#What’s funny is I started this piece on Easter Day and thought I would get it done in a like a few days but I thought wrong all well

[loopyarts]

Happy two weeks and a day late Easter. Here have some cute bunny boys. :3c

[snorlaxlovesme]

this is called giving Live Action Avatar a fair chance

the Netflix live action Avatar has always been a strange beast. it's a thing no one wanted after the disastrous 2010 movie. public perception of it was extremely low after Bryke walked out on it because of creative differences (disheartening as well as concerning). people tore apart the teaser stills and completely thrashed the early trailers. the news that Sokka's sexism plot was being altered had fans frothing at the mouth. the show seemed to be caught in this limbo where it had an incredibly low bar to rise above, in terms of trouncing The Last Airbender Movie, and infinitely high bar it would be impossible to reach, in terms of the original A:TLA.

now. if i can't go into a live action adaptation with an open mind, i will not watch it. live action Yu Yu Hakusho came out several months ago, and the vibes I got from trailer were not what I wanted, so I shelved it. if I'm going to sit down and watch a re-telling of one of my favorite pieces of media, I'm going to do my damnedest to go in with as open of a mind as a I can bear, because I like to have a good time and I can't do that constantly dogging on something.

so. my rule of thumb is generally this: treat any live action adaptation as fanfiction. if i can recognize the characters and recognize the plot, that's fine. i'm not looking for anything crazy, just interesting fanfiction. that's the level of closeness to canon i'm expecting. bar is on the floor.

and in terms of Good Television, my expectations are also incredibly low. good TV has 1. good writing 2. good acting 3. good action/SFX. for adaptations the best i'm looking for is ONE out of three. the lower my expectations, the more fun i get to have.

i'm explaining all of this because, while I have not seen reviews of Netlix Avatar yet, I know just how brainless the masses can be and i need you to know that THESEEE are the expectations you should be having when going into these things. Avatar: The Last Airbender is hailed as an example of a nearly PERFECT show. if you are expecting that kind of excellence from an adaptation you are simply deranged and I will not be reading your bad faith interpretations of the show.

with these expectations in mind, it's easy to see why i'm loving Netflix Avatar so much. why? because it cleared one of my very low expectations. the bending in the show looks pretty good! the writing of the show is average! some of the actors are quite charming! i am pleased!

i have seen 3 episodes so far ("Aang" through "Omashu", and yes these episode titles DO suck, I'll concede to that)

so, now that i've gotten that little manifesto out of the way, let's get into some actual Thoughts So Far:

-the way the first episode was structured was very cool. i like that they didn't throw us in at the same spot we started in A:TLA. and to avoid the horrible exposition dump the movie gave us, instead they just showed us the start of the war. i like the tactical inclusion that Sozin let word get out that the Fire Nation would attack the Earth Kingdom first to throw the Air Nomads off his scent. i also thought it was cool so show us a day in the life at the Easter Air Temple. the setting was gorgeous and I loved seeing all the monks doing their own thing. it made you feel so attached to the Air Nomads and their kindness and gentleness, so when they were attacked you truly felt for them.

-Monk Giatso's actor was fantastic. i was gagged that they had my crying less than 20 min into the first episode, what the fuck

-Gran Gran reciting Katara's opening speech line by line was funny, hokey, and exactly what I wanted. loved that for her and loved that for ME

-i like the change that Katara has to waterbend in secret for her own safety, not simply because she doesn't have a master

-it felt appropriate that they made Sokka take his warrior/protector role more seriously. the "i gotta go potty" bit from that like 6 year old in the original is hilarious but I don't think that sort of humor would have translated well to live action. i like that Sokka really was a leader to the ragtag group of kiddos and like one teenage boy. and him asking Zuko to duel with him one and one!! a very sweet early act of bravery

-in general i'm just really liking how they're approaching Sokka's character. all the fuss over "they're taking out Sokka's sexism" arc felt idiotic to me for weeks because like of course they did?? let's be SO real here, if you have never seen the original and are watching Netflix Avatar blind for the first time, are you going to rock with the protagonist who makes "girls' only jobs are cooking and sewing" jokes? in 2024? in this sociopolitical climate that shit would NOT fly and people would drop the show for stuff like that. no one would wait to see his character growth, people's attention spans aren't long enough for that these days. plus, for all the naysayers boohooing because that's Sokka's whole character arc, it's literally not! that nasty personality trait sticks with Sokka for FOUR episodes. having his character arc revolve around his identity as a warrior is much more in-line with Sokka's ACTUAL arc. he can skip the "sew my pants" jokes so we can get to his real root of his conflict, being a non-bender and a novice warrior in a world of extreme violence and feeling inferior because of it

-i don't mind that they made Zuko less aggressive. again, with the bar of the original A:TLA being SO fucking high, ESPECIALLY because of Zuko, Netflix was never going to reach that level of excellence. so I'm okay with this Zuko being a little more level-headed and more of a mindless Fire Nation Greatness truther because it's a decent interpretation of his character, for fanfiction. consider everybody on planet earth know that Zuko will eventually be a Good Guy, we don't have to go out of our way to show that he's a giant asshole. we already know he's a good boy.

-on that note I love the bait and switch with the Jet introduction. seeing a cute boy flirting with Katara, I couldn't immediately tell if that merchant boy was just a one-off kind character, or maybe Haru because of his clothing and the way his hair was styled. to have him turn out to be Jet was FUN because it showed me that despite knowing the original canon forwards and backwards, this show can still find ways to surprise me. i had been talking with my sister about whether or not they were going to include Bumi (and his shenanigans) because that's a plot twist that worked when the show originally aired, but wouldn't hit at all in an adaptation where we all know who Bumi is already. where I'm currently at in the show I'm still not sure if we'll see his inclusion or not, but i still appreciated that new bait and switches are possible.

-this meant basically all the Omashu episode was very fun. they way they wove the Freedom Fighters and Mechanist's stories together was very interesting and i liked how fresh it felt

-Suki's actor is incredibly gorgeous. with and without the make-up. that needed to be it's own point because oh my god

-i love that she gave Sokka and fan and i'm DYINGGG to see him use it in a battle

-THEY INCLUDED KYOSHI NOVEL LORE AND I SCREAMED

-they included AVATAR KYOSHI FIGHT SEQUENCES AND I SCREAMED

-i probably should have mentioned this way sooner but Aang's actor is such a little cutie. he's doing such a great job capturing Aang's energy. both wise and playful and so so sweet. i love him

-i found it hilarious that they waited three episodes for Katara to bring up her dead mom. we all know that the super generic and boring critiques of Katara are 1. too much dead mom talk 2. too much hope talk 3. too motherly. i feel like the show intentionally waited two and a half episodes for Katara to bring up Kya and that's so funny to me. they also have only let her mention hope like twice lol. my girl is being STIFLED

-special effects are honestly really good? some of aang's flying is a little wonky but the firebending and waterbending so far as looked fantastic. i haven't seen much earthbending so far besides that opening sequence but i was impressed by that too. and Aang and Zuko fighting in Omashu with Zuko not using his bending? SO much fun. the choreo was awesome, i loved the set piece of fighting amongst all those scarves.

-building off that, Appa and Momo are very cute. the creatures al look pretty good too. ostrich horses look great

all in all, lots of really good stuff so far. i only have minor criticisms, and they're mostly things I can deal with. Iroh's acting is weird to me. it sounds like it's putting on a silly voice instead of speaking how he normally would, so it scans as off-putting. also in terms of costuming, Iroh's wig is WIGGING so much more than other cast members. it looks so glued on and shaped with hairspray. Mai and Ty Lee (one seen them for a moment so far) also just look like random cosplayers who wandered on set. and i guess both Monk Giatso's reveal of Aang being the avatar, as well as Gran-Gran's immediate understanding that Aang is the avatar, both happened extremely fast.

but yeah! those are my thoughts so far. again, I have no idea what public perception of this show is. i'm trying to avoid reviews and probably won't be back on tumblr until i've at least made it to episode 6. then maybe i'll come back and write more if my opinion drastically changes or I think the world will need another stern talking to about what to expect from an adaptation

[isthisselfcare]

Please forgive my absence, I log into tumblr once every 4 business months

I have answered some asks but not all, for which I apologise 

hello! rereading your work for the second time, proud of myself for translating less words than before (this british english's got hands and they kick me a lot). i keep beating myself about the question: WHAT is the clue about the mole in chapter 1? you said it was paltry, i didn't believe you, now i'm trying to make my eyes fall out over finding said clue. spare me.

It was the line about Shacklebolt’s assistant, she was grouchy about Draco for no discernable (at the time) reason: ‘Draco scheduled a visit with the Minister of Magic later that week. He sauntered past the Minister’s sour-faced assistant on the designated day, wondering who had pissed in her Pixie Puffs.’

She’s the one who would’ve heard Hermione discussing her findings with Shacklebolt early on, and subsequently learned that this Notorious Auror was going to protect her. That’s the entire not-even-clue. Rubbish, isn’t it?

Hi, since you like Jerome K Jerome, I was wondering if you've read "Two and a half men in a boat" by Nigel Williams? He basically recreated the boat trip on Thames with his friends like in Jerome's book. Nowhere near as good as the original, but it's pretty funny! He emulates Jerome's wit quite well.

I have not, but will add this to my reading list! 

Is Hermione bi in your fic?

I am congenitally unable to write cishet women, so, yes, or pan, possibly. Didn’t get into her head enough to know 

hey girlie. what does "cutty-uppy" means? i can't find the definition anywhere

Sorry. That was a made up word, referring to the sort of people who cut people up, those terrible Muggle surgeons  

do you mind if your tags are used on other fics? i think your tags on DMATMOOBIL are a creative writing piece in their own right (they make me laugh sm) so I was a bit disturbed to find fics that copy them verbatim with no credit.

I don’t mind at all, AO3 tags take on their own self-referential, memeish life and I am happy to add mine to the ecosystem. My own tags on Mortifying include the ‘no X we die like men’ and ‘what is X if not Y persevering’ meme-phrases

do you see yourself writing more dramione in the future?

I haven’t any plans to do so at present, sorry!

Continuing an investigation to see if you are actually Hermione, can you do a taraskvana?

Hah. No. I've got a dodgy knee, I can hardly even sit cross-legged!

She's a 10 but she only has 1 story posted

It’s me!

Dont know If somebody has already asked you this - would it be okay to print Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love?

Printing for your personal use is fine

I noticed something about the Beltane chapter: "hippocampus" is a part of our brain's limbic system and one of its functions is memory formation, specifically creation  and consolidation thereof, so I thought it was very symbolic that Hermione and Draco were racing creatures  with the same name. Cause I feel like that chapter is a turning point in their relationship - Hermione stops seeing him as a barely tolerable pureblood ass. It's around that point that they really do start kind of liking each other  and start - if you will - forming new memories together! I know I'm just overthinking things, but I love dmatmoobil so much I'm constantly on the lookout for hidden meanings and symbolism.

There are a lot of easter eggs in the fic, but with this one, you have given me far too much credit. Thank you for sharing it! 

Will you be participating in the DHr advent?

Hiya, no, I had to decline as I hadn’t any writing time this autumn, honoured to have been invited, however, and eager to read the works!

Would you ever write a Tomione or a Sevmione?

I never say never, but frankly the possibility is remote. So sorry

Pain au chocolat ou chocolatine?

Scandaleux comme question, ça… pain au chocolat ! 

Re the “Marathon of chaos” on your Instagram. It’s been such a ride to not only follow your fanfic (I was an early adopter, which I know makes me sound like a hipster snob, and maybe I am one) but also watch it go from like 100 kudos to one of the top fics in the fandom. I’m here for your marathon and really grateful for all the work you put into MOBIL. Now for the question… when can we expect your next book? I don’t care if it’s Dramione, any other pairing, or any other fandom, or original fic, I WILL read it! Please continue to hit us with chaos!!!!

Thank you for your kind words! 

I haven’t got an answer on the timeline for the next piece, or whether I will link it with this online identity, but I am toying with the idea of writing it entirely in comic sans

Your Hermione was my gay awakening

If this is serious, I hope you find your own Hermione one day!

Can we please be friends? You sound like you would make a great one

Unfortunately, I am a rubbish friend who never responds to texts and cancels plans at every opportunity, you don’t want to know me 

I was so happy to see Uzbekistan mention in your story. That had never happened before. Thank you for mentioning my country 😻

You are welcome! Uzbekistan is honestly one of the most breath-taking countries I’ve ever visited – monuments that dwarf the Taj Mahal – unearthing the grand and bloody history of the Silk Road – stepping upon the same sands that the great Khans thundered across – seeing the ruins of the caravanserai – sheer magic! To say nothing of the hospitality of the people. I had far too much plov and quickly discovered my limit for vodka

You are my favorite cryptid

Cheeky. Thank you

And, finally, thank you to the person who sent me this article on a sacred relic that was stolen from an abbey and then returned ‘in an unceremonious cardboard box’! Hormone and Crotch are still at large

[m1ckeyb3rry]

AHAHA WAIT yuki stealing the show again with a badass entrance i love it

DARK ON DARK TYPE HATE CRIMES /j LMAO I think it’s pretty common for deino to have relatively volatile personalities too so that’ll be really interesting but LMAOO reader catching deino out of necessity so it doesn’t trash their campsite is so funny Karasu comes back to like half their things a mess and a bunch of used quick balls on the floor like “what the fuck just happened” and readers like “I had to use ur quick balls to save the world teehee” I’m laughing so hard otoya would so do that nurse joy asks him to uncover and entire underground abuse black market scene and hes like “anything for you babygirl” meanwhile reader who stepped away to stock on potions comes back and is like “you agreed to WHAT”

The one thing yk I won’t forget is that gorgeous graphic it’s burned in my mind dw but swapping out houndoom for each main pokemon mmmm yes imagine lining them all up side by side after they’re done that would look so clean

NAH FR I’m pretty sure I read that shortly before we started talking I’m ngl that’s probably one of the bigger influences of me requesting fwtkac

SHSHSHS wait yeah I forgot that a good amount of people don’t know the concept of familial/platonic love dw we manifest pursuit will be THE piece to enlighten the community then they’ll all understand the wonders of non-romantic love

LMFAOAOA I forgot that’s one of the starter picking scenarios he would so be that professor (Niko saving his ass would be SO funny Niko coming in clutch in oaeu and pursuit)

Wait also kinda unrelated but pursuit got me thinking…so it’s set in kalos right…do you remember that one plot involving the zygarde zygotes (idr what they’re actually called) but iirc in the show too the gang carries around one of the zygotes only later it’s revealed that they come together to form zygarde imagine otoya picks one up eventually and hes like great another weird looking small cute useless thing until one day it turns into a zygarde and he finally gets his badass pokemon moment (idk if we’re keeping this game or show consistent so even if he doesn’t catch zygarde he’ll still get to battle alongside it maybe or sth)

LMAO wait you writing on your iPad is insane for some reason I imagined it being a computer…actually now that I think about it if you have one of those cases that flips into a keyboard that makes sense but whenever I type on the iPad screen keyboard my typos increase like tenfold and my speed drops to like zero idk why I just HATE the feel of it LMAOOO

Yeah I’m also very confused (as usual with jjk) so yeah seems like last chapter is a mission?? Wait I didn’t even register that in three days all the pain and suffering will come to an end guys what!!!! I did hear some people talking that there’s hints pointing to some form of a sequel and I’m just like HUHH but ig we’ll find out in like three days

I bet when aiku offered only to split the dessert Niko was like “I’m not getting paid enough for this shit”

HAHAHA Karasu the only home wrecker I’ll accept I’m gonna miss the aikulations /hj but VERY EXCITED LMAOO Reo said “no I don’t want otoya cooties” or imagine alternatively we get evil team v Reo with “I don’t take advice from anyone shorter than me” LMFAOOOO

IM FR EATING JT ALL UP like what’ll Mira put out next/whats gonna happen next week I’ve said this a bunch before but your world building/development skills>>>>> makes the whole story a lot more fun to read and a lot more immerse esp for me personally I end up visualizing everything fr like an episode of a show in my mind so I love all the little details and Easter egg like things too!! You might think I’m kinda insane but I think esp because I’ve been slowly watching the bllk dub version whenever Barou was like “you fucking donkey” I read it in his dub voice LMFAOO

SHDSHSHA no it’s ok this way people get to marinate with their thoughts of s2 and then once you open them back up you’ll get the best of the best ideas that have been brewing in peoples minds and have been given time to age and develop!!!! Idk how you keep track of so many if it were me I’d probably end up replying to the wrong one LMAO

- Karasu anon

YUKI ALWAYS COMING IN W THE BADASS ENTRANCES omg wait imagine karasu’s inspired to get a ground type after seeing steelix in action against electric types and that’s why he’s so quick to grab gible

if you think about it the entirety of pursuit is just dark on dark hate crimes LMAOOO between the houndoom v houndoom battle, houndoom and deino disagreements, and literally all of barou’s team it’s fr just dark types going insane FJDJDHSJ okay wait it would be funny if he got mad at her but lowkey in my mind he’s like really worried at first maybe because she lowkey had to chase the deino?? so he gets back and the campsite is trashed and she’s nowhere to be found and he’s like uhh wtf and freaks out until she comes like “look at my new pokémon karasu 😄” AHAHAH that’s his first experience with reader just randomly going missing/dying…wait because the way i just went on an entire rant about how they’re strictly platonic/familial but now i kind of need him ☹️ i need to get back to thinking of more nagi scenes or else i’m going to swerve JFDJDJJS

HELP THAT’S EXACTLY THE VIBE TOO since in kalos the pokémart and pokémon center are in one building it’s even funnier because she’s literally at the checkout line and she overhears him and she’s like HELLO ⁉️ AT LEAST GET TULLIA AND KARASU TO COME THEY’RE THE ONES WITH SOMEWHAT FULL TEAMS 😰 but tullia and karasu are up to smth (ZERO idea what) so it’s truly reader otoya froakie and houndour against the world…the craziest part is that they’re actually successful LMAOOO I LOVE THEM truly a dumbass x dumbass chemical reaction (this scenario is def also a plus one to the karasu freak out tally JFDJDJSJ he and tullia get back to the pokémon center and are like “where are y/n and otoya???” and nurse joy’s like “busting a pokémon abuse ring for me 🥰” insert many expletives from our fave baby crow who immediately freaks out and goes to collect them only to find them just chilling because by that point they’ve already managed to bust the ring so it’s like nbd)

AHAHA I DO LOVE THE PURSUIT GRAPHIC IT’S SO PRETTY i think it would be fun to have the diff pokémon there for the side stories esp because they all have pretty sprites for their art since most of them are from the earlier gens when the art was still really good 🥹 omg i’ll def make a compilation of all of the headers too that would def be top ten most aesthetic m1ckeyb3rry posts LMAOO

FRRR like yes we’ve got this dramatic amazing slowburn going on with nagi but at the same time our friendships with tullia karasu and even otoya are so important to the story?? as well as the barou x reader cousin bond…considering how many people loved the gojo and reader bond in pomegranate ink i think barou and reader are def safe it’s just people mighttttt swerve to karasu especially because i like him as a character so i’ll definitely glaze him when i write him vs otoya won’t get quite the same treatment HAHAHAAH (love him too but he’s very bullyable so he gets to be menaced by tullia instead)

IMAGINE AIKU GETTING CHASED INTO A TREE BY A ZIGZAGOON LIKE PROFESSOR BIRCH 😭😭😭 and then niko has to save him…actually aiku lowkey gives professor birch hold on

wait this is too good I’M CRYINGGG old age did my man aiku dirty (this is def making it into its own post i’m sobbing at this)

i’ve considered adding legendaries into pursuit especially because xerneas is one of my fav legendaries but for some reason i feel like it takes away from the feel of the verse?? it’s meant to be a bit of a different look at the pokémon world while not getting too crazily violent like some au’s do and since the legendaries are meant to be gods i think that IF they appear it’ll be very awe inspiring and terrifying…lowkey otoya does kinda look like zygarde if i was assigning legendaries he’d def have zygarde, nagi would have mew, karasu would have zekrom, reo would have suicune, chigiri would have zapdos, tullia would have cresselia, reader would have rayquaza (just based on her team’s vibes…going off of hers alone she’d probably have like diancie or shaymin or smth)

FJFJSJSJ YES I HAVE A KEYBOARD CASE i do have a laptop as well but it’s windows since most programs run better on windows and i write on apple pages so i can also write on my phone in a pinch which is why i have to use my ipad!! i used to use my laptop and google docs but in 2021ish i got my ipad w the keyboard case because it’s easier to carry around and fit into bags than a whole laptop…google docs is kinda glitchy and crashes a lot (there’s also a lot of ai rumors w them but idk how true those are so they didn’t impact my decision) especially once documents get longer and you know how much i write (i had to split pomegranate ink into three separate google docs) so i switched to pages in 2023!! i actually really like it much more than google docs i’d say…the customization options are much more fun and accessible and it runs way nicer without freaking out. but it does mean i can’t use my laptop to write sadly 😓💔 for a month my laptop was getting repaired so i had to borrow my uncle’s which is a macbook and it was SO NICE being able to write on my phone, laptop, or ipad as i chose but sadly all good things come to an end and now i’m back to my ipad and phone alone (i love my ipad though it’s super fun and functional that’s also where all of my silly diagrams are sketched out and notes are scribbled before outlines get upgraded to notion so it is nice having everything on one device for sure!!)

i feel like there must be a sequel there’s so many weird things that have been introduced in the last few chapters??? like that random ass old lady idk 😭 can’t believe we might have jjk boruto…tbh idek if i’ll read it if so because i’m very much not into the story arm 😓 ig i’ll probably learn what’s happening in it by osmosis/tik tok but anyways…we’ll see what happens ig

HAHAHA we still get aikulations in the nagi version, the yukimiya version, and ofc aiku’s own version 🤩 otoya reo and karasu do not have any aiku povs though sadly ☹️ but he’s still there still goofy and still keeping things silly so it’s all good

STOPP I’M BLUSHING for me i can clearly envision the scenes i’m writing in my mind like SUPER SUPER clearly as if i’m watching it happen in a show so i’m not writing or coming up with something new i’m just describing what i’m seeing in my head?? maybe that’s where the immersive feel comes from either way i’m glad it’s coming through!! and i’m actually thinking about dropping something very special tonight hehehe you might go crazy when you see it (no promises though so if you see this and are like “what is she talking about” i either fell asleep or chickened out)

HAHA it’s def a lot but i do love hearing everyone’s ideas!! depending on my mindset once everything’s cleared i might keep things shut for a bit so i can get back to working on my long fics…bllk fandom cannot think my max capacity is 41k words w bfb LMAOOO LET ME REACH THAT DELICIOUS 200K WORD RANGE AGAIN PLEASEEEE LFJSKDKSK anyways we will see how things go ig!! taking it day by day…i have a really good mix of characters in my inbox so i’m excited to write literally whatever strikes my fancy at the moment 😈

[the-cat-chat]

March 30, 2024

Donnie Darko (2001)

During the presidential election of 1988, a teenager named Donnie Darko sleepwalks out of his house one night and sees a giant, demonic-looking rabbit named Frank, who tells him the world will end in 28 days.

Warning: Review may contain spoilers. Read at your own risk.

JayBell: This is my second watch of Donnie Darko, and I have to admit that I still didn’t quite “get it” in its entirety. Normally that would bother me, but honestly I don’t mind it here. Donnie Darko is more of a movie that you experience and feel. It’s bizarre but also interesting and engaging. Even if I’m asking “what the fuck?” I’m still having a good time.

The acting isn’t anything to complain about in my opinion (Seth Rogan what are you doing here? Also is that a stray Ashley Tisdale?). Baby Jake Gyllenhaall plays his part well as an extremely emotionally disturbed young man.

I love the exploration of cause and effect and figuring out how all the puzzle pieces fit together. It’s a bit of sci-fi, a bit of mystery, and a bit psychological horror maybe? Whatever it is, I like it. And maybe I’ll understand just a bit more every time I watch it.

P.S. Shoutout to the song Mad World by Gary Jules. What a perfect fit to the movie.

Rating: 7/10 cats 🐈

Anzie: I am shocked to say I really like this out there pick for Easter. I wanted to watch it as a joke, but I was pleasantly surprised. Now I am not saying it’s not weird at moments or that I’m totally crushed by the ending (sooorrry) bc there were some moments I was definitely like wow. And why? And WhATttt?

But can we just start with the basics. Uhhh baby Jake Gyllenhaal??? So glad he grew into the eyebrows. And his sister??? That being said I did like the family and think it really balanced how when a family is concerned but also trying to get through it the best they can while dealing with other things. And the dad was funny and I liked how the mom dealt with that annoying lady.

I will say- the airplane engine falling into his bed- didn’t question until the end- when I knew the truth- which is really odd I know. But time travel really whacks out my brain and I was sorely unprepared for it in this movie. I thought Donnie Darko was the bunny and a homicidal killer. But whatever. I think it was interesting that the first have you think it’s just Donnie losing his grip on reality and for the entire time you question what’s happening, like a fun little guessing game.

Needless to say Frank really creeps me out - his voice is totally uncalled for. I totally thought it was a coincidence the sister had a friend named Frank but then all was revealed. And the Easter egg of the bunny pumpkin!!! Anywhoooo although I was bummed out about the ending I really liked the entire plot of it and how there’s so much going on. Even though I hate that baby Donnie Darko died and there’s plenty of ideas around it- and I hate the gym teacher- I firmly believe what she and the freak Patrick Swayze preached that Donnie finally stopped acting in fear and started acting out of love - and that he chose to sacrifice himself for his family and fix the timeline. Bc all of his problems were rooted in the fear he held, which as a teenage is A LOT of fear. Ugggggh. - I really think how everyone else left behind had a sense of Deja vu was an interesting aspect. And now I’m sad againnnnnnn. Gaaa.

^ also why is it not common knowledge that Ashley Tisdale, Jerry Trainor, or Seth Rogan are in this???

Rating: 7/10 BunBuns 🐇

[zybynarx]

IT’S HERE!!! IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! This is artwork done for the @dcbtv and specifically for the INCREDIBLE story written by @whitster-lizzy​ ! Check it out HERE!

Aaaah! I feel like I could geek out over these drawings and the entire process for a long while, so I’ll just throw that rambling under the “Keep Reading” (there will be fic spoilers talked about there too so be warned!).

Hope you enjoy the story! And seriously, go read it!

Hello! Welcome to the ramblings!

So starting with the banner... the concept of what I wanted to do came to me pretty quickly. I thought it would be cool to have the guitar and cover it with some relevant stickers that applied to Dean and Cas. The biggest challenge on the banner was honestly the colors... there are SO MANY cool color options for guitars, but I wanted to be sure that the words, the important story information, stood out significantly. So there was a lot of color tests that my friend sort of “supervised” for me, and finally get the colors fine tuned where you still have the bold red from the KC logo, but it wasn’t the ONLY thing your eye would stay drawn to. XD

Next is the Cas in his room drawing... and boy howdy I am OBSESSED with this drawing! the DCBTV bang was a very collaborative project. There was no “rough draft” to read off of, or “rough sketches” to look at. It was just me, Whitney, and our chosen song. So we had some brainstorm sessions where we pin-pointed the concept for the fic, which would have musician!Cas/football player!Dean, with some high school angst. And of course, you can’t really have an angsty high school story without a dramatic “looking out the window like you’re in a music video”, so I sketched this out:

I shared it with Whitney, and then she added this scene into the story itself! To which then I was like, “Well heck! Now I REALLY have to draw this!” But I was already at about 50% with the other piece I had done, and so I told myself that if I had time, I could draw this up. I finished the other drawing with time to spare... and then drew up the Cas drawing over the course of 3 days. My brain wouldn’t let me rest until I had drawn it! XD (Also quick fun fact... the poster on Cas’ wall is Totoro, because I was watching that movie for the first time ever while I was coloring it, and I thought it would be a fun little easter egg for myself ^_^ ).

The 2nd drawing (well, technically 1st since I had completed that one first) may look simple... but there were things about it that was NOT so simple! XD The lighting/shading... it was certainly an adventure trying to figure out exactly how this sort of lighting would work. From the spotlights on Cas and Dean, to the lighting of the “peanut gallery” just a little behind them, and then finally the crowd. A lot of playing around with different colors and layer settings, but I found an option that I felt like worked very well! On another note of the collaboration effort for this bang, Cas’ outfit and tattoo design were inspired from reading what Whitney had added into the story. Specifically during the high school years. I read the detail about Cas’ mom making his own version of the “Black Parade” jacket and was like, “Omg that’s gotta be referenced a bit with this drawing now! It’s perfect!” And the part where Cas compares himself to a phoenix instead of Icarus? My mind was blown and I got chills so I had to make a subtle nod to that as well!

Whitney had asked about creating some chapter/section dividers to put throughout the story and I thought it was a great idea! I came up with this design for Dean when we switched to his POV and even little section breaks within the chapter:

And these were the designs I came up with for Cas’ POV switches and section breaks:

...wanna know something funny about those musical notes? Got the inspiration from this:

:3c

I signed up for this bang as sort of a last second decision and honestly I’m so glad that I did! My author was incredible, it helped push me a little more as an artist, and also I got to relive my Jr. High years a bit because this song was honestly the first Taylor Swift song I had ever heard (also a bit of High school because of the angst, but I loved it). Super thankful to have been a part of this! 

A huge huge shout out to the mods for putting it together and for creating the event! Seriously, you all did a great job and I’m so happy that this event was received so well!

If you’ve made it this far... thanks for reading! <3

[snackhobi]

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif​ for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

--

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan. 

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve. 

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable. 

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is. 

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church. 

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside. 

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won���t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?” 

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement. 

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble. 

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom. 

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised. 

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

--

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt. 

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts. 

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. 

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless. 

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck. 

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in. 

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres. 

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body. 

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage. 

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe. 

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead. 

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming. 

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class. 

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end. 

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?” 

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading. 

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it. 

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing. 

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.” 

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good. 

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it. 

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm. 

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be. 

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling  in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent. 

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed. 

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside. 

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil. 

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed. 

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you. 

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you. 

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. 

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…” 

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

--

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

--

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[harrypotterximagines]

Amortentia: Ron Weasley

For Anonymous, thank you for the submission! Asks are open!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Small chatter filled the classroom as Slughorn prepared to start for the day. A medium-sized cauldron was presented before the class, low bubbling creating an ambiance as students chatted about missing homework assignments and upcoming exams. You were lingering by your friends, a faint smell wafting in the air that you made you constantly look over at your friend, Ron Weasley, wondering if he put extra cologne on today.

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands and smiled at his small class, standing before the potion he mustered up. “Today is a most excellent lesson about one of the most serious and deadliest potions that can be brewed.”

The class looked at one other, a few worried while others were interested and curious. You felt your eyebrows furrow, wondering why your Professor would trust his students to conjure up a potion that harms oneself or others. Slughorn chuckled at his student’s worried looks, taking a steel ladle in his hand and slowly stirring the potion in front of him.

“It’s quite funny about the idea we have in our head about love,” Slughorn began, student’s worried expressions slowly turning to confusion.

“We think of it to be most absolute, a perfect pair between two souls. However, one rarely thinks of it to be deadly and depressing, Though love can mend two hearts together, it can also break it into millions of pieces.”

A few of the students coughed into their sleeve, recalling the times they had to break up with their lover. You couldn’t relate, not having much experience in the world of dating.

“What I have here with me today is a love potion, or more commonly known as-”

“Amortentia,” Hermione Granger cut off, staring intensely at the cauldron. A few girls gasped, hugging their notebooks tightly to their chest.

“Yes, Miss Granger. Exactly. If brewed correctly, this potion can make its victim become infatuated, even obsessed with the person that gave them this. It’s so powerful that one can even smell the scent of their current lover or the things they love most”

Students slowly walked up to the cauldron without realizing their feet were moving. You found yourself to be one of those people. The scent in the air became stronger the closer you got to the potion, the smell of rain, baked Christmas treats, and a hint of toothpaste overwhelming you. Your heart quickened, a tiny gasp leaving your lips.

“Ah, ah, miss!” Slughorn said, motioning towards you. “Demonstrate to the class on what you smell.”

You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks turn red. “I smell the rain, Christmas goodies, and toothpaste,” you said aloud.

“An interesting combination. Can you think of why these scents come to you?” Slughorn asked, curious, and a little nosy.

“Well, I love the smell of rain. I find it comforting. I spend Christmas break at the Burrow with Ron Weasley’s family, and Molly’s cooking is most pleasant to taste. Toothpaste, though, I don’t quite-” You paused, stopping yourself short.

It hit you like a ton of bricks and you realized it wasn’t Ron’s cologne that you smelled before, it was Ron himself. Your vision hazed into the past of when he wiped toothpaste off the corner of your mouth last Christmas. You took a step back, avoiding eye contact with the class.

Slughorn nodded and began to ask other students what they smelled as well. You found yourself standing behind the group in the far back of the class, needing time to breathe and catch up with the reality that you’re in love with your best friend.

Ron seemed to notice your absence as he followed you, easing away from Slughorn’s gaze. He stood next to you, arms crossed.

“The Burrow? You must love mum’s cooking that much,” he teased. You ignored him, your heart quickening once more. “Christmas, though? I think she makes a killer Easter dinner. Her lamb is always far better than the turkey she makes.”

You shuffled on your feet, parting your lips but no words coming out. You felt like a statue, frozen in time, afraid of your next movement.

“Blimey, I like rain too but the puddles it creates,” he teased, poking your side. “Hey, are you alright? You look a little sick, do you want to see the nurse?” He asked, his joking manner turning into a serious one.

“Oh, are you just embarrassed that Slughorn made you confess your feelings in front of the class. I would be too, don’t get me wrong. Bloody hell, I don’t even know what I smell, I’m too afraid to go anywhere near the cauldron. That Lavender Brown girl looked wild, I think she’s planning on stealing it from Slughorn and using it for herself.”

Ron looked down at you, biting the inside of his cheek. “Why toothpaste, though, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You let out a scoff, feeling as if the universe was torturing you. You shook your head, unable to explain the significance of the mint smell.

“I thought you hated brushing your teeth, you always say that the toothpaste gets everywhere and it’s more cleaning the sink than it is your mouth. Oh my god, remember that one time when you were walking around my house with toothpaste stuck to your mouth? You didn’t even realize until I had to-”

Ron stopped short, his wide and toothy smile slowly turning downwards. You clenched your jaw, impressed yet mortified that he figured it out so quickly. Ron cleared his throat, staring at the class ahead of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked softly, making you turn to look up at him.

You were afraid he was mad, that your feelings just ruined the friendship you had with him. You shook your head, shrugging at the question, feeling small and inferior.

“Because I’ve loved you, too.”

You looked back up at him, eyes wide, heart picking up its pace again. You felt your mouth go dry, his confession making you feel hazy.

“For a while now, actually,” he muttered, his freckly face turning pink.

You swallowed hard, a small smile playing at your lips.

“When were you going to tell me?” You asked back, teasing.

Ron smiled down at you, licking his lips. “I couldn’t risk losing you if I did.”

You brushed your hair behind your ear, your smile now stretched to the tips of your ears. “I guess we have to do something about it, then,” you said.

Ron laughed, nodding. “I guess we do. Does that mean I get to call you my girlfriend and not have to enunciate the friend part?” He joked, pulling you in by your waist.

You were glad that both of you were hidden in the back of the room, hugging him tightly as you felt relief wash off your shoulders. You laughed, nodding.

Ron slightly pulled away, smiling wide down at you. You felt his lips brush the top of your cheekbone, a soft yet sweet kiss sealing the deal. For the remaining of the class, both of you stayed near one another, exchanging flirtatious smiles and remarks, knowing that it was going to be the start of a beautiful and exciting relationship.

[redhairedfeistynerd]

Captain McHippityHop

A/N: A long lost piece that I forgot to post last Easter! Another part of my ‘Seasons of Bucky’ series. Loosely edited, all errors are my own.  Enjoy and have a great long weekend everyone.

Don’t not copy or redistribute any of my pieces.

Summary: It’s finally Spring and the Barnes family is ready for some Easter fun. Uncle Steve has something to hop on about.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 2200+

Warnings: kissing, nudity, sexual situations, implied smut, teasing, cautious Bucky

No bunnies were harmed in the making of this fic

“We’ll be there at 10, okay? Don’t worry, they’ll be up and ready.” Bucky rolls his eyes while he listens begrudgingly to Steve as he carries on about the importance of being on time.

Y/N sits across from him on the couch, her left elbow resting on the arm and her hand folded up, flapping open and closed as if it were Steve’s big mouth. Bucky is trying to control the look on his face, if it cracks, he is likely to burst out laughing. And IF he laughs, y/n will follow and they both know that Steve will not be impressed.

Bucky ends the call and looks to y/n. “You’re a pain in the ass. I was TRYING to be serious and keep a straight face but you kept smirking and your eyes brightened up like you were going to laugh. I can’t stop myself when you do that, I want to laugh with you!”

He lunges towards her and tackles her into the soft cushions of the couch. He knows that it’s finally ok to kiss her and he attacks her neck as she tries to curl into herself; he attacks the left side, kiss by kiss. Her giggles have turned into shrieks and he knows that she is enjoying it. He can’t get over how playful she is, he could drown in her laughter and happiness. It fills all those empty places inside of him, all the places he closed up when his marriage ended all those years ago. They’ve be silent and dark for almost a decade and then she came along and into their lives.

She crept in slowly, a hot chocolate date here and there with his girls, a walk in the park and then a stop at the playground, a rare night at his house when the girls were able to visit their mom. It had taken years for him to build up the courage to talk to her about how he felt but she was the first one to move her lips to his. Soft, tasting of vanilla and beeswax, everything he thought it would be, was everything that he received. Her arms wrapped around him first and she whispered in his ear that it was ok for him to do the same. His arms went around her softly but he still had a thought in his head the he could crush her, that all of the years without holding a woman meant that he was going to use all of his force at once and hurt her.

“Barnes, you aren’t going to crush me, don’t hold back. You hold your daughters every day, I know you’ll be gentle with me,” she said as she kissed his forehead softly.

“It’s just… I don’t,” he fumbles with his words and y/n brings a finger to his lips.

“Less talk, more kissing, Barnes.” She pulls his face back to hers and kisses him with a bit of force, trying to encourage him to be forceful. He does try to pull back but her hand is in his hair and she uses it to pull him back in. “No way Barnes, I’m not letting you back out after all these years. You’ve told me how you feel, let me show you how I feel.”

He really likes her and he has told her how he feels but hell, he loves how she is showing him. Her mouth is warm and incredibly soft, the sweet taste of her lip balm is swirling around inside his mouth. How can someone be so sweet, both in life and in her delicious mouth. Pulling back slowly, he looks into her eyes, admiring their colour before he whispers “Will you stay?”

“Why are you whispering, no one is going to hear us and it’s not as if I haven’t spent the night here before. The girls are with their mom tonight for Easter dinner. We are alone, my sweet,” she whispers into his hair and kissing his ear.

Bucky’s cheeks are slowly turning from pink to red, he can’t look her directly in the eyes. “I mean…” he chokes a bit on the words, clears his throat and begins again. “I mean, I want you to stay with me, in my room. Not the spare room like when we have sleepovers with the girls. You with me. In my arms. I would really, more than anything, like to have you in my arms tonight.” He can’t meet her eyes and curls into himself a little with the embarrassment he is feeling.

“Don’t you dare shy away from me, Bucky Barnes,” she gently scolds him as she crawls into his lap. She brings a hand to his chin, and pushes up so his eyes meet hers. “You don’t need to hide from me, ever.”

He can’t help but be nervous about this. A woman in his bed after all these years. Forget the quick one night stands he rarely had at someone else’s apartment after a night at the bar. This meant something. He had never been more aware of the carpet beneath his feet as y/n pulled him down the hallway to his bedroom. Each step sinking into the carpet, pulling him into the plush fibers, and releasing him.

“Help me,” he thinks he, hears her say as she pulls him closer. He hasn’t moved and her eyes are wide and staring into him. “Bucky,” his name softly escapes her mouth and she brings his right hand the front of her dress, guiding him to the buttons. “Help me,” is whispered into his ear and he freezes. Her hands have moved over his, picking one up and gently placing it on her breast. “Start here, this button first,” she coaxes him, “you can do it Bucky. You aren’t going to hurt me. I trust you.”

It’s as if it finally makes sense in the darkest pits of his mind. One by one, he pushes the button out of the holes and pulls the dress away and down her body. He can’t help but stare and before he makes her feel comfortable with his eyes looking her up and down in awe, he brings her closer, wrapping one around her and pulling her into a deep kiss. Bucky pulls away first and brushes her hair back, “I think you said something about showing me how you felt?”

The girls are dropped off early the next morning as y/n is starting to make breakfast. Bucky is quietly sipping his coffee and staring out the window. He’d woken y/n up early, soft kisses up the back of her neck, trying to enjoy her warm body that had curled into him during the night. He fell asleep soon after and awoke to an empty bed. He found her the kitchen table, pink sparkly rabbit ears on and placing chocolate eggs into baskets.

“Did you, did you make the girls Easter baskets?”

“I sure did, I thought we could say our good ole bunny friend popped by your house too.”

Bucky leaned over to give her a quick kiss, “it makes me incredibly happy that you think about them. It makes me feel so fulfilled that I’ve met someone that considers my daughters.”

“They’re part of you Bucky, why wouldn’t I think of them? Besides, I remember loving baskets like this when I was a kid and I want Riley and Piper to enjoy them too.”

The girls had squealed when they saw the large baskets on the kitchen table and ran to y/n, smothering her in kisses. Bucky’s ex-wife watched from the doorway and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to y/n. Once the girls had hugged their mom goodbye and wolfed down a breakfast of French toast and fruit, Bucky packed the girls in the car and they headed off to meet Steve.

It’s 10 a.m. and it looks like the Easter bunny and friends exploded pastel colours everywhere. The girls run into the kitchen, where Pepper is placing cupcakes adorned with mini eggs and Peeps on a tray.

“Hey you two, are you ready for some Easter treats and crafts? I hear the Easter Bunny will be here as well! Why don’t you take a look out back and see if there’s someone hopping around?” Pepper hands the trays of cupcakes to Bucky and pushing them towards the patio door.

The two of them head out towards the picnic tables, Bucky placing the cupcakes down before he turns to see a 6-foot-tall bunny out of the corner of his eye.

Bucky bursts out laughing before he can get a hello out. “Oh… my…” he keels over, his laughter so powerful that he has to hold onto the picnic table to stabilize himself. He can hear y/n ask what’s so funny and Bucky points over to wear Steve was last standing. He hears a little snort and it’s not long before she has fallen to the grass in a fit of laughter. Bucky can’t help but laugh louder at y/n’s display.

“What the hell are you wearing, Stevie?”

“It’s for the kids, you jerk. I have ears on, a cute little nose, and a bunny tail,” he says and wiggles his behind. “Obviously, I’m the Easter bunny.”

Tony saunters by, a mimosa in hand “why don’t you ask Rogers how “America’s Ass” ended up with a bunny tail.”

“Stevie, what did you do?” y/n laughs

Steve is between blushing and looking furious at Tony. “You just had to open your big mouth.”

“Rogers here thought it was a smart idea to make a bet with Pepper. This ancient idiot thought he could have a bake off with Pepper and win,” Tony snorts and take a sip of his drink.

“Oh Steve, you should have known Pepper would kick your ass,” y/n says, wrapping an arm around his waist, trying to comfort him. “I know for a fact, that the second the girls see you, they’ll jump all over you and tell you how much they love it. So, enjoy that it will be a hit with them.”

Bucky could hear their giggles coming from inside, Pepper, holding their hands, led them out to the picnic tables where the egg decorating had started. Y/n leaned into him a pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, letting him know that she was going to paint some eggs with his daughters.

“Come on Stevie, bounce away and introduce Cap McHippity Hop to the girls,” Tony teased.

“If those kids weren’t here Tony, I’d be kicking your f-”

“Now, now Cap, language,” mocked Tony, a sly smile forming across his face.

Steve muttered something unintelligible and made his was over to where Bucky’s girls were sitting with Y/N. His girls were so preoccupied with dipping their eggs in the coloured pots, that they didn’t notice Steve peeking over their shoulders. It wasn’t until Y/N started up with her giggling again, that Riley and Piper looked up to see what was so funny.

“Uncle Stevie!!! You have fuzzy ears AND a bunny nose!! Are you the Easter Bunny?” Riley asked loudly, jumping up to stand on the bench of the picnic table, now eye to eye with Steve.

“I’m your very own bunny, princess. Looks like you are doing a fabulous job with those Easter eggs. How about you and Piper come with me once you’re done and you can look around the yard for all the candy I hid?”

“Uncle Stevie, you’re the best!” Riley squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “But don’t tell daddy that, ok?” she whispered into his ear.

With a smile, Steve squeezed her once more before heading over to where y/n was sitting. He sat beside her and smiled.

“Those girls sure love you, Steve. Thanks for doing this for them, even if you did lose a bet and had to wear a cute little bunny tail,” she said as she peeked over to see the fluffy white ball attached to his pants. “I think the tail suits America’s Ass,” y/n laughed, pushing against him lightly.

“Ya, ya, keep laughing. I’ll have you know, that I had already planned all of this before I lost the bet, the outfit only adds to the festivities. I wanted to make this day special for Bucky’s girls, they’re my family too.” He looked at Y/N and pulled her into a hug. “I hope you know that you are part of my extended family as well, I love all of you.”

The girls finished quickly and made their way around with baskets, collecting jellybeans and bunnies, the smiles are their faces making Y/N smile. Bucky made his way over to her, once they had finished with lunch and the girls were slowly slipping into a sugar coma from all the treats their Uncle Steve had bought for them.

“Hey Barnes, before we get out of here, I think you need to take that tail and ears from Steve; I’ve always wanted to be a playful bunny,” she winks at him and walks towards the girls. She watches as Bucky picks up his pace, going after Steve as he headed inside with empty platters from their lunch.

“Come on girls, let’s get everything together and head on home.”

“Hey Y/N? Thank you for coming with us and helping us keep daddy happy,” Piper says, her big eyes staring up at Y/N.

“You’re welcome sweetie, l love seeing your daddy happy too,” Y/N replied smiling. She was more than happy herself and glad that she had this little family to love.

[elphiej]

Be My Light: Chapter 1 Shadows from Our Past

*Pairing: Yoonig X Reader

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: Language, violence, gun fight, mentions of abuse, mention for drugs. 

Author’s note: Hi everyone, here is chapter one. My editor and I had some conversations about the length; they wanted to shorten it and I wanted to leave it in tact for the sake of the flow. Let me know if the length is too long or not. Also, there are a bunch of easter eggs (bangtan lyrics, iconic outfits, ect. as we continue) let me know what you find. And, of course, thank you for reading and let me know what you liked. 

Tag list: @lalalalaloo-blog​, @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng​, @barbikatherine​, @mrsfortune1306​

The sun had just begun to fill the windows of the Lotus Apartment when you stepped out of your unit, coffee tumbler in one hand and bag slung over one shoulder , ready for a gruelingly long shift at Central Mercy Hospital. You let your eyes scan the corridor for any signs of life; no one else in their right mind would be up this early, yet anxiety had you checking the halls before you felt secure enough to fully exit your apartment. Taking out your keys, you pull your door shut and lock the two deadbolts that had become necessary in your mind.

And not just because of the active gang activity in this part of the city.

It had been close to three months since you had come to Central. And over four since you had left your miserable excuse of a ‘boyfriend’; The lying, abusive snake that was Daniel.  Just thinking about him made your stomach churn. Your time in Central, alone in your apartment, helped you reflect on your relationship and how toxic it had been. At first, it was nice. He had been your friend. He had been supportive and kind. Then, he was your roommate, taking care of you and being your security in uncertain times. Then, he became your boyfriend. It was nice and normal, something you thought you’d never have. He was protective, at least that’s how you saw it at the time. Looking back now, it was controlling and manipulative. He would say things that you thought were sweet, but now you understood they were horrible things. He said he wanted an obedient, good girl; he’d tower over you and make you feel so small. And for some reason, you believed him. You stayed like that for too long. After you had taken a job, trying to help support the two of you, his behavior got worse. He started to drink, and his abuse became more physical. Afterwards, he’d always say how sorry he was, how much he cared about you, or how he only drank because he was worried about you. Somehow it was always your fault. He wanted you to quit your job at a small medical clinic near his secluded home, but it was your only escape. To make it worse, you found out he had been sleeping with another woman. And still, you stayed with him, because he had fucked your head up so bad that you thought you needed him. The final straw that snapped some sense into you was when you confronted him about the other woman. He had come home from drinking with her and went crazy when you said you were leaving. He screamed, threw you around the apartment, hit you. Then he trapped you against a wall and started choking you. Had you not been able to grab hold of a bottle he had left on an end table and hit him just right, you may not have made it this far.                                

You left that night with just your backpack full of clothes and the few personal belongings that you had with you, your cellphone, and the money in Daniel’s wallet. And you ran all through the night. You didn’t have a plan or destination but you just had to get as far away from him as you could. A small voice under all the doubt and fear that he had piled on you, cheered and drove you to keep going.  You didn’t stop moving until you found a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. The driver had told you it was headed to Central, and something in that name seemed familiar to you. It drew you there like a siren’s call. Central was so large, it felt like it could have classified as a country. It was the perfect place to disappear. As the bus pulled into its terminal, that familiar feeling came back in as you gazed about the large buildings. But you chalked that up to remembering that you and your father moved around a lot.

It was one of the few memories you had like that.

Over the last few months, you had questioned why Daniel had changed so much. He had been the first face you remember seeing after the accident. And he had been the one to break the news to you. There had been a terrible accident, a horrendous car crash. You had been in the passenger seat when the car had broadsided by a drunk driver, sending the car rolling into a ditch. You had survived but your injuries were so severe that you had to be placed in a medical coma, and the trauma had affected your memory. When you woke up, you could remember very little of your past; You remembered that you had studied to be a nurse and recently graduated, that your father had been your only family, and that he had been a high ranking police officer. Daniel’s face was something that you sort of remembered as well, and you figured that was why you clung to him like an anchor. But everything else was wrapped in a dense fog, shattered like pieces of glass that couldn’t be put together. Daniel had, also, broken the news to you that your father hadn’t survived the accident. He stayed close to you for over a year, helping you through therapies, reminding you to take your anxiety medications, and wiping away the tears. He was perfect. But then, it changed. And any time you tried to talk to him about it, he would brush you off or say that he was stressed out, but that he loved you and just let him do what he needed.

What was funny was that in the months since leaving him, a piece of a memory had resurfaced. It was of your father and how he didn’t seem to like Daniel all that much. You could only think of what your father would have said when he saw what his daughter had become. You did remember how he had taught you to be strong and tough, to stand up against the bullies. He would be disappointed now. You rubbed your neck where he had choked you, smelling his alcohol pungent breath as he said so many nasty things to you.

But you got out and for that, anyone should be proud.

Shaking your head from the bad memories, you shoved your keys back into your bag and down the dimly lit hall towards the elevator. You felt a tad silly looking over your shoulder, thinking one day he was gonna show up at your door and drag you back to that unsafe mind set, but you had learned from the support group you had been to that it was normal. Thankfully, you were about to have a long shift to distract you from all those feelings. The intensive care unit had been short staffed, and with the increase in gang activity, everyone was working extra hard.  Central Mercy was the most active hospital in all of Central; the others were less willing to help gang members or those targeted for fear of retaliation. But once they came through the ER doors, it didn’t matter what they were. If they needed help, you would help. Even villains need help, and maybe your help can change them, your father’s voice had echoed from somewhere in the foggy parts of your mind. Also, Central Mercy was the main hospital dealing with the current outbreaks of drug overdoses due to a strange street drug known as U4-1A, a highly addictive and deadly substance that had been making its way through the city. Mercy was more equipped for trying to save the overdoses that kept popping up. You had only seen a few of those cases, but the doctors who had been on the front of those, had described it as a mix of “ecstasy, meth, and cocaine all rolled into one deadly substance”. You shook your head. You didn’t understand why people would do that to themselves. But, then again, who would stay with a person who abused you for so long? As you stepped into the small elevator, you really needed a distraction from all these bad thoughts and your best friend, Amber, should be on her way into work by now. You decided to try and text her.  

Bless that girl, she had been a big part in getting you back into a functioning human being. When you had stepped off the bus in Central, you were overwhelmed by everything. You were scared, tired, and had nowhere to go. You had felt so lonely. You ended up falling asleep on a bench just outside the station. That is where Amber had found you. She felt sorry for you and took you to get some food. Once she had heard your story, though, she brought you back to her loft to help you. She had said she was in your position once, but never explained what she had gone through, and wanted to help turn you around. She had got you into therapy, got you to open up, helped you find a job in her department at Mercy, and found the woman you were sure you had been on track to be before the accident had set you back.

You hit the lobby button on the elevator, then reached in your work bag for your phone as the door shut. You felt your umbrella, wallet, extra shirt, and even your lunch, but not the phone. You prayed that you didn’t leave your phone in the apartment in your sleep deprived haze. It wouldn’t be the first time this week that it had happened. Your anti-anxiety medicine had finally run out, even after you spaced them out over the last few weeks. And your mind had refused to shut off and you had been plagued by nightmares all night. Finally, your fingers had brushed against the plastic case of your phone. You let out a sigh of relief. However, when you pulled it out of your bag, you wished you hadn’t. It had been the phone that Daniel had given you, and the one that Amber had been trying to get you to throw away for months. You remembered having a panic attack when she had taken it from you. It had been one of the only things you could call yours. She had returned it to you after messing with the setting. Amber didn’t want to take any chances of him tracking the phone, not that you thought he could think of that, and told you not to respond to him. He had sent a few messages in the first few days; he said he was sorry and how much he loved you, but you did as Amber had asked. There was a small part of you that wanted to reach out, in secret. Thankfully, the logical part of your brain kept you silent. Amber wanted to block his number for good, but you left it as it was. She had given you a new phone not long after so you wouldn’t be tempted. And you hadn’t turned the old phone on since then. It had been stuffed in a bottom drawer, only reappearing now when you had rushed to grab an extra thick undershirt and stuffed it into the bag without realizing it.

The elevator came to a halt and opened to the empty lobby. You knew there wasn’t much time to decide what to do. You needed a phone- a curse of modern society to not be able to go a day without it. If you decided to go back up to retrieve your real phone, you still had to find it from where it had fallen in the chaos of this morning. And by then, you would miss your bus and be late to work. Technically, this was a working phone. You hit the power button; if it turned on, you would just get on with your day. That was your decision. It sprung to life, still with a good amount of power despite how long it had been in that drawer. The home screen had a picture of you and Daniel. It made you cringe at the sight of those smiling faces. But it worked and that would have to work. Amber may not be too happy to see it, but you’d rather deal with her then your supervisor. Plus, you really had no desire to talk or see Daniel.

Though, that small, needy part in the back of your mind was still wondering if he had still reached out to contact you.

You got your answer as you stepped out onto the chilly, lamp lit sidewalk. Your inbox was full of text messages and voicemails. He must have sent two or three a day since you had run away. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear his voice. But, as you head down the sidewalk to your bus stop, you decided to read through a few of them.

-Y/N, I’m sorry. Please call me.

-I know you’re mad. You have every right to. I’m weak and dumb.

-Please, just let me know you’re ok.

-Honey, I love you. I’ll never drink again.  I never meant to hurt you.

-Please let me know you see these.

-You mean so much to me. I’ll do better. I need you.

-Honey, that girl meant nothing. I can’t live with what I did to you.

-Please call me. Yell at me, hit me. Do anything you want, just come back.

His last message came only two days ago.

-Honey, you must be out of your medicine. Please, just let me give that to you. I won’t bother you anymore. We don’t need to get back together. Whatever you want to do, we can do it. Just let me bring it to you. You need it and I care about you. Please, Y/N, I’m sorry. Please, let’s just talk.

               Wow, you thought, he seems really upset. That small part surged forward again, pushing you to respond since he seemed so sincere. But you shook your head. Amber had brought you to a counseling center she volunteered at where a survivors of domestic violence group met. And based on what they had talked about, and his history, you knew it was best to move on. Though, you were basically out of medicine. You didn’t know the name of it, nor had the prescription for it. Daniel had always taken care of it. There was a doctor at Mercy whom you were close with, Henry Na, who had offered to investigate it for you. So, you had given him the last generic, round, white pill. He had offered to prescribe you a basic anxiety medication to help you while he did some research. He had been a big help, just like Amber to getting you to the state of normalcy you had achieved. Hopefully, he had found something for you. You would wait to see what he had to say before making that decision. Or you could talk to Amber and she would slam the stamp of “HELL NO” on that whole thought.

               Not wanting to continue this train of thought, you sent a quick text to your friend to say you were on your way to the bus, then locked your phone and stuck it in the pocket of your scrubs. You were determined to make the most out of this day. Even after a terrible night, you were going to be with your best friend, seeing some of your favorite patients, and being away from your troubles. You just needed to get to the bus stop and out of the chill of the early morning. You pulled your jacket close to your body and quickened your pace. Living at the far end of town, while cheap, had its disadvantages. There was much gang activity in the outskirts, the bus stops were sparse, and all the main shops were a long way away. At least, for the moment. Ahead, you could see the outline of the new shopping center the government had decided to build in hopes to revitalize this part of the city. And while you were excited that you wouldn’t have to go far to get essentials, you hoped it wouldn’t raise your rent anymore. Your bus stop was just beyond the construction. You hoped that today would prove to be just as exciting as the prospects of the new shopping center.

               Little did you know, in the dim light of the dawn, just how exciting your life was about to become.

~*****************~

               If the outside wasn’t foreboding enough, the inside made up for it. It was dark with only a few work lights scattered around the large, open space. There were tall, arching pillars and small openings along the sides that were meant for food stalls, and a large, empty fountain in the center of the concrete floor. Loose wires hung from the unfinished light fixtures, while high scaffoldings and boxed materials were randomly spaced about. A cold breeze swept through the open doorways, sending dust and debris swirling about Bangtan’s feet as they took echoing steps towards the elevator at the end of the floor. Above them, there were large cut outs in the floor so patrons would peer down at those below, all in interesting and modern designs. Once it was finished, it would be very fancy and high-end, the complete juxtaposition to the traditional and family owned buildings around it. It didn’t belong there.

               Just like we don’t belong here, Suga thought as his eyes wondered about the dim area. Jimin was beside him, the sparse lights glittering off the studded shoulders of his leather bomber jacket. His face was sharp and serious, his eyes constantly moving behind his rose-colored glasses. And Jungkook was trailing behind, dragging the poorly trained spy with him. The bound and blindfolded kid had fought against the maknae’s grip as soon as they entered the construction zone, screaming unintelligently against the gag. It took a good smack on the back of the head and a threat of “knock it off before I knock you out” before he stilled and allowed Jungkook to lead him around. He, even, made an annoyed promise that he would not let him stumble or fall until they turned him over to his team.

               V’s voice rang through the earpiece Suga wore, telling him where to go. The elevator would take them to the top floor, opening to a reception area. And beyond that was the event hall where Choi and his group of assholes were waiting for them. V didn’t see anyone on any other floors, which meant that their passage should be safe. Just as a normal drop should be. But Suga knew that it wasn’t going to be normal. With each step, the uneasy feeling grew. With the confirmation of the General’s presence, old feelings from the past made Suga even more on edge. But he hid it from his younger members. He figured this was a trap; he and RM had talked every conclusion out. They just needed to get in and out as fast as possible. V had set some helpful distractions up if they needed a quick getaway. But all Suga was focused on was dealing with Choi and keeping his dongsaengs safe. He took out his cell and texted a quick update to the leader.

               “This place is huge! I didn’t realize it when V and I came here before. Let’s make sure we come back when it’s finished. Something this fancy looking is bound to have a Gucci store,” Jimin said, trying to ease the mood a bit. He brushed a bit of dust from his white Gucci shirt to highlight his point.

               “I feel between the two of you, you have enough Gucci in your closets to open your own store,” Jungkook replied, though he had his own collection of name brands to rival theirs.

               Suga gave little response as they reached the elevator. RM had texted him back, saying what they already knew; Get in, get out, and be safe. The leader had added ‘try not to antagonize him too much, hyung’. Suga had a gift of speech, known to the others as his ‘Tongue Technology’. He could talk circles arounds even the most versed debaters, and knew exactly what to say to break someone down. If he had ever decided to pursue a career in music, all of Bangtan was sure he’d be a master at diss tracks. When Jin had captured the spy, Suga barely warmed up before the kid broke from fear. And while he knew he should do as his leader asked, Yoongi knew that if Choi opened his mouth, he’d find it extremely hard not to challenge him. As all four crowded into the elevator, he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his red coat and hit the top floor button. Jimin had started cracking his fingers and stretching out his limbs just in case he needed to be ready. Jungkook seemed to be bouncing on his heels with anticipation. A black face mask was resting under his chin. Suga reached over and pulled it up over the young maknae’s nose. He reached up, after, and fixed his black hat to hide most of his face. Jungkook was the only one of their members who Choi hadn’t seen face to face, making him the safest when he walked around barefaced. The boy had been quite young when he had joined them, and each meeting before the Generals had disappeared, Jungkook’s identity had been hidden. And Suga meant to keep it that way. Jungkook smiled at the action and nodded a ‘thanks’ to his hyung.

               “Just stay behind us until the trade is made. Block the door. And keep your face hidden. We don’t need Choi knowing who you are, got it?”

               Jungkook nodded again, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

               The elevator came to a halt as it reached the seventh floor and the doors slid open. It opened to a finished reception hall with an ornate, marble desk at the end near the large, double doors. Compared to the rest of the building, this was practically finished. The floor had a mirror finish, there was a small chandelier above the desk, and the walls were painted with a dark contrast to the white marbled floors. As they stepped off the elevator, a strange crackle sounded through the piece in Suga’s ear. With each step, it got louder. He could see the small red light from the CC camera that V had placed under the edge of the desk. He knew V had been monitoring them, as well as the Royals, and he tapped the earpiece to signal V something was off. He could hear the young man under the roar of the static typing away at his keyboard, letting out a few curses. The roar got louder and louder the closer they got to the doors.

               “Hyung-…. Sug-…. Can you…” static “Wait they…. With them! Plea-…” static “Get-,” then a piercing noise overtook everything, and Suga ripped the earpiece from his ear. From what little he heard from V, and the tone he was using, whatever he was trying to say wasn’t good. Jimin and Jungkook looked at him, questioningly. It was clear that something wrong was just beyond those doors. But they were already too far to turn around. The Royals must have heard the elevator’s chime and their footsteps as they came up to the door. If they fled now, it would only be worse later. Suga gave a reassuring nod to his dongsaengs and turned towards the door. Jimin took his position beside him, a hand on his hip to give off the air of sass that his gang persona was known for. Jungkook pulled the spy close to him as he positioned himself behind them, eyes glowing with strength and determination.

               And then, Suga kicked the double doors wide open.

               The solid oak doors slammed against the inner walls of the large room with a big bang. Just as the lobby, it was practically finished, save for the large crates of fancy décor, some unfinished lights, some high work platforms, and a good polishing. The floor was the same marble and dark finished wall combination as the lobby, with large Roman pillars that gave the room a grand and expensive feel. There were high windows that lined one side of the room, showcasing a large section of downtown as it was bathed in the warm light of the dawn. Further into the space, two high metal scaffoldings had been constructed, high enough for someone to walk under and for painters to reach the vaulted ceiling in order to finish the commissioned watercolor piece; one was just beyond the double doors while the other was against the opposite wall at the far end of the room near the emergency exit. In the center of the room, surrounded by work lights, appeared to be a diamond shaped dance floor. There was a worktable there.

               And sitting at the table was Choi. He stood out against the sea of black suited goons with his silver fur coat. Choi always had an air of intensity about him, especially when he caught you in a stare down. He was like a cobra; smooth, unpredictable, and ready to strike without warning. When Suga had first met the General, he had overseen the breaking in of the new “recruits”. And the look he gave was enough to warn the kids to beware his wrath. Choi leaned forward on his elbows; his tented, gloved fingers pressed against his lips. His crazed eyes tracked Bangtan as they sauntered into the room, stopping just before the first scaffolding so to keep some distance between the two rivals. The one holding his spy stopped behind the other two. He tsked in disappointment.

               “Nice of you boys to show up,” he greeted in his deep, gravel voice. “I appreciate that you agreed to come to our location. Times have been tough for my troops, and this makes them feel more at ease.”

               “Safe it, Choi,” Suga said, his tone even but methodical, “I don’t need you to put on this little act of yours. You’re not doing this for your guys. At least own up to the fact that you don’t want to follow the Accords.”

               Choi made an amused noise. “Ah, Agust, I have missed that lip of yours.”

               Out of the corner of Jimin’s eyes, he watched as Suga slid into Agust, a second persona Yoongi had developed in the early years before Bangtan. Suga was cold and intimidating, methodical and quiet. Agust was the opposite. He was more aggressive, ready to set the world ablaze; where Suga was the bulletproof vest, Agust was the machine gun and ready to pop off at whoever provoked him. While Suga liked to take his time, his second persona didn’t want to. The shift was subtle, but Jimin had seen the wicked smile appear across his lips as he cocked his head to the side, spilling his platinum blond hair across his eyes. Agust seemed to vibrate with mischievous energy. Jimin hadn’t seen this side of his hyung in an exceptionally long time; only people from Bangtan’s past knew of Agust or he hadn’t been pushed that far to bring out the wildcard. However, he knew Choi had a way of bringing the worst out in them. This would be interesting.

               “Oh, I missed you too, Choi. But don’t worry, my aim is much better now. Can we just do this shit? I have better things to do and you are not one of them.”

               The amused look on Choi’s face slipped. “Such disrespect for your sunbaenim. This is why I requested your leader. He seems to have taken my lessons better than you.”

               “Sorry,” Agust pouted, bringing up his hands in a mocked apology, “but my leader has better things to do than play with a flea infested bitch like you. Wait, that was an insult to dogs.”

               Jungkook was happy he had a mask on to hide his grin; he always enjoyed when Yoongi-hyung fell into Agust; it didn’t happen much these days unless he was extremely angry or overly stressed. So, this was a treat to see Agust tearing into Choi like he knew his hyung had always wanted to do when he was younger.

               Agust continued, his eyes glowing with annoyance. “Seriously, can we move this along? We have your little spy here, all safe and sound. We even fed him, which is more than you could do. Let’s do this exchange before I get more annoyed. It’s past my Maknae’s bedtime and he’s gonna be cranky later.”

               Jimin couldn’t hold back his laugh at that point. That drew Choi’s attention. A gleam appeared in Choi’s eyes that, even from that distance, Jimin didn’t like.

               “Now I wasn’t expecting to see you, Sweet One. It’s been a while since we last met. How have you been doing? Had your fix recently?”

               Jimin only glared behind his glasses, his hands clenched in a fist. He took a deep breath and tried to block him out.

               Choi stood up and moved to the front of the table. “What, nothing to say? I missed that voice of yours. So sweet and addictive. You know, sometimes I can still hear your sweet moans and gasps echoing through my memories. Begging and pleading, so needy and desperate. Makes me wish I had taken a chance with you when I had the opportunity. I can see you’re shaking from here. I have what you need, baby. I can help you feel all better. You just need to come over and ask for it. I can take good care of that itch of yours. I’d love to hear how loud your moans can get now.”

               Jimin felt something in him snap. He went to rush him, fist cocked back, ready to shut the bastard up. Suga threw out an arm in front of him before he could take a step. The look he gave Jimin told him to let him handle Choi. RM had asked Suga not to cause too much trouble. And since Agust had already made an appearance, he couldn’t risk Jimin starting something. Even if Choi deserved whatever Jimin had planned to do for bringing up such a dark part of their past. Suga’s reassuring hand gave Jimin a slight push behind him, which the younger man begrudgingly allowed.

               “Seems like you’ve become the responsible one, Agust. Perhaps you’ve gone soft on me, despite the bite. Fine, we should get down to business. But first thing is first; lets make sure that you followed the rules I sent to your leader. No weapons were to be brought with you. Chen, Yao,” he called over his shoulder, “search them.”

               The two suits stepped away from the pack and crossed over to Bangtan. Suga nodded to Jimin, who made his way to stand next to Jungkook in order to keep the spy between them as they were searched. The guards started with Jungkook, then Jimin. They searched Suga last. Both guards ran their hands through clothes, dipping into each pocket. So, of course, they found the small pocketknife Yoongi had slipped into the inner pocket of his red coat. Chen fixed the smaller male with a look, which was received with a nonchalant shrug. Chen was not amused by the gesture and grabbed him by his blond hair, yanking his head back. Agust grabbed hold of Chen’s wrist, twisting it as hard as he could before spitting in the thug’s face. Yao rose his fist to punch him, only to be stopped by Jimin, who had appeared next to him. Agust was intimidating on his own, but the look that Jimin transfixed on them was enough to send a message. Both suits backed away from the two before things got any worse.

               “Agust,” Choi remarked as his guards returned to their space, “how disappointing. Do you see, boys? They have no respect for us. They bring a weapon to a tradeoff. And when scolded for breaking the rules, he acts like a wild animal. They don’t even have the decency to dress professionally. Instead of business attire, we are presented with ripped jeans, flashy and cheap clothes-,”

               “Hey, I wore designer labels to this,” Jimin interrupted.

               “And the one in the back,” Choi continued, “look at how they teach their Maknae. Black cargo pants, hoodie, and wearing a mask and hat. Like he’s going to a club instead of meeting with his betters. Take that off and let me get a better look at you, boy! The least you can do is give me a proper greeting.”

               “Leave my Maknae alone.” Agust took a few steps forward, stepping into the primary focus. “He’s protecting himself from all the bullshit you keep spitting. You don’t need to see him for us to do this. Stop stalling. Where’s your goods? We took good care of your little rat. Now put up or shut up.”

               “You keep demonstrating how low you can be, Agust. Do you think you’ll become as successful as us acting like a classless thug?”

               Agust shrugged, tapping his long finger against his cheek. “I’m not sure about the secret to success. But I think I know the secret to failure and being an idiot. And that is to keep babbling like you. I’m really starting to lose my patients with you. Show me the fucking trade, else I’m leaving with your spy and I’ll do whatever I want to with him.”

               Choi nodded to one of his suits. They pulled out a suitcase and opened it. It was full of cash and ammunition boxes. “Satisfied with that, Agust? It’s way more than his life is worth. But recruitment has been slow recently. However, before we trade, I need an apology.”  

               “For what, your appearance? You need to take that up with your parents,” Agust sneered, causing Jimin and Jungkook to start chuckle.

               Choi slammed the case shut. “I’m over your bad attitude! You have disrespected me enough today. You show me respect, or I will demonstrate how I used to deal with you.” Choi reached around and brandished his ornate cane, smacking it against his hand. “You remember what I used to do to you. Now, apologize to me!”

               “Alright, I’m sorry. Don’t get angry. Your mom will be upset if you lose your only asset- your health,” Agust mocked with a small bow, causing Jimin and Jungkook to laugh. The shocked expression from some of the suits added fuel to the fire.

               Choi’s face took on a red shade. “Enough,” he screamed, his voice shattering against the empty walls, “You may appear brave and bold, but I know what you hide behind that smile, son!”

               Agust took another step forward, unafraid by his little outburst. “If I’m the sun,” he said, pointing out the windows at the rising light, “then you are the moon; as I rise, you go down. Though, I’m sure I’m going to be more disappointed in your tongue technology than your cohorts are with mine.” The roar of laughter from behind him only increased and sent Choi further into a rage. He lunged at Agust and swung his cane.

               Suga’s hands were almost as fast as his tongue; he grabbed hold of the cane before it could strike him. He pulled his face close to the General’s, his eyes cold and serious.

               “I am not that scared little boy you locked in the dark. I will show you that I’m the king here. I’m the boss. And you will end up just like your vile, worthless Maknae.”

               “You’ve gotten strong in my absence,” the taller man remarked as he tried to pull away from Suga’s grip. The younger held tight for a second before giving him a hard shove back towards his team. Choi took a grounding breath and ran a gloved hand through his frosted hair. “Remember Agust, our Maknae acted on his own. Against his boss’s plan. And you got your revenge on him for that. He damned himself, not his hyungs.  Don’t keep using that to fuel your hate.”

               “I have plenty without that.” Suga turned and walked back to his team. “I’m done playing with you. Slide that case over here. We’ll leave your man here as we exit out the door. And we will call this done.”

               Choi shot a dark glare at the blond’s back, before waving a dismissive hand at him, accepting that he wasn’t going to get anything he wanted from the younger man. He gave a nod to the suit holding the case, who slid the case across the floor. Jimin stopped it with his foot before picking it up. He thought it felt lighter than he expected it to, but the want to leave outweighed his curiosity; he was still pissed about what Choi had said to him. He turned his back to the room and made after Yoongi.

               Suddenly, Choi’s soft laughter filled the room. Yoongi remembered that laughter; the General had used it when he knew something they did not. Bangtan’s Second in command looked over his shoulder to see that Choi had a small remote in his hand. With a press, the double doors swung shut automatically. Panic rose within Bangtan. They were trapped! Jimin opened the case in his hands and discovered it was full of fake bills and empty ammunition boxes. Everything was a set up. Choi must have figured that they would have a surveillance too, and made it so he couldn’t communicate with V once they got to the meeting spot. Yoongi hoped that he hadn’t thought about a camera hidden within the room. Since V had been trying to tell him something before their communication was severed, he must have eyes in the room, at least enough to know he needed to get to them fast. Jungkook tightened his hold upon the spy, as if it was their only protection. He shot Suga a look. The elder shifted his eyes between both of his comrades, deep, stormy eyes narrowed in defensive thought. He had thought of this; he had many plans unraveling in his mind. Now, it was all a matter of finding the best one in order to get them out of there. The only unknown factor was Choi. Suga motioned for the two to keep calm as he turned back to the General.

               “Honestly, Agust, did you really believe it would be that simple? That I would let you come in, disrespect me and my troops, and walk out of here like you’re the one in charge? After all that you and your little boy scout brigade has done. I was hoping to send a little message when I scratched up that smiling fool of yours. And yet, your leader couldn’t grasp that and sent you right into my hands. It should had been obvious that you weren’t going to get out without a struggle. There is no Hallowed ground here. You are in my territory with a member of mine that, for what anyone would see, you have kidnapped. Therefore, I can have my fun without any fear from the Accords and their rules.”

               Jimin growled, “Since when do you care about the Accords? You already drew us here under false pretenses.”

               “They’re not entirely false. As I said, you have my recruit,” Choi remarked, his voice in a mocked tone of concern. “He was given such an easy task. And he couldn’t even do that correctly. It would see that some more training is in order.”

               Jungkook felt the kid in his grasp cringe and bury himself deeper into his hold. It was painfully clear that the kid had no choice in this life, much like most of members in the room. And from the stories he had heard from his hyungs, Jungkook was sure this kid had been treated much better in their care than anything in the Royals clutches. It wasn’t up to the Maknae, but he wondered if it was too late to try and take the kid with them.

               “As you know,” Choi continued, “recruitment has been difficult on me. And all the rookies have little to no talent when it comes to the finer arts of the trade. They would benefit from some more one on one training. How do you think we can achieve this?”

               “Well, when Ji just up and leaves like the coward he is and leaves his most useless General in charge, seems like a daunting task for you. Might as well just give up and disband,” Suga said in his methodical tone, causing Choi and the Suits to actively flinch at the mention of their leader’s real name said so offhandedly.

               “Don’t you dare say his name! I will make you regret that. And you’ll be the example for my new recruits. Like I said, my boys don’t do well with their basic training back at the compound. They need some ‘on the job’ training, some action in the field. And what better place then here. Since we are not on Hallowed Ground, we can let them play a little rough. What a splendid opportunity for all of us; they get to have a real experience and you get a few broken bones to send a message to anyone who thinks that they are above the Royals in the food chain. Do me a favor, Bangtan, and don’t give up to fast.”

               With that last smirk, Choi settled himself back against the table and snapped his fingers. Four of the Suits smirked and started to cross the room towards Bangtan. Jimin looked over at Suga. The steely member gave a sharp nod and Jimin pushed some of his honey locks out of his hair with a dark glint in his eyes. He heard Suga tell the youngest to ‘stay put’ as he set off at the advancing Suits. Out of Bangtan, Jimin was known as one of their best fighters. He had studied many different styles and always perfected his craft; from judo and taekwondo to kendo and target shooting, he was regarded amongst most gangs in Central as the most skilled. Jimin was, also, a well-versed dancer, having studied since he was a child. And that control and flexibility of his body only aided him when he decided to show off just why he was well known. As he was still seething with anger from Choi’s words, he decided to take out that frustration on whoever came near him. Jimin took off like a bullet and launched himself up to grab a high bar on the bottom side of the scaffolding. Using his momentum, he swung himself up towards the closest Suit, catching the young man off guard as Jimin wrapped his toned legs around the taller man’s neck. Before the Suit could recover from the surprise, Jimin let go of the bar and arched back into a backbend. Using his lower body strength, he pulled the victim over and down the ground with a loud thud. The shock knocked the air from the Suit and Jimin sent a sharp punch to the throat, to keep him down.

               A yell from another Suit brought Jimin’s eyes up. He got up and tackled the second. The new opponent was sturdier on his feet than the first, easily keeping himself upright and throwing Jimin back. Jimin recovered quickly; he ran to one of the supportive, vertical legs of the scaffolding, grasping hold and using it to spin himself back to the Suit, his heels colliding with the goon’s chest. The Suit stumbled back, chest heaving. Jimin didn’t give him much chance to recover; he was instantly back in his range, throwing punches and sweeping kicks towards the taller man. Being as flexible as he was, Jimin had no issues dodging and sliding under the Suit’s attempt at a comeback. While the bastard was strong and aggressive, he lacked speed and foresight. And Jimin had much of that. They had been backed further along the scaffolding towards it’s beginning, moving rhythmically around the bars and legs. The Suit had managed to grab Jimin by the collar of his studded jacket as he tried to get behind him and threw him face first into the ladder that lead to the top of the scaffolding. He clung to bar for a moment, feeling his lip start to bleed and his head ringing from the sudden impact. He could hear the asshole let out a laugh before charging at him. Just as the Suit was able to connect his jab to the back of Jimin’s head, the smaller blond side stepped him, and let the Suit’s hand make a cracking impact with the metal bars. Jimin got behind him and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, squeezing as hard as he could. The other man thrashed against his grip, but his windpipe was being crushed. The Suit slipped onto his knees as his vision started to dot. And Jimin took the opportunity to release the Suit’s throat and use his knee to hit him in the nose. Blood spattered over the dark denim as the Suit screamed in pain. He was silenced when Jimin elbowed him in the back of the head. After the man fell unconscious, Jimin ran his hands through his hair and adjusted the rose-colored glasses that had managed to stay on his face.    

               While Suga wasn’t as graceful as Jimin when it came to fighting, he was able to hold his own with the rest of them. He was scrappier, more calculative in his actions. The remaining two Suits had come at him at the same time. And just like Jimin, he used his height to his advantage, easily dodging under the sweeping arms of the two. The closest Suit had backed Suga up against one of the Roman pillars with his advancing punches, his back flushed against the cold stone. The bastard set an upper cut, which Suga caught and turned back upon its owner. He looked over the goon’s shoulder to see the second had a picked up a crowbar. Oh, fantastic.  The second Suit raised the bar and brought it down in a hard motion, only to hit his own comrade when Suga grabbed the first one and used him as a shield. The goon swung again and Yoongi moved behind the pillar just as it made contact, sending dust flying into the air. When he came back around, he caught hold of the bar with both hands and struggled to push back against the brute’s strength. The first one had recovered from the hit and caught him from behind, locking his arms around the thin gang member’s body. Suga threw his head back and knocked against the Suit but his grip only tightened. He struggled hard as the second guy advanced on him again. Thinking fast, he brought his legs up and kicked the second Suit hard in the chest, sending him to the ground. He thrashed harder against the taller man behind him. He was swung around until Suga saw the white pillar in front of him. He ran up high enough on the pillar and kicked back with all his strength, sending him and the Suit to the marble floor. The arms around his chest loosened enough to slip one out of the hold and use a reverse elbow strike to the goon’s face, hard enough to send him to the very edge of consciousness. Suga scrambled up to his feet as the second Suit barreled at him; he moved just enough to grab ahold of the Suit’s jacket and propel him into the pillar. Suga grabbed hold of the Suit’s shaved head and slammed it as hard as he could into the pillar as many times as it took until the guy slumped down, blood decorating the white stone. Taking a deep breath, he turned back towards the General, smirked before giving the Suit at his feet a good kick to the stomach.

               “That all you got, you son of a bitch?” Agust was out of breath, but still had enough snark in his voice to fill the room. “You couldn’t teach them how to fight their way out of a paper bag. I didn’t even need to bring out my tank over there,” he pointed at Jungkook, who smiled behind his mask and gave a little wave. “What were they supposed to do again? Teach me a lesson? Make me into the example to what happens when your fragile self-worth is questioned. If that’s how you teach your boys to fight, you should change your profession because your ability to make yourself look like an idiot is extraordinary. Your title should be ‘Moron Extraordinaire’ instead of ‘Washed-up Mafia Kingpin’. What you want to throw at me, now? Clearly, we can take you. And when I get out of here, you can guarantee that it’s going to be open season on you. I don’t care if your punk ass leader decides to show his fucking face. I’ll gladly spit in it and let him know how this little ‘bapsae’ took his place.”

               Choi looked down at the Suits, most of whom were still unconscious at Bangtan’s feet. His eyes flicked up to meet Suga’s cold stare. He gave a deep sigh and shrugged the fur coat from his shoulders.

               “Oh Agust, I really do wish one of my men had the foresight to break your jaw. That way I wouldn’t have to hear you anymore. I’m growing tired of this game. I would have hoped you would’ve gone down easier. It would have boosted the moral of the boys instead of their medical bill. Guess we are going to have to do this the old fashion way.”

               Choi reached behind his suit jacket and brandished a chrome revolver. Behind him, the rest of his guys pulled out theirs and pointed them at Bangtan. Jungkook’s doe eyes seemed to get bigger as he took in the site before him. Jimin looked concerned as well, but tried to keep it internalized so not to feed their egos; his eyes were darting across the room, looking for places to shield himself should shoots be fired. Suga refused to break eye contact with Choi. The older General gave at laugh at the fronted courage. He cocked the gun and raised it eye level.

               “I have wanted to do this for a long time. When I was away, I had dreams of shooting you right between those cold eyes and wiping that fucking smile off that face. I remember when my brothers and I brought you under our wing; we had high hopes for you if we could break you. But you are just as stubborn as the rest of your ragtag crew. I hope your efforts were worth it in your mind.”

               Choi’s finger moved towards the trigger. And Suga didn’t move, just stared him down. Before Choi could pull it, a loud gun shot rang out in the space! And a bullet hit Choi’s weapon and sent it ricocheting across the marble floor. Choi spun around, looking for the source of the shot. Suga let out a breath he didn’t realize he had held. Jimin rushed to his side, eyes searching for an explanation, as if Yoongi had some how done something. But the second-in-command was just as shocked; his eyes darted about the room, just as the Royals were making a commotion looking for the phantom gun.

               A deep chuckle filled the space, bouncing off the shadowed walls that made it seem like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “Stop going on about ‘effort’ and more ‘effort’,” the deep voice commanded. “It’s makes my skin crawl when you say things like that.”

               Drawn by the voice, Suga finally caught a glimpse of a black leather jacket and red pants perched atop the second scaffolding behind the Royals on the opposite wall. V was squatted on top of the platforms, gazing down upon the scene like a gargoyle, one elbow resting against his knee. The other arm was stretched out with his emerald green gun held tight in his grasp. Suga was half impressed that V had hit his intended target; the other half was annoyed he had taken that chance.

               “About time you decided to show your face,” Suga remarked. “What, did you take the scenic route?”

               “Sorry Suga-hyung,” V responded, his voice like black velvet. “They scrambled my signal so I couldn’t contact you. Not even on your phone. And, of course, I had the guys at the cars to deal with. By the way,” he moved his steely eyes to Choi, “your henchmen weren’t a fan of my ‘Vante’ mark on your tacky car. So I left them giftwrapped in the trunk. They didn’t play nice so they’re a bit bruised. Hope that’s ok.”

               V brought his hand up to flash his signature ‘V’ sign and winked at Choi. The General just stared back at him, his gaze disbelieving and furious. Then, he turned to his Suits.

               “Unbelievable,” he said, the hand V had shot the gun out of balling into a shaky fist, “the empire I helped create is being spit upon. And its members are just letting this bunch of misfits walk all over them. This isn’t even all of them! You are supposed to be the most feared, strong, aggressive men of the Mafia families. But you let a pretty boy, a shadow, a whore, and a foul-mouthed baepsae fuck you over time and time again?! I should just shoot you all myself for being so useless! Do you know what’s going to happen if you continue to let the Royal’s name drag in the filth of these fuckers?! I will make sure every single one of you begs for death before I’m finished! Is that what you want? Or are you going to do something about it?!”

               “Whoa, watch that temper, Big Boss,” V said, while smacking on a piece of gum. “Your face is turning a bright shade of red. It’s clashing with your suit. Not a good look for someone of your age.”

               Choi had had enough; he gave a sharp order to Chen who whipped out his revolver from a hidden hoister. He raised it at rapid speed and took aim at V. But while Chen was fast, someone was faster. A loud shot sounded from behind them, and the bullet cut across the captain’s arm. His arm spasmed at the contact and dropped his gun before he could even move to the trigger. Choi whirled around, eyes wild and enraged. Behind Suga and Jimin, both of whom were wearing a smug smile, was the shadow who Choi had dismissed, still holding their hostage in front of him. Jungkook had his arm balanced against the hostage’s shoulder, with his metallic purple handgun on full display. Even with his face hidden behind a mask, all could tell he had a triumphant grin spread across his lips.

               Choi grabbed his captain by the arms, uncaring of the bleeding wound his hands covered. “I told you to search them for weapons! Can you not do one thing I ask?!

               “I did, Boss! I swear,” Chen cried as Choi fingers dug further into his gunshot wound.

               It was Suga’s turn to let out a bemused noise, letting his head loll to one side. His hands came to rest on his hips, and he clicked his tongue in a disappointed fashion. “Oh Choi, you think you’re the smartest person in the room. You think you’re the only one with secrets. See, we’re not as naïve as you like to believe. We have the genius leader after all. We planned for every eventuality you could think of. You’re not as slick as you boost yourself up to be. But we played our part well to make you believe that, didn’t we? Since your boys lack the brains to think of creative methods beyond your orders, I’ll let you in on my little secret. Your boys did search us – they didn’t check your little rat.”

               As quick as he brandished his own piece, Jungkook pulled Jimin’s and Suga’s weapon from under the rat’s oversized sweatshirt and tossed it to them. Jimin’s was a polished gold, while Suga’s was a studded black gun. Both caught their respective piece as if they had rehearsed the moment. Now, they had four barrels pointed at the Royals. Bangtan was outgunned, but they were widely known for their accuracy and body count. That reputation alone was enough to worry the newer Suits. Suga’s cold stare drilled into the General as he held is gun steady.

               “Even after all your shit, Choi, I’ll let you decide how we do this; either let us walk out like nothing happened or we start shooting. You’re already down a few men,” Suga said, motioning to the four men still on the ground from their earlier rumble, either still unconscious or too scared to sit up. “Do you really want to risk losing more? After all this, I can’t guarantee that we won’t hit anything vital like with Chen there. So what’s it gonna be, Jackass?”

               Choi stared at the younger man; his face was blank and unreadable. Suga wondered if he was going to have to repeat himself, or if they could use that silence to back away before anything happened. But then, a crazed look appeared in the General’s eyes and a wicked smirk cracked his face. He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders before taking a step back behind his Suits.

               Then, he snapped his fingers.

               The Royals opened fire with an onslaught of bullets. Bangtan scattered behind whatever cover was closest. Jungkook pulled his hostage behind a large crate and shoved him to the ground, ordering the kid to  ‘stay down and don’t move if you want to live to see adulthood’; he had protected the kid so far, he wasn’t gonna let him get shot for a stupid reason. The poor kid was too scared to do anything but shake and do as he was ordered. Jungkook leaned around the box and fired a few shots to try and cover for V. The gray-haired boy was running across the scaffolding, yelling out ‘one shot- two shots’ as he fired down into the Suits. He vaulted from edge of the platform and scampered behind one of the pillars where Jimin had shielded himself with. The smaller Bangtan member was an impressive shot and was managing to keep the Suits from advancing upon him. Suga was across from them, behind another pillar. From his position, it was difficult to get a clear shot at anyone and he was pinned down behind it. There was a crate a few feet from him that would give him a better vantage point to lay out the Royals. It would be a bonus if he would break down the human shield Choi had surrounded himself with, and stain that blue suit of his. Running away from the pillar into the sea of smoke and ammunition, he rapid-fired at the Suits, hearing at least one of the Suits call that he had been hit. Jimin and V were moving to a new cover, alternating cover shots over each other’s shoulders. Suga knew they needed to get out of there; no matter how good of a shot they were, they would run of bullets before the Royals would. He needed a plan, and fast. He looked behind him at the door Choi had rigged; there was a red light from the mechanical device that had shot and locked the door. The lobby had some decorative things that they could use to bar the door once he could destroy the mechanism. There were the emergency stairs just behind the Royals that they could use if they could keep their distance. Or both to split up the group.

               Behind him, Jungkook had slid a new round of ammunition into his gun that V had slid to him. He had moved from the very back of the room closer to the rest of his team. One of the Suits came running at him from along the side of the room. He easily showed him why they referred to him as Bangtan’s tank; he blocked the Suit’s punch before pistol whipping him, sending two strong jabs at his gut, and a final uppercut that sent the suit falling backward and his gun flying from his hand. Jungkook easily caught it in his empty hand and sent double the shots at the rest of the Royals. He ducked behind another set of boxes and looked to Suga.

               Three more Suits had been hit and were scrambling for cover. Those still shooting had changed weapons and released a new spray of bullets that pinned Bangtan where they were. Choi stood in the middle of it, almost as if he were a statue, with a confident grin still on his lips. He gave an order for the Suits to advance. Suga knew they needed to get out now. He rose up and fired, hitting two Suits and bringing them down. He gave a signal to Jungkook to come to him. The Maknae rushed over, both guns firing and keeping the Royals ducking for cover. Suga looked over his shoulder at the other two and called out. He gave a pointed look to the door and V followed his gaze. They had all worked together long enough to not need much to understand what the other needed to say. V looked back and nodded, knowing Suga meant for them to leave that way on his signal. Jungkook laid down some cover as the blond turned from the battle and fired four shots at the mechanism, destroying it. He turned back to see Choi look stunned at his actions, before ordering his men on.

               Suga grabbed Jungkook and leaned close. “Get to the back stairs. I’ll cover you and be right behind you.” He looked behind and called out to Jimin and V, “Get to the car! If we’re not there, just drive. We’ll meet up at the safe zone!”

               V and Jimin nodded and took off towards the double doors, Jimin kicking them wide open before V turned and slammed them shut behind them. Choi yelled out for a few men to follow them. Three of the men who had lost in their hand-to-hand battle with Bangtan, jumped up from their positions on the floor and ran towards the closed doors. They pushed against it but it was wedged closed. The blond smiled, knowing V had thought of the same things he had about securing the door to help give them time to get away. It held just long enough for the two to escape the lobby. Suga gave Jungkook a shove and the young man took off around the outskirts of the room towards the emergency door in the back of the room. Shots continued to whiz by him as he ducked and weaved between pillars and boxes, having a few close calls as he neared the back end of the room. Suga trailed behind him, pausing at each cover to fire back at the Royals. He managed to bring down two more of the Royals before he ran out of bullets. Jungkook finished the clip in the stolen gun and threw it, hard, at an advancing Suit, nailing him in the side of the head. Chen, still bleeding from his arm but determined to win favor from Choi again, had seen where Jungkook and Suga were heading and stood in front of the door. Jungkook ran at the captain and got locked in a hand-to-hand fight. Chen was one of the few present to offer a challenge to the Maknae, even injured. Chen grabbed one of Jungkook’s fists, as he went in for a cross jab, and twisted the young man’s arm behind him. Jungkook twisted, trying to get his arm free, but Chen held tight. So, he shoved them both backwards until the captain’s back slammed against the wall, throwing his head back to crack against the taller man. Chen let go, and the two were back to exchanging punches, jabs, and dodges.

               Suga was almost to Jungkook when, from the corner of his eyes, he saw Choi moving towards one of his new recruits, one who was a terrible shot. The General snatched his gun from the Suit’s hand and rose it. And it was aimed at Jungkook in a fatal angle. The Maknae was trapped with Chen and couldn’t see what Choi had planned. Suga cursed and ran. Everything happened too fast.

               Jungkook had landed a sharp punch to Chen’s face, causing the captain to stumble back stunned.

               Choi fired the weapon with a clear target.

               Jungkook noticed Choi, as Suga shoved him out of the way.

[official-weasley]

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: curse words

Chapter 13

Charlie

The next day Bill and I visited the twins' shop. I don't think I have ever been so proud in my entire life. It was amazing and I just couldn't stop walking around. They were brilliant and I hope mum comes around and visits their shop. I know they left school early but this was their dream and their shop was packed with customers!

There were wizards and witches of all ages. I thought it would mostly be children and teenagers but I was wrong. An old woman was shopping for her grandchildren. There was a man who wanted to get back at his wife for making a potion that turned his hair yellow and he had to go to work like that for 3 days.

Nothing warmed my heart more than seeing my brothers so happy. They were so educated about every single thing in the shop. Girls were giggling around something that looked like Amortentia potions and three boys were fighting about who will get the last punching telescope. It was amazing!

I found Bill just in time as Fred and George almost convinced him to buy a box of Canary Cream and gift it to Fleur. I stopped him right when he was about to give them the money and scolded him that he should know our brothers better by now.

We couldn't stay for long as Bill had to return to work so we hugged the twins and wished them all the best and promised that we would convince mum to visit their shop. I accompanied Bill to work and he gave me a big box before we said goodbye. I knew it contained all his letters.

“I saw how you were eyeing them.” He said, handing me the box. “You don’t have to read them but since they were meant for you, you can if you want to.”

We talked well into the night the previous day and I know there wasn’t enough time for him to tell me everything that has been going on in his life in the past 2 years. I know it would hurt reading them, but I also know it was something that I simply have to do to move on.

He kept telling me that it wasn’t that bad and that he is over it. I believed him about the latter, not for the former though and I have to know how he felt. I have to know how much I hurt him if I want to forgive myself. These letters will be a reminder of what I did and how much I hurt my brother.

—

I got home in the afternoon and since I go back to work tomorrow, I decided that it would be best if I just go through the letters now to get them over with. I sat down on the sofa and put the box on the table before me. I opened it and took a deep breath.

This is going to be painful, isn't it?

The letters were folded from the first one he wrote to the last one. I took the first envelope and tore it open. I inhaled sharply and unfolded the parchment.

Charlie,

I know you’ll be mad. But I didn’t do it yet. I promise I’ll ask her out tomorrow.

Don’t be too disappointed!

Love, Bill

I clenched my jaw together. Can I even do this? I barely began and I already felt like having a heart attack.

I put the letter down next to me and grabbed the next envelope.

Rhylee told me what happened between you two. I don’t know what to say. I just sent out a letter to you, pretending everything is fine. When are you planning on telling me this?

I really wish it was you and not her that told me.

Bill

Me too, Bill. Me too. If I could change one thing it would be this. I would tell him immediately.

It’s been a few months and you keep answering my letters as if everything’s okay. I stopped sending them every week like I used to, to see if you would get the hint. Why do you keep pretending?

It hurts that your own brother can’t face you.

I thought you were my best friend, Charles.

Bill

Betrayed. That’s how he felt. There were no letters about him being mad. About him hating me for what I’ve done. He was just disappointed that I didn’t tell him. That I didn’t own up to my mistake.

Yesterday was 2 months since I haven’t written you a letter.

It’s funny to think that I am over Rhylee but still not talking to you. One might think it’s strange that I wasn’t as bothered about what happened between you two as I am that you can’t fucking own up to what you did, Charlie!

I can’t pretend anymore. I’m sorry. Two months without any correspondence and it seems you don’t even care.

That’s what hurts.

Bill

And to think I did this for two years. I tortured him for 2 years. He was probably waiting for my letter just as I was waiting for his.

I hate how much I miss you, Charles. I miss my best friend. There is so much that’s happening and I can’t share any of it with you because you’re an arse.

I feel like things will never go back to normal. What if you decide to never speak to me again?

I considered telling mum but bit my tongue at the last minute. I didn’t want to tell her what a git her second-born is.

I wrote you another letter, telling you how much I miss you but I burned it the second I put down the quill. I won’t give you the satisfaction.

Bill

I put down the letter and stood up. I went to the bathroom and splashed my face with cold water. This was too overwhelming. It hurt so much but I know I deserve it. This was my punch in the face. This was my broken nose. I have to get through it.

At least 20 more letters were talking about how disappointed he was, how much he missed me and how he can’t understand why I didn’t come and talk to him. He knew that when he stopped talking to me I had to know on some level that he knew about me and Rhylee and he just couldn’t get around to why I would damage our relationship so much.

To be honest, I didn’t have an answer for him. I was foolish enough to think that with time the guilt would go away. I know how terrible that sounds. I know what I did and what I was doing to him was torture and I can’t believe I put him through it. I can’t believe I waited that long. Seriously, what was I thinking? What did I think I would gain from it?

I decided that I am done pitying myself. I also came to the conclusion that you are completely lost. I don’t know what is happening with you and I hate to admit that I am worried about you.

I would love to say that you have forgotten about what you did but I know you too well. I know you are beating your head around it. I know your mind is in an endless loop and you can’t get out.

What I don’t understand is why you are doing it? Are you afraid to face me? Do you think I won’t forgive you?

At this point, I don’t even care. I just want my brother back even if you are a git!

Bill

He just wanted me back in his life and I continued to be an arse for another year and a half. Great!

I met a girl today. She is so beautiful, Charlie.

It pains me that I can’t send you this letter. I want to tell you all about her. I will ask her out tomorrow. I know how it sounds...

I needed 3 years to ask out Rhylee but with her, it seems different.

I don’t know if you care but her name is Fleur and she is kind and loving and has the prettiest smile.

Bill

I do care, Bill. Damn, did I care! All I was thinking about was him, I just wasn’t brave enough to tell him that.

I can’t believe it’s been more than a year and a half since we last saw each other. I don’t even remember when was the last time I sent you a letter.

Rhylee arrived in the Sanctuary a few days ago. How did that make you feel? Did you remember her? Did the guilt come back?

She was really excited to work there and I don’t think it was just because of the dragons…

Bill

Did the guilt come back, he asked. It never left me. Not for one day. Even now I have to remind myself that Bill forgave me and I don’t have to feel like a piece of shit anymore. It was hard reading through these letters.

I didn’t even want to think about what he meant when he wrote that Rhylee wasn’t just excited about the dragons. She was surprised to see me when she came to work here and I know she forgot that I existed. If she would be excited to see me, she wouldn’t start dating Nick before getting here, would she?

I asked Fleur out and she said yes!

She was as excited about going on a date as I was. I couldn’t believe it! I feel like the happiest man alive.

Bill

And you should, Bill. You deserve to be happy.

This is going to be my and Fleur’s second date. I am planning on kissing her today. I wanted to do it the other day but I also want to take it slow.

It has been great. She is so amazing I don’t even know where to begin to describe how happy she makes me.

I can’t stop smiling at work!

Bill

I can’t believe I missed these moments. I know he was happy and he was having a great time and unlike me, he put everything behind him. But damn it, I should’ve been there to cheer him on. To tell him he deserves it and that I am happy for him.

I asked Fleur to be my girlfriend. If you knew the whole story you wouldn’t be surprised that she said yes.

I want to hate you that you aren’t here for such big moments of my life, but I can’t. I just wish you would come around, Charles. What in the bloody hell is going through your head?

I almost took a day off a week ago and came to see you but stopped myself. Mum is worried sick, thinking you are working yourself so hard. I know you are avoiding the whole family, scared that I would be there. Very brave of you, Charles.

They are all wondering what is going on with you and they miss you.

It hurt, you know, when I heard that you write back to all of them but I didn’t receive a single letter from you in such a long time.

I just want my brother back and I wish you could see that.

Bill

I wished that I could see it sooner. I know that I hurt my entire family by keeping a distance but I thought I was doing them a favor.

Mum told me you came home for Easter. How bold of you to do that when I wasn’t there.

I want to be hopeful, Charlie. I really do. You have taken this to the point I didn’t think imaginable. Why are you doing this? To me? To our family? To yourself?

Is it really that hard? Can’t you forgive yourself?

I’m starting to think something else is wrong but I can’t bring myself to write to you. I want you to figure this out on your own. You are old enough, you should know what you’re doing.

I don’t know if you know that Rhylee and I are still friends. The other day she was in London and she came to see me and I wanted to ask her about you but couldn’t.

I was angry at myself for it but I am just so mad at you for not coming to talk to me.

At the same time, I keep thinking that you are all alone in this. I know that you are not big on sharing your worries with others. You had me for that. Who do you have now, Charlie?

Do you talk to anyone? Do you let out your frustrations? Did you tell anyone about what is eating you alive?

I hope you did. I wasn’t happy when I found out about you and Rhylee but would it be strange if I said that I understand? I don’t want you to beat yourself over one night of your life, Charlie.

Just come and talk to me, please.

Bill

I put the letter down and buried my face in my hands. I couldn’t help it. I had to let it all out. I felt like I could never stop crying. I was the luckiest man in the world to have a brother like him. I knew it was difficult for him not to come and visit me, not to talk to me but he was trying to teach me a lesson and he knew he had to endure it for my sake.

He was concerned the entire time. He hoped I didn’t destroy myself over what happened. He hoped I had someone to talk to about it.

Of course, I didn’t. I didn’t have him. But now I do. I feel better. I feel liberated.

I folded all the letters and put them back in the box. I decided to bury them deep in the back of my closet. I thought about burning them but I needed them just close enough to remind me of my values and how much I messed up not by sleeping with Rhylee but by not telling Bill about it.

It was time to move on.

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Breaking the Shell (Lucifer Morningstar)

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Words: 1.6k Warning(s): ANGST, blood/wound mention A/N: FINALLy I had enough inspiration to get this one done. I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you guys enjoyed reading. Also I love using gifs lol Request: Hey if you take requests may I ask for a Lucifer x reader where she is so hardened and cold towards everyone so he acts the same way to her until she gets hurt on a case and he panics (you can end it however)

----

A hard shell.

That is what you formed around your heart for protection. Too many people in your life had betrayed you, or hurt you in some form. So when you made the decision to move to L.A., you didn't want to feel that same mental and emotional hurt again.

You worked as a detective at the LAPD, often working alongside with Detective Chloe Decker and her civilian consultant Lucifer Morningstar.

You had no qualms with Chloe. She was good at her job, thought outside the box, stood her ground with what really happened with Malcolm, and she had a good set of morals on her. You respected her and held her in high regards.

Her partner Lucifer on the other hand was a different story. He was a goofy, sarcastic, pain in the ass unprofessional, mess of a person. Although past all of those traits, you can tell he wants to do good, whether he wants to admit it or not. He was like that with everyone else. After a while of starting working here, you noticed he seemed to be matching your "cold" exterior you give to everyone else.

Good, You like to say to yourself whenever it crossed your mind. Less chances for you to get hurt in any situation. Although, you wouldn't admit it but you did have a slight soft spot for him (and Ella, but she is a different case). You admired the good he did, admired is acts of self-sacrifice, and sometimes his occasional quips at Dan made you chuckle. He had a mask on, like you did, but his was much different. Lucifer wore a mask of a suave and care-free, when in reality he held something deep and dark in his heart...

---

It was another day, another case. You were teamed up with Chloe and Lucifer with your partner Dan. The four of you were in some huge, fancy house, looking for the wife and butler of a murdered millionaire. Lucifer pieced together that the wife and butler were the true killers, and they tried framing the gardeners.

The place was surrounded by cops, but the four of you went in alone. Chloe and Dan took one side of the house while you and Lucifer took the other. It wasn't ideal but if he kept his mouth shut-

"So do you always have a stick up your bum?" He quipped your way.

"Are you always this insufferable?" You snapped back, keeping your attention focused on looking for the suspects.

"I find it funny how you keep such a cold exterior to anyone who tries to talk to you."

"I find it funny how you are trying to play therapist right now while we are searching for two murders, Lucifer." You could tell he was trying to mimic your snappy mechanism to keep people away while simultaneously trying to break your wall.

"I just want to know, Darling. You seem lonely."

"Just because I keep to myself and I like being alone doesn't mean I am lonely." You were really starting to get irritated. Although you did slightly lie there... it does get lonely at times.

"Oh did I catch a lie there, (Y/N)? I am the the devil after all, I can detect lies."

"Uh huh and I am the Easter Bunny." You snort.

"If you just step out of that shell of yours you wouldn't be lonely."

"Maybe I have reasons to be alone." You sighed, realizing that opens the door for more conversation about you.

"What reasons could that be?" You didn't respond to his question. "Oh don't shut me out now, we were getting somewhere."

"We weren't. Now drop it." You moved into the master bedroom, which was huge. You stood in the middle of the room and did a general sweep at first. You could feel Lucifer glaring at you, probably attempting to burn holes in the back of your head.

"Why do you keep to yourself, (Y/N)?" He asked you again. You ignored him and kept looking around the room. You had your gun at the ready while you looked under the king sized bed; nothing. You got up from the floor and jumped slightly when you saw Lucifer standing right next to you. He repeated his question. You ignored. He repeated the question yet again and you ignored yet. He repeated-

"I lost a lot of people close to me and I don't want to keep losing them!" You finally shouted at him, your breathing ragged. "I can't- I can't deal with it so I act cold. I act mean. I do want friends but I just can't do it."

"(Y/N)..." He mumbled your name softly. You would of broke down there if you hadn't heard a creak come from the closet. You bit your lip and pushed back all the emotions you were feeling. You walked towards the closet carefully, your weapon at the ready.

You barely make to the door when a burning pain hit you in the abdomen. You noticed the door had a hole through it before you knees buckled from the pain. Another shot rang out and you were hit again, right in the shoulder. You finally fell onto your back, a sob passed through your lips.

"(Y/N)!" Lucifer rushed to your sign, his eyes wide and his expression worried.

"Lucifer..." You cried, blood coating your hands as you tried to put pressure on your wounds. The door swung open and out came the two suspects. They both had guns pointed at Lucifer.

"Y-You are going to let us go and we won't kill you." The butler threatened, but his shaking voice made him seem less threatening.

"You stupid humans." Lucifer seethed, and you could of swore that you saw his eyes glow red. He turned from you and in an instant the man was disarmed and thrown against a wall. The butler slumped down, knocked out. He then turned to the woman and did the same, she let out scream before it was her turned to be tossed.

"Lucifer-" You called to him again which he was at your side once more. He peeled off his suit jacket and placed it over your abdomen wound. "Please... Please don't let me die alone." You hiccuped and winced from the pain.

"I'm right here, darling. I am not going anywhere." He tried to stay calm for your sake but the panic was starting to consume. His breathing was erratic as he stared down at your bloody, sobbing form. You were just starting to open up to him, even if he made you do it with a bit of annoyance, but you let down some of your wall. Now you were wounded, bleeding out right in front of him. "You aren't alone, (Y/N)."

"I'm sorry, Lucifer."

"Why are you sorry, (Y/N)?"

"For being so-so cold towards you. I actually do like you but I just-" You sucked in a deep gulp of air. It started feeling hard to get air.

"No, don't be. I quite like you too, I just didn't understand." He smiled sadly, tears started building up in his deep eyes. Lucifer continued to talk to you, even when paramedics came in to help you out. He followed them to the ambulance and rode with you to the hospital, he promised he wouldn't leave you alone for awhile.

-------

Lucifer and you grew close after that, extremely close. You were almost fully healed up and you were hanging out with Lucifer in his penthouse while off duty. You learned that he truly was the actual, biblical Lucifer and he confirmed you did see his eyes flash red. In turn he learned about the people who betrayed you, the exes that cheated on you, and the people you were close with passing away. He vowed that if he ever came across those who wronged you he would indeed enact some sort of punishment.

You were laying on his couch while he played random songs on his piano. You had the sudden urge to stand up and join him at his piano. You leaned against the instrument and watched with curiosity as his hands moved up and down the white and black keys: you recognized this piece as one of Beethoven's sonatas. He played the last measure of the piece and then looked to you.

"Yes, darling?"

"Oh I was just watching you." You smiled.

"How are your wounds?"

"They are a bit sore but the stitches have pretty much dissolved completely."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Lucifer." You watched as he stood up from his piano bench and placed himself in front of you.

"We didn't start off on the right foot and it took you almost dying for both of us to get to know each other." You picked up on how glassy his eyes were starting to look. "You are a stellar human, one I have grown to... to love." His voice got softer towards the end.

"Oh, Lucifer." You smiled fondly. "I feel the same way."

Lucifer beamed and leaned forwards, planting such a soft and gently kiss on your lips. His hands pulled you lose to his body and you wrapped your arms tightly around his frame.

You were so happy to have let down those walls for the Devil.

"I will always be with you, (Y/N)."

[wild3flow3r]

Santa Baby // HS

Hey everyone! It’s been a long time since I posted some writing, but this season I was a part of @goldenbluesuit​ Christmas Song Fic Challenge! It was so much fun and I want to give her a huge thanks for allowing me to participate! Make sure to read all of the other fics in this challenge that have been posted + will be posted in the upcoming days. Without further ado, here’s my piece!

word count: 1.4k

cw: none! just tried to make something sweet :)

In my twenty-five years of life, I never, not once, imagined myself falling into bed with a mall Santa. Let alone one I detested with every fiber of my being. But alas, it was Christmas Eve and even stranger things have happened during the holidays. But honestly, this probably isn’t the strangest thing to have ever happened. This cannot be the first time a mall Santa and his most trusted elf have found themselves in this most uncompromising of positions in the Elf’s flat just a quick cab ride away from Santa’s village.

His lips brush over my jawline before moving down to my neck, his teeth catching on some skin. I feel his hands trying to undo all the knots on the front of my shift. At one point he just starts pulling at them in aggravation, a low groan falling past his lips and onto my skin. I can’t help but laugh, which only earns me a hard squeeze on both sides of my hips.

“You’re being rude,” he mutters. Again I laugh.

“I quite vividly remember somebody stealing my lunch out of the fridge today. Now that was rude.”

He lifts his head up so his green eyes can gaze into mine. The shade of them is darker. If it’s from the lack of light, or from annoyance at me and my dress, or just because of what I feel poking against my thigh under his red trousers, I’m not sure.

“Mabel,” he groans. I am very much dancing on his last nerve now.

“Harry,” I sing-song back. “You should be better at those knots by now, honestly. We’ve been going at this for weeks. You’ve had practice.”

“You mess them up like this on purpose. I know it.”

I met Harry Styles one day in the middle of November when Santa’s village opened for business at our city mall. Originally, he was supposed to be an elf just like me. But then the Santa the mall had hired had fallen ill, and Harry was asked to step up in replacement. He very much did not look like Santa, even with the beard and glasses he was forced to wear, but the children, and their parents, loved him so much, for reasons I could never comprehend, even with being with him as I am now. And because he was such a hit, the mall asked him to step in as Santa permanently.

Even from the first moment I met him, I knew no good would come of him. First off, green eyes were my weakness. But then he opened up that big dumb mouth of his and made fun of my (handmade but mall approved) elf costume. Well, now that costume was making fun of him.

“This feels like something that could end you up on the naughty list.”

With a big roll of my eyes, I kick the elf boots off my feet, hearing the bells on them jingle when they hit the ground.

Another check off on why I found him so detestable. He took his job way too seriously. And not as in he actually thought of himself as Santa, but more the power dynamic between Santa and his elf. Often times I was the punchline to a joke he was making to a child and their parent. All harmless, of course, but they wound their ways under my skin until I was ready to burst with annoyance. And the constant references on finding myself on the naughty list, if I hadn’t found myself in bed with him nearly every night since the day we met, I would show him what would actually get me on the naughty list. Also, he likes to steal my lunches, a big fault in his personality.

I hadn’t meant to start sleeping with him. We were five days into our working relationship when it happened. He often liked to turn everything into a game. The staring contest was our most popular, but there was also the quiet game, and sometimes even a race on who could get to the cab first. He loves a competition. I, on the other hand, find them rather aggravating, but that’s probably because I usually lose. But I don’t know. One second we were in the breakroom by ourselves having a tough match at the staring contest, and the next his lips were on mine. It was like all this tension I’d been feeling for him was slowly being released. And that night, with one of his arms wrapped around my shoulder as we both laid on our backs, his breath slow and steady with sleep, it was the calmest I’ve felt in a long time. I wanted to do it again, and I guess so did he. So unless one of us really has plans that they cannot cancel, we find ourselves most nights after work at one of our homes. Usually mine, since Harry has a nosey roommate.

“Oh poor me, I’m so worried.”

“Just help me get it off.” His pout is almost adorable. Focus, Mabel.

“Stop eating my lunches. I don’t make them for you.”

“So you did tangle them on purpose!”

I shrug, a smirk playing across my lips. “Someone needs to teach you a lesson. Only good boys get what they ask for.”

He nuzzles his head back against my shoulder, his teeth nipping at my earlobe. “I promise to stop,” he whispers. The smile on his lips gives away his lie.

I hum in response. I push at his shoulders until finally he releases me and falls against the mattress on his back. His fingers brush against the back of my hand before I stand up and head over to the mirror. A knot like this would confuse Harry, but I know the ins and outs of it. It only takes me a few moments to get it free, but Harry still found himself bored waiting. I hear him fiddling around with the radio on my nightstand, landing on a station playing a Christmas Hits countdown. The first few cords of Santa Baby play through the speakers. Kylie Minogue starts to sing just as I turn to face him again.

His eyes grow wide as a shed the dress off my body, now only wearing pale green leggings. No matter how many times he’s seen me naked, he always makes it feel like the first. New. Exciting. Sexy.

He’s been sans his shirt and red coat for a while now, but his red trousers stand at my attention. One moment he’s on the bed, staring, and the next he’s on my like a lion on their prey. He throws me back on the bed before covering my body once more. Now his head travels down from my neck to my chest to my navel, humming along to the song the entire time.

“Been an awful good girl,” he mutters along with Kylie while peppering kisses against my hips as he peels the leggings off.

My fingers brush through his curls. I tug at them lightly before he moves any further down. He looks up at my with a question on his face.

“What’s going to happen after Christmas?” I whisper.

It’s been on my mind this last week. After tomorrow we would no longer be working together. We would no longer be seeing each other. I loate this man in front of me. But also, my heart has grown quite fond of him. And he’s really good with what he does in bed. Like really good. And sometimes he’s funny. Alright, a lot of the time he’s funny. And he really is kind, when he’s not trying to get a rise out of me. But we’d never put a label on this when we first started sleeping together. I don’t know what we are now. I don’t know what we will be. But I’d like to know now, to protect my heart if he decides to leave my life for good in two days.

He comes up again, pressing soft kisses against my lips until I’m smiling. “You don’t think you can get rid of my that easily, do you?”

“We never talked about-”

“I know. “But I’m not going to disappear after tomorrow. You’re too much fun to annoy to do that.”

“Oh shut it,” I mutter.

“With pleasure,” he grins before moving back south.

I don’t know what December 26th will bring, to see whether or not Harry and I have been living in a Christmas induced bubble. I don’t know if we’ll make it to the New Year. Maybe we could make it to Easter. But all I know for certain is right now, with Harry between my legs going as slow and tortuous as he can, and Kylie Minogue asking Santa to hurry down the chimney tonight. Kylie knew what she was talking about.

[suchalonelysunflower]

Strings Attached (m.c)

Pairing: Michael Clifford X Reader

Summary: It’s been four months since your break up with Michael, but you still have to give him one last birthday gift. ~ A small piece for @devilatmydoor and @blackbutterfliescal Michael’s birthday celebration ❤️🦋

Warnings: Soft Angst, language, overthinking, some bad grammar probably (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 1.9 k

Author’s note: Well hello there 👀 I have been struggling to find a promt for this Michael fic but I think I got it right this time ✌🏼 This is a genderless fic and I hope you can all enjoy it ✨ Reblogs, likes and comments/feedbacks are always welcome and encouraged! I love to hear about you guys ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy reading 🦋

My materialist and other Michael fics if you wanna be tag in future pieces please let me know!

Picture from Pinterest

You have to stop staring. It’s been half an hour already, probably even more. It’s almost pathetic, but you had to make a choice and it’s a matter of now or never. Though, you had to admit that the “never” option sounds really good at the moment.

You groan as you run your hand through your hair and turn around, away from the object that had you in this horrible dilema.

You have to give it to him, you have to. It’s his, after all. You bought it for him but how the hell could you know what would have happened just a few days later?

The fight started like any other, the usual ones you used to have whenever he came late from the studio or forgot an important date. Although this time you can’t really seem to remember the reason you both lit the match that ended up burning your little world. All you can remember is walking away and slamming the door on your way out. And just like that, it was over.

Almost three years of relationship thrown away by some harsh words and invalidated feelings. At least you could say it was mutual, you needed to get away and he didn’t stop you. Would you have stayed if he did? You knew the answer was yes.

The first few days after the break up were filled with angry emotions and bad coping mechanisms, yet once it all became real you realized the mistake that you both made. You were burned out, stressed and too tired and angry to have a normal conversation, and, suddenly without realizing, the spark became a fire and it was too late to salvage anything. The damage was done and you regret every single word as you saw the ashes fall once it was over.

You can’t deny the disappointment of him not calling, but, to be fair, you haven’t called either. You two can be very stubborn, you are alike that way. The thought of “maybe this was for the best” came as it went. How can this be for the best when you are still in love with him?

You miss him, with every beat of your heart you miss him and long for him and his touch. Not even when he went away for months on ends you missed him this much. Of course, whenever he had to leave you were reassured of his love for you. You were his and he was yours. No doubts, no walking away. And yet, you did.

The guilt of it all consumed you. And maybe, just maybe, this object could be the chance you needed to fix everything you once had.

“Oh, fuck it” You said in a sigh.

You grabbed the heavy object and walked up to your car, placing it carefully on the back seat, stopping only to take a look at yourself on the reflection of the window. You were set on what you were going to do, yet you still failed to hide the fear in your eyes.

What if he started over? What if you don’t have a place in his heart anymore? Maybe he doesn't even miss you as much as you do. Maybe he doesn’t miss you at all and you will just ruin everything for him today. Could he still love you still?

Shaking those thoughts away, you open the driver’s door and start your way towards the house you once (and still hope to) call home. There was no time to back up now. You had to do this, if not to fix it then to find some closure to all of this mess.

The music on the radio served as background noise to the thousand scenarios you created in your head, not all of them with a happy ending; but you still stayed hopeful, you had to be.

Your heart skipped a beat as you pulled on the too familiar driveway, the feeling of being so close and yet so far made your stomach rumble with anxiety. But you felt an odd sense of calm as you stepped out of your car, almost like coming back home after so long of being lost by your own mistakes and missteps.

You rehearsed the words you wanted to say to him in your head without realizing that your hand acted on its own and already knocked on the door, so once you saw him open the door and stand in front of you, you were a loss of words.

“Michael…” You breathed, the shock of seeing him became too much.

He was standing there, his hair was longer and a bit unkempt. His scruffy beard framed his face and made him look more mature, you always loved his beard and how it tickled every time he kissed your cheek. You almost smiled at that thought before you remember why you were there “Hi”

“Hi,” Michael said softly, almost like a whisper. The surprise was evident in his eyes as he looked you up and down. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you lowered your gaze and noticed that he was still wearing the hoodie you gifted him a few years back “Wh- what are you doing here?”

You winced at the sound of his voice, it did not sound like him at all. The Michael you knew was always loud when in public, his bubbly laugh filling any silence there was and, when in private, his voice would always be soft, loving and calming. That was the Michael you knew, not this timid and broken man that was standing in front of you.

“I-” You started, but soon had to clear your throat as your voice sounded as weak and scared as you felt “Happy Birthday, Mikey” You offered instead.

Michael’s green eyes soften at the words. He hasn’t heard from you in months, yet he somehow knew, hoped even, that you wouldn’t forget him today “Thank you” He murmured, gaze gracing the floor.

You wanted nothing more than to hug him and hold him tight, you had to physically fight every urge in you to do so.

“I have something for you” You said with a more uplifting tone, trying to comfort him this way.

“Babe-” He said before realizing “Sorry. You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to” You rushed before you dwell on the way he called you, feeling your heart grow with love “I mean, I already had it and I’m not really sure what to do with it since it’s yours and well, I can’t really use it and I really want you to have it so you-” You sighed. You were rambling and it didn’t make any sense right now “Just… It’s in the car. Michael, please?” You pleaded.

He sighed as he nodded his head. Seeing you has taken a toll on him since you were the last person he expected to see today, or ever if he was being honest. It gave him too many memories, too much hope.

Keeping his distance, he walked with you towards your car. He could tell you were nervous, he guessed it was because you didn’t want to be here in the first place but you wanted to get rid of whatever was in the backseat. One last piece of him for you to forget.

Funny how all those thoughts disappeared when you opened the door and his eyes fell into the object that was meant for him, making him almost forget to take a breath and keep breathing.

The guitar was perfect. That was all he could think off. The body seemed made out of marble, shining against the bridge and buttons that were colored silver and black. The strap was embroidered with his initials in a soft glittery grey, claiming itself as his. Yet none of that caught his attention like the stings and how 5 of them were clear, almost transparent as they clashed with the color of the neck, and perfectly in tune. But the sixth string that was placed in the middle of it all stood up with its ruby color, balancing everything just perfectly.

You watched expectantly as his eyes scanned the guitar up and down, wanting nothing more than to touch it but feeling reluctant to do it.

“I had it customized a few months ago… after we visited that shop you like?” You ventured, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence “I- I know it’s not that impressive given that you have thousands of other guitars and probably have one now that might be similar to this one. But you seemed to like one like this and-“

“It’s perfect” You heard him say. No shaking in his voice, no whispered tone or rushed words. Only sincerity and gratitude “It’s perfect, magnificent, even. I-I.. thank you”

When your eyes met his you could barely hold your emotions at bay. Oh, how you missed those green eyes. Especially now that they were looking at you with such gratitude and love that you almost forget you are not together anymore.

You cleared your throat, shaking the thoughts away “I’m glad you like it”

The two of you stayed silent for a moment, too much to say yet no words being exchanged between both of you. That’s until Michael noticed “The string… the middle one, why is it red?”

He knew you were a sucker for symbolisms; Easter eggs; hidden meanings; and surprises, this could not be a random thing.

“Remember when you went to Japan last year?” You asked, not daring to look at him just yet “You told me about that legend you heard about the red string of fate, that no matter how long or tangled it's become, the two people that are connected by it will find their way to each other. No matter time, place or circumstances, what’s meant to be it’s meant to be” You felt tears rolling down your face, but you couldn’t do anything to stop them as your eyes met his one more time “You’re my red string, Michael. Always has and always will be. And I’m such a fool for letting it tangled this much and letting you go”

Michael stared at you with glossy eyes, not wasting any other second without having you in his arms as he pulled you closer into a hug, wrapping his arms around you as you molded into him.

“These past few months without you have been turture” He said with his face hidden in your neck “I- I don’t know what went wrong but I was so afraid of fucking it up further that I just thought it was for the best. That you would be better off without me”

You chuckled through the tears “I was scared, too. I thought you were the one who would be better off without me and that you moved on” You held him tighter “I’m so sorry, Michael”

“I’m sorry, too, love. So fucking sorry”

“Can we please start over?”

Michael let go of you for just a moment before cupping your cheeks and crashing your lips into his in a slow, sweet, loving and awaited kiss “We were never over, love. I love you, now and forever. We are meant to be” He said as he placed his forehead on yours.

You smiled and brought him down to kiss him once again. “Meant to be” And you knew that from that moment on, everything would be alright.

[with-love-anu]

Quills and Ink

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader Summary: Sirius gets anonymous letters from someone really sweet and falls for her. Warnings: It’s just fluff, no warnings to give! Word Count: 1,903

Sirius sat grumpily eating his breakfast. His head was throbbing due to last night’s endeavors and he wanted to gobble in all sorts of grease he could get. He piled his plate with bacon and fried egg when a school owl landed in front of him. He furrowed his brows. Who would write to him? He carefully took the letter out and opened it reading.

Dear Sirius,

Charms’ not an easy subject. The summoning charm they taught us yesterday is no different. For performing a summoning charm, you must clearly, and I mean clearly visualise the object you are summoning, like your favourite cookie. You could see it in your mind the sandy coloured biscuit full of dark brown choc chips, some edgy some melting. You could practically sniff its sweet smell and you want it right now, you need it. You say accio cookie with a small hand movement, imagining it coming towards you. And there you go, you have it. You can practice it over and over again and I am sure you’ll get used to it.

I just, I have always seen you excelling in every single class, and when you couldn’t do the spell yesterday, I thought maybe I’ll help. The professors having taught the same things a million times already, aren’t enthusiastic and somewhat, vague. Anyways, happy learning!

A fellow student.

Sirius smiled at the odd letter. He turned it around to find a name but there was none. The owl had already flown away.

Sirius closed his eyes taking his wand in his hand. What’s the harm in trying again? Accio muffin! Sirius grinned as a muffin zoomed towards him. Finally. He had done his best yesterday, but couldn’t perform the spell. He munched on the little cake happily. He felt satisfied; thinking about the sweet letter reading it again. Who could it be? He smiled, he wanted to meet this anonymous helper.

***

Sirius was sitting on the quidditch stands when a school owl came in. He smiled and his eyes widened. The person wrote him another letter? Telling the owl to wait; he opened it. It hooted indignantly but did just the same. He smiled realising he was right.

Dear Sirius,

I know you love teasing the Slytherins, but you need to understand that the group you hate is rather small. My friend who is in Slytherin was exhausted ridding their supplies from the red paint and gold glitter which you drenched their common room in. You know, this friend I am talking about is so damn sweet and couldn’t even hurt a fly. They have been loyal to me since the first year and have gone out of their ways to make me smile.

I am not asking you to stop pranking, but make your targets specific. Let me be honest here, I hate Mulciber’s gut as much as I hate sardines, and that’s a lot. And you know, harmless pranks are good too; specially if they make the targets smile and laugh along with you.

A fellow student

Sirius quickly summoned a sheet and started writing. Whoever this person was, was funny, and seemed to have a great personality.

Dear fellow student,

Firstly I want to thank you for your help in charms. I could do it on the first try after reading your explanation. *wink*

Secondly, I am sorry about your friend, maybe we do take it too far at times. I’ll make sure me and my friends don’t allow our pranks to affect ~innocents~. Speaking about pranks, I would love to hear more about those harmless ones you were talking about.

And thirdly, don’t you think it’s bad that you know me well enough to notice how I do in charms and I don’t even know your name? You seem like a fun person, sign the next letter with your name?

Sirius.

Sirius tied the letter to the owl and said, “Give it to the person who gave this to you”

***

Time passed and Sirius and a fellow student continued to exchange letters. Sometimes they were short, sometimes long and there wasn’t one where Sirius didn’t plead to find out who it was.

He showed some to his friends, others he kept to himself as his own little box of pleasure. James never failed to tease him and Remus would give him a knowing smirk whenever he didn’t let anyone touch those pieces of paper which had somehow become very close to his heart. No one missed the crimson blush that coloured Sirius’s cheek whenever he was asked about this very adorable fellow student. He kept every single one of the notes, trinkets, and gifts in a shoe-box hidden under his bed.

An empty box of an exclusive collection of handmade treacle tarts shrunk in size with the note which came along with it was tucked neatly in the box. Sirius had received it when he had got a nasty letter from back home during one morning. He had thought no one noticed but apparently he was wrong. The note said-

Dear Sirius,

You can never change people, make them see you or appreciate you or love you for that matter. Nothing in this world is fair and we take what is given to us. I know you got a letter from your parents this morning and over the years I’ve come to assume that they aren’t the most loving ones. We need you to remember you are an amazing person. So, gobble up these amazing chocolates while writing down things that are great about you. Let me start-

1.     You are funny / sarcastic. I don’t know anyone who could make McGonagall crack a smile and the moment you did it, I knew you were special

2.    You’re VERY intuitive. I saw you damn so many times calming down or walking various students through breakdowns, anxiety attacks; you know just what the person needs.

3.    Smart, that’s one thing about you not everyone sees, but come on; people should know those mischievous ideas need a brainy person behind them.

Your turn now, be as selfish as you could be!

A fellow student

A bouquet of lavender on which Sirius casted an everlasting spell, and an empty bottle of Chamomile tea made by an American company had come with a short note- “Put those flowers under your pillow, they help”. He ran his hand through them remembering feeling so touched when he received; he actually shed tears because he hadn’t slept all week and was exhausted to death.

There was a pile of books too. They contained all the famous muggle comics, which he had received when a fellow student had rambled on about their favourite superheroes and Sirius had admitted not understanding a thing in the long write up. He had read every single one of them more than thrice. Along with them, there was a detailed magazine on different motorbikes; their prices, their quality, talks about their engine. Sirius had gasped when he received it. The small note on it had said- “Even though I am sure I am going to regret this; because these are dangerous machines and you are one reckless person; I know your fascination with them and always love to see you smile. Just promise me you’ll read everything on the safety precautions page.”

There was a small key chain with paws on it, he got on Easter. He had barked out laughing seeing it (pun intended). He didn’t think you would remember something he wrote so offhandedly about. The note had said- “Since you were so adamant that you would be a dog if you were an animal!”

It was becoming incredibly frustrating. He was cautious of all the people who noticed him in classes, trying to guess who it was, which was futile since a major part of school turned to him whenever he entered the room. He was desperate, he was falling, hard. If the love they all gushed about, wasn’t what he felt; then he didn’t know what was. And he didn’t even know who it was! All he knew that your nickname was (Y/n/n) and you were in (Y/h) house. He felt stupid wanting you.

He had tried and failed trying to follow the owl to find you. Halfway to reaching you the owl had turned and bit him until he was forced to stop stalking it. Yeah, that had hurt. He tried to cast a monitoring spell on it so as to track it on the marauders map. The owl had realised something was going on as it fluttered and scratched his face red with it’s claws.

He took a pen and paper and ran to the owlery. As he entered the owlery, he saw someone was already there. (Y/n Y/L/n). She was a fellow student. They attended various classes together. Her eyes widened seeing him, and she quickly turned to what she was doing. Wait a fellow student! Can it be?

“Hi (Y/n), what brings you here?” he asked noting her reactions.

She stumbled.

“I… Just posting a letter.”

“Oh, how’s Abernathy’s health?” Sirius asked nonchalantly. Abernathy was (Y/n/n)’s sister who had caught a bad case of dragon pox.

“She’s better. The healer said- “(Y/n)’s mouth opened in realisation. Sirius smiled. He had finally found her.

“I…I…” (Y/n) stuttered looking at Sirius’s wide grin.

“I’m gonna go.” She said flustered and turned to leave.

Sirius quickly ducked in and grabbed her hand. “Don’t go” he pleaded.

(Y/n) slowly turned. She looked everywhere but him.

“Why did you not tell me?” Sirius asked quietly making her look up.

“I was afraid. I am really shy and I accept it. I’ve had a crush on you since forever and was quite sure I wouldn’t be able to talk to you face to face. I- I thought that when you realised that it was me writing you all those letters, you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?” Sirius asked frowning.

(Y/n) let out a scoff.

“Oh come on! I see the type of people you are always with. Tall, beautiful, smart. Why would you even look at me!” She said mirthlessly.

It was Sirius’s turn to scoff.

“Are you kidding me?” Sirius asked incredulously. “Do you even own a mirror? That little (Y/f/c) colour dress you wore last weekend. Darling, I am sorry to inform you but you turned heads. I’ve always noticed you. You just light up when you talk to your friends and have that brilliant smile on your face. Before, you started writing to me you were just pretty; now I know you’re beautiful. You’re so full of kindness and generosity. Your letters never failed to bright up my day. You’re funny, sarcastic and motivated. I love that you could make me smile at the worst of times. I love that you constantly talk about made up heroes and heroines who could take on the world. I love that you care so much about your family that you write to them every other day. I love everything about you. I love you.” He breathed.

“You what?” you whispered.

“I love you” Sirius repeated.

“Good, cause I don’t know what I would have done you hadn’t told me soon” you sniffed a little, smiling.

“Come with me to hogwarts this weekend, you know, on a date.” Sirius asked as you gulped and nodded. Sirius smiled widely and you were sure your own expression mirrored his.

A/N: Let me know what you think!

[alpaca-writes]

I have this habit of being very detailed in writing- hopefully not too much that it bores anyone to death. Personally, I love detailing OC's and as many aspects of them as I can before exposing these poor things to pain- almost like a slow-burn for torture, I suppose?

But then it occurs to me as well that maybe I'm just writing a normal story, with villians and heroes and anti-heroes but with more emphasis on the pains they go through.

Oh well, here is my newest creation-

CW: None quite yet. Some strong language, I suppose

MYSTICS

CHAPTER ONE: A NEW JOB

Lyrem Nomadus busied himself, flipping through resumes that bored him half to death and then a little more. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to look for anyone to share his space with. The business of curating, refurbishing and selling occultic items was dreadfully interesting to the general public and the last thing he was looking for was someone new to devalue it with their own useless knowledge and presumed ‘psychic’ abilities. The last two days were full of just that. He pinched the bridge of his wide nose as a mild headache came on- the last interview was a particularly painful thought.

A young man, with a heavily freckled, pale face, and round framed glasses poured over his collection of rocks near the front entrance, started spouting nonsense that Lyrem had little patience for.

“Ooh, malachite. I heard that stuff’s toxic, y’know,” he spoke with little regard for Lyrem standing near the cash register- an old charcoal grey thing with large buttons and made a noise like a classic ‘ka-ching’ just before the receipts printed out and the drawer popped open.

“Hm,” Lyrem hummed unamused, hoping it would prompt some style of professionalism from his prospective interviewee. It did not.

The young man continued to look around the store, finding one hematite pendulum specifically fascinating. Then he found his attention drawn to a display of elegantly designed tarot cards. The young man picked one of them up, studying the hierophant with mild interest.

“Please do not touch the merchandise.” Lyrem cut in.

The young man placed the card back down on the glass shelf, slightly askew to the rest on display. He cleared his throat and approached the register, finally.

“Did you bring a copy of your resume?” Lyrem asked him, knowing what the answer likely was, as there was nothing in his hands. He wore a long black trench coat over ratted, torn jeans and a plain tee shirt. There was one chain dangling from a pocket somewhere.

“Yessir,” he answered.

Oh, perhaps this boy had a hope after all.

After reaching into his back pants pocket with effort, the resume was presented, folded into six sections as a single piece of paper. A folded and clearly used napkin fell out onto the floor. Lyrem breathed deeply, took the folded resume, and smiled.

“Thank you for applying, but I am afraid you are not quite the right fit for this position,” Lyrem didn’t bother opening the paper, and instead tossed it over his own shoulder. It landed directly into the bin behind him.

“I-I’m sorry? You haven’t interviewed me yet”- his eyes widened with the confusion of the sudden rejection.

“Hm. I have interviewed you plenty, and I tell you now, I’d have a mangey dog run my store before you.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so casual. Lyrem blinked.

The poor boy took a moment to process the insult before glaring across at the owner of Mystics ruthlessly. Suddenly, his fist pounded the desk, sending a short tremor through the wood.

“Anybody with half a brain could do this job! For fuck sake’s, man!”

Lyrem looked at him with a simple eyebrow raised and cocked his head toward the door. He was tired these days. The less he chose to care about children’s tantrums, the better. The boy left in a huff, and clearly, he tried slamming the jingling door behind him as he stepped out onto the street, but the spring against the top disallowed such havoc, and bounced slowly back. It closed finally with a light click, and the young man was gone.

Releasing the pinch from his nose, Lyrem sighed. He didn’t know which one was worse, that boy who left a trail of disrespect in his wake, or the woman from the previous day who was convinced that she could speak with his mother in the afterlife. The sullen woman wore gems aplenty on her fingers and hanging from ropes and chains around her neck. The wire wrapped amethysts in particular, caused her to look like an easter egg more than a living person. She didn’t take it too kindly when he explained that the stones around her finger were not a genuine turquoise either. By the end of it all, she was rather happy to be finished.

He shuddered, remembering the strong scent of patchouli she left that seemed to linger within his store, even now.. He didn’t have an aversion to patchouli, or to amethyst or turquoise, or even easter eggs… at least he hadn’t one before two days ago.

The rest of the applicants were all the same. Wanted a job, wanted something easy, and for experience- and all the time, Lyrem would ask himself: “experience for what, exactly?” Instead of asking the question aloud, he’d thank the person, and politely send them on their way out, with a promise to call them when he had made a decision.

He wasn’t planning to call anyone.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. The streets would be bustling past four, and if he wanted to avoid it and give himself a break from the eye strain, he would need to go for his coffee now, or not have one until after six. The horror.

He flipped over the sign on the door. It was one of those apologetic ones- as though it would stop a person from throwing a brick through a window for being closed on a weekday. Lyrem locked the door and turned to his right. There was a small local place not far from the corner of the intersection that he had grown accustomed to. If they had the raspberry scones today, he decided he may take one of those as a treat. Lost in thought, he crossed in front of a small white car making its left turn. The car stopped, though no horn was sounded as the engine suddenly died inexplicably next to him.

Lyrem walked around the car and poked his head through the passenger-side window which was open for the cool breeze. The driver looked back at him, his hands gripping the wheel too tightly.

“Pedestrians have the right of way, you know,” he mentioned calmly. Then, he tapped the top of the car twice. It restarted. “Drive a little safer, now.”

The driver suddenly remembered that the car was still in gear, and he moved along, crossing the intersection and left Lyrem behind like everything he had just done was part of some fever dream. He chuckled lightly and turned back down the block.

It was a sun-filled day, without a cloud in the sky, and it was a warm one too. Despite the fact that it was still early April, and the city had only just started waking from its hibernation from the cold, the streets were filling quickly with people.

His coffee took a while, which he forgave only because the end result was quite often a perfection, but he was nearly pouting at the counter as the spot for raspberry scones were replaced with one with blueberries instead. Losing his appetite, his eyes drifted around the rustic establishment. The sounds of a classical guitar filled the room with the unmistakable talents of the virtuoso, Andrés Segovia. It was a nice change from the sounds of folk rock and boy bands. The coffee shop was only getting better and better with age, it seemed.

Against the wall, a cork board was decorated in haphazardly placed notes. Some notes were simply inspirational or funny, some were searching for students for taekwondo or guitar, advertisements for plays and musicals at the local theatre were spread along the outer edges begging to be noticed, and there were a few job postings as well from other nearby establishments, restaurants, including one from a pet store.

He shouldn’t have tried putting an ad on Kijiji at all- not when the perfect people were right here all along. Like Icarus, Lyrem flew too close to the sun, and was burned by the troubling rays of stupidity that came through his door from delving into the ruddy depths of online job hunting. Never again would he make such a mistake.

“Lyre!”

Nodding, he retrieved his cup, and turned back toward the door. He nearly collided with another person, standing close up to the cork board and huffed, not spilling a drop.

“Excuse me,” he muttered.

“Apologies.” The person gave him little notice, but moved off to the side with ease to allow him through.

He furrowed his brows. What was it that was causing him to pause just before reaching the door? There was just… something… off.

It took him a moment before hearing it- the faintest humming to Segovia’s España, Spanish Dance No.10 in G coming from the person who apologized to him for being in the way. Each note timed perfectly to the sound from the speakers in the corner. He turned his head, to a particularly high note, the humming stopped to be replaced with fingers tapping in unison to the notes against their thigh.

“Guitar?” He asked, suddenly beside them. He studied the board also.

“No,” they replied. “Just looking for a job.”

He nodded, grimacing. Raising his hopes one final time, he ventured.

“I have potential work for you. I am hiring at my store’s location down the street. If you are interested.”

“That seems coincidental.” They replied unemphatically sifting through the other job postings there, knowing they were not currently dressed for success. “What store?”

“Mystics. It’s along twenty-third and”-

“-seventeenth, yes, I know the place.”

“Then you’re hired.”

They stopped, and brought their hands down from the board, and turned to stare their deep brown eyes into his of deep hazel- to finally spare a glance to the person wanting their attention.

“I don’t have time for practical jokes- or human trafficking, for that matter,” they said with insistence.

“I’m not joking, and I am definitely not in the business of human trafficking”- Lyrem stuttered incredulously. “I thought you said you knew the place.”

“I do.” They replied. “I’ve just never been in. It’s just one of those ridiculous shops for people to waste their money on colourful rocks. There’s literally a river just under the bridge half a mile from here- infinite supply for none of the coin.”

Taking them by surprise, he laughed.

“You will be the worst salesperson.” He said. More seriously, he added, “look, I really am in need of a person to take care of a few evening shifts and the weekends, I pay well above the average rate for any local retail store, and I’d be able to supply you with health benefits.”

This sudden bargain seemed to be interesting enough for the person to distance themselves from the cork board.

“I’m still finishing high school- under eighteen- is that a problem?” They asked. “It’s been a problem everywhere else”-

“Not a problem.”

They nodded.

“When do I start?”