#I was only messing around in blender to see what shapes would look okay

[o0corruptedghoul0o]

how about some new werewolf cc because my inner furry demands it

don't ask about the second pic okay

[dat-town]

wish you were here

Characters: Mark Lee & you

Setting: wish dragon au (and a bit of aladdin because mark even has a tiger in their garden like jasmine did. don’t ask why, just blame the regular mv), childhood best friends to lovers (at least there’s potential?)

Genre: fluff and humour

Warnings: mentions of a sick animal and a wild animal kept as a pet in a huge garden (just like jasmine’s tiger, it’s very tamed)

Summary: A magical teapot, a dragon that wants everyone to be happy and an old friendship being revived. Oh yeah, have I told you that you have 3 wishes?

Words: 6.4k

For @restlessmaknae​ 💕

When your mother told you you got delivery to your childhood home, you certainly did not expect this: a brown box as big as a small watermelon with your old Canadian address and MARK LEE scrabbled next to your name as another recipient but no sender. Not to mention, the first stamp on the thing was dating back to the early 2010s. Where the hell was this package for 10 years? And what would you and your old neighbour slash best friend have gotten together?

Okay, first things first:

You and this clumsy, kind of cute kid, Mark had been quite tight while growing up. You were born in the same year, only a month apart, and his family lived in the house next to yours in the suburbs of Vancouver, so it was kind of natural. You two might have been against the world kind of comrades, playing hide and seek when you were six and wondering about whether time travelling was possible through black holes at twelve. But no matter how close you used to be, you fell out of touch when Mark's family moved to the other end of the world, back to Korea, their roots when you were fourteen. You slowly forgot about him, and started university in the city, moving away from home, so nothing really reminded you of him ⎼ and your stupid, big fat crush on him that you had no courage to tell him about in middle school ⎼, nothing until this box.

You put the delivered package on your kitchen table while you make some dinner for yourself out of what you have gotten during grocery shopping earlier just before you picked up the mysterious stuff at the post office. You eye it suspiciously over your pasta, really not wrapping your mind about what it could be but instead of annoying yourself with this pointless curiosity, you put your fork down and stand up to open it. It’s a struggle at first, the box being secured with multiple adhesive tapes over the years but when you finally get rid of all that and can look inside of it, an intense feeling rushes through you… immerse disappointment.

“A teapot? For real? What were we thinking?” you furrow your brows taking the small, green and pretty old teapot into your hands. It looks like a piece of a traditional Asian set with its jade colour and dragon pattern. It couldn’t have been in a much better shape 10 years ago either seeing how wayworn it is but still, you expected something more… exciting? Something funny that might or might not give you an excuse to look up Mark Lee on the internet and message him for the sake of old times. But how lame it would be to befriend him on Facebook only to tell him that you got delivered a teapot under both your names. Hah, you would rather not embarrass yourself like that.

You shoot one last glance at the teapot before leaving it on your counter and going back to your food, you successfully forget about the whole ordeal. You carry your life on with only one small difference: Mark Lee back on your mind after long, long years.

It was just a small crush, you tell yourself, sighing as you look into the mirror, absentmindedly wondering how he’s doing. Does he think of you sometimes as well? Did he go to music college like he has always wanted? Is he happy? You wish he was even if he’s half a world away and with that thought you think it’s time to go to sleep despite the upcoming weekend days. You don’t want to mess up your sleep schedule over some boy but as soon as you pull the blanket over your chest and close your eyes, something explodes in your kitchen.

You jump out of bed faster than lightning, in slight panic over the fact that your neighbours will hate you for bothering them late at night and your landlord would kill you if you managed to blow up your microwave. But the sight that welcomes you is like no other that you imagined. The whole room is covered in thick pink glittery smoke. Like your worst Barbie nightmare.

“What the⎼” you cough, waving your hands to clear the air and once it dissolves into nothingness with its weirdly cotton candy smell, there’s a boy in the middle of it all, sitting cross legged on your kitchen counter so casually as if he owned the place. His pink-ish purple hair hangs into his eyes and he seems to find your coffee machine strangely interesting. You grab the first thing you can ⎼ a blender ⎼ and hold it up in defensive before yelling at the boy: “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

The stranger’s mouth pulls up in a charming smile, his eyes sparkle as he turns his attention to you, hopping off the counter. He’s all thin and long limbs, so you hate how you hate to look up at him as he walks towards you before bowing ceremoniously.

“Hello, sorry for the sudden appearance, I just couldn’t wait any longer! I’ve been stuck in that teapot waaay too long. I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. My name is Taeyong, I’m a wish dragon and you’re my new owner,” he smiles and what he says makes absolutely no sense.

“A wish dragon?” you mumble in shock, looking around to see if this is just another prank of Johnny. You wouldn’t be surprised to see him jump out from under one of the cupboards. Or maybe you just fell asleep and you’re dreaming. Yeah, that seems like a realistic scenario.

“Ah, yes! I know I don’t look like it but modern times require modern solutions. Most people freak out because of my dragon form, so human it is,” the boy who seems only a few years older than you grins as he’s chatting and you have to give it to him, he takes this role pretty seriously. “You have three wishes as my owner. You can ask for anything as long as it’s not about death or love.”

So you got yourself someone who thinks he’s basically a genie? Oh gosh, is he that drunk?

“Aha, very funny. I’m too tired for this prank, so I would appreciate it if you left the same way you came...” you point towards your window because there’s no way he came through the door. Putting down your blender because the guy looks pretty harmless despite his crazy blabbering, you move to go back to your bedroom.

“No, no, no, I can’t do that,” the boy, Taeyong as he introduced himself, appears in front of you within a second and grabs your shoulder as if he could shake some sense into you. He looks pretty desperate. “I can only get a new owner if I fulfill all wishes of yours. It was super stuffy in that box the last decade, you know.”

At that excuse you let out a laugh.

“You don’t even fit it the⎼”

“You were saying?” Taeyong is suddenly nowhere near ahead of you but instead a small creature, supposedly a dragon, in the size of your palm flies in front of your eye level. “It’s magic!”

Okay, now that sight makes you feel like it’s you who is drunk. Or worse.

“Am I dead?” you have to ask in a small, uncertain voice, trying to think back what could have happened. Maybe that explosion literally blew your apartment up? But it hurts when you pinch your arm and turning back into his human form, Taeyong wants to prove the very same thing. Not the hurting but the not dead part, obviously.

“No, you’re very much alive and a happy owner of a wish dragon. Not permanently, of course, but still,” he tells you as he drags you onto your couch in the living room. As if sitting down could help processing all this.

So you have a wish dragon in your home, a magical creature that can casually switch between its dragon and human form and he says you should wish for three things, so he could leave and you could go back to your old, boring life without magic and things that scare you to death at 11PM.

“Can I ask… why? Why me? I’m not really owner-material,” you whisper because heck yeah, you even managed to kill your cactus before. Taeyong purses his lips as he sits down, a hand at his chin.

“Well, it’s unusual indeed to have a peasant girl, no offence, as my owner but as far as I know, you and your friend asked for a sign that magic was real.”

Oh, you remember that, being so obsessed with shooting stars and other stuff like that, you two used Mark’s brother’s computer to browse the internet, trying to find evidence about all that. You were kids wanting to believe in a world beyond the one you knew. But...

“That was like 10 years ago,” you furrow your eyebrows, not getting the timing.

“Well, sorry, you weren’t put on the top of the Heaven wish list and the shipping from Shanghai to Vancouver isn’t the fastest either,” Taeyong shrugs as if it was supposed to be natural. As if that was the most unbelievable thing. Well, delivery services are sometimes a pain in the ass, that’s true but getting a wish delivered by Heaven was something you would have never thought of and it all drains down on you. Strangest realisation of your life.

“So… it’s all real,” you whisper ahead of yourself: magic, dragons and all that. You could basically see your old best friend’s I told you so smile and let out a soft chuckle. “I wish Mark could meet with you, too.”

At that the guy ahead of you claps his hands and rubs them together, creating the same purple smoke from before. You look at him alarmed.

“Your wish, my command,” Taeyong grins and lifts his hands and before you could make a sound of protest because gosh, you didn’t mean it literally, you feel the ground move under your feet and you’re falling, into the darkness but despite shutting your eyes automatically, fearing the impact of the crash, nothing comes. Only the smell of soy sauce in the air and warm sunshine on your skin… Wait, what?

Your eyelids fly open and you notice in shock that you’re not in your flat anymore, ready to sleep. Instead, you stand in the middle of a goddamn street somewhere in Korea based on the signs still in your PJ shorts and tee. Oh my gosh! You hide in an alley right away and yank the seemingly proud Taeyong with you.

“I didn’t tell you that I meant right now! I can’t meet Mark in my PJs and I need my phone and wallet to function anyways. Not to mention, I don’t speak Korean at all...” you ramble panicking, the realisation that you’re indeed on the other side of the Earth due to some magic is yet to register. But the awkwardness from the stares you have just gotten has already turned you bashful.

Listening to you, the wish dragon seems sheepish and slightly embarrassed as he scratched his nape, his colourful hair falling into his cast down eyes.

“Oh… sorry. I got so excited over the wish that I didn’t think about it! It’s been a while since I did teleport magic but hey, I still have it in me. Anyways, sorry. Phone and wallet, you said? Here you go,” he pulls out something from his pants which magically seems to be indeed your belongings. That definitely makes things earlier.

“Uhm, thanks. Where are we exactly?”

“Ah, well you mentioned your friend Mark Lee, so we’re here. Well, one bell away because I did remember that it’s rude to intrude other’s houses without permission first,” oh now, you know, you snicker internally and gulp because hell, even if you wanted to see Mark, you wouldn’t have thought that the meeting would come so soon. You didn’t have enough time to prepare yourself mentally.

“So… you’re telling me that this… is where Mark lives?” you point at the impressive apartment complex on the corner of the street but Taeyong shakes his head.

“Nope, This is where your Mark lives,” he says and before you could object about the ‘your’ part, the dragon points at the other side of the road at a luxurious house with a huge garden, basically a palace. Seeing the beautiful fountain, the modern and yet traditional Korean style building beyond the fences makes your jaw drop.

“Hahaha, alright for a magic dragon you must have made a mistake. There’s no way the Mark Lee I know lives here,” you look back at Taeyong finding it funny that the kid who used to wore his favourite tees until his mother basically threw them out would live at such a place.

“Mark Lee, korean name Minhyung, supposed to be 22 years old internationally soon. Bad eyesight, contagious laugh, clumsy but has surprisingly good reflexes, gets embarrassed easily. Sound familiar?” Taeyong crooks a brow at you as he reads the information off from a parchment he just took out of his pants. Everything he listed is just so Mark that you’re left in disbelief.

“Uuh… that sounds about right.”

“His father hit it big in 2016 with a tech company, their net worth has too many zeros to count,” Taeyong explains, seeing how surprised you were over the fact that he lived a lavish life like this. Not that he doesn’t deserve it! Mark is such a sweetheart, so of course, you would only want the best for him but as if half the world wasn’t enough, now you have another huge gap between you.

“Gosh, I really can’t believe this. How am I supposed to just ring the bell and say hello after so much time?” you sighed with your head in your hands. “Argh, I need to buy some clothes and change.”

Taeyong approves the idea based on how enthusiastically he hollers, you wonder why nobody on the street seems to pay no attention to him. Maybe only you see him, just more reason for you to be crazy.

“Good idea because we’re having dinner with Mark!”

“What?” you look up in shock, not following through. Taeyong grins down at you, flashing a giddy smile and with a twirl he’s changed from his baggy, casual clothes to something more chic but still laidback.

“Your wish was him meeting me, so I arranged everything. I can't meet him without you and the teapot there, you know,” he explains as if it was supposed to be obvious. You aren't ready yet though.

“You just want to eat all the fancy delicious food he has,” you squint at him suspiciously and the dragon stays silent, so you must be right. He laughs nervously.

“Maybe, but can you blame me? I haven’t had a feast since a literal decade!” he hollers and somehow you really cannot find it in yourself to be angry at him. You are in Seoul for god's sake after all and magic is real, you can put up with the inconvenience of buying clothes and making yourself look decent before dumping all this surprise on Mark.

An hour later you stand in front of the gates of the Lee mansion and nervously you wipe your sweating hands into your dress. You can totally do this, you just say hi to an old friend, it's not like you're afraid he wouldn't remember you, hah, of course not–

"Y/N!" 

You whip your head at the call of your name to the source of that all too familiar voice. Sure it's deeper than you remember but there's no mistake in whose it is. Plus, who else would call your name in South Korea of all places.

"Mark, hey!" you wave the boy who just got out of one of the fanciest cars you've ever seen in your life. And yet, despite the Prada suit and expensive shoes, styled hair and Swiss watch on wrist, Mark Lee still has that goofy little smile and the doe eyes that used to make you weak in the knees. Hah, who are you kidding? They still do.

"Oh my god, dude, you… you got pretty," Mark jogs up to you and having no filter like always he blabbers immediately only to stutter as his ears turn red. It was so him talking before thinking, so you didn’t really mean to dwell on his words. Although you felt your cheeks dusted with pink soon enough. "I mean, it's really good to see you! I was so surprised to see your name in my calendar for today's dinner! You should have told me you were coming to Korea, I would have picked you up at the airport."

His calendar? Ah, of course, he must have been busy and all that. You wouldn’t have been surprised to see an assistant run after him at this point, so you wonder how your wish dragon magically put you onto his list of important people to meet. Gosh, it was so weird.

"Ah, I have a funny story about that…" you chuckled to yourself but before you could have get out anything, even a please, can we go to a more private place? Mark’s eyes zero on the guy next to you and his eyes grow comically wide.

"And uhm, who is your friend?" he points at Taeyong who waves him in exchange with a kilowatt smile. He looks back at you with his mouth agapé. "Oh my god, you came to invite me to your wedding?"

He says oh my god way too many times for an eloquent rich kid, he really is the Mark Lee you knew.

"No, never! I mean, of course, I would invite you but Taeyong and I– I literally met him on my way here," you explain hastily cursing yourself for the silly lie. You came to tell him the news not to try to make it believable. 

“I heard there’s food,” the wish dragon pipes in very helpful and you shoot him a disapproving glance he doesn’t notice. Luckily, Mark doesn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course, dinner! Come on in, let’s get you two settled,” he grins albeit a bit awkwardly as he leads you through the gate after opening it with his card.

On the way through the very, very, very big garden, he’s chattering about how he misses the Vancouver weather, especially on humid, hot days like this and talks about how he thinks the fountain in their yard is a bit too much but his mom loved it and then before you know it, you sit by a huge dining table with fine food in front of you. Suddenly you can’t decide whether you're grateful for Taeyong’s shameless presence – he digs into the jjigae right away – because at least the situation isn’t awkward because of your silence or you’re annoyed by it because you must seem like a weirdo because of him. That’s why you decide to rip off the bandage and tell Mark as soon as the last maid has disappeared too.

“Okay, so actually I came here because I have a surprise,” you speak up, probably too serious because the boy almost chokes on his food due to how fast he turns his head towards you.

“More surprise?” he coughs out and you offer him a glass of water which he takes with a smile.

“You literally won’t believe this one!” you assure him and wait until he gulps down the drink. Only then you point to Taeyong and tell him that your childhood wish has come true. 

Mark almost falls off his chair this time.

Not after you tell him that though. He laughs at that with that wheezing laugh of his as if you told the joke of the century then pats you on the shoulder murmuring That was a good one, bro and turning back to his food. But then you look at the magic dragon pointedly and Taeyong puts down his chopsticks with an exaggerated sign. Then he flexes his magic: turning into his dragon form among additional sparkles and Mark suddenly looks like he’s about to faint. He reaches out to tap on your shoulder while not taking his eyes off the wish dragon.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispers and honestly, you totally get his reaction while Taeyong mumbles something about ‘people these days not believing in dragons’ as he shows off all the things he could do: gift riches, make one stronger than they are, giving skills of whatever one wants. He starts rambling about how this one Chinese emperor became wealthy thanks to this, how that one actor in martial arts and all this before changing back to his human form and he continues eating his pasta like nothing ever happened.

“I can do this all day,” he shrugs as if he didn’t just perform the coolest magic tricks.

“This… this is the best thing ever!” Mark exclaims with those sparkles in his eyes you missed so much. He was always so excited about new things and it automatically makes you smile how he bombards Taeyong with million questions like: ‘So you are the wish dragon that grants wishes?’ or asking him about his scales, his unique color, how it feels to live in such a small teapot, how old he is and the dragon glows under all the attention. Can’t blame him but Mark has always been so curious about the world, it’s endearing.

“So your first wish was to meet me?” he turns to you after long minutes of interrogating Taeyong and suddenly, under the spotlight you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can feel yourself blushing because you didn’t necessarily mean to wish for that but it’s not like you’re regretting it, it’s just… you don’t want him to misunderstand.

“I thought you should meet him, too, after all the package was delivered for the two of us,” you look down, trying to sound nonchalant while picking your food, avoiding Mark’s gaze. No matter how open armed he welcomed you, you still aren’t convinced that it’s okay to be here because the more time you spend with him, the more you would like to stay a part of his life. “It’s just… I wasn’t really sure we could ever meet again. We didn’t keep contact after you left.”

With dropped shoulders, you try not to sound too downhearted because of what happened because you know all too well, it wasn’t his fault, it was a family decision and look at him, it did good for him! He seems happy, they live in a practically mansion but most importantly, he didn’t seem to change with the wealth. He might wear expensive clothes but under it all he’s still the boy with the most loveable smile.

“I… I was thinking about you a lot, I just thought you forgot about me,” Mark admits with a sheepish smile, tucking his hair behind his ear shyly. He really still is the same and it’s playing silly little games with your heart. If this was a cheesy Disney movie, a slow bgm would start to play as you look into each other but your moment is broken when Taeyong accidentally kicks into his chair as he stands up. At first he looks alarmed but then giggles.

“I will just… go. Don’t mind me,” he disappears like smoke with a wink, leaving you two alone at which Mark lets out a woah. You chuckle at his cute reaction, heart doing somersaults in your chest.

You thought it would be awkward, just the two of you alone after long years but Mark has this thing that he makes people feel comfortable around him, so it’s actually quite nice. You catch up on everything and anything that comes to your mind: old neighbours, studies, friends, what are you doing now and what would you like to do, too.

After finishing the delicious dinner, Mark offers a home tour which you would never refuse and you jaw drops at the huge crystal chandelier in their living room as well as their swimming pool but your favourite place in the whole mansion is Mark’s room because it’s just so him. You can’t describe it well but the moment you step inside, it feels like home. It’s cozy to the point it makes you want to cuddle a pillow. It has colours of pastels, a synthesizer here, a guitar there, posters of singers framed on his wall and vinyl records hanging down. His window has a view of sunset and Namsan above their green garden and although you haven’t been in Seoul before, you’re pretty sure it’s your favourite place in the whole damn city, too.

“Wait, there’s someone I would like you to meet,” Mark suddenly exclaims while you’re looking through his pictures and he pulls you out of his room, out of the house, into the garden: You giggle all the way as he’s being so secretive about it but then your steps halt unexpectedly and the hand you have in Mark’s yanks him back.

“Mark… why is there a tiger in your garden in the middle of Seoul?” you ask as quietly and as immobile as you can. You don’t want to attract the sleeping animal’s attention to yourself. But to your biggest surprise, the boy just laughs, his thumb caressing your skin soothingly.

“She’s Jasmine and she won’t hurt you,” he reassures you but needless to say, you’re not too calm and you’re pulled close to the wild animal that lifts its huge head towards you lazily. “She was abandoned by her mother as a cub and she was outcast in the zoo because she’s a bit sick, so she has always been weaker than her siblings. Dad made a donation and we have raised her since she was young.”

You hiss when Mark reaches out without fear but the tiger basically purrs as he strokes down his fur at the neck. You watch in awe as this big wild animal becomes a soft cat under the hands of Mark Lee. When the boy encourages you to pat her too, you hesitate but he promises you that it’s gonna be alright and you take a leap of faith. 

“What’s her sickness?” you wonder aloud as your fingers get lost in the soft fur of the tiger. You hope she’s not in a lot of pain.

“It’s an immune system thing, not sure what exactly but she wouldn’t have survived this long in the wild,” the boy tells you and his mouth curls up in a smile when Jasmine licks your hand. It seems like you’re tiger-approved. You look into its warm brown eyes and your heart churns at the thought of her condition.

Mark tells you stories of Jasmine, about that one time she crashed his birthday cake or how much she likes to swim with him in their pool during summer and gosh, you could listen to him go on and on forever. You’re only reminded of the reality, that all this is just a possible one-time thing, a weekend getaway with magic when Taeyong shows up in swimwear, ready to crash in said pool.

“I guess he might have been bored in that teapot,” Mark laughs, not minding at all. He even offers you to join but you have a better idea.

“Taeyong, I have my second wish!” you call out for the wish dragon who’s suddenly much more excited about that than the water. He’s beside you in a moment, beaming and curious. You glance at Mark with a soft smile before looking at your personal genie confidently.

“I wish Jasmine would be healthy,” you whisper, playing with the tiger’s furry ears which she seems to enjoy. You were a little bit afraid the dragon would say it’s not possible, that he can’t cure sickness but to your relief, he just grins.

“Your wish, my command,” he nods and puts a hand over the animal. Nothing but a smoke of purple signals the magic being done but you believe in it and so does Mark by the looks of it. He reaches out for your hand and squeezes it gently. 

“Thank you,” he smiles and you smile back. He used to be your best friend after all, it’s the least you can do for him.

Mark convinces you to stay the weekend and there’s no way you could tell no to him, not when he clears his schedule just for you. He never complains about how busy he must be working for his father’s business while being a music major at a local university. All he ever talks about is the places he wishes to show you and he takes you around Seoul as if he was your certificated tour guide. It’s lovely how enthusiastic he is about it while what really matters to you is the time you spend together. He makes sure you two take a million photos to remember by, Taeyong posing on half of them since he joins you on your little trips and sometimes it’s just the two of you watching the wish dragon being genuinely in awe by modern technology, 10 years is a long time after all.

On the last day before you have to go back to Vancouver (thanks to Taeyong’s kind offer to take you the same way you came back since he misunderstood you, you don’t have to sit through a 10+ hours flight and you have more time), Mark not only tries to make you breakfast despite having an in-house chef (his eggs are ugly as heck but you appreciate his efforts and can’t help but coo at his dreamy smile under that grey hoodie when you tell him it tastes yummy) but he also introduces you to his friends in Korea. Of course, they tease you (mostly Mark) about where he has been hiding you but it’s all chill and fun you’re not quite ready to say goodbye. But you should go because the more you stay, the more you don’t want to leave. You’re lucky enough for this chance to reunite with Mark but all good things end eventually.

“Let’s not disappear from each other’s life again, okay?” the boy grins at you as you’re ready to go, Taeyong already working on his magic.

“Yeah, let’s not,” you agree easily, looking forward to your video chatting and constant texting even if it’s from the two opposite ends of the Earth with a terrible time zone difference.

You glance at the wish dragon who’s drumming with his fingers while pursing his lips as if he was waiting for something and you let out a huff before working up the courage to actually do something about these feelings inside of you. You might have regretted not confessing in middle school, you have spent years wondering about the what ifs, so you don’t want to make the same mistake twice but still, you want to give Mark a chance to ignore it all if he wants to. So you step forward and wrap your hands around him as you hug him close. It’s obvious that your action takes him aback, he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands and his body tenses under you but it all melts as you say those words that have been threatening to fall from your lips all this time:

“I have missed you.” you confess, honest and based on the hitch in his breathing, Mark must be surprised. You can’t blame him though, you just wanted him to know. You step back with a weary smile, his big Bambi eyes on you but before he could say anything you nod at Taeyong and you feel yourself falling, purple fog pulling you in. A few moments later you’re back in Vancouver, in your apartment, without him.

The first few days pass in a blurr, you can still barely believe what just happened. Your weekend with Mark feels like a too good dream but Mark kept his side of promise and texted you almost immediately as you left. He sends you selfies, songs that remind him of you and you talk about your days like you never did before. Still, it feels like you’re dancing around certain topics which are basically the elephant in the room and maybe that’s why Taeyong tries to cheer you up in his own way. Though, he soon realizes that you not being happy isn’t the problem, you are happy, you just… miss Mark more than you ever did.

“Enough of moping, you still have a wish left!” Taeyong exclaims, throwing himself onto your bed. “Come on, close your eyes, imagine what you want the most in the world and make a wish!" he singsongs. However, before you could even just indulge him, your phone pings with a new notification.

fullsun00 tagged you in their post!

You click on it right away, wondering what Mark’s friend Donghyuck is doing online at 1AM. The uploaded post turns out to be a photo of you and Mark when you all hang out near Han river. You were too busy at the time laughing at how the boy almost lost his whole scoop of ice cream before he could have had a single bite to notice his smile while looking at you. Based on his caption Donghyuck apparently wasn’t.

fullsun00: just old friends, they say. friends my ass @buttercupyn @onyourm__ark

You click your tongue wondering what Mark thinks of the callout but you press like on the post anyways. You put your phone aside before you could see how his other friends join the teasing in the comment section.

“Actually, I do have my third wish,” you speak up as you turn to Taeyong before he could make a remark on your tinted cheeks.

You’ve been thinking a lot about it during the past days. You could wish for anything but you’re at a point of your life where no riches or fame would make you happier because you’re happy enough just the way it is. It might not be perfect but you don’t want to be selfish and you want to make decisions you won’t regret: like catching up with Mark, curing his tiger and bringing happiness into the life of somebody who only ever served other people in his life.

“Ooh, what is it?” Taeyong claps, giddy as if he was waiting for this to happen. He probably did.

“I wish you would go on a vacation and enjoy life,” you tell him but unlike his usual reaction, this time the dragon’s smile fades and he blinks at you, confused.

“You could ask for anything in the world and that’s what you want? Are you sure?” he furrows his brows, not quite believing your words but you just smile, knowingly.

“Yes, Taeyong, I’m sure.”

“Your wish, my command,” he bows with his hands put together and with a twirl suddenly he’s in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, looking as ready for a holiday as one can be. You chuckle and tell him to just go, you’ll be fine.

You’re fine, you really are. Life goes on, you study and work, you laugh with your friends, you video call with Mark regularly and his friends are regulars on your social media, too. It’s just sometimes the feeling of missing something hits you harder than other days. Especially when you’re looking through the pictures you have from your Seoul weekend.

“I wish you were here,” you whisper ahead of you at one particularly good photo of Mark and the sunset, smiling at you behind the camera. You miss his smile, the cute wrinkles around his eyes when he crunches his nose, the sound of his laughter, his hand on your wrist… you miss him.

Ding-dong.

You stand up startled at the sound of your flat’s bell, running to the door to open it even though you have no idea who it could be so early on a Saturday morning. Not having a better idea, you expect it to be either a neighbour of your landlord but on the other side of your doorstep stands a boy who you thought was a continent away. He’s dressed semi-casually this time, his shirt tucked in his jeans, hair lightly falling onto his forehead and a nervous smile on his thin lips.

“Mark! But I⎼ I don’t even have more wishes,” you blink, taken aback, looking around to look for Taeyong in case he came back. But your behaviour just manages to confuse Mark instead.

“What?”

“I just wished you were here,” you blurt out without thinking, your words only processing later in your brain and it’s then when heat creeps onto your cheeks. Mark tries to but can’t really hide his growing smile at that.

“Really? I’m glad then. I just took my new private plane on a test drive,” he says bashfully, a silly excuse for real.

“All the way to Vancouver?” you tease, watching Mark fumble with the hem of his shirt. Your heart beats overtime just because of the fact that he’s there. 

“Well, what can I say? I did miss the weather here,” he plays along with a shrug but he’s more serious when he looks deep into your eye and adds: “And you left without letting me answer.”

Oh yes, you did. You were kind of afraid of his reaction but seeing how he was ready to travel across the world just to see you, maybe there’s no reason for you to be so afraid. It feels like deja vu but a reversed one in a way as Mark gently pulls you into a hug, his lips grazing your hair with a whisper that makes your heart skip a beat: “I have missed you too.”

You really wouldn’t wish for anything more.

[stxrrywildflower]

bonnie and clyde

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - you and spencer dress up for the annual bau halloween party

warnings - gore makeup details

though it had become a lot more talked about in the past few years, the bau always hosted some form of a halloween party for all agents.

spencer rarely went, much rather preferring to stay home and curl up on the couch watching spooky movies. though halloween was in fact his favorite holiday, going to a party with lots of people just seemed like an actual nightmare.

this year was different. he was dating you now and once you caught news of the party from emily, you pushed him to go.

“come on spencer, it’s literally my job to do makeup like this. it would be so fun,” you pleaded.

“you know sometimes i forget you’re an sfx artist,” he trailed off, toying with the corners of the book page. you sat down beside him, resting your legs over his and wrapping an arm around his neck. “and this is the perfect reminder.”

spencer sighed. “what do you have in mind?”

“wait so that’s a yes?” you bit your lip to hide your grin. there were endless possibilities for couples halloween costumes. “that’s a yes,” spencer confirmed.

you broke out into a grin, hugging him tightly before standing up once more. “this is going to be so great. i already have lots of ideas for us to do as a couples costume. i���ll probably need some new products but it’s honestly fine,” you spoke.

spencer laughed at your rambling, going back to his work with a small smile on his face. was he a little scared? honestly, yes. but it was well worth it to see you happy.

over the next few days, you went through your various work portfolios to find a costume idea that would work.

you finally narrowed it down to four; beetlejuice and lydia, bonnie and clyde, jack skellington and sally, or just two skeletons. all of them would be heavy with the makeup and super fun for you to dress up as.

when presented to him, spencer looked deeply into the photos.

“i like these,” he spoke, pointing down to the bonnie and clyde set of photos.

“really?” you asked.

spencer nodded. “yeah, they’re my favorites.”

“so bonnie and clyde?”

“bonnie and clyde,” spencer confirmed.

sure it was a bit ironic that you were dressing up as criminals but hey, it was halloween and most bets were off. you were sure the others attending were doing the same.

you and spencer both already owned most of the things you needed; most of the costume details were done with your sfx makeup anyway.

____

the day of the party, also halloween, you and spencer thankfully got to sleep late. he didn’t have work and either did you allowing for you both to actually spend a morning in together.

“morning petal,” spencer greeted, voice still scratchy from just waking up.

you hummed against his shoulder, “morning.”

the two of you layed around for a bit longer, savoring the time you had together prior to your commitments that night. when you were finally a bit more awake, you gave spencer his instructions for the day.

“i need you to head in and shower. make sure to wash your face,” you told spencer.

“are you showering too?”

you nodded. “i will eventually. i just have to get everything out first so we can save some times.”

spencer pulled you back down towards him, resting his hands loosely on your waist. “you know how we could save some time?” he asked. you quirked your eyebrow. “how?”

“showering together,” he answered cheekily.

you rolled your eyes. “fine, but no funny buisness.”

“uh huh, no funny business,” spencer grinned.

once you two were finished in the shower, you were probably in there longer then intended for obvious reasons, you started to actually get ready for the party.

as spencer got changed into his costume, you slipped on just a pair of shorts and a t-shirt; you could change once you were done with your makeup later.

you had everything set up in the kitchen table as it was easier with lighting and both space.

“bada bing,” spencer spoke with an accent, strolling into the room a few minutes holding his suspenders out in front of him. “bada boom,” you finished.

his clyde outfit consisted of black dress pants, a white button up shirt, suspenders and a hat, and then his usual dress shoes. you, however, had made the shirts both bloody and scuffed with other marks to add onto the effect.

you grinned at him as you finished applying the last few touches of your more natural makeup; you would start on the sfx in the few moments.

“how do you feel?” you asked.

“like a million bucks,” spencer replied, clearly proud of the horrible pun he had made about the couple you were dressing up as. “perfect,” you spoke.

“now i need you to sit down right here,” you pointed to the chair. spencer did as he was told, grabbing a book off of the shelf as he did so.

you started off with a light foundation that matched spencer’s already pale skin. your boyfriends face scrunched up at the feeling of the wet makeup on his face. adding on the pressing of the beauty blender, spencer was not loving it.

“you need to stop scrunching up,” you commented. spencer frowned. “babe i can only try so hard. it’s my faces natural reaction.”

once foundation was finished, you moved on to general dirt and other scuff marks. the biggest part of your costume thag held it all together was the single gunshot wound on the forehead.

“alright so now i’m actually working with fake blood and some scar wax for this. it’s going to feel a bit cold when i add all of the liquids for the gunshot. does that sound okay?” you asked.

“wait a gunshot?”

you nodded, “yup. i’m doing on me too. it adds to the whole concept.”

“yeah well let’s hope that doesn’t happen anytime in the future,” spencer spoke.

spencer once again flinched as you started applying the dough like substance onto the center of the forehead. it took you a few minutes to get it into the proper shape before you added makeup to make it look like an actual wound.

“i need you to shake your head a bit,” you commanded once adding the blood. “perfect. honestly, i think you’re ready to go. do you want to see?”

spencer nodded excitedly. you turned the mirror you had placed on the table to show him his reflection. he immediately broke into a grin. “i love it,” spencer spoke. “you’re amazing.”

he leaned up to kiss you gently. “this is so cool,” he added.

“alright i’m going to go get changed. just stay here and please try not to mess up your makeup.” spencer sat back down and picked up his book once more. you figured he wouldn’t move from there.

you slipped back into the bedroom to get changed into your bonnie outfit for the night. your makeup wouldn’t take much longer after that, it was a lot easier to do sfx work on yourself then other people.

thirty minutes later, you were completely ready for the party that night. spencer, thankfully, didn’t rub his face in the time you were gone. “are you ready to go?”

spencer glanced back up again. “oh wow. you look incredible.”

you blushed at the compliment. “please, that’s all you.” he met you halfway, kissing you once more. “i’m glad you pushed me to do this.”

“i’m just happy you agreed,” you laughed. you two lingered for a moment after that, a few lazy kissed thrown in there before you actually had to go.

“now come on,” spencer ushered once he saw the time. “let’s go wreck some havoc.”

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @kissessforharryyy @blakes-dictionxry @hurricanejjareau @ogmilkis @ssa-morgan @gublertoon @ah-blossom @emilyslefteyebrow @holding-on-to-my-youth

[mind-of-a-hardstan]

Paint

 Pairing: Taehyung x Reader 

Genre: smut, make-up artist au 

Rating: E 

Warnings: smut, so much sexual tension omg, mature language, dirty talk, kissing, dry humping, grinding, taehyung’s neck should be a warning

Summary: You were a makeup artist. That much was clear to everyone. You were not the only makeup artist among the team who could draw, though. When they talked about drawing on Taehyung and giving him tattoos, you’d expected someone else to get the job. Why would they give it to you? You were one of the youngest on the team. One of the least experienced. 

You did get the job though, to your surprise.

And, well. Who were you to turn down an offer? 

Based on this post by @taechnological​ 

Word Count: 5.3K

A/N: Should I have edited this? Yes. Did I? No. Also I wanted to use a gif where tae was already painted but then I saw this one and I went feral and I knew that was the one. Also I’m seriously debating whether or not I should start selling organs for feedback :))) 

You were a makeup artist. That much was clear to everyone. You were not the only makeup artist among the team who could draw, though.

When they talked about drawing on Taehyung and giving him tattoos, you’d expected someone else to get the job. Why would they give it to you? You were one of the youngest on the team. One of the least experienced.

You did get the job though, to your surprise.

You were delighted at first. You liked painting people. One of your first jobs during college was painting kid’s faces at McDonald’s. You painted your cousins all the time, turning them into cute, bouncing little artworks. You had the skill and the talent for it.

So yeah, at first you smiled and accepted the job graciously. Then you realised… this would not quite be like painting kids. This would be a lot more like painting superman.

Or a Greek god perhaps.

You were a professional though. You’d done their makeup plenty of times. You were near all seven of them enough that they didn’t affect you as much as they did in the beginning. Sure, you’ve laughed with them when they joked around, tried to console them if they were nervous.

Doing their makeup took time, and that time was either spent in silence or with talking. That depended on how they felt at the moment.

They were never rude though. Just tired, sometimes.

You were a professional, and you’ve done all of their makeup at some point or another. Never on their necks though. Or… for god’s sake, their chests.  And Taehyung… Taehyung was something else.

Taehyung’s personality shined like a star. He was bright, he made the whole room laugh if he wanted to. He made you struggle to keep your composure multiple times. Taehyung was someone who wore his heart on his sleeve. You’ve had to apply lipstick to multiple of his pouts. You always had to hide a smile at the cute gesture, and he always noticed and pouted harder.

Taehyung was, and this was the worst part of all, so unbelievably fucking hot to the point that it was almost downright intimidating. Sometimes you would walk into his dressing room and just need a second to stop and process. And he would doing something as simple as sitting and looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

Now, the other members were just as stunning. They had you just as flustered in the beginning. They just… they never looked at you in the way that Taehyung did. They never locked eyes with you when you leaned closer to their faces. They never winked at you, never smiled so brightly when they saw you, never stared at you so intensely. They never requested you when –

Oh.

Oh, that made sense. Taehyung had requested you do his makeup quite a few times before. Why would this be any different? There were older and more experienced artists on the team, so the only reason that you got the job would be because Taehyung requested you.

That made sense.

You weren’t sure if you had to be flattered or disappointed.

You went for flattered. It was better for you mental health.

When you entered Taehyung’s dressing room, he was already there.

You weren’t surprised. Taehyung was rarely late, and never without reason. You’d just… well you’re hoped there was reason. There had been a rush today and you felt like you’d needed a minute to mentally prepare for this.

He smiled at you though, that open, box shaped smile, and you smiled back.

“How are you doing today?” you asked by way of greeting and put down your make up case on the vanity. It was strangely quiet. None of the others were here yet. Taehyung came three hours early for the tattoos.

Taehyung bit his lip and looked down. “Nervous,” he said, voice low. You looked back at him and smiled softly, hoping that he would find comfort in it.

“Well, the paintbrush feels nice against your skin. At least according to my cousins. Maybe it’ll help?” you suggested, turning around with a small brush in one hand and black body paint in the other.

“Your cousins?” Taehyung asked with an unsure smile. You put down the paint and decided to do his foundation first, lest you ruin your masterpiece later.

“Yeah. My mom’s youngest brother is like sixteen years younger than she is? So his kids are still pretty small.” You gently primed his face with a cotton soaked in primer. “He has two girls and a boy. The boy is eight, I think? And the youngest girl is three.”

“And you painted them?” Taehyung mumbled, trying not to move too much. You stifled a giggle and nodded.

“When my uncle told Connor that I do makeup for a living, he kept asking me to paint his face too. His sisters joined in and now I paint them whenever they come over.” You started with his foundation, taking care to apply it where the paint will go too. “Rosa, the middle one, always says that it ‘tickles nicely.’ I think she enjoys the brush more than looking at herself in the mirror afterward.”

Taehyung had a big smile on his face that he tried to suppress for the sake of his makeup. He was looking at you fondly as you talked, and you had to suppress the urge of stopping just to stare into his eyes in infatuation. The closeness wasn’t helping.

He wasn’t looking fondly at you though, you had to remind yourself. Rather, he was fond of the story you were telling. He liked kids – that was no secret. The fond look was not directed at you. It was directed at your cousins.

You clenched your jaw and tried to focus on the task at hand. This was a job. This was your profession. There wasn’t supposed to be any feelings involved. Not infatuation, not fondness, not longing.

Job job job.

“What’s the other one’s name?” Taehyung asked when you turned away and looked for another beauty blender.

“Hmm?”

“Your youngest cousin, the three year old, what’s her name?”

“Oh, Ira. She’s a dear, far less spoiled than some of my other cousins were. She’s still a toddler though, so like, never leave her in a room with a white wall and crayons.” You leaned in close to blend the foundation near his ear. “I learned that the hard way.”

Taehyung laughed and his warm breath hit your cheek, making goose bumps rise on your neck. It didn’t mean anything, you told yourself after suppressing a shiver. It was just a normal bodily reaction.

You stood back and admired your handiwork. With the foundation done, you could do the tree patterns and then the rest of his face. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

You dragged a stool closer and sat down. The stool was a bit higher than his chair, but you were shorter than him, so you had comfortable access to his neck.

Depending on how you saw it, that could either be a good or a bad thing.

See, the good thing was that this made it very easy to work. The angle was good and you it would be easy to paint the patterns. You would have to move your stool a bit to have better access to his chest later on, but that wouldn’t be a problem.

The bad thing, however, was that Taehyung had a very nice neck. You’d thought of sinking your teeth into his neck quite a few times in the past, and being this close to him – facing said neck – was not helping. Furthermore, you would have to lean into his neck, and Taehyung always smelled so fucking good.

But you were a professional. You’d think of biting his neck later.

Or… well. You’d think of biting his neck now, you’d just keep very quiet about it.

You opened the paint and picked up the brush and got to work. At the first touch of the brush against Taehyung’s skin, he shivered and you slipped, smearing paint where it shouldn’t be. You giggled and he let out a shaky laugh too.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “’s cold.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered back, not wanting to disturb the gentle stillness that lingered. You cleaned up the mess and picked the brush up again.

“Keep still,” you warned before gently starting again. He shivered once more, but it was more subtle this time and didn’t disrupt you. You slowly started to trace the patterns on his neck.

“Tickles,” he breathed, and you huffed out a short laugh.

The paint was good, better than the cheap stuff you usually used on your cousins. It was supposed to be waterproof too, which was a very good thing because then it wouldn’t smudge on his clothes and he also wouldn’t sweat it off whilst dancing.

Because he was going to sweat under all of those lights. But it was okay, the droplets are going to roll right over the paint and not smudge a thing. Just… just perfect caramel skin shining with sweat and non-smudged paint. That you applied. That you were applying right now. To his neck. Beautiful thick neck, covered in your paint and sweat dripping–

This train of thought was bringing you to a bad place.

You pulled away and turned around in your stool to wipe the paint off the brush. Not because you needed to, you just needed a second away from Taehyung’s neck. He smelled too good, looked too fucking edible.

Taehyung stuttered out a deep sigh, like he’d been holding his breath. You looked at him curiously and smiled.

“You can breathe, you know. It doesn’t make a difference with the painting. Breathe as deep as you like,” you said. Taehyung swallowed and nodded, but he didn’t look at you.

You leaned in close again, took a deep breath and got a lungful of Taehyung’s intoxicating smell. You stopped for a beat and then got back to work. You had a job to do, and only so much time to do it.

You dipped the brush in paint Taehyung shivered again when you started to work on him. You were able to pull the brush away before catastrophe happened. You looked at him, and he had a blush on his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smiled, “I should have warned you anyway.”

Silence followed after that. You worked on Taehyung’s neck diligently. You were proud of yourself for only being mildly distracted. Taehyung still wasn’t breathing properly, though. His breaths were coming out too shallow. You frowned.

“Are you okay?” you asked and pulled away. Taehyung swallowed and nodded. “Are you sure? Taehyung, if you’re uncomfortable we can stop. You know that right?”

“Yeah,” he said.

You eyed the patterns on his neck. They weren’t nearly done, but they looked good enough that you could stop here. They could edit in the rest if needed.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he said so fast he almost cut you off.

“Okay.”

Something was clearly wrong, but you didn’t pry. He mentioned that he was nervous before, so maybe it was those same nerves acting up. If he wanted to talk, he would.

“Ready?” you asked. Taehyung nodded and you touched the brush to his skin again. His breathing stuttered. You laid a free hand on his thigh without much thought, trying to give him a bit of comfort. Taehyung tensed and you removed it as quickly as you put it there.

“Sorry.”

“It’s – it’s okay.”

Another silence followed after that. You tried to focus, but the room felt charged somehow. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but the moment you’d put your hand on his leg, the vibe in the room changed.

You brushed it off as your own idiocy. Maybe you were just projecting. Maybe feeling that muscle tense under your hand messed with your head more than you realised.

Time passed in a blur. You worked on his neck with as much focus as you could muster. You made surprisingly few mistakes – which filled you with pride, because these were hardly the best circumstances for focus.

“Taehyung.”

“Yeah?”

“I need to work on your chest.”

“Okay.” He sounded breathless. Was he really breathless or were you just hearing what you wanted to hear?

“Can uh… can you take off your shirt? Maybe you can switch it for one with a wider collar?”

“I don’t have another shirt.”

“Oh. Uh. Do you want me to get another one?”

“No, I uh, I can take it off. It’s fine.”

“Okay.”

You turned around and fussed with your make up kit to give him a moment. The material shifted audibly and you saw the white t-shirt fly across the room from the corner of your eye. You cleaned off the brush fussed with it some more to avoid having to turn around and face this new challenge.

It wouldn’t be the first time you saw him shirtless. And it wasn’t like you were some schoolgirl who couldn’t control her hormones, for god’s sake.

You took a deep breath and gripped the brush before turning around. Taehyung was… well. Wide. Caramel skin and wide shoulders and a soft tummy and such a biteable fucking chest.

Well.

You refused to let your eyes travel beyond his neck though, refused to meet Taehyung’s eyes. You followed the lines you drew and tried to map out where you needed to go from here.

“I might have to sit in front of you for this part. Is that okay?” you asked, still staring at the black lines across his neck.

“Yeah, sure.”

This wasn’t fucking fair. It couldn’t be legal to talk with a voice that fucking deep, while shirtless and looking like a fucking Greek god. This wasn’t allowed to be fucking okay.

You moved the chair in front of Taehyung and sat down. Your knees brushed against his and you had to lean forward a lot to work on his – very fucking wide and perfect – chest.

You leaned your hand against his shoulder to steady yourself and tried not to feel your skin spark at the contact. “Is this okay?” you asked,

“Yeah.” Taehyung’s chest vibrated, vibrated, with the word. You swallowed and kept painting.

Your back complained loudly, and after a few minutes you sat up straight again with a frown. You arched your back in a stretch and winced at how loudly your spine cracked.

“This isn’t good for my back,” you said and Taehyung scoffed out a laugh. You locked eyes with him an smiled. “I feel like an old lady for saying that.”

Taehyung gave you big grin in return. “Maybe because you are?”

“I’m younger than you,” He laughed and shook his head. “No but really, this isn’t working. Could you maybe spread your legs for me?”

“Jesus,” Taehyung groaned.

“What?” you asked in alarm.

“You can’t – you can’t fucking say that!”

“What?” you asked again.

“You can’t do that! You can’t look like that and then tell me to take off my shirt and breathe into my neck and touch me and that fucking brush, god damn it, and then tell me to spread my legs for you.”

“I’m – what?”

“And then you told me to breathe normally. Breathe normally. How the fuck should I breathe when I feel like I’m boiling in my own skin, fuck.”

You stared at him with wide eyes when he finished his rant. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration and – well. Good to know. You finally let your eyes travel up and down his body. It was like he gave you permission, even when he didn’t do it literally.

His cheeks were slightly flushed, now that you looked. His chest too. He was slightly tense. His thighs looked so good in his sweatpants. And. Well.

Taehyung was unmistakably hard.

“Taehyung,” you said when you dragged your eyes back to his. His pupils were blown wide now, jaw tense. He saw you eating him with your eyes. He definitely saw and he looked at you like he was waiting.

“Yes?”

“Do you need help with that?” you said and looked down at his dick straining his pants.

“God, yes. Please. I’ll literally fucking beg.”

You looked at him slyly, not able to hold in a smile. “Wouldn’t have guessed you were into that.”

“I don’t usually do the begging but I’ll beg for you. Christ I’d do anything for you.”

His words caused need to pulse in your lower stomach. You liked the visual of him begging for you. You weren’t usually into that either but… well.

“That’s a dangerous thing to say,” you teased and pushed at his knees. Taehyung got the message and spread his legs. The visual was something fucking else. It was nothing new to see Taehyung sitting with his legs spread, but god. He was shirtless. And very fucking hard. And wearing grey sweatpants.

You moved your chair closer until it touched his, almost creating a bench of sorts and just… looked and looked and looked.

“Please,” Taehyung whimpered and your eyes snapped back to his. They were nearly black and very much pleading. “I feel like ripping my skin off.”

You breathed out a laugh and placed your hand on his left pec, the one that wasn’t covered in patterns. You ran your hand over his chest, then down his stomach and flicked a thumb over his hipbone. Taehyung’s breathing hitched and you smiled again before putting your hand on his clothed erection.

“Fuck,” Taehyung groaned out. You palmed him slowly and his hips bucked up into your hand. He threw his head back and bit his lip and god you were wet. Just… looking at him.

“You’re big, aren’t you?” you said lowly.

“Yeah,” he choked out.

Taehyung damn near mewled in protest when you took your hand off of him. You bit your lip and moved closer, shuffling onto his lap. Taehyung stared at you with hooded eyes as you made yourself comfortable on his lap.

You ground your hips down onto his and you both hissed at the friction. You threaded your fingers through his hair and steadied yourself with your other hand on his shoulder. Taehyung was breathing into your neck, groaning at the feeling of his dick getting attention. Every noise vibrated down your spine.

You leaned down and bit his neck thoughtlessly.

Taehyung cried out and his hips bucked up, causing you to moan into his neck. He felt big. He felt like if he fucked you, he would destroy your insides.

It almost scared you, if it weren’t for how hot you were.

“You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted to do that,” you groaned and bit his neck again, softer this time.

“Do what?” he asked. You licked over the forming mark, hoping to god that make up would be enough to cover it up.

“Bite you.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah. You have such a thick fucking neck and I just–” you sucked another mark into his skin “–wanted to fucking mark it.”

“Christ,” he moaned into your neck.

You rocked your hips back and forth against his, creating the ideal friction for both of you. His dick rubbed against your clit perfectly. You threw your head back when he bucked up, not able to keep your moans to yourself.

“You sound so fucking good, do you know that?” Taehyung grit out and gripped your ass, guiding your movements to sync with his.

“You too, fuck.”

You leaned forward, needing to feel his skin on your lips. You’d fantasised about this so much, now that you finally had the chance you were not going to let it slip through your fingers. Taehyung tilted his head to give you better access to his neck, and you peppered kisses all the way from his shoulder to his ear to his jaw, stopping every now and then to suck a mark.

Taehyung’s fingers threaded through your own hair, using it as leverage to pull your head back roughly.  

“You have no fucking idea,” he growled, “how bad I want you.”

“Yeah? How bad?” You still moved against him, the friction enough to push you to the edge of an orgasm, but not enough to push you over.

“So bad. So long. Was so fucking frustrated.”

“Why’s ‘at,” you asked teasingly and he groaned.

“Because you’re so goddamn hot, fuck, and – and you’d breathe into my – shit – neck and when you bent over me you smelled so good – hng. And I’d sit there trying – trying to crack jokes while I just wanted to fuck you ‘till you feel me for days.”

“Fuck, Taehyung,” you moaned and he gripped your hair harder.

“Say it again,” he whispered. His other hand was moving from your ass to your hip to your back to your breasts. He explored you slowly, almost curiously, trying to see which touch made you gasp.

“What?” you breathed, unable to think.

“My name. Say my name again.”

“Tae–” he bit your nipple through your shirt and pulled your hair at the same time, causing your whole body to jolt “–Taehyung!”

“God, I could come just from that, I swear.”

Hoseok’s laughter filtered through the walls and realisation struck that you were not alone in this building, and that you had a job to do. You’d get fired if they had to go on set and Taehyung wasn’t done. You’d get murdered if they found you like this.

You stopped grinding on Taehyung’s dick and he looked at you quizzically.

“What’s wrong,” he said, voice so silky and deep and fucked out.

“I – I have to finish you,” you said unsure.

“Uh, please?” Taehyung’s eyes were near pleading, but he seemed as confused as ever. You laughed and shook your head no.

“I mean I have to finish your neck. And clean up that mess.” You gestured to the red and purple marks blooming on the other side of his neck. You were very careful to stay away from the painted parts.

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah that.” Taehyung shook his head like he was trying to clear it. You knew how he felt.

The paintbrush was somehow still in your hand. You grabbed the paint and took a deep breath before dipping the paintbrush and starting up where you left off. Taehyung’s hands never left your body, and you were still sat in his lap. It was just more comfortable to work whilst in his lap than to have to break your back bending over.

That seemed to be a good excuse.

“I have a question,” Taehyung whispered, still running his fingers lightly over your back and the top of your ass.

“Yeah,” you said, trying hard not to fuck up the patterns on his neck.

“You said you thought about biting me?”

“Yeah.”

Taehyung laughed at the mumbled response and pinched your but, making you squirm. “That all you thought about?”

You looked up at Taehyung and saw the lust still glittering in his eyes. His dick was still hard against your clit.

“No,” you said, leaning in so your lips nearly touched, “thought about riding you. When you sit with your legs spread I just wanna fucking mount you.” You firmly ground your ass on his dick once. “Thought about sucking your cock too. Debated doing it right then and there in front of everyone, I swear.”

You caught Taehyung’s lip with your teeth and pulled. Taehyung moaned and you swore you felt his dick twitch.

“Are you gonna?” he ground out. His voice was rough, you could tell it was more out of frustration than anything else.

“Depends on how good you are,” you teased.

“Jesus you can’t fucking say that.”

“I just did.” You giggled at the way he groaned and threw his head back. “Really though, I have to finish this if I don’t want to get fired.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So are you gonna be good and let me finish?” you teased again.

You didn’t miss the way Taehyung swallowed. “Yeah.”

You giggled again and nipped at his jaw before going back to painting his chest. Silence followed, the pressure of time finally catching up to you. Taehyung was evidently still distracted though, judging by the tiny movements he made with his hips, still chasing the friction.

You didn’t let yourself indulge in him though. You finished your work as quickly and effectively as possible and focused hard on covering up the marks you left on the other side of his neck. You tried to plan ahead too, knowing the bruises would darken within an hour.

If someone saw them, all hell would break lose. Fucking him would already cause an uproar, but fucking him while you were on the clock could make you lose your job. And everything else for that matter.

“There,” you whispered, anxiety evident in your voice, “all done.”

You moved to get off of his lap but Taehyung pulled you back and kissed you.

You melted. You felt how your body turned to mush in Taehyung’s hands the moment he put his lips on yours. His lips were soft against yours, moving slowly. He kissed lazily, like he had all the time in the world and was willing to give it all to you.

Taehyung nipped at your bottom lip, asking for access. You opened for him on instinct and his tongue swooped into your mouth expertly.

It felt good. It felt so good. You tangled your hands in his hair to try to pull him closer. Taehyung seemed to share the sentiment, pushing you against him by your lower back and slowly, thoughtlessly, grinding his dick against you.

After what felt like hours of kissing, you had to pull away, the need to breathe finally making itself present. You gasped against Taehyung’s mouth, leaning your forehead against his.

“I was good, wasn’t I?” he breathed, base in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“So good,” you gasped.  

“Will you ride me now?”

“Do you have a condom?”

Taehyung cursed and shook his head and you felt your stomach drop in disappointment. No gut rearranging happening today, apparently.

“Just grinding then. I just wanna feel you. We can fuck another time just… just wanna feel you. Please.”

“Yeah. Yeah fuck.”

The next moments passed in a blur. You moved quickly to pull his sweatpants down his legs, only about halfway down his thighs. Taehyung was fumbling with the button of your jeans, fingers moving clumsily with impatience. You helped him pull your own pants and underwear down.

“Fuck,” he whispered when moved back to his lap. He kissed you again, this time with more impatience, more heat. It wasn’t lazy in the slightest. He sucked your tongue into his mouth and lightly bit down and you moaned. You lowered your hips onto his and he hissed when you made contact.

This was a whole different feeling. His cock was smooth against you. And big, fuck. You swallowed down the urge to throw caution in the wind and ride him for real.

“God, you’re so wet, why are you so wet?” he said in wonder.

“Because you’re so goddamn hot.”

“Fuck, Y/n.”

Taehyung gripped your hips and moved you against him at a faster pace, movieng his own hips against yours. The brush of his dick against your clit was driving you insane, it was nothing near feeling him through your jeans.

You ran your hands over his chest and he gasped when you ran finger over his nipple. You stared in wonder and did it again, this time his cock twitched against you, making you moan.

“You’re sensitive here?” you asked, licking at the bud and gasping when he gripped your ass.

“Yeah,” he choked out, “stop that or I’ll come.”

“That’s the idea,” you teased, breathless. You took his nipple between your teeth gently and Taehyung full on moaned.

He was having none of it though. He gripped you by the hair and pulled you up for another kiss. It was so messy now. None of the practiced skill of before, just a desperate need of contact and stimulation. You cursed him for ruining his make up once again, but let it slide for now. Easy to fix and worth it.

“Tae,” you gasped into his mouth when his thumb came into the mix. He was toying with your clit while his cock was still deliciously sliding against you. “Taehyung.”

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding so fucked out, voice so rough. He was everywhere. You felt him everywhere. Every point of contact burned your skin in the best way.

“Good, so good. You’re so good. Fuck,” you moaned against his lips. You took his bottom lip between his teeth and pulled, pulling another small – fucking incredible – sound out of him.

Your hips were moving desperately now. Neither of you had a rhythm anymore, just chasing pleasure.

“Don’t stop don’t stop,” you babbled, orgasm crawling closer and closer and you were right there so close so close. “Tae – Tae, fuck, Taehyung,”

You came with a cry of Taehyung’s name, body pulling taut and hands gripping Taehyung’s hair mercilessly. Your hips were twitching against him, but he used your ass as leverage to keep grinding against you.

“God, Y/n sound so good. So good, fuck, fuck, fuck,”

Taehyung’s cock twitched against you before spilling come over his stomach. His head was thrown back, mouth open in a silent cry.

It took a few moments for your soul to return to your body. You took deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heartbeat.

No easy feat with Taehyung looking at you with hooded eyes.

“That was so good,” he rasped. You giggled breathlessly and nodded.

“Imagine how good it would feel,” you said, leaning closer, “when you actually get to be inside of me.”

Taehyung groaned and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t say shit like that, I’ll get hard again, I swear.”

“Is your recovery period that quick?”

“Around you, apparently.”

You laughed and got off of him, looking for wet wipes or a towel of sorts. You frowned when you noticed a few drops of come on your shirt.

“You got come on my shirt,” you said and threw a towel at Taehyung.

“Sorry. I wasn’t exactly focusing on aim.” You set him a glare, but you had to bite your lip to force back a smile.

“You owe me a shirt now. And panties, holy hell.” Taehyung smiled brightly.

“I’ll buy you all the panties in the world if it means I get to ruin them.” And that smile was too innocent to be pared with the dirty words. You shook your head.

After quickly cleaning yourself up and putting your pants on, you fixed Taehyung’s make up. The damage wasn’t that bad and it only took two minutes.

“You might want to hurry. You need to be out in half an hour.” You gestured to the clock and Taehyung cursed, moving to get dressed quickly while you packed up your make up kit. You couldn’t help but smile.

“See you, I gotta get back,” you said, getting ready to leave.

“Wait, get back here,” Taehyung said and pulled your back flush against his chest, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Next time I’m gonna bend you over that couch, yeah? Gonna make sure you feel me for days.”

Your mouth went dry but you nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered, “but only if you be good and come prepared.”

Taehyung groaned and you grinned on your way out.

[wayward-mikaelson]

Winter’s Doll--Chapter Six

Word Count: 2015

About: Nadia can’t sleep that night and Bucky has a nightmare/terror. 

Characters: Nadia, Bucky, Natasha, Sam, 

Pairing: None unless you count what happens at the end

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Nightmare/terror, Angst

A/N: I had this ready to post the other day but I got really busy. Also I kind of like the ending.

*This work contains content for the 18 and up crowd. Read at your own discretion.

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Chapter Five

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Nadia couldn’t sleep that night.

Not when her mind was racing a million miles a second.

Nadia laid in bed and stared at the ceiling making out shapes and animals to help her drift off. But that didn’t work. Nadia then tried the ‘counting sheep’ method and that definitely didn’t work at all.

Nadia rolled off her bed and went to the bathroom and stared at herself. Her long dark hair hung passed her shoulders almost to the middle of her back. Biting her lip, Nadia began rummaging around in her drawers for a pair of scissors. When she found them, she took a chunk of her hair in her hand. With a quick snip of the scissors, Nadia began to chop her hair.

***

“What kind of a crisis are you going through?” Nikola asked in the doorway of Nadia’s room. Nikola had watched his sister chop her hair chin length. The style suited her very well. “Mom won’t be thrilled you chopped you hair off right before your birthday.”

Nadia turned and glared at her brother. “She’s the reason why I’m cutting it.”She turned back towards the mirror and started to shake out her hair for any loose hair. She was very skilled with scissors. She knew what she was doing.

“What did you guys argue about this time?” Nikola walked into the room and took the scissors from his sisters and snipped a part that she missed. Nikola knew by his sisters body language and the way she spoke that her and their mother were at it again.

“My hair,” Nadia huffed. “She wants to do it in a kid like way but, Nik, I’m turning 16 and I wanted a change. She said no and I said then I don’ want this party if I can’t have it they way I want it.”

Nikola looked at his sister through the mirror and chuckled. “You’ll be lucky if she lets your ass live. She loved your hair long. But if it makes you feel better, I love your hair right now.”

Nadia turned too her brother and smiled. “You always like it when I rebel and get petty with Mom.”

Nikola smirked. “Well, it’s very entertaining to watch two of the same persons fight.”

***

Nadia stopped halfway through the cut and smiled at the memory. Her mother was upset with the haircut but realized it was time to let Nadia grow up and do what she wanted. So her mother let her have her party and in time Nadia let her hair grow out until this very moment.

Nadia licked her lips again as a few silent tears fell. What if she was apart of something related to or like Hydra? Would that make her bad? No, Steve assured her that none of this was her fault. She had no idea but Nikola did. Whatever Nikola did those last few days of his life, he did it to save her. To make sure that she would continue his work and expose what the government she and him believed so highly of.

And that’s what she intended to do. Show the world that the US Military is a just a corrupt as any other organization in the world. Whether Hydra was involved or not.

Nadia finished up with her hair and gathered her fallen locks and stuffed them in her little bathroom trash bin. She hopped into the shower to wash off whatever hair had fallen. Nadia decided to give her new cut a fresh wash. When she was done, she slipped into something more fitting for bed.

A Queen novelty t-shirt and black gym shorts.

Nadia was just about to reach for the melatonin to help knock her out when she heard a scream come from down the hall. Dropping everything onto the counter she raced out the door and heard another scream from the guys part of the compound.

Natasha was in the kitchen with a worried look on her face. She was rummaging through drawers and cabinets. “It’s Barnes,” she said. “It’s been six months since his last night terror. Steve usually has a spare key to his room but I can’t find the fucking thing.” She slammed a drawer.

“Where is Steve?” Nadia asked.

“He’s out of town with Tony,” Natasha started with the cabinets next. “Vision and Wanda are out for the night too. Something about alone time.”

Nadia stared looking through cabinets and through the drawers again. “It’s gotta be here somewhere!” Nadia jumped at the next scream.

“I just got off the phone with Steve,” Sam rounds the corner into the kitchen. “He has the key. Tony says to break the door down and he will put a work order in for it. But I’m scared as shit to knock that door down. We don’t know what mindset he’s in.”

Something crashed and Nadia dropped the blender in her hands. “Why the fuck does Bucky keep his door locked anyhow if he knows he has these?” She yelled running towards Bucky’s room. She had only been there once before.

“I don’t know!” Sam yelled back. “But without that key our whole process is messed up.”

Nadia stood outside of the Bucky’s room. She backs up and thrusts one foot forward and managed to kick the door open. Luckily, she did it was such ease that nothing broke off. She rushed in and saw an empty bed. She didn’t dare turn on the light. She didn’t need to be tackled by an ex-Russian assassin.

Nadia used what light she had to spin around the room. She stopped when she spotted the super soldier in a dark corner. Sitting with his legs crossed. A shelf had been knocked over and the contents was thrown everywhere.

Nadia slowly walked forward. “Bucky,” she whispered. The super soldier flinched. “Hey, hey,” she lowered herself in front of him with a hand out. Probably not the best move. “It’s me. Nadie.”

Bucky looked up at Nadia. She saw the complete and utter fear in his eyes. He was still in the night terror. She watched as all the muscles in his flesh arm tighten. Even in the small lighting, Nadia could see his blue eyes grow dark. It scared the hell out of her. Nadia wondered what he was seeing? What did she look like to him?

Nadia did the only thing that she could thing of.

Nadia jumped into Bucky’s lap and pressed her body tight to his. “Bucky,” she whispered into his ear. “Whatever you’re seeing, whatever it is, it’s not real. I am. I’m real.” Nadia pulled back and rested both of her hands on Bucky’s face. “You feel that, this is real.” She reached for Bucky’s flesh hand and pressed it to her chest. “This,” she met his eyes, they were still dark. “This is a real beating heart. Please wake up.”

Nadia stared into those dark eyes for what felt like hours. Bucky’s hand continued to rest on her chest. Her heart pounded and it felt like it might jump out of her chest. Then Nadia saw those dark eyes slowly lighten. As they did, Nadia felt Bucky’s hand slowly trail up her chest to her neck. From her neck to her cheek where it rested.

“Nadie?” Bucky took his thumb and rubbed it across Nadia’s bottom lip.

Nadia let out a huge breath of relief and covered Bucky’s hand with one of her own. “Yeah,” she smiled. “It’s me. Are you okay?”

Bucky looked away from her and saw the mess around them. “I didn’t hurt you did I?” There was worry in his voice. He gently pushed Nadia of him and stood the both of them up. Bucky looked her over.

“No,” Nadia took both his hand and held them tight. “I had to kick the door in. Steve had the key and is out of town and so is Vision and Wanda.”

Bucky nodded. “Good,” his eyes zeroed deep into Nadia’s. “I don't know what I would do if I hurt you.” Bucky pulled his hands back and walked over to his bed and sat down. Nadia turned to see him run a hand through his long hair.

“I’ll help you clean this up tomorrow,” Nadia said softly approaching Bucky. “I should probably go.” Nadia turned to leave but Bucky grabbed her arm in his hands.

“Stay,” he said. Nadia turned to see those blue eyes soft again. This time they were pleading. “Please? Stay?”

Nadia didn’t think twice about it. She smiled, “Let me see if your door actually closes.”

Nadia went and pushed the door close. It didn’t latch but she was able to pull one of the smaller shelves by the door in front of it. She returned to Bucky’s side and rested a hand on his leg. “I’m sorry you have to go through nightmares like that.”

Bucky smiled. “Thank you for pulling me out.”

***

Nadia felt the warmth of the morning sun on her face. She rolled over and slowly opened her eyes. She snapped up right in the bed when she remembered where she was. Obviously, nothing happened between her and Bucky. But she did recall throughout the night after they fell asleep, Bucky had her pulled close to him. She had rested her head on his chest and wrapped an around him. Honestly, it was the best sleep she had.

“Morning,” Bucky’s voice came from his bathroom. He tossed the towel he held on the small love seat. Nadia then noticed that the mess from last night was picked up. “Yeah,” Bucky said when he noticed the small look in Nadia’s eyes. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked real peaceful sleeping.”

Nadia slipped out of the bed. “I actually slept great for once.”

“You pull me out of a bad dream, I help you sleep better at night,” Bucky smirked. “I kind of like that deal. It’s kind of nice.”

Nadia chuckled and didn’t say anything. She was too nervous too and would probably say something weird. Bucky and Nadia have a good friendship going on and she didn’t want school girl like talk or words to ruin that. She was still getting use to the idea of having a slight crush on the super soldier.

“I dig the short hair,” Bucky told her. “Brings our your eyes more.”

Nadia felt her cheeks burning flaming hot red. “Thanks,” she said running her hand through her short hair. She had almost forgotten she cut it last night.

The two of them went to the kitchen to grab breakfast, what members of the team sat there and didn’t question anything. But when Bucky handed her a cup of coffee, a few eyes looked at them when Nadia gave him a soft and small smile. Her cheeks had flushed a light pink, that was very noticeable on her fair skin.

“You guys sleep okay?” Sam sipped on his coffee as he eyed the two friends.

“Yeah,” Bucky stole one of Sam’s strawberries from his plate. “No thanks to you. You pussied out.”

“Well, I didn’t know what mind set you were in, man,” Sam covered his plate.

“Well, I guess Nadia has bigger balls than you then,” Bucky teased.

Nadia rolled her eyes and announced she was going to get ready for the day. She really didn’t need it, but she wanted to be alone with her school girl thoughts. Think about how Bucky had held her tightly against them while they slept. The way those blue eyes looked at her while she laid in his bed. The smile he had when he said it was nice having her by his side. But not before she caught what Natasha mumbled into her coffee.

“Maybe, Barnes would like to join you.”

“What?” Nadia shot a look at her red haired friend. Natasha’s eyes bore right into Nadia’s. It was like she knew what was going happen or something.

“Nothing,” she smirked. “I just said that I like your hair.”

“Uh huh,” Nadia turned back around. “Thanks.”

[baepsaesbae]

Parang Kape Ko. Bittersweet. || Just Like My Coffee. Bittersweet

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Fluff/Romance, Enemies to Lovers au, coffee shop au

Warnings— None

Word Count— 1.8k

Summary— You work at a coffee shop with the most annoying person ever. Kim Taehyung. 

A/N— Thank you @kitsutaes​ for requesting! I hope you like it darling. You can still request drabbles up until the end of the August with this post

You couldn’t quite place it. Something about Taehyung made your skin crawl since the very first day you laid eyes on him. To make matters worse, your manager kept pairing you together for nearly every shift (she couldn’t help it, she thought you guys looked cute together).

You despised the way girls would giggle and try to subtly give him their number after ordering their drink. You rolled your eyes every time he’d wink and flirt back with them. Each shift with just the two of you was unbearable. 

Taehyung was naturally a player, anyone could see that. Women would swoon from a mere flash of a smile. They’d be putty in his hands with a simple wink. That being said, Taehyung was so taken aback when his charms didn’t work on you. He couldn’t figure out what he did to tick you off, but it seemed like you didn’t like him from the start. That was a concept he couldn’t fathom. 

It was like a never ending game of tag that you didn’t want to play, and you couldn’t risk Taehyung finally catching up to you. The more you showed your disdain for Taehyung, the more intrigued he’d be by you, thus spurring him to pester you even more. 

“Hey grumpy grump! How was your weekend?” Taehyung greeted you as you clocked in.

“It was fine. Yours?” you replied with indifference.

“It was chill, kinda lowkey. I actually found a cool hole in the wall restaurant that I thought maybe we could--”

“I’m busy,” you interrupted without looking at him.

“But I didn’t even say when--”

“You don’t need to. I’m very busy all the time,” you walked away to prep the machines before Taehyung could even reply. 

“C’mon, just give me a chance! It doesn’t even have to be a date. I genuinely want to get to know you. Why do you hate me so much?” Taehyung pouted as he followed you around like a lost puppy. 

“Prep the tables and chairs, please,” you commanded without acknowledging his whining.

“Yes ma’am. See? I’m such a good boy, I always listen to you,” he called out from across the cafe as he unstacked chairs. 

You ignored him. This was your normal routine every time you worked with Taehyung. He seemed to get a thrill every time he riled you up, so you’ve learned not to give him the satisfaction. Straight up ignoring him was the best way to go. 

Taehyung became preoccupied with taking orders once the customers started piling in. You absentmindedly made the drinks, a task that you could now do with your eyes closed. You thought about what Taehyung said. Sure, he’s an annoying prick who knows he’s too handsome for his own good, but does that really justify your hatred for him?

You hated to admit it, but Taehyung is the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. Your heart fluttered every time he teased you, and though you gave off the impression that you wouldn’t care if he disappeared off the face of the Earth, you were secretly pleased with the attention he gave you. On occasion, you’ve caught glimpses of random girls glaring at you while Taehyung was messing around with you. 

You shook your head as you powered up the blender to make a double mocha frappe with 2 extra shots of espresso. What the hell were you thinking? This is exactly why you don’t like Taehyung. He lives in your mind rent free. 

“I think that frappe is blended enough,” Taehyung observed. He appeared out of nowhere, startling you.

“You good?” he asked with a hint of concern.

“I’m fine,” you answered curtly as you handed him the drink. 

“Frappe for Tiffany!” Taehyung called out before returning his attention to you, “I was serious earlier by the way. This little game of ours is fun, but I honestly want to get to know you. Plus, you never actually talk to me so I don’t know what I did to make you hate my guts or whatever. Unless you’re like a massive introvert or something. I’d respect that of course, but like I said I literally wouldn’t know that because you never talk to me so--”

“Okay! Fine! I’ll go with you to that stupid restaurant. Will you finally shut up now?” you snapped. 

“Aw, so you do listen when I talk to you. It’s a date! Or not, that’s up to you. You free after this shift?” he lifted his eyebrows with excitement. 

“Yeah,” you begrudgingly nodded. 

The rest of the shift flew by with the nonstop stream of customers. The morning rush is always tough, but Taehyung handled the flow perfectly every time. His demeanor calms even the most irate caffeine addicted customers.

“I’m starving,” Taehyung announced as he clocked out. 

“What kind of food does the restaurant serve?” you asked as your stomach rumbled.

“Hamburgers!” Taehyung beamed. 

“Cool. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there,” you say as you head towards your car.

“Wait! It’s actually not too far from here. There’s no need to take two vehicles,” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you wanna ride in my car?” you asked quizzically. 

“Actually I wanted to take you for a ride. On my bike,” he quickly added.

“Sure I guess. You got a little basket for me to ride in or something?” you attempted to be friendly. 

“Not quite. I don’t have a spare helmet, but I can assure you that I’m a safe driver,” he says as he leads you to his parking spot.

“You have a moped?” you asked in shock. You couldn’t help but smile at the cute little lavender moped that Taehyung probably zips around on every day.

“Yeah, I love this little sucker. It used to be my sister’s, that’s why it’s purple. But it’s badass on the streets,” Taehyung patted the seat.

“So where am I sitting?” you asked even though you already knew the answer. 

“You’d be safest sitting behind me. You can hold onto me if you’d like. For safety reasons, of course,” he smiled. 

You climbed onto the moped after him. You didn’t want to hold onto him, but you whimpered and quickly wrapped your arms around him as soon as he took off. The tiny moped was surprisingly fast, and since it was so small, you could practically feel every bump on the road. 

Taehyung smirked as you hung onto him tightly. “Cute,” he thought. 

Taehyung’s scent enveloped you as you leaned into his back. You’ve grown accustomed to his smell since you were always together at work, but being up close and personal with him was a different story. He had a comforting smell that made you want to snuggle up to him even more. You wondered which cologne he was wearing, just in case you wanted to pick it up for yourself. 

You felt how solid his torso was as you clung to him. Your thoughts lingered to his earlier question yet again. Why did you hate him so much? He really didn’t seem like a bad guy. In fact, the opposite is true. Sure he could be a bit flirty, but he was also always kind and gentle. You realized that he never flirted with the customers first, he simply returned their energy. 

“We’re here!” Taehyung happily announced.

He led you into a small restaurant that appeared to be family owned. The owners greeted Taehyung by his first name, indicating that he’s probably a regular customer. 

“Welcome in! And who’s this lovely lady you brought with you?” the man greeted. 

“Taehyung! Is this this coffee shop girl? She’s just as gorgeous as you said she wa--” his wife began to ramble until Taehyung cut her off.

“I’ll have two of the usuals please. Oh, and two sodas. Thanks guys,” Taehyung ordered quickly before bringing you over to a small table in the corner. 

“How much do I owe you?” you inquired as you took out your wallet.

“Nothing. This is my treat. I’m surprised you finally agreed to hangout with me,” Taehyung smiled as he shifted his weight in his chair.

“What was that lady saying before you ordered?” you tilted your head.

“She uh, was telling me about the daily special,” Taehyung lied.

“No she wasn’t. I was right next to you, Taehyung. Am I the coffee shop girl?” you teased, delighted that the tables have turned. 

“I mean you are a girl and you do work in a coffee shop. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re THE coffee shop girl…” Taehyung was flustered. 

“Is this a date or are we just hanging out?” you pressed further. 

“Which would you like it to be?” Taehyung retorted.

“I asked first,” you countered.

“I guess I can’t argue with that. I would prefer this to be a date. But since you hate me I’d happily settle for us just hanging out,” he admitted. 

“I wouldn’t say that I hate you…” you trailed off.

“Oh really? Then why do you always ignore me and only talk to me to boss me around. I find that hot by the way, but we don’t have to get into that right now,” he smirked. 

“I...I don’t know. Your face always bothered me I suppose,” you answered thoughtfully. 

“My face?” Taehyung burst out into a fit of laughter, “___, am I so ugly that you just can’t stand being around me?”

“The opposite actually. Oh what the hell, we’re here anyway. You’re so goddamn handsome it’s aggravating. You’re so nice it’s unnerving. And when you talk to me it’s like you’ve known me forever. If I didn’t act so cold towards you I would’ve fallen for you so easily,” you finally got everything off of your chest.  

An awkward silence filled the room and you began to regret coming clean. The owner came by with the burgers and you noticed the ketchup was done in the shape of a heart.

“Damn,” was all that Taehyung replied after a while.

You silently nodded as you bit into your burger. 

“I’m glad I kept bugging you then. I thought you were a cutie during orientation. I knew you weren’t actually a bitch because I’ve seen the way you interact with people who aren’t me. You’re such a sweetheart. Also please don’t think I’m a creep for watching you at work sometimes,” he chuckled. 

“I’m sorry for being so cold towards you. I’m not really good with processing emotions and all that,” you blushed, “But now that everything's out in the open, I’d be willing to let my walls down I guess.” 

“Sure. We can take it one date at a time. And maybe you could actually talk to me at work?” Taehyung gave you big puppy eyes.

“Maybe. I’ll see what I can do,” you failed to suppress a smile.

Kim Taehyung might not be too shabby after all.

Published August 9th, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

[dascarecrow]

The Failed Raid - A Gentle Recovery II

Izuku stirred a bit, finally waking up after quite some time unconscious. He was in the infirmary. Again. This was really something he needed to stop doing. He noticed that his arms were completely bandaged but at least they weren’t in casts. The same could be said for his legs. Though he got the impression that he should avoid moving around too much given how tender his limbs felt. 

The door opened and in came Recovery Girl who was sporting a gentle smile. “I has a feeling you’d be waking up right around now.” “How bad is it?” Izuku wasn’t even put out at winding up in a hospital bed again, he was just done with the whole mess. “Well it could have been worse given the shape your arms and legs were in. I was able to knit your bones back together and most of your muscles and nerves but you’ll need to keep from doing anything too strenuous for a bit. We had to pump you with a borderline dangerous number of nutrients to get you that far. I’m not doing anything else until you’re sufficiently recovered for another round of healing.” 

Izuku bowed his head in respect, much as he could given his position. “Understood. Thank you Sensei. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you.” Recovery Girl just had to sigh. This boy really took himself too seriously. “You really do need to cut yourself a break sometime. This is my job young man. Now stop fretting, I believe you have some visitors.” 

Izuku perked up, wondering who would be visiting him. He got his answer when his class all walked in, having gotten permission from the doctor. He couldn’t help looking a bit confused at their presence. “What are you all doing here?” Kirishima took the lead in answering the question. “We’re checking on you man. You got it pretty bad during that raid.” Izuku was stricken by the realization that his classmates from the raid were also present, some of them having been injured before he lost consciousness. “Wait are you all okay? I knew you took some bad hits before we had to escape.” Kaminari looked at him, dumbfounded as to how Izuku could ask that question. “Are we okay? You looked like your arms had been shoved into a blender and someone hit puree.” 

Izuku went quiet, not really wanting to dwell on the raid at the moment. He took notice that there were some absences among his class. “Where’s Kacchan? And Uraraka?” Kirishima once again chose to answer. “Bakubro took off once we got back to the school. He... didn’t take it well after those creeps managed to get away. I’m pretty sure he’s still at the training ground.” Izuku looked down though with a melancholy smile. “That does sound like him. What about Uraraka?” Yaoyorozu answered this time, with a smile that had just a tinge of mischief. “She’s on her way. And I think you’ll enjoy what she’ll do for you.” 

Before Izuku could question what she meant the room had a new entrant. It was Eri with a wide smile on her face. She was wearing light purple pants with white shoes and a long sleeve shirt in the same color. She also had a white apron on and was wearing a white hat with a plus on it. “Nurse Eri reporting for duty!” Oh so she was being a nurse. There was so much pride in her voice at her statement. She stopped for a moment, her smiling dropping. “Excuse me.” 

The young girl exited the room, clearly looking for something. “Come on Mama.” The little unicorn girl returned promptly, tugging along her mother. Uraraka was dressed in a teen size version of Eri’s outfit, blushing heavily. Her hair was tucked up like a bun but was dressed like an upwards pointing pony tail. She couldn’t believe she agreed to this! Having everyone see her in this nurse getup was bad enough but Deku would see her too! She dearly wished she could have resisted going along with this idea but Eri had been so cheerful when she brought it up and Uraraka didn’t have it in her to deny her daughter such a harmless request in the grand scheme of things. “H-hey Deku. H-how are you doing?” 

The boy in question couldn’t muster any response to her. In his eyes she was surrounded by sparkles and bubbles. “Deku?” “You look... nice.” The poor girl was now blushing so much you might mistake her for a cherry. But the smile on her face showed she didn’t mind the compliment. “You... really think so?” “Yeah! But why are you and Eri dressed up like nurses?” Recovery Girl, who secretly found this whole thing hilarious decided to come to the floating girl’s rescue. “Well I mentioned how you always have such a miserable time when you visit the infirmary and your dear sweet daughter here came up with an idea to help your recovery.” 

Eri nodded her head in clear joy and pride at her sharp thinking. “Mmhm. Mama and I are going to be your nurses. We’re going to help you get all better.” It should be illegal for someone to be so adorable, it really should. “Ooooooh.” Izuku made to pull his adorable daughter into a hug but stopped the second he felt a rush of pain in his arms. Still he kept a smile on his face. “I suppose that’s for the best. I’m not going to be moving around much on my own right now.” Uraraka suddenly gained a look of concern and sympathy. “Oh Deku. Well it’s a good thing we’re here now huh?” 

Mina, usually a gadfly and tease of the highest calibur, had been inordinately quiet. She had been taking in the scene with keen interest, no one knowing what was going through her mind. She had gained a smile out of nowhere that seemed sinister and plotting. To anyone who knew her well it was precisely that. She had cooked up an evil plan in her scheming mind and she would see it through. “Okay then. Nice to see you’re okay Midori. But it’s way too crowded in here. How about we all go outside and you boys can tell us how you beat those jerks so bad they went running with their tails between their legs.” 

The boys in the class didn’t seem to understand why she was pushing them to leave but the girls did. “You do have a point Mina. Some time outside will doubtlessly be beneficial.” Count on Yaoyorozu to phrase things diplomatically. “That’s right ribbit. Some fresh air does wonders for recovery.” Jirou made to herd the group out the door. “Alright guys time to go. Ain’t no free show going on here.” Kaminari seemed a bit put out at being rushed around. “Aw man Midoriya gets his own personal nurses. That just isn’t fair.”  Then he got a mischievous smile. “I’m pretty banged up too. Might need some tender love and care of my own. How about it Jirou? Feel like playing nurse with me?” 

The girl in question didn’t seem impressed with the electric boy’s antics before she was sporting a smile. Which should have been a warning to anyone with eyes. Sadly Kaminari had ones with filters on them. “Woah really?” No way was he this lucky. “Yeah. Let’s start by checking your heartbeat.” “My heartbea-woah Jirou now let’s not do anythin- gegegegege. Wheeeeeey.” Jirou had promptly jabbed one of her jacks into Kaminari’s ears and just as quickly shook up his brain to overload. “Yeah you’re just fine. Same reaction as always. Anyone else want a nurse?” The assembled group looked at her with just a bit of terror. “Thought not. Come on Chargedolt let’s get you some fresh air.” Jirou grabbed the still “Wheeeeey”-ing boy and led him out of the room. The rest of the group quickly followed after, not wanting to risk whatever the girls came up with to make them comply with their wishes. 

With the departure of their classmates it was only Izuku and Urararaka along with Eri present. Recovery Girl had made herself scarce, having some paperwork to deal with. As he looked at his nurses for the time being Izuku could only think one thing. 

This won’t be so bad after all.

[maandags]

a tune not quite forgotten (John Shelby x reader)

ITS THE DAY LADS

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Summary: You did something stupid--something that took your feelings and threw them in a blender--and now you have to try and sort your life back out.

Word count: 8.6K

Genre: angst/fluff but this time i think i did not do a horrible job balancing out the angst and the fluff

Notes: masterlist - my dudes........ today is the birthday of my lovely lovely LOVELY girl Aticus over @panda-noosh !! man i love you so much!! you mean the absolute world to me; i couldn’t even begin to describe all the ways you’ve helped me through bad days and made me laugh and cry and yell about my godchildren and risk my ass by texting you in class. i had SUCH a hard time not giving you updates on this fic--especially since you were the one that got me into peaky blinders in the first place--and i caught myself multiple times already typing out a message and then going “wait. no” and backspacing everything lololol. I want you to know how much you truly mean to me, and suddenly i can’t use words eloquently anymore. so just read the damn fic and have a fabulous day. xx from your bitch Tay :’)

-- -- --

The last person you'd expected to show up on your doorstep at four in the afternoon was John Shelby, and yet there he was.

You almost shut the door on him, but then realised that would probably be a bad idea, as he was a part of the most powerful family in the whole of Birmingham. So you folded your arms across your chest and raised your brows, waiting for him to explain the cause of his visit.

He looked at you, the cap on his head slightly shadowing his face. "Hullo."

You gave a terse nod, not really trusting yourself to speak. John glanced behind you and coughed. "Can I come in?"

"No."

Maybe you were being unfair, but you were really not in the mood to talk to him. You planned to let him know. "I have stuff to do. What do you want?"

The fact that you were able to get away with talking to John like that was due only to the fact that you had known each other since you were kids–that you'd been friends since you were kids. And now you were angry with him, and you were done with always letting him have his way.

John stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Just wanted to see if you were okay, I guess."

You scoffed, managed to cover it up with a cough. So he had just wanted to see if you were okay. In that case, every second he spent in front of you was a second wasted, and his very presence was aggravating you more than you cared to admit. "I'm fine, thank you very much. I don't need you checking up on me like I'm on my fucking death bed or something."

You pulled the door to your house shut behind you and turned the key. You didn't know where you wanted to go. Maybe you'd stop by Rosetta's, two blocks away. If you were lucky, Rosetta herself would be there and she'd pour you a glass of whiskey and tut when you downed it in one go.

"Y/N–"

You knew what he was going to say. What he was going to bring up. And frankly, you weren't ready for it yet. You didn't want to think about it, didn't want to face the truth of the situation. Because it would hurt even more than it already did, and you didn't need that right now. When you had calmed down a bit, you would go to him yourself and you'd say, It's fine. I understand. It's okay.

When really, of course, it wasn't.

"Not now, John. Please, just–not right now."

And you walked away, ignoring the fact that you hadn't brought a coat with you and the wind was biting at your skin and carding its icy fingers through your hair, and if it was going to rain tonight you were probably going to catch a cold. But it was okay. The freezing air shook you awake when you had been foggy a moment before, and you were glad for it.

You brought your shoulders up to your ears, squinting to protect your eyes from the wind as you made your way to Rosetta's. You weren't surprised–though you were disappointed–when your vision blurred with tears.

Walking into the warmth of Rosetta's cosy pub was like walking into heaven when you opened the door and let yourself in. Behind the bar stood the curvy form of Rosetta herself, and you smiled at her cooing when she spotted you. "Oh, love, do come in. It's been ages since I've seen your pretty face!"

Rosetta called everyone pretty. It was one of the many reasons you loved her. You walked up to the counter and pulled a stool towards you, climbing on it and rubbing your hands together to get some feeling back into them.

"What'll you be havin', sweetie?"

You looked up at her blearily. "Something that'll warm me up."

She raised a perfectly shaped brow. "Little early for that, ain't it?" But one look from you shut her up, and she drew a big long sigh as she poured you a glass.

The first sip brought some warmth into your chest. The second gave you back the feeling in your hands, and then you downed the drink and waited for the alcohol to take full effect and loosen you up.

"You're looking like shit," Rosie remarked subtly, and you glared as you toyed with the rim of the glass. She was right, though; you had barely slept last night and you were fairly sure your hair hadn't seen a brush in two days.

"I'm feeling like shit," you amended finally, plopping your elbows on the counter and resting your chin in your palms, watching Rosie bustle around and serve the few other customers who'd already installed themselves at a table or at the bar. There was a guy a few seats on your right who was stealing not-so-subtle glances at Rosie's cleavage and posterior as she twisted and turned, and you had half a mind to kick him off his chair. It was like watching someone hound after your mother, because Rosie had been more of a parent to you than either of yours had been.

"Poor you," she said, patting your cheek and turning around to serve some other man who was tapping his glass on the shiny wood countertop. You narrowed your eyes, the old protectiveness rising up again in the back of your throat.

It wasn't busy yet, so after Rosie had satisfied her small clientèle she turned back to you, refilled your glass and grabbed a pint of her own. "So. Tell me about what's got you in such a mood."

You swirled the drink around in your glass and said, "Nothing," which was untrue, of course, and Rosie swatted you on the back of your head to show that she wasn't impressed.

"I didn't practically raise you since your tenth birthday for you to lie to me like that," she sniffed, and you groaned.

"It's just–I'm really fucking stupid sometimes. And I do... I do stupid things a lot. And, you know. Then I wake up the next day and realise I've been really, really stupid again. And it makes me feel. Like. Shit." You tapped the counter with the bottom of your glass for emphasis.

Rosie sighed, gave your cheek a tap. "Oh, love. You never were great at sorting out your feelings, eh?"

You felt your neck and ears heat up, and your eyes widened. "I never–I didn't say–"

She threw her head back, brushing her long mane of curls over her shoulder. Her brown hair was streaked with grey, but on her it looked ethereal. No wonder nobody could ever keep their eyes off her. "You didn't say, but I know you, don't I?"

She did. She and her pub had been more of a home to you than your own had been, and you'd practically grown up hanging from her skirts. When you were eleven, she'd let you help out with washing the dishes sometimes, and not long after you'd met John, whom she also immediately took under her wing.

You had a closer bond with Rosie than John did, but she loved him just the same, letting him play with you between the tables. Rosetta's became a second home to you before you'd even left your old one.

She then plunked down her glass, and cocked her head, and gasped, and you jumped, thinking she'd seen a man get murdered through the window–at least. But she was looking at you, and said, "Is it John?" And her eyes were wide, and you scolded yourself internally, because Rosie would not have been fazed in the slightest if she'd seen a man get murdered in front of her pub.

You buried your face in your hands, which was close enough to a confession for her and she let out a "Ha!"

Then she got called away by some prick who wanted a refill, and as she grabbed a bottle he leaned forward and pinched her butt, and she immediately whipped around and loudly cussed him out before telling him to Get the fuck out of here and don't you have the balls to show your fucking face again. You really loved Rosie.

"Love," she said a minute later as if nothing had happened, "I want you to tell me what's happened right now."

You sighed, but you did. You told her about the inauguration of the new and improved Garrison, and how John had invited you–of course he had, you were his best friend–and how, after a couple of glasses and songs and teasing words mumbled from slightly-parted mouths he'd pulled you into a corner and kissed you.

It had been sloppy and heated and kind of a mess, to be honest, your hands wandering, wanting to feel every inch of the other's body and explore after years of built-up tension, and yet it had been the very best few moments of your entire worthless life, leaving you lightheaded and flushed a deep crimson.

Then, of course, he'd pulled away for air, and you'd laughed, chest filling for the first time in years–maybe ever–and he'd mumbled, "Wait here," and squeezed your hand before disappearing into the crowd.

And you had waited. You'd waited for what felt like hours, but he'd never returned.

So you'd left. Your clothes were only slightly dishevelled, after all, and when you were sure you could walk home without collapsing you packed your shit and pushed out of the pub. But that hadn't been the worst of it; of course it hadn't. For when you left, you saw John on the other side of the glass panel. Laughing. A drink in his hand, talking with Tommy and Arthur. He never looked at you once.

"I knew what I was getting into," you told Rosie, your arms now crossed on top of the counter and your shoulders drawn up to your ears. "I mean–John hooks up with seven girls a night. I just–I thought–"

"–that it'd be different? Because it's you?"

You looked at her, wondering how she always managed to gauge exactly how you felt and put it into words as perfectly as she did. She looked at you with her head slightly tilted and pity in her eyes, pity and understanding and compassion which left you even more embarrassed and wanting to sink into the ground.

"Stupid, right?" you said, maybe a little too loudly, and you knocked back what was left of your drink. "So stupid."

Rosie took your glass from your limp fingers and put it in the sink. A smart move, you pondered as you plopped your chin back onto the palms of your hands; you didn't know if you could have stopped yourself from just drinking your sorrows away. "Not stupid. A little... careless, maybe. But you're young and you're supposed to be careless and not give a fuck about anything." She wiped her hands on her apron. "So no, I don't think you're stupid."

You rubbed a hand down your face, squeezing your eyes shut. "Rosie. What do I do?"

She was silent for a moment as she washed your glass and dried it, keeping her eyes on a spot over your shoulder. Her teeth nipped at her bottom lip. "John's a Shelby boy, Y/N," she said. "I don't know in how much he takes after his father when it comes to love–or his brothers. I don't know to what extent he can love, or if he just wants a good fuck before discarding you like an old sock." Though you'd expected them to a certain extent, the words still stung, and you tried to hide your wince. "But I do know you. And I know you love him, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not–" you didn't– "and I figure John loves you in his own way. Was a time when you were best mates."

Yeah.

With that, you found that you had enough of Rosie's wisdom for the day. Really, she hadn't given you much advice to what you should do–she had helped you see some things a little more clearly, and she'd leave you to decide how you wanted to handle things on your own. You loved her for it, though it could be infuriating.

She smiled and went back to her work. Some more men had walked in and were clamoring for her attention, and she sauntered over to them, hips swaying. How she managed to keep the lot of them in check when they were drunk, you had never quite grasped, though you knew she kept a gun strapped to her thigh for when things got a little too rowdy for her taste.

Then you stood up, straightened your shirt and slipped behind the bar. You felt around in a low drawer until you found an apron and tied it on, shrugging when Rosie shot you a questioning look. "I need to get my head on straight. A few nights' work would do me good."

She gave a sort of half-hearted headshake, and you rolled your eyes as you turned to your first customer.

"You're not Rosie," the man said, frowning as he tried to focus onto your face, his eyes hazy, and his breath smelling of alcohol.

You shrugged. You felt like you'd made a good choice; two weeks or so of working alongside Rosie could help you get your head on straight. "You can get served by me or you can get the fuck out of the pub, mate."

It wasn't your first night behind the bar.

Things went smoothly, considering you'd only had to deal with a couple more such comments–usually from already-drunk guys who were here probably for the sole reason to catch a glance at Rosetta herself–and there was only a single fistfight you had to break up. After a few days, people started to get used to you, and you started to notice the curious once-overs you were receiving from younger clientèle and older alike.

You smiled. You winked, you treated the customers to a slightly-more-unbuttoned shirt than was strictly appropriate, you responded to flirty comments with witty quips of your own. And it did help. It did distract you from John and everything that had happened that night, but only while you were behind the bar and you had to keep your head cool at all times. Once you got home, you would get hit by everything again in full force, and you would feel bitter and hurt once more.

So you started to work longer days, coming in at noon and getting home at two, three, four A.M. You barely had any time to do anything bar sleep and eat, when you felt like it. You didn't see any of your friends unless they stopped by Rosetta's by coincidence, and you'd have a brief chat, but then you'd get called away by other customers and they would be gone when you got back.

It didn't bother you. Not really. You had Rosie, and the occasional late-night make-out session with whoever had grabbed your attention that night. It never went much further than that, though–and you didn't want it to.

The first Blinders showed up three weeks after you started working there again.

Isiah Jesus and Finn Shelby waltzed into Rosetta's like they owned the place, and Rosie grabbed their attention immediately as she cooed and pinched their cheeks, and they didn't look away from her for a solid minute before they even noticed there was someone else behind the bar. That someone else being you.

"Y/N! Hey," said Finn, looking only mildly surprised to see you here. Isiah and he took their seats at the bar, leaning their elbows on the shiny surface. Isiah was a little red in the face, and you suspected it was not entirely unrelated to the fact that Rosie had just spent a minute fawning over them in all her curvy glory.

You nodded at Finn and slid him and Isiah glasses with their drinks of choice. It wasn't the first time you'd been behind the bar for them, and though that had been a while ago, the Peaky Blinders weren't very keen on variety when it came to drink. They mostly wanted to get drunk as quick as possible and would ask for the drink that had the highest alcohol content. This time was no different, and if it was, they didn't mention it.

"Haven't seen you around in a right while," said Finn after a swig. He sat back in his seat and stretched, cracking the joints in his arms and neck. "You should pop by one of these days. John's been a real pain in the arse last few weeks."

You stiffened, if only slightly. You told yourself it was only because you had tried your best not to think of him since the night you took up working at Rosetta's again, and that hearing Finn talk about him so casually was just a small slap in the face.

"I'm not his fucking nanny, am I?" you muttered, wiping your hands on your apron and leaning your hips against the bartop. "He'll get over it."

"He's been asking about you, you know," Isiah piped up from behind his own glass, grin forming on his lips.

You glared at him and folded your arms over your chest. "I've been here. At the place I basically grew up in. John and I spent our fucking childhood running around in this very pub, so if he didn't think of looking here for me he must not be that keen on finding me." You yanked out a fresh cloth and turned to the sink to dry any glasses that maybe sat there. There weren't, but you snatched one off a shelf anyway and began to polish it, just to give your hands something to do.

That was that about that. Isiah raised a brow and leaned over, mumbled something for Finn to hear while not being subtle at all about it, and you narrowed your eyes at him, pursing your lips and whirling around to further emphasize your unwillingness to talk about it.

"Ay. Y/N. Y/N."

You sighed, deeply and dramatically, but turned with the most unimpressed look on your face you could possibly manage. "What, dear?"

"Did John tell you about the event at the Garrison next month?"

"I haven't seen John in weeks, Isiah."

"Well, Tommy's throwing this huge party. There's gonna be musicians and shit. Violins and flutes and fucking trumpets and fuck-if-I-know what else."

You waited for the rest, and when it didn't come, you said, "So what?"

"You should come, is what! John's always going on about your piano skills. Real fucking annoying, I'll tell you that; I never took him for a sentimental."

John and sentimental. There's two words that don't belong in the same sentence. You almost laughed. Shaking your head, you said, "I haven't touched my piano in years. I don't even know if I can still play." But you subconsciously flexed your fingers, and started tapping a rhythm on your thigh.

It had been a while since you'd played–but you guessed you could never really unlearn it. You were out of practice, sure, but for the first time in a while you missed it.

The thing was that playing reminded you of John.

You'd tried to shut him out by banning everything that had the slightest connection to him. Playing the piano was one of those things, but you now thought you may have been a little hasty in cutting it out of your life. After all, you had been playing long before you'd even met John.

"I don't think I'll be able to make it," you said half-apologetically.

Finn blew a raspberry. You side-eyed him, figuring this probably wasn't his first drink of the afternoon. "That's such horseshit. Why not?"

You folded your arms. "I'm busy. With work. Here."

"And Rosetta can't give you a single night off?"

You cast a look at Rosie, who hadn't heard the conversation but picked up her name and spun around. "Hm?"

"There's a party at the Garrison next month. Y/N says you won't let them go," said Finn.

You widened your eyes slightly at her, hoping with your entire soul she'd understand the message you were trying to communicate to her through your gaze. She gave a slight frown, but her eyes grew understanding when she saw the look on your face.

"It's busy as all fuck on Saturdays, you know. Just because you've never had work a day in your miserable little life doesn't mean you can just pull other people from theirs," she said sharply, and internally you breathed a little sigh of relief.

Isiah and Finn started protesting–the both of them struggling to find their words, because they had quite a lot of alcohol in their system at that point, and Rosie was glaring at them with an intensity in her eye that would have any other man weak in the knees. You smiled and shook your head, shuffling backwards into the shadows and getting back to work.

Isiah and Finn left after a while, and you sighed in relief as you watched them go. Then Rosie smacked you upside the head and you yelped. "The fuck's that for?"

"For me having to save your ass back there. You can't run from this forever, you shit."

You frowned and rubbed the spot where her palm had connected with your skull. "Sure I can."

Rosie gave a sharp exhale and leaned over to grab a bottle of whiskey. "I mean, of course you can. If you give it little enough thought. I don't know if that's what you want, though."

"Who cares about what I want? Last time I gave into what I wanted, I was ditched in the middle of a party," you hissed. "It's not worth it. It's not worth the trouble."

It wasn't. It absolutely wasn't, and you scrubbed a dirty tumbler with vigor and trembling fingers until it shone like a freshly-polished crystal. "I won't go," you added.

"I know you won't. You don't have to. But maybe go talk to him," she said.

You gave a bitter smile and studied your reflection in the now-clean glass as you dried it. "John's a Shelby boy, Rosie." You plopped the glass on its shelf. "Shelby boys don't do talking."

You woke up at eight A.M. and, yawning, made your way to your kitchen.

Rubbing your eyes and temples, you filled a glass with water and drank it, then you filled it again and drank that too. You had come home at three last night. Five hours of sleep had you feeling woozy and a little unsteady on your feet, and the sleep you did get had been riddled with nightmares and restlessness. Because you knew you weren't going to get any more rest, you figured you might as well stay awake.

You sat at your kitchen table and sipped at your water, looking out of the window and thinking of nothing. Nothing. Not even John plagued your tired mind right now, and as you stretched your eye was drawn to the slightly-ajar door that led to your living room. Through the opening, you only just barely made out a strip of dusty brown wood.

It was your piano, your old piano that you'd learned yourself to play on when you were just a kid and needed the distraction. It started like that–a distraction. The music meant you wouldn't have to listen to the shouting in the kitchen. It became the only reason you would even play at all–to distract yourself, to forget about all the horrible things happening around you and just be.

Never had you felt a particular connection to the thing or the music it made. It was a tool, something you used to escape. It got to the point where you couldn't even look at it without cringing back; where you couldn't even bear to think about the feeling of the keys beneath your fingers until the shouts would start up again and they would start to itch.

You'd told John about this when he finally asked why you had a piano in your house if no one ever played it. He'd frowned and sat down in front of it and pressed down on a key, then two, then three, then plunking keys left and right and grinning like an idiot. He'd looked up at you and you'd rolled your eyes and said, Not like that, you moron, and you'd shoved him off the stool and placed your own fingers upon the keys.

The tune you played was simple but melodic. A little melancholy and sad, perhaps. John had stood and watched and listened and, when you dropped your hands to your lap and looked away because the melody had jarred unpleasant memories–though your parents had been gone for over a year (your father died of pneumonia, and your mother, unable to handle the loss, left Small Heath for a cottage in the hills) and you didn't miss them–he'd clapped. Then he'd said he felt like getting a drink and you'd rolled your eyes and scolded him, calling him all sorts of names, the bad memories buried once more.

You now made your way over to the piano and studied the dust it'd gathered over the years you hadn't touched it. Ran your finger over its surface and swept up a fine layer of dust. Then you lifted the fall board and looked at the keys, still pristine and ivory white despite their age. You pressed a single key.

The note rang out and you winced at how out of tune it was. It made sense, since the last tuning had been somewhere around two or three years ago. You opened up the case and peered down. Maybe you could get it tuned before going to work at twelve. You had some time.

Suddenly wide awake, you freshened up and quickly wolfed down a sandwich, after which you returned to the piano and set your hands on your hips. From somewhere up in the attic you'd unearthed your tuning kit and, after a quick refresher course from the handbook included in it, you went to work.

It was a slow process–even slower since you hadn't done it in years. But after a handful of strings the tuning came easier and you were pleased to note that your hearing was sharp as ever and recognised when the note was right. After about three hours, the piano was completely tuned again and you sat back, admiring your work. Of course, the piano didn't look much different from the outside, save for the fact that you'd dusted it and it now gleamed in the sunlight. You were covered in filth, but the satisfaction settled deep in your chest and you rubbed a spot of grime on your wrist. You were out of time to play–you had to take a shower and get to work–but the very act of cleaning and tuning the old thing had you feeling a bit better. Like you were finally starting to take control of things.

Over the weeks, you'd gotten used to the comments thrown at you over the bar. You told yourself it was the alcohol speaking; not the people themselves, though you knew some assholes who had tried to get into your pants even outside of business hours. You had learned to brush off the words, pay no mind to them and just serve men the drinks they asked for.

Rosie, sometimes, would stare a particularly disruptive guy down until he either relented and made off like a dog with its tail between its legs, or got up, riled up and ready to fight, and would be decked in the jaw by some other poor drunkard before he could make a single move. Rosie had the favour of the people, and she never hesitated to use it to her advantage.

Tonight was different.

You had been tense and jittery all morning–which was probably also due to the amount of coffee you'd drunk to stay awake–and you knew you would not be able to handle much derogatory comments tonight, whether they were directed at you or Rosie. You told her so, wringing your hands and averting your gaze.

Rosie tutted and lifted your chin with her index finger. "Now what's going on with you today, eh?"

You pulled away from her grip. "Nothing. I'm just–I don't know. Not feeling well. I don't trust myself to not commit murder if I have to hear one more remark about my ass–or yours, for that matter."

"So you're gonna leave?"

"No, I was thinking maybe I could switch places with Joe for a night?"

Joe was one of the boys who worked round the back of the pub. He was nice enough, and though he hadn't worked behind the bar yet you could show him around and help him out for the afternoon, until the busy hours started to strike.

"It'll just be for a single night, Rosie," you pleaded when she didn't look convinced. "I'll quickly teach him how to work the bar and he'll be fine."

"All right," she conceded. "One night."

That evening, you spent your time in the back room, stacking crates of bottles and glasses and, for some reason, a single crate of limes. There wasn't much for you to do, but every once in a while Joe would call for you to bring him a fresh bottle of some drink or another, and you would do it before sitting back down again.

It got a little boring after a while, but it was nice to leave the busy pub for once and quietly sit in the back room, leaning against the wall with your eyes closed. It was hard not to doze off, especially since you were already exhausted.

Then there was a bang against the back door, and you started. You got up from your chair and crept towards the door, scanning the room for something to use as a weapon. You guessed you could always smash a bottle over the intruder's head, but then your eyes landed on a metal rod that stood half-hidden in a corner. You gripped it, then flattened yourself against the wall next to the door and waited.

Another bang, louder this time. More impatient. Part of you wanted to yell, "Occupied!" just to see if that would do anything, but you bit your tongue. With a single finger you unhooked the latch keeping the door locked and said, "Come in!"

The door opened and you raised your metal rod and the intruder saw you, then screamed and jumped back. Their scream startled you, and you stiffened, then lowered your rod onto the ground with a clang and scoffed.

It was a kid. A kid, probably not much older than thirteen, and he was staring up at you with big, wide eyes set in a face that was stark white beneath streaks of grime. His eyes darted around the room, and then finally settled on you and he asked in a high-pitched voice, "Where's Joe?"

You folded your arms. You were aware that the rusty metal rod at your side didn't help to make you look any less threatening, but at the moment you didn't care and felt nothing but slightly irritated. "Joe's not here. I am, though. What d'you want?"

The kid looked slightly panicked, now. "Is Joe here?"

You tilted your head. "I'm here. You can say whatever you gotta say to me. Why were you lurking at our back door at ten in the evening, eh? Don't you have a curfew?"

The boy wrung his hands and cast his eyes to the floor. "Can you go get Joe, please?"

Your eyebrow shot up. "Oh, please, is it? What is it you need Joe for? Hey, kid," you hissed, grabbing onto his arm and forcing him to look at you. "I could have you thrown out any second. I'm giving you the chance to tell me what's going on–"

"Y/N, Y/N, it's fine, it's okay, don't hurt him," comes Joe's hurried voice from behind you.

You whip around. "You're supposed to be working!"

"A little hard to do when all I hear's a fucking blood-curdling scream coming from the back room, Y/N."

You scowled. He had you there. "You know this kid?"

Joe nods, tiredly. "He's my brother. What's going on?" That last question was directed at the kid, and you let him go. He scuttled over to Joe and started speaking to him in hushed tones and you went out into the pub, partly to give them some privacy and partly to see how Rosie was doing.

When she saw you, she raised her eyebrows. "You look horrible."

You felt pretty horrible. Not only had you just almost crushed a kid's skull with an improvised metal baseball bat, but you'd been short-tempered and curt with him even after he no longer posed a threat. In fact, you'd been short-tempered all day, and you suspected it was mostly because of your lack of sleep.

In a small voice you asked, "Can I go home?"

She nodded, and you smiled in thanks and told her to say sorry to Joe and his brother from you. She assured you she would, then shooed you out of the pub and demanded you get some rest.

When you got home, you didn't even bother taking off your clothes as you crashed onto your bed and closed your eyes.

The tune your fingers sought out as if on instinct was quite the same as the one you'd played for John, all those years ago. One of the first pieces you'd ever taught yourself. There was never any sheet music in the house except for your grandmother's old books, and you couldn't afford a teacher, so progress was slow–but after a few years you got the hang of it and started to make up your own pieces. This melody was one of them.

You were surprised at how fast you seemed to pick up the songs after not having played them for years. You spent a few hours just tapping away at the keys, and for the first time you felt something as you played.

Not the dread or the bitterness that usually came with the perusing of the keys. Not the anger that would well up and make you punch down harder than intended, and not even the sadness that would take you over every time you were woken up from screams in the night, and you'd know you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep unless you played.

Now you felt something like happiness. Something like contentment as you pressed down on key after key and listened to the notes ring out, untainted by the bitter screams of anger. It was nice. It made you feel light. The last note pinged, hung in the air for a moment after you'd let go of the key. You stayed put on the stool, basking in the feeling for a little longer.

That's how you spent the following weeks. Go to work, go to sleep, wake up, play the piano and go back to work. You started to feel better and better every time you played, because you were getting better with the hours of practice. And you were changing.

You were hearing music everywhere now. In the clip clopping of horses carrying their riders around Small Heath; in the shouting and giggling of children playing in the streets; in the whistling of the wind weaving itself between the buildings; in the bell that rang when you opened the door to Rosetta's pub. And it felt good. It felt good to pick up on melodies you'd never paid attention to before, being able to appreciate the music of life as it bubbled and sizzled all around you.

You hadn't felt this good in a long time.

The only thing that still bothered you–that you just weren't able to get out of your head–was, of course, John Shelby. Because the more you thought about it, the more pissed off you grew.

Sure, he was a Shelby. Sure, Shelbys were basically guaranteed VIP spots in Hell. But you had been his best friend for years. It didn't make sense. And if he had faked it–if everything had been a joke on you, after all–then he should have been able to come talk to you. He would have brushed it off and acted as if nothing had happened.

But he was avoiding you. He was purposefully avoiding you, you were sure of it. You had seen Isiah and Finn a couple more times since they'd invited you to the Garrison concert, you had come across Arthur and Michael twice. You'd even seen Tommy, and had a brief chat with him outside his office. Ada regularly had a drink a Rosetta's, for she was just as fond of the woman as you were. Practically the only Shelby you hadn't heard of in months was John.

The concert was in two days. And though you'd already said you wouldn't go–you'd said you wouldn't go so you wouldn't go–you felt you were itching to attend, if just to see John and be done with this entire situation once and for all. Because you knew he would be there, and he wouldn't expect you to come. Nothing was holding you back from going–except your own stubbornness and mixed feelings.

Because you wanted to get rid of the confusion permanently riddling your mind. You wanted an explanation for the way he'd acted–for the way he was acting–because it was so unlike him and weird.

But you also were reluctant to face him, for the exact same reasons. The doubt was settling in, seeping through the cracks in your composure and burrowing deep into your bones; Did you ever really know him, after all? The thought–the mere idea that the last fifteen years of your life were nothing but a lie, spent with someone who never cared for you at all–made you sick, and had you draw back at the last second.

You were feeling good. Why couldn't you just let this go and feel good?

But you knew that you wouldn't ever be truly free of the thoughts and the doubts if you didn't take this chance to see him. So, really, no matter what you said, the choice of whether or not you'd go was already made.

Everyone was dressed so classy–the men in shiny three-piece suits and ties and shoes polished until they glittered like mirrors, and the women in beautiful shimmering dresses in all sorts of colours, their hair done up and decorated with headdresses matching their skirts. You felt a little underdressed in your plain dark blue outfit. Your shoes you'd borrowed from your friend, and you had done nothing to your hair but brush it. You guessed people would take you for a waiter, charged to log around balancing trays with flutes of champagne in your palm. You wouldn't blame them.

In the middle of the Garrison was a podium. It wasn't that big, but there were still around a dozen chairs arranged in a half-circle formation sat on it–and something that grabbed your attention right of the bat: a glossy black grand piano. In one corner you spotted a small gathering of men and women in black and white, surrounded by instrument cases. You went out on a limb and assumed they were the orchestra supposed to perform later that evening.

You tried not to look like you were searching for someone. You tried not to search for that particular someone, but involuntarily your eyes were drawn to scan the faces meddling in the crowd around you. Some of the people, you recognised. Most, you didn't. Some of them cast you estranged looks, eyes swiftly taking in your rather simple clothes and stiff movement as you waded through the crowd much in the same way a penguin would wade through a herd of walrus; not quite sure if they'll make it through unscathed.

Then you spotted two familiar figures and you gave a little sigh of relief.

When Isiah spotted you, he spread his arms wide–spilling a little champagne over the rim of his glass as he did so–and hooted. You cringed at the sheer volume of his shout, eyes darting around, sure everyone would turn and stare, but apparently this was normal, as only two or three people glanced around and then went back to their own conversations. You folded your arms across your chest and walked up to him, nodding at Finn who, as always, stood next to him.

"So you changed your mind, eh?" said Isiah when you were in non-shouting earshot.

You nodded.

"Was it my irresistible charm that did it?" Finn chimed in, hooking an arm around Isiah's neck.

You shot him a slightly disgusted look. "How are you already drunk? The party hasn't even properly started!"

"Don't mind him," said Isiah, trying to pry Finn's arm off of him. "They're not here for us, you twat," he yelled in Finn's ear. You felt your cheeks colour.

Then Tommy stepped onto the little podium and said loudly, "Ladies and gentlemen..." His speech was not unlike the others you'd heard from him; Thank you so much for coming and I am so glad to be surrounded by such wonderful people and Donate to my company, but he pronounced the words eloquently and raised a round of applause when he finished. You clapped along, out of politeness mostly, when you finally spotted him, half-hidden behind his brother.

You weren't gonna lie: John looked good, and it was more of a shock to see him than you'd originally anticipated. All of your breath left you in one fell swoop, and for a moment nothing existed but you and him–but that lasted only a split second, and his attention was fixated on Tommy. He didn't know you were even here, and your simple, dark clothes enabled you to melt into the shadows. You could not have been more inconspicuous if you tried.

You allowed yourself only a moment of looking at him. Just the time to catch your breath. Just the time to get over the initial shock, the time to regain your footing and make sure your knees wouldn't buckle beneath you.

You drew a breath, focused back on Tommy. He was saying something. He was saying that everyone should please gain their seats and prepare for the performance to begin. You tried to shuffle your way through the crowd to get closer to John, hoping to talk to him before the concert, but the crowd is too thick and everyone was sitting down and if you didn't sit down right this instant he would see you. So you reluctantly dropped into a seat in the back. If you looked straight ahead, over the shoulders of the people sitting in front of you, and tilted your head just like so you could see him, sitting in the front row in between Tommy and Finn.

The small orchestra started to play, and it was dead silent. Everyone was entranced by the melody, the harmonies, the way the instruments perfectly complemented one another; and you swayed with the music, despite yourself. You recognised the piece, although you wouldn't be able to name it, and you quietly hummed along.

Then came the piano solo. You listened, and from your seat you could see the pianist's hands move across the keys, so swiftly, so effortlessly, like he was born to play. You were sitting on the edge of your seat, holding your breath; as if the very act of breathing would spoil the music drifting through the air.

The melody was building up, and the tension in the room rose with the notes and the volume as it slipped into a crescendo; then the music slowed and got quieter, and soon after the violins pitched in, and then the violas and the bass and the brass and the percussion, and the whole orchestra was playing in harmony again.

You sighed quietly, sat back in your seat. There was a prickling feeling on your cheeks, the feeling you got when something wasn't quite right–someone was watching you.

Sure enough, when your eyes searched the audience, John Shelby was looking straight at you.

Your breath caught, and you fought the urge to cast your eyes down. He was looking at you with an indiscernible expression, face void of emotion. Though his jaw was set and his expression was kept carefully neutral, it were the eyes that ruined it. Even from this distance you could see the intensity in his gaze–you didn't know whether it was good intensity or bad intensity but there was a fight in his eyes, all kinds of emotions struggling to take over.

But you couldn't let down your gaze. You couldn't–you had to let him know why you were here. That you weren't going to leave without an explanation. That he owed you that explanation.

And you couldn't go to him. Not yet, anyway; the music wasn't over yet, the performance was still going, the room was so quiet one could have heard a pin drop. So you sat, hands folded in your lap, eyes trained on the musicians while simultaneously being aware of John's gaze on you, and patiently waited for the performance to end. You found you couldn't quite enjoy the music anymore as carelessly as you had before.

And then it was over. It was over and everyone rose, gave a standing ovation. The applause was a kind of music in itself, you supposed; a whipping music, staccato, rapid, matching the speed at which you imagined your heart would beat when standing at the edge of a one hundred foot drop.

John clapped for only a moment, then cast you a last look and drew back into the crowd. You did the same, bowing your head and mumbling apologies as you made your way past the people next to you–you sat in the very last row, but the room was full and sometimes you had to squeeze to fit between the wall and the backside of a well-dressed man or an even better-dressed woman. You frantically sought John out, fearing for a second that you'd lost him; but there he was, at the door, only pushing it open when he saw you following him.

The cold outside air was like a slap in the face compared to the hot and stuffy Garrison. You instantly regretted not taking your coat, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing your hands up and down your sleeves. John stood a little bit off, his hands in his pockets, that stupid and eternal toothpick between his lips. He looked up when you approached, then looked down again.

It was that–along with the freezing evening air which made it almost impossible to think of anything else but the cold burrowing itself into the very marrow of your bones–that snapped you out of your stupor and cleared your head at once. You were over the initial shock. There was no reason now for you to let your mind wander to places it shouldn't. What you needed was an explanation, perhaps, if you were lucky, an apology. And then you would go home. You would go home.

"Weather's bloody awful, ain't it?" you finally started, because John wasn't making any indication that he would say–well–anything.

He sniffed, rubbed at a spot on the pavement. Nodded. Still said nothing.

And you were starting to grow irritated. Because he was the one that had been so horrified to see you there, though his own brother had invited you to the damn event, and he was the reason why you were there in the first place, and why you were now standing outside and it was starting to fucking rain. "Are you going to say anything?" you blurted. "Because if not, I'll go back inside. To get my coat, I mean, and then I'm going home."

He looked up now, up and into your eyes, and still said nothing.

You ran a hand through your hair, scoffing in disbelief. "Oh my fucking god. Why did you bring me out here if it's just to stare at me with that fucking look in your eye? Am I not worth talking to?"

Anger flashed in his eyes at that. "That's not it. You know it's not."

"Well, apparently I don't–"

"I didn't force you to follow me here!"

"You wanted me to, though!"

"Maybe I just wanted a fucking smoke, Y/N!"

You pursed your lips, clenched your jaw. "Then say it. Fucking tell me you didn't want me to come to you."

Of course, he said nothing. His lip twitched.

You gave a bitter laugh. "Right. Okay. I get it. Johnny Shelby, too proud to admit he's made a mistake." You took a step back. "I cried for you. I cried–I cried over you."

"Y/N–"

It felt horrible. It felt like someone had taken a rusty nail to your heart and carved his initials there, forever to stay and forever to hurt. Tears started to form in your eyes. You blinked them away, angrily, telling yourself it wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it.

You had cried enough.

"Wait. Y/N. Please."

Please.

You guessed you had a weak heart, after all.

"I'm sorry."

A weak heart and a weak soul, but weak only for him.

"What for?" The anger had evaporated from your voice and your expression, and now you were just... sad. Bitter, a little. Mostly disappointed, in yourself.

"I left. Because... I don't know why. Easier, I guess." He met your eyes. He was speaking the truth, and it was hard for him. Maybe because he wasn't used to speaking the truth, maybe because he wasn't used to speaking the truth about this. "I don't know how–I don't–"

You waited, no longer apprehensive. Hopeful, maybe.

Weak for him.

"Denying it was easier because I didn't think I was meant to feel like this. Because you were my friend–are my friend," he adds quickly, and you choke out a giggle. "But, you know. I thought it would go away, after a while. If I just tried hard enough."

It sounded so much like what you had felt, these past few months. What you were still feeling–what was only just starting to unravel.

"And, well, it didn't work. Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be here." His hand came up, and his fingers brushed your jaw. He leaned forward. "And neither would you."

Weak for him.

Your lips touched and immediately you burned.

You burned, and you let yourself burn, winding your arms around his neck, pressing harder against his mouth. You burned, and the cold of the night did not bother you anymore. You burned, and back inside the Garrison the orchestra started playing again–the party had started, for good–and it was like they were playing just for you.  

[joonhaze]

Imagine BTS : In Your Home-Ec Class (Hyung Line)

A/N : I haven’t taken a foods class (or home ec, whatever you call it) in so long, and for good reason, I can barely make grilled cheese without setting something on fire 

✎ _______________________

Namjoon

“Wait, one teaspoon of vinegar or two? Y/N, what did the recipe say again?”

You turn from your place at the oven and almost shriek at the sight of Namjoon holding a teaspoon in one hand and a bottle of vinegar in the other, both hovering right over the glass bowl of cake mix.

“Namjoon!” You quickly run over and snatch the vinegar from his hands, putting it back in it’s place as he stares at you, confused.

“The recipe calls for two teaspoons of vanilla.”

You hand him the small bronze bottle as his mouth shapes an ‘O’. You snicker and smack the back of his head playfully.

“Are you sure you’re the smartest boy in school? What kind of cake is made with vinegar?” He pouts and his cheeks dust pink as you laugh even more.

“Here, let me.” You reach from behind him and pour the vanilla in the spoon that was shaking between his nerve-wracked hands. Namjoon has never felt his face this hot, and he’s even more embarrassed when he notices his friends snickering from the other kitchen across from yours.

‘This counts as a back-hug, right? I can go home today saying she hugged me, right? Holy shit, Y/N is giving me a back-hug, oh my God’

Namjoon bites the inside of his beet-red cheek to hold back his ridiculous smile. His heart feels fast and shaky, as though it’s about to burst into millions of butterflies.

You soon leave to the other side of the kitchen and Namjoon is left to focus on the warmth your hands left on his as much as possible before it fades away.

An hour later, the cake is finished and you pull it out of the oven, placing it on the counter-top as Namjoon pulls out a knife to cut it.

“No icing?” You ask. He pulls away the knife suddenly and looks up at you with wide eyes. “Do you like the icing?”

You shake your head, smiling at how adorable he is. “No, but I thought you did.”

Namjoon smiles shyly. “Oh, no, uh, the icing tastes horrible.”

You nod in agreement before brightening, turning towards the cupboards and reaching for a small pink jar.

“Sprinkles!” You excitedly run over next to Namjoon and pour rainbow sprinkles until the chocolate-brown surface isn’t visible anymore.

“You’re lucky I like sprinkles, I would’ve killed you over how hard I worked on this.”

You laugh and take a fork to grab a bite. You offer another to Namjoon and he eats it happily, more so because his crush of two years was feeding him cake that they made together and God, he’s so whipped.

“Wait, you got a little,” You start to giggle at the colorful sprinkles framing his lips.

“Whuf?” He tries to ask. You burst into laughter and Namjoon feels his cheeks swell with his growing smile.

“You have some sprinkles on the side here.” You reach up and swipe some off his cheek, licking it happily as Namjoon’s smile falls and his cheeks go beet-red. You notice his heavy blush and he turns away when you smirk.

“You have a little mooore~” You tease, back-hugging him and rocking him side-to-side.

“Have you just been teasing me all this time?” Namjoon asks defeatedly, but with a small smile. He hates but loves the way you make him so weak. You poke his dimples as you nod, laughing when he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs heavily.

“I’m sorry! It’s just so fun!”

“Fun to make me die of embarrassment?” You nod and cackle as he shakes his head dramatically. “You’re evil, Y/N.”

“I know.” You smile, standing up on your tip-toes in front of him and grinning, enjoying him looking so flustered. “Meet me at my locker at lunch? I can buy us some ramen to make it up to you.”

Namjoon smiles and boldly wraps his arms around your waist, holding you against him. “I think finishing the rest of this cake would be a much better option.”

✎ _______________________

Seokjin

“Y/N, where are the blueberries?!?”

You flinch and bump your head on the top of the fridge when you hear Seokjin screech behind you. You were currently busy looking for the almond milk after Seokjin demanded you do.

“Jin, the recipe doesn’t need blueberries.” You call over your shoulder. “Or almond milk.” You mutter under your breath.

“And who on earth said that?”

“The recipe, Seokjin.” You wave the bright-green paper tiredly, but Seokjin just snatches it away and balls it up, missing the trash can when he throws it away.

“I don’t follow recipes anyways, they hold me back!”

You sigh and roll your eyes. Seokjin being your cooking partner this semester was both the best and worst thing ever. You always got the best grades for outstanding results, mainly on his part because as much as you hated to admit it, the man was a magician in the kitchen. But the room was always left a mess after running around and grabbing whatever Seokjin demanded you to grab, and you always miss the early bus which means you always get home after four, when school ends at 3:30.

“Imagine following a recipe, hiding my talent from the world,” Jin scoffs under his breath. He mutters some more and you roll your eyes. You barely take a few steps before you hear him screech, “Y/N! I need whipped cream! And strawberry syrup! No, make it raspberry!”

You flinch and trudge towards the fridge, defeated and in no mood to even try with Seokjin anymore. It’s been a long day and he’s clearly too high on his throne to come down. You just pray you’ll make it out of this class alive at this point. And with as minimal damage to your eardrums as possible.

“Is there even a difference between raspberry syrup and strawberry syrup?” You grumble under your breath, turning back around towards the fridge. “I mean, they’re both red, right-”

You wince, feeling a rough rap on the top of your head.

Seokjin stands over you, wooden spoon in hand as his arms are crossed and folded. “Yes, Y/N, there is a huge difference!”

You roll your eyes for the trillionth time and rummage through the plethora of sauces and cans and jars until you finally find the whipped cream and raspberry sauce. By then, Seokjin is madly blending at the counter, adding more milk and berries as he so pleases. 

As usual, it’s not a surprise to the class when you and Seokjin excel in the ranking and grading process when the milkshakes were presented. One of the only things that make your heart feel light during this class is when your mark is always above a 90, if not, a perfect 100.

“97!” You exclaim happily, clutching the criteria paper close to your chest.

“Oh please, our shake deserved a 100! 110, even!” Seokjin exasperates, hanging up his apron in the corner while frustratingly waving his arms. You two were the only ones left in the classroom, everyone having already been dismissed after having put away their supplies after their “half-ass blending”.

“Well, not all of us can be as critical and perfect as you, Kim Seokjin.” You smirk, giving him a side-eye as he walks towards his bag that was scattered on the floor near the door. He sighs dramatically and pouts. “It’s so hard being perfect.”

You chuckle and expect to hear his footsteps fade down the hall, but instead you hear them coming closer. You look up and Seokjin is helping you, putting away the ingredients back in the fridge as you wash the blender.

“Aren’t you supposed to leave?”

“Why do you say that?” He raises a brow at you. Your mouth suddenly feels dry when he looks at you. His eyes are piercing and perfect.

Along with being a master chef, Seokjin is also easily one of the most handsome boys in the grade, if not the school. So it’s no surprise that he constantly has girls at his feet. While you aren’t one of the ones who actively pursue him, you can’t possibly make a fool of yourself and deny your attraction towards him.

You feel your cheeks get warm and turn away suddenly, focusing intently on the white suds in the sink.

“I dunno, you just... never stay after the bell.”

Another thing you learned about Seokjin, is that he always leaves as soon as he’s dismissed, leaving you to clean, which always takes an easy extra hour everyday.

“I know, but I also see you missing your bus everyday when I drive by the station, and I feel bad, so,” He shrugs. You look back at him, confused.

“So, you’re going to drive me to the station?”

He tsks and rolls his eyes, walking towards you. “No, you nitwit, I’m going to drive you home.”

“O-Oh!” Your eyes widen in realization before they widen even more with confusion. “N-No, it’s okay, it really isn’t that big a deal...”

He looks at you critically before shrugging. “Okay.”

You smile, but your heart pangs with regret when you remember that the forecast predicted that it would be snowing heavily outside today.

Three steps off school grounds and you’re already shivering.

“Damn it, Y/N, you’re so dumb.” You curse yourself for turning down Jin’s offer.

The sidewalks are icy and the powdery snow does nothing to aid you, so you’re waddling as fast as you can to get to the station, which is at least another block away.

The wind gets sharp and shoves you to the ground, leaving you a hissing and shivering mess. You curse under your breath and get up as quickly as possible, hoping nobody was around to see you. Or else you would be cold and humiliated. 

“Get in loser, we’re going to the hospital because you’re going to die of hypothermia if you keep walking like that.”

You turn in surprise and Seokjin is there on the road, bundled up behind the wheel in his car. You don’t have the heart or pride to disagree or turn him away, your fingertips feel as though they’re going to fall off any given moment now.

You sigh in relief when you get in his car, feeling delicious heat spreading down to your toes.

“Thank you.” You gasp out.

You’re breathing hot air into your palms when you think you catch Seokjin smiling at you. He probably thinks you’re weird for walking in this type of weather.

‘Cute’ He muses before driving off.

“Y/N, can I confess something?” Seokjin asks after a few minutes of awkward silence and traffic. You respond pretty quietly, but it was enough for him to hear you say ‘Uh, okay..’

“I like you. Like, like you, like you.”

Your eyes widen and you sit up in your seat because holy shit, Kim Seokjin just confessed to you.

Kim Seokjin.

Likes you.

You’ve never seen the bold boy show a hint of embarrassment or shame in the three years you’ve known him, but here he is, blushing madly as he drives you home on an unbearably freezing February afternoon.

“O-Oh...” You mutter under your breath, your fingers twisting and playing with the edge of your jacket.

“It’s fine if you don’t like me back, I just wanted to tell you because it’s been driving me crazy and I honestly wanted to get rid of the fucking feeling of hiding it from you but I really do think that we could have something, you know?”

He clears his throat nervously, pulling at his scarf around his neck. “I mean, if you like me too, that is.”

You smile, and turn towards him quickly as he pulls up to your place, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before opening the door and hopping out.

“You have my instagram, right?” He nods, clearly flustered by the way his eyes are wide and his cheeks are dusted pink.

“You’re so pink.” You giggle and Seokjin pouts. “It’s just the cold, don’t be so full of yourself.”

“Sorry.” You giggle before boldly winking flirtatiously. “Text me.”

Seokjin’s shy smile grows stupidly wide when you turn away and go inside, driving away with a hand on his cheek, tracing the place where you kissed him dearly.

✎ _______________________

Yoongi

“Y/N, Thalia isn’t here today, so you’ll be partnered with Yoongi today.”

Your mouth falls agape in front of your teacher as you glance towards your assigned kitchen, seeing Yoongi already leaning against the counter, picking at his fingernail. He looks bored. And scary.

“Uh, Ms. Liu, I... I don’t think I can work with him. He’s too... he scares me a little, I guess...” You didn’t want to be rude but you couldn’t lie.

Yoongi was notorious in your school for being extremely quiet. Menacing. Even though he hasn’t really done anything to fuel or even give him the “quiet killer bad boy” reputation he has, but with all fairness, his looks didn’t help him much, wearing all black all the time and never saying more than a few words to anyone. He wasn’t mean, but he didn’t try to be nice.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but I have so much work to do and as much as I like you, I can’t deal with this right now, so I’m sorry, but it’s just one class.”

“You’re not the one who has to work with him...” You mutter as you wrap your apron around your waist when she was out of earshot.

“Come on, I’m not that bad, am I?”

You give a small yelp and turn around in surprise. Yoongi is standing directly behind you, smiling wide. You try to say something along the lines of “I’m sorry” and “Please don’t eat me”, but he cuts you off.

“Come on partner, that steak isn’t going to season itself.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying anything embarrassing as you followed Yoongi to the kitchen.

Surprisingly, Yoongi was actually a good cook. No, scratch that, an amazing cook. All you did was season the steak while he took care of everything else. Well, you made the pasta, but he made the sauce so it’s pretty obvious who the more skilled one was.

Nearly an hour later, class was over and the lunch bell rang. You and Yoongi were the only ones left in class, wiping down the counters. You were leaned over one side and Yoongi was on the other. Your backs faced each other but you can feel his eyes on you every now and again. You want to say something. You should say something.

‘Stop being a pussy and just say it, Y/N’

“You’re...” You paused, trying to find the right words to say. Yoongi stopped too, putting down his rag to look at you curiously.

“Yes?”

You felt your face get uncontrollably warm noticing his smile, which grew wider when he realized you were blushing.

‘Sick bastard actually likes this’ You think, pouting.

“You’re actually a really good cook...” You mumble, turning back around to wipe clean the spotless counter.

“Really?”

You nod, not daring to look back. Your ears are hot and you can’t even begin to imagine how red your face must be.

You feel arms wrap around you and your breath hitches.

“Oh shit, I-” Yoongi jumps back, his arms fleeting away from you like your body was just aflame. “I’m so sorry, my dumbass thought that would actually work.”

“Huh?” You finally turn around, confused, dazed, and . But thank God Yoongi couldn’t see it at the moment, busy looking down and digging the toe of his sneaker into the ground.

“I asked my friends for advice on how to deal with a girl I like, and... it’s you... and even though I knew it was stupid and honestly kinda creepy, I tried it anyways because I really like you and...” He sighs heavily and buries his face in his hands. “Oh my God, I’m an idiot.”

You can’t help but crack a smile at his unexpected adorableness. “Yeah, a cute idiot.”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to look up, utterly confused. “Huh?”

How could you still be here, let alone with a smile on your face, after he completely humiliated himself like the moron he is?

“You’re cute, Yoongi. And... what was that about the girl you like?”

Yoongi groans and throws his body atop the counter, hiding his face in shame. You giggle, enjoying the teasing. You skip over and tap him on the shoulder. “Huh, Yoongi? What was that?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Nothing, I gotta go meet a friend, I-I’ll see you later Y/N.”

He suddenly stands, and you notice his face is really red, putting your blush to shame.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, pushing past you and ripping off his apron, hanging it up hastily before running out the door, backpack barely on. You have a wave of dread wash over you and you feel terribly guilty, did you go too far?

You’re about to go follow follow him to apologize when you find a little sticky note on your backpack.

Movies after school on Friday? :]

- m.y

You smile, and notice a flicker of movement out the door.

Yoongi is standing there, peering in shyly at you. His eyes widen when he realizes he’s been spotted and he groans again, hiding his face in his hands again and throwing himself at the wall, utterly embarrassed.

“You’re adorable, Min Yoongi!”

You call after him as he runs down the hall, hand still up but it’s not enough to contain his heavy blush or wide smile.

✎ _______________________

Hoseok

“Wait, what do we do again? Teache-”

“Hobi, everytime you ask her a question, we lose marks!” You hiss, covering his mouth with your hand. You feel something wet against your palm and you yank it away with a shriek as Hoseok cackles. He just licked you.

“You’re disgusting.” You mutter as he rolls his eyes. You wipe your hand down his arm and now you’re the one cackling as he whines about his slobbered-up sleeve.

“Okay Y/N, but what about the burritos? We have no clue what we’re doing.” He brings you back to earth to face the task you both have at hand.

You look at the recipe in your hand, and back at the counter covered in ingredients of any and all sorts.

“...I’m sure we can work it out.”

You did not work it out. Instead, you worked it in. The opposite of out.

Which means, you did not make a burrito. If you’re being 100% honest, you don’t even know what you made. All you do know is that you tried to make a burrito, and that you’ll probably have to take this class again next semester.

“If I do, I sure hope you’re not in my class...” You mumble as you clean the inside of the microwave. Sticky residue that the beans and cheese left behind have you reaching in weird angles, and a pain in your shoulder grows as you scrub harder.

“Excuse me Y/N, we failed this course together. Of course I’m going to be in your class.” Hoseok scoffed. 

“I actually hate you.”

“Do you really?” Hoseok pouts from his place on the floor, where he was mopping up tortilla crumbs and more beans. You nod affirmatively with a contradicting blush. “With my whole heart.”

“What heart?”

You gasp back at him and he laughs, pointing teasingly at your incredulous face.

“Eat my ass.”

“What ass?”

“Jung Hoseok!”

You turn around and whip him with the rag, making him wince and shriek as he tries to escape your tyranny. You both run laps around the class, twisting and turning, opening fridge doors to use as shields and jumping over counters from one kitchen to the next. There might as well have been footprints on the wall.

“Time out!” He screams, waving a white towel in surrender on the other side of the room. You smirk, accepting victory and turning back around to get back to cleaning your kitchen.

“YEET!”

You hear Hoseok scream, and you feel him tackle you, arms wrapping around your sides and holding your arms down tightly.

“HOSEOK, LET ME GO!” You cry, laughing as he swings you around.

“Nope! You’re my to-OOOOOY!”

He screeched as he lost balance, slipping on the beans he discarded after your battle. And he brought you down with him, like a boat’s anchor.

You squealed as your bodies hit the floor, Hoseok’s arms still wrapped around you. You distinctly felt his hand cradling your head before you both collided on the ground.

You both lay there, panting on the ground, with your body atop Hoseok’s, his hand still protectively over your head.

“You okay?”

He gasps out. You lift your head from where it hid in his shoulder and nod, gulping when you realize that your noses are practically touching.

“I...” Hoseok doesn’t know what exactly to say. Neither do you. The space between you two is so small, it’s barely an inch.

‘I could kiss him so easily right now,’ You ponder distantly, stealing a glance at his lips. They’re pink and heart-shaped and oh-so lovely.

His breath is warm and it does nothing to help hide your spreading blush.

“Um, thanks for... protecting me, I guess.” You gently place your hand on his hand, where it still lay atop your head.

“You guess?” Hoseok raises a brow playfully. “I guess I didn’t want to you to hit your head and smash your face against the floor.”

You both laugh, and you’re grateful that Hoseok knows how to ease an awkward situation.

“Oh shut up, I know you’d throw me down the stairs the second you’d get the chance.”

Hoseok’s smile doesn’t falter, but the emotion in his eyes change to something a bit... brighter.

“Never. Why would I throw my crush down the stairs?”

“Your what?” Your eyes widen in shock. A moment later, his do too, and he’s covering his mouth with his hands in surprise.

“Oh shit.” He says quietly. You get off his chest, but your legs are still around his waist.

“Forget I said anything, I-I wasn’t thinking, I-” He stutters in panic and disbelief at what he just did. He really just outed himself like that. To you. To your face. By accident. On the foods room floor.

You stare at him pointedly. “Hobi, your face is red. Really red.”

Hoseok’s eyes grow as wide as saucers with panic and he covers his face with his hands in a flash. “No it’s not.

“Hoseok...” You narrow your eyes at him.

Hoseok turns away from you, squirming and whining. You smile fondly. You always adored his stupid noises.

“Jung Hoseok!”

You pin his arms above his head and he’s forced to look at you with a pout.

“What?”

You can tell he’s trying not to smile, so you take the challenge. Your eyes sparkle with determination and he notices, gulping nervously with concealed excitement.

You kiss him. 

You break the short distance and kiss him, with all the guts you have.

Innocently, sweetly, nothing serious, just lips on lips. It’s your first kiss, you’re not an expert.

But it’s enough to break Hoseok into a smile, wide and face-splitting. He’s grinning ear-to-ear when you pull away, and his arms break free from your hold to wrap around your waist.

“What does this mean?” He asks after moments of staring up at you. You roll your eyes and kiss between his brows.

“It means I like you, dumbass.”

“Aww, I like me too!”

You grab the ‘innocent flag’ towel off the floor and whack him upside the head with it. “Eat my ass, Jung Hoseok.”

He grins devilishly, smacking your butt harshly, making you gasp.

“What ass?”

✎ _______________________

Author’s Note :

I’m prepared to fight each and every one of these boys for making me catch feelings through a sCREEN.

[sifstuff]

Weight Painting

Note: Please don’t reblog this, I only posted it here because someone requested it and the private link wasn’t working - it’s a WIP and I have like zero time to actually fix it. Thank you. <3

I’ve noticed a lot of people struggle with weight painting, which I empathize with – not understanding weights kept me from making the kind of CC I wanted to make for years! Most CC tutorials don’t really explain much beyond «do a weight transfer», which isn’t always sufficient, so I decided to write up what I do when I weight paint. I’m sure there are ways of doing this that work just as well (and better!), but through copious trial and error, this is what I’ve found works for me.

I’m mostly going to focus on long dresses and gowns (aka 90% of my CC), but a lot of this should be useful for other types of CC as well.

This isn’t going to be a full, detailed guide to weight painting because, honestly, I don’t actually understand Blender that well. I’m also not going to cover meshing, UV maps, basic weight transfers and stuff like that – if you need advice on those things, check out the Sims4Studio forums. :)

I use Blender 2.76 – things might work/look different in other versions!

1. Vertex groups and mesh explosions

Okay, so this was without a doubt my biggest hurdle back in the day. My meshes kept getting all spiky and deformed in game and I couldn’t for the life of me understand why.

Turns out vertex groups are, like, really important. This is probably obvious to a lot of people, but it took me about two years to figure out, so I’m gonna talk about it.

Your mesh needs to have the same vertex groups as the base mesh you’re cloning, and not all EA meshes use the same ones. If you’re doing a weight transfer from the mesh you originally cloned, this shouldn’t be a problem. Most tutorials will tell you to clone an EA package that’s as similar to yours as possible, and this is a huge part of the reason for that.

However, I don’t do that! This is because I don’t want to use too many mesh cuts (for a guide to mesh cuts, look at this Sims4Studio guide) because they confuse me. In fact, I clone 99% of my dresses from the base game chemise so that they’ll be both base game compatible and only use one mesh cut.

Now, the chemise looks nothing like a gown, so if I was going to do a weight transfer from that for a long dress, it... wouldn’t work. That means I have to use something else, and that means paying attention to vertex groups. Let me explain why.

If you export the chemise and open it in Blender, you can see the list of vertex groups on the right. If you try to import a mesh that has additional vertex groups into your package, you’ll get distortions and weird spikes in-game. Most notably when it comes to making long dresses, the chemise does not have Skirt, Foot or Toe bones, but most of EA’s long dresses use one or more of these. So, for instance, if you do a weight transfer from this Holiday Celebration gown:

And import the mesh into a package cloned from the chemise...

Your result will be something like this:

This is because these vertex groups don’t exist in the original cloned mesh:

The easiest way to avoid this is, as I already mentioned, cloning and doing you weight transfer from the same mesh. A lot of the time, that’s going to work just fine. As I also said, though, I don’t do that. So what do I do instead?

2. How to manually fix weights

This is the dress I want to weight paint. My .package file is cloned from EA’s chemise. As you can see, they look nothing alike.

Now, I’ve been doing this for a while, so I already have an old piece of CC that I can do a weight transfer from that’s not going to have any vertex group issues (full disclosure: all my skirt weights these days are transferred from my Hannah dress and then adjusted slightly). For the purposes of this guide, however, that’s not how I’m doing it.

The first thing I’ll do is separate the dress from the body so I don’t mess up any weights unnecessarily. Then I’m going to split the mesh one more time so that I can do individual weight transfers for the top and the skirt.

I do this because it’s usually really hard to find a mesh to do a transfer from that’s similar enough to both parts to give a good result, and since I’m aware of what vertex groups I can use, this isn’t going to be a problem. Sidenote: I also recommend splitting meshes like this for UV1 transfers.

Next, I need to find base meshes to do weight transfers from. For the top, I almost always use this base game sweater because, in my experience, it works for almost anything:

Finding a long dress or skirt is harder, though. I don’t want to use the Skirt, Foot or Toe bones, but just about all EA meshes use them. So what I’m going to do is find a mesh that uses them anyway and then manually remove them.

Note: If you’re completely new to weight painting, you’re going to be much better off finding meshes that use the same bones/vertex groups! I’m doing it this way to demonstrate manual weight painting and editing in general, not the most efficient way of weight painting this particular dress.

I’m going to use the long gown from the Holiday Celebration pack because the skirt has a similar-ish shape.

Let’s take a look at the vertex groups in Blender. This has a lot of bones that I don’t want, but okay!

The next step is to do weight transfers as usual, which I’m assuming I don’t need to cover. Merge the mesh back together (if you split it), and let’s talk about the most important, magical, amazing button in all of weight painting. That’s this one:

See, The Sims 4 only allows vertices to be attached to 4 bones and automatically limits them if there are too many. This can result in weird deformations and spikyness in-game. However, Blender’s «Limit Total» button will, well, limit the number of bones per vertex for you. You can do this manually as well, of course, but I very, very rarely feel the need to. Generally, using this tool regularly during weight painting will fix SO MANY problems. Click it immediately, and keep clicking it every so often.

Next, I’ll pose the rig so I can see what the mesh is going to look like when it moves. This looks pretty good right now, but of course, it’s not going to look like this in-game because it has too many bones. It also looks pretty jagged and doesn’t move very smoothly.

Let’s start with the vertex groups. What I’m going to do next is straight up delete the groups I don’t want. In this case, that would be the Skirt, Foot and Toe bones – compare it to the vertex groups in your cloned mesh if you’re not sure.

Then hit «Normalize All». We just removed a bunch of weights without replacing them with anything, which will result in a whole bunch of weirdness and deformations. Normalizing the weights will automatically make sure all the vertices have the right values to work properly.

Once I’ve got that sorted out, it’s time to do the actual painting. In this case, what I want to do is smooth out some of the jaggedness and fix some spikes that have appeared.

In this case, there appears to be a problem with the left calf. The bone related to this is named, appropriately, enough, b_L_Calf. By clicking this vertex group in Weight Paint mode, we get an view of how the weights are painted on the bone.

Note: All the vertex groups are quite reasonably named. If there’s a problem with the shoulders, for instance, the b_L/R_ShoulderTwist bones are most likely the ones that needs fixing.

Dark blue means the vertexes aren’t weighted to the bone, red means they’re heavily weighted to it. In the image above, it looks like the weird spike should be moving with the rest of the calf, but it’s hasn’t been painted to do so.

There are a couple of ways to fix this, the easiest of which is probably using the «Add» Weight Painting Tool. The exact settings aren’t super important and fairly intuitive, so go ahead and play around with them. Make sure Auto-Normalize is active, though. Then use the tool on the offending vertex, and the weird spike disappears.

The Blur tool is by far the one I use most, though, and it works great for things like this as well. It gives you less precise control than the Add/Subtract tools, though, so it’s mostly a matter of preference.

My next step is going to be smoothing out some jagged edges with the Blur tool, starting with the upper thigh area, which has some spikyness going on.

Note: The mesh I weight transferred from doesn’t use the Thigh bones at all, so with the Skirt bone gone, the skirt is purely weighted to the ThighTwist and Calf bones. This is how I weight paint long, flowy dresses as well. These types of meshes don’t really require a precise distinction between the Thigh and ThighTwist bones, and it’s easier to weight paint two vertex groups than three. Tighter and shorter dresses generally require using all three, though.

To make sure you don’t accidentally start weight painting the arms or unrelated parts of the mesh, you can select the part of the mesh you want to focus on in Edit mode and activate Face selection masking for painting by clicking the tiny red/white cube at the bottom of the screen in Weight Paint mode.

So, back to the actual weight painting – once you understand the basics, it’s really not that hard. Here, I’ve selected the different bones on the leg (b_R_ThighTwist, b_R_Calf b_Pelvis near the top) and gone over them with the Blur tool, and it looks much smoother already.

The next step is to do this, well, everywhere! This involves moving the rig into different positions to see how the mesh moves and rigorous use of the «Limit Total» button to make sure what I see in Blender is what I’m going to see in-game.

I’m not going to give a step-by-step guide here because it’s basically just the same steps over and over until I get a result I’m happy with – using the Add, Subtract and Blur tools on the appropriate vertex groups where I want to fix something, and hitting Limit Total a. lot.

Once I’m happy with how it looks in Blender, I’m going to import my mesh into Sims4Studio and test it in-game...

Aaaand we have a working dress. :)

[carbrakes-and-stakes]

Nice to meat you - Nora & Alain

Location: Alain’s farmhouse Time : A week ago Who : @fearfordinner, @carbrakes-and-stakes, Alain’s dog

Meat! Meat! Meat! Nora was very excited to be walking up the driveway of Alain’s home. She was about to feast on that meat! And she wouldn’t even have to cook it! If it wasn’t for the fact that her birthday had been on April First her whole life she might have mistaken today for it. Plus! PLUS! She made a friend. She didn’t think he wanted her as a friend but her dads always said she should try harder in making one. So as she got to the front door she threw it wide open and announced in her dull monotone. “Alain, I’m here.” 

God damn it. What stopped him from telling her that she was not even invited. Did he tell her she was not invited? He couldn’t really remember. He’d been rather drowsy lately, and his medication, which he loved dearly was to blame for it. Alain  stood up carefully from his couch, dropping the book he was reading to get to the entrance door, which she had already opened. Huh, he thought, she did not even seem too happy to be here. Was he going to die? Was she a psychopath? Okay, he was being paranoid. Shuffling in his socks across the living room, he motioned her to follow him in the kitchen, which was about to get messy.

Nora shut the door behind her, following Alain to the kitchen. He was adorned in his bed clothes still which gave Nora pause. “Is this a pajama party?” She inquired, setting her bags upon bags of meat on the kitchen counter. “I didn’t come dressed for that.” Nora came dressed as a typical thirteen year old e-boy. “I have beef, chicken, pork, deer and fish.” What she didn’t add was that the fish she got was fresh from the sky. Honestly, she didn’t know why people were so uppity about eating some good ol’sky fish. It was just like normal fish. But from the sky. And free! “Feed me.”

“Why? Should I change into better clothes ?” He would not, and he hoped that she would not give him shit for dressing the way he wanted, in his own house. “Obviously. Heh, maybe we’ll have music tastes in common, at least,” unless she secretly loved Britney Spears. Grabbing an apron from a drawer handle, he tied it around his waist and pulled a pot from underneath the sink. “Well, I’m saying no to the fish,” Alain had seen enough fish for the rest of his life, and did not want to get anywhere near any.  “I’m going to make a couscous with beef and chicken,” he paused, thinking of something quick to do with the pork. Obviously the deer would be made into a stew. “Okay, some of my recipes take about an hour to cook, the deer will probably take longer, but you should be able to get a taste of pork in 30 minutes?” Alain explained, getting garlic, onions, and herbs from his drawers. “I’ll need help peeling onions, if you don’t mind.” There were things his hand wouldn’t let him do for now. 

“No, I just didn’t know I was supposed to wear my pajamas.” Nora mumbled, lifting herself onto the counter and getting ready to settle in and wait for her food. Food that she was hoping would be ready within the next five minutes. “Thirty minutes?” Nora asked, her eyes drifting to stare at the opposite wall. Would she be able to make it thirty minutes without food? She didn’t think she would, she thought she would waste away right before his eyes. Disappear. Like those kids in that avengers movie. Just instantly gone. “But I’m hungry now.” Her lifeless tone and expression could not truly express how intensely hungry she was. It was her food and she wanted it now. Then he was asking her to do labor? “We don’t need onions. They aren’t meat.” 

“Well if you want food, you’ll have to peel these,” Alain pointed at the onions on the cutting board and turned his back to chop the meat into smaller pieces. “Can you at least put the rest in the freezer? You brought meat for the whole town,” he grumbled, indicating her to use the door on the side, to get there. The chest freezer was in a room attached to the kitchen which was not renovated yet, and served as a back entrance, allowing him to get in and out with full hunting gear without being seen by anyone. If she didn’t search through his things she wouldn’t see said gear and he wouldn’t have a lot of explaining to do with a stranger. “Then you can peel the onions,” he pushed the garlic back into the drawer and searched through his cupboards for garlic paste instead. Maybe he was not very patient, but then, he was only cooking for her because she was the kind of person who carried a hammer around.

Nora considered her options for a moment, staring blankly at Alain. She wanted food, yes, but if she wanted to do any of the work to put it together, she could have just stayed home and made almost raw meat. That would have been ready already. She would have been shoveling buckets of meat into her gullet by now. “Fine.” She aquised, sliding off the counter and picking up the bags of meat he wasn’t going to use. She dropped it off in the back freezer, not bothering to look around. She was too hungry for curiosity. Coming back, she started peeling onions with an obvious unpracticed hand. It started getting to the point where it looked more like she was making a mess than helping with cooking, but by god, she was doing her best. “Onions peeled.” She shoved a handful of onion mess at Alain to prove her point. 

It was starting to smell nice in the house, and Alain was not surprised when he saw Orion try to get the door open with his snout. What was surprising, was to see the german shepherd look at Nora and cower out of the kitchen with his tail between his legs. A frown on his face, he glanced at the woman. That was odd. “Huh, guess he doesn’t want to be friends with you,” like me, he almost added. Taking a look at her work, he deadpanned and stayed silent for a split second. What. The actual. Fuck. “Good job,” he finished it by cutting those in half and throwing them in a blender to get them in small pieces quickly. He didn’t want her to join the 9 fingers squad, even if he did not exactly care either. “I’ll just go make frozen french fries to go with those,”  he pointed at the marinating pork chops and disappeared to get them from his freezer. Looked like she had not touched anything. Good.  French fries seemed a bit like low effort, especially since he was not doing much here, other than deep frying them, but she did not seem like the kind who cared for fancy cooking anyway. If she could at least admit that she had never had better meat, he would have won something out of this anyway. 

Nora looked at the dog, her expression as emotionless as ever. “Dogs don’t like me.” She stated blandly. Dogs, unlike humans, could smell the bear on her. And dogs, unlike humans, knew exactly why they should be so scared of her at all times. Smart doggies. Alain complimented her chopping, as he should. She did a fine job. To think he had the nerve to invite her over to feed her, then ask her to help cook. Some people these days. She watched as he went to go get some frozen french fries, wondering why they needed them. All they needed was the meat. Why was he so extra. Nora walked over to the cooking pan and stood over it, staring longingly at the food she wished so desperately was in her stomach. “I’m hungry…”

Alain having installed the deep frier in the back kitchen, walked back in the kitchen to find Nora standing over his gas cooker, probably contemplating stealing a piece from one of the pots. “I can tell,” he frowned, “you have the fucking munchies, or what?” Giving her one last glance, as if to tell her, I’m watching you, don’t you fucking dare, Alain then turned his back on her, cutting peppers and tomatoes with less precision than he usually would have had. Good thing about most French food, was that you did not need to watch it closely, unlike those damn pork chops. He trusted Nora not to let these burn. “You can use a fork in the drawer to your left,” he paused, “to flip the pork chops, not eat them.” In the meantime, he would have time to season his couscous and add the vegetables he just cut, to the pot. 

“I’m here to eat.” Nora answered when Alain asked about the current state of her hunger. Why else did she come all the way here if it wasn’t to completely devour all the meat she’d gotten him. Sighing as she looked down at the pork, Nora wondered if it was a challenge and if she could accept the challenge. Nora had never responded well to people telling her what to do, and right now that made her want to stick her hand in the pan and grab the meat to eat…. Use the fork? Oh that was a good idea, it would probably burn her hands. Only now he said it wasn’t for eating. Nora let out a heavy sigh, grabbing the forks and flipping the pork. “They are ready to be eaten.” She insisted. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell. Thank you for clarifying this for me,” Alain raised his eyebrows at himself, blinking in complete disbelief. Why did he even allowed her to get here, in his house. This place was supposed to be a shelter for me, a safe haven, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had a guest. “Are they?” Pursing his lips, he glanced over her shoulder. “Ok. Let’s get some plates, I’ll go get the fries out,” getting two plates out of the cupboard, he left once again and came back with way too much fries for two. Then she looked like she could eat like an ogre. Looked, no, she sounded like she could eat like an ogre. She was very thin, and he wondered how she could stay in shape if she ate this much. “A table, then,” he motioned her to follow him to the dining room with a nod of his head. 

Nora thought that Alain was being sarcastic, since all the messages she’d ever sent him before coming over had something to do with eating. Finally it was time to eat. Nora helped pick things up, and carry them over to the table her stomach rumbling all the while. She sat down on a seat, crossing her legs underneath her then immediately pulled a piece of cooked pork and stuck it in her mouth. Chewing as if the world would end when she stopped, Nora looked around his dining room. It didn’t look like he hosted many people in here. “Yum.” She said, finally swallowing and then grabbing another piece of pork. It was more cooked then she was used to, but who was she to complain. She had food! 

Alain was still struggling with grasping properly his knife when he noticed Nora eating with her bare hands. “Damn, who raised you?” This was not his kindest comment, but these were certainly the worst table manners he had seen in a while, and that included fighters at the ring. If he tried his best to strip himself of the etiquette he had been told to follow as a child, he had trouble to let those go when it came to food. And now he had trouble finding his appetite, watching Nora eat all this like her life depended on it. “Bon appetit, I suppose,” she was just making him feel anxious. He took a sip of water to calm himself down, but that did not really work. And so he kept staring at her for a while, eventually leaving the table to head back in his kitchen. Nope, this was not okay. He did not like having people over, he did not like bad table manners, and his kitchen was a complete mess. Rubbing his face, he tried to gather his thoughts. For how long was she going to be staying here? Maybe he could kick her out ? What was he saying ? He could not do anything too fast with his medicine, or he’d end up dizzy and rushing to the bathroom to vomit. Why couldn’t he meet nice, normal people? Why did it always have to be the weirdos? He had hoped that she would calm down once she would have something to eat, but she was still acting like an animal. 

“My dads.” Nora managed to answer the question between mouthfuls of meat being shoveled over and over into her mouth. Every now and then she’d get some of the side food in there too, and she had to admit that it tasted okay too. But she liked the meat the most. Eventually she noticed that Alain wasn’t eating himself. Eventually he even got up and left the kitchen. Did… he not eat? Nora wondered. She started piling a bunch of the meat and a few of the sides on a plate, grabbed his utensils and followed him into the mess of his kitchen. “You forgot to eat.” She mumbled, shoving the plate of food towards him. 

Alain sat down on the counter and rubbed at his face, sighing heavily. Maybe he was just disappointed, upset. This must have been it. Nora still seemed like a nice person, and she probably was a nice person, when you put aside her weird eating manners and her hunger, which was what brought her here. She was lucky he was too a bit odd, and too nice to tell her to fuck off. Maybe he just appreciated the company. He was breathing with his abdomen when she entered the kitchen with his plate in her hands. Yes, she probably was a nice person. And now he felt bad for leaving like that. “Thanks. I needed a moment to myself,” he forced himself to smile, which made him look like he wasn’t sure whether he was happy or not that she was here. “I’m glad you didn’t forget to bring me my fork and knife,” his own comment made him scoff. “Let’s get back in the living room,” he glanced to the things on the stove. “If you’re still hungry, one of those is gonna be ready in 30 minutes.”

“My dads told me people should use them.” Nora answered. She never understood the appeal. They were more work to get the food to the end goal. She supposed people were just weird like that. She followed Alain murmuring under her breath that she was always hungry. Thirty minutes was a long time to wait for food, but she would wait. She would wait and she would eat the rest of the food with as much vigor and verocity as she had the rest of it. It was, after all, very good.

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 13

The Tiger and the Dragon by George deValier

Chapter saved by ocean-babyblues ♥

Yao woke up late, rolled over, and a sudden stab of pain brought with it a flood of memory. Caught between laughing and screaming, Yao hid his burning face in the pillow, a strange sort of happy, embarrassed giddiness floating through his head. The sheets still smelt of Ivan. Yao laughed wildly. He'd done it, he'd, he… couldn't even think the words, but he had, and he was so deeply in love it was painful and glorious and everything was beautiful and wonderful and right with the world. Yao practically leapt from the bed, ignoring the dull pain, and showered and dressed feeling lighter than he had in months. It was such a splendid day, and the simple idea of running downstairs to check the mail filled him with delight. He checked his neck in the mirror… still bruised and red and horrible, but even that couldn't ruin his mood… then threw Ivan's scarf around his neck, put his Buddha statue in his pocket, and took off out of the apartment and down the stairs.

Yao did not get halfway across the foyer before Alfred suddenly barrelled out of his front door and grabbed him by the arm. "Yao! Thank God you're here! I need your help!"

"You wha… oh fine, what now." Yao let himself be dragged into Alfred's kitchen, where Francis and Feliciano sat looking resigned at the kitchen bench. Francis smirked as Yao smiled awkwardly and laid his hands on the counter.

"Hello, Yao! Did you have a good night?" Yao's stomach fell. Surely Francis couldn't have heard… "Tell me all about it, chéri. Come." Francis grinned wickedly and nodded at the stool beside Yao. "Have a seat." He carefully enunciated the words and Yao glared at him. Apparently he had.

"Huh?" asked Feliciano, turning his head between the two. Yao wondered what the Italian was even doing here… wasn't he supposed to be at work? "What was last night?"

"Nothing," said Yao quickly. At least Alfred hadn't heard Yao and Ivan's nocturnal activities… he would definitely have said something if he had. That was something. Yao ducked his head to hide his blush. "What is this all about, Alfred?"

"It's me and Arthur's anniversary next week and you guys are going to cook for us!" said Alfred cheerfully.

"We are?" Yao glanced at Francis, who just shrugged and rested his chin in his hand.

"Apparently we are."

"Why?"

Alfred threw out his hands like it was obvious. "Because you are my friends, and I am asking you."

"I'm not your friend," said Feliciano. "I'm Francis and Yao's friend. I only came over to borrow Francis' blender and you grabbed me at the door and forced me into your kitchen because I'm a chef. You actually scare me a little."

"All right, Yao, because you and Francis are my friends and the little Italian here just happened to be handy. Yao, you can sit down you know."

"I prefer to stand."

"I bet you do!"

"Shut up, Francis."

Francis just giggled. "Oh, don't be like that, Yao. I'm proud of you! And jealous as all hell. And where did you get this fabulous scarf? It looks familiar…"

Yao froze. Damn, how the hell was he supposed to explain this? All he could say was, "Please don't say 'fabulous.'"

"But this material, it's gorgeous, chéri! Let me see…" Francis reached over the bench and took hold of the scarf. Yao panicked silently and pulled it from Francis' hands.

"Why the hell are you wearing a scarf anyway? It's not even cold." Alfred immediately took a hold of the centre loop.

"Will you both stop it, it's just a damn scarf…" Yao took a few frantic steps backwards, trying to escape, but felt the scarf pulled from his neck. His hand immediately flew to his throat, but it was too late. Alfred's eyes went wide, he flung the scarf to the ground, then grabbed Yao's hand and pulled it from his neck. Yao closed his eyes and swore inwardly.

Alfred spoke furiously. "What the hell happened to your neck?"

"It's not what you think…" Yao spoke quickly, but Alfred just spoke over him, his eyes hard and his face twisting in rage.

"I'll kill him."

Damn it, damn it, damn it… Yao shook his head. "No, listen…"

Alfred's hands clenched in fists. His eyes flashed as he suddenly headed for the door. "I'll fucking kill the bastard."

"Mon Dieu, Yao, what did that Russian do?" Francis sounded stunned.

Yao raced in front of Alfred and held up his hands. "Stop! It wasn't his fault!"

Alfred halted, his expression turning incredulous. Francis shook his head, disappointed and disbelieving. "Oh, Yao, no…"

"No, that's not what I mean, I mean it wasn't even Ivan, it was…"

"General Winter, wasn't it." Everyone's eyes turned to Feliciano.

Yao's heart dropped to his stomach. Why now… oh God, why NOW? "I… aru…"

"You went to Braginski's place again." It was not even a question. Feliciano breathed out in frustration, his normally cheerful face strangely disappointed. "Don't you know what's been going on with his people?"

This was the last thing Yao wanted to deal with today. Not today, when he was supposed to be happy. Not when he had finally decided he loved Ivan enough not to care about all this. "No. I don't know. I don't want to know."

"It's a complete mess!" cried Feliciano, ignoring Yao. "They're all fighting over leadership, and everyone is bitter and vicious and backstabbing each other, and Grandpa Rome says this is a very, very bad time to have anything to do with them."

Yao raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I don't have anything to do with 'them'," he said, ignoring the fact that his words weren't exactly true. "I only have anything to do with Ivan."

Feliciano ignored him. "Grandpa Rome says he won't have anything to do with the Russian mafia because they don't do things right. He says Ivan once killed a man with a kitchen tap. A kitchen tap! I mean, how do you even kill a man with a tap!"

Alfred looked completely confounded, his earlier rage turned to utter confusion. "The what? The huh? Mafia? Tap?"

Yao raised his hands again, placatingly. "It's nothing, Alfred, it's just a misunderstanding." The last thing Yao needed was Alfred freaking out about this. The American was just stupid enough to actually try and confront Ivan. Francis just sat silently, listening intently to Feliciano, his eyes soft and concerned.

"Yao." Now, Feliciano didn't seem terrified or hysterical. He just looked incredibly worried. Somehow it was worse. "You're working this afternoon, right?"

Yao closed his eyes briefly. How had he ever thought his calm, untroubled morning could last? He answered reluctantly. "Yes."

"Good. I think there's someone you should talk to."

.

Yao was at the point where he wasn't even that bothered anymore. Ivan had said that many people knew him. Yao knew what he was involved with, and he had decided he didn't care. So that feeling of uneasy apprehension he had grown so used to in the last weeks was conspicuously absent as he made his way through the quiet, almost empty restaurant. Feliciano had asked Yao to speak with his grandfather Rome before work that afternoon and Yao had agreed, knowing that there was nothing the man could say to change his mind. There was nothing anyone could say. There was nobody, absolutely nobody, who could…

"Good afternoon, Mr Wang."

Yao nearly choked, felt his blood turn cold, and practically stumbled as he spun around. He recognised the beautiful woman immediately. Long, straight platinum hair, piercing blue eyes that stared right through him. Ivan's sister, Natalia. She stood taller than Yao, dressed in a beautifully cut black dress that displayed her hard, straight, slender figure. Just like her brother, her very presence filled the entire room. Yao's nerves fired, instantly on edge. "Good… afternoon… aru…"

Natalia smiled in that predatory way Yao remembered. "Please, take a seat with me." Yao had no choice. He practically fell into the nearest chair as Natalia advanced on him.

"I… okay."

A waitress, a pretty blonde girl Yao barely knew yet, approached them immediately. Her movements were timid, her expression wary. Yao thought he remembered her name as Lili. Natalia took the seat opposite Yao, her icy blue eyes not moving from Yao. "Vodka. A bottle."

"And hurry," added Yao softly.

The second Lili hurried off, Natalia smiled again. Yao felt uncomfortably like a trapped sheep in the company of a wolf. "I'm so pleased to see you again, Mr Wang. So this is where you work, is it?" Natalia looked around the little modern restaurant, the stark black and white, her expression making her disdain for the place blatantly obvious. There were only a few other diners in the room, and three men in suits standing imposingly at the door.

Yao gripped onto the edge of his chair. What was this woman doing here? What were her men doing at the door? He swallowed heavily and tried to answer calmly. "Yes, that's right."

Natalia's accent was nowhere near as strong as Ivan's, yet still noticeable. "Not as many red lanterns and dragons as I expected. And where are those goldfish you people always keep in these places?"

Yao felt his teeth clench. You people… For a brief moment his anger overruled his alarm. "I cook modern cuisine. This is not a Chinese restaurant, if that is what you are implying."

Natalia lifted her chin, her perfectly shaped eyebrows slightly raised, her deep red lips twisted in the tiniest sneer. "It is charming. A little small, but…"

"What do you want?" Natalia's eyes flashed at Yao's jumpy interruption. Yao leant back in his chair, his heart clamouring uneasily to his throat. Natalia glared at Yao just long enough to make him fidget uncomfortably before she answered.

"How terribly rude of me. I'll get straight to the point then. I am here on… business, if you will. I understand that you are a friend of my brother."

Yao took a deep, steadying breath. His hand unconsciously sought the little statue in his pocket. "Define friend."

Natalia waved a perfectly manicured hand dismissively. "He cares for you, at least. And you care for him?"

Yao paused and wondered if it was a good idea to answer honestly. Natalia's sharp, empty blue eyes pierced right through him, and Yao realised it wasn't a good idea to make her wait for an answer. He nodded slightly.

Natalia sighed dramatically and tapped her nails upon the table. "And that is what makes this so hard to say." Natalia stopped speaking when Lili appeared again with the vodka. The poor girl looked terrified, her green eyes darting continuously towards the intimidating men at the door. She placed a glass on the table, fumbled with the lid of the vodka bottle, then started to pour it out. When her hand faltered and the vodka spilt, Natalia snapped viciously. "Just leave it, you stupid girl."

Yao nearly jumped at the words. Lili gave a small squeak of terror and almost knocked the bottle over in her haste to place it on the table. Yao forced down his alarm and tried to smile apologetically as the flustered waitress hurried away. However Toris' words about Natalia suddenly floated through his memory - She once broke four of my fingers… 

Natalia drank the glass easily, reached for the bottle, and poured another. Yao could see the family resemblance. "You Russians know how to hold your vodka, don't you?" Yao felt the words tumble nervously out of his mouth before even thinking them. His skin burned with sudden panic, but Natalia just smirked.

"Russian? I was born in Belarus, Mr Wang. Just another bastard child of a whoring Russian mob boss. And I was drinking vodka before I killed my first man. To clarify, I killed my first man at twelve."

Yao opened his mouth, but it was a few moments before any sound came out. Unfortunately, the sound was, "Aru."

Natalia downed the second glass swiftly. Her icy blue gaze remained fixed, unblinking, on Yao's wide, wary eyes. "But I must apologise - what was I saying? Oh, of course. I am afraid, Mr Wang, that you must never see my brother again."

It took too long for the words to make sense in Yao's head. He blinked rapidly, his pulse thundering beneath his skin, his stomach sick and cold. For a brief moment the room spun around him. "Wait, what?"

Natalia held up a hand. Her harshly beautiful face was so blank, so cold. "Let me finish. There are certain people who do not look favourably upon this little… friendship of yours."

Yao could barely understand, barely comprehend. His hand flew to the scarf at his throat. The very thought of not seeing Ivan again left him breathless."I don't… aru..."

"You see, Mr Wang, I care for Ivan. Very, very much. What pains him, pains me. So you understand, I have no desire to see him hurt." Natalia breathed in through her nose, her lips a hard, cold line. "But he does not always know what is best for him."

"And you do." Again Yao spoke before thinking. This time Natalia's cruel, iron stare struck Yao still and terrified. The next words to rise to his memory were Ivan's – "Your sister stabbed you?" "Da. I believe was also an antique, however was a knife. And not an accident." Yao tried to suppress his panic. But all he wanted right now, more than anything in the world, was for Ivan to walk through that door.

The stare broke, and Natalia poured another glass of vodka. She took a small sip and twirled the glass between her fingers, regarding it thoughtfully. "You are not good for Ivan. So you are going to go away. I don't care where, as long as it is somewhere we will never hear from you again. You will give him an excuse, and you will leave. IF you do not, or if you choose to inform Ivan of our little chat, we will meet again." Natalia looked up and caught Yao's eyes in that predatory hold. She lifted one leg over the other, swept aside her skirt, and Yao caught an unmistakable glimpse of shining metal. His breath stopped in his throat. Natalia leant forward and hissed her next words through red, twisted lips. "And I assure you, Mr Wang, I will be nowhere near as friendly as you have found me on this occasion."

Yao had no idea what to say. Words simply became a jumble of nonsensical ideas in his head, of cold terror and feeble denial. "He… I… but…" Yao forced himself to stare back evenly, to straighten his shoulders and swallow his fear. "Ivan won't like that."

Natalia smirked again, then shook her head condescendingly. "You think my brother is so powerful, don't you, Mr Wang? So big and strong. You think he can protect you."

Yao suddenly felt very small. He forced himself to maintain eye contact and not shrink away. "Ivan nearly beat a man to death for hurting me. What I think, is that it's a very stupid idea to make him angry."

Natalia's dark blue eyes flashed again, this time with strong emotion behind them. Her blank, disdainful expression twisted in jealous fury. "You have spent a considerable amount of time with my brother. People have noticed. Have you not considered, Mr Wang, that it would be best for all concerned if you simply... disappeared?"

Another deep wave of terror raced through Yao's veins. His nerve-riddled stomach twisted with nausea. He could no longer maintain Natalia's ferocious stare, and dropped his gaze to the table. He could not even think to respond. When Natalia spoke again, her voice was calm, triumphant.

"I'm so glad we got to have this little talk. I admit I can see why Ivan is so taken with you." Natalia gave a short, high, cold laugh. "He always did like the little powerless ones." Yao felt the words like a stab to his gut. Natalia just rose to her feet. When Yao glared up at her she gave him a tiny smile and a shrug, as though challenging him to respond. Hatred and fear warred silently in Yao's chest. "Good day, Mr Wang."

"Miss Arlovskaya!"

The loud, bright, Italian-accented voice boomed through the small restaurant. Yao glanced up in surprise to see Rome Vargas standing in the centre of the room, Feliciano cowering nervously at his side. The elder Italian was dressed in his customary black suit, his carefully cheerful gaze fixed on Natalia. The entire room turned to look.

Natalia drew herself up challengingly. "Signor Vargas." The atmosphere changed abruptly, turning cold and tense and still.

"You are not leaving already?" asked Rome, striding to stand before Natalia, Feliciano following closely and fearfully behind him. Natalia just watched him approach with a contemptuous sneer.

"I am afraid my business here has concluded for the day. What brings you to this little restaurant?" She looked pointedly down at Yao. Rome did not appear to notice.

"Only the best pasta in the city, madam. You must try it next time."

There were daggers behind their words. Their men stood watching each other warily. The tension was palpable, the still air heavy and charged.

Natalia looked disgusted at the very idea. "While I appreciate the suggestion, Signore, I sincerely hope I will not have need to return."

Rome placed a hand to his chest. "That is a shame. I am amazed that you have any free time at all what with how busy you must all be."

A heavy silence fell. Natalia's shoulders stiffened. When she spoke, her words were like ice. "Excuse me?"

Rome just smiled cheerfully. 'Well, what with the problems you've been having in your ranks recently, I'd have thought your hands would be full. It's a terrible concern to be having problems like that. Petty quarrels over leadership, vital information being leaked."

Natalia's deep blue eyes widened. She simply glared, until after a few moments her cold gaze fell to Feliciano. She smiled cruelly. "This is your grandson, yes? Feliciano, I think it was."

Rome's smile fell and he moved to stand in front of Feliciano. "I don't believe this is the time, Miss Arlovskaya."

"Neither the place." Natalia lifted her murderous gaze from the quivering Feliciano.

Rome smiled again, though his eyes were filled with loathing. "Always a pleasure, however."

Natalia smirked back. "Always."

"Do give my regards to your brother."

Natalia grinned, her teeth bared behind blood red lips. "Oh, believe me, I will. Farewell, Signore."

Rome bowed slightly. "Madam."

Natalia gave Yao one last piercing stare before striding across the room and sweeping out the front door, her three black-suited men behind her. Yao could not hold back a sigh of relief. But then there was…

"Yao!"

Yao smiled nervously. He was not sure if he could take any more of this. Rome sat down opposite him and looked pointedly after Natalia. "Just having a friendly chat?

"Something like that."

Rome nodded pensively. "Feliciano, run and make me some of that delicious Fettuccine Alfredo of yours."

Feliciano nodded and quickly left. He was surprisingly quiet, and looked terrified. Yao noticed Francis standing concerned in the back doorway, then watched as he and Feliciano broke into earnest conversation, throwing a worried glance Yao's way before disappearing into the kitchen. Yao turned his attention back to Rome, who smiled kindly. Yao had known the man for years. As well as being Feliciano's grandfather, he was a regular customer, and a nice guy. He was never anything but kind and friendly; it was hard to believe he was probably deep into organised crime, but that was something that no one ever mentioned. Yao tried to prepare himself for his second difficult conversation of the day.

"I'll get straight to the point," said Rome. Yao almost winced at the same words Natalia had used earlier. "Feliciano tells me you have made friends with Ivan Braginski."

"Well…" Yao wondered how to respond. Why did people keep saying that? What was with these euphemisms? "Friends is not really the right word."

"You are seeing him," Rome clarified. He leant back in his chair, pulling his jacket sleeves straight, staring directly at Yao with intense brown eyes. Yao decided to simply answer, and try and get this nonsense over with.

"Yes."

"You are in love with him?"

Yao startled at the question. "That's not really any of your…" Get it over with, stay dignified… "Yes. Aru." Damn…

Rome took a deep breath. He looked disappointed. "The thing is, Yao, now is a very unstable time in Ivan's organisation. We know more than they think. One of their insiders is filtering information and selling it to outside bidders. They are trying to bring Ivan down."

Yao paused to take in the words. It was what he had been hearing since he first got involved with Ivan – someone was hacking their files. He still didn't know what it had to do with him, or why he should have to worry about it. All he wanted was to be with Ivan. Still, he had a suspicion of the culprit. "Winter."

Rome nodded, his expression hard and focused. "It is obvious that General Winter is looking to take over leadership. Ivan however, will not back down easily."

"Does he know?"

"Ivan is insane, but he is not stupid. He knows Winter is up to something. But he knows to keep him close enough to find out the truth. And Winter is not acting alone."

Yao immediately formed another suspicion. "Natalia."

"Possibly. We, however, prefer Ivan as the Russian's boss. He is much more pleasant to deal with than either Winter or Natalia."

Yao was not sure how much of this he wanted to know. "You don't... work together, though?"

"No, but we must work beside one another. Ivan understands this. Winter does not. And now we come to you."

Yao shifted uncomfortably and looked towards the door. He wanted this over with so badly… "Me?"

Rome nodded. "You are the perfect person for Winter to pin this on. Your timing, I am afraid to say, has been incredibly poor."

Yao shook his head. "Winter already tried to blame me. Ivan did not believe him. Ivan nearly killed him."

Rome laughed at that. "It is a shame he did not. Though lucky for him, in the end."

"So I really don't see what I…"

"You are in the way, Yao. You are caught in the middle of a dangerous cold war and if you don't get out now, you are going to get hurt."

"Ivan won't let that happen."

"Ivan can't control everything. In fact, he is being quite selfish letting you become involved in this."

"I'm not involved." Yao knew he was lying as he said it. Rome looked like he knew, also.

"Yao, if someone like Ivan cares about you, then like it or not, you are involved."

And Yao could not ignore it. What Rome said was true. No matter how much he just wanted to be with Ivan, no matter how much he wished to have nothing to do with Winter and Natalia and Ivan's horrifying bursts of rage, the fact remained. He was involved. Toris had made that perfectly clear several times; Natalia had made it perfectly clear only moments earlier. Yao wondered, however, if that was enough to keep him away. Rome seemed to read his thoughts.

"Please, Yao, just... consider my words." Rome smiled. "You're a nice kid, Yao. There's plenty of other guys out there who aren't dangerous like this. There is no need to get yourself caught up with… well, with people like us."

Yao only briefly pondered the words. Maybe Rome was right. But Yao had already decided. Decided that Ivan was worth the danger. Decided he was stupid enough to risk it.

"Ahh!" Rome cried out brightly when Feliciano appeared from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of steaming white pasta. Rome rubbed his hands together, grinning happily, his earlier serious expression completely gone. "Feli, it looks magnificent!" he said as Feliciano placed the plate on the table, smiling proudly. "My grandson is the greatest chef in the country!"

Yao smiled in response. "I'll get you some wine to go with that." Yao stood quickly and hurried into the kitchen, where Francis immediately grabbed his arm and spoke anxiously.

"Yao, what's going on? Is everything all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine."

And strangely, it was. This wasn't like before. Yes, there were too many thoughts spinning through his head and he was a little scared and rather confused and really quite pissed off, but something was different now. Yao finally realised that not a thing - not the fact that Ivan was a dangerous mafia boss, not the fact that his sister and head advisor wanted Yao dead, not the danger he was in or the unanswered questions or the warnings he received on all sides - not a single goddamn thing would stop Yao from being with the man he was completely and overwhelmingly in love with.

Yao pulled out his phone and dialled Ivan's number. He had never actually called it before and was not even sure Ivan would answer, but after only two rings Ivan's cheerful voice came over the line and Yao's heart skipped a beat.

"Hello Dragon!"

"Ivan. I want to go away."

"Go away, Yao?"

"Yes. Please, come pick me up and take me away somewhere, anywhere, just somewhere it can be you and me and no one else." Yao closed his eyes and rubbed them in frustration. This was ridiculous. There was absolutely no way...

"Very well Yao, I will see you soon!" The phone went dead. Yao wondered that he wasn't actually surprised.

Thirty minutes later, a familiar limousine pulled up outside the restaurant. Moments later Raivis appeared in the front doorway. Yao took off his apron and pushed it into Francis' hands. He looked at his friend warningly. If anyone would understand this, Francis would. "Not a word."

Francis still looked slightly doubtful. "I don't know what's going on, but please – be careful." But then he winked. "And have fun, chéri."

Yao raced outside to find Ivan standing beside the open car door, smiling and stunning and perfect. His violet eyes glinted in the sun, his pale hair tousled in the wind. Yao almost felt his knees weaken.

"Dragon! Do you prefer the sun or the snow?"

Yao grasped Ivan's large, firm arms, stared into Ivan's blazing violet eyes, and felt immediately calm. The scent and presence of him washed over Yao, washed away every fear and pain and concern. Once again, everything was right in the world. "Anywhere, Ivan. Take me anywhere."

To be continued...

.

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

THANK YOU OCEAN-BABYBLUES FOR SAVING THIS CHAPTER!

[donaldresslerfanfic]

Stability.

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content.

Word Count: 2081

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Seventy-Five

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Ressler.

I don't know where I stood right now. After the accident and after I got my strength and mobility back, I made the though decision of staying grounded, helping Maggie in anyway I could.

That entailed me not giving my help to anyone in any taskforce, no consulting jobs, anything. The first week, between the physical therapy and not being able to hold my own just with my right hand, I felt so useless, I was in a bad mood for maybe a week until I was strong enough and stopped having to depend on Maggie.

With the best soothing voice she had she'd told me that it wasn't a big deal helping me, but I knew better, I knew I was a nuisance at the house, not helping with the baby, it was easily the worst week of this year.

After I finished the physical therapy I went to the gym more regularly, and I you know... Got in more shape than I was. Over time that resulted in Maggie squeezing my arm every time she walked past me with a little smile.

I staid at the house when she was away at work, I took care of Alma who was so much bigger and more fun to take care of, she could eat now, we played hide and seek, I walked her around the house, holding her face down on my arms and making train or plane noises, she had the time of her life.

If Maggie couldn't come to eat at home, I took lunch to her place, but we always had lunch together, mainly because after so many hours of being kind of alone at the house, I took any possibility I had to be with her, even for just a little while.

Maggie walked in one day with a face that I knew it was bad news, well, not necessarily bad news but something had happened. I was chopping some tomatoes for some salad when she walked into the kitchen and left her purse and her briefcase on the island.

I sometimes looked at some people and my first thought was "they're rich", the clothes, the stand, the face, the jewelry they had on, the bags they used, the phone, some of those things where telltale sings that someone was loaded.

In the time I'd been with Mags she'd gone from a normal 9 to 5 employee at a firm to the head of a whole division, along with four teams of people who worked for her. She just managed the larger details and trusted other architects that were as good as her with the minor subjects. Seeing the person she'd become now, how much she'd grown in her job despite everything, despite Reddington, job changes, the wedding, the baby. She'd managed to overcome everything, she was the kind of women who went to a car agency, picked a car and instead of being shocked at the price she asked if the seats could be leather instead not fabric.

I was so proud of this woman, luckily she was mine, only mine.

Whilst I was thinking all of this and looking at her talk, I assumed she told me something important, because she stood looking at me for a full second, expecting me to say something, then threw her hands in the hair, slapping her thighs as she walked away from me, shaking her head.

"I got distracted baby I'm sorry" I said finishing with the salad and taking it to the table.

"I was saying important things, I wasn't talking just to talk today" she said giving me a little look. I must admit I would've been angry at myself as well if I was left to talk to a wall.

I always found it funny how she could be giving me an angry look, but as soon as she looked at Alma all of her face changed to the biggest smile, her voice elevated to a high pitched 'hiiii' as she bent down to hold Alma from her mess of pillows and toys on the floor.

She went on for a while cooing to the baby and kissing her cheek several times, I finished carrying the remaining food to the table. Maggie heated up a mix of veggies she'd mixed in the blender for Alma and had stored for the day, she liked to make the food herself, said it was healthier for her.

I'd learned a little dad trick, I put a little bit of food in one of her little plates and handed it to Alma, she liked to stick the hand into everything these days, and of she had a decoy one she wouldn't pay attention to the one I had, the one with which I feed her from.

"So what happened?" I asked Mags after we sat down to have lunch. She just gave me a shrug, still with an angry pout.

"I got suspended"

"What? How?" I asked surprised. I couldn't believe that her being in the position she was could still get suspended.

"Oscar told me that the next important job I needed to take care of was in LA and that I needed to relocate for maybe two months, and I told him that I wasn't going to take it and we fought about it and he told me that you know... Fine, but to not bother coming to work until next week when he has another project for me, even though I'm still managing like 3 on the side"

"And why didn't you take it?"

"Because I'm not going to drag you to LA with me"

"Why not?" I said looking at Mags this time, she just blankly stared at me.

"Because you hate LA"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Because, again, I'm not going to drag you to a place you hate" I gave her a little look, I clearly didn't believe that was the reason she didn't want to go, and if it was then she hadn't understand our previous conversation on how we would go anywhere her job required her to go.

I felt Alma's hand on my hand, pulling the plate with food towards her. I think I was being to slow in the deliver of food so I turned my attention to feeding her.

"That sounds like it could've been avoided with a simple phone call, like hey baby" I made a gesture of a phone with my hand "do you mind going to LA with me, and I would've been like 'no cupcake'"

"It's not that easy"

"I just showed you how easy it was"

"Well, again, you hate LA"

"Again" I mocked "what's that got to do with anything?"

"Okay" she said with a frustrated sigh "we're just going in circles now so..." she just dismissed me with a flick of her hand.

"Do you want me to do something about it?"

She gave me a little look, unsure of what exactly I was offering.

"I don't think that would be of much help"

"I could have him beat up" she gave me a chuckle and a shake of her head.

"I'm pretty sure that's not legal"

I puffed and shrugged my shoulders.

"I'm the FBI, I can do whatever I want"

"First, no you can't, second, you're on a forced leave"

"I'm not on forced leave" I fought back  "turns out I'm not useful here, every time I try and talk with superiors or co-workers of other tasks forces they need me somewhere else, like Columbia or London or Paris and I can't leave"

"Can't or won't?"

"Don't want to" I gave Maggie a quick look, then at Alma "mainly because of her, don't want her to grow up on me"

"Oh, mainly because of her and what about me?" She said offended.

"You barely pay attention to me" I teased, she made a whinny noise ad she stood up "and every time you're home you're on your computer and working" I kept fakely whining.

She rounded my shoulders standing behind me and leaned in to kiss my cheek, then a little bit down my jaw and neck.

"It's awful how much I've downplayed you not working, and now that it's happening to me I feel so useless"

"Oh yeah, because you not working for a week is seriously going to halt the household's economy" I dramatized, Mags pulled back and patted me on the shoulders.

I heard her phone ring on the background, and Mags walked to it whilst I finished with Alma's food.

I looked at my girl whilst Maggie talked on the phone. She was looking bigger and bigger each day, she made some random noises from time to time, if we were alone she would suddenly cry out and yell. Maggie told me because she was finding her voice so she yelled a lot.

Maggie left her phone on the kitchen table and looked at me, I stood up and took the plates. Alma yelled at me.

"Hey" I said back, she yelled at me again with a little shriek, I took the plates and turned around, looking at Mags smile at us.

We cleaned the table and by the time I was going to put the plates in the dishwasher Alma had yelled so much that Maggie had to take her from the high chair and hold her.

She stood next to me whilst I loaded the remaining things.

"Very coincidentally I was put on suspension right before Christmas week"

"That's good then, you always plan out a lot of things for Christmas"

"Yeah" she said a little unenthusiastically "maybe I don't wanto do anything crazy for Christmas, I mean I know we used to spend it with my sister but, she's now divorced and" she motioned at Alma with a shake of her head "we have her around so... What do you think?"

I leaned on the kitchen counter and strolled my eyes between her and Alma.

"About what?"

"About spending Christmas and New Year's Eve just the three of us"

I gave her a little smile and walked to them.

"Well you know me, as long as it's the three of us and I don't have to socialize too much"

She chuckled then shook her head.

"I wish you had a group of friends to go out with sometimes, to drink a beer or play pool, do manly stuff"

"I get shot sometimes, that's manly"

"That's reckless"

"I thought girls liked reckless"

"Not these two" she motioned at Alma again with her head.

"I'm planning on going back to work after the New Year's, I've talked to some friends about getting something something here in DC, locally, paperwork and stuff like that"

"That sounds very not like you, but okay"

I leaned in to give her a kiss on the forehead.

"Excuse me" I said taking Alma on my arms. I walked around her, leaving Mags with a little frown on her face

"Uuh, you excuse me, I was holding her"

"Yes, but we have like a little routine and you being here isn't going to interrupt it" I sat down in the couch and put Alma on my lap, then searched for the PS4 controller in a compartment the couch had, Alma laid on my chest when I sat back and pushed a few buttons.

"She goes to sleep like that?" Maggie asked giving us a look, I looked down at Alma, who looked like she was already all set to take a nap.

"Yeah" I said double checking on her.

"With the sounds of you shooting at the cops in GTA 5" she motioned at the TV.

"If I can sleep with a shout-out in the background so can she"

I looked down at Alma again, then moved my hand on top of her head, caressing her side. That was enough to make her fully close her eyes. I kissed the top of her head.

"She can get used to that"

"I'm hopping" I said looking at the screen, I felt Maggie's lips on my forehead, then walked towards the exit.

When I was alone, I couldn't help to pause the game and let the controller on the couch. I didn't know if returning to work was going to be as good as I expected, but I had to be in that mental space by the time Liz woke up.

If and when she woke up.

[ghoulluck]

When Nico dreamed, it was a great darkness -- big and vast. It swallowed up every scream, every spell -- everything. After years of trying to fight her dreams, she had accepted it. She would sit in the plane of space, staff of one floating over her and illuminating the very little she could see. The little light it gave her only highlighted the darkness around her. Nico stared out, imagining it would make shapes until she would wake up feeling like she hadn’t slept.

She wiped back her inky blue hair as she sat up in bed, hands in her lap, Staff of One laying next to her in bed and brown eyes trained on the mirror across from her bed. Nico passed a hand over the space in front of her, effectively wiping away what she saw to check on her mother. Tina was downstairs sifting through her physical mail while Robert actively avoided her mother.

“Dad?”

The man looked about himself before carefully whispering back, “Yeah, pumpkin?”

“Is she angry today?”

His eyes found the reflective surface she was speaking to him through and he walked towards it so he could speak more softly, “No. Not yet at least.” Nico’s mouth pursed and he adjusted his glasses carefully, “It’s okay. I love you.” She didn’t say it back and her image faded on the turn of metallic rings.

She dusted her hands as she passed her hands down her legs under her blanket. They were sore from cutting into the soft skin. Nico bent her elbow to inspect her arm and noted that her mother’s grip had left a heavy bruise. She breathed in deeply as she struggled to move. 

She wobbled as dragged herself off the edge of her bed. 

Nico smoothed her night gown over her cuts as she made her way to the shower. It was saturday and if she was lucky she could avoid her mother by going over to Julien’s instead. She plucked her phone from it’s charging port on her dresser as she made a detour instead. 

Julien picked up on the first ring.

Nico couldn’t help the tug of a smile when she heard the blonde’s tiny yawn, “Morning.”

The blonde hadn’t bothered to get off the floor yet. She had fallen asleep playing grand theft auto with her brother who lay asleep on his side, an arm haphazardly draped over his doberman, Lily. She reached out to play with a little bit of his long hair as she shouldered the phone.

“I was hoping you’d want to spend today with me,” Nico stated hesitantly as she picked open one of her drawers cautiously to pick out some underwear. She can almost hear Julien smile as the blonde tosses her long blonde hair back with a nod Nico can’t see, “Yes, but training at --” She checks her iwatch with a sigh, “In twenty.” 

The blonde woman cautiously rises with a creak in her back that makes her grimace in pain.

“Do you want to pick me up after?” Nico’s teeth clasp her lower lip as she waits on the response. She’s almost always afraid that one day Julien won’t like her  as much as Nico likes the cheerleader. 

They don’t exactly come from the same worlds. The Minorus are wealthy -- hell the only reason Julien is in Atlas academy was because she had earned a scholarship. Julien’s adopted Fathers were both part of LA’s police department, Hart in cyber crimes and Antoly as a beat cop and a trainer for MMA fights. 

It was a far cry from the glass dollhouse Nico lived in with her mother and father. The teenager treaded carefully in her own home. Her mother had a nervous break down after her star child -- Amy had killed herself. It was a grim reminder that her own mother didn’t love her as much as she hoped they would. Recently, she had discovered her father’s affair with a childhood friend’s wife and that had driven a wedge between them. He could easily have taken them out of the situation, but chose not to.

“Yes.”

Julien’s answer brought her out of her thoughts and she smiled.

“Can we go to the art museum again?”

She had discovered not too long ago that like Nico, Julien had her own special gifts. Together, their power multiplied beyond what they individually could not do on their own.

“Are you thinking about what I’m thinking?” the goth asked as she looked at her standing closet to see what dresses were still clean. Julien hummed on the other line as she went to her bedroom, “We can go to standing rock.” Being able to read each other’s minds was like a blessing. “Yeah, have that picnic we talked about,” the goth stated as she pulled the perfect black dress from her selection, “See you in like an hour or two, yeah?”

Julien nodded, “I like you.”

Nico smirked to herself a bit, “Yeah? I like you too.”

The blonde smiled to herself a little and she hung up the phone to set it aside. She picked through the mess on her floor to find her doberman curled up in one of her more recently used sweaters. She gave him a kiss and his ear flicked at her face when she did so. Adolf was not a morning pupper. She pulled a pink dress and Nico’s black jean jacket from the floor for later, stuffed it in her bag, grabbed some hygiene stuff and changed into her ever preferred pink sportswear.

She pulled her long fairy blonde hair into a high pony tail to keep it out of her face. She didn’t bother with cleaning up her smeared mascara or removing her lashes. Instead, she strode out with her bag, pulled some shoes on -- ran back for a pretty pair for later and went to kneel by Zedd who was still asleep on the floor. She shook him lightly to try to wake him which only resulted in a very cranky Lily. 

“What?” Zedd croaked as he tried not to glare at her and the sun.

“Can I borrow your bike?”

He looked around, “Why can’t you borrow Dad’s car?”

“Nico smiles more when I bring the bike.”

He grimaced as he shuffled through his pockets noisily for the keys. He passed them over to her when he found them and Julien leaned over to kiss his face which made him smile just a little bit. “Be careful,” he warned his sister as he rubbed her shoulder. Adolf sulked over to Zedd to lay on him. The teenage boy made a deflated sound as he dragged a pillow over his head to keep the light out of his eyes.

Julien greeted the funny looking pit bulldog mix that sat beside the pretty disabled woman. Paulina was a family friend of the West-Moore’s and by all means was always present at her child’s training sessions. She greeted the blonde teenager with a smile and Julien returned it as she dropped her bag next to her dad. Hart still preferred the title of dad, mom still didn’t make her completely comfortable. She put one pretty muscular arm around Julien and made the teenager duck her head to kiss it.

“How was worship?” Julien asked the two women.

“It was good,” Paulina answered, “Ryan and Hart came, we had light breakfast after and we came to practice.” The older woman still had a bit of a Spanish accent, but Julien enjoyed it immensely. “Sounds fun,” the teenager commented as Hart curled her fingers with the little tip of the blonde’s pony tail. “Yeah, you sleep okay? I know you and Zedd stayed up pretty late.” Julien nodded a bit with a shrug. The floor always made her jaw hurt, although she couldn’t think of any good reason why it shouldn’t hurt with all the chewing she had been doing lately.

Her dark brown eyes darted across to her other dad. Antoly was currently in the ring with Paulina’s kid. There was something undoubtedly off about Ryan and Julien did her best to avoid the other. Ryan’s dad and his wife were off to the side talking quietly before she bent at the waist to pick up her kid to go.

“Did my pretty princess eat anything yet?” Antoly’s voice brought Julien out of her mild trance and her eyes went to the big blonde russian. She was always happy that he was blonde like her. He was a little too young to be a dad, so she was constantly questioned on if he was her brother. She was elated to be anything to him at all. Julien also knew better then to lie to her dad, “No.”

Antoly’s face had a look of mild disappointment, his blonde brows furrowing and his mouth pressed downwards, “You know the rules.” Hart wore the same expression, but his was knit in concern when Julien’s breath shuddered in milk panic. Antoly had promised to start enforcing his rules, training on an empty stomach was not allowed. 

Paulina couldn’t help overhearing the pair talk to their child and grasped around her wheelchair for the bag on her handle. She pulled out one of Ryan’s blenders and handed over the pre-mixed mush. She’d just make Indy mix their little dark prince a new one. Julien looked at the massive blender. It wasn’t that big really, but she could imagine the calories alone and that made her feel sick to her stomach.

You have to eat if you want to be a police officer.

Julien shuddered at the memory of sitting on Nico’s lap in the locker room before grabbing the shake with a nod of thanks. She glared at her blonde father who smirked a little and silently thanked the woman for being so kind. He went back into the ring and Julien forced herself to have at least half of the shake before she was allowed into the ring.

The blonde had the courtesy to clean it out of the remaining mixture and made sure the water made her hands red before handing it back to Paulina with an air of gratefulness. She joined her dad in the ring and they got right to it.

When training was over, she showered, got dressed for her date and applied a fresh coat of makeup on her face. She did it extra pale pink and glossy just for Nico. She pulled on her girlfriend’s jean jacket, folded up the arms since they weren’t long enough for her and changed her shoes. She felt bloated, but the work out at least helped.

Julien made her way out to the bike and pulled up the seat to put her backpack in it. In the spot across from her Indy was folding up Paulina’s wheel chair as she sat in the cabin of the truck with her arm over Ryan’s shoulders and her fingers playing with the short dark hair. 

Julien briefly wondered what it was like to be a parent to kids like them. 

She put the seat down and slung a leg over it as she coiled up her hair to keep it from whipping her in the face. She pulled her phone from her cleavage to shoot Nico a text, that it wouldn’t take her more then fifteen minutes to be right over. She pulled out of the parking lot before the truck did and hit the gas to get out the way as quickly as possible.

Julien played often with the idea of getting a red bike better accustomed to her height. She’d have to buy it herself because she didn’t think she deserved to just ask for such an expensive thing from her dads, but knowing them they’d figure out something for her if she just asked. The ride was pleasant, filled with the familiar sounds of LA traffic and people. She parked about a block away from the Minoru house and sent her girlfriend a quick text that she was waiting in their usual spot.

When Nico came out of the house, Julien could spot right away something wasn’t right by the hurried away her girlfriend crossed the street to her. She didn’t give Julien a kiss and instead wrapped her arms around the taller girl’s waist with the urgency to go. The blonde immediately took off. 

It wasn’t until they had nearly reached the Art Museum that Julien stopped.

She twisted around to get a good look at Nico and shuddered when the other girl refused to let her get a good look at her face. Tina had never hit Nico before. Usually Robert would have intervened before things got too out of hand. The goth girl fought the blonde before breaking down into tears, “I broke the trophy. I didn’t mean to. I bumped the corner. I broke--” Julien clasped Nico’s face between her hands to try to get her to look at her, to focus, to breathe. 

When the goth caught her breath, she broke into fresh tears, “She’s never--” There were a lot of things Tina was, a bitch, a cold shoulder, an emotional abuser, but beyond grabbing Nico’s arm too hard and just bruises from a stone tight grip, Tina had never hit her or her Dad. This was a new occurrence. Tina was a kyōiku mama, nothing more nothing less. It was too awful to say. It couldn’t have happened.

Julien kissed the side of the other’s face, soothing the pain and making the evidence go away before Nico caught her mouth to drown it all out. 

[mst3kproject]

Babes in Toyland

This review represents a fairly important milestone for me – back in January I decided to start doing Episodes that Never Were on a schedule, and I've kept it up for a whole year!  I'm hoping I can continue in 2018, since there are a lot of bad movies in the world and it would make me giddy if a few Episodes that Never Were became Episodes that Actually Are.  The closest I've come so far is Reptilicus and its curious accident of timing.

Anyway, it just wouldn't be the holidays on the Satellite of Love without a messed-up acid trip of a Christmas movie.  This is one a lot of people my age remember being traumatized by as children, and is probably the only time you're ever going to see Drew Barrymore, Keanu Reeves, or Pat Morita on this blog.  Reeves frantically driving a pink bumper car with flowers on it is a sight not soon forgotten, I assure you.

Our heroine Lisa is eleven years old and wants a blender for Christmas, although a sled will do as a consolation prize. She and her sister get in a car accident in the middle of a musical number on their way home, and Lisa hits her head and wakes up not in the ER, but in a magical land of balloon trees and furries.  This is populated, Wizard-of-Oz, style by fairy-tale characters played by the same actors as people in her real life.  Lisa arrives just as the beautiful Mary Q. Contrary is about to be forced to marry evil Mr. Barnaby instead of her true love, Jack B. Nimble.  Obviously only Lisa, with help from Georgie Porgie and the Toymaster, can defeat Barnaby and save the day – but first she has to learn to believe in toys!

This is the kind of movie that actually makes you cringe watching it.  I spent most of it wanting to cover my face so I wouldn't have to see the actors embarrassing themselves.  Everybody came across kind of stagey and uncomfortable in their roles as ordinary people in the real world, and it gets ten times worse when they're dressed up as nursery rhymes.  Every single person looks like they're wondering how they got here and trying to remember how much they're getting paid for this.  The dialogue is bland and obvious, and the characters over-emote at the same time as they have no conviction whatsoever.

I'm even embarrassed for the prop and costume people.  Toyland probably isn't supposed to look real – that would defeat the point – but it shouldn't look like plywood.  And then there's the people in the animal costumes with the immobile faces and empty eyes and visible joins between the head and shoulders.  I've seen better costumes at ComiCon and some of those were in diapers.  Are the silent teddy bear cops supposed to be intimidating?  Because they're less scary than the donut cops from Wreck-It Ralph. Barnaby's army of trolls look like a cross between the Blood Beast and the Killer Shrews.

A large portion of the budget seems to have gone into creating or buying the wonderful wooden toys that fill the ToyMaster's workshop. A few of these are actual works of art, designed to turn the heat rising from a candle into whirling motion.  Too bad they're only onscreen for a few seconds before we move on to half-assed stuffed animals and creepy-eyed tin soldiers.  These impressive toys are way too good for Babes in Toyland, as is Pat Morita as the ToyMaster – I suspect he agreed to be in this movie only on condition of being allowed to hide behind that fake beard.  His helpers are supposed to be elves, I think, played by children who are also wearing fake beards.  This is distressing in ways I cannot quite describe.

The jokes are so terrible that I'm not sure some of them are meant to be jokes.  Lisa tells the Toylanders about Cincinnati and pretends its a magical kingdom ruled by King Pete Rose... is that supposed to be funny?  Georgie Porgie complains that he wasn't cut out to be a hero and Jack says, “they could cut three heroes out of you, old buddy!”  Is that a compliment or a fat joke?  I think Barnaby's bowling ball-shaped house, which he rolls down the street to knock people over whenever he has a tantrum, is a joke, but it's kind of a setup without a punchline.  There's a sequence in which Mother Hubbard is introducing her children and she can't remember the last one's name.  That's not funny, that's horrifying!

I can't even bring myself to write about the musical numbers. Anybody who has a hard time with secondhand embarrassment really shouldn't watch this movie.

The plot of Babes in Toyland is a list of tropes, but this is entirely appropriate for the type of story we're being told.  Barnaby is evil for the sake of being evil, Justice Grimm allows himself to be tricked and locked up in his own jail cell, and various characters show up to reference their fairy tales and then wander off again.  It should work because it's exactly what we expect, but instead of feeling natural, there's a sense of obligation about it. “Yes, we're Jack and Jill.  We have to fall down this stupid hill, so we might as well get on with it.”  The characters never appear comfortable with these situations, so the cliches become awkward instead of seeming like the natural order of the story's universe.

(One of the rules is that, as Mary explains to Lisa, it is always daylight in Toyland.  We're never told when anybody sleeps, although we do see a couple of beds.  We also see a sun, meaning that to have eternal daytime Toyland's planet must be tidally locked.  There ought to be howling winds as the warm air on the day side rises and sucks in cold air from the night side, which would be a frozen wilderness of perpetual night.  But only a nerd would worry about something like that.)

Toyland's tropes are based around characters and situations from Lisa's life in Cincinnati – Mary, for example, is her older sister, who is subject to sexual harrassment by her greedy boss, the tyrant of the toy store where she works.  One would therefore expect that the situations Lisa encounters in Toyland would teach her to deal with what's going on in reality, like how Chihiro learns courage and confidence through her experiences at Yubaba's bathhouse.  In Babes in Toyland, however, it's the other way around.  Lisa has already convinced her sister to tell off her boss and leave the toy store, and it's this she applies to Toyland in stopping the wedding of Mary and Barnaby.  Lisa already enjoys fun things, as evidenced by her happiness at the gift of the sled, and already believes in true love, as her first major act in Toyland is intervening in the wedding.  The lessons the plot is set up to teach her are ones she does not need to learn.

The other characters likewise seem to have their arcs done for them.  Mary insists that she will rescue Jack herself, saying “it's time I did something besides cry!”  We have literally never seen Mary crying – in fact, the only time she's come across as a weeping damsel was at the wedding, and there she thought she was doing what was best for her family.  Georgie is supposed to be a coward who wants to be a hero, and yet he keeps doing brave things from the start.  And what's with the subplot in which Lisa matchmakes between Barnaby and Mrs. Hubbard?  Does she want her mom to marry the creepy toy store owner?  Eww.

Besides the wooden toys, there are a couple of other things in the movie that do work.  Barnaby has three main minions – two of them, called Zak and Mak, are basically the porcupine guys from Highlander 2 (not that I've seen Highlander 2 or anything), and the third is a bird named Trolla.  This beast is played by a little person in some kind of unconvincing shaggy pterodactyl costume, but it does have a single large eye that Barnaby uses as a crystal ball to watch what other characters are doing and stay one step ahead of them.  For some reason, the eye is really quite disturbing and its image tends to stay with you – YouTube comments suggest that it's the thing a lot of people remember best about the movie.  The worst part, however, is that when the ToyMaster wants to subdue Trolla he does so by painting over its eye.  Oh god that must sting!

Then there's the Bottle of Evil.  When Barnaby uncorks it, a green mist comes out to envelop the characters.  It's not a great effect and you don't believe in it any more than you believe in anything else in the movie, but it's a scary idea and realized just well enough to make you worry.  Then they defeat it by singing a song about Cincinnati.  No, really, that happens.  It doesn't come across like a great moral victory, it's just a giant what the fuck. How do the other characters even know the song?

The idea of being knocked out and awakening in a magical land or another time is a very common trope in itself, going back at least as far as A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, written in 1889.  I know we're not supposed to worry about it, but when watching or reading such stories I always wonder what's going on in the 'real world'.  One of the things I really liked about Life on Mars was how the storytellers actually devoted time and thought to the fact that Sam is in an ICU hallucinating all this, and things in that outside world can affect the world he's imagining.  We don't get anything like that for Lisa.  At the end she just wakes up on the sofa and everybody's glad she's okay.  Why is nobody calling an ambulance?!  A loss of consciousness of more than a few seconds is a medical emergency!  Call a doctor, for heaven's sake, concussions do not make for a very merry Christmas!

The thing I'm maddest about, though?  Is that Barnaby wasn't defeated by getting crushed by his own bowling ball.  I waited the whole damn movie for that.  How dare it disappoint me!

[babylon-bitch]

Just Friends ~ To A Good Night (part 58)

Harper White is best friends with Luke Hemmings, they always have been. Not only is she  friends with the rockstar, but with the rest of 5 Seconds Of Summer, as well as a really nice girl named Erika.

Harper has a few secrets, she can play all the instruments the boys play and many more. It’s a talent she has kept hidden, only very few people know.

What will happen to the six teens, wondering around the world together?

***

“So uh, I don’t know what to do, I’d rather put my hand in blender than experience this.” I quietly say. “Do you want to talk, do you want to never see each other again?”

“Harper, it’s fine.” Blake smiles at me.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Laura tells me. “Could you guys all leave us alone for a little?”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go out.” Juliet suggests, confusely.

“Okay, Delilah I’ll introduce you.” I gesture my head towards the door. “I’ll meet you outside, I’ve just gotta get my jacket and take some things I need out of my suitcase.” I inform them and head to my bedroom.

“See you in a minute.” Tori waves and they head out the door.

Grabbing my leather jacket off my bed, searching through my suitcase for my powerblock, because I didn’t charge my phone overnight, and I don’t know how long we’ll be out for.

I sing 21 Questions by Warerparks whilst I shuffle around my room, before I walk out, hearing the small chatter of Blake and Laura.

“Um, text me or something if you need me or when you’re done. Whatever you do, don’t fucking mess around on my bed, I’m begging you. Also we have neighbours so don’t be too loud.”

“Harper!” They both exclaim.

“This is too weird, you’re basically the same person.” My eyes widen and I walk out the door, on my way to meet the others on the ground floor.

Stepping off the last step, I see that they are all getting along nicely, laughing and all.

“Hey.” I smile as I approach.

“Hello.” They all more or less say.

“Do you think they will be alright?” Cody asks as he wraps an arm around Juliet’s waist.

“I don’t know.” I shrug.

“That’s so weird that you know both of them, yet didn’t know.” Izzy says.

“Yeah, we were literally just talking about our love lifes and stuff.” Delilah points out.

“How’s your love life going?” Tori asks me.

“Non existent.” I bitterly speak. “I mean, I’m going through some stuff with uh, Luke, and it’s so complicated.”

“So you’re together?” Cody questions.

“No, not in any shape or form, it just feels like he is the solution to everything yet the source. He’s also going through things, and I want nothing more than to just talk to him and solve everything, but I think that if we did establish a new found relationship, romantic or not, we’d be toxic.” I sadly sigh.

“I’m sorry, babe.” Delilah comes up and hugs me.

“Oh my God, as my love life is shit, I’ve got the perfect opportunity to get you a love life.” I smirk. “Izzy, meet Delilah.”

“Yeah we’ve met, no longer than 5 minutes.” Delilah deadpans.

“I know, but what do you know about each other.” I bite my lip.

“Uh, nothing other than each other’s names.” Izzy tells me.

“Okay, what if I told you Delilah is bisexual and newly single.” I wiggle my eyebrows then turn to Delilah. “And Izzy is gay?”

“Just because your love life is non existent doesn’t mean you can play matchmaker.” Delilah whines.

“Yeah or live through someone else’s love life.” Izzy adds.

“I’m already living through someone else’s.” I say.

“Who?” Izzy asks.

“My friends back home, they actually got engaged recently.” I explain. “You wanna see a picture?”

“Sure.” They all nod.

I pull my phone out and go on to my instagram account, going down quite far.

It’s a picture of Michael, Ashton, Luke, Calum, Erika, Maddie, and I, we’re all sitting down together, completely candid, I think we were at a party or something, but Maddie is sitting on Erika’s lap, laughing and chatting happily. Calum, Michael, and Ashton (the three singles we used to call them) are messing around, having a laugh. Luke and I are in our own little bubble, I’m sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped around my waist, we were joking around, and we looked so content in the moment with out smiles of adoration.

We all used to be content.

There was no tension between us, no overbearing happiness, or anything, just contentness, we were all so comfortable around. Nowadays, I’m uncomfortable around them, not exactly by choice. I wish I could talk to them about things, I can’t talk to my friends here because they don’t know what we were like, don’t know what actually went down, and don’t know Luke. They couldn’t properly give me advice. I’m sure they would help as much they can, but I don’t feel comfortable telling them everything. It would be much easier to talk to the boys or Erika and Maddie, because they know everything.

There’s nothing really stopping me from talking to them, I just know it will be passed on, and I don’t want anything to do with Luke.

At least not right now.

“Here. I’ll let you figure out who they are.” I say and pass my phone to Delilah.

“Damn, the one on top is cute.” Delilah whistles.

“That’s Maddie.” I inform as she passes my phone Juliet.

“The guy with the coloured hair is hot.” Juliet smirks.

“Ahem.” Cody coughs.

“But not as hot as you baby.” She covers it up and passes my phone to Tori as she tries to redeem herself.

“Aw, is that you and Luke? You look so cute.” Tori grins as she looks down at my phone.

“Yeah.” I nod.

“This whole picture is fucking adorable.” Izzy says.

“True. Why haven’t you deleted all the pictures of you and Luke?” Delilah asks,

“He was an important part of my life for such a long time, and deleting a picture doesn’t mean he is erased from my life. Plus half of my account includes something to do with him.” I spin a joke at the end.

“That fair enough. As soon as I knew Elliot and I were properly over, I deleted any trace of him on my Instagram.” Delilah tells me.

“Plus I don’t want to hurt Luke.” I add.

“You’re such a good ex girlfriend, ew.” Juliet shudders.

“Um, okay?” I confusely trail off.

“It’s just when ever I break up with someone I’m such a bitch.” She chuckles. “Keep that in mind.” Juliet spits at Cody.

“Where do we want to go?” Tori asks.

“Have you ever been to Sheffield?” I ask Delilah.

“Only when I was a kid.” She shrugs.

“Okay, let’s go be tourists.” I say.

***

“Do you think they are finished?” Izzy asks.

“I hope so because I’ve been around too many girls for too long.” Cody complains.

“What’s wrong with us?” Tori questions.

“Oooh shit, you’ve just dug yourself a hole.” I laugh.

“I love each and everyone of you, especially you.” Cody plays it off and kisses Juliet.

“Ew, couples.” I cringe.

“Shut up.” Juliet laughs.

“Do you ever feel like a 4 times divorced 45 year old woman who smokes cigarettes in her fur coats on a grand piano? Cause I do and it’s sad.” I sigh.

“You need to get laid.” Izzy says.

“You guys talk to each other like that?” Cody exclaims.

“Like what?” I question.

“Like guy talk.”

“There is no such thing as guy talk, it’s simply just words, and for some reason people decided to dictate on what girls can and can’t say, and they also made up this guy talk bullshit. No, words are words, they are simply sounds that come out of your mouth and end up in another person’s ears, which they process and reply the same way.” Delilah replies.

“Wow, you need to get laid too.” Izzy states.

“Oh my God, let’s have a night out!” Juliet exclaims.

“I don’t know…” I groan.

“Oh come on you old granny, all you do is spend your time being sad over someone. Getting out will do you good, getting laid will help too.” Tori tells me.

“Uh, I’m a virgin and saving myself for marriage.” I put up a fight.

“Seriously?” Izzy asks.

“Bitch you had a hotass boyfriend and you didn’t hop on that?” Tori responds.

“Woah.” Cody whispers.

“Wow, never expected that out of you.” Juliet mumbles with her eyes wide.

“Do you guys even know her? You fucking lost your virginity ages ago.” Delilah outs me.

“Bitch that was my only way of getting out of this.” I smack the back of her head.

“So you’re not a virgin?” Tori asks for confirmation.

“No, I lost it like two years ago.” I sigh.

“Oh, who to?” Juliet ask.

“None of your damn business. Also, what did you mean that you never expected that from me.” I raise an eyebrow.

“Your hair looks great today.” She nervously laughs.

“Juliet.”

“I don’t know, I just thought that if you had a boyfriend like you did, and the stuff you say, I though it was obvious.”

“Whatever, I’m bored talking about my non existent sex life.”

“Which is exactly why we should go out so you can get laid.” Cody laughs.

“Can we at least go out and not get me laid?” I question.

“Fine, but I’m not making any concrete promises.” Tori sighs.

“I don’t believe in promises.” I spit. “Now let’s go back, and just pray that they are not having sex in my bed or spare bedroom.”

“We can only hope.” Izzy says.

Walking all the way up the stairs and up to my apartment door hearing silence. I look back at the others in confusion and they look at me the same way.

Pulling my keys out, I insert them into the lock and twist, pushing the door open. “Hello?” I call out.

“Hey.” Blake calls back.

“Hi.”

Walking through I find Laura and Blake on their phones on different sofas.

“Where’d you go?” Laura asks.

“We were just being tourists, basically.” Izzy shrugs.

“We’re going out tonight, and all of you are coming out.” Juliet insists.

“But I already came out.” Delilah and Izzy say in unison making us all laugh.

“And we’re gonna try and get Harper laid.” Tori excitedly announces.

I was expecting Blake to make some stupid comment but he just chuckles and goes back to his phone. I guess Laura has a big effect on him.

“I thought we said no on that.” I whine.

“You said no, we didn’t make any promises.” Cody tells me.

“Also, Harper told us she’s a virgin.” Izzy laughs.

“You are?” Blake asks.

“No! Plus we talked about this.” I say to Blake.

“We did?” He questions.

“Yeah, you were drunk, for some reason you were sitting on a bench across from your building, and asked when the last time I had sex was and shit like that.”

“Oh yeah, has it changed since then?” He smirks.

“Why? Why me?” I groan.

“What was it?” Juliet asks with a grin.

Blake looks at me and I vigorously shake my head, trying not to laugh.

“No.” He laughs.

“Please! When was it?” Tori begs.

Blake stands up and walks over to me, wrapping an arm round my waist, smiling.

“I couldn’t do that to her.” He coos and pinches my cheeks.

“Get off me.” I groan and push his hand away from my face.

“Honestly has it changed since then?” He asks.

“I hate you guys, I’m not talking about this ever again, and don’t try and set me up with anyone. I’m only going out so I can get drunk.” I cry.

“What time is it?” Cody asks.

“6:30.” Laura speaks up.

“Right ladies, let’s go get ready.” Izzy says.

“Now?” Blake exclaims.

“Well yeah.” Delilah states in a duh tone.

“Whatever.”

“Laura and Delilah I think move got some dresses that can fit you.” I gesture my head towards my bedroom.

“Thanks.” Laura smiles.

“Thank you, and please don’t let me go to a park like last time.” Delilah begs and I shudder at the memory of the last time we went out. I was a fucking mess.

“I’m not even gonna ask.” Cody shakes his head.

“Can’t make any promises.” I chuckle and they head to my bedroom whilst everyone says there goodbyes and are on their way out.

As I’m about to follow the girls, suddenly a loose pair of hands grip my hips and gently pull me back, into someone’s chest.

“We’ve still got to talk y'know.” Blake the kidnapper says into my ear.

“I’ll talk if you tell me what happened between you and Laura when we were out.” I tell him.

“Fine, also, wear something tight.” He whispers the last part against my neck.

I laugh and push him off me, walking to my bedroom whilst he leaves.

“I’ve got a dress that will fit you perfectly.” I tell Laura and go to my wardrobe.

“So how are you?” Delilah asks Laura.

“Good, you’re being weird.” She laughs.

“It’s just you haven’t talked about it or barely talked since we got here.” Delilah shrugs.

“Nothing much happened really, we just awkwardly talked a little and then we finally got semi comfortable with each other, and just talked.” Laura casually states.

“So you didn’t have sex?” I Delilah.

“No!” She exclaims.

“Hallelujah.” I cheer.

“Why am I disappointed?” Delilah questions.

“Because you’re fucking weird.” Laura says.

“Here.” I say and pull out a small red dress, end around mid thigh, shows a little bit of chest and has spaghetti straps.

“Wow, that gorgeous.” Laura gushes.

“Why don’t you wear of?” Delilah asks me.

“It’s too small for me.” I explain as I pass it to Laura. “The bathroom is in there.”

“Thank you.” She smiles and walks away.

“You and I are the same size so you can pick out what you want.” I tell Delilah.

“But I went through a break up, we can’t possibly still be the same size.” Delilah pouts.

“Well, just try stuff on and if you like it wear it.” I laugh.

***

“And I think we’re done.” I drag out as I put the the cap back on the red lipstick I was using.

“We look good.” Laura smiles.

“Yeah.” Delilah agrees.

“Meh.” I shrug and walk away, my shoes clicking in the process.

I’m dressed in a black lacy bralette with a matching black skirt that ends mid thigh, fishnets, and a pair of black heeled ankle boots.

All black.

Like my heart.

Delilah is wearing a body suit that has see through parts and lots of detailing on it then on the bottom she has a light grey skirt, with some thigh high boots.

Laura is wearing the dress I gave her, and she looks drop dread gorgeous, she’s wearing these black heels that are so pointy that she could easily poke someone’s eye out, with a matching black choker.

“When do you think the others will be over?” Delilah asks making me look up from my phone.

“I don’t know, I sent them a text earli-”

I get cut off by the doorbell going off, and I laugh, walking towards the door as I continue to text my brother.

“Hey.” I wave, my mind not exactly in reality.

“Hi.” They all say and walk in.

“Who are you texting?” Tori asks.

“My brother.” I tell her.

“What about?” She questions and I look up.

“Nosy little shit aren’t you.” I say making her laugh.

Everyone is dressed up, Juliet is wearing a dark purple dress which crosses over at the middle, creating a little triangle cut out. Tori is wearing a white dress which is very short, ending at upper thigh, then it’s got a sweetheart type neckline, and it’s got some detailing all over it. Izzy has got a velvet dusty pink pink dress with a halter neck tied up, and a bare back, that ends at the knee.

Blake has a red flannel on with black shirt on under, whilst wearing skinny jeans.

He’s basically a carbon copy of Luke.

Cody has got a button up shirt on with ripped jeans on. I see how boys take a lot less time getting ready.

“Pre drinks?” Izzy questions.

“Pre drinks.” I confirm and go to the kitchen and pull open a cupboard full of many different alcohols.

“Why do you have so much alcohol?” Blake asks as he walks in.

“I’m single and lonely, get out my grill.” I wave him off. “Joking, I got sent a load of alcohol one time and I don’t really like drinking on my own so I don’t use much of it.”

“I wanna pour!” Juliet calls and takes the bottle out of my hand.

“Okay.” I mumble and step back, sitting on the counter.

“I invited some other people by the way, we’ve all met before.” Cody informs us all.

“Okay.” Izzy smiles.

“Come here, you’ve got fluff in your hair.” I say to Blake.

“Yes mum.” He groans and walks towards me.

“Shut up.” I chuckle and take it out, dropping it on the floor. Blake turns around and leans on the counter, in between my legs.

“So, we don’t know much about you two.” Tori states to Delilah and Laura.

“I’m Delilah, and I’m a recovering alcoholic, and I like making clay horses so I can pretend to ride them.” Delilah speaks up.

“I’m Laura and I’m a coke addict, and I like shoving sharp things places.” Laura introduces making us three all burst out laughing.

“Something we’re missing?” Juliet asks.

“It’s an inside joke.” I explain.

“No but seriously, I uh, play guitar, I’m going to uni in London, I’m from Brighton, my uncle is called Brian and I’m on 74%.” Delilah says.

“I like to sing, I’m also going to uni in London but not the same one, my favourite food is sushi, and I own a cat called Stephen.”

“Stephen is still alive?” Blake questions.

“Uh, yeah, should be turning 14 next month.” Laura replies.

“Talking about cats, how is Rodney?” I ask Izzy.

“Good, I guess, I have to pass him on soon though.” Izzy responds.

“Is there a set person?” I ask.

“Yeah, he goes to my neighbour.” She responds.

“You have a cat?” Laura asks.

“Yeah, each floor has one.” Tori speaks up.

“Wow, I got ripped off.” Delilah mumbles.

“I poured these ages ago by the way.” Juliet informs us all and gestures to the shots.

“Oh yeah.” We all chuckle.

Blake takes hold of my thighs and I hold on to his shoulders and he helps me down, gently placing me on the floor.

“To a good night.” We all say as we clink our glasses together before downing the shot.