#but if he wants to wear the most unflattering women's clothes i think he should be allowed

[melonisopod]

Controversial opinion but I dont’ think Harry Styles is dressing that way for clout. I think he just likes his silly little dresses and it doesn’t actually matter if cishet men being GNC looks stylish or has the right “vibes” or whatever and this sense of elitism around whose attempts at being GNC are “sincere” or not is pathetic and stupid.

[hillnerd]

WAKING UP- CHAPTER 5

Rating M      A03   ff.net   [ Previous Chapter]  [start at the beginning] 

For thanks yous, chapter warnings and ‘what happened last chapter’ scroll to the end of this chapter :)

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CHAPTER 5 - QUEEN OF CLUBS

Ginny didn’t have a very large room, and it felt even smaller as Hermione tried to ready herself to go to a club, of all places. She wasn’t the club ‘type.’ She couldn’t say for sure, as she’d never been to one, but what little familiarity she had made it sound awful. Loud noises, skimpily dressed, dancing as if she hadn’t a care in the world seemed… exhausting. And pointless. And dangerous! Fleur, Angelina and Ginny were trying on a myriad of dresses and asking for the group's approval. While the wireless played raucous tunes and the other girls giggled, Hermione spent her time packing and repacking her beaded bag. 

The extension charm was still firmly in place. She hadn’t figured out a way to keep things more organized within it, though, so the canned goods she’d placed there kept falling over. She wasn’t going to forget food again, that she knew. She hadn’t located a new tent yet, but she needed to prioritize that soon. She had just finished repacking some of her clothes when she heard Ginny ask, “What are you doing?”

Hermione snapped the bag shut, not knowing how to explain her preparations in any way that made her seem of sound mind. 

“Just wasn’t sure what to wear…”  It wasn’t a complete lie. She wasn’t sure what fit her anymore. 

“Well, you can never go wrong with a little black dress,” said Ginny pointing to a thin-strapped sundress Hermione hadn’t had reason to wear in well over a year. 

She nodded and went to a corner, turning her front away from them as she changed into the dress. As she wiggled her jeans out from under the dress she noticed the other girls showed no similar discretion, happily throwing dresses off in the middle of the room. 

Hermione gave a speculative look in the mirror, tugging a bit at the neckline of her sundress. It fit differently than before, bagging around her waist and chest in an unflattering way, and the straps would not stay in place. 

“I can do alterations to dresses if anyone needs them,” said Fleur, grabbing a book from within her bag, discreetly catching Hermione’s eye. Arachne Salavarrieta’s Little Book of Sewing had a few good spells for altering clothing on the fly. All four of them looked over the text for just the right spells to take in, let out, and shorten dresses. 

Ginny, still underage and unable to do magic, begged them “you’ve got to shorten my skirt once we’re there!”

“Why not have us do it now?” Angelina asked, propping up a magically enlarged hand mirror on the roll top desk.

“I have four older brothers downstairs,” Ginny said with a sour look.

“Why should that matter?”

“One of those gits will take the piss in front of Mum if I look remotely sexy. That is, if Mum doesn’t already notice all on her own. I don’t know! Either way, just help me with the hem at the club, please? I don’t want to be the only one there looking frumpy!”

“From-py?” Fleur asked.

“Unfashionable, old-fashioned, overly modest and drab,” Hermione provided, fairly certain the term had been liberally applied to herself over the years.

“You look far from from-py, but we will help with the skirt,” Fleur assured Ginny. 

“And if any brother gives you shit at the club, we’ll hex them for good measure too,” Angelina added, bringing out a pair of curling tongs and prompting Ginny to sit in front of her.

Hermione pulled at her dress some more, not sure how much to alter it, and not sure if she wanted to bother. A pernicious guilt gnawed at her as she pulled the dress taut to her body. She should be doing something that mattered, not fretting over a dress. She should be in Australia. She hadn’t earned a rest, let alone a ‘fun time out.’ She’d taken no steps forward. She’d not found her parents’  location, she’d not earned money, she’d not even checked to see if her old childhood home was still standing.

“Hermione, is everything alright?” Fleur quietly asked, coming to stand beside her at the long mirror.

Hermione forced a smile onto her face.

“Oh you know me… I’m never sure what to do with fashion and all that. I’m more at ease in a library.”

Fleur gave her a searching look she’d seen before at Shell Cottage. It was a look that sought truth behind idle chit chat. It brought a sisterly sort of comfort that Hermione had not thought Fleur capable of a year ago. She had found the French woman to be condescending and too effortlessly beautiful to warrant any attempt at friendship. The war had given her an appreciation for Fleur, though. They were something akin to friends now.

“I just…” Hermione said in a low voice only Fleur could hear as the wireless yowled another rock anthem. “This feels so silly when there’s so much to do.”

“We’ve earned a bit of silly, do you not think so?”

“You all might have…”

“Hermione,” she said, putting a tentative hand around her shoulder. “You ‘ave done more than most anyone.”

“Since The Battle I’ve done nothing! Everyone is helping rebuild and all I’ve done is sleep! And my parents are still in Australia, and I’ve…I’ve done nothing to get them back.”

“Ron told us of your parents and the memories… Will you be needing any help?”

“No,” Hermione quickly insisted. “No. I just need to make a plan and get them back here. Once I have a plan then it will all be alright.”

“You are meaning to bring them back here in England… To the home you lived in before?” 

Hermione nodded, and saw a look of concern wrinkle Fleur’s otherwise flawless brow. 

“Hermione… Have you been to your home since the war ended?”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m planning on checking on it soon.”

“This is why I asked. You can not do that alone. Many Muggleborn homes were cursed after the war. Some are no longer standing,” said Fleur, her voice ringing with intensity despite the lyric tone.

Hermione was aware that many a Muggleborn home had been razed to the ground, but refused to believe the same could have happened to her childhood home. 

“Even the Burrow needed much curse breaking,” she continued. “We do not know each other well, but I am happy to help you with this.”

“Oh you don’t have to!” Hermione said with a shake of her head.

“Oh poppyrot!” Fleur said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Hermione let out a long breath, her gratitude forcing her to not correct Fleur to the word ‘poppycock.’ “It is my pleasure!” 

“You two alright?” asked Ginny giving the two a sidelong look as Angelina continued to curl her hair.

“We are,” Fleur said, looking to Hermione who confirmed this with a head nod. “Just helping out with fashion. It is a ritual we women do. The girls gather and dress and help one another to look more beautiful, while the men do nothing.”

“Maybe they shower,” Angelina added with a laugh, “but probably not. They never put in half the effort we do!”

“You see? It is the way of it,” Fleur said, giving Hermione a small squeeze and a meaningful look. “I can help whenever you like.”

“Thank you, Fleur…” she said with equal import. When the other girls looked at her with curiosity she continued, “I don’t have any of my usual things like makeup or hair products.”

“I have a ton of stuff in my bag,” Angelina offered. 

“As do I. We girls help one another,” Fleur said, grabbing a comb and some bottles of French products Hermione didn’t recognize. She continued with the faintest whisper, “You can send a message or Patronus to me when you are ready to enter your old home.”

Words failing her, Hermione put a hand on Fleur’s and gave it a small squeeze. Fleur said nothing, but the warm smile she sent in the mirror reassured her that the French woman completely understood.

After an hour of sewing alterations, primping, squealing, and many changes of clothes by each of the ladies, they decided they were almost ready enough to leave. 

“Oh! Jewelry! I forgot about that,” Ginny moaned, looking through her small box of earrings. 

Angelina and Fleur were eager to help her, but Hermione wasn’t sure she could take another debate about fashion. She was grateful for the silly hour she’d gotten to spend with them, though. Despite her hair still being a bit wild and curly, Hermione had to admit she liked how she looked in the mirror. The black sundress fit her perfectly now. She almost looked like she had a figure again. Between the dress and the makeup, and a bit of product from Angelina to keep her hair from frizzing, she looked almost pretty. She felt a touch of excitement flurry in her stomach at the thought of looking nice in front of Ron. It almost made her forget how nervous she was to be out of the safety of the Burrow. She gripped her beaded bag close to her side.

“I’m going to wait with the boys, if that’s alright.”

The girls waved her off as they held different earrings beside Ginny’s face. 

As Hermione stepped into the hallways she immediately ran into a thin, though sturdy, body and let out a small exclamation of alarm. She quickly muffled her sound when she saw it was only Harry.

“Are you all ready to go then?” he asked, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Ginny behind the closing door.

“We’re almost all ready,” she said with a fond smile. “You know girls, it takes them forever.”

“You’re a girl too, according to Ron at least,” said Harry, giving her a wry grin. Harry was looking rather sharp in Muggle clothes that actually fit, and his hair was looking mysteriously untidy. 

“Did you do something to your hair?”

“What?” he asked, putting a hand to the back of his hair and patting at it. “It doesn’t look bad, does it?”

“No,” she laughed, seeing the panic in his eyes. “Just not as wild as usual.”

“Yeah, well it took like four spells and I think they’re already wearing off.”

She studied his hair and could see one by one little hairs slowly moving into disarray, almost like someone had rubbed an invisible balloon against it. 

“You’re trying to look extra nice for Ginny,” she teased.   He frowned, but a blush began to form around his jaw. “Yeah, well, we’ve never gotten to properly go someplace together, have we? You did the same for Ron, right?”

He had her there. 

“Speaking of, where is he?”

“Downstairs, I think,” he said, hand going to his hair again. “Is it looking bad again?”

“It’s looking more like it usually does, if that’s what you mean.” His face scrunched in disapproval. “Really, it looks fine. Your hair fits you best when you do nothing to it. You look perfectly nice.”

“You too,” he said with a glance at her, before heading towards the bathroom. “Ok, I’m going to try to spell this one more time.”

She knew it was a lost cause, but didn’t have the heart to tell him as he eagerly tried to preen. 

As she reached the bottom steps of the stairs, she could hear the low rumble of men’s voices.

“They’re taking ages,” Charlie sighed. “I don’t see why it takes them so long.”

“Women wear more?” said George. 

“Harry’s hair has taken almost as long,” Lee said with a snort.

Hermione looked around the corner and saw the men all sprawled around the room, shoes up on tables and couch arms in a way they’d never dare if Mrs Weasley were in the room.

While everyone lightheartedly bantered with one another, in the corner sat Ron. His brow was creased as he silently played chess with Lee. He looked haggard, and for the eleventh time that evening, Hermione wished they weren’t going out. She’d much rather spend the evening wrapped in Ron’s arms, as she had that afternoon. 

Her nerves had frayed at the thought of sleeping beside him, worried he would catch her in a nightmare. Silencing spell in place, she had feigned grumpy tiredness when he asked her questions. There had been no need to worry, though. Cuddled up to him she fell asleep as surely as one did on sleeping draughts, and somehow her nightmares were kept entirely at bay. It was the best sleep she’d had in months. The only thing that could have improved it was waking up beside Ron. He’d been gone when she’d woken, with no one knowing where he was. He’d come back from the village looking worn out giving excuses of ‘getting supplies’ which didn’t hold up to real scrutiny, when she thought of the timeline he gave. Ron Weasley was up to something, she just didn’t know what.

As if her thoughts drew him to her, Ron’s eyes rose and met hers.

The furrow in his brow smoothed, his scowling expression softened, and a boyish smile of his tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“Who’s winning?” she asked, approaching the chess board.

“Ron was, but I think my luck’s about to change,” said Lee, a few of the men joining him in laughter and elbowing Ron, seeing his rather besotted look. Usually he’d turn beet red and curse at them, but his face remained mostly impassive as he met her eyes and smiled. The only sign of his discomfort was his ears going a tiny bit flush.

“Check mate,” said Ron, moving his bishop across the board, and rising from his seat.

“No it’s not, is it?” Lee asked, looking at the board. “Damn!”

Ron gave the lot a two fingered salute and led her from the living room to the kitchen, where his mother was doing some tidying and listening to the radio.

“I wasn’t sure about the dress,” she mumbled. Ron’s eyes traveled down her and she suppressed the urge to readjust her neckline, though she wasn’t sure in what direction.

“Well you look amazing in it,” he said, looking her in the eye and making her stomach do a tsukahara flip. 

“Thank you,” she managed. A pleasurable rush of nerves ran up her spine. Despite looking very tired, he looked handsome. He was wearing an untucked dress shirt she’d not seen before, with the sleeves rolled up his arms in a way that made the nerves in her spine turn to jolts. Given the darker color scheme of it, she assumed it was a hand-me-down from Bill. She quickly realized all of him was looking rather polished, with the exception of his beat up boots. She wasn’t sure what to say to him. He was so sensitive about clothes, and the last thing she wanted was to cause additional stress on him, but she also knew he was a bit insecure and it might be nice to compliment his appearance.

“So how long until the rest of the girls are ready?” he asked. 

Well there went that opportunity.

“Soon, I think. They just had to pick out earrings for Ginny,” she said looking up into face. His eyes looked so weary. “Are you doing well?”

“Course,” he grunted, immediately turning from her. “Mum, do you need help with that?”

Mrs Weasley turned from the dishes and assured him she didn’t. Despite the assurance, he started putting dishes in the cabinets. He didn’t spare her another look, not when the rest of the girls came down the stairs some ten minutes later, and not when they gathered on the edge of the property.

“Before we go,” George announced, beginning to hand each of them a playing card, “here is a Muggle I.D. for each of you.”

“Why do we need an I.D?” Ginny asked, inspecting the playing card in the waning light of the sunset.

“Because they check to see if you’re old enough to drink at clubs and such and can’t just put up an age line,” answered Bill.

“Why didn’t you transfigure these already?” asked Hermione, looking at her playing card, the Queen of Clubs.

“I’d have to know what Muggle I.D.s look like to do that. This just has a spell to register as an I.D. to Muggles. Pretty clever, if I do say so,” George said, smiling to them all as he finished handing out the cards. “Getting the dates right was tricky. Just make sure you say your birthday was in 79 or earlier. The card will match up with whatever date you say.”

“Where are we apparating to, George?” asked Angelina.

“My hotel room’ll do,” he answered.

Hermione felt Ron unexpectedly stiffen beside her. 

“Everyone but Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Fleur knows where to go. So you all can pair up and side-along there. Here, Gin, come with me,” said George, waving Ginny over.

Ron made as if to grab Ginny back, but George had quickly disappeared with her. One by one they all disapparated, leaving her and a distracted Ron staring at the space George had just occupied.

Ron licked his dry lips and scrunched his brow in determination. “Right… Okay then, I guess we better go.”

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” she said, gently putting her hand in his. “We could just stay in, you and me.”

His shoulders slumped. “Merlin, I wish I could take you up on that.”

“Why don’t you?” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ve been dreading going out.”

“You too?”  “I packed and repacked my bag, just in case,” she said, giving the beaded bag a small shake that made its contents give a crash. “Damn. That’s probably the books again. I really need to find a way to make things stay in place!” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said with a fond look on his face. “But we should go. It’ll be good to get out, plus with G— nevermind.”

“Plus what?”

“Look, I really want to tell you, but I’m just not up for it all right now.” Her face must have given away how frustrating she found that. “I will, I swear I will! Just not tonight. Let’s just— let’s just pretend we’re okay and go out and try to enjoy ourselves.”

It went against every instinct in her body to agree to wait to know something, but she nodded her acquiescence.   His large hand moved to her back and the tight feeling of being compressed overtook her as he Apparated them to George’s hotel room.

In moments they reached their destination and the feeling of her breath being stolen didn’t stop, for Ron’s fingers grazed her side as he took a pace back from her. 

When they arrived they received a good amount of teasing for taking their time to arrive, heavily implying the two had been snogging. Neither teen corrected them. As everyone made small talk, Ron was completely silent and looked about the room with seeming purpose. He had shown immense concern about George right before they left, had that intense conversation with him earlier, and she had to admit George smelt like a bar when he arrived and looked like he might have been sleeping on the floor of one. She had no idea what Ron was looking for, except perhaps empty bottles. The room was sparse, and only a tray of food, and a small bag in the corner showing any signs someone had been living there. 

No one seemed to notice his actions except George who fixed him with a glare when no one was looking. Ron looked far from sheepish, and instead stood tall and locked eyes with his brother.

“Let’s get going. It’s just a few streets over,” George announced to the room, looking away from Ron.

Nerves shook Hermione as they travelled down the grimy London street. It did not look much different from Tottenham Court Road. The last time she had been near this part of London they’d ducked into a grotty cafe and been cornered by a pair of Death Eaters.

At least then it had been a less obtrusive group, with only her, Ron and Harry. Now they were a large boisterous group with so many redheads they stood out like a flock of goldfinches. Most of them were loudly talking or laughing, and many a passerby smirked at the boisterous group. If someone wanted to target them, they’d be all too easy to spot. She gripped her beaded bag so harshly one of her nails chipped. 

Thankfully George was quite correct about the distance being short. In minutes they arrived at a large dark building with music dimly pulsing through its walls and a line to get in. 

A large barrel-chested man with the thickest neck Hermione had ever seen stood at the door. The eldest Weasleys along with Lee and Angelina were let through with barely a glance at their playing cards, but as soon as he spotted the younger members of the group the bouncer began to look like an agitated bulldog. 

He eyed Ron and Hermione’s cards closely, but gave a much more scrutinizing look towards Ginny and Harry as they handed their playing cards to him. He held a small flashlight to the Jack of Spades and Queen of Spades, and even ran a fingernail along the edge. 

“What’s your birthday?”

“1979!” Harry offered, before wincing at his volume. Ron let out a chuckle, while Ginny rolled her eyes. The man’s glare intensified. “Er… July 31st 1979, that is.”

“Hmm… And you?” growled the Bouncer, sourly looking to Ginny.

“Tonight’s my birthday, actually!” she said with a winning smile. Hermione nearly protested, but Ron gave a small shake of his head. 

“Ah, happy birthday!” said the man nodding at the card before handing it back to her, looking much less ornery. “Let Teresa know about it, and they’ll do ya something special.”

“Your birthday, huh?” Harry asked Ginny as soon as they were through the door.

“Much easier to have a good time and get some free drinks that way, isn’t it?” she said, giving a conspiratorial grin he shared.

“But it’s not your birthday!” Hermione protested, irritation prickling down her neck.

“I’m not eighteen either,” Ginny breezily pointed out. 

“Well you’re lucky the card was able to adapt to that when you hadn’t said an actual date,” Hermione persisted. She clutched her beaded bag closer to her chest. “We don’t want to stand out.”

“Why not? It’s a Muggle club. It should be fun.”

“Well, it might be a Muggle club, but that doesn’t mean it’s completely safe.”

“You worry too much,” she said in an infuriatingly calm and understanding voice.

“No! We have to make sure we stay low profile and don’t say anything wrong, because all it takes is one wrong word and then everything falls apart!”

Harry looked to the ground, his eyebrows knitting together. He had to be thinking of the Taboo and the Snatchers as well.

“It’s just a bit of fun, Hermione. We’ll be okay,” said Ginny with a smile, looking around to spot the rest of their group, taking Harry by the hand towards a corner table. “Ah there they are!”

Hermione had never felt more like shaking her friend. Didn’t she understand how dire things were? They’d met Death Eaters at a Muggle cafe in London last August, and Fenrir and those Snatchers in the woods. All it took was one small mistake and then hell would rain down on them; they could end up beaten or cursed or stabbed in the chest.   “Hermione…” she heard Ron’s voice quiet and low in her ear. “There isn’t a Taboo anymore…”

“You don’t know that!” she almost shouted at him, painfully gripping her beaded bag. 

One of his large hands gently started unwinding her fingers from the bag, before taking it from her and putting it in his jacket pocket. He started massaging her fingers. Under the pink and orange lights she could just make out the imprint the bag had left on her hands.

“I can feel the Taboo’s broken, and I bet you can too if you concentrate on it,” he said, continuing to work her hands until they became limp in his. “But if you want to leave and go back to the Burrow, we can right now.”

His quiet earnest words brought her eyes up to his. He saw right through her. He didn’t give her empty platitudes. He gave her a common sense answer to why things would be different, and an out if she was uncomfortable. She felt the overwhelming need to kiss him, and despite the crowd she decided to indulge herself. She stood on her tiptoes, and he took her lead leaning down to brush his lips against hers, hands still holding hers. How had they had so many years together without kissing? 

For years she’d had to sit near him, with careful scrutinization over every action and inch between them. Was sitting too close to her friend? Would her leg pressing to his be too much? Would he notice how her eyes were fixated on his mouth a good three minutes as he grinned and told her about the mad thing he’d seen earlier that day? Did his hand around her shoulder linger longer than a friend’s hand would? When he’d tiredly leaned his head into her, had it meant something to him?

Now she could kiss him whenever she liked, and melt into his strong form, and let her hands be caressed, and get the anticipation of more ring through her body, and know it might be fulfilled later. The only thing she struggled to hold back was blurting out how very much she loved everything about him.

“Alright?” he asked as their lips parted. 

She nodded, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from saying ‘I love you and actually yes I’d like to go home, but only because I want to snog you until both of us can barely breathe.’

“Ready to have ‘a bit of fun?’”

“I think I can manage,” she said with a smile. As long as he was by her side something akin to enjoyment of the evening could happen.

They went to a back table that didn’t nearly have enough seating for them all. This didn’t seem to matter as half of them strategically placed their jackets and purses so strangers would know it was occupied, while the others went to the bar to get drinks for everyone. Their table butted nearly up to the bar, and Ron perched on one of its stools. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Hermione asked, looking at a menu. 

He shook his head. “Someone needs to stay sober. Might as well be me.” He took the menu from her and eagerly pointed to it. “But I could do with these fried cheese things!”

She got in line, ready to order and pay when George stepped in. “Put your cash away. You’re not buying a thing, tonight! We’re here to celebrate you three, after all!”

Grateful not to have to spend the meager amount of cash she had, she put in her order for Ron’s food, and her wine. She’d never drunk much in her life, but she experienced the occasional wine with her parents.

She had worried the evening would be tedious, but seeing everyone looking giddy, toasting one another, and even dancing made her rethink the evening. 

Ron had kept a close eye on George, but his brother was looking at ease and jubilant surrounded by family and friends. Hermione enjoyed the warming tang of red wine as they chatted away and seemed more relaxed than they’d been in years. The wine soothed her nerves as well.

“Was your skirt that short when we left?” George asked Ginny after she did a twirl to the music that accidentally flashed a cheek of her knickers.

“Yes it was,” she coolly answered. “And even if it wasn’t, there’s nothing you’re going to do about it, is there?” 

Harry, already looking sloshed, looked down at Ginny’s legs, his mouth slightly open.

Ron gave a chuckle before flicking his friend’s ear. 

“Righ’, sorry,” Harry said with a nod. Despite all the spells he’d done on his hair, it had reverted to its normal disheveled state.

“Let’s dance!” Ginny said, grabbing Harry’s hand. If it weren’t for the few rounds of shots, Hermione didn’t think they’d be able to get him on to the dance floor, but in his current state he happily followed his girlfriend to the bright lights and thumping music. This seemed an adorable prospect until they actually saw him dance.

“Oh shit… Someone needs to hit him with a stunner or something,” Ron laughed, as Hermione leaned back into him. 

Harry had no sense of rhythm at all, and his stiff-armed movements made many people wince. Ginny didn’t seem to care, and was happily dancing beside him. Her effervescence seemed to drown out Harry’s sad attempts at movement.

Ron guffawed, and shook his head in amusement. Seated on a bar stool, he was only a half a foot taller than Hermione, which made for much more convenient kisses with no tiptoes needed. She had finished her second glass of wine and had a hot pleasant sensation buzzing through her. She put her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the vibration of his deep laugh and the music thrumming. 

“Hmm… Y’should dance with me,” she murmured, though she made no move towards the dance floor. Instead she rubbed her hands down his legs that were on either side of her. The lights on the dancefloor shifted to green for a moment, and the cozy peace felt strangled. She glanced up to Ron, and thought of the one thing that really made her feel nothing but warmth. “You should snog me.”

He chuckled a bit, and she felt the back of his fingers graze her cheek. 

“Dance or snog— Whichever you want,” he replied in her ear. “Though it seems you’re going a bit legless for dancing.”

“I am not!” she protested, pushing herself off of him and nearly stumbling. She stood very tall and made firm eye contact. “I am far from inebriated and do not like the implication that I am inebredated!”

“You mean inebriated?”

“That’s what I just said!” she said, grabbing his hand. “C’mon, let’s dance!”

He gave a shake of his head, but followed her onto the dance floor, where most of their group were dancing. Despite the yellow and orange lights, they were a vibrant group that stood out. Hermione couldn’t think why she’d been worried about it, though! And Ron was actually a very good dancer. She’d discovered this at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and was happy nothing had changed. He had a grand sense of rhythm and the way he held her close and moved about with her made her feel like one of those ladies from an old musical. Roger Gingers? No, that wasn’t it… 

“You make me feel like a lady!” she shouted over the music. “I mean, a lady from a musical that dances and such! Y’know? Like with Astaire and all those old ones in the movies?” 

Ron gave a nod, and she nodded along happy he knew the reference. Yes! He and she were meant for one another. He knew what she meant when she said things. Oh no, that couldn’t be right. Fred Astaire was a Muggle! There was no way he knew that reference!

“Wait! You don’t know who Astaire is!”

“Nope,” he replied, an amused grin making his dimple appear. 

“Then why did you nod along?”

“You’re supposed to smile and nod at drunk people and irate girlfriends— and you’re the best of both!”

She laughed as he spun her around. She could do this forever! Just spin and spin, his hands on her, the bright lights bringing out odd colors in his hair, his warm smile, the invigorating feeling of just being alive...

“You dance as well as you snog!” she yelled, right as the song stopped, making many on the dance floor snigger, but she didn’t care. It was true. And he was hers, not anyone else's, and she got to snog him whenever she wanted. “Let’s get another drink!”

She bounded to the bar, and added another wine to the tab George had started. 

“I think you might’ve had enough,” said Ron, sidling up beside her.

“Then you drink it!” she said, holding up the wine before taking a sip. He gently took the wine glass from her, and put it on the bar.

“Ever since I drank that poisoned mead, I’m not much for drinks from people I don’t know.”

“I just drank from it, though, so you know it’s safe,” she said, holding her hair up and away from her too hot neck. 

“And I need to be sober so someone can get us all home at the end of the evening.”

That was a very good point. “You should snog me in the club’s bathroom,” she countered. 

“That is very very tempting,” he said leaning in and giving her a peck on the nose. “When you aren’t sloshing about I might take you up on that.”

“M’not!” she said, grabbing her wine glass. 

“Another round?” George asked, holding out a tray of shots. “For the trio! And the birthday girl!”

“Oh yes, let’s drink to my birthday!” Ginny crowed, grabbing what was at least her shot glass. There was a quick clearing of a throat from behind her from Bill. “Oh come oooon! Can’t I have some fun?”

“You can have plenty of fun. Just might want to be able to remember it tomorrow.”

“Don’t be mummish!” she replied, downing her drink.

Harry tittered at this, and she put a hand over his shot glass before he could get it to his lips. “You might want to hold back.”

“Mummish,” Harry laughed, with a shake of his shaggy head. 

“How much has he had?” Charlie asked.

“A couple of shots and a beer,” said Lee with a shake of his head. “Complete and utter lightweight.”

“I want another shot,” Harry protested.

“Sorry, sloppy, leave this to the professionals,” George said, downing it before Harry could stop him. Hermione caught a grim look pass between Ron and Bill, but dismissed it as a good song came on and the other girls dragged them all onto the dance floor.

The party continued until Ron insisted they take a water break. Hermione slide into the booth next to him, wobbling only slightly, yet she gladly snuggled into him.

There was a gauzy blur to everything, with only the center of her vision having much clarity. It was nice. Her blurred cameo-vision settled on Ron. He was very handsome. And tall! 

She told him so.

“Thanks,” he said, not seeming to take her seriously.

“I mean it, though! You’re almost pretty,” she said with a firm nod. “I’ve always thought so. You have the bluest eyes… They’re so… Blue! And I love your hands. They feel nice too.”

“Uh huh…” he said with a smile. “I think we best get you home soon… Here, have some water.”

“I don’t want water, I want more wine,” she said, taking the water and drinking it. “But I do mean it. You’re very good looking. And you have a cute bum! I haven’t told you that, but I should. I should tell you these things! I mean to, but I wait too long, and then I can’t tell you. Like with your clothes tonight! You look extra dishy and I can’t tell you because I don’t want you to think I’m not nice about clothes to you, ya know?”

“Well in that case, thank you?” he said, pouring her some more water that she angrily sipped at. 

He’d taken off his jacket and rolled his sleeves up again at one point. She trailed a finger along a brain-scar on his forearm.  She liked that. There was something about it that made her squirm in a good way.

“I like your arms…  But to my point!!” she said, sitting up straight and poking him in the chest. “There’so much I can’t tell you! I’m the best secret keeper in the world. It’s like… It’s like my words are Fidelius charmed! And I don’t know how to tell you the secret! I want to, of course, but if I did and you didn’t say you love me back then I’d be so upset, and so I don’t say anything!”

She closed her eyes and leaned into his chest.

“You make it hard to not say things when you’re so pretty and good. You’re so good, Ron Weasley. I want to… I want to bottle you up and marry you and be the only one to touch your bum.”

His chuckle pleasantly hummed through her. He braced her against him a bit then kissed her forehead. 

“I want that too,” he said, almost so quietly it couldn’t be heard over the music. She felt him stir beneath her head and let out a huff. “What?”

She cracked open an eye to see Harry gormlessly staring at them.

“I’m so glad you didn’t die. You’re like… the most important people in my life and I love you both so much,” said Harry, pointing to somewhere a foot or so to the left of them.

“No more alcohol for you, Harry,” said Ron, making Hermione sit up. 

“I mean it!” Harry belligerently stated. 

“We love you too, Harry,” said Hermione, putting a hand on him. “You’re like a brother to me! If I had brothers. I don’t. But if I did, you’d be my little brother.”

“You’re like an older sister that I love like a sister. And we’re both not dead,” Harry said with a nod. 

“Merlin’s balls. We’ve got to get out of here,” Ron muttered, grabbing a glass of water and thrusting it into Harry’s hand. “Chug that and try not to be such a melancholy arsewipe, yeah?”

“I can’t help it. I had a bad childhood until I met you and Hagrid…” Harry said, looking so sad Hermione wanted to cry. 

“You did! Ron, he DID have a bad childhood!”

“Yep, I’m aware,” said Ron with a sigh getting up. “Harry, where’d you put your glasses and jacket?”

He gave a sad shrug. “I don’t have a family. I don’t even have glasses now.”

Hermione nodded. “He can’t SEE, Ron.”

“I’m legally blind.”

“He’s blind, Ron!”

“Oh my GOD! I’m going to find the glasses!” Ron exploded, a hand going to his hair. “I’m getting bloody tired of dealing with drunks, you know that?”

“But he’s blind, Ron.”

With a wild gesture of frustration he started looking around the various points in the bar Harry had been to. Harry murmured about a lot of sad things, and Hermione told him about Ron’s bum which made him snigger. She leaned her head against the back of the booth, closing her eyes for just a moment. 

She heard Charlie, Bill and Fleur bowed out for the evening, citing business they had to do the next day. Bill pulled Ron aside for a moment. She could just make out the low voiced words of ‘George,’ ‘rest’ and ‘bail’ beside her. She cracked open an eye and saw them both glancing at George, who was still bouncing on the dance floor with Lee and Angelina. Hermione listened to hear more, but the thrum of music drowned them out. 

Hermione woke up an indeterminate amount of time later lying in their booth, head curled up on a conjured pillow and Ron’s large jacket draped over her.

She blearily rose and blinked to see Harry finish a shot beside her.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be drinking anymore,” she managed to rasp even though her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. She smacked her lips and looked for some water. The nearest pitcher seemed miles away even though it was a mere few feet.

“Y’were sleeping in the booth and there’s was noone to stop me,” said Harry with a triumphant smile that morphed into an unpleasant low belch.

“How long have I been asleep?” Her head was aching. She should have drunk more water.

“Mmm… An hour or so?”

“Where’s Ron?”

“He tucked you in,” Harry answered. She warmed at the thought of giant Ron hunching over to tenderly make her comfortable.

 Harry put his chin on his hand and stared at her. “He fancies you.”

“Well I quite fancy him as well.”

“You fancy him,” he said with a sloppy dismissive hand, “but not like he does you. He’s all…” A series of soft pats rained down on her head. “And you’re all…” He pointed a finger at her face, nearly poking her in the eye. “Ya know?”

“Oh well that makes sense,” she humored him. “Where are your glasses? Didn’t Ron go to fetch them ages ago?”

“Search me…” he said, putting his head on the table before slurring. “I need a nap…”

Ginny, Lee and Angelina came panting off the dancefloor.

“Where’s George?” asked Angelina, gulping down some water and making a loud noise of satisfaction when she’d finished.

“Wasn’t he with you?”

No one knew where George or Ron were. They were about to start searching when there was the sound of a mic turning on, and the DJ announced, “and now one of our guests wants to make an announcement.” 

There was a horrid feedback noise and a scuffle, but then a familiar voice began to ring through the crowd.

“Hello everyone!” said George into the mic. 

“Oh God, who let him have a microphone?” said Angelina, shaking her head.

“I’m George and I’m here to celebrate my little sister’s birthday! So everyone, say cheers to her!”

Many of the crowd raised their glasses and Ginny was happy to wave to them and give a small bow. Hermione spotted that she was wearing Harry’s glasses on top of her head. She turned to point this out to Harry but he was letting out a series of small snores.

“Also we’re here to celebrate my brother Ronnie, and his two best friends. I can’t tell you what they did, but they are being honored for their services and it’s pretty impressive shit, so cheers to them!” The crowd cheered again. “That’s right. He’s very impressive. Didn’t think he would be, but here we are! Didn’t think he’d make it out of a war alive, but he did. Not a fucking scratch on him, ‘cept some missing fingernails.”

Hermione looked for Ron, and found him standing to the side of the DJ booth. He looked like he was saying something, and George’s face went dark and surly. “No, I don’t feel like going home.”

“Get off the mic!” someone from the crowd hollered, and few people let out a resounding ‘woo’ in agreement.

“Yes, thank you for your support!” George said with a wave. “What was I talking about? Oh yes! The war! My other brothers all made it ok, but I lost an ear, and then my twin brother got fucking killed by a bloody wall. How stupid a way is that to go?”

The DJ tried to get George to hand over the mic, but he was belligerently holding it low and crowding the DJ out. Ron looked like he was saying something. He put a hand on George’s shoulder that was violently shrugged off, prompting Angelina and Lee to run over to intervene.

Hermione didn’t want to crowd them and was fairly certain she couldn’t get there fast enough to help anyways. Ginny had a hand to her mouth. 

“None of you know how much we sacrificed to keep you all safe, you know that? On the run all the time, nearly dying every day, and you lot just went about your lives having no fucking clue. People died. My brother is DEAD! And you’re all having a bloody good time, but he’s dead and everything is fucking ruined and—”

The thick-necked bouncer moved in and started pointing a beefy hand in George’s face.

“George, don’t!” came Ron’s holler, just barely picked up by the mic.

Hermione heard a chorus of yells beside her as, in front of the entire Muggle club, George whipped out his wand and brandished it at the bouncer.

“Take another step and I’ll drop you,” he snarled.

Hermione gave a yell of her own as Ron put up his hands and stood in front of George’s sparking wand.

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

Chapter 5 Author’s Note- 

Chapter 6 is already written and in the editing process.

I actually split Chapter 5 into two parts as it was epically long. So next chapter will be from Hermione's POV

oh, and it will have some smut

and angst

====================================================

Giant thank you to:

@abradystrix​ and @divagonzo​ for betaing and being so supportive and wonderful.

CHAPTER WARNINGS:

cursing, depresssed/anxious thinking, talk about eating & weight gain/loss, evidence of PTSD, drinking and drunkeness, threats

Previously, in 'Waking Up'

Hermione is on edge about her parents and is having trouble with anxiety in general- also worried about Ron not saying 'I love you' yet

Ron was exhausted from tending to George the night before- he's running on fumes- and is devastated that Hermione doesn't seem to care for Harry joining the Aurors- He fills out paperwork and gets sick with anxiety

Needs a quill and sees Hermione needs money for Australia

Goes to the village to get a job- gets lost in dark memories

Comes home to everyone giving cheers to him and the trio for Order of Merlins and Auror offers

They're all gonna go out to celebrate

[smol-and-grumpy]

Sky Full Of Stars - CH05

Sequel to Something Just Like This

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks he’s hilarious (she doesn’t agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life won’t come knocking at their door.

Warnings: Mostly fluff really, with an added sprinkle of angst

WC: 2889

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean’s sleeping on the couch in the private room he upgraded her to because Y/N needs to stay for a night and he wants her to be as comfortable as possible. She guesses that it has a lot to do about her hating hospitals. 

He doesn’t look like he’s sleeping comfortably at all though, his big body nearly spills out of that tiny couch. His upper body twists away from the rest and she’s sure that his back will hurt like a bitch once he wakes up. He looks almost comical and she takes her phone, snaps a picture. Maybe she’ll make it her home screen. 

She likes to take pictures of him in unflattering circumstances because it’s the only way she can be reminded that Dean is not perfect after all. He might look perfectly delicious all the time but he’s certainly not perfect in every sense and that’s totally perfect to her. She wouldn’t want it any other way.

Ella’s sleeping in her cot next to Y/N’s bed. 

Ella.

She remembers the start of their journey in search of a perfect name. Either one of them always had the right to veto and if someone vetoes, the name must be dropped completely. Dean suggested girls names and she doesn’t know if he knew women with these names? Maybe he did. Maybe he even slept with half of the names he suggested and really she didn’t want to be that kind of girl but she does have insecurities and that’s just how she is as a person. She can’t change the fact that she’s always going to be jealous because he’s had so much more and could still have women better than her. Y/N knows that her way of thinking is dumb, because he chose her after all, he wants to marry her, he has a baby with her—

—yet still...

So, when one day she suggested Ella — because she loved Cinderella when she grew up — Dean was quick to agree, there was no pausing to think or anything, just Dean repeating the name a couple of times, to hear it roll off his tongue. He then just walked to the chalkboard they had, with names written on it to choose from, and put Ella right on top. And it stayed there until the day she gave birth.

The girl starts to stir in her cot and Y/N leans over, takes the baby out and tries to dock Ella on her still milkless breasts. The nurse informed her, but she already heard it from Anna too, that the milk will only come a couple of days later. Nonetheless the baby needs to drink now and apparently she has already produced colostrum that Ella would be needing in the first couple of days. 

Now Y/N’s trying to do what the nurse taught her before. She docks her little girl to her nipple and lets Ella suck the needed milk out of her. She’s not going to lie, it hurts like hell, has to bite down on her lips not to cry out and wake Dean up. And with every suck on her nipple, she feels something flowing out of her down there, and she gets cramps in her stomach. They’re not worse than menstruation cramps though, so at least there’s that.

Ella starts to grunt and trashes around with her arms and that’s when Y/N knows that she needs to switch breasts. While she does it, Ella starts to cry, which prompts Dean to wake up from his short nap.

He blinks and rubs the sleep out of his eyes, yawns once more before he sits up and stretches himself. Dean looks over when he remembers where he was, sees her docking Ella to her nipple and he stills then as he watches her nurse their baby. 

She chuckles at him, “Maybe you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

He grins, it’s all cocky, and that’s when she knows that she shouldn’t have said that. 

Dean grabs his phone out of his pants, “Okay,”

“I was joking, put that thing back.”

Dean laughs and stands up, walks over to her to sit on the bed, leans down to kiss her and then Ella. 

“I’m not gonna lie,” He says, as he watches his daughter drink from her, “Maybe you’d think I’m a creep but seeing you nursing her turns me on very much.”

“Ugh,” Y/N huffs out, “No sex, Dean. Never again.”

He raises his eyebrow, “Never?”

“You heard me. It brought me into this situation in the first place. And I’m all messed up down there. You can’t change my mind.” She strokes Ella’s head while the little one sucks her nipple raw. 

“That’s a challenge I’m up to.” He grins.

After a while Ella finishes and falls asleep right on her naked chest. Dean leans down, noses at the baby’s head. Takes in the baby’s scent. It smells heavenly, she knows. 

“Dean? Could you go to the bag and get a little box out of it? It’s in the side pocket. I can’t remember which side, though.”

“Okay,” He pushes himself up from the bed and walks over to the bag, he tries the side pocket, comes up empty handed and tries the other one. 

Fishing out the box, he looks at it but he doesn’t get suspicious at all. He walks back to her and hands it over but she shakes her head, doesn’t take it. “No, it’s for you.”

“For me?” He frowns and she thinks it’s cute how he has no clue whatsoever.

Y/N nods, smiles up to him, to which Dean frowns some more. “Go on, open it.”

And that he does, opens up to the ring she bought for him. His jaw drops. Dean looks to the ring, back to her, and to the ring again. 

“Why, what?” He swallows, “I need so sit down.” He says then, sits next to her on the bed, slides his body down a little and she moves to the side, making room for him. Dean lays down next to her, kisses her temple, his hand still holding the box. “Do you maybe want to explain why you’re giving me a ring?”

She tilts her head to look him in the eye, “Well,” She starts to say and is somehow not struggling with the words as much as she thought she would be, “I thought you’ve been so good with me, with us. You’ve been so patient, and you let me insult you on a daily basis,”

“You didn’t do it on purpose, so,” He mumbles, throws it in. 

“You shush, my lips are still moving, I’m still talking.” 

Dean snorts.

“Right, where was I?” She tries to remember, “So, you were really my rock, and I’m sorry I made you go to the store so many times.”

“That’s okay,” He  kisses her temple once more, his hands are still holding that damn box and he doesn’t take out the ring yet and she knows it’s because she doesn’t tell him to.

“I was just thinking that it’s not fair that it’s only me who gets to wear a ring to know where I belong. Just as you want to keep me, Dean, I want to keep you too. Will you let me keep you?” 

Dean chuckles, and he sniffles a little but he’s quick to bury his face in the side of her neck, and when she tilts her head, he quickly looks up and kisses her. She knows that it’s because he doesn’t want to come across as a wimp because of the amount he already cried in the last twenty-four hours. 

“Yeah, of course,” He whispers against her mouth, and she smiles into the kiss. 

“Take it out, wear it.” Y/N urges him and he has to tell her to calm down before he slips it on his ring finger. It fits him like a glove, she made sure of it. He doesn’t ask her how she knows what size he needs though, but she guesses he knows that Cas has something to do with it.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” He noses at her temple. “I love it, thank you.”

 ***

 It’s two days later that her milk starts to come in. She knows because as soon as she wakes up, her chest feels funny.

Dean brings Ella over from the girl’s bedroom. That’s right, Their girl is sleeping in the other room because Y/N couldn’t get any sleep when they were all in the same room. She would hear every grunt, every movement and it drove her crazy. 

Y/N thought that she was an awful mother to not want her baby close but Anna told her that she felt the same. It was kind of a relief to know that she wasn’t the only one. 

During the day, Ella’s always by her side, it’s just the nights that she needs space. 

So, Dean volunteered to go get her while she tries to get out of bed with a funny feeling. Her chest feels heavy, and her breasts feel like they’re burning up. She rolls out of bed, stands in front of the floor lengths mirror and lifts her shirt, and holy shit!

Her tits are ginormous, hard and heavy, there’s stretch marks on the side of her boobs and around her nipple, blue veins all across it. Her tits look absolutely fake and they’re near exploding.

Dean walks in, all smiles, and in only his underwear, balancing his girl on his arm when he stops dead in his tracks. “Jesus, baby, what happened to your boobs?”

She turns around then, her hands still holding up the shirt but she can’t focus on her own chest, instead she looks at Dean. He looks so damn yummy in only his boxer briefs and their girl in his arms, his bed hair standing out in all different directions and she loves that, thinks that she’s really the luckiest girl in the world. 

Dean does his best to hide his boner while he watches her nurse their baby girl. He’s so mesmerized that he didn’t even hear her calling for him to go get a towel because her other boob is leaking. 

And it really, truly is leaking because the milk just flows out and now he can’t take his eyes off it either.

He didn’t hear her tell him to go get a cloth, which prompts her to elbow him in the ribs. 

Dean runs to the bathroom, comes out with a fresh cloth and holds it to her tit. Jesus, it’s so full and hard, same as his cock.

“You’re hard,” She chuckles as if she can read his mind.

Well, she doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know it since she can most definitely see a clear dick print through his underwear.

“Yeah, can’t help it. What would you say w—”

“—No,”

“Baby,”

“Dean, I’m still in a fucking diaper myself, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. It’s yuck.”

“Yuck?” He laughs, “I was only joking,” He moves closer, presses his lips to her naked shoulder. He really did joke, because after all, he wants for her to get better. 

And the diaper thing is kind of true either. They were laughing about it on their way back from the hospital. She’s not laughing about it anymore, though. 

When they released her, they said that her vagina should heal soon. Dean hopes so too. He absolutely hates to see her struggling with so many things at the same time, and wishes sometimes that he could nurse Ella himself so at least she gets that weight off her shoulders but since it’s not possible, he just tries to help as best as he can. 

Dean found out that he’s a fairly reasonable diaper changer. It took a lot to get there though. When he changed his first diaper, he gagged so hard the tears shot right into his eyes and Y/N just stood there laughing. He then found out that if he pins a peg to his nose and only breathes through his mouth, it was bearable.

His hands are too big though, so he has trouble cleaning Ella thoroughly and it takes him much longer than when Y/N does it. He also accidentally slips occasionally, and would dip his hand into the warm poo every time he rolls the damn diaper up, and then he’s gagging again, even if he doesn't even smell it. 

So despite all that, life’s really good right now. Everyone’s healthy and he hopes it’ll stay that way.

They settled into life with little Ella. She mostly keeps them (or rather Y/N) up all night because she’s only two weeks old and her feeding schedule right now is every three hours.

Y/N tries to get in naps during the day when Dean can take care of Ella’s other needs and everything that needs to be done in the house. She’s really thankful for that, thankful that they’re able to live comfortably and Dean doesn’t have to go to work to provide for his family. She knows that it’s a privilege and she doesn’t take it for granted. 

Another thing she’s thankful for is Dean being a closet neat freak. Oh, he can be sloppy too, but in moderation. Only if he wants to be. Most of the time though, he picks up after her and Ella and now more than ever because he wants to make himself useful around the house. 

She usually takes naps after a feeding. She would hand Ella to Dean and leave him to do the rest with changing diapers and walking around with her until she falls asleep again while Y/N plants herself on the sofa. She falls asleep immediately too and sometimes she would wake up with Dean spooning her and taking a nap too. 

They’ve become so lazy, living like sloths for the first four weeks. Only when Ella’s feeding time changes to every four hours do they go out to take walks, taking Truffles with them and that boy loves the little baby to death. He constantly watches her, alarms them when Ella so much as lets out a grunt.

Bubbles needed more time to adjust though, but Y/N can feel that the cat slowly accepts the new family member. 

Y/N takes a shower after she feeds Ella and Dean takes over, changing her diaper and lays her down for the night. When she walks out from the bathroom, Dean’s not in their room, which is unusual because it’s already late and he usually goes to bed when she does.

She slips a shirt over her head before she walks out to search for Dean in Ella's room. But the house is awfully silent as soon as she steps onto the landing. The door to Ella’s room is wide open and there’s no sign of either Ella or Dean.

Walking down the stairs, she doesn’t see them in the living room either, but then she hears  creaking of wood.

The door to the terrace is open, she can hear the rocking chair outside through the thin screen door. She hears a bass too, a humming of a melody.

She tiptoes closer, comes to stand on the inside, listening to Dean humming to their baby girl.

He’s sitting in the rocking chair, rocks back and forth with Ella on his chest, a blanket draped over both of them. 

Dean’s humming Metallica, and she has to smirk. Ella stirs on his chest, yawning.

“What? You don’t like it?” He whispers to her before he chuckles softly. 

Y/N watches Dean placing a kiss on Ella’s temple, her heart fills with joy. Ella doesn’t really register Dean but he starts to talk to their girl in a soft voice. A voice he uses whenever he soothes Y/N. A voice he whispers when he wants to reassure her that she’s all he wants. 

She sees him looking up to the sky. The stars are all out tonight. 

“Daddy loves you so much,” Dean whispers, places another kiss on the little girl's cheek, “Mommy loves you, too.”

Dean leans his head back, rocks back and forth before he sighs, “Daddy has done bad things, Ella. Things that might come back to haunt me. I’ll explain everything to you when you’re older, alright? Not going to lie to you.”

Y/N’s heart that just filled itself with joy starts to ache and she hugs her arms around her body tighter.

“I wanna see you grow up. Wanna see you becoming a strong girl. I really hope I’ll get to see that.” Dean’s voice is shaking a little, she can hear it.

“But if I can’t, the only thing you have to know is that daddy loves you, okay? So, so much. You’re going to be a good girl for mommy, you hear me?”

Little Ella stirs, as if she listened and understood what Dean just told her. 

Dean smiles, kisses Ella once more.

Y/N retreats, leaves Dean quality time with his daughter. She’ll ask him later what he means, because the thing he just said worries her.

CH06

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Freakday - Sex Week Series

You can read the series on AO3 here!

You can read today’s fic on AO3 here!

Freakday!

Alright, y’all, this is 3.7 k of Malex FILTH. Tags include: crossdressing, lingerie, anal play, anal sex, panty kink, pwp, and mentions of alien refractory periods. Enjoy!

.

      Michael let himself into Alex’s house using his TK without even glancing over his shoulder to see if a neighbor was watching. He was tired and was having erotic feelings towards a weeks worth of sleep. It was late, midway between midnight and morning, but he’d been helping Sanders with an emergency tow an hour out of town. It had been a bitch of a job and he was tired, dusty, and feeling like the most shit boyfriend ever. Alex's first performance as Brad in Roswell Theatre Company's rendition of Rocky Horror Picture Show had been that night and he'd missed it.

       “Babe?” he called out, toeing off his boots and hanging up his jacket. He heard an answering yell from the back bathroom. He stopped by the kitchen to grab a beer and then went on into the master bedroom. The bathroom door was shut, but the light was on underneath and he could hear movement through the thin door. “Hey, I’m sorry I missed the show.”

       He set his beer down on the dresser and started pulling off his dirty clothes to chuck them into the hamper. He'd unbuttoned his jeans and was about to shimmy them down when he heard the bathroom door open behind him. He turned and felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

       Alex stood in the doorway in costume. He still had on the fishnet thigh-highs, the black satin underwear and red garters, and the black bustier from the show. He’d apparently taken off his shoes and gloves and was in the process of working off the stage makeup. He looked surprisingly comfortable in the outfit as he stood there working a make-up cloth around his eyes.

       “I thought you were playing Brad?” Michael asked dumbly, his mouth suddenly incredibly dry as his eyes kept running up and down Alex’s body. He didn’t think seeing a guy in lingerie would be a thing he’d like, but Alex wearing lingerie was a thing he      definitely     liked. When Michael’s eyes finally made their way up past Alex’s collarbone he could see the amused smile on his boyfriend's face.

       “I am playing Brad, but the final number always has all the main characters in the same outfit,” he said, waving a hand down his body to indicate his current get up. He tossed the soiled make-up cloth into the trash and approached Michael where he was frozen by the laundry hamper. Up close, Michael could still see flecks of shimmer glitter on his skin and in his hair. The smudged remains or black eyeliner around his eyes and the red stain left on his lips from the lipstick made Michael’s heart rate pick up. Alex laid his arms over Michael’s shoulders and let his body arch into him. “Where were you?”

       “Sanders had a complicated towing job out towards Alamogordo. It took us for fucking ever, this guy ended in a ditch by a gully and…. Jesus, you’re so fucking hot right now,” Michael interrupted himself. He’d been running his hands up and down the bustier and then past it’s edge between the two or three inches of uncovered flesh before he hit the panties Alex was wearing under the garters. They felt like they had distinctly less fabric to them than a normal pair of women’s briefs. Alex was giving him an amused smile which Michael took as encouragement as he traced along the edges of Alex’s underwear with the tips of his fingers.

       “Just don’t rip anything, I have to wear this for two more nights. Rocky Horror all Halloween weekend!” Alex repeated the advertising line with his best attempt at a radio announcer’s voice. Michael grinned and moved forward to hover in front of his mouth for a kiss.

       “We’ll get you out of this in no time. I think I’ve already found my favorite part,” Michael breathed against his lips before giving Alex a quick kiss and snapping the waistband of Alex’s panties.

       “Oh? You don’t think I look good in the whole outfit?” Alex teased as Michael’s wandering hands pushed under the edge of the bustier to touch his back and then back down to his ass.

       “Oh, I love the whole outfit. But I mean, if I can want to fuck you in that terrible, unflattering airmen’s outfit, then there’s nothing I won’t want to fuck you in. This, however, is certainly something...more,” Michael replied easily. He moved his mouth to Alex’s jaw, then neck, then shoulder, then chest. He kissed along the upper edge of the bustier, his hands starting to go for the knotted corset ties at the top. Alex stilled his hands. Michael looked up at him curiously.

       “There’s a zipper in the back,” he said with a frankly dirty grin before turning around to show Michael his back. Michael caught the flash of the silver zipper tongue, but couldn’t help but stop and appreciate the full picture. The swell of Alex’s impressive shoulder muscles over the top of the black pleather, the way it framed his tapered waist, the red garter that pressed into his muscular ass on its way down his to the tops of his black fishnet thigh highs, and the black satin panties that were almost a thong showing off the round globes of his ass. He’d shaved just about everything to be able to wear this outfit and while Michael loved Alex’s body hair more than was appropriate, this smooth, manicured version was also delectable.

       “You just going to look or are you going to help me get out of this?” Alex asked over his shoulder. Michael moved close to speak low in Alex’s ear as he grasped the top of the zipper.

       “Hold your horses. I’m admiring a piece of art,” Michael said before starting to kiss a trail down Alex’s neck and then down his spine. He unzipped as he lowered himself onto his knees, mouth pressing against every new inch of skin exposed by the parting zipper teeth. When he got to the end, he unhooked the zipper with a quick tug. He was peripherally aware that Alex slipped the garment off his torso and tossed it towards the top of the dresser. He was more aware of the new expanse of naked skin in front of him and the faint lines of indention pressed into it from the tight garment. He traced the lines on Alex’s skin with his fingertips for a moment before continuing his slow descent down Alex’s body. He pushed his fingers under the red garters and traced down their path with his knuckles, admiring the red against Alex’s skin and the goosebumps that sprang up in the wake of his touch. He started to undo the hooks at the bottom of the garters with his fingers while his mouth brushed over the swell of skin that wasn’t covered by the bottom of Alex’s panties. He gave sucking kisses to the skin, enjoying the rosy flush as evidence of where his mouth had been. Alex moaned above him and Michael had to remind himself that this wasn’t the main event.

       “Turn around for me so I can get the garters in the front,” Michael commanded, staying on his knees on the floor and enjoying the view of Alex carefully twisting around to face him. It was evident when he turned around that Michael wasn’t the only one enjoying his slow exploration of Alex’s body. Michael threw him up a mischievous look before pulling down the front of Alex’s panties and tucking the band underneath his balls. The top of the garter belt and the fabric from Alex’s panties made an enticing frame for his cock. Alex was two thirds hard and it was making Michael's mouth water with memories of how good he tasted and felt on Michael's tongue. He caught Alex’s gaze as he moved forward and took him into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and shaft as he sucked more of him in. Alex let out a broken moan, his hands shooting out to clutch at Michael’s shoulders. Michael worked the other garters free quickly before pushing his hands up Alex’s thighs and massaging gently. Another moan worked itself out of Alex, this one full throated as his cock filled to full hardness in Michael’s mouth. Michael popped off with a sigh and pulled the front of Alex’s panties back up. They couldn’t cover all of Alex’s straining cock now that he was fully hard and the spit-slick tip stuck up past the waistband. Alex whined at the pressure under his head, but didn’t move to remove it. Michael curled his fingers under the garter belt and pulled it down Alex’s hips and thighs and then carefully maneuvered it off his feet.

       “You should go lay on the bed for this next part,” Michael advised, hands smoothing back up the textured expanse of the fishnets. Alex, who’d been watching him through half closed eyes, nodded his agreement and stepped back and over to the waiting bed. He hopped onto the edge and after a slow look up and down Michael who was still kneeling, crooked a finger at him to beckon him over. Michael stood and walked over, immediately situating himself between Alex’s obscenely spread legs. Alex drew him in for a deep, filthy kiss, his hands tugging through his curls before moving down his bare chest and lower to dip into the front of his open jeans.

       “Have I told you before how much I love it when you don’t wear underwear?” Alex said with a smile that spread from his lips to Michael’s as he pushed his jeans down his legs until they piled at the floor around Michael’s feet. Michael stepped out of them and kicked them behind him. Alex’s hand was around him, stroking and smearing the precum that had gathered at his tip over and down around the head. His other hand stayed tangled in Michael’s hair as they continued making out. Michael couldn’t stop running his hands over Alex’s body, too restless to stay one place, too keyed up to focus as it went from his thighs to his back to his chest to his hair and back down again. He started to lean forward, forcing Alex to let go of his cock in favor of catching himself on his elbows to gentle his fall as he was pushed back into the mattress. Michael broke their kiss and began kissing, sucking, and nipping a path down Alex’s body back towards his red, neglected cock. He only briefly paused to suck at the exposed head, drawing out a whine from Alex above him, before he kept moving down over his covered shaft and balls, mouthing at the soft fabric.

       He pushed down the thigh highs one at a time, careful not to tear them. He kissed and nipped roughly at the thin, sensitive skin of Alex’s inner knee as he worked off the prosthesis, sock, and liner. He massaged the muscles of Alex’s residual limb and up to his outer thigh, his mouth working the inner thigh. When his mouth reached the apex of Alex’s legs, he looked up towards Alex’s flushed face where he’d been watching him undress and worship his body.

       “I want to fuck you with the panties on,” Michael said, before mouthing over Alex’s balls and cock again, moving back up towards Alex’s face. “I want to you to lie on your stomach with you ass presented for me, panties on, and I want to eat you out and then fuck you. Sound good?”

       He’d finished with his mouth on Alex’s chest and he barely had to wait half a breath for Alex’s response.

       “Fuck, yes,” he breathed, pushing his hand into Michael’s hair so he could direct his face back up to Alex’s for a deep, searching kiss full of filthy promises and need. When Alex broke the kiss, he moved back away from Michael further onto the mattress and realigned his body so he could have his face near the headboard. He moved a pillow under his hips, but kept his body up on his knee not resting on it yet. Michael grabbed lube and a condom out of the bedside table and threw them onto the cover near Alex’s pillow before climbing onto the bed behind Alex’s beautifully presented ass. He put his hands over both cheeks of his perfect ass, fingers sneaking under the leg bands, and he began massaging the muscles in his hands. He loved watching the way the fabric seemed to disappear between Alex’s cheeks as he moved them, loved knowing he was one thin scrap of material away from what he really wanted. He bent forward and pulled Alex’s cheeks apart. He breathed through his mouth over the area directly above Alex’s hole, knowing the fabric was getting warm as he did. He pressed his tongue forward and licked over the fabric, causing Alex’s breath to hitch in surprise. Gathering some spit on his tongue, the next lick soaked the material through and it was almost like there was nothing between him and Alex’s skin. He backed up, kissed up to Alex’s skin, and rubbed his thumb over the sodden fabric over Alex’s pucker.

       “Does this feel okay, babe?” Michael asked, smiling even though Alex couldn’t see it when he got a needy whine and Alex pressing back against the pressure of his finger. He couldn’t help but mess with him a little. He pressed a little more firmly, dragging his finger up and down over his entrance, petting him with his thumb. “Do you need a little more?”

       “Fuck, Michael, yes!” Alex answered, sounding equal parts of horny and frustrated. Michael smiled against the skin at the bottom of his spine and kissed him apologetically.

       “Okay, I got you,” he said, then moved back down to replace his thumb with his mouth. He licked firmly over the fabric, pushing with his tongue at the pucker, swirling over it and sucked at the satin and skin surrounding it. Finally, he pushed the fabric aside, too desperate himself to keep teasing. At the first touch of his tongue to Alex’s skin, Alex let out a high pitched cry and Michael had to reach down to hold himself to keep from letting the sound get him too worked up. He returned to eating Alex out, pushing his tongue past his tight rim faster than he might normally but feeling himself starting to get desperate for more. Alex must’ve been feeling the same way, because he groaned into his pillow and rocked his hips back against Michael’s probing tongue. Michael sat back and grabbed the condom and lube. He ripped open the condom packet and rolled it onto himself quickly. When he popped the cap and looked up through, Alex was already working one finger in and out of his hole. Michael bent forward without thinking and licked around the probing finger, pushing his tongue alongside as much as he could. Alex keened above him and Michael reached between his legs to pull the panties down off of his cock. Even without seeing, Micheal could feel where Alex was dripping steadily onto the pillow beneath him. The tip was so warm and slick that Michael’s hand slid easily as he wrapped his fingers around Alex’s length and jerked him as best he could from the odd angle. He felt Alex pull his finger back and come back with two. Michael caught his hand and kissed his fingers before letting go.

       “I got you, baby. Let me take care of it. You touch your cock while I get your ready, yeah?” Michael suggested, letting Alex’s cock go so he could drizzle lube onto his fingers. He smeared the tips around Alex’s red, needy pucker before pushing in with two to take up where he and Alex had left off. It was still a slight stretch, but Michael immediately began spreading his fingers carefully and scissoring them to help Alex along. He teased at the rim with a third after a few minutes and Alex groaned behind him.

       “Please Michael, I’m good. I wanna feel you stretching me on your cock!” Alex groaned while looking over his shoulder, hair disheveled and expression wild. Michael nodded, too keyed up to say no, and dragged the panties down until they rested under the swell of Alex’s cheeks. He drizzled lube over his cock, using his hand to spread it around before positioning himself at Alex’s entrance. Since he wasn’t fully stretched, it took a little more effort for his body to accept Michael’s thick cock inside of him. Michael rocked forward gently, holding Alex’s hips steady as he pushed his way slowly past the tight rim of muscle. Alex’s thighs were trembling and Michael could feel the tension in his body. He paused and ran his hands up Alex’s back, massaging the muscles of his shoulders and down his spine. Minutely, inch by inch, Alex relaxed as Michael continued to push himself further into him with short, slow thrusts until their hips were cradled against one another.

       “Fuck, we should’ve stretched you more. You’re so fucking tight right now,” Michael groaned from above him, trying to get used to the velvet vice grip surrounding him. Alex was panting into his pillow, but Michael could see his arm moving beneath him, slowly stroking his cock. Alex loved this. Alex loved a little less prep and a little more stretch, loved to feel his body forced to make room for Michael inside of him, and Michael felt sure that Alex could cum just like this, without Michael moving, just stuffing him full while Alex jacked himself off onto the bed spread. But that wasn’t today’s game. Leaning forward, Michael positioned his hands to either side of Alex’s ribs and started to pull his hips back. It felt amazing. It always felt amazing to be inside Alex’s body, but this sucking pressure as he pulled out and pushed back in was indescribably good.

       “Oh God, Michael. Like that,” Alex moaned underneath him, punctuating his praise with a squeeze of his muscles around Michael’s cock that left him moaning helplessly into the skin of Alex’s back. Michael tried to keep up his steady pace, but his body craved more and it was hard to keep going slowly.

       “Alex, baby, I gotta…,” Michael panted against his skin. He couldn't wait before he picked up the tempo of his thrusts, pushing harder to feel the singing sting of their skin slapping together, and he could feel the coil of impending ecstasy in him growing tighter and tighter. Alex was likewise moaning and pushing back into his thrust, their skin meeting in meaty blows that pushed grunts out of Michael’s throat. It was too good, everything felt too good. He wasn't going to last very long.

       “Are you close?” Michael managed to ask through clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut so he couldn’t be tempted to look down at the reddening skin of Alex’s ass and thighs where it was meeting Michael's or at his cock splitting Alex wide as he thrust hard into his body.

       “Yeah, yeah. I’m so close, Michael. Fuck, so.. So… AH!” Michael felt the inexorable tightening of Alex’s body around him and he bit his lip as he plowed through his last few thrusts so he could follow him. It was the kind of orgasm that sucked all the sense of our brain and poured it into every nerve ending on your body. He kept rocking through his aftershocks until it became too much and he had to still and calm his heart.He and Alex tipped to the side as one, still connected, and breathing heavily. Michael lazily kissed Alex’s shoulder as he recovered, his arms wrapped solidly around his waist as if Alex would try to move away from him. Alex rubbed his forearms soothingly and pressed his body back into his kisses, tangling their legs together.

       “You’re amazing,” Michael breathed into Alex’s sweat dampened hair. He loved the smell of Alex after sex. He smelled good enough for Michael to get hard for another round before he could pull out from this one. The condom was the only obstacle keeping him from doing just that. With distaste and disappointment, Michael reached down between them to hold onto the condom as he pulled out of Alex’s body. He stripped it off and tied it quickly, tossing it towards the wastebasket. He pushed back against Alex’s body, needing to feel every inch of skin against his that he could. Michael buried his head in Alex’s neck and just breathed, trying to memorize his scent and their scent together.

       “So panties are apparently a thing we both enjoy. Good to know,” Alex teased in a casual, conversational tone. Michael nipped at the skin of his neck and snuggled himself closer as if they weren’t already touching everywhere they could.

       “Yes, I’d say so,” Michael agreed after Alex started to grind his ass back against Michael’s only half deflated cock. “But if you keep doing that, I’m not going to bother with the condom next time and we’re just going to have a mess to clean up.”

       “You didn’t have to bother with it this time,” Alex said, still giving small rolls of his hips.

       “I didn’t want to stain your costume,” Michael explained, feeling his cock fill again. Fucking alien refractory period was a curse and a blessing. His body had started to respond, small rolls of his hips to correspond with Alex's, his cock nestling in the valley between his still pink ass cheeks.

       “No costume in the way now…” Alex said conspiratorially. He reached back and raked his short nails up Michael's thigh to his hip, where he gripped him as if to spur him on.

       “Fuck, you’re a fucking menace,” Michael complained halfheartedly. Alex let our a pleased hum of agreement. Michael pulled himself away suddenly to lay on his back. “But you’re on top this time.”

       Alex rolled over and looked Michael up and down slowly, licking his lips as he did so.

       “Oh no, what’s a boy to do,” he replied with a slow, dirty grin that made Michael exceedingly glad he already had the morning off, because he didn’t think he’d be fit to move until after lunch.

[pessimisticlatte]

Glass Roses ~ Chapter 21

Adrienette/Adrinette ~ Lukagami ~ Ladynoir ~ DJWifi/Alynino ~ Chlobrina ~ Gabriel x a Sack of Shit ~ Nathalie x Happiness (because she deserves it)

Remember how I said this was going to be a monster chapter? Well, it is. It clocks in at 13 pages (out of the 160 for the whole fic) and 6,505 words (out of 77,371). 

Author’s note at the bottom

Marinette watched Gabriel leave, slipping into a hidden corridor toward the back left of the ballroom and disappearing. Trying not to watch her illusory self walk gracefully through the ballroom on Chat’s arm, Alya as Rena following behind with her flute slung over her back and figures looking like Viperion, Queen Bee, Carapace and Ryuko not too far behind her. Mari knew that the Alya walking within their friends superhero forms was real and that she’d chosen to remain within the group of illusions so as to maintain the guise of them being real and to make sure the illusion didn’t drop. Trixx’s illusion magic tended to work best if Alya was as close to it as possible, so that’s the route the dark red haired girl had decided to follow for this particular mission. 

Following into the corridor behind Gabriel, Mari paused for a moment until she felt a warm hand wrap loosely around her trembling fingers. Turning to face Adrien and Nino, Marinette pressed her finger to her lips and led the two boys down the corridor until they reached a bend.

“Nino, you should call out Wayzz and transform, depending on how this goes, we’re really going to need you,” Lightly gripping the sleeve of Nino’s suit jacket, Mari pushed herself up onto her toes as far as her wedged heels would allow and whispered into Nino’s ear. “Adrien and I should be able to distract him for a bit, Gabriel hasn’t met me as Adrien’s girlfriend yet,” A slight blush began to creep up Adrien’s cheeks at Mari’s words. “And it should throw him off while you sneak in and swap his miraculous box with this,” Dipping her hand into the pocket of her dress (she’d added the pockets herself, not just for this particular purpose but because Marinette was a firm believer in all women’s clothing having the deepest pockets possible), Mari pulled out an eerily similar box to the ones she, Adrien, and their friends stowed their miraculouses in when needed, though this one had engravings of moths and butterflies on it, showing it as the box for Nooroo’s dormant miraculous. “It’s got a fake butterfly brooch in it so he won’t notice the difference until the last moment, and that shouldn’t be until Luka is far enough away with the miraculous case.”

“How do I make sure not to mix them up?” Scratching his chin as he took the box from Marinette’s open palm and slipping it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, Nino’s lips curled slightly in worry. 

Taking the box out of Nino’s pocket, Marinette turned it slightly and showed him the hinge of the box. “Here,” She pointed at the ever so slightly visible golden hinge. “The proper boxes are made so the hinge is completely invisible and can’t be seen until the box is open, you can see the hinge on this one though. It’s not exactly what I wanted but I didn’t fix it purely because I knew you’d ask that question,” Handing the box back to Nino, the red capped boy slid it back into his pocket and patted the outside with a grin.

“I used to think that you overthought things way too much, Mari, but, damn, I’m so grateful for it now,” Pulling Mari to him slightly, Adrien’s hand still wrapped around hers, Nino pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You two go on ahead, I’ll transform and be right behind you.”

“Do you remember the words to make yourself invisible?” Placing a firm hand on his best friend’s shoulder, Adrien looked Nino in the eye sternly, trying to make sure that Nino wasn’t going to burst into wherever they were going completely visible and ruin this whole, precariously put together plan.

“Yep, now you two need to go or we’re going to run out of time,” Shrugging Adrien’s hand off his shoulder, Nino waved away Adrien’s comment and pushed the couple slightly toward the direction Gabriel had disappeared down. “Go, run like hell.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Remaining on the balcony, Nathalie watched the posse of superheroes fan out into the crowd of people, Rena Rouge sticking to Ladybug and Chat Noir’s sides as Viperion and Ryuko made their way to the back of the room and Queen Bee amassed a crowd of adoring fans, she was quite the social butterfly. Nathalie had lost track of the green one, Carapace or whatever his name was, in the throng of people below, the young man not wearing his usual vibrant green and his head not covered by the hood of his costume, making him blend into the crowd easily. Chewing on her lip, she searched for Adrien’s golden head, not sure whether she should be hoping that he was as close as possible to the superheroes or extremely far away from them; her search came up fruitless. Confused, Nathalie searched the crowd again with a more scrutinising gaze, leaning over the balcony again slightly. 

The shining haloed head of her son was nowhere to be found, causing Nathalie’s heart to thunder and beat with intense, worried irregularity. Where was he? He was here when Ladybug and Chat Noir and the rest of them arrived, where could he be now? Her head had begun to swim with a million shades of worry, the marble bannister beneath her hand beginning to sway slightly like undulating water as the grey and silver threading through it began to curl and coil and slither over each other like snakes. Nathalie suddenly felt weightless, like she was falling, as she tipped over the bannister and plummeted to the level below, unaware of the fact that she was falling at all. She couldn’t hear the distant cries as she fell, her ears deaf and her mind completely blank save for the aching, echoing worry for her boy, her son. 

~~~~~~~

Squeezing Marinette’s hand lightly, Adrien knocked on the large oaken door he’d watched his father disappear behind a moment ago. The rapping from the young man’s knuckles reverberated through the empty corridor he and Marinette were standing in as well as the study beyond the doors. There was the faint sound of muttered swearing before the clicking of shoes against polished flooring approached the doors, swinging open to reveal a very pissed off and mildly disheveled Gabriel Agreste.

The usually perfect coiff Adrien had never seen his father without was rumpled, as though someone had been running their fingers through it, and the top two buttons of his stark white button down were undone, revealing the equally as stark undershirt beneath. 

“Adrien,” Gabriel addressed his son curtly as he stepped aside slightly and allowed the two into the room, Marinette noticing Adrien’s verging on being than his father as they passed him. “I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you yet,” Holding his hand out to Marinette, Gabriel assessed with extreme scrutiny her behind his wife framed glasses. Reaching out to shake the elder Agreste man’s hand, Gabriel grabbed her hand in a way she’d only ever experienced when it was Adrien dressed as Chat Noir doing it. Pressing a light kiss to Marinette’s knuckles with the slightest bow, Gabriel’s face remained emotionless despite his state. Mari guessed that he’d disappeared back here with someone else to throw off the scent of his being Hawkmoth should anyone, such as Adrien and herself, decide to follow him. “I am Gabriel Agreste.”

“I..I know,” Trying not to stumble over her words, Marinette felt her cheeks heat in the presence of not just her boyfriend’s father but the designer she’d aspired to be like for most of her life and the most dangerous, notorious supervillain in France. “I’m Marinette...Marinette Dupain-Cheng. B-but, my friends c-call me M-Mari, Mr Agreste. It’s a p-p...pleasure to meet you.”

“Chin up, child,” Almost disdainfully, Gabriel released Marinette’s hand and stood completely straight, his body unnaturally still, as his lips curled slightly at the young woman’s posture and the inelegant bow of her head. “Standing like that adds twenty years to your appearance and is unflattering and ugly.”

Wide eyed, Mari glanced at Adrien with quivering lips as she straightened her own back and tipped her chin up slightly. Hands held loosely behind his back, Gabriel walked further into the room, motioning for the two to follow him with a curt, impersonal nod. 

“Sit,” Sliding into the large leather chair behind the biggest, shiniest desk Mari had ever seen in her entire life, Gabriel Agreste ran a hand through his hair and smoothed down a few stray pieces of his perfectly glossy platinum blonde hair. “How did you meet my son?”

Marinette and Adrien had been careful about not closing the door behind them, leaving it slightly ajar so that the invisible Nino could pass through as soon as needed. Having watched his best friends disappear into the study, a slight glance over a shoulder from Adrien before they entered telling Nino that things were currently going exactly as planned, on this end at least anyway. Sucking his stomach in as much as he could, Nino slipped through the open door with painfully held breath. Bumping the door slightly, he squeezed his eyes closed as tightly as possible and fought against his own racing heart to stay as calm as he could. The door made no sound from Nino’s small collision, not even whispering as it brushed over the polished floor and away from him. Releasing his breath slowly, shakily, and impossibly quietly, Nino entered the room fully and pressed his back against the flat expanse of wall adjacent to it, seeing his two best friends across the room from him as Marinette was interrogated by Gabriel Agreste. Nino had been in her position once, Gabriel had called him to the mansion in Paris and grilled him within an inch of his life on every single aspect of Nino’s life, personality, interests and whatever other trivial things the Agreste patriarch had felt the compulsion to know. He felt sorry for Mari but was so thankful that it wasn’t him.

Inching further into the room, avoiding anything that could give him away as he slowly moved away from the door and past the half wall that had initially separated his entry from the conversation being had at the desk beyond, Nino slotted himself into a spot between a large metallic filing cabinet and a wall with a curtain covered window, waiting. Gabriel’s interrogation of Marinette continued, Nino beginning to feel as though this really wasn’t his place to be as the questions became more and more personal and Mari’s answers became more and more shaky, embarrassed. Ears suddenly pricking up at footfalls approaching the study, Nino’s breath caught in his throat again as Adrien’s bodyguard threw the door of the study open fully, rounding the half wall and commanding the trio’s attention with silent intensity.

“Yes, Mr Gorille?” Gabriel’s voice was bored, a tone Nino was more than used to seeing as Adrien’s father tended to have three emotions: bored, angry, and disdainful. Quickly and almost unsuccessfully stifling a laugh at the bodyguard’s surname, the invisible boy’s heart began to thunder again, so loud in his own ears that he was worried everyone else in the room would hear it and he would be done for. “What do you want?”

“Sir, Ms Sancouer fell over one of the balconies,” The Gorilla’s voice was gruff, almost as emotionless as Gabriel’s but there was the unmistakable tenor of worry in his tone as he spoke of Adrien’s new adoptive mother and his good friend. Gabriel immediately shot to his feet.

“Is she alright?” Gabriel didn’t sound or look particularly worried, though something about his posture hinted at him actively trying to experience a human emotion (and failing, much to Nino’s delight).

“One of the superheroes you invited, Queen Bee, caught her just as she tipped over. Ms Sancouer is alright though she did knock her head against the bannister as she fell and is bleeding quite immensely from the temple where her skin has split. One of the waiters is administering first aid as we speak but Ms Sancouer is asking for Master Adrien,” Nodding his head toward Adrien as he finished, Nino saw the change in the bodyguard’s posture a moment after he noticed the abject fear swimming in his best friend’s wide eyes. Nino had almost forgotten that Nathalie had signed the adoption papers for Adrien and that the other young man was still adjusting to having a parent who actually gave a shit about him, of course Adrien would be terrified.

“We will all go. Come,” Rounding the desk, Gabriel pulled Adrien and Marinette with him, like they were planets caught in his orbit. The four of them left the room, leaving Nino pressed against the wall between the filing cabinet and the window.

~~~~~~~~

Dressed as Queen Bee, Chloe cradled Nathalie in her arms gently before laying the woman down on an overstuffed lounge in a parlour not too far from the ballroom. A steady stream of crimson blood trickled from the woman’s temple and onto the pale golden skin of Chloe’s arm as she carefully positioned Nathalie’s head, making sure she was laid comfortably on the couch. Not wanting Alya to tire too quickly as she maintained the illusions, Chloe Bourgeois had slipped away to ‘powder her nose’ and returned dressed as Queen Bee, Pollen having morphed her usual suit into an equally beautiful dress as the one Mari had made for her. She’d just emerged from her hidey hole after transforming when she’d seen Nathalie suddenly sway then topple over the bannister of the balcony across the wide ballroom from her, using her miraculous enhanced speed, Chloe had flown across the room and caught the falling woman before she’d even come close to the shining floor. 

The crowd of people had begun to advance on Chloe as she held Nathalie in her arms, checking that she was still breathing and that there was no damage to her beyond the bleeding wound at her temple. For once in her life, Chloe hadn’t enjoyed the crowd’s attention, wanting desperately to get Nathalie somewhere safe so she could clean up the blood painting the side of the older woman’s face and bring someone to her who had the training and knowledge to be able to do something to help her. Adrien’s bodyguard, the Gorilla, had swept the crowd away so that Chloe could take Nathalie somewhere less crowded, the large man exhibiting a level of emotion Chloe hadn’t been sure he was capable of.

Luka had appeared soon after Chloe had set Nathalie down, the Gorilla having disappeared to find Adrien and Gabriel once the former’s name had been heard faintly leaving her lips, with Kagami in tow, a waiter not far behind the Japanese girl. Assuring her friends that the waiter knew first aid, Chloe moved aside and allowed the dark skinned woman to tend to Nathalie, mopping the blood away from her face and checking what vitals she could without complex instruments. 

Standing silently, arms crossed over her chest as her heart hammered, Chloe tried not to pace as Kagami (still dressed in creaseless culottes and a handmade kimono jacket she’d said Marinette had made for her at the beginning of the year) stood at Luka’s side, one hand entwined with hers while the other tapped out a melody on the thigh of his tux. He’d swapped out into Viperion before Chloe had changed into Queen Bee, Kagami remaining in civilian attire as Alya had suggested. Footsteps approached them from outside the parlour, Kagami releasing Luka’s hand and gliding away from him fluidly as the waiter’s head snapped to face the door, glancing past the two as her dark eyes glazed over Luka appreciatively. Immediately crossing the room to Nathalie’s side, Adrien’s skin had bleached to a pale sheet white as he knelt down beside her and took her limp hand in his own clammy, worry-mottled ones. Marinette hung by the door, Gabriel Agreste floating just outside the threshold as the Gorilla stood guard. Hesitantly, Chloe moved over to Marinette and stood beside her awkwardly as the two girls watched Adrien sweep a lock of dark hair streaked with Nathalie’s signature red stripe away from her pale face.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Unsure of how to greet Mari, Chloe’s words came out too formal and too stilted.

“Hello Queen Bee, you look lovely this evening,” Mari was definitely a better actress than Chloe, not that the blonde girl would ever admit it to her. Keeping her identity as Ladybug from so many people in her life, including Alya, had definitely made her so good at pretending that, if Chloe hadn’t known Marinette better, she might’ve thought they were actually strangers meeting for the very first time and not friends trying desperately not to give up the dangerous charade that they were playing. “I heard that you caught Ms Sancouer as she fell. That was very brave of you and I can’t thank you enough for saving her.”

“It’s alright, helping people is what I do,” Chloe’s smile was sincere but awkward, she wished that Sabrina was here to hold her hand because it’s not every day that you watch your best friend’s mother go toppling off a balcony and you’re the one who catches her, stopping her from smacking into the ground from a height that very likely would’ve killed her. “I’m lucky that I caught her in time though, if I had been a moment later she might’ve hit the ground and would be in much worse condition.”

“Regardless, I’m really thankful that you were there. Where are Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Marinette knew that Gabriel, the Gorilla, and the waiter would all be asking the same question if they could so she asked it for them. Of course, she knew where they were; Chat Noir was kneeling beside his mother with shaking hands and tear stung eyes, and Ladybug was standing back, giving her partner a moment to breathe as he grieved. 

“They’re doing crowd control with Rena Rouge, we thought it best if the two of them stayed with the public and calmed them down instead of having Viperion and I do it. The public love Ladybug and Chat Noir, they’re more likely to trust them than they are to trust us,” The lie was smooth, seamless, almost as if Chloe had been practicing it over and over in her head for the moment that exact question was asked (she had been). Glancing around the room discreetly, Marinette made sure that those who’d needed to hear the lie had and that they’d believed it, convinced that Chloe’s words had met their mark, Mari moved toward Adrien and placed a careful hand on his shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette, Adrien, Gabriel and the Gorilla had gone, leaving Nino alone in the study with the fake miraculous box Mari had made clutched carefully in his hand. He generally wasn’t the type to say that an accident was a stroke of luck but this time, it really had been. They’d thought through how to get Nino in and how to delay Gabriel’s realisation that the real butterfly miraculous had been spirited away from him but there hadn’t been much thought put into how Nino would go about switching the boxes and then getting the fuck out of the study. The Gorilla had closed the door behind the group when they’d left, Nino’s keen ears hadn’t missed the click of the lock as he did so but that wasn’t an issue for now, the issue for now was getting ahold of the real butterfly miraculous. 

Still invisible, Nino crossed the room carefully and rounded the desk, kneeling down so he was at eye level with the column of drawers on the left side of the desk. The lowermost drawer had a keyhole toward the top of it, when Nino tugged on it he found that it was locked (not that he expected it to be unlocked, this was Gabriel Agreste he was attempting to rob and the man was nothing if not thorough). Checking the other side of the desk, Nino found two more locked drawers. Resting back onto his feet, still crouching, he chewed his lip and moved his gaze between the two sides of the desk and the three locked drawers, he’d never actually wanted to try and think like a supervillain but right now he was going to have to because he had a feeling deep in his gut that told him that Gabriel Agreste was definitely not keeping the butterfly miraculous in one of these drawers. Remembering what Tikki and Plagg had said a few weeks ago about how Kwamis could find each other, Nino paused for a moment before relinquishing invisibility and freeing Wayzz from his activated state. The exhausted Kwami hovered in the air in front of Nino as the boy peered over the desk toward the half wall separating him from the door and strained his ears for any sound of someone approaching.

“Nino, what’s wrong?” Confused, Wayzz looked up over the lip of the desk too, a large yawn leaving his mouth. 

Pulling a small packet of jelly beans from his pants pocket, Nino handed one to Wayzz before ducking back down under the desk. “Hey, so you know how Kwamis can find each other?”

“Yes, but it’s not an exact science, Nino,” Chewing slowly on the jelly bean, Wayzz’s smooth brow furrowed slightly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Do you think you can track Nooroo? I think the butterfly miraculous is in here somewhere but I wanna be sure before I start ripping things apart,”

“We’re in Gabriel Agreste’s office, yes?” Nino nodded, heart racing. They didn’t have ages and Nino was too far away from Luka to be able to ask for a second chance at this (second chance would only give him 10 minutes at max anyway and there was always the worry that jumping back to try again wouldn’t necessarily change the outcome for the better) so right now was likely the only chance he and Wayzz had to grab the miraculous and skedaddle the fuck out of this study and back to the party. “Give me a moment.”

“We don’t have long, turtle dude, cause if we get caught, we’re done for, so please don’t take too long,” Finishing the jelly bean, Wayzz nodded before closing his eyes and floating completely still in the air in front of Nino’s face. Moving with his eyes closed, Wayzz floated up under the desk, weaving past Gabriel’s desk chair as he did so. Opening his eyes, Wayzz pointed up to the underside of the desk with a fin.

“There’s a compartment there, he’s in there. I can feel it,” 

“Turtle dude, you are the best,” Crawling under the desk with a grin, Nino slid his fingertips along the underside until he felt a long groove in the varnished wood. Pushing up gently, the board dislodged and, with a slightly angled turn, came away from the underside of the desk into Nino’s gentle hands. Wayzz floated up into the compartment the board had been hiding and disappeared into the darkness within before floating back with a box much too large for him to be moving clutched unsteadily between his small, green fins. “Honestly, man, I don’t know how to thank you enough for this. You are a lifesaver, literally.”

“You should transform back, Nino, you have the box but, as you said, there isn’t much time and I would rather us not get caught,” Slipping the box Wayzz had been holding into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, resting above his heart, Nino pushed the fake box into the cavity beneath the desk and returned the board hiding it to its original position, making sure that the smooth wood that matched the rest of the desk was facing down so as not to give away what had transpired. 

Taking Wayzz’s advice, Nino transformed back into Carapace, his costume identical to the illusory one Alya was maintaining in the ballroom, before slipping back into invisibility with the whispered words: ‘Protective shell-ter’. Double checking the security of the miraculous box, Nino carefully got up and crossed the room to the door, twisting the handle gently hoping that it locked from the inside and not the outside. To his dismay, he found the door locked and refusing to budge, his knowledge of lock picking completely non-existent and thus no help to him in this moment. He couldn’t hear anyone approaching but that didn’t stop the anxious, echoing beat of his heart as he looked around the room for something, anything, that would get him out before Gabriel came back. When Gabriel came back, it was game over. He’d go for the miraculous and find that it was fake, Luka wouldn’t have had enough time to get away before Gabriel unleashed havoc in ways Nino couldn’t even fathom and this would end with Adrien and Marinette’s miraculouses in Gabriel’s possession as well as the rest of the groups. This was a risky game to be playing but it was the only one they had.

Eyes snagging on the heavy damask curtains, Nino moved toward the window and pushed them aside. Looking out into the garden and down, there was a row of rose bushes below (just his luck, eh?) and the window sill was higher than he would’ve liked, though all he had to do was step down from it, he was on the first floor after all. The window had a latch on the inside, which Nino flipped free so he could push the windows open; cold air rushed right at his heated face as he did so and calmed his fried nerves slightly. Pushing himself up over the window sill, Nino dropped down into the garden bed below, narrowly missing the thorns on the bushes as he maneuvered himself as close to the building as he could. Seconds before he began to sneak away, Nino remembered that the window had been closed and locked with the curtains drawn over it before he’d used it as an escape route; mentally bashing himself, he stood up and tried to close the window as best as he could from the outside, the endeavour going about as well as could be expected for a window that opened inward and closed with a latch. He didn’t want to leave it open, anything that could alert Gabriel of foul play had to be eradicated completely. Gaze darting around the room as the too fast beating of his anxious heart returned, Nino again searched for something that could help him, though this search was fruitless.

From where he was standing, Nino could see the door that he’d entered through as well as Gabriel’s desk, in fact, he could see the entire sprawl of the room from this one vantage point. There was a door behind the desk, slightly to the right, that was ajar and there was a light on behind it. Confused as to how he hadn’t seen it before, Nino climbed back into the study and carefully pushed the door open further. Sitting on a plush, velvet lined chair within was a woman in a rather severe state of undress, playing on her phone with a disgruntled look on her face. Mouth curving into an ‘o’, Nino remembered how Gabriel hadn’t seemed as put together as he usually did when he’d entered the room; realisation dawned on him as he looked at this stunning woman with mocha coloured skin and waist length midnight hair chilling in a room attached to Gabriel’s study in her underwear. Gabriel had come in here to fuck before he went all ‘hawky’. Nino’s lips curled into a smile which he hid, despite his invisibility, by pressing his lips together and rolling them into his mouth; reaching to pull his phone out of his pocket, he paused, he knew that he was going to take the photo so he could show Alya but he knew his girlfriend well enough that no matter how he tried to phrase it, she would definitely not take him having a photo of a half naked woman on his phone very well (especially since he’d taken it while invisible). Sliding his phone back into his pocket and looking back at the window, Nino had an idea.

Pushing the door into the room the woman was in open further before he dashed to the window and climbed out unceremoniously, Nino waited below to see if she’d take the bait. Surely, after a moment he heard the woman release a displeased groan before he heard her light footsteps moving toward the window.

“He brings me in here and gets me half undressed then his kid turns up so he fucking abandons me and he had the audacity to leave the window open before he left? Fuck you, Gabriel Agreste,” She slammed the window closed and latched it, Nino below stifling a laugh with all his might as she closed the curtains with an angry flourish and stormed back to the room she’d been sitting in. Once she was gone, he released his held breath with a refreshing whoosh, stood up and sprinted as quickly as he could, Wayzz didn’t enhance his speed as much as Plagg, Pollen, Trixx and even Tikki enhanced the others, toward the guest house. Ducking around the back of the house, chest heaving from exertion, Nino dropped the invisibility and pulled the miraculous box out, checking it over to make sure that it was the right one. Quickly assessing the vicinity around him, he twisted the handle of the back door and slipped into the guest house kitchen.

Opening the miraculous box, Nino caught a glimpse of the butterfly brooch for a split second before there was a flash of dull purple light and Nooroo appeared.

“H-who are you?” The Kwami spoke in a small, scared voice, pressing his fins together as he looked at Nino with an expression akin to that of someone just about to cry.

“I’m Carapace, I’m a friend,” Lowering his voice and trying to sound as reassuring as possible, Nino chewed the inside of his cheek. “Mayura sent me to come find you so we could return you to your miraculous box and keep you safe from Hawkmoth.” Silently, Nino crossed his fingers in the hopes that Nooroo would understand what he was saying.

“M..Ms Nathalie sent you to get me?” Still speaking very quietly, Nooroo floated slightly closer to Nino’s face with the widest eyes he’d ever seen. “Y-you’re going to take me somewhere else? P-please t-tell me t-that you’re go-going to take me s-s-s-somewhere el,” Nooroo hiccuped. “Else.”

“Yeah, I am, but I need you to get back in your box so I can put your box with the others. Then one of my friends, who is also here to help you, is going to come and get the miraculous case and take it somewhere far away from here to keep it safe until we can come get it,”

“W-will you come and get me?” It had been so long since Nooroo had felt cared for. Gabriel had treated him like an object and even the rare moments he got to share with Duusuu didn’t fill the void Gabriel had created within him.

“Maybe, maybe not, but I do know that my friend Marinette, she’s one of my best friends and the best person you’ll ever meet, will definitely be coming to get you. She’s got Tikki with her, so you know you can trust her because Tikki wouldn’t trust just anyone,” Nino didn’t actually know if what he was saying was true but if it would get Nooroo back in his box so they could get him away from here then he didn’t care if it was a lie.

“I-if Tikki chose her then she has to be special,” Nooroo nodded, the gesture making Nino’s shoulders feel lighter for some reason. “I’ll see y-you a-another time. Thank you for saving me.”

“Hey, don’t mention it,” Nino grinned as he held the box open, Nooroo floating back into it before it closed with a gentle snap. Alya had told Nino that he could tell which room was hers and Marinette’s by what was hanging on the doorknob, glancing around the room he saw only one door with something hanging from the knob so he moved toward it, whatever was dangling from it unrecognisable in the dimness within the guest house. Reaching the door, Nino saw that Alya had carefully balanced a pair of his headphones on the knob, they were his favourite pair and he’d been looking for them for days! Grinning and rolling his eyes, Nino pushed the door open and saw a weird, slightly curved lump under the sheets of one of the beds. Suspecting that it was the box, Nino pulled the sheets back and stowed Nooroo’s little, craved black and red box within the much larger black and red one before smoothing the sheets back out, making the box a little bit less conspicuous for when the girls came back. 

Releasing Wayzz and feeding him again, Nino exited the guest house through the back door and, by way of the shadows and some very carefully timed moving, made his way to the hedged garden where he sat down on a wrought iron bench and pulled out his phone, texting Alya to tell her that it was done.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shortly after Nathalie’s fall, Alya’s phone pinged, though she remained glued to the illusory Chat Noir and Ladybug’s sides she’d drifted to the back of the room for a little bit more peace and quiet. Keeping up an illusion always made her tired and maintaining one such as this for this many people was draining her in a way she’d never experienced. She’d gotten one of the waiters to bring her an espresso about 10 minutes ago, she’d downed the entire boiling hot cup in seconds, not caring if she signed her taste buds off completely because she would take any energy she could get at this stage. Discreetly checking her phone, Alya had to hold in her joyful whoop as she read Nino’s message. He’d done it. They’d done it. A small smile on her face as the only hint toward what she’d just read on her phone, Alya had her illusions begin to say their goodbyes and make their way toward the exit. It took longer than she’d wanted because people kept asking for Ladybug’s autograph and each time she’d had the illusory form of her best friend decline, she’d felt more and more guilty. 

Once each of the illusions was out the door, herself included, Alya released Trixx from the necklace and fed the starving Kwami before making her way, dead on her feet, to the garden where Nino had said he was so she could collapse into her boyfriend’s arms and pass the fuck out.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Adrien and Marinette had arrived in the room, Kagami had slipped out and kept an eye on Alya from the other side of the room. She could see that her friend was getting tired but she kept her distance so she didn’t blow Alya’s cover, after a little while, Kagami saw Alya check her phone and grin slightly. The fake Ladybug and Chat Noir started to say their goodbyes and push through the crowd to the stairs so they could leave, realising that this meant that Nino had done it and that Luka needed to get to the box and out of here as soon as possible, Kagami turned on her heel and walked back into the room where Chloe, Marinette, Adrien and Luka were. 

“Viperion, Queen Bee, if I may be so blunt, I think your friends are leaving,” Adrien’s bodyguard had ignored Kagami as she entered, the small Japanese girl addressing her superhero friends with no hint of recognition. 

Luka looked confused for a moment before he realised what she was trying to say. “Queenie, looks like Buggaboo and Kitty Chat are makin’ a move, do we wanna get a move on too?” Using his head to gesture toward the door, Luka tried to give Chloe a subtle ‘we need to go, Nino’s done it’ without actually saying the words. Luckily, Chloe hadn’t taken as long as Luka had to read between the lines of what Kagami had said, understanding fully.

“Mr Agreste, please contact me once she is better. I would very much like to pay her a visit and make sure she’s alright,” Leaning down slightly to speak to Adrien, Chloe’s voice was soft and reassuring. Unable to form words at the moment as he watched Nathalie’s chest rise and fall so, so slowly, Adrien just nodded. “We’d best be off. I do hope that Rena and Ryuko didn’t lose Carapace in the crowd, it’s almost as if he turns invisible.”

Sweeping out of the room, Chloe fixed Gabriel with a cold stare that the older man didn’t flinch at or even react to, not that she’d expected him to. He’d actually gone further than she’d expected when he met her gaze. Luka on her heels, Chloe made her way across the ballroom and exited just after Alya and the illusions of Nino and Kagami. Allowing the other girl to disappear into the darkness to the left of the door, Chloe and Luka disappeared to the right and released their Kwamis. 

“I’m going to go find Sabby,” Tucking Pollen’s box into the carefully hidden pocket of her dress, Chloe didn’t linger before taking the long route around the side of the house, to the gardens opposite to the one Nino and Alya were now resting in together, and back into the ballroom through large, open glass doors.

“We didn’t do a lot,” Kagami’s sudden voice caused Luka to jump. His heart racing.

“You scared me,” Turning to face his girlfriend, Luka opened his arms for her to walk into. “But I guess that it’s good that we didn’t do a lot, if we’d had to it might’ve meant that something went seriously wrong.”

Allowing Luka to wrap his arms around her waist, Kagami hooked her arms around his neck and let him sway her for a few moments to the melody of the faint classical music emanating from within the ballroom. “Let’s get the box and go,”

“Let’s?” Grinning down at the girl in his arms, Luka squeezed Kagami lightly.

“I’m coming with you. You didn’t think you were going to whisk the box away by yourself, did you?”

“Hmmm,” He let out a noncommittal hum that Kagami responded to with a joking scoff and a gentle smack to the side of his head. “I’d pretty much expected you to come with me, Echo, we make a good team.”

“That we do, Strings, that we do,”

A/N: I’m a massive lover of suspense and high stakes action but I didn’t think that would fit into this story so, yeah, this resolution was a little easier despite how tenuous and kinda shitty the plan was. Also, yeah, I added a power to Nino’s stuff, having one ability makes you a pretty shitty superhero when it only lasts like 5 minutes so he and Alya got an upgrade, sue me. Honestly, I’m not gonna apologise for a less than impressive resolution chapter because I actually really like this chapter as it is. If you don’t like it, please don’t tell me because I love writing and hearing people say that they hate my work is very demotivating

~~~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~~~

@lady-charinette @mochegato @katieykat513 @hnbutt @camelliaflwr @a-star-with-a-human-name @beauty-and-her-books @severalverysmallmangoesinabasket @aussie-lesbian @imgaydontshoot @maniic-pixie-dream-girl @itwasmydog

[jobethdalloway]

Did a riff on the first prompt of @thepriceisrizzoli‘s list here! Hoping to get to more soon! Academy-aged Jane agrees to go to Frost’s family’s Thanksgiving dinner as his fake date, but is sidetracked by the presence of a certain med student...

~*

“Soooo, Jane.”

“What do you want, Frost?”

“What makes you think I want anything?” 

Jane swiveled around in her chair to face him, and he was relieved to see that despite her deadpan tone, she was at least smiling. “Whenever you come in like that, like saying ‘so’ with a bunch of O’s on the end, it’s because you want something. So let’s just cut the small talk and get to it.”

His shoulders slumped, but he stayed resolved. “What’re your Thanksgiving plans? I promise this isn’t just small talk.”

“Oh, Uh, I dunno, I kinda figured I might just go to Boston Market.” She shrugged. “My family’s going to Maine to spend a few days with my aunt’s family, and on top of being really obnoxious, they’re homophobic as hell so I may have told Ma I was gonna be way too busy studying up for our written exam to take a vacation. Even a short one. Took a lot of convincing, but to let her feel okay with leaving me here alone on a family holiday, but she knows how important this test is.”

“Oh, and I bet you’re planning to study real hard,” Frost chuckled.

“For sure,” Jane said with mock seriousness. “Gonna, you know, kick back with a beer and really hit the books. And by books, I mean ESPN.”

“Cool, sounds good, sounds good...but what if I had a counter-offer? At least for the holiday itself? Like, say, an undercover mission?”

Jane frowned thoughtfully. “I’m listening.”

Encouraged, Frost grabbed a nearby chair and sat down to be at Jane’s eye level. “Speaking of obnoxious relatives, my mom invited my aunts’ families for Thanksgiving, and if I show up to another family function without a girlfriend, my cousins will eat me alive.”

“You’re afraid of your cousins, dude?”

“They’re teenagers, Jane. Merciless. I am still getting guff about an unflattering pair of pants I wore to my uncle’s wedding three years ago. Pants that, say, a girlfriend might’ve warned me were unflattering. If I had a girlfriend. Isn’t it so sad that Barry doesn’t have a girlfriend? What’s wrong with Barry? Have we tried setting up Barry with Miles’ neighbor’s niece’s single friend?”

Jane held her hands up, trying to keep her friend from spinning further into a tizzy. “Okay, okay. So.., you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend,” she deduced.” Frost nodded mutely and Jane leaned back, putting the tips of her fingers together. “Interesting proposition. Haven’t pretended to be straight in like, three years. Maybe it was the same day you wore an ugly-ass pair of pants and I saw you while I was crossing the street or something and I was like, that’s it. I’m ready to declare my intent to swear off men altogether.” 

Frost laughed in exasperation. “Sure, let’s say it was that same day. Now what about this upcoming Thursday?”

She pretended to think about it for another minute. “Hmmm. Sounds like it’d be extremely difficult and dangerous. But Jane Rizzoli never backs down from a challenge.” She reached over to grasp his hand, as if they were making a solemn oath. “I’m down, man, let’s do it! And afterwards, if you want to spread it around how great I did on an undercover assignment with you, well...”

“Everyone will know you’re a pro!”

Unfortunately for Frost, things did not go quite as smoothly as he’d hoped.

He and Jane made a great first impression on his family, His mother Camille made a fuss over them, and Frost was almost a little alarmed by how smooth a liar Jane was, coming up with creative answers to all of Camille’s questions about how they’d come to start dating. She had her arm looped through Frost’s, and would swing them or squeeze his hand at choice moments in certain anecdotes when his aunt and cousins come by to also pester the new couple with inquiries. His cousins thought it was "so adorable!” that they’d come wearing matching football jerseys, an evaluation Jane had been banking on, which came with the benefit of not having to wear a nice dress.

“You’re doing good,” Frost whispered in an undertone in a rare moment alone—they had volunteered to go to the kitchen to get more appetizers out for the endlessly snacking children. “Maybe laying it on a little thick, though?”

Jane whirled around from the fridge, slamming her hands on the counter on either side of him and leaning in close. “Sorry, baby, this is what you signed up for,” she said in the huskiest voice she could muster.

“You...almost had me,” he squeaked. “But then you said ‘baby.’“ 

“Oh. Too much?”

“Little bit.”

They resumed their work of emptying bags of candied nuts. “You’re just lucky there’s no single or age-appropriate women at this party,” Jane said with a smirk. “Otherwise, I mean, I don’t know if I could reign in all this Rizzoli charm. But just to clarify, you said your sister was coming, right? She’s very cute...”

“Yes, she’s coming, but I regret I have to remind you she’s straight,” Frost snorted. “So it’s gonna be no dice with Abby. I guess there’s that friend of my mom’s we met. Robin? I think mom said she’s recently divorced, although from a husband. Could be bi, though.”

His tone made it clear he was teasing, and Jane opened her mouth to reply, but didn’t say anything right away. She was pretty sure she had picked up some heavy vibes between Robin and Camille, but if Camille hadn’t said anything to Frost yet, Jane certainly wasn’t about to speculate. “Yeah,” she eventually said. “I dig older women, for sure. But uh, I’ll keep my raging attraction in check for the sake of the mission.”

Her commitment, however, only went so far. When a woman showed up who was single and whose sexuality was undetermined, all bets went flying off the table.

Some of the cousins had started a football game in the backyard, and Jane was fast to get into the fray. Some were surprised to see that the composed young woman they’d been introduced to turned out to be one of the most aggressive in the game, tackling guys twice her size. Jokes were made about her and Frost trying to out-perform each other. Jane was running to catch a pass when the porch door opened, and Frost’s sister Abby walked out with a friend. Jane did a double take, locked eyes with Abby’s friend, and the football smashed her in the face.

She wondered if she’d blacked out for a second, because it seemed very all of a sudden that she was on her back on the ground, and this beautiful girl was hovering over her. Frost had come to her side as well, but it sounded like the game was still going on without them.

“What the hell happened there?” Frost asked, trying not to laugh. “That catch was yours to lose!”

“And I did,” Jane groaned, sitting up and instinctively shifting to touch her nose.

But the girl gently took hold of her hand and said, “Leave it alone for now, let’s get it cleaned up.”

Jane looked at her as if still very much in a daze, and Frost frowned, connecting the dots. He cleared his throat loudly, giving Jane a pointed look. “So, Jane, this is Abby’s friend, Maura. They’re classmates. And Maura, Jane is m-”

“Abby’s classmate?” Jane asked with a smile, which Maura reflected. “Med school, huh? So, you could tell me if this is broken?”

“I’m inclined to say more like a fracture,” Maura said, helping Jane to her feet. “Why don’t we get it washed off first, though? Then I can give you a more proper diagnosis.”

Frost half-heartedly stood up with them, but stopped at the porch rather than follow them inside. Abby was sitting on the steps, and she got up to give him a hug. “Do you know if your friend is like, available, and/or interested in women?” Abby asked. “Because mine is, and we both went to help when she went down and I’m pretty sure Maura tripped me on purpose to make sure she got there first.”

A flurry of concerned Frost friends and relatives surrounded Jane and Maura once they got back inside, but Jane reassured them all that the bleeding made it look worse than it really was, and Camille was proud of the chance to remind everyone that Maura was a classmate of her daughter’s from BCU’s medical school. She steered them to the nearest bathroom to clean up in, and handed Maura a dish towel she was prepared to sacrifice to a bloody nose.

“Normally, I’d prefer something sterile, but I think in this case beggars can’t be choosers,” Maura said, shutting the bathroom door after herself. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right? You look very flushed.”

“I’m...yes, I’m fine,” Jane said, clearing her throat.

The problem was that she’d seen way too many movies where people snuck off to bathrooms at parties to make out, and it was a hard image to get out of her head, and that had made her blush and it got worse when Maura had commented on it. As Maura set about dampening the cloth, Jane rolled up her sleeves as best she could and leaned against the wall, trying to strike a pose that was casual but also showed off her arm muscles in a not-too-obvious way. She shifted a few times, and couldn’t help flexing as she crossed her arms when Maura looked back at her. Maura’s eyes indeed lingered on her arms, and Jane tried to mask how pleased she was.

“So!” Such a declaration obviously required a follow-up, but now that Maura was looking her in the eye again, Jane’s stomach flipped and she could feel her bravado slipping like air out of a balloon. “You...come here often?”

“Abby’s mother’s bathroom? I’m afraid not,” Maura chuckled. She wiped away most the blood, and Jane flinched a little. “You should hold this, I mean, you were pinching your nose before, and you ought to keep doing it for a minute to make sure you’ve stemmed the blood flow.” Jane hastily obeyed, but neither of them was good with silences, so Maura asked, “Have you been here before? The house, I mean?”

“Actually, no—”

But answering while pinching her nose meant that Jane’s voice came out in a muffled nasally register, sending them both into peals of laughter. Maura tried hard to get a grip on herself because it was clearly hurting Jane to be laughing so hard; Jane winced as she tried to control her wheezing, grasping onto the sink to steady herself. They couldn’t look at each other, because the giggling was contagious, and just seeing Maura smile made Jane want to laugh at how stupid this all was. Finally they’d had enough time to regain their composure, and Jane said she was pretty sure the bleeding had stopped.

“So where are your folks?” Jane asked, focusing on the mirror as she cleaned herself up. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I mean, you’re not with your family for Thanksgiving.”

Maura shook her head to clear it. “Yes. Oh, right. My parents are traveling; they’re often abroad. What about you?”

“My family’s out of town. I stayed home to be studious, but I’d just have been at my place watching the game alone if Frost hadn’t invited me over. You like football?”

“Mm, not much, to be honest.”

Jane shrugged, dropping the towel. “Not for everyone, I guess. Phew. Doesn’t look too awful, right? What’s the proper procedure from here, like, do you think you could fix this for me?”

With a delicate touch that sent shivers up and down Jane’s spine, Maura took her face in her hands. “I think so, yes.”

Eager to prolong the conversation as much as possible, Jane bit her lip as Maura continued to assess her. “Um, so, if football is off the table, can I ask what you do like?”

“Hm. While as far as I know I don’t like sports, I’m open to having my mind changed because I really like learning. I like poetry. I like going for walks in the rain. I like modern art and going to zoos and I like when girls wear baseball caps backwards. And...” She popped the hairline fracture back into place, prompting Jane to squeak “ow!” but before she could lodge a formal complaint, Maura said, “I like brunettes.”

“Whoa,” Jane breathed. 

It seemed like her turn to add something to the conversation, but then Maura seemed to remember herself—or rather, remember her medical responsibilities. “We should get some ice on that,” she mumbled, as if embarrassed all of a sudden by how forward she’d been. “Or you’ll start to look like Mike Tyson.”

“Hey! Nice sports reference,” Jane said. 

Trying to assure Maura that she hadn’t found the flirting weird (in fact, quite the opposite), Jane reached around her to open the door for her. They were back in close proximity now, and Maura might’ve been ready to close the door again to see what might happen if Frost hadn’t seen his window to barge in.

“SWEETHEART!” he boomed in a theatrical voice, Jane assumed was intended to be loud enough for relatives down the hall to hear. “Thank goodness you’re all right!”

He put his arms around her, and in a moment where it might’ve seemed appropriate for an actual couple to kiss, he suddenly looked weirded out and Jane looked disturbed. Maura noticed the oddness of the exchange, amplified by the fact that they seemed frozen in awkward position, but she was nonetheless mortified and ducked out of the room.

“Dude!” Jane hissed, pushing him away. “We were vibing!”

“Dude, you’re supposed to be here as my date!” Frost whispered back. “Can’t you just keep it in your pants for one day?!” 

“Frost, you don’t understand, she flirted with me!”

“Oh, you are so toast if you ever have to deal with a hot girl while you’re actually undercover.”

Jane gave his arm a light punch. “Okay, okay. You’re right, I’m sorry, I did accept this invitation on the promise that I’d convincingly act like your girlfriend. And I will continue to do so. But... aw, man. Can I please at least tell Maura? If she sees me being all cute with you, I dunno, I don’t want her to think she messed up trying to make a move on me.” 

Frost glanced down the hallway, checking to make sure no one else had wandered over. When he looked back at Jane, she was giving him the bambi eyes and puppy dog pout combo that meant instant death to any and all ill will. “Ugh! Okay, fine, I don’t wanna crotch-block you. But make sure she’s the only one who knows!”

Jane grinned and gave him a real hug. “Ahh, thanks man! Oh, and I gotta borrow this. Don’t worry, people will think it’s super cute.” She nimbly removed his baseball cap as she walked by, and flipped it around backwards. Camille directed her to the kitchen, where she had sent Maura to get an ice pack. Frost was hot on her heels, and as his mother had started bringing food out into the dining room, he loudly insisted that she relax while he brought everything in—to ensure no one else overheard whatever conversation Jane and Maura were about to have.

“Here,” Maura said, handing Jane an ice pack with a dish towel wrapped around it. “That should help. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What’re you sorry about?” Jane asked.

“F-for...” Maura rolled her eyes, sighing. “Abby just told me you’re her brother’s girlfriend, and I totally threw myself at you and—”

“No, no, no,” Jane whispered. “It’s cool, it’s cool, um, it’s not real. Me and Frost. He’s my bro and I love him, but not like that.”

Maura raised her eyebrows hopefully. “Oh?”

“Yeah, he was self-conscious about coming home without a girlfriend, like, I guess it’s something his family ribs him about a lot so I agreed to come along and kinda help him out. Just this once,” she hastened to add. “Like, just for today. Come tomorrow, I’m gonna be free as a bird. Hell, come tonight. As soon as we leave.”

Her eagerness was obvious and flattering. “Oh, thank God,” Maura sighed feeling much lighter. “It wouldn’t have been the first time I misread a social cue, so I thought maybe you weren’t...” She trailed off, and they exchanged a shy smile. “I may not know a lot about football, but I do know that you looked pretty good out there. Really nice form, for a few seconds.”

Jane snorted. “Yeah, well, I do like to think I’m pretty good. But, uh, turns out I can get distracted pretty easy when there’s a beautiful woman around.”

“That’s going to make your mission of acting as Barry’s girlfriend pretty difficult today, then, isn’t it?” Maura asked.

Following Maura’s line of vision to the counter she, Jane, was leaning her arm on, Jane finally noticed that instead of casually resting her hand on a hot pad like she thought she’d done, she had accidentally let her fingers slip into a cooling pan of baked macaroni and cheese. They both stared for a few painfully long moments as Jane cast about for some witty remark she could make about this situation. That option was not afforded her, though, when Frost came hurrying back in and saw his friend’s hand in a dish. He pulled his sweater up over his mouth to muffle a shriek, which jolted Jane enough to yank her hand out. 

“You useless lesbian!” he said, voice still muffled by his sweater, as he ladled out the portion of the macaroni that Jane had touched.

“Hey, wait,” Jane said, stopping his hand as he prepared to toss the contaminated food into the sink. “That’s still good, don’t let it go to waste, I’ll eat it.” 

Grumbling, Frost grabbed a spoon to smooth over the mussed mac & cheese, and took it out to the dining room. As Jane cleaned the ladle she had just eaten out of, the last of the straggling kids had come running in from the backyard, and she figured it was probably time to make good on her word to Frost and go make a show in front of everyone else. She turned fully away from the sink only to see Maura standing much closer.

“You’ve got some cheese here,” Maura said, pointing to the corner of her own mouth. She held out her thumb before Jane could do anything about it, though. “May I?”

“Sure,” Jane said, hoping she sounded much cooler than her dangerously thundering heartbeat would’ve implied. 

Unbeknownst to either of them, though Jane had kept her word by making sure Maura was the only person she told about her and Frost’s secret plan, they were sharing this cutesy moment in full view of Camille and Robin, who could see it all unfold from the dining room through a small wall opening over the kitchen sink.

“Hmmmm,” said Robin, watching as Maura made the quick but obvious gesture of licking the cheese of her finger. “So, uh, Barry’s girlfriend...?”

“Oh, she’s gay as hell,” Camille whispered. “Mm. This is gonna be rough. I know I said I wanted to tell Barry about us tonight, when everyone’s gone, but it might be too much to hear about his girlfriend and his mom on the same day.”

“What makes you think he’ll find out about Jane today?” 

Jane and Maura came into the dining room chatting animatedly, and Frost rolled his eyes but managed a small smile as Jane blindly reached for his hand. With her other hand occupied holding the ice pack to her nose, Jane used her foot to nudge a chair out for Maura.

“Hm. Y’know, maybe he already knows,” Robin mused. 

[thebiasrekkers]

No Words, 5

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Type: Series

Genre: Idol, Poly, Interracial, Tall Female, Smut, Angst, Fluff [if you squint]

Warning: Swearing. Sexual Tension. Angsty.

Words: 3193

Time is irrelevant, right? Or is time relevant?

Taehyung couldn’t figure out which it was, honestly. It was as if everything was crawling around him, years had passed as he waited for the elevator. He was positive that one whole year had passed. It was impatience, that’s all. Because Jeongguk not only called him out - he put him on notice. That while he was making eyes at the beautiful PD? There were other eyes following his. She was unique, stubborn, headstrong, and all the things that most women around them were not. Of course, there is that stereotypical response that most men were interested in American women for the hell of it.

Especially if they happen to be African American. There was a whole mess that went into that - but the boys didn’t pay attention to it. They had millions of fans of every race, creed, and sexuality. They saw their message reflected in the faces of the world. They could learn from more than just media about the world.

They loved their fans. The Army was a rainbow of love and acceptance. That’s what they wanted - it’s what they shaped. It never occurred that they would get the chance to consider love from someone outside of Korea.

But, here he was standing near the elevator. His fingers with a chokehold on his cellphone. His teeth grinding with his patience and irritation. He didn’t know if it was love. But it was something. There was something he hadn’t felt before for anyone woman. He felt it for her. He wanted to figure out what it was. He wanted to get a chance to identify this sensation that tingles through him when she’s near.

And he couldn’t do that if someone got in his way. He couldn’t accomplish that goal if someone attempts to steal her attention.

Ding.

The elevator door opened to the scene of a couple making out in the corner of the elevator. He hissed his irritation, causing them to split. The avoided his seething gaze as they ducked out of the elevator. He kept slamming the button to close the door. When it closed? He sighed heavily, leaning his head on the metal wall.

He managed a couple of PDs to find out where they were going to be. It had already been two hours since they left. “Come on. Come on!” growling as he waited for a reply. He messaged his driver to meet him downstairs. Tae slid a hand in his pocket while exiting the elevator.

Eyes were on him as he swept through the lobby regal as a Prince. The Visual could only quirk the corner of his lips as he walked outside. The driver opened the door, jogging around to the driver’s side afterward.

“Do you know where they are?” Tae managed to keep the beast out of his voice.

“Oh, yeah. I thought you weren’t going? Jeongguk said that you were tired when the other drivers were gathering.” The driver furrowed his brow in the rearview mirror. He noticed the dark gaze on V’s face and shrugged it off.

“I changed my mind.” Tae leaned back with his arm across the back of the seat. “I got a second wind after a power nap.” A renewed vigor to protect a vested interest, actually. The driver chuckled, pulling off and heading to the local norebang.

The lights flickered across his face adding an eerie shine to his eyes. He chewed on the tip of his thumb. His wrist flicked that Rolex to spy the time. Tae groaned, letting his head fall back against the headrest.

                                  ..you’re not the only one.

He cursed under his breath as they jumped on the expressway. It’s now pushing to the three-hour mark. His fingers dug into his leg as it bounced. “We should be there in about twenty minutes, V.” The driver announced as Tae’s phone suddenly pinged with notifications. He paused, suddenly petrified at what he might see.

The boys were having a good time, well the boys sans Suga. He apparently had returned after spending an hour with the rowdy bunch. RM had also departed slightly after Suga. That was typical, honestly. Jin could be hit or miss, but the eldest tended to make sure the rest didn’t overdo it. There were pictures of aegyo done badly, delicious food, and group pictures.

He swallowed hard as he flipped through photos. The PDs were at a grill table, stuffing their faces, unflattering pictures of hungry staff. He chuckled lightly as he scrolled upward. The drinks in the air as they congratulated themselves.

Taehyung slowed his scroll as his eyes landed on her. She was wearing a dress?!?! He felt the saliva pool in his mouth as he noticed the bolero styled jacket she wore. There were a few tattoos on her arm that it didn’t cover.

But what it did cover? Was the spot on her collarbone where he marked her. The shoulders were full and paired with that little jacket? It covered up his handiwork. “Clever girl.” He smirked. Continuing to scroll, he pieced it all together. It seemed like there was nothing to worry about.

So it seemed.

Then he got to the next set of pictures that set his teeth on edge. All the PDs were grouped together. Then most of the males were in playful positions with the females. The females were all arranged in some girl group or choreography pose. Then the rest of the boys took funny pictures with the girls.

She took a picture with Jin, a toast.

There was a video of the idol dance challenge with her, Hobi, Jimin, and Gguk. They all took turns with different staff doing the dance. She took a picture hugging Jimin. He knew that she was aware that her height was a point of discussion. There was light teasing, of course. She embraced her height all to bolster her own confidence in her abilities. There was a running joke that she wouldn’t deal with anyone shorter - except Jimin.

Jimin got a pass. They’d all erupt in laughter, but Jimin puffed his chest, tucking his arms out to the side as if to swell himself even more. “Yah! That means I’m closer than any of you!” They all would laugh as she ducked out of the room. Taehyung could spot the blush under the caramel tones of her skin.

“We’re here.” The driver stretched as he parked with the other row of vans. They mostly had the place to themselves. “God, I’m starving. I can’t wait to get something to eat.” He opened the door for the idol.

Tae smirked as he stepped, “That’s funny. I was just thinking the same thing.” He closed his phone on the last picture of Jeongguk back, hugging her. “…I’m absolutely ravenous.” Tae offered a smile that would make a villain quiver. His hand slid into his pocket as the driver ran to open the door for him.

They stepped inside to the smell of meat cooking, merriment, and singing? Oh yes. Oh yes, there was singing as the liquor flowed. Tae’s predatory air must have itched some of the staff because they all seemed to turn as his proximity to them increased. Red faces, lazy smiles, and flailing arms beckoned him into the chaotic fold.

“Hey, V?!” Unison.

He turned on the charm as he leaned in to inhale the smoke of barbecue. “Hey, hey!” Hands were shaking him or pulling him.

“Come eat with us!”

“Here’s a drink for you!”

“You have t-to dance with Hobi!”

“Taehyung-ah, c-can you do the flower? The aegyo has been so bad.”

“Yes, cleanse our souls!”

There was laughter mixed with the same requests they make when they are well behind their alcohol tolerance. He held up his hands in surrender, but he accepted the first shot of soju. “Let me get some of this in me, and we’ll see what happens.” They cheered as glasses were raised with a shout of Ganbei! More soju was ordered and consumed, he moved from table to table greeting everyone. He didn’t want to put too much focus on his current obsession. Finally, he walked toward the back, where mostly the main faces were located. She had her arm wrapped around Jimin’s shoulders, leaning on Jeongguk’s sturdy frame, Hobi and Jin had their arms on each other’s shoulders.

They were singing something, slightly off-key, laughing and rocking with the other PDs at the grill table. They would stop randomly to make ssam.

“Jiminie, say ‘ah.’” She chuckled as a slice of meat, and vegetable-filled lettuce wrap was stuffed into the main dancer’s mouth.

“Ah, noona! You’re getting really good at these combinations.” He closed his eyes blissfully. Tae’s hands were balled into fists in his pocket. He stood off to the side, watching them. Jeongguk turned to her with a pout.

“I’m getting jealous,” Gguk spoke toward her ear. Her brow lifted with a side-long glance. Finally, she rolled her eyes and recreated the same combination. The wrap hovered in front of Jeongguk’s face. His lips were in a thin line as he arched a brow.

She sighed heavily, “Seriously?” A soft chuckle escaped as he scrunched his nose at her. “Ugh, fine.” She lifted the other hand under his chin. “Ggukie, say ‘ah.’” The maknae nodded his satisfaction and did as instructed. She was a little less gentle this time. The ssam was stuffed thoroughly into his mouth. He needed to really open his mouth to start chewing. She looked satisfied with the bit of difficulty.

“Noona, it is good. But, my mouth can only open so wide.” They all laughed at the whole two minutes it took for him to swallow the food.

“Then maybe you’ll make it the first time, eh?” A brow ticked upward as she stuffed bean sprouts into her mouth.

They all laughed.

She sighed softly, another piece of meat snagged from the sizzling surface. Just a few hours earlier, she had stumbled to her room. Her legs weak, her soul shattered, her mind a mess, and so were her pants.

“Thank god for dark fabric.” She peeled out of her clothing, laid on the bed for all of twenty minutes before she got a message. They wanted to go out? But, what if…? She was informed that Tae was tired and wouldn’t be going.

“Why not.” She found a white linen dress, a small jacket, and flats. There was an angry hickey forming just on her collarbone. At least the dress and jacket covered it. But, she took a little foundation and setting powder to it. As insurance, it didn’t look like a blended nightmare.

They started with soju first, then food. Meaning they were all tipsy and hungry by the time the meat was ready.

She was glad to get out. Her gaze swept around the table as they all laughed, talking about mishaps along the way. She was sandwiched between Jikook, while Hobi swatted at her arm when he made a joke. Jin waved a hand in her direction as she countered a dad joke.

The laughter kept coming, but why did she feel strange? Her brow furrowed as she pulled another piece of meat from the grill. You know that feeling. The one that makes you feel queasy, laced with fear as she looked up from the table.

Like a sense of impending doom weighing down on her head. Where was it coming from? What was it?

Ah.

That’s what it was.

Kim fucking Taehyung. Looking at them. Looking like something from a page in an art book. The man just had a presence. His arms were crossed, his eyes dark and narrowed - focused on that table.

Focused on her. She narrowed her eyes, reaching for the bottle of peach soju. She took the bottle down to half, followed by a gulp of cider. Jeongguk noticed V first. His gaze slid over to the Visual as they laughed.

He knew he was watching them as he goaded her into feeding him. His fingers danced over her shoulders, and she barely paid it any mind. Gguk smirked, his tongue prodding his cheek as he turned back to hyungs making bad jokes. That bright, ‘bunny,’ smile plastered on his face as Hobi groaned about Jin’s humor. Tae’s eyes burned dark at the sight before him. It was almost as if he willed her to look at him.

Their eyes met as he tilted his head back. He knew he had her captive when the tip of his tongue touched along his lip. She stopped chewing her food for a moment. Her laughter suddenly absent from the conversation caused Jimin to look up lazily, “Ah! Taehyung-ah!” His friend, obviously intoxicated, waved him over.

Jeongguk pretended not to hear as Tae appeared with that boxy smile plastered to his face. The maknae knew what the ‘actor’ was capable of. Just like he looked ready to toss the whole table moments ago, now he was laughing and clapping the others on the shoulders.

“Ah, Taehyung-ah! Tell Jin-hyung he’s not that funny.” Hobi groaned, holding his stomach as if some phantom pain tore him up inside. Tae gave the dance captain a flat look. “Hyung, I think you should consider your own jokes first.”

The whole table lost it.

Jimin laughed so hard he slid out of his chair, almost taking her with him. “Yah, Park Jimin! I will send you home if you can’t hold your alcohol!” She couldn’t keep a straight face. Jeongguk pulled her snug against his side as Jimin cackled on the floor.

She blinked rapidly at the sudden and obvious proximity of the maknae. “Uh, t-thanks,” She murmured. Even though she was a few centimeters taller than him? The current position had her under his arm and leaned into his pectoral. He tilted his head down, that smile on his face. He was so adorable - ah, I’m doing it again. She had to chastise herself each time. Jeongguk was getting up in that age frame where he wants to be seen as manly.

There was nothing wrong with that. Sure, he grew up in front of billions of people. You don’t want to hear those adjectives for the rest of your life. He was doing his best to show different sides of himself. And she respected his work and his work ethic. So the least she could do? Is respect his wish to not be thrown into the realm of ‘childlike.’

Then again?

She’s seen all of them shirtless, sweaty, and working out. There was nothing child-like about Jeon Jeongguk.

Oh, honey. We need to lay off the soju! She chuckled to herself. Taehyung took a seat at the table, he reached across and stole her peach soju! Suddenly, she blinked, staring at the maknae’s hand on her shoulder. Did…did he just tighten his grip? “Ggukie, m’you can let me up now.” Her gaze was on his hand - his gaze was on Taehyung. “Sorry, noona.” He chuckled as the pressure eased off her shoulder.

Jimin crawled back up to join the table. He rubbed his forehead leaning into her with a pout. “I think I broke something.” There was a devious look on his face as she shook her head. She stuffed another lettuce leaf offering. He cute smile as he opened his mouth and chomped down.

“Mm,” He mumbled through the chew. “…feel better already.”

“Jeongguk, you have to sing for us!” One of the crew members plopped between them. “Come ooon, we’re waiting.” The maknae gave an exaggerated sigh as a smile broke.

“If I have to…” He turned to her and offered a hand. “Shall we?”

She blinked up at him with a mouth after stuffing her own face with a wrap. “Huh?” A hard swallow had her reaching for her cider. “Uh, n-no! I couldn’t!” She shook her hands rapidly as the other staff started to waggle their brows.

“Come on! Go to sing with him! You have to! He asked you!” She was waving her hands in surrender, and Gguk took that opportunity to grab them. He hauled her up from her seat, damn this strong individual?!

“I-I..” She stuttered, taking her hand back into one of the karaoke rooms. He laughed heartily as they disappeared down the hallway. The sounds of others singing loud, drunk, and somewhat okay assaulted her ears.

“Aish,” He hissed. Squinting one eye as he tilted his head from the noise. “Geez, no volume control.”

“Thank the alcohol. All the inhibitors are off.” She chuckled, following him. They found a room at the deep end of the hall. It’s one of the rooms that let you broadcast out to the restaurant. The rooms were soundproofed, contrary to popular belief, but people out sang the buffer. He picked up the microphones and handed one over to her.

Her hands began to sweat as he flipped through the song list. “Mmm. Ok, noona. What should be sing? Shall I pick a girl group song? One of ours?” Jeongguk smirked as he turned to her. She was so nervous. It was so cute.

He could see why Tae found her attractive. There was just something about her. Even he couldn’t put his finger on it. She sometimes forgot the rules and would speak up when she shouldn’t. He couldn’t use his fingers and toes to count how many times she’s gotten into altercations. Everybody’s view of perfection was different.

But when they were overseas? She really tapped into the pulse of the ARMY. There were things that could be better, that could have more impact. That’s what she stood for and somehow? She managed to find a compromise.

“Uhm. C-can we do Wildflower by Park Hyo Shin?” Jeongguk shook himself as she spoke. Had he been staring at her this whole time? She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was different tonight. Usually, they were used to frizzy curls framing her face or tucked into a bun on her head. It looks like she took a flat iron to it. It was silky, smooth, and cascading over her shoulders.

She turned toward him as he shifted his gaze to the floor quickly. There was quickening in his pulse he wasn’t prepared for. “Uh, r-right, yea. That’s a good song.” He swallowed hard schooling his expression into something light and neutral.

The good thing about singing with Jeongguk? He really knows how to make a person look good. She could carry a decent tune on her own. After some a few brushes with death, her gospel choir soprano turned into a low alto. Almost like Taehyung, she could dole out a high note if need be. But, she kept her tone easy and low - for a female that is.

The first piano notes tapered in on a slow staccato. Jeongguk gave her a look indicating she could take the lead. She took a deep breath, the microphone trembling with her fingers.

Jeongguk’s brow furrowed, chastising himself for that silly moment. Then she opened her mouth.

[darknytemare]

No Words pt 5

BTS - V Imagine - Tall Girl - Interracial - Dramatic Time is irrelevant, right? Or is time relevant? 

Taehyung couldn’t figure out which it was, honestly. It was as if everything was crawling around him, years had passed as he waited for the elevator. He was positive that one whole year had passed. It was impatience, that’s all. Because Jeongguk not only called him out - he put him on notice. That while he was making eyes at the beautiful PD? There were other eyes following his. She was unique, stubborn, headstrong and all the things that most women around them were not. Of course, there is that stereotypical response that most men were interested in American women for the hell of it. 

Especially if they happen to be African American. There was a whole mess that went into that - but the boys didn’t pay attention to it. They had millions of fans of every race, creed, and sexuality. They saw their message reflected in the faces of the world. It was possible for them to learn from more than just media about the world.

They loved their fans. The Army was a rainbow of love and acceptance. That’s what they wanted - it’s what they shaped. It never occurred that they would get the chance to consider love from someone outside of Korea. 

But, here he was standing near the elevator. His fingers with a chokehold on his cellphone. His teeth grinding with his patience and irritation. He didn’t know if it was love. But it was something. There was something he hadn’t felt before, for anyone woman. He felt it for her. He wanted to figure out what it was. He wanted to get a chance to identify this sensation that tingles through him when she’s near.

And he couldn’t do that if someone got in his way. He couldn’t accomplish that goal if someone attempts to steal her attention. 

Ding.

The elevator door opened to the scene of a couple making out in the corner of the elevator. He hissed his irritation causing them to split. The avoided his seething gaze as they ducked out of the elevator. He kept slamming the button to close the door. When it closed? He sighed heavily leaning his head on the metal wall.

He managed a couple of PDs to find out where they were going to be. It had already been two hours since they left. “Come on. Come on!,” growling as he waited for a reply. He messaged his driver to meet him downstairs. Tae slid a hand in his pocket while exiting the elevator. 

Eyes were on him as he swept through the lobby regal as a Prince. The Visual could only quirk the corner of his lips as he walked outside. The driver opened the door jogging around to the driver's side afterward.

“Do you know where they are?” Tae managed to keep the beast out of his voice. 

“Oh, yeah. I thought you weren’t going? Jeongguk said that you were tired when the other drivers were gathering.” The driver furrowed his brow in the rearview mirror. He noticed the dark gaze on V’s face and shrugged it off.

“I changed my mind.” Tae leaned back with his arm across the back of the seat. “I got a second wind after a power nap.” A renewed vigor to protect a vested interest, actually. The driver chuckled pulling off and heading to the local norebang.

The lights flickered across his face adding an eerie shine to his eyes. He chewed on the tip of his thumb. His wrist flicked that Rolex to spy the time. Tae groaned, letting his head fall back against the headrest. 

                                   ..you’re not the only one.

He cursed under his breath as they jumped on the expressway. It’s now pushing to the three-hour mark. His fingers dug into his leg as it bounced. “We should be there in about twenty minutes, V.” The driver announced as Tae’s phone suddenly pinged with notifications. He paused, suddenly petrified at what he might see. 

The boys were having a good time, well the boys sans Suga. He apparently had returned after spending an hour with the rowdy bunch. RM had also departed slightly after Suga. That was typical, honestly. Jin could be hit or miss, but the eldest tended to make sure the rest didn’t overdo it. There were pictures of aegyo done badly, delicious food, and group pictures. 

He swallowed hard as he flipped through photos. The PDs were at a grill table, stuffing their faces, unflattering pictures of hungry staff. He chuckled lightly as he scrolled upward. The drinks in the air as they congratulated themselves. 

Taehyung slowed his scroll as his eyes landed on her. She was wearing a dress?!?! He felt the saliva pool in his mouth as he noticed the bolero styled jacket she wore. There were a few tattoos on her arm that it didn’t cover. But what it did cover? Was the spot on her collarbone where he marked her. The shoulders were full and paired with that little jacket? It covered up his handiwork. “Clever girl.” He smirked. Continuing to scroll he pieced it all together. It seemed like there was nothing to worry about. 

So it seemed.

Then he got to the next set of pictures that set his teeth on edge. All the PDs were grouped together. Then most of the males were in playful positions with the females. The females were all grouped in some girl group or choreography pose. Then the rest of the boys took playful pictures with the girls. 

She took a picture with Jin, a toast.

There was a video of the idol dance challenge with her, Hobi, Jimin, and Gguk. They all took turns with different staff doing the dance. She took a picture hugging Jimin. He knew that she was aware that her height was a point of discussion. There was light teasing, of course. She embraced her height all in order to bolster her own confidence in her abilities. There was a running joke that she wouldn’t deal with anyone shorter - except Jimin.

Jimin got a pass. They’d all erupt in laughter but Jimin puffed his chest, tucking his arms out to the side as if to swell himself even more. “Yah! That means I’m closer than any of you!” They all would laugh as she ducked out of the room. Taehyung could spot the blush under the caramel tones of her skin. 

“We’re here.” The driver stretched as he parked with the other row of vans. They essentially had the place to themselves. “God, I’m starving. I can’t wait to get something to eat.” He opened the door for the idol.

Tae smirked as he stepped, “That’s funny. I was just thinking the same thing.” He closed his phone on the last picture of Jeongguk back hugging her. “...I’m absolutely ravenous.” Tae offered a smile that would make a villain quiver. His hand slid into his pocket as the driver ran to open the door for him. 

They stepped inside to the smell of meat cooking, merriment, and singing? Oh yes. Oh yes, there was singing as the liquor flowed. Tae’s predatory air must have itched some of the staff because they all seemed to turn as his proximity to them increased. Red faces, lazy smiles, and flailing arms beckoned him into the chaotic fold. 

“Hey, V?!” Unison. 

He turned on the charm as he leaned in to inhale the smoke of barbecue. “Hey, hey!” There were hands shaking him or pulling him. 

“Come eat with us!” 

“Here’s a drink for you!” 

“You have t-to dance with Hobi!”

“Taehyung-ah, c-can you do the flower? The aegyo has been so bad.”

“Yes, cleanse our souls!”

There was laughter mixed with the same requests they make when they are well behind their alcohol tolerance. He held up his hands in surrender, but he accepted the first shot of soju. “Let me get some of this in me and we’ll see what happens.” They cheered as glasses were raised with a shout of Ganbei! More soju was ordered and consumed, he moved from table to table greeting everyone. He didn’t want to put too much focus on his current obsession. Finally, he moved toward the back where mostly the main faces were located. She had her arm wrapped around Jimin’s shoulders, leaning on Jeongguk’s sturdy frame, Hobi and Jin had their arms on each other's shoulders.

They were singing something, slightly off-key, laughing and rocking with the other PDs at the grill table. They would stop randomly to make ssam. 

“Jiminie, say ‘ah’.” She chuckled as a slice of meat and vegetable-filled lettuce wrap was stuffed into the main dancer’s mouth. 

“Ah, noona! You’re getting really good at these combinations.” He closed his eyes blissfully. Tae’s hands were balled into fists in his pocket. He stood off to the side watching them. Jeongguk turned to her with a pout. 

“I’m getting jealous,” Gguk spoke toward her ear. Her brow lifted with a side-long glance. Finally, she rolled her eyes and recreated the same combination. The wrap hovered in front of Jeongguk’s face. His lips were in a thin line as he arched a brow.

She sighed heavily, “Seriously?” A soft chuckle escaped as he scrunched his nose at her. “Ugh, fine.” She lifted the other hand under his chin. “Ggukie, say ‘ah’.” The maknae nodded his satisfaction and did as instructed. She was a little less gentle this time. The ssam was stuffed thoroughly into his mouth. He needed to really open his mouth to start chewing. She looked satisfied with the bit of difficulty.

“Noona, it is good. But, my mouth can only open so wide.” They all laughed at the whole two minutes it took for him to swallow the food. 

“Then maybe you’ll make it the first time, eh?” A brow ticked upward as she stuffed bean sprouts into her mouth. 

They all laughed.

She sighed softly, another piece of meat snagged from the sizzling surface. Just a few hours earlier she had stumbled to her room. Her legs weak, her soul shattered, her mind a mess, and so were her pants.

“Thank god for dark fabric.” She peeled out of her clothing, laid on the bed for all of twenty minutes before she got a message. They wanted to go out? But, what if…? She was informed that Tae was tired and wouldn’t be going. 

“Why not.” She found a white linen dress, a small jacket, and flats. There was an angry hickey forming just on her collarbone. At least the dress and jacket covered it. But, she took a little foundation and setting powder to it. As insurance, it didn’t look like a blended nightmare. 

They started with soju first, then food. Meaning they were all tipsy and hungry by the time the meat was ready. 

She was glad to get out. Her gaze swept around the table as they all laughed, talking about mishaps along the way. She was sandwiched between Jikook, while Hobi swatted at her arm when he made a joke. Jin waved a hand in her direction as she countered a dad joke.

The laughter kept coming, but why did she feel strange? Her brow furrowed as she pulled another piece of meat from the grill. You know that feeling. The one that makes you feel queasy, laced with fear as she looked up from the table. 

Like a sense of impending doom weighing down on her head. Where was it coming from? What was it? 

Ah.

That’s what it was.

Kim fucking Taehyung. Looking at them. Looking like something from a page in an art book. The man just had a presence. His arms were crossed, his eyes dark and narrowed - focused on that table. 

Focused on her. She narrowed her eyes reaching for the bottle of peach soju. She took the bottle down to half, followed by a gulp of cider. Jeongguk noticed V first. His gaze slid over to the Visual as they laughed. 

He knew he was watching them as he goaded her into feeding him. His fingers danced over her shoulders and she barely paid it any mind. Gguk smirked, his tongue prodding his cheek as he turned back to hyungs making bad jokes. That bright, ‘bunny’, smile plastered on his face as Hobi groaned about Jin’s humor. Tae’s eyes burned dark at the sight before him. It was almost as if he willed her to look at him.

Their eyes met as he tilted his head back. He knew he had her captive when the tip of his tongue touched along his lip. She stopped chewing her food for a moment. Her laughter suddenly absent from the conversation caused Jimin to look up lazily, “Ah! Taehyung-ah!” His friend, obviously intoxicated, waved him over. 

Jeongguk pretended not to hear as Tae appeared with that boxy smile plastered to his face. The maknae knew what the ‘actor’ was capable of. Just like he looked ready to toss the whole table moments ago, now he was laughing and clapping the others on the shoulders.

“Ah, Taehyung-ah! Tell Jin-hyung he’s not that funny.” Hobi groaned, holding his stomach as if some phantom pain tore him up inside. Tae gave the dance captain a flat look. “Hyung, I think you should consider your own jokes first.” 

The whole table lost it. 

Jimin laughed so hard he slid out of his chair, almost taking her with him. “Yah, Park Jimin! I will send you home if you can’t hold your alcohol!” She couldn’t keep a straight face. Jeongguk pulled her snug against his side as Jimin cackled on the floor. 

She blinked rapidly at the sudden, and obvious proximity of the maknae. “Uh, t-thanks,” She murmured. Even though she was a few centimeters taller than him? The current position had her under his arm and leaned into his pectoral. He tilted his head down, that smile on his face. He was so adorable - ah, I’m doing it again. She had to chastise herself each time. Jeongguk was getting up in that age frame where he wants to be seen as manly.

There was nothing wrong with that. Sure, he grew up in front of billions of people. You don’t want to hear those adjectives for the rest of your life. He was doing his best to show different sides of himself. And she respected his work and his work ethic. So the least she could do? Is respect his wish to not be thrown into the realm of ‘childlike’. 

Then again? 

She’s seen all of them shirtless, sweaty, and working out. There was nothing child-like about Jeon Jeongguk. 

Oh, honey. We need to lay off the soju! She chuckled to herself. Taehyung took a seat the table, he reached across and stole her peach soju! Suddenly, she blinked, staring at the maknae’s hand on her shoulder. Did...did he just tighten his grip? “Ggukie, m’you can let me up now.” Her gaze was on his hand - his gaze was on Taehyung. “Sorry, noona.” He chuckled as the pressure eased off her shoulder.

Jimin crawled back up to join the table. He rubbed his forehead leaning into her with a pout. “I think I broke something.” There was a devious look on his face as she shook her head. She stuffed another lettuce leaf offering. He cute smile as he opened his mouth and chomped down. 

“Mm,” He mumbled through the chew. “...feel better already.” 

“Jeongguk you have to sing for us!” One of the crew members plopped between them. “Come ooon, we’re waiting.” The maknae gave an exaggerated sigh as a smile broke. 

“If I have to…” He turned to her and offered a hand. “Shall we?” 

She blinked up at him with a mouth after stuffing her own face with a wrap. “Huh?” A hard swallow had her reaching for her cider. “Uh, n-no! I couldn’t!” She shook her hands rapidly as the other staff started to waggle their brows. 

“Come on! Go sing with him! You have to! He asked you!” She was waving her hands in surrender, and Gguk took that opportunity to grab them. He hauled her up from her seat, damn this strong individual?! 

“I-I..” She stuttered taking her hand back into one of the karaoke rooms. He laughed heartily, as they disappeared down the hallway. The sounds of others singing loud, drunk, and somewhat okay assaulted her ears. 

“Aish,” He hissed. Squinting one eye as he tilted his head from the noise. “Geez, no volume control.”

“Thank the alcohol. All the inhibitors are off.” She chuckled following him. They found a room at the deep end of the hall. It’s one of the rooms that let you broadcast out to the restaurant. The rooms were soundproofed, contrary to popular belief, but people out sang the buffer. He picked up the microphones and handed one over to her. 

Her hands began to sweat as he flipped through the song list. “Mmm. Ok, noona. What should be sing? Shall I pick a girl group song? One of ours?” Jeongguk smirked, as he turned to her. She was so nervous. It was so cute. 

He could see why Tae found her attractive. There was just something about her. Even he couldn’t put his finger on it. She sometimes forgot the rules and would speak up when she shouldn’t. He couldn’t use his fingers and toes to count how many times she’s gotten into altercations. Everybody’s view of perfection was different. 

But, when they were overseas? She really tapped into the pulse of the ARMY. There were things that could be better, that could have more impact. That’s what she stood for and somehow? She managed to find a compromise. 

“Uhm. C-can we do Wildflower by Park Hyo Shin?” Jeongguk shook himself as she spoke. Had he been staring at her this whole time? She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was different tonight. Normally, they were used to frizzy curls framing her face or tucked into a bun on her head. It looks like she took a flat iron to it. It was silky, smooth, and cascading over her shoulders. 

She turned toward him as he shifted his gaze to the floor quickly. There was quickening in his pulse he wasn’t prepared for. “Uh, r-right, yea. That’s a good song.” He swallowed hard schooling his expression into something light and neutral. 

The good thing about singing with Jeongguk? He really knows how to make a person look good. She could carry a decent tune on her own. After some a few brushes with death, her gospel choir soprano turned into a low alto. Almost like Taehyung, she could dole out a high note if need be. But, she kept her tone easy and low - for a female that is.

The first piano notes tapered in on a slow staccato. Jeongguk gave her a look indicating she could take the lead. She took a deep breath, the microphone trembling with her fingers. 

Jeongguk’s brow furrowed chastising himself for that silly moment. Then she opened her mouth.

[badchoicesposts]

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 8

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar)

Word Count: 3,918

Disclaimer: I’ve changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I’ve based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season.

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @kingliam2019, @ao719, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @timmagickfrog, @lauradowning29

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Catch Up: Masterlist

Constantine was intrigued. The Beaumont suitor had definitely made an impression. There was no hiding that Liam was completely smitten with her, and he could tell that she cared for him just as much. But, the fact that they loved each other didn’t ensure that she would make a good queen. Constantine knew that she hadn’t had a chance to prove herself yet, but he also knew that what Cordonia needed was someone who was truly ready to take the throne. They needed someone who wouldn’t require a long adjustment period. Someone who had been born and bred for this. Someone like Madeleine. He and Regina had both agreed on that. 

“You wanted to see me, Your Majesty,” Bastien said, opening the door to Constantine’s office.

“Yes, Bastien. Come in,” he said, motioning for the other man to sit down, “What do you know about our newest member of the court?”

“I assume you mean Lady Alison, sir?” Bastien asked.

The king nodded and watched as Bastien shifted in his seat.

“She has a clean record, sir. No criminal background. She graduated with perfect grades and a Bachelor’s Degree in Biology. When she left New York she was pursuing a Master’s degree and working part time as a waitress.”

“There has to be something, Bastien. I need you to find me every bit of information you can on her,” Constantine persisted. 

It was clear that Bastien was uncomfortable, but he had sworn an oath to obey his king. 

“Of course, sir.”

~~~

“Rise and shine, little blossom!” Maxwell knocked cheerfully on her door. 

Ali groaned into her pillow and pulled on a bathrobe. Maxwell had learned the hard way that she often slept in various states of undress, and after the first few times of walking in on her naked and dramatically complaining about his innocent eyes, he realized that it was always safer not to barge into her room.

“Morning, Max,” she said. 

She opened the door and immediately turned back around and dropped onto the bed. Maxwell sighed and laid down on his back next to her, staring at the ceiling.

“So tonight is the Masquerade. It’s the first official event of the social season, and Bertrand wanted me to remind you that everything needs to go perfectly. It’ll be your introduction to court and- hey are you listening to me?” Maxwell said.

“Mhm,” Ali mumbled, burying her face back into her pillow. 

Maxwell waved his hand in front of her face a few times and smiled mischievously when she didn’t respond. He walked into her bathroom, grabbed a tube of liquid eyeliner, and made his way quietly back over to the bed. 

He leaned over her carefully, moving in an over exaggerated slow motion so that he wouldn’t wake her. However, as soon as the brush touched her skin Ali jumped up, frantically wiping at her face. She looked at the black liquid on her hand and then to the startled Maxwell who had fallen onto the floor. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, still half asleep and slightly disoriented.

Maxwell smiled sheepishly at her. 

“Nothing.” 

She looked back at the mark on her hand again and laughed tiredly. 

“Mustache?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

She glared at him playfully, grabbed the eyeliner out of his hand, and hurried to get showered and dressed. 

“So, you were saying something about being perfect,” she said playfully, now fully awake after her shower.

“Just that you are,” Maxwell said. 

The two shared a laugh before he continued. 

“Bertrand wants everything to go perfectly tonight. So that means that you need to be able to look and act like a lady of the court.”

“Right, no pressure there,” she said taking a seat next to him on the bed, “I know you said not to stress out about what to wear tonight, but I feel the need to remind you that my body type isn’t exactly easy to shop for.”

Even though she had actively been more body positive lately, that didn’t change the fact that her body type wasn’t easy to shop for. She hated shopping because it always got her down on herself. She wasn’t very tall, and her body wasn’t thin so clothes tended to be too long on her and usually had an unflattering shape. 

Maxwell smiled at her conspiratorially. 

“I promise everything’s taken care of,” he said getting up and walking to the door.

“What does that mean?” she called as she ran after him. 

“You’ll see later. Now come on,” he said, speeding up his pace. 

Ali was typically a fast walker, but Maxwell’s legs were much longer than hers, and she found herself running to catch up with him. 

“Where are we going?” she asked. 

He just raised a finger to his lips in a playful shushing motion and looked over the corner of the nearby hallway to make sure it was empty. He placed his hand on her upper back and quickly guided her to a door at the very end of the hall. 

“Why are you being so secretive?” she whispered. 

He motioned for her to open the door, and a lavish sitting room was revealed to her when she did. Liam stepped into her line of sight, and when she turned to look back at Maxwell, he winked and reached over the threshold to shut the door from his place in the hallway.

Ali laughed and walked into Liam’s arms. 

The room had high ceilings and was filled with a mix of antique and modern furniture that practically screamed royalty. The wall on the far left to where they stood was completely made up of bookshelves, and the wall to the right of where they stood had double-doors opened to reveal a bedroom with a large, plush bed. 

“Is this the royal bedchamber? Prince Liam, how scandalous!” she said in a mockingly posh accent as he pulled her in for a gentle kiss. 

Liam chuckled against her lips and settled his hands on her waist. 

“I wanted to see you one last time before tonight,” he mumbled, pressing kisses down her neck. 

Her body, which had been completely relaxed a moment ago, tensed at his words. After tonight everything would change. The social season was officially starting, and she would not only have to put all of Bertrand’s intense training into use, but she would also have to watch Liam spend time with several other women. 

Liam pulled away from her neck and looked at her, his eyes searching her face for an indication of why her posture changed. 

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing. Well, not nothing. It’s just… this is all really happening, huh?” she laughed nervously. 

“Yes, it is. Are you still sure it’s what you want?” he asked, taking her hand into his and guiding her to a sofa located in the sitting area of the room. 

Ali sat sideways on the couch, throwing her legs over his lap and resting her head against his shoulder. His hand began to mindlessly trace circles against her calf as she sighed softly. 

“Yes, I want this. I’m just nervous,” she said in what she hoped was a convincing voice. 

It was true that she wanted to be with him, but she wasn’t sure how she would be able to fit in at court. Her mind had constantly been going back and forth between being confident in herself and her abilities and being convinced that she had no idea what she was doing.  

She was also worried about her relationship with him in general. She knew that she was completely in love with the Liam that she knew years ago, but time had passed and she was worried about making uprooting her entire life to follow him here. She had barely spent much time with him in the past month, and she was confused now more than ever with the season beginning tonight. The heaviness of their situation was weighing down on her. Ali would find herself lying awake at night, agonizing over whether or not she had made the right decision. But, she couldn’t deny the fact that she still got butterflies in her stomach when he smiled at her or that he could still light her skin ablaze with just one touch. 

“Is that the only thing that’s bothering you?” he asked skeptically. 

Ali groaned internally. She should have known he would see through her. He was the most observant person in the world, and he already knew all of her tells. 

“Yeah, I guess I’m just worried about last night. On a scale of one to Katie from the cruise, how much do you think Constantine and Regina hated me?” she joked, relieved that she had managed to change the subject. 

Liam was visibly trying his best to suppress his laughter and was failing miserably. He finally gave in and laughed freely, causing Ali to smile. She loved seeing him happy, and she filed that away in her mind, the thought only adding to her confusion. 

“How do you know about her?” he asked when he finally stopped laughing. 

“Oh, Maxwell made sure to tell me all about it,” she said, smiling widely. 

“Well, in her defense, they didn’t hate her. They just didn’t believe she would make a suitable queen.”

“And what about me?”

Liam looked at her fondly. 

“Neither of them said much last night after dinner, but I think you may have charmed them. I believe that they were both impressed with the way you handled yourself around Madeleine, and I believe they respected your decision to tell them the truth about our relationship and the fact that you looked at things realistically instead of fantasizing about something that may not come to pass.”

“Did you respect that?” she asked in a quiet voice, looking down at her lap. 

Liam sighed and placed his hand under her chin, tilting her head up.

“I wish you had told me your concerns back then. I may have been able to help you through them,” he replied. 

His voice remained gentle and her stomach dropped when she realized that he was more hurt than he was angry.

“I know I should have, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to talk about it. I was so crazy about you, so it was easier to convince myself that everything was okay than to admit that I was afraid of losing it all.”

“I’m glad you changed your mind, though. I’m glad you never left.” 

“So am I.”

Liam’s voice was full of love, and Ali completely melted against him. Their lips connected in tender kiss, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he pinned her to the couch beneath him. However, just as her fingers began to unbutton his white dress shirt, there was a loud knock on the door that caused them to jump apart.

“I’m coming in!” Maxwell yelled. 

He had one hand clamped tightly over his eyes which caused him to walk straight into a side table.

“You can look, Max,” Ali laughed out as he hissed in pain. 

“Just wanted to be safe,” he groaned, removing his hand from his eyes and bringing it down to clutch his throbbing side. 

“Bertrand wants to meet us for lunch.”

“Let me guess, he has something to discuss with us, and it’s of the utmost importance that we be there on time?” she asked, lowering her voice an octave to imitate the older Beaumont. 

“That was a great impression,” Maxwell said.

“Yes, it was very good,” Liam agreed. 

Ali smiled at the two of them and kissed Liam on the cheek. 

“I’ll see you later,” she said. 

He nodded and watched as she disappeared through the door with Maxwell. He could tell that there had been something else on her mind, but he also knew her well enough to know that pushing her to talk to him when she wasn’t ready would only upset her even more.

Ali’s mind was completely absent through her lunch with Bertrand, and he was getting increasingly irritated as she stared off mindlessly while he spoke. 

“Are you even listening to me?” he barked, causing her to jump in her seat. 

“I- um,” she stammered, looking at him nervously. 

In truth, she had no idea what he was saying. But, before Bertrand could open his mouth to scold her, Maxwell took the opportunity to keep the peace. 

“Ali’s ready for tonight. She was trained by the best,” he said, motioning to his older brother. 

Bertrand seemed to relax slightly at his words but tensed again just as quickly.

“The other ladies competing for Liam’s hand have been preparing for this since birth. Alison has only been learning about court for one month. It doesn’t matter who she was trained by. She still needs to listen, or she could ruin everything,” Bertrand scowled. 

Ali’s shoulders slumped, and the action did not go unnoticed by Maxwell. 

“I think she needs to just relax before she starts to get ready for tonight. Maybe a nice bubble bath,” he said, already grabbing her arm and pulling her out of her chair before Bertrand could react. 

Maxwell pulled her into a fast walk, wanting to put as much space between them and Bertrand as possible. He knew he would probably be in trouble for this later, but he could also tell that his new friend was spiralling and that his brother wasn’t making the situation any better. 

“Thanks, Maxwell,” Ali said quietly. 

They had reached her room, and she was ready to take a nap until the social season was over. She closed her eyes and lay back against the pillows on her bed. The day was barely halfway over, and she was already exhausted.

“Blossom?” Maxwell said softly.

Ali opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly.

“Are you going to be okay?” 

The girl smiled at him softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She had learned over their time together that Maxwell was extremely perceptive and empathetic even though people were quick to write off as an irresponsible screw-up.  

“I think so. You may have actually been onto something when you mentioned a bubble bath,” she said, sitting up and pulling him into a quick hug.

“I’ll be back in two hours to start helping you get ready. Enjoy the bubbles!” he said, hopping off the bed and walking to the door. 

Ali watched him leave and made her way over to her bathroom. She turned on the water and poured some lavender scented bubble bath in. The smell of the lavender immediately began to calm her nerves as she watched bubbles fill the large tub, and she was grateful that Maxwell has suggested it.

She stayed in the tub until the water had gone cold and was feeling completely relaxed when she got out. Her decision to come to Cordonia had already been made, and she wasn’t turning back now. All she could do was go down tonight and do her best.

She dressed quickly in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt before sitting down and applying a simple base of makeup.

“Are you decent?” she heard a voice call through her door. 

Ali furrowed her eyebrows and opened her door to the sight of Drake who was half ready himself. His tie was still hanging undone underneath his shirt collar, and he had his suit jacket slung over his left arm. 

“Wow, Drake, look at you! Do a little spin for me,” she said jokingly, backing up and turning her finger in a circle. 

Drake rolled his eyes and brushed past her, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. 

“Maxwell said to finish your face and meet him down in the boutique when you’re done,” he said.

“Okay, did he specify how I should finish my face?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. 

“Red lipstick.”

“Um, okay,” she said, slightly confused. “Where’s the boutique?”

“It’s on the lowest floor of the east wing.”

“Yeah, I have no idea where that is,” she said, rummaging around in her makeup bag and sitting down in front of the mirror of her vanity. 

“If you hurry up, I’ll walk you down,” he said as he began fiddling with his tie.

“Do you know why Maxwell has been so secretive every time I ask him about what I’m supposed to wear during the season?” 

“Mhm,” he said, shrugging his jacket on.

“Are you going to tell me?” 

“Why would I? You’re going to find out in like find out in five minutes anyway.” 

“Fine, just lead the way.” 

Ali followed him as he lead her through the palace halls before stopping in front of an ornate door. He motioned for her to enter. 

“I’ll see you after,” he nodded at her. 

She shot him a half smile and opened the door to see a tall woman with long, dark hair in her underwear trying on a dress.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was here,” Ali said.

The woman pulled the dress up and glanced back at her momentarily, not actually taking in her face. 

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t have an appointment. I’m just searching desperately for something to wear last minute,” the woman said, struggling with the zipper on the back of the dress. 

“Do you need help with that?” Ali asked. 

“Oh, that would be amazing,” she said, stepping back so Ali could reach the zipper, “I’m Hana.” 

“Thank you. Not many girls here are like you,” she said kindly, as she pulled on a matching mask.

“Helpful?” Ali asked. 

“Nice.” 

Ali smiled before she realized that she hadn’t yet introduced herself. 

“I’m Ali, by the way.”

“Oh,” the other girl looked taken aback for a second, finally taking in her features as a look of realization crossed her features. 

Ali cringed. She knew it was more than likely that people in Cordonia had seen the articles, but a part of her had hoped that maybe they would just look the other way. However, much to her surprise, a kind smile graced Hana’s face after her initial shock. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ali. Do you need help finding a dress?” she asked.

“Well, I guess so. Maxwell Beaumont just told me to come down here. I’m not really sure what I should be looking for.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here then!” said a cheerful voice from behind the two of them. 

Ali turned around and smiled widely.

“Em!” she squealed, throwing herself into the blonde girl’s arms, “What are you doing here?” 

“I got a call from a certain former crown prince a few days after you left. He said he would take care of the cost of materials if I made your gowns and helped prepare your outfits for the season. It’s a chance for me to get free publicity for my designs and for you to get appropriate outfits. Maxwell didn’t tell you because he thought it would be a nice surprise to motivate you tonight,” she said, with a smile on her face. 

“Leo called you?” Ali asked, surprised. 

Emma nodded her head.

“I’ve been working nonstop for the past month. You would not believe how much shopping I’ve done, but I have a pretty good idea of what I want you to wear. I’ve completely finished a few of your dresses, and there are others that I still need you to try on so I can make alterations. But, I’m prepared for tonight,” she said, with a smile. 

Emma reached over to a clothes rack standing near them and grabbed a red dress. 

“Now go put this on,” she said, pushing her into one of the dressing rooms. 

The red dress had a fitted lace bodice, with a plunging neckline and long lace sleeves. The lace ended at the waist of the dress, and the flared skirt was made up of red, floor length tulle. The dress fit perfectly, not like she expected anything else from Emma Larson, and the color stood out gorgeously against Ali’s brown skin. 

Ali could hear Emma and Hana speaking softly to each other as she ran her hands down the soft material. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to look in the mirror. 

“Emma, this dress is amazing! How do I look?” she said, stepping out of the dressing room. 

The two women were pulled out of their conversation. They both smiled at her appearance, Emma beaming with pride.

“Hotter than fire, my darling,” Hana said.

Emma handed her an ornate black mask that was attached to a long stick. Ali held it up over her face and looked in the mirror for the first time that night. It felt odd, but she liked what she saw. She had been so worried about this, about fitting in, about how she would look out of her usual baggy clothing. But, she was proud of the person she saw looking back at her in the mirror. She felt good about herself, and that was empowering. 

“I’m going to have to hold this in front of my glasses all night,” she sighed as she realized how far away from her face she had to hold the mask to keep it from touching her glasses.  

“Well, you could just get contacts,” Emma said, with a smile. 

The girl had been trying to convince her to get contact lenses for years, but she refused on the grounds that she didn’t want to put anything in her eyes. 

“Not a chance,” she said. 

“One last thing,” Emma said, pulling a small jewelry box from behind her back. 

“A certain special someone asked me to give you this tonight,” she lowered her voice so that Hana couldn’t hear her. 

She took a silver necklace with a delicate heart-shaped pendant out of the box and placed it around the other girl’s neck. Ali smiled at her reflection in the mirror and took a deep breath to steel herself. 

“Well, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, making her way to the door of the boutique. 

“Good luck!” Emma said, giving her one last hug. 

Ali left Hana and Emma, who seemed to be bonding, in the boutique and found Maxwell and Drake both waiting for her nearby. An appreciative whistle left Maxwell’s mouth as looked her over, and Ali would have been insulted if she hadn’t known him well enough to know his intentions. 

“You look… good,” Drake said, taking in her appearance. 

Ali smirked at him and didn’t miss the way a slight blush crept up his cheeks. 

“Thanks, Drake.” 

Maxwell held his arm out to her and she took his elbow with one hand and Drake’s with the other. She felt confident walking down to the ballroom sandwiched between the two of them. When they reach the ballroom doors Drake broke away from them. 

“I’m going to enter the ballroom through a side door. I’ll see you around,” he said, giving her a half smile. 

Ali nodded in his direction and looked ahead to the ballroom doors. Maxwell gave her one last encouraging smile as the doors flew open, and the herald announced his title. A new set of butterflies erupted in her stomach as she watched him walk down the stairs into the room below them. She stepped up to the man and gave him her name. 

“Lady Alison Moonessar of New York!” he called in a loud voice.

[insfiringyou]

BTS - The Play

Contains: Fluff. Angst. Mentions of sex. Warnings for mentions of rape, suicide and domestic violence in the fictional context of watching a play.

V invites the other members to see his girlfriend’s new controversial play at the theatre. Despite its glowing reviews, the plot is a little unexpected and the ending leaves them shocked...

[AN: this is part of our headcanon universe and is set three weeks after the events of Boat Party. As this fic contains everyone except J-Hope’s headcanon girlfriend, you may wish to read our post which explains our headcanon universe before reading.]

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin  /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below cut

PART ONE

The crimson foyer was becoming more clustered by the second as more streams of theatre-goers piled through the sets of revolving doors at the edge of the room. Jimin hovered behind Yoongi and Hoseok in line to the drinks and snacks counter. His eyes flickered to the doorway as Jin and Namjoon walked through the entrance, accompanied closely by their girlfriends Min-Seo and Ji-eun.

“I didn’t realise this was a ‘couples’ thing.” He sulked in a quiet voice. Yoongi turned around and followed the younger member’s eyes to the edge of the room. The couples were walking arm in arm.

“I didn’t realise they were back together.” He nodded in reply towards Namjoon and Ji-eun. The last time he had seen the older woman was at Donghyuk’s boart party, three weeks before. She had been ghostly pale as she left the yacht, her hair a messy nest and her black strappy dress hanging off her slender shoulders, having just broken up with her boyfriend in a drunken row. Now, she was back to being the epitome of style and class. She wore a sleeveless red fishtail dress; the neckline high around her neck and the hem skimming her ankles. Her hair was piled high in a ponytail. She was not wearing her usual pair of square-framed glasses. Min-seo, in contrast, wore a simple black knee-length dress and had her hair down.

“They made up last week.” Jimin explained in a low voice as the two couples walked past them without glancing their way. “You were in Daegu. There was a lot of crying and shouting...”

Yoongi didn’t reply. They reached the snacks counter as the line of people shortened.

“I don’t know why they bothered inviting us.” Jimin moaned.

Yoongi sighed, more at Jimin’s tone of voice than what he was implying. “To support Taehyung’s girlfriend.” He said flatly, suddenly sounding more like Namjoon than himself. In truth, he had only met Taehyung’s girlfriend, Cassandra, a handful of times and knew the others had not had much to do with her either. They knew she was a stage actress, but had never seen her act in anything until today. Jimin rolled his eyes as Hoseok leaned on the glass counter eagerly and turned back to the two members.

“Do you want anything?” He asked.

Yoongi shook his head and Jimin asked for a water. Hoseok nodded and told the server his order.

“I hope Jungkook doesn’t bring Young-soon.” Jimin whined, referring to the maknae’s girlfriend who was both attractive and several years older than him.

Hoseok turned around, clutching a box of popcorn and a bottle of water. He handed the drink to the younger male. “You could have brought your girlfriend.” He said.

Jimin’s face twisted. “Angel’s not my girlfriend.”

Yoongi smirked. “Does she know that?”

Jimin stayed silent as the trio walked through the crowded foyer to Jin and Namjoon. The girls had clearly dissapeared off to the bathroom.

“I hear the play has really good reviews.” Namjoon said as the five men formed a rough semi-circle in the corner of the large room.

“It’s about women’s rights the nineteen sixties. It’s supposed to be quite controversial...” Hoseok chimed in.

Namjoon’s eyes moved to the older member who had started to munch on his popcorn. “You can’t eat popcorn in a theatre can you?”

Hoseok frowned. “They wouldn’t sell it if you couldn’t.” He said brightly, popping a couple of pieces into his mouth.

“He has a point.” Jin laughed as the group turned to look at Taehyung as he walked cooly across the lobby towards them. He was wearing an emerald coloured velvet suit and a red bow tie, contrasting with the plain black tuxedos or white shirts the others members were wearing.

“How is she?” Namjoon asked as the younger member reached them and joined their circle.

“Nervous.They’re doing her makeup now. I thought I should give her some space.” He answered, referring to his girlfriend of several months. “Shall we find our seats?” He gestured towards the double set of doors at the far side of the lobby.

Namjoon shook his head. “We’re waiting for the girls. They’ve gone to the bathroom.”

“And Jungkook!” Jimin chimed in.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered slowly to Jimin. “Where is he?”

“His girlfriend’s dropping him off.” Yoongi explained. “Maybe they’re running late.”

Jimin scoffed. “Is she his mother?” He rolled his eyes. “He could have come with us, if he was going to be late...”

The men ignored this comment and Taehyung turned back to the group. “The ushers are gesturing for us to go in...we can’t wait any longer.”

Jin turned away from the group. “I’ll let the girls know...make sure you leave a space for Jungkook!” He walked towards the other end of the hall, towards the bathroom as the others walked towards the double set of doors, leading into the dark theatre.

 *

 “That shade looks really good on you.” Ji-eun, Namjoon’s girl, smiled as she finished applying the plum coloured lipstick to Min-seo’s otherwise pale lips.

The younger girl beamed, a blush forming on her cheeks. “Do you think so?” She turned around to look in the bathroom mirror. The lighting in the room was warm and soft, burning from a series of lamps afixed to the white tiled walls, a direct contrast to the unflattering strip lights that usually adorned public bathrooms. Min-seo was still getting used to seeing Namjoon’s girl in this new, normal way. The older woman had been terribly drunk the last time she had seen her, at Donghyuk’s boat party and, while they had found themselves in the bathroom together on that day too, Ji-eun had been being sick in the toilet from drinking too much gin and wine. It had been easy, at that party, to forget that Namjoon’s girl was one of the most succesful young solicitors in the city, but here, in this new light, she found herself almost in awe at how glamorous and confident she seemed.

Their eyes automatically flickered to the bathroom door as it opened and a girl walked in. She wore a plain navy, knee length dress with lace sleeves and her long, black hair was loosely curled around her shoulders. Min-seo recognised her instantly as she entered the room and, a second later, Ji-eun’s eyes also widened as she realised where she had seen the younger woman before. Jeong-sun had also been at Donghyuk’s boat party, three weeks before, and had driven Ji-eun home after she had been sick in the toilet. Min-seo knew a little more about her, having seen the way Yoongi looked at her when they were together.

“Hi.” Min-seo called automatically with a smile. The woman looked up with a little jolt, clearly a little startled. Her face softened when she recognised the voice.

“Oh, hi.” She walked over the counter. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Min-seo beamed. “Are you here with your boyfriend?”

Jeong-sun shook her head. Her reply was a little slow but her voice didn’t falter. “With a friend.”

There was a small knock on the wooden door which caused the women to break their trail of thought. The door opened little more than a crack and Jin peered through the space.

“The play’s about to start in a minute. The others have gone in.” He called.

Min-seo and Ji-eun turned to each other and gathered their small clutch bags from the counter by the sink. They turned to say goodbye to Jeong-sun but found that she had already entered one of the toilet cubicles.

 *

Namjoon had stood up in the aisle to let Jin and Min-seo slip past them to sit next to Taehyung. There was a low mutter of conversation among the audience as everybody found their seats, the performance had clearly been an almost-sell out and the anticipation caused by the controversial play reviews was causing quite the buzz of excitement. Ji-eun took her place next to Min-seo and Namjoon perched on the end, leaving a spare seat on the edge of the row for Jungkook. They were perfectly placed to see the stage; half-way up the row of aisles. As they all sat down along their row, the first notes of music began to fill the space as a violin played from the small orchestra below. The buzz of the audience grew briefly louder, then silent as the red curtain rose and the lights dimmed.

A single spot light fell on the centre of the stage and, slowly, a female figure walked into the circle, her long, brunette hair trailing across her shoulders. The theatre was silent as she let out a small cough, clearing her throat. The members instantly recognised the girl as Cassandra, despite her ripped clothes and bruised face. The makeup department had done a fantastic job of making her look battered and injured; the result was almost shocking. Her high, pale cheekbones were scarred and her wide-set brown eyes were surrounded by dark purple rings. Her voice, naturally accented, rang loud and clear around the dark theatre as she explained, in character, that she was going to tell her tragic and harrowing tale. The monologue was dramatic and sombre; the audience listened to her every word; eager to discover what had happened to her.

Suddenly, a long, low creak from the back of the theatre broke the silence as one of the two doors slowly swung open. A thin stream of light filled the otherwise dark space as a figure slowly slipped through the open doorway. Several dozen pairs of eyes turned to the back of the room to watch as the male figure closed the door quickly behind him, causing another quick whine, as he tried to find a spare seat in the dark. All of the members besides Taehyung quickly turned and saw the new arrival. Namjoon shook his head.

“Shhh.” A female voice called out.

“Oops. Sorry.” Jungkook looked around the packed theatre for the other members, his eyes scanning the backs of heads and the soft glow of the faces who had turned around to watch him. The soft tinkle of pieces of ice rattling together followed him down the stairs; the large paper cup of Pepsi he carried the cause of the disturbance. Taehyung’s girlfriend was on stage, doing her best to deliver her monologue despite the disruption among the audience. Jungkook slowly walked down the set of stairs,  looking at the rows of seats to his left and right quickly, a blush staining his cheeks.

Namjoon turned around in his seat and beckoned, from the edge of the row, for Jungkook.

“Over here.” He whispered as Jungkook moved closer and quickly picked up speed. He moved into the aisle and took his seat on the end, next to Namjoon.

“I’m sorry.” The maknae whispered. The woman on stage left the set and the spotlight remained fixed on the centre as the curtain briefly closed. A few moments later it opened again to reveal a new set; the interior of a prison.

Namjoon turned to the younger member. “Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated. “We got held up.” His eyes moved from the leader to the stage. Cassandra was coming back on stage, accompanied by a pair of men dressed as prison guards. Her bruises had dissapeared and her prison uniform was freshly pressed, indicating a flash back scene. Namjoon didn’t reply, instead taking Ji-eun’s hand in his own and trying to concentrate on the plot.

On the other end of the aisle, Hoseok ate his popcorn enthusiastically.

“This is great.” He whispered, a little loudly, to nobody in particular, clearly enjoying the play. Yoongi grinned from beside him as Jimin leaned over his shoulder.

“Speak for yourself...” Jimin whispered. As he sat back in his seat, he noticed that Taehyung, on his right, had stiffened in his seat. His eyes never left the stage as his girlfriend, playing the part of a political prisoner in the nineteen sixties, cried alone in her police cell. Yoongi, on Jimin’s left, reached over to Hoseok and dipped his hand silently into his box of popcorn, pulling away a few pieces of sweet and salty kernel and popping them one by one into his mouth.

The play intensified as Cassandra’s character, deliberately unnamed, was moved from a small prison to a larger, high security building and forced to share a cell with a pregnant woman, arrested for arson and acts of political terrorism. Half-way through the first act, her cell mate killed herself with a piece of metal cutlery, stolen from the prison canteen. Hoseok covered his eyes as this spectacle took place.

“It’s so realistic...” He turned to Yoongi. “Tell me when the blood stops.”

The play continued for the next twenty minutes in a similar tone. The female characters, of which Cassandra played the lead, plotted their revenge against the state which had imprisoned them. At several points Jimin found himself turning towards Taehyung, trying to read his reaction as the plot grew increasingly dark. Finally, Cassandra was alone on stage with a corrupt and overweight prison guard and the audience seemed to hold its breath as it became obvious that the only way for her to deliver her secret messages to the outside world would be to sleep to him.

Jimin’s eyes once again moved to the younger member beside him as the female on stage reached out her hands to unbuckle the man’s leather belt.

“Fine...I’ll do it...I have to.” Her words echoed around the theatre and it seemed that everyone was holding their breaths as she slowly sunk to her knees; her head covering the man’s overhanging stomach and crotch. Taehyung remained stony and unreadable as she moved her head forwards, resting against his groin.

“God.” Ji-eun whispered to Namjoon on the other end of the row. “This is just awful.” Her voice was both sympathetic and horrified. Namjoon could only nod his head awkwardly in response. A few seats away, Min-seo and Jin watched the scene unfold with nervous apprehension, unmoving, suddenly feeling as though watching the play had not been such a good idea after all.

The sound of a zipper being undone rang out around the room as the woman undid the man’s trousers. Fortunately, the red curtain dropped down, covering them both from view before any explicit action was shown and signalling the end of the first half of the play. The audience sat still for a moment, shocked into place by the seriousness of the end scene and the cliff-hanger they had been left on. The lights suddenly brightened and the first of the audience-goers rose to their feet.

The members trailed out of the doors at the back of the theatre and into the foyer in silence. Hoseok was the first to speak once they reached the plush interior.

“Woo...” He let out a breath of air. “That was intense.”

He barely notices Taehyung split off from the group. Hoseok, Yoongi  and Jimin automatically drift apart from the others once more as they head back towards the snack counter. They manage to beat most of the queue and Hoseok has his box of popcorn refilled. Yoongi goes next and orders a double shot of whisky, no ice. They moved away from the counter and formed a small circle in the corner of the foyer.

On the other end of the room, Jin, Namjoon, Jungkook and the ladies cluster close to the bathrooms. The women break apart from the group slightly to discuss the plot of the play, their voices hushed as they recount the horrors they witnessed on stage.

“Where were you? Why were you late?” Namjoon asked the maknae who had finished his large coke and was now hovering awkwardly, his eyes flickering to the nearby row of bathrooms where a long line of people waited to use the facilities.

“I’m sorry. Young-soon and I were waiting for the landlord. Our boiler broke...”

Jin smirked. “Our?”

Jungkook quickly blushed, realising what he had said. “Her landlord. He was taking forever to come around.”

Jin smiled good-naturedly. “Didn’t you want to bring her along? We could have got more tickets.”

Jungkook thought for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think she really likes plays too much anyway.” His eyes moved once more to the line of people waiting to use the restrooms and he sighed, moving from foot to foot. Namjoon ignored this.

“Where did Taehyung go?” The leader asked.

Jin shook his head, looking around. “I don’t know.”

There was a pause before Namjoon continued, a little tentatively. “What do you think he thought of it?”

The others did not answer. 

On the other end of the room, Jimin asked a similar question. “Do you think he knew what was going to happen?”

“Who?” Yoongi asked, downing his glass of whisky in three large gulps.

“Taehyung. Did he know...the plot?” A blush rises to his cheeks.

Yoongi shrugged non-committedly. “Probably. He didn’t seem that shocked.”

“Oh.” Jimin thought this through for a moment. “Do you think she told him beforehand? His girlfriend? What it was about?”

Yoongi raised his shoulders once more. Hoseok sighed loudly from beside him.

“Well I really want to know what happens next!” He said, sincerely. 

Yoongi laughed. “You won’t have to wait long...the intermission is almost over.”

PART TWO

The atmosphere was predictably more tense as the audience streamed back into the theatre through the double sets of doors, undoubtedly anticipating how far the theatre producers could push the plot. Jungkook, walked along the back aisle to join Jimin, Yoongi and Hoseok on their side of the row.

“Can I sit with you guys?” He whispered, moving ahead to walk down the stairs. They nod in agreement, noticing that Taehyung has not yet returned. Jimin leads the way and takes his seat, four chairs in from the end of the row. Yoongi follows.

“Isn’t that your friend?” Jungkook asks from behind him. Yoongi paused, turning back.

“Who?”

Jungkook motioned to a row of seats a couple of aisles up. “The one from the closet.” The maknae shrugs as Yoongi looks up to find who he is pointing at.

To the right of their row, a few seats back, he spotted two familliar figures. The first, seated on the right, had long dyed blonde hair. The girl on the left did not appear to see him but his heart skipped in his chest nontheless. Her slightly wavy hair covered most of her face from view as she rummaged through her black handbag for something; her phone or wallet, but he would have recognised her anywhere. His brow wrinkled in confusion as he tried to register the surprise of having seeing her here. He didn’t realise he had stopped what he was doing to look back until Hoseok tapped his shoulder.

“You’re blocking the aisle hyung.” He laughed. Yoongi shook his head, as though shaking the after image of a mirage from his eyes, and silently took his place in between Jimin and Hoseok, with Jungkook on the end. The other side of the aisle began to fill up, with Jin moving down to sit beside Jimin.

“This should be good.” Jimin whispered, making the older member grin as the lights began to dim once more. The orchestra played a few ominous notes before the curtain opened to reveal the main character, heavily pregnant, in the centre of the stage.

“That was fast.” Yoongi muttered, causing Hoseok to half-choke on a piece of popcorn. He quickly washed it down with a sip of water and calmed down.

“Here I am...eight months later...” Cassandra spoke in a low and emotional voice. The back door opened, much more quietly than before, and Taehyung quickly walked down the aisle and took the spare seat next to Namjoon. The older member didn’t bother to ask where he had been.

Eight months soon turned into nine and the protagonist was giving birth on the cold, hard floor of her cell. Yoongi turned around, while the woman screamed on stage, and caught a glimpse of Jeong-sun, between the rows of people.

“What is it?” Hoseok asked, looking around aimlessly.

Yoongi shook his head. “Nothing.”

Ten more minutes passed before Yoongi found he could no longer sit still. He silently excused himself, his slender body slipping easily past Hoseok and Jungkook as he headed back to the stairs at the back of the hall. Jeong-sun looked up as he walked towards her and their eyes met across the space. He held her gaze purposefully until he passed by, walking out of the dark theatre and into the brightly lit foyer.

Jeong-sun’s heart galloped in her chest as she straightened her back against her seat, feeling her face heat up. It was just the shock of seeing him casually, in somewhere unexpected, that got her heart race up. She tried to concentrate on the play, it was certainly exciting enough, but, like Yoongi minutes before, she found herself unable to sit still. Finally, she gave in and stood up, realising that Yoongi was not coming back.

“Are you okay?” Her friend, Angel, whispered from beside her. The blonde woman wore a low-cut blue dress the colour of the sky on a clear summer’s day.

Jeong-sun nodded. “I just need a bit of fresh air.” She said quietly in reply before heading towards the closest exit at the back of the room.

Her heart continued to leap as she pushed through the door and walked down the few steps in the foyer which led to the main platform. Yoongi was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Despite the formality of his clothes, he still seemed to give off a casual air; his plain black trousers and crisp white shirt fit his body perfectly; draping across his delicate frame. His gaze was fixed at his polished black shoes, tapping on the carpet, but he looked up at the sound of the door opening and closing. His expression was both pleased and a little confused.

“What took you so long?” He asked; a trace of humour in his low voice. She reached his side and smirked.

“I’m sorry...I’m not telepathic.” They moved away from the staircase in unison, turning towards the foyer. “Didn’t you know it’s rude to leave in the middle of a performance?”

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Girls night.” Her reply came quickly and he raised an eyebrow.

“Where are the others?” They headed past the unmanned snacks counter. The foyer was silent other than the soft sounds of their footsteps against the carpet as they walked. She knew he was referring to her group of aquaintances who often accompanied her to parties. While she was not particularly close to any of them, she felt that there was a sort of comfort in numbers and being around them made her feel more relaxed at social events where she could blend in with the crowd.

“We went to a chicken place a few nights ago. They got food poisoning.” She peered at him from the corner of her eye playfully before answering his original question. “I heard it had good reviews.”

Yoongi grinned. “The food?”

Jeong-sun laughed under her breath. “I’d reccomend the salad.” She said dryly.

His hand found hers and he slipped his fingers against hers easily, gently.

Within the theatre Jimin felt his phone vibrate from inside his pocket. He pulled out the device as discreetly as possible, cringing slightly when the bright screen pierced the otherwise dark space. He squinted as he read the incoming text message.

Turn around. - Angel

He complied with the request automatically, taking a few moments to find the blonde girl seated a few rows back. He was aware that Jin had glanced at his phone screen from beside him and he shifted uncomfortably as he turned back to face the front. The memory of the last time he and Angel had been together, three weeks before, flashed quickly through his mind and he felt himself stir. He switched off his phone quickly, before Jin could say anything, and stood up.

In the foyer, Jeong-sun felt Yoongi’s thumb brush her knuckles as they walked together, slowly, in no particular direction.

“What are you doing here?” She asked curiously.

He shrugged. “Taehyung’s girlfriend’s in the play. The lead...”

“Oh. Is she nice?” Jeong-sun had never really properly spoken to any of the other members except Hoseok and found, when she thought it through, that she knew surprisingly little about their personal lives.

Yoongi thought for a second. “She’s half-European.”

Jeong-sun laughed loudly, the bright sound filling the space of the deserted foyer. Yoongi felt his stomach grow warm at the sound, as though a dozen butterflies had just taken flight at the same time.

“Is that a no?” Jeong-sun asked with a grin.

Yoongi let out a small breath of laughter. “It’s a ‘I don’t really know her that well’.” He grasped her hand firmly as they walked. “I think Tae wishes we had stayed at home.”

Jeong-sun glanced at her boyfriend. “That bad?” She winced.

Yoongi shook his head. “I just don’t think it is what they were expecting. They’re more used to Gentleman’s Dignity than 1960s feminism.” He smiled, a little sadly. “I wish I’d have known you were coming. I’d have invited you if I thought you’d have liked it.”

“Yeah, me too.” She said softly. The fact that nobody except Hoseok knew for sure that they were dating seemed to hover silently between them and she wondered whether he would have introduced her as his girlfriend had they gone together. She also wondered why she hadn’t told her own friends yet. They had been together for long enough that their relationship should no longer be an issue, but they both knew that the more time they spent together, the harder it became to find a time to naturally mention it to their aquaintances without it sounding like they had been deliberately keeping it a secret for the past seven months. “What are you doing later?” She asked, changing the topic to distract her own thoughts.

He seemed to snap out of his own trail of thinking at the sound of her voice and took a moment to reply. “We’ve booked a table at a French resturant.” He turned to her, pausing in his tracks and looking her straight in the eye. “Want me to get out of it?”

She met his gaze, seeing the sincerity in his expression and softly shook her head. “No, it’s okay. You should be there with them.”

His gaze dropped to the floor once more and she thought, for a moment, that he looked disappointed. The moment did not last long as the squeaky, whiny sound of the theatre door opening made them both look in the opposite direction, breaking apart automatically.

Angel and Jimin walked through the doorway and into the foyer, shoulder to shoulder. They were smiling at each other as they closed the door behind them and started to descend the staircase, too pre-occupied with each other to notice Yoongi and Jeong-sun on the other side of the room. Without thinking, Jeong-sun grabbed Yoongi’s hand tightly once more and pulled him towards her, in the direction of the restrooms. Yoongi turned his gaze away from the younger couple, now heading towards the revolving doors to the outside, and followed his girlfriend as she dashed towards an alcove in the plastered wall.

They both grinned in unison as Jeong-sun flattened herself against the wall which partially shielded them both from view, the excitement at having almost been seen by Jimin and Angel making them giddy. Yoongi moved backwards slightly to glance around the side of the alcove, just in time to see Jimin and Angel push through the revolving doors and step into the night.

“What are they doing?” Jeong-sun asked, whispering, her voice giggly.

Yoongi turned back to her. “Maybe he’s getting to fourth base?”

She laughed, unable to help herself. “Make it a home run.”

They pressed their bodies closer as Yoongi opened his mouth against hers. Their breaths were a little heavy from their quick movement across the foyer and she could feel his teeth against her lips as he smiled against her, eventually pulling away to push a strand of wavy hair away from her cheek, before pushing against her more forcefully. She returned his kiss passionately, feeling her chest flutter as he pressed a kiss to her lower lip, sucking it slightly, before allowing his tongue to touch hers delicately.

His mouth tasted of comforting, smooth whisky and she savoured this as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him flush against her body; enjoying the sensation of his chest against her breasts and the reassuring solidarity of his pelvis and groin against her lower stomach. They soon got lost in each other; sinking further into the kiss, unable to help themselves from smiling as their lips met over and over. They did not notice the theatre door open once more, deliberately slowly to avoid the loud whine, and Jungkook sheepishly step into the foyer. He regretted buying the large Pepsi and regretted even more skipping the line to the restroom at the intermission, he felt his bladder was close to bursting and was unable to hold it any more. He had pushed past Hoseok in the theatre, finding himself wondering what had happened to both Jimin and Yoongi, and headed quickly to the back of the room. He crept quietly across the foyer, towards the line of restrooms at the far wall. Jimin was nowhere in sight but that hadn’t surprised him. He had also spotted Angel in the theatre, next to the dark haired girl who had a tendancy to find herself in closets with Yoongi. He hadn’t thought much of it before, and wouldn’t have done either had he not spotted them together in the alcove near the restrooms.

Jungkook froze, realising they had not noticed him approaching. He thought, in that moment, they would not have paid any attention if the roof had decided to cave in and crash around them. Their bodies were pressed together, closer than close, and their lips seemed likewise intwined. Even from this distance, he could see the way they smiled inbetween kisses as their lips momentarily broke apart before meeting once more, each time more fervid than the last. Jungkook realised that he had not been breathing for the last twenty seconds. He let go of his breath and inhaled slowly, blinkly rapidly. It wasn’t that he was shocked exactly, after all, Yoongi had revealed to the group the number of women he had been with the previous week during a late night conversation, and it was much higher than Jungkook’s own number. He had also noticed the girl he was currently kissing with him a couple of times, even if he could not quite remember her name; he remembered the way they looked at each other when they were paired together in a closet during a game of seven minutes in heaven with a juxtoposing mixture of inquisitiveness and indifference. He had also observed that Yoongi had left the group to talk to her at the end of the evening. Most recently, the older member and the girl had been spotted by Jungkook leaving a different closet at Supreme Boi’s boat party, three weeks before. He hadn’t registered it at the time, but in hindsight, they had both looked flushed and rosy when they came out.

Jungkook found himself blushing even harder, suddenly feeling as though he were witnessing something incredibly private between them. He knew that Yoongi was probably capable of being incredibly romantic; his song lyrics proved that enough times, but there was something about watching him kiss someone in this way, in such an unexpected place, which made him uncomfortable. It took him a moment, while he edged past the couple and into the nearby bathroom, for him to realise that he could tell, from the few times he had seen them together, that Yoongi was in love with her. He thought he recognised some of those feelings from how he felt about his own girlfriend. Shaking his head, he pissed for what seemed like an age, reminding himself once again not to drink so much soda in future.

He washed his hands slowly in the white porcelain sink, taking his time. By the time he peeked around the edge of the bathroom door, Yoongi and his girl were gone. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jungkook headed back to the theatre.

PART THREE

The maknae tried to avoid looking at Yoongi and the girl from the closet as he passed them on the stairs. They were sat together a few rows back from the boys, with Yoongi taking the seat previously occupied by Angel. Jimin had not yet returned. Hoseok seemed oblivious to the dissapearance of two of his friends, his attention instead fixed on the play. Jungkook sat down quietly on the end of the row.

“You missed it...they were kissing!” Hoseok whispered loudly. Jungkook felt his stomach drop and eyes widen, his mind playing on the scene he had witnessed in the foyer minutes before.

“What?” He turned back automatically to catch a glimpse of Yoongi and the girl before turning back.

“The play...” Hoseok explained. Jungkook’s shoulders dropped in relief. “She married the prison officer who raped her.”

“Oh.” Jungkook turned back to the stage. It appeared obvious that the play was nearing its conclusion. The main character had escaped her fate in prison by marrying the warden and was now alone in the house they shared. Off stage, the cries of a baby could be heard. Cassandra walked towards the centre of the set, the spotlight once more on her. Her bruises had faded but her grief was apparent in her posture and voice. She was wearing a plain black silk robe.

“They can use my body...” Her voice echoed around the theatre as the audience fell silent for the final monologue. “They can rape me and impregnate me and use me however they want...but they will never destroy me!”

Yoongi and Jeong-sun were holding hands in the darkness.

“It’s getting intense...” Yoongi whispered, dryly. Jeong-sun had to bite the inside of her cheeks to stop from laughing out. The seriousness of the situation on stage had given her a serious case of the nervous giggles.

“Shhh....” A woman called from behind them, clearly annoyed. Jeong-sun lowered her head further to prevent herself from laughing, clutching Yoongi’shand tighter.

On stage, Cassandra reached into the pocket of her robe and removed a razor blade. A collective gasp rose from the audience as her other hand moved to the tie of her robe. She pulled the knot from around the centre and the robe opened around her, revealing the pale skin of her stomach and chest and a patch of curly black pubic hair between her thighs.

Namjoon found himself trying his hardest to keep his eyes on the stage instead of watching Taehyung’s reaction from beside him. The younger man did not move or give anything away. Namjoon, who had not noticed Jimin and Yoongi leave the row, wondered whether the other members were as curious as he was about Taehyung’s thoughts on his girlfriend’s nudity. Beside him, his girlfriend likewise kept her gaze fixed on the unfolding events on stage. He felt himself blush as she removed the robe completely, revealing the fulness of her breasts. One was slightly bigger than the other. Namjoon tried his best not to think too much about it.

On the other side of the aisle, Jungkook felt his mouth drop open in surprise and had to force himself to close it. Hoseok, beside him, seemed unbothered by the full-frontal nudity and continued to eat his popcorn. Jin and Min-seo, in the centre of the aisle, sat awkwardly in silence, not knowing how to react.

The woman on stage raised her hand to her wrist and made a dramatic, slashing motion with the blade. Blood began to seep down her arm in long, thick streaks, hitting the floor of the stage.

Hoseok gasped. “Wow...so realistic.” Jungkook didn’t reply.

The woman started to cry out as she staggered around the set, smearing her pale skin with blood; painting her breasts and stomach and thighs scarlet in the process. The death was long and drawn out. After a few minutes she fell to the ground with a hard thump; her body a crimson mess. The audience fell silent.

“Do we clap?” Yoongi whispered to Jeong-sun who grinned in response. The rest of the room waited in a shocked state of silence, wondering whether there was more. Namjoon found himself sneaking a glimpse at Taehyung, waiting for his cue. There was none.

Eventually, after what seemed like minutes, the curtain finally dropped and the orchestra began to play their final chords. The audience began to clap; their feelings about the play a mixture of emotions for all of them feeling exhausted by the events they had witnessed on stage.

Eventually, everyone began to stand up and file out of the theatre. Yoongi joined the others easily as they trailed up the stairs and out of the back doors, with Jeong-sun trailing closely behind. They all walked to the far side of the foyer in silence, nobody except Jungkook seemed to notice the new addition to their group, standing beside Yoongi. The maknae shifted a little in discomfort, wondering whether he should say anything to her.

“Well...that was...” Jin began awkwardly to Jungkook and Yoongi, making sure he was out of Taehyung’s earshot.

Suddenly, Jimin joined the group.

“What did I miss?” He asked, his face a little rosy.

Jungkook spotted Angel a little way off, by the snacks counter, and his eyes widened as it occured to him she might have come with their burgundy haired friend from the 7 Minutes in Heaven party. He muttered an apology that he had to go to be picked up by his girlfriend and quickly left the foyer through the revolving doors. Angel slowly came over to the group and grabbed Jeong-sun by the arm.

“Come on...I have to tell you something.” The blonde woman whispered. Yoongi overheard and Jeong-sun cast him a final, regretful glance as she allowed herself to be pulled away from the group. Yoongi felt his heart sink as she dissapeared into the crowd of people, wishing they had been able to spend a few more moments together.

“You missed the best bit.” Yoongi smirked, turning to Jimin, trying to shake the ache in his chest.

“Really?” The younger member asked, eyes wide.

“Oh...the final was amazing!” Hoseok beamed sincerely. “The politcal prisoner was forced to marry the prison guard and give birth to his child. Then she killed herself with a razor blade! So powerful...”

“She got out her tits.” Yoongi explained.

Jimin’s mouth dropped. “Cassandra? Taehyung’s girlfriend?”

Hoseok and Yoongi nodded in reply. Jimin cast a glance towards Taehyung, on the other side of the group. The foyer was beginning to empty as people left. His girlfriend had joined the group. She wore a fluffy white dressing gown and was clearly fresh from the shower; her long brunette hair was still a little damp. Taehyung looked down at her as they spoke with a smile, a look of pride visable in his brown eyes.

“I don’t suppose you mind missing it. Did she give you a blowjob?” Yoongi asked.

Jimin turned back to him. “What? Who?”

“Angel.”

Jimin thought for a moment. “No...just a handjob.”

Hoseok turned to him. “Ooh. So are you dating now?”

Jimin paused once more. “I don’t know...maybe.”

Yoongi smirked. “You’re so romantic.”

The group slowly headed towards the revolving doors. Their table at the resturant was reserved for half past nine and they arrived right on time. They had expected that Jungkook and Young-soon would already be there, having left before them, but the maknae was twenty minutes late.

“I thought you were arriving before us?” Jin asked with a smile. The maknae blushed, not wanting to admit that he had been the last person to be picked up from outside the theatre and that he had crept around the corner when he saw the group heading out, worried that there would be a burgundy haired girl in their company.

“Did your boiler get fixed?” Namjoon asked Young-soon, passing her the bowl of kimchi.

She nodded in reply. “Yes thank you. It’s going to cost a fortune though. I might have to sell my kidney.”

Jungkook grinned from beside her, finally calmed down. He squeezed her hand warmly under the table as they ate.

***

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[pussymagicuniverse]

Ribs

Let us laugh, ugly laughter, from the pits of our bellies, from the bottom of our soles, pushing into the veins of our eyelids. The same bodies that we rued since the day we met them––let us meet them once more. Greet them with kindness and refuse the estrangement that creeps into the periphery. Let us be still again, lucid. We shall no longer think of ourselves as floating heads, seeping vulvas, hard breasts, black gums, crooked, and harsh teeth. We will no longer have the desire to compare our round and dark selves to the moon or to the sun or to the stars. We shall drink from the final and sweet waters.

Let us mend ourselves, weft by weft, refusing the distance between Ourselves and the Other. Tenderness and softness, subjugation and servitude, beauty and frailty; these things are not needed where we are going.

9

A gaggle of self-important nine year olds stuck in the confines of Gifted English went through their weekly list of vocabulary. In the sticky Georgia heat, they listed off words and their definitions, one by one, the syllables bumping against each other across uneven teeth. The lazy recitation waned into the white clock face, waiting until the sweet, sweet hour of freedom. 3:30. Thirty more minutes until the words were soon, and rightfully, forgotten. The air was alight with the giddy, yellow excitement of these final school weeks. The memory of the school year was already faint, fleeting.

As testament to my selective memory and emotional hoarding, I do not remember a single word from that list except for one. Zaftig. It’s a word of Yiddish origin, meaning “a woman who is full-figured.” Or more specifically, as my jaded fourth-grade English teacher phrased it, “pleasantly plump.” Zaftig. Pleasantly plump. It makes sense that I would hold onto such a word, even after the steady passage of time and maturity. As I sat in that classroom, buried in my threadbare, oversized, maroon sweatshirt shaped to hide the nascent form of a fat kid’s prepubescent and uncertain body, I imagined the kind of woman who would call herself zaftig. She would be a happy woman, probably a good and prolific cook (a skill which would serve to make sense of her large existence.) She would have many round and plump babies who would eventually run their way into an athleticism, distance themselves from maternal fatness, but never let their own memories erase the tenderness of her embrace. Zaftig. I imagined her as viscerally entwined with her own culture, chosen as a cornerstone of communal abundance, the only symbolic element of fat womanhood that dripped with nobility, purpose.

I was, of course, not this woman. I sported maroon, high fantasy-chic, thin-rail glasses to match the lumpy sweater. The weekly cycle of jeans began and ended with a scratchy pair of bootcut, black pants that I rolled into an unassuming, and deeply unflattering capri. I wore converse that I intentionally scuffed and dirtied on the pavement because they never looked cool when they were pristine and new. I made myself feel sufficient in my clothing. Was it pretty? No. But it did not have to be. I was a smart kid. I couldn’t do math, but I could read, I could feel. Novels made me cry and my friends made me laugh and my teachers always seemed to like me enough. I was sufficient.

I did not realize the apologies that I stuffed into the folds of my sweater. The tender and shameful sorries that I hid under layers of cotton and polyester. The embarrassment when anyone would look too long at my frame. How dare I force them to see the ways I shove myself in the tube of my own skin, a fat sausage girl with buck teeth and round fingers. With each tug at the bottom of my shirt to make sure no one saw the dip of my belly, with each long sleeve that covered the tapestry of new stretch marks, I whispered sorry. Sorry you have to experience me Sorry you have to see me Sorry.

I carried these apologies in my hands, in my face, in my voice for years. I channeled the unfortunate circumstance of my heaviness into my attitude. Pleasantly plump. Pleasant. Smile comfortingly when they look at you so they know where to cut first. Speak clearly, confidently, smartly. I learned quickly to laugh with other women and girls when talked about their community-organized starving sessions, speaking of their own bodies as inconveniences. I learned to talk about the fat on my bones like a glue-like phlegm that “just wouldn’t budge.” I did not know how else to speak of myself. The woman in my memory, zaftig, was a caricature. She was not real, nor would she understand the ways I dreamt of pulling my stomach and cutting into it deeply, cutting it away from myself.

18

I remember the first time I laid against a partner; the room dark to hide the rolling plain of our bodies. He dipped his fingertips in the curve of the space where my thigh met my hip. “I like this,” he whispered. This meaning how it all melted into each other, this meaning the places on my body where hands and lips could find purchase. My heart hitched in my throat. As we drifted to sleep, the phantom pressure of his hand pressed deep into my skin, I planned how I would leave his house as soon as dawn struck.

I would, of course, call him again. Open myself again. Being desired is an addictive and ugly thing. But to be treated tenderly, with hands that know the weight of your thighs, eyes that do not look away when you wear your love for them so openly across the roundness of your face. To know that, to feel that, is to feel the realness of your heart, the warmth of your very living body. I hate that men can give this to me, even when they are unworthy, even when they are cruel. I hate that I cannot give this to myself.

19

I’ve caught myself as a woman obsessed. Obsessed with the running of my fingers across the jagged lines spread flat against my belly. My ribs can only be felt when you gently, persistently, press into the soft, malleable skin, the brownness of several generations pooling at the bottom of my spine. Seeping with the rich history of this body. I feel the metal of the button on my old jeans bite deeply into the fat above my belly button. Stare at the denim stitching stretch against the expanse of my legs. This body is unrepentant, straining, aware.

We eat these reflective parts of ourselves. The cold seeping and puncturing our lungs; we delve deep into the pain of being wanted. Loved as they told us to be loved. But if we release, refuse the bite and the cut of the knife, who are we? What are we then but the gnawing husk of our mother’s, our grandmother’s failures?

We know that, inevitably, we will fail. We will bargain our happiness and our lives on the whims of men who will never, not ever, love us. We will eat at the tables we set despite our tears blinding us, thickened with maize flour and salt. We will raise children, girl children, who we will integrate into the cult of self-immolation. And as she burns, falls into the rot and dysfunction and isolation of womanhood, we ask ourselves again and again.

When did we begin to want the things we do? Who gave us this knowledge, seal broken and soft insides scooped out, consumed? We bleed, hot and red, across the pavement.

How cruel it is to sell this to us as freedom, as liberation. How cruel it is to see our bent forms, emaciated chest cavities gaping open, and dig into us with that horrific avarice. How cruel it is to refuse threading of the needle, the suturing of the wound.

When did we begin want this? When did we begin want this at all?

20

I struggle to believe that this belongs to me. I drink most nights and wish I were free. Lipstick on the back of my hand running bloody like an open sore. I am beautiful when I say no.

22

We are stunted and painfully awkward. I try to hide the relief when you reach for the light switch, flooding the room with a comfortable blackness. And perhaps it is the headiness of mint liquor from the punk show, or the beat of Kreuzberg, but in the soft recess of your small corner room, in the furrows of a gray and blue apartment complex, I swear that you're the most beautiful person I have ever seen. 

My eyes adjust to the darkness, and the glow of the streets below illuminate the curvature of skin. You've put yellow marigolds in a tin can and placed them by the window. We are dense with wanting.

Chromatic and warm lights behind the eyes. It matters very little what I do when I am pressed against you like this. And when you rest the rough-hewn hands of a person who works too often against my frame, when you breathe heavy and vulnerable, I am alight. Is it because you are, if only for a moment, weak? This is why women have lived like this for generations––waiting for the brief and tender second when she loves with her throat exposed, mouth agape and ready for gutting.

It's over as quickly as we come down, the fresh magic dissolved into the heat of the night. It should feel shameful, but the sheen of sweat reminds me to stretch into my skin a bit more. There should be that eternal burden of the girl, the bleeding of a lived-in body. But it is not there; instead, we share the most gentle laughter that we have had in months. I am embracing the unknown hollow of this feeling, and remind myself that we both hold this. 

A consciousness lazily but persistently rounding the edged glass of a death, a release––recuperating in the spaces where we are no longer categorical, no longer fragmented. Where the necessary condition for our justification is not the deftness of our performance. Body neutralized into the heat of a natural and bearable light.

•

The streetlight streaks white-yellow into the room. I can smell the hot oil of the french fries in the ​Döner shop across the way. I count the number of times your leg grazes mine as you fall into welcomed sleep. I relearn the art of holding. The various ways of grasping something that is not my own. Lightly so as to not possess, but steadily so as to heal, to understand.

I know it is not freedom that I see when you look at me, but for once, I am laid flat against a semblance of humanity. I am not sucked in, pressed back, holding pose, holding gut, stretching out neck, and wondering if it is enough. I am not outside of my body, pinching and pressing and figuring out the ways I can make you want to look at me. You want to look at me. And I want to look at you. In this way we witness each other. I am lucid, waiting, awake. I understand the weight of each breath I take.

In a few hours, we drink coffee and try not to smile at each other in that coy way that asks for more information, more knowledge of the other. You ask if I need directions to the train, and I say I do not, but thank you. Your eyes no longer contain that once-familiar alacrity, and the silence is still with the thoughts of the night previous. We are no longer disjointed by the alcohol, almost too aware of one another to find comfort. And yet, I find myself hesitating to leave. The thought of it runs over and over in my mind, crackled 35mm film of heat and tongue and laughter, as I board the train to Alexanderplatz. As I step from the train and onto the platform, up the gum-and-paper splattered steps into the solid and sure pulse of the morning, I am aware of how I trust myself.

A body is a strange and wrought place to feel like an imposter, but I slowly unfurl, and allow myself to sink into the sureness of my existence.

Milka Kiriaku is a queer black writer, educator, and emulsion extraordinaire. Ever the personal welfare-idealogue, they rely religiously on strong community, great books, terrible movies, and hylauronic acid.

[hallythelantern-blog]

The Blue Rose (Adrien Appreciation Week): Chapter 4

Theme: Fashion

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Fanfiction AO3

Hi everyone!

A quick announcement: I decided to crop out the last parts of Chapter 3. So that it ended with the receptionist smiled. It just ended awkwardly and I wanted to prevent that for people who would be reading that in the future.

For people who already did, sorry! I wish I had been less impulsive when I updated Chapter 3. Also, I had wanted to reach my 10k word count XD.

Chapter 4: Change

He couldn't believe it.

He had thought he knew. That he was prepared for this.

But seeing it was different from just pure speculation, however it be with incriminating evidence.

Now, he had no doubts as to who she really was.

- A day ago -

Adrien walked Marinette home and then walked back home. His steps were rigid and heavy, requiring extra energy to bend at his knees due to the plenty of exercise they had gotten, running from fangirls and all. It was as if he had one long stick stuck inside his legs. If he bent it a little, it would break.

Of course, he wasn't complaining. In fact, he couldn't stop smiling like a bumbling idiot. Today had been one of the best days in his life. With Marinette by his side, he had experienced something that would have made a great story. There had been adventure, suspense, and most importantly, romance! They had been chased, they had had fun, and they had had even their first kiss together!

Granted, it was on the cheeks. But it was the first time that she had reciprocated his feelings. He could just feel her warmth again in his cheeks. He blushed. They had spent so much time holding hands, which had jolted him and sent him into an oblivion of happiness every single time. He had the chance to view those blue eyes for the entire day, and they had always been looking back at him. Not ignoring him or telling him that they were busy doing something else.

It felt like a dream. Now, the only thing left was to push them together like he did with his Ladybug and Chat Noir action figures.

The euphoria didn't last long, however. When Adrien saw his father waiting for him on the front doorstep, he knew that a hurricane was going to hit.

Adrien didn't say anything. He looked at his father's cold eyes with hope and desperation.

"Where were you out today?" his father asked. The monotone voice, devoid of any emotion, grinded his ears. Adrien flinched. He knew that this was not going to be good. His father probably already knew where he had gone, and was just rehashing it for some reason.

"Um…" he chuckled, trying to look for any distraction that might calm his beating heart. Unluckily, his house was always barren and devoid. Nothing to change a conversation.

Besides, it wasn't like his efforts would change anything. His father was a direct and confrontational man. Even if Adrien did manage to change the subject, Gabriel would never lose sight of what he had set out to say. Gabriel's cold and calculated words were always a juggernaut and a dagger at Adrien's heart, speaking the truth without any regard for others but him.

Sometimes, Adrien wished he wasn't so sensitive. He should have been numb to Gabriel's straightforward prose by now. It wasn't his father's fault that he was like this; it was just part of his personality. But his father's words always ate at his heart and his brain, always making Adrien second guess and doubt himself. Always making Adrien turn over from fear of what had happened on the day of their confrontations. Sometimes, Adrien wondered if his loving father had been replaced by a robot.

"I…" he began.

"Perhaps you can explain this?" Gabriel said, holding out his phone. On the screen flashed a picture of him and Marinette at the mall. The very same picture where he had been guarding Marinette from the flash.

"I…" he began, looking anywhere but the screen and his father. His shoulders slouched. "I went to the mall," he sighed, finally deciding below.

"Why did you go?"

"I wanted to buy something to wear for the fashion show."

Gabriel's brow rose in suspicion. "Why did you go?"

Adrien sighed. There was no use trying to hide anything from him. The man could practically read Adrien's mind.

Adrien wished he could say the same for Gabriel.

"I… I wanted to spend time with Marinette," Adrien said.

"You mean the girl in the picture?" Gabriel said, holding the photo even closer to Adrien. Adrien could now hear his breath touching the phone screen.

"Yes."

Gabriel scowled.

This was not going to be good. At all.

"So, to spend time with a girl you liked, you ditched everything on your schedule today?" he asked, voice rising.

Flinching and eyes widening with fear, Adrien thought about the responses he could give right now. He could give a no, but Gabriel would see right through that. He could say yes, but he would be in trouble. It was a lose-lose situation.

Adrien was too familiar with it by now.

"Yes," he said, barely a whisper. His shoulders lowered even more. The ground was pulling him; he had to fight every ounce of his existence to not be sucked in.

His head was now a black mess of nothingness.

Gabriel frowned. His voice grew louder. "Even if you had no suit to wear, you should have contacted me so that I could supply you with one. There would have been too many sponsors who'd have been perfectly content loaning you one."

"But, father, I-" he began.

"No buts. You could have been caught by the paparazzi who would have been more than willing to catch you in an unflattering light. Moreover, you could have been kidnapped." Gabriel said. His voice began to rise. "I will not have my son risk his life just so that he could…could…spend time with some girl," he said the word as if Marinette was a frivolous distraction. Adrien clenched his fists.

"But, father, I-" he began again. Adrien sighed. It was useless.

I just wanted to go shopping like all the other kids.

After a momentary silence, Gabriel began. "You will be with your bodyguard at all times, and you will not go anywhere near a mall. Is that clear?"

Adrien's shoulders hunched even more.

He closed his eyes at what was coming next. His father was going to ban him from seeing Marinette because she was a distraction. Also, most likely because him having a girlfriend would damage the brand. He prepared himself for the future, where he would only see Marinette in school as Adrien and Chat Noir every other time. Goodbye world, he said as Adrien.

It would be a hassle. Especially when Marinette liked Adrien and not Chat Noir. And then would probably reject him again for him, except from her civilian side.

Or did Marinette like Chat Noir? In the way she did Adrien?

He shook his head. While going off into fantasy land would be great, the consequences of that would not be.

Adrien focused on his father once again.

"This also means that the girl-" Gabriel began to say. Adrien backed away unconsciously. He was not ready for this. "would be under your bodyguard's care whenever you two are together."

Adrien was right. He was not ready for this. Or the exuberant warmth that surrounded him as the words began to register in Adrien's mind.

He could jump for joy right now.

"Oh, thank you, father!" Adrien said, smiling. "Thank you so much!"

Was that a…smirk he found on Gabriel?

Adrien didn't care. He was too busy celebrating.

"She is going as your plus one, isn't she?" Gabriel asked.

"Yes," Adrien said happily.

"I expect nothing but the very best dresses from that girl," Gabriel said.

Adrien could fly right now. "Of course! She made her own dress and she's super talented."

"I am aware. She made the feather hat for the competition. A very talented young designer indeed," Gabriel said.

So he knew her! And regarded her highly!

Maybe it was Adrien's birthday today. No, that wasn't right. His birthday never was happy. At least, after his mom had disappeared. It wasn't Christmas, because he never got any presents or ate with his father after his mom had disappeared. It wasn't his father's birthday because Gabriel was strict and grumpy no matter what. It wasn't his mother's birthday or day of disappearance because they were the one and same.

His father must have been replaced by an affectionate robot. Or had come back to when his mother had been around. Adrien didn't know what to think of it. He smiled, hoping that this would last.

"Next."

Marinette and Adrien walked up to the receptionist.

"Name?"

"Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng," Adrien said. Marinette smiled.

The receptionist did not look up. "Your clothes are inside the lobby," she said, pointing inside. "Here is the tag for your dress, so that you can find it easily," she said, handing the pair two slips of paper.

"Thank you," they both said to the receptionist. The receptionist did not look up.

"Next."

The lobby was divided into the left side, which were for the men, and the right side, which were for the women. The middle was left empty for the red carpet.

Marinette couldn't count the sheer number of rackets with clothes, just on the women's side. "10…30…50…100…" she muttered, eyes wide with shock.

While the left side were mostly black suits or tuxedos with an eye-catching color like red here-or-there, the right side had all the colors of the rainbow, plus pink, white, black, grey, and any other colors Marinette could think of.

She was amazed at the stunning difference. One would think, because the attendees were those who were most tuned into fashion, that the men's would have more variety in their colors. But they didn't.

"I'm going to, uh," Adrien pointed to the left side. "Get mine," he said.

Marinette smiled. "Okay. I'll go find my dress too," pointing in the opposite direction. And with those words, they separated.

Marinette looked at the paper. "T13," she mumbled, taking a deep breath.

This was it. This was her entry into the fashion industry. By the side of the famous model Adrien Agreste.

She sighed happily. This was everything she could have hoped for and more. She was going to make sure to give Adrien her thanks for bringing her here. She didn't know how to repay him, but maybe she could feed him for an entire year for free. Maybe that would do.

She began looking for where T started.

"T…T…T…" Marinette said, fingering the signs that were on top of the rackets. Since A was at the front of the gates, she had to go down considerably.

She couldn't find it!

She was sure this was where T was. Every clothing had a tag that started with T.

Then she had started looking for the tags where the double digits had started. Just three more down, and then she would find it.

But it wasn't there!

The tags went from T12 to T14.

And her dress was nowhere in sight.

What was she going to do? She couldn't attend the fashion show without having a dress. And she wasn't dressed in anything fancy right now; she was only dressed in her signature black blazer and pink jeans. She was going to stand out too much because she wasn't dressed up enough.

It was the worst way to stand out.

When designers would see her, they would think of her as unprofessional because she wasn't dressed up! They would put her on their list of people that they would never hire, just because of today. She would never make it into the industry. Never. Just because she couldn't find her stupid dress!

She would be ruining her life and career!

She let her fingers run through underneath her eyes. This couldn't be happening right now. She had to have a dress to wear, but she didn't know what to do. What was she to do? Her head started aching.

"I don't know what dress I'm going to wear, John. I'm going to wear the one that I feel like wearing." Marinette heard a mumble and turned around to face the source of the noise. Something about that voice was irritatingly familiar.

And it was. It was Chloe. With her butler, who had a…yellow teddy bear with him?

"Forgive me, Ms. Bourgeois, but it's not John, it's-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Chloe brushed it aside.

Ugh. Not this again. Not today. Things were already going terrible for her as it was.

Marinette sighed. They met eyes.

Chloe scoffed. "What are you doing, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

"Obviously, I'm here to pick up my dress?" Marinette said. She didn't want to tell Chloe about the fact that her dress was nowhere to be seen.

"Well, I hope you find it quickly and get out of my sight," Chloe said, shooing her.

Marinette wished that she could be as infinitely patient as Tikki was. Because she didn't think it would take much for her to boil today.

Five minutes passed, and Chloe was still trying to pick out her clothes.

"I like this," Chloe said, holding out a blue dress, "and this," holding out the polka dotted one. "What do you think I should wear?" she asked her butler.

The butler's face lit up and Marinette smiled sympathetically. "Well, Ms. Bourgeois, if I may. I believe that the blue dress brings out the color of your eyes and will look stunning on you."

"What do you mean?" Chloe flipped her hair. "I'm always stunning."

"Of course, Ms. Bourgeois. I did not mean it that way." The butler balanced tightly on the rope of his thoughts. "I just mean that-"

"I know what you mean, okay?" Chloe said. "But I like the Ladybug dress a lot too, and everyone knows that I would make a great Ladybug." Chloe flipped her hair once again.

Marinette took a moment to gag.

Chloe frowned. "Why are you still even here? Go on, now, shoo shoo," Chloe flicked her wrists and looked to the side, as if Marinette wasn't even worth it.

Marinette clenched her fists. "Well, I would happily," she began, "if my dress hadn't suddenly gone missing." She crossed her arms and looked away from Chloe.

Chloe was surprised. "I thought that you had your dress with Adrikins yesterday," she said, the name said in a more saccharine way than usual. Everything else was said with less sweetness and more bitterness. Especially the you part.

But…for once in a while, Chloe hadn't tried to sabotage her?

Marinette let out an exasperated sigh. "Look Chloe, I don't want to deal with you today. I had pulled an all-nighter to make my dress perfect and get it done on time, but it seems that it has suddenly gone missing. My luck is in shambles right now, and I don't need you to go and further ruin it," Marinette said the words slowly.

Chloe scoffed and clenched her fists. "What do you mean," she began to raise her voice, until something calmed her down, making her breathe in and out to relax. Marinette looked in the direction Chloe was looking.

The butler had…squeezed a yellow teddy bear?

Chloe put on a fake smile. "Well, that wasn't nice at all," Chloe said, making Marinette scoff. "Especially since I could help you out," she said.

Marinette's eyes widened in panic. Chloe? Help?

Chloe scoffed. "Your face tells me that you don't think that I can help anyone."

Well, when you had been in the same class as her for four consecutive years…

"You may not believe it, but I am," Chloe said, pointing her fingers at herself. "a very generous person when I feel like it." Which was never, Marinette thought. "And since I have been feeling very generous today," Chloe began, "I will lend you my polka-dotted dress for the show," she said, giving Marinette the polka dotted dress.

Marinette couldn't believe it. Chloe Bourgeois was giving her, Marinette, Chloe's most hated enemy, her clothes?

And it wasn't even ugly.

It was beautiful. The polka dotted dress was covered from head to toe in glitter, with the black spots each having a black gem inside. It reached to the ankles with a halter neckline, and an open back all the way from the shoulders to where the stomach ended. Marinette also saw that there were red and black jewelry that switched colors as it went down. So that they were red earrings, black necklace, and red and black bangles, one on each arm. Even the shoes were red.

It was unbelievable.

This could not be true. Maybe this was a dream.

Nah, even she wasn't that crazy to have a dream like this.

It was real.

It was unbelievably real.

Chloe is being very nice today… Now that was something that Marinette never expected to say about her classmate.

Marinette hoped this didn't come with strings attached.

"What are you staring at me like that for?" Chloe asked. "Don't you want it?"

Marinette smiled with delight. So Chloe was not doing this to sabotage her! She was actually trying to help her! Inside that cold and unfeeling exterior that had a complete disregard for other humans, Chloe had a heart that was capable of being kind. It warmed Marinette's heart to think of this.

"Just take it off my hands," Chloe said, turning to the side and crinkling her nose as if the dress smelled disgusting to her. "I don't want it anyways."

Marinette smiled again. This was Chloe's way of being nice, and she was happy that the girl was making progress.

Marinette would have gladly taken it, if it hadn't been so Ladybug-like.

Marinette hunched her shoulders and smiled, trying to hide her grimace. "I'm very thankful for the gesture, Chloe," she said bittersweetly. "But could you loan me a different dress?" Marinette said, looking at the other dresses that were now piled on the floor. "I have a feeling that this dress," she pointed at the Ladybug dress, "wouldn't fit me."

"Of course it does," Chloe said. "You and I are the same size," she said.

Marinette's eyes widened at the fact that Chloe knew they were the same size. That she knew anything about her, period.

"Oh, no," Marinette chuckled nervously. "I don't mean that. I just mean that I wouldn't feel, uh… confident in that dress?" her voice rose from the word. She smiled nervously. She hoped she hadn't upset Chloe.

She had.

Chloe clenched her fists and dropped both of her dresses. "See Jacques?" Chloe turned to the butler, who was trying to correct her his name. "See what happens when I try to be…nice to people?" She said the word as if it were a disease. "Look at what happened here! I tried to loan my enemy my favorite dress of all time but she turns it down without an ounce of gratitude! She should be thanking me!" Chloe said, fuming.

"But I am grateful-" Marinette began.

"No you aren't!" Chloe stomped her foot. "If you were grateful, you would have accepted the dress in a heartbeat!" She yelled. "Well, it's fine anyways," she began. "you can have the dress, whether you want it or not," Chloe said, turning her head away from Marinette. Chloe was still fuming.

She walked away, stomping. "Since you hate it so much, it will be even more satisfying for me when you do wear it!" Chloe said, as she picked up the rest of her dresses but the polka dotted one and stormed off.

Marinette tried to reach her. "I-"

But it was too late. Chloe had already stomped to where she wouldn't be able to hear Marinette's voice.

Looking at the polka dotted dress, Marinette sighed. She picked it up and went to the changing rooms.

"I guess there's no other choice?"

Adrien sighed with relief but also with disappointment. His father hadn't showed up.

Now that he knew that his father wasn't there, he knew that he could relax a little bit more than if he had been around. Although he was still expected to be on his best behavior, and so he was still bound.

But he also was sad that his father didn't come. He had said of "important matters," but what was more important than this fashion show? This was the ultimate opportunity to network with other companies, collect inspiration, and catch up on the latest gossip in the industry. Adrien knew that Gabriel wasn't a very…talkative man, and couldn't imagine him partaking in the gossip, but he knew that his father did engage in conversations whenever they served a purpose. Also, as much as the man was hard to be around and Adrien did avoid him, he was warmer and more cordial whenever they were in events like this.

Adrien knew, deep down, that the cordiality was mostly for show, but he still wanted the occasional taps on the shoulder and smirks of content on his father's face. To know that he had caused that smirk, because his father was proud of him.

He exited the changing rooms and heaved a huge sigh. He wished he could see something like that often. It was getting harder and harder now to see his father out of the room.

"Adrien?" A voice asked across from him.

He looked up. And was blinded.

He rubbed his eyes to make sure they weren't lying to him.

He had thought he knew. That he was prepared for this.

But seeing it was different from just pure speculation.

Now, he had no doubts as to who she really was.

Marinette really was Ladybug.

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't unsee it.

Marinette was wearing a Ladybug-themed dress. A Ladybug-themed dress! With the blue rose accessory that he had given her, her maze-like eyes were brought into center stage. The clash of red, blue, and black said a bold statement about Marinette, who was now blushing.

He had seen the striking resemblance between Ladybug and Marinette before, but now, this was too much. If he could die, this would have been the moment.

She was breathtakingly beautiful.

But… "This isn't the red dress that you designed…?" he asked.

Marinette blushed. "Yeah. I couldn't find mine, so I had to borrow one of Chloe's," she looked to the sides.

His eyes widened. "Chloe?" he asked with disbelief.

"Yeah. I was surprised too," she smiled. Her smile was infectious. "Crazy, huh?"

"Well," Adrien chuckled. "I guess we'll have to thank Chloe later."

Marinette looked at her with a sheepish grin, which suddenly melted into a frown.

"How did you know that this wasn't the dress that I had in mind?" After all, this dress was red as well.

"Er...Just, a guess?" Adrien shrugged.

Marinette smirked.

What did that mean?

Looking desperately for a change, he checked the clock. Lucky for him, it was almost time. "Come on," he said, grinning and putting his right hand on her back. "The show's about to start."

Luckily, no one seemed to figure out that Marinette was Ladybug.

These people actually were all blind. That was the only answer. Even those who were most sensitive to the smallest nuances in clothing texture couldn't figure it out. She was baffled and grateful at the same time.

No one had commented how Ladybug she had looked or whispered anything about the superheroine other than compliments on the Ladybug-themed dress. At least, not that she could hear of.

She walked, letting Adrien guide her to where her dreams would unfold.

Adrien led Marinette to their seats at the front row and they both sat down. The lights on the seats dimmed and the focus was now solely on the catwalk.

Gabriel's brand was up first. One by one, the models flaunted their attires, ranging from summer swimsuits to formal attire. It was all boring and the same old same old to Adrien.

But after seeing the joy on Marinette's face as each model strut their stuff, Adrien smiled. And also wished silently that he was the one up there, giving Marinette the joy and sheer enthusiasm that made his heart flutter. Although Adrien was the face of the brand, he was not participating because Gabriel wasn't present. He was expected to be the substitute for Gabriel, which was a hard task in itself.

He watched all of the clothes, one by one, as they came and faded into memory.

Except for one.

The formal attire was covered in a deep shade of purple. In fact, everything on the formal wear that was clothing was purple. There was a giant black butterfly-shaped lapel that reminded him of…someone. The model also wore black gloves and a…grey mask that was shaped like a butterfly. Where his tie should be was a brooch.

Adrien thought it odd. Although the Agreste logo was a butterfly, the lapel was not shaped like the logo. It looked far more pointed and angular than the logo, to the point that he could see that the attire had been inspired by butterflies. Lots and lots of butterflies.

Which were not untypical. Although Parisians began to regard butterflies in a bad light due to Hawkmoth, the Agreste logo had always been a butterfly. At least, Adrien remembered it that way. But this was the first time that he had seen his father directly and blatantly be inspired by something.

And…Hawkmoth…Hawkmoth…Hawkmoth!

He gaped in horror.

It looked just like what Hawkmoth had worn when Volpina had cast her illusion.

Was this a coincidence? Or was it not?

Hello!

A quick announcement.

I have been getting behind on the challenges. So, I'm afraid that I'll have to finish the challenge a little bit late. Hopefully it will only be one day late.

Hope that doesn't stop anyone from reading this though!

Thank you so much for the support :D

[devonrunning]

Adventures in Postpartum Exercise

I went back to the gym 17 days after giving birth.

That was a mistake.

I was eager to feel a little bit like my old self again, to move my body independently of doing things for my baby, and dear God, to actually be alone and do whatever I wanted for 30 glorious minutes. And yes, I was eager to start working toward my pre-baby body again.

17 days after giving birth.

That was a mistake.

I always thought I would give myself more grace after having a baby, but it was much different psychologically for me at the time from what I imagined. I gave myself all the grace in the world when I had a baby in my belly, but once she was out, I felt like I no longer had an excuse to carry the extra weight (even though, duh, I totally did—I just had a baby and was breastfeeding to boot).

I didn’t anticipate the physical awkwardness of that postpartum in-between phase, when my pre-baby clothes were still a looong way from fitting, but my maternity clothes were pilled and stretched out and unflattering. I didn’t realize I’d have to buy a whole third wardrobe to accommodate that phase (many pieces of which I’m still wearing, by the way, since I don’t comfortably fit into my pre-baby jeans or some tops nearly 17 months later, but I’ve long since accepted that).

Back to that first trip to the gym. The common advice after an uncomplicated vaginal birth is to wait six weeks to do anything other than light walking, and then get cleared by your doctor to exercise again. I felt great by 17 days out, though, and had stopped bleeding (after giving birth, you basically have the longest, heaviest period of your life—woo-hoo), so I figured it was OK. I think I did a slow, gentle stint on the elliptical and lifted some weights. I felt great!

And then I started bleeding again. It was then I realized I had pushed my body too far, and decided to wait until my six-week checkup to exercise again—just like I should have in the first place.

I got the all-clear at that checkup on June 11, then went for my first postpartum run the very same day. I alternated one minute of running with one minute of walking for 30 minutes, with a 13:07 pace overall. 

I felt great, but certain body parts definitely jiggled in a way they never had before. I must have either fed Evie or pumped right before I left, but my chest was still… a factor… in my running that I’d never experienced before. The larger sports bra I’d worn throughout my pregnancy was laughably way too small now that I was feeding a hungry baby, so I bought a Fiona bra at a local Brooks outlet store to keep everything nice and strapped in.

Side note: Now that I’ve experienced what it’s like to have a larger chest, I have major sympathy for ladies who have dealt with that their whole lives. It’s a real pain in the ass. I nursed for 13 months, so it’s been about four months since we stopped and I am thrilled to be back in my pre-baby bras.

I ran/walked a few times a week until the end of July, when Evie was 12 weeks old and I went back to work. I should also mention that Aaron and I did Whole30 during the month of July. I was inspired by Cely writing good things about it, and I really needed to do something to clean up my eating and gain some body confidence before going back to work.

I was particularly mortified by this photo taken in June, where I still looked quite pregnant. 

I was less than two months postpartum, so of course I recognize now that looking like this is totally normal and perfectly fine. But I also wasn’t eating very well at the time, and knew I could do better and feel better in the process.

I did a lot of research before starting Whole30 about how to do it as a nursing mother, and about whether or not it would impact my milk supply. (Please do your own research and talk to your doctor about what’s right for you; don’t go by my decisions!) Typically snacking between meals is discouraged while doing Whole30, but nursing moms are free and encouraged to snack whenever they need to. 

I also read many accounts from moms who said that Whole30 either had no impact on their milk supply or actually increased it. Whole30 is all about eating real, unprocessed, nutrient-rich, calorie-dense foods, so it made sense to me that it would only improve the quality and/or quantity of milk. I obviously can’t be a judge of quality, but I can report that I experienced no negative impact to my supply. In fact, July was the month I really focused on pumping as much as I could to build up my stash of frozen milk before going back to work, and I was able to do that just fine.

By the end of the month, I had lost eight pounds, was sleeping better (when I was able to; I was still waking up several times a night) and had so much more energy in general. Whole30 was a great success, and I went back to work feeling awesome!

I was much happier with this family photo, taken in mid-August. That’s a whole pre-baby outfit! (All made of stretchy knits, but still.)

I had always been pretty sure I wanted to go back to work—I enjoyed my creative job and just never pictured myself as a stay-at-home mom—but I still cried leading up to my return. I knew it was the end of the first phase of Evie’s life, when her mom was around 24/7 to take care of her, and the time had gone by so quickly. It felt like I was losing something I’d never get back. I get teary-eyed even now thinking of those feelings.

But the first day I went back to the office, I knew I’d made the right decision. I still missed my baby like hell, and fumbled my way through pumping three times a day while trying to catch up on everything that had happened at work while I was gone, but it felt so good to be showered and dressed in real clothes and doing grown-up work with other grown-ups. 

I have so much respect for stay-at-home moms; it is truly one of the most difficult jobs in the world. It just wasn’t right for our family.

It helped me a lot emotionally that Aaron had a month of paternity leave left to use, so he stayed home with Evie through August before she started daycare. The transition to daycare was pretty rough as she adjusted to being cared for by complete strangers and being around other babies all day, but she was completely settled in after about a month and grew to love it. Even though she’s now in a toddler room, she still loves her teachers from the infant room and will leap into their arms for big hugs whenever she sees them. It’s so sweet.

Anyway, I’m getting off track! After I started back at work, making exercise a priority became a lot more challenging because all I wanted to do when I got home was snuggle my baby. More often than not, I chose to do just that—which was totally the right decision. Even though in those early days, when you’re barely sleeping, it feels like your baby will be a squishy, helpless, cuddly little thing forever, that stage goes by so fast. Everyone says it, and it’s annoying, but it’s true. I’m glad I savored every chance to have my little squishy baby take a sweet, open-mouthed nap on me.

Evie began sleeping through the night around six months old, after several grueling nights (weeks? who knows) of letting her cry for certain amounts of time and then comforting her until she learned to soothe herself back to sleep.

This. Was. A. Game-changer.

Evie now had a predictable bedtime and was (almost always) guaranteed to sleep for 12 hours, so I knew I had plenty of free time to work out once she was down. We had also just bought our house and moved to a different town, so I enjoyed going on short runs to explore the new area.

Still, I struggled with the transition to fall—colder temps, more rain, and nights that became dark earlier. Looking back on my GPS records, I didn’t run for the entire month of September… and also for another entire month between Thanksgiving and Christmas. (I decided to embrace the holiday season and just go all-out with eating and being lazy).

When 2017 rolled around, Aaron and I decided to do another round of Whole30 as a post-holiday reset. I lost another five pounds in January and effectively kicked my sugar cravings.

My friend Hallie invited me to join her team for a relay in April, so I had an actual goal to motivate me to run on a regular basis. The fact that I’d be part of a team of five women was a big motivator because I didn’t want to be the out-of-shape weak link.

This post is getting veryyy long, so I’ll save the rest of my relay prep and the race itself for the next one!

In the meantime, you can catch up on my running and exercise in real time on Instagram @dev.on.running.

[bestfriendsonamission-blog1]

6 Month Update!

I know I’m a few weeks behind, but whats new?!?

This Spring/Summer has been quite the rollercoaster, I’m not exactly sure where to begin...since ya know, I haven’t been updating anything!! For starter, we will begin back in April; my birthday Month. Below is a photo of Holly and I. We went to the Melting Pot in Minneapolis for my Birthday Dinner. It was amazing - the fondue *see photos below*. 

Please note, this is not my favorite photo of myself, but I am trying to be more positive about unflattering photos. It’s more about the moment anyways. 

23 was a wonderful year. I couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful celebration. In addition to the Melting Pot, Holly surprised me with balloons and chocolate - WAITING AT THE TABLE when we arrived. Holly also bought me my  favorite perfume and a donut! And during the week, my roommate Sharissa surprised me with balloons and a vegan donut from Glam Dolls. I have two wonderful friends. Furthermore, I spent a wonderful week with Eddie. He spoiled me rotten. We went trap shooting (my FIRST time ever), saw a movie - had sex in a movie theater. SHHHHHH!!! Went to MOA, played mini golf, went out to dinner, had great birthday sex, and went trap shooting again. It was such a relaxing week, spent with the most wonderful of souls. For my birthday, Eddie bought me a 90 minute massage, a candle, chocolate, and the most precious card I have ever received. He said that he loved me in the card. Lastly, Erikka and Alexis took me to see Magic Men for the birthday. What a funny show! Definately good entertainment. 

Flash forward to May! Sharissa and I went to see Wicked at the Orpheum at Minneapolis.

 Preface: The Wizard of Oz is a classic in my family household, greatly due to my GG-Pa. He loved the Wizard of Oz and he definately would’ve loved Wicked AND that it was on Broadway. He was a New Yorker, ya know!  My GG-Pa, loved the story, simply because he believed that everyone has kindness in their hearts, no matter how evil. I am so grateful for the short period of time I had him in my life, he taught me so many valuable lessons that I will carry with me throughout my entire life. I feel like, although my GG-Pa is no longer with me, he was present during that show. 

What a beautiful story. I loved every minute of it and would definitely see it again. It was so much fun to dress up and treat myself to something, extraordinary!! I cannot wait to see Aladdin at the Orpheum in October with Sharissa, Alexis and Erikka. <3

Shortly, a few weeks later, Sharissa and I played hooky from work for 1hr on a Friday afternoon and went to Glam Doll Donuts in Minneapolis to get their one of a kind Mac & Cheese donut. I would highly recommend! 

Here is a cool picture of Holly and I. We went to the Largest Candy Store in MN. It was fucking huge. It was very overwhelming and I probably would not go back. Unless it’s for pie. Their pie smelled amazing. There were just too many people and annoying children and so much fucking candy. I’m not a vintage, classic, flavor extravagant, exotic and rare exported candy type of gal. But if you are, you should check it out. The sign was cool!

Let’s talk about Olive. One of my goals for this year was to achieve potty training. Well, that’s achieved!! Olive is such a wonderful support. It’s such a wonderful feeling to come home to a pet that loves you unconditionally. 

Other than the potty training, not much has changed wit her. She is still a complete badass - see image above. She loves playing at the dog park, playin’ with toys, eaten’ food, treats, and poop, and cuddlin’ with her Mama. Olive can shake, sit, catch, drop, roll over, lay down, speak, and stay. She is quite the catch!

In late May, I went back to Colorado to visit my sister and nephew for the first time since his birth in December! 

We didn’t do too much on this trip for tourism, other than visit Garden of the Gods. See images below. It was such a wonderful trip to spend time with family and bond with my sister and nephew. It was a trip full of laughs, food, and marijuana. I am so blessed that my sister came into my life. My nephew is such a (cliche) bundle of JOY!

WOW! I am just realizing how far behind I am on documenting my goals and adventures. This is a lot. 

In early June, Eddie and I went to a Twins Game at Target Field. I had an absolute blast. The game went into the 15th inning. We definitely got our moneys worth, that’s for sure! It was so fun to laugh, cuddle, eat nachos out of a baseball hat, attempt to caught foul balls (There was at least, AT LEAST, 20 foul balls during that particular game), and yell at the refs and teams. It was fun to go to the game with someone that actually appreciated baseball and could get into the game with me. I cannot wait to go again! We are trying to plan another time to go. Maybe in September... I cannot believe that we will have been dating for a year come September 8th!

A few weekends later, Eddie and I went to my cabin in Stockholm, Wisconsin TWICE in June.  It’s along Lake Pepin. If you haven’t ventured down to that area to complete the River Scenic Drive along the St. Croix, I would HIGHLY recommend you complete it ASAP. It is absolutely breathtaking in the summer and fall, plus it is only a 45 mins drive from the Twin Cities. As an added bonus, you can stop by the Stockholm Pie Shop. Its one of the 100 best restaurants in the United States. You heard that right, one of the one hundred best restaurants! Here are a few pictures I took from our weekend together.  See below. It was so amazing to have a *normal* date with Eddie. We cooked together, watched movies, went around Lake Pepin exploring the nearby cities, went for walks, ate pie, etc. I would classify it as he most normalized date we have ever had, just considering that he has a child and we usually are doing things around the cities; like baseball games. It was a nice reflection as to what could come if we ever choose to live together or go on trips in the future. I cannot wait to spend more time together in Stockholm!  

Here is a photo on me, stepping out of my comfort zone! See the swimsuit image below. I was super shy and mortified to wear this swimsuit in public for fear of looking fat or not fitting into my “mold of fashion”, but I wore it and I ROCKED it. This is a swimsuit piece that I never would’ve bought, but besides for the fact that I convinced myself that I need to step out of my comfort zone this year and try new things, which includes edgy clothing. I must admit, I still feel shy rockin’ that swimsuit in public, and this photo is somewhat posed, but in my opinion; this photo represents a girl who is taking a risk and loving what she is and what she has. I was to see her more often. 

Furthermore...haha. I got a new tattoo on my hip.  See the image below. I’m not in love with it, but I am getting there. I don’t feel like going into the long details of what happened, because then I get all worked up *arms flailing*, but long story short; the guy didn’t do exactly what I wanted him to do in terms of shading the pieces, but I have decided that I am going to let the piece heal and then determine my next steps of action. 

My current thoughts: I would like to have the bottom two leaves removed and potentially attempt to correct some shading to make it more gradual and then add more - different - flowers in the future to make it a huge piece. I am trying to let this *mistake* build character. Is it working? I’m not sure, ask me again in six months. I think this piece has potential, in many different aspects of life: healing, removal, character, adding, beauty. 

Lastly, I have been researching Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. I was dx at the age of 15yrs old and placed on birth control because I wasn’t getting a regular period for over a year and when I did get my period it would be incredibly painful. Unfortunately, PCOS is a very rare disease and many women live with it.  And even more unfortunately, it is the number one leading cuase of infertility in women. At the age of 15 I didn’t care. I thought birth control was a magic pill. I thought it solved all my issues; I was getting a normal period again. I was fine, right? No! 

I had never once thought that PCOS could be the leading cause of my weight gain, until about 3 months ago when I watched an instgramers youtube vlog, which detailed her life long struggle with PCOS and weight loss. It was very eye opening, enough so much so  that I began to research PCOS day and night. In women with PCOS you can develop cysts on your ovaries, have irregular periods, have increased testosterone (all the reasons I was placed on birth control to begin with - to manage those symptoms), acne, weight gain, hair loss, mood swings, depression, and increased risk for diabetes and cervical cancer. Luckily I do not carry too many symptoms, but from my personal research I discovered that cutting out dairy (which I did back in October - fully) and gluten can really assist in managing symptoms of the syndrome. So, since mid-June I have been dairy, whey, soy, and gluten free. Obviously, this is incredibly difficult, but I really try to eat clean and eliminate those ingredients as much as possible. 

Furthermore, I even went to see a doctor. Luckily all my labs and ultrasounds came back positive, except for the A1C - which looks at you blood sugars for the last 3 months and my fasting blood sugar. Unfortunately, this syndrome has a genetic link to diabetes. I do not know anyone in my family that has this syndrome, but there is a possibility. So, going forward, after I complete one more lab, my PCP has determined that he is going to put me on metformin to assist in managing my insulin resistance, because I am on the boarder of being pre-diabetic. I am not thrilled about being on a long-term medication, but if it’s going to keep my insulin levels regulated and assist in my weight loss and overall healthy journey; then I am interested. At this time I am not diabetic or even pre-diabetic, but the medication will assist in helping me lose weight by managing my insulin - as my body cannot do it due to PCOS. Furthermore, I must take a daily multivitamin, Calcium Cirtate - as I don’t eat dairy, and a probiotic - digestion issues. In the future I may also take Fish Oil to assist with my omega-3, which can also assist with my insulin and blood sugar levels, but I would like my body to acclimate to the other medications and vitamins prior to introducing more. I really have high hopes for this medication, food lifestyle change, and clinical monitoring. (If you have any further questions about PCOS, my labs, blood test results, how to diagnose, etc. Please ask. That was an incredibly shortened version and really was stretched out over 2 months as I am still completing lab work) :)

Now, I just need to reintroduce exercise. I have decided that I am going to complete the 21 Day Fix exercise videos for the next 21 days. After I complete that, then I will decide what I need to do next. But for now, its the 21 day fix videos. I plan on waking up at 6:15am to complete the videos. Here are my before photos:

I am currently weighting in at 196.4lbs. This year I started at 209lbs!! My current measurements:

Waist: 37 inches

Hips/Butt: 46inches

Bust: 43 inches

R Arm: 15 inches

L Arm: 14inches

R Calf: 16.5 inches

L Calf: 16.5inches

R Thigh: 25 inches

L Thigh: 24.5 inches

Neck: 15inches

Fun fact: I started therapy! I love it an plan to continue going throughout the rest of the year. I do not plan on disclosing any personal information about my sessions on this page. 

Flashback to my goals - I have revised again:

-Continue to lose weight - goal 170lbs. I have lost 12.6lbs this year. I would like to weight 188lbs by the time Holly and I go to Italy. 

-Olive should be potty training by the end of the year - complete

-Stop biting and picking my nails - complete (Always on going)

-Save Money - ongoing. I would like to have $3000 in the personal saving by the end of the year. (All together, personal, HSA, paying for Italy, etc. I have saved, roughly $3000 this year)

- Eliminate Credit Card debt - I suck at this. It is back up. I am disappointed in myself. But I haven’t spent on it in over 1 month and have a plan to pay it off. I’m not worried. Although I am worried about that health bills I will accumulate from the doctors visits that I had these past two months. I am hoping the amount of money that I put in my HSA will cover the entire cost. 

-Read 12 books this year - HA! I will read as I fucking please. I don't like this goal. 

-Research grad schools - I don't feel ready for Grad School. I feel stuck. I want more time to determine what I would like to study. I want more field experience, I NEED more money. These are all things I can work on in the next year. My original original original goal was to apply for grad school in the fall of 2018, which is still achievable, soooooo lets start there. This subject stresses me out and it shouldn’t it; it should feel fun!

-New goal: drink more green tea with cinnamon - it’s good for my syndrome!

I can't remember any of my other goals.....I will need to look back and refresh this update once I have revisited my first post. Obviously they were not as important as the ones listed above...hahahaha!

Until next time....I’ll be back!

[gray-autumn-sky]

Happiness Can’t Be Arranged, Chapter 5

For @glindalovesshoes who requested Robin and Regina attending Mary-Margaret’s party, for the to be drama, and for Robin and Regina not to care; and for @emmaswanchoosesyou who requested goofy dancing and awkward bedsharing. And, somewhat inspired by this dress.

Previous chapters can be found HERE.

Regina stands in the mirror, smiling at bit awkwardly at herself as Belle fastens the buttons at the back of her dress.

Her hands slide down the skirt of the dress, her fingers circling around the beaded flowers embroidered on the pale gold skirt, and her eyes focus on the beaded detail beneath her bust. The beads are a deep blue and sewn into a circle, surrounded by a row of gold and burgundy beads, and they feel cool against her fingertips--such a contrast to the things she’s used to wearing. She takes a breath as she watches Belle pushes a beaded comb into her hair and smiles at her--it’s been so long since she had something new to wear, and she’d forgotten how it made her feel.

There were only a few times she’d been able to choose her clothes--usually, her mother had chosen for her. She chose unflattering pastels--soft petal pink was favorite--and after she’d run away, she had little use for evening gowns.

“All set,” Belle says, smiling as she clasps the necklace around Regina’s neck, and Regina touches the embroidered ribbon that criss-crosses over top of deep blue satin fabric. “And I must say, you look beautiful, m’lady.”

“And I concur…” Regina turns to see Robin’s head peeking into her room and a warm smile stretching onto his lips. “In fact, beautiful somehow seems to be an understatement.”

Belle giggles and Regina’s eyes roll, as Robin pushes into the room, his hands behind his back, and she’s not sure what it is, but her stomach flutters. As tentative as she was about her new husband and his intentions, she had to admit, he was sweet… and he seemed to find joy in making her smile.

A few days before, Robin informed her that they’d be attending Mary-Margaret Blanchard’s birthday celebration, after all--and her breath had hitched in her throat. He’d stumbled through his explanation--he planned on talking to her about the soiree and whether or not she wanted to attend; but then his father confirmed their attendance, and while everything was seemingly set in stone, he’d offered to give her an out if she truly didn’t want to attend and he’d provided a number of plausible excuses.

It’d been years since she attended any sort of social gathering--her wedding to Robin not included--and the thought of spending an evening in a crowded ballroom, surrounded by the women she’d grown up with and their titled husbands set her nerves on edge. She hadn’t spoken a word to any of them in years--not since she was seventeen they’d all begun to trade rumors that she was pregnant by the stable boy. And though that feels like a lifetime ago, even now, she can hear their giggles and she can feel her mother’s eyes burning into her--and she’s not sure she’s ready to face them.

But she found herself shaking her head--somehow not going seemed worse.

Robin nodded and once more assured her that she could change her mind, and she’d smiled faintly.

“It occurs to me,” he’d begun, leaning back in his chair as a grin edged onto his lips. “You’ll need something new to wear.” Her eyebrow arched as she considered the contents of her wardrobe--morning dresses and plain evening gowns suitable for dinners at Sherwood, a few favorite pieces from her youth, and of course, her second wedding dress--a dress which her mother practically designed. But none of them seemed appropriate--and being inappropriate was something she could no longer afford. “I hope it’s not too forward--and I’d have asked, but when I was in town things just fell into place--but, I schedule a fitting for you.”

“A fitting…”

“A dress fitting,” he clarified.

Regina’s eyes rolled. “I understand.”

“Mrs. Lucas will be by with some fabrics later tomorrow morning.”

Her faint smile returned--that time a little brighter. It surprised her. “Fabrics…”

Robin nodded. “You seem pleased.”

“I… don’t know the last time I…” Her cheeks flush and she laughs a little and stops. He doesn’t need the giddy details. “Thank you.” Robin’s smile grew self-satisfied as he folded his arms over his chest--and she felt something that might be excitement bubbling up inside of her…

“Mrs. Lucas outdid herself,” Robin says, his eyes lingering down Regina’s dress, then slowly sliding to Belle. “Can you… give us a few minutes?” Regina watches as Belle nods, quickly curtseying before scurrying out of the room; and when Regina’s eyes shift to Robin, she finds his expression totally changed. “How are you feeling about tonight?”

Blinking, she feels her jaw tightening as her hand presses to her stomach. “Honestly?” She asks, as an uncomfortable laugh rises into her voice. “I feel like I could use a drink or… ten.”

Stepping forward, Robin chuckles pulling a bottle of wine from behind his back. “I… had a sneaking suspicion you might say that, so I figured you might enjoy a little liquid courage before we head out of the evening.” Her lips part and her eyebrows arch, and before she can respond, he’s setting the bottle atop her vanity and driving a corkscrew into it. “I, uh, forgot the glasses… I was too busy trying to slip in and out of the wine cellar unnoticed.”

“Who knew I’d married a thief?”

Robin laughs as he holds out the bottle to her. “I’m full of surprises.”

A lopsided grin tugs onto Regina’s lips as she looks at the opened bottle of wine. “And elegance.”

“I do what I can,” he shrugs. “Take a sip.”

“I… shouldn’t,” she murmurs. “The last thing I need is to have too much to drink and make a fool of myself.”

“I would never let that happen.” He grins. “I know you don’t want to go to this and you have good reason not to want to,” he tells her, his voice sincere. “I want you to be comfortable, and if you need a drink or ten to do that, so be it.” His grin warms. “It’ll be our secret.”

For a moment, she considers--then, taking a breath, she takes the bottle.

______

They suffer through the dinner, and it's easy enough to get lost in the crowd, even at the table.

Just by sitting next to her, he can feel her tension; and his jaw tightens each time one of the other ladies eyes linger on her for too long, then lean over to whisper something. It doesn’t matter what their saying--and he assumes they’re rehashing the same tired rumors, some true and others not. When dinner’s over, everyone begins to depart the dining room. Leopold Blanchard makes an announcement and the men start to follow, and Robin’s eyes shift to Regina, watching the way she shrinks back as the women start to go their own way and the younger set giddily march toward the ballroom; and he stops.

“Locksley,” one of the others calls. “Aren’t you coming?”

Robin looks to Regina, and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Go,” she says, barely pushing out her voice. “You should go.”

Shaking his head, he takes a breath. He’s hardly interested in sitting around in a stuffy room, smoking cigars and pretending to be interested in whatever superficial topics the others bring up in an effort to impress and outdo each other. Reaching out, Robin takes Regina’s hand and gives it a little tug. “I think I’m going to… skip this round.”

The man blinks. “What? Are you going to hang back with your wife?”

“Precisely,” Robin says easily, quickly looking back at Regina and offering her a quick wink. “It just so happens that my wife makes wonderful company.” The man lingers for a moment, and his lips part as if he’s about to say something; but he only shakes his head and follows on the heels of the rest. Robin’s hand tightens around Regina’s and his grin widens. “And it just so happens, I have plans for us.”

“Plans?” She asks, her eyebrow arching quizzically and in a way he’s come for find endearing.

“Yes,” he says, giving her hand a tug as he leads her out of the dining room--and on the way, he grabs an unopened bottle of champagne.

Regina laughs as he pulls her down a dark, dimly lit corridor, around one corner and then another--and he feels his heart beating faster and faster. Of all the dull parties the Leopold and Eva Blanchard have hosted, this is the first he’s actually enjoyed. On most occasions that he finds himself at the Blanchard estate, he has to come up with a creative way to duck out of play card games and smoking cigars, preferring to explore rather than keep his host’s company.

“Do you have a destination in mind?”

“I do.”

“Of course,” she laughs. “Why wouldn’t you be privy to all of the dark corners of someone else’s home?”

He grins as he reaches for the handle of one of the French doors, and turns to watch as her eyebrow jut up. “This is… one of my favorite spots in this house.”

“Only you…”

Robin laughs as he steps out onto the balcony and he leans back against the brick parapet. “This time,” he begins, holding up two flutes. “I grabbed some glasses this time.”

“You mean you stole glasses…”

“Semantics,” he shrugs, as he sets them onto the ledge and holds out his hand. His heart flutters as a faint smile tugs onto her lips, and he’s glad to see it. She takes a tentative step forward and he hears her breath catch as she steps out onto the balcony, her dark eyes widening as she takes in the maze of hedges that wind around the garden. “Honestly,” he begins as he pulls a corkscrew from his pocket and jabs it into the cork. “Is it as terrible as you thought?”

“No…” His eyebrows arch as he looks up from the bottle. “The wine helped, I think.”

“Good. I’m glad,” he says as the cork comes loose with a pop. “I have to admit this is the most fun I’ve ever had at a Blanchard soiree.”

“That’s… not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

He laughs as he pours the champagne. “Well, you see, they usually try to pair me off with someone--a visiting cousin or the daughter of one of Eva’s friends who enjoys collecting buttons or… reading about horticulture.”  He watches as she shakes her head, her eyes rolling as she sighs--a reaction he’s come to find endearing--and he extends a glass to her as his smile warms. “But tonight I sat with a beautiful woman who… mocked all of the other guests with me and…”

“That was inappropriate.”

“That was fun.”

“That was… all that wine talking.”

A grin twists onto his lips. “Of course it was.”

She takes a long sip of the champagne and leans against the ledge. “The woman across from us at dinner… the one with the wavy red hair?”

His eyes narrow as he tries remember. “Ah, yes. With the feathery thing on her…” he waves his hand over the top of his head as his brow furrows.

“Yes,” she murmurs, a soft smile tugging on her lips. “Once upon a time, she was my best friend…” Her voice fails off and her face falls. “And the last time I spoke to her was at a birthday party a lot like this one.” Regina sighs and he tops off her glass, not knowing what else to do. “My engagement to that Bavarian prince had just been announced and I’d spent a month visiting and…” she sighs, “when I was abroad, I realized I was pregnant and by the time I returned I was starting to show, but… I… I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, so I just kept it to myself. I hadn’t even told Daniel, I just… didn’t know how.” She pauses and looks over at him, taking a sip of the champagne. “I walked into the room and, she and a couple of other girls had their heads together, giggling and whispering and… they just stopped when I came in.”

He starts to say something--what, he’s not sure--but her laugh rings out unexpectedly.

“They were so obvious and they tried to pretend like they hadn’t been talking about me--like they hadn’t been talking about how I was tainted and how I’d let the stable boy do things to me.” She takes another sip of the champagne and turns her head to face him, and he chooses not to tell her that he heard those very rumors--varying in sordid details. “Tonight she had escargot stuck in her teeth and I didn’t tell her.”

“That most certainly evens things up.”

“I’d like to think so.”

Chuckling softly, he adds a little more to her glass. “Can… confess something to you?”

“Oh, I…” He watches as she swallows, almost as if bracing herself or perhaps just struggling to pay attention. “I suppose so.”

He takes a breath, suddenly a little nervous. “I had such a crush on you back then.”

“What?” Her eyes widen and she blinks a few times. “You… what?”

“I had a crush on you.”

“No,” she insists. “That’s… no.” She considers for a moment, then shakes her head. “No.”

“I did.”

“You couldn’t have! We didn’t even know each other.”

“You didn’t know me,” he says. “But I knew you… and I also knew that you only had eyes for one.”

“Daniel…” she says, unnecessarily. “You knew about that?”

Robin grins. “You were in love with him.” He pauses, remembering a night he’d gone for a walk, not realizing he’d crossed onto the Mills’ property. There was a candle in the window, and he’d wondered if someone had forgotten to blow it out and he worried the stable would catch on fire--and then, when he got to the window, he saw Regina laying on a bale of hay, wrapped in the arms of stable boy, kissing as hands explored. “It was obvious.”

“Oh…” Her cheeks flush and a grin twists onto his lips. “I’m… sorry?” She says, her nose scrunching. “No, that’s not right, I…” Robin laughs out and takes her hand, giving it a slight squeeze. “You… you really had a crush on me?”

Robin nods as she continues to struggle with her words. “You were a safe crush, honestly,” he says. “You were unavailable and that kept me from having to… do anything about it.” He sighs. “I was a terrible flirt. It’s a wonder Marian ever fell for me.”

Regina brightens. “Tell me about her.”

“About Marian?”

“Yes,” she says with a nod. “You know all about Daniel, so it’s only fair.”

“You have a strange sense of fairness,” he says, his thoughts suddenly drifting as he tries to settle on a memory to share, and he finds it difficult to settle on just one.

“We met the summer after you’d left,” he says, pulling himself into the present. “My friends and I were… drunk and bored one night and we decided that we’d like to go hunting.” He grimaces at the fuzzy memory. “Except none of us were at home; therefore, none of us had access to… the necessary things.”

“Like guns-n-horses…”

“Precisely,” he says, a chuckle rising into his voice as she slurs the words together. “It was also well-past midnight.” He pauses, remembering how they’d stumbled their way through the Fitzwater’s ballroom, loudly discussing their intentions. “Well, we made it halfway to the barn…”

“For the horses…”

“Yes,” he says, nodding as a grin pulls onto his lips. “And then, there was Marian… telling us all off.”

“And you liked her.”

“And I liked her,” he nods. “She… didn’t quite like me, though,” he tells her. “Not then.”

“But you won her over, eventually.”

“Eventually, yes.”

“How?”

“How did I win her over?” He asks, watching the way a smile tugs onto her lips as she nods. “Well, I was… persistent, I suppose, and… well… I think she liked me better when I was sobered up and not trying to steal her father’s horses.”

Regina giggles--and it’s an almost musical sound. “Well, we have something in common,” she tells him--and then, she supplies no more information. He chuckles softly as he tips his head and narrows his eyes, wondering if she plans on sharing--and then, he watches as it registers that had hasn’t completed the thought and her eyes widen. “We both met our first loves in the stables… trying to steal a horse.”

“You met Daniel in the stables?”

“Yes,” she says, laughing too loudly at the memory. “I was eight and running away from home. His father was in-charge of the stables,” she tells him, her voice suddenly serious and matter-of-fact. “He was brought in to help clean the horses’ hooves and put on new shoes.”

She giggles at the last line--and her hand falls to his arm, flooding his chest with warm flutters. “So, you knew him throughout your childhood?”

“I did.” She blinks a couple of times, then looks up at him. “He convinced me not to run away that day, and I’m glad that I didn’t.” A coy grin twists onto her lips as her fingers press into his arm.  “Otherwise, I might not have had the chance to run away with him years later.”

That’s a sweet notion, he finds himself thinking--and it makes it seem like they were destined to be together--and he knows that’s likely a bittersweet thought for her, but one she hangs onto desperately, especially on nights like this one.

“Would you like to dance?” He asks, pouring more champagne into her glass.

Her eyes widen as he pours, but she makes no attempt to pull the glass away, allowing him to fill it nearly to the brim. “You’re trying to get me drunk.”

“You’re already drunk.”

“I… can’t go in there like this,” she says, her voice suddenly so vulnerable as her she looks over at him with wide eyes.

“I won’t let them see you stumble,” he tells, quite sincerely. “Besides, I am a terrible dancer, so if we makes fools of ourselves, I’ll be the one who rightfully gets ridiculed.”

She nods and straightens herself up--and he can see her starting to sway. She takes a wobbly step toward him and he catches her--and for a moment, they’re standing there, chest to chest. His hands are low on her back and she’s looking up at him, almost expectantly. He can feel her breath on his chin and he watches her eyes shift to his lips. It takes everything in him not to lean in, not to let her kiss him--because as much as he wants to, he’s not sure she truly wants to, and he doesn’t want that first kiss to happen like this.

“Come on,” he says, gently pushing her away, keeping her at an arm’s length. “I can’t wait to show you just how bad I am at this…”

___

When they reach the ballroom, his hand finds her waist--and just as promised, he guides her, not allowing her to stumble as they enter. He grabs a flute of champagne for her, then one for himself and she watches a he downs it.  Her eyebrow arches and she hears herself giggling--she doesn’t remember the last time she had this much to drink, or if she’s ever had this much to drink. But nonetheless, her shoulders are relaxed and her heart feels light--and she’s having a surprisingly good time.

Her lip catches as she watches who she can only guess is Mary-Margaret Blanchard and her friends, dancing a quick-stepped reel. The girls are all laughs and smiles as they dance, switching partners every fews steps--and when her eyes slide to Robin, his brow is furrowed as he focuses on their feet.

“We don’t have to dance…”

“I want to,” he insists in a hesitant voice that has a grin tugging up at the corners of her mouth. “Well, I want to dance with you, not them…”

“There’s no rules that says we have to be on the dance floor to dance,” she says. “And if there is a rule about it, I don’t care about that rule… if its even is against the rules.” Her brow furrows, not quite sure she’s making sense. “Besides,” she tells him. “I… don’t really care about those rules.”

Robin blinks a couple of times and he laughs out. “You’re drunk.”

“I know.”

“I like this side of you--the carefree side.”

She grins. “I probably won’t remember that tomorrow, but thank you.” He takes a deep breath, and for a moment, he looks truly nervous as he steps around her and offers her his hand. She takes his hand his hand folds around her, their fingers entwining as his other hand steadies on her hip. “Do you want me to lead?”

“You’re drunk…”

“But you can’t dance…”

“So, what’s worse than? A drunk lead or one who doesn’t quite know how?” She laughs, considering it as they stand still at a stalemate. “If you weren’t drunk, I might ask to stand on your feet.”

“Are you really that bad?”

Robin shrugs. “You be the judge of that,” he tells her, taking a step forward and pushing her back--and promptly stepping on her toes. She gasps a little too loudly and stifles the urge to yelp as Robin grimaces. “That didn’t take long…”

Regina laughs out as she steps forward and Robin hangs his head, feigning embarrassment. Her head dips forward, resting against his--and she’s well aware that they’re not moving to slow to be dancing to the music. But his arm feels good around her waist, and it’s nice to be held this closely. He doesn’t pull away from her as she guides them around their little patch of makeshift dance floor, and she’s vaguely aware that they’re being watched. She swallows hard and she wants to kiss him, but she’s not sure that he wants the same--after all, when she tried it on the balcony, he’d pushed her away. So, instead, she closes her eyes and pretends…

She’s not sure how long they spend that way--swaying and sliding in that little space just to the side of the dance floor--but when she feels herself struggling against a yawn. She blinks up at him, her head suddenly less dizzy than she remembers it and the warmth that had settled at her core has faded.

“Do you want to go up?” He asks, his voice no more than a hushed whisper.

She nods and her stomach lurches--she’d nearly forgotten.

When they’d arrived, they’d been shown to their rooms--or what they’d assumed would be rooms. Belle and John--Robin’s valet--followed close behind, listening to instructions about when Robin and Regina would be expected at dinner, what would be served and when they should turn down the bed for the night.

She’s turned sharply at the last bit--the word bed in the singular and she’d felt Robin’s eyes slide to her as her body stiffened. They’d been married for a handful of months now, and they’d yet to share a bed. She doesn’t like to think about their wedding night--how she’d been dressed and put on display for him--and thought of laying beside a man who wasn’t Daniel still feels wrong to her.

“I promise,” he begins, taking her by the hand. “I will be a perfect gentleman.”

She offers a reluctant smile and she nods, as they leave the ballroom--and as they pass a group of women she’d once known so well, Robin’s arm slides around her, hugging her into his side in a way that can’t appear to be anything other than affectionate.

Her smile pulls tighter onto her lips as he guides her toward the stairs, asking one of the footmen inform Belle and John that they’re going up for the night. They take the stairs slowly and her stomach churns--an odd mix of nervousness and guilt, and having had too much to drink.

Belle and John are there waiting, and John leads Robin into the small, adjoining dressing room to change as Belle helps her out of her dress. She lets out a shaky breath as she pulls off the light gold gloves--which matched her skirt so perfectly and still makes her smile faintly--and she wonders why she feels this uncomfortable.

She likes Robin--more than she ever thought she would when their marriage was arranged--and she wonders if that’s why she’s so bothered. Before she can consider it any more, Belle rasps the back of her hand against the door, signaling to Robin and John that she’s decent enough to be seen, and Robin steps out and offers an awkward smile. Belle and John leave them and her bottom lip catches between her teeth as her stomach flutters.

“I can sleep in the chair.”

“No,” she hears herself say. “That’s… not going to be comfortable.”

Robin shrugs. “I’ll manage.”

For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, hesitating as her eyes shift between Robin and the bed--and then slowly sink closed. “I wouldn’t sleep if you were… scrunched up on that tiny little thing and I had this enormous bed all to myself.”

“You’re sure?”

Opening her eyes, she holds her breath and nods. “Of course.”

“No you’re not.”

“Maybe not, but I am sure that I wouldn’t sleep a wink knowing that you were… so uncomfortable.”

Robin laughs and a self-satisfied smile pulls onto his lips. “You like me.”

“Don’t make a big deal of this…”

“You like me!”

“I could always change my mind,” she says, rounding the bed and sliding in under the covers, not wanting to admit that she does like him and perhaps, she could even love him. He pulls back the covers on the opposite side and she feels her chest constrict as a wave of guilt washes over her, but nonetheless a tight smile tugs onto her lips. “Stay over there,” she says as she lays back against the pillows.

“I might say the same to you.”

Her eyes roll and she feels stiff--and as he blows out the candles on the nightstand, her cheeks flush as she thinks about what it would have been like to kiss him.

[victorineb]

Green Scarf to a Bull

So, I've been wanting to write something for the amazing Basic Chickens ship for quite some time now, having fallen head over heels in love with it. And given that @granpappy-winchester has been kind enough to set up Basic Chickens Week, I thought this was as good a time as any. Thanks, yet again, to @desperatelyseekingcannibals, @tcbook, @hotsauce418 and @slashyrogue for their advice and support. Hope you all enjoy.

Also on AO3.

Adam Towers was having a lousy fucking night. Quite literally, in fact. He’d passed through three different clubs and not one person seemed interested in the legendary Towers charm. It was completely inexplicable – who would turn down a prize like Adam Towers? Ok, maybe the language barrier had tripped him up a bit – his Danish was, well, rudimentary would be stretching things – but most of the people in this country supposedly spoke good English, and, anyway, who needed words to communicate the need to shag? There was a universal language of sex, and Adam was fluent in it.

Or he used to be, anyway.

Not that he was losing his touch. That was simply unimaginable. Adam Towers was hot shit and Denmark didn’t know what had hit it. They just hadn't realised it yet.

So now he was in a pub, some old-fashioned, cosy place that had been the first one he’d come to that looked vaguely welcoming and was within spitting distance of his flat. It was after 2am, the window for getting a shag was closing fast, so the one on finding somewhere upscale had been slammed shut. No time to waste on niceties: the first person he found in here who was remotely fuckable, was getting fucked.

Then again… Adam surveyed the diminishing crowd and realised that he might have to turn that “remotely fuckable” into “breathing and able to form thoughts” if he wanted any chance of getting laid tonight. And possibly he’d have to be flexible on that second part. He was definitely dealing with the dregs of Copenhagen society here, for the most part unfashionable, unattractive and un-fucking-likely to give Adam a night to remember. Maybe there really wasn’t anybody left in this godforsaken city who was more appealing than his own right hand.

Adam took a deep breath, a deeper pull of his whisky sour, and took stock. There was a woman in the corner who’d been leering at him since he’d breezed into the pub but he was pretty sure the gleam in her eye was less exciting than utterly psychotic – and he’d had quite enough of that kind of encounter back in London, thank you. And the guy with the ginger hair had a sweet smile but looked exactly the sort to fall in love with the first person who blew him and… no. Love was not on the agenda tonight.

Just as Adam was getting truly desperate, a couple of definite rejects left their seats at the bar, revealing a man seated at the far end, huddled in on himself and nursing a beer. He wasn’t exactly a breath-taking prospect. His hair sat in an unstyled mess of sandy, greying curls, possibly last fashionable when Adam was about ten years old. Beneath that, his eyes were obscured, cast down towards his pint, but Adam could see an oddly misshapen nose, as if the guy had been slammed against a wall several times and never had the damage fixed. And, oh god, the trapped-in-the-eighties look was completed by an ungroomed, unflattering moustache.

Actually Adam had a bit of a thing for facial hair but a little basic grooming was necessary for it to have that effect.

And as for the clothes. There was only one word for the pullover the man was wearing and it was “brown.” Wasting other adjectives on it would be a crime. The rest of the outfit, well, it wasn’t even worthy of prepositions.

But still… even hunched in, Adam could tell he was big, and nicely built. Broad shoulders and, leaning back, Adam could see long legs wrapped around his bar stool. Promisingly large, strong hands clutching that glass, too. If he looked past the unfortunate surface, there were encouraging signs with this one.

And, most importantly, he’d just flicked a glance towards Adam and had swiftly turned a very appealing shade of pink, his eyes widening comically before he snapped them back to his pint.

Target acquired. This should very much not be Mission Impossible. More like Mission “yes, I am just desperate enough to blow you in the bathroom, don’t trip over anything in your rush to get there.”

Adam slipped neatly from his own stool, flicking his hair off his face and slinking his way towards his intended. He could see the man watching his movements from out the corner of his eye, and let a flirty smile play on his lips… which quickly turned to a smirk as he noticed the guy shifting awkwardly in his seat. Such an effect in just a few steps, this really shouldn’t take long at all. Adam hopped up next to the man, making sure to brush close against him as he settled in, glanced at his nearly-empty drink and, levelling a coy look at him from beneath his lashes (the one that had been known to reduce men and women to drooling wrecks), asked, “Can I fill you up, big guy?”

Ok, fine, his flirting technique might have been a little rusty. But still, this was clearly the best offer this guy was going to get in his lifetime, there really wasn’t much need for finesse.

The response wasn’t exactly… enthusiastic, though. The man raised his head and looked at Adam with narrowed eyes that flicked nervily along the length of his body before settling just shy of real contact. “Is it me you are talking to?” he asked, and the voice, while a little strident, was deep and accented and altogether pleasing. And spoke perfect English, what a fucking relief.

“Yeah, gorgeous,” Adam shot back, “I’d like to buy you a drink. What do you think?”

The man snapped his head towards Adam with such a look of surprise that Adam felt his heart swell a little with sympathy, not an emotion with which he was overfamiliar. Obviously this guy had rarely been called something like gorgeous in his life, and Adam was suddenly struck by the strange desire to remedy that. He let his smile, currently turned firmly to sex-kitten, soften into something more genuine and felt a surge of satisfaction to see the other man’s expression relax a little.

And, oh, was that a cleft lip? That was… interesting. How would that feel to kiss, Adam wondered, letting his gaze linger on it for a moment.

“You are staring. It is very rude to stare, you will it stop at once.”

Oh shit. Big mistake. Adam couldn’t give two hoots about his lip (the size of his dick was far more of a concern), but he could see how it might be a sensitive subject.

“Sorry, darling, I just lost myself for a minute thinking about how that moustache is gonna feel when I kiss you. Or when we do some other fun things,” Adam said easily, ready to congratulate himself on an excellent save.

Until he saw the look on the other guy’s face.

“I do not understand what you mean by this,” he began, in a loud, stiff voice, tinged with something almost like panic. “Why would you think I would want to kiss you?”

Oh boy, he’d picked a live one.

Ok, one last shot, and then he was packing it in, fuck or no fuck.

“Look, sweetheart,” Adam said, keeping his tone level but still inviting, “it’s getting fucking late, I’d like to get off before the night’s over, and it doesn’t look like either of us has any better prospects for a shag. Now, you don’t have to take me to your bed, I’m sure the bathrooms in this fine establishment are very comfortable. So how about it?”

For a second, as the man’s pupils blew so huge they obscured the (actually, rather pretty) honey-brown shade of his irises, Adam thought he was in.

But then.

“How dare you speak to me in this way? I have many prospects, I am extremely handsome and virile, women are always wanting to sleep with me. Men too, many of them. You are very rude and not at all attractive. You must be crazy to think such things. Why would I want a crazy person?” The man was outright shouting now, and Adam looked around, cringing at the stares and giggles they were attracting. He held up a hand, meaning to soothe the man’s temper, only to get it slapped away. “No, you are not to touch me, crazy man. I am going to leave now and you are not to follow me, even though you are so desperate to have me.”

And with that, the man awkwardly clambered off his seat, pulled his coat around him and stomped out of the pub, leaving Adam (and everybody else) gawking after him in disbelief.

“What,” Adam breathed out after a minute, “the almighty fuck was that?”

“That,” said a voice from behind Adam, who turned to see the bartender looking at him in amusement, “was Elias. Comes in here twice a week, nurses a beer all night, is incredibly weird with anyone who talks to him and never ever gets hit on. You actually won me a bet tonight – Fryderyk over there is furious that you decided to flirt with the big bull before the six-month deadline was up.”

Adam looked over to see a man with a prissily-trimmed beard glaring at him. If he ever came back to this pub, he definitely wasn’t ordering anything from that guy – he wasn’t paying for spit and tonics all night.

“So, wait,” he said, turning his attention back to the other bartender, “he’s been coming in twice a week for six months and he’s never once got any action?” There it was again, that odd feeling of sympathy, of wanting to brighten this sad sack’s dull life a little bit. Adam quickly stomped it down and added, “And he still turned all this down?” He gestured at himself for emphasis.

“Guess you’re not quite as appealing as you thought,” Fryderyk snarked, smirking nastily over the counter. The other bartender grinned at him and Adam was almost more pissed off at the pity in his expression than the petty spite in his mate’s.

Fuck that, he thought, paying for his drinks and utterly failing to leave a tip, nobody humiliates and rejects Adam Towers and gets away with it. A thought struck him, and he turned back to the bar, a charming smile on his face.

“Terrible manners, fellas, I forgot a tip. Here’s something for all your help tonight, hope it makes up for your loss,” he said, winking at Fryderyk and sliding a high-value note across the bar. After all, he was going to want the bartenders on side when he came back next week.

Look out, Elias, I’m going to make you want me so bad you won’t be able to see straight, then we’ll see how you like a little public humiliation.