#he looks back at me with his perfect bright makeup and stupidly perfect hair

[chaos-bringer-13]

Me creating an OC: Wouldn't it be messed up if they were mind-controlled for years with no memory of life before the mind control started. Wouldn't it be messed up if they weren't sure who they are now after they broke the spell. Wouldn't it be so interesting to watch them struggle with figuring out how to live now that they make their own decisions.

Me creating another OC: Wouldn't it be messed up if they were mind-controlled their entire life. Wouldn't it be messed up if they genuinely didn't know which character traits are theirs and which were installed by mind control. Wouldn't it be so interesting to watch them slowly regain control and break away from the spell and rebuild their personality.

Me creating another another OC: Wouldn't it-

Reasonable part of my mind: No.

Me: I haven't said anything!

Reasonable part of my mind: I know what you're gonna do. Don't. We have enough characters who went through mind control.

Me:

Reasonable part of my mind: Do. Not.

Me:

Reasonable part of my mind: Don't you dare.

Me: Okay but like A LITTLE BIT of mind control-

[rosewaterandivy]

Can I request a Steve and rockstar reader where they go to the grammys and she’s there when she wins her first Grammy for like new artist or something

Ooh, you're good. I had one of these planned in the OG series, but... it would fuck with the timeline too much to include it here. 👀 SO! Enjoy actor!steve's first trip to the Grammy's & rockstar!gf's second. W.C.: 3.3K Warnings! My blog is 18+, MDNI. Prosaic devotion, probably. General lack of knowledge of behind-the-scenes/Hollywood et al.

carving through the dark

🎶 Darling, we sacrificed we gave our time to something undefined / This phantom life sharpens like an image but it sharpens like a knife 🎶

Awards shows always felt awkward. Fancy gowns, famous faces, free alcohol, press line, and professional competition. Sure, it was nice to be recognized by your peers or the committee or whatever, but that didn’t mean the entire thing ceased to radiate mean girl energy.

At least it was the Grammy’s, something firmly in your wheelhouse where you wouldn’t be expected to make small-talk with a cinematographer and pretend like you actually knew what that entailed. That being said, there was the added pressure of performing and being nominated for a few awards that evening.

No biggie.

The last few shows had been a breeze, all you had to do was show up and look good: the film festival circuit beginning with Venice, the Emmys, the Kennedy Center Honors, the Golden Globes, etc. None of that had anything to do with you— it was all Steve Harrington.

So when your alarm rang on Saturday morning, you screwed your eyes shut and retreated beneath the covers. Despite knowing that Vickie was already awake and would be gently rapping at the bedroom door soon enough.

You heard Steve clear his throat, shifting the sheets as he turned to face you— all stupidly gorgeous bedhead and eyes squinting in the bright morning sun. His right hand flopped over and landed on your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Good morning,” Vickie coos, once you’ve managed to swipe your phone off the night stand and onto the floor. She picked it up quietly, pausing the blaring alarm and set it back on the table.

Reluctantly, you sit up as the covers are peeled away from you, open your eyes and blink slowly. Game day.

Steve had long accepted now that Vickie would show up at the ass crack of dawn on days like these, coffee and breakfast in hand, before you were relegated to the makeup chair where you’d spend hours being poked and prodded to near perfection.

He had plenty to do today as well and Robin was expected shortly. You wouldn’t be surprised to find her puttering around downstairs finalizing his schedule.

Speaking of which—

“Want me to run through the day?”

You nod and reach for your matcha latte, taking a sip while Steve wraps an arm around to pull you back down to the pillows with him. He’s managed to find his glasses and get them on, so at least there’s some progress in the Harrington camp. There was a noise from the hallway, the bedroom door opened and Robin appeared.

“‘Sup nerds?” She greeted and deposited Steve’s protein shake on his nightstand. 

“Ugh, still?” He grimaced, eyeing the green concoction warily.

“Yes, dingus, still.” Robin falls into a club chair by the windows and sips loudly from her frappucino. “Now, drink up, buttercup. Nolan wants you in tip-top shape.”

Steve rolls his eyes and begrudgingly takes a sip of the drink. Robin smiles, delighted, before turning back to Vickie with a wink.

“Right, as I was about to say,” she begins, a blush steadily creeping up her cheeks under Robin’s gaze. “Carpet starts at 3pm— you’re expected right at the end.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Your helpful suggestion of skipping the press line and carpet was quickly vetoed by pretty much everyone on the team due to the fact that you were a nominee.

“Your hair is 10am, make up at noon when you finish lunch. Drinks and everything in Bar Marmont with management and crew at 2pm–everyone has different departure times so time on the carpet is staggered. You and Steve are last.”

You nodded. It had been a stressful few weeks— Steve filming on location and you in rehearsals for tour. Not to mention the tabloids and rumor mill running rampant with ‘America’s Sweethearts on the Rocks?’ and ‘Cherry Spotted Solo - Is This the End for the Hollywood Power Couple?’

Steve would walk after the last call, a warning voice would come through speakers and that’s when he’d take his seat. Better to skip the carpet than get drug into the spotlight and inadvertently fuel a fire that neither of you started.

Robin sipped from her own coffee, sensing the hestiancy that hung in the room like the smog around LA. “It’ll be fine guys, piece of cake,” she tried to reassure. “Just focus on celebrating the banger of an album you’ve made!”

You nodded as Steve threw off the sheets to take a shower. He drops a kiss to your forehead and says, “Yeah, honey, the rest is just confetti,” before disappearing into the ensuite. 

Knowing that no matter what happened or what the interviewers threw your way, you’d make it out alive and wake up to the same sky and the same guy beside you was a good reminder. 

Which was what you repeated in your head when you followed behind him after your last interview, a security detail by your side, all the way by the lingering reporters, inside, past the bars, into the arena, and to the table.

The opening sequence was smooth and energizing, someone delivered drinks and you clinked your glass against his, a quick wink at you in the dark before he leaned and cracked a joke to Eddie at the table nearby.

The night unfolded like that, relatively peaceful and uneventful. That was until one of your categories was called. Steve’s hand gripped yours when your name echoed in the arena with the other nominees. Your eyes went a little wide when he stole a glance at you, the whole table laughed in an effort to ease the tension.

“And the Grammy goes to…” Jennifer Lopez deftly opens the red sealed envelope before glancing back up to the cameras with a smile. “Being Unknown, Cherry McGowan!”

Your head falls into your hands at the shock of it all, the entire table erupted in a cheer and toppling over chairs in their haste. Steve’s arm wraps around you, head tucked close to yours, lips grazing the crown of your head.

“You did it, baby!”

You nod, hands still covering your face so he has to pry them from you and dry your tears. Steve pulls you up, his smile beatific and eyes misty. Fisting your the full of your skirt, you nod to Hop and make your way up to the stage. 

But not before a clumsy kiss that has Steve pulling you back for more. You hide your face in his shirt, laughing before you yank him back down, smothering his growing excitement with something better—enough to make him and you forget that everyone is watching.

“Later, hot stuff,” you promise with a wink and follow your producers and collaborators to the podium.

The rest of the night went by in a blur, including your performance of “Who We Are.” Despite Steve’s needling and unique methods of persuasion, you’d managed to remain tight-lipped about the song in question, knowing it was his favorite and with good reason.

You’d written it for him, after all.

Slipping backstage to change into your performance gear, getting micced up and fitted with your in-ears, you allowed yourself a moment to exhale. You weren’t expecting to win, too much of a fan of the other artists and albums to think you’d beat them out.

But here you were, two Grammy’s under your belt and being ushered on-stage to perform. A tech hands you the cherry-red Stratocaster Steve had gotten for your birthday last year, the same one you’d recorded the song with. The stage manager counts you down and cues your entrance. 

The crowd cheers as the lights go up, drowning out the announcer echoing through the arena, and the opening piano chords earn a dull roar in anticipation as you approach the mic. You find Steve in the crowd easily, Eddie at his side— both proud and nursing celebratory bourbons. 

And it’s the easiest thing in the world for your hands to cradle the mic and sing the first verse, directly to the man who’d inspired it and had been by your side through it all.

“What I had left here I just held it tight / So someone with your eyes might come in time / To hold me like water / Or Christ, hold me like a knife.”

To say he’s shocked is an understatement. Steve all but drops his drink when he realizes the significance of the song you’d selected to sing. When the drums and bass kick in, you maintain eye contact with him, throwing in a knowing smile.

The final single from your now Grammy award-winning album premiering on the biggest night in the music industry, not too shabby. Catching sight of Steve trying not to shed a tear was just a bonus, really.

Back at the table, comfortably buzzed after your performance, the night was coming to a close. Steve had somehow wrangled your legs into his lap under the table and was working on the sore muscles of your calves. Eddie had pulled up a chair on the opposite side, under the pretense of “toasting the belle of the ball.”

Trevor Noah appeared on-stage to present the final award of the evening. The announcer listed the nominees, cameras veering toward tables for the live broadcast. You subtly extricated yourself from Steve’s grasp, lamenting the loss of his warmth and touch. He slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, nerves fluttering in your stomach. The cameraman swung by for a close-up as your name was announced, you smiled politely before turning your attention back to the stage. A number of people had gathered behind Trevor on-stage, and you spotted a familiar face immediately. 

“And the Grammy goes to,” Trevor intoned, pausing to open the envelope and glance behind him. He beelines for the older woman immediately, the realization crashing on you like a lightning bolt. “You can read it,” he says to your mother, her eyes scanning the envelope before her.

“C-Cherry McGowan,” she breathes out, followed by a roar from the audience. 

The entire table is up on their feet, fists pumping, jumping for joy, high-fives all around. You’re barely able to process it all when Steve lifts you into his arms, coaxing your legs to settle around his hips and kisses you stupid. 

Eddie’s wolf-whistle pierces through the spit slick haze you’ve found yourself in. Steve’s hand cradling the full of your thigh as he reluctantly sets you back to rights. He’s got lipstick smeared on his mouth, just like the Emmy’s, but won’t let you wipe it off. 

“Don’t keep ‘em waiting,” he says, hustling you off to the stage. Your co-writers and Hopper meet you there, all wide smiles and murmured congratulations. Your mother is bouncing on the balls of her feet holding the Grammy, like she can’t believe it’s real. She tugs you close in a warm embrace as you kiss her cheek. Wiping at the corner of your mouth her thumb comes away tinged pink with lipstick. She murmurs her praises and hands you the award, shooing you to the mic at the center of the stage. 

Walked up with no plan, head empty, so all you can say is, “Shit. Well, shit.” Your eyes flit to Steve batting Eddie away while the frontman of Corroded Coffin attempts to get the remnants of lipstick off your boyfriend’s face, with little to no success. You sigh, “I wouldn’t be here without my wonderful collaborators and team,” you say and rattle off their names. “I’ve been so inspired by the artists here this evening and I’m grateful for their friendship. And I think it’s important to remember, especially on nights like tonight, that there is no such thing as ‘best.’” 

Eddie whoops and toasts you with a glass from the table. Steve is all smiles and eyes on you— you try not to lose it seeing him mouth ‘I love you.’

“I’d also like to thank my family and the fans for supporting me and loving me unconditionally as an artist and human being. I wouldn’t be here without you, and I love you very much.” You pause to clear your throat, coming to the end of your speech. “I’m so incredibly thankful and will share this award with the inspiration for this album,” you say, a little breathless when your eyes fall on him.

And Steve is shaking his head while Eddie claps him on the shoulder, his hands coming up to hide his face as a cameraman makes his way to the table. 

“The entire experience of doing this with you has completely pierced my heart and pried me open.” The room falls to a hush around you, and it’s as if there’s no one there— just you and Steve. “Y’know, sometimes I look at you and can’t believe my luck; that you’re actually real and I get to call you mine,” you laugh, a choked wet thing and will yourself not to fall apart. “You are a stunning, gracious person, and all the rest is just confetti.”

The music swelled and you were ushered off-stage into the press room backstage, along with Hopper and your collaborators. A tech shoves a mic into your hand and kicks it off.

“First question we have is from the Associated Press, take it away.”

“Hi Cherry, and first of all congratulations. How’re you feeling?”

You squint against the bright lights, “Sorry, where are you?”

“To your right.”

You spy a slight woman standing in the press pool. “Gotcha, thanks. I’m, uh, a little overwhelmed to be honest.”

“Understandable, this is the cherry on top of a really successful year for you— a world tour, headlining Coachella, residencies in LA and New York. So, what’s next?”

You sputter a laugh, “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Hop scoffs behind you. “I think the real win for something like this,” you shake the heavy award in your hand, “Is being acknowledged and nominated amongst your peers.”

“Okay, our next question is from The Rolling Stone.”

A man takes the mic and stands somewhere in the center of the crowd. “Let me begin by saying, from all of us at Rolling Stone, a massive congratulations to you Cherry - what an accomplishment!”

Hop claps you on the back with a nod to the reporter, Rob Sheffield. 

“Thanks Rob,” you say, ducking at the praise. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

He laughs, “Same to you.” A brief glance down to his notes before he begins, “So much of your music and process ends up pushing other artists and your audience into new places or things they may not have otherwise sought out on their own— Dante’s Inferno, for example, or the use of Irish, Gaeilge, in the lyrics for this album. How do you get to a place like that?”

You let out a low whistle, “Never one to pull punches, are you Rob?” The man in question simply shrugs and winks. “Right. Okay.” You take a deep breath and attempt to gather your thoughts. “I was fortunate to come of age when artists were consistently pushing the envelope— people like Sinead O’Connor, Bowie, Prince— they were the blueprint.” You foist the Grammy off to Hop, the weight of it finally getting to you. “And as far as incorporating a medieval poem and various piece of literature for this album, what can I say? It’s not reinventing the wheel to call upon some of the greatest storytelling in world— Dante literally shaped the modern perception of Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven. He shifted from writing horny love poetry about a woman he’d seen only twice, to creating a whole new type of poetic verse, celestial love, and elevating her to an impossible echelon. If that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.”

The mic is passed around the room, a few questions dodged for the sake of privacy— can’t confirm what you don’t acknowledge, as your publicist always says. Steve and Eddie sneak their way in eventually, side-stage and a little more than sloshed, Steve’s tie is askew and Eddie’s blazer is nowhere to be found.

“Our final question comes from The New York Times.”

“Hey Cherry, congratulations my friend, truly well-deserved.” 

The voice is familiar, feminine and matter of fact.

“Thanks Nance, you’re too kind.”

“Not at all.” She smiles from her spot in the crowd. “In your acceptance speech, you mentioned the inspiration for the album, and I don’t mean to pry, but you’re a notoriously private person. Why did you feel the need to address that?”

Not a softball question, but definitely something you could handle. Bless Nancy and her carefully strung together words.

“I, uh,” you clear your throat, suddenly nervous. “While I am a private person, which I think is an important facet of interpersonal relationships, regardless of status, I think it’s also crucial to acknowledge that something like this—” you gesture vaguely to your team and those around you, “Can’t be done alone. This is the first album I’ve had cowriters on, that I’ve had other people helping to compose and create the sound. I was an island for so long that I was blind to the fact that I was drowning.”

You hear a faint gasp from somewhere behind you.

“Look, the pandemic took so much from all of us, as a collective, and I wrote most of the songs during that time of isolation and loneliness. But there are songs that speak to the beauty of life and love, even if it ends up not working out in the end. There’s a sadness and a serenity in that.”

Nancy nods for you to continue, pen scribbling furiously.

“So my decision to acknowledge the community of artists and musicians who helped me along the way, as well as the inspiration for this album was my half-assed attempt as a love letter. Love,” you conclude, “Is the only thing that can make life not just bearable, but beautiful.” You take a breath, coming back to yourself, “I think that was an answer to your question? It was words,” you laugh, “A lot of words.”

“Wonderfully said,” Nancy says with a smile on her face. “Thanks for allowing us a peek of that journey.”

You smile and shoot her a wink, exiting stage left where Steve greets you away from the prying eyes of reporters and telephoto lenses. He pulls you close, hands anchoring at your hips, fingers scrambling for a slice of skin.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes, “Who do you think you are, wearing something like this?” He fists the full of the silk skirt, just where it hangs above your crystal-encrusted knees. The Paolo Sebastian team has been more than generous in dressing you for the evening. Black mesh dotted with crystals against your skin, a luscious black silk gown with a high-low bubble hem and tights to match.

Steve was kind of easy like that; the illusion of barely there fabrics, a flash of skin where it mattered most. His hand snakes its way to dig into the plush of your thighs, tender with the promise of something more. 

“Oh, this old thing?” You drawl, “If you like this, just wait until you see what I’m wearing for the after-party.”

Eddie scoffs, “Please spare me,” he says, “Well, me and the rest of the press corps who can definitely see you if they lean a little to the left.”

Steve’s hand falls from your leg as he pulls you further down the corridor. “Car is outside, think you can do a quick change en route?” He pushes open one of the stage doors with his free hand, the other firmly grasped in yours.

You arch forward again, the cool night air a relief for your fevered skin, strain yourself to kiss his chin, grazing his throat on the way back down, needing him more urgently each passing minute. “I think I can manage,” you rasp, as the car comes into view, “But the question is, can you?”

[othunderous]

“   you  look  too  beautiful  right  now ,   it’s  too  dangerous  to  make  direct  eye  contact .   ”

sun spills through his hair, his beard, casting a golden glow through each strand. its brightness doesn't bother him as his eyes sparkle against it; all of his focus is on her. she looks like a vision, plucked right from his dreams. the perfect woman for him made real. after all this time, he still finds that he needs to pinch himself. how the hell had he gotten so lucky?

thor can imagine what he must look like. wild, dazed, besotted. his hair is a mess from the hours and hours they've spent joined at the hips, sweat slicked skin glinting in the light. he is lightly flushed; where the pink warms his cheeks, his smile stretches enough to ache. she looks much the same, though. no one could blame them, surely, if any were here to witness the sight. they're welcoming their first day as husband and wife. of course yesterday's celebrating carried long into the morning.

"you should see yourself."

when thor laughs, it shakes him atop the mattress. it's so genuine; crinkles find his eyes, and the soreness in his cheeks only worsens, but he can't stop smiling at her. from where he lays on his chest, with rey on her back, he lifts a hand to tenderly cup her face, a thumb stroking along her cheekbone. gently, he turns her head toward him. locking eyes, his laughter subsides, but the stupidly in love beaming remains. when he feels his heart leap, it's welcomed. that he gets to feel this, for her, for the rest of his life— is a gift great enough to make him emotional.

something familiar stirs in the pit of his stomach. warm and tempting, like desire, but so much more. also safe, peaceful. is it possible he's fallen even deeper into love with her? he shifts along the bed, aiming to express himself with a kiss (there are no words to capture all that he feels for her). . . until a set of dainty, little hands press to his face, effectively blocking his sight of her.

"hey," he protests, trying to catch her hands and free himself from her grasp. "do you mind? i'm trying to admire my wife."

just saying it sends a thrill through him. wife. his wife. rey has made the promise of forever with him before all of their friends and family, after years of uncertainty. will it ever stop feeling like the most incredible thing that's ever happened to him? he doubts it. amidst the laughter and the giggling, the flutters in his chest threaten to take his breath away.

playfully struggling doesn't last nearly as long as she probably intended it to. thor is quick to close his hands around her wrists, pinning them to the bed on either sides of her head. swiftly, he shifts on top of her once more. the bright, ear to ear smile is stuck to his face. "maybe if you didn't have an aversion to going to the gym with me," he teases, craning his head down to brush their noses together, "you wouldn't go down so easily." though, with their bare chests touching again— with the way she looks beneath him in the sunshine, naked, meeting his eyes— it slowly ceases to be funny. thor's smile doesn't fade, but it's transition from teasing to wanting is clear.

pressing his lips together, his fingers glide upward until they can link through hers.

"i don't think. . . you've ever looked more beautiful than you do now." with her own hair a mess, her skin flushed from their exertion, the makeup from the party having rubbed off on his skin or smeared into their sheets, she looks so lovely. too lovely. this is just how they're meant to be: two people baring it all for one another, in every way possible, with all the love and trust in the world between them. yes, this is thor's favorite look.

looking between both her eyes, the laugh that leaves him is quick, quiet. but one beat before he nudges her, urging her to lift her chin to meet him, before he's kissing her. it says everything he already has and will ever want to. he hopes she knows that. as their lips mold together, his breaths quickening with his heart, he hopes she knows this is all he has ever wanted. and he will cheris her, protect her, until his last day.

her, rey, the love of his life. how wonderful.

intentionally, thor's hips are lowered to hers again. a huff leaves the back of his throat as her legs make room for him. they're on the same page, then, he thinks with mild amusement. their kiss deepens, and when the squirming in the base of his stomach accompanies a hardening, the sound he emits this time is closer to a moan. he looks at her through half-lidded eyes when he finally manages to break their kiss.

"if my wife is up for it," he murmurs, "i would quite like to make love to her again."

[gingersnaaps]

too much of a good thing

he's so sweet, so kind, so dumb - is bokuto really capable of anything besides the best intentions?

wc: ~2.7k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, dubcon sex to noncon creampie, manipulation, lovebombing and then neglect, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, penetration, a lil angst, timeskip!bokuto, fem!reader with inner genitals

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

Being subtle was never really Bokuto’s thing, not even in the beginning.

In some ways, you suppose that you’re lucky - that you’re better off than your friends who you would always hear complaining, muttering about boys who didn't like to commit, didn’t like labels, who didn’t like texting first or buying gifts or putting in any effort at all.

Barely a week into your relationship, you come home from work with your head dizzy and feet aching from exhaustion, and discover a dozen bouquets of roses on your doorstep. Crimson petals are littered everywhere, strewn against the grey concrete of the steps, and although you feel your neck and face heating up with embarrassment at the grand gesture, you can’t suppress the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

He really was so sweet. Who cares if he wasn’t exactly shy about expressing it?

None of the other guys you’ve dated before had sent you good morning texts quite like his, filled with exclamation points and emojis, and none of them had tried nearly as hard as Bokuto does with his breathy, eager i love you’s, his frequent hugs whenever he gets the chance to see you, or even his phone calls that come twice, three times, even four times in the middle of the day.

But the more days that pass by, the more intense it gets.

He picks you up after work all the time, cupping your face in his hands, eyes gleaming almost unnaturally bright. “I love you,” he’ll whisper. “You’re so wonderful, baby. You’re perfect. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

You can’t help but think that these are the sort of words that come months into a relationship, if not years, but… there’s nothing really wrong with what he’s doing, is there? There’s no reason you should be uneasy, no indication of even the slightest hint of trouble on his part.

You’re probably just paranoid.

Bokuto doesn’t stop at words, though - he earns a good sum of money from his job playing professional volleyball, and he’s never hesitant to use it on you. A week after he leaves you the roses, he asks you out on a date to a restaurant you know is ridiculously expensive, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach grows as you scroll through pictures of the establishment on Google Images.

“I don’t think I can afford it, Bo,” you tell him, voice hesitant and crackly over the phone. “If we go, I won’t be able to pay my share.”

“So?”

It’s just a word, but the implication isn’t lost on you. And if he’s fine with paying for you, if he’s okay with the hundreds of dollars you’ll be owing him, well - there’s no good reason to turn him down, right?

During the date, you talk with him as you spoon bites of delicate food into your mouth. The restaurant is too lavish, the plush velvet carpeting and crystal chandeliers almost a parody of luxury. You’re pretty sure the utensils are half the price of your rent.

He leans over in the middle of the meal, expression suddenly serious. “You’re enjoying this, right?” he asks.

“I am. I’m kinda lucky, aren’t I? Being spoiled like this.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his grin so bright it could rival the sun. “You really are.”

And suddenly - just for a moment - you catch a glimpse of something slightly off about his whole expression, as if it was a mask waiting to be ripped off to reveal something much, much different underneath, but the fleeting moment is gone so quickly you convince yourself that it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Bokuto has been nothing if not perfect, after all. If you’re uneasy, it’s probably just because you aren’t used to being treated like this, aren’t used to someone that lavishes you with constant gifts and praise and displays of affection like he does. On the way back in the taxi, he whispers everything he loves about you softly in your ear, his arm snaking around your waist as his thumb rubs tender circles into your skin. His body is pressed so close to yours, his breath gently tickling your ear, warmth radiating out from his firm, muscled body.

He’s so good to you.

-

It doesn’t last forever.

Bokuto’s affection dries up slowly, but his presence has been such a constant in your life that it’s impossible for you not to notice.

Some mornings, you find yourself waking up to a hollow feeling in your chest as you check your message notifications and find nothing - no late night rants, no funny pictures, no enthusiastic, joyful good morning texts. During the day, the silence now stretches on for hours too long, uncomfortably empty and devoid of the persistent calls that you used to get every single hour.

When he does see you, he’s remarkably reserved - eyes always downcast, fingers fidgeting incessantly, clearly disinterested in what you’re doing, what you’re saying - in fact, disinterested in all of you.

Maybe he’s just busy with volleyball, you rationalize, but your stomach churns with anxiety and deep down, you know that something’s changed.

You try and ignore the dull ache inside of you that seems to follow you around wherever you go, a little voice inside your head constantly reminding you of what Bokuto used to do. Two months ago, he would’ve picked you up. He would’ve sent you flowers today. He would’ve taken you out to eat.

It builds up slowly and steadily, a crescendo of pain that grows in volume the longer he’s gone, like a tidal wave of confusion and hurt that swirls around inside you - until one day, you’re sitting by yourself in the car, sobbing quietly in the cramped darkness.

At least he doesn’t turn you away when you show up on his doorstep.

Your eyes are rimmed with red, streaks of eye makeup running down your face as a frown twists at his features. “Please, Bo,” you whisper. “Let me make it up to you.”

And you’re not exactly sure what you did, but you want to fix it, want him back in your life, want to wake up to his smiles and his laughter and his incessant, boundless energy, and you know you’re willing to do anything to get that back.

“Really?” he asks, eyes glimmering faintly with hope.

You nod almost imperceptibly, about to reply yes, yes, want you back so bad, when he grabs your waist with his hands and pulls you in for a kiss so passionate it borders on harsh. It’s a whirlwind of teeth and tongue, a mix of sucking and licking and biting that leaves you gasping for breath, your red lips swollen and slick with spit.

He pulls you inside, his hands roaming all over your body, groping and squeezing at your supple flesh, goosebumps running down your spine as he brings a hand up to brush against your nipple. For the first time in weeks, you see excitement on his face, and his voice trembles as he leans close in. “Let me take care of you,” he says. “Wanna make you feel good.”

And even though there’s apprehension crawling under your skin at his sudden mood swing, you’re so, so glad this version of Bokuto is back that you brush off that hesitation, the mixture of happiness and anticipation overwhelming every single thought in your mind.

As his fingertips graze the soft skin of your torso, his hands - so much larger than yours - maneuver your body around with such ease and grace that you barely notice when you end up on his couch, legs spread wide open as he looks up from between your thighs hungrily. “I - fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he says, out of breath, eyes running over the swollen outline of your cunt.

You whimper softly as his nose brushes up against your clit, his piercing, golden eyes still gazing intently up at you.

He doesn’t waste any of his time teasing you, his flat of his tongue sliding up along your slit with the perfect amount of pressure to leave you squirming. It’s almost as if he knows exactly where to lick and suck, eagerly pressing his tongue up against your clit in insistent circles, lapping at your dripping pussy until your juices are running down his chin. He’s so eager in between your legs, and everytime he finds a spot that makes your legs tremble needily, he gives it so much attention that you already start to feel that wave of pleasure building in your core.

“Don’t stop,” you pant, your hands sliding into his hair as your hips thrust upwards. “Please.”

Bokuto doesn’t need you to tell him that. Shouldn’t have wasted your breath, he thinks idly, diving in and eating you out with renewed vigor.

When his tongue glides around your spasming cunt and dips in briefly, you can’t stop the moan that tumbles from your lips. His tongue is so stupidly long and flexible, sliding inside and licking at your sensitive walls, curling up and brushing against your g-spot until you start to shudder and tremble under him.

You cum embarrassingly quick, your hips jerking and stuttering wildly as he finishes you off. He fucks you through your orgasm, sucking gently at your clit until the border between pain and pleasure starts to blur and you’re moaning so loudly he thinks the neighbors will have complaints for him the next morning.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, voice sending vibrations through your pussy.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“How about another?”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

“I think you can handle it, right?” a huge grin splits his face as he spreads your pussy apart with two fingers, looking at your swollen, spent cunt. He barely gives your chance to respond before he trails his fingers against your lips, fingers teasing in and out of your slick entrance.

This time, Bokuto uses his hands to stretch you out, inserting his digits one by one until three of his thick, long fingers are nestled inside of your pussy. He thrusts them languidly in and out, his fingertips caressing your nerves until you’re tense and wound up for him again.

“Come on,” he encourages. “You can take it.”

Your brain is hazy from the stimulation, barely registering anything but pleasure as his fingers search and probe like they have some sort of job to do. You feel damp with heat and moisture, the pulsing, burning need in between your legs insistent and demanding.

“Almost there,” he breathes, voice raspy with arousal. A fourth finger brushes up against your lips, and the thought of more stretch, more stimulation, more pleasure, has you clenching desperately against the ones that your cunt is already spread out on.

You sob, your body strung out and wrecked, suspended on the tipping point of another orgasm.

As you cum again, the feeling of relief - white-hot and blinding - rips along your core. You’re not sure you’ve experienced anything quite so intense before, and as you look down at him, hands still manipulating your cunt so expertly, you don’t know if he has the intention of stopping anytime soon.

He stands up and your eyes drift to his cock, flushed purple and almost painfully hard, dripping with precum. His hand strokes along his shaft, soft curses muttered under his breath, but he opens them wide again and looks down at you sadly. “I’m so sorry,” he says, voice pleading. ��I don’t have any condoms.”

Bokuto sounds so genuine, his tone kind and filled with regret, and guilt begins to sting at your conscience. He’s made you feel so fucking good, given you the best orgasms of your life - is it really fair if you leave him wanting and unsatisfied?

You’re fucked halfway out of your mind when you answer, eyes still fixated on his cock, head swimming with thoughts of how much you want to please him.

“It’s fine,” you say, your words slurred and hesitant. “You can.. you can use me. Use my pussy to get you off. Jus’ pull out at the end.”

Ecstasy flashes across his face, and he looks down eagerly. “Fuck, babe. You’re so perfect. I love you.”

You hadn’t heard those words for weeks.

His strong arms pick you up easily, maneuvering you around until he’s the one sitting on the couch and your cunt is positioned right over his dick. His hands grip tightly at your waist, fingertips pressing so insistently that you’re sure you’ll wake up the next morning with bruises dotting your skin. He lowers you down slowly, carefully, groaning as he fills you up and the warmth of your cunt envelopes him whole.

He already looked big, just from the cursory glance you’d taken earlier, but as you feel the tip of his cock shove against your cervix, your breath almost catches at how you feel your walls expanding to accommodate all of him.

The drag of his curved cock up against your sensitive walls leaves your legs trembling and squirming, but he holds you firmly down as he thrusts up inside over and over. “Stay still,” he coos. “Let me take care of you.”

Bokuto starts off gently, fucking you with shallow little thrusts that have you panting with desperation. He can tell by the way your cunt is fluttering that you're craving more, that the two orgasms he gave you earlier just wasn’t enough for a greedy girl like you, and he relishes the way your small hands grip desperately at his shirt.

He raises you up off his cock, running the tip up and down your slit until your pussy throbs, and slams you back down again. The rhythm he maintains is steady and even, bouncing you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll, whispering stuttered curses and phrases of endearment against your ear, making you shiver from the overload of stimuli.

“Feels so amazing,” he moans. “Gonna.. Gonna cum soon.”

The heat in your core grows intense at the thought of his orgasm, involuntarily whining, and you start to rock your hips back and forth in an attempt to search out more friction.

Bokuto knows he promised to pull out. He knows that it wouldn’t be right if he stayed buried inside your cunt. But how is he supposed to stop himself when you feel this good, wrapped so obediently around him like a perfect little fuck doll? And the heat of your cunt is gripping incredibly tight all around his length, your little squirms and shivers so adorable as he uses you to get himself off.

He can’t help himself.

With one last, desperate thrust, he lets go, thick spurts of cum filling you up until he’s sure your insides are dripping white, and he caresses your stomach where your womb would be in satisfaction. It feels so good to cum inside of a tight cunt, much better than it would’ve if he’d forced himself to pull out, he thinks. And you look so pretty all full and leaking with his seed.

It takes you a moment to fully register the warm, wet feeling pooling inside you, your brain too fucked out, too stupid from the constant stimulation to truly understand what exactly dripping from your slit is.

When you do realize - oh god, he came inside me - panic starts to grip at the edges of your frayed nerves, your vision tunneling as the magnitude of what had just happened hits you. Tears start to blur the world around you, the dim lighting of his living room merging the furniture and warping the walls, and you faintly register the feeling of arms wrapped tight around you, a hand reaching up to caress soothingly at your cheek.

“You know,” Bokuto whispers, face lit up in wonder. “I think we’re soulmates.”

[bookishofalder]

Catfish & Sunshine II

Read Part I ~ Catfish & Sunshine

Summary: Frankie and Sunshine are all dressed up for a special event and he can’t keep his hands to himself. Requested

Warnings: Smut, language, mentions of loss and grief, sad Santi.

Frankie reluctantly gazed at himself in the mirror that you had hung in the front hallway, giving his outfit a final once-over. He was dressed in his most formal military garb, hair combed and beard carefully trimmed, and though he felt a little ridiculous, he knew you’d be more than thrilled with his appearance.

It was rare that either of you ever had to dress up, both of your lives decidedly relaxed, free of fancy events when you were both happy to go to the bar with the guys for a night out. Hell, Frankie had tried to convince you to let him take you to the fanciest restaurant in town-Benny had been the one to tell him about it; but the moment you saw the dress code on the website you scoffed, pointed out that money could be spent in so many better ways, and then excitedly asked to go to a mom and pop Mexican restaurant that was one of Frankie’s favourites.

Tonight there was no avoiding the formal dress, the fancy hair, nor the heels. It was the second anniversary of Tom’s funeral and Molly and the girls had organized a charity event for retired veterans who needed help getting on their feet after leaving service. It meant as much to Frankie and the guys as it did to Tom’s own family. Everyone was acutely aware that if Tom hadn’t been so desperate to support his family, he would never have gone on the mission that led to his death.

When Frankie had received the invitation in the mail, he’d gone numb, not realizing he had stood frozen in the doorway for more than ten minutes until you walked through the door and bumped into him, yelling in surprise. You had taken one look at his face and knew that Frankie was on the edge and, like he knew you always would, you took charge. First leading him to the couch and getting him to take deep breaths, then taking a look at the invitation he clutched in his hand. When you realized what it was for, you told Frankie you would go with him, support him through the whole thing and then take him for ice cream after. Ice cream dates were a regular thing in his relationship with you.

“Sunshine,” He called, glancing out the living room window at the rain coming down. He heard you grunt in response, probably still trying to get your hair just right even though he thought you looked perfect with bed head. When you’d walked out of the bathroom a few hours prior, your hair was done in a fancy updo, he’d stupidly remarked that you looked great, but ready a little early. You had gaped at him for a moment before gesturing to your face aggressively, pointing out you hadn’t even started on your makeup. He’d steered clear since. “I’m going to pull the car upfront so you don’t have to walk in the rain, I’ll meet you outside the lobby!”

He heard a door open, your voice now clearly echoing down the hall, “Is that your nice way of trying to get me to hurry up, Fransisco?”

“No, no,” He assured you, trying to hold back a laugh, “Take all the time you need, Sunshine.”

When you giggled, Frankie smiled to himself and, with one last glance at the mirror, left the apartment. He was happy to appreciate the walk to the elevator now that he knew it was one of the last times he’d be doing it.

You had moved in with Frankie just a few weeks after you first got together, each of you seeing no point in you keeping your place when you were never there. Next weekend you would be moving into the bungalow you’d bought together, just a little out of town. Somewhere quiet, though the commute into your office wasn’t bad and the trip for Frankie to the nearby flight school, where he was an instructor, was minimal.

Life had been...perfect since the night you and Frankie had confessed how you felt. He was flying again, thanks to you for helping him clear his record of possession. He got to wake up every day with you wrapped in his arms (he didn’t understand how you were always cold but didn’t complain that you used him as your own personal furnace), and in a week he’d be enjoying a day with everyone he loved as they all helped you both move into the new place.

Hell, even Santi had finally come home after over a year away. Tonight would be the first time out for him since he’d been back.

And Santi, that was a surprising twist. It turned out you and he were quite the match, platonically. When he’d first settled back in just a few months prior, you had ensured Frankie spent time with him and helped Santi through his guilt and grief, to feel at home again. You made Santi feel safe, feel welcome even when he showed up late at night in need of his friend. ‘The door is always open for you, Pope’ you’d said, turning away and missing the emotion on his face, though Frankie had seen.

Tonight, you had agreed to be Santi’s date as well as Frankie’s, to help the struggling man get through tonight’s event. As insistent that Molly had been that they were all welcome, he harboured the greatest guilt and regret for Tom’s death and it was a struggle to convince him he needed to be there, that he was wanted.

Frankie wasted no time pulling the car outside of the building lobby, then climbed out to wait for you. He leaned back against the passenger side door, arms crossed and eyes gazing at the ground, lost in thought. He pulled out his phone after a moment and quickly sent a text off to Santi, letting him know they’d meet him out front at the agreed time, sighing with relief when his friend sent a thumbs-up back.

“Pope not flaking out on us at the last minute?”

Frankie glanced up at the sound of your voice, his mouth opening to respond when he caught sight of you and instead he was merely gaping in surprise, an unintelligible noise rushing out of him. There was no other way to describe it, you were absolutely breathtaking.

He’d seen your dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door earlier that day, knew that the shade of blue would complement your skin perfectly. But...fuck, it hugged you in all the right places, showed off the curves he loved to kiss every day, the swell of your chest perfectly outlined in the tighter-fitting top portion, your legs accentuated by the full skirt and simple, dainty heels. And your make-up was fucking flawless. You didn’t need it, barely wore much most days, but you knew how to do it and told him it was something you had fun doing. This was the first time he’d been witness to the full slate of your abilities, the colours on your eyelids bringing out the brightness of your eyes, your lips plump and full and deliciously red.

After a moment of gawking at you, Frankie realized that you were staring at him in equal surprise, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body. You spoke first, looking away from Frankie and glancing around as you swallowed heavily. “Sorry, sir, thought you were someone else.” You giggled, pretending to look around for Frankie.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” Frankie breathed, standing up straight and feeling suddenly very warm, his eyes unable to stop moving from your chest, down your legs, back up, then down. You gave him a shy look as you descended the steps and came to a stop in front of him, “You look perfect. And your makeup,” He pointed to your eyelids, which looked like works of art in their own right and he wondered how the hell you even managed to do it, “So fucking pretty.”

“Thank you,” You beamed up at him proudly, then dropped your gaze again to look over him in uniform, “I’ve only seen you in pictures dressed like this. I think...You may look too good, Frankie. I’ll be fighting off ladies all night.”

Frankie barked out a laugh, pulling you carefully against him so as not to ruffle either of your outfits, though his semi-hard cock was begging him to just take you back upstairs and bend you over the couch. “Good thing Santi will be there, Cariño, you can just send them his way.” He leaned down to kiss you but paused, remembering your makeup, and instead pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

It surprised Frankie when he felt your whole body shudder in response, a little sigh escaping you. He paused, meeting your eyes curiously and then nearly coming undone right there when he saw the turned-on expression he knew all too well burning across your features.

“Mierda,” You murmured, and Frankie felt both proud of how your Spanish was coming along-you’d been taking lessons-and aroused by your evident desire for him. With a pained groan, he stepped back from you and turned to open the passenger door, holding out a hand for you.

You took hold straight away, allowing Frankie to help you into the car and carefully ensure your skirt was in before he slammed the door shut. Walking around to the driver's seat with a semi in his tightly fitted dress pants wasn’t exactly comfortable, especially knowing he had an entire evening ahead of resisting you and your perfect fucking curves. He considered closing the door on his fingers just to help clear his head.

“You uh, ready?” His voice came out husky and he didn’t miss the way it made your legs clench together. Frankie glanced at his watch, his cock twitching in excitement when he realized you were ahead of schedule. He had a couple of minutes. Without waiting for your response, he pulled the car forward and into the darkened parking lot, rain spattering down and filling the otherwise quiet cab with its soothing sounds. “Sunshine?” He huffed as he pulled over at the edge of the lot.

“Frankie, what are you-?” You broke off when you caught his expression, your eyebrows shooting up first in surprise before you gave him a comically horrified look. “Oh Frankie we can’t, we’re all dressed up!”

He laughed, “Relax, Cariño,” Leaning toward you, Frankie reached down and brushed his hand along your lower leg, humming at the softness of your skin, before moving upwards, pushing under your skirt. He moved more quickly than he normally liked to, but time was a big factor here because he didn’t want Santi waiting outside alone for you to arrive. But he couldn’t resist touching you, his voice coming out in a near whisper, “Relax, sweet girl,” You did as he asked immediately, your legs parting and back easing into your seat.

Frankie grunted when he traced up the top of your thigh and found nothing but bare skin, his hand running across your mound in surprise. He looked down at you and found you watching him with a glint in your eye, biting your lip.

“Thought I might get through a bit more of the evening before you noticed.” You admitted, though your mouth snapped shut the moment he took advantage of your panty-free pussy, easily sliding two fingers inside of you.

You let out a filthy moan, hands curling into fists at your side, and swore when Frankie quickly picked up the pace and began fucking you with his fingers. “Always so wet for me, Sunshine,” He whispered in your ear, holding himself back from kissing your pretty face. He could already feel you tensing, only a few more minutes away from your orgasm, “Dirty little thing, aren’t you? No panties on, you like being ready to be fucked anywhere, don’t you?”

“Fuck, Frankie, y-yeah,” You gasped, your hips bucking slightly, “Want-wanted to surprise you a-after, instead of ice cream,” Frankie growled at your admission, beginning to curl his thrusting fingers just how he knew you loved it. You whimpered and panted for him and the possessive, more animalistic part of him fucking loved watching the way you came undone so quickly for him. It only took another minute for you to come for him.

“Cum Cariño, cum for me you perfect little thing, I want you wet and hot and bothered the rest of the night, fuck,” He groaned when you clamped down on his fingers and let out a cry as your orgasm wrecked you, hips thrashing around. “That’s it, good girl, good fucking girl.” He praised you, slowing his movements until the last remnants of your high rolled over you and you sagged back into the seat.

“F-Frankie, Jesus,” You finally breathed, looking over at him as he withdrew his fingers and placed them in his mouth. You whimpered when he groaned at the taste of you, always so sweet and almost peachy. His free hand palmed his erection, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Fuck, do we even have time-?”

“No,” Frankie admitted, somewhat heavily although he was a little excited at the prospect of the evening being coloured with your need for one another. “We actually really need to go, Santi will be waiting.”

Shakily, you pulled your seat belt on and then reached into the centre console for a tissue. Frankie had to look away as you hooked an arm under your skirt to carefully wipe up your essence, both to calm his roaring blood and in disappointment that he couldn’t lick every last drop up himself like he usually did.

The drive to the banquet hall was quiet, each of you focusing on the rainy town and determinedly not looking at one another. When Frankie pulled up to the valet station, grateful they’d erected a fancy tent for guests, he sought out Santi. You spotted him first, excitedly pointing from your seat and Frankie finally spared you a glance, happy to see your makeup remained smudge-free, though your cheeks were rather red. He smirked.

“Thank you,” He nodded to the attendant as he stepped out of the car, hurrying around to help you out. Blocking you from the view of everyone nearby, Frankie gave you a once over, “You look perfect, Sunshine.”

Grinning, you made a show of checking him out, “Not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Frankie took your hand with a laugh and you both moved forward, eyes landing on Santi a few feet away, his back to you both. The set of his shoulders was telling and Frankie exchanged a worried glance with you before he turned around and spotted you both. He grinned, relief washing his features of the heavy frown, his eyes brightening when you each shot him friendly smiles.

“Hey, Hermano. Wow, I can’t believe that still fits you!” Santi declared, first clapping Frankie on the shoulder before flicking his sleeve.

“I had to sew him in,” You deadpanned, winking up at Frankie. Santi barked out a laugh in response before allowing you to sweep him in a careful hug, mindful of your outfits. “Great to see you, Pope, you look good.”

Frankie swelled with admiration for you; you were so kind, so good at diffusing tension and anxiety just by the way you carried yourself, the easy way you tossed out simple compliments and jokes. He knew it was partly due to your work, you’d had more than one veteran crumble in front of you during appointments, their trauma coming out in the safe space of your treatment room as you tried to make them feel better physically. But Frankie, and the guys, all recognized you had a rare quality about you; a bottomless tank of empathy, understanding, of the drive to care for others. One conversation with the beaten and broken Santi and you made it your mission to aid Frankie in helping his best friend, his brother, as he waded through the same deep shit Frankie and the Miller brothers had needed to after the failure of a mission.

“Querida, you make Fish look ten times better you look so pretty,” Frankie rolled his eyes at Santi’s jibe. His friend grinned mischievously, “Benny and Ironhead are inside already, said we’re all at the same table.” He gestured toward the ornate doors leading into the banquet hall lobby.

Frankie smiled when you reached down and threaded your fingers through his own, squeezing before you raised your other arm expectantly at Santi, who dutifully stepped next to you and offered his arm. Though his friend's brows were slightly pinched in apprehension, Frankie could see he was much calmer than he had been a few minutes prior. Frankie flashed you a grateful look as you steered them inside.

The event had a guest list of three hundred, though the room was it was being held in was so large it didn’t feel overly packed, for which Frankie felt relief. He wasn’t big on any of this, but feeling like a packed sardine would have intensified his discomfort tenfold.

Despite being the shortest of the three, you confidently led Frankie and Santi into the ballroom and around the edge with enough purpose that he realized you must have called ahead to find out where their table was. Your level of preparation was stunning, beyond appreciated.

Frankie was going to make this all up to you later.

“Pope! Fish! Sunny!” Benny roared excitedly from where he stood at the table, which Frankie realized was right next to the Davis families. He flushed at the idea that they weren’t being cast aside, put in a spare table in the corner, but rather gathered right by the family. He glanced at Santi, watching as his friend realized this kind gesture and swallowed thickly in response. Benny, meanwhile, rushed forward with his eyes on you, no doubt about to pull you into a bone-crushing hug.

Santi stepped in front of you and blocked Benny, pulling the clueless blonde into his arms instead, “Hey stupid, you’re gonna mess up Sunny’s outfit!” He laughed, and Benny shot Frankie and you a rueful grin over Santi’s shoulder as you both laughed.

Gentle hugs were then exchanged between the group before Will introduced his date formally, though they all knew the bar owner well enough. Tough and quick-witted, Frankie had always liked Kenzie and had been thrilled when Will finally garnered the courage to ask her out a few months ago. You and Frankie went on double dates with them all the time.

Giving Frankie a gentle hand squeeze, you pulled away and eagerly fell into conversation with Kenzie on the opposite side of the table. Kenzie was almost as tall as Frankie and he found it amusing how much shorter you stood next to the tall blond, even with your heels on.

“Seriously, Fish, she’s something else,” Santi confessed, pulling his attention from you. His friend looked deeply grateful, eyes sharply focused on Frankie, “I can’t thank you both enough for everything since...since I’ve been back. Sunny feels like the little sister I never had.”

Frankie nodded, “She has a way of affecting people more than she knows. And she really cares about you. We both do, Hermano.”

“We all do, you mean,” Benny interjected, clapping both of them on the shoulders as Will rolled his eyes next to his brother. “Now Santi and I need to find gals as great as you two have got, eh Pope?”

Santi snickered, “Either of your ladies have any single friends looking for trouble?”

At this, they all joined in as Santi laughed, and for a moment it felt a little like old times. Those days when they had to attend a stuffy event in uniform; Tom’s absence was felt by all of them now. They took their seats, Frankie between you and Santi, Kenzie on your other side. You kept your conversation going with her but adjusted yourself in your seat so that your back was no longer to Frankie. Almost unconsciously, you reached over and took his hand in yours.

Smiling to himself, Frankie took a sip of the water already poured for everyone from the ice-cold decanter by Benny. A short time later, the event MC, a family friend of the Davis’, took up the podium on the little stage nearby and called a start to the event. They ran through a thoughtful speech about Tom, who he was, why this charity would have meant so much to him, and then called upon Tom’s ex-wife, Molly, to say a few words before dinner would be served.

Frankie felt Santi tense next to him as Molly stood at the podium and adjusted the microphone. From where the three of you were seated, you were watching her speak over Benny and Will’s heads, their backs to you. As if sensing the turmoil, you scooted your seat silently closer to Frankie, who met your soft gaze and felt himself relax at the calming expression you held. He let you pull your hand from his so that you could tap Santi’s arm. He looked around and nodded gratefully when you held your hand for him to take. That was how Frankie ended up with both of your hands in his lap, an arm slung around your shoulders and his free hand laid over both of yours almost protectively.

Molly’s speech was filled with memories, moments of Tom’s life that had tears pricking at the corners of Frankie’s eyes. His excitement of becoming a father, his dedication to helping the kids with homework even though it ended up with him pulling his hair out in frustration. When she spoke of his service, Frankie assumed that she would gloss over the highlights, but Molly took him-took the whole group, really by surprise when she pointed at their table and began to affectionately convey the friendship and brotherhood Tom held with the four men at table two. She regaled everyone with a couple of short stories Tom must have told her, each of them bringing sad smiles to the group's faces as they remembered their stubborn leader and the shit they’d all been through together.

When Molly brought up the trip that resulted in Tom’s death, she told everyone the truth that she knew; that Tom had taken a recon job to provide for his family. And that there was always a risk to that kind of work, which was something Tom knew and understood when he said yes to going.

“The truth is, Tom made his own decision about how to take care of his family. I know that he would have made a calculated decision at every point on that trip, and as much as we wish he was still with us, we know that he was there for us. There’s no one to blame for that, no one who should carry Tom’s choices on their shoulders.” And Molly glanced, very pointedly and briefly, toward Santi.

Santi’s shoulders trembled with the sobs he held in, tears splashing down his face as he nodded once in understanding at Molly. Frankie tightened his hand over Santi’s before looking to you, expecting your expression to be filled with equal emotion and surprise.

Instead, Frankie found you gazing softly at Molly with a satisfied, expectant little smile. And he realized then that you hadn’t just called ahead to find out their table number. At some point, you had contacted Molly directly-hell, you might have even sought her out in person, and you must have told her how much Santi, Frankie and the Miller’s were suffering. How she was the only one who could alleviate any of that guilt and pain and regret. Frankie’s suspicions were confirmed when Molly, now closing off her speech, tossed you a small smile of understanding.

Frankie could have dropped to his knee right there and asked you to marry him. The lengths to which you strode to care for not only him but for the men he considered brothers, wasn’t something he could lightly say thank you for. You repeatedly went out of your way for Frankie, taking on emotional baggage he could only begin to imagine, all without even telling him about it and asking for a thank you.

He struggled through dinner, to focus, to have a proper conversation, his hand often falling to your thigh and squeezing. He wanted-no, needed-to get you alone and show you just how much he fucking loved you. But the dinner dragged on, the food delicious, or so you kept declaring as Frankie could hardly taste it at this point. There were a few more speeches about the charity made throughout dinner, and after dessert, there would be a cocktail hour for people to linger, meet charity board members and socialize.

The moment you bit into your cheesecake, Frankie was about ready to burst, considering throwing you over his shoulder and making a run for it. Santi nudged his shoulder, “You alright, Fish?” He murmured, his voice not carrying as Kenzie and you discussed some renovation ideas the bar owner had in mind.

“Yeah, Hermano,” He ran a hand over his face. Santi gave him a searching look, his brows pulling together. “What?”

“You uh,” Santi paused, checking to make sure you were still distracted, “There’s a little meeting room, down the hall from on the left. They book it during the weekdays, but I bet right now it’s empty.”

Frankie gazed at Santi, confused, “R-right...” He replied slowly, watching his friend's expression turn mischievous.

“So, maybe you slip out for a few with Sunny,” He explained, shrugging and wiggling his brows suggestively. Frankie gulped, shaking his head. “Come on, you’ve both been here for me tonight enough. I can tell you have something on your mind, Fish, I’ll be fine while you two...” He trailed off when you turned in your seat, refocusing on them.

“Why do you both look like you’re up to no good?” You joked, unknowingly hitting the mark and they both glanced guiltily at one another. You observed their reactions, your brow quirking, “Okay, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Cariño,” Frankie replied smoothly, tossing his napkin on the table. He pitched his voice lower, “Can we step out for some air?” You nodded, your eyes flicking to Santi, who covered his smirk by taking a drink of wine, then back to Frankie.

Excusing yourselves from the table, Frankie took hold of your hand and led you out of the ballroom. When he didn’t stop once outside the doors in the quiet hallway, you picked up your speed to match his, “Where are we going?”

“Just down here, quiet spot,” He answered, his pulse increasing the closer he got to the room in question. Right away Frankie could see that Santi was correct, not only was the room where he said, but it was dark, the door halfway open. Sneaking a glance to make sure no one saw you both, he ushered you hurriedly inside.

You took a few steps into the darkroom, spinning around as Frankie hit the lock and did a quick survey of the space. Aside from the glow from the red fire exit sign, the room was still and empty. Santi had said the room was used for meetings, but apparently, on weekends it ended up as backup storage space because there was an assortment of black leather furniture in place of any tables or chairs.

“Are you alright, Frankie-Oomph!”

Frankie had grabbed your arm and jerked you toward him, hurriedly backing you into the wall before slamming his lips to yours desperately. When his body pressed you against the wall, you moaned in delight and parted your lips, allowing him to taste you. He was in a frenzy at this point, needy and hard already; it took him a minute to undo the fastens and buttons on his dress pants, his lips never leaving yours.

“Fucking hell, Sunshine,” He gasped, finally pulling his hard length free, his pants pushed down around his thighs, “Look at what you do to me, can’t keep my head on straight. I fucking love you.” Aside from kissing him back, you hadn’t moved since being thrust against the wall, the overall surprise of private, passionate Frankie pulling you into a random room rendering you speechless in the best kind of way. When he spoke your eyes dropped to where his hand fisted over his cock and widened in pure desire.

“W-what’s gotten into you?” You whimpered out as Frankie released his length, crouched down and grabbed the backs of your thighs, lifting. He held you against the wall with one hand and used the other to frantically push aside the extra material of your skirt. “Not complaining here, but I just-oh, fuck!” Your hands grasped his shoulders hurriedly to keep yourself steady.

Frankie surged his hips forward the moment he revealed your bare pussy, knowing you would still be wet from your earlier orgasm. He let out a satisfied grunt when he pinned you to the wall with his cock, his lust intensifying when your legs wrapped around him and you let out a weak, desperate little moan. He set an almost brutal pace then, his eyes drinking in every blissed-out expression that crossed your face, watching for any signs of discomfort.

But you only grew wetter at his rough handling of you, the spontaneous, almost dangerous situation seemingly working to increase your arousal. He had to clap a hand over your mouth when you started moaning and crying out, “Shh, sweet girl, don’t want anyone coming in here and seeing how weak you get for my cock, do we?” He growled when you clenched around him at his words, then continued. “F-fuck, so tight. Do you...have any idea how amazing you are? Th-think I wouldn’t realize how much you did for us, that you spoke t-to Molly.” His hips were moving at the perfect pace, drawing the best moans from you that he quieted with his hand.

You looked at him with heavy-lidded, lust-blown eyes, your brows raising in surprise at his admission. He felt your mouth move against his hand and lifted it to let you speak, “Y-you knew?” You gasped out in a soft voice.

“Not till tonight,” He clarified, punctuating his statement with an extra hard thrust. You whimpered, eyes rolling despite your determination to continue the conversation. The sight of you entirely cock drunk was making Frankie feral.

“I-I did it for you, all for you,” You sighed, eyes closing, “Oh Frankie, I love your cock baby.”

Frankie put his hand back over your mouth and tilted his hips, knowing exactly how to draw out the loudest screams.

“Cum for me, Sunshine. Soak my cock, then take my cum. You can walk around the rest of the night with those pretty thighs clenched, hold it all in until I can stuff you with more at home,” Frankie’s face was right next to yours, his thrusts almost sloppy but he could feel how close you were and knew you’d topple over the edge together. “Fuck, marry me, marry me, I love you so much and I want to marry you, ah shit!”

You came, clenching hard around him as your body jerked in spasms of pleasure, your scream so loud his hand barely contained it, and then Frankie slammed as deep into you as he could and came, his cock soaking your insides with his spend. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck and muffled his yells there, holding you both still as the waves ebbed.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” You gasped out, your body quivering in Frankie’s arms. He lowered you both down to the floor somewhat shakily, his hand shooting under your dress to capture any cum that spilled out of you from the motion. You all but collapsed against the wall, your eyes squeezed shut as you worked to catch your breath.

Frankie reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a pack of travel tissues, carefully wiping you and his hand up to avoid any spills onto your dress. Though, his cock did twitch at the idea of you walking back into the ballroom with his cum dribbling down your legs. “You okay, Cariño? Still with me?”

“Yes,” You replied, your eyes opening slowly to meet his gaze. A goofy grin appeared, your eyes blinking in slow motion as you settled from what had been the most frenzied fuck of your relationship. Frankie chuckled warmly, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Yes, Frankie.” You repeated when he pulled back.

Frankie grinned, “I heard you the first time.” He joked, tossing the used tissues into a nearby wastebasket.

“No, Frankie, I mean yes.”

Frankie stilled, glancing down at you in confusion-had he gone too hard? Was he going to have to sneak you out to the car because he’d fucked you silly? But then Frankie saw your expression, no longer dazed and blissed out, but now the most intense look he’d ever seen, so fierce he almost flinched. Realization slammed into him like a freight train.

“What do you...are you saying?” Frankie babbled, shaking his head once to focus, “Sunshine, are you saying yes to-“

“Yes, Fransisco Morales, I will marry you.”

His mouth dropped open in shock, your words reverberating around in his now empty head. You just said yes to marrying him. You said yes. Holy shit, you said yes.

“I-are you serious? You really want to marry me?”

You laughed, pulling Frankie into your arms and peppering his face with kisses, “Yes, si, absolutely, affirmative. I want to marry you, Frankie, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

Frankie’s heart was about to shoot out of his chest, “But I didn’t ask you right...I-I fucked it up, I have a ring at home, I was going to-“

You shushed him with a kiss, “This was perfect. You did not fuck it up-you did kind of fuck me up, but the proposal was perfect, Frankie.”

“Probably not something we can tell the kids about one day though.” He replied, grinning when you burst into fits of giggles. He couldn’t help but touch you then, his hands trailing your arms, the sides of your face, down the curve of your neck, “Seriously, though, Sunshine-need you to know how much I love you. You mean everything to me, you are everything. I-I know this might be fast, but I’ve loved you for over two years and nothing feels more right than the idea of you and I getting married.”

You beamed up at Frankie, “Kinda worried about getting all dressed up for the wedding-seeing as you can’t seem to control yourself when I’m fancied up,” Frankie barked with laughter, happiness filling him from head to toe. “But seriously, Frankie, I love you too. Ring or not, fancy proposal or proposing while railing me into the wall, it’s always going to be yes.”

“Come here,” He murmured, pulling you close and pressing his lips to yours gently. “Thank you, for everything. For tonight, for these past few years, for saying yes.” He sighed happily, hugging you close in the darkened room as you each worked to catch your breath.

He felt you shift your head to speak, but before you could there was a loud banging on the door that startled you both. Frankie instantly tugged you closer, though he felt your hands slip between your bodies and pull his dress pants back around him properly. Thankfully, the door didn’t open, however-

“Hey, when you two are done fucking we’re going for drinks!” Benny called, his voice laced with laughter.

Santi’s voice joined in a moment later, “Christ, Benny, I told you to leave them alone-I told him not to look for you!” And then the sounds of a scuffle could be heard and you started giggling as Frankie struggled to do his pants up and get to the door, cursing when he nearly tripped.

When Frankie ripped open the door, his two friends immediately stopped play fighting and turned to grin at him knowingly, mouths opening to tease and promptly snapping shut when you appeared at Frankie’s side, carefully smoothing down your dress as you smirked at them.

“Boys, you realize you’re buying now, right?”

Did you enjoy this? Consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Thank you 🤍

[abluescarfonwaston]

Stupidly in love

Based on this very good post by @darkverrmin

It all slowed down for one horrible moment as the potions fell. The glittery blue. The shocking purple. The feces brown.

Well he always said that mage would be the death of him. He just got which mage wrong.

“Jaskier!”

The sound of breaking glass. Geralt’s pungent but familiar scent. Pressed into his nose as Geralt shielded him. Firmly held in his arms.

“Oh fuck oh cock oh bloody shit wood are you alright fuck-” He cursed. His hands seizing on the fabric of Geralt’s shirt. 

The arms around him squeezed and Geralt nuzzled against his cheek. Soft sounds slipping from his chest.

“Geralt?’ Geralt insistently nuzzled against him. The stubble of his fading shave beginning to sting. “Geralt? Uh. Let’s. Get away from the shatter glass?”

He followed willingly enough stepping with him. Not letting go. One of his hands slipped under his shirt. Running up his spine.

He pushed him back gently with a forced smile. “Let’s get that shirt off before those concoctions do more damage alright?”

Geralt let him. But he wouldn’t let go of his wrist. His neck. Constantly moving in to cover the gap that separated them.

It took a staggeringly long time to remove the stained shirt.

“Well that shirts a loss.” He admitted. Geralt’s eyes were hazed and trained on his face. A dopy grin marring his normally stern countenance. “Are you alright? I mean clearly your not but can you tell me what’s going on because a little guidance would be so helpful.”

Geralts eyes drifted lower. Watching his mouth move as he plead for answers. 

Geralt leaned forward.

Tilted his head.

And kissed him.

He stayed still as Geralt pressed their lips together. Soft then hard then soft again. As he took his bottom lip between his teeth and slowly pulled back before finally letting go with the most contented expression.

“Oh.” He said simply. “It was a love potion.”

It was really as simple as that.

He grabbed the sword they’d promised to retrieve and guided Geralt out. When they got outside  Geralt got distracted by petting Roach long enough for him to make use of both his hands to lead them home.

Geralt menaced behind him as he turned the sword over. Growling when the woman got too close. One hand pressing into the small of his back.

“He’s fine.” He assured her. “Little issue with a potion. Don’t suppose you know any non-abandoned mage homes nearby?”

“I heard the town to the east recently had one move in,” Geralt tucked himself into the crook of his neck. His arms wrapping around his waist. Inhaling. “Are you alright? Is he going to...” She trailed off nervously. Her eyes flickering between him and the Witcher attached to him.

“Never been safer.” He assured her with a bright smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No harms going to come to me while I’ve got a Witcher fastened to my side!” He winked cheerily.

No harm but the damage done to his heart.

But hearts were robust things. He’d survive. He always did.

“Now one more question.” He tucked their payment away. “Which way is east?” 

The routine of setting camp distracted Geralt. Gave him breathing room. A chance to slow his pathetically racing heart.

He laid out their bedrolls the customary few feet apart as Geralt cooked dinner. Stood and pointed at him.

“I going to take a piss. Do. Not. Follow me. Do you understand?”

Geralt scowled at him but shrunk down at the scolding enough that he suspected he’d gotten the memo.

Stupid love potion. Stupid mage. Stupid Geralt for protecting him from it. Wouldn’t have done shit to him. Except the stupid part of the ‘stupidly in love’ potion. But Geralt always called him an idiot anyway so really what was the difference anyway?

He was already stupidly in love with the gruff idiot.

He came back. Geralt still sat next to the fire. Watching there dinner.

But he had a sly grin on now.

“What did you do?”

“Dinner.” He said.

So he wasn’t completely beyond words then. Just mostly. 

Geralt lost his words occasionally anyway. He picked up his mess kit and thumped down next to him.

Geralt shuffled, in what he imagined was meant to be a discrete motion, next to him until their shoulders touched. 

He took a bite. Chewed.

Geralt watched him.

“It’s good.” He offered.

Geralt preened before digging in himself.

“Geralt?” He trilled in acknowledgement. “Promise I won’t hold any of this against you. Or let this be weird. You’re my best friend. I promise we can weather a love potion.”

Geralt nosed at his hair and kissed the lobe of his ear before returning to his meal.

“I’ll say it again once we break the spell but if you can understand I want you to know its okay. Nothing you’ve done or would do can possibly change how I feel. You are my best friend and I love you.” He stared down at the bowl in his lap. “So I promise i���ll only make fun of you for acting like this to you. To show theirs no hard feelings.”

Geralt took his hand and joined their fingers. Eating his food with his other hand.

He turned to watch him. Savoring the unearned warmth of Geralt next to him.

“I love you.” He whispered. Refusing to answer the tears longing to fall. “You are my  best friend.”

Geralt smiled. Turned. Kissed him.

They finished their meal in silence.

“Geralt where is my bedroll?”

Geralt ignored him.

“Geralt. Where. Is. My. Bedroll?”

A self satisifed smile creeped onto his face. He shrugged. Lifted his bedroll.

“No! Tell me where you hid it Geralt of Rivia!”

He got an eyebrow raise for that.

“OH!” He choked in insult. “How Dare you! I do not go out of my way to buy rooms with only one bed. How dare you even imply it! If anything you should be thanking me for saving us money because chaos knows we never have any!”

He smugly shrugged and lowered the blanket. Sighing in mock contentment. 

“I hate you and I will never forgive you for this.” He said as he climbed into the bedroll. Elbowing him slightly more than necessary. “Really. How dare you.”

Geralt pulled him to his chest and held him there.

“Stupid Witcher.” he mumbled into the warmth of his chest. “We’re going to overheat like this.”

A heartbeat later he was sound asleep. 

“Oh you have Got to be kidding me.” He lamented when the door opened. “Why does it have to be you! Are you following us?” He jabbed a finger at her pointedly.

“You’re the one at my doorstep. If anyone’s the stalker its you.” Her eyes caught on Geralt. Who was busy scenting his neck. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Love potion. Stupidly in love would have been the name on the vial. Had said vial had a name. Also there was more than one? I’m not totally sure which one did this. Oh and before you ask. No I didn’t bring them. They broke. On Geralt. Obviously.”

She sighed in an overdramatically put upon manner really. “Geralt. Follow.” She ordered. 

He did. Lilacs and gooseberries he’d have to hear Geralt sigh for the next month.

“You wait outside.” She halted him with a hand to his chest. “It’ll be easier to break without you there.” She lied. That smile definitely said it was a lie.

“Didn’t want to come into your stolen house anyway. Who knows what I might catch.”

“You won’t get to catch anything. Or pitch.” She smirked and closed the door on him.

Stupid attractive witches. Stupid attractive Witchers. Stupid mages and their cursed potions stored on rotten wooden shelves. He kicked at the stones around the house.

He froze at Yennefer’s roaring laughter through the window.

He ran too it. Banging on it until she magicked the lock open. He scrambled through.

Geralt growled. Face buried in his hands as she rolled with laughter.

“What happened? Did you break it? Did the magic bounce back and make her laugh hysterically? Because if so I think this time we should really leave her to it. She’ll be fine.”

“She broke it.” Geralt confirmed without looking up.

“Stupidly in love!” She wheezed. “Got that right at least!”

“You know laughter's the best medicine. So by that logic I think that we’ve paid plenty already. Lets go shall we? Before she decides to turn us into something?”

He tried to tug Geralt back out the window with him for a dashing escape. The absurd man refused.

“You know you were easier to manuver before she broke the love potion!”

“It wasn’t a love potion.” She wiped her eyes. Makeup still terribly perfect. “I’d call that mixture stupidly honest instead.”

He stopped his tugging. Hands still holding Geralt’s arm.

“Uh?” He so elegantly composed.

“The potions didn’t make him feel anything that wasn’t already there.” She explained. Like he was daft. He felt a little daft.

“Oh.” He managed this time. “Well. You’re my best friend.” He said once more. “And I love you.”

[mihorapendeja]

happier than ever | tsukishima x you

the one shot in which tsukishima basically falls for a female version of everyone's favorite sunny tangerine.

genre: fluff/soft core smut lmao i haven't done this in years i feel silly but here you go

pairing(s): kei tsukishima x you (referred to as "ria kihira" in part 1 bc this was originally going to be an OC thing but nvm a/n's: show this some love and interaction pls.

PART 1: THE PAST

❝Again?❞ Even though Tsukishima complained again, this time he made it easier for her as he even stood completely still. Such a good boy.

❝Let her beat your face!❞ Shoyo exclaimed as she smiled in delight, then moving on to pat the powder puff on his stupid face. Of course she only took a few seconds for him, but all the time in the world for Hinata.

While the two chirped about the new reboot trailer for Dexter, Kuroo's sleazy self slid beside his lanky child with an extra smug look on his face. That man was a menace.

❝Say, don't you think they look related?❞

Tsukishima was a difficult man to catch off guard, but right then and there, a mini existential crisis kicked in. His eyes darted back and forth between Shoyo and Ria Kihira, the makeup artist on set for the commercial filming day.

Kei knew Kuroo was a slut for all the pretty things in life — he constantly had a trope of hot women surrounding him.

But this time, he'd really outdone himself.

Not a stupid man entirely, a huge shit-eating grin formed on Tetsuro's face. He followed Kei's eyes who desperately wandered back and forth their matching hair, skin tone, lack of height... "please let it be a mere coincidence because it's bad enough that—" Kei shut his own intrusive mind from further thinking as he slapped his hand over Kuroo's mouth shut. Tight.

That hyena laugh was not being unleashed today.

THE STORY OF HOW YOU MET:

ca. 2019, on set of a commercial for one of Kuroo's production companies. After Tetsuro had defeated Kei in a game of beer pong, he had to comply with the loser's bet -- be part of the damn commercial along with Shoyo, for a viewership boost. So he said. Ria was the makeup artist on set that day, and it pretty much went from Tsuki acting like a feral cat who didn't want to be touched by any makeup tools, to blissfully passing out in a chair while she gently stroked his face with a soft powder brush.

Near the end of the day when he'd no longer back away from her with animosity, it was Kuroo's stupidly astute observation that left him rattled. The boy was put into a choke hold because he refused to like someone with the same orange hair and milky skin tone as Hinata. Someone equally bright, bubbly, and stupid ... yeah that refusal didn't last long. Ria spoke her mind so freely, being direct but never pleading because she respected herself in that regard. He liked that and before Kei knew it, he found himself admitting to her that he was, "actually quite fond of you." She understood it was his way of saying those pesky 3 words, 8 letters.

PART 2: THE PRESENT, 3 YEARS LATER.

THE ALARM CLOCK rang it’s deathly siren like tone, nearly sending you into cardiac arrest. Although he defensively stretched an arm out over your chest as if ready to protect, Kei did not get up.

Of course he wouldn't.

Like every morning at 4am, it was you who suffered the most when getting out of bed to grab the phone to silence that torture down. As you had deeply sighed and turned to face the bed, Tssuki was now face up with the covers all the way up to his nose.

Even in your groggy state, you could tell he was smirking. That smug bastard stared at you intently, dead still. While Kei typically minded his own business and was at times thought of as quiet, the boy was definitely not shy. You wouldn't call him a total flirt, but he could so hold onto a gaze without so little as batting a long eyelash.

Kei was, extremely competitive. Lightning would have to strike his literal eyes to keep them from staring at you, specifically at your curvy thighs.

The way your soft cotton shorts rode up them was always a very pleasant sight, so he just kept staring, happily.

He loved that little penguin walk you busted into every morning when shutting the alarm off.

It’s like you couldn’t balance properly, and he swore that you were always shorter looking in the early hours of the day. He didn’t know how you could lack more height than you already did at barely 5 feet 2, but it always seemed that way.

It was especially cute, like he could just grab you and keep you in the palm of his hand.

Tired, you sat back down on the bed. You scooted until meeting the headboard, and then just let her head dip back.

It was so incredibly peaceful until you could no longer ignore his obvious glaring. “If you’re awake already, why don’t you get up?”

“It’s barely 4:05,

we don’t go in till 5am.”

He said so factually that you just deeply exhaled. Tssuki was definitely not a morning person, and neither were you.

Even though you were much more energetic, it was a Friday and you could not wait for the end of the workday already.

While Tssuki could be late to practice because let's be honest, few would even confront him, you could not pull off the same irresponsibility.

You cared way too much, and in general, hated the feeling of being late to anything. "Come on." You murmured, nudging Kei as he completely ignored you and kept on sleeping.

You waited for another minute before climbing out of bed, grabbing his attention once again. This time, your black shorts were scrunched further up. So far up that your ample ass cheeks were out in all their glory.

“Arigato, thank you god.”

Nishinoya would say.

“Well I’m not as naturally good looking as you so I’m gonna go shower and start getting ready.”

You huffed, truly riling Kei up inside. Hearing you say that genuinely made something inside of his stomach stir, so he instinctively reached out towards your wrist.

Even in the dark room, he could see your face clearly and tell you weren’t joking. "The fuck is wrong with her?" He thought, not angry, but extremely concerned because you weren't fishing for a compliment.

The two of you had been together for over 3 years now, and so he more than knew that you were not that kind of girl.

Yes, you lacked height at 5’2, but you were physically strong. Literally, you could carry all the grocery bags in one go with no issues. Lifting abilities? Check.

Even though Tssuki cruelly chose the apartment with extra high kitchen shelves, you would never ask for help to reach for stuff. "Help I can't reach" was not a phrase that existed in your world.

Literally, he’d sometimes walk in for some juice and find you on top of a chair reaching for something, if not on the literal counter tops to store items.

Independent? Check.

Resourceful? Check.

On top of all that, you had a voluptuous body he thought was fucking scrumptious. He understood that the norms for women in Japan could be vicious, especially if you weren’t a slender door like he was, but despite your insecurities, you still wore it all so well. You didn’t let it stop you from wearing whatever you wanted (as you should).

At times he did think you were a little bit stupid for fretting over such body image issues, but Tssuki was okay with that.

He didn’t want a know it all like himself, that be beyond insufferable.

Before he knew it, you were teaching him a thing or two as well. So Tssuki then knew you were not a vapid pick me girl, and that was honestly a pretty big turn on for him.

SPEAKING OF TURN ons, Kei found it incredibly hot to have you pinned beneath him, like you currently were.

It wasn’t an ingenue kink, to have you below him so submissively and weak, no. It was the way you fought to assert yourself, and the way you writhed. The way you tried to break free was no half assed attempt either.

Sometimes you'd even throw in a few knees into it, and Tssuki didn't mind it one bit. Two dominate personalities, things were always bound to be feisty in bed.

This time however, he sensed some a defeat in your soul.

Convinced to rekindle your spirits, his brows furrowed as he lowered himself closer to your pretty face.

“Take that back.” Tssuki growled in a low, oh so sexy deepened morning voice.

“I can’t, It’s true.” You protested, sighing as he pulled himself away only to then wrap his arms around your waist and throw you over his shoulders.

Misreading the situation, you first protested before breaking into full on laughter as he stormed into the shower with you still dangling, kicking your short legs in the air.

You had thought this was playful Tssuki, the version no one was too familiar with.

Except you … and Yamaguchi. You and Yams lived to exchange Tssuki-isms.

You were mistaken when trying to approach him as he had stripped entirely. God, you so badly wanted to touch his defined chest and close the space between —and that’s when your favorite salt mine smirked as he instinctively reached back to swivel the shower handle on.

Grabbing the detachable shower heard, Tssuki sprayed you down.

"That son of a bitch." You thought, having jumped back in shock, literally. The water was so fucking cold.

Tssuki raised a brow, testing you. On one hand, he thought you looked like a helpless kitten that was abandoned on some random parking lot on a rainy day.

He was an asshole, but if he ever came across a lonely stray cat, he'd so scoop it up and take home for some warm milk.

On the other hand, he thought you looked even more hot with the way your baggy shirt now clung onto every part of your curvaceous body.

Tssuki had to exhale as he saw your nipples peaking through your smaller but perfect chest. He just wanted to cup your perky tits, squeeze them and hear you moan in delight—your hot breath on his ear as you rested a side of your face on his.

“Can’t touch me till you take that back.”

He warned as you tried to take a step forward.

“Tssu— you whined, sighing as you crossed your arms, cold.

“Admit it, you’re beautiful. Say it.” He insisted as you tossed your head back. "I’m beautiful … kinda, I mean” you trailed off, too distracted by your own cruel thoughts to notice when he raised the shower head again to spray you down.

“Ouch!” You gasped this time, burned by the super hot water. Tssuki turned, realizing that instead of increasing the water’s pressure, he had turned it to the hot side.

Steaming hot.

He rubbed them back of his neck, sheepishly trying to play off. That stupidly cool bathroom is literally what had sold him into choosing that apartment.

After a long day of training, having a large bathtub to soak in, or large walk in shower that doubled as a sauna to rest in was a treat. Not only that, but curative. You swore that this man's epsom salt baths were the reason his long limbs were always good to go, pain free.

Tssuki rushed to place the shower head back on, pushing a few buttons on the digital control panel to get some therapeutic steam going.

On a good morning, he'd already have you pinned to the wall. Your face buried into his neck as Tssuki spread your ass apart, drilling his every inch into you.

But sadly, this wasn't a good morning ... yet. When you waved a hand out in defeat, eyes swelling with tears, Kei grabbed you right before you could step away.

You slammed into his chest with a light thump as he then grabbed your shoulders to keep you balanced. "My clumsy pumpkin." He thought as you raised your head to meet his warm eyes.

Tssuki lowered his face, gently planting a kiss on your forehead. Pulling away, he grabbed your arm & extended it out as he begin to plant a trail of kisses over the burned-pink area. His kisses deepened the closer he got to your neck, stopping only when at your jawline.

Now, the two of you were staring directly at each other, his eyes radiating all the comfort you wanted to see: love, adoration, lust. It was so quiet, but your heartbeat was so damn loud.

His actions were doing all the talking. Now completely soaked, you looked down at the hem of your shirt as Tssuki grabbed both ends and begin to lift the blouse up and away from you.

Left in nothing but shorts, he kept his eyes locked on you as you nodded while he lowered himself to help you out of them.

Now, completely naked, he just stared at you in awe.

You were his goddess, and he was going to happily worship, service, respect, love.

ARIGATO GOD.

“I don’t know why you hesitate” he softly whispered as you took in a deep breath, suddenly feeling overly emotional. Near tears kind of overwhelmed.

To keep yourself from actually sobbing, you cleared your throat to speak up, “I love my job, but I guess sometimes working with so many beautiful models, I can’t help but to compare my—

Tssuki had heard enough about your delusions. His hands flew the sides of your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You felt such a thrill surging through your body as he so easily hoisted you up.

It was your favorite thing in the world, to wrap your legs around his long torso, and it was Tssuki’s favorite thing to dig his hands into your firm ass, your soft thighs.

Pulling away, he takes slow steps forward so your back gently meets the wall. With one hand, he caressed your face , thumb gliding over your cheek before connecting his forehead with yours.

“As I was saying, - I don’t know why you hesitate to say it, but I think you’re the most beautiful person in this whole goddamn world.”

A pesky tear escaped onto your cheek, and Tssuki blotted it away with a kiss, burying his face closer to yours. So close your noses are now touching.

When he wanted to, Tssuki could be so completely soft.

“You don’t know every single person in this world.”

You laughed, still touched by his bold declaration.

“I mean it. Waking up to you every morning I think wow, I’m so lucky.”

He admits as you then break into another chuckle. “You’re so full of shit, that’s not the first thing you think of.”

Tssuki pulls on your lower lip down with his thumb, chuckling back. “You idiot sandwich I didn’t say it was the first thing, but it’s a close second.”

You find yourself laughing out loud, his frisky smile fully plastered on his face as your nose scrunches in that way he finds so fucking adorable.

“Begone negativity.” He both teases and shudders at the thought of how Suga burned that in the back of his mind.

“Do I have to sing that stupid One Direction song to you?” Tssuki then jokingly added as your eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t!”

“You’re right that’s disgusting.” He scoffed, hoisting you further up as he took your breath away with another kiss, this time, his hands running through your hair.

It was always a mystery with him, never knowing if he was going to pull on your hair, or caress it.

This time however, as his tongue slipped into your mouth, eager, you couldn’t help but to squeal. You had to give it to him, the man was great at multitasking. While he deepened the kiss, Tssuki tapped the melody of that dumb song on your thighs as if drumming.

"You're insecure, don't know what for, you're turning heads when you walk through the door / don't need makeup to cover up, being the way that you are is enough --

Everyone else in the room can see it

Everyone else but you

Baby, you light up my world like nobody else

The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed

But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell

You don't know, oh, oh, you don't know you're beautiful."

Tssuki had really taken SMACK MY ASS LIKE A DRUM to a whole other level, and you couldn't even be mad about it.

"Having fun, ya happy doing that?" You teased as he now gave himself a quick rub, fully erect. Your man was so well endowed and that was both exciting and terrifying at times. While you loved dominant Tssuki, today he was a bit more mellow and less gimp man.

"Fuck, Kei-" You moaned as he slowly entered you, rubbing your clit with his thumb, the pressure just right. "I'm definitely having fun, in fact" he smirked as you moved down to slam yourself further into him, begging for more, "I'm happier than ever."

[theladyofdeath]

The Ranch {8}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: We love that you guys have been loving this so much! Please continue to let us know what you’re thinking. We loved writing this fic, and your love means the world to us. 

The Ranch Masterlist

Cassian didn’t see or hear from Nesta for the rest of the day. He saw her in the main house around dinner time, but decided he would let her cook in peace. He didn’t know what kind of demons had reared their ugly heads at her today, but whatever had happened between Nesta and Tomas Motherfucking Mandray had screwed with her so badly that he barely recognized the woman he found in the paint department today.

He remembered Nesta from high school, had known that she had dated Tomas then. But, he didn’t know much. At least, not about Nesta. As for Tomas, however, he and Cassian went way back, and none of their interactions had ever been pleasant. Tomas had always been a self-absorbed little bitch. He hated Tomas.

And he had hated him even more when he walked into the paint aisle and saw how fucking terrified Nesta had been.

Yet, he wasn’t going to push her to talk about it. She would come to him when she was ready. Maybe. Hopefully. Either way, Cassian had convinced himself that it was none of his business. 

Even if he really, really wanted it to be his business. 

As night approached, Cassian made sure all the horses were ready for bed, and all the cattle were where they were meant to be. He whistled for Beau to follow him into the cabin and, the good pup he was, Beau obeyed. Once inside, he slumped into the recliner and checked his phone.

There was a text from Rhys that read, Being engaged is fucking awesome. It ended with three flame emojis. Cassian found the text as a whole repulsive and unnecessary.

There was a text from Azriel, too, that read, Drinks on Friday? Elain is working all night.

Cassian dismissed it, making a mental note to reply in the morning.

Then, he had one last text.

From Nesta.

Thanks for today. Sorry I spaced out.

He read the text once, twice, three times before finding the nerve to reply. Anytime, he wrote. He wanted to write something else, anything else, wanted to add a fucking speech at the end of the one-worded text, but he decided against it.

He pressed send.

It wasn’t two minutes later that he got a reply. You should be sleeping. You’ll have to wake up early to get on the stables, won’t you?

Cassian chuckled to himself. Maybe. But you have to be up early to do your makeup before you finish the landscaping, he replied.

Her reply wasn’t as quick this time, the dancing dots disappearing every so often. But when his phone finally vibrated while he was brushing his teeth, he laughed out loud.

Don’t act like it takes me more time to do my hair than it takes you to do yours. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those man buns are a little TOO perfect sometimes.

He replied with no hesitation. Glad to know you’re looking at my man buns.

He swore that he could feel her eyes roll from across the property. Goodnight, Sexy Ranch Hand.

Goodnight, beautiful.

He sent the text, hoping it would bring her a little bit of joy, a little bit of comfort, but then, when she didn’t reply, he grew nervous.

He felt he was walking a fine line with Nesta, ever since she scolded him for being his boss.

His hesitation didn’t last too long, though, because his phone vibrated the minute he climbed into his bed. The text was short, but it gave him comfort.

A smiley face emoji greeted him as Beau climbed up on the bed beside him.

He slept good that night, smiling stupidly to himself as he snuggled up next to Beau. And when morning came, he felt completely refreshed.

He was up and getting dressed with a cup of coffee at four, and as sunrise approached, Cassian grabbed a bag by the door and he and Beau were walking out into the cool, muggy summer morning. It wouldn’t be long until the sun was beating down, drenching him in sweat.

Instead of heading toward the stables, Cassian went across the grass and the gravel driveway, and up the steps of the tiny, modern house that sat there. 

He pounded on the door and Beau stayed in the yard, chasing his tail. 

No answer.

He pounded his fist on the wood once more.

Nothing.

With a sigh, Cassian kept knocking, and didn’t stop. He pounded repeatedly on the door for at least thirty seconds when the door was thrown open, and Nesta stood there, looking like she wanted to set him on fire.

“What the hell?” She asked, voice raspy, hair a mess, body wrapped in a crocheted blanket. 

“Rise and shine,” Cassian grinned. “Go on. Get dressed.”

Her eyes narrowed as she flipped on the porch light. Cassian lit up as she groaned from the brightness of it.

“You wanted to learn how things are done around here,” Cassian laughed. “Well, I start at sunrise, ever day.”

Nesta rubbed her eyes and snorted. “Unless you’re hungover.”

Cassian grinned. “Fair enough. Alright, go on, get dressed, I’ll wait.”

Nesta sighed but didn’t protest as she took a step back. 

“Oh,” Cassian said, before she could close the door on him. “Here.”

He held out the bag.

She blinked. “What is that?”

“I kept telling you,” he said, shaking the bag until she took it. “You own a ranch. You need a pair of boots.”

“You...bought me boots?”

Cassian shrugged as she took the bag and shoved his hands into his pockets. “With your sisters’ help. Consider it your welcome home gift.”

Nesta was speechless as she slowly went back into her little house.

She didn’t bother closing the door, so Cassian stepped inside as she went back into her bedroom.

He looked around, although there wasn’t much inside. He noticed Elain’s old furniture, that he had helped move in upon Nesta’s arrival.

“Hopefully they fit,” Cassian said as he went to the little fridge in the kitchen and looked at the pictures that covered it. “I may have snuck a glance at your sneakers the other day when you weren’t looking to check for size.”

Nesta’s quiet laughter flooded through the hall. “Creep.”

Cassian grinned to himself as he studied a picture of the girls when they were young, smiling with their mother. Cassian had never met her. She died years before Isaac had hired him.

Nesta came out a minute later, and even in the dim lamplight, Cassian was breathless.

Her hair was pulled back in a high point tail. She wore jeans, a tank top, and an old flannel shirt, which remained open.

And her boots, which fit nicely.

“Okay, stop staring,” Nesta muttered. “I realize you’ve never seen me in boots and it’s shocking.”

Cassian cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as he nodded. “They look nice.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and her boots thumped toward the front door. “Yeah, yeah. Alright, let’s do this.”

Cassian allowed himself to watch her walk out the door and down the steps before he followed her out.

————

��Harder.”

Cassian grunted.

“Harder.”

He groaned, but did as he was told.

“Harder!”

Cassian was out of breath, but he said, “This is as hard as it gets, I don’t know what else you want from me.”

Nesta gritted her teeth, but still managed to roll her eyes. “I want you to try harder.”

He grunted and said, “Okay, okay, put it down. Stop pushing.”

They both moved away from the enormous roll of hay they’d been trying to roll through the south pasture. It had rained overnight, nearly doubling the weight of the hay and Cassian had suspected he needed a little more muscle than what Nesta had to offer.

“I’ll have to call Rhys,” Cassian said, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow. Nesta was folded at the waist, her hands braced on her knees.

“No, we can-.” She stopped to breathe. “We can do it. We got this”

He chuckled, “Nes, that hay weighs over 5 times your weight. We absolutely do not got this.”

Her lips tightened as she sized up the roll of hay. “We-.”

“Nesta,” Cassian breathed, laughing quietly. “It’s not a big deal. Your ability to move a roll of hay doesn’t dictate your ability to run a ranch. Well, own it, I run it.”

Nesta couldn’t help the smile that tugged on the corner of her mouth. “You’re incredibly annoying.”

“I know,” he grinned, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, once more. Nesta’s eyes lingered a little bit too long on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans, which were hanging loosely on his hips. He didn’t seem to notice as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Rhys. “Rhys will be over soon, I’m sure, he has the day off. Unless your sister kept him up all night.”

Nesta scrunched her nose. “No need to reference my sister’s sex life.” 

Cassian’s grin widened as he put his phone back into his pocket. “You wanna go for a ride?”

Nesta stilled, and her hesitation made him howl.

“I meant on a horse, Nesta,” he said, unable to control his laughter. “Calm down.”

“Asshole,” she mumbled. Her cheeks were red, both from the sun they’d been in all day and the blush now tipping her ears as well. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I don’t have a horse. I’m okay.”

Cassian had an eyebrow raised. “You actually have eight.”

“I have-.” Nesta paused. “Oh. You’re right.”

 But not Phoenix.

“Hey.” Cassian’s voice was soft and she looked up, not expecting him to be so close. His hazel eyes were the color of the forest floor. As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “You’ll never be able to replace him, Nes. You’ll never get back that bond with him. But that doesn’t mean you can’t build another bond with another horse.”

He was right, of course, but she hadn’t been on a horse in nearly a decade. The thought alone terrified her. Yes, she was beginning not to mind being back in Velaris, had even started enjoying herself while working on the B&B, but to ride again? She wasn’t sure if she was ready for such a huge step.

And it was.

A massive step.

Yet, Cassian’s eyes were so full of hope, and the way they watched her, so softly, Nesta couldn’t say no.

Didn’t want to say no.

“Okay,”  she breathed. “Fine.”

Cassian slowly shook his head. “I need to hear you say it with a little more enthusiasm.”

Nesta pursed her lips and shoved him in the shoulder, which only made his cocky ass grin return.

“Come on,” she said, heading in the direction of the dilapidated stalls the horses stayed in. She walked about twenty feet before she realized he wasn’t walking with her. “What?”

Cassian chuckled. “You really were tired this morning, weren’t you?”

Nesta blinked. “You banged on my door at, like, three in the morning. Of course I was tired.”

“Okay, first of all, it was four thirty,” he said, laughing. “Second, follow me.”

Nesta wasn’t sure exactly how she’d missed it. He was right, she must have been half asleep to miss the framework nestled back into the trees between their two houses.

But this was not the basic stable and tack room she’d described to him. 

No, this building was going to be massive.

“There are going to be sixteen stalls,” Cassian said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “The tack room is going to be on that side,” he indicated to the right. “And the lodge, will be to the left.”

“The lodge?” Nesta asked, turning to look at him. “Figured it might be nice to have a little getaway out here. If you don’t like it, I can scrap it from the plans, make this a second tack room or storage area.”

But Nesta wasn’t listening, she’d turned back to the massive framework of beams in front of her.

She breathed, “Cassian, it’s perfect.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s going to take me a while to finish-.”

“Tell me what you need and it’s yours.” There was no hesitation to her words. “We can even hire someone to help, if you want.”

Cassian chuckled, softly. “That’s okay. I got it. If I need help, I’ll ask Rhys and Az. They’ll be more than happy to help when they can.” 

“I can’t believe you…” Nesta shook her head, and looked at him. “Put so much thought into it.” 

He shrugged. “You asked for updated stables. I just did what I’m told.”

“You really do love this place, don’t you?” Nesta asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Cassian said, meeting her gaze. “I had a bad reputation, from a lot of stupid shit I did when I was younger. Your dad really took a chance on hiring me, but I’m grateful every day that he did. He gave me a sense of purpose, when I thought I didn’t have one.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, and did not back down from his gaze as she said, “I’m grateful, too. That you’re here. I’d be completely lost without you.”

Cassian’s eyes softened, and she thought he was going to say something sweet, but then he said, “Yeah...all the other ranchers in this town aren’t as sexy as me, so, you really did luck out.”

“Oh, cauldron boil me,” Nesta groaned and Cassian put his arm around her shoulder and steered her towards the house, towards the shed where the saddles and other tack was kept.

“Ahhh, I didn’t want it to get too sappy.” He said, grinning down at her. “But now, we’re gonna see if you’re really worth your salt on this ranch.” He stopped in front of the shed and unlocked the padlock.

“And what exactly does that mean?” Nesta asked, not so subtly watching the way his back muscles moved under the blue t-shirt he wore.

He turned and Nesta cleared her throat and looked at him. He had a lead rope in his hand.

“Time to go catch you a horse, Nesta Archeron.”

——————

As the sun was setting, Nesta and Cassian walked back from the pasture, laughing.

“I had no idea that you were the one that released the dissection frogs!” Nesta said, locking the gate behind them. “Was it in protest of animal cruelty or something?”

Cassian thought for a second. “No, but if I had gotten caught, that probably would have been a better excuse than the one I would have gone with.”

Nesta chuckled. “Which was?”

He smirked and said, “Because I got bored.”

Nesta froze and watched him walk the rest of the way to the shed. “You let over four hundred frogs loose because you were bored?”

He put the ropes back in their place and locked the shed up. “Yup.” The grin on his face told her he, indeed, was proud of himself. And she was grinning, too.

Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Do you want to come have dinner with me?”

Cassian’s eyebrows raised. “Tonight?”

“Tonight, tomorrow night, whenever.” She shrugged, trying to play it off as a casual offer, and not that asking had filled her stomach with butterflies as strongly as it had when she had her first kiss. “We can meet for dinner in the main house every night. There’s no need for us to both cook.”

His smile returned, but it was softer. “I’d like that.”

They headed back around the front of the house, Cassian rattling off his favorite foods, most of which consisted of red meat and starches. When they came around the corner, Nesta froze.

Cassian’s words trailed off as he stopped beside her. A little black truck had pulled up, old and rusty. But the girl that came out of that little, rusty truck was stunning.

Nesta looked over at Cassian, to see if he recognized the young woman.

And, oh, he definitely did.

“Emerie,” he said, uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come by to say hello,” she crooned, grin wide. Then, she seemed to notice Nesta for the first time. “Oh. Who are you?”

Nesta blinked, then realized she was being spoken to. “I own this property.”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes growing wide with recognition. “Your Isaac’s oldest? Wow.” She looked Nesta up and down, and the gesture had Nesta seeing red. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Emerie.”

“I’ve heard,” Nesta muttered.

Cassian was fiddling with the hem of his shirt when he said, “You know, we’re a little busy, Em, why don’t you come back later?”

“Later works,” she said, sliding her hands in her back pockets. “I was going to see if you wanted to have dinner, too, but it seems like you’re...taken care of.”

Cassian cleared his throat and said, “Nesta and I were just-.”

“Just finishing up for the day,” Nesta interrupted. She turned to Cassian and the warm, playful nature he’d seen emerging earlier had gone cold. “Thanks for showing me the ropes. I really appreciate it.” She began up the porch steps and Cassian reached for her hand. He gently gripped her fingers.

“Nesta, wait, let me explain. It’s-,” he dragged his hand down his face, the callouses catching on his stubble. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“I fell for that once before,” she whispered, her fingers tightening in his. “I won’t fall for it again.”

A look of confusion crossed Cassian's face, but his hand dropped. Emerie had gotten the hint, had gotten back up into her truck and was backing out.

“Are you jealous?” He asked, and it was almost anger that replaced the spark in his hazel eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not jealous,” Nesta snapped. “But it’s really inappropriate-“

“If you say that word one more time, Nesta, I swear on the fucking cauldron-.” Cassian’s words faded away and he raked his fingers through his long, tangled hair. “Must I remind you that you didn’t want me?”

There it was.

The words hung between them as complete silence consumed them, Emerie’s old truck driving away the only thing to be heard.

Nesta stared down at him, hurt written plainly across her face.

Hurt.

He had expected her to be jealous of Emerie, but he didn’t expect to see pain roiling in the depths of her eyes.

“Nesta, I-.”

She cut him off. “Did you lie to me?”

He blinked up at her, the sunset making her hair glow. “What?”

“That night, I asked you point blank if you had a girlfriend,” Nesta said, voice wavering. “You said no.”

“No,” Cassian said, eyes growing hard. “I have never lied to you, Nesta, I’m not a fucking liar. Emerie’s just a friend. She comes by every now and then. I haven’t seen her in months. She only comes by when she wants something.”

“Sex?” Nesta asked, before she could stop the word from tumbling out of her mouth. 

Cassian shook his head, ignoring the short question altogether. “It doesn’t fucking matter. But, I’ve never lied to you. And, if you think I would lie to you….fuck.”

She could see the anger brewing inside of him, could see the frustration, but Nesta didn’t care, because she was pissed. And yet, she had no reason to be. He was right. She had turned him down. She had no right to care. 

She was hurt, though.

And that hurt grew when she saw the hurt, saw the anguish, in his own eyes.

“I didn’t lie,” he repeated, looking away from her, out toward the pastures. “I’m a lot of things, Nesta, but I’m not a liar.”

She knew he wasn’t, knew it in every fiber of her being.

She hadn’t even been back in Velaris for a month, had just started to open up to the complicated man in front of her. Day and night, he always found a way to creep into her thoughts, into her dreams. But she couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, couldn’t afford to get tangled up with the man she couldn’t get off of her mind, no matter what she may want.

Not when her father's dream was on the line.

So Nesta closed her eyes, trying to hide the tears that has silently started slipping down her cheeks.

She turned her back to him, and hurried up the stairs of the main house.

Cassian was calling her name, but she forced herself to keep walking, to open the door, enter the house, shut herself inside.

She leaned against the slab of wood, stayed their as her eyes filled with tears, even as Cassian knocked on the other side.

“Nesta,” he said, voice calm, quiet, broken. “Hey, open up, come on.” He knocked again.

Nesta didn’t move.

She stayed there, leaning against the door, listening to him knock, listening to him beg.

But no matter what he said, Nesta didn’t open the door.

[patton-cake]

No thoughts- head gay

@katlikethesword Happy birthday Kat!! @irritating-lady-knight and I wrote this as your birthday present!!! We hope you enjoy it! We love you so much Kitty Kat! You're just always so precious and kind and I could go on forever. You're amazing Kat! Take all our love and affection

Pairing: prinxiety

Summary: Roman is precious and Virgil definitely isn't simping, no that would be ridiculous he would never simp for his roommate

"Ro? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in class? Don't tell me that you're skipping your silly theater thing for me"

Virgil gently hit Roman's arm and started walking next to him. Their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

"Pff don't flatter yourself too much finding emo. Class got cancelled, some dude tried to recreate the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. He broke 3 ribs."

Roman let out a muffled laugh and handed his friend some oreos

"Want one? I was bored so decided to stop for a snack"

"Thanks princey, you always know how to find your way into my heart"

Virgil rolled his eyes but softly smiled as he accepted the food. They ate in comfortable silence and made their way out of the school building.

"Uh Virge? You don't happen to have an umbrella do you?"

He looked up from his phone and saw the rain falling down from the sky

"What's the matter prince charming? Afraid of water? Afraid that it might ruin your hair?"

Roman glared at him before shoving Virgil outside.

"Go on sunshine, let's see how long your makeup will last in the rain"

"How mature of you Ro, afraid to go first? Well come on then! Go follow mother duck. I will protect you my little duckling"

Virgil pulled Roman into the rain and started to walk very proudly, arms linked with Roman.

"Okay, if this is how you want to play this V, then you need to carry me on your back. This poor little duckling needs to be carried!"

Roman pouted and dramatically leaned his full weight against Virgil, who started at him with an annoyed face. But unfortunately for himself, Virgil was way to competitive to give up now.

"Bring it on ugly duckling"

"Auch that one hurts V, that one hurts"

And that's how Virgil ended up giving Roman a piggyback ride all the way to their apartment. When they finally arrived, they both were completely soaked.

"Thank you my noble horse for carrying me to my palace!"

"I thought I was mama duck?"

Roman laughed and opened the door to their apartment

"Nah a horse suits you better"

Virgil rolled his eyes and dropped his backpack on their apartment floor.

"Whatever makes you happy Romano, I'm gonna shower, please don't burn the house down."

Roman sputtered out a complaining noice as Virgil walked up stairs

"THAT HAPPENED ONE TIME"

After Virgil was down showering, he walked downstairs and put on a movie. He heard Roman serenading himself under the shower and chuckled softly. When he finally heard Roman's footsteps, he looked up and his heart stopped for a second

"Is that my hoodie?"

A soft red blush spread over both of their cheeks

"Uh- yeay- I was really cold a-and your hoodies always look so soft and warm, but I can put it back if you want me to!"

"Keep it"

Roman awkwardly sat down next to him

"You want me to keep it? Are you sure?"

Virgil looked at him with a soft look in his eyes,

"Yeay, it looks better on you anyway"

He didn't think that Roman's face could turn more red, it almost matched his annoyingly adorable sweater that he was wearing. No Virgil, no more gay thoughts for today, he had already reached his limits. He just had to focus on the movie they were watching.

"Wait a minute, are you complementing me Virge? Awww you don't hate me!"

Virgil almost believed Roman's confident voice if it wasn't for the blush that still burned bright red on his cheeks

"I take it back, you're the worst"

After this, it didn’t take very long for the two of them to fall back in their familiar rhythm, Virgil grumbling about plot holes, Roman criticizing the choices of the main characters- both jostling each other while fighting to eat as much popcorn as possible before the other could take ‘more than their fair share’. Slowly their comments and arguments and movement died off, though, and they truly became invested in the plot.

After two and a half movies, a sunset, a frantic call from Logan, and 4 cups of cocoa, Virgil had settled into his corner of the couch, warmth pooled in his belly and a blanket pulled to his chin. Roman had decided that it was too much work to actually get up and put on socks, so he’d tucked his ice cold feet under Virgil’s thighs and flopped dramatically across the rest of the couch, mumbling about Virgil’s abundant heat that he insisted on taking advantage of. Selfish fucker. Virgil didn’t know why he continued to deal with him. Most certainly not because he’d grown fond of him, god forbid. Motherfucker. Getting attached

. This is why he didn’t want a roommate freshman year. But as he watched Roman mouthing lines right alongside Jack, he was unable to smother a fond smile, shaking his head in disgust at himself.

“V.”

He grunted in response, looking up from his thoughts to see Roman standing in front of him, Sally frozen on screen. “Mug.”

Virgil pressed his mug into Roman’s hands and nudged his shin with a gentle foot in thanks, shifting to turtle further into his nest of blankets. A few minutes later Roman returned, mugs filled to the brim with steamy cocoa, Roman’s piled high with marshmallows and whipped cream.

“Move over.” Roman demanded, sitting down right beside him, their thighs pressed together. Virgil was wide awake.

“I- move? I’m pressed up against the side, dipshit. There is nowhere else for me to move!” Virgil pushed at him gently, but Roman only made a soft noise in response, carefully putting his mug in Virgil’s hands, the latter spluttering in offense. “The f-” He cut himself off with a grunt of surprise as his roommate flopped against him, pressing his cheek flat against Virgil’s arm.

“My dude???” Virgil squirmed until Roman sighed dramatically and shifted again, until Virgil was sitting up, two mugs balanced precariously in his hands, and Roman was pressed up against his side, feet once again tucked beneath his roommate’s thighs.

“I’m staying here, don’t complain or I’m spilling your cocoa on you. You are a human heater and I am visibly shivering, don’t be selfish and share.” Roman stated firmly, snuggling back against Virgil’s shoulder before pressing play.

Virgil.exe has stopped working. Press any button on your keyboard to restart.

Roman smelled like lemon and sandalwood. Virgil didn’t know what sandalwood was, but Roman smelled like it. His hair was still slightly damp from his shower, and it was soft and gentle against Virgil’s neck. He was lying when he said that he was cold, he was a nice sort of warm that Virgil melted into on contact, and couldn’t convince himself to move away from. Not that he wanted to. Except he did. He was no simp. He refused. Patton was a simp. Virgil was no simp. Absolutely not.

Except..

No.

Virgil. No.

Stop.

If you-

But he did.

Virgil quietly scolded himself and shook his head. It was time to focus on the movie, he shouldn't think about Roman or Roman's stupidly perfect face. No. He wouldn't think of that.

He almost found himself focusing back on the movie, but of course, Roman had to make it more difficult. Virgil felt a soft breath in his neck and saw that his friend had closed his eyes, his chest moving in a steady rhythm. He looked absolutely perfect. Okay, Virgil allowed that one gay thought, it was simply a fact and Logan had always told him that you can't argue with facts.

The movie. Virgil had to focus on the movie. He just had pretend that Roman was not there! That his hair didn't tickle Virgil's face. That shouldn't be that difficult right?

"..V..?"

Shit

Roman's voice was soft and Virgil lost his mind again

"Yeay Ro?"

His voice didn't squeak, it didn't . Virgil fought against his urges to kiss Roman's perfectly soft lips and to keep him here forever, laying on their couch. That sounded perfect to Virgil.

"Did you know that you're really hot Virge?"

The urges kept getting stronger and Virgil swallowed, trying not to squeak again

"Another heating pad joke? You're repeating yourself Ro"

"I didn't mean it in that way"

And with that he placed a soft kiss on Virgil's cheek before laying back down, closing his eyes again.

From that moment on Virgil was certain of two things.

One: He failed his gay thoughts rule

And two: He would risk absolutely everything for his roommate.

[backstairbooknerd]

Coffeeshop AU

Word count: 1,659

Triggers: None

Pairing: Prinxiety

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Roman has never been afraid of anything. When he was five, his parents took him to the circus. When the clowns came out in their tiny red car with their makeup melting off their crooked faces, all the children shrieked with wet cheeks while Roman grinned and leaned over the railing for a closer look. When he was ten, he starred in his first musical. While everyone else was running around backstage with ripped costumes and forgotten lines, Roman stood ready for his entrance with his chin up and his chest puffed out. His first year of high school came when he was fifteen and once again, he was eerily calm as his friends fretted about their hair and their clothes. Needless to say, Roman is pretty brave.

At least, he thought he was brave until he met Virgil.

It was a Saturday morning when Patton and Logan asked Roman to go study with them, but it was Roman’s grand idea to try out the new coffee shop while they were at it.

It was this chain of events that led Roman to stand with his mouth agape at the cute barista. And there was no question about it - Roman was absolutely terrified to talk to him.

“Uh, Roman? Something wrong, Kiddo?” Patton gently nudged Roman’s shoulder with a concerned expression on his face.

“Patton, we talked about calling people older than you, ‘Kiddo’,” Logan mentioned as he roughly shut Roman’s still-gaping mouth.

“But you have to admit, he does look a bit childish when stares like that.” Patton waved a pale and freckled hand in front of Roman’s face. “You’re still looking a bit spacey there.”

Roman turned to his stupidly oblivious friends. “Do you mere mortals not see what I see?”

“That delectable looking muffin?”

“The dark academia atmosphere?”

“Well, yes, you’re not technically wrong, but I was talking about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome behind the counter.”

The two friends quickly looked Logan with his usual frown and Patton with an excited smile.

Somehow Logan managed to frown even more deeply. “You know he’s actually not that tall, right?”

“That is not the point, Poindexter and besides, he’s hunched over. When he stands up straight I’m sure he casts an impressive shadow.”

“I believe you mean if he stands up straight. That hunched position seems to be his dominant stance,” Logan said studiously.

“Well, Kiddo, if you think he’s so cute, why don’t you go and talk to him?”

For the first time in his life, Roman felt a feeling of panic shoot through him. No way was he going to talk to - he squinted at the nametag - Virgil. Wow, Virgil. A dark and mysterious name to go right along with a dark and mysterious boy.

“Actually, m not feeling too well now that I think about it. I’m gonna head home.” And before either of them could get a word in edgewise, Roman was grandly and heroically fleeing from the coffee shop.

One week later, Roman found himself in the same spot whilst staring at the same boy.

“Alright, Ro Ro Ro Your Boatman.”

“Paton, what -”

“This is your big moment. Do you remember what we practiced?”

Roman took a steadying breath. “Hey there, my name is Roman. I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to go out sometime?”

“That was adequate,” Logan curtly nodded.

“Adequate? That was brilliant, Romance!”

“Okay, Patton, I love how you’re being my hype man right now, but after we’re done here we really need to discuss your choice of nicknames.”

Before he could see Patton’s crestfallen face, Roman turned and head to the register. 

As he walked up, he took a moment to admire the fine specimen standing in front of him. His dark wavy hair tickled his ears and fell into his hazel eyes. Although he had the standard green worker shirt on, he sported a patched up sweatshirt, which was barely pulled up enough to showcase the plethora of rings on his pale fingers. He was the most beautiful thing Roman had ever laid his eyes on.

Before he was ready, he arrived at the counter.

Virgil lifted his eyes from the cups he was polishing and casually flicked his eyes over Roman’s form. “What can I get for you today?”

And God did those words throw Roman off his game because he had never heard such a wonderfully melodic voice before. He immediately started praying that Virgil was a singer. Unfortunately, this also happened to be the first time that Roman ever forgot his script.

“Uh, my name is gay and I was wondering if you singer?”

In the midst of his mortification, Roman barely registered the quirk of a smile on Virgil’s face.

“Hey, Gay, I’m Virgil and yes I am a singer. Come back here tonight at eight and you can hear me and my band play. Okay?”

Roman barely managed to nod his burning head before he promptly ran away. Again.

Needless to say, Roman, Patton, and Logan spent the next five hours or so picking out the perfect outfit. Patton insisted on a bright Hawaiian shirt to make him “stand out” while Logan insisted on a dark blue suit to convey “intelligence with approachability. In the end, Roman finally decided on black jeans, a red shirt, and a leather jacket. 

“Well boys, I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“And remember,” Logan said. “No script this time because that clearly didn’t work last time.”

Roman glared at him. “I’m quite aware of that, Logan.”

“Well it wasn’t a total disaster,” Patton piped up. “I mean, he did invite you to his concert tonight.”

“Yeah, but not because he likes me, he just wants more people there. Ugh! I can’t believe I’m actually going to this thing.”

“Don’t be silly, Kiddo. This could be your soulmate, after all, you never know.”

Roman huffed and straightened his jacket. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

When they arrived at the coffee shop for the second time that day, they were certainly not alone. The coffee shop was so packed that they only managed to get the last table because they got there thirty minutes early. As the minutes ticked down to eight, the shop steadily filled up with people, many even wearing a black shirt that read All the Rejects. Patton nudged Roman’s side and wiggled his eyebrows. “Still think he just wanted you to come to add to the crowd?”

Before Roman could retort with a snarky response, the lights dimmed and the crowd began to cheer.

Suddenly, as if he were a magnet that Roman’s eyes were drawn to, Virgil stepped onto the makeshift stage and flashed his quip of a smile. Roman absently wondered if he had died and gone to heaven.

Virgil’s voice sounded over the speaker and seemed to simultaneously soothe and excite the crowd. “Are you guys ready to hear some great music?” As the crowd’s roar started to die down, Virgil and his band began their first song. 

A few songs later and everyone, including the few who managed to snag a table, were on their feet. 

Wiping some sweat from his brow, Virgil took a seat at the keyboard and adjusted his microphone. “All right, you guys, I’m just gonna take this opportunity to slow things down a little bit. This next song is called ‘Reckless Desires’”.

The next three minutes went by both agonizingly slow and much too quickly. Virgil’s eyes seemed to find his in the crowd the moment the song started to play, and they were locked there for the duration of the number. 

When the song inevitably ended, Roman felt chills down his body as he and Virgil continued to stare at each other. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the guitar player came over and slapped Virgil on the back, which seemed to break him out of his reverie. Roman curiously found it incredibly difficult to pay attention after that. 

Two days later, Roman found himself unconsciously walking back to the coffee shop. However, he was instantly filled with disappointment when he found that a short blonde girl had taken Virgil’s spot behind the counter. Roman sighed. At least he would finally be able to try the coffee. 

After getting his iced latte, Roman turned around to find himself table. Unfortunately, he turned around a little too quickly and promptly ran straight into someone.

“I am so sorry!” he said, scrambling to wipe the dripping coffee off of the other person’s shirt.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to spilled coffee.”

Roman froze as he recognized the sound of that voice. He slowly lifted his head and sure enough, Virgil was standing there with his damn crooked smile directed toward Roman. Of fucking course.

“Virgil! Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.”

Virgil frowned at him “You remember my name”

“Uh,” Roman intelligently said. “Well, yeah. I mean you’re kind of hard to forget.”

Virgil blushed. “Oh, Um, thanks.”

“But seriously, I can get your clothes dry-cleaned for you or something.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. But I do have another request for you if I may be so bold.”

“What is it?” Roman asked apprehensively.

“A date. With me. Friday night.”

Roman blinked in disbelief. “You want to go on a date? With me?”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil said, shuffling his feet. “You’re pretty funny and charismatic and not to mention super cute.”

Now it was Roman’s turn to blush profusely

“Um, yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I would like to go out with you on Friday.”

“Oh! Awesome, I’ll meet you here at seven?”

Roman smiled. “Sounds good. Oh, and my name isn’t Gay, it’s Roman.”

Virgil smiled. “Well, I guess I’ll see you on Friday, Roman.”

Roman watched in disbelief as Virgil, still drenched in coffee, walked away. It seems like he’s not the only brave person in the world. 

[poisonousbuttercup]

AU: Geralt finds out the guy he just hooked up with is a famous pop star

Jaskier startled awake in his arms with an anxious curse of, “Fuck, I slept over. Shit, what time is it?”

Geralt nosed at the back of his neck with a sleepy smile. “Dunno, ‘bout nine. It’s Sunday. I don’t have to work, I’m fine with it. Relax. I won’t propose, have a cup of coffee before you run out on me.”

He wasn’t expecting the absolutely withering look Jaskier gave him. “Please tell me that this sleepy sweetheart thing is an act and you actually understand what the problem is here.”

“What?” Geralt sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “Not really, I mean, you said you were single. Fuck, did you cheat on someone with me?” Geralt wasn’t prepared for his stomach to drop into his shoes at that thought, but it’d happened before. Price of using a hookup app, he supposed.

Jaskier was out of bed as soon as Geralt let go of him, frantically searching the floor of the bedroom for his clothes and tugging them on at random. He stood in a plain white t-shirt, bright yellow briefs, and one sock, and just gaped at Geralt. “…you really don’t know who I am.”

Geralt blinked at him stupidly. “You’re…you said your name was Jaskier, you play music, you said you’re allergic to almonds and commitment?”

“Oh, fucking perfect, the one hookup I have who’s the best lay I’ve had in fucking years and can remember details like that, and you’re not a fan.” Jaskier groaned and buried his face in his hands, then stood up and flung his arms wide, cocking his head. “Congratulations, you slept with Dandelion.”

“…Dan-Dandelion?! The Dandelion?” For just a minute, Geralt could see it. It was the same face, even without the gold eyeshadow and lipstick, darkly lined eyes, and tight leather pants. But if he gave up searching, he still just saw Jaskier, who had ticklish elbows and made a sort of purring snore in his sleep and didn’t know what to do with conversation that wasn’t about sex.“Yeah.” Jaskier tipped his chin up a little, but looked almost…nervous.

“Oh. That’s why your profile didn’t have a face pic, then.” He thought back to the message he’d gotten from Jaskier, of his face without the makeup, dressed in a plain white t-shirt with the accompanying message still interested?

“Fuck, I have to call my agent.” Jaskier groaned. “He’s gonna flay me.”

“…why don’t I make the coffee while you make that call.” Geralt said quietly, giving Jaskier’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure everything out after that.”

“Yeah, thanks…”

[2bored2care]

Noona || Ateez

↳ About — After months without seeing each other, you and Ateez decide to have a fun night out in a hip nightclub in Hongdae. A sudden argument cuts your celebrations short, but a late night visit promises to get your mood up again.

↳ Pairing — ? x reader

↳ Genre — idol!ateez, producer!reader, friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst, noona!reader

↳ Word count — 16k+

↳ Rating — M/+18

↳ Warnings — None, but it's mature content. Be aware that the main character is older than the boys. Secret pairing (revealed during the story!)

↳ Cross-post — AO3

Author’s Note: this originally had an OC, but I changed it to be reader insert. Still, there are some descriptions of the main character. Wasn't proofread. Might have a continuation but works just fine as a oneshot! This was my first time writing mature content (and my first writing piece in god knows how long) so bear with me hehe Any feedback is always appreaciated!

       Some days are easier than others. Today was definitely on the bad side, that's why a night out with friends seemed like the best idea to cool off. After countless stressful meetings at work, including passionate discussions with coworkers and complications with important clients, you couldn't wait to get home, take a nice shower and spend a few hours invested in a hot look for the night.

      You see, it's not every night that your eight best friends are available for some fun, much less including a nice pajama party with lots of wine, soju and bad TV shows. There's good and bad in being friends with an idol group, although the bad likes to manifest more often than not. Ateez's maknae didn't exactly celebrate his definite passage to adulthood properly - that is, didn't get wasted like there's no tomorrow and make bad decisions at some stinky club at the hip side of town - thanks to their schedule, so imagine your surprise when you received a very excited call during your shitty afternoon.

      Jongho had called you to make sure you had no plans for the night and share interesting news: they had the weekend off and a nice VIP section in one of the best spots in Hongdae. Lots of free drinks, good music and, the best of all, no curfew. That, of course, came with one small price, that only seemed good to you in the end. All eight boys needed to sleep over yours. Something common when you had late nights, since some crazy fans - better yet, sasaengs - loved camping at their dorm door, and news of all of them coming home stupidly drunk at who knows what hours was terrible publicity. 

      That call came at the best time possible; a way to brighten your cloudy day. After talking to him and the loud boys screaming at the back, your little free time during the day was spent planning your outfit, makeup and hair. Everyone needs some me-time at times. You definitely needed it today, no doubt. That's why you decided to clock out a little earlier and ran home as soon as you could. The boys were excited, but not nearly as excited as you. It felt like years since you all had enough time to actually share a conversation - their overseas tour left you a little needy and missing them a bit too much.

      Living in South Korea and working with entertainment left you with very little friends, and ever since you started getting close to the idol group, that list got even smaller. Imagine the horror if the world knew any of them was hanging around with a woman - a foreigner, no less! If their fans knew they ever slept at your house, all hell would be loose. But you wouldn't change it for the world, no matter how many times the boys apologized or needed to cancel on you. You loved them all too much nonetheless, always a soft heart, even with your permanent resting bitch face.

      Only a few people in your life knew of such friendship, including your closest friends back at home. They were huge fans of the group, but would never tell a soul of your closeness. That's why the boys were fond of them, they knew they would be there for you, always. Although they never met, the plan was still there! You intended to visit home when the boys would perform in your home country, so to make sure the crazy encounter would happen - your friends might've forced you to pinky-promise to introduce them, not that you'd hold it against them anyway.

      After months without being able to see the group, you decided to go all the way with your look for the night. It was a special occasion, after all! Heading home, you had a close idea of what you were shooting for, knowing that you'd need to let loose soon or you'd burst. 

      Even if some would think being around such handsome men would be bad for your already fucked up self esteem, their effect was the opposite. They made you feel alive and noticed. No matter where you were, you were sure that you were accompanied by the hottest guys in the room. And, even in a platonic way, you knew you were the one they were spending the whole night with. Not just that, but it gave you a nice excuse to get dressed up properly, since you had to measure up! 

      All you could think about was the beautiful - and sinful - little dress you'd bought weeks prior. The velvet piece caught your attention while you were walking in a busy street. You weren't one to buy dresses, that's for sure, but you were also looking for a change and that dress meant just that. With the burgundy piece in mind, you started to finish planning your look while riding the subway home. The club wasn't far from your apartment complex - Seul was a small city compared to your not-so-missed hometown - so you had more than enough time to get your game face on. 

      At home, you rushed to take a well-deserved hot shower, getting your hair a little humid so you could model it however you wanted. The long locks fell over your shoulder to your waist, a mix of platinum blond, gray and dark pink. You had just changed it - something common for you - and were happy it looked as good as you hoped when you did it late at night last Saturday. With some mood making music on, you were ready to get started.

      You curled your hair in a 50's fashion, one of your favorite looks, and pushed it back to get your makeup done. Always a sucker for autumn colors, you did your eyes with a smoky brownish red and orange palette, finishing it with a long cat-eye, your trademark. You did your skin next, making sure to put some rose-colored blush on your cheeks, as if you maybe had a drink or two before leaving. Some highlighter to finish it nicely, and a gradient for your lips. Dark red on the inside, blending with a light brown nude matte lipstick you loved wearing. 24 hours effect, of course. You planned on drinking as much as you could and your makeup needed to still be there once the night was over!

      When you were satisfied with your makeup, you took your fishnets tights and the burgundy velvet dress, heading to get dressed. The dress hugged your curves perfectly - and you were very proud of them, of course, knowing that all that time you spent working out wasn't for nothing. The barely-there straps fell into a beautiful, plunged neckline, showing just enough cleavage. The dress ended mid-thigh, letting your tattoo be seen. It had a V-shaped cut on the back, ending in a zipper that went until almost the hem of the dress. It showed your back tattoo beautifully, the color complementing the cherry blossom art. It was perfect, simple as that. With the nude fishnets with tiny strass rocks, a matching velvet choker with golden details and your black high heeled boots, it was the best look you wore all year, and it only got you more excited for what was to come - you felt like you could do anything. 

      You texted your group chat, knowing it was almost time to leave. The boys told you your name was on the list and they were already heading that way. You took one last look in the mirror, adjusting your cleavage and messing your hair a bit. After preparing the house for your late night guests, you took your dark blue jean jacket, your black clutch and had a shot of soju to get started. 

      Once you got out of the elevator, Hongjoong texted you to let you know they were already there and settled. Your stomach was flipping from how excited you were. The thought of a great night had you with a smile stuck on your face. Your taxi arrived while you were writing back, so you just said you'd be there in five and got in the car.

      Inside the fairly packed club, you went to the back and talked to the bouncer to be let into the secluded VIP area. You could see the boys sitting at a sofa with three tables, up the stairs, looking every bit as handsome as you could remember, if not more. God really had His favorites and all eight of those boys made the list. It was unfair how they looked effortlessly beautiful, as if they owned the place - and if they told anyone that, no one would even doubt it. It just served as a reminder that they really belonged in the public eye. It'd be a waste if they did anything else - not to mention how talented they are, of course.

      Hongjoong was the first to catch your attention. His bright blue hair contrasted perfectly with his all black look. He wore black dress shoes, combined with dress pants and a half-buttoned black dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, turning the fancy outfit into a great choice for a fancy club. His hair was pushed back, and his earrings shone in the low, reddish light of the space. To top it off, he wore a gold chain and a leather choker. His light makeup, a mix between his stage aura and his street looks, complemented his look incredibly well.

      To his left, Mingi sat, relaxing back into the leather sofa with a drink in hand. His a-bit-too-long blonde fringe was tossed to the side, with hairspray making sure it wouldn't fall in his eyes. Also wearing all black, he sported a tight turtleneck, showing his slim body well. With a suit jacket clashing with his black, ripped skinny jeans and dress shoes, he looked like he belonged in a runaway. He laughed at something the eldest said, pulling a bit at his collar. 

      Seonghwa was laughing and kept talking, inclined to the front. His tye-dye blue button-up had at least five buttons unbuttoned, showing a little of his toned chest - he seemed to have gained a nice bronze hue while on tour. He wore light jeans and casual shoes. His hair was also parted to the side, still sporting silver highlights. His earrings dangled as he laughed, and his rings drew attention to his elegant hands.  

      Yeosang sat at Hongjoong's right side, seeming preoccupied with his phone while his hyungs conversed. His blonde mullet was partially covered by a red beanie. He wore a jean jacket with black, ripped pants. They had something written in black and red letters, clearly a designer piece. Beneath his jacket was a white, printed shirt. His pants ended in a simple, dark blue sneaker. Although he sported a loose demeanor, his face showed he was a bit anxious. It had been a long time since they went out at home, and it seemed like he would take a bit longer to really relax.

      Jongho was at his side, trying to get his attention. His bright, copper hair fit perfectly with the club environment. His feet were moving to the beat of whatever song was on, his dress shoes shining every now and then under the high table. He wore a simple, black shirt, complemented by black, ripped, skinny jeans. They seemed to be the groups' favorite clothing item lately. Over it all, he wore a velvet, mustard jacket. It matched his hair and skin tone just right, and he didn't look as much like the cute maknae anymore.

      Seonghwa turned to Yunho, who seemed focused on trying to understand what they were talking about. As soon as the eldest talked to him, he opened a big smile, closing his eyes and tossing his head back in a heartfelt laugh. His simple, golden necklace was shaking along with his chest while he tried to calm down. His white, low cut shirt showed his collarbones, his skin also golden after the time abroad. Over it he wore a black leather jacket, with small details on the sleeves and on the shoulders. He was wearing black, bomber pants, with big pockets on both sides and a small chain on the right side. His black and white dancing sneakers were also being beat along with the music, and he never looked so relaxed. He's light, pink hair was a bit messy, probably suffering from the amount of times he ran his hand over it, pushing it back - the same gesture he was repeating now, making his grandpa's ring appear in the low light.

      San was standing up, facing the crowd downstairs while leaning on the balcony and moving his hips slightly to the music, like the movement came naturally to him - which seemed to be the utmost truth. His light look seemed to contrast with the rest of the group. While everyone seemed to rely on black for at least a piece or two, he wore a cream, dress shirt, unbuttoned in the same pattern as the others. He paired it with highwaisted, almost white jeans and white sneakers. His blonde, ash hair was a little longer, and fell perfectly over his face while he looked around. His gold earrings matched with his bracelets and chain, and no matter how shinning the objects were, they couldn't stand a chance over his chilled smirk; lips moving slowly, mouthing the lyrics to the song being blasted at the moment.

      While he was distracted, Wooyoung came up to him with two shots of soju, scaring his groupmate in a friendly way. They laughed together, and Wooyoung tossed his dark brown hair back, before taking the shot. He licked his lips and smiled, saying something you couldn't understand from where you were standing. He also wore long earrings, matching with a few leather bracelets. He sported a light blue jean ensemble, but his jacket looked long forgotten on the sofa. His white shirt clinged to his body perfectly, and the rolled sleeves over his shoulder highlight his arms - he clearly had been working out. His black, leather belt was the only dark item he wore. The white converse sneakers seemed to be brand new, shining with a light red tone thanks to the lighting of the area. He looked around, as if searching, and his eyes landed on you, on the bottom of the stairs, trying to get the bouncer's attention. Although you couldn't exactly hear him, you could see clearly what he mouthed, while smirking.

"Noona!"

      You looked at him and laughed, pointing at the bouncer and making a mock annoyed face. He didn't say anything, just smiled back and started to walk slowly towards you. He seemed to eye you up and down, trying to figure out what you were wearing and failing - you were surrounded by a few people and the bouncer covered you almost completely.

"Excuse me! Hi!" you said, flashing a friendly smile. "My name is on the list, I'm-"

"With us," before you could finish, Wooyoung butted in, finally reaching you. "You can let her in."

      The bouncer only nodded and stepped aside, letting you through to the VIP area. You took a few steps but were stopped by Wooyoung, who then took two back to look at you in the dim, mock corridor light.

"Fuck, noona, this is definetly new," he smirked. "You look amazing."

"Look at you, swearing like this!" you laughed, slapping him lightly on the shoulder and smirking back. "I'd twirl for you, baby, but I don't wanna have to do it twice, so you'll have to wait just a bit."

"Why not just for me? I thought I was special," he joked.

"You are, but I'm also too anxious to see all of you to waste time under the stairs."

"You hurt me like this!"

"Come on, now. I need to see how everyone will react to this look. It took me long to look this good!"

"I missed you too much, you know?" he laughed and hugged you.

      He pulled you by the hand, heading upstairs towards their booth. The anticipation of seeing all of them again made you nervous and excited at the same time; your stomach turning. You could see their confused looks when Wooyoung climbed the stairs turning to realization when they saw he was bringing someone along. It seemed to take them a beat to recognize you - the last time you saw each other was a messy sleepover that probably ruined your reputation with them forever, and the same the other way around.

      San took a step closer, saying your name happily and coming in for a hug. You gladly held him back, smiling back at him. Once he let you go he mimicked Wooyoung's action from a moment before, stepping back and looking at what you were wearing. All the boys called for you and you laughed, joyous to be with them again after so long.

"How's our late-birthday boy tonight?" you said, smiling at Jongho.

"Pumped to start celebrating!" he smiled back.

"You look great, noona!" Hongjoong added, smiling fondly at you.

"My, my! Thank you, Hongie. You guys look amazing, as always! It must be exhausting to look so good all the time," they laughed, a few standing up to come and hug you. "Before you mess my outfit hugging the life out of me, I promised Woo a twirl."

"The runaway is yours," Mingi joked.

"Oh well, if it is, I'll make it count."-you tossed your hair back, placing your clutch on one of the tables.

      Taking a step back, almost leaning on the balcony, you took your jacket off. The dress looked even better with the red and blue light shining over it, and your fishnets were glowing perfectly with the rocks reflecting the light. You tossed your jacket playfully at San, who just smirked and placed it on the sofa, next to Wooyoung's. You twirled slowly, making a few poses and putting your hair to the side, falling over your front, on the left. 

      You started to walk towards them, swaying your hips and smiling; certainly enjoying the playful atmosphere. With a final 180 turn, showing your back tattoo and looking back, you finally head towards the sofa, hiding your face with an embarrassed smile while the boys laughed and clapped at you. 

"God, I missed you all so, so much," you laughed, trying to look at all of them and take them in.

"We missed you too," Yeosang answered, smiling softly. "And now we can start this party."

"Of course! Thanks for waiting for me."

"It's not like we had to wait for long. And we did get a head start on the drinking part, so you should try and match us, noona!" Seonghwa said while pouring you two shots of soju.

"Can you guys stop calling me that?" you groaned. "I'm only two years older than you, Hwa! You make me feel like a grandma when you keep calling me 'noona'. I have a name and you're more than welcome to use it."

"The more you get mad about it, the more we're gonna use it and you know it," Yunho said, laughing while he looked at his phone.

"Okay! Rule one of the night, created specially because of Yeosang and Yunho!"-both of them looked at you the second you mentioned their names-"Cellphones on the table! Come on, guys. I haven't seen you in forever and we're celebrating tonight. Together! Let's forget about the whole virtual world for a while now, okay?"

"Now you sound like a grandma," Yeosang said back, but he let go of his phone anyway, a small smile betraying him.

"Yunho?" you said, expectantly.

"Fine, fine. You're right. Let's get this started."

"Yay!" you cheered. "You've made me happier already. Now let's start drinking!"

      You tossed back both soju shots, smiling devilish while pouring two more. After finishing filling up your cups, you served everyone else, two bottles gone in a blink. Before you knew it, you were on your fifth round, and switching to fancy cocktails you had a hard time pronouncing. It was always clear that you handled alcohol better than most of them, so you passed their number in no time. 

"Who wants to dance?" Wooyoung said, getting up and interrupting the small talk going around the booth. When nobody answered, he pouted. Just then, a reggaeton song came up.

"Oh, god! Me! I love this song," you replied, smiling and getting up, already dancing playfully. "Who'll join us? It's terrible to be the only ones dancing in this section!"

      When silence took place again, you and Wooyoung exchanged looks and started pulling the boys, one by one, up. Some playfully tried to sit again, but you two were keen on getting everyone on the dance floor on the upstairs area, hoping it would help the group loosen up.

"You're almost taller than me today, if feels weird," Hongjoong said, laughing. 

"Oh, stop." you said, smiling softly at him. "Don't tease me or I'll wear the 6 inch heels next time!"

"It feels like ages since I last danced like this," he said, a few moments later, holding your hands and dancing terribly on purpose.

"There's no better way to dance," you answered, matching his steps.

"I can think of a lot of ways that are better than this mess!" Seonghwa laughed.

"But you wouldn't want it any other way, right?" you clapped back, smiling. "Me neither."

      A strong hip hop song came on, and you, Mingi and Yunho shared wide grins, already going to the middle of the semi circle your group had formed. The beat was dropping heavily, and Mingi was the first one to start dancing to it, strong steps, smooth body rolls and a lot of teasing. Yunho soon followed, twerking intensely while Mingi started to do the same. They were laughing too hard, and the rest of the boys seemed to be having a great time just watching. You walked up to the two boys, holding Mingi's left shoulder and Yunho's right one, starting to sway your hips to the intense beats. Soon you were twerking to it, and the boys playfully clapped, starting to drop to the music, soon coming up again and crowding you. 

      You couldn't help but laugh at the mess your group was. Yunho started twerking again, this time pulling you to do the same. When he started to go down again, you pointed accusingly at him while the rest of the boys cheered him and Mingi on.

"It's not fair!" you said, pouting. "This dress doesn't let me do that and you know it."

"Come on, noona," Mingi said, pulling you and trying to make you follow his moves. "Show him what you got!"

      Laughing, you pushed him back and started to swirl your hips, gradually going down until your hands almost touched the floor. There, you ran your hands through your hair, pushing its length up while looking up at the boys, grinning. You did a 180 turn and got up, pushing your bottom back and throwing your hair to your left side, looking back at Mingi's and Yunho's faces as they cheered for you. As a final touch, you slapped your right hip playfully, winking at them.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Jongho said, laughing. "Now it's a party."

      You pulled the youngest to the space Yunho and Mingi were occupying moments before, dancing happily with him while a hype song came on. He blushed a soft pink when you and Yeosang started to dance around him. It wasn't long before the rest of the group started doing the same, some holding cups, drinking and laughing at his reaction.

      The nine of you seemed to dance forever before sitting down again, looking at the other few booths on the VIP section. You couldn't recognize anyone there, but you knew that they had money or were influential in a way. You always enjoyed going to that club with the boys, knowing you could trust the space and the staff not to say a thing about their visits. They always seemed more comfortable there, and that was more than enough reason for turning it into your meeting spot. 

      Mingi got up to order another round of cocktails for the table, as well as some appetizers. Some of the boys were starting to get tipsy, and looking adorable with pinkish cheeks and relaxed smiles. You weren't sure of much, especially during your time working abroad, but you were sure of one thing: you absolutely adored them. Just seeing them happy and loosening up was more than enough to get your mood better, already forgetting about the nasty day you had at work. 

"I love you guys," you said, smiling.

"Are you getting drunk, noona?" Jongho said, laughing. The rest of the boys soon followed.

"Of course not! Don't forget I'm always the only sober one at the end of the night when we drink together!" you huffed, faking an annoyed look. "I just… Really miss you guys sometimes. You know I'm too soft for my own good."

"All jokes aside, we love you too. Now don't get all soft and mushy, we still have a long way to go tonight! It's not even 1am yet," Hongjoong laughed and hugged you, pulling you close on the sofa.

"I know, I know. Where's Mingi with the drinks anyway?"

"Someone missing me already?" Mingi said, sitting on your right side.

"More like missing the drinks you went to get."-everyone laughed at your answer, while Mingi fake pouted.-"What are your plans for the night, by the way?"

"What do you mean?" Yeosang asked.

"Well, you know my apartment is ready for you guys either way, but I can see some girls in other booths looking over every now and then. So, are you planning on meeting someone tonight or just chilling?"

"Noona!" Jongho said, mock scandalized. "We're not here for that."

"What? It doesn't hurt to ask! I just don't wanna be surprised like before, you know?" you said teasingly, looking at San. "When a certain someone met a girl at the bathroom line and disappeared for an hour while we were planning on heading out."

"You can't blame me!" San said.

"Never! But it's good to be prepared, so we don't end up asking the bouncers for help again."

"We're not leaving anyone behind tonight, we're just here to chill and celebrate," Hongjoong said.

"Alright, alright! Don't beat me for asking," you laughed, and everyone got quiet for a beat too long, using their glasses as a distraction.

"What about you?" Yunho said.

"What about me?" you asked, confused.

"What's your plan?"

"My plan is to have the best night ever with my boys, of course!" you laughed. "Why'd you ask? No one's ever flirted with me when I was with you, guys. I bet people think we're in a crazy, kinky relationship or something."-all the boys laughed at that, looking at the scandalized waiter that came with your drinks as you said that.-"Oh, god. I'm sorry!"

"You turned a few heads tonight, noona. Maybe you should open your eyes before saying no one'll flirt with you," Wooyoung said, smirking again.

"When? Where? Show me!" you joked. "It's been ages since I flirted, might as well get back in the game tonight."

"There's a guy on the booth to your left that's been looking at you since we danced," San added.

      You looked around, finding a few guys sitting next to you. One of them caught your attention. He had black hair, a lip ring and a tattoo sleeve. He seemed to be really tall, considering he filled the sofa with his long legs, clad in skinny ripped and stained jeans. His large shirt was tucked into the front of his jeans, and the collar fell off his shoulder, revealing a bit of his chest tattoo. He seemed a bit older than you, around 25 years old, maybe. 

      He looked exciting. You were definitely interested. And as he returned your gaze, you could see that so was he.

"I think I'm in love," you half joked.

"Noona!" Jongho said, laughing and drinking a bit more, looking clearly tipsy. 

"Woo, baby," you said, looking at him. "Won't you dance with me again, seriously this time?"

"Why him?" Yunho butted in.

"We all know that Woo has no limits, and neither do I," you laughed. "He won't mind playing around a bit to help me see if I can really catch that guy's attention."

"Noona," Wooyoung smirked, "of course I'll be your partner in crime. Just be careful not to change your target after it."

"You're too full of yourself sometimes," you said, smirking back. "I love it."

      Wooyoung laughed and got up, offering you his hand while one of The Weeknd's hits started to play. You gladly took his hand, getting up slowly and turning towards the table, sending a smile to the guys one last time before heading close to the balcony with him - a great spot to put on a show for your crush for the night.

      Maybe it was the alcohol rushing through your veins, or the thrill of having someone's attention, but you knew you were treading dangerous waters, with no life jacket, and were loving every tiny second of it. As you and Wooyoung started to get closer, you could feel heat rushing to your cheeks. At the same time, "Try Me" was being blasted through the club's speakers, fueling your resolution.

      You weren't a great dancer compared to the group of performers, but you knew very well how to move your body to sensuous beats. And that's what you did. As Wooyoung took a step back, you started rocking towards him, moving your hips slowly, fitting the song as perfectly as you could while balancing on your huge heels - your pride and joy, being able to walk on them so gracefully. 

      He looked at you with a challenging gaze, a slow smirk showing on his handsome face. If you didn't value their friendship so much, you knew all of those boys would be huge trouble in your life. And since you and Wooyoung played this game more often than not, you knew that he and San would ruin your every resolution if you let them. 

      Once you got close enough to him, chest to chest, he started moving his hips in sync with yours. Slowly going down and coming back, coming too close to your face. So close you could feel his breath tickling your cheek. You smiled at him, whispering a "nice" in his ear. You then turned around, pressing your back to his front and placing his hands on your hips. You started moving again, slowly, feeling the beat rushing through you. He held your hips a bit tighter, closer.

      You pushed back just a little bit, earning a hiss and a small laugh from him. Every movement he made seemed to fuel yours, becoming more and more certain, as if you were starting to lose yourselves to the music and it's sensual atmosphere. He moved one of his hands up your arms, a touch barely there, and held onto your shoulders, stopping the movement of his hips so he could mold himself into yours. You melted into the rhythm and kept dancing until the song ended.

"You're dangerous tonight," he said after you stopped dancing.

"So are you, Woo," you whispered back. "You shouldn't go around playing games you can't finish."

When he was about to answer, Yunho interrupted you two, leaning on the balcony.

"You seem keen on getting that guy's attention," he said, nonchalantly. 

"Some attention is never bad," you answered, looking at him.

"He was paying attention, alright."-he stepped closer, while Wooyoung excused himself, saying he'd get another drink.-"Dance with me next."

"What? You think dancing with another guy is a good idea?"

"Well, if you only dance with Wooyoung, he'll think you're together."-you hit yourself on the forehead lightly, mouthing an "of course".

"I don't see why not. We're here to have fun, right?" you said, but a bit unsure.

"If attention is all you want, I can help you just fine."

"Alright! Let's do this," you said, rushing to the table to down another shot and running back in his direction.

      On the corner of your eye, you could see the guy sitting there, looking at you as if trying to figure out what was going on. He was wearing a firing smirk, laid back on the sofa, curious about what you were going to do next. A surge of courage made you meet his gaze and smile softly at him. You turned back to Yunho, pulling him by the hands, and started dancing again.

      Katie's "Remember" started playing, and before you could make a move, he started dancing around you, crowding your space in the best way possible. His moves were calculated, playing with you, teasing you. He started moving on his own, and you stood there, as if hypnotized by him. His eyes never left yours, and he looked like a man on a mission, starved and on his last chance to get his fill. He touched you every now and then, holding your hands, guiding them to his chest while he put his on your hips after. When he got close to your face, you held him by his shirt, pulling, a challenge written all over your face as the chorus came up. 

      You placed your legs around one of his, his thigh dangerously close to your sex, keeping one hand on his neck and another leading one of his to your hips. Then, you rested it on his shoulder, while his left hand hovered around your back, light touches every now and again. You started to sway your hips to the beat, small body waves connecting your chests while his breathing seemed to quicken. Yours soon followed, and for a second you even forgot what you were doing and why. Just then, you saw the mysterious guy searching for your eye. With more determination than before, you started grinding on Yunho, looking at the guy and smiling slowly. You could feel Yunho accepting every move you made, completing it with his own. 

      He held onto you, his hands fisting on the soft fabric of your dress, hinching the hem up a bit, showing more of your skin, only for him - since he had you almost pressed against the balcony, his huge figure covering yours. He ran one of his hands over your cheek, stopping on your neck and going to the back of your head, ready to pull you even closer, even if it felt impossible. He then turned you with that hand, passing your head under his arm and never letting go of you. As you were turning, you met eyes with the stranger again.

      He started walking towards you as the song reached its end. Yunho was breathing heavily, his head resting on your shoulder and his hands still clinging you to him. That is, until your target interrupted you.

"Think you can save one of these dances for me?" he said, his voice husky and intoxicating. Yunho looked at you and then at the guy before turning and heading back to your booth, saying something to himself you couldn't quite understand.

"Depends on whether you're worth my time," you smirked at him, joking, feeling confident after dancing with your friends. "As you could see, I had very skilled partners before."

"I promise I'm more than worth your time," he said. "I'm Choi Seon, by the way. I'm 27."

"Seon… Nice to meet you," you said, relishing in how nice his name felt on your lips, although it felt like your voice had disappeared. "I'm 24."

"No name?" he laughed.

"Not just yet."-you smiled, glad he was older than you. You were tired of being called noona all night by your teasing friends. 

"I'll just have to call you babe," he smirked. 

"Let's dance, then, Seon?"

      You didn't have to say it twice. He smiled down at you, seemingly even taller than Yunho, and pulled you in with strong, sure arms. You held onto his shoulders, starting to feel a little shy under his heated gaze. The reality of everything was starting to hit you, your confidence fading a bit. As if he could sense if, he started to move you along with him, pulling you back under his spell. 

      His hands traveled over your body, one pulling you even closer by your lower back while the other guided your hips, making you follow the movement of his own. You felt wild, carnal. As if you two were the only there, and everything that was left unsaid was too dangerous to be announced; prohibited thoughts rushing through your head as you let yourself go under his lead.

      He spun you around, carefully touching your waist and passing his hand just under your cleavage. You were too far gone to care. You started moving with more confidence, pressing your back against him. He put your hair to your side, over your shoulder, and kissed the spot between your neck and your collarbone. You moved your head back, relishing in the feeling of his lips on your skin. You turned around again then, taking a small step back while tracing your hands from your hips, up to your waist and to the straps of your dress, finishing with a raise of your head, hands sliding through your hair, making you look just as far gone as you felt. He put his hands on your waist and pulled you close again, smiling and kissing the corner of your lips. You closed your eyes for a while, feeling the music and enjoying the trance you were in. 

      When you opened your eyes, you could see Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi and Yunho looking directly at you. What rushed over you was hard to place. While you felt incredibly embarrassed, a part deep inside you was turned on by the erotic, forbidden feeling of everything. This was a new, dangerous sensation, and you didn't know how to deal with it. Seon, ever so observing, seemed to have read your confusing feelings, smirking at you knowingly. The song was ending, and you didn't know if you'd ask for another one or run away. Turns out you didn't have a chance to do either, as he tilted your head so you could look into his eyes and, ever so slowly, as if teasing you, kissed you. 

      You couldn't remember the last time you were kissed, especially like this. He kissed you like he was savoring you, and you just melted in his arms. When his lips parted from yours, they fell into another knowing smile.

"Was it worth your time?" he said and you breathed in, not sure how to respond. Your thoughts seemed to be scrambled, so you did what you wanted and kissed him again.

       This was already the wildest night you lived in a very long time, if not ever. You were doing things you never thought you would, letting yourself pretend for a night that you're the confident woman that gets who she wants, when she wants. Not the shy, terrible at romance and everything else woman you usually were. Not the one who doesn't even remember the last time she had a date, much less caught a guy's attention long enough to be approached. Way before coming to South Korea, that's for sure. After your first - and only - relationship turned out to be a complete fail, you never tried anything again. Every connection you had with men after that was fully platonic. 

      With that idea in mind, you let him lead you to his booth, his friends gone to the dance floor on the first floor. You looked at your friends and they smiled, some even hollering, causing your cheeks to blush a dark pink. Seon just smiled down at you, pretending he didn't notice it so you wouldn't be even more embarrassed. You were definitely grateful for that. 

      While you sat, he tried to start a conversation with you. You looked around the space, as if in a daze, your ears filled by the sound of your heart beating erratically in your chest. You knew your breathing was uneven, and you looked a bit disheveled after dancing so close to him. As hard as you tried to concentrate on what he was saying, your emotions were betraying you, leaving you confused and unable to focus on whatever it was he asked you. His husky laugh was what brought you back to reality.

"I lost you for a while there, didn't I?" he asked, still laughing.

"I'm sorry!"-you blushed furiously, the effect of your actions on the dance floor wearing out-"I guess I'm a bit out of it. What was it you said again?"

"I asked if you'd like a drink."

"That would be great, actually."

"What were you having?" - he asked, looking at one of the bartenders.

"Just soju is fine! I like to keep it simple."-you laughed, finally mustering the courage to look him in the eyes again.

"Seeing that you came with so many men, I'd have to disagree with that."-his comment seemed to put you out, a confused looked crossing your face.-"I'm not judging, just curious."

"We're friends, that's all..." you trailed off. "They've been working too hard for the past months, so we're celebrating a few birthdays today."

"You seem pretty close." 

"They're basically my only friends here." you whispered, smiling softly.

"Have you been living here for long?"

"For almost two years, now. It's quite different from home, that's for sure."-he laughed at that, and you soon followed.

"It may be. From the way you dance… It looks like you're from a 'freer', 'looser' place."

"I see..." you said, taking a sip of your drink and trying to think of a way to keep the conversation flowing that didn't include not-so-charming comments on your origins. "I'm terrible at this, oh my god!"

"At what?" he laughed, confused.

"I can't believe I said this out loud. Okay," you said, blushing. "It's just been a long time since I've done anything like… this"-you motioned between you.

"You're cute," he smiled. "You're blushing and nervous around me, even though you kissed me and danced with me like you wanted to tear my clothes off."-he ran his hand over your arm, up to your shoulder, sending goosebumps across your skin.-"And your cheeks are burning, but you're still looking at me like you can't wait to kiss me again."

"You're cracking your head trying to read me, now?" you joked.

"You're interesting to me, that's all. Maybe we should dance more to see if you can get more comfortable."

"I don't think dancing will have that effect on me right now."

      He laughed and you smiled back at him. You took the time to look over to your booth, seeing the boys deep in conversation, still drinking happily. Some looked your way every once in a while, and you started to feel a little guilty for ditching them on your first time together in months.

"Don't you wanna sit with us?" you asked Seon, looking at him expectantly. "I don't wanna spend the rest of the evening away from my friends."

"Do you think they'll be okay with it?" he asked you back, looking over to your tables.

"Of course! They're super chill,"-you smiled-"you'll see. Let's go!"

      You got up and pulled Seon by his hand, walking towards your booth. All the boys stopped talking and looked up at you, perhaps wondering why you were bringing him over. Hongjoong motioned for Yeosang and Yunho to scoot over, giving you and Seon space to sit as you arrived at the table.

"Thanks, guys," you smiled down at them, sitting beside Hongjoong while Seon sat to your right. "This is Choi Seon!"

"Hi, there. Nice to meet you all."

      The group nodded at him, introducing themselves one at a time. 

"You seem familiar," Seon said, and you exchanged looks.

"We're no one important," San smiled.

"You're really good dancers," Seon added. 

"We had a good partner," Wooyoung said, smiling at you.

"Tell me about it. I saw from up close how hard it is to keep up with her."

"Oh, please. I'm far from that," you laughed at them. "The boys are the professionally trained ones, I just used whatever advantage I had to measure up."

"You surely have lots of those," Seon smirked, running his hand over your knee and up to the hem of your dress. You slapped his hand playfully. "Do you come here often?"

"Not really," you replied. "We come here when we can, which isn't as often as I'd like."

"We're always working, so it's hard to get time out of our schedules," Mingi completed.

"I know how that feels," Seon nodded. "But I always try to come here with the guys. It's a great spot."

"We like it a lot too," you smiled at him. "I'll order us some more drinks. Four bottles of soju are okay, right?"

"Seems like a good number to keep this going," Yeosang laughed, his cheeks colored from the amount of alcohol he had already drank. 

      Once you got the bottles on the table, you poured shots to everyone, some mixing theirs with beer, and took yours. Seon poured you another one, and you happily drank it too, feeling the heat from the alcohol keeping you in the perfect space between sober and drunk. You could tell some of the boys were already crossing that bridge, and were glad to see them having fun.

      From there on, conversation seemed to flow easily between you two, occasionally including one or two of the boys in your discussions. Seon's friends came back up and sat on their own booth, acknowledging him and your table while passing.

"I'll go talk to the guys for a bit and come back, okay?" Seon said, lips close to your ear to make sure you could hear him well enough.

"Okay, I'll be here," you smiled at him, and he took the opportunity to kiss the corner of your lips again.

      Once he left, all the boys turned no-so-subtly at you.

"So, noona..." San said. "Are you going to be the one to ditch the group today? How the tables have turned!"

"Oh come on! It's not like I'll leave you guys alone!" you laughed, looking around the space.

"Not now, anyway. But by the way he's looking at you, you'll probably be leaving together real soon," Mingi chimed in, looking at Seon as he said something to his friends and laughed.

"Are you going to leave with him?" Yunho asked, looking a bit startled by the possibility.

"Guys! Stop! It's not like that..." you trailed off. "I think? Or is it? God, I definitely need to get better at this. It's been too long since I even thought about doing this."

"We're still going back to yours, right?" Hongjoong asked, looking worried.

"Of course! I'd never leave you hanging. The worst that could happen would be me giving you my keys and everything. My apartment is basically yours now, anyway."

"You can't do that!" Jongho said. "Are you seriously considering ditching?"

"I thought we would hang after, watch movies and talk, or something," Seonghwa added. "You know, continue the celebration through the weekend, like we said before."

"I don't know..."-you looked back over Seon's booth.-"Would I be a terrible person if I did it?"

"Basically." Yunho said, matter of factly. 

"No!" Wooyoung said at the same time.

"Seriously, though… I'd still be back in the morning, right? We could do all that tomorrow. I'll cook you lunch like I promised."

"It wouldn't be the same..." Jongho trailed off.

"You know we can't just go back to your building and whatever," Yunho continued. "Besides, you don't even know the guy! You know what? His name?"

"I'm not looking to do a background check on him! I know enough for this," you answered.

 "For this as in…?" Yeosang looked at you, trying to see if you'd finish your trail of thought.

"You know! Hooking up? I don't know how you kids call it these days," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. "I've never done this before, I don't exactly know how it works. You tell me."

"He looks like he'd drop you like nothing once he got what he wants," Seonghwa said, looking concerned. "Doesn't that bother you? Even a little?"

"So what? That's what I'd want too! You do this all the time. What's wrong with me doing it too?"

"Are you seriously this stupid?" Yunho yelled at you.

"Hyung!" Jongho called after Yunho, a look of shock crossing his face and everyone else's. "He didn't mean that."

"I guess he meant naive, noona," Yeosang said, trying to fix the situation.

"No, I meant exactly what I said, and I know you're all thinking it too," Yunho said, looking directly at you. 

      You were fuming by now. After drinking you knew your filter wouldn't exactly work, and you could feel the words rising up and leaving your mouth before you could think of stopping.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, huh?" you pointed at Yunho, who stared back at you with just as much anger. "You think I'm some stupid little girl, now? You think I can't handle myself? Fuck off, will ya? I can judge character just fine, and if I want to go over to his and do whatever the fuck else, you best believe I will!"

"So you're going?" Wooyoung asked, looking between you and Yunho.

"He didn't even fucking ask me yet! What's got you so angry anyway?"

"You were the one who kept babbling about this being a night for us to be all together!" Yunho answered and the boys shook their heads, agreeing with the fact, but probably not with the approach. 

"I know! And it still is-"

"You were the one who kept complaining about how we were away for too long," he kept going, interrupting you. "And you were the one who even had the idea of us going over yours for the weekend."

"There's no need to get angry at me over this! I didn't even do anything yet."

"That's right, yet."-he took a deep breath, failing to stop himself from continuing.-"So what? You'll give us your keys and leave us here alone while you go to who knows where with a random guy?" 

"Yunho, you should watch your tone if you don't want me to leave your fucking asses on the street," you said, looking stern and pissed off. How could he turn on you like this? 

"Isn't that your intention now?"-Yunho looked like he had no intention of backing out of this argument.

"You're being so fucking childish right now. You want me to leave?"-you were practically fuming, your breathing erratic, blood pumping through your veins and wearing off the effect of your previous drinks.

"Might as well. Already got what you wanted anyway," he said, nonchalantly. You'd almost believe he didn't care if it wasn't for how hard he was staring you down.

"I hope you're stupidly drunk right now, I really do. Because this ridiculous behaviour is inexcusable."

"Noona, calm down," Seonghwa said, looking around as if he expected the guys to help him, but they remained stunned into silence.

"Me? You're telling me to calm down?" you practically screamed at him, feeling put off by how none of them even tried to defend you or intervene when Yunho was the one saying things he shouldn't. "Yunho is literally here being a slut-shaming piece of-"

"Stop!" Hongjoong exclaimed, looking around the table. Everyone returned his gaze, trying their hardest to not return yours.

"You know what? I really didn't need this tonight," you sighed, defeated. "I was so excited to go out with you guys again. I really, really missed you all a lot and-"

"Doesn't seem like it." Yunho said, almost to himself, but you certainly heard it, like he was saying it right to your face. A slap would've hurt less.

"I'm fucking tired, okay? I'm not gonna do this," you said, staring into his eyes in hopes he'd see how much he hurt you. By the way he flinched slightly, you knew he noticed it. "I had a shitty day, and I don't have to deal with this right now."

      Everyone was silent, looking at you and not knowing exactly what to say. You couldn't believe how such a perfect night was ending so badly.

"I'm gonna go," you whispered. "I'm just gonna leave. You guys stay. I don't wanna be around some of you right now."

"Noona," Mingi said, reaching out to you.

"Don't you dare 'noona' me."-you pushed your arm back, already putting on your jacket and getting ready to leave.-"I'll talk to your fucking manager later, he'll figure this out for you."

      You grabbed your clutch, spilling a half-drank cup of beer that was next to it on the table. You fought the urge to apologize, feeling all of your energy seep away while you took one last look at them. You didn't have anything else to say, and they seemed to feel the same way; Yunho didn't even look at you until you spoke again.

"Enjoy the rest of your night."

      You didn't even bother saying goodbye to Seon. Whatever was going on between you two was over the moment the discussion started. It felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice on you, and even so, you felt extremely hot from all the pent up anger.

      You knew they were looking at your retracting figure, your steps heavy as you climbed down the stairs. The bouncer let you out of the VIP area, and you sighed a small "thank you", never stopping your steps. You felt you'd try to go back if you stopped, and your pride was more important to you at that moment. You wouldn't back down. You did nothing wrong.

      Still fuming and needing to cool down, you decided to walk back home, the cold night breeze very welcomed. It hit your face, moving your hair slightly. The street was still buzzing with people, some going from one bar to the other, some conversing and drinking with friends. That's how you expected your night to go, you thought, walking faster to get away from the bright city lights.

      The 20-minute walk did you good, your mood getting better after you stopped duelling on it. You were completely sober by the time you reached your building, missing the comfortable buzz you had throughout the night. As you opened your door, shoes in hand, you decided to have a glass or two of wine before going to bed. You were too nervous still to just sleep, and wine always helped you relax.

      You took off your jacket, hanging it neatly on your closet, and left your purse and choker in your room, phone in hand. Going straight to the kitchen next, you frowned at the state of your living room, deciding to get the bottle of wine before stressing over the messy space, already half prepared to receive your big number of guests. You took a bag of chips from the cabinet, heading to your sofa to lie down and watch some TV.

      Feeling slightly uncomfortable and stuffed in the tight dress, you opened the zipper, almost fully, making sure to turn the aircon on next. Wine glass in one hand, TV remote in the other, you browsed the Netflix catalogue, searching for a foolish movie to watch - preferably one you'd seen before, since you were sure you'd just end up using it as background noise. Not finding anything worth binge-ing, you checked your phone, absentmindedly. A part of you wished one of the boys texted you, the other wanting to do it; to at least let them know you got home fine and wish them a safe ride back to theirs. 

      You knew you were being petty. You also knew you weren't exactly wrong, and you fought against your pride again, thinking it'd been 40 minutes since you left them alone. Would they be able to go back home? You knew their crazy fans were still camping outside their place. 

"I can still tell them to come and just stay on my own in another room or something," you said to yourself. "I don't want them to get into trouble because of me."

      With your mind made up, you unlocked your phone, ready to text them that they could come over if they'd like. Still, you started typing and stopped, repeating this countless times. Nothing sounded right to you. You didn't want to be cold, but also couldn't just act like nothing happened. 

"I'm definitely overthinking this."

      You poured yourself another glass of the white wine, the bottle getting closer to its end way earlier than you intended. The cold liquid was working wonders in their task of calming you down. You thought best to change and remove your makeup before doing anything else, maybe looking for distractions before talking to them. You knew they'd probably still be at the club, trying to figure out how to get home or what to do to not be seen. If you knew Hongjoong well - which you did - you knew he was probably contacting a manager as you drank, and it served enough to make you feel guilty once again for leaving. You felt like crying. 

      Determined to be the bigger person and try to save whatever was left of the night, you took your phone again and started typing. Before you could finish the message, someone rang your doorbell. Mildly distracted, you didn't pay attention to the sound. That was, until someone started pounding at your door. 

"Guys?" you asked, putting your now empty glass on the table and walking towards the door. "Who's there?" 

      You opened the door slowly, finding a rugged looking Yunho leaning against the frame, right hand moving to knock again.

"Yunho!" you gasped, looking him over before meeting his eye. "Where are the guys? I was just about to text you all to come over!"

      He looked at you, breathing heavily, not uttering a single word. You waited for him to say something, but he remained there, leaning on the door frame, staring you down.

"It was so stupid, baby. The fight was so, so stupid," you said, starting to feel nervous again. "I don't wanna fight with any of you. You owe me an apology, but god we should've never let such a stupid argument ruin our night."-he entered the apartment, taking off his shoes as you kept talking, afraid to fall into heavy silence again.-"I wouldn't have done anything with Seon, you know? It just… felt nice. To be noticed, I mean. It felt nice to be wanted."

      He started moving towards you, taking slow, small strides as you kept talking, moving to close the door.

"Yunho, please… talk to me," you begged, trying to get him to say something, anything. "Just say 'sorry'. That's all I need."

      He looked strong, present, in the dim light of the living room. The small rays coming from the kitchen and the TV cast perfect shadows on his face. As he got closer, you lost track of whatever you were saying. Your mind was running a million miles per hour, wondering where the rest of the boys were, what he intended to do, and why he was looking at you like he'd want nothing more than you to stop talking.

      You locked the door, using the excuse to stop staring into his intense eyes. You could feel him close to your back, his breath making your hair move slightly. Before you could ask him what he was doing so close, he placed a hand on your left shoulder, turning you towards him and pressing you against the wall, his face perfectly contrasted by the lights. He looked like sin incarnated, and you felt trapped under his spell. You tried to form words, but all you could do was gape at him, your breaths coming out a little faster every second he spent close like this. 

      He came closer, his right hand supporting his weight while his left took your hair off your shoulders, his face coming down to meet yours. You never felt so small close to him. His lips ghosted against your cheek, moving to your right ear. Then, he took his hand off the wall and touched your face gently, moving to touch your neck, reaching the back of your neck and entangling in your hair. He kissed the space between your ear and neck, lips grazing your ear as he finally spoke.

"Noona," he breathed the word against you, sighing at the end of it. 

      This word had never hit you as hard as it did. His voice, everything, made it sound like the most sinful word in your vocabulary. 

      He sounded like he was in pain. His whole body started trembling slightly, pressing harder against you. You gasped at the raspy sound of his voice, and he moved his head back to look at you. His eyes were heavy lidded, breathing even faster now. Yours seemed to match his, and that second lasted like an eternity.

      Yunho kissed you. His lips barely touching yours, as if he was scared you'd push him back once he did it. When he saw you wouldn't, he came back down for another kiss. This time, he kissed you fiercely, with such force, as if you were water and he had spent days in a desert. Your lips pressed against his, kissing him back with just as much want, if not more. 

      He tugged at your hair, pulling it back to tilt your head, making his access to your lips easier. You gasped, almost moaning at the sensation, your lips parting slightly. He took advantage of that, his tongue snaking into your mouth, ready to explore you. The action seemed to pull you back to reality, and you held him hard on the shoulders, whining as if you were reluctantly having to let him go. You pushed him back softly, also scared to break the moment. He grunted, as if the act hurt him physically. His hips were pressing yours against the wall, and you moved yours automatically.

"Noona," he whispered again.

"Yunho..." you sighed and pushed him once more, needing space to be able to think. "Wh- What are you doing?"

"I..." he trailed off, taking a deep breath. "Noona, please."

"Tell me what you need," you said, trying to forget about every complication this could entail. All you could think about, all you could see, was him. And, for god, was he glorious. "Talk to me, baby."

"You," he whispered against your lips, your eyes focused on his own. 

"Oh my god," you sighed, moving your head to the side. 

      He gave you space, although not much, afraid you'd run away once he got far enough. You looked at him, then back at the living room, trying to understand what was going on. He glanced back, seeing the wine bottle. He moved to it, taking a sip directly from it. 

      You were frozen into place, and he took advantage of that, bringing the almost empty bottle to you and pressing it against your lips. You drank it gladly, fueled by how he stared at your lips against the rim of it. The simple gesture never seemed so erotic. 

      After you finished the wine, he placed the bottle on the ground and pressed against you again. When you shied away from his gaze, he touched your chin, lifting his head to make sure you could see him as well as he could see you. He smirked at you, chest heaving, and turned you around. He grunted loudly, resting his head on your shoulder as his right hand, still cold from holding the bottle, touched your semi-open zipper.

"God, noona," he said against your skin, tickling your neck. "What were you doing before I got here."

"I..." you tried and failed to form a sentence, your face pressed against the wall, your hip moving on its own only to be held by his left hand, leaving you completely at his mercy. "I was going to change, that's all."

      You moved your hands to your back, closing the zipper rapidly as a blush started creeping on your cheeks. He chuckled at that, right hand forcing yours against the wall, lips kissing your cheek. He kissed down to your shoulders, lips running over your cherry blossom tattoo - his favorite.

"There's no need to close it, noona," he whispered, sensuously. "It'll end up on the floor anyway."

"Fuck, Yunho."

"Don't," he said, breathing in slowly. "Don't say my name like that."

"Or what?" you asked, holding on to the last shreds of your sanity. "Yunho."

      He pressed his hips against yours, breathing in the scent of your perfume. You gasped at the sensation, starting to lose yourself to the forbidden, dangerous situation. A small whimper left your lips, and he pressed even harder against you, right hand coming up to hold you by the hair once more, turning you around slowly as his eyes fell to your cleavage. 

      Yunho kissed your exposed skin, climbing from your chest to your neck. He sucked hardly, making sure to mark you as his. You hissed, right hand grabbing his hips hard as you moved yours against his, losing yourself to the sensation of his lips on your skin. He blew cold air to the place he sucked on, biting it and climbing up to your lips.

      This kiss felt like the final straw. You pulled him by his shirt, closer. You wanted him as close as humanly possible. No, you needed him as close as possible. You kissed him hard, your lips taking over his, guiding him. Your hands pushed his jacket back, and he let go of you briefly, just enough to let the item fall, discarded, to the floor. You ran your hands through his hair, and he took the opportunity to pull on yours once more, holding the back of your neck just tight enough to make you moan against his lips again. He pulled your right leg up, moving harder against you.

      He pressed his hips hardly against yours, and you could feel him harden, moving like he couldn't wait a second more to have you. You felt that, if you let him, he would take you right there. Hard and rough against your living room wall. Close enough to the door that you'd need to be quiet in order to not let your neighbors overhear. Just the thought of him doing so was enough to get you wet, your thighs pressing close, needing the friction. 

      You stopped the kiss, whispering his name as sweetly as you could, pushing him back just so you could pull him by the hand, moving towards your couch. You pushed him on it, waiting for him to settle, sitting, before climbing on his lap. 

"Noona," he whispered. "What are you doing to me?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you said, smirking against his lips before kissing him again.

      You placed your legs around his hips, your dress riding up your thigh, exposing your underwear. He stopped kissing you to look down, taking in the image of you completely gone over his lap, grinding down on him slowly, teasing the both of you. His hands pulled your dress higher, moving to your waist and squeezing you hard. You moaned, grinding hard on him as you went for another kiss. It felt like you spent ages just kissing, touching each other as well as you could, pressing him on the sofa as you did so. 

      You forced your hips down, feeling his erection against your core. It felt so crude, so raw, and oh, so big, you couldn't help but moan his name once more. He moved his hips up to meet yours, hands ripping your tights hardly as you fisted his shirt, annoyed at how the fabric was standing between you two. The sound of them ripping filled the room, your breath quickening at the action.

"Take this off," you said, commandly. "Now."

      You didn't need to say it once more. He pushed you back, just enough to have space to pull the fabric off, slowly revealing his chest. You looked at him like you were starved, and he returned the gaze. His chest was glistening with sweat, and you had never seen something so beautiful. Yunho panting, looking at you, shirtless, was the sexiest scene you ever had the pleasure to witness. 

"I can't wait anymore," you said, almost to yourself, as you stood up.

       You pushed him back as he tried to follow, fixing your dress once again. He looked at you, confused, but his expression soon turned to one of pleasure, as you ran your hands up his thighs, getting closer and closer to his erection. You smirked at him, teasingly, and pulled him up by the belt, guiding him to your room. You were never so thankful for having a king sized bed.

      He looked at you expectantly, seemingly enjoying this game of dominance you two were playing. You pushed him back on your bed, sitting on the edge of it. He tried to kiss you again, but you cut the kiss short, pushing on his chest as you started to go down on his body. He sucked in a breath just at the thought of what you were going to do. 

"Noona, you have no idea of how many times I dreamed of your lips on me," he confessed, hand ruining his hair even more.

"I hope I measure up," you smirked at him, hands sliding against his legs once more. "I've dreamt about this too. Way too much."

      Your hands passed over his body, coming to his pants and slowly opening the button. You climbed against his body, kissing his chest and going down, grabbing the zipper between your teeth. You looked up at him, seeing the anticipation and lust in his eyes. They made you want to do so much more, and you relished on the feeling, bringing the zipper down as painfully slow as you could. As soon as your teeth grazed his erection, he pushed his hips up, hissing. He laid back on his elbows, eyes staring at you, consuming your every move. 

      You finally pulled his pants down, the sight of his erection straining against his underwear more than enough to get your mouth watering. You knew there was no turning back; might as well enjoy it to the fullest. You kissed his hips, sucking softly on his skin, feeling his hands coming to touch you, before moving to his hair once more. You kissed him through the fabric and he held his breath, closing his eyes and tossing his head back.

      Pulling his underwear down, you stared him in the eye, turned on by his blown out pupils. You were more than glad to see he was just as far gone as you were. There was something empowering about seeing him completely naked while you were still clothed, and you intended on taking advantage of that feeling.

"You look so beautiful," he whispered, almost to himself.

"Not as much as you," you answered, smiling. "You're a work of art."

      You passed your hands up his thighs again, kissing him everywhere but where he needed you the most. His chest was heaving, his breathing shallow, eyes anticipating your every move. It was intoxicating, seeing him losing his cool over your small actions. You wrapped your hand around his erection, turned on by the curses coming out of his mouth.

      Ever so slowly, you moved your lips next to his shaft, kissing his skin while moving your hand. His hand held onto your hair, pulling just enough to get you to lose it. You kissed his tip, lips enveloping him as you took your time savoring him, going down slowly until he was fully inside your mouth. The sound he let out then was wild, carnal, and you moaned against him. 

      He pushed his hips up slightly, as if begging you to do something, anything. You couldn't help but comply, lips going up and down on him, pace quickening. He kept moving his hips and pulling your hair, trying to meet your movements with his own.

"Fuck, noona," he cried out. "You're ruining me."

      You kept going, boosted by the noises he was making, deep throating him as you felt his whole body tense under your ministrations. He was panting, desperate, and you didn't stop until you felt he was on the edge, lips popping off him; a string of saliva still connecting your bodies.

"That's my intention." 

      He pulled you up by the back of your neck, hands trying to touch you everywhere at once. He kissed you hard. Pressing against you, standing up once more, he ran his right hand over your back, opening your dress again. This time, he kissed your shoulders while lowering the straps, hands pushing the fabric down until you were standing in front of him wearing nothing but ruined tights and red lace panties. 

      Spinning you around, he could see just how small the piece was, your ass on full display for him. Just for him. He called your name at that, the first time he mentioned it the whole night. Somehow, you missed how sinful the word "noona" sounded coming out of his lips. You were almost embarrassed by how the thought of it got you even more turned on; your body betraying you as another rush of arousal left you on edge. 

"Ca- call me..." you whispered. "Noona. Just that."

"I knew you liked it," he smirked, you could feel it against your back. "Noona."

      He spun you around again, this time pushing you against the bed. 

"You look good enough to eat, noona."

      He ripped the tights even more, want taking over him. He kissed you again, pulling you by the neck close to him. You ran your hand over his back, nails scraping his skin, making him hiss against your lips. He kissed you even harder, right hand grabbing your waist and holding it hard enough to bruise. His left hand guided your hips against his erection while he pressed it to your core. You moaned his name, desire clouding your mind as you called him once more.

"Yunho, please," you pleaded, hoping he'd put an end to your suffering. "I can't take this anymore."

      He got on his knees, looking directly at your core as you blushed, trying to close your legs and hide from him.

"Don't. You don't need to hide from me, noona," he said, looking into your eyes before letting his roam over your body once more. "You're too fucking beautiful." 

"Yunho..." you moaned his name.

"I want to remember every moment tomorrow, noona," he kissed your stomach, looking shy. "I hope you do too."

      Before you could respond, he ran his hand over your panties, teasing your clothed core. You started writhing, every nerve ending sensitive thanks to his previous actions. You felt like you couldn't take it anymore, his teasing only making you need him more. You started begging, unashamed, for him to really touch you, for him to do anything.

      He started kissing down your body, going from your jaw to your collarbone; marking you. His lips hovered over one of your nipples and you lost your breath, right hand sinking into his hair as you moaned. He kissed it slowly, repeating the action on the other one. He started moving his tongue around it, blowing cold air every now and then. The other wasn't left unattended, being toyed with when he ran his hand over your chest; fingers pressing on it. You were writhing beneath him, unable to form a coherent sentence as he ravaged your body. 

      Once he saw you were losing control, he let go of your nipples, giving each a small peck before kissing down your stomach, stopping at your navel. You hissed, whispering his name as he looked up at you, smirking. He moved to your waist, kissing each side before falling to your hips, repeating the sucking motion you'd done on his moments before. His teeth scraped against whatever was left of your fishnets and you fisted the sheets, closing your eyes, chest heaving. He pulled at the strings, relishing in your instant reactions. He was eating up every movement, every noise, every whimper; everything you gave him.

      His hands were touching your stomach and coming down to your thighs, his light touch heighting his teasing. Using both hands, he ripped the top of your tights so he could take off your panties. He pushed back down a bit more, discarding the ruined underwear, face coming close to your core. He breathed against your now naked area, and that action alone had you seeing stars. He then kissed the area slowly, tentatively tasting you. The sound you made was wild; a perfect description of how you felt once his lips connected to your body. 

      He started to move his tongue in circles, falling into a slow rhythm that had you begging him for more. Showing you that he heard you loud and clear, he started moving his right hand towards your centre, his left one trying to stop your hips from grinding against him. Once you finally managed to stop moving, he awarded you with faster movements, his hand already teasing your entrance. He inserted one finger into you, moving it temptatively while his tongue continued its assault. 

      The difference between his actions got you close to your climax in no time, and you couldn't take it anymore. You pulled him up, receiving a puzzled look - like he could tell you were almost there and was annoyed to have to stop. You squeezed his shoulders, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, pushing your hips up against his. You couldn't breathe, couldn't see anything. All you could think about was having him inside you.

"Yunho, please. I really can't take it anymore. Please, fuck me."-you pressed your hips against his once more, desperate for some kind of friction. 

      He pressed down on you harder, loving the sensation of your naked bodies meeting. His movements were excruciatingly slow, and you could feel him shaking against you, keen on teasing you even though he wanted you just as much. You could do nothing but follow his hands with your eyes, heart beating so fast you could barely hear him; the beats louder than the music back at the club.

      As soon as you thought about the place, you whimpered. The memory of his hands running over your body, hips moving together to the beat of a sensuous song; "Dirty Dancing" a kids' show close to what you were doing. You didn't realize it then, but you could definitely feel now just how bad he wanted you, and how bad you wanted to succumb to your darkest desires. For months now you fought against your desire for him, and he seemed to have done the same. Letting go; it felt as freeing as freedom could possibly be. 

"Noona," he said, forcing you to open your eyes; you hadn't even realized you closed them. "Look at me."

      He looked down at you, almost naked - the last shreds of your tights still clinging to your skin - and smiled. His hands ran from your legs up to your chest, finally getting to your face. He touched your cheek softly, encouragingly, and you couldn't help but smile back at him. Just then, he started to look around, a question hanging on his face.

"I don't have any condoms," he said, pouting cutely - a big change from his previous dominant demeanor.

"Me neither," you added, although smiling. "But we don't need them."

      He stared at you then, confused but intrigued.

"I'm on the pill, and I'm clean," you smiled at him. "What about you?"

"I'm… I'm clean too, noona," he sounded dumbfounded. "Are you sure about this?"

"There's no one I trust more, Yunho," you said, pressing your hips against his again. "I want you."

"Fuck, you're too perfect, noona."

      He positioned himself, shaft touching your core lightly. He seemed lost in thought, so you swirled your hips again, hoping to bring back his dirty, needy expression. His right hand pressed your hips down on the bed, chest coming down to meet yours as he kissed you again, hungrily. You kissed him back, both hands behind his neck as you lost yourself to the sensation of his lips against his. 

      Before you could tell, he pushed inside you, to the hilt. You moaned at the sensation, hips moving again, as if they had a mind of their own. He didn't move, though. He just looked at you, trying to get used to the sensation of being inside you, revelling in your desperate movements and cries. You never looked so beautiful to him. 

"Please move," you begged him. "I'm going crazy."

      He started moving then, slow, sensuous thrusts hitting you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You clinged to him for dear life, every thought scaping you the moment he picked up his pace. 

      He kissed you again; a messy kiss, tongues trying to meet as he started to go even harder, every movement more precise than the one before. You could do nothing more than moan his name, the feeling of him filling you too good to put into words. He fit you perfectly, his expert hips only heightening the sensation. You melted against him, your hips trying desperately to match his movements as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

      As if he could feel you were getting closer, he slowed down, hands pulling your hair once again as he bit your bottom lip and moaned.

"Noona," he groaned, trying to hold back.

"God, Yunho," you moaned against him. "Don't stop, please."

      You wrapped your legs around his hips, feet pushing him to grind on you harder. You ran one hand over his ass, trying to touch him as much as you could, squeezing the flesh. His hands were now holding tight to your hips, so tight that you could feel bruises blossoming on your pale skin. But you didn't care. In fact, it only made you want him more, feelings and movements getting more and more frenetic. 

      You were getting off on the sensation of him inside you, as well as the thoughts of how many other positions you were hoping to try out with him. His dirty talking was making you lose control of your body, his gaze so erotic you fell like you could come from just looking at it. You had never felt this way before, so overcome with need, and it felt as painful as exhilarating. 

      He pushed your left leg back, getting even deeper than before. You cried out his name, closing your eyes with force, feeling your climax coming once again. He kept his pace this time, angling his hips to hit your spot again and again. You were already seeing stars, saying sentences that made no sense as you called out after him once more.

"Yunho," you gasped. "Oh my god."

      Your high was powerful and numbing. You couldn't focus on nothing other than his grunts, telling you he was close too. You fought the overstimulation, moving your hips to meet his as you asked him to finish inside you. It seemed to be enough to push him off the edge, and soon he was biting your shoulders, coming undone. 

      He reluctantly got off of you, laying beside you and pulling you close. You were still shaking from the aftermath, and he kissed you tenderly on the temple before nuzzling into your hair. This sweet behaviour was a strong contrast to his actions, and as soon as doubts started to creep over you, his lips made sure to shut them down. 

      You kissed him back, slowly, trying to figure out how to voice your thoughts. He pulled back slightly, smiling against your cheek as he laid a small kiss there, then turning your face up to look at him. He passed his right hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. His left hand kept drawing small circles on your left shoulder, matching the movements of yours against his chest.

"I'm sorry, noona," he whispered, sounding small.

"It's okay, baby," you smiled. "We're okay."

"I just..." he trailed off, as if lost in thought, a small smile creeping once more. "I don't know how it all escalated so quickly."

"Jealousy doesn't fit your image," you joked, snuggling against him. "That's for sure."

"God, I was such an asshole,"-he held you tighter. "I don't even know why."

"Yeah, you were," you laughed. "But we're good now."

"Really?" 

"I mean, you're lying naked on my bed at god-knows-what hours. You tell me!"

"I'd say we're great, then."

      He looked down at your entangled bodies, eyes changing once more as he focused on your breathing. Leaning down to kiss you again, he used his right hand to lift your body, still on his side, just a little bit. Enough to kiss you more fiercely, needy. You pulled back, smiling, before kissing his jaw, cheek, and then his lips once more. 

      He ran his right hand over your side, soft touches between your hips and waist. You whined softly against his lips, the sound escaping before you could stop. He looked at you, desire returning to his eyes as he started kissing your jaw. His switched between kissing and biting your sensitive skin, your right hand grabbing his hair hard as your body started to react to his actions. Then, he pressed his hips on yours, his erection standing firm between your bodies as you gasped.

"Already?" you asked, making him press harder. "You're spoiling me."

"I can't help it," he laughed, nibbling your skin once again. "You're so hot, noona."

      He sucked harshly on your collarbone, a purple mark already starting to show as he blew against the spot and kissed it. You pulled his head towards yours, kissing him like your life depended on it. At the heat of the moment, it really felt like it did. The feeling of how well his body reacted to yours spurting you on as you succumbed to want.

      He started to turn to get on top of you, kissing you harder by the second. You pressed your left hand firmly on his chest, not letting him do so. He looked at you, confused, before you pulled him to you and kissed him again, tongues fighting for dominance. This time, he let you win, and you explored his mouth lazely, trying to control your pace. 

      As he tried once more to get on top of you, you pressed him hard against the bed, left leg moving over to straddle him without interrupting the kiss. As soon as you settled on the new position, his erection pressing against your inner thigh, you rolled your hips.

"Fuck," he cried out, hands holding onto your waist. "Do that again."

      Once he saw you didn't move, nor would reply, he tried to roll his hips up to meet yours.

"Please, noona," he begged. "Please just-"

      Before he could finish his sentence, you rolled your hips again, harder this time. He hissed loudly, throwing his head back as his chest lifted from the bed. His hips started to move up, meeting yours as you kept grinding down on him. You smiled at how fucked up he looked, knowing that any remaining effects of your previous drinks were far gone; you were doing this to him.

      The realization hit you fast, and you moaned as you ceased your movements, hands balancing your weight on his chest. He looked at you, desperate, and you kissed him hard. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh as he tried to make you start moving your hips again. Your right hand started caressing his skin, tracing his collarbone and going lower, lower, until you reached his shaft. It felt warm and heavy on your hand, and you held it tightly, earning a string of curses from the younger boy. You teased him, kissing him hungrily.

      When you felt his chest moving hard, breaths getting erratic, you stopped kissing him and, ever so slowly, sank down on him. You didn't move until you felt he was fully inside you, finally opening your eyes to see that his were glued to where your bodies met. You temptatively moved against him, hips rolling as you got used to his length in this new position.

      He gripped your hips hard, not knowing if he wanted to make you move faster or to stop them completely. All you knew was that he looked ruined, and you loved it. The power you felt of being able to make him feel this way was enough to get you to start moving a little faster, hips sensuously rolling against his.

"Noona," he moaned. "I'm not gonna last if you keep going like this."

"Me neither," you confessed, grinding faster.

      He started to lift his hips to meet yours, getting deeper inside you. You moaned his name, never stopping your rolling motion as you got lost in the sensation, in how good he felt like this. The sounds of him fucking into you were lewd and intoxicating, taking over your small bedroom. He held you even tighter, your nails raking against his chest and lips biting on his neck as you fell on top of him, body unable to keep going and giving in to pleasure.

      He started to move faster, harder, searching for his release too. You squeezed him involuntarily, the motion enough to have him screaming for you as he climaxed, hands slowly rubbing your sore hips and thighs. You stood on top of him until your breathings got even, the glint of sweat making him look even more beautiful to you as you pushed from his chest.

      You excused yourself, legs feeling like jelly as you tried to go to the bathroom to get cleaned up. The simple action took you a lot longer than normal, your body still coming down from the intense sex you'd just had.

      Laying down on the bed again, he pulled you closer, not wanting to let go of you. You kissed his chest as he ran his hand on your hair, the act feeling more intimate than anything else you did that night. You could feel him smiling, a small laugh rumbling from his chest as he kissed your forehead.

      You weren't sure of how things would be in the morning, but you knew that you felt safe in his embrace, and that was more than enough for now. His slowing breathing lulled you to sleep, limbs numb from how intense you had each other. He held you tightly against his chest, a soft smile crossing his face as he soon fell asleep too.

      In the morning, you got up before him. Nothing new, considering he was a sleepyhead. You took a nice, warm shower, remembering your actions of the previous night. You were glowing, sated from how well he took you. You couldn't stop smiling.

      Wearing nothing but your nightgown, you headed to the room to see if he was up. He was sprawled on your bed, naked body barely covered by the thin sheets. It felt like a sin to wake him. You'd never seen him so peaceful before. You decided to cook breakfast before doing anything else, the idea of pancakes suddenly very appealing.

      While you were finishing your plates, he appeared in the corridor, only wearing his boxers.

"Good morning, noona," he smirked.

"Good morning, baby," you smiled back, too relaxed to care about his teasing.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, suddenly shy. 

"I feel good, honestly," you answered. "And you? You know we'll have to talk about it sooner or later right?"

"Later sounds good"-he got into the kitchen, holding you from behind as he stared at what you were doing."Something smells great in here."

"I thought it'd be nice to cook you something, since you worked so hard last night," you joked, blushing.

"I could think of better things to feast on in the morning, noona."-he turned you to him, pulling you by the hands when you tried to create some distance between you.

      He kissed you softly, pushing you back against the dining table. You smiled, kissing him back and running your hands through his hair. He lifted you by your legs, placing you on the table; hands squeezing your thighs hard as he opened them, pressing closer. You started kissing him harder, breakfast long forgotten. He started to push your nightgown upwards, touching the small bruises left from the night before when, suddenly, someone started knocking on your door.

"Noona, it's Hongjoong!" 

"It's all of us!" Mingi added, and you and Yunho shared a look, started to get nervous.

"Are you up?" Hongjoong asked. "Yunho didn't come home yesterday and he seemed so out of it after your fight. We don't know where he is and honestly, we're freaking out."

      Before Yunho could say anything, you ran over to the door, worried about your friends. You opened the door, trying to fix your disheveled look as best as you could.

"Thank god you're up!" Mingi said, hugging you. "We have no idea of where he is and-"

      Mingi and the rest of the boys fell silent as they saw Yunho leaning against the kitchen counter, barely dressed. You had the decency to blush, trying to cover any apparent hickies and marks with your hair, but he just smiled at the group, walking over to where they were standing as you closed the door behind them.

"Good morning, fellas," he said, grinning at you.

      The seven boys exchanged confused looks, a few of them already smirking at the scene they encountered. You were afraid they'd tease you endlessly, and were not ready for it; not at all. Thankfully, they just laughed and said hello to their bandmate. Yunho excused himself and went to get dressed. You and Wooyoung shared a knowing look, falling into a fit of laughter, soon followed by the rest of them.

"What were you doing, noona?" Seonghwa asked, smirking at you.

"I was… We were..." you fumbled with your words, blushing hard.

"It seems like they were about to have... breakfast," Yeosang said, and you were glad he saved you from the embarrassment, even if he still teased you.

"Yeah, that's what we were doing!" you exclaimed.

"Are those pancakes?" Jongho asked, smiling. "I'm starving!"

      You smiled at the boys, offering to cook for the whole group as Yunho got dressed, hoping they wouldn't mention whatever you were doing before they arrived ever again. They seemed to be trying hard to talk about anything else, joking about how they were glad their friend was safe and sound and mentioning how boring the club got once you left.

      They started telling you tour stories, laughing at crazy fan moments and embarrassing interviews. Your chest was full of love and happiness for this group, and you smiled softly at them, saying you couldn't wait to see them performing their next release - one you'd already heard, since you were so close.

      Yunho got back, smiling down at you, and he kissed you lightly on the cheek, picking up a plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs. The boys looked him over, San's hand running over his neck in a quick motion as he decided to speak up.

"That's gonna be hard to cover," he smirked, motioning to the love bite you left there.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yunho said, hand moving to cover the same spot his friend had touched, his ears turning red.

      If the group noticed San's teasing, they didn't show it; all too preoccupied with the table full of food to get into that. Yeosang looked up at you, smiling, and you couldn't help but smile back at him. You were as happy as you could be, knowing that everyone was treating you the same and, most importantly, knowing that Yunho didn't seem to be having second thoughts about whatever happened between you. You were still on friendly terms, you thought, and you realized you had never felt more content.

[bansept]

Protector

Part 2

Now this one... It’s a bit difficult to make a relationship believable, honest, not rushed and beautiful in 5 parts, but it’s the challenge! I won’t spoil anything, but I like writing fluff, and this fic is the perfect excuse for an overdose of it hehe

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

If the outside of the house had seemed particularly old and invaded by plants, the inside of the small cottage-like house was modern, with touches of colors everywhere. Old and new objects shared the shelves, silly magazines and philosophical books scattered on the small coffee table in the main room. The entrance, the living room and what seemed to be the start of the kitchen were harboring persian carpets, intricate and deep shapes almost hypnotic.

Nature was not just an outside thing, with a pot of roses on a dresser, some small ferns hiding an old plushie, and more box trees scattered here and there, next to modern lamps.

It felt homey, comfortable. Lived-in. Nothing like Ichigo’s sad apartment, that he never really cared to decorate.

Orihime Inoue sat on her grey sofa, the soft red and white check plaid to her side, and patiently waited for Ichigo to sit down. The young man certainly didn’t make her wait, sitting in what seemed to be a Chesterfield-like armchair. The cushions were a great help soothing his back pains.

“Alright, um, Miss Inoue I only need you to tell me what happened at the bakery. Or anything you can remember.” He clicked his pen to life, taking a notepad from his vest pocket. Orihime seemed to frown a little.

“I thought you said you had already read a report on this?”

“I did, but only the official parts : who were the victims, what age they were and what were the damages. Knowing what you saw could greatly help my colleagues on the field.”

She nodded in understanding, hair bouncing on her shoulders, before getting more comfortable in her seat.

“I was doing my normal and daily routine : waking up, washing up and going for a walk before heading to the bakery. Not many people are there at the time, which was around 7 if I’m not mistaken.” Ichigo nodded, confirming silently.

“I arrived and waited behind Miss Parker. We were chatting and it was her turn before I heard a scream behind me. I turned around and ran to the place I thought it came from, but before I could do anything… It, it exploded. And the owners died, Miss Parker is wounded, I heard.” Her grey eyes blinked rapidly, as if to stop tears from falling. Ichigo awkwardly shifted, placing his pen and notepad back in his pocket before managing to get a clean and unused tissue to her.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that, Miss Inoue. If it can make you feel better, I know none of the injured are in critical conditions now. Even older customers like Miss Parker will be fine.”

Orihime wiped a tiny tear off her eyes quickly, and Ichigo remarked with awe she was not wearing any kind of makeup. This woman was beautiful like that while doing nothing with her face… He cleared his throat to see her nod, taking a shaky breath before smiling.

“I hope the injured will be alright. And that the culprit will be caught.”

The steel in her eyes hardened, sending a chill down Ichigo’s spine. He had seen harsh looks, murderous ones and angered glares, but Orihime’s was by far the scariest. The man peeled his hand away.

“We will work hard for it. And thanks to your testimony, the investigation will be easier. Hopefully.”

She chuckled at the last word, and by all the goddamn beautiful things on this earth, he swore he was hearing some kind of divine bells. Like an angelic sound coming to bless his ears. He was not even going to think about how her face had crunched up at her laughter. The policeman scratched the back of his head quickly, nervously looking around.

He heard her stand up and tried his best not to follow her moving around in her dark jeans and pink oversized shirt.

“Would you like anything to drink? Or eat?”

Ichigo managed to not choke on air at the ask, because then his fear of being viewed as unprofessional would have come true.

“Um, yes, some coffee please.” His voice was shaky and he internally hit himself for being stupidly crushing over the girl he didn’t know anything about. Except that she was the victim of an explosion that had occured yesterday morning and he was there for WORK.

“Alright. Make yourself comfortable, Mister Officer.”

And now, Ichigo turned crimson, heart going too fast, but thankfully she was out of sight, he told himself, not knowing she was the same kind of absolutely wrecked by the other.

.

.

.

After the first talk in Orihime’s wonderful home, Ichigo had hardly let her out of his sight, only leaving her side to go to his apartment and gather some new clothes. Because, yes, as weird and delightful as it was, he was guarding the young woman day and night now.

Which meant being near her as long as the investigation was rolling.

According to Orihime, nothing or no one was running after her in particular : she didn’t have any enemies, nor was her work important enough for someone to physically act against her. In front of her beautiful grey eyes, Ichigo had decided to trust her, the honesty and sincerity shining bright through him.

Still, it didn’t explain why certain things happened.

One morning, Orihime found one of her shoes, who was always tidily placed near the other in the entrance hall, on a bookshelf, dust slowly growing on it. She had giggled a “silly me”, but the young police officer frowned : there was nothing silly about that.

Another time, a vase she loved had been buried in her garden, the only way to see where it was hidden being the stray cat that often visited the normally calm house scratching the ground curiously.

“You’re thinking too much of it! Really, sometimes I don’t remember where or why I put stuff in weird places.”

Her words did little to soothe him, and only her gentle hand on his arm got his mind out of his working gutter. Ichigo felt his skin react before his muscles, his face turning vermillion and his arm longing for more. More of her, more of those innocent stares and vibrant smiles.

The orange-haired scratched the back of his neck rapidly, scanning the room quickly before nodding, a timid smile on his lips.

“I-I guess…”

Orihime smiled again, even brighter, and turned her head to look at the clock, the auburn mass of hair sending a wave of mouth watering strawberry shampoo. Early afternoon, the sun was shining and that meant one thing to her : gardening.

He suspected her to work her actual job at night, when he was sleeping deeply in his own room, so Ichigo could not interrupt her, or sneak a look at confidential documents. Alone in her room, one light shining on the young woman while her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, the time when her hyperactive brain could entirely focus on whatever an astrophysicist worked on.

The two walked out of the house, one with baggy clothes she wasn’t afraid to ruin with grass, dirt and others, while the other kept his pastel yellow t-shirt with his jeans, the best Ichigo could do against the hot weather of the late summer. Orihime immediately tended to the flowers, carefully handling them, talking to them like she would to old friends, making jokes to Ichigo. It was as if the two were friends since childhood, the discussions so easy it would scare the man.

“Do you believe in other lives, Officer Kurosaki?”

“Hm? Oh, well, I’m not much in religion, so I would say no.”

Her face shivered with a giggle, batting her hand as if to call him silly. He tilted his own head to the side.

“I meant… Other lifetimes. I used to not really think about it, but, since a few months ago, after reuniting with a long-lost friend, I started believing. And now..” Her eyes batted to the sides, probably looking for her gardening kit.

“Now… I start to believe that you and I might just have known each other in another life. A simpler one, with no-one to hurt good people while young and old people enjoy their lives.”

Head down, fingers playing with the stem of a voluminous pink rose. The sun radiating on their backs, hiding their reddening selves.

How much either one of them wished for that.

[adenei]

Next Steps - Ch. 9

Harry and Ginny’s Elopement!

A Beach Wedding

Hermione was sitting on the bed in Harry and Ginny’s suite in the bridesmaid dress she and Ginny had picked out just days prior. It was a short emerald green chiffon dress with a criss cross bodice and sweetheart neckline, and a halter strap that tied in the back. It was perfect for the beach. 

The resort’s hairstylist and makeup artist had finished just a short time ago, taming Hermione’s unruly hair and setting it into a side chignon. Ginny’s hair was down and styled with soft curls that flowed effortlessly down her back. Both girl’s makeup had been done naturally, but accentuated their features. 

Hermione heard the door to the bathroom open and Ginny stepped out. “How do I look?” she asked Hermione as she grinned widely. 

“Ginny! You look stunning! Wait til Harry sees you!” Hermione gushed. Ginny had chosen a very simple, A-line white tulle gown. It was backless with a deep V neckline, spaghetti straps and an empire waistline. She was wearing bedazzled white flip flops underneath the flowing skirt. 

There was a knock on the door and Hermione went to open it. It was the resort’s wedding planner, Jessica. “Hello, ladies! Are you almost ready? It’s time to head down to the beach now. We’ll get you two set behind the barrier before your men take their places, and then we’ll get this show on the road!”

“Almost,” Hermione said as she walked over to the dresser and picked up the small gold pendant necklace and clasped it around Ginny’s neck. She then picked up the two bouquets and handed one to Ginny. They’d chosen a beautiful arrangement of white lilies for Ginny, and Hermione’s was similar, but included light pink lilies with baby’s breath instead. Hermione grabbed hers and Ginny’s room keys and tucked them inside her dress as they followed Jessica out to the wedding venue. 

As they neared the location, they could see the archway set up, and the aisle that was laden with flower petals. The weather was absolutely beautiful. The sun was shining, and the soft sound of the waves meeting the sand in the background was soothing.

“The photographer will capture the ceremony, and then he will take you for pictures around the property. After that, we’ve got a private dining room set up for you at the Black Angus.” They were now behind the barrier. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the gentleman and then we’ll get you married!” Jessica smiled brightly and took off to get Harry and Ron.

“Last chance,” Hermione said jokingly. “If you want to back out, you better run now!”

“Very funny, and I’ll remember that when it’s your turn,” Ginny teased.

“Thank you for letting us be a part of this, Ginny.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. It just happened to work out perfectly and we only needed a little extra planning.”

“I still can’t believe we pulled it off in a few days. And without the rest of the Weasleys finding out.” 

Hermione was thinking about the whirlwind of shopping they’d done after they’d visited their travel agent the day after Christmas. There’d been a 4:00 slot open for a wedding at the resort, which Ginny gladly claimed, and from there they’d ironed out the rest of the details. It helped that they didn’t have a formal reception that needed planning, so they’d opted for a private dinner in the fanciest restaurant, and then after they’d planned to go to the adult nightclub for some dancing in their attire. 

They’d gone shopping for their dresses in muggle London, and had found what they were looking for fairly quickly. And then, Ginny had insisted on visiting the fancy lingerie stores for the wedding night. Despite it all, everything was turning out perfectly, and you’d never know that they’d thrown everything together in less than a week.

Before they knew it, Jessica was back and they could hear music beginning to play from the surround speakers. “Are you ready?” she asked as the girls nodded. “Alright, you’re up first,” she nodded at Hermione, who squeezed Ginny’s hand before stepping around the barrier. 

She made her way to the aisle and looked up at Harry and Ron when she began walking towards them. She beamed at her best friend and her fiance, who looked rather fine themselves. Both were wearing khaki linen trousers and white button down shirts. Ron’s sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, while Harry’s was covered in a matching linen suit jacket.

When her eyes met Ron’s, he was giving her a look that was both full of love and excitement. It was clear he only had eyes for her while Harry was looking past her now, waiting anxiously for Ginny to make her way around the barrier next.

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

Ginny was shaking out the nervous energy that was billowing in her stomach. She’d been waiting for this moment for as long as she could remember. She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air, allowing the rhythm of the waves to calm her. 

“It’s time,” she heard Jessica say, and Ginny brought herself back to reality. 

She was about to marry Harry Potter, her childhood crush. The boy who’d saved her life in the Chamber of Secrets, had kissed her in front of the entire Gryffindor student body, and had miraculously survived and defeated Voldemort. There were so many obstacles they’d had to overcome and get to this day, and all the odds were always against them, but now they were about to enter their own happily ever after. 

Ginny turned around the corner and was now at the end of the aisle. Before she started walking she looked up at the scene in front of her. Her eyes found Harry’s and that was all she needed to propel her forward. He was staring at her with that same dumbfounded look he’d had after he kissed her for the first time. She felt her face break into a wide smile both at the memory and at the man who was waiting for her. 

It felt like the aisle kept getting longer because it took forever to reach him, but finally she made it. Hermione reached out to take her bouquet, and then Ginny turned to face Harry. “Potter,” she said with a playful smirk.

“Weasley,” he grinned back at her with those bright green eyes she loved so much. 

The officiant began the ceremony, going through the standard monologue. Ron had pretended he couldn’t find the rings when it was time to exchange them, and then it was time for the vows. The officiant had nodded to Ginny to go first.

“Harry,” she started. She’d rehearsed the words a million times, yet they’d still gotten caught in her throat. “If you’d told my ten year old self that this day would come, I would have been equal parts mortified and impatient for the day to come. I’ve liked you more than you maybe knew for the longest time, and honestly I’m really glad I was able to get over the ‘couldn’t speak to you’ thing. I know the past is messy, but looking back, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love your stupidly noble self, and I promise I’ll be there at your side through everything life throws at us from here on out. I’m so glad you and my brother became best friends on the train first year so I could get to know you better. So, that being said, I promise to always make you laugh, to remind you not to take life too seriously, and I’ll always be there for you through everything. I love you, Harry.”

The officiant then looked at Harry, who cleared his throat. “Thanks for never giving up on me, Gin,” he started as a chuckle could be heard from Ron and Hermione. “I love you more than you know, even if I was slower on the uptake. No one can quite make me laugh like you do, and I promise to always equally match your wit as best I can. I’ll make sure I consult you before doing anything too noble, and I can’t wait to see what the rest of this life has planned for us. I love you, too.”

The next thing she knew, the officiant was saying, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride!”

Neither waited another second as Harry took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was the perfect kiss, and everything Ginny had ever hoped for. They were officially married, on a beach in the Bahamas, and nothing could take away that blissful feeling. Not even the wrath of the Weasley family that would no doubt be waiting back in England when they got back from their holiday.

[openheartchoices]

Mistletoe Kisses (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Mistletoe Kisses

Open Heart: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Olivia Summers)

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: none

Summary: It’s the very first annual Edenbrook Christmas party, and Olivia can’t help but spend her night filled with jealousy and mistletoe.

A/N: just a cheesy little mistletoe fic because I’m a sucker for them. lots of love and happy reading! <3

“A certain doctor is going to fall over in shock when he sees you,” Sienna said with a wink as her and Olivia walked up to the hotel.

It was the first annual Edenbrook Christmas party. When the hospital ran into some extra money, Olivia had suggested throwing a “fancy” Christmas party to relax from all the pressure the staff had been put under recently. However, she didn’t think her idea would actually be taken seriously, but now she was currently walking up the steps to the hotel where the party was being held at.

The entire hospital wouldn’t be at the party since there was always sick people that needed care, and a hospital couldn’t just shut down for the night, obviously, but Olivia knew that Ethan had the night off (she may or may not have asked Naveen and made him pinky promise to not tell Ethan she asked) and was hoping he’d show up.

Before entering, Olivia turned to Sienna. “Are you sure I look okay? I feel like I did too much.”

Sienna rolled her eyes. “You can never do too much. You look incredible! It’s just a party. Don’t let it freak you out.”

Olivia nodded to her best friend as they entered the luxurious hotel ballroom to see it lavishly decorated. Soft music played while everyone mingled, a glass of something in their hand whether it was champagne, scotch, eggnog, or some fancy drink that Olivia really didn’t recognize. She soon realized that she wasn’t overdressed at all once she saw a lady walk by her in a full ballgown.

“Edenbrook can really throw a party,” Sienna muttered, her shawl wrapped tightly around her, eyes wide as she glanced around the place.

“Yeah, you’re telling me. I don’t even know half of these people,” Olivia replied as she was equally just as starstruck.

Across the room, Ethan, who was chatting to a colleague he really didn’t like, looked around in boredom. He hated dressing up and coming to formal events like this. His eyes darted across the ballroom in hopes to find someone he could strike a conversation up with to get out of the awful one he was in.

And he did.

He swore he stopped breathing when his eyes landed on Olivia who stood near the entrance with Dr. Trinh. She wore a long, red dress that was tight from her chest to her abdomen and then was flared out to the floor from there with a modest slit up her right leg. The dress had lace sleeves down the arms, and Ethan didn’t care that his staring was probably very obvious.

Her blonde hair was delicately braided into a low, messy bun that sat on the right side of her neck, a few pieces of curled hair framed her face that was just as stunning. Ethan couldn’t tell much about her makeup from where he was standing, but he definitely noticed the red lipstick that coated the lips he had kissed many times.

Dr. Trinh must have said something funny because Olivia let into laughing. Ethan felt his heart stop when Olivia’s face lit up. Her nose scrunched up, her head went back, and her mouth morphed into the smile that always left him speechless.

“Excuse me,” Ethan said to the colleague who would not shut up about his achievements before he made his way over to Olivia, his eyes never leaving her.

“Did it work?” Olivia muttered under her breath.

Sienna grinned. “Don’t look to your left, but he’s on his way over right now. I’m going off to mingle. Have fun!”

“Sienna!” It was too late as Sienna had already disappeared into a crowd of people when Ethan finally stood in front her.

Olivia took a look up at him. He was wearing a simple, yet expensive, black tuxedo with a black bowtie and his hair was neatly styled. Even with as simple as he dressed, Olivia still felt her heart race.

She smiled at him, making a mental note to not embarrass herself or be awkward. “Enjoying yourself or are you just being moody as usual?”

He rolled his eyes, opting to ignoring her comment.. “You look… nice, Rookie.”

“Just nice?” Olivia joked, earning a laugh from Ethan.

“Sorry. You look stunning, Olivia.”

Her eyelashes fluttered at the compliment as her cheeks turned a crimson red that was noticeable even under all the makeup. “You look nice, too, Ethan.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Just nice?”

It was Olivia’s turn to laugh this time. She was too busy laughing to notice the way Ethan was looking at her as if she was the only girl in the room.

“Okay, fine. You look very nice. I’d say handsome, but saying that word makes me feel as old as you.”

“I’m only thirty-seven, Olivia, not eighty-seven,” he dejectedly said. “So, what are-“

“If it isn’t Dr. Ethan Ramsey!” A voice from behind Olivia interrupted. “I haven’t seen you in what feels like ages!”

Olivia watched as a woman, whose face she couldn’t see, stood right in front of her, throwing her arms around Ethan’s neck. She furrowed her brow as she tried to figure out why this mysterious lady was hugging the man she was talking to before they were rudely interrupted.

As the woman turned around to face Olivia, she moved her arm to snake around Ethan’s waist while Olivia attempted to not glare at it. Ethan looked a little shocked, but he loosely put his  hand on her waist just to look nice.

He cleared his throat, sensing the obvious tension. “Olivia, this is Dr. Katherine Greene. She’s the Department Head of Cardiology at Mass Kenmore, and we went to Johns Hopkins together. Katherine, this is Dr. Olivia Summers who is a junior fellow on my team.”

There was no denying that Katherine was extremely pretty. With her long, dark hair that was down to her waist, chocolate brown eyes, and perfect complexion, Olivia felt a little insecure. Katherine wore a long, silver dress with a low neckline that clashed perfectly with her tanned skin.

“Hello,” Katherine cooly said as Olivia forced a smile back in acknowledgement. “When Harper invited me, I was a little reluctant to accept considering the little rivalry we have with Edenbrook, but when I thought I’d get the chance to reconnect with Ethan,” she put her free hand on his arm, “I jumped to tell Harper that I would come.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows as she crossed her arms. “Glad you could make it.”

Katherine shot her a sickly sweet smile. “I am, too. It’s been so long since Ethan and I have seen each other. We haven’t been in touch since, what, our last date?”

Ethan dated her? As in a romantic relationship? Olivia couldn’t hide the look of genuine surprise on her face. Ethan sensed her surprise and was quick to say something. “I wouldn’t call that a date.”

Before Katherine could say anything else, Olivia had decided she was getting sick just looking at the intelligently graceful woman. Although she was extremely flirty and obviously was rubbing whatever relationship they’d had, platonic or romantic, in Olivia’s face, she still had a beautiful elegance about her. “I’m going to grab a drink.”

As she moved around Ethan, he gently grabbed her arm. “Wait, Olivia-“

“No, it’s fine. You two obviously have some catching up to do. I’ll see you later.” Olivia gave him the best smile she could, but the two of them knew it was fake. Ethan went to walk after her, but Katherine grabbed him again, forcing him into a flirtatious conversation he was not in the slightest bit interested in.

“Katherine, you know that wasn’t a date. We got lunch at the same place during the convention in New York, and you sat down at my table.”

Katherine laughed. “Lighten up, Ethan. That little girl is crushing on you and, by the way, it’s painfully obvious. Just letting her know that it won’t happen just so you won’t have to tell her.”

Ethan glared. “Olivia is anything except a little girl. She’s an exceptional doctor and, just like I told the governor, she’s the bright future of Edenbrook. She’s incredibly smart, mature, and can hold her own. I suggest for you to not make comments like that around me about members of my team, Dr. Greene. Especially Olivia Summers.”

—

“And she just put her arm around him. Openly flirting, Dr. Banerji!” Olivia exasperated. “I was standing right there!”

Naveen chuckled. “Sounds like Katherine. She’s always been like that.”

“You know her well?” Olivia asked, taking another sip of champagne.

She stood against the railing outside. The party was still going on inside, but Olivia needed a moment to herself. However, she didn’t decline Dr. Banerji’s company when he asked if he could join her. She liked him quite a bit and always enjoyed his company.

“I wouldn’t say I know her extremely well, but I do know her,” he said. “Ethan said she always tried to get him to go out with her when they were in school, but he was never interested. He finally decided to have dinner with her about two or three years ago, but he wasn’t feeling anything for her. She’s always liked him and always had that flirty attitude.”

“Do you think he’d… go out with her again?” Olivia asked as she fiddled with the lace sleeve of her dress, trying to not look Dr. Banerji in the eye.

Ethan was a grown man. He could date whoever he wanted, but Olivia hoped and wished that it wasn’t Katherine in her stupidly gorgeous silver gown and her long, goddess-looking hair. Deep down, she knew she wished it was her.

As unrealistic as it was considering how Ethan wanted to keep their relationship strictly professional, she did dream of a day when they could walk into a Christmas party hand-in-hand. When Ethan wouldn’t push her away, and when he wouldn’t remind her that their relationship wasn’t a good idea.

With a laugh, Naveen turned to face the younger doctor. “I’ve known Ethan for a long time. I consider him family. In all this time, I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you. You have nothing to worry about, Olivia. It’ll always be you. Even if he’s too stubborn to admit it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Banerji.” And she really did mean that.

The older man smiled kindly when he patted her shoulder as he walked by her on his way back inside after letting her know he had business to attend to. “It’s Naveen, Olivia.”

Olivia clutched her empty champagne glass after she took the last sip. The party had been in full swing for close to two hours now. She had spent more than half of the time hiding outside, a quarter of it looking for Sienna who was her ride home, and the other quarter hoping that she wouldn’t bump into Ethan and Katherine.

Her luck proved to not be in her favor when she felt a presence next to her. She didn’t even have to look to see who it was because she could smell the expensive cologne in the air that had been trapped on the pillow he slept on when he stayed at her apartment before he went to the Amazon.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding from me at.” Ethan turned to look at Olivia whose red lipstick had rubbed off on the empty glass she held. The moon illuminated her face, lighting it up in ways that made her look even more beautiful.

She turned to him, her perfectly styled hair starting to fall down even through all the hairspray Sienna sprayed on her. She laughed. “Guilty as charged.”

“I never dated Katherine,” Ethan told her. “It was one date, and I knew I wasn’t interested in her that way five minutes in. And the date she was talking about wasn’t even a date.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain your love life to me. It’s not like we’re together or anything.” Olivia hoped she was hiding the sad tone to her voice, but felt like she let it slip. She felt like she let a lot of things slip around Ethan.

Ethan looked down and bit his lip. Olivia was right. They weren’t together, so why did he feel so extremely guilty? “We should head back inside. Lace sleeves aren’t made for December weather. I don’t want you getting cold.”

Olivia nodded, a chill coming over her as if the wind had been waiting for Ethan to say that. She sat the empty glass on a tray sitting on a table outside as she crossed her arms trying to get some warmth flowing through her body.

Ethan had discarded his tuxedo jacket on the hanger near the entrance or else he would’ve given it to Olivia who was obviously cold. His fingers lingered on her lower back as he guided her back inside, leaving Olivia’s heart to skip a beat.

“Was that there before?” Olivia asked, pointing up to the doorway.

Ethan followed her gaze to see a mistletoe hanging right above them. He frowned. That most definitely had not been there before when he came out to see her after Naveen had told him that Olivia was…

Realization hit Ethan like a truck as he let out a groan. “Naveen. It was Naveen.”

Olivia had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, but she failed to do so and burst out. She brought her hand up to her mouth to try and quiet herself, but she found the whole situation too hilarious. “Where did he get a mistletoe? And how did we not see him put it there behind our backs?”

“It’s Naveen, Olivia. He may be old, but he’s capable of more than you think.”

Now came the awkward part.

Olivia and Ethan refused to meet each others’ eyes. They really didn’t know how they were going to get out of this. Yes, they could just walk away, but they were both lingering for the same reason. There was no “walking away” and they both knew it.

“Well,” Olivia drawled. She cleared her throat. “It is a, uh, Christmas tradition.”

Ethan paused for a moment before regaining his composure. “Rookie, I don’t know-“

“Kiss on the cheek and we call it a night?” Olivia asked, looking straight into his eyes.

He thought about it for a moment. It was just a kiss on the cheek. That was all he was going to do. Pre-teens in middle school gave kisses on the cheeks. Surely he, at age thirty-seven, could kiss a girl on the cheek. In the back of his mind though, he knew it was because this wasn’t just some girl. It was Olivia.

Ethan grabbed the girl’s chin, moving her head to the side to gain access to her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her cheek slowly, letting his lips linger as Olivia slowly moved back to face him, Ethan’s hand still on her chin.

“Olivia-“

She put her index finger to his lips and stopped him before he could say anything else. Olivia trailed her finger to his shoulder where she gripped it with her hand. At last, she finally whispered, “Kiss me, Ethan.”

He was drawn to her and absolutely smitten to the blonde standing in front of him that he did exactly that. Ethan softly pressed their lips together in a sweet, yet passionate kiss that Olivia couldn’t help but smile in the middle of.

“What’re you smiling at?” He whispered, their faces still extremely close.

“Thinking about how Katherine wishes she was doing what I’m doing right now.” She let out a laugh that fanned across Ethan’s face, and he couldn’t help but laugh right along with her.

Once the laughter had stopped, Olivia wrapped both arms around his neck as his hands went around her waist. She laid her head on his shoulder, thankful they were having this private moment that no one else saw. The soft music playing from inside made everything even more like a daydream.

“Liv, you know that if things were different-“

“I know.”

The two relished in the moment because they knew that it was going to have to end soon. They had to go back to reality. For a moment, they could feel like a normal couple in love. They could pretend they had what they wanted. But only for a short amount of time.

But as Ethan held the girl in his arms that made him feel things he’d never felt in his entire life, he realized that he didn’t want this to just be a dream. He wanted this to be the real thing.

“We’ll talk, okay?” Ethan said after a moment of silence, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll figure something out.”

He felt her smile and nuzzle deeper into him, and, for the moment, he couldn’t help but smile, too. She had that effect on him. The one that made him feel dizzy and out of breath, but in a good way. Olivia was everything good wrapped up into an incredible person.

From inside the hotel, unbeknownst to Olivia and Ethan, Naveen and Sienna high-fived each other.

“You think it worked for sure?”

“Absolutely, Dr. Banerji. Nice work. I think we just pushed them in the right direction."

[capsized-heart]

Lady Liberty and The Captain / Part One

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (1940′s Brooklyn AU)

Summary: You are a rising young star and the newest breakout actress in Hollywood’s Golden Age! When war finally descends on the west, your reputation as America’s Sweetheart finds you cast in a promotional picture alongside Captain America himself.

Yet, he looks eerily familiar, like your Stevie from childhood…

Word count: 4.7k+

Warnings: fluff!!

A/N: hello, everyone!!!! I hope you’re staying home, warm, and safe during these crazy times. I’ve been snuggling with my doggie and continuing with my university’s online classes in my final semester..absolutely crazy how things are rn. I hope this new story can help brighten up your day just a little bit.

First of all, I just want to say thank you💖💛for all the love that old and new readers alike have shown this blog recently. I’ve been writing on this platform for a little less than a year and I never thought l’incendie would blow up as much as it has. You guys are amazing. I’m really excited and eager to share new pieces and hope you enjoy the content I have coming! Please don’t hesitate to pop in and say hi, or shoot me a message. I’ve really enjoyed connecting with readers and would love to know your thoughts on my fics, or just to talk about fandom stuff! Timmy included! PAHAHA

So, this chapter is gonna be a part of a mini-series for a 1940′s writing challenge and I’m using the prompt of wartime romance! This will probably be split into two or three parts and I will tag the host as soon as the last chapter goes up, I’ll most likely make a masterlist in the end as well. Reader has a name in this fic, but hopefully the choice of name will make sense later on :D

As always, feel free to drop a ask/message if you’d like a tag in the next update.

ENJOY!

THE NEW YORK TIMES

Film: ‘Apple of Discord’, Lola Swanson’s Dazzling Debut! 

By NICHOLAS WATTS                                                                                                                      September 1, 1943

----------

The film drama from the original screenplay written and directed by Andrew Campbell opened to a roar of applause and acclaim at the Radio City Music Hall yesterday evening. Apple of Discord is a reimagining of the myth and Plato’s allegory, focusing on the tumultuous, profoundly elegant life of a young noblewoman during the Trojan wars.  

The film’s frontrunner and leading lady is Hollywood newcomer, young and fresh-faced Lola Swanson. Swanson’s performance is so thoughtful, so unfaltering, so intelligent and controlled that it is hard to believe this is little Lola’s long awaited motion picture debut. And what a debut this is! 

Starring opposite Hollywood veterans Sean Schultz, Kash Dennis, and Gracie Smith, this star-studded cast packs punches and sizzling chemistry and yet, Swanson does not fizzle out but confidently holds her own, demanding your attention in every scene, and rightfully so. Watching Swanson in this picture is watching a major actress in the making. 

Born and raised in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen before moving to Brooklyn to pursue acting, some may recognize Lola from her daytime television roles in Insanity and Passion, It’s a Date! and as Jessica in Jessica Davis Returns.

Now we know these roles were preparing Swanson for the debut of the decade.   

“APPLE OF DISCORD” is now showing at the Radio City Music Hall and Cinema 2. Tickets at 25 cents. Running time: 139 minutes.

★★★★☆

——

APPLE OF DISCORD, written and directed by Andrew Campbell; director of photography, Laszlo Kovacs; edited by John Wright; music by John Barry; released by Universal Pictures.

----------

The newspaper trembles hard between your fingers, threatening to tear its edges. Pulse pounding, ears ringing. You can’t stop smiling. You feel like crying. 

You reread the words again and again, the words written by legendary film critic Nicholas Watts, the man you’ve only dreamed of making an impression on, that he’d someday see you in a picture. And here he’s written a glowing review of your major motion picture debut. 

You erupt in a fit of giggles and screams, twirling around the small space of your apartment in a swirl of nightgown, pinned curls. A neighbor, Mr. Krisinski, you think, pounds on your wall to shut you up. 

It’s still early morning and you had gone downstairs at first light to buy a paper from a newsboy. Outside your window, the streets of New York already yawn and bustle with morning commute. The movement of people, gleaming automobiles against the red brick buildings and muted gray of Manhattan. Warm sun washes over it all, your heart brimming and full, mirroring the glow of golden dawn. 

You feel on top of the world. Maybe you’ll finally make it here.

Your phone rings. You rush over to the mint blue rotary telephone on your bedside table, snatch up the receiver before Mr. Krisinski can break down your door with all the racket you’re making.

“Hello?” You say into the mouthpiece, cradling it between your hands. You feel breathless, high strung and buzzing, like you’d just downed a whole case of Coca-Cola, whirring with the taste of sugar and success, bubbling with starpower. Maybe it’s Kash or Gracie calling to congratulate you. Hell, maybe even President Roosevelt.

“Lola! It’s me. Have you read the paper?” The cool voice of Peggy asks you through the receiver. You quietly laugh at your own fantastical expectations. Of course it’s Peggy. Punctual, collected Peggy. 

Peggy Carter is your talent agent and manager at MGM. Peggy had snatched you up while you had been working as a background actress on Michael Curtiz’s Casablanca, so hopeful and beholden just to be in the presence of such respected artists, willing to stay the extra hours even after the other girls had gone home when realizing they wouldn’t be seen in the shot. It hadn’t been your first time on a hot set, you were used to the itchy costumes, long hours of endless waiting, and the empty stomachs, but no way you were going to miss a chance to see Ingrid Bergman and Madeleine LeBeau up close. 

Back then, only a few years ago yet a lifetime away it seems, Peggy had been a casting assistant, seeing your dedication and marching right up to you between takes to hand you her card. On the back, written in smooth blue ink, a time the next morning for an audition at MGM Studios in downtown New York. Eight o'clock sharp. 

You didn’t sleep at all that night after you wrapped.

She’s worked at getting you into audition rooms and meetings for years, pushing you onto writers, production assistants, riggers, directors. She had secured you an audition with Andrew Campbell after “accidentally” leaving your headshot in his mailroom and later calling his assistant with threats of stolen property. MGM’s new fresh face had been penciled in for a side read the following week. 

Fierce, ingenious, and your own bright star, you’ve risen through the ranks and fought your way up with Peggy at your side. 

“Yeah, Peg. I have it here in front of me. This is...absolutely nuts.” 

“Not really, you were brilliant in the picture, darling. But it’s a comfort to know Watts has finally replaced that cotton in his brain with some sense.”

Another laugh from you, twirling the telephone cord around your finger.

“Let me have this one, Peg.”

“If you insist.” 

You hear the rustling of newspaper from the other end. You can practically see Peggy sitting at her desk, perusing the paper over a morning cup of coffee, her hair curled, makeup and nails all scarlet red and perfect. The golden placard glittering on the frosted glass of the door. 

Margaret Carter, Casting Director.

“I’m calling to tell you about an offer we received this morning from Paramount. I think you should take it.” 

That rush of giddiness burns bright again in your veins, pulse skyrocketing. 

“Paramount? Geez, what did they say?”

“They want you for a promotional picture that’s being produced by Senator Brandt. Brandt is hoping to boost the homefront’s war bond sales with a little starpower from you and from Captain America. You’ve seen his posters, haven’t you? That costumed bloke?”

You have. Plastered everywhere and looking like an absolute buffoon. Nice physique, though. 

The disappointment that settles in your stomach is ugly and cold, like a fruitless pit, hard, rough, a sour taste in your mouth. It’s stupidly childish, yet your own expectations for your first movie, first box office hit, for that very first taste of the promised fame and fortune of success, begin to blink out. Expectations you’ve held on to since you were a little girl, since you realized this is the type of work you want to do for the rest of your life.

You’ve managed to impress Nicholas Watts, the most cynical film critic in all of Hollywood, and this is your big break? A Paramount picture featuring you and a tights-wearing mascot?

Peggy is practically asking you to star alongside Mickey Mouse.

“Is that all they offered?” You respond. You wince at the demanding, ungrateful tone. Afterall, showbiz has hardened you to go after what you want, to take and take because this lifestyle does not guarantee anything. You’re told no more than you are yes, the constant rejection having molded you into a diamond tough girl, glitzy and solid, unbreakable, beautiful. 

But how many girls would kill to be in your place?

“The only sensible deal. They also offered you the role of Violet for It’s a Wonderful Life, and Ruthie in The Grapes of Wrath.”

“What?! Peggy, contract me for those instead!” 

“Well, I’m not going to. And you listen well as to why.”

You twist your lips together. Peggy’s voice filters clipped and disapproving through the phone line, the way she always gets before she offers you damned good advice. 

“Not just Watts is impressed with your work, Lola. You’re finally turning heads and for all good reasons. Anyone can get in front of a camera if they have the right look. But you’ve shown them that you have the look and the raw talent. Critics are saying you’re rivaling Judy Garland, darling. And you’re telling me you want the part of a lousy love interest? A secondary daughter? All because the pictures have big names behind them and people may go see it?

“No,” you mumble.

“No is right. You know better than anyone that people expect young stars to burn out fast so they can take their place. It’s all business. If I put you in for those roles, we’d be playing right into their hand. We’d use up all your potential in one summer. The public would get sick of seeing your face in every big picture. We have to earn their affection, darling. It’s slow and tame and not always glamorous, but this deal is smart.”

You listen, silently.

“Morale is low. War is when people turn to familiar pastimes and simple pleasures. To treat themselves, to take their minds off all the grizzly headlines. Captain America embodies all of that and more. If we take this, I promise you, Lola, that people will remember you as the girl who got them through the darkest times. This will do wonders for your career years down the line. And then, if you still want to play Violet, I’ll phone Frank Capra myself.” 

You close your eyes and draw in a breath, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

“Well, it looks like I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Wonderful. I’ll phone Paramount now. We’ll be in touch.” 

--

Growing up with poor Irish immigrants for parents, the rare moments you could afford to splurge on luxuries, you spent them at local cinemas and theaters with your brother. Any day was a good one when you and Samuel bought tickets for a noon screening, the cheapest showing of the day, scraping together pocket change to split a popcorn if you were feeling extra special.

And reclining in a nearly empty theater with refreshments and goodies between the two of you, you’d watch the silver screen with hope in your mouth and stars in your eyes. In here, it no longer mattered how little money you had, or the discrimination your family faced, or the war in Europe, or the meager apartment you’d go home to, lucky if the electricity and heating had been paid for. In here, nothing else mattered but the visual stories. 

And you realized that you wanted to help tell them. You wanted to be in front of the cameras, to embody characters and personas and let audiences worldwide empathize and identify with your performances. 

You’ve loved playing make-believe since you were a little girl, having never really grown out of it. You could do it, you think. Dangerous dreams, perhaps, but what child doesn’t hold this wish within them? To see their name in lights and to be admired and commended, but most of all, to provide for their family?

 How hard could it be?

**

At sixteen, you land your first speaking role. It’s pathetic. You’re working on set as background, per usual, only this time, the director picks you out from the crowd and gives you the line of, “Good morning, sir.” You’re to look off camera as the actor playing Kent entered the scene and you would then say your line. 

You’re stupidly excited. Three simple words. You’ll be uncredited, of course, but your face would finally be seen! With butterflies fluttering in your stomach, the scene resets, Kent takes his mark, the cameras roll, and you deliver.

The scene is cut from the final reel. 

**

You pound the pavement. You scour newspapers and flyers for casting calls, you phone agencies and playhouses, you save up to get your picture taken on glossy photo paper. You keep looking. You keep working in background until you can land a steady role. 

Then, you finally get one. A miniscule part of a friendly neighborhood girl on a TV drama for CBS. You only have mere minutes of screen time, but the checks that arrive in the mail from Columbia Broadcasting System after your first few episodes air say otherwise. 

You open a savings account. You plant your paychecks and watch them grow into a comfortable sum of money. You land another guest starring role for a daytime soap, the secretary of the title character. Combined with your parents’ salaries from your mother’s sewing and your father’s work on the railroads, you become the main breadwinner.  

You move your family out of Hell’s Kitchen, out of your cramped, dark apartment. You sign a new lease under your new stage name and move to Brooklyn together. 

**

Brooklyn is slightly cleaner, but the familiar hustle and bustle, the noise of shopkeepers and dialects and children and cars is comforting, grounds you in your roots. When your CBS drama wraps months later with your last check in the mail and you’re looking for your next gig, your brother works odd jobs to help shoulder the burden. Brick laying, chimney sweeping, milk and mail delivering, Samuel becomes no stranger to any and all work, so long as it pays. You become a typist on the side as you wait for auditions and callbacks. 

Samuel tells you his aspirations to be a poet, a writer. He hasn’t said a word to your parents, but he shows you the small bound notebook he carries with him, leafing through pages of prose and verse. You encourage him to submit his work to newspapers, publishers. He gives you a shy smile, says he’ll consider it as soon as you get your motion picture debut. You shake on it. Together, your already close bond of brother and sister grows stronger as you each work to support your art.

**

You’re waiting for Samuel to finish his shift so you can catch a late showing of His Girl Friday, a warm September day when you first meet Bucky Barnes down at the wharfs. He’s tall, lean, and glistening with sweat when he rounds out of the warehouse with an armful of crates and nearly knocks you off the pier.

“Hey, watch it!” he snaps. His eyes flash like the water around you, blue and cold and dangerous. Brown locks curl with perspiration against his forehead, the sleeves of his workshirt rolled up over his shoulders, the exposed skin of his throat and arms flushed and tan. 

Embarrassed, you try to steady him, to which he growls in annoyance and spins out of your reach. He makes a great show of bearing the weight himself, grumbling as he sets down his load. You don’t miss the way the muscles in his back flex and dip. It isn’t until he slowly stands back up, wiping his palms on his khakis, that you get a good look at each other.

The hostility in his eyes softens ever so slightly, simmering into a look that cinches your chest tight when his gaze travels shamelessly up from your kitten heels to the curves of your lips and cheek. His breathing is still labored as he surveys you and you can feel heat and color blooming against your skin. When his eyes finally settle on your face, you can’t decide whether you want to slap or kiss him. 

“You lost or something, honey?” He asks with a whisper of a smile. He strolls in a lazy half-circle in front of you and moves to go back up the ramp to the warehouse. Then, he pauses and turns back to you.

“Have we met before? I swear I recognize you from somewhere.”

This delights you deliciously, that a handsome young man you’ve met by chance has seen your work. Not glamorous, acclaimed roles by any means, but recognition nonetheless. You bite the inside of your lip to suppress your smile and give him a coy, bashful flutter of your eyelashes.

“If that were the case, I’m sure I’d remember you.” 

He grins wolfishly, pleased, and takes a step closer. “Yeah? Think you’ll let me take you out for dinner tonight?”

“She’s got plans with me, Buck.” Samuel’s voice carries across the water. Your brother emerges with wooden boxes and sets them between you and Bucky in a huff, as if he’s implementing a physical barrier, both childish and endearing. Bucky glances at you and Samuel.

“Are you two..?”

“Steady? No. She’s my sister.”

Bucky snorts and his eyes find you again, glittering in the evening light. “You never told me you had a sister, Sammy. And such a looker too..”

“Makes you wonder why I never brought her up,” retorts Samuel and gives him a playful shove, traps him briefly in a headlock. “At least Steve wouldn’t ogle.”

“Stevie would get a nose bleed and pass out.” You hear Bucky grunt back. Samuel moves as if to dump him into the drink and Bucky pinwheels, scrambling. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

Satisfied, Samuel releases him and socks him in the shoulder for good measure. Bucky stumbles, looking boyish and smooth despite his shirt and hair all disheveled. 

You’ve seen his type in casting offices all across New York; bold, alluring, and charismatic. It’s a look and type you’ve longed to act opposite of someday, as all young starlets dream of, but a look that simultaneously sparks the feminine temptation that shivers between your breasts. You wonder if Bucky would look the same in a dark bedroom, with him on top of you and your fingers running over his back…

Bucky grins toothily when he catches you staring and shoots you a wink. None of those movie star hopefuls hold a candle now to his rugged, spirited charm.

Samuel guides you back up the pier so he can punch out his time card and the two of you can be on your way. And as you’re about to set foot on solid ground, you hear Bucky call out to you.

“What’s your name, honey?” 

Samuel sighs and shakes his head. “Cripes.” He mutters to himself. Before Samuel can stop you, you laugh and turn back to the water with a fresh and girlish aire, warmth and excitement whispering through your veins, young and naive and sixteen.  

“Dolores!” You give him your full name, your real name. For once, you don’t want to be Lola Sparks. You want to be your natural, honest self, the girl who deserves young love and joy and an untroubled adolescence. The sound of your voice rings clear and strong, the diva that you are, and Bucky’s mouth curves upwards.

“See you ‘round, Dot.” 

**

Much to Samuel’s displeasure, you tail your big brother around the docks like a lost pup whenever you have time. And being a C-list actress and a part-time typist, you have plenty of it. You loiter with the excuse of bringing sack lunches, waiting on Samuel and Bucky at the edge of the warehouses. It’s lonesome and bores you to no end being all by yourself, until one afternoon when someone is already waiting at your spot by the pier.

Small, skinny as his own shadow with a fringe of blonde hair, he leans hunkered and folded within himself, timid and seemingly conscious of how he occupies space. His jacket droops over his shoulders, eyes downcast even as you approach. He has a sketchbook in his hands, concentrated as the pencil moves across the page in fast, gentle strokes. You see an impressive likeness of the piers and Bucky’s distant figure in charcoaled lines.

“That’s really something.” You say.

He jolts so hard the paper tears and he crumples it into his fist in a single motion. “Huh?” he answers. When he looks to you, you realize his eyes are a pretty shade of teal. He flushes, petrified, the tips of his ears coloring pink. You feel horrible when he goes to pocket the ball of paper.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you,” you breathe. Gently, you offer your palm to him. “If you’re not keeping it, do you mind if I have it?” You ask softly. A few seconds pass and he shakes his head before placing it in your hand. You unfurl the paper, carefully smooth it out as he watches you from the corner of his eye. 

Shyness is a barrier of art you’ve known all too well, from your own experiences in audition rooms to your brother’s reluctance to find a publisher, you understand that sting of insecurity better than anyone. So, you let him watch you as you admire his work, let him know of his talent and let your actions speak for you. You smile and slip the drawing into your purse. 

Then, his stomach grumbles audibly, almost comically loud. He folds his arms around his stomach, so tight you’re afraid he’ll snap in half. You quickly reach into one of your paper bags and hand him a sandwich wrapped in cellophane and a can of lemonade. 

“Here, let’s trade.” 

“That’s awfully kind of you, but I can’t accept..” he starts. The timbre of his voice is surprisingly gallant and sure, pleasant, sweet. You have a gut feeling that the world has been taking advantage of that kindness his whole life, scaring him away from genuine compassion, that everything must have a catch. It makes you press harder.

“I insist. Please. It’s the least I can do for sneaking up on you.” He eyes you warily and again that feeling of regret washes over you. “Consider it payment.” You smile. 

Finally, he takes Samuel’s lunch from you and unwraps the sandwich. He eats quickly and quietly, draining the lemonade only minutes later. Perhaps it’s his bony statue, but you feel happy to see this stranger eat.

When he’s finished, he wipes his mouth and turns to you. His lips, pretty, pink, part as if about to speak, yet no words leave him. Instead, he stands frozen with that transfixing blue-green gaze keeping you still, lingering. 

That is until a stream of brilliant scarlet red dribbles down his chin and splatters onto his dress shirt. He pinches his nose, doubling forward and his flustered complexion matching the blood spilling from his nostrils.

“You must be Steve,” You laugh lightly and quickly hand him your handkerchief of cream yellow lace and embroidered flowers. You help steady him as he keeps his head tilted down. “Bucky’s told me all about you.”

Steve groans and presses the handkerchief to his face, blushing all the way down to his neck. 

**

Steve returns your handkerchief days later with an embarrassed hush, carefully cleaned and laundered. It smells of lavender and clean linen and the image of him working the fabric between his thin fingers with soap and suds warms your heart. 

You tell him it’s his. He blooms and keeps it neatly folded in his breast pocket. 

You and Steve quickly grow close in the hours you spend together waiting on Bucky and Samuel. You pack extra lunches for him and sit by the piers chatting, skipping stones as Steve sketches the Brooklyn skyline day in and day out.

“Draw me!” you tease. “Isn’t that the request that all artists want to hear?”

But surprisingly, he does. He always draws you and Bucky and Samuel with striking, intimate familiarity. His sketchbook gradually fills with portraits and pictures of you, sketches that could put your very headshot to shame.

**

After their usual shifts, the four of you head to the drugstore for your ritual of sodas and sundaes. Two pairs, brother and sister and brothers by blood enjoying a rare wartime treat. With the rations on sugar, it’s a special and memorable circumstance just to be together and sharing something sweet.

It’s there, at your corner booth in Wolfe’s Pharmacy over ice cream, that Bucky opens up a paper for that night’s television network schedule and sees your name. 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Dot,” he says. “What do others call you?”

Defeated, you twist your lips, hesitant to break the short spell of normalcy you’ve had with your new friends. Samuel sips at his Coke with a silent grin. 

Time for the truth to come out.

“Well, ‘doll’, by Stevie,” you giggle and toe Steve’s foot under the table. Steve shyly shrinks back into his seat. “But CBS calls me Lola.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. 

“Get out of here. You’re pulling my leg..”

“I absolutely am not.”

“Sammy, tell me she’s pulling my leg.”

“She’s not.”

Two pairs of brilliant blue eyes dart between you and your brother. Bucky’s face breaks into an open smile, laughing. Steve lurches forward. 

“Have you ever met anyone famous?” Steve prods with a hint of that honest, innocent charm.  

You wrinkle your nose sheepishly. “Mason Cook?”

“Who?” Bucky asks around a mouthful of sundae.

“Exactly.” Samuel snorts.

“Well, I’m sure he’s very talented.” Says Steve.

You swipe his maraschino cherry and let the stem dangle between your lips. “At least Stevie believes in me.” 

“Dot, honey. I saw your pilot episode. If anyone’s a fan, it’s me.” Bucky feigns hurt, hand to his chest. 

You stick out your bottom lip before sucking in the stem, working it into a tight knot in your mouth. “Are you still gonna be when your girl is signing autographs with John Wayne?”

You place the knotted stem on your napkin. Bucky nearly chokes. 

“I better be.”

Samuel coughs. Steve giggles. 

**

You thank your stars that your secret doesn’t change anything between Steve and Bucky. They treat you just the same; as Samuel’s baby sister who tags along with the boys. The teasing, the fleeting looks all unchanging. 

Girls, you’ve unfortunately realized, are catty and mean. You’re competing for roles, after all. But with Bucky and Steve, your first taste of homecoming since moving to Brooklyn, you don’t have to worry about silly competition, or fame, or being the best in the room. They keep you level-headed, reminding you of your girlhood and life’s simple pleasures.

Bucky drives you and Steve around town in the company truck on weekends. Hopscotch and jacks on brick roads and warm nights, watching sunsets until the sky blushes peach and mango yellow at Coney Island. 

A Saturday afternoon on Rockaway Beach, a vacation for you all after a draining week of work and auditions when Bucky promises to win you a stuffed bear when he sees you eyeing the one on careful display. 

“Buck..Bucky, give it a rest, we can try the next one.” Steve chides.

Another plastic ring pings off the neck of a glass bottle. Bucky curses, rings his hands together and slaps another dollar onto the counter.

You and Steve trade looks. Bucky’s been at it for ten minutes. At this rate, you know you’ll be walking on the train tracks home tonight.

So, you and Steve huddle close and cheer him on. Do it for our doll! says Steve. Finish it so you’ll stop wasting money, you dolt! you cry. Hell, even the vendor finds it humorous and joins in.

And when Bucky wins that grand prize and you’re handed a teddy bear as big as Stevie, you hoist it on your back, careful to not let it touch gravel or dust as the three of you walk in line with the train tracks later that evening.

Paradise, a sheltered haven from the broken landscapes and realities that the European newsreels broadcast home in grim black and white. 

**

True to Bucky’s word, they become your biggest supporters, helping you run lines and monologues and accompanying you to auditions. Bucky’s not bad for a scene partner, and Steve’s awareness of emotion and character motivation is impressive.

The attention you receive from casting directors and auditionees doesn’t hurt your chances either, lanky Steve and smoldering Bucky wishing you luck before stepping into the green room.

You book a drama. Then, a short film. Then another. You call them your lucky charms. 

And when your humble little short film “premiers” at the corner cinema, squeezed in between an empty noon showing of a cartoon rerun, Steve and Bucky whoop and holler when your character is shown on screen. They throw popcorn and gumdrops, jostle you by the shoulders. Bucky even runs down the aisle and mimes kissing the projector screen.

“That’s our girl! That’s our Dot!”

The usher threatens to throw you out. Steve tells him you’ve paid good money for your tickets and you’ll stay and watch as long as you please.

The following week, you’re scouted by Peggy Carter. 

Your world, your career will never be the same.