#full black tux is a weakness

[pinklemonadesociety]

Oooff the full black tux 😮‍💨

[rebeccasteventaylor]

Well, I warned you. My very long explanation of ‘Benji uses clothes like Ethan uses masks’ kind of theory. And also the ‘Benji uses clothes to align himself with Ethan’ theory a bit too

So in RN we see first of all���

Benji in a ghillie suit (camouflage)

Benji in a very standard office suit (camouflage)

Benji in a tux (social situation camouflage)

Benji in a suit - which came from the bag Ethan bought (probably) so Benji as Ethan sees him

Benji in another suit to get into the vault

And only once the disk is got does Benji dress in his own, bright, distinctive clothes (a version of which he bought for Ethan).

And isn’t it interesting that Lane put Benji in a dark coat, covering up all that wonderfully colourful individual style?

But the whole experience with Lane taught Benji something - geeky t shirts and loud shirts make him an easily spotted and classified target. So he went back to the lesson he’d learned - camouflage.

And what is the IMF if not grown men playing at disguises?

At the beginning of Fallout he’s dressed as the geeky scientist the arms dealer is expecting. In Paris, persuading Walker he is weak, useless, scared, soft, he goes for the Gay Professor - shirts, braces (suspenders means something very different in my country) bow ties. He even wears glasses, which he doesn’t normally do.

It works. Walker thinks he’s soft, a geek, incapable of fighting. He underestimates Benji. He doesn’t know what Benji is capable of. So Benji fools him and beats him (and also Lane, really. Benji works out how to defuse the bomb)

But once Walker is gone, Benji dresses a lot more practically. In Kashmir, he dresses like the rest - mission wear.

Dead Reckoning - Benji echoes Ethan’s style. Ethan wears a blue suit - Benji wears a blue jacket. Ethan wears suit and tie - so does Benji. Benji is consciously or unconsciously aligning himself with Ethan by echoing Ethan’s style and colours.

At the end, knowing they will probably go on the run again, he is leaning - not quite, but leaning - toward the Gay Professor again.

And now - London.

Ethan is in hiding. Luther is in hiding. Benji is out in the open. We can assume Benji has been gathering tools and treatment for Luther, information for Ethan, whilst being visible and out in the world. He is in the most danger. So he has disguised himself again - full on Professor. Tweed and ties. Completely harmless. Doddery old fool. Bad car. Absolutely not a threat.

Once back on mission, he is back in mission clothes. Warm, practical, discreet.

And then….

In the plane, once Ethan is back, Benji is in shirt sleeves. Ethan is wearing what I think is Benji’s sweater. Benji took it off himself and gave it to Ethan.

And the clothes Ethan wears in South Africa are clothes Benji bought for Ethan. Ethan would have gone for his standard black, always his default choice. It’s Benji dressing him in Benji’s colours and styles - the jacket, the gloves, the browns, the white shirt.

As in Rogue Nation, Ethan bought the clothes he wanted to see Benji in, in Final Reckoning Benji has bought the clothes he wants to see Ethan in.

Benji uses clothes the way Ethan uses masks - to hide, to redirect, to disguise.

But Benji also uses clothes to align himself with Ethan. Even to some point to establish ownership over Ethan - as Ethan once did with Benji in Vienna.

There. Told you it was long. Did it make sense?

[hawkette-heather]

➶| Blood Ties

➶| Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3 ➶| Pairing: Stalker!Murderer!Kate Bishop X NewAvengers!Fem!reader ➶| Summary: After being knocked out by Ghostface, you find yourself locked inside a dark, damp basement, devoid of life, and light.. ➶| Warning: Heavy Obsession, Non Con - DNI if you aren't comfortable, NOT PROOFREAD. , g!p Kate, Blood, Gore, Dead Dove, Alternate Universe where Kate is a criminal, mentions of victims. ➶| A/N: Sorry about the wait, for those reading. I'm just a bit busy and I haven't been feeling good these days. Sorry if my writing isn't that good this time.

Word Count: 1.7K

➳

Your eyes slowly open, an aching pain vibrating on the back of your head instantly hitting you. It's dark. You can barely even see. The only source of light is from the window in the other corner of the dark room. You slowly start to move, attempting to stand, when you're instantly brought down to the floor: you're bound to the wall by your wrists, as well as a metal collar around your neck. You're in confusion, still waking up from when you passed out, when it all starts coming back to you: the blood, your best friend, the warning she gave you. And then, you remember the name she said. Kate. You sit there, in silence, before trying to harness some of your purple magic to your palms, your efforts...surprisingly futile.

"Awake?" You hear a voice say, followed by footsteps descending down the stairs to the room. Your eyes are still trying to focus in the dark, as you continue to attempt harnessing your magic to your hands. The footsteps slowly get louder, as they ascend into the room, before you hear a click!. And then, the room is luminated by a dim light. Your eyes squint, slowly adjusting to the new light to the room.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart." The voice says once more. Your eyes wander the room, to find the source of the voice, and that's when you realise who it is, who was all behind this. There, standing at a desk, with a crazed smirk, stands the acting CEO of Bishop Security: Katherine Elizabeth Bishop. Around her, you see the walls full of images, photos, of you. It's more eerie than it was dark..

"Why can't I use my magic..?" You manage to rasp out, your voice weak due to the aching pain in the back of your head. Kate lets out a small chuckle, approaching you, before crouching down.

"These.." She says, moving a hand to grab onto the cuffs keeping your wrists bound, "are magic inhibitor cuffs."

"Only the government have them-"

"And who do you think supplies the government at times, Princess. Hm?" Kate asks, with a small, mocking pout, before letting out another laugh, moving to stroke your cheek, pushing back some hair from your eyes, letting out a content sigh.

"All mine...nobody will find you here, Y/N.. You're all mine." Kate coos. You notice her appearance: a black cloak shrouding her figure underneath, a mask in her hand- a bloodied mask. Kate sets the mask down, before taking the cloak off, where she is wearing her normal work attire: a black tux.

"..Of course it was you.." You mutter weakly. You should've seen the signs. The fact that the cams weren't able to catch her at all: she was hacking them, deleting footage before you all could view it. The way she was sickly sweet when you met her in her office. Everything was pointing at her. "What did you do to Ava..?"

"Oh, her? She's irrelevant. But if you must know." Kate says, with a sigh. She opens her phone, scrolling through the applications, before opening the web browser, before searching up her alias name: Ghostface. She clicks on the news tab, before moving, crouching down and moving her phone in front of your face, so you can see the writing. Several news websites including a blurred photo of a corpse, blood running all over, followed by titles along the lines of 'Ghostface's next victim'. Your eyes wander the screen, before your head hangs down. She's dead. Kate gives a satisfied smile, putting her phone back into her pocket.

"For someone so...powerful, you seem so...meek right now. Vulnerable, and meek...and I love it." She breathes out, almost dreamily, before she extends her hands out, starting to undo the chain connecting the collar around your neck to the wall. After a few seconds, the chain fall down, and the collar opens, to which Kate takes it off your neck. After, the chains around your ankles follow.

"What're you going to do with me..? If you're going to kill me...do it fast." You whisper, your head still hung down. Kate grins, moving a hand to your chin, lifting your face back up, so her eyes connect with yours.

"Oh no, I would never kill you. All these photos...all these videos I have of you...I would never kill you. But...I am going to do something else. And you will love every part of it." Kate purrs, before grabbing you, manhandling you down onto the cold ground of the basement floor of the HQ. She moves a hand to the back of your head, pushing your face down, as she straddles you from behind. Your eyes widen, as you start struggling weakly, as fear slowly starts to rise up inside you. Kate moves a calloused hand to your shorts, pulling them down swiftly, before grabbing at your underwear.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me...aren't you..? And if you're not...maybe I have to do something to those vocal chords of yours.." Kate whispers quietly, her voice calm, but laced with malicious intent. She sits up on her heels, unbuckling her belt, and throwing it aside, before unzipping her fly, and pulling it, and her boxers slightly down, enough to free her cock from confinement. You continue to squirm under her, attempting to resist, unable to use your magic.

"Stop struggling." Kate growls, grabbing your underwear and pulling it off roughly, before she moves down, so her chest is pressed flush against your back. Her hand remains on the back of your head, the other moving to wrap around the base of her cock, aligning herself with your sex, before roughly rolling her hips. The rough, intense pain elicits a scream from your lips, to which she moves her hand down to your face, pressing tightly against your mouth.

"I love it when you scream.." Kate whispers sadistically, pressing her forehead to the back of your head, as she starts to roughly roll her hips against yours, moving in slow, excruciating rolls, with rough thrusts causing your body to bounce forwards with every slam of her hips. Your body slowly heats up, as it starts shaking from the pain of the intrusion, your body unwilling to yield to her.

You try to regulate your breathing, as you feel the intensity of her thrusts. You're trying not to concentrate on the pain, rather concentrate on how to take the inhibitor off. You start moving your wrists, attempting to curl your hands up to make them smaller, to slide them off.

Kate is too caught up in the pleasure, moans and grunts starting to escape her lips animalistically, before she shoves a hand into her pocket, pulling out a pocket knife. She opens it up, before reaching over, grabbing your cuffed wrists from under you, and over your head, before dragging the blunt side of the knife down the back of one of your hands. She then drags the blade down, breaking the skin, causing a small slash of blood start to appear. Your jaw clenches at the pain, taking everything to not scream out, and struggle further. She moves the blade to her own hand, her hips stilling, as she cuts into the palm of her left hand. She lets out a hiss, watching the blood start to drip from the cut, before she moves her hand to clamp around the back of yours.

She presses the cut on her palm against the cut on the back of your hand. The dripping bloods slowly mix, as she start thrusting once more, throwing the pocket knife away, grabbing onto the cuffs around your wrist with her free hand. You can hear her pants, groans, moans. All of it. You're on the verge of writhing in pain, but your body cries out not to, in an attempt to remain strong, to try and focus on escaping. And then finally, Kate collapses, with a final grunt, before pulling out, her release dripping down onto your thighs.

➳

You hear her breaths, steady, as she sleeps, still on top of you. You can't sleep. The only thing keeping you determined, is the thought of escaping, and finally ending her murder spree. You weakly lift your head up, searching the room. And there, on the desk, lays a few assortments of pens, paper, her desktop computer, a few hair ties and bobby pins. Your eyes screw shut. As exhausted you are, you need to escape. Slowly, you try to connect your mind to your magic, in an attempt to bring the bobby pins to you through telekinesis. Your mind strains, but you remain resilient, and determined. And when your eyes open, in hope...there, floating in front of your face, is a small bobby pin. Your eyes close once more, as your powers bend he bobby pin into shape, before inserting it into the lock of the inhibitor cuffs, twisting and turning. You're praying you hear a click. You're praying they open.

And then...click. Your eyes slowly widen, as you feel the resistance around your wrists slowly loosen. You watch as the inhibitors hang around your wrists, before you move them, so the inhbitor falls off. Your wrists are red, from the tight confinement of the metal. You're...free. You look down at the back of your left hand, a small gash bared on it, with dry blood. Using your palms against the cold floor as leverage, you manage to slide yourself away, from under Kate. You grab onto the desk for support, lifting yourself up, your legs shaking in pain, feeling sore in the middle. You contemplate on getting changed, or running straight off, to which you use your magic to gather your shorts and underwear, before putting it back on.

You feel dirty, defiled. You suffered a great loss, from all the people you loved, murdered by her. The rage, and anger slowly rises inside you. She's asleep. You could kill her now...But you would rather see justice served, with her behind bars, than her 6 feet underground, away from repercussions. Quietly, you slowly walk over to the stairs leading out of the basement floor, however... before you reach it...you feel a hand yank your hair, pulling you harshly back..

[hellhound5925]

One shot - Sargent Hunter

Warnings:

I don’t really have any this time, Just a fun romantic evening. 18+ just incase.

Masquerade (Part Two)

Summary:

Lol I’m not putting one here but I’ll link part one incase you are new here! There will be a smutty Part Three because I know some of ya’ll are suckers for it (so am I).

Oh wait I do have something 😂 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis and @cloneloverrrrr your female characters got a lil cameo (I hope you like it).

Reminder: Dance Macabre by Ghost inspired this ☺️

Standing out on the balcony was refreshing for sure. The busy evening life on Coruscant going about their business, humbles me and reminds me that I am one of so many people that live here. The speeders in the sky lanes offer their own chorus of sounds, while the buildings seem to glow by the way their lighting reflects of the foggy city air. The sky was still somewhat bright from the day light but beginning to dim. Coruscant isn't perfect but it has its charm.

"Rough night?" An unfamiliar female voice comes from over my shoulder. Her accent is not one I recognize.

"Something like that" I chuckle before turning to face the source of the voice. A petit woman with long brown hair offers a warm smile. Something about her causes me to open up. "I think I'm being stood up" I confess, tugging at my lacy glove.

"Girl in that dress I'm pretty sure you could have anyone in that room! You're absolutely stunning"

Her words cause me to blush, "You're so very kind." A clone in an aqua blue tux approaches, his silvery hair spiked slightly, making him stand out from the others. He offers me a smile before whispering something to the woman, who then turns back to me.

"It was nice meeting you..."

"Circe"

"I'm Anfisa. Give him a chance, it's still early."

Offer a smile I nod in response. She takes the hand of the clone, he sweeps her off her feet back towards the doors. I can't help the hint of jealousy that creeps into my veins watching her facial expression - one of absolute admiration - when she looked at the Captain. Maybe Hunter really isn't going to show? Rex is still an option...but it wouldn't be fair to him... Being so deep in thought I had not heard the doors opening behind me.

"Circe?"

Spinning around, I'm ready to defend myself - natural reflex of being Mandalorian I guess. The minute I lock eyes with the man that was behind me, my entire body relaxes. At first I'm speechless, I mean just as I was starting to come to terms with the fact that he wasn't going to show? My eyes flick between him and the other members of the Clone Force 99 who are in the door way. Each of them dressed in full suits.

"Look I'm sorry if you thought I wasn't coming. Our mission ran a little longer than expected. I would've tried to contact you but I don't exactly have your code." As he continues he has my undivided attention, it's as if time itself stood still and we were the only two who are aware.

I don't say I word, partially because now I feel horrible for being irritated but partially because...well I'm still taking in the sight of him in a suit. The suit is red and black with gold accents to match me perfectly. It fits him so well, I can't help but wonder if it was a one of a kind, made only for him and exactly for him. His broad shoulders seem even more muscular and his thighs...Don't even get me started on the man's thighs.

Hunter seems to be feeling the same way as his eyes roam over my exposed shoulders and down the length of my dress. The way he studies me is as if he is trying to commit every little detail to memory. He makes his way back to my face, expression is gentle and in awe. Maker I've got it so bad for him, he makes me weak in the knees. If the universe hadn't come to a screeching halt already, it just did.

In a few short steps, he closes the gap between us. Reaching up he gently pulls the mask up off my face. I'm far too lost in the warmth of his brown eyes to protest. He places his free hand on my face and runs the pad of his thumb over my cheek, "I needed to see your face."

"I feel bad for being mad" I let out nervous laugh.

"Don't. You didn't know" his reassures me. When he removes his hand, I immediately crave the warmth of his touch.

Looking down at my mask in his hands he chuckles. The sound is music to my ears, the kind you listen to on repeat all day. It's warmth makes it way to my core, I hold onto the feeling never wanting to let it go. Hunter admires the mask turning it over in his hands as if its a worthy piece. A few strands of his wavy brown locks fall towards his face and only now I realized this is the first time I've seen him without a bandana. His hair looks so thick and soft, it's hard not to imagine what it would be like with my fingers tangled throughout.

He carefully reaches up and ties the black silk band back around my head, securing the mask on my face. His movements are so gentle yet tactical, the combination quite impressive.

"I like it" he admires his work.

I can't help but chuckle, "I thought you might." The only reason I bought this was because of his tattoo.

He offers me his hand, which I take without hesitation. The way our hands fit together is almost as if we were made for one another. Leading me towards the rest of the group who all offer warm smiles, except for Crosshair who just nods. We pass by them and enter the ballroom. The feeling of eyes on us is almost enough to make my skin crawl and I'm not usually the type to get social anxiety.

As if sensing the change, Hunter looks over his shoulder at me and offers a reassuring smile. He leads me through the crowd of dancing couples and pulls me in to him tight. One arm wrapped tightly around me, hand spread across my exposed back while the other still holds my hand. The two of us find our place amongst one another like two puzzle pieces coming together for the first time. My body immediately relaxes, leaning into his as an elegant symphony takes us over.

"I'm sorry...I'm not usually this nervous" I admit, feeling like he wont judge me. He leans in and goosebumps erupt all over my body.

"Let them stare, you're the most beautiful woman here. They're probably jealous" he whispers in my ear.

In that moment, I'm grateful he was holding onto me so tightly because my knees felt as though they might buckle. Ecstasy runs through my veins while we continue to dance. I'm dizzy, but not because of the way Hunter gracefully spins me. The dizziness is caused by the man himself, his entire essence. His gaze piercing into mine, strong arms protecting me from the world, the warmth that radiates from his body. This man knows what he's doing to me and its almost unfair. His protective yet gently nature unwavering, all contributing to the fact that the crush I have for this man...is deepening into the love struck fool.

He lets out another one of those chuckles that heats my core. Instinctively I lean my head into his, drinking in his scent which is gentle and woodsy. I never imagined he would use scented products because they might overwhelm him. A sudden sharp inhale tells me he's doing the same but I worry its too much.

"I'm sorry if its too much" my voice barely above a whisper, I can't find it in me to speak any louder but I know he can hear me.

"No, its not. But its probably my new favorite" he mumbles.

Turning my face towards his, we are so close his nose brushes over my cheek not covered by the mask. Both of us are breathing as if the tension in the air has suddenly made it quite heavy. Even though the music stopped momentarily and likely couples broke apart...we didn't. The two of us stood there, enchanted in the presence of one another.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the moon light coming through the double doors we walked through what felt like minutes ago. Hunter doesn't move but his eyes follow mine. An overwhelming sadness followed by a dull ache in my stomach reminds me that this night is coming to an end soon as much I might will it not to.

He turns to me, but I stare into the rays of moonlight for a moment longer. Slowly I pull my gaze away, turning my attention to Hunter, whose eyes roam my masked face. "What?" I ask rather defensively.

"Should we get out of here?" He asks as if reading my mind.

My stomach does a few flips as a smile makes it way onto my face. Without any hesitation he pulls away from me without letting go of my hand. He leads me through the crowd of people who are going about their own business. Stopping suddenly he turns to me, "Wait here. I'll be right back."

I watch as Hunter disappears into the crowd but I do as I'm told. The whole evening was so surreal, I replay the events over and over in my head.

"You guys make such a lovely couple" a woman with raven hair says from off to my left. She feels familiar to me like maybe I’ve seen her around the Senate before? Maker knows. Her date, the one and only Commander Wolffe offers me a glare which seems cold if you don't know the man. However, he's actually quite nice once you get to know him.

"Thank you" I smile back at her before nodding politely at the Commander.

Before I can even think, Hunter re-emerges from the crowed, grabs my hand, and rushes me out of the building.

Part Three here

Tag list: (Huge thanks to you for the help! My Romance Queen) @lune-de-miel-au-paradis

@idoubleswearimawriter @savebytheodore @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @jediknightjana @techs-goggles9902 @clonethirstingisreal

[kirric-the-fan]

Kitty-kitty precure

(Another precure oc team idea, high society/cat themed)

Kitan, a villainous black-cat fairy who has plans on conquering the world, has realised there is one thing that would stand in his way: Precure. Having spotted the pattern of previous emerging precure teams that stops the villains in their tracks, Kitan decides to take matters into his own hands (well, paws), and make a precure team on his own terms, intending to keep them close and weak and inexperienced enough to be able to defeat them when he’s ready to take over the world.

To do this he creates party-crashers, monstrous manifestations of people's upset, conflict, or failiures that seek to spread more fear and panic to feed his power.

Then one by one his chosen marks become precure, each selected to produce the least competent precure possible.

It should have worked a treat.

Kitty-kitty precure: The team

They are cat/High society themed cures, in name and cure outfits:

Cure Tux (Lead): Black and white Tux and lace top, with cape, hat, and white laced black cat faced opera mask that turns into cat ears on her short purple hair

Cure Creme: Cream and brown cure, more feminine puffball regency ball dress.

Cure Gato: Red and gold. The more uptight one. More masc matador type outfit.

Cure Tab: Blue and silver cure with darker blue stripes or ribbon (and a silver jewelled headpiece that forms a sapphire tabby M on her forehead). Full Ball gown

Cure Cali: Harlequin cure (black, white, blue, green, red, gold, slightly more green and gold) Male cure, jester themed. Has heterochromia. Half/three quarter round ballgown dress skirt on bottom half.

All the cures have decorative, typically jewelled cat ears as part of their outfit design, and a magical tail that appears when needed, along with the apparent ability to almost always land on their feet. They also all have a paw print on the palm of each of their gloves, as well as a paw-print brooch, that clasps together a black sailors outfit type capelet with longish triangle vv’s at the front that’s on all of their outfits.

They transform using the Kitan compact.

Kitan hasn’t exactly decided how he will use the precure, initially planning on manipulating them to remain weak so he can defeat them, but later he gets them to find a magical gemstone that’ll allow him to command other people. Only that turns out to be trapped, and an even greater evil is released which will destroy all the worlds if it isn’t stopped.

Kitan initially sits solidly in his villain role, pretending that the cures purify and ‘capture’ him each week, in the meantime, feigning that he needs time to recharge his magic in between (but generally just lounging around).

He inevitably gets subjected to a charm offensive by the cures, Tux in particular determined to turn him good. He also inevitably gets sucked into the cures day to day lives, initially trying to sow sources of strife for him to get creatures from, but then becoming invested in the cures daily lives, all the while justifying his actions to himself as biding his time, or saving himself from a bother he doesn’t want to keep hearing about all the time.

Each week, someone or something is turned into a monster, the cures trying to resolve their strife to purify them. Each time the person typically makes a change that fixes things for the better after their experience. But one occasion midway through, a pta type person is still determined to take an action the cures were trying to prevent. On realising that it was something that was still going through, Kitan secretly transforms into a human, to go persuade the pta to overturn the decision himself. He might deny it, but he’s actually come to care for his cures a lot. Even at the end he still claims he’s only doing it to take over the world later.

Partway through, the cures tell Kitan he can trust them, and they want to help him find what it is he really wants. He gets them to help him find a gem that would actually give him enough power to take over the world, only it was a trap, and an even bigger enemy ends up escaping from the gem before they can stop it, terrorising the world at large. And this enemy actually wants to destroy the world. Now Kitan’s cures are all that stands in the way to save the world.

[enviedear]

here again! okay so this is a cross between walk down the stairs with your lover and amaretto sour - with sirius black. after the ball, imagine the drunken giddiness turning into hazy late night passion. the mood turning from fun to sensual with just one slow dance, and him sneaking out with you just before the ball ends and making out reallll slow against a wall, with him whispering "i love you"s and "you're so beautiful"s... and then going back to his dorm and having him slowly undress you and telling you everything he loves about your outfit and body until you're naked lol, kinda like the start of this scene from gossip girl! and it just turning steamy from there... *sighs dreamily*

i adore this ! kinda switched up a little + had them go back to reader's apartment but vibes remained !

18+ minors dni. respect my boundaries.

join my thousand celebration !

you feel the slight tug at your arm, turning you to face your lover. his lips are curved into a coy grin, eyes narrow and teasing. you say nothing, only matching his expression. his long arm reaches behind him to shut your door— you toss your purse onto the entry table.

the night was bliss, full of wine and dances. sirius' hands tracing your exposed shoulders during the evening, fingers clad in rings.

"you're an excellent date, my love." he mutters out, slipping his tux jacket off.

you smile up at him, crouched by the sofa removing your heels, "and you, sirius black, make a divine dance partner."

he lets his hand caress your cheek, "i'd love to show off again, if you'd have it?"

"nothing i'd rather have." your voice is genuine, and you let him take you into his arms, holding you close.

you feel him reach for the side table, turning the radio on. the song is slow, soft sounds of drums and electronic beats fill your living room. you hear sirius begin to hum the tune, hands enveloped into yours.

his movements aren't as flashy as they were in the party. instead he keeps you close, swaying slightly. his lips find the curve of your neck and he litters small kisses to it.

despite the music, you can hear the sound of his heart. a gentle reminder of the reality you're in. just two people in love, dancing in an apartment— so in tune with one another that even as the song fades they continue to hold on. blessed with each other and in a unspoken moment of adoring recollection.

"i love you, y/n." sirius speaks, voice tender. "so much so, that it would take an eternity to tell you everything i love about you."

your eyes flutter, drunk off of his words, "you could always start now."

his hands leave yours, only to snake behind you, fingers gently tugging at your zipper, "with pleasure."

the ball gown falls gingerly as he unzips it, pooling around you, his eyes are alight as he stares at you softly coaxing you onto the couch. he lets himself trail kisses on your thighs before looking up at you, face full of love.

"i love that dress. it fit like a glove. but i can't deny how much more i enjoy it on the floor." he watches as you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance at his remark.

"but i love the way your face lights up when i touch you more— like this." he brings his fingers closer to your center, watching you intently.

you sigh, content and yearning.

"you're so beautiful. i love your legs. i'm sure they'd be my biggest weakness, if it wasn't for the way i can make you call out my name when i'm inside of you." his voice now has a sharp edge, filled with lust.

"you're a tease." you grumble, shifting in hopes to bring his touch closer.

sirius chuckles, "i love the way you whine when you want me. the way you look at me with those puppy dog eyes. merlin, i'd do anything when you look at me like that."

you let your hand pull his face closer to you, "in that case, come here. make me feel good."

sirius rises, falling onto the couch and pulling you onto him. his lips connect with yours, hands unbuttoning his dress shirt. you break away from him, trailing kisses to his jaw, eliciting groans.

"you're going to be the death of me darling." he whisper in your ear, hands eagerly sliding up and down your body.

you smirk against him, content with the knowledge that you bring him to such a mess. he's entirely yours, mind, body, and soul.

[todourouki]

Misery Business | K. Bakugou

a one shot

✰ SUMMARY the one where you didn’t mean to take the hothead away from his girlfriend, but you did anyway. It was nothing personal, you just knew that Bakugou Katsuki deserved way better than what he was settling for.

PAIRING Taken/Pro-Hero!Bakugou & Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT 4.6K

WARNINGS explicit language, mentions of cheating, cheating lol, suggestive language, angst, and some fluff at the end bc I cannot end my fics in a bad way I am weak sorry!

You were not a home wrecker.

At least, you wouldn’t say that to your own face.

You knew that the crush you had on Bakugou was wrong. You know that no matter how it is that you put it, or however strong your feelings are, or even however long you’ve even had feelings— liking a guy in a relationship was a huge no-no.

You weren’t the kind of girl to go around liking a girl’s boyfriend, though. It’s not like your feelings magically appeared out of thin air and now you’re stuck falling inlove with a guy that finds solitude in someone else— no, you aren’t like that.

Your feelings for Bakugou are much more complex, to say the least.

It all started in high school, when just the mere thought of the boy brought butterflies to your stomach with how strong and courageous he was. From his attractive face, to his blunt and explosive personality, you always found yourself admiring him when given the chance.

All of that went to shit when he decided to finally give one of the girls that were always fawning over him a chance during the beginning of your third year attending Yuuei Academy.

It was like you had gotten punched in the face, and now it feels like you’re just purposely getting stabbing in the heart every time you did as much as look at them.

That definitely explains why you’re sulking at your table during a school dance with a scowl on your face so you don’t have to see the happy couple waltz around the cafeteria floor.

All the top Pro-Heroes were assigned to attend the dance as academy alumni in order to ensure the safety of the students (as well as make sure students even decided to show up). You, being one of the top five heroes, were ordered to show up with no complaints.

The song currently playing finally changed from a low-tempo song to a much higher one, and with that, you decided to make that your imaginary queue to take a walk around the school’s building before returning to the large decorated area.

Your heel-clad feet dragged you all the way across the gymnasium, sending kids smiles if they were in your way and simply telling them that you were “getting some fresh air before the real fun starts.”

The doors slammed shut, and the solitude of the hallways engulfed in dark hues reflected against your strained eyes in a way that made you have to physically restrain your hand from harshly rubbing at it in order to make sure your make up stood intact.

The halls reminded you of a younger you (and by younger, you mean two years. you’re only 20 and already have the mind of some old hag) that used to run through these halls with a mini little green skirt and an imagination you wish you could still understand.

They also reminded you of the blond boy inside. Especially the room you stood in front of right now.

Almost as if it was second nature, your body made its way to Class 1-A: the place where it all began, the place where you met your closest friends, and the place where you fell inlove.

Opening the door, the lights turned on to reveal a classroom almost identical to the one you walked into every day four years ago. The desks were positioned the same, the posters remained in the same spot, and even the words on the chalkboard seemed oddly familiar.

The room reeked of new paint and textbook papers, and the only thing you really wanted to smell was the designer perfume clinging helplessly to your body so the odors of a high school class don’t even think twice about sticking to you.

Your body walked towards your old desk, Seat 12, the dress you wore clinging to your body as you pulled the chair out and nostalgically sat down. You were a first year all over again, and the thought made you laugh.

You looked embarrassing your first year— as embarrassing as someone who looks like you now can get. From the hideously overheated hair, to the emo phase you still seemed to sort of be stuck in, the world seemed too easy no matter what bullshit was going on the minute you sat down at that desk.

That explained how you felt now— no matter how much your heart yearned to be in the hands of Bakugou, the minute the cold sturdiness of the chair touched your warm body, all of that disappeared. For once, nothing in the world mattered. More precisely, Bakugou didn’t matter.

“Tch, I knew you’d be in here.” Annnddd there goes that.

Your eyes widened, now staring at a smirking blond wearing a black and white tux instead of the chalkboard you once zoned out on.

His arms were crossed against his muscular chest, and the muscles outlined the button up shirt in a way that should just be downright illegal. His face was gleaming with mischief, slowly walking his way over to the empty desk directly next to yours, taking a seat, and positioning his body in a lazy manner with his legs propped up against the table. Just like before.

“You know, this brings back a lot of shitty memories.” He grunted, stretching his arms behind his head and lolling his head to face you.

You nodded in response, glancing your head up to look at the lights in a way to move the gears in your brain to say something. Literally the same thing you used to do during Midnight’s long, tedious classes.

“Yea, a bunch of ones I’d much rather forget.” You said, looking over at him and watching as his eyes stared directly at the window you always found him staring out of when he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone in class.

“Always hearing your annoying ass mumble and suck your teeth used to really piss me off.” His words were masked with seriousness, trying to hide the playful smirk on his lips you identified much too quickly. With that, a scoff left your lips and you crossed your arms.

“Nobody said anything about the pencil you insisted on tapping for hours straight.” Your jab back made him chuckle, looking back at you with vermillion eyes that made you lose all sense of feelings.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you always forgot what it was like to look at anything before you looked into his eyes. That’s how scary it was— how intimidating it was to be under his presence. His eyes captured you, holding you hostage and probably never letting you go.

“At least we didn’t sit next to each other during our third year,” he began, placing a hand loosely around his tie as he continued to look at you in your eyes, “I don’t think I would have ever focused with the humming you did to the same damn song every day.”

“Yeah, instead of me though, you ended up sitting with your future wife.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID.

It was like word vomit, the snarky tone slipping through your lips as if it was trying its hardest to come off in a jokingly manner, only ending up appearing as sarcastic as possible. It was like the words fell from your tongue quicker than you could punch your own esophagus.

Bakugou stood quiet for a moment, staring at you and knitting his eyebrows together as if deep in thought. Your eyes ended up leading you back to the words Relief Fund written messily against the green chalkboard to save your embarrassment.

You didn’t see the frown itching across Bakugou’s lips.

“We aren’t married, ya know. I don’t know why people decided to start that rumor.” He said, a sigh passing by his lips to quiet his tone as if he was scared his girlfriend was around to hear it.

“Might as well marry her. You’re not really the kind of guy that dates just to date.” Your words struck hesitantly in the room in a timid yet informative voice, and Bakugou watched the board as well so that you were both avoiding each other’s gaze.

“Yeah well I’m not sure, marriage is a big deal.” Bakugou was muttering, and the tone of his voice made you crane your neck over to where he was seated as you stood quiet.

What were you, someone who was basically inlove with him, supposed to say that?

You both stood in silence for a few seconds, the words in your throat itching to escape as the remnants of memories you both had both in class and just together in general filled your vision.

“I always hated this seat because I knew it meant that I would always be the person you would argue with.” You began, closing your eyes and releasing a strained scoff from your glossed lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing, or what you were talking about, but as the moon danced across the pale boy’s face and the music in the cafeteria continued to gently ring through the halls, the only thing you were thinking about doing was speaking more than you ever have.

“Morning after morning, I grew used to your loud voice and extremely hostile—” “HAH? I was NOT—”

You sent him a glare, immediately cutting him off and proceeding your weird speech that just couldn’t let anything go.

“Anyways, morning after morning, I ended up looking forward to the words you decided to call me and yell at me about for the day. It’s like, if it didn’t happen,” your arms moved in an animated way, catching Katsuki’s full attention as he looked on to your rant, “I felt like my day wasn’t really an actual day, ya know?

The one thing you loved appreciated most about Bakugou was his ability to listen. And when you say listen, you mean just listen. His ears were perked up in your direction, shoes turned towards you and eyes watching your movements like a hawk.

“And then—” you gulped, pausing for a second in order to think your words though. It was always now or never to you, the drama giving you a sense of hope against a man like that.

It’s either I bring it up now, or I never get to speak my peace, and I refuse to be one of those people showing up to the wedding yelling ‘I oppose.’

“And then it was here that I realized I was the biggest idiot alive by feeling the way I felt about this one person.” You said, eyes glaring at the wall in front of you blankly as you cowered behind the whisps of your lashes.

Bakugou said nothing, but from the corner of you eye, you could see him staring at the side of your face with an expression you had never really see on him.

“I spent years pining after some dumbass that didn’t even see the genuine interest I had in him.” Your words were like alcohol, and Bakugou was too busy drinking them all in to fully acknowledge what you were talking about.

“I watched him give in to this one girl though,” a lightbulb when off in the boy’s head and for once, he felt like the idiot in the room, “a girl that doesn’t even care for him.”

“Y/N..” Bakugou growled, almost as if he was threatening you and warning you to tread on light waters.

If there was one thing he ever respected about you though, it was that you were never scared of him.

Your eyes snapped towards him, a scowl on your face as you began to feel anger bubbling up in your stomach from the way he tried to shut you up. You were finally speaking your peace and he’s too much of a coward to let you finish?

“You know, I thought the first red flag of her trying to change his attitude was enough. I thought that maybe, just maybe, after her telling him that being number one hero wasn’t really tangible, he’d have some common fucking sense and see what everyone else sees.” Your words were like venom, your eyes not leaving his as you huffed in your seat.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Bakugou’s voice was low and angry, laced with anger as he stared at you just as intensely as you stared at him. Your expression never faltered, and instead, you turned your entire body around in the chair to fully face him with arms across your chest.

“I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” you taunted, your anger only rising in value, “and so the fuck do you, Bakugou.”

“You know she doesn’t give a fuck about you and you know very fucking well she’s only with you because you’re Bakugou Katsuki!”

His name slipping off your tongue brought shivers to his spine as he sat up in his seat and glared at you with the tip of his ears painting themselves a light red hue.

He was angry— not necessarily at you, but at the fact that he was getting called out for something like this. He was getting called out for finally being with a girl and was getting shit for it from someone he saw as a best friend.

“You don’t know shit— you don’t even fucking know her.” His voice began to get louder, the bass in his voice causing your heart to vibrate as you shocked both you and him by slamming a hand against the desk in frustration.

“For God’s sake, Katsuki open your fucking eyes!” You only used his first name when your emotions were high, and that made the man’s hands shake in anger as he watched your outburst.

“She forgot your anniversary! She doesn’t make you your favorite food— fuck she doesn’t even kiss you unless there’s a shitty camera around!” You stood up, stomping your feet and watching as he stood up quickly after you and scowled over at your angry face.

“She doesn’t care enough to remember shit that you don’t like which is why you always end up at stupid shit like this and she doesn’t even care to meet your friends!” Your voice was now loud, the music of the cafeteria being long forgotten as you huffed over at him and slammed a finger into his chest at every syllable you spoke.

“You want to know what I think about her, Bakugou? Bestfriend to bestfriend?” The words bestfriend seethed through your lips like venom as your finger dug itself into the middle of his pecks. He said nothing, waiting for you to continue as his hands balled into fists along his sides.

“I think that you’re such a fucking pussy, you can’t fathom being with someone who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on the way she does.” You growled, narrowing your eyes at his angry expression as you took a step closer to him threateningly.

“I think you hate the fact that I’m right— the fact that she blatantly uses you and doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you hate the fact that I know you so well enough to know that—”

Before the last few letters of the words could slip through your lips, a warm hand slammed against your fingers and snatched it into his grasp as he began to huff in anger. The caramel smell only increased, and you could sense his quirk begin to flare the abnormal heat in his hands up every second.

“You don’t know shit,” he growled, his voice raising as he began to yell at you in your face, “you don’t know shit about me!”

“Are you shitting me?!” You exclaimed, grabbing at the hand that grasped yours with a grip so tight Bakugou had to glance at it quickly before reverting his eyes back to yours.

“I’ve known every little fucking thing about you since we were fifteen!” You yelled, tears threatening to spill down your eyes as the anger inside you finally erupted in a way you couldn’t control.

“Nobody asked you to be so invested in my fucking life anyway!” He retaliated, his voice booming through the room as you stared at him incredulously.

“I was so fucking invested in you because I’m fucking inlove with you, you idiot!”

Your voice silenced the room, the grip he had on your hand tightening as he stared at you with shocked eyes yet the same familiar scowl you were used to. Your expression never faltered the way his eyes did when he heard you, though. You stood your ground.

“It’s so annoying seeing the guy you are inlove with be so unhappy in a relationship because he feels as if he has no one else.” Your voice began to quiet down, a tear slipping down your eye as Bakugou watched you with a slightly softened face.

The hand gripping yours loosened a bit, still gripping it to his chest as he wrapped all his fingers around your bracelet covered wrist.

“It’s so annoying watching you try to force someone else to fall inlove with you, when I’ve been inlove with you for free for years. It hurts watching you try to force yourself to be inlove with a girl you know you don’t want to be with. It just fucking hurts Bakugou, so fucking bad.”

There was a crack in your voice that Bakugou knew all too well from the restless nights you’d spend together, and it didn’t take much for him to engulf your frame into a tight hug as he rested his head against yours. You dived into his chest, the familiar warmth wrapping around you in a way that made a few more tears slip from your eyes. You didn’t make a noise, but he knew that you were hurting.

Neither of you said anything, only holding each other until you removed yourself from him and wiped the tears off your face before he could see the evident streams marking your cheeks. He stared at you silently, as if he was contemplating something.

With timid eyes, he watched you fix the straps of your dress to find something to play with under his gaze. The silence was deafening, and was an unusual characteristic for the boy who always had something to say.

“You know she hates me, that’s why you never bring her around me.” You said, a tone of blankness carrying your voice through the room as your tears dried up and was replaced by the anger haunting your heart once again.

“No she doesn’t, she just feels like we’re too close.” Bakugou retorted, sighing and taking a seat on the chair he once occupied. You followed suit, leaning against the back of your own seat as you faced his body.

“Back in high school, I never told you this, but her and I argued in the bathroom once.” You informed, dryly chuckling as you watched his face contort with confusion.

“I told her that her pretty little face and fucked up manipulation wasn’t going to keep you around in the long run.” You stood quiet after letting him know, gulping some saliva down as you averted your gaze from his body to your painted nails. “Guess I was wrong.”

Bakugou didn’t know what to do. There were many things the man was capable of: he could destroy any villain in his way, was braver than any other fucking half assed hero out there, was smart as fuck, and could manage a relationship as well as being a top pro-hero because that’s just who he was.

What he couldn’t do, though, was fully digest the situation in front of him.

He bit his lip, running a hand across his face in frustration and staring meekly at your face. You couldn’t help but admire his frame as you did before. He was strong, well-built, smelled good, had great posture— there was nothing wrong with him. It was almost surreal.

“We’ve been dating for like two years.” Bakugou’s low voice broke the silence as he stared deep into your now glazed over eyes. You didn’t break the contact, hands rested against each side of the seat as you watched him speak.

“I’ve been dating her for two years and yet...” His words were lost, almost sounding as if he was hesitating the very same way you were earlier. You said nothing though, knowing he would stop expressing himself if you had opened your mouth.

“And yet I can’t help but imagine she was someone else.”

It was like every word he said was the last glass of water, and you drank it up against your skin in a way that brought goosebumps to his. You furrowed your eyebrows, silently signaling for him to continue.

“I never told you this,” he mocked your voice, his scowl still resting against his soft face, “but there was a time where I thought about what it would be like if we were a shitty thing.”

Everyone always assumed Bakugou and you would end up together. Whether it be from watching you both pin are each other relentlessly, to watching you fawn over him, and from just watching your interactions with one another— it almost seemed destined for you two to work out. Keyword: almost.

“Shitty Hair and Dunce-Face tell me all the fucking time that I’m an idiot for choosing this girl over you.” He scoffed, and you couldn’t help but feel your stomach tingle at the use of the name ‘this girl’ for his own girlfriend. “It’s not like I wanted to, you were always my first option.”

You stood quiet. The last sentence was lower than the others and sounded way more vulnerable. You couldn’t help but gape at him, repeating it in your brain as if they was the last words you’d ever hear again. You were always my first option.

Maybe it was the buzz you felt from the energy within the room, maybe you were drunk on adrenaline, or maybe you were just being a fucking dumbass, but the way your feet moved you from your seat to the desk he was sitting at was something you just couldn’t stop in time.

Bakugou hasn’t said anything beyond what he just finished as he watched you gently push his body away and hop up onto the desk. Your body was now inches away from his as you watched him shyly. You were always so obnoxiously close to him, so why is it that his stomach was throwing fireballs at his insides now?

“You deserve better, Katsu..” You lowly began, fiddling with the rings on your fingers as you glanced over at his body through your dark eyelashes. “Does she take care of you?”

Your words hit him in the chest and he couldn’t find it within himself to look away from you. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how you were doing it, but he was entranced by your every word and it was scaring the shit out of him. He found himself shaking his head, eyes never leaving yours as the scowl in his face began to soften.

“You’re a strong man, Katsu,” the way his nickname slipped from your lips nearly made him melt, the unfamiliar feelings he was so used to suppressing caused his head to jumble around and process your words, “you need someone who takes care of you the right way.”

You watched him, a hand lifting towards his head and running itself through his soft yet spikey hair. Bakugou always claimed he hated it when you played with his hair since that was something he thought no one was close enough to be able to touch, but he always seemed to lean into you unknowingly.

His chair scooted closer to the table, your legs now in between his lazily opened ones and his body aching to go closer into your touch.

“What are you suggesting?” His dark voice questioned, eyes staring at you as the once softened expression transformed into another of a slowly rising mischievous smirk. You were sure you were breathing earlier, but now? Not so much.

“Are you suggesting that I need someone else to take care of me?” His words hit you hard, your body facing whiplash from all the sudden changes of emotion.

You looked down shyly, trying to find the confidence you once had that was now lost in the gush of your flustered moment, yet Bakugou’s calloused, warm hand then reached up to your chin to perk it up to face his now standing body.

“Are you saying that you should be the one taking care of me?” He asked, staring at your eyes with more intensity than you were fully even prepared for. Your eyes dug into his as the feeling of his hands on your chin caused your brain to short circuit for a moment.

“You said it yourself, I’m a strong man.” You could feel the confidence drip from his words as you bit your left cheek to keep from whimpering at the intensity laced within the empty classroom. “I need someone to take care of me the right way, and I don’t think this girl is doing it Y/N.”

The use of your name caused you to tug your bottom lip between your teeth and blush behind his words. You didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly zipped from your eyes to your mouth, and back to your eyes once again. His body was now towering over your seated one, looking down at you as if you were the only person in the world at this moment.

Bakugou was out of it, to say the least. Usually he felt as if he had control over situations like this, but even with towering over your frame and his hand gripping your chin, he felt as if you were in complete control of the situation. He knew that his current girlfriend was probably coming to look for him, and he knew that everything was inevitable and he was simply just prolonging it.

That didn’t stop him from sliding his hand across your neck to grip the back of it and pull your face in towards him.

A kiss was the last thing you were expecting, and you would have gasped if his lips weren’t putting you in such a trance. It was like everything had stopped, time stopped, the dance stopped, everything was just on a hiatus.

His tongue danced against yours in a way that made you whimper lowly into his touch. His hands explored your body, rubbing against you in exasperated motions as you reciprocated by rubbing your hands across his chest, shoulders, and waist. It was like you were both doing the last thing you’d do before the world came to an end.

His lips moved feverishly across your own as tilted your head upwards to get a more comfortable position. A warm yet equally rough hand snaked it’s way back onto your neck and gripped your throat with such possession, you felt a tingle reach your lower half.

The intensity of the make out was one that put every other sound to shame as the room was filled with nothing but the small whimpers coming from either of you and the sound of your lips smacking against his. It was like a dream, and Bakugou couldn’t control himself any longer as he groaned into your touch.

It wasn’t until a gasp broke the seductive silence within the room, as well as pushed the two of you apart only to see his girlfriend staring at the two of you with wide eyes and a fizzy drink in both of her hands., that you realized something.

Shit just got really fucking complicated.

—

back to masterlist

I wanna have an angsty kiss moment with bakugou

>:( damnit anyways yeah like, reblog, comment, follow! thanks for reading! don’t forget to send some requests in <3

- heilly

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter four: cham-pain

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

A/N: hey, you.  yes, YOU. has anyone told you that you’re pretty today? well, if not let me be the first. i can’t help but feel lovey-dovey about the love you guys have shown me on this story. thank you so much for everything.  i hope you like this chapter and i hope you’ll reach out and let me know either way.  big shoutout to the baes @ladyartemesia​ and @taetaewonderland​ they know why.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

********************

At what point do you stop calling them shorts and start calling them panties?

That’s the question Hoseok ponders when he walks into the kitchen to find you precariously perched on tiptoes, straining to reach for something in an overhead cabinet.  He lets his gaze linger over the soft skin of your legs, up to your thighs, up higher to where he can damned near see the swell of your ass peeking out from that obscene little scrap of cloth.

What he does next is probably unwise.

What he does next is approach silently from behind, pressing one hand into the small of your back as he reaches over you to get a hold of the jar you’re struggling to grab. And if he enjoys the way your body jolts with surprise beneath his fingertips or the way your hair smells when he’s this close, then that’s his business and no one else’s.

“Thank you,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes and for a moment Hoseok thinks you’re going to scold him for being so bold.

But you don’t.

*********************

Hoseok shouldn’t be toying with you right now and he knows it. It’s not like you’ve ever been an open book with him, but these past few days you’ve been even more withdrawn -- more in your head than ever before.  

Not that you don’t have your reasons.

Shit is off the rails with your case and you’re living with a complete stranger and someone left a live fucking snake in your bedroom a few nights ago.  

So if Hoseok has noticed that you walk around in a fog — that the fire he used to see inside of you from time to time seems extinguished — well, that’s certainly understandable. 

But he can’t help but wonder if there’s something more to your melancholy. He can’t help but wonder if you actually hold a candle for that idiot you left reeling at the restaurant.  

Hoseok can’t stop thinking about that guy.  

There is a feeling he can’t shake and it’s not just the urge to beat Kang Donghyuk to a pulp. Hoseok can’t shake the feeling that beneath the dopey smile and the lazy charm and the overall benign affect, there’s something more.  

Something Hoseok is determined to figure out.

So he leaves you to your cooking in the kitchen and retreats to the privacy of his room to phone Seokjin.  If this piece of shit is up to something, Hoseok is going to make it his personal mission to find it.

And if he finds something?

Then Hoseok will make it his personal mission to make him pay.

***********************

YOU

“Amsaja -- with Hoseok.  Try being nice.”

You think back to your brother’s words as you stand just outside the door to Hoseok’s room, fist raised to knock.  But you don’t, at least not right away.  

What is your fucking problem?

You remind yourself that you are a grown woman, not some skittish little girl.  You remind yourself that Jung Hoseok is just a man.  

And then you get a grip.

The door opens after one light knock.  You don’t mean to stare, truly you don’t -- but Hoseok is wearing one of those goddamned tank tops again.  What happened to suits all day and all night?  Suits are a hell of a lot less distracting.

“What’s up?” he asks cautiously.  

Your eyes dart from his face to his chest to his arms and finally settle around his neck, where a pair of dog tags hang from a silver chain.  You had nearly forgotten that Jung Hoseok made a career of the military before he was one of your brother’s right-hand men.

“I made some Samgyetang,” you say lamely, gesturing to the bowl of soup in your hands.

I made it for you. 

“And it’s uh, supposed to be good for a cold,” you add, when he says nothing.

Which you have.  

“So, I -- ” you clear your throat, shift your weight back and forth on your feet, “ -- made some.”

For you.

Hoseok stares at the bowl like you’ve brought him a grenade instead of a meal.  The puzzled look on his face makes you feel awkward, makes the entire gesture seem silly.

“Never mind,” you say under your breath, turning on your heels.  

“Wait --” Hoseok calls quickly, stepping out of his room to follow you,  “ -- I didn’t -- I was just surprised, that’s all.” 

“It’s just soup,” you say over your shoulder, trying like hell to sound casual and not at all offended.

Hoseok keeps pace behind you into the kitchen; commands your attention with one firm hand on your arm.  You turn to face him, averting your gaze from the sweatpants that hang low on his hips and the thin cotton that grips every muscle of his lean chest.

“I didn’t mean to make that weird,” Hoseok says quietly. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had homemade Samgyetang.”

You pull your arm out of his hold.  

“Well, it’s there if you want it,” you shrug, brushing past him.

It’s a relief to trade the charged air of the kitchen for the uncomplicated quiet of your room.

*************************

Hyejin takes her reading glasses off to rub the bridge of her nose.  

“I’m not even kidding about my eyesight being shot,” she sighs, reaching for her coffee cup.  “It gets worse every day and the print on these depositions does not help.”

“I know,” you mumble, highlighter flying over your own set of fine print.  “Sorry.”

“Hey, at least we’re in this together,” she smiles. “Right?” 

Her face falls when you don’t return the gesture.

It’s not exactly a secret that you haven’t been firing on all cylinders lately.  You are so worn out from the shit going on at work and the shit going on at home that it feels like you don’t have much more to give.  You just want to climb into bed and sleep for a week straight.

If only you had that luxury.  

Instead, you’re back at it with Hyejin today, trying to figure out a way around the missing digital evidence you so desperately need.  The loss of those files was a terrible setback, but you refuse to let it be the end.  You still have an entire warehouse full of confiscated guns under lock and key.

Now you just need to get your head in the game.

“You still going to the gala tomorrow night?” Hyejin asks, sipping her coffee.

So much for getting your head in the game.

“Not sure,” you murmur, underlining a key part of the testimony.  “Lots of shit going on right now.”

“Yeah, I know things between you and Donghyuk got weird,” Hyejin says carefully.

You stop yourself from laughing out loud. 

Donghyuk is so far down your list of fires to fight, you’d nearly forgotten him completely.  You probably could forget him if you weren’t subjected to his dirty looks every time the two of you cross paths at the office.  You’ve made at least two very awkward cups of coffee standing side-by-side in the past week alone -- but honestly, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“That’s -- “ you start and stop before continuing, “ -- not really an issue right now.”

“Okay, sure,” Hyejin concedes. “Just don’t forget that I’m here if you need someone to talk to, alright?  You don’t always have to take everything on by yourself.”

You stop your incessant highlighting to look up at your friend and colleague.  

Concern is written all over her pretty face and for a moment you entertain the thought of opening up to her.  The idea of talking about what’s going on is tempting -- like if you could share just a piece of your burden you could relieve some of the pressure inside of you.  But there’s another part of you that worries that you are too pent up to let go of any of this.  A part of you that feels like all it will take is one tiny crack for the entire dam to give.

You finally manage to muster one weak smile for your friend, who seems relieved to see any display of emotion out of you.

“Thanks, Hye.  I’ll keep that in mind.”

***********************

You almost skipped tonight.  Almost.

But you’d already bought a dress and the tickets were paid for and Hoseok didn’t even flinch when you told him you had to go to a black-tie event. 

If only you could say the same for the moment you saw him in the living room.

When Hoseok turned at the sound of your heels on the marble floor, with hands tucked into the pockets of his bespoke black tux, you nearly forgot to breathe.  All of the coordinating details, the slim-cut jacket and the perfectly-styled hair and the carefully-crafted bow tie felt like a gut punch.

You’d silently prayed that Hoseok didn’t catch the way your eyes lingered on him for just a beat too long -- or that he didn’t spot the heat you could feel creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. The color that must have been made all the more obvious against the rose shade of your gown.

“You ready?”

Hoseok interrupts your thoughts with his usual business-like tone.  The one that tells you that this inner monologue about how incredible he looks tonight is painfully one-sided.  

You nod, not trusting yourself to use your words.

All things considered, the situation with Donghyuk couldn’t have gone south at a better time.  He would have been your date for the night were it not for the blow up at dinner -- and it certainly would have drawn unwanted attention to have two men at your side all evening.  

Though with the way Hoseok looks tonight, you imagine the attention will come anyway.

*********************

There are few things in life rich people enjoy more than pretending to give a shit about poor ones. 

They make sport of it, jockeying for position in front of the cameras, gladly shelling out hundreds of thousands of won a plate to prove just how much they care.  They spend their evenings drinking top-shelf liquor and eating top-notch catering and convincing themselves that they’re making some kind of sacrifice for the greater good.  

A string quartet plays softly in the background as guests mill about, grabbing drinks and hors d'oeuvres off of passing trays.  Hoseok is at your side, a glass of water in hand.  He is just close enough for you to take in his heady, masculine smell -- but not too close.

You hate that he smells this good.

You hate that he looks this good.

You have tried -- and failed -- to ignore the appreciative stares he’s gotten from some of the gala guests.  You already caught one woman ogling outright, gawking unrepentantly while at her own date’s side.  When a cocktail server walks by with a carefully-balanced offering of champagne flutes, you grab one right away.

Hoseok, as usual, takes nothing.  

You sip your champagne and watch him watching the room.  

He certainly looks the part of a society player tonight in his tux, the occasional wrinkle of his nose the only indicator of his disdain for the men and women drinking and dancing around him.  When a woman bumps into him while carrying a plate of appetizers, he holds out a hand to help her keep upright and she damned near melts at his reassuring smile.  

“Oh, thank you,” she breathes deeply before her eyes dart in your direction.  

You look away.

Not once have you ever seen this man smile, and he’s certainly never smiled at you.  You turn to slam the rest of your champagne and put the empty flute on a nearby table just as another cocktail server passes with a full tray of drinks. 

How fortuitous.  You grab another.  

There’s a few more minutes of mingling before the guests are asked to take a seat at their assigned tables.  Hoseok holds out your chair and you accept. 

The interaction, like always, is silent.

You look up from the perfectly staged spread to spot Donghyuk two tables away.  Even from a distance you can tell his cheeks look ruddy — like he’s already had way too much to drink. He narrows his eyes when he realizes you are looking and you lift your champagne flute to tip a sarcastic salute in his direction.  He scowls back.

“Miss Kim,” a deep voice interrupts your petty exchange. “What a pleasant coincidence.”

You force a smile when your boss and his wife unexpectedly fill two empty seats at your table.

“Mr. Park,” you return quietly. “Nice to see you tonight. And Mrs. Park, of course.”

Mrs. Park’s answering smile is warm and genuine, but the same cannot be said of her husband’s. Of course, the last conversation you had with him one-on-one, he’d practically thrown you out of his office. The smile on his face right now is a bit watery.

“It’s so nice to see you dear,” Mrs. Park says sweetly.  “And who is this handsome fellow?”

You falter when you open your mouth to answer, but Hoseok smoothly interjects.

“Yi Sang, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”

You close your mouth and turn to smile woodenly at Hoseok, who doesn’t bother to look back. 

“Mr. Yi,” your boss extends his hand for a firm handshake, but a strange look passes over his face.  “The pleasure is ours.” 

Hoseok’s mouth pulls into a tight smile and you down what’s left of your champagne.

A couple you don’t recognize join your table before dinner is served.  You do your best to appear engaged in the small talk; nodding when appropriate, smiling during the awkward pauses.  But there is an emptiness in you tonight.  You spend the entire meal pushing the artfully-arranged dishes around your plate because you find you have no desire for food.

The same cannot be said for the champagne, though. That’s going down quite nicely.  Your server dutifully brings another flute as soon as yours is empty.

“I must commend you, Miss Kim, on forging ahead with this case,” Mr. Park says, when the plates have been cleared and after-dinner coffee is being served.  “I know it hasn’t been easy after the theft of your files.”

“Oh,” you clear your throat. “Yes, well -- I’m doing my best with what I have left.”

“Of course. It’s important we do what we can to bring these low-lives to justice,” Mr. Kim says slowly.  He looks from you to Hoseok with an expression that stops just short of a challenge and the champagne in your stomach seems to come to life. “Organized crime in this city is out of hand. We can’t allow Seoul to descend into chaos because of the trash making a living off of guns and drugs.”

Trash like your brother. 

“Right,” you say quietly, swallowing past a lump in your throat. “I’ll do my best.” 

Hoseok remains composed at your side, but you don’t miss how his knuckles go white as his grip around the water glass tightens.  

Trash like Hoseok.  

You swallow another mouthful of champagne.  

The couple sitting next to the Parks -- oblivious to the friction at the table -- strike up a conversation about the dessert selection and you’ve never been more glad for small talk.  The tension in the air slowly dissipates.

But you keep drinking.

Hoseok leans into you, lips so close they nearly brush the shell of your ear and your entire body goes still.  Goosebumps bloom all over when you feel his breath against your skin.

“You should eat something,” he murmurs.

You could almost laugh at the way your stomach seems to fall with disappointment.  What were you expecting him to say? Something complimentary? Something reassuring?  

What a joke.

All at once you decide you need space, you need air, you need a break from the bullshit you seem to be taking from all sides tonight.

Hoseok’s eyebrows lift as you stand from your seat.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you announce to the table, “I need to visit the powder room.”

The champagne seems to hit you the moment you stand and you have to work hard at keeping your steps steady as you make your way out of the ballroom.

You would never admit it, but Hoseok is right. 

You really should eat something.

***********************

hoseok: text me or i’m coming in [11:02 PM ]

You stand in the mirror and stare at your reflection in the dim lighting of the ladies’ room. You’ve been to dozens of these events over the years and it’s never felt as pointless and unnatural to you as it does right now.  A part of you hates how much you’ve tied yourself into knots seeking the validation of these pompous assholes.  So desperate to be chosen by the chosen few. 

hoseok: last chance [11:06 PM ]

Another part of you hates Hoseok.  

You hate his constant presence and his constant silence and his constant judgement.  It always feels like he’s punishing you for some transgression you don’t even know you’ve committed.  Your phone buzzes with a reminder of the waiting texts and you sigh, unlocking the screen to fire off an answer before Hoseok makes good on his threat to storm his way in.

you: i’m fine. be right out [ 11:08 PM ]

You take one last look in the mirror.  Have you always looked this tired? 

Before dinner -- after you’d meticulously primped for tonight -- you’d been satisfied with what you saw in the mirror.  Now all you can see are the shadows under your eyes, the grim set of your mouth.  Is this what other people see when they look at you, too?

A knock sounds on the door and you blow out an exasperated breath.  Hoseok must be tired of waiting for you to wrap this pity party.  You yank the door open with more force than intended, fully prepared to tell him to fuck off.

But it’s Donghyuk on the other side.

You stare at him.

“What do you want?” you hiss, stepping out into the hallway.

“I just want to talk,” Donghyuk says coolly, standing just a bit too close. You grimace at the smell of liquor on his breath.  “You still haven’t given me a chance to thank you personally for making me look like an asshole at dinner the other day.”

“Oh, honey -- you don’t need my help to look like an asshole,” you fire back, pushing more space in between you with a firm shove of your fingers to his shoulder. “You do a fine job of that all on your own.”

His laughter blows whiskey-tinged hot air in your direction and you make a face.

“I see you upgraded the bodyguard to dinner date.”

“Shut up, Donghyuk, honestly,” you seethe.  You try to step around him to leave, but he blocks you with his body.  

“You fucking him now, too?”

You barely register the movement of your own hand before it’s connecting with the side of Donghyuk’s face.  You barely register Hoseok’s arrival before he’s between you both, pulling you away and practically shoving Donghyuk to the floor.  You barely hear Hoseok’s whispered threats and you nearly miss the way he unbuttons his jacket to ensure Donghyuk sees his gun.

The whole debacle is so fast and so surreal you could almost convince yourself you imagined it.

But there is no imagining the sting still throbbing in your palm.

*****************************

HOSEOK

The trouble tonight started long before you smacked the shit out of Kang Donghyuk. 

The trouble started when you walked out of your room in that goddamned gown. Hoseok had not been entirely prepared for you in that dress.

He had only a split second to make sure he wasn’t staring.  He jammed his hands into his pockets and forced the most casual demeanor he could muster, but fuck it wasn’t easy.  There were a hundred things he could have said in that moment, would have said in that moment -- if you weren’t you and if he weren’t him.

Of course, dinner was a bit of a clusterfuck, too.

Playing dress up with the city’s elites was somehow less enjoyable than Hoseok imagined it would be.  The stares from tipsy society girls and the critical looks from their dates were bad enough but your boss laying it on thick with the white knight bullshit at the end was the real icing on the cake.  The coded language and the veiled threats that made loud and clear he knew exactly what Hoseok was but wouldn’t say it out loud.  

Hoseok saw the way you seemed to retreat even further into yourself during the exchange, silent and thinking.

And drinking. 

Hoseok has only ever seen you enjoy the occasional glass of wine with meals.  Tonight was an entirely different story. You were on a mission to get wrecked from the moment you sat down; forgoing food for an alarming amount of champagne.  Hoseok counted four glasses down before he decided to say something. 

Of course, that went over about as well as he’d expected -- and seconds later, you were walking away.

Hoseok hadn’t planned on following you to the bathroom. He hadn’t planned on overhearing the nasty back-and-forth in the hall . And he hadn’t planned on threatening to kill Kang Donghyuk at some ridiculous charity dinner.  But when he saw the man get up from his seat to follow you -- Hoseok moved on auto-pilot.  

There was no avoiding what came next.

**********************

You don’t utter a single word on the ride home.  

You don’t say a word when Hoseok walks you upstairs, unlocks the door to usher you inside.  He’s still securing the new deadbolts when he hears your bedroom door slam shut.

Hoseok scrubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply before loosening the bow tie and slipping it off.   

Then he pulls out his phone to text Seokjin.

hoseok: you on him? [ 11:48 PM ]

seokjin: sleeping it off in his car right now. what a slob [ 11:49 PM ]

seokjin: you’re welcome btw [ 11:49 PM ]

hoseok: thx [ 11:50 PM ]

Seconds later, your bedroom door swings open so hard it bounces back off the opposite wall. Hoseok looks up from his phone just as you are storming into the living room, hands still securing the belt to the short robe you’ve just changed into.  

You are positively vibrating with a dangerous energy Hoseok can feel clear across the room.  Maybe you’ve been sleepwalking through these past few days, but you are definitely awake now.

And angry.

“I don’t need you to win my fights,” you fume, pointing one hostile finger in his direction. “I took care of myself long before you came along and I can take care of myself now.”

Christ, do you have any idea how little you are wearing right now?  

Hoseok focuses on that accusing finger because it keeps him from staring at your legs. It also keeps him from opening his mouth and making you madder than you already are. 

“I don’t need you or anyone else swooping in with that macho bullshit,” you hiss, bringing your body within inches of his.  “I have had enough of men running and ruining every aspect of my life.”

Shit, do you have any idea how close you are right now? 

Hoseok can smell the perfume that lingers on your skin when you’re this close.  He can see how your pupils are blown wide and your cheeks are flushed with heat when you’re this close. 

“Say something,” you demand, jabbing your finger into his chest.  “Do something.”

Fuck, you are playing with fire.

You want a fight and Hoseok is this close to giving you one.  He has to summon every ounce of his self control to keep his voice and breathing steady. He fists his hands at his sides to keep them from moving.  

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he replies with careful calm.  “You should go to bed.”

“Or what?” you challenge, fingers reaching to unfasten the top buttons of his dress shirt.  Hoseok’s entire body tenses under your touch. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he says between gritted teeth. 

“Checking for a heartbeat,” you murmur. “Looking for signs of life.  Is there a real man in there?”

There’s a real man in here, alright, Hoseok thinks darkly.  Keep pushing me and you’re going to find out.

“Of course not,” you whisper to yourself, snaking one hand into the collar of his shirt. He flinches when your fingertips brush up against the cool metal of his dog tags. “You’re some kind of robot.”

You pull the tags out from under his collar and Hoseok swallows thickly.  

“Just a machine programmed to follow orders, right?  My brother’s orders. The Army’s orders,” you pause to read the embossed letters on his tags.  ‘Isn’t that right, Captain Jung?”

You gasp when Hoseok’s hand comes up to seize yours.  His fingers circle the delicate bones of your wrist and he doesn’t let go, applying a pressure that sure as hell gets your attention.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to,” Hoseok seethes.  “People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties. People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

Your stare at him for a moment, eyes wide at his outburst.  Then you jerk your wrist out of his hold so violently you nearly fall back with the force of it. 

Hoseok freezes when your robe slides down off your shoulder. He stares when his eyes settle on the jagged scar that runs deep across your collarbone.  

Fucking hell. 

Hoseok traded one bloody business for another when he gave up his rank in the Army for his rank in the Gajog. He’s seen more than his fair share of vicious cuts and nasty wounds. 

Whoever did that to you wanted to make sure you’d have to carry it with you for the rest of your life.

********************

Tomorrow morning, Hoseok is gonna regret a lot of shit that happened tonight. 

He’s going to regret not telling you how beautiful you looked when you walked out of that room.  He’s going to regret going out of his way to hurt you with his words. 

But most of all, he’s going to regret the moment he looked into your face and saw the anger in your eyes change over into pain.

You yank the robe back over your shoulder, cinch the belt tight — and walk away without another word. 

********************

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[ddarker-dreams]

Bride in White. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

When you had fantasized about this day in your youth, this is not what you had desired.

In those days, you pictured how you would count down the days until your wedding. Mulling over a dress you wanted to wear, one that was within your budget but pretty nonetheless. Maybe an outdoor venue, friends and family alike joining together to witness your union. There’d be butterflies in your stomach as you held onto your bouquet, breath hitched. Most important of all, the one who would be waiting for you at the end of the aisle. 

A person you truly loved. 

Eerily, certain lavish elements align with what you would’ve wanted. Almost as if he peeked in your mind and stole it for himself. The venue you were to be wed reminded you of a whimsical fairy tale, indulging you in its architectural beauty. A cathedral with warm, earth tone colors with tall ceilings that reached to the heavens. Colored sunlight shone through broad, mosaic windows, illuminating aisles of wooden pews. 

“I’m not a pious man,” Giorno had claimed, as he monitored you with his eyes. He must have mistaken your wide eye look for acceptance of the situation. “But it feels right.” 

But it feels right.

Those four words haunted you the moment they left his roseate lips. He couldn’t have expressed the gravity of your situation, the living nightmare of your life more perfectly if he had tried. Every freedom he readily plucked from you like a flower petal, all the undesirable parts of you that he trimmed away, planting you wherever he saw fit to soak in your beauty. The single difference you can find is a flower will eventually wither away to nothing and wilt. 

Whereas Giorno, your ever dutiful lover, cruelly refuses to let you meet the same fate. 

All of this was thrusted upon you because it felt right to him. He’s assured that this is what love is and you’d be a fool to think otherwise. What happened in his past to delude him into believing this sick parody of love is right? Questions like this will remain unanswered, Giorno skillfully dodging them with ease when presented with your numerous concerns. 

Freedoms you were generously given did little for you. Giorno took care of a majority of the planning, considering what minuscule input you offered. Whether it’s because he envisioned your union in a particular way -- or he was tired of your lackadaisical responses to wedding detail questions -- he stopped asking. The illusion of choice he presented you with was insulting in your eyes.

You don’t want to choose the flavor of cake, what orchestral arrangements are to be played during the reception, or what kind of veil you’ll wear. It’s as macabre as preparing for your own funeral down to the letter, you concluded. No, none of those frivolous things will bring you the true desire of your heart. 

Living your life as you did before meeting the Don of Passione.

“I-is it to your liking?” 

A young woman around your age asks, pulling back to allow you to see your own reflection. The person working on your hair continues in silence, the pair only speaking to you when absolutely necessary. It’s not like you can blame them, you think bitterly. Treading carefully and minding your mannerisms is an all too familiar dance. 

“Yes, thank you.” you offer in response after brief deliberation, to which she lets out a shaky sigh of relief. A fluffy brush dances across your face as she continues her work, blending together your foundation or making small touch ups when necessary. Seeing your own somber reflection being dolled up stirs unknown emotions within you, almost prompting you to laugh humorlessly. 

Your hair has been pulled back into a loose braid. Woven into your hair are flowers, likely created by Gold Experience. From light pink juliet roses to white hydrangeas, all stunningly beautiful despite your inner hatred for what they represent. It’s not that Giorno can’t afford to obtain flowers from other sources. The act of claiming you is what this represents. 

Highlight that compliments your skin color is set upon your cheekbones and lightly dusted onto your nose, cheeks subtly rosy from blush. The color of your eyes is brought out by smokey eye shadow, eyelids covered in flecks of gold then finished with dark winged eyeliner. Lastly, in the color that Giorno had picked out himself, your lips plump and covered in a deep pink.

As for the dress, Giorno considered your minimal input when deciding on it. Weeks of fittings and measurements in his private villa come flooding back to your mind, the irritating experience bestowing upon you an extravagant dress. A sweetheart neckline, with a mermaid silhouette that extended past your feet. It has a bare back, with a long cathedral chain behind you. The fabric clings to your curves beautifully, made of lace and tulle. 

It’s hard to justify messing up their work, as much as you’d love to. As innocent bystanders in this entangling mess, you loathe the thought of them getting in trouble for your tantrum. Knuckles tightening by your sides until your nails press painfully to your skin, you stop only to realize how it’d displeasure Giorno to see your beautiful skin tainted by crimson. 

A door opens behind you, the sound of fine orchestral accompaniments growing louder. In the mirror, you’re able to see one of your bodyguards, Fugo. His normal outfit riddled with holes replaced by a coal black tux, gaze serious as ever. 

“She walks out in five minutes. Is everything done by now?” he asks in a way that leaves room for little argument. Fugo has always been a no nonsense type of man, the stress from keeping a monumental event like this safe and moving along weighing down on him. Your hairdresser doesn’t look back while she responds, adding final flourishes while time allows.

“It will be. We’re just wrapping up now.” 

Fugo runs a hand through his hair, sighing but nodding his head. For privacy he closes the door, likely standing by it for added security. The comfort of this room will soon be left behind you, as much as you want to stay hidden away forever. All you can think is this aspect will be over after today, though a much crueler fate awaits you with open arms. 

After what feels like a too short amount of time, they begin prompting you to stand, handing you your bouquet of expensive and vibrant flowers. Your grip on which is weak, hands shaking too much to gain a proper grasp. Taking in a deep breath and closing your eyes, you do everything within your power to quench this stifling anxiety. 

With no rest for the weary, Fugo once again opens the door. He meets your gaze, lips set in a tight frown but not commenting on your aghast expression; likely in an act of mercy towards you. He silently offers you his arm to steady your teetering figure, to which you shake your head. You’ve made it this far on your lonesome, the rest of the world failing you at every opportunity. 

It’s more of a symbolic act now since you’ll have to take his arm later, Fugo being the one to give you away in the stead of your father. This is one of the conditions you presented to Giorno in return for your full compliance, that he leaves your family alone from all mafia related circumstances, this included. He seemed more than pleased at the time to accept his beloved’s request.

Wedding veil gingerly placed atop you, all the preparations steps have been completed. There’s no other acceptable excuses you can present at this moment, the calling before you beckoning. Fugo prompts you to walk out with him, a hallway not long enough for your liking in front of you. 

Each step takes every ounce of your willpower. All you can hear, like a mantra within your own mind, is that you need to get yourself together. That’s the deal you made with him, the one that you need to stick by in spite of yourself. For the safety of those you care about, you must present yourself as a perfect and overjoyed bride. 

Two intimidating looking men dressed for the occasion stand on either side of the large doors, ready to open the gates of your own personal hell. Fugo nods to them, his authority within the organization prompting them to open the doors to the chapel. At the very second of doing so, the orchestra changes their song to the bridal chorus.

Rich sounds of the organ flood your ears, lips quivering at the crushing sound reverberating within these tightly packed walls. The sensation of hundreds of faceless strangers staring at you makes your knees go weak, all of them now standing out of respect for your soon-to-be husband. None of them mean anything to you, but you’d be a fool to not acknowledge their importance. From politicians to fellow mafiosos, all eyes are on you. 

Sensing your hesitation to continue walking, Fugo gently nudges you forward. The act breaks you from your momentary stupor, allowing you to continue down the aisle with faux grace. Running out of other sights to look at, your gaze hesitantly falls onto Giorno, who grows closer by the second. 

He’s composed, as you’ve come to expect from him. There’s an image of rigidness that needs to be maintained with being a Don. His lips curl into a content smile when your eyes meet. Every ounce of your being screaming, pleading, for you to look away. To run away. Yet you can’t, the logical side of your brain being won over by the intensity of his presence. 

Your body moves in a trance-like state towards him, drawn to his serene expression and loving eyes. Otherworldly is how you describe him in this moment, sunlight shining against his golden hair which is loose from the normal braid. No expenses were cut on his own outfit, wearing a luxurious navy blue Givenchy suit. 

There’s no denying that the devil incarnate is nothing short of beautiful. 

Fugo goes to shake Giorno’s hand, instead of your real father. He gives you one last look before descending down the stairs and taking his seat in the front row. Now feeling all on your own, you feel the anxiety from before returning in full force. What frightens you the most now is how gentle Giorno’s emerald eyes are, how much heartfelt love shines within them for you. It feels like his gaze pierces through your being, capable of reading every thought. 

Offering him a smile that you pray he finds satisfactory, Giorno lifts the veil over your face. 

“I’ve never seen someone so breathtaking.” he mutters under his breath, only for you to hear. Goosebumps dot your skin at his affectionate proclamation. 

He then turns to look to the altar. You mirror this action, seeing an eldery man who must be the priest. Seeing his lips move, you faintly process that he’s addressing the two of you. All the world slows down as your fate is sealed, head growing dizzier by the second. This stifling atmosphere all but grabs you by the neck, suffocating you. Body on autopilot, you respond only when prompted to do so. 

Now time for rings to be exchanged, Giorno grabs your hand with utmost care. He smiles at you, one that’s different than normal. One that doesn’t have hidden intentions behind it, an agenda to manipulate your feelings. No, this comes from the depths of his soul. From his overflowing love for you, that drowns out any other sensations.

He places the ring on your finger, expensive diamonds and gold band sliding on with shackles. “With this ring I, Giorno Giovanna, take you, [First], to be my own. To have you by side and support you until I draw my final breath, to love you with everything that I am and more. Let this be a symbol of our union that will last until the end of time itself.”

Words flow from his mouth with practiced ease, silver tongue threatening to draw you in. Your heart rate hammers away as you realize it’s your turn to speak your own vows, no longer protected by having to repeat someone else’s words. Giorno required of you to write it yourself, one of the cruelest things he could’ve had you do. 

To speak of an abundance of love for someone you have nothing but deep abhorrence for. 

Giorno’s eyes flicker at your lack of response, muscles of his jaw taut. A darkness momentarily seeps within his expression, one that you recognize all too well. This is the Giorno that you know. Lightly clearing your throat in mock sentiment, you pass it off as being choked up. Placing Giorno’s ring onto his ring finger, you shiver as your skin brushes against his. 

Recalling the dishonest words, you speak them through a forced smile. “With this ring I, [First], take you, my dearest Giorno, to stand by you through the trials of life. The joys of my life are brought to me by you, and now I wish to return the favor. Allow me to repay you by being yours, and may nothing stand between us.” 

Any signs of malice have melted away, a beaming expression taking their place on his countenance. Every word brought bile to your throat, numerous lies spilling from you like sweet venom. Your impeccable acting goes unnoticed, as he draws closer to you. Or maybe he does notice it but wants to delude himself into believing you’re being honest. 

“By the power vested in me by God and man, I pronounce you wife and husband. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. You may kiss your bride.” 

Warm hands on both sides of your face caress you, the pads of his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. What’s meant to be a tender moment causes your blood to run cold, hairs on the back of your neck standing at the realization of what this next action means. Giorno leans forward, long eyelashes fluttering shut. Soft lips mold against your own in a chaste kiss, your body tingling and scent of his rich cologne enveloping you. 

He lingers for a second longer, before pulling back a few inches. Golden locks tickle your skin, his warm breath fanning against your flustered face. Giorno greedily drinks in the unfolding events in front of him, wordlessly portraying to you the depths of his obsession. You can only imagine what he’s thinking, and what it means for you. He feels like he’s won, that this victory will cement your place with him. 

Closing his eyes once more, he offers you his arm. Understanding the gesture, you take it without protest. The smile never leaves his face as he turns around to face those who have gathered to the ceremony with you at his side. 

Meaningless cheers erupt behind you, a once in a lifetime event of witnessing the union of Passione’s Don filling the air with palpable electricity. As you assume he wants, you follow Giorno’s lead by walking out towards the large wooden doors. His grip on you is tight, both physically steadying and emotionally unsettling you. 

Going through the motions, is what you decide this detached state of existence is. Pushing through the numbness that threatens to take hold, you smile your best dazzling smile. It all happens in a flurry, crowds parting to allow for your safe passage. Once you walk out the Cathedral doors, you’re met with grains of rice fluttering onto you from either side and more delight. 

All the faces that go by you like a blur appear overjoyed, paling in comparison only to Giorno. In the time you’ve had to share with him, you’re incapable of recalling seeing him this thrilled. The day is long from over, an outdoor reception already set up for you to sludge through. At least for this aspect, you doubt anyone will speak to you directly. Or if they do, it’ll be a predictable conversation that you already have designated answers to give. 

Their attention will mostly remain on Giorno, congratulating him on the union. You wonder if some poor soul learned through experience that it’s unwise to have their eyes linger on you for too long. Giorno is a walking contradiction, wanting to both present his beautiful lover yet setting boundaries to prevent people from getting too close for his liking. 

As you predicted, congratulatory words are shared hundreds of times. Hours pass of the same, monotonous routine. The one aspect that causes you to subtly stiffen every time is when an individual addresses you as Mrs. Giovanna. It feels like a part of your identity has been stolen, among all the other things he has taken from you. 

“Do you need to rest? We’ve been standing for some time.” Giorno whispers into your ear, after a mafioso expressed his regards to his Don. You shake your head, not wanting to be alone with him. With all these people around, you oddly feel safer. Though none of them would stand up for you as it’s a certified death wish. 

“I’ll be alright,” you respond to him with a sigh, lowering your head to look at the tile underneath you. “It’s just been a lot.” 

Giorno considers your words, searching for emotions that aren’t there. You distract yourself by looking around, feeling content that these people are having fun even if you’re not. Families speaking amongst themselves enjoying the fine catering, partners dancing and almost everyone holding a wine glass. Asking him never felt like a priority, but you do wonder how much this spectacle cost. 

As the evening progresses, the sun lowers into the sky. Beams of orange and yellow mixing together enrapture everything in sight, the scent of delicacies and wine mixing together. Milan is an enrapturing city. All day you’ve had no appetite, Giorno having to convince you to eat something. Looking down at the plate that he brought you, a slice of buttered focaccia is what you settle on.

Speaking of Giorno, he left your side for the first time in hours to speak to some security. You feel like it’s easier to breathe outside of his presence, though the respite won’t last much longer. As expected, he returns to you and extends his hand. You hesitate before grabbing it, to which he helps you up.

“We’ll be heading to our hotel now.” he instructs you, leading you to the curb where a limousine awaits. Ever the gentleman, Giorno opens the door for you to take your seat before sitting next to you himself. A final group of cheers for the new couple break out, before the crowd is behind you. 

Only the low drum of the engine fills your ears, your lap holding your interest. Feeling emotionally drained to the core, you don’t offer any resistance when Giorno lays his hand over your own. Working up the courage to look at him, you’re met with a serene expression. He loosens his tie some, upward curl of his lips never faltering.

“Cara… you looked troubled,” he squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Is something bothering you?” 

“Ah. I’m not used to all that attention and socializing.” you admit in truth, a sheepish smile of your own creeping up. Giorno is the only person who you have contact with on a regular basis. You forgot what it was like to converse with strangers, even in passing. Giorno seems to understand, bright green eyes softening.

He reaches to a pen in his jacket, and before your very eyes, it turns into an impressive burgundy rose. Giorno’s ability is a mystifying one, no matter how many times you witness it. He quietly laughs at your wide eye look, before tucking it behind your ear. 

“We’ll be alone soon enough.” 

It’s a phrase meant to soothe you, yet it has the opposite effect. A hidden meaning glimmers underneath the surface, one that you anticipate. 

Still in a dreamlike state, you eventually arrive in a luxurious suite. This is one of the finest hotels in Milan, with a vast view of the historic city. Placing your hand to the glass of the window, you hear footsteps approaching you from behind. Not feeling the need to turn around to greet your husband, Giorno makes up for it by wrapping his arms around your torso. 

He presses himself against you, head lowering to the crux of your neck to take in your scent. A perfume that he chose for you. His lips ghost over your pulse, appreciating how it gains speed at his teasing touch. He knows this body well. This is a culmination of all he’s desired, the payoff of you before him. Giorno’s hands hover up to your shoulder, where he plays with the straps of your dress. 

You close your eyes.

Lifting his head to your ears, you shiver at his low declaration. “Now, give all of yourself to me, mio bellissimo amore.” 

[justthehiddleswrites]

All Dressed Up | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: You and Tom have been a relationship for some time. While it used to feel exciting and fun, now feels like you two are stuck in a rut. You decide that Tom's wardrobe needs an upgrade. But will he appreciate your effort?

Warnings: maybe implied smut

-

“I think Tom and I’s relationship is getting stale,” you complained while you stirred your coffee.

Your best friend stared from across the table in some state of disbelief.

“I don’t buy that,” she replied, “the two of you are always trying new things.”

You grumbled as you picked at the blueberry scone on the plate. You let the crumbs coat your fingers as you thought about the first year of your relationship with Tom. The start had been thrilling and adventurous. The two of you had met at a BAFTA event. Tom looked devastatingly handsome in his single-breasted tux. The beginnings of his now full beard just starting to show themselves.

The two of you had wined and dined those first several months, whether at restaurants or at your respective homes. But all that faded into the background, once you moved in with Tom. Fancy suits and pretty dresses had given way to threadbare shirts and workout clothes.  “Well, I think the honeymoon phase is over. Most nights are TV on the couch and snoring in the bedroom. He doesn’t even try anymore.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well… when we first got together, we both put such effort in our appearance. But now, I’m lucky if he is wearing pants without holes in them!”

“Maybe he is trying to tell you something,” your friend replied with a wink, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, that he needs new clothes! I swear Tom will wear something into the ground and just wish he would put more of an effort sometimes. it is like I am dating a hobo and not a world class actor.”

“Trying telling him that.”

Your eyes lit up as an idea popped into your head.

“I have an even better idea!”

You paid the bill as you said your goodbyes. Your best friend noticed that glint in your eyes. Your ideas rarely worked out. She just hoped you didn’t anything too stupid or crazy. But there was no use in trying to stop you.

***

As soon as you got home, you rushed into your shared closet. Instead of telling Tom you wanted he dress nicer, you thought you just show him. Tom was out of town for a few days, completing some reshoots on his most recent project. Just enough time to put your plan into action. First off, you grabbed all the jeans from his side, throwing them on the bed. Carefully examining each pair, you threw out any pairs with any holes. That left about three pairs. You repeated the process with his sweaters and shirts.

Once done,  you turned to the dresser. The workout clothes were the worst. Nearly everything had stains, holes, or rips. There was only one outfit worth keeping. You realized you would need to replace much of Tom’s wardrobe. But first you needed to get rid of the old clothes to prevent their re-entry into Tom’s wardrobe rotation. It took several bags and three trips to the dumpster.  Just as you shut the door, the phone rang.  It was Tom.  

“Hello, honey!”

“Hello, darling. You sound out of breath. What on earth are you doing?”

You panicked. You would rather not tell Tom your plans just yet for fear he would make you fish the clothes out of the bin.

“Just some spring cleaning. Just wanted the place to look nice when you get back.”

“That’s unnecessary, darling, but I appreciate the thought. I love our home as long as you are in it.”

You winced as the sweet words came from his mouth. Should you go through this? Maybe you should just talk to him? You thought about digging out his clothes.

“Darling? You okay?”

Tom’s voice snapped you out of your mental quandary and back to reality.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired. Hey, I was thinking about picking up some new clothes. Just to replace some worn-out things. Need anything?”

Tom contemplated a moment before responding.

“Not that I can think of. But have fun and don’t forget to pick out a dress for Ben’s party on Saturday. Shit! You had forgotten about Benedict and Sophie’s party. You can’t remember the occasion, but the dress code was cocktail wear. Your worry melted away into joy. This would be the perfect time to make your point.

“Thank you for reminding me. I think I will pick out something new.”

The two of you said your goodbyes and hung up the phone and wiped sweat from your brow, not sure if it was from the physical exertion or the act of lying to Tom. Convincing yourself the lie was for the best, you set off to finish your tasks.

***

You spent most of the next day in stores. First up was Nike, where you dropped what felt like a small fortune replacing Tom’s jogging attire. All black naturally. Now if you just get him to stop layering all at once in the winter. You hit up John Smedley and picked up two new sweater, one blue and one blue-gray. It was a new color for Tom, but you thought it would bring out his eyes. Not like he needed any help.

You scoured the shops for the perfect dress for Saturday; you finally found it at Coast. It was low cut but tasteful and the color complemented your skin tone and eye color. If this didn’t get the blood flowing, you didn’t know what would. You lugged all the purchases and set out putting it all away. You had just clipped the last tag and folded the last shirt when you discovered a key turning in the lock.

“Tom!”

You rushed down the hall and took a running leap at him. Tom dropped his bag just in time to catch you as you slid across the floor into his arms. He steadied the two of you before clasping your face and pulling you into a deep kiss.

“I have missed you,” he breathed as the two of you parted.

“I missed you too,” you replied, and you pecked his lips again.

Tom headed up to the bedroom to unpack, while you headed to the kitchen to start on supper.

“Darling!”

You heard Tom call to you across the house. His voice sounded neither happy nor mad but there was a tone of concern. You shuffled up to the bedroom to face the conversation you had been dreading. You arrived to see Tom staring into a drawer.

“What is all this?”

“Workout clothes,” you quipped back, ignoring the real question.

“I noticed. What happened to the old ones? Like my Nike sweatshirt and shorts.”

“I replaced them. With the same stuff. Just without the holes and stains.”

You avoided eye contact.

“But I liked the old ones.”

You could pick up an edge when he said liked. You may have miscalculated his attachment to the old clothes. Too late to go back, you trudged forward into what was looking now like an argument.

“I know but they looked so ratty so I threw them out,” you mumbled as you headed into the closet, hoping he wouldn’t hear or notice your words.

How wrong you were.

“You.. WHAT?!?”

Tom appeared at the door of the closet. His nostrils flared and a crimson color reached up his neck. You thought to cower, but you screwed up your courage.

“I. Threw. Them. Out.”

You enunciated each word, putting emphasis.

“Why in the hell would you do that? They were perfectly suitable clothes. You had no right to get rid of them!”

“They were not perfectly suitable! They were holey and ripped. You looked like a hobo! I’m tired of thinking like I am dating a homeless drug addict. I’m dating Tom fucking Hiddleston! You are better than this!”

“I either dress like I’m going to a red carpet event or like a homeless drug addict, there’s no in between!”

“Well, if I have to choose, I would rather take the red carpet! I think you don’t care anymore and where does that leave us?!” As soon as the words left your mouth, you collapsed into tears. You had never said it or even thought it, but it was true. If Tom didn’t think you were the effort to dress up, then perhaps your relationship was on its last legs. And the thought of your world without Tom in it was too hard to bear.

Tom’s expression softened and his anger turned to concern.

“Darling…” he started with hesitation. “What does my clothes have to do with our relationship? They are just clothes. And if you have seen any paparazzi photos, you would know I perfected the ‘homeless drug addict’ look years before I met you. But my feelings have and never will change.”

You gave him a weak smile.

“Except that I feel like I will hate my credit card bill next month,” Tom quipped as he gestured at the new clothes hanging in the closet.

You started laughing, and he stepped forward to envelope you in a hug. The two of you embraced and kissed. Tom held you out at arm’s length.

“Now why don’t you show my some of these new purchases? See what kind of damage you have wrecked before I send someone to go digging through the trash.”

With glee and pride, you took Tom around to show him each purchase, explaining your reasoning for each. Tom nodded and made the odd comment, but mostly was silent. You pointed out all the items you kept, including his well-worn gray boots.

“So…” you asked, turning your head as though preparing for a blow.

“I think…” Tom ran his hands through his beard in contemplation. “You put a lot of thought and effort in this. Thank you.”

With that, he kissed your forehead and headed back out to finish unpacking.

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. I appreciate your effort and I love you for it.”

What a letdown, you thought as you left to return to the kitchen to finish dinner. You had expected more, but you were happy he was not still angry. As you finished up dinner, Tom’s favorite, and called him down to dinner. He came into the room, hands behind his back.

“It looks lovely, darling.”

“Your favorite.”

“I noticed. I also noticed that with your little clean out, we have more space in the closet.”

You cast your eyes downward.

“Yeah. I might have gotten a little overzealous. Sorry.”

You sniffled as you could feel tears threatening to reappear.

“Well, it is just as well because your new dress will take up a lot of space and my clothes as well.”

You put your utensils down, confused.

“I don’t understand. I already have my new dress for Saturday. You saw the bag hanging in the closet.”

“I don’t mean that one.”

With that, Tom slid a small red box onto your place setting. There was no stopping the tears now. With trembling fingers, Tom opened the box to reveal a beautiful solitaire ring.

“The plan was to do this on Saturday at Ben and Sophie’s but they will just have to deal with the disappointment. Y/N,” Tom kneeled down. “Despite your itchy trigger finger when it comes to my wardrobe, I love you with all my heart. And I can think of nothing I would want more than you as my bride. Will you marry me?”

You nodded your head as words failed you.

“Is that a yes?” Tom teased.

“Yes, you idiot! Of course, I will marry you.”

You throw your arms around his neck and he lifted you in a deep embrace. Tom lowered you so he could place the ring on your finger. A perfect fit. You stood there admiring your new hardware, and then you felt Tom nuzzle against your neck.

“What do you say we go to the room and celebrate properly?”

Tom swept you off your feet, literally, and carried you into the bedroom for some proper celebrating.

***

The following morning, you lie awake in bedroom admiring the ring in the light. It was a dream. You feel the rough scratch of whiskers on your shoulder. You turned to see Tom, now awake, but just.

“Tom?”

“Hmm, yes?”

“Where were you hiding the ring?”

Tom’s mouth stretched in a Cheshire cat grin.

“Well, until this trip in my workout clothes drawer, but I was afraid you would find it, so I packed it with me. Looks like I was right.”

“I guess you were. How mad are Ben and Sophie going to be?”

“Furious, I’m sure but they will get over it once I ask Ben to be my best man.”

You giggled and thought about Benedict getting mad at Tom only to turn around and forgive moments later at the request of being Tom’s best man.

“I’m sure. And I will ask Sophie to let the kids be attendants.”

“Sounds like an excellent plan.” Tom got out of bed. “Now if you don’t mind, I am going to go for a run.”

You turned on your side as Tom got dressed. As he headed out, he leaned over to kiss you. You turned to see Tom wearing some very ratty jogging clothes. You shot up in bed.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

Tom grinned and chuckled. “You forgot about my travel clothes, darling. And you will never get a hold of these.”

You lept out of bed and took chase after your fiance.

“Give those to me, Hiddleston!”

“Never!”

And with that, Tom slammed the door and headed for his daily jog while you sulked, staring at the front door.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//arranged marriage headcannons//

Characters: Bokuto Koutarou/Sakusa Kiyoomi/Oikawa Tooru because I couldn’t resist him being a prince too

Request: Arranged Royal Marriage!AU Scenarios with Bo and Omi cause we self indulgent af- 😂

Warnings: some swearing

Word Count: 1.5K (~500 a piece)

Notes: Bokuto may have approximately 37 weakness, but I have one and that’s Royalty AUs

Bokuto Koutarou

Oh, he was excited

Finding someone to sit on the throne beside him had been stressing him out since he was 15, so when his parents told him that he had been arranged to marry someone from one of the neighboring kingdoms since birth?  He was relieved. 

He was counting down the days until he would meet you for the first time, but it was still a little wild to him that the first time he’d be meeting you, he would also be getting married?

But, the life of a prince, you know?  And he was just glad that the hard part had been done for him.

Things are a little rocky at the start of your relationship, for sure.  You two were raised very differently and tended to butt heads.  He was still pretty young at only 18, so this prince liked to have his fun, riding around the countryside and neglecting his important duties with some of his most trusted knights.

You, however, were brought up more refined and preferred to focus on your royal day to day routine before doing more of the fun things around the palace.

But, one night as the two of you were laying in bed, just getting to know each other, you had mentioned that you had never gone horse-back riding.  

WELL, Prince Koutarou was not about to have that.  So, here he is, pulling you out of bed at 2 a.m. to take you down to the stables and show you one of his favorite pastimes. 

When I say it was a disaster, I mean it was an absolute fucking disaster.

It started off fine.  You were sitting in front of him so he could hold on to you to make sure that you didn’t fall.  

And you didn’t!

But, he sure as hell did.  He always rode bareback, but because you were riding in front of him, he had to sit further back and uhhhhhh poor prince just slipped right tf off.

You, of course, wanted to stop and check if he was okay, but one problem.  You know nothing about horses.  How did you stop this thing?  Did you just jump off and hope the horse would stop?  Did you say, “Stop”?  You weren’t really even sure how to steer.

Thankfully, Bokuto’s got a pretty loud voice, so he was able to call his horse to a halt as he pulled himself off the ground, limping towards you because the poor baby definitely hurt himself from that fall.

But, he helps you down and decides that maybe you guys should just walk back to the palace.  So, he’s got a hand holding onto the reins of his horse while his other arm is slung around your shoulders for support so he doesn’t further injure himself.

He did eventually teach you how to ride though and when both of you are feeling restless and can’t sleep, you’ll go on midnight rides around the grounds together, sometimes going down to the lake in the woods to skip rocks or play around in the water like little kids.

It does take a while, but you two warm up to one another and form a genuine loving relationship.  He’s a really fun, kind-hearted prince and becomes an even better king to his people

Sakusa Kiyoomi

ANGRY BOY

Okay, he’s not super mad, but he’s definitely less than pleased about finding out that he’s engaged to someone he hasn’t even met.  

He’ll demand to meet with you before the official wedding, stating very clearly that if he doesn’t like you, he will call off the entire thing and just be a lone monarch.  And that’s no empty threat and his parents are well aware of that, so they agree to his terms and arrange for you to arrive a month before the actual ceremony for the two of you to meet and get to know each other a little better before actually getting married.

Kiyoomi didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was not expecting his possible bride-to-be to trip out of her carriage and stumble into his arms.  He certainly was not expecting you to laugh and look up at him and say-

“Looks like I’ve already fallen for you.”

He would’ve dropped you right then and there if it wasn’t rude.

No, I’m kidding.  He thought it was kind of funny, because he found himself laughing along at your cheesy joke.  

Honestly, you were really glad that Prince Kiyoomi requested to meet before the wedding.  The idea of having to move to a whole new kingdom and marry a complete stranger all in one day had you worried and fighting a number of anxieties.  

He would show you all over the kingdom and the castle grounds, but the two of you would frequently find yourself tucked away in the library, telling stories about your respective homes.

The way that your eyes lit up when he would ask you about the history of your kingdom or the bright smile that took over your face when you’re telling him about your favorite shops in the village?

Oh he’s smitten now.  It’s the level of love and respect that you hold for your own kingdom that makes him believe that you would treat this new home the exact same way.  

Scandalous premarital hand holding in the gardens while you’re hidden under the boughs of a willow tree?  Where the two of you are just sitting on a bench, making jokes or making plans for the future and he just sorta . . .  takes your hand? And places a little kiss on your knuckles??  Yeah that’s the good shit right there.

His kingdom’s number one export is precious metals so that got incorporated into his wedding attire.  Like, oh, I don’t know, a black tux with silver and gold embroidery yeah i’m looking at you elle

Oikawa Tooru

He’s not mad, but he’s not happy about it either. 

Tooru sees this as his parents not having faith in him to pick a partner who would be good for the whole of the kingdom.

In reality?  It was a political move.  You were from one of the more powerful kingdoms in the land, so it made sense that the two of you should be united for a physical representation of the new alliance between the two nations.

He moped about it for weeks after the wedding, which only led to you being unhappy as well and writing to your family about how miserable you were with your new husband.  

Your parents were furious, thinking that your new family wasn’t treating you right.  They were close to ending the alliance right then and there, taking you back, and going to war.  Poor Tooru really almost started a whole ass war smh

But, his parents pretty much told him to get over himself and deal with it, because it had already been done and he couldn’t get out of it.

So, Prince Tooru actually took the time to get to know you and?? You were actually?? Really interesting?  Amazing what giving someone a chance will do huh tooru

You both had a very similar interest in novels and would often find yourselves droning on and on for hours about the meanings of certain passages

There’s a lot of just sitting in silence to read together or sitting in his office and reading to him while he worked on whatever he needed to get done for the day.  

Once he’s warmed up to you, he’s a complete tease, but only within the confines of the castle, because that’s filthy and we can’t have that

But, Prince Tooru is full of shit, so the time will come for the two of you to actually have your first kiss and he’s a flustered mess

Like, I’m talking red faced, not looking at you because he’s embarrassed.  He’s never done this before? How are you so calm? He’s convinced that his heart is going to jump out of his chest and you’re just smiling happily at him? 

I promise, this happens before all of your firsts.  First time you hold hands?  His palms are kinda sweaty and every time he remembers that he’s holding your hand he’s panicking internally

But he’s convinced that he looks cool and collected he doesn’t

But it’s fine, because you think it’s kinda cute and it makes you feel better because you’re just as nervous as he is.  You just hide it a lot better.

Please take care of Prince Tooru.  His people have always seen him unfit to lead because of a past injury that never properly healed.  But, it was only because he worked too hard for his kingdom.  He’s a really kind ruler and just wants what’s best for his people.

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

The Helping Hand

This is a Repost from my Ao3 I wanted to bring it to Tumblr. I hope you like it Its currently 5 chapters I will be uploading the rest throughout the rest of the week.

Word Count: 2400 approx

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.1

The Prodigal Child Returns Ch.2

Ch.3

While it is true that you had a very comfortable life it was definitely not easy or by any means a normal one. The first 11 years of your life were full of injustice, abuse, trauma, and all because your parents made it so. 

At one point you completely gave up… The things that happened to you, the things that they did to you were unforgivable. Howard tried to get you to talk about it, but you never let him know that part of you. You didn't tell him because you were scared he'd think you were broken, that you were not worth saving.  

You've never asked about your parents and quite frankly you've never wondered. They didn’t give a second thought when leaving you in a fucking hospital, why should you. Your scars are things you're not proud of; they are a reminder of how weak and vulnerable you used to be.

You were sleeping on the plane when suddenly you're there again. The Gordon house they had a son… he had issues and they knew it but did nothing about it. This was your repeating personal hell… when you least expected it you're being hit and yelled at. You feel like you can't run away fast enough. Your body is not letting you get away from him. 

When he finally reaches towards you, you jump awake from the nightmare. "Right on cue." you say to yourself. You wake up in a cold sweat. You look out your window to see the new york skyline. The pilot informs you that you'll be landing within the hour. The perks of having a jet to take you wherever you want no hassles. 

You haven't seen New York since Howard's funeral 3 years ago. Another thing you haven't seen since you left was your friends if you could still even call them that. Once you land you decide to go to your favorite coffee shop… if you missed one thing it was the coffee. 

As soon as you walk in the cashier notices you and she looks awestruck, dare you say angry. Jenna… 

"Are you going to say hi or are you just going to stare?" You say lifting your brow. She snaps out of her thoughts and smiles at you. "Y/N the regular? Or have you acquired new tastes?" You smirk at her and she makes her way around the counter basically throwing herself at you.

"Wow, easy there you're going to give me the wrong impression." She keeps hugging you nonetheless. "I missed you too!" you say as you return the hug. As soon as she pulls away she slapped you not holding back. "I spoke too soon didn't I?" You say to her. 

"You didn't speak at all you asshole you said you were going to call. That was my only condition." You give her an apologetic look, but at the end of the day she understands. She goes back to the counter, prepares your drink, and hands it to you. "So what's new around here?" You ask, she simply sighs and leads you to a more secluded table. 

"Marissa and Rob broke up, lets see Angel moved to Washington he actually made it into politics I still can't believe it, and I, well I own the coffee shop now." She looks at you and smiles. "What about you, where did you go?"You tell her what you did where you went, all about David and Viv. "So how long are you staying here?" She asks. "I'm here to stay." You say. 

You finish catching up with Jenna a couple of hours later. You walk out with your drink in hand and immediately bump into someone. Your drink spilled all over you. "Shit… are you okay?" You say as you look up. Your eyes meet hers and you're hypnotized completely forgetting how to speak. 

"Yeah, are you it seems like that spilled all over you." She points out rather matter of factly pushing her deep red hair out of her face. "Well it would seem so… you know it wouldn't have happened if someone hadn't bumped into me." A smirk forming on her face.

"Bold of you to assume I bumped into you." She tells you, raising her eyebrow. You smile, extend your hand towards her and introduce yourself. "Y/N Krast and you…" she takes your hand and finishes your sentence. "Natalie, nice to meet you Y/N."

You chuckle lightly. "You say that because coffee isn't currently dripping into your bra." She huffs out a small laugh. "How could I ever make it up to you. I mean I would say dinner but that seems too soon." She says smirking. 

You smile and say "I'll see you around Natalie." You hand her your card and walk away. Not looking back you make your way to your old house. "And it begins you say to yourself as you enter your home."

What exactly is beginning you are unsure of but if you know one thing it's that they're all "going to pay." You were a kid and you'll never forget what you lived through.

The first night anywhere is extremely uncomfortable… for you at least. The jet lag didn't help you toss and turn all night. When you least expect the sun is out and you are pulled from your thoughts as your alarm rings. Great now you have to go to work on no sleep. 

You make it to the office on time… you left it in good hands. "Y/N? Long time no see, where were you?" You turn to see Logan, you meet him in the system, you gave him a chance when no one else would. "How's my company? It better not be in shambles." You say playfully he fakes an offended gasp. 

"Y/N it's doing great, I'd say that if we work a little harder SI might have some actual competition." You laugh, but the expression on his face doesn't change. He doesn't laugh with you. "Wait are you serious Logan?" He answers almost immediately "Yeah it’s crazy right!"

You and Logan spent the day going over your company's finances. "We are doing better than ever, and it's all thanks to you." You state. Logan takes your hand and says "Thanks to us, you might have been gone but you definitely helped." You smile. 

You hesitate but eventually cave. "Logan I need your help with something?" He looks at you, his posture turning serious, "What do you need?" He said almost immediately "You can say no and I will understand, but I need to know everything about the Gordon's." you say nearly a whisper that only Logan could hear. 

"Y/N why?" He simply asks with a calm demeanor. When you try to explain nothing comes out you just shrug. "I'll do it, but just be careful alright." Suddenly anger fills within you and you venomously spat "I'm not that kid anymore Logan I'm not scared of them if anything they should be scared of me."

Logan is quiet for a moment "I see… Is this why you came back?" Unsure of how to answer you shrug, and he walks towards you kneeling in front of you. "I'll follow you anywhere you know… they hurt you, hell they even hurt me." He grabs your shoulders making you look at him. "You'll have that file on your desk tomorrow… they deserve what's coming their way Y/N."

He leaves your office leaving you unsure but content with the fact that he understands why. Again you are pulled from your thoughts as your office phone starts to ring. "Y/N Krast who am I speaking to." You say somewhat confused as the call wasn't announced or scheduled. "Hi Y/N it’s Pepper Potts from Stark Industries." 

You almost drop the phone when you hear the words come out of the speaker. Pepper continues "I must confess Y/N you're not an easy person to get a hold of. Did you enjoy your sabbatical?" You're still at a loss for words but compose yourself quickly. "I did very much, forgive me but what is this call about?"

"Right, I am inviting you formally on Me and Tony's behalf to our annual Company investor and corporation cocktail party." Suddenly realization hits you in the face he wants to scope out the competition. "That seems great, when will it take place?" Pepper seems taken aback by your response quickly composing herself. 

"All the information will be emailed to you and how many passes would you like?" You quickly respond "Two would be perfect!" you say. "I'll look forward to meeting you Y/N." Pepper states. "As will I, and thank you for the invitation." You say and end the call cordially. 

As soon as the call is over you receive the information the cocktail party will literally be tonight! You run into Logan’s office startling him. “What's up… you look pale what happened?” He asked as he started to worry. You catch your breath and say “Stark wants to meet us. We were just invited to their annual Cocktail Party!” You say all in one breath you quickly add “And it’s tonight.”

As soon as Logan Processes your words he starts to pace back and forth. “Tony Stark… The Tony Stark wants to meet us? Y/N do you have any idea what this means?” He turns to you and you can see the eagerness in his eyes. “Of course I do Logan, but we’ve got to get ready to. We need to buy presentable clothes and talk strategy.”

“God this is a dream come true!” You move in front of him to prevent him from pacing and catch his attention. “Logan it’s not the time to get star struck okay… he’s still our competition we were invited for a reason and we’re going to make the best of it.” He slowly nods getting more serious, but you couldn’t help it, you’ve looked up to him most of your life. Almost screaming you said, “Fucking Tony Stark wants to meet us!” Logan just laughs and you join him.

The day goes by in a blur, you and Logan had a busy day starting off with wardrobe. You're rocking a beautiful red fitted dress with a slit that goes up your thigh. Logan of course wanted to compliment you and chose a traditional black tux. "You look amazing." He says. You smirk "I look hot. You're not looking too shabby either." You tell him, making him smile and blush a little. 

Later in the night you finally make it to Stark Tower. Presenting your passes to security outside they immediately let you in. "This place is amazing." Logan comments you only nod your head in agreement. As you make, your way to the party Logan takes your hand. 

You look at him… you both needed the reassurance. You continued walking hand in hand. You are greeted by a crowd of people drinking, talking, and having fun. This calms you a little as you are just one in a multitude of people. You and Logan make your way to the bar. You take a seat and sigh. You lean on Logan's shoulder as he orders you drinks. 

When you get your drinks you realize something but don't get that chance to mention it as Pepper and Tony walk up to you causing everything else to melt away. "You must be the infamous Y/N Krast and your Logan Smith." Tony points at both of you. You smile and say "Exactly." You say then directing your attention to Pepper. "It's nice to meet you, Pepper, you look amazing."

You and Logan shake their hands. "Y/N I must say you look stunning as well… and I'm so sorry for the short notice I'm glad you could both make it." You smile as if to say it was not a big inconvenience. Tony clears his throat catching your attention. "Well Y/N you must know that we are in direct competition." You nod unsure of where the conversation is heading. He continues. "I want to work hand in hand with you and your company. What do you say?" 

You smiled and turned to Logan who knew exactly what Tony wanted to do. "So this has nothing to do with the fact that Karst Industries is projected to surpass SI within months." You can tell you caught him off guard as he desperately tries to say something. "Logan and I would love to work with you, Tony. It would help both of us in the end." He looked relieved and pleased with your answer. 

"This merits some drinks." He calls to the bartender "Natasha bring some drinks over here." You turn to Natasha who is now walking towards you. And finally, all the pieces fall together you can't help but chuckle. "The Call… that's how you got my number, touché Pepper I've got to hand it to you." Pepper can only smirk at your comment, relieved that you're not angry or offended by it.

You greet Natasha. "Well, it's nice to see you again Natalie." She smiles and hands you all your drinks. "This is Logan, my business partner I've known him since forever." You introduce him to Natasha. This piqued Tony's curiosity asking "When did you two meet?"

"We met when I was 5 or 4 not quite sure." Pepper hummed and added. "Your parents must have been friends." You and Logan shuffle unconformable but you decided to answer. "Um… no actually me and Logan met in the foster system. It's okay though it's a part of us we are not ashamed of it." You stated quite confidently that you even surprised yourself. 

Natasha senses you and Logan are uncomfortable and change the subject. "So what did you do whilst you were on sabbatical?" You thanked her with your eyes and answered her question. "I went to Europe Sokovia to be exact I wanted to help so I moved there and opened a small practice." Tony jumps in again quite tactlessly asking "How old are you Y/N you seem young not offense." He quickly adds towards the end. 

You chuckle lightly and answer "I'm turning 22 in a couple of months." you say. He looks at Pepper concern flashing in his eyes and quickly dissipates as he notices you looking at him.

[notanacousticsetcal]

speak now - luke hemmings

summary - based off of the song speak now by taylor swift -- highly recommend listening before reading for the full experience.

warnings - none? nerves and kind of public speaking

word count - 1.6k - lyrics not included this time, lemme know if you guys prefer that

a/n - im SO sorry ive been MIA, i have had absolutely zero motivation. this is some trash i wrote a while ago and i thought i would post it while im trying to find inspiration to write something better. its the 5th installment of the song series so you can go check those out as well if you want! also, like i said in the word count, i did not include the lyrics this time around. i think i prefer that but im not sure, let me know if you guys want me to include the lyrics next time and i will! thank you for reading, i missed yall.

***

Your mom’s old pale yellow dress didn’t fit as well as you had hoped but you had no other options, formal events were not a common occurrence in your life. The wedges pinched at your toes and the thin dress straps dug into your shoulders but the soft yellow complimented your skin and you liked the ribbon around the waist so it wasn’t a total loss.

You sucked in a sharp breath, adjusting the dress once more in the mirror before grabbing your purse and hustling out the door. 

This wasn’t happening. You weren’t actually doing this. The girl who feels like she has to throw up before public speaking and stutters over small talk and avoids eye contact at all costs is supposed to stand up in front of 100 people and declare her love for the boy getting married to someone else? You felt nauseous thinking about it.

But you couldn’t sit idly by and watch the love of your life say “I do,” to the snobby girl that put gum in your hair in middle school. If there was ever a time that you would stand in front of a crowd voluntarily and speak, it would be now.

The venue was beautiful. The church had vaulted ceilings and large stained glass windows that cast colorful shadows on the hardwood flooring. There were cascading white curtains and pale pink tablecloths with little white doilies. It was pretty but humble and you felt a pang of jealousy in your chest.

Concealing yourself in the crowd wasn’t difficult considering she’d invited the county and all its neighbors. Everyone was in the pews standing and mingling and you noticed the only group sitting quietly was the family of the bride herself, all looking around carefully like the normal folk were unevolved cavemen. They wore coordinating lavender outfits with done up hair and hats with little feathers -- something straight out of a period piece. 

You rolled your eyes at their judgmental nature and apparent superiority complex before your attention was drawn to the boys in the front row talking seriously among themselves, dread written clearly on their faces. 

Calum, Ashton and Michael wore similar black tuxes, looking uncomfortable in the formal getup. You only watched for a few moments before you caught Ashton’s attention. He first looked shocked but his expression quickly became sincere. He gave you an apologetic smile which you returned before heading to the back to avoid any more curious eyes. His family would surely recognize you if they saw you and you didn’t want any extra attention on you until you were subjecting yourself to it. 

As you waited for the ceremony to start, you stared fondly out the window at the snowy trees and calm serenity of nature before allowing yourself to be whisked away in a vivid daydream about what it might be like to tell him how you truly feel. 

You jumped, pulled from your daydream by dark, heavy chords coming from the church organ. You cringed a little as the horribly ill fitting song continued, but readied yourself for the ceremony to begin. 

The silk purple curtains concealed your figure enough in the back of the church and your heart rate began to rise. This was happening. You were about to profess your love to a man who might turn you down in front of everyone and their mother. But it would be worth it. You couldn’t live your whole life wondering “what if?”

You heard a squeak of door hinges from your right and held still. Any sudden movements might give you away. 

A young girl came running through with a wicker basket in hand, poorly distributing rose petals along the aisle. Something caught your eye in the front of the room. 

Luke stepped out, front and center, and straightened his tie. Your breath caught in your throat. He looked just the same as the last time you’d seen him on that warm summer night. You had expected some drastic change, to not even recognize him. But it was Luke. The same one that picked flowers with you at recess and stopped to wait for you whenever you needed to tie your shoe. The same one that was always there to dry your tears and to watch dumb romantic comedies with you without complaining. He stood there quietly, clean shaven and rosy cheeked, the same Luke you knew and loved. 

You pushed away the more upsetting memories, like the one from that warm, sticky night. The image of his tear stained cheeks and pleading eyes. 

Moments later, your eyes were pulled from Luke. Courtney came strutting through the open Mahogany doors, waving like she was fucking Queen Elizabeth.

You rolled your eyes at her bedazzled ball gown and fake pageant smile. She didn’t care about Luke, she cared about image and reputation. Which is why you were really about to piss her off.

You looked back towards Luke and tried to read his expression but it was stoic, unmoved. You wish that was me, don’t you?

Courtney reached Luke and shot him a wide smile, to which he returned. Except Luke's was empty, not sincere. Luke had always thought Courtney was beautiful and smart and made the decision from there that marrying her wouldn’t be so bad. After you had turned him down in the glow of the firelight on that July night. It broke him and you hated yourself every day because of it. You weren’t ready to love him then. But you were most certainly ready now. 

Ready to risk everything for that blue eyed boy. 

The ceremony progressed and the preacher neared the end of the formalities. You felt your time was nearing. Your knees were weak and knocky, your hands shaking. 

The preacher paused, and with his booming voice said “if anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” He looked down, preparing to move on and read the next portion, assuming no one would protest. No sane person ever protested. 

Your breath hitched in your throat. It was now or never. If you didn’t find it in you to step forward at this moment, the person you love most in this world might be gone forever. 

The room fell silent and you closed your eyes, pushing the sheer curtain aside and taking a shaky step forward. You heard heads turn and a few audible gasps.

When you opened your eyes, everyone had turned to you. Every familiar face, every friend, every stranger.

You caught Courtney’s eye and she looked as if every fiber of her being was on fire. If someone reached out and touched her in that moment, they’d get a 3rd degree burn. She looked like she was trying to strangle you with her eyes.

You flattened your dress once more and looked up, bracing yourself for the look on Luke’s face. 

He didn’t look angry or upset, just… confused. And surprised.

You took that as a sign to continue. You softly cleared your throat, speaking directly to the man in front of you. “I am not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion but you are not the kind of boy… who should be marrying the wrong girl.” There were some shocked whispers and appalled gasps but you ignored them.

You walked forward down the aisle to get a clearer look at Luke and stopped at the stairs. You felt like you were alone with him now and it made it easier. “So don’t say yes, let’s run away now. I’ll meet you when you’re out of the church at the back door. Don’t wait or say a single vow, you need to hear me out.” You looked at him with pleading eyes and for the first time, his facade fell. You saw the glint of relief in his eyes and the slump of his once tense shoulders. 

Luke looked around once more at all of the people that had gathered there today for him and knew he needed to make a decision. He turned to look at his friends stationed behind him, and to no surprise, their faces were lit up with pure happiness and relief. He couldn’t help but smile back at them. Calum threw him a thumbs up and Michael mouthed “go with her, dumbass.” 

Luke turned back to the audience and spotted his mother in the crowd. He tried to read her expression but when she gave him a soft, curt nod, he knew what he had to do. 

He quickly grabbed Courtney’s hands and your face immediately fell. He was going to choose her after all.

Then, he whispered something you didn’t expect. “I'm sorry, Court. This is a mistake, you don’t love me and I don’t love you — you and I both know that. We can’t do this. I have to go.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek quickly as she stood, frozen.

You felt a pang of guilt. But then you remembered that she would get over it and be marrying someone filthy rich by the time she was 25 and didn’t feel so bad anymore.

Luke then turned back to you. He jogged down the steps and pulled you into a hug. It was so silent in the church now, you could hear a pin drop.

He grabbed your shoulders and kissed your forehead. “Let’s run away now, I’ll meet you when I’m out of my tux at the back door.”

You nodded, tears in your eyes, and ran towards the double doors of the church. This was the best decision you had ever made.

You stood in the crisp, chilly air, waiting for Luke to come out of the door on the side of the church. Snow fell on your hair and eyelashes and you reached out a hand to catch some flakes. 

In only three minutes he’d managed to change back into his black skinny jeans, looking like himself again. You could’ve cried at the sight.

“Hi,” you said. What else do you say to someone when you just got them to call off a marriage at the alter?

His smile grew and he ran forward, nearly tackling you in a giant hug. His hands found the back of your head and his eyes searched your face, memorizing every feature, worried that at any second, he might wake up from this amazing dream. “So glad you were around when they said speak now.”

taglist (dm or ask to be added!): @theshyspy

[celestialmark]

Lacuna - Prologue

- Characters: Johnny Suh x reader, members of nct - Category: single parent au, fluff, angst - Word count: 2.1k - Warnings: none - Navigation: prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue - Author’s notes: I am so excited to share what’s been sitting in my drafts since last year sksksjdjjd I hope you enjoy this <3  - Special thanks to: @/chicagoletters for the insurmountable love and support. this one’s for you. ily. 

“Wow.”

Doyoung is three metres away but you faintly hear his statement the moment you reveal yourself through your front door. He dresses up well, a dark navy tux that hugs his body perfectly, complimenting his long lean figure, shiny black shoes, with his hair styled back, his forehead coming to full view. Doyoung has always been dashing, the main reason why all the girls around him literally fawn with even just a glance towards their direction. But tonight, Doyoung looked exceptional, his already good looks accentuated under the lights of your lamp posts that line your driveway.

Suddenly you’re cowering under his gaze, tugging at the red satin dress that reaches the ground, a dangerous slit stretching up your right thigh, and thin shoulder straps that’s barely enough to hold the dress onto your body. You felt unsure of the dress at first, but now you feel worse when Doyoung doesn’t speak. You pick at your curled locks swept to one side, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, unsure whether to speak first.

Doyoung clears his throat before he’s jogging up the few stairs that lead to your front door. “Y/n, good evening,” he breathes when he reaches the last step. He smiles and gazes at you from head to toe again, “You look amazing.”

You know Doyoung meant it because Doyoung never lies and the gummy smile that comes after makes his statement all the more valid. “Thanks, you look dashing yourself,” you gesture at him with your hands and he unconsciously looks down at himself, pretending to dust away at his shoulder.

Doyoung shrugs, his smile never leaving his lips, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Well, I had to look good. I knew you would, so I needed to try and match up.”

You roll your eyes but chuckle anyway just as he extends a hand to you, “Shall we?” You smile and take his hand and it’s not long before he’s leading you down the stairs and opening the car door for you, his black car just as shiny as his shoes.

It’s comfortable in the car with Doyoung. You converse about a lot of different things as he keeps his eyes not the road, mostly about work and mostly about the gala that’s happening tonight. He sounds excited while your anxiety soars. You’re not exactly the type to be involved in such elegant gatherings, never mind the socialising part and the more Doyoung talks about what would be happening tonight, the more nervous you get. But you try to console yourself with the reassurance that at least, Doyoung would be there, there’d be at least one person you would know in the middle of a crowd full of strangers all dolled up and flashing how expensive their lives are worth.

You’re so caught up in your nerves and thoughts that you don't realise Doyoung pulling the breaks in front of a bright entrance of a prestigious hotel. You look out the window, and sure enough, people dressed in various luxurious dresses and tuxedos are coming from different directions and entering the venue. When you take a closer look, you see security scattered here and there, all dressed up also and that’s when you think that this place and these people were definitely no joke.

You flinch in your seat when Doyoung comes into view and you quickly look to your side to see that the driver’s seat is already empty. He opens the door for you and leans inside to unbuckle your seatbelt as you watch him silently, the pounding of your heart caused by your nerves too loud in your ears. Doyoung offers you his hand for a second time and he reassures you with a smile and a nod of his head.

“I’m not going anywhere I promise. You have me the whole night,” he murmurs gently, knowing all too well how hesitant you were in coming in the first place.

You blow air out of your cheeks, your nerves ceasing a little as you take his hand and exit his car. You watch when he hands his keys to someone who comes up to him shortly and it doesn’t take long before his car is driven off somewhere to be parked. Doyoung straightens himself, tugging at his clothes as a last minute check. He turns to you, “How do I look?”

You don’t hesitate to reach out for his bowtie, pulling at it gently so that it held itself straight. “Better.”

He smiles gratefully and faces forward, offering his arm to you. “You look the best out of everyone here tonight. So don’t be too nervous okay? If anything, they should be the ones nervous of you.”

You smile to yourself, mentally thanking Doyoung for going to such lengths just to calm you down, even if he had to come up with a lie. Nonetheless you loop your arm in his and you follow him as he leads you both inside.  

As expected Doyoung is swarmed by a lot of people on arrival. Many of them, shaking his hand and complimenting him not only of his looks but of what he’s accomplished in life. After all, this was Kim Doyoung you were talking about, the man of the night, CEO and founder of the Kim interiors, a now multi million company well recognised in the country. But even as a crowd gathers around him, even as a crazy amount of people come to have even a two second conversation with him, he never forgets you, always taking care to introduce you to all that he meets, introducing you as his date. And Doyoung handles the situation very well because he’s quick to cut conversations short just before questions arise about what's up with you two.

Doyoung leads you to the main hall where there’s tables clad in white sheets, arrangements of flowers filling up the centres, huge chandeliers hanging on the ceiling illuminating the whole room in a dim manner and a raised platform to one side with a podium on the corner. The hall is decorated well, the minimalistic interiors screaming elegance and eons of preparation. And as the venue continues to get filled with guests, people begin to take their seat, Doyoung pulling you to the table that’s right in front of the stage. Your eyes widen because this was probably the table where the most important people of the night stood, Doyoung being one of them, you... maybe not so much.

You’re surprised to see your name by your seat, the card with your name labelled on it a testament of your wanted presence. You glance to your left, where Doyoung sat and he nods at you again, one of his many ways to reassure you silently. “I hope you’re having fun.”

You lean towards him. “And what if I'm not?” you whisper amusingly, leaning back in your seat.

It’s Doyoung’s turn to lean inwards, “Then I’ll do better at entertaining you.”

The evening begins like that and you find yourself having fun but mostly because Doyoung is there with you, cracking jokes and talking about all sorts of things over dinner. Two hours in the evening, you’ve finished your second glass of wine. As you look around, you notice all the guests talking amongst themselves, jazz music playing in the background by a live band situated in the far corner of the hall. And you realise there isn’t much to be nervous about. So you loosen up with the realisation or maybe because of the aftereffects of the wine.

Your eyes fall onto the empty seat opposite you in the round table. Surely no one would have wanted to miss this night, especially if invitations were exclusively sent by Doyoung himself. All the other tables were filled too. You raise a brow but then shrug to yourself when you come to a conclusion that it isn’t any of your business to be nosy. Doyoung is talking to someone beside him when you excuse yourself briefly to the bathroom to freshen up.

You take a good look at your reflection in the mirror, touching up where needs be and tugging at your hair slightly to put in back in place. You exit the bathroom, leaving the corridor to find yourself back in the lobby with an impressive fountain in the middle, a statue of what appears to be a figure from the ancient Greek times, holding up a vase that’s spewing water. Your heart almost drops when you see someone walk past hurriedly on the other side of the fountain, the splashes of water obscuring your vision slightly,  someone awfully familiar you shiver where you stand. You blink hard and let your eyes follow the man’s figure walking away until he disappears into the hall.

It probably isn’t. It can’t be. It’s probably the wine.

When you return to the hall, you stop just by the entrance when you see Doyoung up on the podium, already in the middle of speaking to his guests, the spotlight now directed to him. He’s in the middle of his speech when he raises the wine glass that’s in his hand.

“It is with great pleasure to be announcing to everyone here tonight the exclusive partnership between Kim Interiors and Suh Industries,” Doyoung finishes off with a wide grin on his face. “I would like to make a toast to a successful partnership in the future.”

And as soon as the toast is made, the hall erupts in applause.

“I’d like to invite the very man, who made this possible, up on the stage please,” Doyoung continues when the claps die down momentarily.

“Mr. Johnny Suh, come and join me.”

You flinch for the second time at the mention of the name and your eyes widen when the said man joins Doyoung onstage. The hairs on your skin stand immediately, chills spreading throughout your whole body at the sight of the man who’s now smiling and waving at the audience, shutters of cameras lightening up the entire stage. Chest feeling tight and knees growing weak at the absurdity of it all, you exit the hall, your heels suddenly making walking very painful.

So it really was him.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been spacing out nor how long you’ve been sitting by the fountain but when you reach into your clutch, you find six missed calls from Doyoung and your dazed self on the screen of your phone when you lock it. You exhale a heavy sigh, wanting nothing more but to go home at this stage.

“Y/n!”

You see Doyoung jogging up to you and as soon as he reaches you, he crouches down, putting his palms on his knees, searching your face, “Are you okay? Where did you go?” He’s genuinely concerned and it must be because of how stunned you look.

“Oh, I went to bathroom for a sec,” you reply mindlessly.

Doyoung contemplates but nods after and doesn’t press on the matter further. “Let’s go back in? They’ve cleared the hall to make space for people to dance.” He offers you his hand for the third time and you take it again. No matter how much you wanted to go home, you weren’t going to ruin this night for Doyoung.

When you re-enter, sure enough, the middle of the room was cleared for the dance floor. There’s slow music playing in the background and from the corner of your eye, there's already couples swaying to it, the lights dimmed even more to suit the atmosphere. Doyoung is about to offer you to dance with him when someone calls him in the distance before he could even grab the chance.

“Save me a dance?” Doyoung mumbles in your ear. You nod with a smile before he disappears.

So you stand there for the meantime, watching the dance floor fill up with more couples, temporarily distracted from your distraught earlier. You busy yourself by swaying your body lightly to the rhythm of the violin playing, your eyes now trained on the floor. You’re already thinking of what needed to be done in the coming week, of work, of all the errands you had to run and you huff to yourself when the list in your head becomes endless. You begin to wonder how longer it’d take Doyoung before he’d be back to you and you contemplate leaving your spot to grab another glass of wine.

When you finally decide on it, you don’t quite get to act on it.

“May I please have the pleasure of sharing a dance with you?”

And when you turn around after much contemplation, he’s there. You’re sure the question is directed at you because he has his eyes set on you, a small smile grazing his all too familiar face. Black tuxedo tailored to his proportions to match his black hair that’s styled back, highlighting his facial features well. He looked the exact same to when you remember him last, yet different at the same time.

But nonetheless you’re sure it’s the same person.

Johnny Suh.

Your first love.

The first man to ever break your heart.

[breanime]

ooh fluff 13 and 17 for our boy Logan please and thank you!

*gif not mine*

You watched, a dizzy smile on your face, as Logan redid his tie. God, he looked so good in a tux, those long legs of his cloaked in black, the way the white shirt clung to his chest. He turned to you, grinning at the look on your face. He sauntered over to you, placing a hand on your waist and the other on your chin, titling your head up.

“See something you like, Mrs. Delos?” He purred.

Your entire body felt warm at the name. Mrs. Delos. You smiled up at him, reaching up and smoothing his hair down. Your fingers had just been in it, pulling at the strands as he kissed you, his hips pressed against yours, those fancy pants he was wearing around his ankles and your wedding dress bunched up around your waist. Your legs were still weak from the effects of his attentions, and you could hear the music thrumming against the wall from the reception hall. You leaned up and kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“I just can’t believe I have such a perfect husband,” you said back.

His eyes twinkled as he looked down at you, his heart full. Logan never envisioned himself settling down, committing to one person, but with you…the decision was so easy. You made his life meaningful, made every day better, made him feel love without any strings attached; you were his soulmate, and Logan had been more than happy to put his ring on your finger. “I can’t believe I have such a perfect wife.”

“You know,” you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he helped you back into your heels, “I never thought I’d be a wife. I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love, and then I met you,” you watched the smile bloom on his face, and you felt a surge of affection go through you, “You changed my life for the better, Logan.”

“No,” he said softly, rubbing his nose on yours, “you changed mine. When we first met, after Westworld…” He felt you tense up, and that small, involuntary motion just cemented his love for you. You cared about him so much, that even the mention of the place he’d almost died, the place that sparked his near deadly overdose, made your body react. In all of his life, no matter how many people he hooked up with, how many people worked for him, how many people lusted after him or his wealth or some combination of the two—only you ever truly cared for him. “…I felt like my entire life was a waste,” he continued, “My father was done with me, William had usurped my place at the company, even Juliet thought I was a lost cause… I was so wild,” he shook his head at the memories, “I didn’t care what happened to me, as long as I could feel some kind of pleasure, no matter how fleeting it was,” he smiled again, looking into your eyes, feeling solid and whole in your gaze, “…and then I found you. Just… The way you loved me, it was… Even now, when I look at you, I feel calm,” he kissed you, his lips warm on yours, “I just love you so much.”

“I love you too, Logan,” you stepped back—or at least tried to, your husband was not letting you go, “but we should get back, people are going to wonder where we went.”

“Eh, they know where we went,” his hand fell to your ass, cupping it through your ridiculously expensive, custom-made dress that he’d insisted on buying you, “and they know what we did…” His mouth was on your neck now, kissing you as he spoke. “…what we’re gonna do at least three more times tonight before getting on the plane…”

“And then a few more times on the plane,” you predicted, wrapping your arms around him again. You smiled as you felt his fingers, long and warm, on your thigh, playing with your garter. “Logan…”

“Tell me you love me,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you said immediately, no hesitation.

Logan leaned up and kissed you again, his mouth working against yours perfectly, as always. You knew your guests were waiting, but you also knew there was no way you could stop kissing your gorgeous husband so…

…the guests would just have to wait.

*******************************************************************************************

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[eberles]

Same anon from jj and the reader weeding if you don’t mind could you do it from the proposal-invitations-getting dress and tuxedo-to the wedding-and honeymoon. If it’s to much that’s ok you don’t have to 😅👉🏽👈🏽🥺

Hii anon!! okay so i sort of wrote a scenario but there’s bullet points too idk but there’s no dialogue at all, sooo sorry if you wanted some. I’ve never written anything like this before, but i feel like a headcanon would’ve been wayyy too long with all the info you wanted so this is what happened! I hope you love it! ☺️

Let’s be honest, JJ never thought he would ever get married after his parents failed marriage, he just assumed it wasn't for him. That is until he met you. From the minute JJ saw you he knew he was going to marry you one day. The night he proposed was one of the best nights of your life. He did it on the dock; you guys had been having a picnic dinner date by the water. You guys did stuff like that all the time so you didn't think much of it which is why he knew it would be a perfect way to surprise you. You could tell he had been nervous all night but once he got down on one knee it all made sense. You were shocked and started to cry immediately. He poured his heart out about how much he loved you, how safe he felt with you, how he wanted to have dogs and kids with you, and how he couldn't see a future without you. After screaming and jumping up on him wrapping your legs around his waist, you said yes obviously. 

After a few months of wedding planning, you guys were getting ready to send out invitations to all your closest friends and relatives. You decided to make all the invitations your self. It had been time consuming but you wanted to test out your calligraphy skills. Once you finished the invitations, the next thing on your wedding to-do list is buying the dress. The perfect dress. The dress guaranteed to make JJ weak at the knees. You brought all your closest girlfriends with you including Kiara and Sarah. You went from shop to shop shop before the perfect dress. It was sleeveless showing off your shoulders, the bust area was lace and had little white flowers all over it and it drifted down into a fluffy white gown. You looked and felt like an absolute princess. The only thing left to do was get married.

You guys decided not to get married in a church, but instead got married right on the beach. It was both yours and JJ’s favorite place to spend time together. It was mid May in Outer Banks so it wasn't too hot for your guests and there was a slight breeze making it the perfect time for a wedding. The whole thing was like a fairy tale. JJ wore a perfect black tux with a cute little black bow tie. He has his hair styles perfectly just the way you liked. JJ looked like a dream. As always. He cried when he saw you walking down the aisle. You were definitely the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. 

he tried to pretend he wasn't but everyone knew he was

he also cried when you read your vows to him

and he cried while reading his vows to you

you also cried a lot but everyone had expect that

all of your guests cried too 

After the wedding, you guys left immediately for the honey moon wanting to start it right away. You had both picked one place to split your time on the honey moon. Since you guys lived on the beach JJ had picked Alaska; he always wanted to learn how to snowboard and ski. You always loved living on the beach and still wanted to go somewhere tropical so you had picked Hawaii. Where you spent your time sunning and surfing. Both places had been amazing. Full of laughs, good food, and lots of sex.

sex on the beach

in the water

on the sand

in your hotel

in the bathtub

on the floor

in the pool

sex in a snowy cabin

if you guys could've had sex on the mountains, you would've

but nothing stopped jj from copping a feel on the ski lift

The honey mood ended too fast even though you guys were gone for more than 2 weeks. Your marriage was amazing, sure you had fights everyone does, but no matter what; JJ was the best thing to ever happen to you. And you were the best thing to ever happen to him Marrying you was the highlight of his life and the best thing he ever did.

I hope everyone enjoyed reading this one! It was fun to write and this was such a cute concept sorry if it’s kind of boring, i just wanted to make it more descriptive i guess? Anyways i would love feedback on this one sooo let me know what guys think!! ☺️