to suggest. “I suppose there is no place safer than here.”

“Here? You mean as in, your own quarters, in the Jedi Temple?” Ahsoka stresses on the last few words, incredulous.

Something crashes inside his room, followed by Anakin’s muffled curse. Obi-Wan looks his apprentice dead in the eye as he lets out a sigh, and says, “Yes.”

—

Anakin is strangely good at cooking.

Obi-Wan supposes he shouldn’t have presumed; after all, being a Sith apprentice should probably not interfere with the more mundane aspects of life. But not only is Anakin’s cooking distinctly above average (how did he learn enough skills to make a three-course meal out of the few basic ingredients in Obi-Wan’s pantry, and at what cost?), he also seems to undertake the task with zeal. It’s rather endearing to watch him shuffle around the kitchenette in warm beige pants that barely reach his ankles, and a left sleeve that doesn't need to be rolled up because it's already too short for his long arm.

It’s been less than a week since Anakin first comes to his door. He clearly doesn't like Ahsoka, but with one arm and no lightsaber and Obi-Wan firmly telling him to behave, he eventually, and clearly grudgingly, tolerates her presence, from time to time. The gleam in his eyes is still worrying, from time to time, but the most Anakin does nowadays when Ahsoka passes by is turn his back to her. He seems to be trying his best, which is why Obi-Wan feels immensely guilty for having to preface their meal with a rather somber question.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, as Anakin sets down before him a plate of steak that smells nearly the same as that one luxurious dish he once had while in disguise as a socialite at a prestigious fine dining party. It isn’t the materiality that is distracting, but the efforts that must have gone into it. “I would like to ask you a question.”

Anakin sits down opposite of him, balancing himself. Even with the Force, he’s unused to not having a weight elbow-down on his right hand. “What? Leftover is in the kitchen for your apprentice. If she wants it.” His voice still sharpens at your apprentice, defensive. “I didn’t mean to let her starve.”

Obi-Wan is torn between a smile and a grimace. “No, that isn’t my question, Anakin. I’ve been wondering if you knew of your allies’ plans.”

“What kind of plans?” Anakin’s eyes narrow, warily. “It depends. Dooku knew most. I just did battlefield strategy.”

“You don’t happen to know if there has been recent plans to assassinate the Supreme Chancellor, do you?” It has been on Obi-Wan’s mind ever since he was summoned to an urgent Council meeting days ago. Investigative teams reported that the Supreme Chancellor has gone missing; then midway through the meeting, another report came, and so they ended up discussing how to keep peace while the Senate would break the staggering news of the Supreme Chancellor’s death to the entire galaxy and organize an emergency election. The timing fit too well with Anakin’s arrival, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Oh, there’s never any.” Anakin shrugs, tension melting out of his shoulder. He begins to cut into his steak without a care.

Obi-Wan frowns. There has been plenty of attempted assassinations before, as well as kidnapping - he himself has been sent to protect the Chancellor on many occasions. He’s loath to contradict Anakin, though, so he asks, carefully: “And you are sure?”

“I’m sure,” Anakin says, swallowing a mouthful. “My mas—Darth Sidious, is Palpatine.”

It takes Obi-Wan a stunned moment, while Anakin just continues to eat.

Well, the Council had their suspicions, but it was never so direct. Some have speculated, very privately, that the Chancellor might be linked to a darksider in some way. Perhaps somebody who is in opposition to Count Dooku, another Master has raised. But for the Chancellor *himself* to be this elusive, mysterious Darth Sidious, seems downright unfathomable.

“You…” Obi-Wan pauses, rewording the sentence in his mind for the seventh time. “I would like you to be serious, Anakin. That was not a joke, was it?”

Anakin, unsmiling, turns his eyes up to him with a look of confusion as if saying What’s a joke? “Darth Sidious is Palpatine,” he repeats. “I’m not allowed—I was not allowed to call him that, though.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. The timing does line up far too well. “Anakin, that means you have... disposed of the Supreme Chancellor.”

Anakin scoffs, scrunches up his nose, and shrugs again. “If you put it that way,” he mutters, slouching down even lower as he pointedly eats his food.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth, then closes it again. He sighs at the ceiling, and picks up his fork and knife. Might as well enjoy a good meal before the migraine sets in.

—

To his own amazement, Obi-Wan is getting used to the way Anakin follows him around like a hatchling, whenever he is home.

During the first few days, it took Obi-Wan a considerable amount of patient explanation to convince Anakin not to sit on the floor at the foot of the door frame until he came back. His reasons ranged from “It’s rather undignified for you” (to which Anakin said, “I’ve done worse,” at which point Obi-Wan had to switch subjects immediately, putting a pin in it for future unpacking), to “You might catch a cold, sitting here for so long” (to which Anakin answered, “It’ll go away on its own,” which prompted Obi-Wan to check his temperature immediately, only to realize that Anakin had been cloaking his fever for at least a day, and - well, that was another pin on the board). In the end, it was only the allowance for him to use the kitchenette that kept the former Sith from waiting at the door like a hound, rather busying himself at the stove instead. It was a great decision through and through, considering how much Anakin improved the quality of their meals.

But otherwise, Anakin still makes no secret of his immediate attachment to him. Perhaps there should be no surprise in that, considering the sort of upbringing he must have suffered through; not that Obi-Wan knows much of it anyway, considering how quiet Anakin remains and how reluctant he himself is to ask personal questions. Nevertheless, from the way Anakin acted - finding his way into the Jedi Temple and declaring his trust to a sworn enemy rather than relying on his own Sith allies - it isn’t hard to infer that this man has had precious little reason to put his trust into anybody in his surroundings. It also aligns with the Sith ways, Obi-Wan speculates - and could only dare speculate, because truth be told he does not know all that much of the Sith outside of his research on ancient texts. Contemporary Sith are few. The Master might just make his own rules, and Darth Sidious - the Supreme Chancellor, Force have mercy - seemed like the type to play cruel games. So he has every reason to understand and empathize. And he truly does extend his most heartfelt compassion to this wayward Force-wielder.

That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with Anakin’s irritability whenever Obi-Wan comes back from a mission.

He’s clearly unhappy about Obi-Wan being away, especially if he discovers that the mission has been with Ahsoka. He only grows more upset and quick-tempered as time goes by; it begins with him upturning the decorative datapad shelves in the living room, escalating to a series of broken glasses and plates in the kitchenette; finally one day Obi-Wan comes back home to knives lodged in the wall, Anakin in the midst of pulling them out.

Anakin has the decency to look sheepish, even just slightly, as he silently puts away all the knives and hides himself in the kitchen completely. He cleans up, at least. In fact, he was almost always in the middle of cleaning up when Obi-Wan caught him in the act, which prompts the question: How many other times has he done this while left alone?

Obi-Wan only sighs. It does border on cruelty to keep somebody alone in these cramped quarters for weeks on end. He also knows that whatever measures he has set up to keep Anakin safe here - from the world, and from Anakin himself, - it would be a fatal oversight to underestimate the ability of a former Sith. He has no doubts that Anakin, even while one-handed and saber-less, could escape if he truly wanted to. The fact that Anakin willingly keeps himself stowed away in a Jedi’s quarters while desperately and entertaining himself through destructive means only to then be embarrassed about it… is a testament to some budding virtue, Obi-Wan supposes. And it only intensifies his guilt: it’s as if he’s taking advantage of Anakin’s trust to confine him to solitude, while he himself pushes back and back the kind of work a true mentor would need to engage in to help Anakin. The fact that he is fighting a war, or whatever is left of it, is no excuse.

It is with resolution that he stands up and heads into the kitchen. Their eyes meet as soon as he steps in; clearly enough, Anakin has been watching him. Anakin’s fingers grip the counter, knuckles blanched. Obi-Wan holds up his hands, moving as slowly and unpredictably as possible, and cuts to the chase.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go outside, Anakin.”

Anakin’s brows shoot up, but he still doesn’t unclench his jaws.

“I believe it’s rather unfair to keep you locked inside,” Obi-Wan explains. “After all, cooking can only do so much to spend all of one’s pent up energy.” He gives a small, gentle smile, inwardly anxious because of the way Anakin still looks at him with his guards up, shoulders squared, halfway between fight and flight. “I am not suggesting anything much, Anakin. Only a walk in the park, if it suits you. The decision is up to you.”

A moment or two passes in thick, awkward silence. Then Anakin, hesitantly: “Will you be there?”

It’s the first pleasant surprise Obi-Wan has had in what felt like an age. His smile grows, unbidden. “Yes, I insist.”

—

Autumn winds reel through his hair before rushing off to rustle in the foliage. The nightly air is crisp on his cheeks, and Obi-Wan doesn’t even think to tighten his robes around him; he enjoys a nice, chilly evening. Silence is alleviated by the song of insects in the grass, as they make their way down the serpentine path, round fountains and beds of flowers. Their robes flutter, and their hands are firmly linked.

It’s nothing that cannot be explained by strict necessity, or so Obi-Wan reasons: He must be able to make sure Anakin never strays from his sight, for safety reasons; and he dislikes the thought of putting any kind of binding or chains or even just a simple tied thread on Anakin. As usual, when all else fails, undertaking by hand is the solution - hence Anakin’s hand in his own, their palms warmly interfacing, their calluses fitting together.

The contact is also enjoyable, but that’s beside the point.

“I like the sky at night,” Anakin says, sudden but quiet. Obi-Wan glances at him to find Anakin not looking back at him for once. Anakin’s hood has long since slipped off because of the way he tips his head back to turn his eyes to the stars. Most of them are shrouded by gathering clouds, but some of them still shine through the dark.

“I see,” Obi-Wan muses. “May I ask why?”

For once, Anakin doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I like to look at the stars. They’re just suns, but far away. Can’t burn you, only blink at you.” Anakin’s hand tightens just a little. A patch of wildflowers gently glows when the two of them pass by. “When you blink back at them, you’re not alone.”

“And what if the stars are hidden?” Obi-Wan gestures, voice light, even as his heart sinks. He knows a lonely child, or one who used to be a lonely child, when he sees one. “What do you do then?”

The sigh that follows is lost in a gust of wind. There’s only the slightest of tremors in Anakin’s fingertips. They fall back into silence, deeper silence this time, as even the insects seem to quiet. The air feels earthy and damp with a coming rain. The sky blackens as clouds roil and thicken, and suddenly it’s dark as pitch and the comfortable coolness splinters into shivers under his skin. When the first drop falls, Obi-Wan reaches over to draw up Anakin’s hood for him. Anakin turns to him, eyes downcast.

“Then I’m alone,” he answers, belated and small.

—

“Maybe you’re right, Master.” Ahsoka picks up her steaming mug of tea, sinking comfortably into her amply cushioned seat on the couch. A strip of morning sunlight draws lazily across the room. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. He’s getting... nicer, lately. You should keep walking him.”

Obi-Wan chuckles at the turn of phrase. Walking him… “I don’t think it’s my doing,” he says, pouring a little more tea for himself. Anakin shuffles from one corner of the kitchenette to another, apron strings fluttering behind him. Obi-Wan shakes his head and takes a sip of tea, smiling. “I don’t think it’s my doing at all.”

[flowerfan2]

So Much Better - Chapter 1:  Oh My God You Guys

I’m excited to present my newest David x Patrick story, So Much Better. It will post on Fridays - find it and subscribe on A03 here if you don’t want to miss it.

Chapter 1:  Oh My God You Guys.

David stares into his closet.  Sadly, nothing in it has changed since he last looked five minutes ago.

It’s not as if finding the right outfit will necessarily solve all his problems, but it’s at least something he can control.  He’s got a date with Sebastien tonight - for dinner, not just meeting up at a club or crashing some socialite’s party - and he’s starting to spiral.

Lately there’s been something different about Sebastien.    In the three months that they’ve been together, their relationship has been the epitome of casual.  “Hey, nice shoes” is probably the most effusive thing Sebastien has ever said to David, and David is fairly certain it was a joke.  But over the past few weeks David has caught Sebastien looking at him contemplatively, almost sizing him up.  Then Sebastien insisted on going to a show put on by one of the least interesting gallerists David has ever encountered, where they “accidentally” ran into Sebastien’s mother.

If he didn’t know better, David would think that something special was going to happen tonight.  That Sebastien might actually want to take their relationship to the next level.  Not just exclusive, but long term.  Maybe even… get engaged.

Sebastien isn’t exactly who David pictured himself ending up with when he was young and naive.  Being with Sebastien is like walking a tightrope.  David is constantly worrying that one wrong step will send him crashing to the ground.  But it feels so good to be wanted, to know that someone wants to be with him.  

David’s been with plenty of people, from the couple he brought home to his parents in high school, to enough one-night stands in college to populate a small village.  But now that he’s been out in the world for a few years, it’s getting harder and harder to meet people, even with his gallery job.  L.A.’s art scene is finite, and Sebastien seems to know everyone.  And no one wants to get on his bad side.  Sebastien seems to have made clear that David is his, which is sweet, in a way.  But also a little unnerving.

David can put up with Sebastien’s possessiveness.  He’s dealt with worse.  Love means accepting your partner for all that they are, and if that means taking the bad with the good, David can do it.  Besides, Sebastien is objectively attractive, and he seems to think David is too, at least based upon the number of photographs he’s taken of David.

Just thinking about their last photo session makes David feel more than a little uncomfortable.  David had, arguably, had a few too many tequila shots.  He didn’t usually like to get messy, but Sebastien loved him that way - loved to get him drunk and then drunker, and toss him into bed.  This time, after winding David up until he was hard and begging, Sebastien pulled out his leather handcuffs, and then got out his camera.  

David hasn’t seen the photographs.  He couldn’t even stay awake until Sebastien was done.  The next day, he asked Sebastien to promise that he’d keep them private, and Sebastien agreed easily.  David tells himself not to worry.  He trusts Sebastien.  He has to.

In the midst of his swirling thoughts, Alexis comes up behind him and puts her pointy chin on his shoulder.  “What are we looking at?”

He pushes away the memories of Sebastien getting him wasted and focuses on the present.  “I have nothing to wear,” he says, shrugging Alexis off and sitting himself down on the edge of his bed.

She frowns at him, then at his closet, which is, admittedly, full of clothes.  “I don’t think that’s true.”

“I have nothing <i>appropriate</i> to wear.”

“Appropriate for what?”  Alexis examines a fingernail, turning it this way and that as if there was something more interesting happening there than David’s current crisis.

“For dinner with Sebastien tonight.”

“Oooh, dinner!  That’s new.  Don’t you guys usually just, you know-” She makes a lewd gesture with her hands, and David cringes.  She’s not wrong.

“That’s rude, and no.  We don’t always just… we’ve had dinner lots of times.”

“Sure, David.”

“We have.  Except, not always, you know, before…”

Alexis makes a face.  “Eww, David.”

“If you’re not going to be helpful, please leave.”  His bedroom isn’t all that big, and he doesn’t need Alexis’ negative energy right now.

She perks up.  “You want my help?  We could go shopping!”

David considers.  His outfit for tonight has to be <i>right.</I>  Something that shows that David is perfect for Sebastien.  Not too much, not too little.  Maybe he should treat himself to something new.

“David?” His mother trills as she enters the room.  “What is the reason for all of this commotion?”

“He’s going out to dinner with Sebastien and he doesn’t have anything to wear,” Alexis answers.

Moria nods.  “Sebastian is an <i>artiste.</I> I can see why you would want your attire to convey the proper aesthetic.”

David rolls his eyes.  Sebastian is about as much of an artiste as he is - which is to say, barely - and his taste in clothing is far inferior to David’s own.  Still, he agrees with his mother.  His outfit has to send the right message tonight.

“Moira?  Children?”  Johnny enters the room, smiling genially at everyone.  “What’s going on?”

David groans.  Since they had to sell their Beverly Hills estate and move into a much smaller rental in Pasadena, he’s had way more family time than he’s used to.  It hasn’t been all bad, but he really doesn’t need his entire family’s opinion on what to wear tonight.

“David is just having a crisis about what to wear for his paramour,” Moira says.

“Oh my god you guys, that’s enough.  Alexis and I were just leaving.”  He grabs Alexis’ arm.  “Come on.”

Traffic is terrible, as always, but they finally make it to David’s favorite boutique, just off Rodeo Drive.  The interior of the store is done in calming, neutral tones, with overpriced fashions draped elegantly over obedient mannequins.   David stops for a moment and takes a long, deep, breath, allowing the distinctive scent of fine fabrics to center him.  

“Can I help you?”  A young man who looks as if he is barely out of high school approaches them, and David looks around to see if anyone else is available.

“We’re looking for something special,” Alexis says, shimmying up to the salesboy.  “For date night.”

The boy looks at the two of them, and David winces.  “She’s my sister,” he says.  “For god’s sake.  I’m not going on a date with her.  And besides, it’s not just any date.”

Alexis turns to him, eyes wide.  “What do you mean?”

David considers his options.  He’s already said too much, and Alexis will just keep at him until he spills.  If he’s wrong, it’s going to suck. If he’s right, Alexis will love it.  Either way, David needs the support.  He takes a deep breath and feels excitement tingling up and down his spine as he says the words.  “I think that maybe Sebastian is going to propose.”

After Alexis is done squealing like a rat whose tail is caught in a trap, the salesboy finally brings David something to try on.  But instead of the Helmut Lang hoodie he had asked to see, the boy brings him a green sweater.  “This just came in,” the boy says.  “I think it would look great on you.”

Alexis looks questioningly at David, who shakes his head.  “That’s a knockoff Zara, and it didn’t just come in - it’s based on a piece I saw in last year’s Vogue.  Are you kidding me?”

“Mr. Rose, I am so sorry.”  A tall man in an immaculate suit swans over to David, pushing the boy out of the way.  “Don’t mind Martin, he hasn’t been well.  Try this Neil Barrett piece, I think it will be much more to your liking.”

It is, in fact, an awesome black sweater with lightning bolts around the neck.  David loves it, but pales when he checks the price tag.

“Consider it a gift to one of our best customers,” the tall salesperson says, and beams obsequiously as he folds the gorgeous sweater carefully into a bag and hands it to David.

Alexis runs her hands up and down David’s arm as he propels her out of the store.  Once outside, they nearly trip over their own feet running around the corner, and burst out into laughter.  

“Clearly that man has no idea we’re not rich anymore,” David says.  

“Can we go into Chanel?” Alexis asks.  “I want to try it.  Maybe if I look sad they’ll give me a cute lil’ purse!”

*****

David checks his texts again as gets out of the car.  The restaurant isn’t one of Sebastien’s usual see-and-be-seen locations, but it’s where Sebastien told him to show up.

He straightens his shoulders and walks in.  It’s all pale wood and large paintings of flowers and vegetables, picking up on the farm-to-table vibe.  David regrets not googling the restaurant before he came, so could have at least set his expectations properly.  It seems like a place you’d take your aunt who is visiting from out of town and wants a wholesome California experience, not a setting for a romantic encounter.

“Good, David, you’re here.”  Sebastien appears next to him, gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, and signals to the host.  Soon they’re seated at a table in the middle of the room, menus in front of them.  David looks longingly at the cozier booths off to the side, but he doesn’t have a chance to say anything before their waiter appears offering them still or sparkling water.

Sebastien seems content enough, so David lets it go.  He settles himself in the chair and tries to catch Sebastien’s eye.  “This is nice,” he comments, aiming for a casual tone.  He needs to feel Sebastien out, see if there’s something else going on.  He’s not about to criticize Sebastien’s choice in restaurant and risk a fight.

“What?  Yeah, I guess.  My mother knows the owner.”  Sebastien shrugs off his latest overpriced yet still ratty-looking cardigan.  “Said she’d comp us a free meal if we mentioned the place on insta.”

David perks up.  Maybe this means Sebastien does have something monumental planned - what better PR then having your restaurant mentioned in emotional engagement photos?  David resists the urge to check his hair - he knows it’s still perfect, swept up in an impressive poof.  Sebastien doesn’t look like he’s dressed for photos, but then again, he hasn’t even noticed David’s new sweater.  It’s just not his thing.

Their server sets an impressive charcuterie platter down on the table .  David is just about to sample the delicious looking goat cheese when Sebastien clears his throat.  “There’s something we need to talk about,” he says, his eyes finding David’s.

David feels his heart start to pound.  It’s coming, he thinks.  Keep breathing.  This is the most important moment of your life.  Your dreams are coming true.  He presses his palms into his thighs and leans forward.

“I know you can probably tell,” Sebastien continues.  “Because, you know, we’re here.”  Sebastien waves his hand languidly at their surroundings.

“Mmm, yes.”  Go on, David thinks.  Ask me.  I’m ready.

“Cool.”  Sebastien picks a single cornichon off the plate between them and pops it in his mouth.  “I’m glad you understand.”

David blinks.  “Um, understand what?”

“I was talking with my mother, after we met up the other night.”

At the tedious gallery event.  “Yes, I remember.”

“And she reminded me that I’m not getting any younger.”  Sebastien laughs and gives David a strange look.  “You’re certainly not either.”

“Right…” David is barely a year older than Sebastien, so he’s not sure what that look was for.  

“Anyway, if I want the future I’ve always planned on, it’s time to get serious.”

Finally, something that makes sense.  <i>Serious.</i>  Like marriage.  “Yes of course,” David breathes out.  “I completely agree.  It’s time to get serious.  So…” He inhales and slides to the edge of his chair, ready for Sebastien to drop to one knee.

“So we have to break up.”

David feels his heart fly out into space and hang, suspended.  “Wait, what?”

“I can’t just fuck around L.A. forever, taking pictures of every twink that I jump into bed with and hoping for my big break.  Besides, there are already rumblings of lawsuits.  I figure I’ll go get a law degree, have some ammunition ready for when people come whining at me.  My dad and his dad both went to Harvard, I can get in no problem.  Then I’ll have plenty of cash and attack dogs at my beck and call.”

David’s heart crashes to the floor, through the floor.  Lands somewhere in the basement with the broken dinnerware.  “But…”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, David.  You didn’t think I was going to put up with your bullshit forever, did you?  It’s not as if you have any connections anymore, not since your family got ripped off.”  Sebastien stands up and grabs his sweater.  “Make sure to post pics of your food on insta unless you want to pay full price for this mediocre crap.  Later.”

David sits silently at the table, holding himself as still as he can.  He doesn’t know why he’s surprised.  He’s no one’s idea of a serious partner.  

[lunarliza]

Dirty Little Secret | Chapter One: Blankets

fuckbuddy!JJ x Kook!Reader 

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl? 

You stared at the ticking clock among the sea of giggling preppy girls. Time had to be running in reverse. There was no way you still had an hour left. 

“Alright ladies, let’s now form a single-file line and practice our curtsies,” the cotillion instructor, Linda, ordered. The over-privileged girls hurried to the end of the ballroom, one carelessly stepping over your foot. “Ouch!” 

You glared at their backs and non-existent asses as they scurried, being the last one to sulk to your place behind a tall girl named Caroline. The leggy blonde snickered and leaned back slightly once everyone got into formation. 

“You look like a beat up mule,” she joked. 

You snorted and got on your tip-toes, muttering into her ear. “If I hear the words ‘prim and proper’ one more time, I might actually vomit on the spot.” 

You both peered over to Linda who was busy adjusting some of the girls in the front with her annoying pointer stick. It was only a matter of time before she would eventually get to you and criticize, well, everything. Your posture, clothes, hair, attitude. 

“If you do,” Caroline added, “make sure to get it all on Delilah in the front left. She totally swiped me for runner-up Miss Teen North Carolina last year.” 

You chuckled and shook your head. 

Caroline was probably the only thing getting you through these treacherous debutante lessons. She was your typical tall, thin socialite with a Benz and Prada collection to match. Ironically, you guys had more in common than one would think- hating just about every single girl in the room. It may be for different reasons, but the principle was there. Caroline was as competitive as they come and always had to be the center of attention, not that it was hard given her model height. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about becoming a high woman in society- evident in your ability to show up 20 minutes late to each lesson and royally screw up the dance number each chance you got. Caroline admired your talent of not giving a fuck and took a liking to you after you posed non-threatening to her spotlight. 

You faked yawned and checked the clock once more. 

“Alright I’ve had enough.” You held out your hand to Linda, causing the pageant girl in front of you to wrinkle her perfectly threaded brows. “Linda, I need to use the restroom,” you announced nonchalantly as everyone’s beetle eyes punctured you. 

“Very well y/n,” the monotonous instructor answered with her thin-framed glasses hanging on her beak nose.  

“See ya next week,” you sneakily whispered to Caroline. You proceeded to hop out of line, snatch your canvas bag at the entrance, and whisk out the door and into the busy street before anyone could see.

It was 3 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon. Your ferry left in an hour, and til then, you were ready to wander around the streets of Chapel Hill. 

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

“How were lessons today?” your mother asked, taking a sip of her 1999 Vineyard Merlot before setting the glass on the black marble table.

“Fine,” you answered, picking at the halibut on your plate. 

Her glasses were perched at the bridge of her nose as she scrolled through items on an iPad. You silently glanced over to your little sister, Macy, who slid her green beans onto your plate and threw you a thankful grin. 

“What did you go over?” your stepdad, Ted, asked half-heartedly as he scrolled through his phone. 

“Uh, we did some curtsies and practiced the dance,” was all you cared to mention as you munched on your sister’s veggies. 

“That’s funny,” your mother lifted her eyes from the screen, “because Linda called and said you went to the restroom and mysteriously disappeared. And you were late.” Her tone was much more adamant at the second part, but your face stayed cool as you took another bite of the awful fish. 

“There was backup when I left the ferry,” you lied and your mother rolled her eyes, tossing the iPad onto the table. 

“Y/n, you need to take this seriously. Ted spent weeks trying to get you into those debutante lessons and we’re paying a fortune for Linda alone!” 

“It’s not my fault she has a stick up her ass just like everyone else there,” you countered. Your mom was seconds away from fuming, so you decided to add a little extra fuel. “Also someone stepped on my foot with their heel so I had to rest it or else I wouldn’t be able to properly do the dance.” 

“Enough of this, y/n,” your mother snapped at your terrible sarcasm. Macy and Ted stopped eating and watched you both with hints of concern. You didn’t understand why it was so startling to them. It was just any other Thursday evening with your mom if you were being honest. 

“If I get another call from Linda, we’re taking away your keys.” 

“Take them,” you said, stepping up from your chair and towards the kitchen. You tossed the half-eaten food into the trash and stuffed the plate into the dishwasher. “Not like I have anywhere better to be on this God-awful island.” 

You rushed to your room upstairs and kicked the door shut behind you. You sank into your bed, face first, and let out the longest, dreadful groan into the comforter. 

This was your life now. After almost a year, you would think that you’d adjust to this pretentious Kook life, but it only made you feel more stranded than ever. It started when your real parents announced their divorce a few years back. Both yours and Macy’s hearts shattered at the news. Your family lived perfectly in a tiny home until you turned thirteen. Your dad- the one who taught you how to ride a bike, swim, fish, and play poker- got a new job where he would go overseas for months on end. You hated not being able to see him and your mom hated it even more- enough to leave him. Your mom ended up taking full custody of you and Macy. Soon after, she met money-bags Ted, and, before you knew it, your bags were sealed packed as you sailed away to a fancy new home along Figure Eight complete with housekeepers, a pool, and etiquette lessons. It was supposed to be this “better lifestyle” your mother tried to paint into your head- but you saw right through it. No matter how green the grass or white the fence, you still felt like you were being locked up on an island you had no interest in exploring. 

Making new friends was also a hassle- first coming in as a high school sophomore, and then not knowing how to engage in Kook-speak with the others. It’s not your fault you weren’t well-versed in luxury cars and handbags. You had one or two friends, but spent most of your days alone. It was well past midnight when you caught yourself drowning in your own self-loathing thoughts. A sudden tap on your window startled you as you turned to find a familiar blonde boy struggling to lift the glass. You watched, unimpressed, as he finally got it open enough to slide his lean body in and land straight onto your window seat. 

“You’re late again, JJ,” you said, getting up to lock your door. 

“Phone died and there’s a guard on duty, so I had to come in through the long way,” JJ stated, plopping himself comfortably on your bed. 

He wore his usual fit- dark cargo shorts and a navy button-up with hardly anything buttoned. He reeked of weed and seawater, wearing a sleazy grin on his face. You wanted to swipe it off. Cocky bastard. 

“For the last time,” you retorted, kicking his feet off your white blankets, “no shoes on my fucking bed.” 

“I love when you talk dirty to me,” JJ snarkily replied as he slipped off his boots.   

This was JJ: your fuck buddy. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly why you were involved with this delinquent of a boy, but he was enough piss off your mom and Ted- not that you would ever tell them. You didn’t know what it was about him, but causally sleeping with JJ made you feel more in control of your life. So, once or twice a week, you two would meet up, do the deed, and go your separate ways without a word. No strings, no feelings, hell, not even a friendship. And not a single soul knew. You both understood the terms of your agreement and will stand by it until the day you both die. “Are you just gonna stand there and stare or are we gonna get to clapping cheeks? I don’t have all night dude,” JJ nagged, interrupting you from your thoughts. 

You flipped him off. “If someone showed up during their regularly scheduled time, I would have had a lot more energy.” You peeled off your cropped tee to reveal a lacy black bralette and climbed into his lap. His hands cupped the globes of your ass before sliding them into your shorts, mouth connecting with your neck. 

“Let’s make this quick,” he added between short breaths, “I have to meet some friends in an hour.” 

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

chapter two

[therenlover]

Welcome Home (Part One of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Synopsis: As if getting thrown through the multiverse, trapped in an attic (albeit a cool one), mind-controlled to manipulate his grieving sister, and subsequently dragged out of Westview “for his own safety” by the FBI wasn’t enough, Peter Maximoff has now been shipped off to New York to live with a glorified baby sitter like some tragic orphan in a comic book until they find a way to get him back home. Things are not always as they seem, though, and this change might just be for the better.

Tags: Pre-Relationship, First Meetings, Slow Burn, Post-Wandavision

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild Language, References to Ralph Bohner

Word Count: 2400~

This fic has already been posted to my AO3, along with the next two parts! I’ll be continuing it on both platforms.

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“So… Ralph Bohner?”

Peter looked up from his mug, the tea inside having gone cold long before. His eyes had been fixed on the floor, his leg bouncing far quicker than what should have been humanly possible. It had been a little over 24 hours since the Hex had disappeared, and Peter was firmly of the mindset that he was taking it all very well.

Even to himself, he was a terrible liar.

“Ralph?” His new keeper spoke again, voice soft in the quaint kitchen of the brownstone that Peter would be calling home for the foreseeable future.

It had all been so strange. In one moment he was reorganizing his new attic and trying to figure out how to work the damn DVD player, and somehow in the next, he was a prisoner in his own mind, backseat driving as a witch used his face and voice to torment Wanda. Not his Wanda, though; a new, strange, grieving Wanda with unfathomable power at her fingertips. Thankfully, that didn’t last very long.

After just 2 weeks in this strange new reality, Peter missed the X-Men. He missed his dad, no matter how absent and strange he was. He missed his friends, and his sisters, and the strange normalcy that came with being a part of the team when the world wasn’t in danger. Peter found himself wishing that things would just slow down enough for him to catch up and figure out what the hell was going on. That was a new one for him.

At least he still had his speed. If he had lost his powers in the freak accident that sent him into another universe… well he didn’t want to think about that.

Despite this, the FBI guy who had dragged him out of Westview and across the river to New York had given him an explicit warning not to use his powers while civilians were present. Peter didn’t mind Agent Woo, he seemed like a good guy and treated him with more decency than most government lackeys would have back home, but it was gonna be completely impossible for Peter to avoid using his speed in public. It wasn’t like Agent Woo would even be around to stop him anyway. The only person who could possibly protest was the poor sap that the F.B.I. called in to babysit him, and they would never be able to keep up even if they tried.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

Fuck.

His eyes shot up to meet hers, “You aren’t supposed to know that name,”

“I’m not supposed to know a lot of things,” she replied almost nonchalantly, “but neither of us is known for doing the things we’re supposed to do, are we?”

Peter chuckled, and for the first time in a while, he cracked a genuine smile. “I guess not,”

The smile seemed to please the woman across the counter. Smiling back, she wrapped her hands around her own mug and sat down on a tall stool, leaning towards Peter. “Now, first things first! I want you to ignore whatever rules the FBI gave you while you’re here. My house, my rules, and despite the fact that you’re in witness protection I doubt anyone unwanted will come knocking at the door to snatch you up,”

As she spoke, Peter really took her in for the first time. She was a small thing, in shape and stature, but soft, all rounded edges and gentle touches. Despite her young face, there was an age to her, too. Looking deep into his memories, he realized she had the same haunted look in her eyes that he had seen all too often in the older members of his team. It was the look of someone who has seen unspeakable loss and survived to tell the tale. He decided at that moment that maybe staying with her wouldn’t be so bad.

“So about that rules thing,” Peter tapped his fingers against his half-full mug, doing his best not to speed up and break it, “I don’t exactly do well with rules. They aren’t my thing. I can’t promise that the cops won’t show up at the door, and I especially can’t promise that they won’t be there because of something I did that I knew was against the rules,”

When Peter met the woman’s eyes again she was still smiling, not a hint of displeasure on her face.

“If I had a problem with you being you, Peter, I wouldn’t have offered to take you in. Besides, as long as the cops that show up are human there won’t be a problem,”

Peter paused. “What?”

“That’s a question for another time,” The woman took a sharp turn then, hopping off of her stool and walking her mug to the sink where she proceeded to rinse it out. “Next, even in public, I refuse to call you Mr. Bohner. Ralph I can do if you care about staying anonymous, but I won’t be acknowledging any part of your… chosen last name,” Even as she shuddered, there was humor lacing her voice, “Bohner, though? Really?”

“It’s funny!”

She turned back to Peter with her face scrunched up in faux disgust. “Maybe to a middle schooler,”

“I had just been pulled out of my room, sucked through a portal, and thrown onto the steps of goddamn Quantico, so excuse me for not being on top of my game. Besides, Bohner wasn’t even my first choice. They wouldn’t let me go with Jack Ingoff,”

That was enough to send them both into a fit of giggles.

“Jack Ingoff?” She wheezed, “You tried to get the F.B.I. to give you the legal name Jack fucking Ingoff? That’s just so you,”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re both an idiot and the funniest person I have ever met,”

“I’d better be,”

As they continued to laugh, Peter found himself completely enthralled by this strange woman’s face and it occurred to him that she was incredibly beautiful.

It wasn’t as if she was a supermodel, though in Peter’s eyes it wouldn’t have taken much to make her one. Every part of her just seemed to glow as she gripped her stomach and stifled laughter. She was pretty in quiet ways, in soft glances and gentle touches and unrestrained joy. In the way that everything around her felt like it was full of life. In the kindness that had never wavered while Peter had sat at her kitchen counter, even when he had come through the door swearing at Agent Woo and demanding that he didn’t need a babysitter.

The longer he looked, the more beautiful she became, in actions and words and features combined, and Peter suddenly became aware that if he hadn’t taken the time to really see her, he never would have realized. He was glad he had slowed down for once.

Somewhere down the line, her laughter quieted.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “what’s your deal?” The cold mug in his hands was suddenly extremely interesting.

Across the counter she stilled, frozen in place for a moment. When she spoke, her voice held an edge of… fear? “What do you mean?”

Peter did his best to backpedal.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I was just wondering what you did to get stuck with me, that’s all. I doubt they would stick my annoying ass with just anybody, especially after… well everything that went down in Westview. Plus, I’m not just a normal dude. What average New York socialite would take in a kleptomaniac who just so happens to also be inhumanly fast out of the goodness of their heart?”

As he spoke, her shoulders relaxed and she loosened her grip on the edge of the marble countertop. “Oh, my deal,”

“Yeah. There’s more to you than what meets the eye, I can tell,” Something in the way her face flushed at his words made Peter’s heart fill with pride.

“I… well I had a unique upbringing,” she responded, voice careful and measured while she watched the floor, “I’m not a mutant, not like you, but I have a little bit of power at my disposal that makes me useful to heroes and hero adjacent agencies. I’m not a part of the team, my skills aren’t usually helpful when it comes to fighting, but they keep tabs on me just in case I’m needed. This was one of those times,”

Peter snorted. “Sounds like a pretty shitty deal,”

“Trust me, if I didn’t have to have the government breathing down my back, I wouldn’t, but after I worked with the Avengers they pulled up my file and found out I shouldn’t exist, so they’ve been keeping a pretty close eye on me ever since,”

“Ah… well, next time just don’t get caught,”

“Not all of us have the luxury of being able to dodge bullets and outrun law enforcement, Peter. Besides, I like this house and I’m not quite in the mood to have to abandon it just yet.”

He shrugged. “To each their own. Now how the hell did you get stuck with me? Were you just the closest or did everybody else refuse,”

“Well, actually I offered to take you in,”

Peter choked on the air. “Why the hell would you do that?”

She was quick to defend herself, and in a way him too.

“Because Jimmy is my friend, and when a friend needs a favor I try to help them out. It’s more than that, though. I won’t lie. I’m fascinated by you, Peter Maximoff. I find you wonderful exactly how you are and I couldn’t stand to let any of the other assholes in New York try to stomp out your personality. Here with me, you can just be you, and knowing that you’re able to be comfortable until we find you a way home was more than enough of a reason for me to volunteer to take you in. Besides, if you weren’t with me you’d probably be in the tower’s holding cell, and believe me, that wouldn’t be any fun,”

It took Peter a minute to fully digest what he was hearing.

He wasn’t going to be a burden. There would be no curfews or screaming matches or long lectures about his chosen pastimes. She wanted every single part of him there and had already gone out of her way to assure him that even the worst of him was welcome under her roof. Even during his time at X-Mansion, he had never been treated like this.

Sure, he had been himself there. People would yell or try to stop him from doing what he wanted but their efforts were futile. He couldn’t be tamed. At best the other members of the team had just tried to ignore him until his powers came in handy. He was an annoyance at worst and the household funny guy at best, and yet now a total stranger wanted him around. It took all of Peter’s small reserve of restraint to not take a victory lap around the block there and then.

Being wanted was the best feeling in the world.

When his head cleared, he smiled again. “You know, when Agent Woo brought me in here I was fully prepared to wait for him to leave then make a run for it, but I’ve decided to save you from the F.B.I.’s wrath and stay for a while instead. You’re welcome,”

He expected a snappy retort, but instead, her words came out strangely genuine, almost a whisper.  “Thank you for saving me, Peter. I appreciate it,”

“Any time,”

Slowly the flush from before crept back onto her face.

“I know you’re not the type who likes to be tied down, so I won’t keep you here much longer,” she said, before taking Peter’s mug to the sink, “but there are just a few more things I need to tell you before you go off to do whatever it is you do on a Thursday morning.”

He would never admit it but Peter felt anything but tied down. Instead, he just nodded.

“Go for it,”

She washed the mug as she spoke. “Alright, well first of all what’s mine is yours. Unless I specifically ask you not to use something you have free reign over whatever you need. You can come and go as you please, I keep odd hours and don’t mind a little noise even when I’m sleeping. The house is pretty simple layout-wise, you can explore whenever you want, but the room at the end of the hallway to your right is my bedroom and I’d prefer if you didn’t go in there unless you need to. Your room is the first door at the left of the stairs on the second floor and… well, I think that’s all,”

There was a sort of sorrow in the woman’s eyes when she stopped, placing the now clean mug on a drying rack before turning to face Peter again. A yearning. It made Peter want to… well, he didn’t quite know what it made him feel. He just wanted to do whatever would ease the strange pain that resided in his new friend.

He went to speak but nothing came out.

“Is everything okay Peter?”

It was Peter’s turn to flush, face red with shame. “I...uh, well, I wasn’t quite paying attention when the agent introduced us. I’m gonna need to know your name if I’m living with you,”

It came as no surprise when she laughed gently, making her way across the kitchen towards the living room, passing Peter at the counter on her way. “My name is Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you, Peter,” The strange sorrow was still present, reflected in her words, but it seemed lighter than before, more manageable.

“Nice to meet you too Y/N,”

“I’m heading to work,” she pulled on a light jacket as she spoke, “so feel free to explore at your own leisure while I’m gone. I’ll hopefully be back by 5, but sometimes things run late. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

Peter shook his head no. “If I can’t find something I need I’ll just run out and grab it myself.

Y/N laughed again. “Just don’t get caught, you won’t know the number to call from jail yet,”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,”

She paused, halfway out the door. “Oh, and Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Welcome home,”

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a/n: Thank you so much for reading! I have 3 1/2-ish parts of this series written, but the plan is for it to be a long haul where each part is a connecting oneshot. I hope you’re excited! 

Please don’t post my work to other sites, thanks!

[the-crows-typist]

Finally, we arrive at the fifth and final installment of our Valentine’s Event and closing with Cater Diamond paired with the word ‘Sunset’ which was requested by my good friend @twistinghearts​​. Please enjoy this, albeit, very late gift.

CW: Slow burn, OOC, minor mention of forced labor themes (in passing), minor mention of death (in flashbacks), mentions of blood, and Angst and Comfort under the cut. Please proceed with caution.

Word count: 6384

Other works: Chocolates Feat. Jade, Cards Feat. Floyd, Kiss Feat Vil, Flowers Feat. Kalim

A Heart From Me To You

A Diamond shines in different angles, in different light. It was sought after and cherished by those around him. Like the jewel his family was named after, Cater Diamond was one such person sought after by many. His skin smooth as silk, eyes teasing and bright like emeralds, and hair the shined in the sun like amber. He was a beautiful man.

“My diamond, come here.”

His lips pressed into a straight line in a moment, hesitant but readied. His green eyes look up to the aristocrat with a smile, the red birthmark on his cheek brushed by oiled fingers made a shiver rise up his spine.

“Look at me, darling. Smile at me.”  

Cater waited for the disgust to leave and his eyes to flutter closed.  What should have been a shared kiss became the swift plunge of a sword through the back, its tip barely grazing the beauty's skin with red droplets.

The clank of metal, the barking of orders; knights and guards rampaged the room in droves with arms taking him and pulling him down to the ground onto his knees. “Halt.” Came the voice of the attacker, your blade oozing at the tip as the fallen aristocrat crumples to the floor with labored breath.

Heavy footsteps come along, your eyes scanning the area of any more potential threats. Your step on the dying aristocrat on your way in yet you never regarded them with an apology, instead opting to look to the doll, to Cater.

“State your name.” You say, voice oozing with authority “What is your affiliation with this pig?” And like the namesake, the aristocrat squealed under your heavy foot. Even with the air of authority, your voice brought him a sense of calm. Freedom.

“Cater Diamond…”

There were murmurs, whispers, and looks towards him in awe, in surprise…In pity.

“Diamond?” Whispered one of the guards to another. “A jewel family?”

“That poor thing, I can’t bear to think about what has happened to those before him.”

“We can’t leave him here.” Said one of your comrades, Sebek. “This is no place for him to stay.”

“Bring him with us.” You turned to leave the room, sheathing your bloodied blade and making sure to step over the dying socialite again on your way out.

"And the pig?" Asked one of the knights who lightly kicked them in the face with a steel-toed boot.

“Do what is needed.” A cruel line brought on cruel laughter, Cater was pushed away from the room sparing him the cruelty of the knights in question. Though deep down, the diamond would have loved to see every second of it.

The trumpets sound in song at the return of the knights; Malleus Draconia, the ruling monarch, descended from his throne, and just as you had been taught and trained you knelt before him. "Your highness, we have returned safely.”

“Stand up dear one, remove your helmet.” Said the king whose fingers delicately held your helmet like a father giving affection to his child. You do so under his command, removing it to reveal your battle-torn face and with a flick of his finger and gentle caress, your wounds disappeared like dust to the wind.

“I do not doubt your abilities one bit,” He says, holding your chin and inspecting your face for any scratches he may have missed. All your life, you were taught to be the kingdom’s shield, its protector, its hero no matter what the task may be. Yet, when the Draconia family took to the throne things had become more different. “But you must be less careless.”

“It is only right that I do what I am told.”

Under a veiled sigh, he commanded you with the tone of a king. “Tell me what has been done.”

“We have eradicated one of the North’s primary figureheads and dealt surrounding the kingdom, they will no longer be a threat to us,” There was a moment of hesitation in your voice, remembering what might have been had you come in a second too late. Malleus’s eyes that shined with life could have cracked and dulled right in front of you. “We also found a doll and was able to safely remove them with no resistance.”

There was a time when those in power cast a reign of fear and greed on those they were meant to protect and a sick practice was born out of the treacherous tar of corruption.

It made Malleus’ stomach crawl knowing how many families were separated and made to kowtow to the needs and of those in power, forced to take up precious jewels as their names as a way to strip them of their identity, their humanity, their being. 

“And what of the scoundrel?”

"Squealed like a pig and died like one."

A cruel punishment meant for a cruel creature, the king nods his head sagely. “Good. And what of the doll?”

“He is currently resting in the private quarters we have provided. His name is Cater, born from the Diamond family.”

“Diamond…” His heart sinks and eyes closed, your eyes looking down to your feet when the air changed. Malleus shook his head “To think they still exist, those poor souls.”

His hand rests on your shoulder, rubbing it lightly. “Rest easy, dear one. I will request for your audience soon.”

You bow your head, sweaty soaked hair framing your face. “Thank you, your highness.”

As he gazed from the window of the small room, Cater's hands pressed against the warm glass while the sun began to set on the horizon casting an orange hue towards him. In his old room, the windows were small and high above him, only ever depositing rain or frost.

Here, however, he sees everything. From the bustling streets below to the laughs of children and adults alike. This world was warm as the orange hues of the setting sun, he liked it. His hand slid down the glass with a squeak, his mind going back to you the moment you killed the aristocrat that was coming onto him.

Even if the conversation was brief, your voice was gentle and soft, unlike the barking guards the encompassed you and held him down. If it were possible, he wanted to meet you, to speak to you again, to thank you for what you did.

A soft knock on the door and a small man emerged from behind the heavy door, his uneven hair revealed bits and pieces of magenta red that matched his playful yet worn eyes.  

“Greetings, your name is Cater Diamond correct?”

“Yes, um. Who are you?”

“Ah,” The smaller mind held a hand to his chest. “My apologies, dear one. I am Lilia Vanrouge, the royal advisor to the king.”

Cater’s body froze as scrambled to get to his knees. “F-forgive me, I—!”

“There is no need for that. A polite curtsey will do next time.”

“I came here to discuss something with you, Mr. Diamond. Please, stand up and sit on a proper chair. Though the weather is pleasant, the night brings a very bad chill to the floor, you might freeze if you continue like that!" Lilia pats his shoulder and lets out his hand for the beautiful man to take and hold.

When Cater sits down on the bed, Lilia pulls out a chair and begins to speak not long after he is seated comfortably. “As you know, the kingdom you once knew as home—.”

“That place is not my home.”

Eyes of fuchsia widen at his sudden outburst. “It was a prison and I don’t want to go back there. Ever.” His hands ball in his lap through the small giggling fits of the advisor “Then that settles one concern, on to the next.” Lilia says with a laugh, his hands on his hips and eyes narrowed to a teasing glance. “Tell me, Cater, where do you want to live from now on?”

With grunts, you hurled your ax over a block of wood and easily split it in half, adding itself to a large pile. It had been days since your last conversation with the King and you were only biding your time until your next assignment.

Your home was a comfortably small cottage near the foot of the forest isolated from the townspeople with a nice dining room that bled into the living room and the second floor being a neat storage of items to the cellar where you kept your food. Life within it was slow and boring, and you were fine with that.

You wouldn’t call your life boring nor would call your life adventurous either. It was all about duty, you were trained to be a knight, fought like a knight, and bore the pain of being so. As extreme as it may sound, you knew you deserved this life. You were born for it.

Out of habit, you pull your gloves tighter against your fingers.

Tightening your grip against the handle, you pulled it out with a huff and inspecting the sharp edge for any damage.

“It seems that you are stocked to the brim.”

Silver stands before you in comfortable attire, he had been a sort of brother-classmate as you grew together. He stood up for you as you did for him, he meant a lot to you despite the long time you were apart. "The nights get colder each passing day." You say, setting the ax down onto the ground. "I just want to be ready."

“Do you need some help carrying this inside?" Inquired the silver-haired man.

“Please.”

Inside the cottage, Silver nodded off against the warmth of the fireplace even after you set a mug of tea next to him. "Any reason you came to visit me, Silver?" The charred wood crackled against the flames that cast a comfortable orange into the room, like warm miniature sunset. In a few minutes, Silver regained his bearings; shaking his head to rid himself of the sleeping spell put over him.

Even years after he was hit by it, there had been no progress to remove it.

“I heard you came back from the North." He said. "I just wanted to know if you were doing alright. That place…" He drawled off, eyes hanging halfway down. "That place hasn't changed one bit." You say, holding the warm mug to your hand. "The winters are still perilous and the frost remains where it last sat on."

Silver hums, head lolling about, and with a sigh you stand up from your seat. Taking a blanket, you drape it over the Silver to allow him to get comfortable. Sitting back down, you try to focus on the sound of crackling fire against the cold winds that blew against your window.

By the time you awoke, Silver was already gone and the warm rays of the morning sun seeped through frosted windows, the fire long put out and now cold from water and sand. Pushing yourself off the chair, the blanket slipped off your body.

Opening the door, you were met by a world unhindered by snow. Green spread where frost would bite, birds would sing where the wind would whistle, and warmth where the unforgiving cold would settle. A carriage would soon stumble on the horizon, the royal family's insignia shining like gold. Malleus and Lilia disembark, their feet protected with layers of flowers and dewed grass.

“Your Majesty.” You say as you bow.

“It is good to see you, dear one.” The king stated, regarding you with a smile. “Lift your head for me.”

Behind him, Lilia helps down another person from the cart. Hair as bright as amber, eyes twinkling like emeralds, and lips as pink as rose quartz. Cater Diamond stood behind the royal advisor unsure of what to do but admire the scenery before him, his bare feet fiddling with the grass under him.

“What brings his majesty to this part of the kingdom?” Malleus’ hand touches your head, like a father consoling his child.

“Your final assignment.”

You didn’t know what to feel even after Malleus dropped off Cater at your home. All your life, you were taught to be a knight…And yet,

"You've done many great things for this kingdom, dear one. You are a great knight and a great leader, I am prideful of that…”

You could still feel the weight of his hand atop your head.

“But it is time that you finally found peace and through this final assignment, I hope to see that to fruition. Take care of Cater for he has chosen you as his home.”

Even with the kind words spoken onto you by the King, you feel as though you have failed in your duties as a knight. It was no wonder Silver decided to visit you, he was coming to see if you were ready for what was to come.

That one, really, ever a worrywart for his friends.

“Um, I’ll set my things here.”

Cater’s footsteps were tittering, gentle and unsure as he set a single sketchbook and pencil down onto the table. “Feel free.” You say and sit down near the fireplace. His grumbling stomach cut your thoughts, his fingers fumbling and then it hit you; your pantry was empty after you’ve been away for so long. Grimacing, you let out a sigh and starched the back of your head. You weren’t able to go on a supply run…

“…There’s a bakery not too far from here,” You say suddenly. “I can get something for you there so please make yourself at—.”

“Can I go with you?”

You didn’t answer for a moment prompting Cater to further explain with fidgeting fingers. “I was never allowed to roam outside of my room s-so I want to see the world, the Valley of Thorns! At least to an extent I can copy.” Cater holds up his sketchbook again, a warm yet sheepish smile on his lips.

Something within you popped like warm water against ice, fizzling through your body and without another word, you nodded your head at his request. “I’ll lend you my shoes, the dirt path is painful to walk on.”

You set some treats on the counter before you while Cater sat and watched the activity from a bench outside. “Oh, you’re usually alone when visiting. Who’s he?” Asked the shopkeeper, collecting the coins you set from your satchel.

"He's…Someone I've begun living with."

“Oho, I see. Well, you look like you’re in the age to begin that stage of life.”

“What, no. I—.”

Chatter echoed from beyond the glass door, a sizeable crowd gathering to Cater as he sketches the face of a woman before him. “No need to be shy about it, dear one.” He sets a few more bags of bread yet declines the offer for more coins.

“You have been a good customer since your arrival here and it doesn’t hurt to buy something extra. Besides, I’ve been wanting to try this combination out. Stewed meat in bread sounds pretty good, don’t you think?”

His smile wrinkled his face in glee against the sounds of amazement as he showed the portrait to her.

“I’ll be sure to let him taste it. Thank you very much, shopkeeper.”

“Anytime.” He winked, “You got yourself a keeper, there, dear one! Don’t let him run away.”

Shaking your head, you pushed the door open and see Cater smiling at the crowd with his sketchpad to his chest. You think back to when you first found him, how dreary he looked before he was brought to the valley.

He looked beautiful.

“Cater, let’s go.”

Emerald eyes look your way and his smile grew even larger as he got up from his seat. “Okay!” He bid farewell to his following, walking with you side by side.

“You leave the fire going through the night?” Cater asked, munching on some bread lined with melted goat’s cheese. “The valley gets cold so it’s best to keep warm as much as possible.” You add more wood to the fire and settle on the chair adjacent to it with Cater sitting across from you.

“The people here are very nice.” He said, setting down the bread on his lap. “A curious bunch, those lot.” You say while fishing out some foods from your satchel and stumbling upon the special wrapped bread handed to you by the shopkeeper. “It’s not every day they get to see someone new.”

“Is the valley that inaccessible?”

“For now, at least. His Majesty is looking for ways to open the kingdom by constructing roads leading out. Though it will take some time before it can be finished and used.” Taking it out of its packaging, you set the special bread on a heating pan above the fire carefully with a pair of long tongs.

“What’s that?” The doll asked, eyes twinkling in curiosity. “It smells good.”

“It’s a special bread from the shop. Give me a few minutes to properly warm it.”

He nods his head and waits patiently as you set the heated bread onto a plate and handing it to him. "I get to eat all of it?" He asked and you nodded your head still poised at looking into his green eyes that shined with life. "The shopkeeper wanted you to have it."

A moment of hesitance and Cater took a bite, what could only be described as pure happiness came rushing down his face in a flurry of pleased sounds as he began to eat more than his cheeks could hold. In your state of panic, you quickly got up from your seat and quick to run for a mug of water.

“Slowly now,” You say. “You’ll choke yourself if you eat so quickly.”

He drank his fill, cheek tinted red from choking and glee. Upon returning the mug, Cater wiped his lips that were swollen from the spice of the meat. "It's good." He says, holding the bread up to eat. "It's very good. Try it!"

The bread was shoved into your mouth, the spice of chili made your insides churn with burning flames. The diamond laughs at your reaction, his hair framing his face and the looming fire casting a glow of yellow as if under the light of a looming sunset.

“Do you ever explore the forest around your home?”

The fire was no longer lit and the two of you opted to spend the day out in an empty brush of grass where you continued to chop wood until your hands began to ache. "It's only when I look for herbs that I do." You reply, Cater's hand fiddling with a charcoal pencil and old-looking parchment.

It had only been a few days and this assignment was proving to be difficult for you to adjust to. Given Cater’s disposition to being isolated for long, he had the yearning to walk around and explore his new world while you would rather chop wood and wait for time to pass.

The both of you were total opposites.

“Oh,”

His eyes were downcast, pencil poking dots onto the paper absentmindedly. You look to your ax then to the large pile of wood you had created…Perhaps this will last you through a few nights. “There is one place I like to go to. It will take a few minutes to find.”

“What is it?”

You offer your hand for him to take, lifting him from his sitting position. “You will find out when we get there.” You say and with a few adjustments to your comfortable clothes, the both of you set off towards the forest clearing near your cottage. “Do we have to hold hands?” Cater asked and for a moment, your grip faltered almost to loosening.

“You’re not accustomed to the forest so I thought it was best to do so as a precaution.”

Cater smiles, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m teasing. It’s nice to hold hands.”

The silence lasts a few but long seconds and you keep going. Past a fork and through the logs, Cater’s hold on your hands never left nor did his presence disappear. A pang of indescribable warmth settles on your chest, you look to Cater again whose eyes look the canvas of green over with wonder.

“There aren’t many trees like this back there. You’ll only see a blanket of white. Does it snow here?”

“Only a few flakes if we’re lucky. The snow gathers more north of the valley.” The both of you ascend towards your destination, the ground acting like stairs. “Perhaps, when it’s possible to acquire a horse for personal use I can take you there.”

Cater’s hand tightens against your gloved ones.

“…I’d like that.”

With one last step, the warm winds of the valley blow against you as you approach a cliff bearing down the landscape of your home and Cater’s. When the wind had settled, you begin to speak. “I come here to get some peace and quiet whenever the town’s noise gets too much for me to handle.”

“It’s beautiful.”

You let Cater move on his own, taking a few steps to look at the sea of green and bright pastel before him. He turns to you, a blush of excitement on his face. “Can I draw this? “

“You don’t need to ask, just do whatever you like.”

Blades clashed, labored breathes, the smell of death lingers through the cold. Your armor feels heavy and your hands are worn. Your opponent attempts to swing at you yet your movements are precise, your blade quick and deadly as it pierced and plunged through the armor like melted butter.

Your body burned against the cold and frost did little to cool your warm and labored breathing. The horns of a distant song blast softly into your ears, the roar of a dragon whose flames green like envy never quelled against the permafrost.

Horses rounded the perimeter, the horns of a tall man come into view. Malleus’ glowing eyes looked to yours in a glance, his royal guards outnumber you easily and push you to your knees and arms spread out.

“Your majesty.” Said one of the guards, Silver hair peeking from his helmet. “Their hand…”’

The winds beyond the cliff became a comfortable breeze and the afternoon sun began its descent into the earth, the trees hiss like rain and branches groan softly. Cater’s sleeping form lay motionless next to you, his sketchbook set between you.

Curiosity peaked and you took it into your hands, flipping through sketch after sketch. From sketches of the townsfolk to the cliff beyond…

“Hm?”

But one stood out. A sketch of you, your face is worn and sweat dripping from your chin. Your body was hunched as if you had been delivered a blow from above yet it was the eyes that hit you the most. It held meaning, a sort of peace. ‘The King Knight’ it was titled.

“Do you like it? “

Cater pushed himself up, yawning and stretching his limbs. “You had a good pose while you were chopping wood so…”

“Is this how you see me, Cater? As kind?”

"Well, you rescued me, didn't you? I think that's enough to say that you are kind."

You give him back his sketchbook and stand up. You help Cater up, his leg going limp. “Ahaha…My leg fell asleep, how embarrassing.” Your actions were sudden, going to your knees for him to hop onto your back. “O-oh, um…I might be heavy.”

“I’ve carried many people while in full armor. It’s alright.”

And soon, the both of you descent the steps carefully with Cater resting on your back and arms wrapped around your neck. “I was just doing the right thing. Anyone would have helped you in that situation.”

“And many people opt not to. You’re kind, knight. You really are.”

The sun sets over the horizon, allowing the dark colors of the night to seep through on your way back to the cottage.

The horse-drawn carriage stopped within the lush greenery of the Vanrouge estate, Lilia smiling as you and Cater disembark with the help of the horseman.

“Welcome, both of you.”

“This place is huge!” the former doll exclaims, his voice echoing through the large hallway. “Is this the treatment of the King’s favorite?” He turns to you suddenly, wrapping his arm around your neck and your eyes go wide in embarrassment. “N-no, it’s just…”

Over the months since Cater came under your care, the two of you grew closer and closer each passing day. What was once a very shy and confused doll became lively and bright, like the sunset the both of you came to enjoy together by each other’s side.

He had become important to you, very important.

“My son used to be in the same class as them in the past, they have remained connected long after," Lilia explains, walking up to them while Cater greets with a curtsy.

You couldn't say much about your own growth but you were sure that Cater was adjusting greatly to life within the valley. Being able to see the sunsets with him after a day’s worth of shopping was enough for you.

You tug at your gloves out of habit.

"Your son?" Cater wondered Lilia's magenta eyes narrowed in the same teasing glance. “Oh, you think I’m not a father Mr. Diamond? I’m older than I look, you know.”

Cater shrinks back earning a biting laugh from him.

“I merely jest, dear one. Silver is not my son by blood, I found him as a babe a decade ago during my own excursion in the North.” The royal advisor opened the large mahogany door with ease as if it were made of clay. “He’s been living with me ever since.”

“…Was he a doll too?”

Lilia was silent at that moment, stopping just short of where his son was sleeping comfortably on a chair that sat before an intricate-looking coffee table. Cater gulped, opening his mouth to apologize only for Lilia to chuckle with eyes distant in remembrance.

“From the Goshenite family. Not that it matters now, though. Silver is my own and he always will be.”

The small man walks over to his son, shaking him awake sleeping spell. A discolored mark shows itself against Silver’s neck, the birthmark of a doll. Silver stutters awake, looking at Lilia who smiles at him from above.

Cater touched his cheek, feeling for the mark against his fingers. “Goshenite…How come I’ve never seen him.”

“Some dolls were not kept in castles but put in battlefields.” You explain while Silver slowly stood up, rubbing his eyes while Lilia holds his arm to steady him. “Silver was rescued before he was put out but they couldn’t easily break what he had already learned.”

Cater watches Silver smile, the warm morning sunlight highlighting his features almost making him and his birthmark glow.

“So he was made a guard here, in the estate? In hopes that it would break the teachings.”

Father and son hold hands, Silver’s eyes rising upon seeing you. A friend he came to cherish. You tug your gloves before Silver embraces you.

The picnic by the pond was both boring and contently, you and Silver staying behind on the mat while Lilia and Silver had their fun by the water. “He seems to be having fun.” Said the former doll, his eyes slowly blinking. In your hand was a sweet drink, the citrusy aftertaste bringing a sigh of relief to your warm body.

“He is.”

The long hours spent at your leisure was something you had to slowly get used to, from going shopping with Cater to enjoying the sunsets with him just outside your small cottage. You hear Cater laugh when Lilia splashed some water at his son, soaking his hair into a messy mop. “What about you?”

Tugging your gloves, you look to the horizon of lush green fields tended by Lilia’s help. “I can’t say much. It has been a time since I’ve held a shield, much less a sword. To just hold a drink like this feels so different to me but…It feels good to just sit down, I think.”

Cater huffs a small laugh, leaning onto your shoulder. “You’re so talkative now.” A hand is brought to his hair, his form melting to yours when you massaged his scalp. “I always talk to you.”

“But this is different.”

You hear a scream of thrill on the horizon, Lilia had been pulled to the ground soaked with water. The worrying attendants ready with towels but hesitant to approach in fear Lilia would pull them in as well.

Slowly, your hands intertwine with his as he rests against your shoulder, comfortable to take a nap. The sun’s afternoon rays make Cater shine, his emerald eyes shine brilliantly as he looks to you hiding beneath the shade, his birthmark a stark red against his cheek. He was beautiful. A pang of heat burned in your chest, a heat you could not describe.

While Lilia and Silver changed out of their wet attire and Silver had collapsed back into the couch because of his sleeping spell, you stood by the door of the estate and watched the sun turn orange as it descended the sky.

“There you are, and here I thought you left without saying goodbye.”

Lilia joined you in your leisure gazing towards the sky, from within his oversized coat he pulled out a pack of cigars, offering you one until you refuse. “Cater never leaves your side at all, does he?”

You tug at your gloves again. "Cater enjoys being outside so having him visit this place is a treat for him. He enjoys you and Silver’s company, even if he doesn’t show it.”

“I don’t doubt his sincerity, Cater is lively and a treat to be around. It’s a vast difference from when we first met all those months ago.” The cigar is lit and the general takes a whiff, letting smoke puff from his mouth. He offers you one which you decline politely.

"I will be honest with you, dear one, I did not expect you to accept Malleus' assignment." The cigar hung off his fingers, the ash falling to the ground little by little. "Then again, I never thought I'd be taking care of a child with all that I've done."

You tug at your gloves just as he takes another whiff. “Dear one, does Cater know?”

“No.”

“Will you tell him?” Your gloves cut into the skin between your fingers in one sharp pull.

“…He doesn’t need to know.”

Through his nose, Lilia sighed the smoke out. “Then perhaps I should do that same. It took a long time for Silver to finally calm down, I do not want to see him suffer.” The sunset shines a bright orange over the horizon and you knew well that Cater would be watching.

Lilia’s damp hair rustled when the wind picked up, his nose taking in the fresh breeze. Magenta eyes look down to the ground. “I cannot help but think I have awoken a flame that will continue to burn me for as long as I live.”

He smiles at you suddenly, broken and vulnerable. “Perhaps the permafrost had numbed you from your burns, dear one.”

“I’m not burning.”

Lilia continued to smile, taking a swig of a cigar and enjoying the sunset in silence by your side.

The fire crackled yet you couldn't sleep, the wind had ceased and the bitter winter turned into a breeze of the evening air. Cater slept peacefully across you, his hair pushed behind his ear carefully by your fingers; leather against soft skin. You stare at his birthmark for a moment, noticing how pale it had become since his arrival.

“Perhaps the permafrost had numbed you from your own flames, dear one.”

You sit back, allowing yourself warmth against the fire next to you. It had only been months since you took up the assignment given to you personally by the king, yet you felt as if you lived your whole life with Cater. It was peaceful, so different from the day you met.

You remember the path you took and the fights that needed to be fought to achieve your mission. You remember the soldiers who blocked your path, the birthmarks on their skin.

White iridescent, Opal.

Cloudy green, Jade.

Dull and vibrant browns and black, Rutile.

You remember a young soldier, their movements sloppy and readable. Their breath labored and hold soft, it was an easy battle.

“Padparadscha…”

They whispered before crumpling to the ground, their wounds far too great to be healed or ignored. Their helmet loosened, a round blue birthmark on the back of their neck. Sapphire.

“Padparadscha…!” A hand holds your ankle, a bloody hand reaching out to you.

How long had it been since you were called that?

Your moment of hesitance was cut by another sword that put the poor soldier out of their misery. Sebek looked to you, taking your hand. “We have a mission to finish. We can’t stop here.” And you were pulled away quickly.

The fire crackled next to you, the flames licking at your skin. You wonder if that doll had a family waiting for them to come home, you wondered if all of them did…Even Cater. Even dolls had people to return to, had people they cherished. Had promises, had love, maybe even a twisted sense of happiness…

And you destroyed that; a pain hit you from the bottom up threatening to release itself from your throat. You discard your gloves into the fire, the marks against worn hands popping out the more you look.

Cater's murmurs rang through you, his hand reaches over for yours. He was gentle with you no matter what. He brings your hand closer to his face, the presence of you close brought him peace. The heat from below began to bubble again, molten against your skin.

With all you’ve done, with all you’ve killed…Why did he choose to stay with you?

“I’m burning.” You lean close to Cater, throat hoarse from silenced sobs. “I’m burning.”

Cater once thought he could never sleep an entire night through, not with the sounds his ears could hear nor the silhouettes those perceptive eyes of his picked up in the night. He never thought he could walk around his room nor see beyond the high window that only brought in rain or frost.

He never thought he would see the world before him with someone by his side. From the rise in the east and its fall in the west. He spent every peaceful second with you, and he enjoyed it. He loved it. He loved…You.

“Where are you?”

Getting off his resting place, Cater opened the door to an empty space, and with feet tickled by grass he ran; ran through the forest with wind wild against his hair. The frost wasn’t there to mist against his mouth nor was the snow a detractor for his speed.

The trees filed past like green walls and the sun peaked through the cracks, acting as a compass. You were his freedom, his life.

He loved you.

“Where are you?”

In a flurry of leaves and wind, Cater’s breath stilled at the vast stretch of land that bore green and brown. The valley of thorns’ domain was a nest of life, a warmth from the cold. The wind picks up, the flurry of birds rising higher with the wind current.

“Cater?”

In the flurry of feathers, Cater’s green eyes stared into yours, swollen and red. He bound towards you, pulling you into an embrace and sighing into your shoulder; your hands come up around his waist returning the embrace. “What are you doing out here? It’s too early.”

“You weren’t in the cottage.”

“You could have waited.”

He tightened his hug, burying his head into your neck while rubbing smooth circles around his back. The wind blew wildly at your faces. "Why did you choose me, Cater? Of all the places to choose as your home.”

“You’re kind.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

“Cater,”

“Stop lying to yourself.” He begged. “If you weren’t kind, you wouldn’t have helped me.”

You sigh, pulling away. “Do you really think a person like me can be kind after what I’ve done?” You raise your hands, your birthmark a bright red against your skin; like a bloodstain that will never go away. "I am a doll of the battlefield, Cater. I was born to do it. I am a doll born to take lives, I am Padparadscha.”

“I don’t care!” He leans his weight on you, your back thumping against a tree trunk. “I don’t care what jewel you are, you’re my home!!”

He pushes you again, thumping the wood “I don’t care what you did before, you were forced to do it, you didn’t like any of it and shows!”

“You’re not a doll anymore, you’re human, you’re my home.”

Fingers loosely pull your clothes, Cater’s nose on your shoulder with breath shaky. “…I know it is because when I look at you, I can feel. It—.” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in. “And—and when I look at you, I’m home.”

“Please, I don’t want that to go away Padparadscha.”

Your hands move again, raising to card through Cater's amber hair. "…Would you like to stay here a while longer and watch the sunset?"

Cater nods his head, the both of you sliding down and let time do its course, the sun slowly inching down towards the earth with the sky bleeding yellow and purple. His thumb brushes over your birthmark and your fingers intertwine.

“Cater?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

He nuzzled into you, his beautiful features highlighted against the sun. No matter where he was, his beauty resonated with you. The beautiful man leaned in, lips brushing to yours in a kiss. 

“Thank you.”