#I’ve been doing that thing where you mix the two before totally switching and he’s shown me which he likes better 😆

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

My cat didn’t used to get the zoomies at 2am very often in the past, but in the past he had an entire house to roam around in. Now he just has my apartment and I’ll see this medium sized (he’s a large boy, very tall and long) hop-running around from room to room while I’m in bed and it’s just like “uh. Okay then”

[thevioletcaptain]

🙍🏽‍♀️🐷🪷 (i scrolled and picked three random emojis pls enjoy)

“You wanna run that by me one more time?”

On the other end of the line, Patience lets out a long-suffering sigh — as though Dean’s the one making unexpected phone calls at quarter past three in the morning — and says it again. The words don’t make any more sense than they did the first time.

“In fourteen hours and — now seventeen minutes — a pig in Lotus, Illinois is going to die, and unless you save her life, she’s taking everyone in a 50 mile radius with her. And yeah, before you ask me to say it a third time, I am acutely aware of how stupid this sounds.”

“And when you say pig, are we talkin’ Babe, or—?“

“My visions aren’t symbolic, Dean. It’s an actual pig. Her name is Princess.”

“Right. Just… wanted to be sure before we started trailing all the cops in uh, where’d you say? Lotus?”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t find one there anyway. Internet says it’s an unincorporated community — looks like there’s maybe three farms there, total.”

“Looks like?”

“Satellite images,” she says.

“Right. Hey, hold on a sec.”

“‘Kay.”

Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm, Dean pushes the rest of the way out of bed and throws on the same jeans he took off two hours ago. Switches out the ratty t-shirt he’d been almost-sleeping in for a fresh one, and yanks on his boots.

For once, he’d been planning on sleeping a solid seven hours. He was going to make maple bacon with blueberry waffles in the morning. Jack was going to help him mix the batter.

Depending on how things shake out with Patience’s vision, he might never be able to enjoy bacon again. Or for a few months, at least.

Fully dressed and heading out into the hall, he puts his phone back to his ear.

“I’m back,” he says, making his way toward the kitchen. He thumps twice on Sam’s door as he passes it, barking out a gruff hunt in response to Sam’s bleary huh? “Please tell me you’ve got some idea of how exactly Peppa’s gettin’ popped so we can try to do something about it.”

“I have no clue.”

“And you didn’t see anything else? Any details at all. A barn, a farmer, anything? Because this is…”

“Impossible. I know. But that’s all I’ve got. The pig just keels over, then bursts in a blinding flash of light, and ten seconds later Illinois has a brand new crater the size of New Jersey.”

“Okay, well — that’s something.”

“What?”

“The light. What color is it?”

“White, mostly,” Patience says, then hums a little to herself. “But… huh, actually, there is a bit of purple. Right in the center. Right before it goes supernova.”

“Purple light usually means witchcraft,” Dean says, approaching the kitchen. He can see the light on; can hear the telltale sound of Cas stirring sugar into coffee. “Maybe the pig is the final ingredient in some kind of magic bomb?”

“Could be,” Patience agrees. “But hey, listen, I gotta try and get a couple more hours sleep — huge test in the morning. But if anything else comes to me I’ll call you, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good. And uh— thanks. And good luck.”

“You too.”

The line goes dead just as Dean steps into the kitchen, and Cas looks up at him from the table, where he’s reading an article in one of the Men of Letters’ old issues of The Farmer’s Almanac. He frowns at the sight of the phone in Dean’s hand. Frowns harder still when Dean heads directly for the coffee machine with nothing but a brief brush of a hand over his shoulder.

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s a day ending in Y,” Dean says with a sigh, pouring a cup from the thankfully still-hot jug. “You up for a road trip?”

“Of course. Where are we going?”

"Illinois," Dean tells him, leaning back against the counter as Sam arrives, his hair sticking so far out to one side that Dean suspects it’s generating its own electric charge.

He eyes it over his mug and has the grim thought that all that static electricity might be the thing to light Miss Piggy's fuse. Oblivious to Dean's train of thought, Sam lets out an explosive yawn. Dean bites back the kind of mildly-hysterical laugh that can only come when sleep-deprived and preparing to drive toward impending danger.

"What's in Illinois?" Cas prompts him, and Sam yawns again as he waves a hand for Dean to explain, and Dean takes a long sip of his coffee as he searches for a better way to put it than Patience had managed on her first try.

He's not sure that he succeeds where clarity of substance is concerned, but as far as style goes? He thinks he's nailed it.

“Short version? Royal rescue mission, but the Princess is a pig."

Cas squints at him.

“I think,” he says, looking over at Sam, who is blinking slowly as he tries to parse Dean’s words, “We’re going to need the long version.”

[written for this prompt game] [find me on ao3 as imogenbynight 💚]

[arcanemoody]

20 Questions for Writers!

I was tagged by @augustjustice Thanks so much again, Conner!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

89 right now.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

337,039 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily Gotham, Stranger Things, Pacific Rim.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Lipstick Red and Neon Pink: A Riddlebird EP (The Batman 2022)

Locked Doors (Gotham)

When the Lights Go On Again (All Over the World) (Pacific Rim)

Bait and Switch (The Green Hornet)

Into the Woods (Gotham)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes. If I’m depressed or intimidated, it might take some time but I always respond.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably a tie between Unravel and Vox Humana, both from Pacific Rim fandom. In the former, one of the characters is waking up after almost a decade of having his body hijacked and is disoriented and grief-stricken. In the latter, three closeted queer teens are returning home after a brief holiday in Berlin, with the freedom and happiness they experienced firmly in the rear view mirror.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Locked Doors has the most complete arc with the two lovers separated at the start and reunited at the end. Ride Home is similar but it already begins with them reunited.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not hate. There has been a passive-aggressive comment or two. There’s a reason I only have one story in Supernatural fandom (and never really engaged with the show after season 6).

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. I have a lot of D/s overtones, friends to lovers, non-sexual intimacy mixed with power dynamics and hurt/comfort.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I write a lot of AU’s. The one that comes closest to being a true “crossover” is The Bluest Sea, a Gotham fic set in the same timeline as the first Pacific Rim film.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nothing I’ve posted. My bestie and I have co-written/RP’d some long-form and short-form RPF (I won't name the pairing because, unlike Martin and Lewis, one of them is still alive and he IS online).

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Nygmobblepot/Riddlebird, Steddie, Newmann. The top three get periodically re-shuffled but they more or less remain the same.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you will?

I have several WIPs with one to two chapters remaining. They will all be completed – even if it takes a long time.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I’m told I’m very good at creating a setting and world-building.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My pacing can be slow and I tend to use a lot of words in places where shorter descriptions will work much better (it really jumps out when I try to read stories aloud).

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve done it before, mainly with Pacific Rim fandom and a one-off I started for Padre Coraje. My Spanish colloquial language is probably better than my German, lol.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Young Ones, a 1980s Britcom I originally saw at 3am on BBC America. Changed my life (not joking).

20. Favorite fic you've written?

If I could pick a favorite, I would say that I'm very fond of The Bluest Sea.

I'm going to no-pressure tag @basilintime @esperata (if you haven't already done it), @chierei (same).

[doberbutts]

One of the major things you hear people repeat about service dogs and service dog training is that only certain breeds are recommended for service work. Truthfully, any dog that is capable can do it- breed or no breed, mixed or pure, recommended or not. Regardless of breed, only certain dogs are even capable of meeting the demands of service work, and finding a dog that is capable should be the highest priority.

Why, then, are people so obsessed with talking about breed?

Well, let me give a direct example of dogs trained by me for me. Keep in mind I already had experience training service dogs, I just never had trained one for myself.

Creed was a line cross doberman (1/4 euro work 3/4 euro show) from a breeder who specifically bred dogs for search and rescue, personal protection, and police/military work (narcotics/explosives detection). In her spare time she also competed in protection sports with her dogs to varying levels.

Creed I was unsure would even work out- in fact I debated giving him back to his breeder due to some traits he showed as a teenager. While we worked through it and he turned out to be a fantastic service dog, it was very difficult and took more than two years before I felt fully comfortable “graduating” him. I loved that dog fiercely and mourn him still every day, but our success was hard won and I had a lot of doubts we’d ever get to where we did. He was a great dog, and he also tested every last ounce of knowledge I had, and I grew as a trainer thanks to him.

Sushi is technically also a line cross swissy, being 3/4 european and 1/4 american. Swissies really don’t have a show/work split, and even euro vs american doesn’t really have a huge amount of difference, so I say technically. Her breeder specifically breeds utility farm dogs that can do just about anything a farmer would ask them to do. She wins titles and awards easily on her dogs in both working and showing venues. They help her around her property and she has sold several to various working dog programs looking for a giant.

Sushi from day one my only concern with her was potty training as swissies are notoriously awful at it as babies. She thankfully grew out of her habits of leaving rivers in my house and other than a bit of a rocky fear period that lasted a couple months- also well documented in the breed- has taken everything in stride. I do something with her a handful of times and she commits it to memory and doesn’t need the reminder. She received two rally legs in which almost every point deduction was solely my fault (outside of her complaining she was hot, which, fair it was 85F) after only 4 rally classes. She got her CGC, CGCA, and CGCU within a two month timespan despite us not even having worked on U or A skills. She’s had 3 restaurant outings and is fully trustworthy under the table. She’s had maybe 20 total non-employee-related outings as a service dog and acts like an old pro.

She’s not even 2 years old yet and I’ve been toying around with the idea of graduating her since she was 18 months. I’m holding off until I get her mobility training underway, as we’re waiting until she’s 2 and has cleared her ortho stuff before starting, but otherwise... she’s done. And she’s been done.

It’s not that Creed couldn’t do it- he could and he did and I miss my shadow and copilot who loved me as much as I loved him. It’s that Sushi does it way easier. Having gone from Creed to Sushi makes me feel like I activated easy mode, like I’m cheating almost. I took things slow with her and haven’t wanted to push her at all, in fact that’s why she’s done so few things is because I wanted to ease her into it. But at every turn she just takes it in stride.

If you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ve never trained a service dog before, and you need this animal in order to survive... wouldn’t you rather take the easier route? I know why I switched off of dobermans for service dogs despite adoring the breed. I’ll have another one eventually, but my dobermans aren’t going to be service dogs anymore. Especially not now that I have seen just how much easier it is with a breed more made for it.

[potatoes-is-are-food]

Can I request some poly! Shigadabihawks x reader if you don’t mind. You have amazing writing and you have written some amazing poly! I don’t care if it’s sfw and/or nsfw, it’s totally up to you. I honestly kinda wanted to see how hawks and Shigaraki got along in a poly relationship and how they interacted with each other because I can imagine how Dabi and hawks get along or dabi and shigaraki but hawks and Shigaraki would have a odd relationship, y’know. Sorry if this is odd and you don’t know what I’m talking about and I just want you to know that I absolutely love your work. You’re the first person I check everyday when I get on tumblr. 😘

Awwwww!!! You are so sweet, thank you so much!!! Yeah this makes a lot of sense, for the demon au especially I’ve been trying to work on showing off the dynamic between Hawks and Shig. I hope headcanons are okay!

| SFW

- Before you enter the mix, Dabi is really the only holding them together. He started off dating Tomura (who still insists he barely even likes him, usually after they finish making out) and then later Kei joined in. You’re still not sure how it all came to be since you get a different answer depending on who you ask and what mood they’re in.

- Tomura is only a bit tsundere with Dabi and Kei, never you. With you he’s more openly clingy and would never deny how he feels. He wouldn’t say it, but he appreciates you being around whenever Dabi and Keigo make him feel like a third wheel. Keigo has some similar experiences, but he’s just genuinely not bothered whenever Dabi wants to go have some solo time with Tomura. Or you, for that matter. Just isn’t the jealous type.

- They like using you to fuck with each other. If you’re hanging out with Dabi there’s a good chance Keigo will come along and just flat out steal you. Just pick you up and walk off. Because he can. Dabi is fond of teasing Tomura about how much he likes you, despite clearly also liking you. Tomura’s go-to is usually also to steal you, however he likes to get you to come willingly so you’ll blow off whoever you were with to start.

- Keigo and Tomura get along best when teaming up to irritate Dabi. Whether it’s playing keep away with you, hiding his stuff, distracting him when he’s trying to brood and do Dabi stuff, they really enjoy the power of their combined effects on him.

- The three of them teaming up to irritate you is what really gets them cooperating. They’re all gremlins, they steal your clothes to force you into skirts with no panties, they move your stuff around so you have to ask them for help, and that’s without getting into how often they fight over you, although that’s not so much to annoy you.

- Dabi developed a little habit of calling you, Tomura, and Kei his sluts and now he does it no matter who’s around and it’s really embarrassing but he absolutely does not care.

- While most of the time it’s Dabi and you holding Tomura and Keigo together, it’s not uncommon to find just the two of them off by themselves bonding over a common interest or even occasionally making out.

- They each have their own rooms, but you don’t. You bounce between theirs and your stuff is always scattered around. Yes, it’s annoying. No, they won’t let you have your own room. The four of you typically end up sharing one bed anyway, although the room itself changes.

- They’re not shy about the relationship, so it’s fairly often you get teased (albeit lovingly) about having three boyfriends. Toga really likes trying to force you to pick a favorite.

- Everyone thinks it’s creepy. Everyone. But Kei started calling you their “little girl” and just never stopped.

- They don’t really do PDA between themselves aside from the odd hand holding or rare peck on the cheek, but when it comes to you all bets are off. You’re constantly perched in someone’s lap or holding a hand or having your clothes fixed by someone else. To everyone else it mostly looks like they toss you around.

- Sometimes they’ll take you on dates, switching between doing them one on one or with the whole group. It’s hard to get Tomura to go out, though, since he prefers stay at home dates. When he’s not feeling it you’ll usually end up in a blanket fort eating takeout all together.

- One time. one. time. some stranger muttered “slut” under his breath when he saw you walking along in public with them. Dabi charred his ass so fast the other two were pissed at him for not being able to get a hit in.

- Despite all of them being gremlins, they really love you and will 10/10 go out of their way to make sure you know that. Literally anything upsets you and the immediate response is “Tell me why you’re not happy and I will kill it.”

- Most of their more genuine affections are shown in little things they do. Keigo likes to get you guys things, especially snacks he knows you like since he can go in public freely. Dabi is constantly fixing your clothes and hair and making sure everyone’s comfortable. Tomura always touches you softly (outside of the bedroom), always brushing his fingers along your cheeks or resting his head on your shoulder, etc. He’s also the most likely to casually touch the others in public.

- When it’s cold everyone piles up on Dabi and he pretends he hates it, but you always catch him smiling when he thinks no one’s looking.

- Kei loves using his feathers to tease everyone, slipping them under clothes before you can stop them or making them flit around your face. It’s annoying but his laugh is so cute you can’t even be mad at him.

- Tomura’s face always lights up before he can stop it when one of you comes to play videogames with him. He’s really bad at hiding how excited and happy it makes him.

- Since you’re the only girl and they’re kind of sexist, they treat you a lot softer than they treat each other. Doesn’t matter how strong you are, they’ll always think you’re weaker and they need to protect you. It might not seem like it when they’re teasing the hell out of you or tying you up or spanking you, but they go way easier on you than they would on each other in the same situation.

- Literally any sign from you that you’re seriously upset or overwhelmed? Done. No more. Only soft affection and very mild teasing for the week.

| NSFW

- The first time Kei joined in while Dabi and Tomura were fucking, he didn’t even participate. He just watched like a fucking creep. Still does that occasionally.

- They all have relatively high drives and absolutely no shame between each other, so it’s pretty often you’re just casually getting fucked in one of their rooms while another sits on the couch beside you and watches TV. May or may not comment on it.

- Sometimes they’ll make bets about you. See who can get you to cum the fastest one week or try testing how long it takes for you to come to them when they don’t initiate it and which one you pick. How much cum they can stuff you with and plug up before it starts leaking out. And so on.

- It’s very different if it’s just one of them, or if it’s two and which two, etc.

- Dabi likes to manhandle you. He takes his time, makes you wait and beg and then just completely destroys you for hours on end. After, he sits back with a cigarette and lets you cling to him while he strokes you and tells you you did a good job. It pleases him when you’re so fucked out you can’t form full sentences, and he’ll tease you for it for days.

- Keigo is similar in that he likes to tease, but he’s also sadistic. He’ll make you cum on his tongue and fingers until you’re begging him to stop and then he’ll force at least two more orgasms out of you on his dick. Afterwards he watches you twitch and leak his spunk for a minute before giving you god-tier aftercare. Runs a bath, gets you some water, etc. Once you’re clean he encourages you to take a nap, but it’s usually an excuse for him to take a nap because he’s also worn out but trying to hide it.

- Tomura gets too excited to tease for very long, but that’s only directly before the sex. He’ll have his hand shoved in your panties just toying with you for hours while he absently scrolls on his phone. Sometimes he’ll have you get yourself ready where he can see, only to completely ignore you until you let him know he can start. Once he’s going, though, he’s done with all that. He’s drooling, panting, flushed, pounding you into next week. He alternates between kissing you and spitting in your mouth because he’s too wound up to just pick a mood most of the time.

- That’s not to say you don’t have lots of times where it’s intimate and loving, but that’s not really the usual.

- The Dabi/Tomura combination is the more nasty of the three. Kei isn’t opposed to doing stuff to make you squirm when he’s in the mood but Dabi and Tomura l i v e for that shit. They’re almost nightmarish together, 100% okay with piss, impact play, period stuff, all things anal, etc. Of course you’re their girlfriend and they love you so they’re not about to do something that has you screaming or crying for real, but if you’re at least mostly okay with it and they’re confident it’s not breaking you, they’ll do pretty much anything. Anything to get you teary-eyed, begging them to stop, etc. as long as you’re not saying the safeword. For aftercare they’re very gentle and soft as they clean you up and put you to bed. Doesn’t matter what time of day it happened, they’re putting you in bed and snuggling you until you get at least an hour of sleep. When you wake up they’ll get you something to eat and make sure they didn’t hurt you beyond the usual cuts, bruises, and assorted mild scorching.

- Dabi and Kei usually go for more of a good cop/bad cop sort of arrangement. Doesn’t seem so bad until you figure out they switch the roles without any indication of having done that. It’s like they have a sixth sense for it or something. You’ll be crying and clinging to Keigo since he’s been nice so far only for him to bend you over his knee and spank you raw for it; meanwhile Dabi has gone from smacking you around and spewing filth to cooing and stroking your face. Their aftercare is mostly praise, they’ll tell you you did well and make sure you’re okay mentally since some of the stuff they say can get pretty intense. They’ll get you cleaned up and make sure you eat and drink water, and they’ll cuddle as long as you want and won’t go anywhere even if you fall asleep.

- Tomura and Keigo are the most interesting mix. It’s not often that it happens, but when it does they work surprisingly well together. Their different types of degeneracy and patience seem to blur together into a lethal combination that’ll have you getting whiplash from how they toss you back and forth. They’re not usually both participating at the same time; someone has to hold the camera, after all. Aftercare usually consists of a shower, snacks, and either you napping on their laps while they game together or joining in if they didn’t rock your shit too hard. On days when they’ve done this, you’ll notice the two of them interacting more and occasionally taking some time to be alone together…

- When it’s all of them you’re fucking in for it. Depending on the mood it can vary wildly, but for the most part it’s just a complete mass of writhing limbs and moans. You’re tired ten minutes in, more of the focus is on you than anything, you’re forced to cum over and over again, they each cum in or on you at least twice, and when it’s all said and done you’re covered in sweat, cum, possibly blood, and three sweaty, spent bodies. Usually after they have to peel your limp, half-conscious body off the bed and carry you to the bath. They’ll take great care of you, not that you’ll really remember it in your sorry state, and when you wake up the next day they’re more doting than usual. They’ll tease a little about how you’re sore and still just a little out of it, but that doesn’t mean they’re not checking on you and being extra attentive.

- The times when it’s all of you together but in a more romantic way, it’s like being surrounded by pure love. Everyone’s kissing, you’re all tangled together, it’s just really soft and intimate. Doesn’t last as long, but it’s insanely sweet and gooey. When finished, there’s lots of soft caring/cleaning up/cuddling for a while but it doesn’t have the same insane recovery time as usual. After everyone’s taken care of, the guys like to try pretending everything is normal, but it’s obvious they’re more clingy than usual. Definitely all sleeping together in a pile on nights like that.

- Sometimes one will join in just for aftercare. Kei enjoys seeing you a fucked-out little mess, so he’s always happy to help if it means he can see you destroyed for a minute first. Dabi likes the feeling of being needed and being able to care for someone, so he’ll help, especially cleaning you up and getting you dressed. Tomura loves the way you cling after, and likes to cuddle and nap, so he’ll come in late to the aftercare just for that.

[drabsyo]

I was wondering...I was always confused about Narcissa’s hair. It’s been a while since I read the books. Did she color it blonde to show her now belonging to House Malfoys. Or was it naturally blonde? Movies confused me a bit I guess.

Yes, this had me confused too! I've agonized and toiled over it, more than I probably should, about how I should draw her hair because people have generally different views, which is totally understandable! 💕

And I've always wanted to discuss it, so now that I've been given a reason to... Well.

If you take a look at some of my Narcissa fanart, you'll notice the different ways I'd color her hair. I was so confused. Is she a light blonde? Dark blonde? A mix of raven hair and blonde hair? If she has blonde hair then why does her family have (mostly) dark hair? And WHY does she have blue eyes?! This woman is absolutely confusing! (Which is kind of, you know, fitting because Narcissa always loves to be a mystery to literally anyone lol)

So I did my homework, asked around, and scoured every bit of information, canon or otherwise, that I could find about her. It led me to this:

In canon, this is what the Black sisters look like. You can find the page here. Narcissa is a child here, and already has blonde hair. So we can go ahead and safely assume that she was born with natural blonde hair. But in the films, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. I don't actually know why they gave her that hair color, maybe so that the audiences wouldn't question her blood relations with the Blacks--I don't know. I really don't. But now we have a book version Narcissa, one who has full blonde hair. And a movie version Narcissa, one who has raven and blonde hair. At least, that's how the different hair colors started: a movie version, and a book version.

So... here's where it gets confusing.

To my knowledge, it isn't actually explained why her hair color is the way it is in both the movies and the books. Having blonde hair does raise many questions, how is she the "only" blonde in a family of dark hair and dark eyes? To top it all off, it gets even more confusing, because fanon writes and draws her either as a full blonde or a mix of raven and blonde hair. We just have this large pile to sift through of her having either hair color. No one actually explains anything. She's just... infuriatingly there. She's either blonde or raven haired and blonde. BUT fanfiction writers, as I've observed, give their own reasons why Narcissa's hair color is the way it is in their respective stories. And it's actually pretty creative and interesting! It adds even greater depth to her character, and it fits the narrative of the story even better. Remember, the character we're dealing with is Narcissa Black. One of her main traits is "she won't do anything unless there is a clear purpose behind it." This character is deliberate, meticulous, and she makes sure to plan ahead at all times. And so, some fanfiction writers decide to play on that.

You can skip this part if you want to avoid spoilers but I've compiled a small list of instances in (Cissamione) fanfiction where Narcissa's hair is mentioned.

🔹 In Extinction by rubikanon in Chapter 10: Build and Break, Hermione asks Narcissa about it. Here, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. She explains that she only decided to dye it blonde to "fit in with the Malfoys." We can gather two things from that alone, which resonates with her character perfectly: 1.) Narcissa is loyal and 2.) Narcissa purposefully wants to show the rest of the world how loyal she is by committing to having blonde hair. The woman has some serious commitment, and it shows. But now, the way that it's slowly growing back into her natural black hair color, hints that perhaps Narcissa no longer wishes to fit in with the Malfoys. However, if we take an even closer look, we can safely assume that Narcissa isn't the kind of person to just leave her hair color "unattended" like that. Remember, she's meticulous. And this is a big deal for her, the fact that she's just kind of letting it grow back instead of either fully dyeing it back to black, or dyeing it back to blonde. It suggests that perhaps she's a little unsure this time, perhaps it is her uncertainty that is the reason why it's now a mix of both. Another grey area? Or maybe it's actually something more deliberate? Maybe now, she likes that it's a mix of both. That other half now being solely for Draco, and not to fit in (completely) with the Malfoys any longer. Who knows why Narcissa does things the way she does? We can speculate to the ends of the earth, or be as smart as Hermione Granger (or with the case of Extinction, see Hermione's thoughts), but something tells me we'd still be a good step behind.

"Which one is your natural hair color?" I wondered aloud.

(Narcissa) She glanced up at the unexpected question. I was relieved she hadn't sensed my attention yet. It's not like I meant anything by it, I told myself. She was so beautiful, one couldn't help but notice. And feel physically drawn to her. And want to see her two-toned hair fanned across her back, slipping over the bare skin, silky beneath my fingers...

"Why do you ask?" Her query brought me back to reality, and I hurriedly corrected my imagination to include a pretty dress covering the rest of her.

"I don't know." I chewed the inside of my cheek, suppressing my other thoughts. "I'm just curious."

Her gaze returned to the fire. "You've seen enough of my relatives to guess which color is genetic. The blond is something I added to fit in with the Malfoys, after Draco was born." She was quiet for a moment. "He looks so much like his father. I suppose I wanted to share some resemblance."

🔹 In Killing Me Softly by Looktotheedges in Chapter 4: Nagging, Hermione suggests that perhaps Narcissa is part Veela because of her blonde hair and very attractive features, like Fleur. Which is this whole other theory/plot that's very interesting, but won't be discussed in this post. Narcissa tells Hermione that Sirius has always been blonde, and that it isn't out of the question for her to be blonde either. Sirius Black. A blonde. I know! Maybe it's there because it's funny that Sirius is actually blonde like Narcissa. Prissy, haughty, lady-like Narcissa. Arguably the 'girliest' cousin that he has. No, no, no. He doesn't want to be anything like Narcissa. Anyway, if that's the reason, I think that's hilarious and cute.

Narcissa turns away. 'I am aware my appearance is frightfully drab. Work has been…'

Hermione holds back a disbelieving scoff. 'Narcissa. You always look beautiful. And you’re talking to the witch with grass in her hair who practically lives in her office all week.'

Narcissa just leans further over the crib. 'A blonde little boy. It has been so long since… I can almost imagine…'

Hermione stands next to her. Looks down at the peacefully sleeping Louis. He does look remarkably like Draco. 'Are you sure there’s no Veela blood in you? You weren’t secretly switched at birth?'

'Like a changeling?'

'It would explain your blonde hair.'

'Sirius was also blonde, it is not completely out of the question for us Blacks.'

What?!

(...) 'I know. But it is the truth. He was blond until he was about seven… then it began to darken. Mousy. Dull. He wanted to look cool and brooding instead, so he got his hands on some kind of charm right before he set off for Hogwarts. A new, edgy Sirius. It was around then he forbade us from calling him Siri. Said it sounded too girly.'

🔹 In Fixed in Time by TheWorldsaBeastofBurden in Chapter 9: Sisters and Saviors, it's also tackled a little humorously. Andromeda let's a little comment slip while they're in the middle of trying to heal Hermione. Something funny, something that suggests Andromeda and Bella, when they were children, have always wondered why Narcissa is blonde unlike them.

The first words spoken occurred after they’d risen and attempted their casting. Andromeda’s preparedness to take on their task had been clear in her mind so Narcissa rose with her sister, wrapped an arm around her waist and held her near as the woman raised her wand to draw up the rest of the injury she’d dropped, half a slash across Hermione’s hip bone…

That remained half, as Andromeda growled out, “...it isn’t working.” she looked to Narcissa, “Why aren’t you powering me?”

What nonsense? “I am!” she insisted. She was! Or “I- I am trying to!” Her magic was active and alive, pulsing to rise from her skin and transfer into Andromeda’s but it- it wasn’t working! “Could...could it be that you were disowned?”

“Disowning doesn’t take away the fact that we share blood, our magic is directly related. Ugh, Bella always said you were adopted!”

“Oh ha- oh.”

“...oh?” Andromeda returned.

“...it’s not an issue of power. It is what I intend to aid in casting,” Narcissa slowly worked out. Oh, it was most blessed Mister Goyle could be brought to assist the present Hermione. If her present self had been brought to aid Andromeda? “...I cannot harm Hermione.”

Andromeda sighed with some frustration. “I understand you are so tenderly in love-”

“It isn’t- I’m avowed! I- when we arrived from the future we had to escape Malfoy Manor, I couldn’t bring Hermione through the wards without...I couldn’t add her directly, that would be visible. I had to...attach her permission to mine.”

🔹 In Glass Silence by Zarrene Moss (Menzosarres), which probably gives one of the most interesting backstories for Narcissa's hair, for why it's blonde. I can't put a clip of the scene here without hogging up a huge chunk of space on your dash, so I'll try to explain it as best I can instead.

Understand that these come with serious 🛑spoilers🛑 so please do read it at your own risk.

In Glass Silence, Narcissa's hair and eye color was black at birth. But after an accident with raw magic, something Bellatrix wasn't able to control when they were children, Narcissa almost dies. Bellatrix, using even more raw magic, tries desperately to pull Narcissa's "life force" back, but at the cost of losing the eumelanin that made Narcissa's eyes and hair black. Narcissa survived, but now has very little eumelanin left, which is why she's so pale, blonde, and has blue eyes. Every time Narcissa looks at a mirror, her reflection is a reminder of the day she almost died. Bella, on the other hand, is reminded of that day every single time she looks at Narcissa.

So! These are only a few fanfictions I could think of at the top of my head that tackles the issue of Narcissa's hair. In the books, to my knowledge, she is described as having blonde hair and very pale skin.

But let's take another deep dive, if you're up for it.

These are mostly theories, which are largely unconfirmed, but I think they're interesting to think about.

There's this description in the wiki:

"Narcissa Malfoy is described as tall, slim, "nice looking", and very pale, with blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a clear, cold voice. Her hair colouring thus differs from most of the House of Black, who generally have dark hair, though Narcissa does possess the arrogant good looks characteristic of her family."

There's also this pinterest photo of the Black sisters being compared to each other side by side, descriptively and physically. I'm so sorry, I don't know who drew it, but here's a link to the post on pinterest.

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

Which is interesting because this hints that she's... different. It's a bit literal in this sense--she comes from a pureblood family, arguably the most influential and notorious one, the Blacks, who mostly have dark hair and eyes, and yet her physical appearance directly contrast that. There's also the matter of her namesake. She's the only Black to be named after a flower instead of a galaxy or a star. We aren't really given any explanation why she's the only one who's different. Even Sirius, who fought and died for the side of the Light, is named after the brightest star in the sky. Even Andromeda. It's been said that this is actually meant to be a parallel of some sort to Lily Evans. Narcissa and Lily are both named after flowers, even Petunia (Lily's sister). And I know there's this thing where it's a tie up to how Harry was ultimately saved by a mother's love: Harry lived at the beginning because of his mother's love, and Harry lives once again at the end of the books because Narcissa, a mother who wanted to save her own son, saved him.

If you read that scene in the books where Harry is saved by Narcissa, the whole scene is actually... pretty soft? There's that sort of disarming softness about Narcissa in that moment, where Harry expected to be callously dragged and prodded for a heartbeat. Instead, he gets a surprisingly gentle touch, a curtain of long blonde hair shielding him from the darkness, and the kind of tenderness he wouldn't expect from his enemies, "Is Draco alive?"

It's almost like Narcissa's appearance is something of a "tell". With Andromeda, she's described to have kind eyes, open, unguarded. She inherited her family's dark eyes and dark hair, and she even looks like Bellatrix's twin. I suppose we could say, Andromeda wants to fight that in any way she can by being openly kind. Narcissa is quite literally the opposite--guarded eyes, stoic expressions, cool and calculated emotions. We're veering into this fine line between fanon and canon in terms of their characterization (but only due to lack of canon materials) but personally, I think Narcissa having blonde hair and blue eyes is somewhat more fitting for her character. Again, this line:

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

It's like that one glaringly obvious hint that everyone overlooks simply because... because it's the most obvious one. "Me! I'm different! I'm the last person you'd expect, but it really is me!"

Anyway. I've rambled on long enough. Hope this clears up some of that confusion, anon. Hoping it didn't ADD even more confusion... 😂 At the end of the day, this is just me speculating, gushing, and being One Big Fool™. So.

But either way, blonde hair, dark hair, mix of both, I adore her. Pretty much.

[httphopewrld]

I Don’t Know What to Call This | (f/m/a)

Just Friends? Friends with benefits? Dating? Questions swarmed your mind when one of your dear friends, Allie, asked about you and Hoseok’s relationship. The truth was you didn��t know. You and Hoseok were close, knowing each other since elementary school, and considered each other friends. However, as you two grew older, maturing into separate professions—you a well-known fashion designer, and Hoseok a famous musician and dancer—you two had engaged in some intimate activities (sex—lots of it.) After Allie’s simple question, you had to confront your feelings. But were you and Hoseok ready to be more than close friends and f*ck buddies?

Pairing: friend/lover/bfhoseok! x female reader

Genre: slowburn fluff and SMUT

Rating: 18+ because there’s swearing and pretty detailed smut

Warnings: swearing and SMUT (one of the most detailed smuts I've written, and there's more than one sex scene.) Smut includes: switch!reader and switch!hoseok, grinding and thrusting, protective sex (USE CONDOMS, I cannot stress that enough), lots of kissing, ass-grabbing, dirty talk, a wee bit of choking on both sides, squirting, male and female oral, fingering and handjobs, vibrator use, cyber-sex, the reader uses dildo, slight degradation, and just lots of filth—YOU'RE WELCOME FELLOW FILTHY ANIMALS. Oh, and spoilers for the horror movie Hush. It's on Netflix if you haven't watched it yet. It is GOOD.

  Word Count: 16, 465 (wowie)

A/N: Thank you for waiting! It’s rushed, so expect some little mistakes here an there, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I hope y'all enjoy it! Also, Y/L/N means "your last name."

  Taglist: @kirbykook​ @kleritata​ @taestannie​ @jenotation​ @hemmos-obrien​ @zeharilisharaban​ @speed-of-wind​ @kawaisoraya​

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

“You can move those over there,” you gestured to the left corner of the windowed room, where a pile of boxes waited. The move was going to take longer than you expected because the movers arrived a week later than your assistant, Rachel said. I really need to talk to her about this. You stressed in your mind, rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?” You looked up, vision resuming its focus on your friend, Allie. Allie, your friend for as long as you could remember, offered to help you move to your new building. She would help you manage everything, including the movers, tracking your company's items, and the layout you gave to her for said things while managing the company. “I’m just irritated at Rachel,” you noticed her confusion, “my new assistant.” She nodded, remembering, “Right. Why is she still employed?” “Because she’s new, and being an assistant is a tough feat. She’ll get it soon.” You reassured, “Rachel is a fast learner, and this is her first mistake. We’re prepared for the next show, though, because Westley's helping me organize it.” “Remind me who Westley is?” Allie asked. You sighed. “West is like my second brain. He helps organize the fashion shows, hire the models, find the venues, and secure the guest list. He has other people help him too, but he’s the brains of that. I create the fashion, and he finds a way to present it.” Allie nodded, “Gotcha.” Your phone rang, and you answered. “Y/N.” “Y/N!” Rachel chimed on the other end. “It’s Rachel. I’m so sorry about the mix-up on dates. It won’t happen again, I—” “I know it won’t, Rachel. You’re new, so I expected to slip up. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” you nudged Allie’s arm, and she smiled. “We’re luckily prepared for the next show in Vancouver, so you don’t have to worry about the mess up. All I need you to do now is make sure that my fabrics are coming in.” “Yes! They’ve arrived at the studio.” Rachel replied. "Fantastic. Thank you. That'll be all for now. Check on West if he needs anything." You ordered. “Will do, Y/N. Talk to you soon.” You hung up. The Vancouver show was in five months, giving you and your team enough time to design the clothes for the production and move to the new building. The show's theme was natural bodies of water and nature, a nod to Canada's landscape. The clothing catalogue would include various icy blue shades to represent waterfalls and warm emerald tones like flora and fauna. These colours would be encapsulated in elegant gowns and suits, worn by different body shapes, genders, and colours. The materials would be made from recycled fabrics from your previous shows and from your fellow artists. You were known for designing elegant attire, so it was best to keep to it. However, it was rare to see different sized, coloured, and gendered models on a runway; because of having to customize clothes to those models. Additionally, making clothes from recycled fabrics would be tough. “Okay,” you began, “I need to talk to my design team and plan out the gowns. Can I leave you here to deal with the movers?” Allie gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you,” you smiled, hugging her, “if you need anything, please call me or Rachel, or both. We’ll be back to help.” Before you left, a thought struck you. You turned around to face Allie. “I should just hire you.” She chuckled, “Why?” You scoffed, "Because you're here all the time!" You walked back to her. "Listen, you're the best manager I know. You can be my third brain. You already are, outside of work, so it would make sense." Allie seemed unsure. “I already have my job at Youth and Hope.” You grasped her hands. “You would be given a great wage, not just because you’re my best friend, but because you’re going to be busy with lots of work. You would be handling the management tasks, like West. You’d be given a good amount of vacation, trips for shows and meetings would be paid for—you could get that loft you always wanted downtown.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Allie laughed. “Don’t I have to go through an interview process?” You brushed a hand through the air. “I can get someone to interview you and officially hire you. Once that’s done, you’ll start getting paid.” You checked your watch, and a quick rush of panic ran through you. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Consider it, alright! Let me know your availability, and we’ll schedule an interview!” “Okay!” She shouted back as you left. . . The coffee had become bitter. You weren’t sure if it was the roast or the fact that this was your fourth cup of the night. It had been a month since the fabrics arrived. Thanks to Allie, your friend and now employee, your move to the new building was complete; however, your designs weren’t translating as smoothly as you wish. "Fuck," you cursed, resting your head in your hands and rubbing your temples. The sketches waited in front of you—the measurements and ideas raking at your confidence. Your designs are redundant. You’ve done something similar last time.                                                                       Boring. Plain. You turned back to your mannequins, still bare. The theme was in your mind, and your design team reassured you that your sketches were fine, but it all felt fuzzy. “Y/N,” Rachel peered into the studio from the door, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.” “His name?” You asked, still looking at the mannequins. You heard footsteps retreat into the front lobby, then come back to the door. “Jung Hoseok?” You turned around, trying to contain your excitement. “Please send him in.” Rachel nodded, jogging back to the lobby. You heard a muffled “thank you” before heavy footsteps approaching your studio. Hoseok reached the doorway, beaming his signature smile. He wore acid-washed jeans, a baggy white sweater that matched his chunky light sneakers. His dark hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. A tote bag was slung over his shoulder. “Y/N!” He cheered, opening his arms wide. “Hoseok!” You replied, running into his arms and hugging him tightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Hoseok—a year or two? “Fuck, how long has it been?” You asked him. He pulled away, thinking. “About six months?” Totally off. “Seriously, it felt longer than that.” You argued. Hoseok pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calenderer and photos. He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Ah, see here,” he showed you a few photos of you two with his friends, who were also his bandmates, “six months ago, you joined us on tour for a couple days before coming back here. I have it also marked in my calendar.” He showed you the dates, which were marked with ‘💚Y/N’s visit💚.’ “Can Namjoon or Yoongi confirm this?” You crossed your arms. Hoseok mimicked your body language. “I can call them right now,” he challenged. You two stood in competitive tension. You succumbed. “You win this time, Jung Hoseok.” He playfully chuckled. You realized that Hoseok doesn’t live around here. “Wait, why are you in town. Shouldn’t you and the others be in Korea planning another album or something?” You speculated. “Our company gave us a month for vacation because we spent most of the year touring.” Hoseok sighed. “So, I decided to come to visit.” You hugged him again, happy to see someone who wasn’t your employee amidst this chaos of stress. “How long are you staying?” You asked, muffled against his chest. He paused. “Maybe a month?” You pulled away from him, shocked. “A month? Here? That’s all your vacation time.” “Yeah,” he replied, as if that wasn’t a big deal, “I didn’t want to travel to a bunch of places because the group and I have been doing that for almost a year—and it’s pretty chill in this area.” He sighed. “Besides, I don’t think many people would recognize me. The airport wasn’t busy, and I haven’t been swarmed by fans yet.” “Do you have a place to stay?” You asked. He nodded. “Yup! I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I got the suite at the top floor,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating how high up his suite was. You playfully elbowed his side. "Wow, look at you, Mr. Famous. You can afford a top suite now. Are you sure you don't want to stay with me, though?” Hoseok dismissed your offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Y/N. Thank you, though.” He peered over your shoulder, “It looks like you’re busy anyway, so I think I’ll just stick to my suite.” He walked past you, over to the bare mannequins. “Are you preparing for that show in Vancouver that you told me about?” You nodded, relaying your theme and ideas to him. He smiled. “That sounds really cool,” he pointed to the mannequins, “but don’t you need some clothes for the show, then?” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him for being a smart ass. “Yes, I do. I’m brainstorming some ideas right now, but I’m coming up with nothing. I have the design team coming in tomorrow with drafts, but I’d like to bring my own thing to the table, you know? I’m the main brain of this operation, and it’d be embarrassing if I come in with zilch.” You leaned against one of the tables, facing the mannequins. "The tough part is designing gowns that fit the right people, you know. Sure, you can make a collection of clothes, but they won't look good if they don't fit the models." You shook your head. "Maybe it's just tougher to design clothes for different bodies. I should just stick to one type of person and leave it at that." Hoseok walked up beside you, leaning against the same table and facing the figures. “Why don’t you find the models and then design the clothes?” You looked at him, surprised. “But wouldn’t that take a long time?” He crossed his arms, “Well, how many models would you need?” “We’re thinking around seventy. There’s going to be two changes within the show.” Hoseok nodded, and you could see him brainstorming. “Well, you have four months left, right? You and your team can make some drafts, cast the models, and finalize the ideas with said models. Which would take about a couple of months? You could do that while planning the show?” He paused, appearing to notice your hesitant expression. “Think about it. You’ve trained your team well enough to work on its own, right? That’s what you did for your last show, which was a success. You came in every day for a couple hours to make sure everything was in order, then focused on other things.” Hoseok grasped your hands. “You’re great at multitasking, so do it. It’s scary, but you can check on people every day to make sure everything’s alright.” You bit your lip, “I-I don’t know, Hoseok. That sounds like a lot of work—” “You did it last time, and it worked out just fine,” he gently squeezed your hands, “and I’m here for a month. I can help out whenever you need me. I’ll simply clean things up and fetch coffee if that’s what you need.” You laughed, “Like my intern?” “Yeah! I don’t know how to design anything or plan a fashion show, but I’ll do what I can.” He smiled. “You’re so much more than you think, Y/N, and if you need reminders, I’ll be here.” You smiled back at him, so grateful to have him here. “My god, you’re fucking sweet,” you scoffed, taking your hands out of his. Hoseok laughed. You pushed yourself off the table and faced him. “How did we even become friends?” You questioned. He actually gave it a thought. “You joined by dance club in elementary school, when no one else would.” He laughed so hard that he teared up. “I think we actually took club photos, and it was only you and I posing.” You laughed with him, remembering those days spent trying to breakdance to hip hop and presenting dance routines to your parents. “Yeah, that was before you joined that Music Academy in grade four, right?” He nodded, and you sighed, surprised you still remembered. Your mind came back to the present. “So, you’re actually okay with helping out?” You checked. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Hoseok replied. You tapped your index finger against your temple, “true.” “So, how much do you want?” Hoseok looked offended at your question. You chuckled. “Well, you’re going to work for me, so I need to pay you.” “It’s only just a month, though.” “Yeah, but—” “What about we see how much you have me do before you pay me?” He interrupted. “I might just have to fetch coffee, so you can just give me money on the spot.” You thought about it for a minute. Hoseok yawned. “This work talk is making me tired. Do you want to go out for dinner?” He looked around you, “Unless you have more work to do. I can always wait in the lobby for you to finish.” You brushed your hand through the air, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty brain dead anyway. I need to be energized for tomorrow’s draft review.” Hoseok pushed himself off the table and clapped. “Awesome! Where do you think I’m taking you for dinner?” You bit your lip, trying to guess. “Sushi?” “Sushi it is!” He beamed. You grabbed your things and followed him out of the studio.

Both of you sat towards the back of the sushi restaurant, to Hoseok’s request. The waitress placed you two in a concealed booth, with drapes covering a small entrance.

You two had to take your shoes off before sitting down.

“Why did you say, ‘sushi it is?’” You asked, taking a sip of your water.

Hoseok opened his can of sprite, “What do you mean?”

“You asked where I thought you were taking me, I responded, and you said, ‘sushi it is!’” You reiterated.

He took a sip of his soda before responding, "It's a trick I learned from Instagram." He set his drink down. "You ask someone, 'where do you think I'm taking you for food?' dinner or whatever, and then take them to a place with that food. It's easier than asking 'what do you want to eat?' because people can't decide."

You nodded, making an ‘aaahhh’ sound. “Smart.”

You two caught up while eating your meals. Hoseok chatted about his bandmates and the tour, and you talked about your move to the new building.

Most of it was just adding more details about your lives because you two texted lots during the week and sometimes video chatted. You'd get to see Hoseok and his friends, and he'd get a view of your life on the other side of the world.

To others, it looked like both of you were dating. Both of your friends would tease, singing, "Y/N and Hoseok sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Many of his fans, ARMY, would theorize your friendship, pointing out the matching bracelets you two wore—which was later proved normal because Hoseok went live on Vlive making bracelets for his bandmates.

And you two would continually clarify that you two were strictly long-time friends. Nothing more.

Girls and boys can be friends. Simple as that.

You and Hoseok finished your meals. You two shared a few rolls and a bento box and were full.

“That was really good.” You commented, rubbing your stomach.

Hoseok chuckled, copying you, “I think I’m pregnant.”

You laughed, “Shut up! You’re so fit.”

“You’re right,” he replied, pulling up his sleeves and flexing his arms.

You both laughed as he flexed his muscles, which were significantly more prominent than your remembered. You were slightly jealous of his lean athletic figure.

And were gazing at it for too long.

“I don’t know about you,” Hoseok sighed, appearing to be tired from the food and flexing his muscles, “but I’m in the mood for some Ben and Jerry’s.”

Your eyes lit up. “YES.”

“Cookie dough with chunks?” You both said in unison.

You two erupted in laughter.

"I'll go play," Hoseok said, getting up.

You stopped him, “It’s alright,” you smiled, “my treat.”

Before you left the booth, you turned around and said thoughtfully, "But you're getting the ice cream."

Hoseok's expression conveyed the same seriousness as if a soldier on a mission.

He saluted you. “Copy that, Y/N.”

You saluted him back and left to pay.

The walk to Ben and Jerry’s was quick. Both of you were eager to share the tub of ice cream.

You ended up getting a chocolate chip cookie dough and a cherry Garcia pint, and two spoons to share. You both ate the ice creams with delight while walking back to your apartment building.

When arriving at your building, Hoseok handed you the cookie dough ice cream pint.

“What are you doing?” You asked while he gave you the closed pint.

He tilted his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean? I’m dropping you off at your place.”

You gave a shocked expression. “Dropping me off? We’re not even done our pints!”

“But you have work tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you up.” Hoseok stepped back towards the edge of the sidewalk. “I can catch a cab back to the hotel, don’t worry.”

You balanced the pints in one hand and used your other to grab his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said, pulling away from the curb and closer to your building.

Hoseok pulled his arm out of your grip. "Y/N, you need to be well-rested—"

“At least help me finish the ice cream.” You interrupted, holding up the pints that were now in both your hands, along with your spoon.

“We haven’t seen each other six months, and it’s only…”

Hoseok pulled out his phone. “Nine.”

“Exactly!” You expressed. “It’s only nine. I don’t need to be in until nine-thirty tomorrow morning. As long as you’re out by eleven, that gives me an hour to get ready for bed at twelve, and I will wake up at eight. Plenty of rest!”

You watched his unsure expression.

"If you don't want to go home at eleven, that's fine by me. Could you leave earlier? Or you can go back to your hotel if you want. I won't take offence; you know me." You held up your arms in surrender, ice cream pints still in your hands. "But if you're leaving because you're worried that I won't get enough sleep, don't. I'm a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself, and I want you to come in.

Hoseok bit his lip, appearing to debate the offer.

He sighed. "Fine, I'll come in. However, I don't want to get a text from you complaining about being tired in the morning."

“I swear,” you promised, pretending to draw an ‘x’ over your heart, “I cross my heart.”

Hoseok chuckled, and you led the two of you into your apartment building and into the elevator. You pressed the twentieth button, and you two waited in comfortable silence.

The elevator doors opened, and you two walked to your apartment.

You opened the door to your studio apartment, locking the door behind you two and hanging up your bag along with your keys.

“Want anything to drink?” You asked, setting down the ice cream pint in your hand and taking off your coat.

Hoseok set down the cookie dough pint on the coffee table. “Anything is alright, thanks,”

You hummed, getting both of you bottles of black cherry soda and bringing over the cherry Garcia pint and your spoon.

"Jesus, do you need help?" Hoseok asked with worry, seeing you holding the bottles by their necks in one hand and the ice cream pint and spoon in the other.

You chuckled, “It’s alright, just sit down.”

You two sat on the couch, twisting off the caps on your sodas and taking a sip.

Hoseok sighed. “That’s really good,” he gestured to the pop before putting it down on the coffee table.

“Yeah! They’re so addictive,” you replied, setting coasters under both of your drinks.

Both of you continued to reminisce about your childhood, especially middle school. The puberty years had been gruesome to you two, speckling your faces with acne.

You pulled out a photo album you kept on one of your bookshelves, which had pictures of your families and your younger selves—even photos when Hoseok was training, before debuting with BTS in 2013.

“Oh my god, look at you!” You gasped, showing him a picture.

In the photo, Hoseok arms were crossed over his chest, his attempt at having swagger. He wore a collared shirt, and his hair was short.

“Oh god, no,” Hoseok cringed, gently pushing the photo away.

You chuckled, "You were so adorable, always dancing and having a good time." You smiled. "You are such a hard worker, practicing so much. I remember you twisting your ankle but still practicing."

You looked at him tenderly. “I wish people could see that.”

Hoseok smiled back at you, softly touching your hand. You grasped his hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

He was the first to pull away.

“You remember our sleepovers?” He asked.

You giggled, "Yeah when you could leave that cramped place you shared with the boys."

He swatted your arm, “That apartment was good! It was where everything started.” He pouted. “Anyways, we would always look up deep questions to ask each other—or would you rather.”

You rolled your eyes. “Those questions were overrated.”

“I thought they were nice!” Hoseok defended. “We got to know each other more, like, ‘what is your biggest fear?’ or ‘what is your biggest pet peeve?’”

He must've seen your unimpressed expression because he continued, "You got to admit that you learned a bit more about me because of those questions!"

You sighed. “I did, I guess.”

Hoseok held up his index finger, seeming to signal ‘wait a minute.’

He pulled out his phone. “Let’s try some now, then.”

“Hoseok—”

“Come on,” he interrupted. “If you don’t learn anything new about me from the first four questions we do, then we can stop, alright? I will never bring up these questions ever again.”

You debated his offer.

“Fine.” You agreed, setting down the photo album. “Shoot.”

“Okay, but we both pick two questions and answer all of them. For example, when we ask a question, the other person answers before the picker.” Hoseok said while he scrolled.

You hummed, understanding his instructions.  

“Want to do would you rather?”

“Sure.”

"Sexy edition?" Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows. "Unless you're uncomfortable."

You scoffed. “Hobi, we're grown, adults. I can take a few sexual questions."

“Okay,” Hoseok replied, “but if you ever feel uncomfortable, we can choose another question or stop.”

You nodded, and Hoseok appeared to find what he was looking for.

“Alright,” he began, “would you rather bite someone’s ear during sex or bite someone’s lip during sex?”

This is pretty vanilla. You thought.

"Lip, for sure." You emphasized the 'sure' in your sentence, stringing along with the 'er' sound.

“Same,” Hoseok agreed while passing you his phone.

You took his cell and strolled through the website.

What do I choose? Do I just dive in, or go for the vanilla shit?

“Would you rather engage in foreplay or go right into the main course?” You asked.

Hoseok thought about it. “I would say foreplay. You can warm things up—and nothing is more fun than teasing.” He shimmied, making you two laugh.

You agreed, passing the phone to him.

“Oooo, here’s a classic,” he grinned, “top or bottom?”

“I think I’m a switch,” you replied.

He tilted his head.

“It’s like, you’re both, top and bottom. I like to take control sometimes, but I can also sub.” You explained. “You?”

“Top,” he replied, “for sure.”

You laughed, “You sound so against being a bottom.”

He laughed too. “I like pleasuring the person I’m having sex with. Nothing is more satisfying than making someone cum.”

“True,” you admitted.

You found your mind wandering to unholy memories of you and Hoseok. What was odd about your friendship that—to put it blatantly—you two had sex. Not just once, but a few times.

This is why asking these questions was pretty casual and not too surprising.

You two started engaging in sex a couple years ago. You were stressed about your company starting, and Hoseok was in town. He offered to help you relax, and before you knew it, he was drilling into you from behind.

Both of you agreed to stay friends but continued to have sex every now and then. It was great, you had to admit. Probably the best sex you had in your life, and it was good that you two were able to keep your friendship platonic at the same time. Only, it was sex without the romantic feelings.

To be honest, you were craving it again.

He passed you his phone again, and you tried to pick a good last question.

“Would you rather kiss me gently or kiss me aggressively?” You asked.

Hoseok paused before answering. “Depends on the mood.”

“Well, at this moment, then, what is the mood?”

You watched Hoseok’s eyes shift between your lips then your eyes.

“Aggressively.”

You hummed. “Good to know.” You passed him back his phone. “Last question.”

Hoseok chuckled, “You seriously didn’t learn anything new?”

You shrugged. “I guess not.”

He didn't seem bothered, though, when his body shifted closer to yours.

When he looked back up at you, his expression changed. Although his eyes were already an opaque shade of brown, they had darkened.

I know that look.

He smirked. “Would you rather make the first move or receive the first move?”

You bit your lip, gazing up at his body.

Before you could reconnect with his eyes, you heard his phone drop, and his lips were on yours.

Just like his answer, his kisses were aggressive and needy. You could taste the cherry cola and ice cream on his lips and mouth.

You pulled his face closer, wanting more.

Hoseok’s body language opened up, allowing you to get up and straddle his lap. You felt his hands inch up your shirt and tug at the fabric. He helped you take it off, which gave him access to your breasts.

You felt him undo your bra with a quick flick of his fingers, and you tossed it off without a care.

Hoseok let out a chuckle before claiming your lips with his.

His lips were intoxicating, and you wanted more.

“Please touch me,” you begged against his lips.

He hummed, grazing his hands down your back before roughly grabbing your ass. You moaned, and he held you against him, hard enough to feel him grind into you.

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you pulled away, and he laughed.

“Baby, I’m not teasing,” he smirked.

Baby. The term of endearment made your heart swoon.

You weren’t always this infatuated by Hoseok. But the way he came to visit you during his break, had dinner and ice cream with you, and kissed you this good—it made you want more than just a fling.

But you couldn't think that way. It was sex. You two were doing this to get off, not engage in lovemaking.

Hoseok swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, eyeing your figure. “You know what I want.”

You ran your hand up and down his chest. “What are you waiting for?”

Hoseok's hands came underneath your thighs, and he picked you up, walking you to your bedroom. He used your body to close the door, slamming you against it.

He ground himself against your core, causing you to moan louder than you expected.

You covered your mouth in embarrassment.

Hoseok chuckled, “It’s okay,” he pulled away enough to graze his thumb over your cheek, “I love it when you moan.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing him and grabbing his ass, causing him to grind on your core.

"Fuck, I can practically feel that you wet," he groaned, trying his best to hold you up and sturdy you against the door.

“B-bed,” you choked, one of his particular thrusts stroking perfectly against you.  

Hoseok moved you towards your bed and gingerly placed you down. He kissed down your bare chest and slowly took off your pants and underwear.

“Fuck, your perfect,” Hoseok awed, softly running a finger through your wet heat.

His cold finger sent a wave of pleasure through you, making you flinch.

Hoseok hummed. “So wet for me,”

He looked up at you. “May I?”

You nodded, but he only smirked.

“Words, baby,” he put a hand to his ear.

“Please,” you bit down on your lip.

You felt him spread your lips, and you clenched in response. He appeared to savour you, taking his time as he ate you out.

When you moaned, he’d hum, sending vibrations into your heat that brought you closer to your climax.

“Fuck, I’m close—”

He pulled away, licking his lips and gazing down at you.

“Hoseok—”

“You taste better than I remembered,” he commented. “But I want you to cum around me.”

God, I love his dirty talk.

You watched him take off his clothes. He must've been working out because he was more toned than six months ago.

He was about to line himself up with your entrance, but you stopped him with your foot on his chest.

You smirked. “Not yet, baby.”

You stood up. “Sit.”

Hoseok sat on the bed, your roles shifting.

“But I want—”

You interrupted his beg with your hand around his erect cock. He appeared to be speechless as you run your hand up and down his shaft.

“Hm?” You asked, chuckling lightly at how easy it was to make him submit. “What do you want, baby?”

“I-I wanted,” he stuttered, thrusting slightly into your hand, “to cum inside you.”

“Is that so?” You questioned, pulling your hand away.

Despite his vocalized want, he whined when you pulled away.

“I’m only doing what my baby wants,” you shrugged. “Condoms are in the bottom drawer on the right.”

Hoseok dashed over to the bedside table, rummaging for the condoms.

“Those should fit you, right?”

"Yes," he replied, opening the familiar wrapper and unravelling it on his erect member.  

He stood there for a minute, wrapped penis and naked, just fondly looking at your nude figure.

He whispered something under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok blushed. “You still want to fuck?”

“Yes.”

“Top or bottom?”

“Top please,” you smiled.

Hoseok laid down on your bed, and you climbed onto his torso.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he cursed as you moved off his abs and onto his cock.

A wet puddle was left on his abdomen, which he wiped away with his fingers, then putting said fingers into his mouth.

“So good,” he groaned.

You hummed in response, slowly sinking onto him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you said when you bottomed out.

You started moving, swaying your hips back and forth. Each time Hoseok's cock would graze against your g-spot.

His hands were placed on your hips, guiding you on him. You could feel yourself clenching around him and your climax building up.

“I-I’m close,” you stuttered.

Hoseok swallowed, “Me too.”

“Ch-choke me,” you requested as you picked up your pace.

Hoseok grinned. “Only if you choke me back.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. Hoseok gently wrapped his hand around your neck, and you did the same, slowly applying pressure.

You felt your thighs burn from exhaustion. "F-fuck me," you cursed, slowing down.

Both of you let go of each other's neck, and Hoseok flipped you two over, still inside you.

"It's okay," Hoseok assures before resuming the pace.

His thrusts were rough and deep, and he pushed your thighs against your chest.

“Fuck, please keep going,” you begged.

“Can I choke you?” Hoseok asked.

“Please,” you replied, “do you want me to choke you too?”

“Yes,” Hoseok responded.

You felt yourself rhythmically clench around him. Hoseok must’ve realized because he began thrusting faster into you.

The room was filled with unholy noises. You could hear the wet sounds of your entrance and the impact of Hoseok’s hips against your core.

“Fuck don’t stop,” you choked out.

The knot building up in your abdomen unravelled, and pleasure and relaxation spread through your body. Your core gripped onto Hoseok like a vice.

“H-Hoseok,” you stammered, your core overstimulated.

“I-I want you to squirt,” he replied, continuing his firm thrusts.

“Oh,” you moaned.

He pounded deeper into your core, to the point where you could feel his tip ram against your cervix.

“Ah!” You screamed, feeling yourself gush around him.

“Fuck, so good,” Hoseok groaned. “I-I’m cumming.”

You felt the condom fill up inside you, and you felt disappointed that his cum couldn’t coat your walls.

His thrusts slowed down, and he stood still for a few moments.

When he pulled out, you shivered with oversensitivity. You knew that your sheets would be a mess and weren't looking forward to cleaning them when Hoseok left.

You looked up at the ceiling, breathless, while you heard Hoseok walk away from the bed.

“Where do you put your towels?” He asked.

“In the hallway, in the closet beside the dryer and washing machine.” You replied.

You heard him walk into the hallway and the closet door open and close. “Thanks,” he said. “And your bedsheets?”

“The closet in my room.”

You heard him walk back into your room, open your walk-in closet that led into your bathroom, and shuffle around. The tap ran in your bathroom for a couple seconds, then the sound of Hoseok wringing out something.

You began to sit up, but he hushed you to lie back down.

“Just relax,” he soothed, placing the clean bedsheets on your bedside table and walking over to you with a damp cloth.

“You don’t have to—”

He placed a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay,” he reassured.

You two exchanged a quick smile before Hoseok began to clean you up.

“You didn’t even cum on me,” you chuckled as he gently wiped your inner thighs.

“I know,” he replied, “but I still made you messy.”

When your thighs were no longer covered in your cum, you two changed your bedsheets.

“You good sleep in the same bed?” You asked while folding over your duvet.

“Sure,” He smiled.

You walked into your closet. "There should be some clothes that fit you. I usually wear men's clothes at home, anyways. It's crazy how great the quality men's clothes are compared to women's clothes." You picked out a t-shirt and sweatpants and tossed them at Hoseok.

He caught them, “Thanks.”

You two showered separately and spent the time getting ready together dancing to tunes.

If someone were to walk into the room, it wouldn’t look or smell like you two just had sex. You two looked like close friends having a dance party before going to bed.

Again, after you two had sex the first time, you both agreed to stay friends. It was easier said than done.

It was awkward initially, but you both were able to get past that by talking it through. Hoseok would ask how you felt during sex and what could have been better, and you would return the question.

Now, you both were able to have a good time and intimately learn more about each other.

Sure, it was strange, but it was a mutual agreement between consenting adults and fun.

The sex was fun—great, really—and you couldn’t have it any other way.

But you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t feel like something was missing.

.

.

“Good morning, everyone,” you greeted your fellow designers, “this is Hoseok. If you don’t know him already, he’s a well-known musician and one of my closest friends.”

Everyone welcomed Hoseok with a warm round of applause.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here.” Hoseok thanked.

“Hoseok will be helping out here and there while he’s vacationing here for a month,” you explained, “so take it easy on him.”

People shared chuckles at your joke.

"Anyways, let's start looking over the design ideas. You all are very talented artists, and I want you to remember that this is a draft, which means that these ideas are not final. If your idea is rejected, it's okay. We'll continue to work on a collective theme for the show."

The morning was spent listening to everyone's design concepts. To follow your reputation, the designs were contained within suits and gowns. As mentioned before, the theme was Vancouver's nature, where the fashion show would be taking place.

You and your design team used the recycled fabrics—which were separated by colours, textures, and materials—while figuring out your drafts.

You asked your design team to draft some ideas because you couldn't think of anything to present.

You were pleasantly surprised that your whole team had ideas that you approved.

“This a phenomenal,” you awed, “Great job, Erinn.”

“Actually,” you grabbed the attention of the other team members, “you all did a great job. We will be using all these ideas for the show.”

Your team shared cheers.

“Y/N,” Rachel nudged your shoulder, “I’m sorry to ask, but now that we’ve got the designs all in order, what about the models? You wanted to have various body types, right?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered,” you whispered back.

You turned back to your design team. "You all know that this show is tougher than our last one because we are trying to include more body types, genders, races, just different kinds of people. Which means that we will need to cater our clothes to the models, rather than the other way around.” You smiled, “So you all can go home for the next week.”

You heard Rachel choke on her inhale.

"Although you all have the week off, I want you all to try drawing your designs on other body types. Experiment with materials and colours. Remember to take some of the recycled fabrics home with you, and feel free to come in to pick anything up. Just let Rachel and I know in advance, and we'll give notice to the front desk so they can let you in. When we reconvene in a week, which would be next Friday at nine-thirty, I need you all to be ready to translate your designs, colours, and materials to our models." You ordered.

“Any questions?”

Comfortable silence amongst everyone.

You nodded. "Awesome. Good luck, everyone. Contact me if you have any questions."

Your team started packing up.

“Y/N, does that mean we’re spending the next week casting?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, Rachel. Please contact Westly and schedule lunch tomorrow at noon to discuss modelling criteria. It’s probably going to be pretty loose, but we need to contact Westly before sending it out.” You answered. “If he’s not free at that time, try figuring out something later tomorrow. Then book a reservation for three at Romeo’s.”

“Alright, on it,” Rachel replied.

You turned to Hoseok, who seemed shocked.

“What?” You blushed.

He continued his surprised expression. “I haven’t seen you like this before.”

You chuckled. “How else are you supposed to run a company and organize and execute a fashion show in 3 months?”

Rachel tapped you on the shoulder. "Westly can do lunch tomorrow, at noon, at Romeo's. He and his team secured the venue with Vancouver Fashion Week and are currently collaborating with the interior designers to figure out how the place will look. West said he'll debrief you tomorrow, at lunch, about the rest of the progress."

You smiled. “Great! Thank you, Rachel. You can also take the rest of the day off.”

Rachel appeared to be stunned, not responding to your words.

You waved a hand in front of her face. “Rachel? You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” She asked.

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t be telling you to if I wasn’t sure, would I?”

She gave it a thought. “I guess not.”

You grinned. “Just meet me at our main building tomorrow, at eleven-thirty, and we’ll go to Romeo’s together.”

Rachel nodded. “Thank you, Y/N,”

“No worries,” you smiled.

You and Hoseok watched her leave, leaving you two alone in the studio.

“I’m sorry, it passed my mind. You’re okay not joining us for lunch tomorrow, right?” You asked Hoseok.

He dismissed your apology by brushing a hand through the air, “It’s all good. You’ve got your shit to do.” He smiled, “It gives me time to tour around a bit, anyways.”

“Good,” you replied. “So, where to?”

You pulled apart the croissant, eating pieces one at a time. The butteriness covered your tongue in a warmth that mixed well with the iced coffee you and Hoseok shared.

The park was surprisingly empty, despite it being a Friday. Usually, it would be tough to find a spot decently away from others, mostly shaded by trees.

The inlet was a few meters away, allowing you two to see sailboats pass by. People also kayaked and canoed, and you could hear their laughter faintly on land.

Here, you and Hoseok would be shielded by looming trees and away from potential fans of Hoseok. It was a rarity to have those two things when spending time with Hoseok: privacy and security—peace and quiet.

“This is what you wanted to do?” You asked, finishing off the croissant.

He nodded, sipping the iced coffee. “Yeah. It’s quiet and nice here.”

You two people watched, enjoying the breeze and serene environment.

“I was thinking,” you cleared your throat, “about last night. Did you enjoy it?”

Hoseok set down the iced coffee. “Yeah. I always like hanging out with you.”

“I mean—the sex.”

He seemed shocked by your question.

“Yeah, that was good too. Why do you ask? You never brought up before.” He pointed out.

Because I am growing feelings for my childhood friend, who I now have sex with for fun. This wasn't a part of the agreement, I know. We agreed to not grow feelings for each other and just have sex for pleasure. But it's inevitable to develop feelings for someone you have sex for, right? Like, there are probably people out there that can distinguish sex from love—and I guess it started out like that—but for us?

Am I crazy?

“No reason,” you sighed. “I just wanted to know if there was anything I could have done better.”

Hoseok turned his body to you, smiling. “It was perfect.”

He gestured with his arms for a hug, and you obliged. His cologne smelt of freshly peeled oranges; it was a pleasant fragrance, and you found yourself snuggling closer.

.

.

The past month went by in a busy blur.

The model casting went well. You and Westley found fantastic individuals to present your clothing line, which was in the process of being altered to fit those people.

The venue was secured, and the guest list was being made by You and Westley.

“Maybe invite Hoseok,” Westley suggested.  

You shook your head, “I can’t.”

"Why not?" He retorted. "The worse thing he could say is 'no,' and you can invite the whole band." He giggled. "Maybe I can meet Jimin in person."

You chuckled, “So that’s why you want me to invite Hoseok. Just because you made eye contact with Jimin for more than five seconds, it doesn’t mean that he’s into you. He’s straight.”

“How do you know?” Westley had a hand firmly on his hip.

“W-well, I haven’t asked him personally—”

"Then you can't assume he's straight!" Westley exclaimed. "The baseline isn't being heterosexual."

“True. Anyways, let’s get back to the guest list.” You chewed on your lip. “We have Harry Styles, BLACKPINK, Lizzo…”

Both of you ran down the list of a thousand attendees to the show in Vancouver. It was way smaller than fashion week or any of your previous shows, but it wasn't meant to be a big party.

Y/N [14:00]: Hey! Are you free and the boys on March 1st at 1 pm for about four hours, including an after-party until 10 pm, with food?

Hoseok [14:30]: Hiiiiii!! Sorry for the late text. I was asking the others. Yeah! That’s in 4 months? 🧐

Y/N [14:31]: Yeah, it’s for my fashion show. You can ask your company for that time? We’d provide the plane tickets and accommodation. You’d probably stay 3 days and 2 nights? You’d fly in the first day, sleep the one night, then attend the show the second day, sleep the second night, and fly out the 3rd day. I’ll need to know by the end of the week.

Hoseok [14:32]: Sounds good!!! I’ll ask my managers and let you know 👊

Y/N [14:33]: Awesome! Thanks 💚

Hoseok [14:33]: Np 💚

“So, Hoseok and the boys can come, but he has to confirm with his managers. He’ll let me know soon.” You relayed to Westley.

"Great! As long as we get confirmation from Hoseok at the end of this week, we can send out the invitations. We've checked with everyone's management, and they all seem to be busy. Worse comes to worst; we'll just have to move seats around." Westley advised.

He closed his laptop, and you followed.

“Alright, that seems to be all of the guest list business. I’ll get my team to start organizing plane tickets and accommodation.” He sighed, “shall we head to the studio to check on the design team?”

“Yes,” you replied.

Both of you were driven to the studio to check on the design team.

The studio was filled with models of various shades and shapes. Music played quietly in the background, and your coworkers and models grooved to the tunes. Designers pinned fabrics around people’s figures and sketched down measurements and ideas.

You and Westley went around checking on everyone, making sure gowns and suits were well in progress. A smaller group of people created ideas for shoes and were sending them out to shoemakers.

The rest of the day was spent getting to know the models, fixing measurements, finalizing some ideas, and briefing everyone about the plan for the next two months.

"Please have the gowns, suits, and shoes by the end of this month so we can start having the makeup artists consult all of you; to make sure the makeup correlates with the clothes and the models." You informed. "Thank you, everyone, for your amazing work."

Scattered “thank you”s responded, and our workday was over.

“You want to get some drinks?” Westley nudged.

You nodded, frankly too tired to answer but eager for a drink.

Both of you decided to walk to the high-class bar, which allowed private areas in the back for paying customers. You and Westley sat alone, away from the crowds of people near the entrance of the bar.

“To having a productive three months,” Westley sang, holding up his martini.

You sighed, “Cheers,” you tapped your peach Bellini glass against his, admitting a chime.

"Fuck," Westley cursed at the sip of his drink, "they're always stronger than I remember. "Anyways, the show is pretty much underway. Guestlist is handled, the venue is prepped and ready for us, the clothing is almost done. Oooo, I can’t wait to see it all together.”

You nodded.

“You don’t seem so excited, Y/N.”

“I am,” you replied.

“But?”

“I am excited.” You affirmed, although not living up to the word

Westley silenced, knowing when not to push your buttons.

He took a careful sip of his martini. “Where’s Hoseok?”

You fidgeted with your glass. "Hoseok went back to Korea. He only had a month of vacay, so," you left the sentence adrift.

“Did you enjoy his company?”

“Can we not talk about him right now? I rather not mix work and personal life.” You stated.

Westley acknowledged with a firm nod, finishing off his martini and asking for another.

“May I ask a question?”

“Sure.” You replied.

He cringed. “But if I ask, promise me you won’t fire me.”

You turned to him. “Depends on your question. You have to ask me first, then I can decide whether or not to fire you. I cannot make promises.”

“Why are you so off all of a sudden?” He genuinely asked.

You took a deep breath. “I’m not going to fire you, not for a long time. You’re my best worker, and I can’t let you go.”

"I feel like there's going to be a 'but' somewhere. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid." Westley sighed.

You nodded, “You’re right. And you’re right about my mood. I’ve been kind of off lately.”

“Because of Hoseok?”

"Yeah, to be honest." You admitted. "I feel like we're really close—more than just friends. We're on the same wavelength, you know? And whenever we're apart for a long time and then meet up again, it's like time has passed."

“And let me guess, you haven’t told him because you’re afraid to ruin your friendship.”

You scoffed. “There’s no need for sarcasm, West.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m just saying, it’s the oldest narrative in the book. One friend is falling for the other, and that one friend doesn’t want to confess their feelings because they’ve known the other person for years and are afraid of ruining that connection.” He took a sip of his martini. “But in the end, it’s two friends just pining over their feelings of love for each other.”

“But we’re different.” You argued.

"I guess so. The narrative doesn't really specify one friend is a famous fashion designer and the other being a famous musician—"

“I mean,” you interrupted, “we have sex every time we see each other.

Westley's mouth fell open in a silent gasp. His hand was placed on his chest, and his eyes stared into yours.

He tipped back his martini into his mouth, finishing it off. “Well, you didn’t mention the friends with benefits part.”

“I know!” You groaned. “That’s why it’s so complicated.”

"Is it really, though? Wouldn't confessing your feelings after you two have had sex so much make it slightly easier? Because it makes sense to grow feelings for someone you've known for a while and have had sex with on multiple occasions." Westley speculated.

“I didn’t say we had sex on multiple occasions—”

“Honey,” he began, “you said you’ve had sex with him every time you see each other, and you two meet a lot. It doesn’t take a detective to figure it out.”

"Anyways," he digressed, "the sooner you tell him, the better. There's no use debating over it for years, then finding out he's found someone else when he would've picked you anyways."

"Gosh, when you say it like that, it sounds like a romantic movie." You cringed, finishing your peach Bellini.

He shrugged. “Well, it kinda is.”

You chuckled. “Well, thanks for the advice.”

“Thank you for filling me in,” he smiled.

.

.

The week went by fast. Your design team was still working on alterations, so you were left brainstorming hair and makeup and contacting specialists in those fields.

You were sitting at home, knee-deep in Pinterest boards when your phone buzzed.

You stopped strolling through your laptop and peered down.

Hoseok [19:30]: We can come to your show!

Y/N [19:30]: Fantastic! I'll let my team know, and we’ll send out the invites.

You texted Westley, informing him that BTS could attend the show.

Westley [19:33]: Great! I'll let the rest of the team know, and we'll send the emails out tomorrow

Y/N [19:34]: Thanks!

Westley [19:35]: Np

You set down your phone and continued to add ideas to your private Pinterest board.

Your phone buzzed again.

Hoseok [19:55]: What are you doing right now?

You were puzzled.

Y/N [19:56]: Nothing much, just brainstorming ideas for the show. You?

Hoseok [19:57]: Just chilling in my room.

Hoseok [20:05]: I miss you

You chuckled at the text, thinking that Hoseok was drunk.

Y/N [20:05]: I miss you too, Hobi.

Hoseok [20:08]: …how much?

Again, you were puzzled by his text.

Y/N [20:10]: Wdym? I miss having you here? Is that what you mean?

Hoseok [20:11]: I mean, do you miss me intimately?

Y/N [20:14]: Like sex-wise?

Hoseok [20:14]: Fuck, I need you, Y/N.

You stared at his words.

Hoseok [20:18]: I miss your body and how perfectly you fit around me.

Your cheeks flushed.

Hoseok [20:21]: Can you video chat? Unless you’re not in the mood.

You panicked.

You were in the mood but weren't presentable. Your hair was messy, and you weren't wearing any makeup, and you were dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N [20:23]: Yeah, I’m in the mood. Just give me 5 mins.

You quickly got out of your seat and ran to your bedroom. You sifted through your closet and found the sexist clothing item you had: a red lingerie set. You quickly undressed and put on the set.

You looked into your full-length mirror and tried not to cringe. Your hair was a mess, and you weren’t wearing any makeup. It definitely looked like Hoseok's text came out of nowhere—and it did, but you somehow expected yourself to be decently presentable.

However, the lingerie set was doing you favours. The set was composed of a crotchless thong and a bralette that exposed your nipples.

Y/N [20:28]: I’m ready.

Your phone rang, and you answered, quickly propping it on your drawers across from your bed.

You were faced with a shirtless Hoseok, his cock already in his hand.

“Fuck, you look amazing.” He complimented breathlessly.

“Wow, you’re ahead of the game—and really? I’m a mess.” You chuckled.

He hissed, flinching in his grip. “Fuck, just take the compliment, Y/N.”

You cleared your throat. “Thank you.”

You sat a pit forward, angling your breasts towards the camera.

“What are you imagining, baby?” You purred.

“Y-You,” he stuttered, moving his hand up and down his cock.

“Mhm,” you moaned, “thinking up my pussy clenching around your cock, making it all wet.”

He nodded.

"You can do something if you want," he suggested. "You said you were in the mood."

Your eyes opened wide. “Wait a minute.”

You brought the phone with you on your journey, going back to your closet and fetching your dildo, lube, and vibrator. You hurried to the bathroom and propped your phone up against the closed door.

You suctioned the bottom of the dildo onto the titled floor. You placed the vibrator on the bathroom counter.

“You want to watch me bounce on this dildo and think of you?” You smirked, rubbing lube onto your hands, onto the toy, and onto your vagina.  

“Fuck, yes,” he replied, stilling his hand around his cock for a moment.

“Did I say you could stop?” You spat.

“I’m waiting for you,” he smiled, making your heart melt.

You paused over the dildo, smiling back at him. “Awww, that’s actually kinda sweet. Thank you.”

You quickly washed your hands and grabbed the vibrator.  

You crouched down and slowly onto the dildo.

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head back at the feeling of being filled up. It didn’t hit the spots Hoseok did, but it was good enough.

You lifted yourself up and sunk back down again, rhythmically repeating the motion.

“Fuck, so good,” you sighed, overlooking the pain in your knees.

“That's right, baby, imagine me filling that pussy up," Hoseok groaned, following your rhythm while pumping his cock.

“Fuck yes,” you replied, “and I’m clenching around you so tight.”

You two exchanged moans at the sound of your pussy squelching around the dildo.

“Use the vibrator, baby,” Hoseok purred.

You hummed, grabbing the rose gold vibrator and turning it on. You place the buzzing toy on your clit, feeling pleasure rippling through your core.

“Fuck,” you hissed, speeding up your pace a bit.

“I-I’m getting close.”

“Yeah, baby?” Hoseok smirked. “You get off at me rubbing my cock? Imagining me buried inside your pussy, making you feel so good?"

You nodded. “But it’s not as you, baby.”

“I know—” He choked, appearing to be on the brink of his climax. “I fucking miss the way your pussy fit so well around me, no matter how many times I fucked you open.”

“Mhm,” you bit your lips, watching him with hooded eyes. “Don’t stop.”

“Who knew you were filthy enough to cum during cybersex?" He observed. "I'm not even there to touch you, but just thinking of me inside has you in ruins.”

“What would you do if I was with you right now?” You asked.

“I would fuck you until you couldn’t walk the next day,” he replied, “I’d fuck you until that pretty pussy is swollen.”

"F-fuck, I'm going to cum," you stuttered, feeling the familiar build-up in your core.

“M-me too,” he stammered.

You watched his head tilt back in pleasure and his cum squirt up from his cock.

“Fuck!” You cursed, feeling your pleasure shoot out of your core and onto the floor

“So hot,” Hoseok sighed.

You chuckled, coming down from high. You pulled yourself up and off the dildo, sitting on the cool tile floor.

“Fuck, did you squirt?” He asked, looking closer.

You nodded, gesturing to the mess on the ground.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he commanded and obliged, showing him your battered cunt.

You spread your lips, and he hummed at sight.

“So beautiful.” He awed.

“You happy? I need to wipe this all up, now,” you scoffed.

He chuckled. “It’s not my fault that you cummed.” He angled his phone to the floor, showing splashes of his cum on the floor, "and besides, you also made me make a mess.”

You both chatted while cleaning up your messes, talking about your days as if nothing happened. After finishing your clean-up, you two continued your conversation while showering, as if both of you were doing it together.

Ready to relax for the night, both of you signed off with exchanged ‘thanks’ and ‘good night.’

You turned off your phone with a soft click and stepped out of the steamy bathroom. Your pyjamas were soft on your skin, and you felt ready to go to bed.

Hopping onto your bed, you grabbed your laptop and turned on some Netflix to fall asleep to.

From an outsider’s perspective, masturbating with your best friend and then casually talking with them while showering and getting ready for bed was odd. Repeating the scenario in your mind did make it sound like you two were in a long-distance romantic relationship rather than a platonic one.

But you and Hoseok were different. That was your excuse.

A friend could do this and not catch feelings. You two were the perfect example of that.

Emphasis on were because you were currently spiralling in your growing romantic feelings for Hoseok.

But what would you do in this situation?

You and your childhood friend engage in sex one time and promise each other to not grow feelings. In this manner, you two could have sex without attachment. Fast forward into the future, and you both are still making this arrangement with no negative consequences and feel like you two have gotten to know each other better and have become better friends—until you catch feelings. And you don’t want to risk losing this relationship you two have.

Because he is a worldwide musician who can’t be tied down because it could risk his career, and he might lose fans—and you couldn't be bothered with any romantic commitment with your fast-paced and unpredictable work schedule.

So, you stay in this unnameable mess.

.

.

“Time flies by when you’re having fun,” Allie commented from the plush couch.

You looked in the mirror, twisting your back towards it to see the back of the dress. “I guess so.”

“You have to admit, planning a fashion show is pretty fun,” she said. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be doing it over and over again.”

“True,” you replied, turning to the stylist.

“May I see the other dress?” You asked, and the stylist nodded, retreating to somewhere in the shop you couldn’t see.

It was the last month until the show. Everything was in order: the show’s venue and its decorations, the clothes, makeup and hair for the models, and the guests’ accommodation. Now, it was your turn to find suitable attire for the occasion.

You tried on the next dress. It was a slim-fitting number, with a leg slit in the front. It was scandalous and stunning, but not right for the show.

“I don’t like any of these dresses,” you sighed, annoyed.

Allie appears to brainstorm some ideas.

“Maybe try a suit?” She proposed.

You kept your eyes on the mirror, twirling your figure and watching the fabric move at your feet.

“Think about it,” she began, “think of all the powerful women who’ve worn suits and killed it. Zendaya, Kristen Stewart, Blake Lively, Awkwafina. The list goes on. It’s a statement piece, and you’re the big brain behind this operation.”

“I think it’s ‘mastermind behind this operation,’ but I get what you mean.” You corrected.

“You literally bypassed my whole point—”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted. “It’s just—suits for women are so overpriced. And it’s just like the dresses, except a different fit. Same colour palettes, same materials, so on.”

Allie scoffed. "You're a fucking fashion designer, did you forget? Make your own thing. There are leftover fabrics at your studio; you have time to make something." Her face lit up, “And, technically, it’s for free.”

You gave it a thought, but the stylist came back before you could finish it.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Vega, but I’m not finding anything, and I don’t want you walking back and forth and bringing me more dresses.” You gave an apologetic smile. “Thank you very much for your help.”

"No worries, Y/N! Just hang up the dress when you take it off, and I’ll deal with the rest,” she replied.

“Will do,” you said, and she stepped out of the room.

Allie helped you unzip the gown, and you shimmed out of it. You did as you were told and hung up the dress, and you and Allie left the shop.

The walk back to the studio was quick, you two making determined strides through the crowded city.

You and Allie entered the empty studio, turning on the nights.

The studio was organized chaos with dressed mannequins, big boxes of fabrics in the back of the room, and papered patterns on the tables.

“Wow,” Allie awed.

"Yeah," you replied, leading you both to your master station is near the back, "it's crazy what a couple months before a show looks like.”

You looked through the drawers beside your desks and grabbed the tools you'll need to plan out the suit.

“So, just a suit jacket and pants…” You said, grabbing some paper to sketch up your pattern.

You looked up at Allie, “Do you mind helping me out with measurements?”

She nodded, “For sure. What do you need?”

You guided Allie on how to measure your proportions for the suit. She measured your inseams for your pants, the sleeves, the cuts, and so on. In between, you'd write down the dimensions for the patterns.

You two sifted through the fabrics to create a monochrome patchwork outfit. The suit would be shades of cherry red, with different materials making it up. There were no patterns in the patchwork, only various tones of red in several types of wool.

“Fucking hell,” Allie cursed while sifting through the materials, “who would’ve thought there were so many shades of red.”

She held up a piece of recycled fabrics, checking with you that it was the correct tone. You took it and held the portion against the others.

“Nope, too dark,” you shook your head.

"What? It looks exactly the same," she disagreed, walking over to your table. When comparing the fabrics, she made an 'aaah’ sound, letting you know that you were right.

Before sectioning off your pattern, you tried your best to evenly sew all the material together into a quilt-like form.

“Jesus,” you muttered, shaking out your sore hands.

“We don’t have to get this all done today, you know. You do have two months left.” Allie advised.

"I know. I just want to put this all together first," you replied, continuing to push the material through the sewing machine.

“Alright,” she surrendered, bringing one of the seats over to your table.

You sewed in silence for a bit.

“So,” Allie began, “how are you and Hoseok doing?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“You know…you two and your arrangement.”

You scoffed, “Our arrangement? You mean us having sex?”

“Yeah, but the other stuff.”

You pulled your hands from the sewing machine, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just spit it out, Al."

“Well, you’ve had mixed feelings with Hoseok, right? Like you’re starting to like him?” She speculated.

Your mouth gaped open. “Have you been talking to West?”

She didn’t respond, not making eye contact.

“You can’t be fucking serious. You two are ganging up on me!” You yelled.

“Y/N, we’re just worried.”

“About what? I have feelings—and?” You fumed.

She sighed. “You shouldn’t be having sex with someone if you’re growing romantic feelings, especially if you two agreed to be platonic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you stood.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed. "Don't you dare talk to me that way? I am your friend, not your enemy." Allie stood up and sighed. “I get it. You don’t like people in your business. That’s fair. I just feel like you're sacrificing yourself for Hoseok when you could talk about it with him."

“Allie, you don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” You spat.

“I get it,” she sympathized. “I don’t. I’m not you or Hoseok.”

“So, tell me,” she said. “Educate me on the situation. I am not here to judge. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“It’s okay,” she forgave, “just don’t push me away so fast, okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed.

She sat down, “So?”

You sat down and rehashed your feelings about you and Hoseok to her: the growing romantic feelings for him, not knowing what to do, and wanting something more.

“Well, do you think it’d work out between you two if you dated?” She asked.

You shifted in your seat. "I honestly don't know. It's tough with Hoseok's work because he has a loyal fanbase. I'm afraid he's going to get even more hate if we were to date.”

“But would you two be happy?” She asked.

You gave it a thought. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you go into a relationship regardless of other people. Whether you’re a celebrity or an ordinary person, you date someone for you and that person; no one else. There are going to be people who support and hate your relationship no matter what. What matters is what the two people think in the relationship."

She sighed. “You cannot control what others will think about you. No matter what you do or who you do, you're going to upset someone. So, just do what feels comfortable and safe with you."

You hummed, understanding.

“So, would you be happy if you and Hoseok dated?”

“Yes.” You stated without a thought. “I really like him—love him even.”

"Then that's all that matters," Allie replied.

.

.

The week before, the show crept on you faster than you expected. You, your team of designers and event organizers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists flew into Vancouver a week early to prepare on location.

However, the majority of the week would be spent preparing for the show. The first day was spent unloading all of the outfits and equipment for the show into the venue. Everyone was required to show up to organize their stations and to familiarize themselves with the venue.

“Please set up your stations while Westley and I look into the main runway and after part section. We’ll be back in around two hours to check up on everyone. If you have any questions while we're gone, please contact me on my phone." You held up your cellphone and everyone nodded. "Great. Good luck, everyone!"

The venue and interior designers' owners toured you and Westley around the place, showing you the drawn floorplans, running down the prices, and checking that the decorations correlated with your plans.

“These weren’t the chairs we sent over,” Westley pointed to the black folded chairs lining the runways.

“Yes, but these were within the price range and—” One of the interior designers, Queeny, said.

“But did we get an email regarding this change?” You interjected.

Queeny exchanged looks with the other three decorators, and they shook their heads.

Wesley let out an angry sigh. "Well, I guess we’ll have to live with these then.” He sat down on one of the chairs. “At least they’re comfortable. They look cheap, but they’re sturdy.”

“Are there any more changes you made without informing as?” You asked.

They all shook their heads.

"Great." You turned to one of the two-venue owners, named Ruby. "Shall we continue to the after-party part?”

“Yes,” she replied, gesturing to the doorway that led to the front reception area.

From the reception area, where guests would check-in and get a wristband, a double-door way on the right led to a ballroom for the after-party.

The overall theme of the place was classic European designs with off-white luxurious walls and chandeliers. The ceilings were intricately carved, and the floors were a smooth white oak. Just walking around made you feel like you were dirtying the place.

“This place is stunning,” Westley whispered.

“I know,” you replied, “you chose the place.”

“I know,” he smiled, pretending to flip his hair.

You both chuckled, continuing to follow the owners around the venue.

Everything worked out, besides the chairs, so you and Westley checked on the designers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists.

At the end of the workday, everyone was in order and ready for the next three days of dress rehearsals and solving and problems.

You arrived back at your hotel with sore feet and exhaustion.

Your phone rang as you flopped onto your bed.

You answered. “Hobi!”

“Y/N! How was your flight to Vancouver?” He asked.

“It was good. We didn't have a rest day, though. We had to settle into the place and check it over. My feet are so sore.” You groaned.

“Really? I thought you’d at least have a rest day when you guys arrived,” he assumed.

You shook your head. “No. Sadly, this whole week will be walking around and making sure everything is going smoothly.”

He sighed. “Shit. That sucks.” You heard him shift on the other side of the phone. “Do you want to relax?”

You laughed. “Jung Hoseok, did you seriously booty call me from across the world?”

Hoseok gasped, "I did not! I was talking about watching Netflix or something." He chuckled, "You're so dirty-minded."

You both laughed.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” He asked on the other end of the call.

You brought out your laptop and scrolled through the movie selection.

“Oooo! Let’s watch Hush. I’ve heard so many good things about it.” You recalled.

You could hear his hesitation.

Hoseok did not like being scared. Whenever you watched anything scary, you were afraid that your neighbours would complain at how loud his screaming was. As you remembered saying "hello" to him once and him screaming in fear and surprise, he was also easily frightened.

“We don’t have to,” you said.

“No, no,” Hoseok reassured, “we’ll watch it. Just send me the Netflix Party link, and I'll ready the Zoom link."

You giggled. “You don’t have to be brave for me, Hobi. I know you don’t like scary movies.”

“You want to watch it, so let’s do it,” he said, “and the ratings are good.”

“Okay,” you digressed. “I’m texting you the link right now.”

“Same,” he replied.

You two hung up and joined the links.

“Hello!” Hoseok beamed, dancing.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at his burst of energy. “Hello, Hobi.”

You carried your laptop to the bathroom and began getting ready for bed.

“How was your day?” You asked.

Hoseok described him and his bandmates' film day for "Run! BTS," and you groaned at all the work they had to do.

He laughed. “But we got to play games, which was fun. We laughed so much that my abs hurt.” You watched him lift up his shirt and show his toned abdomen.

Your core felt a familiar flutter.

“W-wow, that must be a lot of laughing,” you cleared your throat and took out your toothbrush and toothpaste.

For the moment, the time difference worked for you two because it was almost ten at night for you and nearly three in the afternoon for him.

“Should I turn off my camera?” You asked before undressing to get into the shower.

He shook his head. “I’m okay with you leaving it on. I’ve seen you naked before, so it’s not really different. But if you’re uncomfortable, you can just turn it off.”

You shrugged and began taking off your clothes in full view of the camera and screen.

You noticed Hoseok’s expression.

“Enjoying the show?” You chuckled, finally taking off your undergarments and fully exposing yourself.

Hoseok smirked, “Don’t act like you weren’t just turned on by my abs. I saw how you looked at me.”

You nodded and surrendered. “Fair point.”

You hoped in the shower, and you two continued talking.

“Jesus, we haven’t started the movie yet,” Hoseok commented while you were washing your hair.

“Shit, right,” you laughed, massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

After you hoped out of the shower and dried your body and hair, you both started to watch the movie.

“This is a pretty cool premise. Like, we’ve never seen a deaf person in a horror movie before,” you regarded.

"True, that's a good point—AHHHHHH!" Hoseok screamed at the sudden slam in the movie.

You burst into laughter.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, trying to calm himself with controlled breaths.

The movie continued as you finished off your skincare and put on your pyjamas.

The oversized t-shirt was long enough to cover your thighs.

“You’re going to watch this before bed?” Hoseok gasped.

You chuckled. “Yeah. It’s not that scary.” You say as you jump at the sound of breaking glass in the film.

Hoseok laughed at the coincidental timing.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up to the sound of your alarm.

“Shit,” you grumbled and turned it off.

You heard Hoseok stir awake on the Zoom call.

Both of you had fallen asleep, but Hoseok finished the movie before you could; because you saw the end credits paused in the Netflix Party.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok mumbled, squinting at the screen.

“I’ll let you sleep,” you smiled, hovering your cursor over the "send" button.

He softly smiled, “thank you.” He snuggled into his pillow, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Hobi,” you replied, ending the call for both of you.

It didn’t hit you until you were halfway through your dress rehearsal, but Hoseok had stayed with you while you slept. He didn't wake you but quietly continued the movie and fell asleep.

Hoseok was usually sweet, so you didn't pay too much attention to it.

But it did make you feel special.

.

.

It was the day of the fashion show, and you were fucking nervous.

You had done this before, a show, but this one was different. You had put in so much effort and were proud of how it turned out but were afraid of what other people would think.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Allie assured through video call,” it’ll be excellent, and everyone won’t stop talking about it.”

“Probably,” you replied, putting on your makeup.

“It will be excellent, Y/N. I am so sure I will bet money.” She stated.

You chuckled, "then I'll take your word for it because I am not bidding money.”

You both laughed.

“Okay, I know I already showed you my outfit, but are you sure it looks good?” She asked, putting on the A-line floor-length dress she’d shown you before. It was a beautiful viridian green with lace shoulder straps that draped over the sides of her biceps.

“You look beautiful,” you complimented, setting your makeup with setting spray and heading to your closet.

You put on the suit you made and looked in the mirror. You looked a bad bitch.

“You look great! Oooo, put on the red bottoms,” Allie squealed.

You put on the signature Louis Vuitton black high heels with the ruby bottoms.

Your phone buzzed.

“I got to go; Westley is here with our ride to the venue. I’ll see you there!”

“See you!” She waved, ending the call.

You did a quick check in the mirror, fixing your hair, grabbed your bags, and headed out the door.

Your driver waited outside the vehicle as you approached, and opened its door, showing you a well-dressed and excited Westley.

"Oh my god, you look great!" He gasped. “When did you make the suit?”

“I finished it a week before we flew out,” you chuckled, “and you look great too! I love the pine on you.”

You took a step back and looked at Westley’s crisp pine-coloured suit with matching brown dress shoes.

“Thank you,” he grinned. “Okay, get in before we become late.”

You hopped into the car, and your driver got in and started the vehicle.

The drive was spent recalling your opening and closing speeches with Westley and the show's agenda.

“So, five pm is when the show ends, and then the guests for the after-party go into the ballroom area. Food is served at six pm, and everything is wrapped up at ten pm.” Westley relayed.

You nodded, “Yup.”

Both of you arrived a couple hours before the start time, which was at 1 pm, to set everything up and warm up the models and crew.

Westley checked the organizers and the models while you went to the runway area to check the lights and sound.

"Let's rerun the lights, please!" You announced as you walked into the runway room. "Can I get a headset, please?" You ask the crew on the ground, who nodded.

“Yup!” You heard the lighting crew respond.

You were given the headset, and you heard the head light technician’s voice.

“Can you hear me?” They checked.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

They ran by the six light settings for the show, and it was all correct.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Can you please check that the sound is alright?” You asked through the headset.

“Yup. You’ll have to hand the headset to another person, though, and we’ll give you a mic.” They added.

You heard their muffled voice as if they covered their mic's headset with their hand. Next, you had someone hand you a mic and take your headset.

“You’ll need to stand on the stage,” The person said.

“Okay,” you replied, going to the runway and standing on the end portion.

All the room’s lights turned on, and you could see the lighting crew’s area in the back and the chair organized around the runway.

“You can speak into the mic!” You heard someone shout.

You started speaking nonsense in the mic, like the type of weather outside, as they adjusted the volume.

“Thank you!” Someone shouted.

“Thanks,” you said into the mic before handing it to one of the crew.

“Is there anything to report? Any problems that arose before I got here?” You asked the crew.

They all shook their heads.

“How is everyone feeling?” You asked.

They all shared nervous laughter, and a few people said “good.”

“Alright, if there’s anything you all need, just come to the modelling area and ask me. It’s in the backroom.”

They all nodded, and you left them to their business.

You arrived in the backroom and saw designers fitting their outfits on the models and makeup artists and hairstylists prepping their stations.

“How is everybody doing?!” You enthusiastically asked.

They cheered with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"I get it. Everyone is on their toes. You all have an hour left to set things up before people start filing in. Remember, the show starts at 1 pm. The door opens thirty minutes before them.”

They call responded with various forms of understanding, and you went around to check on them individually.

Rachel came and taped your shoulder, with a headset on, “So, the guards are in their posts, and the front is ready to check people in.”

“Is there a line already?” You asked.

Rachel pressed down the headset, asking the crew on the other end.

“Yes, there’s a line of people outside,” she reported, “about twenty people, so far.”

"Shit, yeah, let them in. It's probably cold." You ordered.

“I’ll tell them,” she replied.

“Okay, everyone! We’re starting to let people in. Again, you all have about an hour left, so try to wrap things up and relax. Thank you!” You announced.

Again, sounds of understanding, and you, Westley, and Rachel left the backroom.

“Rachel, Westley and I are going to check that the ballroom area and catering are all handled. Please check in with the front desk to see how they're doing, and then meet us in the ballroom." You told.

“Got it, Y/N,” Rachel answered, walking past the two of you and towards the front area.

Westley appeared impressed. “She's terrific. She's even got the headset and everything."

"I know, right? She's cool." You remarked.

Like clockwork, you and Westley ran over the details and schedule for the catering and the after-party. Everyone had places to sit, with elegantly decorated name cards.

Everything was ready.

"Fantastic, thank you," you thanked the caterers and the staff in the ballroom. "Feel free to come into the runway area during the show if you all would like to watch."

With that, it was about time the show would start. You and Westley hurried backstage, where you both were handed microphones.

The lights dimmed, and classical music played—fitting the theme of elegance and high class.

You and Westley regarded each other, did an excellent handshake, and strutted out on the runway. Both of you were met with applause from the crowd and blinding spotlights.

You two walked to the end of the runway and let out an exhausted sigh.

The music quieted, faintly heard in the background.

“And that’s why I’m not a model,” Westley joked, causing the crowd to giggle.

“Same here,” you chuckled.

“Anyways, welcome to the show, everyone!” You cheered, and the crowd clapped. “As you know, I am Y/N, and this is Westley. Today, we’ll be showing recycled elegant clothes on people. Not just models, but people. All the clothes you'll be seeing here today are made from recycled fabrics and hand-crafted by our design team and me."

Applause.

"We wanted to represent people, so we got people to present our clothes. Redundant, I know, but the fashion industry rarely shows models that look like people. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all fantastic. However, this show will be different. Enjoy!” Westley waved.

A final round of applause while you and Westley walked off the runway.

The show went smoothly and wonderfully. The changes were fluid, and there were no clothing mishaps. The classical music turned into upbeat music that everyone seemed to groove to. Models danced on the runway while walking, and there were joyful cheers in the crowd.

In the end, you and Westley gave your brief thank you speeches, and months of planning and work were officially completed.

When everyone was backstage, you all collectively cheered.

“Phenomenal job, everyone!” You praised. “I am speechless at how well we all did. Thank you all for being such wonderful people to work with.”

Smiles and cheers were shared as everyone got ready for the after-party.

“Okay, remember that food is being served at six o’clock, and you all will be able to find your names at a table.” You reminded.

You and Westley did a quick check-up on people before heading to the ballroom area to socialize.

“Great job, you two!” Some complimented.

You and Westley thanked the praise and had a small talk with some colleges.

“Hey, Y/N!” You heard a familiar voice say.

You turned and say Hoseok with the rest of the boys, waving.

“Hey!” You smiled, nudging Westley to join you.

"Well, enjoy the after-party," Westley grinned at the other guests before joining you.

As always, the seven boys were well-dressed in designer suits. Hoseok wore lightly tinted shades paired with a dark suit and floral dress shirt. His hair was wavy.

“That was awesome, Y/N,” Namjoon said.

“Thank you!” You replied.

“Yeah, Y/N, I loved the recycled-fabrics idea. Are anything on sale?” Taehyung asked.

You nodded. "Everything will be on sale next month. I'll send you the dates, so you mark them in your calendar. The clothes go fast," you chuckled.

“Damn,” Taehyung remarked, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, Jimin,” Westley greeted.

“Hey West,” Jimin smiled, “loved your speech today. That suit looks great on you.”

“I know,” Westley smirked, “you look good too.”

"How are you feeling?" Hoseok asked, letting Westley and Jimin casually flirt.

You sighed. “Glad that it’s over, to be honest. It was fun, of course, but it's a lot of work to organize."

“Oh my god, is that Charlie Puth?” Jungkook gasped, hiding slightly behind Namjoon.

Everyone laughed.

"You should go and say 'hi,' Kook. You've already met and sung with him before. You two are practically friends." Yoongi expressed.

“True,” you agreed, “and Charlie’s a nice guy.”

“Okay,” Jungkook straightened his posture, “I’ll do it.”

You all watched Jungkook walk over and begin chatting with Charlie Puth.

“God, he’s grown up so much,” Seokjin sighed.

The rest of you caught up and chatted about the show.

Before you knew it, Westley was poking your side to let you know it was five minutes until six.

“Shit,” you cursed. “Sorry to cut this convo short, but Westley and I have to announce dinner. We’ll talk soon!”

You all said your goodbyes, and you and Westley went up to the front to state it was time for food.

You two were seated with Rachel, Allie, and a couple others. Everyone ordered off a menu, which served various kinds of pasta, salads, and a mix of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

It was an excellent way to end off the show.

There was a dancefloor, too, where people could groove to music after eating.

Of course, the seven boys went to the dancefloor, which caused others to join.

You were finishing off your fettuccine alfredo when Hoseok danced over to your table. You chuckled as he held his hand out and quirked a brow.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, taking his hand.

“You love it,” he smirked, pulling you off your chair and leading you to the dancefloor.

You danced together, along with your friends. He held your hands as you two swayed to the slow songs and body-rolled with you during the upbeat songs. Of course, a few BTS songs played, and everyone tried to follow the known choreography. You went back to your table for a drink of water, and Allie came with you. "Look, and you and Hoseok dancing up a storm," she teased. “Shut up,” you chuckled. “The chemistry is there, Y/N,” she commented. You drank your water. "Not now, Al." “Come on! He’s here for, what, the night and then gone tomorrow morning? When will you see him again?” She asked. You paused, honestly unsure when you'd see Hoseok again. “Now or never, Y/N. How much longer can you debate this?” “I know,” you replied. “I’ll do it later tonight.” Around nine-thirty, the party was dying down, with only a few guests scattered around the venue helping to clean up. You made eye contact with Allie, who was tending to the chairs, who nudged towards Hoseok’s direction. Now or never. You said in your head. “Can I speak to you, Hoseok?” You asked, walking up to him. “For sure!” He replied. You led both of you to a secluded part of the venue, away from listeners. “Did you enjoy the show?” You asked. “Yeah! You did a fantastic job, Y/N. I love how everything turned out, the colours, the recycled fabrics were great—and your suit! I can’t believe you made it,” Hoseok complimented, stepping back to look at your attire. “Thank you,” you blushed. You gave a quick look around to make sure no one was around. “Is everything alright, Y/N? You’re looking around as if they’re spies around.” He gasped. “Are there spies around? What secret don’t they know?” “I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.” You abruptly stated. A stretch of silence. Hoseok’s expression was a mixture of surprise and concern. “What?” “I can’t have sex with you anymore.” “You can’t or don’t want to? Is it something I did?” “Yes? No? In a way?” You pondered. You took a few deep breaths. "I like you, Hoseok—possibly even love you.” You ran your hand through your hair. “I know we agreed not to catch feelings, so I think we should stop having sex.” You watched his expression shift from some form of being happy to disappointment. “You know I cannot date with work,” he explained, "with the fans, touring, and whatnot, I cannot date someone. And you have your company to work on." “I know,” you replied. “But do you like me back?” You asked. “I do—” “You do?” You were on the verge of hugging him, but he stepped back. You looked at him, confused. “We can’t—” “Why?” “I literally just told you, Y/N. With work, dating wouldn’t allow it. I already have people—” He choked on his words. “People who wish I was dead, j-just for being me.” “Hoseok—” You reached out to him, but he gently pushed you away. “No,” he objected, “I’m fine. I just don’t want to add you to the mess.” “You can’t decide that for me.” You retorted. “I understand that you don’t want to add me to it, but I’m okay with it. I don't care what other people would say about us. They're not in the relationship, we are—" “But what if I care?” He said, almost too quiet for you to hear. “I’m the happy guy of BTS, who’s dedicated to his work.” “But are you truly happy?” You peered into him. “Yeah,” he replied, avoiding eye contact, “but it gets really hard sometimes.” “So, let me help, Hoseok,” you pleaded. "I don't need to be helped! I'm not another project for you to work on.” He thundered. “You know that’s not what I meant.” You seethed. “Let’s just drop it, okay? We’re not dating, that’s it.” He dictated. “Fine.” You replied. “Have a safe trip back home.” You left without another word, trying your best not to cry. Out of all the ways you thought he'd respond, this took you off guard. Hoseok wasn't one to push you away, but here he was doing so. “Fuck this,” you whimpered, walking up to Allie. “I’m going back to the hotel, sorry,” you said, turning away as soon as possible. “Y/N!”

You washed your face and hoped into the shower—the warm water soothing your sore muscles and emotions. You couldn’t tell if it was the water or your tears streaming down your face.

What else did you expect? Hoseok had a point: with his work, he couldn’t date someone. And it was ridiculous that Hoseok would want to date you.

However, instead of sulking over Hoseok, you decided to have a bath and put on a facemask.

The room’s phone rang while you were starting the bath.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Y/N Y/L/N?

“Speaking,” you confirmed.

“Great! There’s a man here, named,” a muffled noise, “Hoseok Jung.”

“Tell him I’m busy, please,” you replied.

Another muffled noise. “Hoseok says he's sorry and that he has ice cream—cookie dough. But if he’s dangerous, I can call the police.”

“No, no. God no,” you said.

You bit your lip. "You can send Hoseok up."

“Okay. However, if there’s anything wrong, please try to press the red button on the receiver. I will check back with you in an hour. If there’s no response, I’ll get someone to check on you.” They informed.

“Thank you,” you replied, slightly shocked by their concern.

You hung up.

A few minutes later, you heard a knock on the door. You tightened your robe.

You checked the peephole before cracking the door open.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hey," he smiled. "I'm sorry for leaving you like that at the party. It was sudden and insensitive. I should have been more considerate of your feelings rather than shutting you off.”

“I was just—scared. I don’t know what it’s going to be like for us. And I don't want you to fix me—but I like you, a lot—so I brought cookie dough ice cream and two spoons—"

“Do you want to come in?” You interrupted his nervous rambling.

“Yes, thank you,” he chuckled.

Hoseok still wore the suit from the fashion show, but his jacket was folded over his arm, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned lower.

“Oh, you’re running the bath,” he noticed. "We can deal with this later if it's a bad time."

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just turn off the water.” You replied, going to the bathroom to do so.

When you came back, Hoseok was sitting on the edge of your bed.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked, sitting beside him.

He opened the ice cream tub, setting the lid on the desk and handing you one of the spoons.

“I was thinking you could talk more, actually; about how you feel," he replied, giving you the tub and angling himself to face you. "I just want to listen to you this time."

You gave a brief smile before spooning a small piece of ice cream into your mouth.

“Well, I just feel like we’re in this grey area of being really close but having sex. And we both like each other, and we said at the venue, and I just feel like we should just date then.” You set the ice cream and spoon down on the desk. “I get that work complicates things for you. But once we’ve confessed our feelings, I just don’t know what to call this—this friendship?”

Hoseok nodded.

"So, if you don't want to date, that's completely fine. I understand. However, we can't keep having sex like we used to; because I have feelings for you now, and you said you do too, so it's not a good mix."

“That’s fair,” he acknowledged.

“But what do you think? Like, how do you feel about us?” You asked.

He paused and set his spoon on the desk with yours. “I want to date you, Y/N. I just don’t want to get you hurt.” He softly grasped your hands. “The industry can be toxic, and I don’t want to subject you to that.”

“I understand,” you replied, “but I want to date you too, regardless of all the other bullshit. As cheesy as it sounds, all I want is you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiled but then pretended to gag.

“Hobi! I was romantic."

“Sorry, but that was so cheesy.” He cringed.

“So, do you want to just start dating, then?” You proposed. “We have the ice cream here; we can pretend to get to know each other more.”

He chuckled. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

Hoseok stood up and held his hand out to you. “Y/N Y/L, will you go on a date with me?”

You laughed but composed yourself. “I would love to, Jung Hoseok.” You took his hand, and he immediately sat back down.

“So, Y/N,” Hoseok began, handing you the partially melted ice cream and your spoon, “what do you like to do on the weekends?”

.

.

1 year later.

“I’m thinking of moving to Korea,” you said. Hoseok turned to you, surprised. “Really? But you’re not based here.” “I know,” you acknowledged, “but I can fly in and skype, or whatever. I can have a home base here, too.” You were visiting Hoseok for a couple weeks before you had to go back home for a clothing launch. Both of you were cuddling at his place when you brought up your idea of moving to Korea. “Of course, it wouldn’t be immediate. I would need to sort things out with Westley and Rachel and organize a place to stay here and a work area. The company is sturdy enough to handle the change.” You reasoned. “You could move in with me,” he suggested, turning his body to face you. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, why not. We’ve been dating for a while now, and it makes sense.” He shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to.” You kissed him. “No, I want to.” Both of you discussed what your move would be like and imagined living together. If you were to look back at how your relationship with Hoseok progressed, you would be shocked. In a matter of a few months, you and Hoseok went from friends to romantic partners. Although you had not come out publicly about your relationship, many people had a sense it existed; but that didn’t matter. You and Hoseok were in a secure and healthy relationship. It was long distanced, but you two made it work by visiting each other when you could and calling almost every day. The only thing that didn’t change was the sex—although it had gotten better. Nevertheless, so much has happened over the past year. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[tfwlawyers]

Not me singlehandedly going through your entire parent trap au I’m so invested even though like half of the posts are from 2015 💀

THESE THINGS HAPPEN I get such a kick out of knowing this au is still making its rounds though 😭😭

and yk what just because I know I’m never going to do anything else with this, have a 3.5k attempted scramble of fic for this au I tried writing back also in 2015. i was even less of a writer back then than I am now so it’s absolutely terrible but have at thee

“Oh, wait...” Trucy winced and tapped her earring. Apollo’s eyes widened in realization. “Looks like we have one more thing to do tonight - it’ll be super quick, I promise.”

“Oh no,” Apollo said, visibly paling, “there’s no way you’re doing that to me-”

“Then cutting my hair was a total waste,” Trucy huffed, tugging at a newly shorn lock, “because there’s no way I can go to camp with pierced ears and come home without. Come on, Polly, where’s your sense of adventure? It’s just one little pinch!”

“Just one?” he asked hesitantly, eyes now trained on the sharp needle laying on the table.

Trucy paused. “Well... I guess it’s technically two. I really only wear the one earring, but both my ears are pierced.”

Apollo sighed. “Great.”

“Nah, I got this,” Trucy said, grinning toothily. “I went with Aunt Maya when she wanted to get hers pierced, even though she chickened out at the last second.” She picked up the needle and a book of matches from the table, eyes glinting. “I had to get mine repierced because of infection the first time too. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

-

“Put that apple slice back,” Apollo said, narrowing his eyes at the piece of fruit in Trucy’s hands. “They’re acidic, I don’t need that anywhere near me and oh God you’re really going to shove a piece of metal into my ear, aren’t you-”

-

“You sure I look okay?” he asked, patting down the skirt. He squinted down at the stark white boots he’d thankfully fit into. “I’m terrified to walk in these, they look like death traps -”

“Which is why we’re practicing,” Trucy said primly, wiping her hands on a gel-stained rag. She still didn’t quite have a grasp on the correct ratio of product to actual hair, but she was much better than when they had started five weeks ago. “Now, walk towards me.”

-

“One last thing, I guess,” Apollo said, removing his bracelet and handing it to Trucy, watching as she carefully slid it on. He rubbed his now bare wrist absentmindedly, feeling strangely naked without it.

“So... this is really it. We’re really doing this.”

“We’re really doing this,” Trucy confirmed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. For all her apparent enthusiasm, she looked as nervous as he felt. The studs in her ears reflected the morning light.

“Give papa a hug for me,” he said, smiling weakly.

“Give daddy one for me too,” she said.

They hesitated a moment more before Trucy threw her arms around her brother’s shoulders. Apollo’s arms immediately snaked around her waist, drawing her in tight. They clung to each other, silently willing and praying this was somehow going to all work out - that they wouldn’t just to get to meet their other parent, that they wouldn’t only get a few short weeks with the other father they hadn’t even known had existed, but that they could find some way to reconcile the two, that they wouldn’t have to lose anyone across the wide expanse of the Atlantic ever again.

-

“You’ve had your ears pierced,” he said almost absently, cradling her head between his hands and gently turning her neck back and forth to better view the studs. He clicked his tongue. Trucy felt her heart sink.

“Do you... hate them?” she asked tentatively.

Edgeworth’s eyes snapped to hers. They were the same soft gray color as the paint Daddy always kept too much of around the house. “On the contrary - I find they suit you incredibly well. Please tell me you didn’t get an infection.”

Her face split into a wide smile.

-

Apollo thumbed through a stack of canvases that had been shoved into a corner. There was a thin layer of dust of them; if he had to guess, he’d say they hadn’t been disturbed for at least three months - not a particularly long stretch of time, all things considered. They were clearly less polished works, lacking the technical skill and attention to detail that made Phoenix Wright a name to be reckoned with in the art community, but they were still beautiful in their own way. Paintings of vineyards and what looked like London, towering skyscrapers and calm seas and -

His father.

Apollo blinked.

The portrait of Miles Edgeworth drawn in rich oils did not blink back. Nor did the three that followed.

-

“There were a lot of paintings of the same person in daddy’s works. Some guy with grey hair,” Apollo said, struggling for nonchalance.

Maya’s grip on the mixing bowl faltered. “Is that so,” she said carefully.

“Was he one of daddy’s favorite models or something he just never told me about?”

Maya pursed her lips and continued stirring with a newfound vigor. “You could say that.”

-

“You’re not Apollo?” he asked, voice thick. “You’re Trucy?”

She smiled weakly. “That would be correct.” One strand of hair fell lank across her forehead - how did I not notice, Apollo hasn’t used nearly that much gel in years - and he absentmindedly tucked it behind her ear. He felt her press into the warmth of his hand, as if she were afraid he might suddenly vanish across the Atlantic again.

“I hope you don’t - I hope you don’t hate me,” she said, voice beginning to waver, “it’s just that Polly and I met at the camp and the whole thing sort of just spilled out. I’ve wanted to see you for so long, and Polly felt exactly the same way about Daddy, so we sort of just - just switched lives and hoped it wouldn’t take you so soon to notice. I really hope you don’t hate me, because I’ve wanted to meet you basically my whole life and I hope that maybe one day you can love me for me and not Polly and -” (this is ALL from movie tho so mix this up)

Edgeworth’s left hand came to cradle the rest of Trucy’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Oh, my dear,” he said, cautiously tugging her forward. She came willingly, all but sprawling across his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin and wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’ve loved you since the day you came to me,” he whispered into her hair, blinking away the beginnings of tears he felt gathering at the corner of his eyes. He felt her tighten her hold and he did the same.

-

He poured himself a thumbnail of scotch, perfectly content to pretend he didn’t have tickets to a plane back to a state he had vowed never to set foot in again departing in less than four hours. “He was rather handsome,” he found himself admitting, absentmindedly swirling the glass and taking a sip. He paused, staring at nothing and mumbling to himself, “...had the most crooked smile. Always made me weak at the knees.”

“What was that, sir?”

Edgeworth snapped his attention back to the other man; he’d nearly forgotten Gumshoe was even in the room. “Nothing, nothing, never mind, have you seen the tickets?”

Gumshoe shrugged. That was Trucy’s cue.

“Almost ready, papa?” she asked, stepping smoothly into the room from her hiding place behind the thick wooden door. Edgeworth looked just as wild-eyed as she’d been hoping.

“Yes, of course, I’m almost finished packing -”

She didn’t even have to look at his still mostly bare suitcase to know he was lying.

“ -and you did tell your father we were coming, didn’t you?” he finished, placing his drink on a nearby dresser and running his fingers shakily through his hair.

“Absolutely,” Trucy promised.

“Ah,” Edgeworth said, fiddling with his waistcoat buttons. They looked like they’d been polished recently.

“Liar,” Gumshoe leaned down to whisper. She shushed him.

-

“Might I suggest we continue this little gathering inside,” Maya said, already beginning to shepherd the twins - the twins, she was going to need another vacation just to process the fact that they were together again - into the room. She twisted back around to look at Edgeworth, still shoving Apollo (that was Apollo, right?) forward. “Hi,” she began again, offering a free hand, “you probably don’t remember me -”

“Maya!” he interrupted, smiling warmly and bending to kiss her chastely on the cheek. His breath was sour with vodka and his glasses clunked awkwardly against her face. As he turned and stepped fully into the room, Maya’s cheeks(rp) began to hurt from smiling so fiercely.

“I knew I always liked him,” she said to no one as she closed the door.

-

This was ridiculous. This resort was full of entirely too many people who favored the same sort of eccentric clothing that man had even fourteen years ago, a disproportionate amount of them with the same slate grey hair. He almost would have written that (awkward*) expression seen from across Dahlia’s shoulder/a hotel lobby as a figment of his overtaxed imagination had it not been so much realer than the stacks of canvases in his studio. Which meant Miles was here, but he’d swept the first level of the hotel twice already after begging Dahlia to take to her room for a bit, the pool area was as depressingly empty as the inside was, and -

There he was.

Across the pool, descending the steps carefully from the inside lounge area and walking on the balls of his feet like he always did when he’d had a bit too much to drink (and why did he still remember that) was, without a doubt, Miles Edgeworth.

Phoenix suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Edgeworth was halfway down the opposite path before Phoenix realized he should probably do something.

“Excuse me,” he said, shouldering his way through the crowd. It would be rude and more than a little intrusive to just call out his ex-husband’s name in the middle of a resort, right? Perhaps not as rude as nearly shoving the poor bellboy into the shrubbery, but, well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He didn’t immediately notice the odd assortment of friends and family and a lumbering man in striped green swimming trunks perched on pool chairs as he stepped past, but they certainly noticed him.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Trucy asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said vaguely, refusing to take his eyes off Edgeworth. He was abruptly terrified he might vanish again if he did.

He

“Nick, watch out -”

“Hey, pal -”

“Daddy -”

With that, Phoenix collided into a passing service boy, arms pinwheeling wildly as he fell directly into the pool behind him.

-

“Hello Miles,” he said, smiling sheepishly and wringing out his tie. He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck and settled for clenching his hands into tight fists instead. “Or do you people call you Edgeworth now?”

“Miles is - Miles is fine,” Edgeworth said weakly, trying to look anywhere but Phoenix, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation they should be having for the first time after fifteen years. “My father still calls me Miles.”

-

Something warm coiled in his chest. It felt infinitely more dangerous than it had fifteen years ago.

“You always had a smart mouth,” he murmured, rubbing a swathe of cleaning ointment along the cut on Phoenix’s forehead. Phoenix hissed.

“So glad you remembered,” he bit through gritted teeth.

“Hush.”

Phoenix hmmed but stayed silent for a few more seconds, staring at Edgeworth as he dug back into the first aid kit. Edgeworth tried not to flush under the scrutiny.

-

Phoenix held his wrist in a loose grip. He should have felt clammy from the pool and the rapidly descending night, but he blazed oddly hot against Edgeworth’s skin.

“Miles, I-”

“Feenie? Who is this?”

“Dollie!” Phoenix said, shooting upright and wincing at the sudden dizziness.

-

Edgeworth’s burgundy coat was hung carefully over his arm, too thick for the warm California night. The buttons on his waistcoat glinted from a nearby streetlamp’s glow.

Phoenix swallowed.

-

“Do you have any idea where they’re taking us?” Edgeworth asked, leaning in slightly. Phoenix’s (nose twitched? something about scent memory?) and he refused to let himself acknowledge that Miles’s choice of aftershave hadn’t changed since the day they’d met. He abruptly remembered the taste of cheap wine and overly sweet cake on his tongue, felt the ghost weight of a ring fifteen years gone.

He hastily turned away.

“No idea.”

-

“Grandfather chipped in a bit -”

“Apollo,” Edgeworth warned.

“Alright, so Grandfather chipped in a lot, whatever, we’re poor teenagers, the point is,” he said, emphasizing the final word by pulling the ship’s impressive doors open with a firm tug, “it’s ours for the night.”

Phoenix whistled shrilly in appreciation, instinctively reaching out to ruffle Apollo’s hair. It was a testament to how important the night was that Apollo merely batted Phoenix’s hand away. “Seriously, dad,” he mumbled. His scowl was clearly forced, however; he felt oddly warm that he was able to finally use that word at all.

-

“Subtle,” Phoenix remarked.

“Mm,” Edgeworth agreed. “I don’t suppose we should let their efforts, however misguided they may be, go to waste, should we?”

“You just want to know who else they roped into this ridiculous scheme of theirs.”

“Oh, because you don’t.”

“I,” Phoenix said, moving to the chilled champagne propped by the windowsill and popping its cork, “have a perfectly healthy level of curiosity. It does not involve wondering what’s going on in my kid’s head. Trucy is a teenager. That’s terrifying.” He carefully poured the sparkling drink into two glasses and offered one to Edgeworth.

“I find that somewhat difficult to believe,” Edgeworth said, striding forward and taking the  proffered glass. He made certain their fingers did not brush. “Thank you.”

-

They waited until she had hastily bowed out of the room before turning their focus back to each other. “Miles, that’s why we came up with this arrangement in the first place,” Phoenix continued, nonplussed.

“Really?” Edgeworth carefully picked up his glass flute, trying to ignore the tremor he felt running through his hands. “I thought it was because we’d agreed to never see each other again.”

Phoenix’s heart clenched. “Not ‘we’, Miles,” he said slowly, spreading his hands on the tablecloth and feeling like if he missed a step here, he would risk something he couldn’t afford to lose again.

Edgeworth took a shaky draw of wine. “You know,” he said slowly, seemingly forcing himself to meet Phoenix’s eyes, “that part is unclear to me as well.”

“Oh, you don’t remember the day you packed?” Phoenix asked.

“No, I remember that day perfectly. Did I hurt you when I threw that - oh God, what was it -”

“It was Kamisar’s Modern Criminal Procedure. It left a dent in the wall from where it rebounded off my head.”

“Oh,” Edgeworth said, at least having the grace to look properly abashed. “Right. Sorry.”

Phoenix shrugged. “It’s not like I was making it that easy on you.

-

And....” Edgeworth trailed off, twisting a napkin between his fingers. “You didn’t chase after me.”

Phoenix felt (something) shift. “I didn’t know that you wanted me to.”

-

“A toast to -”

“Our children,” Edgeworth cut in. He ignored the tightening in his chest at the our.

“Our children,” Phoenix repeated slowly, as if the words didn’t quite match with what his mouth had wanted to say.

“We both got where we actually wanted to go.”

Phoenix’s eyes never wavered from his. “We did,” he said, voice strange.

They toasted again and finished their meal in silence.

-

“Apollo, what are you doing in those clothes? We’ve got a plane to catch.”

“We’re getting totally ripped off,” maybe-Trucy said. “Daddy said we’d get our camping trip and we want to go.”

“Wait, hang on,” Phoenix interrupted, “what camping trip?”

“The one Aunt Maya and I make you take us on every year before school starts,” almost-definitely-Trucy said. Phoenix began to lift his finger in triumph, sure he’d found his kid -

“ -the one behind the house that runs all the way up to Gourd Lake, remember when you fell in that one year,” I’m-not-too-sure-if-this-one-is-still-in-fact-Apollo finished.

Phoenix’s arm fell listlessly to his side. Edgeworth snorted.

Phoenix shot Edgeworth a look. Thanks for helping, one of these is yours. “This is entirely unfunny, you’re going to make your father miss his flight,” he said, shifting his attention back to the twins. Honestly, he was an Ivy University graduate and Miles was a world renowned defense attorney, how were they being duped by their own kids -

“Apollo -” Edgeworth began.

“Yes?” they both said in unison.

Edgeworth groaned. “They get this from you, I’m sure,” he said.

“It’s not my fault you’ve apparently been raising a devilishly deceptive teenager,” Phoenix quipped back, never taking his eyes off the twins. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine pound at the base of his neck. “He’s probably rubbed off on Trucy.”

The twins grinned.

Phoenix rubbed a hand over his eyes before stooping to their height once again. He stared hard at each of them, looking back and forth between their faces. “This one’s Trucy,” he said slowly, pointing a finger to the sibling in orange. “I’m positive.”

“You know, I hope you’re right, Daddy. You wouldn’t want to send the wrong kid all the way back to Germany - ”

“ - would you?”

How was any of this fair?

“Here’s our proposition. We go back to Daddy’s house, pack our stuff, and the four of us leave on the camping trip.”

“The four of us?” Edgeworth interjected. They ignored him.

“And when you bring us back,” maybe-Trucy-maybe-Apollo continued, “we’ll tell you who’s Trucy and who’s Apollo.”

“Or,” Edgeworth said, carefully stepping around and in front of Phoenix and crossing his arms firmly across his chest, tapping his finger rhythmically against his arm, “new plan. I take one of you back to Germany with me whether you like it or not.”

Two identical sets of eyes twinkled back at him.

(He felt a migraine beginning to pound in his left temple.)

-

“You can cook now?” Edgeworth asked.

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix said. “I can make pasta. And pasta. Probably more pasta, if you ask really nicely.”

“Hm,” Edgeworth said, eyebrows scrunched in mock thought, “pasta sounds good.”

Phoenix grinned, bumping Edgeworth’s shoulder. He was warm through the cotton. “Pasta it is.”

-

Edgeworth looked across the seat at Apollo. His glassy eyes reflected the flickering street lamps as the taxi sped down the empty street.

“Apollo, I -” he began, deflating as Apollo turned further away. It’s entirely justified, he thought despondently. I’d hate myself as well.

-

“Grandfather?” Apollo called, shrugging out of his heavy jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. The house was silent.

“I’ll check the study,” Edgeworth said, tugging his jabot loose. Apollo nodded and headed towards the direction of the kitchen, toeing off his shoes on the way. Pushing open the wide doors that led to the study, Edgeworth saw someone reading a paper at the desk. He cocked his hip against the door and crossed his arms. “Hello, father. We’re back.”

The newspaper lowered. It wasn’t Gregory.

“Hiya, papa,” Trucy said. The corners of her mouth were quirked despite her obvious attempts to reign in her expression. “Did you know the Concord gets you here in half the time?”

Edgeworth slipped against the doorframe. He felt the knob dig into his hip. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”

(Edgeworth was acutely aware of the doorknob digging into his hip from when he pressed against it. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”)

Apollo walked into the room, drawn to the sound of voices. When he saw Trucy his face split into a blinding grin. “What are you doing here?”

Trucy neatly folded the newspaper on the desk and clasped her hands in front of her. “It took us about thirty seconds after you left that we decided we didn’t want to lose you two again,” she said, eyes crinkling.

Edgeworth swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “We?” he said, voice cracking.

“We,” a new voice agreed.

From the corner of his eye, Edgeworth noted Trucy moving to stand by the far wall of the study, giving the vaguest attempt of privacy. It didn’t matter. His eyes were trained on Phoenix, tracking his movement as he crossed the room.

-

Phoenix peppered his face in light kisses, smiling into the curve of his throat and pressing his lips to the thrumming heartbeat beneath his skin.

They eventually pulled back, desperate for air. Phoenix’s eyes crinkled - crow’s feet, Edgeworth thought wildly through his haze, he’s got crow’s feet now, I haven’t seen him this close up since - and he rested his forehead against Edgeworth’s.

“God, I’m never letting you go again,” he whispered, hands snaking around the other man’s back to pull him even closer.

-

“You want to toast with this? I’d have thought you might want to upgrade to something with a little more class.”

Phoenix smiled sloppily, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. “You’re the only one I said I’d drink it with, remember?”

Edgeworth smiled back. He took the proffered bottle warmed by the weather and tugged his husband into a proper kiss, matching rings glinting in the dying sunlight.

[witchthewriter]

hey hey!! i hope you’ve been doing well >:D. dude i’ve had a weird week but coming back on here and reading all your new stuff has been like instant relief lmao. if it’s alright, could i participate in the ship event again? if not that’s totally alright!! i put my information here again so you don’t need to scroll, but i switched up the fandoms a bit this time :)

fandoms: harry potter (marauders era if that’s okay), stranger things (ik i did stranger things for my initial request, but what can i say. i’m obsessed and elated that you paired me with eddie <3)

my mbti type is enfp, and i’m a libra if that helps any <3

i’m pretty outgoing! i like talking to people, i just suck at small talk lmao. apparently i come off like i’m flirting with people a lot of the time whoops-

shitty jokes are my jam. i have a mix of 13 year old boy and grandpa humour.

i’m creative but work in sporadic bursts, i’ll do nothing all day but then bust out a painted jacket because i get a surge of energy at one in the morning

big fan of organized chaos, my room is kind of cluttered but i know where everything is. i’ve got a personal vendetta against minimalism

i love making stuff for people and giving them gifts! it’s my love language lmao

i kickbox and do mma, i like the contrast of me having bright pink hair but being able to kick ass ahsgdgg

i also play bass and guitar! can’t sing for shit though

dream job is either as a freelance illustrator or museum curator. something that i’ll enjoy but will still give me time to myself. my idea of hell is having an office job

Want to be shipped? Here be the instructions 🦋

Oh my goodness, if you need someone to talk to my dms are open man. I completely understand!!! I had ... a really wild week too. But you saying that, it actually means the absolute WORLD to me. I mean it too! And you can absolutely keep wanting more! I can do personalised headcanons as well xx

What each ship has in common:

⋆ Fun-loving ⋆ Party animals ⋆ Comic relief ⋆ Soft-hearted ⋆ Bad boyesque 

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

Okay so this was actually really tricky. Because you're an ENFP (and this actually really does help, I love mbti and astrology!!! I'm an aquarius - anyway)

I was going to go with James, but I think you guys would clash a little. He seems a bit like an ENFP, possible an ENTP.

With Sirius, he does like to have some quiet time. I definitely see him as an ISTP/ESTP. Also he would definitely have Scorpio, Gemini and Saggitarius placements. So you would balance each other out!

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・He would be so in love with you man. Like he’d want to show you off to anyone and everyone

・You’d get along so well with James and Remus - like Sirius would sit back and be so goddam proud 

・You guys would be so mischevious. Possibly meeting at Hogwarts and having prank wars

・Winking at each other from across the room

・Excessive flirting and dirty jokes

・ Relationship tropes: aggressively supportive, Person A ‘having a hard life and learning to love + Person B ‘loving them unconditionally’, 

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I didn't know if you wanted more headcanons with Eddie or you wanted a whole new ship? So I went with more headcanons. If you wanted me to ship you again, just say so my dear x

Okay so you and Eddie are like a dynamic duo. Absolute chaos. It's like you vibrate whenever you're together.

Also he is an ENFP. So it’s like two hype-men together dude.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・You guys are literally so funny together, can you imagine what you’d get up to? All the shenanigans, the malarky, the absolute chaos. Oh my god.

・I think you would def do illegal stuff, but not like hurtful. Like maybe break into the high school after hours 

・I feel like you might be into DnD, and would be like the leader of the Hellfire group. And challenging Eddie so much as the Dungeon Master (he would NEVER let you see what he’s coming up with before hand btw)

・Giving him random objects you’ve found (rocks, once you found a silver ring!!!! pebbles, seashells etc) and him keeping ALL OF IT

・You guys are like best friends no lie, and basically inseparable 

・Relationship tropes: chaotic duo, always bring the party, feral partners in crime

[legends-live-in-memories]

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.  

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.  

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”  

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

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

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

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

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

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

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.  

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(

[sylvies-chen]

Test Runs

Summary: Matt agrees to help Sylvie babysit a 5-month-old Brian Cruz for the night to help Chloe and Joe out, and gets a glimpse at a life with Sylvie he thought he could only ever dream of.

Words: ~5.5K

Warnings: None?? It’s just pure baby fever and heart eyes and canon-compliant established Brettsey

Tagging: @fighterkimburgess Cíara, this one’s for you. I hope you enjoy your much anticipated gift— and some very long, plot-less tooth rotting fluff :)

A/N: I don't know what this is and I'm pretty sure I zoned out while writing this so let me know what you think of this because this is the least edited thing I've ever written lol

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

Matt’s in the locker room at the end of a tiringly long shift when he hears Sylvie’s voice coming from behind him.

Their shift has been filled with an endless amount of intense calls. House fires, a harrowing ambo call according to Sylvie, car crashes galore. He’s more than ready to go home and enjoy his next few days off. He and Sylvie had even agreed to make tonight a date night, staying in with a bottle of wine and watching a movie (or, in their case, not watching a movie). It makes him even happier to be done with this shift. Just a regular, normal, peaceful night.

That’s what it’s supposed to be, at least. Only he hears his girlfriend’s voice and, instead of its usual soothing effect on him, is filled with something tense and nervous. He turns around and lo and behold, Sylvie’s standing in front of him with a perpetual wince.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I may or may not have told Joe and Chloe I’d babysit Brian for them tonight,” she explains nervously, her palms stretched out flat against each other. “Which means I’m going to have to take a raincheck on that date night we’d planned.”

Matt instantly finds it hilarious that she’d been so worried to tell him about it. “Sylvie, it’s fine,” he assures her. “Date night can be any night, we’ll just postpone it for another day.”

“Really? You’re not bummed out?” “I’m extremely bummed out,” he corrects her, his hands flying to her arms and rubbing circles on them gently with his thumbs. “But I’m not mad. I just wanted to spend time with you after a long shift, that’s all.”

“I know,” she sighs. “I’m sorry. Joe just kept going on and on about how he and Chloe haven’t had a minute to themselves since the baby was born and I just remember thinking how, if that were you and I, it’d make me really sad not getting to have a night off with you.”

Matt swears his heart melts right then and there. Sylvie’s compassion is pretty much endless but when she mixes it with that adorably longing look in her eye, and with words like that? Yeah, Matt’s a total goner.

Things between him and Sylvie have been going so great. They’re going on six months and not a single day goes by where he doesn’t feel like the happiest guy in the world. He knows tonight is one of their only nights off between shifts and he’d prefer not to have to share her quite yet during those nights but Joe and Chloe are their friends, Sylvie was right to offer them a kind gesture.

So an idea forms.

Matt’s always been good with kids, he’ll never complain at getting the chance to look after one. Especially not when it’s with the woman he loves. Besides, he sort of loves the idea of spending the night watching Sylvie gush over Brian Cruz. She was sort of adorable with Amelia, he can only assume it will be the same with Brian.

So much for a normal, peaceful night. (Although frankly, Matt thinks normal is overrated.)

“What if I came with you?”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “What if I looked after him with you? I’m sure Joe and Chloe wouldn’t mind, I’d be more than willing to give you an extra set of hands.”

She gives him a puzzled, slightly skeptical look. “So you mean to tell me,” she starts, “that you want to spend one of your few nights off in between shifts babysitting a screaming, crying, spitting five-month-old baby, just… because I am?”

“That’s sort of the idea, yeah,” he chuckles. “I’m good with kids, I can handle a little spit-up. Besides, I’ll take any time I can get with you.”

Ok. So maybe that was a little cheesy. It still rings true nonetheless. Spending time with her in any capacity is good enough for him-- and he has a feeling this will be a lot of fun.

She seems to think the same thing too, and smiles sweetly at him. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You just are,” he shrugs amusedly and leans in to kiss her soundly, sinking into it for a minute before he realizes he shouldn’t get carried away when they’re in the locker room. He’ll save the PDA for Stella and Severide. When he pulls away, she moves to pick up her bag and shut her locker, the two of them ready to leave. “So I’ll pick you up then? What time did they want you there?”

“5:00. But I should warn you,” Sylvie warns teasingly with a pointed index finger. “I will be singing a lot of Wiggles songs. It will not be sexy.”

He lets out a chuckle from deep in his chest and Sylvie returns the laugh as she heads out of the locker room and to her car. Even when she’s gone, Matt can still feel himself smiling like an idiot.

Like he said: Sylvie Brett makes him feel like the happiest guy in the world.

“Hey. You’re in a good mood.” Matt’s about to get his own bag and leave when he turns around to see Severide coming into the locker room.

“Yeah, well, I’m on babysitting duty tonight,” he explains. “With Sylvie. Joe and Chloe needed some time off so she volunteered and I thought I’d tag along.”

“Uh-oh,” Kelly teases. “I sense a little baby fever coming on.”

“What? No, Sylvie’s not baby-crazy, it’s not like that.”

“I’m not talking about her,” Severide explains. “I’m talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You’re a sucker for kids, man. You’ve wanted them for as long as I’ve known you. You’re going to have that little pipe dream back in your head by the end of the night, I’m telling you,” he warns, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’ll be fine,” Matt grumbles in response. “I think I can handle one night of babysitting. Besides, we’re just helping Cruz. Kids are something for down the line. Way down the line.”

“So you have thought about it,” Kelly replies victoriously, raising a single, cocky eyebrow.

“What about you and Kidd, huh?” Matt knows deflecting won’t work forever, but he’s not ready to admit to himself that he has thought about it, nevermind Severide. So switching the subject back onto his best friend seems like the safe option. “You’re the ones who are married now. You two haven’t thought about having kids?”

Kelly bites his tongue, blushes slightly. It’s a rare occurrence for him, but one reserved uniquely for all matters related to Stella. “Maybe,” Severide shrugs. “But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.” Matt huffs, picking up his bag and shutting his own locker. “I can handle myself. I was just giving you a heads up in case you wondered why I wasn’t at the loft. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Matt heads out after that making a beeline for his truck before anyone else can question him about this.

Severide doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He and Sylvie are enjoying their time together right now, taking things at their own pace. Matt’s not about to ruin that for some fantasy he had that’s slowly dissipated. After all, what’s the point in wanting kids if you don’t have someone you want to have them with? After Gabby, he’d given up on that until what was once a pipe dream became something completely irrelevant and blurry in the back of his mind. Besides, six months of dating is a little soon to be thinking about that. There’s about a million steps they have to go through first, a million milestones before kids would be in the question. So yeah. He and Sylvie are not in any rush. For now, Matt is perfectly happy to be able to wake up to her for as many mornings as he can. Just him and her. That’s always going to be enough for him, no matter what. His small fantasies are a thing of the past.

At least, that’s what he tells himself as he drives home to the loft and gets ready to pick Sylvie up. He repeats it over and over until eventually, it doesn’t feel like a lie anymore.

********

When Sylvie hops into his truck, she’s wearing jeans and an old graphic t-shirt. She figures it’s best to wear something she won’t mind dirtying a little. She explains this to Matt when they’re in his truck and he nods thoughtfully at her smart thinking. He even leans over to kiss her on the cheek while waiting for one of the traffic lights to turn red. Only then does it truly register in Sylvie’s head about what they’re doing tonight.

They’re really, truly, spending an entire night together with their friend’s adorable baby.

She really hadn’t expected Matt to offer his help tonight. She doesn’t need the help-- Sylvie knows her way around a five-month-old, after all-- but he’d offered it anyway which somehow makes it even sweeter. Joe and Chloe had been more than okay with it. There’s no one more decent and reliable than Matt Casey, after all. Together, Brian Cruz is guaranteed to spend the whole night being showered with love. She’s sure of that, so she’d obviously been thrilled to have him tag along for babysitting. Until the weight of it all sinks in, that is.

Things between them have been going so great. It’d taken them longer than she’d hoped to sort out their feelings but it’d made the release all the more satisfying. They’re here now, together. And even though they’re only six months into this relationship, she knows that she’s never backing out. This is it; for both of them. It adds an extra layer to her happiness, knowing that everything she does with him will be her last firsts. It’s wonderful and beautiful in all the best ways. They’re still fairly early on in their relationship though. She doesn’t have an exact plan for the future-- it’s the only thing she can’t plan out thoroughly, unfortunately-- but she knows six months is still fresh in the grand scheme of things. And whereas she thinks a kid or two might be nice, it’s still too early to have a conversation that’s that detailed with him. Up until now, she’d been perfectly fine avoiding that talk. Now though, it’s going to be the big, plus elephant in the room. They’re getting a glimpse at what it would be like to have a kid together. It seems silly, but she’s almost scared to let her mind wander.

She goes over it in her head quietly in the car. It’s not a big deal, she reminds herself. They’ll just look after Brian, have some fun, and put him to bed at a reasonable hour. And most importantly, under no circumstances will daydreaming about their future be allowed. Ever.

They reach Joe and Chloe’s house and Matt takes her hands as they reach the front door. She’s been quiet the rest of the car ride, ever since he kissed her on the cheek. She’d gotten so preoccupied reminding herself not to get ahead of herself tonight that it’d picked up his attention, but she gives his hand a gentle squeeze as they wait for Joe and Chloe to answer the door and he smiles, thinking nothing of her quiet mood.

“Hey,” Joe greets them when the front door finally opens. His face is beaming, and it really dawns on Sylvie how excited he must be for tonight. He and Chloe haven’t been out of the house for weeks, never spending more than five minutes alone without baby Brian Cruz. “Come on in.”

Sylvie flashes a friendly smile and lets go of Matt’s hand to step inside, looking around the place. Chloe’s putting her earrings on in the mirror, preparing the finishing touches of her date night outfit. Which, in Sylvie’s opinion, is gorgeous. Saying her friend looks amazing is almost an understatement. “Don’t you look fancy,” Sylvie teases from behind Chloe. “Sylvie! We’re so glad you two were able to make it,” Chloe cheers, leaning in to give Sylvie a tender hug and then doing the same for Matt. “Thank you so much for this. We owe you one.” “Don’t worry about it,” she hears Matt speak. “I think we’re both just happy to lend a helping hand, right?”

He looks to Sylvie with raised eyebrows, and she nods in agreement. “Yes, we really are. You two seriously deserve some time off.”

“You’re right about that,” Joe nods. “I thought being a firefighter would mess with my sleep schedule but it’s nothing compared to this kid.”

“Where is Brian anyway?” She asks.

“He’s in his crib right now, hang on,” Chloe tells her, stepping into the room next to them and pulling Brian out of his crib. The little boy sits perfectly against his mother’s chest, his feet dangling slightly. He’s wearing a onesie too, the light blue fabric covered with little robots. It’s quite possibly the cutest thing Sylvie’s ever seen and she has to fight back the urge to coo at him.

“Say hi to Auntie Sylvie and Uncle Matt, sweet cheeks!” Chloe coos to her son, grabbing his tiny hand and waving it at Sylvie and Matt for him. He can’t talk yet but he flashes a smile at them and it melts Sylvie’s heart. Man. Tonight is going to be amazing and yet so tough to get through. “So there’s fresh formula in the fridge but we just fed him so he should be fine for the night. His toys are all laid out on the floor if he needs tummy time and we normally put him to bed at 7:00. If there’s anything you guys need or any questions, just call us. We’re bringing our phones with us and the number for the pediatrician is on the counter just in case,” Joe explains to them.

“Got it,” Sylvie nods.

“Ok,” Chloe nods to herself, handing Brian over to Sylvie. The small boy fits just as nicely against Sylvie’s chest but he tries to turn his head as soon as she holds him, urgently looking for his mom. Chloe stands back, staring at Brian nervously. “I gotta go now, buddy. I’ll see you later.”

“It’s harder than you expected, isn’t it?” Sylvie asks her, already well aware of the answer. Leaving your kid with a sitter is tough, she imagines, especially when it’s your first kid.

“Yes,” Chloe admits, slightly pained. “I know it’s only a few hours but we’re going to miss him.”

“We’ll take good care of him, we promise,” Matt assures them, already moving closer to Sylvie to see Brian and let his tiny hand wrap around his thumb. “Thanks again you guys,” Joe nods appreciatively.

“Of course, anytime. Now go on, have fun, you crazy kids,” Sylvie teases.

“Alright, bye!” Chloe keeps waving until their front door is fully shut, leaving Matt and Sylvie in total silence.

Matt glances at Sylvie up and down, taking in the sight of her with baby Brian, and something in his eye lights up. It sends a warm tingling down Sylvie’s spine, but he just nods at her. “He really is a cute baby.”

“I know,” she raves instantly. “Look at how small his little hands are!”

“You’re just so tiny, aren’t you, little buddy?” Matt talks to Brian, wiggling his hand.

Brian giggles, his arms wiggling amusedly at Matt’s gesture. He looks over at the front door though, waits expectantly for Chloe and Joe to come back in. A few seconds pass where Matt and Sylvie watch as Brian stares at the door. It’s almost as if everything that happens next happens in slow motion. They watch as his face turns back to Sylvie, his twinkling eyes turning sad as his face sours. The wail comes next, matched with flailing arms as Sylvie feels his body shaking in her arms.

He’s not hungry, Joe said he and Chloe just fed him. And he can’t be tired since they haven’t done anything with him yet. So really, he just misses his parents. It’s not all that abnormal for a kid his age but it still hurts Sylvie’s heart, watching this little guy wail in her arms.

“Oh no,” she blurts out, slightly panicked. “Shh, it’s okay! We’re right here. I know you miss your mommy and daddy but they’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He continues to wail, sticking his hand out and wiggling to try and get to the front door. “Who am I kidding, you don’t understand what that means,” she mumbles under her breath, beginning to bounce him.

His wailing isn’t as shrill after the bouncing starts but he’s still crying at a volume comparable to 61’s sirens. She tries her best to calm him down but it seems unsuccessful. Dammit. Sylvie and Matt aren’t five minutes into this night and Brian’s already crying.

The reminder that Matt’s there is enough to snap her out of it. Only she turns to where he was not five seconds ago and he’s gone. “Matt?”

“I’m in here, just a second,” he calls from the family room. Sylvie moves down the hallway away from the entrance to find him. When she does, he’s hovering over a small, wooden chest and rifling through it. Brian’s still crying as she pats his back and offers soothing hushes.

“I think we just broke Cruz and Chloe’s baby,” Sylvie tries teasing, her face still making a worried wince. “Shh, it’s okay Brian. You’re okay, it’s okay.” Matt grabs something out of the chest, moving to close the space between him, Sylvie and Brian. “Here,” he tells her, revealing the little, plush blue and green robot in his hand. “I figured a toy might distract him.”

“Right, good idea,” she nods, turning to meet baby Brian’s eye again as he grabs a fistful of her hair. “Uncle Matt has some of your toys, you want to play with them?”

Sylvie turns him so he can see Matt, who extends the soft plush robot and wiggles it playfully.

“I bet you like that one, huh? He even matches your pyjamas,” Matt points out.

Brian instantly becomes mesmerized with the toy, his eyes sparkling as they follow it’s trail as it moves in the air. His cheeks are still glossy with tears but he sticks out a hand to clumsily grab at the toy. The shift from upset beyond consolation to pure fascination with something so simple as a toy robot is enough to astound Sylvie-- and, admittedly, send relief washing through her body.

As soon as her shoulders relax, she feels Brian relax in her arms too. He even smiles as she wipes his cheeks clean of the tears, pointing towards the toy and cooing incoherently. Matt keeps wiggling the toy and bobbing his head along with the toy, eventually handing it to Brian and letting him play with it on his own. He squishes the robot’s rectangular head, then mimics Matt’s movements with it and moves it around in the air. Sylvie watches in happy surprise. She’s about to move her head to send a bewildered yet appreciative look at Matt but when her eyes look up, he’s already looking at her. There’s a slight twinkle in his eye, similar to the one Brian had when he saw the robot. It’s nothing but pure wonder, and her heart skips a beat.

Up until now, she’d been trying to keep herself from getting ahead of herself. Apart from the logical reasons of it being really early and soon on in their relationship, Sylvie also just doesn’t want to freak him out with baby fever. But he’s staring at her as she coddles Brian, a smile dancing over his face, and it seems pointless.

Maybe she’s not the only one picturing them doing this with a kid of their own.

Maybe, he’s just as much of a daydreamer as she is.

********

Matt’s not trying to give himself away too much. He swears he isn’t.

But damn. If Sylvie with this little Cruz baby isn’t the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, he doesn’t know what is. It’s been an hour since they arrived at the Cruz residence. An hour since they’d walked in and immediately had to deal with a screaming, crying baby Brian. Thankfully, they mellow out pretty quickly after that. Matt and Sylvie pull out as many toys as they can and try to distract him. His tears dissipate as they play around, keeping the young child preoccupied.

Sylvie, as promised, even starts dancing and singing Wiggles songs. Matt started out singing and dancing with her but Brian had tried crawling away while they were both up so he’s now sitting next to Brian, who’s on his stomach on his mat in the family room propping himself up to watch the show as Sylvie keeps dancing and singing.

“The Big Red Car rolls along the street

And to all the people that we meet, we like to say hello

Say hello! To the people that we meet!”

Sylvie sings, spins around, and does comically dramatic gestures as Matt claps along with Brian, making a few sound effects himself to help out with the number. The songs are too catchy not to sing along, so he does. That just seems to make the baby giggle even more, and he tries crawling over closer towards Sylvie.

She finishes the song and does small but amusing jazz hands, practically out of breath. “That was exhausting,” she exhales heavily. “How’s that for entertainment, little guy?”

He coos and waves his arms around in the air, trying to cheer for her. Matt chuckles and claps along himself, keeping an expectant eye on Brian.

The baby keeps wagging his arms though, and when they realize he’s asking for an encore Sylvie leans over with her hands on her knees in exhaustion. “You want more of this?” She addresses Brian, not expecting a response. “We’ve been at this for nearly an hour, I’m getting more of a workout from this than from Foster’s infamous spin classes. How is he not more exhausted?”

“Different sleep schedule, I guess,” Matt shrugs. “Don’t worry, you can tap out and I’ll take over.”

“More romantic words have never been spoken,” she replies teasingly with a relieved groan. She wipes at her brow and moves to find space on the mat but instead of the encore, Brian turns to her.

“Oh,” Matt says. “Looks like he doesn’t want more singing and dancing after all.”

The young boy starts reaching for Sylvie’s hair, grasping at the blonde strands that fall just above her shoulders. He manages to find a fistful but Sylvie pulls him in closer so he can grab her hair without yanking it. “I think he likes you,” Matt points out with a grin. “Good, my plan is working,” she teases, resting her head ever so lightly on Brian’s head. “I’m hoping to work my way up to his favourite aunt by the time he’s two. I’m going to be your favourite, aren’t I, little man?”

Brian coos in her lap, smiling wide at Sylvie. But he looks over at Matt and reaches out from Sylvie’s hold to grab at Matt’s hand too. Matt’s heart melts.

“He seems to like you too,” Sylvie adds.

“Yeah, I’ve never met a baby with so much trust in people,” Matt replies. “And so many robot toys too. What’s up with that?” He gestures at the spread of robot toys they arranged in a row on Brian’s mat.

“I think Joe was hoping he’d get him interested in tech stuff like Otis was,” Sylvie explains, a wistful sigh falling over her. Matt gets serious too-- not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of their dear, fallen friend. Thinking of where Brian Cruz gets his name from is always a sharp reminder of Otis, and this new piece of information doesn’t make it any better.

Matt throws Sylvie a sympathetic look, which is returned. There’s nothing much to say to that, nothing but to let there be a gentle and solemn moment of silence as Brian wiggles in Sylvie’s criss-crossed legs on the floor.

The silence is broken when he crawls out of Sylvie’s lap, slowly finding his way to Matt. Somehow, some way, he can sense Matt’s heavy heart and reaches to grab his hand. Brian doesn’t try to lift it, just puts one hand around Matt’s thumb and one around his pinky. He looks up at Matt, his eyes twinkling energetically.

“I bet your mom and dad tell you all sorts of stories about Uncle Otis, don’t they?” Matt asks as he lifts Brian into the air. He giggles, waving his arms and toes in his little onesie. Matt knows the kid can’t talk yet but he takes that as a yes. When Matt brings him back down from the air, he presses a kiss to the kid’s forehead and pulls back with the small smack of his lips. It makes Brian laugh even more.

Man. He really is a cute kid. Maybe Severide was right, maybe Matt’s already feeling that little pipe dream of his coming back. Because he’s sitting there with this tiny little kid in his arms, having the time of his life as Sylvie watches them amusedly, and it feels like he’s getting a glimpse at their future. The idea of a family, one with someone he loves as much as Sylvie, feels so right. It’s enough to send a warm and electric feeling throughout his body.

“This is fun,” Matt admits to her, meeting her eye with a hesitant but hopeful gaze.

Sylvie pulls her lip in between her teeth, fighting a smile. “Yeah, it is,” she nods. “It’s nice, I’m glad you offered to tag along. It’s like a little test run.”

“Test run?” Her eyes widen slightly and her cheeks heat up ever so slightly, to the point where Matt thinks he imagined it for a second. “I-- I mean, for babysitting,” she backtracks, shaking her head. “You know, if Joe and Chloe decide somewhere down the line that they need more nights out.”

Matt’s heart skips a beat.

Sylvie’s a terrible liar. She knows it, he knows it, all of 51 knows it. He can tell when she’s fibbing. She gets all flustered, fumbles her words just like she is now. Only now, he can see right through it and it excites him beyond comparison. He can see it in her eyes: she’s been thinking about kids just as much as he has.

“Right,” Matt chuckles lightly, going along with it. “For babysitting.”

She knows he can see right through him and sucks in a sharp breath. She looks more hesitant than he does now. “I don’t know, a kid or two might be nice somewhere down the line,” she admits nervously. “Right?”

“It would,” he replies softly with a smile. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it once or twice tonight.”

“Really?” When Matt nods, she smiles and her shoulders relax.

“Well Severide said I should probably keep that to myself but I don’t care.”

“I don’t want you to keep it to yourself,” she tells him firmly but kindly. “You, Matt Casey, are always allowed to share what you see in our future with me. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods happily. “I guess this test run isn’t so bad then, is it? If we’re on the same page about things.”

“No, it isn’t.” Her eyes light up and it’s all the confirmation Matt needs that he’s not alone in his baby fever. Their eyes stay fixed on each other, a soft and exciting tension washing over them.

The moment, however, is interrupted by Brian. He’s still in Matt’s arms but Matt suddenly hears what is probably the quietest, cutest yawn he’s ever heard come from Brian’s mouth.

“It’s getting late,” Sylvie realizes.

“Yeah, his bedtime was…” Matt checks the clock and his eyebrows immediately shoot up. “Twenty minutes ago?”

Sylvie looks at the baby in Matt’s arms, surprised. “You really had a lot of energy tonight, didn’t you? You were dancing past your bedtime, little buddy!” “Well I don’t blame him, your performance was very entertaining,” Matt muses. “Maybe a little too good,” she realizes with a giggle. “Come on, let's put him in the crib.”

“Aw come on,” Matt pleads. “Just a few more minutes? I don’t think he wants to move.”

“You are a bad influence, Matt Casey.” Sylvie shakes her head amusedly. She soaks in the sight though and can’t resist. Brian is draped over Matt's chest, his head now resting on his shoulder as his eyes flutter tiredly. Matt’s hand covers the little boy’s entire back, rubbing circles on it gently as he stabilizes the boy. Sylvie bites her lip for the second time that night and Matt knows she’s going to concede. “He does seem to be comfortable there though,” she counters reluctantly.

“Very comfortable,” he corrects her. What can he say? He just wants to sit in this little fantasy of his for a little longer. He so rarely lets himself hope like this that it feels almost necessary to extend this for as long as possible. Besides, Brian Cruz is adorable, it’d be crazy if he didn’t think of a kid of his own-- at least a little-- while he’s here. “I, however, am not.”

“Well here, come up to the couch. That’ll be more comfortable for the both of you,” she tells him, her voice now hushed and soothing so as to calm Brian down and not interrupt his process of slowly falling asleep.

Matt carefully gets up and shifts onto the couch, Brian still in his arms. He leans back and lets Brian sprawl out against his chest. The boy is light, no more than 15 pounds, but it’s still enough to put a light pressure on Matt’s chest.

He doesn’t mind. In fact, it’s the opposite. He loves it.

Sylvie stands up too, clearing the toys off the floor as Matt watches Brian’s breathing, the rise and fall of the small boy’s chest against his. It’s weirdly soothing and he soon feels his breathing match Brian’s, his eyes fighting to stay open. The singing and dancing and playing around really took the energy out of both of them.

When she’s done, she looks down at the two fatigued boys, smiling gently at the sight before curling up next to Matt on the couch. She holds Brian’s hand with her index and her thumb, and runs a soft hand over his head, before Matt’s arm wraps around her shoulder and she tucks her head in the nape of his neck.

“That’s better,” Matt beams, a tired smile on his face. He moves to press a kiss to Sylvie’s forehead.

“Much better,” she agrees quietly. “But we shouldn’t stay like this forever. He’ll need to go to his crib soon.”

“We’ll put him there soon,” he tells her. “Just five more minutes, babe…”

********

Wake up.

She feels those words ring through her body like an alarm. It sends the lights in her brain slowly turning back on as she eases into consciousness.

The first thing she sees, just barely and surrounded by a tired blur in her vision, is Matt. Brian’s still on his chest, both of them sleeping soundly. She smiles to herself, noting how peaceful her boyfriend looks in this position. Everything feels so warm. She’s cuddled up next to him, he’s lying with the baby. It all seems so picture perfect. She revels in it, if only for a moment.

She looks up and realizes it’s been twenty minutes since they’d fallen asleep— and Matt had promised only five. For a minute, she considers waking him up and telling him to bring Brian to his crib. She decides against it though, choosing instead to cuddle back into him and relax.

Joe and Chloe are going to be back any minute now. But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t soak every minute of this moment in. Before they’d figured things out and gotten together, Sylvie had scarcely allowed herself to feel things for him, nevermind daydream about the life they could have. But she looks at them, sees how truly good and comfortable Matt is with Brian, and can’t stop now. It’s addicting, dreaming about her future with Matt Casey. She intends to chase that feeling like it’s her only fix, especially since now she knows he’s thought about it too. Her dreams are his; theirs.

To Sylvie, that makes for a pretty good test run.

She falls back into Matt’s embrace, the three of them dozing off. They don’t wake up again until Joe and Chloe come back.

It’s the first night Brian Cruz gets a full night’s worth of sleep.

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

Hey I loved your imagine we’re readers thinks she’s a bad mom to James. It was so cute, maybe you could do a part two where he’s going into his first year of school and he’s a little scared and has a moment with his mom

mixed with this request: harry being a cute dad pls. 

part two of this imagine

pairing: harry potter x reader 

warning(s): pg, literally just cute 

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this was not supposed to be this long at all but i just couldn’t stop. kids make me melt. also yes, i totally changed albus’ name to remus because i cannot stand that harry named his child after those two. sorry not sorry. 

Ten and a half years later, it was finally James’ first day of Hogwarts. The day you would be boarding your eldest child onto the Hogwarts Express to the castle that you and your husband had met in all those years ago. 

As you and your husband walked through King’s Cross with your three children, you kept a close eye on your eldest. He was pushing his trolley with his head held high, showing a bit of confidence and excitement for his first day, but you could sense the nervous energy radiating off of him. Your baby was scared and you knew it. 

You could see it in the way he was holding the handle a little too tight, his knuckles turning white. The way he kept darting his eyes around, looking at everyone and anyone who passed. The way he would follow people’s eyes just to see if they were staring at his Dad, a person he assumed he could never live up to even if he never said it aloud. 

When you got to the wall before 9 and ¾, James shot you a nervous glance but went to steel himself. You and Harry had done a good job of explaining to him what to expect, along with his older cousins from the Weasley’s, but it was always a little nerve wracking running at a brick wall. 

“C’mon,” you said gently, holding a hand out for him to take while placing the other one of the trolley to help him push. 

He reluctantly took it, giving you the true sass of an eleven year old boy. But when he gripped it, he squeezed tight as you began pushing the cart quickly at the wall. 

Next thing you knew, you were on the other side and facing the Hogwarts Express, just as big and red as you had remembered it. You heard James give a small laugh of relief besides you and you turned down to give him a smile. 

“Exciting, isn’t it?” You asked him, taking the trolley from him to maneuver it through the groups of families easily. You knew Harry would catch up to you eventually. He had the two little ones in tow after all. 

“Yeah, yeah,” James mumbled, looking around with a mix of excitement and nerves. He was overwhelmed to say the least. 

You came to a stop against a wall, a spot you deemed good enough for your husband to find you, and looked down at your son. “Are you nervous?” You asked him bluntly. You had always taught him to be upfront with his emotions, bottling things up was never good. 

He didn’t reply, just looked down at his shoes as he scuffed them along the ground. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” you coaxed gently, a finger coming up underneath his chin to tilt his head up. “It’s okay to be nervous. It’s your first day. No one expects you to not be nervous. I was so nervous on my first day that I almost threw up. And Dad didn’t even know what Platform 9 and ¾ was, so you’re doing much better than either of us, honestly,” you told him with a small giggle, a smile coming to his own face. 

“I just- I dunno- I just don’t want people to compare me to Dad,” he said honestly, the first time he had ever admitted it out loud. 

“No one with any sense will compare you to your father. He’s told you before that everything he accomplished was pure luck. You’ll have so much more than that. That’s why he did what he did. We all did. So you could just go to school, and learn, and have fun, and be a kid. That’s all anyone wants for you, baby,” you told him. He scowled at the pet name, but you could feel the nerves leaving his body. “No one wants you, or expects you, to be your Dad.” 

You watched as he took a deep breath, then suddenly he was throwing himself at you. His gangly arms flung around your middle and squeezed, his head buried into your chest. “I’ll miss you a lot, Mum,” you heard him say, muffled through your clothes. 

You fought to keep the tears at bay while you wrapped him in your arms. “I’ll miss you too, sweetheart. So much. You can write to me anytime you want. And if it’s a real emergency, I’m sure Uncle Nev will let you use his Floo. We won’t be far,” you told him, gently stroking his back. 

You were immediately brought back to all the days you had thought you had been a bad mother. Of all the days James had spent crying inconsolably, the days James would throw tantrum after tantrum, the days James would opt for his father over you. But at the end of it all, he was a mama’s boy and never hid it, living proof of the good mother you had become. 

James pulled away just as Harry arrived with Remus and Lily following closely behind him. Harry shot you a look of concern, but you brushed him off with a smile, a silent sigh of letting him know everything was fine. 

“Gonna help me with all this?” Harry asked James with a boyish smile, referencing his small hoard of belongings on the trolley. 

James went with Harry, leaving you with the two little ones to answer all of their questions about the big red train. You told them stories of the lady with the candy trolley and the time you had bumped into their father in sixth year where he had subsequently, and rather nervously, asked you if you wanted to come to Hogsmede with him on the first outing of the year. 

As you spoke, you watched Harry and James. So identical yet so different. You watched as Harry did most of the heavy lifting, leaving James to giggle at his struggle. You watched as Harry made him laugh at Merlin knows what, but it brought a smile to your face nonetheless. And you watched as Harry slipped a blank piece of parchment out of his jacket pocket and handed it to James, leaning close to share some serious words. James looked elated and you only knew that it meant trouble. You knew exactly what that parchment was. 

Harry walked back over with James, an arm slung around his son’s shoulder as James struggled to quickly hide what his father had given him in his own jacket pocket. 

You said your goodbyes and you couldn’t help but grow teary-eyed. You knew it would be like this every year until Lily graduated but you couldn’t help it. Not having your children under your roof just didn’t feel right, even if you knew they would be at Hogwarts. A place you had fought to assure was the safest place they could be. 

“I love you guys,” James said, throwing his arms around the both of you one last time. 

“I love you too,” you and Harry said at the same time, both of you pulling him close. 

You clutched Harry’s hand as you watched James step onto the train, immediately catching up with his red haired cousins. A few tears you couldn’t hold back were streaming down your face, but Harry quickly brushed them off when he looked at you, realizing you couldn’t rip your eyes away from the spot your son had disappeared into. 

“Why’s Mommy crying?” You heard Lily ask, finally ripping you away from your thoughts and back down to the two children in front of you. 

“She’s just gonna miss James. We all are,” Harry answered for you, scooping your daughter into his arms, never once letting go of his grip on your hand. 

“I want to go to Hogwarts,” Remus pouted as the four of you left the platform, bringing a small smile to your face. 

“In a few years, darling. Until then you’re all mine,” you told him, squeezing his hand gently. 

“What was that all about when we walked up?” Harry asked you quietly, noticing that both of the kids were distracted by all the sights and sounds around them. 

“He was nervous. Talked him down a bit. Then he told me he’d miss me,” you said with a smile, a memory you would always cherish. 

“I didn’t get an ‘I’ll miss you’,” Harry replied indignantly. 

“Guess I’m the favorite after all,” you said with a giggle. 

“We still have two more to settle that debate with,” he argued, flashing you a quick wink. 

“Sure. Also, did you give him what I think you gave him?” You said, completely switching topics to talk about what you really needed to address. 

Harry blushed and gave a subtle nod of his head, not wanting to admit it out loud. 

“If he gets into trouble just know you’re handling any and all letters that come from McGonagall,” you told him with a roll of you eyes. 

He only laughed and gave you a shrug. “I think I can handle that. I’ve gotten out of enough trouble with McGonagall before. I was one of her favorites after all,” he said cockily, forcing you to roll your eyes again. The Chosen One aura around him never truly went away even after all these years it seemed. 

“Now who wants ice cream?” He asked the little ones, causing them to cheer. 

He shot you a small smirk, a small victory in becoming the kids favorite of the day, but you knew you would win that fight in the long run. You always would if James was any proof of it.

[wavesmp3]

wait are you still doing the fake title thing-

skdkdj if so,,

‘tell me‘ 😼👌

tell me | eric x reader | an unintentional continuation to this drabble | a/n: i tried to make it so that this could be read as a stand alone but i’m not too sure if i was successful in that | requests closed

1. letters

“so,” eric says, setting down two drinks and a plate of snacks next to the dirt-covered shoebox that was buried somewhere in a park just this morning, “where do we start?”

the first thing you pull out from the time capsule are two envelopes. eric immediately knows what it is. 

you shake your head. “not with these.” the letters were written to each other when you made the time capsule in the summer before your freshman year of college. “let’s look at these last.”

eric is more than happy to oblige. 

2. totally awesome no skip summer mix 2011

“oh my god,” you mutter, pulling out the next item in the box. 

“what is it?”

you hold up the old, dusty cd for him to see. “remember this?”

he does. 

he remembers sitting in front of your family’s old computer and carefully selecting which pop songs from that summer to add to the cd. he remembers feeling entirely like a criminal while you found the best website to download the songs and then also how quickly the lawless feeling escaped from him after the act was done. he remembers burning the cd that afternoon. he remembers the entire summer he spent listening to the cd with you. 

“no one even uses cds anymore.” you say with a bit of a laugh. “should we listen to it?” 

eric nods, and the two of you spend the next 20 minutes looking for a way to play it. 

10. baseball jersey

eric pulls out the jersey five songs into the cd mix. “gosh, this takes me back.” the jersey was from when he was young an old jersey you and him decorated together when he switched to a new team. 

you make a face of disgust, pointing to a questionable drawing done around the neckline of the jersey. “who did that?”

“you, probably.”

“no way.”

“look. you even signed it.”

you squint your eyes at the drawing for a long moment. “damn.”

eric just laughs

15. picture from the beach trip

eric is the one who fishes the picture out. the picture which made you dig up the box to begin with. you see it between his hand, before he can tell you he found it. neither of you say anything. you both just stare at the picture, silently. your smiles are big and bright, with the sun casting down over your faces and ocean in the background. you look happy in it. eric does too. he turns away from the picture and stares at you, wondering where did it all go wrong?

23. big fish program

“look at this.” you say pulling out the crumpled program from your high school’s production of big fish. “i forgot i was even in the show.”

“you know how daffodils are a big part of the show?” eric says and you nod, flipping through the program. “i remember spending so long at the show trying to find daffodils for you.”

“but you gave me roses that night.” you say, tossing the program aside.

“yeah. i couldn’t find any.”

“well,” you murmur with a smile falling off your lips, “at least you tried.”

27. birthday card 

“what’s this?” eric mutters pulling out a card that looks new. or at least new in comparison to everything else in the box. 

“what did you-” you freeze when you see the card eric’s holding up. “not that.” you blurt reaching over to grab it from him. eric pulls it out of your reach. you reach for it again, and eric evades you grabbing it as well. it goes on like that for a minute before you finally give up. 

“what is it?” eric asks again, laughing at how hard you’re trying to get it away from him. 

you don’t mirror the laugh. instead you sigh, eyes turning dark. “a year ago, i dug up the time capsule and added that.”

“a year ago.” eric echoes, brows knitting together. “but by then we were...”

“we were broken up.” you finish, shamefully almost. “i wrote it on your birthday. and i don’t even know why i bothered adding it to the box, but i was just so upset at the time. i hadn’t seen you in forever, and i was just so angry at you. at me. at us.”

“i take it it’s not a nice birthday card then.”

“please don’t read it.” you reach for the card again. and this time eric doesn’t stop you from grabbing it. “i don’t mean any of that stuff anymore.”

“but you did?”

“i don’t... i was upset.”

“you were right to end things between us.” eric says then. “it was the best thing for us.”

you’re quiet. then after a long moment, you say, “it was the best thing for us then.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean,” you frown, folding and unfolding a corner of the card, “don’t you think there’s a way we could make it work again?”

32. letters

 the box is empty now. the only thing left to look at is the letters from the beginning. “here.” you say quietly, handing the one you wrote to him. he hands you his. 

dear eric, i know the letters were my idea but this feels so lame LOL. good luck in college, but i wish we were going to the same one :( thanks for all the laughs and good times. i’m happiest with you.   - love, your bestie (sorry this is so short. i have no idea what to say. i’ve been sitting here and pretending to write since you havent stopped yet) (OMG eric stop writing!!)  (you just pulled out a second sheet of paper. rip. you’re gonna be so disappointed when you read this)

eric finishes the letter, remembering how much thought and care he put into writing his, and how long it ended up being. and that whole time, this was all you had written, the realization only makes him laugh. 

he looks up at you still reading his two page letter. he watches as your eyes skim the page. as you get teary eyed reading it. as you finish, folding the letter back up and saying, “eric i--”

“let’s do it.” 

“what?”

“let’s try again.”

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 2

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Hosting the Guardians of the Galaxy proves to be... interesting. (Read: Difficult) Maybe it'd be easier if Rocket wasn't such an ass...

Part 1 here | Part 3 here

Author’s Note: Dropped hints of Reader's tragic backstory. Feel free to make guesses if you want lol (Also let me know if you like when I write Reader as a mystery. I've done it before and people seemed to like it, but if you feel stories like this are better as an OC, let me know that too) Also I can tell you guys right now this will end up being at least 6 chapters already.

Word Count: 6,217

You awoke to the feeling of your lover's arms wrapped around your waist, and you smile, sleepily snuggling backwards into the touch.

You are about to whisper their name, tell them good morning, but then you remember... it can't possibly be them.

Your eyes snap open.

Who the fuck is in your bed!?

With a startled scream you twist around and kick, realizing only once your assailant is on the floor that it was Mantis, who had also let out a startled cry at being flung off the bed.

"Mantis? What the hell are you doing?!" you cry, hand on your chest as you sit on your knees on the bed looking down at her on the floor.

Mantis looks at you with wide eyes. "I'm sorry! The storm kept making the loud noises and I was scared and-"

Your door flings open. Peter and Drax tumble in asking what's wrong, where's the danger?

Waving them off you say irritably, "Nothing. It's nothing. Just wasn't expecting to wake up to Mantis in my bed."

Peter lightly chuckles, almost nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "I guess we should have told you she can be a cuddler, huh?"

You throw a look at him and Drax. "You think?" You then shield your eyes. "Dude! Put some pants on or something!"

And that's how you also unfortunately learned that Drax sleeps in the nude.

***

Breakfast went more or less smoothly. You had to find a straw for Groot so he could drink out of a cup, and someone spilled their drink all over the floor, and Rocket made one or two more complaints about the indignity of needing to sleep in a crib, but all-in-all it went fairly smoothly.

Well, if you didn't count Rocket snapping at Kraglin's arm for accidentally resting his elbow on his tail. That was also how the drink got spilled, by the way. You just gave them an unamused glance at threw a towel at them from the counter on your way to grab an apple. They got the message.

Ok, so it wasn't totally smooth, but it definitely could have been worse. Maybe.

When you were finished your breakfast you got up to do the dishes you had meant to wash the previous night, this time being sure not to burn your hands off. Rocket hopped on the counter to drop his bowl in while you were washing, promptly scampering off without so much as a please or thank you, which slightly annoyed you, and you turned to side eye him as he hopped off the counter, but you let it slide for then.

It apparently also annoyed Peter too as you heard him say in a hushed irritated whisper, "Rocket!" only to be responded with Rocket whispering back "What? She was already doing them!"

You pretended you couldn't hear them.

After you finished the dishes and wiped up the counter you went upstairs, having had an idea that might prevent another incident like this morning from happening.

You made your way into your room and closed the door behind you before heading to your desk to retrieve the key to the attic from the top drawer.

This would prove pointless, however, as you'd soon find that not only had Fury's team not bothered to lock it back up when they finished, they hadn't even properly latched it. You sigh in annoyance, but push on to the attic anyway.

You come to the landing and take in the space you hadn't visited in some time. Boxes stacked neatly around the rafted walls leaving plenty space to walk. Light peaked through the small windows at either end of the rectangular space.

You located the box you came for on the furthermost corner of the attic, the stretch of floor that rested above the ceiling of the room Drax now stayed in. You open the box, and pull out a stuffed bear, looking at it with a mix of longing and sadness, remembering who owned it past. Shaking the memories away, you thought to open another box next to it, pulling from it a small wooden toy car. It wasn't fancy, little more than a carved block of red-painted wood with some windows bored-in and some black stained wooden wheels, but you still thought it'd be a nice gesture- you mean, you thought it'd keep the kid busy... You doubted they had brought many toys with them to keep him occupied.

And after all, how much could these items really serve you by staying up in the attic til the end of time?

A teddy bear for Mantis, and a toy car for the little wooden child to play with.

After a moment of being stuck in the memories the objects brought, you close the boxes back up and leave the attic with the toys, locking the door after you made it back into the bedroom. You placed the bear on Mantis's pillow, and went to return the key to the drawer.

Before heading downstairs you decided you would leave the toy in the room Groot was staying in, rather than give it to the child directly. You weren't good with sentiment, and he'd find it soon enough anyway. Less awkward this way.

The door was open so you stepped just inside. A wood framed double bed rested in the left corner, the crib that Rocket seemed so unhappy with rested in the right. The twisting in your stomach came back, and you set the toy to the right of the doorframe on the floor, eager to leave the room. Too many memories, none of which you wanted.

You wanted to clear your head, so you decided you'd have a tend to your garden, make sure the storm hadn't torn anything asunder, and you were sure that it could use a good weeding anyway. You could also stand a little time alone, too. You weren't used to having people around the house anymore, let alone eight of them having been sprung on you overnight. Questionable judgement on your part, volunteering for this was, you were sure. Then you remembered this was all part of Fury's plan anyway, so you supposed the choice wasn't even really yours, so maybe you weren't entirely to blame.

You had just sat down on the hall bench to lace your boots when you noticed Mantis and Gamora coming out of the sitting room, Mantis looking uncomfortable and Gamora irritated as they made their way past you and to the end of the hall.

Gamora knocked on the bathroom door roughly and in a loud but firm voice said, "Rocket! Hurry up, Mantis has to go and she says you've been in there forever."

"I have not!" came Rocket's reply, "And why doesn't she use the one upstairs?"

"Drax is taking a shower." Gamora answered irritably.

"So?" came Rocket's incredulous reply.

"Rocket." Gamora said warningly.

"If she can't pee just 'cause someone's showering then she can hold it," came the response from behind the door.

Mantis made a small unhappy noise and shifted uncomfortably, prompting Gamora to smack the door once more. "Rocket!" she said more forcefully, her tone having switched fully from irritated to angry.

You narrowed your eyes as you tied. Clearly the raccoon was going to be a problem.

"Ok! Ok! Jeez!" Rocket said in frustration, opening the door and walking out, Mantis quickly entering once he had cleared the doorway.

Gamora just huffed at him in annoyance and began to walk back towards the sitting room.

Having just finished tying your boots you pulled your jeans over them and straightened up, eyes still narrowed at Rocket, which he noticed.

"What?"

"Don't do that again." you say flatly, reaching over to grab your earbuds from the hall table. "You keep being an asshole and we're gonna have a problem."

Rocket looked at you defiantly, arms crossed, clearly irritated that you were telling him what to do. "What you gonna do about it?"

Still in the hallway, Gamora turned to glare at him.

Yondu exited the kitchen from the door further up the hall, saw Gamora glaring and turned to see you and Rocket looking like you were about to have a standoff. He had half-heard the conversation from the kitchen, but stood there with an eyebrow raised, curious to see how'd this would turn out.

You looked at Rocket calmly as you put one earbud in. "Fuck around and find out." was your only answer as you inserted your other earbud and turned into the kitchen via the other door at the end opposite of Yondu, making your way towards the back door.

Yondu chuckled and Gamora rolled her eyes as Rocket flipped you the bird behind your back and angrily stormed past them to the sitting room.

***

Yondu found Peter in the sitting room looking among the many bookshelves along the back and sides of the back half of the room.

"Ya reckon you can still read Terran, boy?"

Peter looked at him, ignoring that 'Terran' wasn't a language, and said in a slightly offended tone, "Of course!" before quietly adding, "The translator helps too..." under his breath as he turned back to examining the books.

Kraglin laughed from his place on the sofa. "Didn't know Quill could read at all, Cap'n."

Peter shot him a glare even though he knew Kraglin wouldn't be able to see it and Rocket, who was also sitting on the couch to keep an eye on Groot, said, "Why you still call him captain? Did you forget about a little thing called a mutiny? Pretty sure you were there..."

Gamora and Peter both snapped at him, Gamora hissing "Rocket!" and Peter scolding, "Not cool, dude!"

Yondu eyed him. "Ya know I can still run my arrow through you, right, Rat?" He leaned against a bookshelf. "Yer lucky it'd be mighty rude to get yer blood all over the floor of our host."

Rocket mock held his hands up, "Alright, alright, soRRy. Didn't know the wound was still fresh. Lighten up."

This only earned him a few eye-rolls before Peter returned his gaze to the bookcases. "There's so many." he said. He picked up a white book that said "Atlas of Human Anatomy" and flipped though the pages. "Whoa." he said flipping the book around to show Yondu the pictures.

"Yeah, that's what yer insides look like, boy."

Gamora approached and Peter handed her the book while he took another one from a shelf higher up. Gamora looked that the pictures and said, "Hm. You only have one liver. Explains why you're such a lightweight."

This earned chuckles from the others and Peter said, "I'm gonna ignore that. Look at this one." He was holding a book of fairytales. "I should tell you some of these stories sometime," he said, looking at the list of titles. "I remember my mom telling me at least half of these."

Yondu decided he might as well glance over the books as well, seeing as he didn't exactly have much better to do. He peered over the titles; Herbal Medicine- might be good to know... Grim Tales of Horror- Heh, maybe he could scare Quill with it... Wound Treatment- definitely good to know... Archery Fundamentals- he might actually look at that one later, just to see how the Terrans do it... What to Expect When You're Expecting- weird title, wonder what that's about?

Before he could pick up the book to examine it Kraglin spoke up. "Hey Pete, is it normal for Terran houses to be this... empty?"

"What do you mean?" asked Mantis, having just walked in to rejoin the group. "It doesn't appear to be empty?" She glanced around at the furniture in confusion.

"No, I don't mean that. I mean- Like there's no photos? Don't most people keep photos of their families and stuff out? Little knick-knacks? Personal effects?"

Peter looked around. "You're right. Well- at least that's how I remember it. My grandparents did, so did all my relatives." It finally hit him how there seemed to be none of that in your house. "I guess it is weird."

Yondu had noticed too the first night they arrived. Not a single photo adorned the walls or shelves. Not in the sitting room, not in the hall or kitchen either. A few plants sat here and there, but other than that, there was almost no personality. It did feel empty, for lack of better word.

Rocket spoke up, suggesting that maybe you just "didn't feed into all that sentimental crap."

The others shrugged. Maybe he was right.

However, Yondu felt there might be something to the emptiness. He felt something was a little off, although he kept it to himself. It was likely nothing a little watchful eye wouldn't suss out. He had already been watching you, trying to get a read on his new host. It was strange to him that you would live in a place this big by yourself, and it didn't help matters that you hadn't seemed willing to answer that question when he asked. Sure, it was none of his business really, but still odd.

***

Mantis came outside just as you were about finished weeding. She stopped to admire the growing cabbages and asked a few questions about the various other vegetables and you removed an ear bud to give her answers, albeit short ones. Soon enough she got distracted by a small white butterfly and wondered off to chase it. "Don't go into the forest!" you call after her. "Don't want you getting lost!"

She hollered back an "Ok!" and you turned back to finish pulling the last of the weeds.

Once you were finished you dusted yourself off and decided to head inside for some water. You had only gotten a few feet inside when you could hear the sound of Mantis screaming, and it was getting closer. You turned around just in time for her to run through the door and into you.

Alarmed, you check her over. You instinctually grab onto her hands, then her shoulders, and finally cupping her face as you looked up and down for any injury as you say, "What?! What's wrong?!"

Mantis sniffed. "I saw this cloud of tiny black things, I thought it looked interesting, so I reached to touch it, and they started biting."

You let out a breath. Midges. She had only reached into a cloud of midges. "Gah-! Don't scare me like that! I thought you'd been hurt!" you scold. Seeing her hurt expression you softened. "Let me see."

She showed you her hand and her upper arm. The rest of her arm had fortunately been spared by her long arm bands. "It itches."

"Yeah, just what I thought. Midge bites." Sure enough, little faint pink welts were already forming that you missed earlier in your shock. Normally the bites didn't appear so fast, but you assumed it must just be because whatever type of alien she was made her more sensitive to them. "You'll be fine. Come here." You led her to a drawer and pulled out a tube of gel that would help with the itching. You applied the gel for her. "Better?" you asked.

She nodded and you told her that if she needed the gel again she could find it in the same drawer, also telling her not to scratch the bites lest she make them worse before sending her off.

Once she left you sighed and finally got your water. As you drank you contemplated finding something else to keep you busy.

***

Yondu had been about to head upstairs when he heard a muffled sound of Mantis yelling before it was abruptly cut off with an "Oof!"

He walked to the doorway to see what was going on, telling himself he wasn't being nosy, he just... had nothing better to do what with being stuck here and all.

He watched as you checked Mantis over, as you scolded her for scaring you, and as you treated her bites, noticing that Mantis's "feelers," as he called them, glowed almost the whole time, though you didn't seem to notice yourself, being preoccupied.

He huffed a silent laugh through his nose. For you not being exactly happy with this arrangement, your actions now didn't exactly match your previous "I don't care, just don't annoy me." attitude. But maybe he was just reading it wrong. Maybe you were only worried because your boss wouldn't be happy if any of them got hurt while in your care.

When you sent Mantis off and he saw she was approaching the doorway he quickly backed out so as to not be seen spying.

"Hey, Bug." he said quietly once she was in the hall, making her jump.

Seeing it was only him, she relaxed and gave a friendly smile. "Yes?"

"Come here," he nodded toward the stairs. "Walk with me."

She obeyed and together they ascended the stairs.

"So, yer feelers there, they glow when yer doin' that 'reading peoples feelins' thing, right?"

Mantis nodded, smiling wide.

"Couldn't help but notice you two in the kitchen," he admitted, adding that he noticed she was doing her empath thing back there when you were fixing her up, and asked what kind of reading she got off you. Just out of curiosity, of course...

Mantis pondered and said, "It felt... maternal? Almost? It was quite nice to feel. It was almost like being hugged."

"Huh..." is all he managed to respond. Maybe Mantis was mistaking your real emotion for something else? It didn't quite fit with 'grumpy reclusive agent who got tricked into taking in a group of dysfunctional people.'

He then asked her if you knew she could 'do that', meaning read someone empathically. He wondered if it would be possible for Terrans to fake an emotion well enough to fool an empath. He highly doubted it, but who was really to say?

Mantis shook her head. She said she hadn't thought to bring it up, and asked him if she should tell you right now, wondering if she had been rude by not saying something.

He responded by telling her not to tell you yet.

"Why? Mantis asked.

"Oh, because it'll be real funny later, trust me." he said. It wasn't the real reason, but he knew that she was more likely to keep a secret if he told her that. She liked to make people laugh.

"Oh! Like a practical joke!" she giggled.

"Uh, sure. Like that." Yondu smiled. "You can run along now, Bug."

Mantis trotted down the stairs while Yondu pondered over the odd puzzle pieces of his host.

***

You spent most of the day feeling antsy. You had always made it a point to keep yourself busy with your work, either for Fury or with work on your home, and knowing that you were essentially retired for the foreseeable future made you anxious.

It was when Peter came outside for some fresh air that he found you pacing along the back of the house, seemingly making an effort not to go past the windows.

"You're gonna wear a hole in the ground." he joked.

You only looked at him and sighed, but continued pacing.

Sensing you were agitated about something he tried to break the ice. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about." you reply.

"Right. So you're just pacing for no reason. I'm sure it has nothing to do with any recent changes or anything." He crossed his arms and leaned against the door with a knowing grin.

"Look- Just... I'm just not used to this," you admitted. "I'm not used to people being here, I'm not used to not working on a case..." you continued to pace.

"Well," Peter pondered, "What would you be doing if we weren't here? What would you do on a normal day off."

"I'd be working on the electrical, but Fury just had to take that away from me." you say with a toss of your hand towards the house.

"Oh." Peter said. He couldn't help you there. "Well, what would you normally do to relax?"

You stopped. "What?" You shook your head, "I don't need to relax, I just need to find something to do." You began pacing again.

Peter gave you a strange look. He remembered what he heard Fury say the previous night about you not having taken a vacation in five years. "You really don't know how to relax, do you?"

You then stop pacing in front of him, as if trying to prove him wrong. "I could if I wanted." you say defiantly.

"Sure ya can." He grinned back at you.

He was trying to bait you. You rolled your eyes and waved him off. "What do you know." You start to pace again but then stop to look at him again. "You, um, ever had Earth food before?"

Peter smiles. "Well I lived here until I was eight, so yeah. I've had it before."

You widen your eyes slightly in surprise. "So you're from Earth?- I didn't realize. I just thought you were all from space."

"Nope."

"And the other guy- Kraglin?"

"Nah, He looks Terran, but he's from Xandar. It's just me."

"Oh," you say, the wonder of how he had come about living in space being brushed aside by your need to be busy, "Well have any of the others tried Earth food before? 'Cause I could maybe cook something tonight... you know, to pass the time." You were already mentally preparing the ingredients in your head. You already knew you had potatoes in the cellar, and some meat and a bag of mixed frozen veggies in the freezer. You were almost certain you didn't have any lamb, but you could substitute ground beef and make shepherd's pie like your grandmother used to make.

"I could ask, but I'm sure they'd be willing. They're not exactly the type of bunch to turn down free food." he laughed.

"Nah, don't bother. If they eat it, they eat it. If they don't, they don't. I don't care," you say, not meeting his eyes as you shoo him from the door so you could enter the house. "Not like it's gonna be a regular thing, ya know. Just doing it 'cause I'm bored."

"Right. Of course." Peter said, smiling as he followed you inside. If living with Yondu and later Rocket had taught him anything, it was how to tell if someone was putting up a shell, and you definitely were. He then made it his mission to chip it away. Who knew how long they'd be stuck there? Might as well attempt to make friends with you in the meantime.

You pulled out a skillet and let it heat up with some oil before grabbing some ground beef from the freezer.

"Need any help?" Peter asked.

"Nope. Go play." you say absentmindedly, setting the package on the counter.

Peter chuckled. "Go play?"

You shook your head. "Eh- You know what I meant. Shoo. I'll call you when it's finished."

"Maybe another time then." he said, slightly disappointed you were kicking him out of the kitchen as he wanted to try and get to know you a little, but he didn't show it.

"Yeah, maybe." you reply, already heading to the cellar with a bowl to grab some potatoes.

***

Peter mentioned that you were cooking to the others when he joined them in the sitting room, mostly to tell them that even if they (Rocket) didn't end up liking this Terran food, to still try and be nice. He said that while you acted like you didn't care if they ate it or not, he didn't want anyone (Rocket) being rude because he could tell you were having a rough time adjusting to everything.

Rocket rolled his eyes but everyone seemed to more or less agree with Peter to be nice and went back to what they were doing.

It didn't take long for the smell to start wafting from the kitchen, prompting Kraglin to say that whatever you were making, it at least smelled good.

Groot nodded then looked at Rocket. "I am Groot."

"I don't want to play tag." said Rocket.

Groot made puppy dog eyes at Rocket. "I am Groot."

"It won't hurt ya to play with the kid for a little bit, boy." said Yondu, polishing his arrow at the the table on the other end of the room by the bookcases.

"You do it then!" Rocket complained.

"I'm too old to be doing that kid stuff, boy. 'Sides, yer more Twig's size." he chuckled, never looking up from his task.

"I am Groot." Groot said sadly, really laying it on thick. Peter and Gamora hid smiles behind their hands as they pretended to be focused on the movie playing on the TV screen, Kraglin finally having figured out how the Netflix worked.

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Alright! Fine! I'll play the stupid game." he relented, muttering under his breath that he shouldn't have ever taught him that game.

Groot shot up in glee and tagged him on the knee before taking off towards Yondu, making a hard left about a meter from the table and causing Rocket to slide on the wooden floor into the table leg. Yondu laughed so hard he nearly dropped his arrow and Rocket glared at him before declaring that Groot was "Really in for it now!" and making chase, following the tiny tree child out into the hall and up the stairs.

***

You listened to the sound of giggles and little feet running upstairs, then down the stairs, getting louder and softer depending where the little feet happened to run and you smiled. You missed that sound... You shook yourself out of the memory before it could play in your mind, refusing to let yourself get sentimental over a sound.

You had just put the mix of meat and veggies into a glass pan and turned away from the stove to start mashing your drained potatoes when a flash of brown and orange zoomed past your feet and nearly made you lose your balance.

"Hey Hey! No running in the kitchen! Take it outside!" you cry out, grateful you hadn't been carrying anything. "Shouldn't need to tell you that, I'm not your mother." You shoot them a warning look as you continued over to the counter.

Then you hear Rocket say, "Good thing! You'd probably be terrible at it!"

You swallow and clenched your jaw, looking down at the bowl of potatoes. "Get out of the kitchen," you say firmly, not looking towards him.

Rocket raised an eyebrow, having expected more of a fight than just being told calmly to leave, but he did so anyway when Groot tugged on his the leg of his outfit.

***

Peter and Gamora's head snapped toward the kitchen when they heard you scolding the boys, and their eyes narrowed a bit when they heard Rocket's response, but like him they of course hadn't realized the weight of his words. They only knew that there was no reason for him to say that other than him just wanting to be a dick.

When Rocket walked back into the sitting room Kraglin was the one who scolded him this time. "Do you really need to be such an ass to everyone you meet?"

This was followed by Gamora scolding him and saying that you didn't have to let them stay here, and that maybe he should try not to be so mean to the person willing to let them stay in their home.

Rocket looked to Drax, and then Yondu, to back him up, but he received nothing, so he settled for grumbling and climbing on top of the back of the couch to sulk.

***

An hour later Peter walked back into the kitchen to get some water and saw you putting plates out.

"Food's done, if you want to get the others." you say gruffly, putting down the last of the plates.

Your table wasn't quite big enough to fit everyone, being only a six seater, but you figured the kid and the asshole raccoon could eat up on the counter until a better solution could be found.

The other's filed in as you put the pan of food on a towel in the middle of the table. You look up. "Food's there." You then point to the spatula, "Here's something to serve it. Help yourselves." you say, adding that Groot and Rocket could eat on the counter since the table wasn't big enough before starting to walk toward the other door as the others sat down.

"You're not eating with us?" asked Mantis, seeming a little disappointed.

You kept walking. "Not hungry."

Yondu narrowed his eyes and spoke. "Should we assume it's poisoned then?"

This make you turn back. "Why the hell would I poison it?" you ask angrily.

Yondu stayed cool, crossing his arms and tilting his chin up as he said, "Well you went to the trouble to cook, but you're not eating it. Seems mighty suspicious to me."

Drax and Kraglin exchanged confused glances. Neither of them understood why Yondu was accusing you of trying to kill them.

Yondu didn't really think you had poisoned the food, he was doing one of the things he did best. Playing a con. He was as sure as he was blue that your lack of appetite was a direct cause of Rocket being an absolute shit, and he'd be damned if someone was going to offer their home and cook for his group and then not join to eat it because the rat hurt their feelings. He may have been a space pirate, but he still knew a thing or two about good form, and that wasn't it.

"First off, it wasn't trouble. Only did it because I got bored. I couldn't care less if you eat it or not," you said with a roll of your eyes, trying to keep your tone even despite the insult.

"I think you'd care if I said I'm not gonna let anyone else eat it either until you sit down and prove to me it's not poisoned by eating with us."

Your nostrils flare. "You can't be serious."

"Oh I am. What's it gonna be? Ya really gonna let me make Twig and Bug here go hungry?" He grinned a wide smug grin and received a confused look from Peter who was wondering why he was acting like this. Gamora shot Peter a look as if to ask the same question, but he just shrugged and shook his head to let her know he was just as confused as she was. Mantis and Groot just looked at Yondu like he was nuts.

You seethed but approached the cabinet to pull down a plate for yourself. "You're a real peice of work. Come into my house and accuse me of poisoning you lot-"

"Yeah, yeah. Just eat it." Yondu snarked.

You refused to eat until everyone else was served, but did finally relent to take the first bite to satisfy the blue man's irritating request.

Seemingly satisfied, Yondu gave the clear for everyone else to eat, and despite the awkward and rocky start, the rest of supper actually went more smoothly than breakfast had. You didn't speak much, but everyone else seemed to like the meal well enough.

When everyone had finished Peter insisted that he and Yondu stay behind to do the the dishes for you, saying it'd be rude to make you both cook and clean up. You didn't argue, wanting to put distance between you and them anyway. You stated that you were going to go take a shower, convinced that the new boiler Fury imposed upon you could handle both water uses at once.

Once Peter was sure you were gone he turned to Yondu. "What the hell was that? What happened to agreeing to be nice?"

"I was nice." Yondu said flippantly.

Gamora scolded him, saying that accusing you of poisoning them wasn't "nice."

He only shrugged, handing a plate to Peter and stating that it got you to eat, so he didn't care.

This, of course, earned looks of bewilderment from the rest of the team. He continued, "It would've been bad form to let our host cook and then not eat any of it, boy. Thought I'd have taught ya better than that."

Peter frowned. "No, you taught me to fight and steal things."

Yondu gave him a look but didn't get a chance to reply before Rocket hopped down from the counter saying, "Who cares if she didn't want supper? She's an adult."

Yondu then turned his full attention to Rocket, saying that he knew it was his fault you hadn't wanted to eat in the first place.

"Me?! What did I do?" Rocket scoffed, majorly offended by the accusation.

Drax answered, "You've been rude since we got here. You complain about everything, and you insulted our host just for telling you not to run through the kitchen."

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Really?" He looked defiantly up at Drax, "You honestly think me saying she'd make a terrible mother hurt her widdle feelings? Look around! She doesn't even have kids!"

Tired of hearing him, Yondu said, "If yer not gonna be helpful, Rat, go find somewhere else to be."

"Fine. Bye, losers." was Rocket's reply as he collected Groot and departed for their room.

***

After your shower you stayed in your room for the rest of the evening, scrolling through tumblr on your phone to pass the time.

Eventually Mantis comes up to get ready for bed, and she spots the teddy bear you left on her pillow. "What's this?" she asks, picking it up.

"Teddy Bear. You sleep with it. Figured you could, you know, cuddle that instead when you get scared at night."

Mantis's eyes grow wide, and her waterline wet. Her bottom lip quivers as she says, "You- You gave me a gift?"

Really hoping she wasn't about to cry you say, "If you want to call it that, I guess..."

Mantis practically attacks you with a hug and an excited squeal. "Thank you! Thank you! I love it!"

You all but fall backward on the bed from her hug attack. "Uh- Glad you like it." you manage, patting her on the back before gently persuading her to let go.

She straightened up and hugged the bear tightly to her chest with a big smile before setting it back on her pillow so she could get ready for bed. Before she left, however, she came back to you and grabbed your hands, saying again how much she loved the bear, and you honestly started to wonder if she had never been given a gift in her life.

You noticed the little antennae on her head were now glowing, and you then wondered if that was happening because she was happy as you felt an unexpected, though not unwelcome, feeling of peace and happiness wash over you.

You smile, finding her whole display endearing as she giggled and released your hands before finally leaving the room.

By the time she came back about 15 minutes later, the feeling had already worn off, replaced by your previous melancholy. You heard Mantis returning and you pretended to be asleep just in case she would have tried to hug attack you again.

Once her breath deepened and you thought she was asleep you sat up. Maybe a walk would make you feel better.

You quietly pull on some jeans and made your way out of the bedroom into the dark landing, taking a moment to notice a thin line of light under the door of the room Yondu and Kraglin were sharing.

You didn't turn on the light before descending the stairs. You knew this house like the back of your hand, even in the dark, and you quietly made your way down so as to not disturb any sleepers.

You make your way into the hall to grab your boots and ear buds before cutting through the kitchen and opening the back door. Putting in your ear buds and finding some music reflective of your mood, you set out into the cool night air.

***

Yondu and Kraglin stayed up a bit later in their room, just talking about nothing of much importance. How Rocket was being a dick, how it was mostly his fault they had to go into hiding, and wondering how long it might be until they could all come out of hiding.

Yondu's bed was pushed against the window, his and Kraglin's beds much in a similar arrangement to yours and Mantis's.

Movement outside caught his eye.

"What is it?" Kraglin asked, noticing how Yondu's attention had turned to the window and he had gone quiet.

Yondu turned to him, a look of puzzlement painting his face, and he told him it looked like you were walking out into the forest.

Kraglin raised an eyebrow. "What would she be doing that for?"

Yondu shook his head to indicate his lack of explanation.

"Should we investigate?"

Yondu thought for a moment before deciding they wouldn't follow you. Not yet.

But he'd be keeping an eye on you.

[smellyfootboy]

SMELLY ENCOUNTERS WITH ETHAN PT. 4: A Grand Finale.

It had been about 4 days after I started staying with Ethan at his house while my floors were getting done in my own house. Each night, Ethan has used my mouth as his own personal masturbation toy at least twice a day. Which I certainly did not mind, but I think I’ve eaten more of his cum than I have real food. We did not sleep together in the same bed… He would make me sleep on the couch. Honestly I kind of loved this friendship the way we had it going. What shocked me though, is that he hasn’t made me smell his feet or do anything foot related for a few days. Just yesterday I checked his laundry bin and couldn’t see any used socks, which brought me to the conclusion that after the last time he did laundry, and must have been wearing the same socks since… and he was probably waiting for the perfect stink to “torture” me with… and he had to be on at least day 4 or 5 by now. The dirtiest I’ve ever smelled his socks was my very first foot encounter with him. He had worn them for 4 days back then and basically made me put them in my mouth. That was about 7 months ago.

Ethan came into the living room while I was playing on my phone sitting on his couch.

“Hey man- I’m going to have a couple of the guys come over tonight for some beer pong. You down?” Ethan asked.

“Yeah, sounds good to me… anyone I know?” I asked.

“Joe from my college that you met before and my brother, Riley.” Ethan said. Joe was a quiet, skinnier guy, but really cute, and Riley I had not met.

Later that night, after Ethan came back with beer and snacks, I helped him put up the pong table, which we placed next to his dining room table. We set up all the snacks and cups.

Joe was the first to show up. He wore a white button up shirt, jeans, and white adidas shoes. We talked for a little while before Riley showed up. I was shocked to see how much he looked like Ethan. He wasn’t as built, but they definitely could almost be twins. Riley was wearing a black t shirt, black shorts, black crew socks, and a very similar pair of converse as Ethan was wearing. He looked about the same age as Ethan as well. Maybe a little younger, mid 20’s possibly.

We made some drinks, talked about our jobs, and got a little buzz before we started on the pong. Ethan and Riley were on one side and me and Joe were on the other. I was pretty terrible at beer pong so I hoped Joe was a little better than me.

We started the game.

“Hold up… we should make this more interesting. Make some bets and shit.” Riley said. Oh God, here we go, I thought.

“What like money? I don’t have any cash on me.” Joe said. I saw Ethan’s eyes light up. I knew what was coming.

“Losing team has to sniff the winning team’s feet for 2 minutes.” Ethan said proudly.

Joe made a grossed out face. Riley kind of laughed.

“Bitch- I grew up with you, I know how rank your feet are… do you still wear the same socks for multiple days.” Riley asked.

“Depends…. I think these bad boys are on day 4.” Ethan said. I wasn’t going to bring up that I’m pretty sure they were day 5.

“Dude, I’ll throw up.” Joe said.

“Then… don’t lose…” Ethan laughed.

“Whatever… man- I went running today so I might be pretty ripe myself.” Riley said. We all continued to play. I may have purposely missed the cup a few times and Joe was not very good. So things we looking pretty grim for us.

“My feet feel really hot and sweaty, how about you bro?” Riley said to Ethan jokingly as Joe missed another shot.

“Fuck man, I can smell both of our feet through the shoes.” Ethan said back.

“Oh God…” Joe said.

We only had one cup left. Riley was taking the shot.

“You think I’ll make it?” Riley asked

“No way…” I said

“If he makes it, yall gotta add some tongue to our feet…” Ethan added.

“And if he doesn’t, we skip all the foot crap.” Joe said nervously.

“Deal.” Riley said.

It seemed like time went in slow motion for that shot. And sure enough… he made it in the cup.

Riley and Ethan high fived each other. Me and Joe looked at each other and he kind of shook his head.

Ethan walked over to the dining room table and kicked his feet up.

“Joey, get over here and take my shoes off.” Ethan said. Joe sighed and walked over and sat across from Ethan.

“Just two minutes right? Someone time it please.” Joe said sadly.

Riley nodded and we both just watched what was unfolding. I’m sure it was my turn next.

Joe pulled off Ethan’s shoes one by one. The smell hit the air so fast. Ethan was wearing black socks with white heel and toe. I actually felt bad for Joe… He had no tolerance to Ethan’s feet.

“Oh man… it’s so bad.” Joe said as his eyes began to water. Riley was laughing pretty hard.

“Come on, nose in the foot.” Ethan said.

“Dude why… I could smell this even if I was standing across the house!” Joe said.

“Joe don’t be a bitch!” Riley yelled to him. Joe shook his head again before burying his face in Ethan’s socked foot.

Ethan used his toes to pull off his sock on one foot, and then the other.

“Tongue…” Ethan said as he wiggled his pudgy toes. Joe hesitantly stuck his tongue out. Ethan slid his toes across Joe’s tongue. Joe gagged.

“How’s that taste Joe!” Ethan yelled.

“Ok… that’s enough.” Joe said as he stood up.

“Yeah that’s good… you were sniffing for about 4 minutes.” Riley laughed.

“Are you fucking kidding me man.” Joe said. He ran to the bathroom and we could hear him spitting and rinsing his mouth out.

“Alright buddy- your turn” Riley said as a looked to me. He went and sat in the corner and pulled off his converse. I followed him over there.

“Lay on your stomach.” Riley said. I did what he asked trying not to come off so willing. His black socks were kind of shiny and almost looked greasy. He stuck his feet side by side on my nose. His stink was definitely not as strong as Ethan’s where it would fill the room, but I could 100% tell he went running that day, his odor was almost cheesier than Ethan’s. He kind of cupped them around my nose. I was getting an erection, taking in Riley’s stink, I’m glad I was laying on my stomach so no one could tell. Ethan was watching from across the room, smiling. Riley took his sock off.

“This is what happens to bitches that lose. How’s that fuckin smell man?” Riley said, only turning me on even more.

“It smells like a greasy cheese…” I said muffled by his foot.

“Cheese? Good, maybe you’d like a taste then… tongue out.” Riley demanded. I slid my tongue across the bottom of his toes. They taste just like they smelled.

“How’s my foot taste? Ethan I think he likes this…” Riley said laughing. Ethan walked over and placed his rank foot on top of my head, pressing my nose and mouth even harder into Rileys foot.

“He’s just used to it, I make him worship my feet sometimes.” Ethan said. Riley laughed. I was slightly embarrassed but I felt almost hypnotized at the scent of Riley and Ethan’s feet mixed together.

A few more moments passed and Riley stood up and Ethan took his foot off my head. Joe finally came back in the room.

“Alright guys, I gotta work early… Thanks for a gross night.” Joe said, still looking a bit ill from licking Ethan’s foot.

We said goodbye and Joe left. Shortly after Riley took off as well. It was just me and Ethan on the couch.

“What a night…” I said. I could still smell Ethan and Riley’s foot stink on my face.

“Yeah it was…” Ethan said. He reached his hand down and started feeling his bulge in his pants.

“Hey, take your pants off. I wanna try something.” Ethan said. I stood up and took my shoes off and my pants.

“Now face the other direction.” Ethan said. I turned around. I could feel Ethan start to touch my butt. We had never done any butt stuff before, so this was new. He pulled my underwear down and put his finger in his mouth. Then into my shaved hole. It hurt a little at first and I was a little tense. It slowly started to feel very nice. He then switched to two fingers and I moaned.

“Fuck boy, you are so tight.” Ethan said as he thrust his fingers in and out.

Suddenly to both of our surprises, Riley popped out of the corner.

“Guys, I don’t think I can drive yet… that beer…” Riley started before he noticed what was going on. He kind of stood there in awe for a few moments. Ethan and I didn’t say anything. We just looked at him, his fingers half way up my hole.

“Uhhh. Some kind of bet I didn’t know about?” Riley said, confused. I noticed he was starting to get hard as the crotch of his shorts started to rise.

“Just a condition of him staying with me… I get to use him as my cum rag…” Ethan said with confidence.

“Huh…” Riley said, still taking in what he was seeing. Riley started to inch closer and ended up sitting next to Ethan. I was shocked to feel that Ethan continued to finger me. I could see Riley out of the corner of my eye on the couch. He had pulled out his cock and was stroking it while watching Ethan finger me!

“I aint gay. But hey, a hole is a hole right? And this boys got a whole other one not in use.” Riley said. He stood up and came around to me. He pulled my head down so his dick was right in my face. He was cut unlike Ethan. He was a bit hairier too.

“Lick my balls.” He said. What was it with this family and always wanted their balls licked first? Not that I minded. I started licking his smelly musty hairy balls. The texture of the hair on his nuts was something I wasn’t used to but I totally got into it. I could feel Ethan push me forward a little and bend me down a bit more. I heard him spit into his hand. It was finally happening. I felt Ethan’s cock start to go into me. It was easier since he used his fingers first. After he got the head in, I felt him slam the rest in behind it. I moaned in pleasure. He felt so good. Meanwhile, I started sucking Riley.

“Yeah suck my fat sweaty fucking dick, bitch.” Riley said, incredibly drunk. He was a lot bigger and thicker than Ethan in that department. Every time Riley tried to push in down my throat I would choke. I could see Riley and Ethan fistbump each other as they destroyed me. Ethan was banging me so hard that I could feel his huge nuts slapping my ass.

“Yeah boy, take my cock.” Ethan demanded. Riley grabbed my head and shoved his cock down my throat all the way to his nuts. My eyes watered .

“I’m gonna paint your fucking face…” Riley said. He abruptly pulled his dick out and jerked it aggressively and blew his load all over my face. I could feel it all dripping down my lips and chin.

"Fuck bitch. You like my hot nut dripping off your face don't ya" he said as he reached down and used his thumb to move a big blob of his cum into my mouth. I cleaned his thumb off. Riley backed up a little bit. Ethan suddenly pushed me down to the ground face first and planted his stinky foot on my face so that his toes were right over my nose. Im not sure how he had it readily available but he shoved one of his disgusting black and white socks from earlier into my mouth. Riley took his shoe and sock off and put his foot on my head next to Ethans. Ethan was still inside of me and banging me while they had me pinned with their feet. He started to go harder and harder. My hole was so sore. But it felt so good.

“Fuck boy… You like that dick wrecking your tight fuckin pussy.” Ethan said as he just kept going harder and faster.

“You gonna take my load while you taste that nasty sock and smell our feet? ” Ethan said.

“Fuck yeah…” I said.

“He loves the cock, taking both our loads…” Riley said.

I suddenly felt Ethan empty himself inside of me. He was out of breath and covered in sweat. He took his foot, now covered with his brothers cum from my face, off my head.

“Now clean my foot off.” Ethan said. I began to lick the cum off his foot, making sure to get it all.

“Damn Ethan, I need a house slut like that.” Riley laughed.

As Ethan’s hot load leaked out of my hole, and I continued cleaning his brothers cum off of his stinky foot, I couldn’t think of anything else I would rather do.

“Yeah… I think he should move in permanently.” Ethan said.

[zaikaglow]

Betrayal

For @mikaberries 4k Celebration Collab

Pairing: Bertholdt Hoover x Reader

Content Warnings: Unprotected sex, dacryphilia, abandonment 

Summary: You feel your relationship has run its course but youre unable to get out and you feel trapped leaving you with only one option, but can you bring yourself to do it?

“You're really sure about this y/n”? Hitch asks, sitting in the driver's seat of her Subaru palms just grazing the wheel as she drums on it with her pink fingernails. Sitting in the passenger's seat you pull your knees to your chest and look out at the Starbucks parking lot. Your face is starting to heat up at the shame of what you just told her. “I just really don’t know how else to do it” you mutter, wishing that maybe you had just kept your little plan to yourself that you didn’t get your best friend Hitch involved. She turns to you this time before she speaks “I just really can’t believe you wanna do that to him, just leave totally ghost the poor guy after what? 4 years? Come on y/n be an adult”. 

You can tell she’s scowling at you now “Hitch what would you do if Marlo asked you to marry him?” she laughs “well I’d tell him no, I’m not ready for that and not just pack up all my shit in the middle of the night and ask my best friend to be my getaway driver”. You were trying to choke back tears of frustration when you weakly mutter “that wouldn't work on Bertholdt”. “Come on y/n you're being ridiculous what do you mean that wouldn't work” her eyebrows knit together as she looks at you with more concern than contempt now. “Remember when I told you I was going to break up with him last year”?

“Yeah but then you two went to dinner and talked it out and you decided to stay together”

“That’s not exactly what happened. I started trying to breakup with him but he started crying and saying how he didn’t even think he could imagine life without me and everyone started staring and I just told him we could work it out”

“Okay so just don’t do it in a public place again” she takes a sip of her iced coffee

“God dammit Hitch! I’m an adult don’t you think I thought of that? Every time I’ve tried to break up with him he just starts either smothering me telling me how much he loves me or starts crying and going on about how he doesn’t know how to go on living.” Getting more exasperated at trying to make her understand you place your head into your palms “I swear that's the whole reason he asked me to marry him”

Hitch sighs “Do you still love him?”

“I don't know anymore Hitch”

“Okay how about you make an actual attempt to end it tonight, I’ll still drive you and you can stay with me until you get stuff figured out but please don’t just disappear on him”

“Fine i'll make a last attempt but if it doesn’t work will you still come get me?”

“Sure what else are friends for y/n” 

It’s later in the evening when you make it back to your shared apartment and your heart is beating in your chest. You're going to do it, you're actually going to be an adult and tell Bertholdt that you're breaking up. You're not getting married and you don’t care about how much he’s crying or the way he wraps his big arms around your body and pulls you close and whispers “stay” over and over. But then you walk in and he’s there and the way his eyes light up when he sees you makes your heart swell and you start to wonder if you can really go through with this “y/n! I’m glad your home I made dinner it’s your favorite” he walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulder “Don’t worry i'm not trying to sway you, I told you that you can take your time to think about my proposal” he smiles “unless you want to say yes right now I’d be okay with that”. Oh god the swelling in your heart is gone and is now replaced with the feeling of being drowned by him, even his touch no longer feels like that of a lover but of a weird stranger. “Uh actually I think” you're interrupted by a kiss, as his hands slide up from your shoulders up the back of your neck into your hair. His lips move to your neck “I’m only joking baby, take your time”. God this is what he did. You could tell he knew what you were trying to do and he was going to try to seduce you into staying with him. His lips lose contact with your neck as he reaches down to pick you up and place you on the counter. He brushes the hair out of your face with one hand, the other resting on your cheek “you know I love you y/n”. You place your hand over his “I love you too” it wasn’t entirely a lie. You truly do think that you still love him in a way which is why what you were going to do was going to hurt. “Let’s go to the bedroom” at which he grins and picks you up again carrying you to the shared bedroom. And you hope to god he doesn’t see the suitcase stored under the bed.

His hips press into the space between your thighs right where he fits perfectly, as you two would joke. His hands go to start toying with the hemline of your shirt, when you look up into his soft blue eyes and push his bangs out of his face “hey, how about we try something” you practically whisper he ruts his cholted cock against you as he kisses that sensitive spot behind your ear reply “yeah what do you want to try” . You grab him by both sides of his jaw bringing him back up to meet your gaze “how about you fuck me like its the last time?” his lustful look is replaced with a mix of concern and a smile trying to hide it “I don’t know if I like that game y/n”. Moving your thumb in small circles against his cheek you smile “I mean just like as passionate as if this were our last time together” you can see his gaze soften at your reassurance. “Okay” ending his reply with a kiss. Large but soft hands run down your neck thumbs tracing your pulse point as he moves towards your breasts giving them a gentle squeeze before moving back to that hemline pushing it up so he can start planting kisses by your belly button making his was up your torso moving the shirt up along with his head until it reaches the bottom of your rib cage where you take the hem in your hand and remove the shirt and bra yourself. Bertholdt pinches your nipple between his top teeth and his bottom lip rolling it into his mouth and soothing the sting of his teeth with his tongue, as his other hand grips your other breast rolling the nipple with his thumb. Legs wrapped around him tightening as the overwhelming stimulation in your tits is causing you to start grinding against his hardened dick in his pants desperate for friction. He pulls away sitting up to pull off his own shirt “hey slow down if this is the last time im fucking you I’d rather make it last” he says with a small chuckle before going to work at your own pants as he slides them down your legs and then lays himself down between your legs. He starts with a wet kiss to the side of your right thigh before making his way down to your core fingers running over your clothed slit before grabbing the waist band and pulling them down. “That's my good girl” he sighs as you spread your legs further apart and grips the sheets at the sensation of his hot breath fanning over your now exposed cunt. A feather light kiss greats your clit before he starts to use the flat of his tongue to lick circles around it as he dips his long delicate fingers into your core and all you can do is grip his locks of dark hair. His fingers dragging against your swollen walls bringing you closer and closer until he switches to suctioning on your swollen bud pushing you over the edge. You squirm under his grip around your thighs as he keeps licking to help you ride out your high. You pull his head off of you, feeling his resistance and attempting to make contact with you again. His jeans already have a wet spot from the way he was rutting his hips into the mattress, so excited at the pleasure he was giving you. He takes off his jeans before sliding back over you, his weeping cock laying on your stomach. You pull his head down into a kiss as he takes his cock and rubs the wet head against your clit before sliding it into you. His hip movements are rhythmic, dragging out slowly and thrusting back in faster and you cant help but to blurt out “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over at his thrusts; it's almost like a prayer, no, an absolution. The building of guilt at the betrayal to this man's love that you were about to perform, and when he says it back you can't help it and you feel tears start to streak down your face. Bertholdt shifts up and grabs your legs throwing them over his shoulder, head ever so slightly turning to the left to kiss your ankle “it’s okay sweetheart I’ve got you” he says before continuing his thrusting. The tears are still streaming down your face as your head throws back into the pillow at the new deeper angle. Legs still over his shoulder he brings his forehead down to meet yours and he’s so deep you can feel him start to brush against your cervix hurting in the best sort of way. His hips begin to stutter as you feel the warmth of his release into you, and you can feel it start to drip down your thighs as he pulls out of you and wraps you in his arms. “I love you y/n, I really do”

It’s been about 2 hours since you’ve settled down for bed, you're pretty sure he’s sound asleep by the strange way his body is contorted, and you think about how you’ll never wake up hitting the floor because your boyfriend accidentally pushed you out of bed with his crazy sleeping positions again and your chest hurts. “Berty, Berty are you up?” you mutter sweetly but the tall man just continues to slumber. You pull your suitcase out from under the bed, it's packed with all the essentials and you’d probably have to convince Hitch to come and collect the rest of your things for you, no way you could stand to face him after what you were about to do. God you felt like such a bitch you couldn’t have one hard conversation? You had to do it this way? It was so hard because you did love Bertholdt. You weren't lying earlier, you really did love him! But you know this won’t work so you'll continue to feel like something isn't quite right, not exactly whole. So this is the only way you can do it, the only way you can escape from this relationship without the love you feel for him pulling you back in.

You sit in the foyer of the apartment building on your stuffed suitcase and pull out your phone and call her “Hey Hitch” choking back a sob causes a cracking in your voice “can you come get me now”

“Of course, I’m sorry your talk must have been hard”

“We’ll we didn't have the talk per say”

“What do you mean?”

“Well we had sex and I just couldn’t do it Hitch it just has to be this way”

There's a long pause from the other end of the line

“You know y/n, I love you but right now I really don't like you”

You start to sob “I’m sorry I don’t know why I couldn’t, but I left a note”

Hitch sighs before replying “It’s okay we’ll talk more later, i'll be there in 15”