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eilidh-eternal · 8 months

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Chapter 3 - En Pointe

Simon Riley x Johnny MacTavish x F!Reader 5.7k words Warnings/tags: 18 + MDNI, implied sexual themes, dub-con/non-con themes and implications, Simon calling Johnny 'pup', Johnny is an overeager and blatant flirt, Neither of them really have pure intentions Simon is just better about concealing it AN: Alright I told you guys a while ago that things are gonna get a little darker in this chapter, so if that isn't your cup of tea this is your chance to jump-ship. Actually managed to trim this down some because 6.5k of context and set up was absolutely ridiculous. Anyways, here's the very overdue update lmaoooo Masterlist

You’re nervous, Simon notices, clutching at the glass in your hands and fidgeting in your seat, and he finds it terribly endearing. Such a lovely, shy creature you are.

But it lessens as the evening progresses, finishing off your cocktail and trading the glass to fiddle with a loose thread atop your knee, and you laugh freely at Johnny’s stories and Simon’s terrible jokes.

He’s enamored with the way you try to hide those little yawns behind your hand and blink your tired eyes as the evening draws closer and closer to midnight, most bars and restaurants preparing to close their doors for the evenig. The way you lean more heavily against the bar as the exhaustion of the day and the lull of the liquor in your drink weighs you down despite your best efforts to hold yourself up on the barstool. You sway, a bit too much for Simon’s liking, and he’s instantly at your back, strong hands securing you by the waist and hauling you back to support you against him.

“Tired, dove?”

“Mmhm.” You tip your face up to look up at him through the fringe of your lashes, eyes half-lidded and soft around the edges. Soft like the rest of you. Soft beneath his hands, against the hard planes of his torso… soft. Putty in his hands. Pliant and perfect.

“Let’s get ye back to ye’re room then, sweet thing.” Johnny waves the bartender over to settle the tab and Simon guides you down from your seat, hands lingering around your waist while you find your footing on tired limbs. When you wobble again he loops an arm around you, tucking you close to his side with a soft chuckle.

“I thought dancers had better balance than this,” he chides playfully.

“‘M tired.” You lean further into his warmth, allowing him to support your weight against him. “And ‘m a ballerina, not a dancer.” His laugh rumbles in his chest again.

“Ok, dove. Ballerina it is.” Another hand slides over your back above Simon’s and he watches your head swivel to find Johnny smiling sweetly down at you.

“Time for bed, hen.” His smile turns apologetic when you pout up at him, brows knitting together and plush bottom lip jutting out, and Simon briefly wonders what that lip would feel like between his teeth. Wonders if you'd keen and arch into him like Johnny does. “‘S not the end of the world, jus’ the end of the night,” he croons, and they lead you out of the bar, supported by Simon’s arm wrapped snug around you, big hand splayed across your ribs, and Johnny’s thumb rubbing circles into the bare sliver of skin between the neckline of your dress and your nape.

Johnny allows Simon to herd you onto the lift and sidles up to you again when the doors close, sandwiching you between the two of them in the small space. Simon nearly purrs at the way you relax into them, watches you lose the fight to keep your eyes open until the ‘ding!’ of the lift arriving at your floor causes you to jolt, eyes flying open again, and both of them lead you out into the hallway.

You drag your feet towards your room, partially because you are exhausted, but more so that at some point in the night you’d decided you like listening to Johnny tell outlandish stories. Like the way Simon calls him out when he embellishes the details to try to impress you. You like them, and you don’t want to be done talking to them.

When you finally arrive in front of your door you reach down to retrieve your key card from your purse but your hand finds empty air and your own hip. Johnny laughs and you open your mouth to scold him but he beats you to it.

“Looking for this?” He dangles the little bag in front of you. You reach for it but he snatches it away with a click of his tongue and arches his brow playfully as he opens it and retrieves both the key card and your phone. “I’ll unlock the door, and you’ll unlock that for Si, hm?” he says and hands you your phone.

You take the phone from him, hold it up enough for the facial recognition to capture your visage, and before you can ask what he wants with your phone, Simon’s plucked it from your hand and Johnny’s holding the door open for you, hand outstretched and waiting.

“C’mon, little bird. Let’s get ye to bed.” He wiggles his fingers, beckoning you towards him. Simon’s arm loosens its hold on you as he passes you off to Johnny who slips his own around your waist, hand coming to rest on your hip. He leads you through the dimly lit room, the lamp at your bedside left on in your rush to meet them, and settles you on the edge of the bed where he kneels before you to help slip your shoes off, arranging them neatly off to the side. A soft, relieved sigh slips past your lips when they come off, flexing and rolling out the cramped muscles, but the affronted sound Johnny makes low in his throat pulls you out of the momentary bliss.

“This is from the dancin’?” he asks, delicately lifting one foot and then the other to look over the small injuries, the bruises and blisters and scrapes adorning them.

No, no don't look at that. Anything but that…

When you don’t immediately answer he lifts his gaze to yours and concern morphs into confusion when he takes in your averted gaze, lower lip pulled between your teeth and dolent eyes downcast.

“Hey, wha’s wrong?” he entreats, hands gliding up to your calves and giving them a gentle squeeze to draw your attention back to him. You don’t look at him, can’t bring yourself to, focusing instead on the way the bed dips beside you and you recognize the dark fabric of Simon’s slacks that fill the empty space beside you. Johnny shuffles closer and a gentle hand cups your jaw, fingers tracing the elegant line until his thumb and forefinger captures your chin to angle your face towards him, forcing you to meet his concerned gaze. “Wha’s wrong, bonnie?” He echoes the question, a little softer this time. “I can’t help if dinnae ken wha’s botherin’ ya.”

Your eyes trace the lines between his pinched brows, the slope of his nose, the bracketed lines around his mouth and the dark stubble along his jaw. Pretty. And then your gaze drifts lower, down to your own discolored flesh, covered in healing scrapes and fresh lesions from tonight, and your face twists into a grimace at the sight.

Damaged.

Johnny follows your gaze as it drifts lower, watches you worry at your lip, and understanding dawns on him.

“Hey, I dinnae care about that.” He drags the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. “I do care that ye’re hurt, though.” Simon leans closer and you feel his hand settle over the back of your neck, sweeping stray hairs out of the way so he can rub soothing circles into the skin there.

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about, dove,” he assures you, and some of the tension in your shoulders slips away as the warmth of his hand melts into you.

“‘S there anythin’ to be done for it?” Johnny’s hand leaves your chin to settle on your calves again and he rocks back onto his heels. “Cannae let ye go to bed like this. Wouldnae be kind dates if we did.” His fingers massage the muscle beneath them, thumbs digging into knots and working them loose.

Your brain stumbles over ‘date.’ Is that really what this is?

You like them, definitely find them attractive, and they seem to like you too. They probably wouldn't have walked you up to your room if they hadn’t; would have let you stumble your way back on your own. But here they are, Johnny kneeling on the ground in front of you and Simon sitting next to you, asking how to help you get ready for bed. How to take care of you.

“There's a blue bag, on the counter in the bathroom.” Johnny nods, gives your calves one last squeeze, and stands from the floor.

“Be right back, hen.” He disappears around the corner, leaving you in Simon’s care.

“Let’s get you comfy, yeah?” He doesn't wait for you to answer. The hand at your neck drifts down your back, palm pressed flat against your spine. He stops just above the curve of your tailbone and slides around to your hip, holding you steady as he reaches across your lap to reposition you on the bed with your legs draped over his own and he leans over again to arrange the pillows behind you when he murmurs, “This ok, dove?”

Your lips part, warmth flooding your cheeks once more, and you have to mentally remind yourself to exhale, to stop holding your breath before you faint from a lack of oxygen rather than exhaustion.

“Y-yeah. This is fine.”

The mask shifts, pulling taut over his cheeks, and you realize he’s smiling, eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners.

Johnny returns holding the described blue bag. “You two look comfortable. Couldnae wait f’r me?” Neither you nor Simon say anything as Johnny settles himself beside him and the two of them silently begin tending to the little scrapes and bruises. Their hands move skillfully over the tender skin, like this is something they’ve done a thousand times before, and eventually you allow yourself to settle back onto the pillows, eyes slowly drifting closed, content to leave them to their work.

“Poor little bird, must be so tired,” Johnny coos as he presses his thumb into the arch of your foot and you make a breathy, pleased sound each time their deft fingers find sore muscles. You outright moan when pressure is applied to the ball of your foot and one of them groans throatily in response, but you're too tired, too relaxed, to open your eyes to see who. Too tired to properly register the hardness pressing into your calf.

They say something but it’s muffled, the low baritone of their voices distorted by the clutches of sleep dragging you further and further into its grasp, and you’re only vaguely aware that they've moved, that you’re being moved, lifted into a strong pair of arms and then laid gingerly back on the bed with the blankets pulled up around your shoulders. When you shift, rolling onto your side to get comfortable, a gentle hand brushes a stray hair away from your face, something warm presses to your temple before the voices fade, and a door distantly clicks shut as you succumb willingly to the pull of sleep.

“Johnny.” Simon’s tone is reproachful, and when Johnny meets his eyes they’re not the same glowing amber they had been most of the night, softened by your presence.

He pulls his hand back and has the good sense to look remorseful about where it had been drifting.

“There’ll be time for that later.” He enunciates each word carefully, doesn’t say anything more until Johnny nods and he knows he’s listening. “You’re lucky we’re even here. ‘S a little far for a ‘first date’.”

“I know,” he sighs. “She’s cute like this. Sleepin’. Lettin’ us take care of ‘er.” There’s a hungry glint to his eyes.

“Why don’t ya help me put ‘er to bed properly then?” He nods and moves to lift you from the bed, carefully wrapping an arm around your shoulders and beneath your legs to pull you into his chest. Simon is quick to pull back the bedding and Johnny lays you down with a practiced gentleness.

With the blanket arranged neatly around your shoulders you've instantly nestled into the warmth it provides, rolling over and burrowing deeper, and Johnny wants nothing more than to be the warmth you’re settling into. Wants to crawl in and wrap himself around you until the shared warmth melds your bodies together into one, a tangle of limbs and teeth and tongues. But for now he’ll settle for brushing your hair out of your face, tucking the errant strand behind your ear, and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple before they leave.

The buzzing of your phone on the bedside table bleeds through the haze of sleep and it pulls you jarringly into the waking world. Rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes, you push up onto your elbows and realize you're still in your dress from last night, bunched up uncomfortably around your hips from tossing and turning in your sleep. At least you think it is.

You’d been tired last night, don’t remember crawling beneath the covers or when exactly Simon and Johnny left, and your cheeks and neck instantly warm when you realize the last thing you can remember is the two of them tending to your aching feet. The thought of them putting you to bed crosses your mind, but you push it away, dismiss it from the realm of possibilities of something two complete strangers would do for a woman they’d known for a handful of hours. You’d probably woke some time after they left and crawled beneath the duvet, seeking reprieve from the chill that lingers in the winter air despite the radiator.

Your phone buzzes again and you reach for it, groaning when you see you’ve woken before your alarm.

Whoever it is that’s decided to text at this hour had better-

The frown pulling at your lips is quickly replaced by a tentative smile and the quickening of your pulse.

A text from Johnny, his number already saved in your contacts. Checking your call history reveals two outgoing calls to unfamiliar numbers, Johnny and Simon’s names listed beside them. So that they would have your number, you realize.

> Mornin’ hen, we had fun with ye last night hi! I had fun too < > We’d like to take ye out again sometime wednesday? < no show or rehearsal that day < > Wednesday sounds perfect

Another alert pops up at the top of your screen, one for a flat you’d been looking at, close to the studio and with a coffee shop on the ground floor.

No longer available.

You add contacting a realtor, or at the very least a rental locator, to your list of things to do today.

The text from Johnny and the knowledge that you’d be seeing him and Simon again tugs your lips into a reflexive smile as you crawl out of bed to get ready for the day, and it persists the entire train ride to the studio. It’s a fairly standard rehearsal day, but before that there is the matter of the interview that the company agreed to on your behalf.

Official staff of the BBC come and go from the offices, locker rooms and studios, getting b-roll footage for their short special on the local ballet company, and one of their stylists ushers you to a makeshift hair and makeup station to have your hair fussed with and rouge buffed into your skin. Something about sitting in a chair in front of an army of cameras and an unfamiliar crew is much more intimidating than performing on stage for an audience of thousands, and you toy with your fingers where they’re curled in your lap, fighting the nervous instinct to bounce your leg.

They ask questions about your own career, how it is that you’ve come to dance with the company, what it’s like working abroad, and how the experience here compares to working with other foreign companies. Of course, there are questions about the current show too, what it’s like dancing such a well known and well loved piece, the expectations that come with it.

“We all feel privileged to do the work that we do. Very few dancers find real success, and it’s important to share those successes with each other. A principal dancer is nothing without their soloists, artists and the corps—there would be no show without them. Just a lonely ballerina spinning around on stage like a music box.”

They care little for the technicalities of the show and the actual dancing, choosing to focus more on the emotional requirements, peppering in questions about the mental fortitude required to undergo the rigorous rehearsals and training that the show demands.

“It’s second nature, working for a company of this caliber. Most, if not all, of the dancers here have trained their entire lives to do this, and we rehearse the same number of hours the average business manager spends behind a desk in an office every week. It’s our job, to keep our bodies healthy and familiar with the choreography, and we approach that with the same mindset any person does when going to work everyday.”

The director seems pleased with the answers you’ve given and declares that they’ve gotten all the footage they need, sending you on your way to your morning class and afternoon rehearsal where your nerves finally settle once you slip into the familiar routine.

At lunch you send a few emails to rental locating companies and real estate brokerages, inquiring about services and the availability of properties you’d been looking at. Your conversation with Johnny and Simon about the ‘high brow’ boroughs in question from the night before replays in your mind, and you find yourself smiling again at the memory of Johnny's disdain and Simon's even-tempered remarks about the proximity to Buckingham. Living near a palace doesn’t seem so bad.

The day goes by quicker than expected, rehearsals and adjustments to the show going as smoothly as you could hope for. Even the train ride back to the hotel manages to feel a little less monotonous today and more like a reprieve from all the bustling about foreign and unfamiliar cities you've done in the months prior. It feels more like the easy familiarity of coming and going from work in a city that’s beginning to grow on you, and with each day that passes you begin to find a rhythm despite your lack of permanent residence.

Johnny sends a goodmorning text every day, and you respond in kind with a picture of your breakfast from your hotel room or the studio before you begin warming up. You’d even worked up the courage to stand in front of one of the walls lined with mirrors this morning and received a similar photo from him in kind that makes your heart race and leaves you feeling a bit breathless as you tuck your phone away, dutifully ignoring the warmth of your skin that has little to do with the exertion of your class.

Simon texts you in the afternoons, always asks what you're having for lunch, and when you’d told him nothing one afternoon, that you hadn’t had time to stop by the shops that morning, room service had been waiting for you when you arrived at your hotel room that evening with extra portions to make up for the missed meal. He asks if you like Mediterranean food, and when you respond with a yes he says there's a restaurant north of London they’d like to take you to on Wednesday.

They both text you in the evenings, in the groupchat that Johnny started, always to wish you luck with your shows. The first night you’d gotten the text you had been a bit startled. You hadn’t told them about your schedule in great detail. They must have looked up the show dates on the venue’s website, then. You always thank them, but tonight your fingers hover over the little blue ‘send’ arrow, lower lip pulled between your teeth.

“What’s on your phone that's got you chewin’ your lip like that?” Delaney leans against the doorway of your green room and pushes off to come look over your shoulder. She whistles long and low, taking in the picture you can’t decide if you should send or not.

“Johnny and Simon? Lucky lads.”

You bite down harder and hiss when you break through the fragile skin. “It’s not too much?”

“No risk, no reward.” She waggles her brows at you through the mirror and comes around to lean on the vanity. “These the guys from the bar?”

“They actually came to the show that night. Asked me to meet with them afterwards.”

“And?” She leans forward, hands braced beside her on the table, and studies the slope of your brows, the aversion of your gaze. “Did ya take ‘em upstairs?”

“What?! No- well, yes, but not like that.” Her eyes crinkle when she laughs, amused by your haste to clarify.

“Real pair of gentlemen you’ve found for yourself. Walked ya home and didn’t even come inside? You should really send that picture. I think they’ve earned it.”

“They haven’t earned anything. They’re just… nice. It might be a rare quality these days but it’s still the bare minimum,” you remind her.

“Still. Send the damn picture. Let ‘em see what they get when they put in the work, yeah?” With a squeeze to your shoulder she hops off the vanity and flutters out of the room, every bit the dancer she is on light and quick feet.

She has a point. They’ve been nothing if not gentlemen. Johnny can get a little flirty, but it’s never gone past the pet names and polite compliments–aside from the shirtless selfie he’d sent you from the gym. You wouldn’t mind receiving more of those. With ten minutes to curtains up you finally make up your mind and send the photo, tossing your phone onto the vanity like it’s a hot coal and hurrying off to backstage.

Simon very nearly chokes on the bourbon he’s been nursing when he opens your message, almost drops the crystal tumbler when he sees the picture you’ve sent in response to their well wishes on your performance tonight.

“Fuckin’ hell… Johnny!” His voice carries through their shared flat. “You opened the group chat?” Johnny pokes his head around the corner, peering into the den where Simon sits in his oversized armchair with a book open on his knee, cheeks flushed and knuckles blanched where they curl around his phone.

“No. ‘M thinkin’ I should, though.” He rounds the corner fully, stalks over to Simon and leans over his shoulder to peer down at his phone. His fingers curl, leather arms of the chair creaking under his grip, and he exhales sharply as he takes in your latest message. “Christ, look at ‘er… Wee thing’s gettin’ needy, huh?” Simon hums in answer, shifts his weight in his seat and sets his book aside to let his legs fall open a bit wider. “Dinnae think I can wait ‘till Wednesday.”

“‘S only two days from now.”

“Och, but look at ‘er Si. Ye know she’s gagging’ f’r it. F’r us. We can-”

“Johnny.” He quiets at his tone, whines low and lets his head droop, forehead pressed to Simon’s shoulder. “Gotta do this slow, pup. Do it the right way, or you’ll scare ‘er off. Understand?” Johnny sighs deeply, shoulders sagging forward as he buries his face against Simon’s neck.

“Aye, Ah ken.”

Wednesday comes faster than you could have anticipated. You aren’t due to meet with Simon and Johnny until later in the day so you’d set up a few showings with a rental agent for this morning. It’s an odd thing, seeing your face plastered to billboards, benches and train cars all over the city as you make your way to the west side of town. The company and network must have spent a fair chunk of change on all the advertising. It feels like everywhere you look your own face is staring back at you from behind the feathered mask of the company’s campaign or the apex of a wing from the shoot with BBC.

When you arrive at the first flat in Westminster, an Edwardian era townhome with a terrace on the first floor, the agent seems a bit nervous, if not eager to please. She’s spent the first five minutes fawning over you before taking you inside, telling you how she’s seen your interview and is planning to see the show this weekend. It’s flattering, of course, but something you’re wholly unused to; being the face of the show, the company, being recognized by strangers.

The rest of the showing goes as expected, all of the home's amenities showcased and staged in a more transitional style compared to the exterior, and the young woman chiming in with tidbits about the property and location as you go from room to room. It’s nice enough. Good location. But you’ve never been one to make a decision without exploring your options.

She takes you to two more flats that you’d requested to see, one in Belgravia and the other on the far west side of Westminster, closer to Kensington. Then she starts telling you about a fourth flat, one you don’t remember requesting. Apparently it’s a little further from the studio and the theater but it’s close to the train station and near the major highways that branch out from the city. A little bit longer of a commute but the terms of the rental are much more economical compared to the first three, or so she says.

There’s still plenty of time before dinner. No harm in seeing one more today.

Despite your initial confusion you agree, let her drive you a little further from central London. North Kensington, she tells you as you pull off the highway into the suburban area, streets lined with quaint shops and cozy townhomes built in various pre and post war styles. An amalgamation of several centuries of history and culture, immortalized in hewn stone, stucco and sleek glass.

The flat itself is situated on a residential block, a row of shops and restaurants just one block over. Its exterior echoes the Edwardian homes with terraces and masonry popular in London and the Neoclassical style making a resurgence in some of the newer homes with clean lines and arched windows. Outside on the street there are far fewer cars that go by here, less noise in comparison to the busy streets of the city center, and neighbors wave instead of rushing by one another, no heads buried in phones or avoidant gazes as they amble along the pavement.

The interior has the same calm but intentional feel. Open concept, styled tastefully, more than enough natural light pouring in from gorgeous arched windows; plenty of space to live comfortably. And the agent is certainly right, the lower monthly rate makes up for a marginally longer commute, which isn’t even that bad considering there’s a train station about 3 blocks over that will take you straight to the theater, and changing lines will get you to the studio.

“I really like it. It certainly checks all the boxes, but I’m a little hesitant about the price… Why is it so much lower in this area?”

“Oh! The couple that owns it just doesn’t get much use out of it. They’re out of the country for work most of the year and this is a secondary residence.”

So rich and busy jet setting they have a whole second home they don’t even use. Must be nice.

“The primary is in Manchester, or somewhere in that area if I remember correctly, and they only use this place when they’re in London, which isn’t often. They don’t want to sell so they rent the space out on a yearly basis. And they own it outright so you’re only paying for the cost of utilities and property taxes!”

Ok, so they’re well off but they aren’t greedy, at least.

It sounds fair enough—on the surface.

“And when they are in London? Are the tenants expected to host them?” Too many horror stories from friends living in the states to not consider it a possibility.

“I don’t believe so...” She gives you an odd look, as if the idea of it offends even her. “If you’re interested I can send over a copy of the contract for you to look through before we move ahead with any other properties?”

There must be something about this place that’s too good to be true. It’s just… too convenient. You hadn’t even seen this one on the list of flats she had sent you to comb through, had only requested to see three properties today. But here you are, standing in a damn near perfect flat, with seemingly reasonable leasing terms.

“Go ahead and send over the contract. I’ll take a look at it and we can go from there.”

Your phone vibrates on the bathroom counter beside you, a notification with Johnny’s name on it popping up as you swipe concealer under your eyes.

Johnny > We should be there in 30

A few seconds pass and it vibrates again.

Simon > On our way to you, dove

The smile that curls on your lips comes unbidden. Thirty minutes feels like an eternity as you finish readying yourself for dinner, the minutes stretching endlessly between adjustments to your hair and fussing over your clothing until a knock on your door echoes through the room. Simon and Johnny stand outside, the latter leant casually against the wall beside the door.

“You should have texted, I would have met you in the lobby.” Your eyes dart between the two of them, still too busy registering the fact that they’d come all the way up to get you to notice the little bouquet of flowers peeking out from behind Johnny.

“Didnae feel right. ‘Sides, we wanted to give ye these.” He presents you with the bouquet, mouth curved upwards in a bashful smile. “Figured since we couldnae give ‘em to ye on opening night we could make up f’r it tonight.” You take the arrangement from Johnny, turning it this way and that to admire and take in the fragrant floral notes.

“They’re beautiful, thank you. Let me put them in the vase on the table and then we can go.”

Simon drives, you in the front beside him and Johnny in the rear. He seems intent on testing the limits of his seatbelt, practically at the edge of his seat to lean forward and brace his arms on the console between you and Simon. They ask about your week as you go, how rehearsals are and how you feel about the show, ask how long it’ll run before you start preparing for the next production and if you’ll go on another tour soon. You ask them about their week, if they’ll be traveling somewhere soon for work, but Johnny deflects, says their work is too boring a topic when they’re with you, and instead asks about the countries you’ve visited on tour.

Further from the city it’s easier to see how the tall glass buildings reach up to touch the clouds, illuminated by city lights and casting the London skyline in a hazy glow. Johnny talks about how it reminds him of the buildings in Chicago and you watch out the window as it disappears behind a row of townhouses when Simon turns down the next street, lined with quaint shops and restaurants. He parks outside a cafe with an outdoor patio, illuminated by lamplight and a canopy of string lights that’s been shuttered for the winter season, but the lights and the colorful glass of the lamps make it look warm and vibrant.

Johnny wastes little time extracting himself from the backseat and opening your door for you, holding out a hand and ensuring he remains between you and any passing traffic as he leads you around the car to where Simon waits for you both. He keeps hold of your hand as you step up onto the pavement, adamant about keeping you in one piece and avoiding any sprained ankles, though you don’t have the heart to tell him it’s unnecessary. It’s sweet, and for once you’d like to indulge in the attentiveness they offer you.

“Have ye been to this part of the city before?” he asks as Simon fills the empty space beside you, hand resting on the small of your back and guiding the three of you towards the doors adjacent to the patio.

“No, I haven’t really had the chance to see much besides Tower Bridge and the Abbey; always busy with rehearsals and shows, ya know?” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“‘S all tourist traps, bonnie. Dinnae waste yer time on that shite.” Simon huffs beside you, a beleaguered sigh indicative of his disagreement.

“Then what should I be spending my precious down time doing?”

“Us, of course, but we’ll work ye up to that. Better to start ye off slow with the culture, aye Simon?” If his hand wasn’t still lingering on your back, guiding you through the door he’s holding open for you and Johnny, you’d have gone utterly still at his suggestion. Would have turned to a mortified statue in the middle of the pavement at the forthright suggestion.

“You have a different definition of ‘culture’ than most, Johnny,” is all he offers as he ushers the two of you inside, herding you towards a table at the back of the dining room and seeing to it that you're settled before either of them seat themselves beside you. Where Simon keeps a respectful distance Johnny is as close as he can possibly be, arm slung over the back of your chair and leg pressed up against yours.

“Maybe so, but it‘s all about the immersion.” He throws a wink across the table to Simon as he leans closer, dipping his chin to murmur just low enough for only the two of you to hear, “Dinnae worry, sweet girl, we’ll show ye where the real fun’s at.”

Adagio>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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clubdionysus · 2 months

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[BAD DECISION #59] Betting Against Yeonjun

warnings: there's a section towards the start where I was really going thru it with my adoration for jk lmao bingo if you spot it!!!, seokjin, byeol at her best!!, jungkook also at his best!!!!, mmm I luv our starluvrs <3, conversations re: the first night they met waaaa, okay phew where to start: smut, jungkook's phone gallery is a hotbed of sin (recording), semi-public (club booths), bratty b, dominant koo, a lil degradation, (he says something that would piss me off (b is a better woman than I!! (but she gets her own back!!))), oral (m), lots of lovely words, a little titty worship <3, b on top (yeehaw), creampie, cum eating, oral (f), jimin + nabi!!!!!

a/n: this was the final chapter on wattpad before bd got taken down :( it's very bittersweet. also makes me suuuuuper aware of how few updates we've had since (1.... we have had 1 update (wattpad really knocked the wind from my sails, and if you've been keeping up with me outside of bd, you'll know how crazy busy I've been (the plus side is that I'm so nearly freeee to write to my hearts content for a couple of weeks! <3)))

wc: 10.5K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

While Jeongguk has always looked good behind the bar of Dionysus, you can't help but think he looks so much better in the middle of a tight-knit crowd, with an arm looped around your waist and a drink in his hand.

Under the cosmic lights of Dionysus, there's a glisten to his lips—alcohol yet to be licked away—and the sheen of sweat on his skin. Hair dark and dishevelled, his fringe tickles at his brows. You don't push it out of his face, 'cause it'll just fall back into position as soon as he moves to the beat of the music.

With a smile on his face, Jeongguk turns to his friends. Chants the lyrics to some song that soundtracked the summers of their youth. Is rowdy and careless in how he jumps around, but not once does he ever loosen his grip on you.

You're all in your finest—the boys in suits, and girls in cocktail dresses. While Nabi is in a deep navy satin number, Danbi has gone for black. Seoyeon opted for an early night, her and Yoongi heading home when the rest of you made your way to the bar.

In the dress picked out for you by Jeongguk all those weeks ago, you're far too overdressed for a bar like this—but you're also under the influence of far too much alcohol.

You know this is one of those golden moments; the nights you won't remember but will have stories to tell about it in years to come. Folklore. Whispers of Aurelian affairs weaved into your subconscious.

History has been made tonight. Not the kind that'll be read about in textbooks, but the kind that grandkids will be told a dozen times over—in a home that's covered in tiny specks of shimmer, while the scent of samgyeopsal waltzes from the kitchen to the courtyard.

So, no, Jeongguk doesn't loosen his grip, and he doesn't think he ever will.

You ignore just how many drinks have been knocked against you, and have also long forgotten the annoyance of sticky liquor on your feet. It's nothing a shower won't fix. Knowing the man beside you as intimately as you do, you're almost positive it's where you'll end up in a few hours, anyway.

Thoughts of you and him doing as you so often do have you wishing you were home already. Tonight is for celebrating, though—and oh, how lovely it is to have an excuse to celebrate Jeon Jeongguk.

Venus herself would've had a hard time crafting him, you think. Carved from marble and yet soft as the silky words he likes to wrap you up in, he's unlike anything of this earth.

For all of his thoughts about you, and the cosmos, and how he's certain 'Milky Way' is written where a location should be on your birth certificate, you've had just as many deliberations.

He says he was born in Busan, but men like him don't just come to be as a result of random genetics. He's forged of gold. Perfection in the form of a mere mortal man.

But then he's shouting something to Jimin over the sound of the music, and he stutters a little. Repeats himself with a goofy little grin, unphased by his innate imperfections, and it only serves to make your heart swell.

Jeongguk isn't perfect. He's capable of making mistakes and saying the wrong things. He wears toe-separating socks more often than you care to acknowledge, and sometimes he can be a little stroppy for no reason.

The pout always eases, though, and he derives such joy from those stupid socks that you can't ever bring yourself to tell him how ridiculous they are.

Perfection isn't measured in traits. It's measured in perception.

And you've never perceived a human more perfect for you than Jeon Jeongguk.

Anyone who looks your way would agree—or maybe they'd just see the way you're looking at him, all dewy-eyed and fawn-like, and know that there must be a little magic between you both.

When he turns his attention back to you and realises just how much adoration is glittering your eyes, he does the only thing he can do: tightens the arm he has around your waist and press the sweetest of kisses into your lips.

"Get a room!"

"Disgusting!"

"PDA! Gross!"

The noise that erupts for your friends is nothing short of embarrassing, even if it is obscured by the thudding base of the club speakers.

None of them really mean it. All have smiles on their faces. Are laughing.

Even if they weren't, they'd far rather you and Jeongguk were insufferably sweet, instead of still pretending like you aren't crazy about one another. You ignore them all anyway. Pout when he pulls away from the kiss. Get him back on your lips just as quickly as he left them.

Jeongguk's lips curve into a smile as he sinks his lips into yours and revels in the way it feels.

In the middle of a bar he could call home, surrounded by people he adores, Jeongguk's got you .

Has caught a shooting star, and is gloating just because he can.

"Fuck, I love you," he mumbles into your lips barely loud enough for you to hear, yet your arms wrap around his neck because you know exactly what he said. Kiss him back with a smile just as insufferable as his.

"Yeah?" You giggle.

Your friends have stopped caring—or at least, they've stopped teasing you. Are just letting you be. Suits Jeongguk fine. Just gives him the green light to tighten his arm around your back and lift you ever so slightly.

"You know I do."

Jeongguk loves without condition. Doesn't need to hear you say it back, not when he knows how you feel.

And yet you indulge him regardless.

"I love you, too," you tell him, and then can't help but giggle at how stupid it all feels. He puts you back on your feet. Press a kiss to your forehead, and then urges you back into the group. Shaking your head, you pull back. "Just gonna get another drink."

"I'll come with."

"Stay," you insist, squeezing his hand as you pull his grip away from your hand. He should be with his friends, you think. Plus you'll order him a drink, too. Won't put it on his tab, 'cause you know damn well that bar tab his friends love so much will no doubt migrate to his restaurant. Still, you make sure to call back, "Will only be a minute, babe!"

You know it'll pacify him for a moment or so, and you also just wanna indulge in the simple pleasure of watching his lip ring do the thing. You'll never grow tired of it. Two birds, one pathetically pretty heart-shaped stone.

You lose yourself in the crowd. Know this place like the back of your hands. Doesn't take you long to find yourself by the bar with an incredibly sober Yeonjun raising his brows in your direction.

He saw you coming. Already has a few empty shot glasses lined up on the tray ready to make you starfuckers.

Rolling your eyes, you're about to say something that'd feel far wittier in your drunk mind than would be in reality when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

Instantly, you flinch away.

The hand isn't cold nor is it aggressive; it's just not Jeongguk's. You knew without hesitation. Eyes flicking over to the mirrored backsplash of the bar, you briefly catch Yeonjun's unimpressed gaze.

He doesn't know the man who's taken the spot beside you, but he knows the man is far closer than a stranger should be.

He's strapping. Incredibly good looking. Broad shoulders, hair slicked back. Is put together in a way that men in Dionysus rarely are.

"Water?" Yeonjun offers you, 'cause no matter how much he likes to wind Jeongguk up, he's grown into a good man. Has a lot to thank Jeongguk for. His care for drunk punters, and making sure they're okay, is one of those things.

Yeonjun also knows Jeongguk would pluck every single cerulean hair from his head if he were ever to let anything happen to a single hair on yours.

"Yeah," you nod, edging away from the man beside you.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The man closes the space you created.

"You were in your element tonight," he says, looking down towards you. "Could be making a name for yourself instead of doing some kid's hard work for him."

When your eyes flicker up at him, they're sharp. Pointed. Daggers where daisies once were. Edging away again, you create a distance that isn't so easily closed this time.

"And you could piss off, Seokjin."

"Oh," he hums with the kind of smirk that would have sent you reeling once upon time. Just makes your stomach churn, now. "Full name? Am I in trouble?"

"I'd have to actually give a shit about you for you to be in trouble," you tell him, and are kind of surprised by how little you feel. You're not even angry. You're bored. A little irritated. Mostly indifferent. "And quite frankly the way you've been behaving recently has just confirmed everything I already knew about you. If you could stop interfering with my life, I'd really appreciate it."

"Interfering?" He half snorts, taking a swig on his drink. "You're the one who invited practically my entire department to your little boyfriend's fundraiser."

"I invited their wallets," you correct him, before turning back to Yeonjun. "The usual, please. Four."

He doesn't need to clarify what you're after. He knows the drill. Gets cracking on the starfuckers.

"Icy," Seokjin continues to tease. There's an arrogance to him. Curiosity, too.

You're not the woman who used to cry in his shower and beg him to stay. Your hair is longer, and your wardrobe is less refined. The role you played to be favoured by him is long-forgotten about now.

Stars don't belong in boxes. They'll just burn out. He never got the luxury to see you shine as brightly as you could, and now that he is, he thinks he likes it.

"There's a reason why you kept coming back, or have you forgotten?" He says with a kind of sleaziness you never before attributed to him. When you come to think about it, you realise that maybe you should have. "Need reminding?"

"No. What I really need is for you to gain a little bit of that decorum you like to pretend you have, and then I need you to stop embarrassing yourself," you assure him as you pull your phone from the small clutch bag you've been carrying with you. Flicking open your message thread with Jeongguk, you manage to put together a very tipsy string of messages that tell him to come to the bar. "You're beating a dead horse."

"If that were true, you wouldn't be talking to me right now," he smirks. "And if anything, I'm the horse in this equation, given how much I know you like rid—"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You snap, frankly taken aback by his vulgarity.

If there's one thing Seokjin always was when he was with you, it was respectful. Not to you, or your feelings, but to other people's perception of him. For him to be stooping to such a level just to get a rise out of you means one of two things: the insidious 'boys club' nature of his workplace has corrupted him, or that he thinks so little of you that he believes this is what'd make you fold.

"We ended well over a year ago, and you didn't even want to be in that relationship for just as long! Christ alive. You never had trouble getting laid when we were together. Find some other poor woman to bother—or better yet, just go home. Save everyone's sanity."

Seokjin shrugs. Casts his dark eyes down your glitter-speckled body. Smirks. "You know I always want what I can't have."

You're unattainable. Out of his reach. Belong to skies, when his feet are cemented into the sidewalk.

It's not why he's here, though.

You know him too intimately to understand how his brain works.

Kim Seokjin will never be the man he pretends to be. Will always be the lackey of some CEO. Will never quite own a penthouse, even though he'll probably land somewhere a few floors below. His full-potential will never be reached because he doesn't know how to apply himself in a way that isn't intended on bringing other people down.

He won't climb ladders; he'll just drag people beneath his feet to make himself feel taller. Goes through life as if he's wearing Cuban heels, and steps on the toes of anyone who threatens to achieve more than him.

When you were together, he didn't cheat for the forbidden romance of it all, or anything borne in innate human desires. He didn't do it because he particularly liked other women, or because you weren't satisfactory enough. Quite the opposite.

He cheated for the gratification of coming back to you. He'd hold your body with hands that had been covered in the evidence of someone else; tarnish you and leave himself squeaky clean. Was a power trip. An ego stroker.

It's what's fuelling him right now, you think. The way he knows your body and how his hands used to stroke up the curve of your waist. The eroticism of it all. Thoughts like that used to make you shudder. Now, they make you want to dry-heave.

He knows his hands have been replaced with Jeongguk's lips; that your skin is golden where it once was void of anything but markers of Seokjin.

You went to Jeongguk's apartment once after Seokjin had left those very markers on your throat. They were invisible, but you could feel them. His hands, his lips. How tender he'd been with your skin no matter how rough he had been with your heart.

Jeongguk had crafted you a nest out of every single pillow in his home that night. It was almost like he knew birds would play a pivotal role in the both of your lives. Was giving them— you —a safe place to hatch. To bloom. To shine.

Seokjin doesn't want you.

He just wants Jeongguk to be beneath him.

If that means also getting you beneath him in a more literal sense of the word, then so be it.

But as Jeongguk comes to stand in the space between you both, nodding towards Yeonjun with all the nonchalance he can afford, you know that nobody else will ever have you like he does.

Picking up one of the starfuckers, Jeongguk shoots it back. Picks up a second. Looks to you. Softly wraps his hand around your throat and strokes his thumb up towards your earlobe. Holds the shot to your lips. Waits for you to tip your head back ever so gently—and when you do, he slowly pours the liquor into your mouth for you.

Not once does he take his eyes off yours. Not even when you close them to swallow down the familiar sensation of what it feels like to be in love with him. Just naturally happens whenever you drink a starfucker. Always has done.

"Missed you," he tenderly says, as if it hasn't been a matter of minutes.

When he's holding you like this, his strong hand commanding the angle at which you can look at him, you're without any autonomy. You're his, his, his. The presence of a man you barely even remember being with fades into nothingness behind Jeongguk.

An incredibly love-drunk smile finds its way back to your lips. Jeongguk smiles, too, letting the hand holding your neck ease so that his arm can wrap over your shoulders, as yours does the same around his back. Hooked onto one another, physically as much as you are emotionally, there's a unified front to your partnership.

"These ours?" He asks, nodding towards the remaining starfuckers. You nod. Say nothing, 'cause you don't need to. Just squeeze his waist even tighter. Jeongguk glances up to Yeonjun. "Tab? Four more, and two lemonades."

"Right you are, boss," Yeonjun nods, and gets to work.

"Cheers," Jeongguk thanks him, then picks up one of the starfuckers. Turns ever so slightly, but not enough to loosen his grip on you. Smiles in Seokjin's direction. "Want one? They're good. Practically made her fall in love with me, though, so be careful. You might get a crush on me, too."

"Think I'd be fine," Seokjin scoffs back. "I don't tend to fall for charity cases that can only get girls who feel sorry for them."

"You'd be surprised by how much a starfucker could change your tastes," Jeongguk entertains him. "Take B for example. Used to date limp dick losers who couldn't get her off—"

"Gguk!"

"—One starfucker was all it took, and now it's a seven days a week occurrence. Ain't that a beautiful thing?"

Seokjin grates his jaw. Tries not to let it show. Fails.

"So you have to get her drunk to fuck her?" He sneers.

"Nah," Jeongguk laughs a little at such an absurd suggestion. "Just like I wouldn't need to be drunk to tell you to back off."

"Can she not talk for herself?"

He knows damn well you're able to speak for yourself — he just chooses to disregard everything you say.

"Can you not take a hint? You're not welcome," Jeongguk snaps, before swigging down the shot he had offered Seokjin. Is a little aggressive in how he tosses down the plastic shot glass. "Get fucked—by yourself, that is. My girlfriend isn't included in that suggestion."

"I think—"

"Seokjin," you finally sigh, voice laced with contempt. Shaking your head, you really don't know what more you can say to really drive it home. He never cared this much when you were together. "You're embarrassing yourself. Go home. Find a new bar. I don't care. Yes, I used your connections to get more money to the auction, and no, I'm not sorry. Use the money you saved from losing the bid to get a therapist, or a hooker, or anything that'll help you be a little less insufferable. Maybe an STD check, while you're at it."

He could make a crude remark about how he always wore condoms whenever he cheated.

You know this to be true, 'cause you know you tasted the latex on him once. Thinking about it doesn't hurt like it used to. Annoys you more than anything.

Instead, Seokjin concedes. Can feel the eyes of the bartender searing into him. Knows that you're right; he is embarrassing himself.

That was one thing he could never fault you for. You were always right. Each and every time you called him out on his bullshit, you were right to do so.

"You know where to find me whenever you're done fixing whatever's broken with him," Seokjin simply shrugs. Knows you have a complex. That you tried to 'fix' him, too.

"Fixed it already," Jeongguk says, 'cause he isn't letting Seokjin have the last word. "Seriously, man. You lost. Not because I won, but because you were never worthy of winning in the first place. Stay away or don't, but this is always what you're gonna be greeted with. Always."

Seokjin doesn't look at you. He stares Jeongguk out, instead. Smirks, as if he thinks Jeongguk is an idiot, but lets the ambiguity of any words he could speak linger in the air. Decides it will be a little more torment if he leaves you both wondering what he could have said instead.

He just doesn't realise that neither of you could care any less than you already do.

At this point, he's just like an annoying mosquito buzzing around. With any hope, he'll find another blood source he enjoys more and become an irritating presence for someone else instead.

"Christ," Jeongguk mutters, shaking his head when Seokjin finally retreats. Squeezes you tighter and presses a kiss to your cheek, before pulling the fresh drinks made by Yeonjun closer to your side of the bar. "He's fuckin' insufferable, B. The fuck did you ever see in him?"

Jeongguk pours the starfuckers into the lemonades, turning it into a makeshift version of a starlover. It'll do the job, and was easier to order than it would have been to explain the process to Yeonjun in the middle of a busy shift.

"Before we get into that—" you take the drink offered to you by Jeongguk, sipping a little down " —Seven days a week? Really?"

"Oh, c'mon," Jeongguk grins, as he begins to lead you both away from the bar. "You can't be annoyed with me! He was being a tool!"

The door that leads up to the private booths is closed today—none were booked out, and it saves the clean down time if that entire section stays off limits to punters.

Elevated above the dancefloor, the booths are in the balcony section that wraps around the room. People in the booths can see down to the dancefloor below, but you'd be hard pressed trying to look up into the booths from the dancefloor. They offer a little anonymity. Privacy.

It's why Jeongguk stuck Jiyeong and her friends up there on New Years Eve—purely so that he wouldn't have to deal with them.

Jeongguk isn't just any punter, though. He's the one who installed the door to make his life a little bit easier by keeping drunk stragglers out of the booths. Knows the code, 'cause it's just his birthday backwards.

And right now, he wants a little privacy with you.

"You didn't have to be one back!" You reprimand him as he punches in the code for the door, but you're smiling, too. It's not like you actually gave a shit. If anything, it was kind of hot watching him brag so arrogantly.

"I did," he assures you, quickly encouraging you through the door so as to not draw any attention to yourselves. Taps your ass just 'cause he can. Squeeze, again, just 'cause he can. "Didn't want the old man thinking I was a little virgin."

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him away as you begin to head up the stairs. He's right behind you. Is squeezing your ass again as soon as he can be. "No one is ever gonna look at you and think that."

"Oh, yeah?" Jeongguk flirts. "So when we first met, you thought I was some sort of sexed-up fuck boy, huh?"

"No," you innocently offer, stepping up into one of the booths, and sinking down into one of the plush sofas that run along the back wall. "But I did wish you hadn't been behind the bar so I could find out for myself."

Jeongguk puts his drink on the table in front of the booth sofas, then comes and plonks himself right down next to you. Is practically on your lap. Doesn't care. Is like a fully-grown dog who doesn't realise he's not a puppy anymore.

You just let him. Personal space is null and void.

"Oh? So you went home with Jimin 'cause I turned you on?" He nods to himself. Smirks. Looks incredibly pleased with himself. "Nice."

"Shut up," you laugh, a little scandalised that he's mentioning it so carelessly.

Jeongguk's got half a dozen starfuckers in his system, and does not care for tact. In fact, if he had it his way, he'd set the world to rights. Would make that ancient wish of yours come true, now that he isn't behind the bar.

You set about neatly arranging his hair as he steals your drink from your hand to take a sip.

"You were so pretty," he quietly says. Wraps his hand around your wrist to stop you from preening. Pulls your knuckles to his lips and presses a tender kiss against them. It comes naturally, being like this. "Still are. But that first night... Fuck. Spent my whole shift watching out for you. Was gutted when I got home and you were there."

It was so long ago now that it's almost hard to believe Jeongguk remembers it as clearly as he thinks he does.

"Looking for somewhere to charge your phone," he laughs softly, shaking his head, as he recounts the memories. "Just for you to end up forgetting it. What will we do with you, hey? Silly, pretty baby."

Your face scrunches up at his recollection of the details. Had you never gone home with Jimin, then perhaps you'd have never ended up here—but you kind of wish it had never happened. Wish that you'd stayed by the bar all night. That you'd have had the water Jeongguk gave you. That you'd have sobered up by the time he finished his shift, and asked if he wanted to walk you home.

The 'you' of present day is not the you that shot through the bar that night with reckless abandon for who got blinded by your shine. You wouldn't have stayed, if you'd have gone home with Jeongguk. Or wouldn't have asked him to stay. Would have fucked him and never spoken to him again.

Or maybe you wouldn't have. Who knows?

"Sorry it was all so... messy," you offer a little sheepishly.

Bad decisions were made by you both—but stars can only form when dust clouds collapse. You needed to break a little before you could become who you were meant to be.

Jeongguk shakes his head.

"Messy can be good," he promises, then adjusts you both. Pulls you across his lap. With a leg either side of his, you let your nose find its home next to his. Smile as his hands stroke up your back.

"Yeah?" You whisper against his lips.

"Mhmm," he mumbles, letting his lips sink into yours for a moment, before adding, "Got a canvas we made together that proves it."

The curve of your lips as you press into the kiss can be felt by him. Just gets him smiling, too. As his lip ring presses into your plump bottom lip, part of you wishes you were back in those damn busan photobooths. Want to see what it looks like. How you move together.

Slowly, he encourages your hips to languidly grind. Keeps the momentum slow, you both ignore the chaos of the club that echoes around you. He controls you with a hand on your waist, the other resting on your bare thigh.

The dress you're in—the one he chose—is everything he could ever want and more from an outfit on your body. It sparkles like the Han river under Banpo bridge during the evening light show, and clings to your body like droplets of water slowly sinking down an ice sculpture. Provides him with easy access, yet leaves his imagination free to go wild.

He knows your body well enough, now though. Knows the underwear you're wearing. Is impatient. Wants to push them to the side and get his hard cock buried in your tight walls.

Good things come to those who wait, though, and Jeongguk is more than willing to be a good boy for you.

Hidden in the darkness of the club, the thudding music is no match for the beat of your hearts. Lights splash you in colour every so often, but for the most part, you revel in your obscured entanglement.

His tongue slips into your mouth, and your hands tangle in his hair, deepening the kiss. You can feel how hard he is beneath you as you grind on his lap. It'd be easy, you think, to fuck him right now.

Jeongguk is right—good things do come to those who wait.

And he's been such a good boy.

You let your lips trail down to his throat. Latch on to his sweet spot just beneath his ear. Suck. Graze your teeth. Do the same to his earlobe, and feel his grip tighten. A moan vibrates in his throat.

Lips brushing against his ear, you whisper, "Phone."

Though your tone is soft, Jeongguk knows it's a command. Digs into his back pocket, keeping you firmly in place. The movement just has his thick bulge pressing even deeper against you, as his grip on your waist gets tighter.

It has you smiling; giddy with how glorious it is to have a man of such calibre so greedy for you.

It's not like it isn't reciprocal. Never before have you ever been so feral for a partner; so risky in your need to have them experiencing bliss because of you. Before Jeongguk, sex always served a purpose. Was never just sex for the sake of sex. There were deep-rooted issues and insecurities you were trying to fix.

But you're secure, now; in his grip, his hands, his heart. You don't have any ulterior motive for the things you do other than an innate need to make Jeongguk come undone. His buttons, his belts, his primal need to make you his; you'll undo them all.

Flicking open his camera, you stay in his lap as you reach across the sofa and rest the phone up against the wall that separates it from the next booth over. Tap on the little red record button. Though the lighting isn't entirely clear, enough bleeds in from the LED screens behind the DJ to clearly show the pair of you. Once his camera settings adjust to low light, you may as well have the main lights turned on.

Jeongguk raises a brow, tilting his head with sweet, puppy-like confusion.

"We're drunk," you tell him, as if either of you need any liquor to behave like animals. "Wanna make sure you remember this in the morning."

Jeongguk's hips push upwards as his hands on your waist keep you tight against his lap. "You think I ever forget fucking you?"

"Who said anything about fucking?" You tease with a smirk, biting down on your bottom lip.

He groans.

"If you blue ball me again, I'll die," he tells you. Flails a little. Leans back against the booth. Pouts. Wait for you to lean closer and deliver a pretty little kiss to make him feel better.

"We can't fuck here," you tell him with complete certainty, as if that's not exactly what you're hoping for. "Anyone could see us."

No one would be able to see you in this position, and you damn well know it, but it still feels incredibly exposed. You're a few metres from your friends and hundreds of other random club-goers. If you were to peep over the balcony railings, your hiding spot would be revealed.

"So?" Jeongguk smirks. "Everyone knows we fuck. Bet you they've imagined it. And you know how pretty you are when you cum? Everyone deserves to see that at least once in their life, B."

"We're gonna end up at an orgy one day, aren't we?" You tease him for his sheer unrelenting need to show you off.

He shakes his head. "Fuck no. Ain't no way anyone else is ever gonna touch you."

"No?"

"No," he tells you, stroking his hand up your chest and tightening his grip around the base of your throat. "You only cum for me."

It's a statement just as much as it is a command.

The thoughts are in Jeongguk's head now, though. You, and those cosmic calamities you call your eyes, and how they'd stare him out as someone else fucked you. The feeling gets under his skin and pollutes his heart. Pumps sulphur into his veins. Turns his blood green.

"Say it," he grits, as his hands move down to cup your chest. "Tell me who you cum for."

Yanking down the material of the top of your dress, Jeongguk wastes no time. Repeats a similar action with the cups of your bra. Gets your chest exposed.

If either of you were to look at his phone screen, you'd find your silhouettes look like fuckin' sin—but all you can focus on is him.

His lips latch around one of your nipples, harshly sucking your tit into his mouth. His hand massages at the other, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and finger. Head tipping back, you continue grinding against him. Don't give him an answer 'cause it feels too good to focus on anything else but the sensation of him.

You indulge in the sheer volume of the club speakers. Moan without reservation. Gasp as he pulls away and delivers a sharp spank to your tit, before latching onto your other nipple.

The way your hips grind even deeper against him is testament to how badly you want him; the wetness seeping through your underwear and onto his trousers.

He grazes his teeth against your nipple. Makes you shudder. Licks. Kisses. Sucks again, then pulls away with an oh-so-satisfying pop. Holding your chest with his hands, Jeongguk is stern as he repeats: "Tell me who you cum for."

You could do it. Could say him. Could do as he asks.

Thing is, you don't think he really wants that.

You think he wants to be mean.

And you know you want him to be mean.

With a small shrug, you widen your eyes. Feign innocence. Like butter wouldn't melt, you suppose, "Anyone who touches me right."

He scoffs.

There's a look in Jeongguk's eyes that promises you that he'll get you leant against that damn balcony while he fucks you just to prove a point—not only to you, but to any fucker who thinks they could ever make you feel the way he does.

"Word?" He grits.

"Chess," you say without hesitation.

It's the green light he needs, but still he tells you, "Gonna be mean."

As much as he enjoys playing the roles of a person he's not when he fucks you, he also never wants you to ever take it to heart. Loves you so purely that he'll always do what he can to keep you comfortable.

It's cute.

Also entirely irrelevant right now, 'cause you want him to be mean.

"You're gonna try ," you tease.

Jeongguk scoffs, again. Likes how bratty you can be. Smirks. Knocks his head to the side. Shakes it. Grips your tits a little harder, then spanks one of them and is pleased with how your body jolts.

A wanton moan escapes your lips. Eyes on his, you're Jeongguk's to devour.

"You think anyone else could get you like this, huh?" He grits, dropping a hand to your spread legs. Sinks his hand between his crotch and yours. Is greeted with evidence of your arousal. Strokes his fingers against you. Gathers some of your slick on his fingers, and is ever so pleased when your lips part for him without a word. Sinking his fingers into your wet, wanting mouth, Jeongguk smirks. "Needy little slut."

The vibration of your moan around his fingers just confirms everything Jeongguk already knows.

He laughs. Is arrogant. Cocksure. Obscenely hot. Your brows furrow as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, before he grips the base of your throat again.

"If you aren't gonna use that mouth to give me serious answers, you're gonna use it for something else instead, aren't you?"

Oh, you're eager . Don't need telling twice. Are off his lap and sinking between his legs without even so much as a guided instruction.

"That's it," he husks as you quickly undo his belt. His trousers, too. Tug them down his thighs. Get his Calvins on show, and his furiously hard cock tenting in them. Your lips press kisses against the fabric, tongue wetting his shaft through the cotton. "Stop fuckin' teasing, baby. Suck it."

If there's one thing you know about Jeongguk, it's that he gets whiny when he doesn't get his own way. On your knees, eyes flicking up to his lust-laced features, you're not gonna be a good girl for him just 'cause he wants you to be. You're gonna hold out. Gonna get him whiny. Gonna—

"You know how many girls down there want this cock, huh? How many waste their time at the bar vying for my attention?" Jeongguk arrogantly smirks. Watches the change in your expression. The hardening of your eyes. The power relinquishing from you to him. The sulphur that's transferred. The club lights paint you in green. He licks his lips. Says, "If I want my cock sucked, I can get it sucked. Give me a reason not to."

Back in the early days, you and Jeongguk had been through his message requests together. He'd downplayed it, but you know it's true. Girls practically drool on the Dionysus bar for him.

If he wanted to, he could.

But he wants you.

Only ever wants you.

You're feeling challenged, though. Are petty. Shrug, "You know how many people hit on me by that very bar?"

He does. Has seen it himself. And has also seen how quickly you dismiss it. Never feels threatened.

Your hands work in tandem, one of them pushing up the bottom of his shirt to reveal his toned abs, the other tugging down on his boxers, revealing his cock.

There's something celestial about having Jeongguk like this. Hard and weak at the exact same time. The tip of his cock has the sheen of precum spilling from his slit, and you don't think you've ever seen him this hard. He's needy. Pathetic. Gorgeous.

Your tongue licks a stripe up his shaft, and Jeongguk's eyes close. His hand finds a home in your hair as his gaze lands on you again.

"I could do this for them," you assure him. Though the music is loud, Jeongguk reads your lips. Twitches as your tongue flicks against his slit. Lips pressing a kiss to his tip, you jerk him a little just to remind him of who is in the position of power right now. "Could fuck anyone I want."

Jeongguk smiles at this. Finds it funny. Cute, even.

"You could," he acknowledges. Tightens his grip on your hair. Gets you back in position, your lips wrapping around his cock as he begins to encourage a momentum. "But I'm still the only one who'll make you cum, aren't I? Could slut yourself out, but it's still me you'll be thinking about. Me you'll be wishing you were with. Me who you'll crawl back to 'cause no one else satisfies you."

With every sentence, he fucks his cock deeper into your mouth. Is practically hitting the back of your throat. Getting your eyes all watery—and he knows your pussy is even wetter.

He lets you do the hard work, but makes sure he pushes your head to the right rhythm. Keeps your movements shallow, focused on his tip, now. Is after one thing and one thing only.

Which is why when he starts moaning in a way that you know means he's close, you pull away.

"Fuck," he hisses, almost keeling over in his seat. The look he gives you is one of sheer disbelief.

"What?" You smile as if butter wouldn't melt. Pretend like you didn't realise he was about to spill over. "You wanna cum, or something?"

"You know I—"

"Go get one of your other girls, then."

Dragging you up onto his lap, Jeongguk laughs, clutches the sides of your face with his hands. Nudges his nose against yours. Doesn't care to keep up the pretence anymore, 'cause he's sensing a nerve was struck.

Even if you are just being petulant for the sake of it, he doesn't ever want you to feel like it's a viable option. Says, "You know I don't want anyone else. Stupid."

"S'not what you said," you childishly pout against his lips. You know damn well he didn't mean it. Honestly, hearing him speak with such arrogance was a turn on; the acknowledgement that even though he's desired, you know he's chosen you. "You said—"

"Hey—you said you could fuck anyone down there," he reminds you. Presses a feathery kiss against the tip of your nose. "And you could. I don't want you to, though."

"No?"

"No, Byeol," Jeongguk whispers against your lips now. Lets his hand sink to your underwear. Pushes them to the side. Lines you up against his shaft. Encourages you to rock ever so gently, coating him in everything you are. "Want you forever, B. Just you and me. You want that, hmm? This, forever?"

Jeon Jeongguk has this way of making you feel powerful and pathetic all within the same moment. You want him so badly it hurts. And so you nod. Raise your hips. Line the tip of his cock up with your entrance. Remind him, "No one else makes you feel like I do. They never will."

It's funny, 'cause that's exactly what Jeongguk was wanting to hear from you earlier. If he really wanted, he could be a dick—but you're the one being needy now, and he likes it so much. Adores it, even. You're so cute , he thinks. So he shakes his head. "No one, baby. Just you."

"You're mine," you tell him, then sink down onto his length. Both of you gasp from the sensation. You've been waiting for this; desperate for it. Foreplay is fun, but all Jeongguk ever wants these days is to utterly and completely lose himself in you. This, to him, is Nirvana.

He nods. Lets his eyes close as your walls adjust to his size. He's so big that it should be painful, but there's something about fucking Jeongguk that just works. The fit is snug, but it's perfect. "Yeah, baby. Yours."

Your hips grind ever so gently, the feeling of fullness he gives you hitting just right. Clit rubbing against his neatly trimmed patch of hair above the base of his cock, you're overwhelmed with just how good it feels to give yourself up for him.

As the sensation settles in, he encourages your movements. Gets you bouncing, his hands on your ass to keep control. Presses wet kisses to the base of your throat. Promises, "You're gonna make me cum so hard."

A man of traditions, Jeongguk takes 'ladies first' incredibly seriously. Knows he's been edged so well this evening that he won't last long at all. Needs to make sure you get there before him.

He sits you up straight. Stops your movements. Has you warming his cock as he just kind of stares at you for a moment. Everything else is drowned out around you both; the music, the lights, the fact this is Jeongguk's place of work, the way his phone is still recording you both.

With a hand on your waist, he holds your cheek with the other. Smiles as your eyes close, head sinking into his touch. Is so in love with you it feels like his heart might just explode.

"My pretty girl," he grins, biting down on his bottom lip. Shakes his head as if he can't believe his luck.

Your chest is exposed, pretty purple posies blooming on your skin from his lips. There's a sheen of glitter all over your body, and Jeongguk knows there must be one on his, too. It's getting harder to distinguish the pair of you as the days go by; your orbit growing smaller.

Both of his hands drop your pussy. One spreads your lips, while the other slowly rubs against your clit. Instantly, you tense a little, the pleasure pulsing through you.

"My pretty, needy girl," he corrects himself, and is incredibly pleased when you nod.

As one of your hands wraps around his wrist, you try your hardest to not start fucking him again. Want this feeling to persevere, but also innately want to coax an orgasm out of him. It's human nature. He's building you up. You wanna do the same right back.

Thick and firm inside you, Jeongguk's cock throbs from just how tightly your walls clamp around him when he begins toying with your clit. Head tipping back, the laugh that stutters in Jeongguk's chest has you whining.

"Stop being so hot," he groans. "Gonna make me cum so fuckin' fast."

Admitting this is a mistake, for it just makes you wanna interrupt his plans of making your finish first. Gets your ass bouncing on his map as Jeongguk desperately tries to hold himself back; to regain a little control. It's a fruitless endeavour. The silky warmth of your cunt is too good.

"Fuck," he grits, giving into the feeling. "B—"

His words are cut off by your lips stealing a kiss from him, that he then steals right back. Messy and without any considered thought behind them, your kisses dissolve into frantic, breathless whimpers. Jeongguk can't hold off.

Head knocking back, Jeongguk's grip on your waist tightens. He holds you down in place, his thick shaft filling you entirely. He's bottomed out; fully encased in the woman he loves. It's too fuckin much. His legs shake. Chest shudders.

And then it's happening; thick ropes of cum spurting into your cunt, filling the spaces he can't reach. He just wines. Whimpers. Curses. "Fuck. Cumming. Making me cum so fuckin' hard, babe. Fuck. Oh, fuck, this cunt. So fuckin' perfect."

His praise is met with the sweetest of giggles, which only encourage him to cum even harder . Both endless and over far too soon, Jeongguk cums so deeply inside you it feels like he's losing all the oxygen in his brain; like a trap door has been pulled beneath him and he'll never stop falling.

Lips finding yours once more, he eases his grip on your hips. Encourages slow strokes of your pussy up and down his cock just to ease the final spurts of cum out of him.

With a laugh and an incredibly heavy chest Jeongguk leans back once more. Shakes his head. Can't stop smiling. Nor can you.

When his gaze finally lands on you a moment or so later, he's still grinning as he whines, "I wanted to make you cum first."

As mad as it sounds, making Jeongguk cum is satisfying enough for you.

He would disagree. Thinks the concept of you not cumming is pure insanity. How anyone could have you like this and not strive to make you come undone is criminal. Also knows he can't stay inside you for much longer, 'cause the overstimulation might just kill him off.

Pressing a kiss to your shoulder, Jeongguk leverages his position. Lays you down, your head near his phone, his cock still inside you. Kisses the base of your throat as he reaches up for his phone. It's warm from the battery being drained, but it's still recording. He leans across and stands it up against one of your drinks on the table. Not much is in frame—but enough to capture his soaked cock glistening under the club lights as he pulls out of you.

Jeongguk is impatient. Tucks himself into his boxers and sinks down immediately. Plugs your hole with his fingers, keeping his cum inside you. Latches his lips around your clit. Sucks. Whines. Vibrates. Makes you writhe as your back arches, legs wrapping around his head.

If heaven is a place on earth, Jeongguk knows it must be between your legs.

His tongue strokes against you as his fingers curl. There's little care given to how messy it all is. If anything, it just makes him like it even more. Wants to fuck you all over again, but knows his cock isn't up for it yet, even if he is.

There's a small shudder to your body; a little warning sign that Jeongguk is edging you closer and closer to coming undone. Just a little more and you'll be there.

He withdraws his fingers, and sinks his tongue to your entrance. Gathers his cum on his tongue, then spreads it all over your needy cunt. Lays claim to you in a way that no one ever has before. Spits. Flicks his tongue so rapidly against your clit it's hard to comprehend. Gets you shaking. Shuddering.

And then he's sucking, fingers plugging you once more. Your body writhes, and he holds you in place. Sucks harder. Fingers faster. Shakes his head, still sucking on your clit. Releases your with pop and then delves back in.

You whine his name, but it's obscured by the bass pumping through the speakers. All you can do is focus on him. How he feels. How much he wants you to feel good, and how well he succeeds at it.

The pressure builds like a star about to burst—and then stardust is scattering around you both, your orgasm disrupting the very atmosphere you're orbiting in.

Sparking through you, the sensation of your orgasm almost makes you fucking cry. Your body shakes. Jeongguk doesn't relent. Goes until you're spent, legs jolting, whimpers pathetic.

Overstimulated and overwhelmed, you encourage him up. Get his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth. The taste of his cum intertwined with yours only serves to make you whine even more.

The pair of you are spent and sticky, and somehow still desperate for another.

He's the one who eases up first. Pulls back. Presses kisses all over your face. Your neck. Your chest. Your lips once more. Whispers with a smirk, "You got jealous ."

"Didn't," you pout a little.

"Did," he grins, letting his body collapse on yours, 'cause there's no way he wants to go back down to the dancefloor. Not yet. "Jealous and possessive."

"Says you," you huff a little, stroking up and down his still-clothed back with the tips of your nails. Part of you wishes you were home, in bed, clothes tangled in a pile on the floor. It's okay, though. You know it's where you'll end up.

Head on your chest, Jeongguk holds your tits just 'cause he can. Gets one of your nipples in his mouth, again just 'cause he can. Sucks. Pulls back just to say, "Oh, yeah. I was. Fucking hate the idea of you with anyone else." His lips latch around your nipple again, until he takes a second to add, "I'm literally in love with you."

You're caught between laughing and moaning when his lips wrap around your other nipple. There's no reason for him to be toying with you in the way that he is. Both of you have finished. He's just doing it 'cause he likes it.

"You're in love with my tits," you brush off his declaration.

Shaking his head, nipple still in his mouth, he looks up at you. Poutily lets your nipple slip from his lips. Assures you, "I'm an ass guy," then presses your tits together to get both of your nipples in his mouth at the same time.

"You're an ass, full stop," you laugh. "Lucky I love you."

Now this does pull his attention away from your chest.

"Yeah?" He grins, repositioning himself so that his nose can nudge against yours. On top of you, his chain pools against your chin—and then his lips are sinking into yours, pretty kisses taking the place of needless declarations. You both know exactly how you feel about one another.

"Yeah," you nod into his kisses. "So much."

By the time you finish your mindless chatter in the form of aftercare, Jeongguk's phone has a low battery warning on the screen. Neither of you even wanna think about how long that damn video must be.

You set the world to rights; finish your drinks, and cosy up together just to indulge in a little more time alone—but the night is getting away from you. Your friends will be wondering where you are.

Glancing around to make sure you haven't forgotten anything, Jeongguk's face bunches up when he clocks the security camera he'd forgotten about in the corner of the booth. Nods, to drag your attention to it.

"Yeonjun's gonna have a field day with that one," you grimace.

"I'll delete it before he can," Jeongguk promises you.

Far more sober than you both were earlier, Jeongguk deposits you off with your friends when you get back down to the dancefloor. Ignores their questioning of where you've both been. Gives you a quick kiss before he goes to the bar.

Yeonjun's brows seem to be perpetually raised—but it's just 'cause his eyes caught the glimmer of the booth door being opened half an hour ago, and knows damn well exactly where Jeongguk has been.

The fact that Jeongguk's hair is pointing in all different directions only confirms exactly what Yeonjun thinks he must have been doing.

"Need to go into the office," Jeongguk tells Yeonjun, but is met with the shake of his head.

"No need," Yeonjun deadpans. Leans a little bit closer. Assures him, "Cameras are off. Your secrets are safe, boss."

Jeongguk wants to die. Not for the fun reasons he normally does, but for the sheer embarrassment of his junior almost reprimanding him.

He also doesn't trust the cerulean-haired fucker as far as he can throw him.

"I'm still gonna check."

"Fine. But you'll owe me 20,000."

"Huh?"

"It's a bet," Yeonjun says. "I bet you 20,000 that they're off."

If Jeongguk wasn't already convinced, he is now. Yeonjun hates losing these dumb bets.

Still, Jeongguk agrees.

Not even two minutes later, he's walking back by the bar, chewing on minty gum that's kept in the office for far more innocent purposes than this, dropping two 10,000 won notes down for Yeonjun.

"You're welcome!" Yeonjun shouts after Jeongguk with a smug grin. Shakes his head. Puts on the thick accent of an old man and mutters to himself, "Kids these days. Randy bastards. No decorum. No class. Just hormones and bad decisions."

But as Jeongguk is drawn to you in the crowd, like a stargazer is drawn to Polaris, he knows that for all the bad decisions he's ever made, there is one universal truth: No decision has ever been better than making you starfuckers on that very first night.

Arm looping over your shoulders, he presses a kiss to the side of your head. Steals Jimin's drink from him. Gags when he realises it's neat tequila. Offers it to you regardless. Apologises when you also gag.

The night is lost to Dionysus. Just like its namesake, the club is a cesspit of sin and debauchery, but it's impossible not to love the way it feels.

You don't leave until the final song of the night.

"My place or yours?" Jeongguk asks as you meander down the street together, a little behind the rest of your friends. With convenience store snacks in your hands, Jeongguk's phone dead in his back pocket and your clutch bag in his hands, the pair of you are the poster children of a reckless youth maturing into something far better.

Gone are the days of seeking out new strangers, or living for the weekends.

This is it, you think. An endless back and forth of his place, or yours, until one day it'll become obsolete.

So you indulge in what little you have left of the early days. "Yours."

"You know Jimin'll wanna watch The Notebook in the morning, right?" He reminds you with a smile. Is at such ease with his life. Isn't sure what he did to deserve it all.

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Choosing to walk the half an hour distance it takes to get back to Jeongguk's place, instead of opting for a taxi like the others to their respective homes, you and Jeongguk revel in the early hours of the morning. Talk nonsense. Talk business. Talk nonsense about business.

Time wasted with him is really not wasted at all. Even if the sun is coming up by the time you're entering his building, nodding at the doorman, neither of you are tired of one another. It's hard to imagine a reality where that would ever be true.

When you reach his apartment door, both of you stop in your tracks. It's still on the latch. Ajar. He glances over to you, brows furrowed. Steps in front of you, tucking you in behind him.

Says, "Keep quiet."

Slowly edging the door open, the entryway is a mess. Where a neat pile of shoes typically sits, clothes are strewn. It confuses him for a second—until he hears something that makes him dry heave.

He pushes the door fully open, and is met by Jimin cosplaying as his best Jeongguk impression, eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. His hands are over his crotch, naked and bare for all to see. Behind him, a half-naked girl darts to his room.

Both you and Jeongguk look at Jimin with equal parts shock and horror.

"At least close the bloody door!" Jeongguk almost shrieks.

"I thought you were going to DB's!"

"Well apparently not—wait," Jeongguk looks around the room. Recognises the clothes. So do you. Knows exactly who was wearing them earlier that evening. Gasps. Whisper-shouts, "Is that—"

"Shut up!" Jimin whisper-hisses back, and retreats backwards, hands still covering his modesty as if neither you nor Jeongguk have ever seen it before. "You didn't see shit!"

He escapes into his room, and you do hear his lock go, just to be safe.

Both you and Jeongguk look at each other in a state of shock. It's only broken when you say, "Well I guess he won't be watching The Notebook tomorrow."

But Jeongguk shakes his head. Nods towards the deep navy dress that's crumpled on the floor beside Jimin's shirt. The same dress Nabi had been in earlier that evening. Says, "It's her favourite film. She's the reason he watches it."

And on the counter, rests a flyer from the gallery event. It's folded into the shape of a butterfly.

Looks like the ones Jeongguk always attributed to Hayun.

It's only now that he realises he'd been wrong this whole time.

Just like Jimin watched The Notebook 'cause the girl he could never seem to get over loved it, Hayun made paper butterflies, 'cause her best friend taught her how to make them. Said it'd be a good little party trick to make boys fall in love with her.

And it had been—but it had also just been an entirely fabricated part of her personality. The irony of it all isn't lost on Jeongguk. All he can do is laugh. It confirms everything he already knew: he never understood love until you came along.

"What is it with us and walking in our housemates shagging?" You laugh as you kick off your shoes, unaware of Jeongguk's realisation. Sure he'd told you about Hayun's butterflies before you made your first birds, but it was so long ago that it's a distant memory, now.

"No idea," Jeongguk grins as he follows suit. Holds your hand as you head towards his bathroom. Forgets to grab his towels, but doesn't care even when he remembers. Will risk the naked dash across his apartment later. All he wants is to be with you right now. "We're not far off, though. Yoongi practically caught us at it earlier."

You hum as Jeongguk starts the shower, checking yourself over in the mirror as you discard your dress. The hickies bestowed upon you are ridiculous. The teasing from your friends will be relentless.

"Maybe we should stop being so reckless," you suppose with a glint in your eyes that Jeongguk catches as he turns to study you in the mirror. Slipping your dress off, you keep your eyes on him.

"Where's the fun in that?" He grins, coming to stand behind you. Dipping his lips to the base of your neck, his hands hold your hips. His kisses are gentle. Sleepy.

"So you want to get caught?"

"Never said that," he mumbles. "But I do want everyone to know you're mine, so if that's what it takes..."

"A ring would do the job just fine," you tell him without much thought. "Far less embarrassing, too."

Jeongguk rests his pointy chin on your shoulder. Looks at you in the mirror. "A ring?"

It's only now that you realise the gravity of what you've said. You're tired and your brain isn't really functioning right and oh god—you've barely even been dating for five minutes. It's too soon for any of that.

"Well I've already got a necklace," you try and downplay it, reaching up to touch the silver bird that sits between your collarbones. "Earrings work, too."

Jeongguk smirks. Stands. Rids himself of clothes, and walks to the shower. Tests the temperature of the water. Nonchalantly says, "Always thought you hated the idea of marriage."

"It's archaic," you casually reply, unclasping your bra, and letting it drop to the floor. Jeongguk's eyes are all over you. There's nothing about you he doesn't adore—your need to bicker with him included. "The tax benefits are nice, though."

He nods as you discard your underwear. Says, "I'd make you sign a prenup. Wouldn't want you stealing all my sculptures in the divorce."

" Action figures ," you correct him, joining him in the shower. He doesn't get a chance to argue back, for you're on your tippy toes and pressing a kiss against his lips to remedy the insult you know he's about to feign. "And you're already planning the divorce? That's not very promising. May as well not get married."

He shrugs. "Just making sure I have my ducks in a row before I commit to anything."

"Virgo," you accusingly tease, narrowing your eyes with a terribly hidden smile.

"What was it you said about Virgos?" He teases right back. "That we're written in the stars?"

You can bicker and you can argue all you like—but when Jeongguk has you in his sheets a little while later, curled up against his chest, softly settling into sleep like stardust into the atmosphere, he knows it must be true.

"Sweet dreams, B," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You mumble a response, half asleep already. Let him do as he pleases as he pulls your hand up to his lips. Barely register it when a tender kiss is pressed to your empty ring finger.

"Obsessed," you murmur against his chest—but also delicately press a kiss right where you know his heart is.

He just nods. Yawns. "Obsessed."

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the1920sinpictures · 5 months

Text

1925-26 Jean Patou embroidered cocktail dress of pale golden velvet, dropped waistline outlined in gold beads, the skirt held in gentle gathers to the sides, with a deep panel of gold lace to the front bodice, backed in cloth of gold and edged in beaded fringes, matching deep lace flounce to hem, the velvet embroidered and beaded overall with Ottoman-inspired flower-heads in pink, orange and green floss, highlighted with gold beads. From Kerry Taylor Auctions.

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honeylations · 1 year

Text

- Star Of My Night -

YU JIMIN (KARINA) x FEM!READER

Prompt: Karina gets dragged out to a bar with a few idols for a girls night out. Her night eventually got interesting the moment her eyes landed on a woman with her electric guitar on the stage.

Warnings/Notes: Third person POV, G!P Y/n, guitarist!Y/n, Haze members are all original characters, almost smut near in the end

———

Karina was certain that her head was gonna explode as Giselle asked her the same question for the millionth time. “Pleeeeaaassseee go out with us?” She even tried putting on her best puppy eyes.

The blonde girl sighed and and threw her head back on the bed. “Ok fine! Just stop trying to act cute, it doesn’t suit you”

“As long as it gets you to finally come out the house for once” Giselle shrugged before slapping the shorter’s knee. “You always isolate yourself in this dorm! It doesn’t hurt to have at least 2 seconds of human interaction”

Karina sat up with a huge frown. “Doesn’t THIS count as human interaction?” Karina pointed a finger between her and the girl in front of her.

“It doesn’t count because we LIVE TOGETHER YOU IDIOT! I’m talking about some proper human interaction. Like go on a date with an idol or something, like, Le Sserafim’s Yunjin. Didn’t she text you about going out for ramen?”

“Mmm her and I have agreed that we see each other as bestfriends. She’s hot and plays guitar or whatever but we won’t click”

“Oh so your type is a tall hot girl who plays guitar? Noted. Who knows, maybe you’ll see one tonight at the bar”

Karina rolled her eyes. “We’ll see. What time are we heading there?”

Giselle looked at the alarm clock besides Karina’s bed. “Yuqi Unnie said to be there 8pm sharp”

“Yuqi Unnie is coming?! I thought you said it would only be us and the members!” Karina hissed, sending multiple slaps to the other’s arm.

“Stop hitting me! And yes Yuqi and her members are joining us too”

Karina crossed her arms, sending a harsh glare towards her member. “Anyone else coming that I should know about?”

Giselle gulped and looked away while fiddling with her fingers. “And Le Sserafim”

Karina flopped back into her bed again. “Oh my god you might as well invite Blackpink and Itzy while you’re at it!”

“I did but they have a busy schedule..” Giselle mumbled guiltily.

“This is too much human interaction”

“How?! You’re an ENFP for god’s sakes!”

“And ENFP who wants some GODDAMN PEACE!”

Giselle stood up and headed for the opened door. “Complain all you want Rina just be ready by 7:30”

Hearing the door shut and the miracle of silence, the blonde Aespa leader chewed on her lower lip and turned her head to her closet. “I guess I should start preparing an outfit”

———

“For someone who complained a lot a few hours ago, you look hot” Giselle smirked, looking at her leader who was doing small face touch ups at her mirror.

“Of course. Always have to look good” Karina smiled and finished applying her lipstick before standing up.

She wore a short black strapless dress that hugged her body tightly. Her blonde hair was curled to perfection and her makeup completed her seductive look. Even though she wasn’t planning on seducing anyone that night.

“The other two ready?” Karina asked and Giselle nodded, gesturing for them to leave.

After a short cab journey, the 4 members finally arrived in front of the bar that was already filled with people. NingNing thanked and paid the driver before they hopped out and and met G-Idle and Lesserafim just outside the place.

“Hey guys how are you all!?” Yuqi greeted excitedly, hugging and smiling at all the girls.

She led them all inside and managed to score a VIP table that was just next to the stage where instruments were placed. Karina sat in between Shuhua and Chaewon, sipping on the cocktails that Yuqi ordered. The conversation in the table was soon interrupted when 4 unfamiliar faces walked onto the stage but one face caught Karina’s attention.

A tall woman with long black hair and wispy fringe picked up the electric guitar and threw its strap onto her shoulder before adjusting her ear pieces. She was wearing a black fitted shirt, baggy jeans and black Doctor Martens. What completed her overall hot look was the silver chain dangling from her neck and the tattoos all over both arms.

Karina concluded that she had just found her eye candy of the night.

“Good evening everyone!” The person on the mic greeted aloud, erupting cheers from everyone in the bar.

“My name is Choi Eunsook, I am the vocalist and leader of Haze. On drums is Jang Hanna, on bass is Kang Hyunjung, and on guitar is Lee Y/N!”

The cheers got louder and Karina quickly joined in despite her focus remaining on who she now knew as Y/n.

“To begin we’d like to perform one of Y/n’s self written songs called ‘To Be With You’ Hope you enjoy!” Eunsook smiled as Hanna tapped her sticks and the band began to play.

“That guitarist is pretty hot don’t ya think, Rina?” Winter wiggled her eyebrows, letting the whole table hear.

Chaewon gasped and gently shook Karina’s shoulders. “Does someone have a little crush~ She’s super hot Karina, you should totally ask for her number later!”

“Are you insane? She probably has a girlfriend!”

“Mmm don’t think so. She’s looking right at you!” Shuhua gave rapid taps to Karina’s shoulder who turned her head to the guitarist.

And Shuhua was right.

Her eye candy of the night was looking right at her and she didn’t bother looking away even when the Aespa leader had made eye contact. Y/n gave a small smile in which Karina responded with nothing but red cheeks.

“She’s sooooo into you, Rina!” Miyeon laughed.

After a few more original songs and covers, Eunsook drank some water before returning the mic to her lips. “That was our final song everybody, enjoy the rest of your night! We’ll be around”

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom” Karina said despite the loud bar music that started to blast through the entire place.

“Did you want me to come with?” Minnie offered but Karina smiled and shook her head.

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry. Could you order me another cocktail please?”

Minnie nodded as the blonde Aespa member walked away to the back where the toilets were located. It didn’t take long for her to go in and back out, thanking the heavens that the bathroom was decent than most bars. She dried her hands and exited to return to the girls but an unfamiliar man stood in front of her and by the way he looked at Karina made it obvious as to what he wanted.

“Hi angel” He smirked and Karina had never rolled her eyes so hard before.

“Can I help you?”

“My table is nearby and I think my friends would love to meet you”

“No, I’m good. Now if you’ll excuse me-“ Karina’s heart stopped when the man grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, allowing her to smell the alcohol from his body.

“Don’t be like that, angel. No one likes a party pooper. Come on, have a few drinks with us!”

“P-Please let me go..”

The man inched his nose towards Karina’s hair and took a nice whiff. “You smell so good”

Before he could make another comment, another hand (but much softer) took her other wrist and yanked her away from the man’s grip.

“You have some fucking nerve to be touching my girl like that, Kyle”

Karina’s eyes widened when she realised her saviour was Haze’s guitarist. At this point, she couldn’t tell if her heart was beating like crazy because of the yucky interaction with Kyle or because Y/n went from holding her wrist to holding her hand.

“Oh it’s you Y/n, I was just tryna make a new friend” Kyle laughed and attempted to grab Karina again but Y/n pulled Karina behind her, acting as her shield.

“A new friend for you to use as a fuck toy?”

Kyle laughed again. “I wouldn’t say it like that”

Y/n walked closer so her taller body towered over Kyle, his height just reaching Y/n’s shoulder.

“If I see you harass another person in here, I won’t hesitate to call Shownu and ban you not only from this bar but also every bar or club here. Comprende?”

“Yes ma’am” Kyle sighed and slowly backed away before making his full exit.

Y/n watched him leave and quickly turned to the blonde girl, letting go of her hand to Karina’s dismay. “Hey, are you alright? Did he touch you anywhere?”

“No I’m okay! Just a little startled, that’s all” Karina smiled and Y/n smiled back.

‘Oh my god she’s so hot’ Karina squealed in her mind. “Was that guy your friend or something?” The blonde asked.

“Nah he’s a regular at this bar and is known for being a creep. Gave him enough warnings already, I don’t know why he doesn’t listen. I’ll inform Shownu to keep an eye out on him”

“He doesn’t look like he’s from here”

“He’s an international uni student from Madrid but he doesn’t matter anymore. Are you sure you’re alright?” Y/n asked again.

“Yes I’m okay now thanks to you”

“Wanna talk somewhere that’s not in front of a toilet?” Y/n asked, making the blonde laugh at her question.

“Yes please”

Y/n held her hand again and led her to the VIP seating upstairs where she could still see what’s going on below but she also didn’t have to scream over the music to talk. They sat on the comfy couch and the way Y/n was sitting with her arm over the backrest wasn’t doing Karina’s heart any good.

“I know my name was introduced on stage but I’ll say it again. I’m Lee Y/n” The taller introduced and put her hand out for a handshake.

Karina happily took it. “I’m Yu Jimin or you can call me Karina. May I ask how old you are?

“I’m 26, and you?”

“23”

“Did you like the performance?” Y/n asked.

“I did! The original songs were probably my favourite. Did you write them?”

“Only a few. Want some?” The taller offered as she grabbed an unopened bottle of vodka from underneath the table.

“Sure”

One shot turned into god knows how much more and Karina didn’t realised she was drunk as she was too hypnotised with the way Y/n did anything.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Y/n?” Karina slurred.

Y/n chuckled and brushed her hair back. “I don’t. My band and I practice and move around a lot for performances so I haven’t really gotten any action. How about you Miss Karina? Anyone sweep you off your feet?”

“No. I isolate myself in the dorm too much to even try and go on a date, and like you, it’s not easy getting free time as an idol”

“Yeah. I love your songs and stuff though”

“Oh you listen to Aespa?”

“I don’t live under a rock, Karina” Y/n laughed and Karina wanted to hear it again and again.

“Are you interested in anyone right now, Y/n?” Karina decided to boldly ask, the alcohol buzzing through her body as she scooted closer to the guitarist’s body where her arm was still attractively placed on the backrest.

Y/n’s eyes moved to focus on Karina’s soft lips, her body heating up at the close proximity. “Hmmm…Just one” The black haired girl replied with a toothy grin.

“Yeah? And who would that be?” Karina inched her lips closer to the point it was just above Y/n’s.

“Karina, you’re drunk” Y/n whispered, trying her best not to take the idol right there.

“I know, bust don’t you wanna kiss me? I couldn’t take my eyes off you the moment you went on that stage looking so fucking hot” Karina licked her lips and gently cupped Y/n’s face, brushing her thumb over the taller’s lower lip. “And I’m not leaving until I get a taste”

“Fuck” Y/n groaned and allowed Karina to finally connect their lips, moaning at the softness.

The guitarist grabbed onto the smaller’s hips and moved her to her lap without breaking the kiss. Karina’s hands roamed from Y/n’s strong shoulders down to her tattooed arms, her hips slowly grinding on her lap, eliciting another groan from the older.

“You’re driving me crazy, Karina” Y/n panted and moved her lips to Karina’s jaw, her soft kisses turning into sucking.

Karina moaned without stopping her hips and she started to feel something poke underneath. “Y-Y/n…Y/n what’s that?”

The older pulled away, admiring the purple spot she made on her neck. “Sorry I should’ve told you about it earlier. We can stop if you want”

Karina shook her head. “No I don’t wanna stop, please don’t stop”

“Alright, angel”

The blonde remembered how disgusting it sounded coming from Kyle but to hear it from Y/n just sounded so much better…and so damn right.

“Is it a strap? Or…”

“Why don’t you find out?” Y/n smirked up before smashing their lips again.

Karina felt dizzy. Dizzy but super horny and all that mattered to her was that she managed to pull her eye candy of the night. Her hand slowly moved lower to rub at Y/n’s crotch, the bulge getting impossibly harder.

“You’re so perfect, angel”

All of a sudden, Karina’s phone started ringing. She chose to ignore it at first, continuing her kisses on Y/n’s neck but the ringing would not stop. She groaned, pressing her forehead to Y/n’s shoulder before grabbing the cockblocking device on the table.

“What?!” She yelled over the phone.

“Girl where the hell are you?! We’re all worried!” Giselle yelled back.

“Sorry I got…sidetracked” Karina smiled at the smirking woman below her.

“Well we’re leaving now so you better get your ass here!” Giselle then hung up.

Karina sighed. “I have to go…”

“That’s okay, my members would be worried if I disappeared like that too”

The smaller girl got off the taller’s lap and got her purse along with her phone. “Um are you gonna be okay with…that?” Karina shyly pointed at Y/n’s hard on.

“Yeah I can deal with it later. I’d love to escort you down but I don’t want you friends seeing me like this” The guitarist chuckled.

Karina stepped closer and gently stroked the bulge like earlier before planting one more intoxicating kiss to the older’s lips. “I’ve put my number in your pocket. Text me when you’re free”

“Yes ma’am”

The Aespa leader winked and made her way downstairs where the rest of the girls were, ignoring the way they all were screaming about their worries for the blonde’s sudden disappearance.

Karina was now frustrated.

Frustrated because she was getting lectured but also frustrated because she didn’t get that good dick tonight.

A/N: Part two coming soon!

#Yu Jimin #gxg #wlw #karina smut #karina x reader #Aespa x reader #Aespa #Aespa x fem reader

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newyorkthegoldenage · 7 months

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The perfect spring wardrobe according to a fashion consultant named Tobe, on March 8, 1936. These imports (from the Elsie Cobin collection from Paris) are, left to right: Morning, a Schiaparelli silk tweed fringed suit; a Vionnet-red sleeveless redingote over a black cape-dress; Tea, a Robert Piguet black and white cape ensemble; evening, a printed taffeta tunic dress by Mainbocher; All Day (seated) a Mainbocher petticoat frock with a candy-striped taffeta petticoat and a Schiaparelli Directoire reefer; Cocktails, an Alix suit dress, with a red checked organza peplum jacket.

Photo: Associated Press via the St. Louis Post-Dispatch

#vintage New York #1930s #vintage fashion #1930s fashion #1930s French fashion #Tobe #March 8 #8 March #fashion show #Vionnet #Schiaparelli #Mainbocher #Robert Piguet #Alix #vintage NYC

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lamaisongaga · 3 months

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FASHION CREDITS: JAZZ & PIANO SHOW 4.0 PART I

Lady Gaga made a triumphant return to Las Vegas where she'll be staying until July to complete another round of her highly sought-after Jazz & Piano residency shows! And of course, she brought a whole new batch of costumes styled by Sandra Amador and Tom Eerebout along with her.

First, we‘re hopping onto our virtual plane where I‘ll be taking you to Marbella, Spain to once again meet with young fashion designer Adrián Manceras who‘s kind enough to let us take a look in his atelier where he crafted Gaga‘s opening number: a fabulous cocktail dress showered in champagne sequins, finest crystals and delicate fringe trimmings!

I can‘t help but notice how Gaga sticks to the same designer when it comes to the opening number‘s look. From headpiece down to the shoes. Yet, she changes the design every time she comes back to Vegas.

Here, she‘s donning yet another insane showgirl-inspired headdress with turkey feathers and Swarovski crystals by the ever-so talented Arturo Rios who sent me this image JUST for your eyes!

The Italian-American entertainer topped her look off with a new custom pair of Laruicci crystal statement earrings

Her favorite Jimmy Choo metallic silver Anouk stiletto pumps provided the finishing touches.

The choice of purple was as unexpected as the combination of sequins, feathers (provided by Mother Plucker Feather Company), and PVC. Yet, this look struck me the most, standing out in a sea of bold fashion statements!

Delving into La Maison Gaga reveals an intriguing history behind her glamorous wardrobe. LA-based designer Michael Costello has been crafting stunning caftans for Gaga for a decade. His journey with her began in 2014 when he designed a sequined piece similar to this one for her "Cheek to Cheek! Live" performance . This collaboration marked the start of a creative partnership that has since produced numerous iconic looks, each more dazzling than the last.

Michael also collaborated with Gladys Tamez Millinery on the halo-like black feather pillbox headpiece!

New York City-based heritage jewelry brand A.JAFFE created some of the earrings, including these teardrop stunners!

Gaga surprised her audience last night with a special rendition of "Americano". It‘s been 12 years since she performed that song!

For this act of the show, Perry Meek whipped out a stunning dress even Jessica Rabbit wouldn't pass upon.

Crafted from red crystal mesh, this dress features an off-the-shoulder hourglass silhouette, trimmed with red ostrich feathers. And it comes with a matching coat!

Her Harriet wired red feather fascinator is a hand-made piece by Carrie Jenkinson Millinery ($331.79), one of the UK's leading fashion milliners.

This white-gold crescent earring set surrounded by differently cut diamonds is another A.JAFFE design.

And I hope I’m not the only one who‘s drooling over these Jimmy Choo Romy crystal-encrusted red pumps.

Then, Gaga stuns on stage in a total Giorgio Armani look which comprises this plush black velvet strapless bustier column dress with crystal band embellishment ($4,777) and the Fall/Winter 2018 Privé Haute Couture pink ostrich feather coat she previously wore for her V Magazine 2019 cover!

Gaga's MUA Sarah Tanno-Stewart collaborated with Face Lace on all the differently designed crystal eye stickers for the residency!

LG debuted a bunch of new looks on her second night and the uber-talented Michael Costello had another wonder up his sleeve when he revealed this stunner to me yesterday morning - a custom sparkly black and gold sequin silk chiffon caftan with incorporated metal belt, shoulder pads, plunging neck and daring open sides, based on Michael's upcoming "DNA" collection!

He also created her matching custom ruched faux leather gloves and feather boa in collaboration with Mother Plucker Feather Company.

What's a good jazz stage look without a fun plummeted hat to top it off? British milliner Carrie Jenkinson Millinery made sure to exceed stagewear standards with her Spring/Summer 2024 Selina feather hat (£520).

Her go-to performance shoes: the timeless Jimmy Choo Anouk black patent leather pumps ($675).

Malaysian couture design house Rizman Ruzaini joined the game by crafting a show-stopping red chiffon cape dress showered in Swarovski crystals. Thanks so much for these exclusive behind-the-seams photos!

She also brought back her Larisa Barrera vintage 1993 crystal necklace.

Gaga gave us an epic performance of "La Vie En Rose", dressed in rose silk satin caftan-style layered dress with stripped coque feathers, custom-made for her by Ukrainian fashion label Santa Brands.

This look was completed with a bunch of stellar accessories, including the Carrie Jenkinson Millinery Spring/Summer 2024 Valencia exploding feather fascinator (£579)...

...the Swarovski Millenia octagon-cut crystal bib necklace...

... and the Cornelia James Melissa opera-length black velvet gloves (£160).

If the dress from the third night's opening seems familiar to you, it's because she's worn this custom Natali Germanotta x Debra Cooper blue sequin fringed cocktail number back in 2019 before!

This look got a black version of the aforementioned Arturo Rios turkey feather and Swarovski crystal headpiece.

It‘s Michael Costello‘s world and we‘re just living in it! His third custom dress for our girl's third night is this uuuuuultra sexy black satin number with one-shoulder caftan silhouette, trimmed with luxurious ostrich feathers by Mother Plucker Feather Company and featuring beaded appliqués on the shoulder and waist.

It was finished off with this vintage Philip Treacy 1996 black feather firework headpiece which has already been previously worn by Gaga back in London in 2015!

For the fourth show (June 29), LG brought out another Michael Costello x Mother Plucker Feather Company confection — a black-as-the-night satin caftan, showered in small jet crystals and trimmed with feathers.

It was only a matter of time before she brought out a fairytale headpiece by milliner Piers Atkinson.

From his archives, she opted for the Fall/Winter 2021 "Triptych" collection elevated black ostrich feather pompom fascinator with beaded tassels.

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priderock-inc · 4 months

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Prompt idea: Scar needs to find a plus-one to take to an annoying family wedding so he won't die of boredom.

"You brought-" Zazu's stomach twists- "Shenzi as your plus-one?"

Scar grins at him. "Indeed."

"Hi there, Zazu," Shenzi chirps. She's wearing an extremely revealing fringed dress in an eye-watering shade of pink and strappy heels so high that Zazu's own ankles can't help but ache, and from the looks of it, the cocktail clutched in her hand isn't her first of the evening. "Nice to see ya here!"

Zazu swallows. "Yes, well. I didn't know you two were... together. Well. Congratulations."

Shenzi guffaws, somehow managing to elbow Scar with losing her balance or dropping her drink. Scar smiles tolerantly and straightens his tuxedo jacket (bespoke, Zazu can't help but notice, with a very flattering cut) with his champagne-free hand.

"I'm sorry, am I missing something?"

"We aren't," Scar explains. "Together, if that's what you mean. She's just here to scandalize my father."

"And to keep ya company, Mr. Antisocial," Shenzi adds cheerfully, elbowing Scar in the side again and causing her numerous bangles to jingle. "And for the free food. Scar's cute and all, but he's my bestie, not my type, y'know? Speaking of cute, Zaz, what'cha think of his hair? I did it myself."

"Zazu, if you please," Zazu corrects pointedly. He's suddenly regretting his earlier decision not to drink anything tonight.

"Yeah, yeah. How 'bout you, though, what'cha doin' here? You got a hot date tonight?"

"I'm- no, I'm here at a request from Sarafina. She asked me to accompany her, as a friend," Zazu adds hastily, "and she came down with a cold. So I'm here as her proxy now, I suppose."

Shenzi takes a long and rather inelegant slurp of her drink. "Wow, Pride Rockers everywhere ya look. Talk about mixin' business with pleasure."

"This is, after all, a family affair," Scar drawls. He looks Zazu up and down. "You certainly clean up nicely, don't you, Zazu?"

"Thank you," Zazu mumbles, and fights the urge to fidget. "Isn't this just like what I wear every day?"

"No, I don't think so. Your suits are usually gray or navy. Black looks good on you. Besides, this tie is different."

"Speakin' of ties-" Shenzi bursts out laughing.

Scar shudders. "Please, Shenzi. I've no wish to lose my lunch."

Zazu glances over the sea of heads in an attempt to find the CEO. "Let me guess, one of Mufasa's collection?"

"It has doves on it. Doves."

"How apropos for a wedding."

"I swear, one of these days-"

"Oooh, they're rollin' out more kebabs! Dibs dibs dibs. Want anythin', you two? Here, you drink this."

Shenzi grabs the champagne glass from Scar and shoves it into Zazu's hand before Zazu can protest. "Sorry, Scar, he needs it more than you do. I'll get ya another one, okay? Stay here."

She sashays off, fringes swaying merrily, and Zazu immediately pushes the drink at Scar.

"No, no, I think you do need it." Scar hands it back. "This is a wedding, after all- a happy occasion, and here you are, looking like you've just come from a week of overtime."

"I'm fine."

"It's an excellent Dom Périogn. Quite good, you might like it. Unless you prefer red?"

"I don't plan on-" Zazu huffs, and promptly decides that throwing caution to the winds is an excellent idea, despite knowing full well that it's a terrible idea. "Fine. You're paying for my ride home."

"Oh, excellent." Scar leans forward, eyes glinting. "I never get to see this side of you at work, Zazu, what a treat."

Zazu takes a sip of champagne. It is quite good. "That would hardly be professional, Scar."

"No, but you're off the clock tonight, aren't you?"

Shenzi comes clicking back with another glass and a handful of skewers in a delicate paper napkin, and Zazu tosses back the rest of the sparkling liquid.

"Here ya go," she announces, pressing the champagne into Scar's hand. "Oooh, he actually drank it?"

Scar takes the empty glass from Zazu's fingers, exchanging it for the full one.

The music swells suddenly. Maybe it's fate.

Zazu drinks the second offering as the lights grow dim.

#pride rock incorporated #shenzi #scar #zazu

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bergdorfverse · 2 years

Photo

Cocktail Couture Collection feat. Complex

Hey everyone, me & @complex-sims teamed up as #BergPlex to bring you all some hot cocktail looks for your sims! This collection comes with 2 dresses by Complex & 2 bags and 2 sandals by me for a total look. We love every single piece so much and hope you will enjoy them too! 🤗

Make sure to get the clothing from Complex here

You will get:

Zanotti Cruel Sandals

20 Swatches Slider & Base Game Versions 1 Decor Version

JC X Mugler Lace Up Sandals

15 Swatches Slider & Base Game Versions 1 Decor Version

Fringe Bon Bon Bag

15 Swatches 2 Hand Placements ( L & R ) 1 Decor Version

Bon Bon Bag

50 Swatches 2 Hand Placements ( L & R ) 1 Decor Version

All LODs // Disabled for Random // Custom Thumbnail

DOWNLOAD

Conversion // Do not recolor or convert without permission // Do not re-upload

Special thanks to @illuminatikilledmydog for these amazing showcase photos & @sxlisvxrse for hair editing 💕

Base Mesh Credit: Neutral Tones, DDL, 3DMonk & Chicala

Instagram // Pinterest // Patreon // Tumblr // Simsfinds

#bergdorfverse #sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims4 #sims 4 cc #sims 4 cas #the sims 4 custom content #sims 4 cc finds #sims 4 clothing cc #TS4 #ts4cc #ts4 cc #ts4 cas #ts4 custom content #ts4 cc clothing #ts4 cc finds #simblr

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amostimprobabledream · 1 year

Text

Ignite Me (Homelander x Reader) - Part Six

Hi all. Sorry this chapter took me so long, I couldn’t get my original idea to work so I had to go back to the drawing board. Plus I haven’t really watched The Boys since I finished Season 3 so I haven’t been as into it as I was when I first started. Hopefully this doesn’t come as a let-down after waiting a few months.

Also small TW: Someone (not Homelander) attempts to kiss Reader against her will. Just as a heads-up. The bar was a blur of colour and light. Music thudded so loud through the room that you could feel it in your ribcage. You smacked your lips, still sticky with sugar that dusted the rim of your last cocktail, swaying to a song you didn't know the words to. In other words, you were drunk as fuck. "Heyyy!" a similarly-drunk Casey came prancing back up to you and the others you're with, bearing a tray of drinks that wobbled dangerously at her drunken gait. Her cleavage also wobbled in her tight red dress, which was probably why it had taken her such a short time to get served. "Shots!" "Shots, shots, shots!" you cheered, grabbing one with clumsy fingers. Across from you, a hand appeared in your field of vision, instantly irritating you, because it belongs to a man - a man who didn't clean his fingernails. Steve took a shot, and you knew he's trying to make eye contact with you again, so you purposefully looked towards Casey and clinked tiny plastic glasses against hers in a cheers. To be honest, you don't know why Steve was here. Casey only seemed to be vaguely acquainted with him, a friend of hers called Danesha or Danika or something (it’s hard to hear much over the music) brought him along and you wondered why neither the woman who brought him or Steve seemed to notice or care how out of place he was with a group of women he barely knows. His low-effort outfit of a polo-neck t-shirt and baggy jeans looks weird against all your clubbing outfits and he bobbed around on the fringes of the group, head jerking awkwardly to whatever song was on. Foam from the beer he was drinking clung to the scraggly beard he had. The thing was, you knew what Steve wanted. He's been staring at both Casey, you and some other girls for most of the night (you knew you guys looked good, but come on) and he kept trying to get you to dance with him despite the fact he had A) No rhythm and B) a shit taste in songs. He even offered to buy you a drink, his hot, gross breath wafting over your ear, but you pretended not to understand him under the volume of the music. His staring, his presence, his ultimate passivity in how he's tossing out a few cliche gestures and now they haven't worked he's just standing there in a group of dancing, chatting girls like a useless appendage, pissed you off. You don't want him here because tonight was meant to be all about the girls, not tolerating some random guy just because he got dumped and he's sooo sad because it still hurts. You wanna know what hurts? you thought savagely, one of the most lucid thoughts you've had since you left Casey's apartment. Getting fucking shot. Fucking Steve.

Maybe you wouldn't be feeling so hostile towards this wet dishrag of a man if it wasn't for anything else. The whispers and staring that had followed you around for weeks, maybe even over a month by now. How you still felt exhausted so quickly and suddenly these days, the scar from the gunshot wound on your stomach, that fucking interview you'd essentially been tricked into giving...you just had no patience left, and definitely not when you were trying so hard to forget all of it. Forget about him. You wouldn't speak the name - didn't even want to think it - so you swallowed down the shot in your hand without stopping to ask what it was first. You learn the minute it hit you tongue, the sharp, acrid bitterness filling your mouth. You gagged. Fucking tequila! You scrambled to grab a lime, realising belatedly you forgot to do salt, and sucked on it frantically, the tart sourness of the fruit a cleansing balm of the shot. Casey cackled as everyone else chokes - she actually likes tequila and drinks it for fun. You'd forgotten that about her. She grabbed your hand. "Let's dance!" she bellowed at you, her lipgloss all smudged, and dragged you into a sea of bodies twisting beneath candy-coloured lights. Eager to get away from Steve, you followed her lead, even though you're not exactly some amazing dancer yourself, when you're this fucked up it hardly matters. Your eyes lazily scanned the faces around you, looking to see if you can find any guys you thought were cute. It's been a while since you've had sex and even if picking up randoms from a bar wasn't usually your style, maybe that's exactly what you needed right now. But try as you might, you can't see anybody that makes you feel anything. Your heart beats on steadily, unmoved by the people on display, and you sighed, wondering if you're getting too old for this or if you're being picky or something. You can't even remember the last time somebody genuinely made your heart skip a beat- Yes you can. “I love this song!!” Casey screamed at you over the music, her hair falling out of the updo she’d put it in earlier but in a way that looked artfully messy, and your face lights up when you recognise the tune, an old favourite from your college days. “Me too!” you yelled back. Funny how some booze robbed you of your inability to make any sort of meaningful observations, but that wasn’t really what’s required of you right now. It doesn’t matter. Nothing seemed to matter as you twisted and turned beneath the strobe lights, a machine sending out plumes of dry ice, hiding the dancefloor that’s soaked in people’s spilled drinks by now. You watched as the people around you flash red, yellow, green, blue…something so normal made mesmerising with just a few tricks of the light (and copious amounts of liquid courage, it had to be said). The other girls pushed their way through the crowd to join you, squealing, the lights twinkling on their jewellery or the glitter on their eyelids. And right on Danesha’s heels was fucking Steve. It's like tasting something slightly off in an otherwise good meal, contaminating every other bite. He’s looking at you again, that vaguely dead eyed expression that sent your teeth on edge, so you turned your back to him. He seemed impervious to reading body language or your annoyed expressions, but not having to look at him was at least something. “Oh my god, Lucy, what are you doing?!” Danesha suddenly shrieked. You all turned to look at Lucy, one of Casey’s friends, who had somehow crossed the dancefloor without any of you noticing and had climbed on one of the tables, dancing around on it like a thing possessed. You’re kind of impressed she somehow hadn’t knocked over all of the glasses and bottles covering the surface. She had her arms thrown above her head, bracelets sliding down her skinny wrists, blonde hair twisting back and forth along with her movements. A security guard rushed over, nearly colliding with you, yelling at her to get down or he’d throw her out, and as the oblivious crowd around you start jumping up and down to an R’n’B song that just started, you realised something- You’re going to puke. You bolted for it, feeling the hot, sickly feeling rising in your throat, the roof of your mouth tingling. You raced towards the ladies, but skidded to a halt – the queue was so long you doubted you’d make it even if they let you pass to get to the sinks, so you did the only over thing you could think of and ran outside where the smokers went. The tequila tasted even worse on the way back up as you bent over a trashcan outside and vomited it back up, throat burning with it and your eyes stinging. You blinked hard several times because you didn’t want it to fuck up your eyeliner. You made a mental note that in future, when Casey gives you a mysterious shot, at least ask what it is first. You still had your drink from before in your hand and took a cautious swig from it to wash the horrible taste out of your mouth, spitting it out into the trashcan too. It’s not water but it’s an improvement, at least. “Hey.” You stiffened. You didn’t need to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. Your fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle as you turned your head to see Steve standing a few feet behind you, hands in his pockets. “What?” you said, flatly, because you weren’t interested in small talk. He looked slightly surprised at your response, blinking and swaying a little. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay or if you wanted him to get Casey or someone, of course. He’s only interested in what he wants. “So like…you’re so hot.” Steve said and if you weren’t already so done with him, you might have laughed at what a pathetic attempt at a pickup line that was. “And I was thinking like…we should-“ “No.” you interrupted. Steve stared at you. “What?” “There is no ‘we’. Whatever you were about to ask, I’m not interested.” You said, and it’s a relief to get it out in the open. Whatever he wanted, he wasn’t getting it from you. “I’m going back inside now.” “Hey, you don’t even know what I was gonna say!” Steve protested in a whiny voice, blocking the doorway. “Don’t be like that.” “I don’t even know what you’re doing here.” You blurted out, anger rising in you like someone turned up a thermostat inside you. “It was meant to just be us girls and here you are, expecting us all to feel bad for you because you got dumped or something and ruining it for all of us. It’s so creepy how you’re hovering around acting like if you buy us drinks or whatever it means you’ll get something out of it later. That’s not how it works. Now get out of my fucking way.” God, it felt good to say that, seeing that stunned look on his face like he couldn’t believe his ears. You’re so sick of holding back everything you want to say, every moment of every day, of feeling like you’re constantly walking over a landmine and if you don’t consider everything you do carefully, it’ll all be blown to smithereens. You’ve been swallowing venom for so long it’s great to spit it out. “You’re a bitch!” Steve spluttered in astonishment, clearly aiming to sound scornful but he sounded so affronted that it’s impossible to take him seriously – if he had pearls to clutch, he would. “You got that right.” You said, feeling a vindictive smirk on your face. “Now move.” You’ve wasted quite enough time on this douchebag as it was, and you went to push past him when he suddenly grabbed at your arm. “Wait, just calm down.” Steve said, slurring slightly. “Get the hell off me.” You hissed at him. You wrenched your arm free, stumbling backwards and when you right yourself, Steve’s face was suddenly looming over you like a satellite dish, his lips puckered grotesquely. Ugh! “I said get away!” You swung your hand to hit him, outrage flooding your brain and overriding any shred of common sense, but the hand you instinctively flung up was still clutching the bottle from earlier and there’s a loud, dull thunk as it collided with the side of Steve’s face. The bottle doesn’t break or shatter dramatically, but either way you get your desired outcome – Steve getting the fuck away from you, clutching his face and moaning loudly, a strange, bovine noise that made you think of a cow getting stuck. “My eye! My eye! You bitch, you fucking cunt!” he shouted, staggering on the spot, a spot just below his eyebrow already starting to swell. You know you should be feeling something right now – shocked or guilty or something, but there’s nothing there. Just a cold sense of satisfaction in having your kneejerk dislike of Steve vindicated. “You’re fucking pathetic.” You said, like a queen issuing a royal decree, before tossing your makeshift weapon aside and walking back into the bar. Inside, you only have to walk a few steps before a bouncer passed you, carrying a semi-conscious Lucy over one gigantic shoulder, Danesha and the other girls following him like a row of duckling and loudly talking, though you can’t tell if they’re upset about being kicked out or just trying to rouse Lucy. Casey came rushing up to you. “There you are! Come on, we should go – Lucy’s absolutely out of it, so we’re going to take her back to Christa’s place to sober her up. Do you wanna crash there too? She doesn’t mind.” You considered it as you followed Casey out, ducking and weaving past the people still dancing the night away, but after puking up your last drink and braining Steve in the face, you decided that you know when to fold. “No, I’ll get a taxi back to mine. I’m tired and I don’t want to sleep on the floor.” You said. You debated telling her about Steve, but knowing Casey she’d probably go looking for him and try to fight him and as much as you love her for that, you’d say you’ve taken care if things. Anyway, you don’t want to ruin her night any further. Maybe you’ll tell her about it later when you’ve both sobered up. Outside the club, there are plenty of taxis waiting and after the bouncer deposits Lucy in one of them (which was pretty nice of him – you’ve known bouncers who would probably leave someone that drunk lying on the floor so long as they weren’t in the bar), Casey turned to you and gave you a hug. “Sure you don’t want to come with us?” “I’m sure.” You replied – you wanted to go home and sleep. “Okay. Talk tomorrow, text me when you get home!” she ordered you. “Don’t forget!” “You’re the one who never remembers to text.” You snorted as you climbed into the back of the taxi. “See you later.” The taxi pulls away from the curb and after giving your address, you slump back against the seat, your eyes sliding shut despite yourself. He’ll wake you up when you get to your destination, for sure. Outside the taxi, the city parties on. ~ Elsewhere… "Stupid bitch..." Steve, forgotten by the group of people he'd arrived at the bar with, even Danisha, who'd brought him, stumbles home through the brightly lit night of the city. The night is beginning to wind down now, most of the partiers tiring of their alcohol-induced fun and retreating home or joining a stranger to spend the rest of the night with. Steve doesn't want to return home, but to say his night has been ruined was an understatement - his throbbing face was testament enough to that. Just who the fuck did you think you were, anyway? He’s a nice guy and he's just been dumped! Was it so much to ask he get to hang out with a group of hotties for a night? But you’d looked at him like he was shit on your boots, like you were so fucking special. And Danika had made it seem he'd for sure get laid, she insisted he was a great guy and his ex was crazy for breaking up with him, yet all he got was fucking smashed in the face! This petulant internal monologue continues on and on. He may have even been inclined to continue going to bars in hopes of guilting some woman into letting him go home with her, throwing himself on her sense of pity as if impaling himself on a sword. But he doesn't have the cash, and besides which, his face is sore and throbbing, a bruise already forming beneath his eyebrow. By the morning it will be there, the only souvenir of tonight and not one he was hoping to walk away with. He turns into the mouth of an alleyway that’s a handy shortcut home - Steve grimaces as a waft of garbage reached his nose, no doubt collection day’s tomorrow morning, so it's not a pleasant trip, but it takes him further away from the noise and bright lights that seem to be mocking him, everybody else having fun while all he got was attacked. Can he sue for assault or whatever it was? GBA or something? When Steve rounds the next corner, where some lurid graffiti art that always catches his eye and made him stare at it as he passed, he's unprepared to be intercepted. He stops, squinting. A figure stands in the middle of the alley. Thanks to the bright lighting of a billboard across the street, light floods the street and the man's features are in shadow. Steve squints, confused - the posture wasn't one of any mugger he's ever seen before. He can already tell this guy’s strong, he’s taller and bulkier than Steve is, even in silhouette. The man stands there, legs apart, shoulders thrown back and hands behind his back. But Steve spots something - an American flag, dangling behind the man, lit up by the fluorescent glow. “…No way…” Steve mutters under his breath, drunk as he is – even someone blackout drunk would recognise the person standing in front of him. But why’s he here? Homelander says nothing to explain himself, why Vought’s golden boy would be standing in a filthy alleyway like he’s staring down enemy gunfire. He steps closer silently, the flag swaying hypnotically behind him. Steve finds himself staggering backwards until his jacket brushes brick wall, which is crazy. He’s an innocent citizen, why is he instinctively drawing away from Homelander? Unless…maybe it’s not him at all? Maybe it’s just some guy on a bachelor party in a Homelander outfit or something? His uniform is a popular choice, they’re easy to get into and instantly recognisable, no need to have multiple conversations explaining your outfit at a costume party with such an iconic Supe’s wardrobe readily available. It’s a useful disguise in case you wanna rob somebody, too. Convinced of his theory, Steve yells: “Hey, man! What do you want?!” And then his stomach turns to ice, as in the gloom of the alleyway, two pinpricks of red flare in the darkness, like the eyes of a crocodile. It's him. A hand shoots out, grasping Steve by the throat and lifting him off the ground as easily as most people might pick up a bag of washing. Steve chokes, flounders, Homelander’s thumb digging into the vulnerable flesh beneath his jaw. His movements feel so slow and sluggish and Homelander tilts his head in consideration, his jaw clenched. Steve splutters for air, the grip on his throat like a vice. His fingers claw pointlessly at Homelander’s glove, legs weakly kicking. He tries to speak but all that comes out is an incoherent gurgle. “Please…” Homelander’s lips draw back in a snarl. In that moment he looks less a man and more like a beast. Steve’s panic-stricken eyes meet glowing scarlet ones, tears leaking from them instinctively. Homelander finally speaks; “She’s right. You are fucking pathetic.” And the fist clenches and the bones in Steve’s neck pop like twigs, the flesh giving way beneath his superhuman grip like it’s nothing more than paper. Steve's body jerks and a final, rattling gurgle leaves his mouth. Then he falls still, head slumping. Homelander drops the body, where it collapses before the graffiti in a crumpled heap, piss staining the front of his ill-fitting jeans, glassy eyes staring at nothing. Homelander wipes his hand on the thigh of his suit, like he just touched something filthy. He sniffs once, rolls his shoulders. A blink later, a casual lift into the sky, and he’s gone.

#Homelander x Reader #The Boys (2019)#The Boys x Reader #Fanfiction #Writings #Homelander x You

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beyondfashion01 · 7 months

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#long sleeve cocktail dresses #cocktail dress with fringe #cocktail midi dresses #mini sequin dress

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invisibleraven · 8 months

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"Is that my sweater you're wearing?" for Julie/anyone because we all covet the yellow smiley sweater

When Rose and Victoria Alvarez were little girls one of their favourite pastimes was dress up. Pretending to be someone they were not with just a costume change. Granted they were regulated to old clothes their mami no longer wanted, but still. They spent plenty a happy hour parading around in old cocktail dresses, fancy hats, and oversized high heels.

Now that Rose was a mother, though, she had less opportunities to dress up. Sure when Julie was younger she forced her into many a costume, but now she was too grown up for all that.

Of course, Julie did share Rose's love of stealing her mother's clothing. She would search through her old Petal Pushers gear to pull out a fringed vest or pleather dress for her own gigs. Or a band tee from Rose's misspent youth seeing every show she could.

However, Julie was also bad about asking to borrow Rose's clothing. So sometimes when she wanted a particular piece and couldn't find it, she knew to search Julie's room first.

Case in point-her favourite yellow sweater frequently went missing. So when Rose wanted it after Ray went on a weekend shoot, as a source of comfort, of course it was nowhere to be found. It wasn't anywhere in Julie's room, though it was such a pigsty that Rose wasn't sure she could find anything in there.

That left tracking Julie down-Rose found her easily enough, out in the garage bent over a sheet of composition paper.

"Hey mija," Rose said, leaning against the door. "Working on the next big hit?"

"Refining a song Luke wrote for our next gig," Julie replied, not even looking up.

"Is that my sweater you're wearing?" Rose asked, crossing her arms, giving her best Mom glare.

Julie looked up at that, then down at the sweater, blushing to the tip of her ears. "I might be?"

"And did you ask if you could borrow it?" Rose asked.

"Ummmm...no," Julie said, deflating. "Do you want it back?"

Rose sighed. "You might as well keep it, you borrow it often enough. I know I stole more than one piece from my own mami."

"Well I didn't think I got my clothes thief tendencies from papi," Julie snarked.

"Just be glad I don't return the favour and steal that cute camo jumpsuit," Rose replied.

"I don't think it would fit, but you're welcome to borrow it," Julie replied. "Just ask first."

Rose had to laugh at that before sitting down next to her, wrapping her in a hug. "I'll try to remember that. Now how about I look over that song?"

#filled prompts #ficlet #rose & julie #julie and the phantoms

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look-at-the-soul · 2 years

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Collecting moments, not things.

Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader (one shot)

First story of 2023! ✨🎉 can’t believe it… hope you all celebrated the holidays and had a good time with your loved ones 🥰 I want to take a moment to thank every single of you for all your support during 2022…

Now *drum roll* I wrote this story to celebrate @gypsy-girl-08 3,000 followers!!!! Inspired by our beloved “Blind date” couple that I simply adore and can’t enough of. Liv I can’t thank you enough for being an inspiration, you already know this but you are one of the very first tumblr fan accounts that I found here when I googled “Tommy Shelby fanfiction”, thank you because of your work I got the chance to start day-dreaming again, to imagine, to distract me from the daily stress, to really enjoy a moment to myself, and that lead me to write again, and the rest is history… ♥️

⚠️ Ah! I almost forgot, smut at the beginning then fluff 🔥🥰

This is set between those days after Christmas and before NYE, and of course, Charlie has my heart 🥰

Your fingernails would probably leave marks on Tommy’s back from the force you were applying, but as his lips sucked hard on the skin of your left shoulder, you couldn’t keep down the moan that came out from the deepest part of your soul.

He was buried deep inside you as you moved up and down on his shaft, his strong hands making sure you were close to him.

But soon, he switched positions in a swift motion and now you were laying on your back, with his weight on top of you as Tommy slammed all the way back in and out of your body with a pace that made you think you wouldn’t be able to walk in five days.

Feeling him pull out from you completely and your eyes snapped open, you were in route to orgasm-road and now you felt empty. But before you could protest, you saw him kneeling in bed between your legs and his hands sneaked under your body at the small of you back level, he lifted that part of your body and with most of your back still touching the mattress, he entered your body one more time.

Tommy started moving your lower body to meet his thrusts. He was in charge of the pace and speed, you were lost in pleasure, your hands moved up your own body, until your fingers found your breasts, with your middle finger, you barely fanned over your nipple, causing Tommy to stop momentarily, he leaned on his heels as you added extra pleasure to what you were already experiencing. Resuming his movements a few seconds later, he was insatiable that morning.

“Ahhh!” You moaned.

The new angle, seeing him above you, broad shoulders, strong and toned biceps contracted by the effort he was applying, looking up, you found Tommy biting his lower lip, his fringe hanging against his forehead as he hit your g-spot over and over, it was all too much.

Time stopped and soon you felt a pleasure you’ve never felt before.

Ecstasy hit you hard, one wave of pleasure after another as Tommy was still holding your lower back up in the air, throwing his head back he reached his own climax as his load was released inside you.

Carefully, he placed your lower body back down in the mattress, bodies still connected as he tried to catch his breath.

“Jesus fuck, woman, every time I’m inside you is like you plug in my cock in the fucking outlet.”

You chuckled at his comparison, running your nails through the shorter parts of his hair, sighing as he rolled on his back pulling out from you to have some rest. Desperate for a cigarette, he just rubbed it against his lips, without lighting it… out of habit, he couldn’t smoke around you anymore.

“You know, I like having another Christmas dinner, even though is no longer Christmas.” You admitted walking naked towards the en-suite bathroom, his eyes taking in your figure. A few seconds later, he heard the shower running.

***

Tommy watched you from the bed as you took something from your jewelry box. Fuck you looked like a bombshell in that green cocktail dress and nude shoes.

“You’re so quiet.”

Your words brought him back, walking towards you, he took the delicate necklace in your hand, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder as you moved your hair to the side.

“Just thinking.”

“I get scared when you do that.” You chuckled and found his eyes looking at you through the mirror.

Tommy clicked his tongue, a playful look back in his deep gaze as his hands roamed down your body. “You should Y/N, you should.”

But the moment was interrupted by a desperate small voice storming into the bedroom.

“Daaaaad, Y/N I arrived earlier!” Charlie rushed to both of you, a huge smile on his face, showing off a couple of missing teeth.

“Oh, hi Charlie!” You welcomed him as his arms wrapped around you.

Tommy looked at you, worried. “Hey son.” But he was genuinely happy to see his child.

“Mum said she could only drive me for lunch, so I told her OK!”

Clearing his throat, Tommy crunched down to his height, to look Charlie in the eyes. “Listen to me, this is your house, ey? You come and go as you please, you don’t have to ask.”

Charlie seemed to process his father’s words for a couple of seconds, only to nod eagerly after throwing himself for a hug. Tommy groaned at the contact, he wanted Charlie to feel he had a safe place there. People who loved him deeply.

“Happy belated Holidays Charlie.” You said caressing the back of his head.

Tommy had barely released his son, only to pull the kid back for another hug, wishing him a Merry Christmas.

“You two are disgustingly cute, can I join the hug?” You joked, adored to see Tommy interacting with his son.

“What do we do in these circumstances?” Tommy asked Charlie, with his eyebrows raised.

A huge grin decorated his features. “Sandwich!” He ran off to hug you from the front while Tommy positioned himself strategically behind your body.

“Ah, best group hug ever, but I need to breathe.” Your whole body tingled, by feeling Tommy’s body against yours, his deep laugh in your ear.

“Do you know if Father Christmas stopped by Y/N?” The boy then asked pulling your hand.

“Oh! I saw a couple of presents left under the tree, but I didn’t look at the tags…”

His little face lighted up. “Those must be mine!”

And he didn’t wait another minute to find out, before you could say anything else, Charlie was gone.

He had spent Christmas with Grace, and he would be with the Shelby’s for New Year. It wasn’t the best or ideal, but it was better than nothing. Co-parenting is never easy, there are a lot of ups and downs, bitter moments, irritating phone calls and discussions back and forth. But the most important thing, at least for Tommy was making sure than Charlie was happy.

“What do we do with the orphanage celebration?” Tommy asked you looking for advice, his son was supposed to arrive for the belated Christmas dinner the family organized after having lunch at the orphanage and giving them the Christmas presents they got for the kids. But since he arrived way too early, he didn’t know how to make the logistics work.

“Ask him if he wants to go with us? I’m sure he would love to.” You replied running your hand up and down his back, knowing how tense he was.

“You think so?” But before you could answer you did, Charlie called out for you.

“Look at all of these presents!” Charlie moved around faster than a tornado, checking out all of the wrapped boxes. “Aunt Pol, uncle John, Katie, Frances…” He read out loud.

“I think I heard Father Christmas hiding a couple of presents…” You winked, taking the couch.

“Before you burn down the whole house looking for ‘em, I need to ask you something.” Tommy sat next to you and beckoning his son to come close, he helped him up to sit on his lap. “You remember we have an orphanage?” Watching Charlie nod, Tommy placed his hand on your knee. “Every year we go over there and give the kids presents,-”

“Father Christmas is a little bit busy, so the company, we’ll your Daddy here volunteered as Santa’s helper.” You interrupted, running one hand up and down Tommy’s back.

The look on Charlie’s face was priceless.

“You help Santa?!” His little mouth hung open, wide eyes looking at Tommy.

Tommy didn’t know how to react, he was out of words, you had never seen him like that.

“That’s so cool Dad!”

Tommy chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah…”

Charlie’s eyes lightened up. “You’ve seen him?”

“No, no… we can’t see him, he just asked for a little help.” You explained, but before Charlie could keep the interrogation going, you asked him; “would you like to come with us? We don’t want to leave those kids without their presents, but we don’t want to leave you alone either…”

“And everyone is coming back here after we finish.” Tommy stated.

“So, this is the plan,” you started, “we go over there, give the presents to the kids, we also got some food for them, then we come back, have dinner and open the presents Father Christmas left?”

“Yeah!” He jumped up happily from his father’s legs, but soon more questions invaded his mind; “Why are they in the orphanage?”

Tommy looked at you, trying to find the right words to say.

“Son, some families have to leave the kids at the orphanage because they can’t take care of them, they can’t give them food and pay for school.” Tommy cleared his throat after explaining the first thing that came to his mind.

Extending your hand to Charlie, you then added; “another times, when the parents pass away, they have to take the kids there, so they can be safe.”

“So they celebrate their birthdays and Christmas there? Alone?” You could see his little mind speeding up, trying to comprehend the new information.

“They’re not alone, Charlie, there are other kids and the adults responsible for them.”

“That’s why we are bringing the presents, to help put a smile on their face.” You could feel the lump in your throat growing, making it hard to speak. Tommy was looking at the floor.

“If you don’t want to go, is fine Charlie, we’ll stay here… I will ask Aunt Ada to cover me.”

Shaking his little head, you saw him walking out of the room. “Wait for me!” He demanded from the stairs.

“You made it sound so easy.” He squeezed your thigh.

“What was I supposed to say? Some parents don’t want their babies and they just leave them there? Or they grew in an abusive household and are taken away?”

“Do you realize I was supposed to end up in a place like that?” Tommy looked at you intently. “If it wasn’t for Pol…” His eyes watered.

You touched his face, hurt by his words. “Don’t say that, everything you went through made who you’re today. Made you stronger.”

“Sometimes I wonder where would I be if some things were different, easier.”

He was trying to be a good father for his son. You knew how hard he worked for him.

Charlie interrupted what you were about to answer.

“Can I give those kids these too? I never opened them and I got plenty of toys!”

Tommy was completely speechless by his son’s actions. Surprised by his kindness and selfless act, he nodded.

“Of course honey, let me wrap them quickly.” You smiled at him and then looking back at Tommy, who was leaning on one of his legs, you gave him a cute pout. “I heard aunt Ada left some Christmas cookies for you, why don’t you ask Frances to give you some?”

After Charlie was out of sight, you walked back to Tommy, he still had a surprised expression.

“When did he grow up so much?”

“He’s smarter than we think.” You moved his arm to the side, to sit on his lap, his hands around your waist in seconds. “And kind,” you kissed his cheek, “and generous…” you kissed then his jaw, “just like his Dad.” You added then, kissing the tip of his nose.

“All that?” He joked not fully believing all those compliments.

You felt him relax under your touch and when you moved back a little, you found him with his eyes lids closed, a smile on his lips.

So tempting, so inviting… leaning forwards, your lips found his and a deep groan vibrated through his chest.

But before he could deepen the kiss, your hands pushed away his shoulders a little, to stop him.

Your fingertips touched his lips. “Charlie could walk in any minute now.” You stated adjusting the red tie with gold circles you gave him for Christmas, along the vintage pocket watch you found at a vintage store.

As Tommy rested his head on your shoulder, he asked you a very important question; “when are we telling him?”

“Tell me what?” Charlie questioned holding two cookies in his hands.

Oops, you thought trying to come up with an excuse, looking at Tommy silently pleading for him to sort the situation. But the spark in his eyes told you that he wouldn’t even try it.

“Charlie? We need to talk to you about something.”

Charlie’s face changed immediately. “I didn’t do it.” He defended himself clasping his hands behind his back.

“What?” Tommy squinted his eyes at his son. “No, I mean we have some news to share with you,” as he saw his son relaxing, Tommy’s guard started to build up. “What is it you didn’t do?”

“Some of my classmates said they would be staying up late during Christmas Eve to see Santa , they wanted to caught him leaving the presents… but I didn’t do it, I swear Dad.” He was so mortified that you couldn’t stand the worry in his eyes.

“Is alright Charlie, we know you didn’t.” Standing up, you went to take his hand and walk with him to the couch, making him sit between Tommy and you.

“You know what happens when you sneak and catch him, ey?” Charlie shook his head, waiting for an explanation. “That’s when the magic ends, there’s no going back, he won’t be taking any more letters, he won’t stop by to eat cookies and have a glass of whiskey.”

“Dad! You can’t give Father Christmas whiskey!” Charlie stated shocked. “He’s supposed to be driving the sled.”

Tommy looked at you this time pleading for you to rescue him from the crave he just got himself in.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, it was just a sip, he was thirsty.” You tried to explain.

“And he’s got immunity worldwide, the police can’t touch him.”

Thinking how you just praised him for being a good example and now Tommy was portraying Santa Claus as someone who liked to drink, you preferred the previous discussion.

“So… Charlie, the news we wanted to tell you earlier…”

“You’re going to have a little brother or sister, Y/N is pregnant.” Tommy confessed with a smile.

Charlie’s face lighting up, he started running around squealing in happiness, he couldn’t believe the good news, but he walked to you for another “sandwich” hug, excited to have a sibling. At the beginning you were afraid of how to tell him, or how he would react, after seeing the smile on his face, you knew it would all be alright.

You were so happy, the pregnancy was unexpected but you loved each other and it would have happened eventually.

Charlie was so excited that he almost forgot about going to the orphanage. Luckily Tommy reminded you and the three of you headed out to the car.

“Y/N let me open the door!” Charlie requested, after watching his father do that every time you went out, he was starting to mirror a couple of his actions.

Tommy stopped on his tracks as he heard his son say that, looking through his Ray-Bans at the blonde boy rush to take your hand, he was surprised one more time.

At the orphanage, it couldn’t be any different, Charlie immediately ran off to play with the kids and help you and Tommy give the presents, he also volunteered to serve the food and cupcakes you brought, showing by his actions that he had a kind heart, he was a pure soul. And even showing leadership skills as he was making sure all the kids got a present, informing them that Santa didn’t forget about them.

Looking around, you couldn’t find Tommy, it was time to leave unfortunately, but you had to be back home for dinner with the Shelby’s, turning in your heels, you found him kneeling in front of a girl who was crying inconsolably, her little face turning red, maybe you got the wrong presents list and you missed hers? Charlie wrapped his arms around her as Tommy took out from his pocket the handkerchief to wipe her tears away.

And you saw it clearly, the man he really was, to you, it wasn’t really a surprise to see Charlie doing things his father usually did, or repeating his words or mannerisms, they were like look-wise both on the outside and the inside, and that’s the thing with kids, they’re always watching.

Tommy tried to make everyone feel scared of him, his family, his employees, his enemies… but at home, he was just your Tommy. You could feel emotions building up as you thought how Tommy would be a great father to the kid you were expecting.

Charlie still had a lot of energy as you all got inside the car to go back home, it was hard to make him stop playing.

“Why was Rebecca crying?” You questioned turning in your seat to see Charlie.

Tommy took your hand and placed both on his lap.

“She was sad because her birthday was on Christmas Eve and she didn’t get anything.” Charlie explained rubbing his eyes.

“Oh!”

For a couple of minutes, the drive was made in complete silence, each mind thinking of the events of the day in their own way, until Charlie spoke again.

“Dad?…” Tommy looked at his son through the rear view mirror, blue eyes reflected. “Can we go back to the orphanage to celebrate Rebecca’s belated birthday? I could buy her a big balloon with the money you give me for lunch.”

Tommy stopped the vehicle at the red light, looking at his side, he found you looking at him already, a genuine and beautiful smile on your lips.

You can’t make kids say things like that, those come from the heart, from what they see around them.

The monster of business, the shark of trouble, the king without a crown, was surprised by his five year old boy. You knew he was lost for words, so you decided to intervene.

“I think that’s a great idea Charlie, how about we go once a month and celebrate every single kid who will be celebrating their birthday that month?”

As Charlie answered enthusiastically at your proposal, Tommy could only squeeze your hand tightly, his heart exploding of love as he stopped the car outside his house, Polly and Ada’s cars already parked, they were unloading wrapped presents.

“From now on, we will do that Charlie, on Saturdays, so you can go with us.”

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You looked back at him again.

“How did you and my Dad meet?”

A soft smile played on Tommy’s lips at the memory.

Clearing his throat, Tommy turned in his seat as well. “Sometimes, son blind dates go wrong, that’s when you take your chance and get the girl.”

Winking at you, he was pleased by the way that night turned out to be.

For the first time, Tommy felt that he was collecting moments, not things.

***

A/N: Even though this was based on the couple of Blind date, I added a couple of things of my own (like the pregnancy), but this was made with all my love and respect to the original writer 🥰♥️

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